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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1204-0.txt b/1204-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1070da1 --- /dev/null +++ b/1204-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5701 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1204 *** + +CABIN FEVER + + +By B. M. Bower + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER + + I THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF + II TWO MAKE A QUARREL + III TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD + IV HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING + V BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES + VI BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS + VII INTO THE DESERT + VIII MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES + IX THE BITE OF MEMORY + X EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS + XI THE FIRST STAGES + XII MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE + XIII CABIN FEVER IN ITS WORST FORM + XIV CASH GETS A SHOCK + XV AND BUD NEVER GUESSED + XVI THE ANTIDOTE + XVII LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN + XVIII THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES + XIX BUD FACES FACTS + XX LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH + XXI MARIE'S SIDE OF IT + XXII THE CURE COMPLETE + + + + +CABIN FEVER + + + +CHAPTER ONE. THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF + +There is a certain malady of the mind induced by too much of one thing. +Just as the body fed too long upon meat becomes a prey to that horrid +disease called scurvy, so the mind fed too long upon monotony succumbs +to the insidious mental ailment which the West calls “cabin fever.” + True, it parades under different names, according to circumstances and +caste. You may be afflicted in a palace and call it ennui, and it may +drive you to commit peccadillos and indiscretions of various sorts. You +may be attacked in a middle-class apartment house, and call it various +names, and it may drive you to cafe life and affinities and alimony. You +may have it wherever you are shunted into a backwater of life, and lose +the sense of being borne along in the full current of progress. Be sure +that it will make you abnormally sensitive to little things; irritable +where once you were amiable; glum where once you went whistling about +your work and your play. It is the crystallizer of character, the acid +test of friendship, the final seal set upon enmity. It will betray your +little, hidden weaknesses, cut and polish your undiscovered virtues, +reveal you in all your glory or your vileness to your companions in +exile--if so be you have any. + +If you would test the soul of a friend, take him into the wilderness +and rub elbows with him for five months! One of three things will surely +happen: You will hate each other afterward with that enlightened hatred +which is seasoned with contempt; you will emerge with the contempt +tinged with a pitying toleration, or you will be close, unquestioning +friends to the last six feet of earth--and beyond. All these things will +cabin fever do, and more. It has committed murder, many's the time. It +has driven men crazy. It has warped and distorted character out of all +semblance to its former self. It has sweetened love and killed love. +There is an antidote--but I am going to let you find the antidote +somewhere in the story. + +Bud Moore, ex-cow-puncher and now owner of an auto stage that did not +run in the winter, was touched with cabin fever and did not know what +ailed him. His stage line ran from San Jose up through Los Gatos and +over the Bear Creek road across the summit of the Santa Cruz Mountains +and down to the State Park, which is locally called Big Basin. For +something over fifty miles of wonderful scenic travel he charged six +dollars, and usually his big car was loaded to the running boards. Bud +was a good driver, and he had a friendly pair of eyes--dark blue and +with a humorous little twinkle deep down in them somewhere--and a human +little smiley quirk at the corners of his lips. He did not know it, but +these things helped to fill his car. + +Until gasoline married into the skylark family, Bud did well enough to +keep him contented out of a stock saddle. (You may not know it, but +it is harder for an old cow-puncher to find content, now that the free +range is gone into history, than it is for a labor agitator to be happy +in a municipal boarding house.) + +Bud did well enough, which was very well indeed. Before the second +season closed with the first fall rains, he had paid for his big car +and got the insurance policy transferred to his name. He walked up +First Street with his hat pushed back and a cigarette dangling from the +quirkiest corner of his mouth, and his hands in his pockets. The glow of +prosperity warmed his manner toward the world. He had a little money in +the bank, he had his big car, he had the good will of a smiling world. +He could not walk half a block in any one of three or four towns but he +was hailed with a “Hello, Bud!” in a welcoming tone. More people knew +him than Bud remembered well enough to call by name--which is the final +proof of popularity the world over. + +In that glowing mood he had met and married a girl who went into Big +Basin with her mother and camped for three weeks. The girl had taken +frequent trips to Boulder Creek, and twice had gone on to San Jose, and +she had made it a point to ride with the driver because she was crazy +about cars. So she said. Marie had all the effect of being a pretty +girl. She habitually wore white middies with blue collar and tie, which +went well with her clear, pink skin and her hair that just escaped being +red. She knew how to tilt her “beach” hat at the most provocative angle, +and she knew just when to let Bud catch a slow, sidelong glance--of the +kind that is supposed to set a man's heart to syncopatic behavior. She +did not do it too often. She did not powder too much, and she had the +latest slang at her pink tongue's tip and was yet moderate in her use of +it. + +Bud did not notice Marie much on the first trip. She was demure, and Bud +had a girl in San Jose who had brought him to that interesting stage +of dalliance where he wondered if he dared kiss her good night the +next time he called. He was preoccupiedly reviewing the +she-said-and-then-I-said, and trying to make up his mind whether he +should kiss her and take a chance on her displeasure, or whether he had +better wait. To him Marie appeared hazily as another camper who helped +fill the car--and his pocket--and was not at all hard to look at. It +was not until the third trip that Bud thought her beautiful, and was +secretly glad that he had not kissed that San Jose girl. + +You know how these romances develop. Every summer is saturated with them +the world over. But Bud happened to be a simple-souled fellow, and there +was something about Marie--He didn't know what it was. Men never do +know, until it is all over. He only knew that the drive through the +shady stretches of woodland grew suddenly to seem like little journeys +into paradise. Sentiment lurked behind every great, mossy tree bole. New +beauties unfolded in the winding drive up over the mountain crests. Bud +was terribly in love with the world in those days. + +There were the evenings he spent in the Basin, sitting beside Marie +in the huge campfire circle, made wonderful by the shadowy giants, +the redwoods; talking foolishness in undertones while the crowd sang +snatches of songs which no one knew from beginning to end, and that went +very lumpy in the verses and very much out of harmony in the choruses. +Sometimes they would stroll down toward that sweeter music the creek +made, and stand beside one of the enormous trees and watch the glow of +the fire, and the silhouettes of the people gathered around it. + +In a week they were surreptitiously holding hands. In two weeks they +could scarcely endure the partings when Bud must start back to San Jose, +and were taxing their ingenuity to invent new reasons why Marie must go +along. In three weeks they were married, and Marie's mother--a shrewd, +shrewish widow--was trying to decide whether she should wash her hands +of Marie, or whether it might be well to accept the situation and hope +that Bud would prove himself a rising young man. + +But that was a year in the past. Bud had cabin fever now and did not +know what ailed him, though cause might have been summed up in two meaty +phrases: too much idleness, and too much mother-in-law. Also, not enough +comfort and not enough love. + +In the kitchen of the little green cottage on North Sixth Street where +Bud had built the home nest with much nearly-Mission furniture and a +piano, Bud was frying his own hotcakes for his ten o'clock breakfast, +and was scowling over the task. He did not mind the hour so much, but he +did mortally hate to cook his own breakfast--or any other meal, for that +matter. In the next room a rocking chair was rocking with a rhythmic +squeak, and a baby was squalling with that sustained volume of sound +which never fails to fill the adult listener with amazement. It affected +Bud unpleasantly, just as the incessant bawling of a band of weaning +calves used to do. He could not bear the thought of young things going +hungry. + +“For the love of Mike, Marie! Why don't you feed that kid, or do +something to shut him up?” he exploded suddenly, dribbling pancake +batter over the untidy range. + +The squeak, squawk of the rocker ceased abruptly. “'Cause it isn't time +yet to feed him--that's why. What's burning out there? I'll bet you've +got the stove all over dough again--” The chair resumed its squeaking, +the baby continued uninterrupted its wah-h-hah! wah-h-hah, as though it +was a phonograph that had been wound up with that record on, and no one +around to stop it + +Bud turned his hotcakes with a vicious flop that spattered more batter +on the stove. He had been a father only a month or so, but that was +long enough to learn many things about babies which he had never known +before. He knew, for instance, that the baby wanted its bottle, and that +Marie was going to make him wait till feeding time by the clock. + +“By heck, I wonder what would happen if that darn clock was to stop!” he +exclaimed savagely, when his nerves would bear no more. “You'd let the +kid starve to death before you'd let your own brains tell you what +to do! Husky youngster like that--feeding 'im four ounces every four +days--or some simp rule like that--” He lifted the cakes on to a plate +that held two messy-looking fried eggs whose yolks had broken, set the +plate on the cluttered table and slid petulantly into a chair and began +to eat. The squeaking chair and the crying baby continued to torment +him. Furthermore, the cakes were doughy in the middle. + +“For gosh sake, Marie, give that kid his bottle!” Bud exploded again. +“Use the brains God gave yuh--such as they are! By heck, I'll stick +that darn book in the stove. Ain't yuh got any feelings at all? Why, I +wouldn't let a dog go hungry like that! Don't yuh reckon the kid knows +when he's hungry? Why, good Lord! I'll take and feed him myself, if you +don't. I'll burn that book--so help me!” + +“Yes, you will--not!” Marie's voice rose shrewishly, riding the high +waves of the baby's incessant outcry against the restrictions upon +appetite imposed by enlightened motherhood. “You do, and see what'll +happen! You'd have him howling with colic, that's what you'd do.” + +“Well, I'll tell the world he wouldn't holler for grub! You'd go by the +book if it told yuh to stand 'im on his head in the ice chest! By heck, +between a woman and a hen turkey, give me the turkey when it comes to +sense. They do take care of their young ones--” + +“Aw, forget that! When it comes to sense---” + +Oh, well, why go into details? You all know how these domestic storms +arise, and how love washes overboard when the matrimonial ship begins to +wallow in the seas of recrimination. + +Bud lost his temper and said a good many things should not have said. +Marie flung back angry retorts and reminded Bud of all his sins and +slights and shortcomings, and told him many of mamma's pessimistic +prophecies concerning him, most of which seemed likely to be fulfilled. +Bud fought back, telling Marie how much of a snap she had had since she +married him, and how he must have looked like ready money to her, and +added that now, by heck, he even had to do his own cooking, as well as +listen to her whining and nagging, and that there wasn't clean corner in +the house, and she'd rather let her own baby go hungry than break a simp +rule in a darn book got up by a bunch of boobs that didn't know anything +about kids. Surely to goodness, he finished his heated paragraph, it +wouldn't break any woman's back to pour a little warm water on a little +malted milk, and shake it up. + +He told Marie other things, and in return, Marie informed him that he +was just a big-mouthed, lazy brute, and she could curse the day she ever +met him. That was going pretty far. Bud reminded her that she had not +done any cursing at the time, being in his opinion too busy roping him +in to support her. + +By that time he had gulped down his coffee, and was into his coat, +and looking for his hat. Marie, crying and scolding and rocking the +vociferous infant, interrupted herself to tell him that she wanted a +ten-cent roll of cotton from the drug store, and added that she hoped +she would not have to wait until next Christmas for it, either. Which +bit of sarcasm so inflamed Bud's rage that he swore every step of the +way to Santa Clara Avenue, and only stopped then because he happened to +meet a friend who was going down town, and they walked together. + +At the drug store on the corner of Second Street Bud stopped and bought +the cotton, feeling remorseful for some of the things he had said to +Marie, but not enough so to send him back home to tell her he was sorry. +He went on, and met another friend before he had taken twenty steps. +This friend was thinking of buying a certain second-hand automobile that +was offered at a very low price, and he wanted Bud to go with him and +look her over. Bud went, glad of the excuse to kill the rest of the +forenoon. + +They took the car out and drove to Schutzen Park and back. Bud opined +that she didn't bark to suit him, and she had a knock in her cylinders +that shouted of carbon. They ran her into the garage shop and went deep +into her vitals, and because she jerked when Bud threw her into second, +Bud suspected that her bevel gears had lost a tooth or two, and was +eager to find out for sure. + +Bill looked at his watch and suggested that they eat first before they +got all over grease by monkeying with the rear end. So they went to the +nearest restaurant and had smothered beefsteak and mashed potato and +coffee and pie, and while they ate they talked of gears and carburetors +and transmission and ignition troubles, all of which alleviated +temporarily Bud's case of cabin fever and caused him to forget that he +was married and had quarreled with his wife and had heard a good many +unkind things which his mother-in-law had said about him. + +By the time they were back in the garage and had the grease cleaned out +of the rear gears so that they could see whether they were really burred +or broken, as Bud had suspected, the twinkle was back in his eyes, and +the smiley quirk stayed at the corners of his mouth, and when he was not +talking mechanics with Bill he was whistling. He found much lost motion +and four broken teeth, and he was grease to his eyebrows--in other +words, he was happy. + +When he and Bill finally shed their borrowed overalls and caps, the +garage lights were on, and the lot behind the shop was dusky. Bud sat +down on the running board and began to figure what the actual cost +of the bargain would be when Bill had put it into good mechanical +condition. New bearings, new bevel gear, new brake, lining, rebored +cylinders--they totalled a sum that made Bill gasp. + +By the time Bud had proved each item an absolute necessity, and had +reached the final ejaculation: “Aw, forget it, Bill, and buy yuh a +Ford!” it was so late that he knew Marie must have given up looking +for him home to supper. She would have taken it for granted that he had +eaten down town. So, not to disappoint her, Bud did eat down town. Then +Bill wanted him to go to a movie, and after a praiseworthy hesitation +Bud yielded to temptation and went. No use going home now, just when +Marie would be rocking the kid to sleep and wouldn't let him speak above +a whisper, he told his conscience. Might as well wait till they settled +down for the night. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. TWO MAKE A QUARREL + +At nine o'clock Bud went home. He was feeling very well satisfied with +himself for some reason which he did not try to analyze, but which +was undoubtedly his sense of having saved Bill from throwing away six +hundred dollars on a bum car; and the weight in his coat pocket of a +box of chocolates that he had bought for Marie. Poor girl, it was kinda +tough on her, all right, being tied to the house now with the kid. Next +spring when he started his run to Big Basin again, he would get a little +camp in there by the Inn, and take her along with him when the travel +wasn't too heavy. She could stay at either end of the run, just as she +took a notion. Wouldn't hurt the kid a bit--he'd be bigger then, and the +outdoors would make him grow like a pig. Thinking of these things, Bud +walked briskly, whistling as he neared the little green house, so that +Marie would know who it was, and would not be afraid when he stepped up +on the front porch. + +He stopped whistling rather abruptly when he reached the house, for it +was dark. He tried the door and found it locked. The key was not in the +letter box where they always kept it for the convenience of the first +one who returned, so Bud went around to the back and climbed through the +pantry window. He fell over a chair, bumped into the table, and damned +a few things. The electric light was hung in the center of the room by +a cord that kept him groping and clutching in the dark before he finally +touched the elusive bulb with his fingers and switched on the light. + +The table was set for a meal--but whether it was dinner or supper Bud +could not determine. He went into the little sleeping room and turned on +the light there, looked around the empty room, grunted, and tiptoed into +the bedroom. (In the last month he had learned to enter on his toes, +lest he waken the baby.) He might have saved himself the bother, for the +baby was not there in its new gocart. The gocart was not there, Marie +was not there--one after another these facts impressed themselves upon +Bud's mind, even before he found the letter propped against the clock +in the orthodox manner of announcing unexpected departures. Bud read the +letter, crumpled it in his fist, and threw it toward the little heating +stove. “If that's the way yuh feel about it, I'll tell the world you can +go and be darned!” he snorted, and tried to let that end the matter so +far as he was concerned. But he could not shake off the sense of having +been badly used. He did not stop to consider that while he was working +off his anger, that day, Marie had been rocking back and forth, crying +and magnifying the quarrel as she dwelt upon it, and putting a new and +sinister meaning into Bud's ill-considered utterances. By the time Bud +was thinking only of the bargain car's hidden faults, Marie had reached +the white heat of resentment that demanded vigorous action. Marie was +packing a suitcase and meditating upon the scorching letter she meant to +write. + +Judging from the effect which the letter had upon Bud, it must have +been a masterpiece of its kind. He threw the box of chocolates into the +wood-box, crawled out of the window by which he had entered, and went +down town to a hotel. If the house wasn't good enough for Marie, let her +go. He could go just as fast and as far as she could. And if she thought +he was going to hot-foot it over to her mother's and whine around and +beg her to come home, she had another think coming. + +He wouldn't go near the darn place again, except to get his clothes. +He'd bust up the joint, by thunder. He'd sell off the furniture and turn +the house over to the agent again, and Marie could whistle for a home. +She had been darn glad to get into that house, he remembered, and away +from that old cat of a mother. Let her stay there now till she was darn +good and sick of it. He'd just keep her guessing for awhile; a week or +so would do her good. Well, he wouldn't sell the furniture--he'd just +move it into another house, and give her a darn good scare. He'd get a +better one, that had a porcelain bathtub instead of a zinc one, and a +better porch, where the kid could be out in the sun. Yes, sir, he'd just +do that little thing, and lay low and see what Marie did about that. +Keep her guessing--that was the play to make. + +Unfortunately for his domestic happiness, Bud failed to take into +account two very important factors in the quarrel. The first and most +important one was Marie's mother, who, having been a widow for fifteen +years and therefore having acquired a habit of managing affairs that +even remotely concerned her, assumed that Marie's affairs must be +managed also. The other factor was Marie's craving to be coaxed back to +smiles by the man who drove her to tears. Marie wanted Bud to come and +say he was sorry, and had been a brute and so forth. She wanted to hear +him tell how empty the house had seemed when he returned and found her +gone. She wanted him to be good and scared with that letter. She stayed +awake until after midnight, listening for his anxious footsteps; after +midnight she stayed awake to cry over the inhuman way he was treating +her, and to wish she was dead, and so forth; also because the baby +woke and wanted his bottle, and she was teaching him to sleep all night +without it, and because the baby had a temper just like his father. + +His father's temper would have yielded a point or two, the next day, had +it been given the least encouragement. For instance, he might have gone +over to see Marie before he moved the furniture out of the house, had +he not discovered an express wagon standing in front of the door when +he went home about noon to see if Marie had come back. Before he had +recovered to the point of profane speech, the express man appeared, +coming out of the house, bent nearly double under the weight of Marie's +trunk. Behind him in the doorway Bud got a glimpse of Marie's mother. + +That settled it. Bud turned around and hurried to the nearest drayage +company, and ordered a domestic wrecking crew to the scene; in other +words, a packer and two draymen and a dray. He'd show 'em. Marie and her +mother couldn't put anything over on him--he'd stand over that furniture +with a sheriff first. + +He went back and found Marie's mother still there, packing dishes and +doilies and the like. They had a terrible row, and all the nearest +neighbors inclined ears to doors ajar--getting an earful, as Bud +contemptuously put it. He finally led Marie's mother to the front door +and set her firmly outside. Told her that Marie had come to him with +no more than the clothes she had, and that his money had bought every +teaspoon and every towel and every stick of furniture in the darned +place, and he'd be everlastingly thus-and-so if they were going to +strong-arm the stuff off him now. If Marie was too good to live with +him, why, his stuff was too good for her to have. + +Oh, yes, the neighbors certainly got an earful, as the town gossips +proved when the divorce suit seeped into the papers. Bud refused to +answer the proceedings, and was therefore ordered to pay twice as much +alimony as he could afford to pay; more, in fact, than all his domestic +expense had amounted to in the fourteen months that he had been married. +Also Marie was awarded the custody of the child and, because Marie's +mother had represented Bud to be a violent man who was a menace to her +daughter's safety--and proved it by the neighbors who had seen and heard +so much--Bud was served with a legal paper that wordily enjoined him +from annoying Marie with his presence. + +That unnecessary insult snapped the last thread of Bud's regret for what +had happened. He sold the furniture and the automobile, took the money +to the judge that had tried the case, told the judge a few wholesome +truths, and laid the pile of money on the desk. + +“That cleans me out, Judge,” he said stolidly. “I wasn't such a bad +husband, at that. I got sore--but I'll bet you get sore yourself and +tell your wife what-for, now and then. I didn't get a square deal, but +that's all right. I'm giving a better deal than I got. Now you can keep +that money and pay it out to Marie as she needs it, for herself and the +kid. But for the Lord's sake, Judge, don't let that wildcat of a mother +of hers get her fingers into the pile! She framed this deal, thinking +she'd get a haul outa me this way. I'm asking you to block that little +game. I've held out ten dollars, to eat on till I strike something. I'm +clean; they've licked the platter and broke the dish. So don't never ask +me to dig up any more, because I won't--not for you nor no other darn +man. Get that.” + +This, you must know, was not in the courtroom, so Bud was not fined for +contempt. The judge was a married man himself, and he may have had a +sympathetic understanding of Bud's position. At any rate he listened +unofficially, and helped Bud out with the legal part of it, so that Bud +walked out of the judge's office financially free, even though he had +a suspicion that his freedom would not bear the test of prosperity, +and that Marie's mother would let him alone only so long as he and +prosperity were strangers. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD + +To withhold for his own start in life only one ten-dollar bill from +fifteen hundred dollars was spectacular enough to soothe even so bruised +an ego as Bud Moore carried into the judge's office. There is an +anger which carries a person to the extreme of self-sacrifice, in the +subconscious hope of exciting pity for one so hardly used. Bud was +boiling with such an anger, and it demanded that he should all but give +Marie the shirt off his back, since she had demanded so much--and for so +slight a cause. + +Bud could not see for the life of him why Marie should have quit for +that little ruction. It was not their first quarrel, nor their worst; +certainly he had not expected it to be their last. Why, he asked the +high heavens, had she told him to bring home a roll of cotton, if she +was going to leave him? Why had she turned her back on that little home, +that had seemed to mean as much to her as it had to him? + +Being kin to primitive man, Bud could only bellow rage when he should +have analyzed calmly the situation. He should have seen that Marie too +had cabin fever, induced by changing too suddenly from carefree girlhood +to the ills and irks of wifehood and motherhood. He should have known +that she had been for two months wholly dedicated to the small physical +wants of their baby, and that if his nerves were fraying with watching +that incessant servitude, her own must be close to the snapping point; +had snapped, when dusk did not bring him home repentant. + +But he did not know, and so he blamed Marie bitterly for the wreck of +their home, and he flung down all his worldly goods before her, and +marched off feeling self-consciously proud of his martyrdom. It soothed +him paradoxically to tell himself that he was “cleaned”; that Marie had +ruined him absolutely, and that he was just ten dollars and a decent +suit or two of clothes better off than a tramp. He was tempted to go +back and send the ten dollars after the rest of the fifteen hundred, but +good sense prevailed. He would have to borrow money for his next meal, +if he did that, and Bud was touchy about such things. + +He kept the ten dollars therefore, and went down to the garage where he +felt most at home, and stood there with his hands in his pockets and the +corners of his mouth tipped downward--normally they had a way of tipping +upward, as though he was secretly amused at something--and his eyes +sullen, though they carried tiny lines at the corners to show how they +used to twinkle. He took the ten-dollar bank note from his pocket, +straightened out the wrinkles and looked at it disdainfully. As plainly +as though he spoke, his face told what he was thinking about it: that +this was what a woman had brought him to! He crumpled it up and made a +gesture as though he would throw it into the street, and a man behind +him laughed abruptly. Bud scowled and turned toward him a belligerent +glance, and the man stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun. + +“If you've got money to throw to the birds, brother, I guess I won't +make the proposition I was going to make. Thought I could talk business +to you, maybe--but I guess I better tie a can to that idea.” + +Bud grunted and put the ten dollars in his pocket. + +“What idea's that?” + +“Oh, driving a car I'm taking south. Sprained my shoulder, and don't +feel like tackling it myself. They tell me in here that you aren't doing +anything now--” He made the pause that asks for an answer. + +“They told you right. I've done it.” + +The man's eyebrows lifted, but since Bud did not explain, he went on +with his own explanation. + +“You don't remember me, but I rode into Big Basin with you last summer. +I know you can drive, and it doesn't matter a lot whether it's asphalt +or cow trail you drive over.” + +Bud was in too sour a mood to respond to the flattery. He did not even +grunt. + +“Could you take a car south for me? There'll be night driving, and bad +roads, maybe--” + +“If you know what you say you know about my driving, what's the +idea--asking me if I can?” + +“Well, put it another way. Will you?” + +“You're on. Where's the car? Here?” Bud sent a seeking look into the +depths of the garage. He knew every car in there. “What is there in it +for me?” he added perfunctorily, because he would have gone just for +sake of getting a free ride rather than stay in San Jose over night. + +“There's good money in it, if you can drive with your mouth shut. This +isn't any booster parade. Fact is--let's walk to the depot, while I +tell you.” He stepped out of the doorway, and Bud gloomily followed him. +“Little trouble with my wife,” the man explained apologetically. “Having +me shadowed, and all that sort of thing. And I've got business south and +want to be left alone to do it. Darn these women!” he exploded suddenly. + +Bud mentally said amen, but kept his mouth shut upon his sympathy with +the sentiment. + +“Foster's my name. Now here's a key to the garage at this address.” He +handed Bud a padlock key and an address scribbled on a card. “That's my +place in Oakland, out by Lake Merritt. You go there to-night, get the +car, and have it down at the Broadway Wharf to meet the 11:30 boat--the +one the theater crowd uses. Have plenty of gas and oil; there won't be +any stops after we start. Park out pretty well near the shore end as +close as you can get to that ten-foot gum sign, and be ready to go when +I climb in. I may have a friend with me. You know Oakland?” + +“Fair to middling. I can get around by myself.” + +“Well, that's all right. I've got to go back to the city--catching the +next train. You better take the two-fifty to Oakland. Here's money for +whatever expense there is. And say! put these number plates in your +pocket, and take off the ones on the car. I bought these of a fellow +that had a smash--they'll do for the trip. Put them on, will you? She's +wise to the car number, of course. Put the plates you take off under +the seat cushion; don't leave 'em. Be just as careful as if it was a +life-and-death matter, will you? I've got a big deal on, down there, and +I don't want her spilling the beans just to satisfy a grudge--which she +would do in a minute. So don't fail to be at the ferry, parked so you +can slide out easy. Get down there by that big gum sign. I'll find you, +all right.” + +“I'll be there.” Bud thrust the key and another ten dollars into his +pocket and turned away. + +“And don't say anything--” + +“Do I look like an open-faced guy?” + +The man laughed. “Not much, or I wouldn't have picked you for the +trip.” He hurried down to the depot platform, for his train was already +whistling, farther down the yards. + +Bud looked after him, the corners of his mouth taking their normal, +upward tilt. It began to look as though luck had not altogether deserted +him, in spite of the recent blow it had given. He slid the wrapped +number plates into the inside pocket of his overcoat, pushed his hands +deep into his pockets, and walked up to the cheap hotel which had been +his bleak substitute for a home during his trouble. He packed everything +he owned--a big suitcase held it all by squeezing--paid his bill at the +office, accepted a poor cigar, and in return said, yes, he was going to +strike out and look for work; and took the train for Oakland. + +A street car landed him within two blocks of the address on the tag, and +Bud walked through thickening fog and dusk to the place. Foster had a +good-looking house, he observed. Set back on the middle of two lots, it +was, with a cement drive sloping up from the street to the garage backed +against the alley. Under cover of lighting a cigarette, he inspected the +place before he ventured farther. The blinds were drawn down--at least +upon the side next the drive. On the other he thought he caught a gleam +of light at the rear; rather, the beam that came from a gleam of light +in Foster's dining room or kitchen shining on the next house. But he was +not certain of it, and the absolute quiet reassured him so that he went +up the drive, keeping on the grass border until he reached the garage. +This, he told himself, was just like a woman--raising the deuce around +so that a man had to sneak into his own place to get his own car out of +his own garage. If Foster was up against the kind of deal Bud had been +up against, he sure had Bud's sympathy, and he sure would get the best +help Bud was capable of giving him. + +The key fitted the lock, and Bud went in, set down his suitcase, and +closed the door after him. It was dark as a pocket in there, save where +a square of grayness betrayed a window. Bud felt his way to the side +of the car, groped to the robe rail, found a heavy, fringed robe, and +curtained the window until he could see no thread of light anywhere; +after which he ventured to use his flashlight until he had found the +switch and turned on the light. + +There was a little side door at the back, and it was fastened on the +inside with a stout hook. Bud thought for a minute, took a long chance, +and let himself out into the yard, closing the door after him. He walked +around the garage to the front and satisfied himself that the light +inside did not show. Then he went around the back of the house and found +that he had not been mistaken about the light. The house was certainly +occupied, and like the neighboring houses seemed concerned only with the +dinner hour of the inmates. He went back, hooked the little door on the +inside, and began a careful inspection of the car he was to drive. + +It was a big, late-modeled touring car, of the kind that sells for +nearly five thousand dollars. Bud's eyes lightened with satisfaction +when he looked at it. There would be pleasure as well as profit in +driving this old girl to Los Angeles, he told himself. It fairly made +his mouth water to look at her standing there. He got in and slid behind +the wheel and fingered the gear lever, and tested the clutch and the +foot brake--not because he doubted them, but because he had a hankering +to feel their smoothness of operation. Bud loved a good car just as he +had loved a good horse in the years behind him. Just as he used to walk +around a good horse and pat its sleek shoulder and feel the hard muscles +of its trim legs, so now he made love to this big car. Let that old hen +of Foster's crab the trip south? He should sa-a-ay not! + +There did not seem to be a thing that he could do to her, but +nevertheless he got down and, gave all the grease cups a turn, removed +the number plates and put them under the rear seat cushion, inspected +the gas tank and the oil gauge and the fanbelt and the radiator, turned +back the trip-mileage to zero--professional driving had made Bud careful +as a taxi driver about recording the mileage of a trip--looked at the +clock set in the instrument board, and pondered. + +What if the old lady took a notion to drive somewhere? She would miss +the car and raise a hullabaloo, and maybe crab the whole thing in the +start. In that case, Bud decided that the best way would be to let her +go. He could pile on to the empty trunk rack behind, and manage somehow +to get off with the car when she stopped. Still, there was not much +chance of her going out in the fog--and now that he listened, he heard +the drip of rain. No, there was not much chance. Foster had not seemed +to think there was any chance of the car being in use, and Foster ought +to know. He would wait until about ten-thirty, to play safe, and then +go. + +Rain spelled skid chains to Bud. He looked in the tool box, found a set, +and put them on. Then, because he was not going to take any chances, he +put another set, that he found hanging up, on the front wheels. After +that he turned out the light, took down the robe and wrapped himself in +it, and laid himself down on the rear seat to wait for ten-thirty. + +He dozed, and the next he knew there was a fumbling at the door in +front, and the muttering of a voice. Bud slid noiselessly out of the +car and under it, head to the rear where he could crawl out quickly. The +voice sounded like a man, and presently the door opened and Bud was sure +of it. He caught a querulous sentence or two. + +“Door left unlocked--the ignorant hound--Good thing I don't trust +him too far--” Some one came fumbling in and switched on the light. +“Careless hound--told him to be careful--never even put the robe on the +rail where it belongs--and then they howl about the way they're treated! +Want more wages--don't earn what they do get--” + +Bud, twisting his head, saw a pair of slippered feet beside the running +board. The owner of the slippers was folding the robe and laying it over +the rail, and grumbling to himself all the while. “Have to come out in +the rain--daren't trust him an inch--just like him to go off and leave +the door unlocked--” With a last grunt or two the mumbling ceased. The +light was switched off, and Bud heard the doors pulled shut, and the +rattle of the padlock and chain. He waited another minute and crawled +out. + +“Might have told me there was a father-in-law in the outfit,” he +grumbled to himself. “Big a butt-in as Marie's mother, at that. Huh. +Never saw my suit case, never noticed the different numbers, never got +next to the chains--huh! Regular old he-hen, and I sure don't blame +Foster for wanting to tie a can to the bunch.” + +Very cautiously he turned his flashlight on the face of the automobile +clock. The hour hand stood a little past ten, and Bud decided he had +better go. He would have to fill the gas tank, and get more oil, and he +wanted to test the air in his tires. No stops after they started, said +Foster; Bud had set his heart on showing Foster something in the way of +getting a car over the road. + +Father-in-law would holler if he heard the car, but Bud did not intend +that father-in-law should hear it. He would much rather run the gauntlet +of that driveway then wait in the dark any longer. He remembered +the slope down to the street, and grinned contentedly. He would give +father-in-law a chance to throw a fit, next morning. + +He set his suit case in the tonneau, went out of the little door, edged +around to the front and very, very cautiously he unlocked the big doors +and set them open. He went in and felt the front wheels, judged that +they were set straight, felt around the interior until his fingers +touched a block of wood and stepped off the approximate length of the +car in front of the garage, allowing for the swing of the doors, and +placed the block there. Then he went back, eased off the emergency +brake, grabbed a good handhold and strained forward. + +The chains hindered, but the floor sloped to the front a trifle, which +helped. In a moment he had the satisfaction of feeling the big car give, +then roll slowly ahead. The front wheels dipped down over the threshold, +and Bud stepped upon the running board, took the wheel, and by instinct +more than by sight guided her through the doorway without a scratch. +She rolled forward like a black shadow until a wheel jarred against the +block, whereupon he set the emergency brake and got off, breathing free +once more. He picked up the block and carried it back, quietly closed +the big doors and locked them, taking time to do it silently. Then, in +a glow of satisfaction with his work, he climbed slowly into the car, +settled down luxuriously in the driver's seat, eased off the brake, and +with a little lurch of his body forward started the car rolling down the +driveway. + +There was a risk, of course, in coasting out on to the street with +no lights, but he took it cheerfully, planning to dodge if he saw the +lights of another car coming. It pleased him to remember that the street +inclined toward the bay. He rolled past the house without a betraying +sound, dipped over the curb to the asphalt, swung the car townward, and +coasted nearly half a block with the ignition switch on before he pushed +up the throttle, let in his clutch, and got the answering chug-chug of +the engine. With the lights on full he went purring down the street in +the misty fog, pleased with himself and his mission. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING + +At a lunch wagon down near the water front, Bud stopped and bought two +“hot dog” sandwiches and a mug of hot coffee boiled with milk in it +and sweetened with three cubes of sugar. “O-oh, boy!” he ejaculated +gleefully when he set his teeth into biscuit and hot hamburger. Leaning +back luxuriously in the big car, he ate and drank until he could eat and +drink no more. Then, with a bag of bananas on the seat beside him, he +drove on down to the mole, searching through the drizzle for the big +gum sign which Foster had named. Just even with the coughing engine of +a waiting through train he saw it, and backed in against the curb, +pointing the car's radiator toward the mainland. He had still half an +hour to wait, and he buttoned on the curtains of the car, since a wind +from across the bay was sending the drizzle slantwise; moreover it +occurred to him that Foster would not object to the concealment while +they were passing through Oakland. Then he listlessly ate a banana while +he waited. + +The hoarse siren of a ferryboat bellowed through the murk. Bud started +the engine, throttled it down to his liking, and left it to warm up for +the flight. He ate another banana, thinking lazily that he wished he +owned this car. For the first time in many a day his mind was not filled +and boiling over with his trouble. Marie and all the bitterness she had +come to mean to him receded into the misty background of his mind and +hovered there, an indistinct memory of something painful in his life. + +A street car slipped past, bobbing down the track like a duck sailing +over ripples. A local train clanged down to the depot and stood jangling +its bell while it disgorged passengers for the last boat to the City +whose wall of stars was hidden behind the drizzle and the clinging fog. +People came straggling down the sidewalk--not many, for few had business +with the front end of the waiting trains. Bud pushed the throttle up a +little. His fingers dropped down to the gear lever, his foot snuggled +against the clutch pedal. + +Feet came hurrying. Two voices mumbled together. “Here he is,” said one. +“That's the number I gave him.” Bud felt some one step hurriedly upon +the running board. The tonneau door was yanked open. A man puffed +audibly behind him. “Yuh ready?” Foster's voice hissed in Bud's ear. + +“R'aring to go.” Bud heard the second man get in and shut the door, and +he jerked the gear lever into low. His foot came gently back with the +clutch, and the car slid out and away. + +Foster settled back on the cushions with a sigh. The other man was +fumbling the side curtains, swearing under his breath when his fingers +bungled the fastenings. + +“Everything all ready?” Foster's voice was strident with anxiety. + +“Sure thing.” + +“Well, head south--any road you know best. And keep going, till I tell +you to stop. How's the oil and gas?” + +“Full up. Gas enough for three hundred miles. Extra gallon of oil in the +car. What d'yah want--the speed limit through town?” + +“Nah. Side streets, if you know any. They might get quick action and +telephone ahead.” + +“Leave it to me, brother.” + +Bud did not know for sure, never having been pursued; but it seemed to +him that a straightaway course down a main street where other cars were +scudding homeward would be the safest route, because the simplest. He +did not want any side streets in his, he decided--and maybe run into a +mess of street-improvement litter, and have to back trail around it. +He held the car to a hurry-home pace that was well within the law, and +worked into the direct route to Hayward. He sensed that either Foster or +his friend turned frequently to look back through the square celluloid +window, but he did not pay much attention to them, for the streets were +greasy with wet, and not all drivers would equip with four skid chains. +Keeping sharp lookout for skidding cars and unexpected pedestrians and +street-car crossings and the like fully occupied Bud. + +For all that, an occasional mutter came unheeded to his ears, the closed +curtains preserving articulate sounds like room walls. + +“He's all right,” he heard Foster whisper once. “Better than if he was +in on it.” He did not know that Foster was speaking of him. + +“--if he gets next,” the friend mumbled. + +“Ah, quit your worrying,” Foster grunted. “The trick's turned; that's +something.” + +Bud was under the impression that they were talking about father-in-law, +who had called Foster a careless hound; but whether they were or not +concerned him so little that his own thoughts never flagged in their +shuttle-weaving through his mind. The mechanics of handling the big car +and getting the best speed out of her with the least effort and risk, +the tearing away of the last link of his past happiness and his grief; +the feeling that this night was the real parting between him and Marie, +the real stepping out into the future; the future itself, blank beyond +the end of this trip, these were quite enough to hold Bud oblivious to +the conversation of strangers. + +At dawn they neared a little village. Through this particular county the +road was unpaved and muddy, and the car was a sight to behold. The only +clean spot was on the windshield, where Bud had reached around once or +twice with a handful of waste and cleaned a place to see through. It was +raining soddenly, steadily, as though it always had rained and always +would rain. + +Bud turned his face slightly to one side. “How about stopping; I'll have +to feed her some oil--and it wouldn't hurt to fill the gas tank again. +These heavy roads eat up a lot of extra power. What's her average +mileage on a gallon, Foster?” + +“How the deuce should I know?” Foster snapped, just coming out of a +doze. + +“You ought to know, with your own car--and gas costing what it does.” + +“Oh!--ah--what was it you asked?” Foster yawned aloud. “I musta been +asleep.” + +“I guess you musta been, all right,” Bud grunted. “Do you want breakfast +here, or don't you? I've got to stop for gas and oil; that's what I was +asking?” + +The two consulted together, and finally told Bud to stop at the first +garage and get his oil and gas. After that he could drive to a drug +store and buy a couple of thermos bottles, and after that he could go to +the nearest restaurant and get the bottles filled with black coffee, and +have lunch put up for six people. Foster and his friend would remain in +the car. + +Bud did these things, revising the plan to the extent of eating his own +breakfast at the counter in the restaurant while the lunch was being +prepared in the kitchen. + +From where he sat he could look across at the muddy car standing before +a closed millinery-and-drygoods store. It surely did not look much like +the immaculate machine he had gloated over the evening before, but it +was a powerful, big brute of a car and looked its class in every line. +Bud was proud to drive a car like that. The curtains were buttoned down +tight, and he thought amusedly of the two men huddled inside, shivering +and hungry, yet refusing to come in and get warmed up with a decent +breakfast. Foster, he thought, must certainly be scared of his wife, if +he daren't show himself in this little rube town. For the first time Bud +had a vagrant suspicion that Foster had not told quite all there was to +tell about this trip. Bud wondered now if Foster was not going to meet +a “Jane” somewhere in the South. That terrifying Mann Act would account +for his caution much better than would the business deal of which Foster +had hinted. + +Of course, Bud told himself while the waiter refilled his coffee cup, it +was none of his business what Foster had up his sleeve. He wanted to get +somewhere quickly and quietly, and Bud was getting him there. That was +all he need to consider. Warmed and once more filled with a sense of +well-being, Bud made himself a cigarette before the lunch was ready, +and with his arms full of food he went out and across the street. Just +before he reached the car one of the thermos bottles started to slide +down under his elbow. Bud attempted to grip it against his ribs, but the +thing had developed a slipperiness that threatened the whole load, so he +stopped to rearrange his packages, and got an irritated sentence or two +from his passengers. + +“Giving yourself away like that! Why couldn't you fake up a mileage? +Everybody lies or guesses about the gas--” + +“Aw, what's the difference? The simp ain't next to anything. He thinks I +own it.” + +“Well, don't make the mistake of thinking he's a sheep. Once he--” + +Bud suddenly remembered that he wanted something more from the +restaurant, and returned forth-with, slipping thermos bottle and all. He +bought two packages of chewing gum to while away the time when he could +not handily smoke, and when he returned to the car he went muttering +disapproving remarks about the rain and the mud and the bottles. He +poked his head under the front curtain and into a glum silence. The two +men leaned back into the two corners of the wide seat, with their heads +drawn down into their coat collars and their hands thrust under the +robe. Foster reached forward and took a thermos bottle, his partner +seized another. + +“Say, you might get us a bottle of good whisky, too,” said Foster, +holding out a small gold piece between his gloved thumb and finger. “Be +quick about it though--we want to be traveling. Lord, it's cold!” + +Bud went into a saloon a few doors up the street, and was back presently +with the bottle and the change. There being nothing more to detain them +there, he kicked some of the mud off his feet, scraped off the rest +on the edge of the running board and climbed in, fastening the curtain +against the storm. “Lovely weather,” he grunted sarcastically. “Straight +on to Bakersfield, huh?” + +There was a minute of silence save for the gurgling of liquid running +out of a bottle into an eager mouth. Bud laid an arm along the back of +his seat and waited, his head turned toward them. “Where are you fellows +going, anyway?” he asked impatiently. + +“Los An--” the stranger gurgled, still drinking. + +“Yuma!” snapped Foster. “You shut up, Mert. I'm running this.” + +“Better--” + +“Yuma. You hit the shortest trail for Yuma, Bud. I'm running this.” + +Foster seemed distinctly out of humor. He told Mert again to shut up, +and Mert did so grumblingly, but somewhat diverted and consoled, Bud +fancied, by the sandwiches and coffee--and the whisky too, he guessed. +For presently there was an odor from the uncorked bottle in the car. + +Bud started and drove steadily on through the rain that never ceased. +The big car warmed his heart with its perfect performance, its smooth, +effortless speed, its ease of handling. He had driven too long and too +constantly to tire easily, and he was almost tempted to settle down to +sheer enjoyment in driving such a car. Last night he had enjoyed it, but +last night was not to-day. + +He wished he had not overheard so much, or else had overheard more. He +was inclined to regret his retreat from the acrimonious voices as being +premature. Just why was he a simp, for instance? Was it because he +thought Foster owned the car? Bud wondered whether father-in-law had not +bought it, after all. Now that he began thinking from a different angle, +he remembered that father-in-law had behaved very much like the proud +possessor of a new car. It really did not look plausible that he would +come out in the drizzle to see if Foster's car was safely locked in for +the night. There had been, too, a fussy fastidiousness in the way the +robe had been folded and hung over the rail. No man would do that for +some other man's property, unless he was paid for it. + +Wherefore, Bud finally concluded that Foster was not above helping +himself to family property. On the whole, Bud did not greatly disapprove +of that; he was too actively resentful of his own mother-in-law. He was +not sure but he might have done something of the sort himself, if his +mother-in-law had possessed a six-thousand-dollar car. Still, such a +car generally means a good deal to the owner, and he did not wonder that +Foster was nervous about it. + +But in the back of his mind there lurked a faint dissatisfaction with +this easy explanation. It occurred to him that if there was going to +be any trouble about the car, he might be involved beyond the point of +comfort. After all, he did not know Foster, and he had no more reason +for believing Foster's story than he had for doubting. For all he knew, +it might not be a wife that Foster was so afraid of. + +Bud was not stupid. He was merely concerned chiefly with his own +affairs--a common enough failing, surely. But now that he had thought +himself into a mental eddy where his own affairs offered no new impulse +toward emotion, he turned over and over in his mind the mysterious trip +he was taking. It had come to seem just a little too mysterious to suit +him, and when Bud Moore was not suited he was apt to do something about +it. + +What he did in this case was to stop in Bakersfield at a garage that had +a combination drugstore and news-stand next door. He explained shortly +to his companions that he had to stop and buy a road map and that he +wouldn't be long, and crawled out into the rain. At the open doorway +of the garage he turned and looked at the car. No, it certainly did not +look in the least like the machine he had driven down to the Oakland +mole--except, of course, that it was big and of the same make. It might +have been empty, too, for all the sign it gave of being occupied. Foster +and Mert evidently had no intention whatever of showing themselves. + +Bud went into the drugstore, remained there for five minutes perhaps, +and emerged with a morning paper which he rolled up and put into his +pocket. He had glanced through its feature news, and had read hastily +one front-page article that had nothing whatever to do with the war, but +told about the daring robbery of a jewelry store in San Francisco the +night before. + +The safe, it seemed, had been opened almost in plain sight of the street +crowds, with the lights full on in the store. A clever arrangement of +two movable mirrors had served to shield the thief--or thieves. For no +longer than two or three minutes, it seemed, the lights had been off, +and it was thought that the raiders had used the interval of darkness to +move the mirrors into position. Which went far toward proving that the +crime had been carefully planned in advance. Furthermore, the article +stated with some assurance that trusted employees were involved. + +Bud also had glanced at the news items of less importance, and had been +startled enough--yet not so much surprised as he would have been a few +hours earlier--to read, under the caption: DARING THIEF STEALS COSTLY +CAR, to learn that a certain rich man of Oakland had lost his new +automobile. The address of the bereaved man had been given, and Bud's +heart had given a flop when he read it. The details of the theft had not +been told, but Bud never noticed their absence. His memory supplied all +that for him with sufficient vividness. + +He rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and with the paper stuffed carelessly +into his pocket he went to the car, climbed in, and drove on to +the south, just as matter-of-factly as though he had not just then +discovered that he, Bud Moore, had stolen a six-thousand-dollar +automobile the night before. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES + +They went on and on, through the rain and the wind, sometimes through +the mud as well, where the roads were not paved. Foster had almost +pounced upon the newspaper when he discovered it in Bud's pocket as he +climbed in, and Bud knew that the two read that feature article avidly. +But if they had any comments to make, they saved them for future +privacy. Beyond a few muttered sentences they were silent. + +Bud did not care whether they talked or not. They might have talked +themselves hoarse, when it came to that, without changing his opinions +or his attitude toward them. He had started out the most unsuspecting +of men, and now he was making up for it by suspecting Foster and Mert of +being robbers and hypocrites and potential murderers. He could readily +imagine them shooting him in the back of the head while he drove, if +that would suit their purpose, or if they thought that he suspected +them. + +He kept reviewing his performance in that garage. Had he really intended +to steal the car, he would not have had the nerve to take the chances +he had taken. He shivered when he recalled how he had slid under the car +when the owner came in. What if the man had seen him or heard him? He +would be in jail now, instead of splashing along the highway many miles +to the south. For that matter, he was likely to land in jail, anyway, +before he was done with Foster, unless he did some pretty close +figuring. Wherefore he drove with one part of his brain, and with +the other he figured upon how he was going to get out of the mess +himself--and land Foster and Mert deep in the middle of it. For such was +his vengeful desire. + +After an hour or so, when his stomach began to hint that it was eating +time for healthy men, he slowed down and turned his head toward the +tonneau. There they were, hunched down under the robe, their heads drawn +into their collars like two turtles half asleep on a mud bank. + +“Say, how about some lunch?” he demanded. “Maybe you fellows can get +along on whisky and sandwiches, but I'm doing the work; and if you +notice, I've been doing it for about twelve hours now without any +let-up. There's a town ahead here a ways--” + +“Drive around it, then,” growled Foster, lifting his chin to stare ahead +through the fogged windshield. “We've got hot coffee here, and there's +plenty to eat. Enough for two meals. How far have we come since we +started?” + +“Far enough to be called crazy if we go much farther without a square +meal,” Bud snapped. Then he glanced at the rumpled newspaper and added +carelessly, “Anything new in the paper?” + +“No!” Mert spoke up sharply. “Go on. You're doing all right so +far--don't spoil it by laying down on your job!” + +“Sure, go on!” Foster urged. “We'll stop when we get away from this darn +burg, and you can rest your legs a little while we eat.” + +Bud went on, straight through the middle of the town without stopping. +They scurried down a long, dismal lane toward a low-lying range of hills +pertly wooded with bald patches of barren earth and rock. Beyond were +mountains which Bud guessed was the Tehachapi range. Beyond them, he +believed he would find desert and desertion. He had never been over this +road before, so he could no more than guess. He knew that the ridge road +led to Los Angeles, and he did not want anything of that road. Too many +travelers. He swung into a decent-looking road that branched off to the +left, wondering where it led, but not greatly caring. He kept that road +until they had climbed over a ridge or two and were in the mountains. +Soaked wilderness lay all about them, green in places where grass would +grow, brushy in places, barren and scarred with outcropping ledges, +pencilled with wire fences drawn up over high knolls. + +In a sequestered spot where the road hugged close the concave outline of +a bushy bluff, Bud slowed and turned out behind a fringe of bushes, and +stopped. + +“This is safe enough,” he announced, “and my muscles are kinda crampy. +I'll tell the world that's been quite some spell of straight driving.” + +Mert grunted, but Foster was inclined to cheerfulness. “You're some +driver, Bud. I've got to hand it to you.” + +Bud grinned. “All right, I'll take it--half of it, anyway, if you don't +mind. You must remember I don't know you fellows. Most generally I +collect half in advance, on a long trip like this.” Foster's eyes +opened, but he reached obediently inside his coat. Mert growled +inaudible comments upon Bud's nerve. + +“Oh, we can't kick, Mert,” Foster smoothed him down diplomatically. +“He's delivered the goods, so far. And he certainly does know how to put +a car over the road. He don't know us, remember!” + +Mert grunted again and subsided. Foster extracted a bank note from his +bill-folder, which Bud observed had a prosperous plumpness, and held it +out to Bud. + +“I guess fifty dollars won't hurt your feelings, will it, brother? +That's more than you'd charge for twice the trip, but we appreciate a +tight mouth, and the hurry-up trip you've made of it, and all that It's +special work, and we're willing to pay a special price. See?” + +“Sure. But I only want half, right now. Maybe,” he added with the +lurking twinkle in his eyes, “I won't suit yuh quite so well the rest +of the way. I'll have to go b'-guess and b'-gosh from here on. I've got +some change left from what I bought for yuh this morning too. Wait till +I check up.” + +Very precisely he did so, and accepted enough from Foster to make up +the amount to twenty-five dollars. He was tempted to take more. For +one minute he even contemplated holding the two up and taking enough to +salve his hurt pride and his endangered reputation. But he did not do +anything of the sort, of course; let's believe he was too honest to do +it even in revenge for the scurvy trick they had played him. + +He ate a generous lunch of sandwiches and dill pickles and a wedge of +tasteless cocoanut cake, and drank half a pint or so of the hot, black +coffee, and felt more cheerful. + +“Want to get down and stretch your legs? I've got to take a look at the +tires, anyway. Thought she was riding like one was kinda flat, the last +few miles.” + +They climbed out stiffly into the rain, stood around the car and stared +at it and at Bud testing his tires, and walked off down the road for a +little distance where they stood talking earnestly together. From the +corner of his eye Bud caught Mert tilting his head that way, and smiled +to himself. Of course they were talking about him! Any fool would know +that much. Also they were discussing the best means of getting rid of +him, or of saddling upon him the crime of stealing the car, or some +other angle at which he touched their problem. + +Under cover of testing the rear wheel farthest from them, he peeked into +the tonneau and took a good look at the small traveling bag they had +kept on the seat between them all the way. He wished he dared--But they +were coming back, as if they would not trust him too long alone with +that bag. He bent again to the tire, and when they climbed back into +the curtained car he was getting the pump tubing out to pump up that +particular tire a few pounds. + +They did not pay much attention to him. They seemed preoccupied and not +too friendly with each other, Bud thought. Their general air of gloom +he could of course lay to the weather and the fact that they had been +traveling for about fourteen hours without any rest; but there was +something more than that in the atmosphere. He thought they had +disagreed, and that he was the subject of their disagreement. + +He screwed down the valve cap, coiled the pump tube and stowed it away +in the tool box, opened the gas tank, and looked in--and right there he +did something else; something that would have spelled disaster if either +of them had seen him do it. He spilled a handful of little round white +objects like marbles into the tank before he screwed on the cap, and +from his pocket he pulled a little paper box, crushed it in his hand, +and threw it as far as he could into the bushes. Then, whistling just +above his breath, which was a habit with Bud when his work was going +along pleasantly, he scraped the mud off his feet, climbed in, and drove +on down the road. + +The big car picked up speed on the down grade, racing along as though +the short rest had given it a fresh enthusiasm for the long road that +wound in and out and up and down and seemed to have no end. As though he +joyed in putting her over the miles, Bud drove. Came a hill, he sent her +up it with a devil-may-care confidence, swinging around curves with a +squall of the powerful horn that made cattle feeding half a mile away on +the slopes lift their startled heads and look. + +“How much longer are you good for, Bud?” Foster leaned forward to ask, +his tone flattering with the praise that was in it. + +“Me? As long as this old boat will travel,” Bud flung back gleefully, +giving her a little more speed as they rocked over a culvert and sped +away to the next hill. He chuckled, but Foster had settled back again +satisfied, and did not notice. + +Halfway up the next hill the car slowed suddenly, gave a snort, gasped +twice as Bud retarded the spark to help her out, and, died. She was +a heavy car to hold on that stiff grade, and in spite of the full +emergency brake helped out with the service brake, she inched backward +until the rear wheels came full against a hump across the road and held. + +Bud did not say anything; your efficient chauffeur reserves his +eloquence for something more complex than a dead engine. He took down +the curtain on that side, leaned out into the rain and inspected the +road behind him, shifted into reverse, and backed to the bottom. + +“What's wrong?” Foster leaned forward to ask senselessly. + +“When I hit level ground, I'm going to find out,” Bud retorted, still +watching the road and steering with one hand. “Does the old girl ever +cut up with you on hills?” + +“Why--no. She never has,” Foster answered dubiously. + +“Reason I asked, she didn't just choke down from the pull. She went and +died on me.” + +“That's funny,” Foster observed weakly. + +On the level Bud went into neutral and pressed the self-starter with +a pessimistic deliberation. He got three chugs and a backfire into the +carburetor, and after that silence. He tried it again, coaxing her with +the spark and throttle. The engine gave a snort, hesitated and then, +quite suddenly, began to throb with docile regularity that seemed to +belie any previous intention of “cutting up.” + +Bud fed her the gas and took a run at the hill. She went up like a +thoroughbred and died at the top, just when the road had dipped into the +descent. Bud sent her down hill on compression, but at the bottom she +refused to find her voice again when he turned on the switch and pressed +the accelerator. She simply rolled down to the first incline and stopped +there like a balky mule. + +“Thunder!” said Bud, and looked around at Foster. “Do you reckon the old +boat is jinxed, just because I said I could drive her as far as she'd +go? The old rip ain't shot a cylinder since we hit the top of the hill.” + +“Maybe the mixture--” + +“Yeah,” Bud interrupted with a secret grin, “I've been wondering about +that, and the needle valve, and the feed pipe, and a few other little +things. Well, we'll have a look.” + +Forthwith he climbed out into the drizzle and began a conscientious +search for the trouble. He inspected the needle valve with much care, +and had Foster on the front seat trying to start her afterwards. He +looked for short circuit. He changed the carburetor adjustment, and +Foster got a weary chug-chug that ceased almost as soon as it had begun. +He looked all the spark plugs over, he went after the vacuum feed and +found that working perfectly. He stood back, finally, with his hands on +his hips, and stared at the engine and shook his head slowly twice. + +Foster, in the driver's seat, swore and tried again to start it. “Maybe +if you cranked it,” he suggested tentatively. + +“What for? The starter turns her over all right. Spark's all right too, +strong and hot. However--” With a sigh of resignation Bud got out what +tools he wanted and went to work. Foster got out and stood around, +offering suggestions that were too obvious to be of much use, but which +Bud made it a point to follow as far as was practicable. + +Foster said it must be the carburetor, and Bud went relentlessly after +the carburetor. He impressed Foster with the fact that he knew cars, and +when he told Foster to get in and try her again, Foster did so with the +air of having seen the end of the trouble. At first it did seem so, for +the engine started at once and worked smoothly until Bud had gathered +his wrenches off the running board and was climbing it, when it slowed +down and stopped, in spite of Foster's frantic efforts to keep it alive +with spark and throttle. + +“Good Glory!” cried Bud, looking reproachfully in at Foster. “What'd yuh +want to stop her for?” + +“I didn't!” Foster's consternation was ample proof of his innocence. +“What the devil ails the thing?” + +“You tell me, and I'll fix it,” Bud retorted savagely. Then he smoothed +his manner and went back to the carburetor. “Acts like the gas kept +choking off,” he said, “but it ain't that. She's O.K. I know, 'cause +I've tested it clean back to tank. There's nothing the matter with the +feed--she's getting gas same as she has all along. I can take off the +mag. and see if anything's wrong there; but I'm pretty sure there ain't. +Couldn't any water or mud get in--not with that oil pan perfect. She +looks dry as a bone, and clean. Try her again, Foster; wait till I set +the spark about right. Now, you leave it there, and give her the gas +kinda gradual, and catch her when she talks. We'll see--” + +They saw that she was not going to “talk” at all. Bud swore a little and +got out more tools and went after the magneto with grim determination. +Again Foster climbed out and stood in the drizzle and watched him. Mert +crawled over into the front seat where he could view the proceedings +through the windshield. Bud glanced up and saw him there, and grinned +maliciously. “Your friend seems to love wet weather same as a cat does,” + he observed to Foster. “He'll be terrible happy if you're stalled here +till you get a tow in somewhere.” + +“It's your business to see that we aren't stalled,” Mert snapped at him +viciously. “You've got to make the thing go. You've got to!” + +“Well, I ain't the Almighty,” Bud retorted acidly. “I can't perform +miracles while yuh wait.” + +“Starting a cranky car doesn't take a miracle,” whined Mert. “Anybody +that knows cars--” + +“She's no business to be a cranky car,” Foster interposed pacifically. +“Why, she's practically new!” He stepped over a puddle and stood beside +Bud, peering down at the silent engine. “Have you looked at the intake +valve?” he asked pathetically. + +“Why, sure. It's all right. Everything's all right, as far as I can find +out.” Bud looked Foster straight in the eye--and if his own were a bit +anxious, that was to be expected. + +“Everything's all right,” he added measuredly. “Only, she won't go.” He +waited, watching Foster's face. + +Foster chewed a corner of his lip worriedly. “Well, what do you make of +it?” His tone was helpless. + +Bud threw out his two hands expressively, and shook his head. He let +down the hood, climbed in, slid into the driver's seat, and went through +the operation of starting. Only, he didn't start. The self-starter +hummed as it spun the flywheel, but nothing whatever was elicited save a +profane phrase from Foster and a growl from Mert. Bud sat back flaccid, +his whole body owning defeat. + +“Well, that means a tow in to the nearest shop,” he stated, after a +minute of dismal silence. “She's dead as a doornail.” + +Mert sat back in his corner of the seat, muttering into his collar. +Foster looked at him, looked at Bud, looked at the car and at the +surrounding hills. He seemed terribly depressed and at the same +time determined to make the best of things. Bud could almost pity +him--almost. + +“Do you know how far it is back to that town we passed?” he asked Bud +spiritlessly after a while. Bud looked at the speedometer, made a mental +calculation and told him it was fifteen miles. Towns, it seemed, were +rather far apart in this section of the country. + +“Well, let's see the road map. How far is it to the next one?” + +“Search me. They didn't have any road maps back there. Darned hick +burg.” + +Foster studied awhile. “Well, let's see if we can push her off the +middle of the road--and then I guess we'll have to let you walk back and +get help. Eh, Mert? There's nothing else we can do--” + +“What yuh going to tell 'em?” Mert demanded suspiciously. + +Bud permitted a surprised glance to slant back at Mert. “Why, whatever +you fellows fake up for me to tell,” he said naively. “I know the truth +ain't popular on this trip, so get together and dope out something. And +hand me over my suit case, will yuh? I want some dry socks to put on +when I get there.” + +Foster very obligingly tilted the suit case over into the front seat. +After that he and Mert, as by a common thought impelled, climbed out +and went over to a bushy live oak to confer in privacy. Mert carried the +leather bag with him. + +By the time they had finished and were coming back, Bud had gone through +his belongings and had taken out a few letters that might prove awkward +if found there later, two pairs of socks and his razor and toothbrush. +He was folding the socks to stow away in his pocket when they got in. + +“You can say that we're from Los Angeles, and on our way home,” Foster +told him curtly. It was evident to Bud that the two had not quite agreed +upon some subject they had discussed. “That's all right. I'm Foster, and +he's named Brown--if any one gets too curious.” + +“Fine. Fine because it's so simple. I'll eat another sandwich, if you +don't mind, before I go. I'll tell a heartless world that fifteen miles +is some little stroll--for a guy that hates walkin'.” + +“You're paid for it,” Mert growled at him rudely. + +“Sure, I'm paid for it,” Bud assented placidly, taking a bite. They +might have wondered at his calm, but they did not. He ate what he +wanted, took a long drink of the coffee, and started off up the hill +they had rolled down an hour or more past. + +He walked briskly, and when he was well out of earshot Bud began to +whistle. Now and then he stopped to chuckle, and sometimes he frowned at +an uncomfortable thought. But on the whole he was very well pleased with +his present circumstances. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS + +In a little village which he had glimpsed from the top of a hill Bud +went into the cluttered little general store and bought a few blocks of +slim, evil smelling matches and a couple of pounds of sliced bacon, a +loaf of stale bread, and two small cans of baked beans. He stuffed +them all into the pocket of his overcoat, and went out and hunted up a +long-distance telephone sign. It had not taken him more than an hour to +walk to the town, for he had only to follow a country road that branched +off that way for a couple of miles down a valley. There was a post +office and the general store and a couple of saloons and a blacksmith +shop that was thinking of turning into a garage but had gone no further +than to hang out a sign that gasoline was for sale there. It was all +very sordid and very lifeless and altogether discouraging in the drizzle +of late afternoon. Bud did not see half a dozen human beings on his way +to the telephone office, which he found was in the post office. + +He called up San Francisco, and got the chief of police's office on the +wire, and told them where they would find the men who had robbed that +jewelry store of all its diamonds and some other unset jewels. Also he +mentioned the car that was stolen, and that was now stalled and waiting +for some kind soul to come and give it a tow. + +He speedily had all the attention of the chief, and having thought +out in advance his answers to certain pertinent questions, he did not +stutter when they were asked. Yes, he had been hired to drive the ear +south, and he had overheard enough to make him suspicious on the way. He +knew that they had stolen the car. He was not absolutely sure that +they were the diamond thieves but it would be easy enough to find out, +because officers sent after them would naturally be mistaken for first +aid from some garage, and the cops could nab the men and look into that +grip they were so careful not to let out of their sight. + +“Are you sure they won't get the car repaired and go on?” It was +perfectly natural that the chief should fear that very thing. + +“No chance!” Bud chuckled into the 'phone. “Not a chance in the world, +chief. They'll be right there where I left 'em, unless some car comes +along and gives 'em a tow. And if that happens you'll be able to trace +'em.” He started to hang up, and added another bit of advice. “Say, +chief, you better tell whoever gets the car, to empty the gas tank and +clean out the carburetor and vacuum feed--and she'll go, all right! +Adios.” + +He hung up and paid the charge hurriedly, and went out and down a +crooked little lane that led between bushes to a creek and heavy timber. +It did not seem to him advisable to linger; the San Francisco chief of +police might set some officer in that village on his trail, just as a +matter of precaution. Bud told himself that he would do it were he in +the chief's place. When he reached the woods along the creek he ran, +keeping as much as possible on thick leaf mold that left the least +impression. He headed to the east, as nearly as he could judge, and when +he came to a rocky canyon he struck into it. + +He presently found himself in a network of small gorges that twisted +away into the hills without any system whatever, as far as he could see. +He took one that seemed to lead straightest toward where the sun would +rise next morning, and climbed laboriously deeper and deeper into the +hills. After awhile he had to descend from the ridge where he found +himself standing bleakly revealed against a lowering, slaty sky that +dripped rain incessantly. As far as he could see were hills and more +hills, bald and barren except in certain canyons whose deeper shadows +told of timber. Away off to the southwest a bright light showed +briefly--the headlight of a Santa Fe train, he guessed it must be. To +the east, which he faced, the land was broken with bare hills that fell +just short of being mountains. He went down the first canyon that opened +in that direction, ploughing doggedly ahead into the unknown. + +That night Bud camped in the lee of a bank that was fairly well screened +with rocks and bushes, and dined off broiled bacon and bread and a can +of beans with tomato sauce, and called it a meal. At first he was not +much inclined to take the risk of having a fire big enough to keep him +warm. Later in the night he was perfectly willing to take the risk, but +could not find enough dry wood. His rainproofed overcoat became quite +soggy and damp on the inside, in spite of his efforts to shield himself +from the rain. It was not exactly a comfortable night, but he worried +through it somehow. + +At daylight he opened another can of beans and made himself two thick +bean sandwiches, and walked on while he ate them slowly. They tasted +mighty good, Bud thought--but he wished fleetingly that he was back +in the little green cottage on North Sixth Street, getting his own +breakfast. He felt as though he could drink about four cups of coffee; +and as to hotcakes--! But breakfast in the little green cottage recalled +Marie, and Marie was a bitter memory. All the more bitter because he +did not know where burrowed the root of his hot resentment. In a strong +man's love for his home and his mate was it rooted, and drew therefrom +the wormwood of love thwarted and spurned. + +After awhile the high air currents flung aside the clouds like curtains +before a doorway. The sunlight flashed out dazzlingly and showed Bud +that the world, even this tumbled world, was good to look upon. His +instincts were all for the great outdoors, and from such the sun brings +quick response. Bud lifted his head, looked out over the hills to where +a bare plain stretched in the far distance, and went on more briskly. + +He did not meet any one at all; but that was chiefly because he did not +want to meet any one. He went with his ears and his eyes alert, and was +not above hiding behind a clump of stunted bushes when two horsemen rode +down a canyon trail just below him. Also he searched for roads and then +avoided them. It would be a fat morsel for Marie and her mother to roll +under their tongues, he told himself savagely, if he were arrested and +appeared in the papers as one of that bunch of crooks! + +Late that afternoon, by traveling steadily in one direction, he topped a +low ridge and saw an arm of the desert thrust out to meet him. A scooped +gully with gravelly sides and rocky bottom led down that way, and +because his feet were sore from so much sidehill travel, Bud went down. +He was pretty well fagged too, and ready to risk meeting men, if thereby +he might gain a square meal. Though he was not starving, or anywhere +near it, he craved warm food and hot coffee. + +So when he presently came upon two sway-backed burros that showed the +sweaty imprint of packsaddles freshly removed, and a couple of horses +also sweat roughened, he straightway assumed that some one was making +camp not far away. One of the horses was hobbled, and they were all +eating hungrily the grass that grew along the gully's sides. Camp was +not only close, but had not yet reached suppertime, Bud guessed from the +well-known range signs. + +Two or three minutes proved him right. He came upon a man just driving +the last tent peg. He straightened up and stared at Bud unblinkingly for +a few seconds. + +“Howdy, howdy,” he greeted him then with tentative friendliness, and +went on with his work. “You lost?” he added carefully. A man walking +down out of the barren hills, and carrying absolutely nothing in the +way of camp outfit, was enough to whet the curiosity of any one who knew +that country. At the same time curiosity that became too apparent +might be extremely unwelcome. So many things may drive a man into the +hills--but few of them would bear discussion with strangers. + +“Yes. I am, and I ain't.” Bud came up and stood with his hands in his +coat pockets, and watched the old fellow start his fire. + +“Yeah--how about some supper? If you am, and you ain't as hungry as you +look--” + +“I'll tell the world I am, and then some. I ain't had a square meal +since yesterday morning, and I grabbed that at a quick-lunch joint. I'm +open to supper engagements, brother.” + +“All right. There's a side of bacon in that kyack over there. Get it out +and slice some off, and we'll have supper before you know it. We will,” + he added pessimistically, “if this dang brush will burn.” + +Bud found the bacon and cut according to his appetite. His host got +out a blackened coffeepot and half filled it with water from a dented +bucket, and balanced it on one side of the struggling fire. He remarked +that they had had some rain, to which Bud agreed. He added gravely that +he believed it was going to clear up, though--unless the wind swung back +into the storm quarter. Bud again professed cheerfully to be in perfect +accord. After which conversational sparring they fell back upon the +little commonplaces of the moment. + +Bud went into a brush patch and managed to glean an armful of nearly +dry wood, which he broke up with the axe and fed to the fire, coaxing it +into freer blazing. The stranger watched him unobtrusively, critically, +pottering about while Bud fried the bacon. + +“I guess you've handled a frying pan before, all right,” he remarked at +last, when the bacon was fried without burning. + +Bud grinned. “I saw one in a store window once as I was going by,” he +parried facetiously. “That was quite a while back.” + +“Yeah. Well, how's your luck with bannock? I've got it all mixed.” + +“Dump her in here, ole-timer,” cried Bud, holding out the frying pan +emptied of all but grease. “Wish I had another hot skillet to turn over +the top.” + +“I guess you've been there, all right,” the other chuckled. “Well, I +don't carry but the one frying pan. I'm equipped light, because I've got +to outfit with grub, further along.” + +“Well, we'll make out all right, just like this.” Bud propped the handle +of the frying pan high with a forked stick, and stood up. “Say, my +name's Bud Moore, and I'm not headed anywhere in particular. I'm just +traveling in one general direction, and that's with the Coast at my +back. Drifting, that's all. I ain't done anything I'm ashamed of or +scared of, but I am kinda bashful about towns. I tangled with a couple +of crooks, and they're pulled by now, I expect. I'm dodging newspaper +notoriety. Don't want to be named with 'em at all.” He, spread his +hands with an air of finality. “That's my tale of woe,” he supplemented, +“boiled down to essentials. I just thought I'd tell you.” + +“Yeah. Well, my name's Cash Markham, and I despise to have folks get +funny over it. I'm a miner and prospector, and I'm outfitting for a trip +for another party, looking up an old location that showed good prospects +ten years ago. Man died, and his wife's trying to get the claim +relocated. Get you a plate outa that furtherest kyack, and a cup. +Bannock looks about done, so we'll eat.” + +That night Bud shared Cash Markham's blankets, and in the morning +he cooked the breakfast while Cash Markham rounded up the burros and +horses. In that freemasonry of the wilderness they dispensed with +credentials, save those each man carried in his face and in his manner. +And if you stop to think of it, such credentials are not easily forged, +for nature writes them down, and nature is a truth-loving old dame who +will never lead you far astray if only she is left alone to do her work +in peace. + +It transpired, in the course of the forenoon's travel, that Cash Markham +would like to have a partner, if he could find a man that suited. One +guessed that he was fastidious in the matter of choosing his companions, +in spite of the easy way in which he had accepted Bud. By noon they had +agreed that Bud should go along and help relocate the widow's claim. +Cash Markham hinted that they might do a little prospecting on their own +account. It was a country he had long wanted to get into, he said, and +while he intended to do what Mrs. Thompson had hired him to do, still +there was no law against their prospecting on their own account. And +that, he explained, was one reason why he wanted a good man along. +If the Thompson claim was there, Bud could do the work under the +supervision of Cash, and Cash could prospect. + +“And anyway, it's bad policy for a man to go off alone in this part of +the country,” he added with a speculative look across the sandy waste +they were skirting at a pace to suit the heavily packed burros. “Case +of sickness or accident--or suppose the stock strays off--it's bad to be +alone.” + +“Suits me fine to go with you,” Bud declared. “I'm next thing to broke, +but I've got a lot of muscle I can cash in on the deal. And I know the +open. And I can rock a gold-pan and not spill out all the colors, if +there is any--and whatever else I know is liable to come in handy, and +what I don't know I can learn.” + +“That's fair enough. Fair enough,” Markham agreed. “I'll allow you wages +on the Thompson job' till you've earned enough to balance up with the +outfit. After that it'll be fifty-fifty. How'll that be, Bud?” + +“Fair enough--fair enough,” Bud retorted with faint mimicry. “If I was +all up in the air a few days ago, I seem to have lit on my feet, and +that's good enough for me right now. We'll let 'er ride that way.” + +And the twinkle, as he talked, was back in his eyes, and the smiley +quirk was at the corner of his lips. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. INTO THE DESERT + +If you want to know what mad adventure Bud found himself launched upon, +just read a few extracts from the diary which Cash Markham, being a +methodical sort of person, kept faithfully from day to day, until he cut +his thumb on a can of tomatoes which he had been cutting open with his +knife. After that Bud kept the diary for him, jotting down the main +happenings of the day. When Cash's thumb healed so that he could hold a +pencil with some comfort, Bud thankfully relinquished the task. He hated +to write, anyway, and it seemed to him that Cash ought to trust his +memory a little more than he did. + +I shall skip a good many days, of course--though the diary did not, I +assure you. + +First, there was the outfit. When they had outfitted at Needles for the +real trip, Cash set down the names of all living things in this wise: + +Outfit, Cassius B. Markham, Bud Moore, Daddy a bull terrier, bay horse, +Mars, Pete a sorrel, Ed a burro, Swayback a jinny, Maude a jack, Cora +another jinny, Billy a riding burro & Sways colt & Maude colt a white +mean looking little devil. + +Sat. Apr. 1. + +Up at 7:30. Snowing and blowing 3 ft. of snow on ground. Managed to get +breakfast & returned to bed. Fed Monte & Peter our cornmeal, poor things +half frozen. Made a fire in tent at 1:30 & cooked a meal. Much smoke, +ripped hole in back of tent. Three burros in sight weathering fairly +well. No sign of let up everything under snow & wind a gale. Making out +fairly well under adverse conditions. Worst weather we have experienced. + +Apr. 2. + +Up at 7 A.M. Fine & sunny snow going fast. Fixed up tent & cleaned up +generally. Alkali flat a lake, can't cross till it dries. Stock some +scattered, brought them all together. + +Apr. 3. + +Up 7 A.M. Clear & bright. Snow going fast. All creeks flowing. Fine +sunny day. + +Apr. 4. + +Up 6 A.M. Clear & bright. Went up on divide, met 3 punchers who said +road impassable. Saw 2 trains stalled away across alkali flat. Very +boggy and moist. + +Apr.5. + +Up 5 A.M. Clear & bright. Start out, on Monte & Pete at 6. Animals +traveled well, did not appear tired. Feed fine all over. Plenty water +everywhere. + +Not much like Bud's auto stage, was it? But the very novelty of it, the +harking back to old plains days, appealed to him and sent him forward +from dull hardship to duller discomfort, and kept the quirk at the +corners of his lips and the twinkle in his eyes. Bud liked to travel +this way, though it took them all day long to cover as much distance as +he had been wont to slide behind him in an hour. He liked it--this slow, +monotonous journeying across the lean land which Cash had traversed +years ago, where the stark, black pinnacles and rough knobs of rock +might be hiding Indians with good eyesight and a vindictive temperament. +Cash told him many things out of his past, while they poked along, +driving the packed burros before them. Things which he never had set +down in his diary--things which he did not tell to any one save his few +friends. + +But it was not always mud and rain and snow, as Cash's meager chronicle +betrays. + +May 6. + +Up at sunrise. Monte & Pete gone leaving no tracks. Bud found them +3 miles South near Indian village. Bud cut his hair, did a good job. +Prospector dropped into camp with fist full of good looking quartz. +Stock very thirsty all day. Very hot Tied Monte & Pete up for night. + +May 8. + +Up 5:30. Fine, but hot. Left 7:30. Pete walked over a sidewinder & Bud +shot him ten ft. in air. Also prior killed another beside road. Feed as +usual, desert weeds. Pulled grain growing side of track and fed plugs. +Water from cistern & R.R. ties for fuel. Put up tent for shade. Flies +horrible. + +May 9. + +Up 4. Left 6. Feed as usual. Killed a sidewinder in a bush with 3 shots +of Krag. Made 21 m. today. R.R. ties for fuel Cool breeze all day. + +May 11. + +Up at sunrise. Bud washed clothes. Tested rock. Fine looking mineral +country here. Dressed Monte's withers with liniment greatly reducing +swelling from saddle-gall. He likes to have it dressed & came of his own +accord. Day quite comfortable. + +May 15. + +Up 4. Left 6:30 over desert plain & up dry wash. Daddy suffered from +heat & ran into cactus while looking for shade. Got it in his mouth, +tongue, feet & all over body. Fixed him up poor creature groaned all +evening & would not eat his supper. Poor feed & wood here. Water found +by digging 2 ft. in sand in sandstone basins in bed of dry wash. Monte +lay down en route. Very hot & all suffered from heat. + +May 16. + +Bud has sick headache. Very hot so laid around camp all day. Put two +blankets up on tent pols for sun break. Daddy under weather from cactus +experience. Papago Indian boy about 18 on fine bay mare driving 4 ponies +watered at our well. Moon almost full, lots of mocking birds. Pretty +songs. + +May 17. + +Up 7:30 Bud some better. Day promises hot, but slight breeze. White +gauzy clouds in sky. Daddy better. Monte & Pete gone all day. Hunted +twice but impossible to track them in this stony soil Bud followed +trail, found them 2 mi. east of here in flat sound asleep about 3 P.M. +At 6 went to flat 1/4 mi. N. of camp to tie Pete, leading Monte by +bell strap almost stepped on rattler 3 ft. long. 10 rattles & a button. +Killed him. To date, 1 Prairie rattler, 3 Diamond back & 8 sidewinders, +12 in all. Bud feels better. + +May 18. + +At 4 A. M. Bud woke up by stock passing camp. Spoke to me who half awake +hollered, “sic Daddy!” Daddy sicced 'em & they went up bank of wash to +right. Bud swore it was Monte & Pete. I went to flat & found M. & P. +safe. Water in sink all gone. Bud got stomach trouble. I threw up my +breakfast. Very hot weather. Lanced Monte's back & dressed it with +creoline. Turned them loose & away they put again. + +Soon after this they arrived at the place where Thompson had located his +claim. It was desert, of course, sloping away on one side to a dreary +waste of sand and weeds with now and then a giant cactus standing +gloomily alone with malformed lingers stretched stiffly to the staring +blue sky. Behind where they pitched their final camp--Camp 48, Cash +Markham recorded it in his diary--the hills rose. But they were as stark +and barren almost as the desert below. Black rock humps here and there, +with ledges of mineral bearing rock. Bushes and weeds and dry washes for +the rest, with enough struggling grass to feed the horses and burros if +they rustled hard enough for it. + +They settled down quietly to a life of grinding monotony that would have +driven some men crazy. But Bud, because it was a man's kind of monotony, +bore it cheerfully. He was out of doors, and he was hedged about by no +rules or petty restrictions. He liked Cash Markham and he liked Pete, +his saddle horse, and he was fond of Daddy who was still paying the +penalty of seeking too carelessly for shade and, according to Cash's +record, “getting it in his mouth, tongue, feet & all over body.” Bud +liked it--all except the blistering heat and the “side-winders” + and other rattlers. He did not bother with trying to formulate any +explanation of why he liked it. It may have been picturesque, though +picturesqueness of that sort is better appreciated when it is seen +through the dim radiance of memory that blurs sordid details. Certainly +it was not adventurous, as men have come to judge adventure. + +Life droned along very dully. Day after day was filled with petty +details. A hill looks like a mountain if it rises abruptly out of a +level plain, with no real mountains in sight to measure it by. Here's +the diary to prove how little things came to look important because the +days held no contrasts. If it bores you to read it, think what it must +have been to live it. + +June 10. + +Up at 6:30 Baked till 11. Then unrigged well and rigged up an incline +for the stock to water. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Stock did not come in +all morning, but Monte & Pete came in before supper. Incline water shaft +does not work. Prospected & found 8 ledges. Bud found none. + +June 11. + +After breakfast fixed up shack--shelves, benches, tools, etc. Cleaned +guns. Bud dressed Daddy's back which is much better. Strong gold in test +of ledge, I found below creek. Took more specimens to sample. Cora comes +in with a little black colt newly born. Proud as a bull pup with two +tails. Monte & Pete did not come in so we went by lantern light a mile +or so down the wash & found them headed this way & snake them in to +drink about 80 gallons of water apiece. Daddy tied up and howling like a +demon all the while. Bud took a bath. + +June 12. + +Bud got out and got breakfast again. Then started off on Pete to hunt +trail that makes short cut 18 miles to Bend. Roofed the kitchen. Bud got +back about 1:30, being gone 6 hours. Found trail & two good ledges. Cora +& colt came for water. Other burros did not. Brought in specimens from +ledge up creek that showed very rich gold in tests. Burros came in at +9:30. Bud got up and tied them up. + +June 13. + +Bud gets breakfast. I took Sway & brought in load of wood. Bud went out +and found a wash lined with good looking ledges. Hung up white rags on +bushes to identify same. Found large ledge of good quartz showing fine +in tests about one mile down wash. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Located +a claim west of Thompson's. Burros did not come in except Cora & colt. +Pete & Monte came separated. + +June 14. + +Bud got breakfast & dressed Daddy's back. Very hot day. Stock came in +about 2. Tied up Billy Maud & Cora. Bud has had headache. Monte & Pete +did not come in. Bud went after them & found them 4 miles away where +we killed the Gila monster. Sent 2 samples from big ledge to Tucson for +assay. Daddy better. + +June 15. + +Up 2.30. Bud left for Bend at 4. Walked down to flat but could not see +stock. About 3 Cora & Colt came in for water & Sway & Ed from the south +about 5. No Monte. Monte got in about midnight & went past kitchen to +creek on run. Got up, found him very nervous & frightened & tied him up. + +June 17. + +Bud got back 4 P.M. in gale of wind & sand. Burros did not come in for +water. Very hot. Bud brought canned stuff. Rigged gallows for No. +2 shaft also block & tackle & pail for drinking water, also washed +clothes. While drying went around in cap undershirt & shoes. + +June 18. + +Burros came in during night for water. Hot as nether depths of infernal +regions. Went up on hill a mile away. Seamed with veins similar to shaft +No. 2 ore. Blew in two faces & got good looking ore seamed with a black +incrustation, oxide of something, but what could not determine. Could +find neither silver nor copper in it. Monte & Pete came in about 1 & +tied them up. Very hot. Hottest day yet, even the breeze scorching. Test +of ore showed best yet. One half of solution in tube turning to chloride +of gold, 3 tests showing same. Burros except Ed & Cora do not come in +days any more. Bud made a gate for kitchen to keep burros out. + +The next morning it was that Cash cut the ball of his right thumb open +on the sharp edge of a tomato can. He wanted the diary to go on as +usual. He had promised, he said, to keep one for the widow who wanted +a record of the way the work was carried on, and the progress made. Bud +could not see that there had been much progress, except as a matter of +miles. Put a speedometer on one of his legs, he told Cash, and he'd bet +it would register more mileage chasing after them fool burros than his +auto stage could show after a full season. As for working the widow's +claim, it was not worth working, from all he could judge of it. And if +it were full of gold as the United States treasury, the burros took up +all their time so they couldn't do much. Between doggone stock drinking +or not drinking and the darn fool diary that had to be kept, Bud opined +that they needed an extra hand or two. Bud was peevish, these days. Gila +Bend had exasperated him because it was not the town it called itself, +but a huddle of adobe huts. He had come away in the sour mood of a +thirsty man who finds an alkali spring sparkling deceptively under a +rock. Furthermore, the nights had been hot and the mosquitoes a humming +torment. And as a last affliction he was called upon to keep the diary +going. He did it, faithfully enough but in a fashion of his own. + +First he read back a few pages to get the hang of the thing. Then he +shook down Cash's fountain pen, that dried quickly in that heat. Then he +read another page as a model, and wrote: + +June 19. + +Mosquitoes last night was worse than the heat and that was worse than +Gila Bend's great white way. Hunted up the burros. Pete and Monte came +in and drank. Monte had colic. We fed them and turned them loose but the +blamed fools hung around all day and eat up some sour beans I throwed +out. Cash was peeved and swore they couldn't have another grain of feed. +But Monte come to the shack and watched Cash through a knothole the size +of one eye till Cash opened up his heart and the bag. Cash cut his thumb +opening tomatoes. The tomatoes wasn't hurt any. + +June 20. + +Got breakfast. Bill and harem did not come to water. Cash done the +regular hike after them. His thumb don't hurt him for hazing donkeys. +Bill and harem come in after Cash left. They must of saw him go. Cash +was out four hours and come in mad. Shot a hidrophobia skunk out by the +creek. Nothing doing. Too hot. + +June 21. + +The sun would blister a mud turtle so he'd holler. Cash put in most of +day holding a parasol over his garden patch. Burros did not miss their +daily drink. Night brings mosquitoes with their wings singed but their +stingers O.K. They must hole up daytimes or they would fry. + +June 22. + +Thought I know what heat was. I never did before. Cash took a bath. It +was his first. Burros did not come to water. Cash and I tried to sleep +on kitchen roof but the darned mosquitoes fed up on us and then played +heavenly choir all night. + +June 25. + +Cash got back from Bend. Thumb is better and he can have this job any +time now. He hustled up a widow that made a couple of mosquito bags to +go over our heads. No shape (bags, not widow) but help keep flies and +mosquitoes from chewing on us all day and all night. Training for hades. +I can stand the heat as well as the old boy with the pitch-fork. Ain't +got used to brimstone yet, but I'd trade mosquitoes for sulphur smoke +and give some boot. Worried about Cash. He took a bath today again, +using water I had packed for mine. Heat must be getting him. + +June 26. + +Cash opened up thumb again, trying to brain Pete with rock. Pete got +halfway into kitchen and eat biggest part of a pie I made. Cash threw +jagged rock, hit Pete in side of jaw. Cut big gash. Swelled now like +a punkin. Cash and I tangled over same. I'm going to quit. I have had +enough of this darn country. Creek's drying up, and mosquitoes have +found way to crawl under bags. Cash wants me to stay till we find good +claim, but Cash can go to thunder. + +Then Cash's record goes on: + +June 27. + +Bud very sick & out of head. Think it is heat, which is terrible. +Talked all night about burros, gasoline, & camphor balls which he seemed +wanting to buy in gunny sack. No sleep for either. Burros came in for +water about daylight. Picketed Monte & Pete as may need doctor if Bud +grows worse. Thumb nearly well. + +June 27. Bud same, slept most of day. Gave liver pills & made gruel of +cornmeal, best could do with present stores. Burros came at about 3 but +could not drink owing to bees around water hold. Monte got stung and +kicked over water cans & buckets I had salted for burros. Burros put for +hills again. No way of driving off bees. + +June 28. + +Burros came & drank in night. Cooler breeze, Bud some better & slept. +Sway has badly swollen neck. May be rattler bite or perhaps bee. Bud +wanted cigarettes but smoked last the day before he took sick. Gave him +more liver pills & sponge off with water every hour. Best can do under +circumstances. Have not prospected account Bud's sickness. + +June 29. + +Very hot all day, breeze like blast from furnace. Burros refuse to leave +flat. Bees better, as can't fly well in this wind. Bud worse. High fever +& very restless & flighty. Imagines much trouble with automobile, talk +very technical & can't make head or tail of it. Monte & Pete did not +come in, left soon as turned loose. No feed for them here & figured Bud +too sick to travel or stay alone so horses useless at present. Sponged +frequently with coolest water can get, seems to give some relief as he +is quieter afterwards. + +July 4th. + +Monte & Pete came in the night & hung around all day. Drove them away +from vicinity of shack several times but they returned & moped in shade +of house. Terrible hot, strong gusty wind. Bud sat up part of day, slept +rest of time. Looks very thin and great hollows under eyes, but chief +trouble seems to be, no cigarettes. Shade over radishes & lettice works +all right. Watered copiously at daylight & again at dusk. Doing fine. +Fixed fence which M & P. broke down while tramping around. Prospected +west of ranche. Found enormous ledge of black quartz, looks like +sulphur stem during volcanic era but may be iron. Strong gold & heavy +precipitate in test, silver test poor but on filtering showed like white +of egg in tube (unusual). Clearing iron out showed for gold the highest +yet made, being more pronounced with Fenosulphate than $1500 rock have +seen. Immense ledge of it & slightest estimate from test at least $10. +Did not tell Bud as keeping for surprise when he is able to visit ledge. +Very monotonous since Bud has been sick. Bud woke up & said Hell of a +Fourth & turned over & went to sleep again with mosquito net over head +to keep off flies. Burros came in after dark, all but Cora & Colt, which +arrived about midnight. Daddy gone since yesterday morning leaving no +trace. + +July 5. + +Miserable hot night. Burros trickled in sometime during night. Bud +better, managed to walk to big ledge after sundown. Suggests we call it +the Burro Lode. His idea of wit, claims we have occupied camp all summer +for sake of timing burros when they come to waterhole. Wish to call +it Columbia mine for patriotic reasons having found it on Fourth. Will +settle it soon so as to put up location. Put in 2 shots & pulpel samples +for assay. Rigged windows on shack to keep out bees, nats & flies & +mosquitoes. Bud objects because it keeps out air as well. Took them +off. Sick folks must be humored. Hot, miserable and sleepless. Bud very +restless. + +July 6. + +Cool wind makes weather endurable, but bees terrible in kitchen & around +water-hole. Flipped a dollar to settle name of big ledge. Bud won tails, +Burro lode. Must cultivate my sense of humor so as to see the joke. Bud +agrees to stay & help develop claim. Still very weak, puttered around +house all day cleaning & baking bread & stewing fruit which brought bees +by millions so we could not eat same till after dark when they subsided. +Bud got stung twice in kitchen. Very peevish & full of cuss. Says +positively must make trip to Bend & get cigarettes tomorrow or will blow +up whole outfit. Has already blowed up same several times today with no +damage. Burros came in about 5. Monte & Pete later, tied them up with +grain. Pete has very bad eye. Bud will ride Monte if not too hot for +trip. Still no sign of daddy, think must be dead or stolen though nobody +to steal same in country. + +July 7. + +Put in 2 shots on Burro Lode & got her down to required depth. Hot. Bud +finds old location on widow's claim, upturns all previous calculation +& information given me by her. Wrote letter explaining same, which Bud +will mail. Bud left 4 P.M. should make Bend by midnight. Much better but +still weak Burros came in late & hung around water hole. Put up monument +at Burro Lode. Sent off samples to assay at Tucson. Killed rattler near +shack, making 16 so far killed. + +CHAPTER EIGHT. MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES + +“Well, here come them darn burros, Cash. Cora's colt ain't with 'em +though. Poor little devils--say, Cash, they look like hard sleddin', and +that's a fact. I'll tell the world they've got about as much pep as a +flat tire.” + +“Maybe we better grain 'em again.” Cash looked up from studying the +last assay report of the Burro Lode, and his look was not pleasant. “But +it'll cost a good deal, in both time and money. The feed around here is +played out.” + +“Well, when it comes to that--” Bud cast a glum glance at the paper Cash +was holding. + +“Yeah. Looks like everything's about played out. Promising ledge, too. +Like some people, though. Most all its good points is right on the +surface. Nothing to back it up.” + +“She's sure running light, all right. Now,” Bud added sardonically, but +with the whimsical quirk withal, “if it was like a carburetor, and you +could give it a richer mixture--” + +“Yeah. What do you make of it, Bud?” + +“Well--aw, there comes that durn colt, bringing up the drag. Say Cash, +that colt's just about all in. Cora's nothing but a bag of bones, too. +They'll never winter--not on this range, they won't.” + +Cash got up and went to the doorway, looking out over Bud's shoulder +at the spiritless donkeys trailing in to water. Beyond them the desert +baked in its rim of hot, treeless hills. Above them the sky glared a +brassy blue with never a could. Over a low ridge came Monte and Pete, +walking with heads drooping. Their hip bones lifted above their ridged +paunches, their backbones, peaked sharp above, their withers were lean +and pinched looking. In August the desert herbage has lost what little +succulence it ever possessed, and the gleanings are scarce worth the +walking after. + +“They're pretty thin,” Cash observed speculatively, as though he was +measuring them mentally for some particular need. + +“We'd have to grain 'em heavy till we struck better feed. And pack +light.” Bud answered his thought. + +“The question is, where shall we head for, Bud? Have you any particular +idea?” Cash looked slightingly down at the assayer's report. “Such +as she is, we've done all we can do to the Burro Lode, for a year at +least,” he said. “The assessment work is all done--or will be when we +muck out after that last shot. The claim is filed--I don't know what +more we can do right away. Do you?” + +“Sure thing,” grinned Bud. “We can get outa here and go some place where +it's green.” + +“Yeah.” Cash meditated, absently eyeing the burros. “Where it's green.” + He looked at the near hills, and at the desert, and at the dreary march +of the starved animals. “It's a long way to green country,” he said. + +They looked at the burros. + +“They're tough little devils,” Bud observed hopefully. “We could take +it easy, traveling when it's coolest. And by packing light, and graining +the whole bunch--” + +“Yeah. We can ease 'em through, I guess. It does seem as though it would +be foolish to hang on here any longer.” Carefully as he made his tests, +Cash weighed the question of their going. “This last report kills any +chance of interesting capital to the extent of developing the claim on +a large enough scale to make it profitable. It's too long a haul to take +the ore out, and it's too spotted to justify any great investment in +machinery to handle it on the ground. And,” he added with an undernote +of fierceness, “it's a terrible place for man or beast to stay in, +unless the object to be attained is great enough to justify enduring the +hardships.” + +“You said a mouthful, Cash. Well, can you leave your seven radishes and +three hunches of lettuce and pull out--say at daybreak?” Bud turned to +him with some eagerness. + +Cash grinned sourly. “When it's time to go, seven radishes can't stop +me. No, nor a whole row of 'em--if there was a whole row.” + +“And you watered 'em copiously too,” Bud murmured, with the corners +of his mouth twitching. “Well, I guess we might as well tie up the +livestock. I'm going to give 'em all a feed of rolled oats, Cash. We +can get along without, and they've got to have something to put a little +heart in 'em. There's a moon to-night--how about starting along +about midnight? That would put us in the Bend early in the forenoon +to-morrow.” + +“Suits me,” said Cash. “Now I've made up my mind about going, I can't go +too soon.” + +“You're on. Midnight sees us started.” Bud went out with ropes to catch +and tie up the burros and their two saddle horses. And as he went, for +the first time in two months he whistled; a detail which Cash noted with +a queer kind of smile. + +Midnight and the moon riding high in the purple bowl of sky sprinkled +thick with stars; with a little, warm wind stirring the parched weeds as +they passed; with the burros shuffling single file along the dim trail +which was the short cut through the hills to the Bend, Ed taking the +lead, with the camp kitchen wabbling lumpily on his back, Cora bringing +up the rear with her skinny colt trying its best to keep up, and with +no pack at all; so they started on the long, long journey to the green +country. + +A silent journey it was for the most part. The moon and the starry +bowl of sky had laid their spell upon the desert, and the two men rode +wordlessly, filled with vague, unreasoning regret that they must go. +Months they had spent with the desert, learning well every little +varying mood; cursing it for its blistering heat and its sand storms +and its parched thirst and its utter, blank loneliness. Loving it too, +without ever dreaming that they loved. To-morrow they would face the +future with the past dropping farther and farther behind. To-night it +rode with them. + +Three months in that little, rough-walled hut had lent it an atmosphere +of home, which a man instinctively responds to with a certain clinging +affection, however crude may be the shelter he calls his own. Cash +secretly regretted the thirsty death of his radishes and lettuce which +he had planted and tended with such optimistic care. Bud wondered if +Daddy might not stray half-starved into the shack, and find them gone. +While they were there, he had agreed with Cash that the dog must be +dead. But now he felt uneasily doubtful It would be fierce if Daddy did +come back now. He would starve. He never could make the trip to the Bend +alone, even if he could track them. + +There was, also, the disappointment in the Burro Lode claim. As Bud +planned it, the Burro was packing a very light load--far lighter than +had seemed possible with that strong indication on the surface. Cash's +“enormous black ledge” had shown less and less gold as they went into +it, though it still seemed worth while, if they had the capital to +develop it further. Wherefore they had done generous assessment work +and had recorded their claim and built their monuments to mark its +boundaries. It would be safe for a year, and by that time--Quien sabe? + +The Thompson claim, too, had not justified any enthusiasm whatever. They +had found it, had relocated it, and worked out the assessment for the +widow. Cash had her check for all they had earned, and he had declared +profanely that he would not give his share of the check for the whole +claim. + +They would go on prospecting, using the check for a grubstake, That much +they had decided without argument. The gambling instinct was wide awake +in Bud's nature--and as for Cash, he would hunt gold as long as he could +carry pick and pan. They would prospect as long as their money held out. +When that was gone, they would get more and go on prospecting. But +they would prospect in a green country where wood and water were not +so precious as in the desert and where, Cash averred, the chance of +striking it rich was just as good; better, because they could kill game +and make their grubstake last longer. + +Wherefore they waited in Gila Bend for three days, to strengthen the +weakened animals with rest and good hay and grain. Then they took +again to the trail, traveling as lightly as they could, with food for +themselves and grain for the stock to last them until they reached +Needles. From there with fresh supplies they pushed on up to Goldfield, +found that camp in the throes of labor disputes, and went on to Tonopah. + +There they found work for themselves and the burros, packing winter +supplies to a mine lying back in the hills. They made money at it, +and during the winter they made more. With the opening of spring they +outfitted again and took the trail, their goal the high mountains south +of Honey Lake. They did not hurry. Wherever the land they traveled +through seemed to promise gold, they would stop and prospect. Many a pan +of likely looking dirt they washed beside some stream where the burros +stopped to drink and feed a little on the grassy banks. + +So, late in June, they reached Reno; outfitted and went on again, +traveling to the north, to the green country for which they yearned, +though now they were fairly in it and would have stopped if any tempting +ledge or bar had come in their way. They prospected every gulch that +showed any mineral signs at all. It was a carefree kind of life, with +just enough of variety to hold Bud's interest to the adventuring. The +nomad in him responded easily to this leisurely pilgrimage. There was no +stampede anywhere to stir their blood with the thought of quick wealth. +There was hope enough, on the other hand, to keep them going. Cash had +prospected and trapped for more than fifteen years now, and he preached +the doctrine of freedom and the great outdoors. + +Of what use was a house and lot--and taxes and trouble with the +plumbing? he would chuckle. A tent and blankets and a frying pan +and grub; two good legs and wild country to travel; a gold pan and a +pick--these things, to Cash, spelled independence and the joy of living. +The burros and the two horses were luxuries, he declared. When they once +got located on a good claim they would sell off everything but a couple +of burros--Sway and Ed, most likely. The others would bring enough for a +winter grubstake, and would prolong their freedom and their independence +just that much. That is, supposing they did not strike a good claim +before then. Cash had learned, he said, to hope high but keep an eye on +the grubstake. + +Late in August they came upon a mountain village perched beside a swift +stream and walled in on three sided by pine-covered mountains. A branch +railroad linked the place more or less precariously with civilization, +and every day--unless there was a washout somewhere, or a snowslide, +or drifts too deep--a train passed over the road. One day it would go +up-stream, and the next day it would come back. And the houses stood +drawn up in a row alongside the track to watch for these passings. + +Miners came in with burros or with horses, packed flour and bacon and +tea and coffee across their middles, got drunk, perhaps as a parting +ceremony, and went away into the hills. Cash watched them for a day or +so; saw the size of their grubstakes, asked few questions and listened +to a good deal of small-town gossip, and nodded his head contentedly. +There was gold in these hills. Not enough, perhaps, to start a stampede +with--but enough to keep wise old hermits burrowing after it. + +So one day Bud sold the two horses and one of the saddles, and Cash +bought flour and bacon and beans and coffee, and added other things +quite as desirable but not so necessary. Then they too went away into +the hills. + +Fifteen miles from Alpine, as a cannon would shoot; high up in the +hills, where a creek flowed down through a saucerlike basin under +beetling ledges fringed all around with forest, they came, after much +wandering, upon an old log cabin whose dirt roof still held in spite of +the snows that heaped upon it through many a winter. The ledge showed +the scars of old prospect holes, and in the sand of the creek they found +“colors” strong enough to make it seem worth while to stop here--for +awhile, at least. + +They cleaned out the cabin and took possession of it, and the next time +they went to town Cash made cautious inquiries about the place. It was, +he learned, an old abandoned claim. Abandoned chiefly because the old +miner who had lived there died one day, and left behind him all the +marks of having died from starvation, mostly. A cursory examination of +his few belongings had revealed much want, but no gold save a little +coarse dust in a small bottle. + +“About enough to fill a rifle ca'tridge,” detailed the teller of the +tale. “He'd pecked around that draw for two, three year mebby. Never +showed no gold much, for all the time he spent there. Trapped some in +winter--coyotes and bobcats and skunks, mostly. Kinda off in the upper +story, old Nelson was. I guess he just stayed there because he happened +to light there and didn't have gumption enough to git out. Hills is full +of old fellers like him. They live off to the'rselves, and peck around +and git a pocket now and then that keeps 'm in grub and tobacco. If you +want to use the cabin, I guess nobody's goin' to care. Nelson never had +any folks, that anybody knows of. Nobody ever bothered about takin' up +the claim after he cashed in, either. Didn't seem worth nothin' much. +Went back to the gov'ment.” + +“Trapped, you say. Any game around there now?” + +“Oh, shore! Game everywhere in these hills, from weasels up to bear and +mountain lion. If you want to trap, that's as good a place as any, I +guess.” + +So Cash and Bud sold the burros and bought traps and more supplies, and +two window sashes and a crosscut saw and some wedges and a double-bitted +axe, and settled down in Nelson Flat to find what old Dame Fortune had +tucked away in this little side pocket and forgotten. + + + +CHAPTER NINE. THE BITE OF MEMORY + +The heavy boom of a dynamite blast rolled across the fiat to the hills +that flung it back in a tardy echo like a spent ball of sound. A blob of +blue smoke curled out of a hole the size of a hogshead in a steep bank +overhung with alders. Outside, the wind caught the smoke and carried +streamers of it away to play with. A startled bluejay, on a limb high up +on the bank, lifted his slaty crest and teetered forward, clinging with +his toe nails to the branch while he scolded down at the men who had +scared him so. A rattle of clods and small rocks fell from their high +flight into the sweet air of a mountain sunset. + +“Good execution, that was,” Cash remarked, craning his neck toward the +hole. “If you're a mind to go on ahead and cook supper, I'll stay and +see if we opened up anything. Or you can stay, just as you please.” + +Dynamite smoke invariably made Bud's head ache splittingly. Cash was not +so susceptible. Bud chose the cooking, and went away down the flat, the +bluejay screaming insults after him. He was frying bacon when Cash came +in, a hatful of broken rock riding in the hollow of his arm. + +“Got something pretty good here, Bud--if she don't turn out like that +dang Burro Lode ledge. Look here. Best looking quartz we've struck yet. +What do you think of it?” + +He dumped the rock out on the oilcloth behind the sugar can and directly +under the little square window through which the sun was pouring a +lavish yellow flood of light before it dropped behind the peak. Bud set +the bacon back where it would not burn, and bent over the table to look. + +“Gee, but it's heavy!” he cried, picking up a fragment the size of +an egg, and balancing it in his hands. “I don't know a lot about +gold-bearing quartz, but she looks good to me, all right.” + +“Yeah. It is good, unless I'm badly mistaken. I'll test some after +supper. Old Nelson couldn't have used powder at all, or he'd have +uncovered enough of this, I should think, to show the rest what he had. +Or maybe he died just when he had started that hole. Seems queer he +never struck pay dirt in this flat. Well, let's eat if it's ready, Bud. +Then we'll see.” + +“Seems kinda queer, don't it, Cash, that nobody stepped in and filed on +any claims here?” Bud dumped half a kettle of boiled beans into a basin +and set it on the table. “Want any prunes to-night, Cash?” + +Cash did not want prunes, which was just as well, seeing there were none +cooked. He sat down and ate, with his mind and his eyes clinging to the +grayish, veined fragments of rock lying on the table beside his plate. + +“We'll send some of that down to Sacramento right away,” he observed, +“and have it assayed. And we won't let out anything about it, Bud--good +or bad. I like this flat. I don't want it mucked over with a lot of +gold-crazy lunatics.” + +Bud laughed and reached for the bacon. “We ain't been followed up with +stampedes so far,” he pointed out. “Burro Lode never caused a ripple in +the Bend, you recollect. And I'll tell a sinful world it looked awful +good, too.” + +“Yeah. Well, Arizona's hard to excite. They've had so dang much +strenuosity all their lives, and then the climate's against violent +effort, either mental or physical. I was calm, perfectly calm when I +discovered that big ledge. It is just as well--seeing how it petered +out.” + +“What'll you bet this pans out the same?” + +“I never bet. No one but a fool will gamble.” Cash pressed his lips +together in a way that drove the color from there. + +“Oh, yuh don't! Say, you're the king bee of all gamblers. Been +prospecting for fifteen years, according to you--and then you've got the +nerve to say you don't gamble!” + +Cash ignored the charge. He picked up a piece of rock and held it to the +fading light. “It looks good,” he said again. “Better than that placer +ground down by the creek. That's all right, too. We can wash enough gold +there to keep us going while we develop this. That is, if this proves as +good as it looks.” + +Bud looked across at him enigmatically. “Well, here's hoping she's worth +a million. You go ahead with your tests, Cash. I'll wash the dishes.” + +“Of course,” Cash began to conserve his enthusiasm, “there's nothing so +sure as an assay. And it was too dark in the hole to see how much was +uncovered. This may be just a freak deposit. There may not be any real +vein of it. You can't tell until it's developed further. But it looks +good. Awful good.” + +His makeshift tests confirmed his opinion. Bud started out next day with +three different samples for the assayer, and an air castle or two to +keep him company. He would like to find himself half owner of a mine +worth about a million, he mused. Maybe Marie would wish then that she +had thought twice about quitting him just on her mother's say-so. He'd +like to go buzzing into San Jose behind the wheel of a car like the one +Foster had fooled him into stealing. And meet Marie, and her mother +too, and let them get an eyeful. He guessed the old lady would have to +swallow what she had said about him being lazy--just because he couldn't +run an auto-stage in the winter to Big Basin! What was the matter with +the old woman, anyway? Didn't he keep Maria in comfort. Well, he'd like +to see her face when he drove along the street in a big new Sussex. +She'd wish she had let him and Marie alone. They would have made out all +right if they had been let alone. He ought to have taken Marie to some +other town, where her mother couldn't nag at her every day about him. +Marie wasn't such a bad kid, if she were left alone. They might have +been happy-- + +He tried then to shake himself free of thoughts of her. That was the +trouble with him, he brooded morosely. He couldn't let his thoughts ride +free, any more. They kept heading straight for Marie. He could not see +why she should cling so to his memory; he had not wronged her--unless +it was by letting her go without making a bigger fight for their home. +Still, she had gone of her own free will. He was the one that had been +wronged--why, hadn't they lied about him in court and to the gossipy +neighbors? Hadn't they broke him? No. If the mine panned out big as Cash +seemed to think was likely, the best thing he could do was steer clear +of San Jose. And whether it panned out or not, the best thing he could +do was forget that such girl as Marie had ever existed.. + +Which was all very well, as far as it went. The trouble was that +resolving not to think of Marie, calling up all the bitterness he could +muster against her memory, did no more toward blotting her image from +his mind than did the miles and the months he had put between them. + +He reached the town in a dour mood of unrest, spite of the promise of +wealth he carried in his pocket. He mailed the package and the letter, +and went to a saloon and had a highball. He was not a drinking man--at +least, he never had been one, beyond a convivial glass or two with his +fellows--but he felt that day the need of a little push toward optimism. +In the back part of the room three men were playing freeze-out. Bud went +over and stood with his hands in his pockets and watched them, because +there was nothing else to do, and because he was still having some +trouble with his thoughts. He was lonely, without quite knowing what +ailed him. He hungered for friends to hail him with that cordial, +“Hello, Bud!” when they saw him coming. + +No one in Alpine had said hello, Bud, when he came walking in that day. +The postmaster had given him one measuring glance when he had weighed +the package of ore, but he had not spoken except to name the amount of +postage required. The bartender had made some remark about the weather, +and had smiled with a surface friendliness that did not deceive Bud for +a moment. He knew too well that the smile was not for him, but for his +patronage. + +He watched the game. And when the man opposite him pushed back his chair +and, looking up at Bud, asked if he wanted to sit in, Bud went and sat +down, buying a dollar's worth of chips as an evidence of his intention +to play. His interest in the game was not keen. He played for the +feeling it gave him of being one of the bunch, a man among his friends; +or if not friends, at least acquaintances. And, such was his varying +luck with the cards, he played for an hour or so without having won +enough to irritate his companions. Wherefore he rose from the table at +supper time calling one young fellow Frank quite naturally. They went to +the Alpine House and had supper together, and after that they sat in +the office and talked about automobiles for an hour, which gave Bud a +comforting sense of having fallen among friends. + +Later they strolled over to a picture show which ran films two years +behind their first release, and charged fifteen cents for the privilege +of watching them. It was the first theater Bud had entered since he left +San Jose, and at the last minute he hesitated, tempted to turn back. +He hated moving pictures. They always had love scenes somewhere in the +story, and love scenes hurt. But Frank had already bought two tickets, +and it seemed unfriendly to turn back now. He went inside to the +jangling of a player-piano in dire need of a tuner's service, and sat +down near the back of the hall with his hat upon his lifted knees which +could have used more space between the seats. + +While they waited for the program they talked in low tones, a mumble of +commonplaces. Bud forgot for the moment his distaste for such places, +and let himself slip easily back into the old thought channels, the +old habits of relaxation after a day's work was done. He laughed at +the one-reel comedy that had for its climax a chase of housemaids, +policemen, and outraged fruit vendors after a well-meaning but +unfortunate lover. He saw the lover pulled ignominiously out of a duck +pond and soused relentlessly into a watering trough, and laughed with +Frank and called it some picture. + +He eyed a succession of “current events” long since gone stale out +where the world moved swifter than here in the mountains, and he felt +as though he had come once more into close touch with life. All the dull +months he had spent with Cash and the burros dwarfed into a pointless, +irrelevant incident of his life. He felt that he ought to be out in the +world, doing bigger things than hunting gold that somehow always +refused at the last minute to be found. He stirred restlessly. He was +free--there was nothing to hold him if he wanted to go. The war--he +believed he would go over and take a hand. He could drive an ambulance +or a truck-- + +Current Events, however, came abruptly to an end; and presently +Bud's vagrant, half-formed desire for achievement merged into biting +recollections. Here was a love drama, three reels of it. At first Bud +watched it with only a vague, disquieting sense of familiarity. Then +abruptly he recalled too vividly the time and circumstance of his first +sight of the picture. It was in San Jose, at the Liberty. He and Marie +had been married two days, and were living in that glamorous world of +the honeymoon, so poignantly sweet, so marvelous--and so fleeting. He +had whispered that the girl looked like her, and she had leaned heavily +against his shoulder. In the dusk of lowered lights their hands had +groped and found each other, and clung. + +The girl did look like Marie. When she turned her head with that little +tilt of the chin, when she smiled, she was like Marie. Bud leaned +forward, staring, his brows drawn together, breathing the short, quick +breaths of emotion focussed upon one object, excluding all else. Once, +when Frank moved his body a little in the next seat, Bud's hand went out +that way involuntarily. The touch of Frank's rough coat sleeve recalled +him brutally, so that he drew away with a wincing movement as though he +had been hurt. + +All those months in the desert; all those months of the slow journeying +northward; all the fought battles with memory, when he thought that he +had won--all gone for nothing, their slow anodyne serving but to sharpen +now the bite of merciless remembering. His hand shook upon his knee. +Small beads of moisture oozed out upon his forehead. He sat stunned +before the amazing revelation of how little time and distance had done +to heal his hurt. + +He wanted Marie. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted her in +the old days, with a tenderness, an impulse to shield her from her own +weaknesses, her own mistakes. Then--in those old days--there had been +the glamor of mystery that is called romance. That was gone, worn away +by the close intimacies of matrimony. He knew her faults, he knew how +she looked when she was angry and petulant. He knew how little the real +Marie resembled the speciously amiable, altogether attractive Marie who +faced a smiling world when she went pleasuring. He knew, but--he wanted +her just the same. He wanted to tell her so many things about the +burros, and about the desert--things that would make her laugh, and +things that would make her blink back the tears. He was homesick for her +as he had never been homesick in his life before. The picture flickered +on through scene after scene that Bud did not see at all, though he was +staring unwinkingly at the screen all the while. The love scenes at the +last were poignantly real, but they passed before his eyes unnoticed. +Bud's mind was dwelling upon certain love scenes of his own. He was +feeling Marie's presence beside him there in the dusk. + +“Poor kid--she wasn't so much to blame,” he muttered just above his +breath, when the screen was swept clean and blank at the end of the last +reel. + +“Huh? Oh, he was the big mutt, right from the start,” Frank replied +with the assured air of a connoisseur. “He didn't have the brains of a +bluejay, or he'd have known all the time she was strong for him.” + +“I guess that's right,” Bud mumbled, but he did not mean what Frank +thought he meant. “Let's go. I want a drink.” + +Frank was willing enough; too willing, if the truth were known. They +went out into the cool starlight, and hurried across the side street +that was no more than a dusty roadway, to the saloon where they had +spent the afternoon. Bud called for whisky, and helped himself twice +from the bottle which the bartender placed between them. He did not +speak until the second glass was emptied, and then he turned to Frank +with a purple glare in his eyes. + +“Let's have a game of pool or something,” he suggested. + +“There's a good poker game going, back there,” vouchsafed the bartender, +turning his thumb toward the rear, where half a dozen men were gathered +in a close group around a table. “There's some real money in sight, +to-night.” + +“All right, let's go see.” Bud turned that way, Frank following like a +pet dog at his heels. + +At dawn the next morning, Bud got up stiffly from the chair where he +had spent the night. His eyeballs showed a network of tiny red veins, +swollen with the surge of alcohol in his blood and with the strain of +staring all night at the cards. Beneath his eyes were puffy ridges. His +cheekbones flamed with the whisky flush. He cashed in a double-handful +of chips, stuffed the money he had won into his coat pocket, walked, +with that stiff precision of gait by which a drunken man strives to +hide his drunkenness, to the bar and had another drink. Frank was at his +elbow. Frank was staggering, garrulous, laughing a great deal over very +small jokes. + +“I'm going to bed,” said Bud, his tongue forming the words with a slow +carefulness. + +“Come over to my shack, Bud--rotten hotel. My bed's clean, anyway.” + Frank laughed and plucked him by the sleeve. + +“All right,” Bud consented gravely. “We'll take a bottle along.” + + + +CHAPTER TEN. EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS + +A man's mind is a tricky thing--or, speaking more exactly, a man's +emotions are tricky things. Love has come rushing to the back of a +tip-tilted chin, or the tone of a voice, or the droop of an eyelid. It +has fled for cause as slight. Sometimes it runs before resentment for +a real or fancied wrong, but then, if you have observed it closely, you +will see that quite frequently, when anger grows slow of foot, or dies +of slow starvation, love steals back, all unsuspected and unbidden--and +mayhap causes much distress by his return. It is like a sudden +resurrection of all the loved, long-mourned dead that sleep so serenely +in their tended plots. Loved though they were and long mourned, think +of the consternation if they all came trooping back to take their old +places in life! The old places that have been filled, most of them, by +others who are loved as dearly, who would be mourned if they were taken +away. + +Psychologists will tell us all about the subconscious mind, the +hidden loves and hates and longings which we believe are dead and long +forgotten. When one of those emotions suddenly comes alive and stands, +terribly real and intrusive, between our souls and our everyday lives, +the strongest and the best of us may stumble and grope blindly after +content, or reparation, or forgetfulness, or whatever seems most likely +to give relief. + +I am apologizing now for Bud, who had spent a good many months in +pushing all thoughts of Marie out of his mind, all hunger for her out of +his heart. He had kept away from towns, from women, lest he be reminded +too keenly of his matrimonial wreck. He had stayed with Cash and had +hunted gold, partly because Cash never seemed conscious of any need of +a home or love or wife or children, and therefore never reminded Bud of +the home and the wife and the love and the child he had lost out of his +own life. Cash seldom mentioned women at all, and when he did it was +in a purely general way, as women touched some other subject he was +discussing. He never paid any attention to the children they met +casually in their travels. He seemed absolutely self-sufficient, +interested only in the prospect of finding a paying claim. What he would +do with wealth, if so be he attained it, he never seemed to know or +care. He never asked Bud any questions about his private affairs, never +seemed to care how Bud had lived, or where. And Bud thankfully left his +past behind the wall of silence. So he had come to believe that he was +almost as emotion-proof as Cash appeared to be, and had let it go at +that. + +Now here he was, with his heart and his mind full of Marie--after more +than a year and a half of forgetting her! Getting drunk and playing +poker all night did not help him at all, for when he woke it was from a +sweet, intimate dream of her, and it was to a tormenting desire for her, +that gnawed at his mind as hunger gnaws at the stomach. Bud could not +understand it. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. By all +his simple rules of reckoning he ought to be “over it” by now. He had +been, until he saw that picture. + +He was so very far from being over his trouble that he was under it; a +beaten dog wincing under the blows of memory, stung by the lash of his +longing. He groaned, and Frank thought it was the usual “morning after” + headache, and laughed ruefully. + +“Same here,” he said. “I've got one like a barrel, and I didn't punish +half the booze you did.” + +Bud did not say anything, but he reached for the bottle, tilted it and +swallowed three times before he stopped. + +“Gee!” whispered Frank, a little enviously. + +Bud glanced somberly across at Frank, who was sitting by the stove with +his jaws between his palms and his hair toweled, regarding his guest +speculatively. + +“I'm going to get drunk again,” Bud announced bluntly. “If you don't +want to, you'd better duck. You're too easy led--I saw that last night. +You follow anybody's lead that you happen to be with. If you follow my +lead to-day, you'll be petrified by night. You better git, and let me go +it alone.” + +Frank laughed uneasily. “Aw, I guess you ain't all that fatal, Bud. +Let's go over and have some breakfast--only it'll be dinner.” + +“You go, if you want to.” Bud tilted the bottle again, his eyes half +closed while he swallowed. When he had finished, he shuddered violently +at the taste of the whisky. He got up, went to the water bucket and +drank half a dipper of water. “Good glory! I hate whisky,” he grumbled. +“Takes a barrel to have any effect on me too.” He turned and looked down +at Frank with a morose kind of pity. “You go on and get your breakfast, +kid. I don't want any. I'll stay here for awhile.” + +He sat down on the side of the cheap, iron bedstead, and emptied his +pockets on the top quilt. He straightened the crumpled bills and counted +them, and sorted the silver pieces. All told, he had sixty-three dollars +and twenty cents. He sat fingering the money absently, his mind upon +other things. Upon Marie and the baby, to be exact. He was fighting the +impulse to send Marie the money. She might need it for the kid. If he +was sure her mother wouldn't get any of it... A year and a half was +quite a while, and fifteen hundred dollars wasn't much to live on these +days. She couldn't work, with the baby on her hands... + +Frank watched him curiously, his jaws still resting between his two +palms, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, his lips loose and trembling. +A dollar alarm clock ticked resonantly, punctuated now and then by the +dull clink of silver as Bud lifted a coin and let it drop on the little +pile. + +“Pretty good luck you had last night,” Frank ventured wishfully. “They +cleaned me.” + +Bud straightened his drooping shoulders and scooped the money into his +hand. He laughed recklessly, and got up. “We'll try her another whirl, +and see if luck'll bring luck. Come on--let's go hunt up some of them +marks that got all the dough last night. We'll split, fifty-fifty, and +the same with what we win. Huh?” + +“You're on, ho--let's go.” Bud had gauged him correctly--Frank would +follow any one who would lead. He got up and came to the table where Bud +was dividing the money into two equal sums, as nearly as he could make +change. What was left over--and that was the three dollars and twenty +cents--he tossed into the can of tobacco on a shelf. + +“We'll let that ride--to sober up on, if we go broke,” he grunted. “Come +on--let's get action.” + +Action, of a sort, they proceeded to get. Luck brought luck of the same +complexion. They won in fluctuating spells of good cards and judicious +teamwork. They did not cheat, though Frank was ready if Bud had led him +that way. Frank was ready for anything that Bud suggested. He drank when +Bud drank, went from the first saloon to the one farther down and +across the street, returned to the first with cheerful alacrity and much +meaningless laughter when Bud signified a desire to change. It soothed +Bud and irritated him by turns, this ready acquiescence of Frank's. He +began to take a malicious delight in testing that acquiescence. He began +to try whether he could not find the end of Frank's endurance in staying +awake, his capacity for drink, his good nature, his credulity--he ran +the scale of Frank's various qualifications, seeking always to establish +a well-defined limitation somewhere. + +But Frank was utterly, absolutely plastic. He laughed and drank when Bud +suggested that they drink. He laughed and played whatever game Bud urged +him into. He laughed and agreed with Bud when Bud made statements to +test the credulity of anyman. He laughed and said, “Sure. Let's go!” when +Bud pined for a change of scene. + +On the third day Bud suddenly stopped in the midst of a game of pool +which neither was steady enough to play, and gravely inspected the +chalked end of his cue. + +“That's about enough of this,” he said. “We're drunk. We're so drunk we +don't know a pocket from a prospect hole. I'm tired of being a hog. I'm +going to go get another drink and sober up. And if you're the dog Fido +you've been so far, you'll do the same.” He leaned heavily upon the +table, and regarded Frank with stern, bloodshot blue eyes. + +Frank laughed and slid his cue the length of the table. He also leaned a +bit heavily. “Sure,” he said. “I'm ready, any time you are.” + +“Some of these days,” Bud stated with drunken deliberation, “they'll +take and hang you, Frank, for being such an agreeable cuss.” He took +Frank gravely by the arm and walked him to the bar, paid for two beers +with almost his last dollar, and, still holding Frank firmly, walked him +out of doors and down the street to Frank's cabin. He pushed him inside +and stood looking in upon him with a sour appraisement. + +“You are the derndest fool I ever run across--but at that you're a good +scout too,” he informed Frank. “You sober up now, like I said. You ought +to know better 'n to act the way you've been acting. I'm sure ashamed +of you, Frank. Adios--I'm going to hit the trail for camp.” With that +he pulled the door shut and walked away, with that same circumspect +exactness in his stride which marks the drunken man as surely as does a +stagger. + +He remembered what it was that had brought him to town--which is more +than most men in his condition would have done. He went to the post +office and inquired for mail, got what proved to be the assayer's +report, and went on. He bought half a dozen bananas which did not +remind him of that night when he had waited on the Oakland pier for the +mysterious Foster, though they might have recalled the incident vividly +to mind had he been sober. He had been wooing forgetfulness, and for the +time being he had won. + +Walking up the steep, winding trail that led to Nelson Flat cleared a +little his fogged brain. He began to remember what it was that he had +been fighting to forget. Marie's face floated sometimes before him, but +the vision was misty and remote, like distant woodland seen through +the gray film of a storm. The thought of her filled him with a vague +discomfort now when his emotions were dulled by the terrific strain +he had wilfully put upon brain and body. Resentment crept into the +foreground again. Marie had made him suffer. Marie was to blame for this +beastly fit of intoxication. He did not love Marie--he hated her. He +did not want to see her, he did not want to think of her. She had done +nothing for him but bring him trouble. Marie, forsooth! (Only, Bud put +it in a slightly different way.) + +Halfway to the flat, he met Cash walking down the slope where the trail +seemed tunneled through deep green, so thick stood the young spruce. +Cash was swinging his arms in that free stride of the man who has +learned how to walk with the least effort. He did not halt when he +saw Bud plodding slowly up the trail, but came on steadily, his keen, +blue-gray eyes peering sharply from beneath his forward tilted hat brim. +He came up to within ten feet of Bud, and stopped. + +“Well!” He stood eyeing Bud appraisingly, much as Bud had eyed Frank a +couple of hours before. “I was just starting out to see what had become +of you,” he added, his voice carrying the full weight of reproach that +the words only hinted at. + +“Well, get an eyeful, if that's what you come for. I'm here--and +lookin's cheap.” Bud's anger flared at the disapproval he read in Cash's +eyes, his voice, the set of his lips. + +But Cash did not take the challenge. “Did the report come?” he asked, as +though that was the only matter worth discussing. + +Bud pulled the letter sullenly from his pocket and gave it to Cash. He +stood moodily waiting while Cash opened and read and returned it. + +“Yeah. About what I thought--only it runs lighter in gold, with a higher +percentage of copper. It'll pay to go on and see what's at bed rock. If +the copper holds up to this all along, we'll be figuring on the gold to +pay for getting the copper. This is copper country, Bud. Looks like we'd +found us a copper mine.” He turned and walked on beside Bud. “I dug in +to quite a rich streak of sand while you was gone,” he volunteered after +a silence. “Coarse gold, as high as fifteen cents a pan. I figure we +better work that while the weather's good, and run our tunnel in on this +other when snow comes.” + +Bud turned his head and looked at Cash intently for a minute. “I've been +drunker'n a fool for three days,” he announced solemnly. + +“Yeah. You look it,” was Cash's dry retort, while he stared straight +ahead, up the steep, shadowed trail. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE FIRST STAGES + +For a month Bud worked and forced himself to cheerfulness, and tried to +forget. Sometimes it was easy enough, but there were other times when +he must get away by himself and walk and walk, with his rifle over his +shoulder as a mild pretense that he was hunting game. But if he brought +any back camp it was because the game walked up and waited to be shot; +half the time Bud did not know where he was going, much less whether +there were deer within ten rods or ten miles. + +During those spells of heartsickness he would sit all the evening and +smoke and stare at some object which his mind failed to register. Cash +would sit and watch him furtively; but Bud was too engrossed with his +own misery to notice it. Then, quite unexpectedly, reaction would come +and leave Bud in a peace that was more than half a torpid refusal of his +mind to worry much over anything. + +He worked then, and talked much with Cash, and made plans for the +development of their mine. In that month they had come to call it a +mine, and they had filed and recorded their claim, and had drawn up an +agreement of partnership in it. They would “sit tight” and work on it +through the winter, and when spring came they hoped to have something +tangible upon which to raise sufficient capital to develop it properly. +Or, times when they had done unusually well with their sandbank, they +would talk optimistically about washing enough gold out of that claim to +develop the other, and keep the title all in their own hands. + +Then, one night Bud dreamed again of Marie, and awoke with an insistent +craving for the oblivion of drunkenness. He got up and cooked the +breakfast, washed the dishes and swept the cabin, and measured out two +ounces of gold from what they had saved. + +“You're keeping tabs on everything, Cash,” he said shortly. “Just charge +this up to me. I'm going to town.” + +Cash looked up at him from under a slanted eye-brow. His lips had a +twist of pained disapproval. + +“Yeah. I figured you was about due in town,” he said resignedly. + +“Aw, lay off that told-you-so stuff,” Bud growled. “You never figured +anything of the kind, and you know it.” He pulled his heavy sweater down +off a nail and put it on, scowling because the sleeves had to be pulled +in place on his arms. + +“Too bad you can't wait a day. I figured we'd have a clean-up to-morrow, +maybe. She's been running pretty heavy---” + +“Well, go ahead and clean up, then. You can do it alone. Or wait till I +get back.” + +Cash laughed, as a retort cutting, and not because he was amused. Bud +swore and went out, slamming the door behind him. + +It was exactly five days alter that when he opened it again. Cash was +mixing a batch of sour-dough bread into loaves, and he did not say +anything at all when Bud came in and stood beside the stove, warming his +hands and glowering around the room. He merely looked up, and then went +on with his bread making. + +Bud was not a pretty sight. Four days and nights of trying to see how +much whisky he could drink, and how long he could play poker without +going to sleep or going broke, had left their mark on his face and +his trembling hands. His eyes were puffy and red, and his cheeks were +mottled, and his lips were fevered and had lost any sign of a humorous +quirk at the corners. He looked ugly; as if he would like nothing better +than an excuse to quarrel with Cash--since Cash was the only person at +hand to quarrel with. + +But Cash had not knocked around the world for nothing. He had seen men +in that mood before, and he had no hankering for trouble which is vastly +easier to start than it is to stop. He paid no attention to Bud. He +made his loaves, tucked them into the pan and greased the top with bacon +grease saved in a tomato can for such use. He set the pan on a shelf +behind the stove, covered it with a clean flour sack, opened the stove +door, and slid in two sticks. + +“She's getting cold,” he observed casually. “It'll be winter now before +we know it.” + +Bud grunted, pulled an empty box toward him by the simple expedient of +hooking his toes behind the corner, and sat down. He set his elbows on +his thighs and buried his face in his hands. His hat dropped off +his head and lay crown down beside him. He made a pathetic figure of +miserable manhood, of strength mistreated. His fine, brown hair fell +in heavy locks down over his fingers that rested on his forehead. Five +minutes so, and he lifted his head and glanced around him apathetically. +“Gee-man-ee, I've got a headache!” he muttered, dropping his forehead +into his spread palms again. + +Cash hesitated, derision hiding in the back of his eyes. Then he pushed +the dented coffeepot forward on the stove. + +“Try a cup of coffee straight,” he said unemotionally, “and then lay +down. You'll sleep it off in a few hours.” + +Bud did not look up, or make any move to show that he heard. But +presently he rose and went heavily over to his bunk. “I don't want any +darn coffee,” he growled, and sprawled himself stomach down on the bed, +with his face turned from the light. + +Cash eyed him coldly, with the corner of his upper lip lifted a little. +Whatever weaknesses he possessed, drinking and gambling had no place in +the list. Nor had he any patience with those faults in others. Had Bud +walked down drunk to Cash's camp, that evening when they first met, he +might have received a little food doled out to him grudgingly, but +he assuredly would not have slept in Cash's bed that night. That he +tolerated drunkenness in Bud now would have been rather surprising to +any one who knew Cash well. Perhaps he had a vague understanding of the +deeps through which Bud was struggling, and so was constrained to hide +his disapproval, hoping that the moral let-down was merely a temporary +one. + +He finished his strictly utilitarian household labor and went off up the +flat to the sluice boxes. Bud had not moved from his first position on +the bed, but he did not breathe like a sleeping man. Not at first; after +an hour or so he did sleep, heavily and with queer, muddled dreams that +had no sequence and left only a disturbed sense of discomfort behind +then. + +At noon or a little after Cash returned to the cabin, cast a sour look +of contempt at the recumbent Bud, and built a fire in the old cookstove. +He got his dinner, ate it, and washed his dishes with never a word +to Bud, who had wakened and lay with his eyes half open, sluggishly +miserable and staring dully at the rough spruce logs of the wall. + +Cash put on his cap, looked at Bud and gave a snort, and went off again +to his work. Bud lay still for awhile longer, staring dully at the wall. +Finally he raised up, swung his feet to the floor, and sat there staring +around the little cabin as though he had never before seen it. + +“Huh! You'd think, the way he highbrows me, that Cash never done wrong +in his life! Tin angel, him--I don't think. Next time, I'll tell a +pinheaded world I'll have to bring home a quart or two, and put on a +show right!” + +Just what he meant by that remained rather obscure, even to Bud. He +got up, shut his eyes very tight and then opened them wide to clear his +vision, shook himself into his clothes and went over to the stove. +Cash had not left the coffeepot on the stove but had, with malicious +intent--or so Bud believed--put it away on the shelf so that what coffee +remained was stone cold. Bud muttered and threw out the coffee, grounds +and all--a bit of bachelor extravagance which only anger could drive him +to--and made fresh coffee, and made it strong. He did not want it. He +drank it for the work of physical regeneration it would do for him. + +He lay down afterwards, and this time he dropped into a more nearly +normal sleep, which lasted until Cash returned at dusk After that he lay +with his face hidden, awake and thinking. Thinking, for the most part, +of how dull and purposeless life was, and wondering why the world +was made, or the people in it--since nobody was happy, and few even +pretended to be. Did God really make the world, and man, just to play +with--for a pastime? Then why bother about feeling ashamed for anything +one did that was contrary to God's laws? + +Why be puffed up with pride for keeping one or two of them +unbroken--like Cash, for instance. Just because Cash never drank or +played cards, what right had he to charge the whole atmosphere of the +cabin with his contempt and his disapproval of Bud, who chose to do +both? + +On the other hand, why did he choose a spree as a relief from his +particular bunch of ghosts? Trading one misery for another was all +you could call it. Doing exactly the things that Marie's mother had +predicted he would do, committing the very sins that Marie was always +a little afraid he would commit--there must be some sort of twisted +revenge in that, he thought, but for the life of him he could not quite +see any real, permanent satisfaction in it--especially since Marie and +her mother would never get to hear of it. + +For that matter, he was not so sure that they would not get to hear. +He remembered meeting, just on the first edge of his spree, one Joe De +Barr, a cigar salesman whom he had known in San Jose. Joe knew Marie--in +fact, Joe had paid her a little attention before Bud came into her life. +Joe had been in Alpine between trains, taking orders for goods from the +two saloons and the hotel. He had seen Bud drinking. Bud knew perfectly +well how much Joe had seen him drinking, and he knew perfectly well +that Joe was surprised to the point of amazement--and, Bud suspected, +secretly gratified as well. Wherefore Bud had deliberately done what +he could do to stimulate and emphasize both the surprise and the +gratification. Why is it that most human beings feel a sneaking +satisfaction in the downfall of another? Especially another who is, or +has been at sometime, a rival in love or in business? + +Bud had no delusions concerning Joe De Barr. If Joe should happen to +meet Marie, he would manage somehow to let her know that Bud was going +to the dogs--on the toboggan--down and out--whatever it suited Joe to +declare him. It made Bud sore now to think of Joe standing so smug and +so well dressed and so immaculate beside the bar, smiling and twisting +the ends of his little brown mustache while he watched Bud make such +a consummate fool of himself. At the time, though, Bud had taken a +perverse delight in making himself appear more soddenly drunken, more +boisterous and reckless than he really was. + +Oh, well, what was the odds? Marie couldn't think any worse of him than +she already thought. And whatever she thought, their trails had parted, +and they would never cross again--not if Bud could help it. Probably +Marie would say amen to that. He would like to know how she was getting +along--and the baby, too. Though the baby had never seemed quite real +to Bud, or as if it were a permanent member of the household. It was a +leather-lunged, red-faced, squirming little mite, and in his heart of +hearts Bud had not felt as though it belonged to him at all. He had +never rocked it, for instance, or carried it in his arms. He had been +afraid he might drop it, or squeeze it too hard, or break it somehow +with his man's strength. When he thought of Marie he did not necessarily +think of the baby, though sometimes he did, wondering vaguely how much +it had grown, and if it still hollered for its bottle, all hours of the +day and night. + +Coming back to Marie and Joe--it was not at all certain that they would +meet; or that Joe would mention him, even if they did. A wrecked home is +always a touchy subject, so touchy that Joe had never intimated in his +few remarks to Bud that there had ever been a Marie, and Bud, drunk +as he had been, was still not too drunk to hold back the question that +clamored to be spoken. + +Whether he admitted it to himself or not, the sober Bud Moore who lay on +his bunk nursing a headache and a grouch against the world was ashamed +of the drunken Bud Moore who had paraded his drunkenness before the man +who knew Marie. He did not want Marie to hear what Joe might tell There +was no use, he told himself miserably, in making Marie despise him as +well as hate him. There was a difference. She might think him a brute, +and she might accuse him of failing to be a kind and loving husband; but +she could not, unless Joe told of his spree, say that she had ever heard +of his carousing around. That it would be his own fault if she did hear, +served only to embitter his mood. + +He rolled over and glared at Cash, who had cooked his supper and was +sitting down to eat it alone. Cash was looking particularly misanthropic +as he bent his head to meet the upward journey of his coffee cup, and +his eyes, when they lifted involuntarily with Bud's sudden movement, had +still that hard look of bottled-up rancor that had impressed itself upon +Bud earlier in the day. + +Neither man spoke, or made any sign of friendly recognition. Bud would +not have talked to any one in his present state of self-disgust, but for +all that Cash's silence rankled. A moment their eyes met and held; then +with shifted glances the souls of them drew apart--farther apart than +they had ever been, even when they quarreled over Pete, down in Arizona. + +When Cash had finished and was filing his pipe, Bud got up and reheated +the coffee, and fried more bacon and potatoes, Cash having cooked just +enough for himself. Cash smoked and gave no heed, and Bud retorted by +eating in silence and in straightway washing his own cup, plate, knife, +and fork and wiping clean the side of the table where he always sat. He +did not look at Cash, but he felt morbidly that Cash was regarding him +with that hateful sneer hidden under his beard. He knew that it was +silly to keep that stony silence, but he kept telling himself that if +Cash wanted to talk, he had a tongue, and it was not tied. Besides, +Cash had registered pretty plainly his intentions and his wishes when he +excluded Bud from his supper. + +It was a foolish quarrel, but it was that kind of foolish quarrel which +is very apt to harden into a lasting one. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE + +Domestic wrecks may be a subject taboo in polite conversation, but Joe +De Barr was not excessively polite, and he had, moreover, a very likely +hope that Marie would yet choose to regard him with more favor than she +had shown in the past. He did not chance to see her at once, but as soon +as his work would permit he made it a point to meet her. He went about +it with beautiful directness. He made bold to call her up on “long +distance” from San Francisco, told her that he would be in San Jose that +night, and invited her to a show. + +Marie accepted without enthusiasm--and her listlessness was not lost +over forty miles of telephone wire. Enough of it seeped to Joe's ears +to make him twist his mustache quite furiously when he came out of the +telephone booth. If she was still stuck on that fellow Bud, and couldn't +see anybody else, it was high time she was told a few things about him. +It was queer how a nice girl like Marie would hang on to some cheap +guy like Bud Moore. Regular fellows didn't stand any show--unless +they played what cards happened to fall their way. Joe, warned by her +indifference, set himself very seriously to the problem of playing his +cards to the best advantage. + +He went into a flower store--disdaining the banked loveliness upon the +corners--and bought Marie a dozen great, heavy-headed chrysanthemums, +whose color he could not name to save his life, so called them pink and +let it go at that. They were not pink, and they were not sweet--Joe held +the bunch well away from his protesting olfactory nerves which were not +educated to tantalizing odors--but they were more expensive than roses, +and he knew that women raved over them. He expected Marie to rave over +them, whether she liked them or not. + +Fortified by these, groomed and perfumed and as prosperous looking as a +tobacco salesman with a generous expense account may be, he went to San +Jose on an early evening train that carried a parlor car in which Joe +made himself comfortable. He fooled even the sophisticated porter +into thinking him a millionaire, wherefore he arrived in a glow of +self-esteem, which bred much optimism. + +Marie was impressed--at least with his assurance and the chrysanthemums, +over which she was sufficiently enthusiastic to satisfy even Joe. Since +he had driven to the house in a hired automobile, he presently had the +added satisfaction of handing Marie into the tonneau as though she were +a queen entering the royal chariot, and of ordering the driver to take +them out around the golf links, since it was still very early. Then, +settling back with what purported to be a sigh of bliss, he regarded +Marie sitting small and still and listless beside him. The glow of the +chrysanthemums had already faded. Marie, with all the girlish prettiness +she had ever possessed, and with an added charm that was very elusive +and hard to analyze, seemed to have lost all of her old animation. + +Joe tried the weather, and the small gossip of the film world, and a +judiciously expurgated sketch of his life since he had last seen her. +Marie answered him whenever his monologue required answer, but she was +unresponsive, uninterested--bored. Joe twisted his mustache, eyed her +aslant and took the plunge. + +“I guess joy-ridin' kinda calls up old times, ay?” he began insidiously. +“Maybe I shouldn't have brought you out for a ride; maybe it brings back +painful memories, as the song goes.” + +“Oh, no,” said Marie spiritlessly. “I don't see why it should.” + +“No? Well, that's good to hear you say so, girlie. I was kinda afraid +maybe trouble had hit you hard. A sensitive, big-hearted little person +like you. But if you've put it all outa your mind, why, that's where +you're dead right. Personally, I was glad to see you saw where you'd +made a mistake, and backed up. That takes grit and brains. Of course, we +all make mistakes--you wasn't to blame--innocent little kid like you--” + +“Yes,” said Marie, “I guess I made a mistake, all right.” + +“Sure! But you seen it and backed up. And a good thing you did. Look +what he'd of brought you to by now, if you'd stuck!” + +Marie tilted back her head and looked up at the tall row of eucalyptus +trees feathered against the stars. “What?” she asked uninterestedly. + +“Well--I don't want to knock, especially a fellow that's on the toboggan +already. But I know a little girl that's aw-fully lucky, and I'm honest +enough to say so.” + +“Why?” asked Marie obligingly. “Why--in particular?” + +“Why in particular?” Joe leaned toward her. “Say, you must of heard how +Bud's going to the dogs. If you haven't, I don't want--” + +“No, I hadn't heard,” said Marie, looking up at the Big Dipper so that +her profile, dainty and girlish still, was revealed like a cameo to Joe. +“Is he? I love to watch the stars, don't you?” + +“I love to watch a star,” Joe breathed softly. “So you hadn't heard how +Bud's turned out to be a regular souse? Honest, didn't you know it?” + +“No, I didn't know it,” said Marie boredly. “Has he?” + +“Well, say! You couldn't tell it from the real thing! Believe me, Bud's +some pickled bum, these days. I run across him up in the mountains, a +month or so ago. Honest, I was knocked plumb silly--much as I knew about +Bud that you never knew, I never thought he'd turn out quite so--” Joe +paused, with a perfect imitation of distaste for his subject. “Say, this +is great, out here,” he murmured, tucking the robe around her with +that tender protectiveness which stops just short of being proprietary. +“Honest, Marie, do you like it?” + +“Why, sure, I like it, Joe.” Marie smiled at him in the star-light. +“It's great, don't you think? I don't get out very often, any more. I'm +working, you know--and evenings and Sundays baby takes up all my time.” + +“You working? Say, that's a darned shame! Don't Bud send you any money?” + +“He left some,” said Marie frankly. “But I'm keeping that for baby, when +he grows up and needs it. He don't send any.” + +“Well, say! As long as he's in the State, you can make him dig up. For +the kid's support, anyway. Why don't you get after him?” + +Marie looked down over the golf links, as the car swung around the long +curve at the head of the slope. “I don't know where he is,” she said +tonelessly. “Where did you see him, Joe?” + +Joe's hesitation lasted but long enough for him to give his mustache end +a twist. Marie certainly seemed to be well “over it.” There could be no +harm in telling. + +“Well, when I saw him he was at Alpine; that's a little burg up in the +edge of the mountains, on the W. P. He didn't look none too prosperous, +at that. But he had money--he was playing poker and that kind of thing. +And he was drunk as a boiled owl, and getting drunker just as fast as +he knew how. Seemed to be kind of a stranger there; at least he didn't +throw in with the bunch like a native would. But that was more than a +month ago, Marie. He might not be there now. I could write up and find +out for you.” + +Marie settled back against the cushions as though she had already +dismissed the subject from her mind. + +“Oh, don't bother about it, Joe. I don't suppose he's got any money, +anyway. Let's forget him.” + +“You said it, Marie. Stacked up to me like a guy that's got just enough +dough for a good big souse. He ain't hard to forget--is he, girlie?” + +Marie laughed assentingly. And if she did not quite attain her old +bubbling spirits during the evening, at least she sent Joe back to San +Francisco feeling very well satisfied with himself. He must have been +satisfied with himself. He must have been satisfied with his wooing +also, because he strolled into a jewelry store the next morning and +priced several rings which he judged would be perfectly suitable for +engagement rings. He might have gone so far as to buy one, if he had +been sure of the size and of Marie's preference in stones. Since he +lacked detailed information, he decided to wait, but he intimated +plainly to the clerk that he would return in a few days. + +It was just as well that he did decide to wait, for when he tried again +to see Marie he failed altogether. Marie had left town. Her mother, with +an acrid tone of resentment, declared that she did not know any +more than the man in the moon where Marie had gone, but that she +“suspicioned” that some fool had told Marie where Bud was, and that +Marie had gone traipsing after him. She had taken the baby along, which +was another piece of foolishness which her mother would never have +permitted had she been at home when Marie left. + +Joe did not take the matter seriously, though he was disappointed at +having made a fruitless trip to San Jose. He did not believe that +Marie had done anything more than take a vacation from her mother's +sharp-tongued rule, and for that he could not blame her, after having +listened for fifteen minutes to the lady's monologue upon the subject +of selfish, inconsiderate, ungrateful daughters. Remembering Marie's +attitude toward Bud, he did not believe that she had gone hunting him. + +Yet Marie had done that very thing. True, she had spent a sleepless +night fighting the impulse, and a harassed day trying to make up her +mind whether to write first, or whether to go and trust to the element +of surprise to help plead her cause with Bud; whether to take Lovin +Child with her, or leave him with her mother. + +She definitely decided to write Bud a short note and ask him if he +remembered having had a wife and baby, once upon a time, and if he never +wished that he had them still. She wrote the letter, crying a +little over it along toward the last, as women will. But it sounded +cold-blooded and condemnatory. She wrote another, letting a little +of her real self into the lines. But that sounded sentimental and +moving-pictury, and she knew how Bud hated cheap sentimentalism. + +So she tore them both up and put them in the little heating stove, +and lighted a match and set them burning, and watched them until they +withered down to gray ash, and then broke up the ashes and scattered +them amongst the cinders. Marie, you must know, had learned a good many +things, one of which was the unwisdom of whetting the curiosity of a +curious woman. + +After that she proceeded to pack a suit case for herself and Lovin +Child, seizing the opportunity while her mother was visiting a friend +in Santa Clara. Once the packing was began, Marie worked with a feverish +intensity of purpose and an eagerness that was amazing, considering her +usual apathy toward everything in her life as she was living it. + +Everything but Lovin Child. Him she loved and gloried in. He was like +Bud--so much like him that Marie could not have loved him so much if she +had managed to hate Bud as she tried sometimes to hate him. Lovin Child +was a husky youngster, and he already had the promise of being as tall +and straight-limbed and square-shouldered as his father. Deep in his +eyes there lurked always a twinkle, as though he knew a joke that would +make you laugh--if only he dared tell it; a quizzical, secretly +amused little twinkle, as exactly like Bud's as it was possible for +a two-year-old twinkle to be. To go with the twinkle, he had a quirky +little smile. And to better the smile, he had the jolliest little +chuckle that ever came through a pair of baby lips. + +He came trotting up to the suit case which Marie had spread wide open on +the bed, stood up on his tippy toes, and peered in. The quirky smile was +twitching his lips, and the look he turned toward Marie's back was full +of twinkle. He reached into the suit case, clutched a clean handkerchief +and blew his nose with solemn precision; put the handkerchief back all +crumpled, grabbed a silk stocking and drew it around his neck, and was +straining to reach his little red Brownie cap when Marie turned and +caught him up in her arms. + +“No, no, Lovin Child! Baby mustn't. Marie is going to take her lovin' +baby boy to find--” She glanced hastily over her shoulder to make sure +there was no one to hear, buried her face in the baby's fat neck and +whispered the wonder, “--to find hims daddy Bud! Does Lovin Man want +to see hims daddy Bud? I bet he does want! I bet hims daddy Bud will +be glad--Now you sit right still, and Marie will get him a cracker, an' +then he can watch Marie pack him little shirt, and hims little bunny +suit, and hims wooh-wooh, and hims 'tockins--” + +It is a pity that Bud could not have seen the two of them in the next +hour, wherein Marie flew to her hopeful task of packing her suit case, +and Lovin Child was quite as busy pulling things out of it, and getting +stepped on, and having to be comforted, and insisting upon having on +his bunny suit, and then howling to go before Marie was ready. Bud would +have learned enough to ease the ache in his heart--enough to humble him +and fill him with an abiding reverence for a love that will live, as +Marie's had lived, on bitterness and regret. + +Nearly distracted under the lash of her own eagerness and the fear that +her mother would return too soon and bully her into giving up her wild +plan, Marie, carrying Lovin Child on one arm and lugging the suit case +in the other hand, and half running, managed to catch a street car and +climb aboard all out of breath and with her hat tilted over one ear. +She deposited the baby on the seat beside her, fumbled for a nickel, +and asked the conductor pantingly if she would be in time to catch the +four-five to the city. It maddened her to watch the bored deliberation +of the man as he pulled out his watch and regarded it meditatively. + +“You'll catch it--if you're lucky about your transfer,” he said, and +rang up her fare and went off to the rear platform, just as if it were +not a matter of life and death at all. Marie could have shaken him for +his indifference; and as for the motorman, she was convinced that he ran +as slow as he dared, just to drive her crazy. But even with these two +inhuman monsters doing their best to make her miss the train, and with +the street car she wanted to transfer to running off and leaving her at +the very last minute, and with Lovin Child suddenly discovering that he +wanted to be carried, and that he emphatically did not want her to carry +the suit case at all, Marie actually reached the depot ahead of the +four-five train. Much disheveled and flushed with nervousness and her +exertions, she dragged Lovin Child up the steps by one arm, found a seat +in the chair car and, a few minutes later, suddenly realized that she +was really on her way to an unknown little town in an unknown part of +the country, in quest of a man who very likely did not want to be found +by her. + +Two tears rolled down her cheeks, and were traced to the corners of her +mouth by the fat, investigative finger of Lovin Child before Marie could +find her handkerchief and wipe them away. Was any one in this world +ever so utterly, absolutely miserable? She doubted it. What if she found +Bud--drunk, as Joe had described him? Or, worse than that, what if she +did not find him at all? She tried not to cry, but it seemed as though +she must cry or scream. Fast as she wiped them away, other tears dropped +over her eyelids upon her cheeks, and were given the absorbed attention +of Lovin Child, who tried to catch each one with his finger. To distract +him, she turned him around face to the window. + +“See all the--pitty cows,” she urged, her lips trembling so much that +they would scarcely form the words. And when Lovin Child flattened a +finger tip against the window and chuckled, and said “Ee? Ee?”--which +was his way of saying see--Marie dropped her face down upon his fuzzy +red “bunny” cap, hugged him close to her, and cried, from sheer, nervous +reaction. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. CABIN FEVER IN THE WORST FORM + +Bud Moore woke on a certain morning with a distinct and well-defined +grouch against the world as he had found it; a grouch quite different +from the sullen imp of contrariness that had possessed him lately. He +did not know just what had caused the grouch, and he did not care. He +did know, however, that he objected to the look of Cash's overshoes that +stood pigeon-toed beside Cash's bed on the opposite side of the room, +where Bud had not set his foot for three weeks and more. He disliked the +audible yawn with which Cash manifested his return from the deathlike +unconsciousness of sleep. He disliked the look of Cash's rough coat and +sweater and cap, that hung on a nail over Cash's bunk. He disliked the +thought of getting up in the cold--and more, the sure knowledge that +unless he did get up, and that speedily, Cash would be dressed ahead of +him, and starting a fire in the cookstove. Which meant that Cash would +be the first to cook and eat his breakfast, and that the warped ethics +of their dumb quarrel would demand that Bud pretend to be asleep until +Cash had fried his bacon and his hotcakes and had carried them to his +end of the oilcloth-covered table. + +When, by certain well-known sounds, Bud was sure that Cash was eating, +he could, without loss of dignity or without suspicion of making +any overtures toward friendliness, get up and dress and cook his own +breakfast, and eat it at his own end of the table. Bud wondered how long +Cash, the old fool, would sulk like that. Not that he gave a darn--he +just wondered, is all. For all he cared, Cash could go on forever +cooking his own meals and living on his own side of the shack. Bud +certainly would not interrupt him in acting the fool, and if Cash wanted +to keep it up till spring, Cash was perfectly welcome to do so. It just +showed how ornery a man could be when he was let to go. So far as he was +concerned, he would just as soon as not have that dead line painted down +the middle of the cabin floor. + +Nor did its presence there trouble him in the least. Just this morning, +however, the fact of Cash's stubbornness in keeping to his own side +of the line irritated Bud. He wanted to get back at the old hound +somehow--without giving in an inch in the mute deadlock. Furthermore, +he was hungry, and he did not propose to lie there and starve while old +Cash pottered around the stove. He'd tell the world he was going to +have his own breakfast first, and if Cash didn't want to set in on the +cooking, Cash could lie in bed till he was paralyzed, and be darned. + +At that moment Cash pushed back the blankets that had been banked to his +ears. Simultaneously, Bud swung his feet to the cold floor with a thump +designed solely to inform Cash that Bud was getting up. Cash turned +over with his back to the room and pulled up the blankets. Bud grinned +maliciously and dressed as deliberately as the cold of the cabin would +let him. To be sure, there was the disadvantage of having to start his +own fire, but that disagreeable task was offset by the pleasure he would +get in messing around as long as he could, cooking his breakfast. He +even thought of frying potatoes and onions after he cooked his bacon. +Potatoes and onions fried together have a lovely tendency to stick to +the frying pan, especially if there is not too much grease, and if they +are fried very slowly. Cash would have to do some washing and scraping, +when it came his turn to cook. Bud knew just about how mad that would +make Cash, and he dwelt upon the prospect relishfully. + +Bud never wanted potatoes for his breakfast. Coffee, bacon, and hotcakes +suited him perfectly. But just for meanness, because he felt mean and +he wanted to act mean, he sliced the potatoes and the onions into the +frying pan, and, to make his work artistically complete, he let them +burn and stick to the pan,--after he had his bacon and hotcakes fried, +of course! + +He sat down and began to eat. And presently Cash crawled out into the +warm room filled with the odor of frying onions, and dressed himself +with the detached calm of the chronically sulky individual. Not once +did the manner of either man betray any consciousness of the other's +presence. Unless some detail of the day's work compelled them to speech, +not once for more than three weeks had either seemed conscious of the +other. + +Cash washed his face and his hands, took the side of bacon, and cut +three slices with the precision of long practice. Bud sopped his last +hotcake in a pool of syrup and watched him from the corner of his eyes, +without turning his head an inch toward Cash. His keenest desire, just +then, was to see Cash when he tackled the frying pan. + +But Cash disappointed him there. He took a pie tin off the shelf and +laid his strips of bacon on it, and set it in the oven; which is a very +good way of cooking breakfast bacon, as Bud well knew. Cash then took +down the little square baking pan, greased from the last baking +of bread, and in that he fried his hot cakes. As if that were not +sufficiently exasperating, he gave absolutely no sign of being conscious +of the frying pan any more than he was conscious of Bud. He did not +overdo it by whistling, or even humming a tune--which would have +given Bud an excuse to say something almost as mean as his mood. +Abstractedness rode upon Cash's lined brow. Placid meditation shone +forth from his keen old blue-gray eyes. + +The bacon came from the oven juicy-crisp and curled at the edges and +delicately browned. The cakes came out of the baking pan brown and thick +and light. Cash sat down at his end of the table, pulled his own can of +sugar and his own cup of syrup and his own square of butter toward him; +poured his coffee, that he had made in a small lard pail, and began to +eat his breakfast exactly as though he was alone in that cabin. + +A great resentment filled Bud's soul to bursting, The old hound! Bud +believed now that Cash was capable of leaving that frying pan dirty for +the rest of the day! A man like that would do anything! If it wasn't for +that claim, he'd walk off and forget to come back. + +Thinking of that seemed to crystallize into definite purpose what +had been muddling his mind with vague impulses to let his mood find +expression. He would go to Alpine that day. He would hunt up Frank and +see if he couldn't jar him into showing that he had a mind of his own. +Twice since that first unexpected spree, he had spent a good deal of +time and gold dust and consumed a good deal of bad whisky and beer, in +testing the inherent obligingness of Frank. The last attempt had been +the cause of the final break between him and Cash. Cash had reminded Bud +harshly that they would need that gold to develop their quartz claim, +and he had further stated that he wanted no “truck” with a gambler and +a drunkard, and that Bud had better straighten up if he wanted to keep +friends with Cash. + +Bud had retorted that Cash might as well remember that Bud had a half +interest in the two claims, and that he would certainly stay with it. +Meantime, he would tell the world he was his own boss, and Cash needn't +think for a minute that Bud was going to ask permission for what he did +or did not do. Cash needn't have any truck with him, either. It suited +Bud very well to keep on his own side of the cabin, and he'd thank Cash +to mind his own business and not step over the dead line. + +Cash had laughed disagreeably and asked Bud what he was going to +do--draw a chalk mark, maybe? + +Bud, half drunk and unable to use ordinary good sense, had said yes, by +thunder, he'd draw a chalk line if he wanted to, and if he did, Cash had +better not step over it either, unless he wanted to be kicked back. + +Wherefore the broad, black line down the middle of the floor to where +the table stood. Obviously, he could not well divide the stove and the +teakettle and the frying pan and coffeepot. The line stopped abruptly +with a big blob of lampblack mixed with coal oil, just where necessity +compelled them both to use the same floor space. + +The next day Bud had been ashamed of the performance, but his shame +could not override his stubbornness. The black line stared up at him +accusingly. Cash, keeping scrupulously upon his own side of it, went +coldly about his own affairs and never yielded so much as a glance at +Bud. And Bud grew more moody and dissatisfied with himself, but he would +not yield, either. Perversely he waited for Cash to apologize for what +he had said about gamblers and drunkards, and tried to believe that upon +Cash rested all of the blame. + +Now he washed his own breakfast dishes, including the frying pan, spread +the blankets smooth on his bunk, swept as much of the floor as lay upon +his side of the dead line. Because the wind was in the storm quarter and +the lowering clouds promised more snow, he carried in three big armfuls +of wood and placed them upon his corner of the fireplace, to provide +warmth when he returned. Cash would not touch that wood while Bud was +gone, and Bud knew it. Cash would freeze first. But there was small +chance of that, because a small, silent rivalry had grown from the +quarrel; a rivalry to see which kept the best supply of wood, which +swept cleanest under his bunk and up to the black line, which washed his +dishes cleanest, and kept his shelf in the cupboard the tidiest. Before +the fireplace in an evening Cash would put on wood, and when next it +was needed, Bud would get up and put on wood. Neither would stoop to +stinting or to shirking, neither would give the other an inch of ground +for complaint. It was not enlivening to live together that way, but it +worked well toward keeping the cabin ship shape. + +So Bud, knowing that it was going to storm, and perhaps dreading a +little the long monotony of being housed with a man as stubborn as +himself, buttoned a coat over his gray, roughneck sweater, pulled a pair +of mail-order mittens over his mail-order gloves, stamped his feet +into heavy, three-buckled overshoes, and set out to tramp fifteen miles +through the snow, seeking the kind of pleasure which turns to pain with +the finding. + +He knew that Cash, out by the woodpile, let the axe blade linger in +the cut while he stared after him. He knew that Cash would be lonesome +without him, whether Cash ever admitted it or not. He knew that Cash +would be passively anxious until he returned--for the months they had +spent together had linked them closer than either would confess. Like +a married couple who bicker and nag continually when together, but are +miserable when apart, close association had become a deeply grooved +habit not easily thrust aside. Cabin fever might grip them and impel +them to absurdities such as the dead line down the middle of their +floor and the silence that neither desired but both were too stubborn +to break; but it could not break the habit of being together. So Bud +was perfectly aware of the fact that he would be missed, and he was +ill-humored enough to be glad of it. Frank, if he met Bud that day, was +likely to have his amiability tested to its limit. + +Bud tramped along through the snow, wishing it was not so deep, or else +deep enough to make snow-shoeing practicable in the timber; thinking +too of Cash and how he hoped Cash would get his fill of silence, and of +Frank, and wondering where he would find him. He had covered perhaps two +miles of the fifteen, and had walked off a little of his grouch, and had +stopped to unbutton his coat, when he heard the crunching of feet in the +snow, just beyond a thick clump of young spruce. + +Bud was not particularly cautious, nor was he averse to meeting people +in the trail. He stood still though, and waited to see who was +coming that way--since travelers on that trail were few enough to be +noticeable. + +In a minute more a fat old squaw rounded the spruce grove and shied +off startled when she glimpsed Bud. Bud grunted and started on, and +the squaw stepped clear of the faintly defined trail to let him pass. +Moreover, she swung her shapeless body around so that she half faced him +as he passed. Bud's lips tightened, and he gave her only a glance. He +hated fat old squaws that were dirty and wore their hair straggling down +over their crafty, black eyes. They burlesqued womanhood in a way that +stirred always a smoldering resentment against them. This particular +squaw had nothing to commend her to his notice. She had a dirty red +bandanna tied over her dirty, matted hair and under her grimy double +chin. A grimy gray blanket was draped closely over her squat shoulders +and formed a pouch behind, wherein the plump form of a papoose was +cradled, a little red cap pulled down over its ears. + +Bud strode on, his nose lifted at the odor of stale smoke that pervaded +the air as he passed. The squaw, giving him a furtive stare, turned and +started on, bent under her burden. + +Then quite suddenly a wholly unexpected sound pursued Bud and halted him +in the trail; the high, insistent howl of a child that has been denied +its dearest desire of the moment. Bud looked back inquiringly. The squaw +was hurrying on, and but for the straightness of the trail just there, +her fat old canvas-wrapped legs would have carried her speedily out of +sight. Of course, papooses did yell once in awhile, Bud supposed, though +he did not remember ever hearing one howl like that on the trail. But +what made the squaw in such a deuce of a hurry all at once? + +Bud's theory of her kind was simple enough: If they fled from you, it +was because they had stolen something and were afraid you would catch +them at it. He swung around forthwith in the trail and went after +her--whereat she waddled faster through the snow like a frightened duck. + +“Hey! You come back here a minute! What's all the rush?” Bud's voice and +his long legs pursued, and presently he overtook her and halted her by +the simple expedient of grasping her shoulder firmly. The high-keyed +howling ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and Bud, peering under +the rolled edge of the red stocking cap, felt his jaw go slack with +surprise. + +The baby was smiling at him delightedly, with a quirk of the lips and +a twinkle lodged deep somewhere in its eyes. It worked one hand free of +its odorous wrappings, spread four fat fingers wide apart over one eye, +and chirped, “Pik-k?” and chuckled infectiously deep in its throat. + +Bud gulped and stared and felt a warm rush of blood from his heart up +into his head. A white baby, with eyes that laughed, and quirky red lips +that laughed with the eyes, and a chuckling voice like that, riding on +the back of that old squaw, struck him dumb with astonishment. + +“Good glory!” he blurted, as though the words had been jolted from him +by the shock. Where-upon the baby reached out its hand to him and said +haltingly, as though its lips had not yet grown really familiar with the +words: + +“Take--Uvin--Chal!” + +The squaw tried to jerk away, and Bud gave her a jerk to let her know +who was boss. “Say, where'd you git that kid?” he demanded aggressively. + +She moved her wrapped feet uneasily in the snow, flickered a filmy, +black eyed glance at Bud's uncompromising face, and waved a dirty paw +vaguely in a wide sweep that would have kept a compass needle revolving +if it tried to follow and was not calculated to be particularly +enlightening. + +“Lo-ong ways,” she crooned, and her voice was the first attractive thing +Bud had discovered about her. It was pure melody, soft and pensive as +the cooing of a wood dove. + +“Who belongs to it?” Bud was plainly suspicious. The shake of the +squaw's bandannaed head was more artfully vague than her gesture. “Don' +know--modder die--fadder die--ketchum long ways--off.” + +“Well, what's its name?” Bud's voice harshened with his growing interest +and bewilderment. The baby was again covering one twinkling eye with +its spread, pink palm, and was saying “Pik-k?” and laughing with the +funniest little squint to its nose that Bud had ever seen. It was so +absolutely demoralizing that to relieve himself Bud gave the squaw +a shake. This tickled the baby so much that the chuckle burst into a +rollicking laugh, with a catch of the breath after each crescendo tone +that made it absolutely individual and like none other--save one. + +“What's his name?” Bud bullied the squaw, though his eyes were on the +baby. + +“Don't know!” + +“Take--Uvin--Chal,” the baby demanded imperiously. + +“Uh--uh--uh? Take!” + +“Uvin Chal? Now what'd yuh mean by that, oletimer?” Bud obeyed an +overpowering impulse to reach out and touch the baby's cheek with a +mittened thumb. The baby responded instantly by again demanding that Bud +should take. + +“Pik-k?” said Bud, a mitten over one eye. + +“Pik-k?” said the baby, spreading his fat hand again and twinkling at +Bud between his fingers. But immediately afterwards it gave a little, +piteous whimper. “Take--Uvin Chal!” it beseeched Bud with voice and +starlike blue eyes together. “Take!” + +There was that in the baby's tone, in the unbaby-like insistence of its +bright eyes, which compelled obedience. Bud had never taken a baby of +that age in his arms. He was always in fear of dropping it, or crushing +it with his man's strength, or something. He liked them--at a safe +distance. He would chuck one under the chin, or feel diffidently the +soft little cheek, but a closer familiarity scared him. Yet when this +baby wriggled its other arm loose and demanded him to take, Bud reached +out and grasped its plump little red-sweatered body firmly under the +armpits and drew it forth, squirming with eagerness. + +“Well, I'll tell the world I don't blame yuh for wanting to git outa +that hog's nest,” said Bud, answering the baby's gleeful chuckle. + +Freed from his detaining grip on her shoulder, the squaw ducked +unexpectedly and scuttled away down the trail as fast as her old legs +would carry her; which was surprisingly speedy for one of her bulk. Bud +had opened his mouth to ask her again where she had gotten that baby. He +left it open while he stared after her astonished until the baby put up +a hand over one of Bud's eyes and said “Pik-k?” with that distracting +little quirk at the corners of its lips. + +“You son of a gun!” grinned Bud, in the tone that turned the epithet +in to a caress. “You dog gone little devil, you! Pik-k! then, if that's +what you want.” + +The squaw had disappeared into the thick under growth, leaving a track +like a hippo in the snow. Bud could have overtaken her, of course, and +he could have made her take the baby back again. But he could not face +the thought of it. He made no move at all toward pursuit, but instead he +turned his face toward Alpine, with some vague intention of turning the +baby over to the hotel woman there and getting the authorities to hunt +up its parents. It was plain enough that the squaw had no right to it, +else she would not have run off like that. + +Bud walked at least a rod toward Alpine before he swung short around in +his tracks and started the other way. “No, I'll be doggoned if I will!” + he said. “You can't tell about women, no time. She might spank the kid, +or something. Or maybe she wouldn't feed it enough. Anyway, it's too +cold, and it's going to storm pretty pronto. Hey! Yuh cold, old-timer?” + +The baby whimpered a little and snuggled its face down against Bud's +chest. So Bud lifted his foot and scraped some snow off a nearby log, +and set the baby down there while he took off his coat and wrapped it +around him, buttoning it like a bag over arms and all. The baby watched +him knowingly, its eyes round and dark blue and shining, and gave a +contented little wriggle when Bud picked it up again in his arms. + +“Now you're all right till we get to where it's warm,” Bud assured it +gravely. “And we'll do some steppin', believe me. I guess maybe you +ain't any more crazy over that Injun smell on yuh, than what I am--and +that ain't any at all.” He walked a few steps farther before he added +grimly, “It'll be some jolt for Cash, doggone his skin. He'll about +bust, I reckon. But we don't give a darn. Let him bust if he wants +to--half the cabin's mine, anyway.” + +So, talking a few of his thoughts aloud to the baby, that presently +went to sleep with its face against his shoulder, Bud tramped steadily +through the snow, carrying Lovin Child in his arms. No remote glimmer of +the wonderful thing Fate had done for him seeped into his consciousness, +but there was a new, warm glow in his heart--the warmth that came from a +child's unquestioning faith in his protecting tenderness. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. CASH GETS A SHOCK + +It happened that Cash was just returning to the cabin from the Blind +Ledge claim. He met Bud almost at the doorstep, just as Bud was fumbling +with the latch, trying to open the door without moving Lovin Child in +his arms. Cash may or may not have been astonished. Certainly he did +not betray by more than one quick glance that he was interested in Bud's +return or in the mysterious burden he bore. He stepped ahead of Bud and +opened the door without a word, as if he always did it just in that way, +and went inside. + +Bud followed him in silence, stepped across the black line to his own +side of the room and laid Lovin Child carefully down so as not to waken +him. He unbuttoned the coat he had wrapped around him, pulled off the +concealing red cap and stared down at the pale gold, silky hair and the +adorable curve of the soft cheek and the lips with the dimples tricked +in at the corners; the lashes lying like the delicate strokes of an +artist's pencil under the closed eyes. For at least five minutes he +stood without moving, his whole face softened into a boyish wistfulness. +By the stove Cash stood and stared from Bud to the sleeping baby, +his bushy eyebrows lifted, his gray eyes a study of incredulous +bewilderment. + +Then Bud drew a long breath and seemed about to move away from the bank, +and Cash turned abruptly to the stove and lifted a rusty lid and peered +into the cold firebox, frowning as though he was expecting to see fire +and warmth where only a sprinkle of warm ashes remained. Stubbornness +held him mute and outwardly indifferent. He whittled shavings and +started a fire in the cook stove, filled the teakettle and set it on +to boil, got out the side of bacon and cut three slices, and never once +looked toward the bunk. Bud might have brought home a winged angel, or +a rainbow, or a casket of jewels, and Cash would not have permitted +himself to show any human interest. + +But when Bud went teetering from the cabin on his toes to bring in +some pine cones they had saved for quick kindling, Cash craned his neck +toward the little bundle on the bunk. He saw a fat, warm little hand +stir with some baby dream. He listened and heard soft breathing that +stopped just short of being an infantile snore. He made an errand to his +own bunk and from there inspected the mystery at closer range. He saw +a nose and a little, knobby chin and a bit of pinkish forehead with the +pale yellow of hair above. He leaned and cocked his head to one side to +see more--but at that moment he heard Bud stamping off the snow from +his feet on the doorstep, and he took two long, noiseless strides to the +dish cupboard and was fumbling there with his back to the bunk when Bud +came tiptoeing in. + +Bud started a fire in the fireplace and heaped the dry limbs high. Cash +fried his bacon, made his tea, and set the table for his midday meal. +Bud waited for the baby to wake, looking at his watch every minute or +two, and making frequent cautious trips to the bunk, peeking and peering +to see if the child was all right. It seemed unnatural that it should +sleep so long in the daytime. No telling what that squaw had done to it; +she might have doped it or something. He thought the kid's face looked +red, as if it had fever, and he reached down and touched anxiously the +hand that was uncovered. The hand was warm--too warm, in Bud's opinion. +It would be just his luck if the kid got sick, he'd have to pack it +clear in to Alpine in his arms. Fifteen miles of that did not appeal +to Bud, whose arms ached after the two-mile trip with that solid little +body lying at ease in the cradle they made. + +His back to that end of the room, Cash sat stiff-necked and stubbornly +speechless, and ate and drank as though he were alone in the cabin. +Whenever Bud's mind left Lovin Child long enough to think about it, he +watched Cash furtively for some sign of yielding, some softening of that +grim grudge. It seemed to him as though Cash was not human, or he would +show some signs of life when a live baby was brought to camp and laid +down right under his nose. + +Cash finished and began washing his dishes, keeping his back turned +toward Bud and Bud's new possession, and trying to make it appear that +he did so unconsciously. He did not fool Bud for a minute. Bud knew that +Cash was nearly bursting with curiosity, and he had occasional fleeting +impulses to provoke Cash to speech of some sort. Perhaps Cash knew +what was in Bud's mind. At any rate he left the cabin and went out and +chopped wood for an hour, furiously raining chips into the snow. + +When he went in with his arms piled full of cut wood, Bud had the baby +sitting on one corner of the table, and was feeding it bread and +gravy as the nearest approach to baby food he could think of. During +occasional interludes in the steady procession of bits of bread from the +plate to the baby's mouth, Lovin Child would suck a bacon rind which +he held firmly grasped in a greasy little fist. Now and then Bud would +reach into his hip pocket, pull out his handkerchief as a make-shift +napkin, and would carefully wipe the border of gravy from the baby's +mouth, and stuff the handkerchief back into his pocket again. + +Both seemed abominably happy and self-satisfied. Lovin Child kicked +his heels against the rough table frame and gurgled unintelligible +conversation whenever he was able to articulate sounds. Bud replied +with a rambling monologue that implied a perfect understanding of Lovin +Child's talk--and incidentally doled out information for Cash's benefit. + +Cash cocked an eye at the two as he went by, threw the wood down on his +side of the hearth, and began to replenish the fire. If he heard, he +gave no sign of understanding or interest. + +“I'll bet that old squaw musta half starved yah,” Bud addressed the baby +while he spooned gravy out of a white enamel bowl on to the second slice +of bread. “You're putting away grub like a nigger at a barbecue. I'll +tell the world I don't know what woulda happened if I hadn't run across +yuh and made her hand yuh over.” + +“Ja--ja--ja--jah!” said Lovin Child, nodding his head and regarding Bud +with the twinkle in his eyes. + +“And that's where you're dead right, Boy. I sure do wish you'd tell me +your name; but I reckon that's too much to ask of a little geezer like +you. Here. Help yourself, kid--you ain't in no Injun camp now. You're +with white folks now.” + +Cash sat down on the bench he had made for himself, and stared into the +fire. His whole attitude spelled abstraction; nevertheless he missed no +little sound behind him. + +He knew that Bud was talking largely for his benefit, and he knew +that here was the psychological time for breaking the spell of silence +between them. Yet he let the minutes slip past and would not yield. +The quarrel had been of Bud's making in the first place. Let Bud do the +yielding, make the first step toward amity. + +But Bud had other things to occupy him just then. Having eaten all his +small stomach would hold, Lovin Child wanted to get down and explore. +Bud had other ideas, but they did not seem to count for much with Lovin +Child, who had an insistent way that was scarcely to be combated or +ignored. + +“But listen here, Boy!” Bud protested, after he had for the third time +prevented Lovin Child from backing off the table. “I was going to take +off these dirty duds and wash some of the Injun smell off yuh. I'll tell +a waiting world you need a bath, and your clothes washed.” + +“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” persisted Lovin Child, and pointed to the floor. + +So Bud sighed and made a virtue of defeat. “Oh, well, they say it's bad +policy to take a bath right after yuh eat. We'll let it ride awhile, but +you sure have got to be scrubbed a plenty before you can crawl in with +me, old-timer,” he said, and set him down on the floor. + +Lovin Child went immediately about the business that seemed most +important. He got down on his hands and knees and gravely inspected the +broad black line, hopefully testing it with tongue and with fingers to +see if it would yield him anything in the way of flavor or stickiness. +It did not. It had been there long enough to be thoroughly dry and +tasteless. He got up, planted both feet on it and teetered back and +forth, chuckling up at Bud with his eyes squinted. + +He teetered so enthusiastically that he sat down unexpectedly and with +much emphasis. That put him between two impulses, and while they battled +he stared round-eyed at Bud. But he decided not to cry, and straightway +turned himself into a growly bear and went down the line on all fours +toward Cash, growling “Ooooooo!” as fearsomely as his baby throat was +capable of growling. + +But Cash would not be scared. He refused absolutely to jump up and back +off in wild-eyed terror, crying out “Ooh! Here comes a bear!” the way +Marie had always done--the way every one had always done, when Lovin +Child got down and came at them growling. Cash sat rigid with his face +to the fire, and would not look. + +Lovin Child crawled all around him and growled his terriblest. For some +unexplainable reason it did not work. Cash sat stiff as though he had +turned to some insensate metal. From where he sat watching--curious to +see what Cash would do--Bud saw him flinch and stiffen as a man does +under pain. And because Bud had a sore spot in his own heart, Bud felt a +quick stab of understanding and sympathy. Cash Markham's past could not +have been a blank; more likely it held too much of sorrow for the salve +of speech to lighten its hurt. There might have been a child.... + +“Aw, come back here!” Bud commanded Lovin Child gruffly. + +But Lovin Child was too busy. He had discovered in his circling of Cash, +the fanny buckles on Cash's high overshoes. He was investigating them as +he had investigated the line, with fingers and with pink tongue, like +a puppy. From the lowest buckle he went on to the top one, where Cash's +khaki trousers were tucked inside with a deep fold on top. Lovin Child's +small forefinger went sliding up in the mysterious recesses of the fold +until they reached the flat surface of the knee. He looked up farther, +studying Cash's set face, sitting back on his little heels while he did +so. Cash tried to keep on staring into the fire, but in spite of himself +his eyes lowered to meet the upward look. + +“Pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child, spreading his fingers over one eye and +twinkling up at Cash with the other. + +Cash flinched again, wavered, swallowed twice, and got up so abruptly +that Lovin Child sat down again with a plunk. Cash muttered something in +his throat and rushed out into the wind and the slow-falling tiny white +flakes that presaged the storm. + +Until the door slammed shut Lovin Child looked after him, scowling, his +eyes a blaze of resentment. He brought his palms together with a vicious +slap, leaned over, and bumped his forehead deliberately and painfully +upon the flat rock hearth, and set up a howl that could have been heard +for three city blocks. + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. AND BUD NEVER GUESSED + +That night, when he had been given a bath in the little zinc tub they +used for washing clothes, and had been carefully buttoned inside a clean +undershirt of Bud's, for want of better raiment, Lovin Child missed +something out of his sleepytime cudding. He wanted Marie, and he did not +know how to make his want known to this big, tender, awkward man who had +befriended him and filled his thoughts till bedtime. He began to whimper +and look seekingly around the little cabin. The whimper grew to a cry +which Bud's rude rocking back and forth on the box before the fireplace +could not still. + +“M'ee--take!” wailed Lovin Child, sitting up and listening. “M'ee +take--Uvin Chal!” + +“Aw, now, you don't wanta go and act like that. Listen here, Boy. You +lay down here and go to sleep. You can search me for what it is you're +trying to say, but I guess you want your mama, maybe, or your bottle, +chances are. Aw, looky!” Bud pulled his watch from his pocket--a man's +infallible remedy for the weeping of infant charges--and dangled it +anxiously before Lovin Child. + +With some difficulty he extracted the small hands from the long limp +tunnels of sleeves, and placed the watch in the eager fingers. + +“Listen to the tick-tick! Aw, I wouldn't bite into it... oh, well, darn +it, if nothing else'll do yuh, why, eat it up!” + +Lovin Child stopped crying and condescended to take a languid interest +in the watch--which had a picture of Marie pasted inside the back of the +case, by the way. “Ee?” he inquired, with a pitiful little catch in his +breath, and held it up for Bud to see the busy little second hand. “Ee?” + he smiled tearily and tried to show Cash, sitting aloof on his bench +beside the head of his bunk and staring into the fire. But Cash gave +no sign that he heard or saw anything save the visions his memory was +conjuring in the dancing flames. + +“Lay down, now, like a good boy, and go to sleep,” Bud wheedled. “You +can hold it if you want to--only don't drop it on the floor--here! Quit +kickin' your feet out like that! You wanta freeze? I'll tell the world +straight, it's plumb cold and snaky outside to-night, and you're pretty +darn lucky to be here instead of in some Injun camp where you'd have to +bed down with a mess of mangy dogs, most likely. Come on, now--lay down +like a good boy!” + +“M'ee! M'ee take!” teased Lovin Child, and wept again; steadily, +insistently, with a monotonous vigor that rasped Bud's nerves and nagged +him with a vague memory of something familiar and unpleasant. He rocked +his body backward and forward, and frowned while he tried to lay hold of +the memory. It was the high-keyed wailing of this same man-child wanting +his bottle, but it eluded Bud completely. There was a tantalizing sense +of familiarity with the sound, but the lungs and the vocal chords of +Lovin Child had developed amazingly in two years, and he had lost the +small-infant wah-hah. + +Bud did not remember, bat for all that his thoughts went back across +those two years and clung to his own baby, and he wished poignantly that +he knew how it was getting along; and wondered if it had grown to be +as big a handful as this youngster, and how Marie would handle the +emergency he was struggling with now: a lost, lonesome baby boy that +would not go to sleep and could not tell why. + +Yet Lovin Child was answering every one of Bud's mute questions. Lying +there in his “Daddy Bud's” arms, wrapped comically in his Daddy Bud's +softest undershirt, Lovin Child was proving to his Daddy Bud that his +own man-child was strong and beautiful and had a keen little brain +behind those twinkling blue eyes. He was telling why he cried. He wanted +Marie to take him and rock him to sleep, just as she had rocked him +to sleep every night of his young memory, until that time when he had +toddled out of her life and into a new and peculiar world that held no +Marie. + +By and by he slept, still clinging to the watch that had Marie's picture +in the back. When he was all limp and rosy and breathing softly against +Bud's heart, Bud tiptoed over to the bunk, reached down inconveniently +with one hand and turned back the blankets, and laid Lovin Child in his +bed and covered him carefully. On his bench beyond the dead line Cash +sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and sucked at a pipe +gone cold, and stared abstractedly into the fire. + +Bud looked at him sitting there. For the first time since their trails +had joined, he wondered what Cash was thinking about; wondered with a +new kind of sympathy about Cash's lonely life, that held no ties, no +warmth of love. For the first time it struck him as significant that +in the two years, almost, of their constant companionship, Cash's +reminiscences had stopped abruptly about fifteen years back. Beyond that +he never went, save now and then when he jumped a space, to the time +when he was a boy. Of what dark years lay between, Bud had never been +permitted a glimpse. + +“Some kid--that kid,” Bud observed involuntarily, for the first time in +over three weeks speaking when he was not compelled to speak to Cash. “I +wish I knew where he came from. He wants his mother.” + +Cash stirred a little, like a sleeper only half awakened. But he did not +reply, and Bud gave an impatient snort, tiptoed over and picked up the +discarded clothes of Lovin Child, that held still a faint odor of wood +smoke and rancid grease, and, removing his shoes that he might move +silently, went to work. + +He washed Lovin Child's clothes, even to the red sweater suit and the +fuzzy red “bunny” cap. He rigged a line before the fireplace--on his +side of the dead line, to be sure--hung the little garments upon it and +sat up to watch the fire while they dried. + +While he rubbed and rinsed and wrung and hung to dry, he had planned the +details of taking the baby to Alpine and placing it in good hands there +until its parents could be found. It was stolen, he had no doubt at +all. He could picture quite plainly the agony of the parents, and common +humanity imposed upon him the duty of shortening their misery as much +as possible. But one day of the baby's presence he had taken, with +the excuse that it needed immediate warmth and wholesome food. His +conscience did not trouble him over that short delay, for he was honest +enough in his intentions and convinced that he had done the right thing. + +Cash had long ago undressed and gone to bed, turning his back to the +warm, fire-lighted room and pulling the blankets up to his ears. He +either slept or pretended to sleep, Bud did not know which. Of the +baby's healthy slumber there was no doubt at all. Bud put on his +overshoes and went outside after more wood, so that there would be no +delay in starting the fire in the morning and having the cabin warm +before the baby woke. + +It was snowing fiercely, and the wind was biting cold. Already the +woodpile was drifted under, so that Bud had to go back and light the +lantern and hang it on a nail in the cabin wall before he could make +any headway at shovelling off the heaped snow and getting at the wood +beneath. He worked hard for half an hour, and carried in all the wood +that had been cut. He even piled Cash's end of the hearth high with the +surplus, after his own side was heaped full. + +A storm like that meant that plenty of fuel would be needed to keep the +cabin snug and warm, and he was thinking of the baby's comfort now, and +would not be hampered by any grudge. + +When he had done everything he could do that would add to the baby's +comfort, he folded the little garments and laid them on a box ready for +morning. Then, moving carefully, he crawled into the bed made warm +by the little body. Lovin Child, half wakened by the movement, gave +a little throaty chuckle, murmured “M'ee,” and threw one fat arm over +Bud's neck and left it there. + +“Gawd,” Bud whispered in a swift passion of longing, “I wish you was my +own kid!” He snuggled Lovin Child close in his arms and held him there, +and stared dim-eyed at the flickering shadows on the wall. What he +thought, what visions filled his vigil, who can say? + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE ANTIDOTE + +Three days it stormed with never a break, stormed so that the men +dreaded the carrying of water from the spring that became ice-rimmed but +never froze over; that clogged with sodden masses of snow half melted +and sent faint wisps of steam up into the chill air. Cutting wood was an +ordeal, every armload an achievement. Cash did not even attempt to +visit his trap line, but sat before the fire smoking or staring into the +flames, or pottered about the little domestic duties that could not half +fill the days. + +With melted snow water, a bar of yellow soap, and one leg of an old pair +of drawers, he scrubbed on his knees the floor on his side of the dead +line, and tried not to notice Lovin Child. He failed only because Lovin +Child refused to be ignored, but insisted upon occupying the immediate +foreground and in helping--much as he had helped Marie pack her suit +case one fateful afternoon not so long before. + +When Lovin Child was not permitted to dabble in the pan of soapy water, +he revenged himself by bringing Cash's mitten and throwing that in, and +crying “Ee? Ee?” with a shameless delight because it sailed round and +round until Cash turned and saw it, and threw it out. + +“No, no, no!” Lovin Child admonished himself gravely, and got it and +threw it back again. + +Cash did not say anything. Indeed, he hid a grin under his thick, +curling beard which he had grown since the first frost as a protection +against cold. He picked up the mitten and laid it to dry on the slab +mantel, and when he returned, Lovin Child was sitting in the pan, +rocking back and forth and crooning “'Ock-a-by! 'Ock-a-by!” with the +impish twinkle in his eyes. + +Cash was just picking him out of the pan when Bud came in with a load of +wood. Bud hastily dropped the wood, and without a word Cash handed Lovin +Child across the dead line, much as he would have handed over a wet +puppy. Without a word Bud took him, but the quirky smile hid at the +corners of his mouth, and under Cash's beard still lurked the grin. + +“No, no, no!” Lovin Child kept repeating smugly, all the while Bud was +stripping off his wet clothes and chucking him into the undershirt he +wore for a nightgown, and trying a man's size pair of socks on his legs. + +“I should say no-no-no! You doggone little rascal, I'd rather herd a +flea on a hot plate! I've a plumb good notion to hog-tie yuh for awhile. +Can't trust yuh a minute nowhere. Now look what you got to wear while +your clothes dry!” + +“Ee? Ee?” invited Lovin Child, gleefully holding up a muffled little +foot lost in the depths of Bud's sock. + +“Oh, I see, all right! I'll tell the world I see you're a doggone +nuisance! Now see if you can keep outa mischief till I get the wood +carried in.” Bud set him down on the bunk, gave him a mail-order +catalogue to look at, and went out again into the storm. When he came +back, Lovin Child was sitting on the hearth with the socks off, and was +picking bits of charcoal from the ashes and crunching them like candy in +his small, white teeth. Cash was hurrying to finish his scrubbing before +the charcoal gave out, and was keeping an eye on the crunching to see +that Lovin Child did not get a hot ember. + +“H'yah! You young imp!” Bud shouted, stubbing his toe as he hurried +forward. “Watcha think you are--a fire-eater, for gosh sake?” + +Cash bent his head low--it may have been to hide a chuckle. Bud was +having his hands full with the kid, and he was trying to be stern +against the handicap of a growing worship of Lovin Child and all +his little ways. Now Lovin Child was all over ashes, and the clean +undershirt was clean no longer, after having much charcoal rubbed into +its texture. Bud was not overstocked with clothes; much traveling had +formed the habit of buying as he needed for immediate use. With Lovin +Child held firmly under one arm, where he would be sure of him, he +emptied his “war-bag” on the bunk and hunted out another shirt + +Lovin Child got a bath, that time, because of the ashes he had managed +to gather on his feet and his hands and his head. Bud was patient, and +Lovin Child was delightedly unrepentant--until he was buttoned into +another shirt of Bud's, and the socks were tied on him. + +“Now, doggone yuh, I'm goin' to stake you out, or hobble yuh, or some +darn thing, till I get that wood in!” he thundered, with his eyes +laughing. “You want to freeze? Hey? Now you're goin' to stay right on +this bunk till I get through, because I'm goin' to tie yuh on. You may +holler--but you little son of a gun, you'll stay safe!” + +So Bud tied him, with a necktie around his body for a belt, and a strap +fastened to that and to a stout nail in the wall over the bunk. And +Lovin Child, when he discovered that it was not a new game but instead a +check upon his activities, threw himself on his back and held his breath +until he was purple, and then screeched with rage. + +I don't suppose Bud ever carried in wood so fast in his life. He might +as well have taken his time, for Lovin Child was in one of his fits of +temper, the kind that his grandmother invariably called his father's +cussedness coming out in him. He howled for an hour and had both men +nearly frantic before he suddenly stopped and began to play with the +things he had scorned before to touch; the things that had made him bow +his back and scream when they were offered to him hopefully. + +Bud, his sleeves rolled up, his hair rumpled and the perspiration +standing thick on his forehead, stood over him with his hands on his +hips, the picture of perturbed helplessness. + +“You doggone little devil!” he breathed, his mind torn between amusement +and exasperation. “If you was my own kid, I'd spank yuh! But,” he added +with a little chuckle, “if you was my own kid, I'd tell the world you +come by that temper honestly. Darned if I wouldn't.” + +Cash, sitting dejected on the side of his own bunk, lifted his head, and +after that his hawklike brows, and stared from the face of Bud to +the face of Lovin Child. For the first time he was struck with the +resemblance between the two. The twinkle in the eyes, the quirk of +the lips, the shape of the forehead and, emphasizing them all, the +expression of having a secret joke, struck him with a kind of shock. If +it were possible... But, even in the delirium of fever, Bud had never +hinted that he had a child, or a wife even. He had firmly planted in +Cash's mind the impression that his life had never held any close +ties whatsoever. So, lacking the clue, Cash only wondered and did not +suspect. + +What most troubled Cash was the fact that he had unwittingly caused all +the trouble for Lovin Child. He should not have tried to scrub the floor +with the kid running loose all over the place. As a slight token of his +responsibility in the matter, he watched his chance when Bud was busy at +the old cookstove, and tossed a rabbit fur across to Lovin Child to play +with; a risky thing to do, since he did not know what were Lovin Child's +little peculiarities in the way of receiving strange gifts. But he was +lucky. Lovin Child was enraptured with the soft fur and rubbed it over +his baby cheeks and cooed to it and kissed it, and said “Ee? Ee?” to +Cash, which was reward enough. + +There was a strained moment when Bud came over and discovered what it +was he was having so much fun with. Having had three days of experience +by which to judge, he jumped to the conclusion that Lovin Child had been +in mischief again. + +“Now what yuh up to, you little scallywag?” he demanded. “How did you +get hold of that? Consarn your little hide, Boy...” + +“Let the kid have it,” Cash muttered gruffly. “I gave it to him.” He got +up abruptly and went outside, and came in with wood for the cookstove, +and became exceedingly busy, never once looking toward the other end of +the room, where Bud was sprawled upon his back on the bunk, with Lovin +Child astride his middle, having a high old time with a wonderful new +game of “bronk riding.” + +Now and then Bud would stop bucking long enough to slap Lovin Child in +the face with the soft side of the rabbit fur, and Lovin Child would +squint his eyes and wrinkle his nose and laugh until he seemed likely to +choke. Then Bud would cry, “Ride 'im, Boy! Ride 'im an' scratch 'im. Go +get 'im, cowboy--he's your meat!” and would bounce Lovin Child till he +squealed with glee. + +Cash tried to ignore all that. Tried to keep his back to it. But he was +human, and Bud was changed so completely in the last three days that +Cash could scarcely credit his eyes and his ears. The old surly scowl +was gone from Bud's face, his eyes held again the twinkle. Cash listened +to the whoops, the baby laughter, the old, rodeo catch-phrases, and +grinned while he fried his bacon. + +Presently Bud gave a whoop, forgetting the feud in his play. “Lookit, +Cash! He's ridin' straight up and whippin' as he rides! He's so-o-me +bronk-fighter, buh-lieve me!” + +Cash turned and looked, grinned and turned away again--but only to strip +the rind off a fresh-fried slice of bacon the full width of the piece. +He came down the room on his own side the dead line, and tossed the rind +across to the bunk. + +“Quirt him with that, Boy,” he grunted, “and then you can eat it if you +want.” + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN + +On the fourth day Bud's conscience pricked him into making a sort of +apology to Cash, under the guise of speaking to Lovin Child, for still +keeping the baby in camp. + +“I've got a blame good notion to pack you to town to-day, Boy, and +try and find out where you belong,” he said, while he was feeding him +oatmeal mush with sugar and canned milk. “It's pretty cold, though...” + He cast a slant-eyed glance at Cash, dourly frying his own hotcakes. +“We'll see what it looks like after a while. I sure have got to hunt up +your folks soon as I can. Ain't I, old-timer?” + +That salved his conscience a little, and freed him of the uneasy +conviction that Cash believed him a kidnapper. The weather did the rest. +An hour after breakfast, just when Bud was downheartedly thinking he +could not much longer put off starting without betraying how hard it was +going to be for him to give up the baby, the wind shifted the clouds +and herded them down to the Big Mountain and held them there until they +began to sift snow down upon the burdened pines. + +“Gee, it's going to storm again!” Bud blustered in. “It'll be snowing +like all git-out in another hour. I'll tell a cruel world I wouldn't +take a dog out such weather as this. Your folks may be worrying about +yuh, Boy, but they ain't going to climb my carcass for packing yuh +fifteen miles in a snow-storm and letting yuh freeze, maybe. I guess the +cabin's big enough to hold yuh another day--what?” + +Cash lifted his eyebrows and pinched in his lips under his beard. It did +not seem to occur to Bud that one of them could stay in the cabin +with the baby while the other carried to Alpine the news of the baby's +whereabouts and its safety. Or if it did occur to Bud, he was careful +not to consider it a feasible plan. Cash wondered if Bud thought he was +pulling the wool over anybody's eyes. Bud did not want to give up that +kid, and he was tickled to death because the storm gave him an excuse +for keeping it. Cash was cynically amused at Bud's transparency. But +the kid was none of his business, and he did not intend to make any +suggestions that probably would not be taken anyway. Let Bud pretend he +was anxious to give up the baby, if that made him feel any better about +it. + +That day went merrily to the music of Lovin Child's chuckling laugh and +his unintelligible chatter. Bud made the discovery that “Boy” was trying +to say Lovin Child when he wanted to be taken and rocked, and declared +that he would tell the world the name fit, like a saddle on a duck's +back. Lovin Child discovered Cash's pipe, and was caught sucking it +before the fireplace and mimicking Cash's meditative pose with a comical +exactness that made Bud roar. Even Cash was betrayed into speaking a +whole sentence to Bud before he remembered his grudge. Taken altogether, +it was a day of fruitful pleasure in spite of the storm outside. + +That night the two men sat before the fire and watched the flames and +listened to the wind roaring in the pines. On his side of the dead line +Bud rocked his hard-muscled, big body back and forth, cradling Lovin +Child asleep in his arms. In one tender palm he nested Lovin Child's +little bare feet, like two fat, white mice that slept together after a +day's scampering. + +Bud was thinking, as he always thought nowadays, of Marie and his own +boy; yearning, tender thoughts which his clumsy man's tongue would never +attempt to speak. Before, he had thought of Marie alone, without the +baby; but he had learned much, these last four days. He knew now how +closely a baby can creep in and cling, how they can fill the days with +joy. He knew how he would miss Lovin Child when the storm cleared and +he must take him away. It did not seem right or just that he should give +him into the keeping of strangers--and yet he must until the parents +could have him back. The black depths of their grief to-night Bud +could not bring himself to contemplate. Bad enough to forecast his own +desolateness when Lovin Child was no longer romping up and down the dead +line, looking where he might find some mischief to get into. Bad enough +to know that the cabin would again be a place of silence and gloom and +futile resentments over little things, with no happy little man-child to +brighten it. He crept into his bunk that night and snuggled the baby up +in his arms, a miserable man with no courage left in him for the future. + +But the next day it was still storming, and colder than ever. No one +would expect him to take a baby out in such weather. So Bud whistled and +romped with Lovin Child, and would not worry about what must happen when +the storm was past. + +All day Cash brooded before the fire, bundled in his mackinaw and +sweater. He did not even smoke, and though he seemed to feel the cold +abnormally, he did not bring in any wood except in the morning, but let +Bud keep the fireplace going with his own generous supply. He did not +eat any dinner, and at supper time he went to bed with all the clothes +he possessed piled on top of him. By all these signs, Bud knew that Cash +had a bad cold. + +Bud did not think much about it at first--being of the sturdy type that +makes light of a cold. But when Cash began to cough with that hoarse, +racking sound that tells the tale of laboring lungs, Bud began to feel +guiltily that he ought to do something about it. + +He hushed Lovin Child's romping, that night, and would not let him ride +a bronk at bedtime. When he was asleep, Bud laid him down and went over +to the supply cupboard, which he had been obliged to rearrange with +everything except tin cans placed on shelves too high for a two-year-old +to reach even when he stood on his tiptoes and grunted. He hunted for +the small bottle of turpentine, found it and mixed some with melted +bacon grease, and went over to Cash's bunk, hesitating before he crossed +the dead line, but crossing nevertheless. + +Cash seemed to be asleep, but his breathing sounded harsh and unnatural, +and his hand, lying uncovered on the blanket, clenched and unclenched +spasmodically. Bud watched him for a minute, holding the cup of grease +and turpentine in his hand. + +“Say,” he began constrainedly, and waited. Cash muttered something and +moved his hand irritatedly, without opening his eyes. Bud tried again. + +“Say, you better swab your chest with this dope. Can't monkey with a +cold, such weather as this.” + +Cash opened his eyes, gave the log wall a startled look, and swung +his glance to Bud. “Yeah--I'm all right,” he croaked, and proved his +statement wrong by coughing violently. + +Bud set down the cup on a box, laid hold of Cash by the shoulders and +forced him on his back. With movements roughly gentle he opened Cash's +clothing at the throat, exposed his hairy chest, and poured on grease +until it ran in a tiny rivulets. He reached in and rubbed the grease +vigorously with the palm of his hand, giving particular attention to the +surface over the bronchial tubes. When he was satisfied that Cash's +skin could absorb no more, he turned him unceremoniously on his face +and repeated his ministrations upon Cash's shoulders. Then he rolled +him back, buttoned his shirts for him, and tramped heavily back to the +table. + +“I don't mind seeing a man play the mule when he's well,” he grumbled, +“but he's got a right to call it a day when he gits down sick. I ain't +going to be bothered burying no corpses, in weather like this. I'll tell +the world I ain't!” + +He went searching on all the shelves for something more that he could +give Cash. He found a box of liver pills, a bottle of Jamaica ginger, +and some iodine--not an encouraging array for a man fifteen miles of +untrodden snow from the nearest human habitation. He took three of +the liver pills--judging them by size rather than what might be their +composition--and a cup of water to Cash and commanded him to sit up +and swallow them. When this was accomplished, Bud felt easier as to his +conscience, though he was still anxious over the possibilities in that +cough. + +Twice in the night he got up to put more wood on the fire and to stand +beside Cash's bed and listen to his breathing. Pneumonia, the strong +man's deadly foe, was what he feared. In his cow-punching days he had +seen men die of it before a doctor could be brought from the far-away +town. Had he been alone with Cash, he would have fought his way to town +and brought help, but with Lovin Child to care for he could not take the +trail. + +At daylight Cash woke him by stumbling across the floor to the water +bucket. Bud arose then and swore at him for a fool and sent him back +to bed, and savagely greased him again with the bacon grease and +turpentine. He was cheered a little when Cash cussed back, but he did +not like the sound of his voice, for all that, and so threatened mildly +to brain him if he got out of bed again without wrapping a blanket or +something around him. + +Thoroughly awakened by this little exchange of civilities, Bud started +a fire in the stove and made coffee for Cash, who drank half a cup quite +meekly. He still had that tearing cough, and his voice was no more than +a croak; but he seemed no worse than he had been the night before. So on +the whole Bud considered the case encouraging, and ate his breakfast an +hour or so earlier than usual. Then he went out and chopped wood until +he heard Lovin Child chirping inside the cabin like a bug-hunting meadow +lark, when he had to hurry in before Lovin Child crawled off the bunk +and got into some mischief. + +For a man who was wintering in what is called enforced idleness in a +snow-bound cabin in the mountains, Bud Moore did not find the next few +days hanging heavily on his hands. Far from it. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES + +To begin with, Lovin Child got hold of Cash's tobacco can and was +feeding it by small handfuls to the flames, when Bud caught him. He +yelled when Bud took it away, and bumped his head on the floor and +yelled again, and spatted his hands together and yelled, and threw +himself on his back and kicked and yelled; while Bud towered over him +and yelled expostulations and reprimands and cajolery that did not +cajole. + +Cash turned over with a groan, his two palms pressed against his +splitting head, and hoarsely commanded the two to shut up that infernal +noise. He was a sick man. He was a very sick man, and he had stood the +limit. + +“Shut up?” Bud shouted above the din of Lovin Child. “Ain't I trying to +shut him up, for gosh sake? What d'yuh want me to do?--let him throw +all the tobacco you got into the fire? Here, you young imp, quit that, +before I spank you! Quick, now--we've had about enough outa you! You +lay down there, Cash, and quit your croaking. You'll croak right, if you +don't keep covered up. Hey, Boy! My jumpin' yellow-jackets, you'd drown +a Klakon till you couldn't hear it ten feet! Cash, you old fool, you +shut up, I tell yuh, or I'll come over there and shut you up! I'll tell +the world--Boy! Good glory! shut up-p!” + +Cash was a sick man, but he had not lost all his resourcefulness. He +had stopped Lovin Child once, and thereby he had learned a little of +the infantile mind. He had a coyote skin on the foot of his bed, and +he raised himself up and reached for it as one reaches for a fire +extinguisher. Like a fire extinguisher he aimed it, straight in the +middle of the uproar. + +Lovin Child, thumping head and heels regularly on the floor and +punctuating the thumps with screeches, was extinguished--suddenly, +completely silenced by the muffling fur that fell from the sky, so far +as he knew. The skin covered him completely. Not a sound came from under +it. The stillness was so absolute that Bud was scared, and so was Cash, +a little. It was as though Lovin Child, of a demon one instant, was in +the next instant snuffed out of existence. + +“What yuh done?” Bud ejaculated, rolling wild eyes at Cash. “You--” + +The coyote skin rattled a little. A fluff of yellow, a spark of blue, +and “Pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child from under the edge, and ducked back +again out of sight. + +Bud sat down weakly on a box and shook his head slowly from one side to +the other. “You've got me going south,” he made solemn confession to the +wobbling skin--or to what it concealed. “I throw up my hands, I'll tell +the world fair.” He got up and went over and sat down on his bunk, +and rested his hands on his knees, and considered the problem of Lovin +Child. + +“Here I've got wood to cut and water to bring and grub to cook, and I +can't do none of them because I've got to ride herd on you every minute. +You've got my goat, kid, and that's the truth. You sure have. Yes, +'Pik-k,' doggone yuh--after me going crazy with yuh, just about, and +thinking you're about to blow your radiator cap plumb up through the +roof! I'll tell yuh right here and now, this storm has got to let up +pretty quick so I can pack you outa here, or else I've got to pen you +up somehow, so I can do something besides watch you. Look at the way +you scattered them beans, over there by the cupboard! By rights I oughta +stand over yuh and make yuh pick every one of 'em up! and who was it +drug all the ashes outa the stove, I'd like to know?” + +The coyote skin lifted a little and moved off toward the fireplace, +growling “Ooo-ooo-ooo!” like a bear--almost. Bud rescued the bear a +scant two feet from the flames, and carried fur, baby and all, to the +bunk. “My good lord, what's a fellow going to do with yuh?” he groaned +in desperation. “Burn yourself up, you would! I can see now why folks +keep their kids corralled in high chairs and gocarts all the time. They +got to, or they wouldn't have no kids.” + +Bud certainly was learning a few things that he had come near to +skipping altogether in his curriculum of life. Speaking of high chairs, +whereof he had thought little enough in his active life, set him +seriously to considering ways and means. Weinstock-Lubin had high chairs +listed in their catalogue. Very nice high chairs, for one of which Bud +would have paid its weight in gold dust (if one may believe his word) if +it could have been set down in that cabin at that particular moment. He +studied the small cuts of the chairs, holding Lovin Child off the page +by main strength the while. Wishing one out of the catalogue and into +the room being impracticable, he went after the essential features, +thinking to make one that would answer the purpose. + +Accustomed as he was to exercising his inventive faculty in overcoming +certain obstacles raised by the wilderness in the path of comfort, Bud +went to work with what tools he had, and with the material closest +to his hand. Crude tools they were, and crude materials--like using a +Stilson wrench to adjust a carburetor, he told Lovin Child who tagged +him up and down the cabin. An axe, a big jack-knife, a hammer and some +nails left over from building their sluice boxes, these were the tools. +He took the axe first, and having tied Lovin Child to the leg of his +bunk for safety's sake, he went out and cut down four young oaks behind +the cabin, lopped off the branches and brought them in for chair legs. +He emptied a dynamite box of odds and ends, scrubbed it out and left it +to dry while he mounted the four legs, with braces of the green oak and +a skeleton frame on top. Then he knocked one end out of the box, padded +the edges of the box with burlap, and set Lovin Child in his new high +chair. + +He was tempted to call Cash's attention to his handiwork, but Cash was +too sick to be disturbed, even if the atmosphere between them had been +clear enough for easy converse. So he stifled the impulse and addressed +himself to Lovin Child, which did just as well. + +Things went better after that. Bud could tie the baby in the chair, give +him a tin cup and a spoon and a bacon rind, and go out to the woodpile +feeling reasonably certain that the house would not be set afire during +his absence. He could cook a meal in peace, without fear of stepping on +the baby. And Cash could lie as close as he liked to the edge of the bed +without running the risk of having his eyes jabbed with Lovin Child's +finger, or something slapped unexpectedly in his face. + +He needed protection from slight discomforts while he lay there eaten +with fever, hovering so close to pneumonia that Bud believed he really +had it and watched over him nights as well as daytimes. The care he +gave Cash was not, perhaps, such as the medical profession would have +endorsed, but it was faithful and it made for comfort and so aided +Nature more than it hindered. + +Fair weather came, and days of melting snow. But they served only to +increase Bud's activities at the woodpile and in hunting small game +close by, while Lovin Child took his nap and Cash was drowsing. +Sometimes he would bundle the baby in an extra sweater and take him +outside and let him wallow in the snow while Bud cut wood and piled it +on the sheltered side of the cabin wall, a reserve supply to draw on in +an emergency. + +It may have been the wet snow--more likely it was the cabin air filled +with germs of cold. Whatever it was, Lovin Child caught cold and coughed +croupy all one night, and fretted and would not sleep. Bud anointed him +as he had anointed Cash, and rocked him in front of the fire, and met +the morning hollow-eyed and haggard. A great fear tore at his heart. +Cash read it in his eyes, in the tones of his voice when he crooned +soothing fragments of old range songs to the baby, and at daylight +Cash managed to dress himself and help; though what assistance he could +possibly give was not all clear to him, until he saw Bud's glance rove +anxiously toward the cook-stove. + +“Hand the kid over here,” Cash said huskily. “I can hold him while you +get yourself some breakfast.” + +Bud looked at him stupidly, hesitated, looked down at the flushed little +face, and carefully laid him in Cash's outstretched arms. He got up +stiffly--he had been sitting there a long time, while the baby slept +uneasily--and went on his tiptoes to make a fire in the stove. + +He did not wonder at Cash's sudden interest, his abrupt change from +moody aloofness to his old partnership in trouble as well as in good +fortune. He knew that Cash was not fit for the task, however, and he +hurried the coffee to the boiling point that he might the sooner send +Cash back to bed. He gulped down a cup of coffee scalding hot, ate a few +mouthfuls of bacon and bread, and brought a cup back to Cash. + +“What d'yuh think about him?” he whispered, setting the coffee down on +a box so that he could take Lovin Child. “Pretty sick kid, don't yuh +think?” + +“It's the same cold I got,” Cash breathed huskily. “Swallows like it's +his throat, mostly. What you doing for him?” + +“Bacon grease and turpentine,” Bud answered him despondently. “I'll have +to commence on something else, though--turpentine's played out I used it +most all up on you.” + +“Coal oil's good. And fry up a mess of onions and make a poultice.” He +put up a shaking hand before his mouth and coughed behind it, stifling +the sound all he could. + +Lovin Child threw up his hands and whimpered, and Bud went over to him +anxiously. “His little hands are awful hot,” he muttered. “He's been +that way all night.” + +Cash did not answer. There did not seem anything to say that would do +any good. He drank his coffee and eyed the two, lifting his eyebrows now +and then at some new thought. + +“Looks like you, Bud,” he croaked suddenly. “Eyes, expression, +mouth--you could pass him off as your own kid, if you wanted to.” + +“I might, at that,” Bud whispered absently. “I've been seeing you in +him, though, all along. He lifts his eyebrows same way you do.” + +“Ain't like me,” Cash denied weakly, studying Lovin Child. “Give him +here again, and you go fry them onions. I would--if I had the strength +to get around.” + +“Well, you ain't got the strength. You go back to bed, and I'll lay him +in with yuh. I guess he'll lay quiet. He likes to be cuddled up close.” + +In this way was the feud forgotten. Save for the strange habits imposed +by sickness and the care of a baby, they dropped back into their +old routine, their old relationship. They walked over the dead line +heedlessly, forgetting why it came to be there. Cabin fever no longer +tormented them with its magnifying of little things. They had no time +or thought for trifles; a bigger matter than their own petty prejudices +concerned them. They were fighting side by side, with the Old Man of the +Scythe--the Old Man who spares not. + +Lovin Child was pulling farther and farther away from them. They +knew it, they felt it in his hot little hands, they read it in his +fever-bright eyes. But never once did they admit it, even to themselves. +They dared not weaken their efforts with any admissions of a possible +defeat. They just watched, and fought the fever as best they could, and +waited, and kept hope alive with fresh efforts. + +Cash was tottery weak from his own illness, and he could not speak above +a whisper. Yet he directed, and helped soothe the baby with baths and +slow strokings of his hot forehead, and watched him while Bud did the +work, and worried because he could not do more. + +They did not know when Lovin Child took a turn for the better, except +that they realized the fever was broken. But his listlessness, the +unnatural drooping of his whole body, scared them worse than before. +Night and day one or the other watched over him, trying to anticipate +every need, every vagrant whim. When he began to grow exacting, they +were still worried, though they were too fagged to abase themselves +before him as much as they would have liked. + +Then Bud was seized with an attack of the grippe before Lovin Child +had passed the stage of wanting to be held every waking minute. Which +burdened Cash with extra duties long before he was fit. + +Christmas came, and they did not know it until the day was half gone, +when Cash happened to remember. He went out then and groped in the snow +and found a little spruce, hacked it off close to the drift and brought +it in, all loaded with frozen snow, to dry before the fire. The kid, he +declared, should have a Christmas tree, anyway. He tied a candle to +the top, and a rabbit skin to the bottom, and prunes to the tip of the +branches, and tried to rouse a little enthusiasm in Lovin Child. But +Lovin Child was not interested in the makeshift. He was crying because +Bud had told him to keep out of the ashes, and he would not look. + +So Cash untied the candle and the fur and the prunes, threw them across +the room, and peevishly stuck the tree in the fireplace. + +“Remember what you said about the Fourth of July down in Arizona, Bud?” + he asked glumly. “Well, this is the same kind of Christmas.” Bud merely +grunted. + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. BUD FACES FACTS + +New Year came and passed and won nothing in the way of celebration from +the three in Nelson's cabin. Bud's bones ached, his head ached, the +flesh on his body ached. He could take no comfort anywhere, under any +circumstances. He craved clean white beds and soft-footed attendance +and soothing silence and cool drinks--and he could have none of those +things. His bedclothes were heavy upon his aching limbs; he had to wait +upon his own wants; the fretful crying of Lovin Child or the racking +cough of Cash was always in his ears, and as for cool drinks, there was +ice water in plenty, to be sure, but nothing else. Fair weather came, +and storms, and cold: more storms and cold than fair weather. Neither +man ever mentioned taking Lovin Child to Alpine. At first, because +it was out of the question; after that, because they did not want to +mention it. They frequently declared that Lovin Child was a pest, and +there were times when Bud spoke darkly of spankings--which did not +materialize. But though they did not mention it, they knew that Lovin +Child was something more; something endearing, something humanizing, +something they needed to keep them immune from cabin fever. + +Some time in February it was that Cash fashioned a crude pair of +snowshoes and went to town, returning the next day. He came home loaded +with little luxuries for Lovin Child, and with the simpler medicines for +other emergencies which they might have to meet, but he did not bring +any word of seeking parents. The nearest he came to mentioning the +subject was after supper, when the baby was asleep and Bud trying to cut +a small pair of overalls from a large piece of blue duck that Cash had +brought. The shears were dull, and Lovin Child's little rompers were +so patched and shapeless that they were not much of a guide, so Bud was +swearing softly while he worked. + +“I didn't hear a word said about that kid being lost,” Cash volunteered, +after he had smoked and watched Bud awhile. “Couldn't have been any one +around Alpine, or I'd have heard something about it.” + +Bud frowned, though it may have been over his tailoring problem. + +“Can't tell--the old squaw mighta been telling the truth,” he said +reluctantly. “I s'pose they do, once in awhile. She said his folks were +dead.” And he added defiantly, with a quick glance at Cash, “Far as +I'm concerned, I'm willing to let it ride that way. The kid's doing all +right.” + +“Yeah. I got some stuff for that rash on his chest. I wouldn't wonder if +we been feeding him too heavy on bacon rinds, Bud. They say too much of +that kinda thing is bad for kids. Still, he seems to feel all right.” + +“I'll tell the world he does! He got hold of your old pipe to-day and +was suckin' away on it, I don't know how long. Never feazed him, either. +If he can stand that, I guess he ain't very delicate.” + +“Yeah. I laid that pipe aside myself because it was getting so dang +strong. Ain't you getting them pants too long in the seat, Bud? They +look to me big enough for a ten-year-old.” + +“I guess you don't realize how that kid's growing!” Bud defended his +handiwork “And time I get the seams sewed, and the side lapped over for +buttons--” + +“Yeah. Where you going to get the buttons? You never sent for any.” + +“Oh, I'll find buttons. You can donate a couple off some of your +clothes, if you want to right bad.” + +“Who? Me? I ain't got enough now to keep the wind out,” Cash protested. +“Lemme tell yuh something, Bud. If you cut more saving, you'd have +enough cloth there for two pair of pants. You don't need to cut the legs +so long as all that. They'll drag on the ground so the poor kid can't +walk in 'em without falling all over himself.” + +“Well, good glory! Who's making these pants? Me, or you?” Bud exploded. +“If you think you can do any better job than what I'm doing, go get +yourself some cloth and fly at it! Don't think you can come hornin' in +on my job, 'cause I'll tell the world right out loud, you can't.” + +“Yeah--that's right! Go to bellerin' around like a bull buffalo, and +wake the kid up! I don't give a cuss how you make'm. Go ahead and have +the seat of his pants hangin' down below his knees if you want to!” Cash +got up and moved huffily over to the fireplace and sat with his back to +Bud. + +“Maybe I will, at that,” Bud retorted. “You can't come around and grab +the job I'm doing.” Bud was jabbing a needle eye toward the end of a +thread too coarse for it, and it did not improve his temper to have the +thread refuse to pass through the eye. + +Neither did it please him to find, when all the seams were sewn, that +the little overalls failed to look like any garment he had ever seen on +a child. When he tried them on Lovin Child, next day, Cash took one look +and bolted from the cabin with his hand over his mouth. + +When he came back an hour or so later, Lovin Child was wearing his +ragged rompers, and Bud was bent over a Weinstock-Lubin mail-order +catalogue. He had a sheet of paper half filled with items, and was +licking his pencil and looking for more. He looked up and grinned a +little, and asked Cash when he was going to town again; and added that +he wanted to mail a letter. + +“Yeah. Well, the trail's just as good now as it was when I took it,” + Cash hinted strongly. “When I go to town again, it'll be because I've +got to go. And far as I can see, I won't have to go for quite some +time.” + +So Bud rose before daylight the next morning, tied on the makeshift +snowshoes Cash had contrived, and made the fifteen-mile trip to Alpine +and back before dark. He brought candy for Lovin Child, tended +that young gentleman through a siege of indigestion because of the +indulgence, and waited impatiently until he was fairly certain that +the wardrobe he had ordered had arrived at the post-office. When he had +counted off the two days required for a round trip to Sacramento, and +had added three days for possible delay in filling the order, he went +again, and returned in one of the worst storms of the winter. + +But he did not grudge the hardship, for he carried on his back a bulky +bundle of clothes for Lovin Child; enough to last the winter through, +and some to spare; a woman would have laughed at some of the things he +chose: impractical, dainty garments that Bud could not launder properly +to save his life. But there were little really truly overalls, in which +Lovin Child promptly developed a strut that delighted the men and +earned him the title of Old Prospector. And there were little shirts +and stockings and nightgowns and a pair of shoes, and a toy or two that +failed to interest him at all, after the first inspection. + +It began to look as though Bud had deliberately resolved upon carrying +a guilty conscience all the rest of his life. He had made absolutely no +effort to trace the parents of Lovin Child when he was in town. On the +contrary he had avoided all casual conversation, for fear some one might +mention the fact that a child had been lost. He had been careful not to +buy anything in the town that would lead one to suspect that he had a +child concealed upon his premises, and he had even furnished what +he called an alibi when he bought the candy, professing to own an +inordinately sweet tooth. + +Cash cast his eyes over the stock of baby clothes which Bud gleefully +unwrapped on his bunk, and pinched out a smile under his beard. + +“Well, if the kid stays till he wears out all them clothes, we'll just +about have to give him a share in the company,” he said drily. + +Bud looked up in quick jealousy. “What's mine's his, and I own a half +interest in both claims. I guess that'll feed him--if they pan out +anything,” he retorted. “Come here, Boy, and let's try this suit on. +Looks pretty small to me--marked three year, but I reckon they don't +grow 'em as husky as you, back where they make all these clothes.” + +“Yeah. But you ought to put it in writing, Bud. S'pose anything happened +to us both--and it might. Mining's always got its risky side, even +cutting out sickness, which we've had a big sample of right this winter. +Well, the kid oughta have some security in case anything did happen. +Now--” + +Bud looked thoughtfully down at the fuzzy yellow head that did not come +much above his knee. + +“Well, how yuh going to do anything like that without giving it away +that we've got him? Besides, what name'd we give him in the company? No, +sir, Cash, he gets what I've got, and I'll smash any damn man that tries +to get it away from him. But we can't get out any legal papers--” + +“Yeah. But we can make our wills, can't we? And I don't know where +you get the idea, Bud, that you've got the whole say about him. +We're pardners, ain't we? Share and share alike. Mines, mules, +grub--kids--equal shares goes.” + +“That's where you're dead wrong. Mines and mules and grub is all right, +but when it comes to this old Lovin Man, why--who was it found him, for +gosh sake?” + +“Aw, git out!” Cash growled. “Don't you reckon I'd have grabbed him off +that squaw as quick as you did? I've humored you along, Bud, and let you +hog him nights, and feed him and wash his clothes, and I ain't kicked +none, have I? But when it comes to prope'ty--” + +“You ain't goin' to horn in there, neither. Anyway, we ain't got so darn +much the kid'll miss your share, Cash.” + +“Yeah. All the more reason why he'll need it I don't see how you're +going to stop me from willing my share where I please. And when you come +down to facts, Bud, why--you want to recollect that I plumb forgot to +report that kid, when I was in town. And I ain't a doubt in the world +but what his folks would be glad enough--” + +“Forget that stuff!” Bud's tone was so sharp that Lovin Child turned +clear around to look up curiously into his face. “You know why you never +reported him, doggone yuh! You couldn't give him up no easier than I +could. And I'll tell the world to its face that if anybody gets this +kid now they've pretty near got to fight for him. It ain't right, and it +ain't honest. It's stealing to keep him, and I never stole a brass tack +in my life before. But he's mine as long as I live and can hang on to +him. And that's where I stand. I ain't hidin' behind no kind of alibi. +The old squaw did tell me his folks was dead; but if you'd ask me, I'd +say she was lying when she said it. Chances are she stole him. I'm sorry +for his folks, supposing he's got any. But I ain't sorry enough for 'em +to give him up if I can help it. I hope they've got more, and I hope +they've gentled down by this time and are used to being without him. +Anyway, they can do without him now easier than what I can, because...” + Bud did not finish that sentence, except by picking Lovin Child up in +his arms and squeezing him as hard as he dared. He laid his face down +for a minute on Lovin Child's head, and when he raised it his lashes +were wet. + +“Say, old-timer, you need a hair cut. Yuh know it?” he said, with a +huskiness in his voice, and pulled a tangle playfully. Then his eyes +swung round defiantly to Cash. “It's stealing to keep him, but I can't +help it. I'd rather die right here in my tracks than give up this little +ole kid. And you can take that as it lays, because I mean it.” + +Cash sat quiet for a minute or two, staring down at the floor. “Yeah. +I guess there's two of us in that fix,” he observed in his dry way, +lifting his eyebrows while he studied a broken place in the side of his +overshoe. “All the more reason why we should protect the kid, ain't it? +My idea is that we ought to both of us make our wills right here and +now. Each of us to name the other for guardeen, in case of accident, +and each one picking a name for the kid, and giving him our share in the +claims and anything else we may happen to own.” He stopped abruptly, his +jaw sagging a little at some unpleasant thought. + +“I don't know--come to think of it, I can't just leave the kid all my +property. I--I've got a kid of my own, and if she's alive--I ain't heard +anything of her for fifteen years and more, but if she's alive she'd +come in for a share. She's a woman grown by this time. Her mother died +when she was a baby. I married the woman I hired to take care of her and +the house--like a fool. When we parted, she took the kid with her. She +did think a lot of her, I'll say that much for her, and that's all I can +say in her favor. I drifted around and lost track of 'em. Old woman, +she married again, and I heard that didn't pan out, neither. Anyway, she +kept the girl, and gave her the care and schooling that I couldn't give. +I was a drifter. + +“Well, she can bust the will if I leave her out, yuh see. And if the old +woman gets a finger in the pie, it'll be busted, all right. I can write +her down for a hundred dollars perviding she don't contest. That'll fix +it. And the rest goes to the kid here. But I want him to have the use of +my name, understand. Something-or-other Markham Moore ought to suit all +hands well enough.” + +Bud, holding Lovin Child on his knees, frowned a little at first. But +when he looked at Cash, and caught the wistfulness in his eyes, he +surrendered warm-heartedly. + +“A couple of old he-hens like us--we need a chick to look after,” he +said whimsically. “I guess Markham Moore ought to be good enough for +most any kid. And if it ain't, by gosh, we'll make it good enough! If +I ain't been all I should be, there's no law against straightening up. +Markham Moore goes as it lays--hey, Lovins?” But Lovin Child had gone to +sleep over his foster fathers' disposal of his future. His little yellow +head was wabbling on his limp neck, and Bud cradled him in his arms and +held him so. + +“Yeah. But what are we going to call him?” Methodical Cash wanted the +whole matter settled at one conference, it seemed. + +“Call him? Why, what've we been calling him, the last two months?” + +“That,” Cash retorted, “depended on what devilment he was into when we +called!” + +“You said it all, that time. I guess, come to think of it--tell you +what, Cash, let's call him what the kid calls himself. That's fair +enough. He's got some say in the matter, and if he's satisfied with +Lovin, we oughta be. Lovin Markam Moore ain't half bad. Then if he wants +to change it when he grows up, he can.” + +“Yeah. I guess that's as good as anything. I'd hate to see him named +Cassius. Well, now's as good a time as any to make them wills, Bud. We +oughta have a couple of witnesses, but we can act for each other, and I +guess it'll pass. You lay the kid down, and we'll write 'em and have +it done with and off our minds. I dunno--I've got a couple of lots in +Phoenix I'll leave to the girl. By rights she should have 'em. Lovins, +here, 'll have my share in all mining claims; these two I'll name +'specially, because I expect them to develop into paying mines; the +Blind Lodge, anyway.” + +A twinge of jealousy seized Bud. Cash was going ahead a little too +confidently in his plans for the kid. He did not want to hurt old Cash's +feelings, and of course he needed Cash's assistance if he kept Lovin +Child for his own. But Cash needn't think he was going to claim the kid +himself. + +“All right--put it that way. Only, when you're writing it down, you make +it read 'child of Bud Moore' or something like that. You can will him +the moon, if you want, and you can have your name sandwiched in between +his and mine. But get this, and get it right. He's mine, and if we ever +split up, the kid goes with me. I'll tell the world right now that this +kid belongs to me, and where I go he goes. You got that?” + +“You don't have to beller at the top of your voice, do yuh?” snapped +Cash, prying the cork out of the ink bottle with his jackknife. “Here's +another pen point. Tie it onto a stick or something and git to work +before you git to putting it off.” + +Leaning over the table facing each other, they wrote steadily for a few +minutes. Then Bud began to flag, and finally he stopped and crumpled the +sheet of tablet paper into a ball. Cash looked up, lifted his eyebrows +irritatedly, and went on with his composition. + +Bud sat nibbling the end of his makeshift penholder. The obstacle that +had loomed in Cash's way and had constrained him to reveal the closed +pages of his life, loomed large in Bud's way also. Lovin Child was a +near and a very dear factor in his life--but when it came to sitting +down calmly and setting his affairs in order for those who might be left +behind, Lovin Child was not the only person he must think of. What of +his own man-child? What of Marie? + +He looked across at Cash writing steadily in his precise way, +duly bequeathing his worldly goods to Lovin; owning, too, his +responsibilities in another direction, but still making Lovin Child his +chief heir so far as he knew. On the spur of the moment Bud had thought +to do the same thing. But could he do it? + +He seemed to see his own baby standing wistfully aloof, pushed out of +his life that this baby he had no right to keep might have all of his +affections, all of his poor estate. And Marie, whose face was always in +the back of his memory, a tearful, accusing vision that would not let +him be--he saw Marie working in some office, earning the money to feed +and clothe their child. And Lovin Child romping up and down the cabin, +cuddled and scolded and cared for as best an awkward man may care for a +baby--a small, innocent usurper. + +Bud dropped his face in his palms and tried to think the thing out +coldly, clearly, as Cash had stated his own case. Cash did not know +where his own child was, and he did not seem to care greatly. He was +glad to salve his conscience with a small bequest, keeping the bulk--if +so tenuous a thing as Cash's fortune may be said to have bulk--for this +baby they two were hiding away from its lawful parents. Cash could do +it; why couldn't be? He raised his head and looked over at Lovin Child, +asleep in his new and rumpled little finery. Why did his own baby come +between them now, and withhold his hand from doing the same? + +Cash finished, glanced curiously across at Bud, looked down at what he +had written, and slid the sheet of paper across. + +“You sign it, and then if you don't know just how to word yours, you can +use this for a pattern. I've read law books enough to know this will +get by, all right. It's plain, and it tells what I want, and that's +sufficient to hold in court.” + +Bud read it over apathetically, signed his name as witness, and pushed +the paper back. + +“That's all right for you,” he said heavily. “Your kid is grown up now, +and besides, you've got other property to give her. But--it's different +with me. I want this baby, and I can't do without him. But I can't give +him my share in the claims, Cash. I--there's others that's got to be +thought of first.” + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH + +It was only the next day that Bud was the means of helping Lovin Child +find a fortune for himself; which eased Bud's mind considerably, and +balanced better his half of the responsibility. Cutting out the dramatic +frills, then, this is what happened to Lovin Child and Bud: + +They were romping around the cabin, like two puppies that had a surplus +of energy to work off. Part of the time Lovin Child was a bear, chasing +Bud up and down the dead line, which was getting pretty well worn out +in places. After that, Bud was a bear and chased Lovin. And when Lovin +Child got so tickled he was perfectly helpless in the corner where he +had sought refuge, Bud caught him and swung him up to his shoulder and +let him grab handfuls of dirt out of the roof. + +Lovin Child liked that better than being a bear, and sifted Bud's hair +full of dried mud, and threw the rest on the floor, and frequently cried +“Tell a worl'!” which he had learned from Bud and could say with the +uncanny pertinency of a parrot. + +He had signified a desire to have Bud carry him along the wall, where +some lovely lumps of dirt protruded temptingly over a bulging log. Then +he leaned and grabbed with his two fat hands at a particularly big, hard +lump. It came away in his hands and fell plump on the blankets of the +bunk, half blinding Bud with the dust that came with it. + +“Hey! You'll have all the chinkin' out of the dang shack, if you let +him keep that lick up, Bud,” Cash grumbled, lifting his eyebrows at the +mess. + +“Tell a worl'!” Lovin Child retorted over his shoulder, and made another +grab. + +This time the thing he held resisted his baby strength. He pulled and he +grunted, he kicked Bud in the chest and grabbed again. Bud was patient, +and let him fuss--though in self-defense he kept his head down and his +eyes away from the expected dust bath. + +“Stay with it, Boy; pull the darn roof down, if yuh want. Cash'll get +out and chink 'er up again.” + +“Yeah. Cash will not,” the disapproving one amended the statement +gruffly. “He's trying to get the log outa the wall, Bud.” + +“Well, let him try, doggone it. Shows he's a stayer. I wouldn't have any +use for him if he didn't have gumption enough to tackle things too big +for him, and you wouldn't either. Stay with 'er, Lovins! Doggone it, +can't yuh git that log outa there nohow? Uh-h! A big old grunt and a big +old heave--uh-h! I'll tell the world in words uh one syllable, he's some +stayer.” + +“Tell a worl'!” chuckled Lovin Child, and pulled harder at the thing he +wanted. + +“Hey! The kid's got hold of a piece of gunny sack or something. You +look out, Bud, or he'll have all that chinkin' out. There's no sense in +lettin' him tear the whole blame shack to pieces, is there?” + +“Can if he wants to. It's his shack as much as it's anybody's.” Bud +shifted Lovin Child more comfortably on his shoulder and looked up, +squinting his eyes half shut for fear of dirt in them. + +“For the love of Mike, kid, what's that you've got? Looks to me like a +piece of buckskin, Cash. Here, you set down a minute, and let Bud take a +peek up there.” + +“Bud--pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child from the blankets, where Bud had +deposited him unceremoniously. + +“Yes, Bud pik-k.” Bud stepped up on the bunk, which brought his head +above the low eaves. He leaned and looked, and scraped away the caked +mud. “Good glory! The kid's found a cache of some kind, sure as you +live!” And he began to claw out what had been hidden behind the mud. + +First a buckskin bag, heavy and grimed and knobby. Gold inside it, he +knew without looking. He dropped it down on the bunk, carefully so +as not to smash a toe off the baby. After that he pulled out four +baking-powder cans, all heavy as lead. He laid his cheek against the log +and peered down the length of it, and jumped down beside the bunk. + +“Kid's found a gold mine of his own, and I'll bet on it,” he cried +excitedly. “Looky, Cash!” + +Cash was already looking, his eyebrows arched high to match his +astonishment. “Yeah. It's gold, all right. Old man Nelson's hoard, I +wouldn't wonder. I've always thought it was funny he never found any +gold in this flat, long as he lived here. And traces of washing here and +there, too. Well!” + +“Looky, Boy!” Bud had the top off a can, and took out a couple of +nuggets the size of a cooked Lima bean. “Here's the real stuff for yuh. + +“It's yours, too--unless--did old Nelson leave any folks, Cash, do yuh +know?” + +“They say not. The county buried him, they say. And nobody ever turned +up to claim him or what little he left. No, I guess there's nobody got +any better right to it than the kid. We'll inquire around and see. But +seein' the gold is found on the claim, and we've got the claim according +to law, looks to me like--” + +“Well, here's your clean-up, old prospector. Don't swallow any, is all. +let's weigh it out, Cash, and see how much it is, just for a josh.” + +Lovin Child had nuggets to play with there on the bed, and told the +world many unintelligible things about it. Cash and Bud dumped all the +gold into a pan, and weighed it out on the little scales Cash had for +his tests. It was not a fortune, as fortunes go. It was probably all the +gold Nelson had panned out in a couple of years, working alone and with +crude devices. A little over twenty-three hundred dollars it amounted +to, not counting the nuggets which Lovin Child had on the bunk with him. + +“Well, it's a start for the kid, anyway,” Bud said, leaning back and +regarding the heap with eyes shining. “I helped him find it, and I kinda +feel as if I'm square with him now for not giving him my half the claim. +Twenty-three hundred would be a good price for a half interest, as the +claims stand, don't yuh think, Cash?” + +“Yeah--well, I dunno's I'd sell for that. But on the showing we've got +so far--yes, five thousand, say, for the claims would be good money.” + +“Pretty good haul for a kid, anyway. He's got a couple of hundred +dollars in nuggets, right there on the bunk. Let's see, Lovins. Let Bud +have 'em for a minute.” + +Then it was that Lovin Child revealed a primitive human trait. He would +not give up the gold. He held fast to one big nugget, spread his fat +legs over the remaining heap of them, and fought Bud's hand away with +the other fist. + +“No, no, no! Tell a worl' no, no, no!” he remonstrated vehemently, until +Bud whooped with laughter. + +“All right--all right! Keep your gold, durn it. You're like all the +rest--minute you get your paws on to some of the real stuff, you go +hog-wild over it.” + +Cash was pouring the fine gold back into the buck skin bag and the +baking-powder cans. + +“Let the kid play with it,” he said. “Getting used to gold when he's +little will maybe save him from a lot of foolishness over it when he +gets big. I dunno, but it looks reasonable to me. Let him have a few +nuggets if he wants. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say; maybe he +won't get to thinkin' too much of it if he's got it around under his +nose all the time. Same as everything else. It's the finding that hits +a feller hardest, Bud--the hunting for it and dreaming about it and not +finding it. What say we go up to the claim for an hour or so? Take the +kid along. It won't hurt him if he's bundled up good. It ain't cold +to-day, anyhow.” + +That night they discussed soberly the prospects of the claim and their +responsibilities in the matter of Lovin Child's windfall. They would +quietly investigate the history of old Nelson, who had died a pauper in +the eyes of the community, with all his gleanings of gold hidden away. +They agreed that Lovin Child should not start off with one grain of +gold that rightfully belonged to some one else--but they agreed the +more cheerfully because neither man believed they would find any close +relatives; a wife or children they decided upon as rightful heirs. +Brothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts did not count. They were +presumably able to look after themselves just as old Nelson had done. +Their ethics were simple enough, surely. + +Barring, then, the discovery of rightful heirs, their plan was to take +the gold to Sacramento in the spring, and deposit it there in a savings +bank for one Lovins Markham Moore. They would let the interest “ride” + with the principal, and they would--though neither openly confessed it +to the other--from time to time add a little from their own earnings. +Bud especially looked forward to that as a compromise with his duty to +his own child. He intended to save every cent he could, and to start +a savings account in the same bank, for his own baby, Robert Edward +Moore--named for Bud. He could not start off with as large a sum as +Lovins would have, and for that Bud was honestly sorry. But Robert +Edward Moore would have Bud's share in the claims, which would do a +little toward evening things up. + +Having settled these things to the satisfaction of their desires and +their consciences, they went to bed well pleased with the day. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. MARIE'S SIDE OF IT + +We all realize keenly, one time or another, the abject poverty of +language. To attempt putting some emotions into words is like trying +to play Ave Maria on a toy piano. There are heights and depths utterly +beyond the limitation of instrument and speech alike. + +Marie's agonized experience in Alpine--and afterward--was of that kind. +She went there under the lure of her loneliness, her heart-hunger for +Bud. Drunk or sober, loving her still or turning away in anger, she had +to see him; had to hear him speak; had to tell him a little of what she +felt of penitence and longing, for that is what she believed she had to +do. Once she had started, she could not turn back. Come what might, +she would hunt until she found him. She had to, or go crazy, she told +herself over and over. She could not imagine any circumstance that would +turn her back from that quest. + +Yet she did turn back--and with scarce a thought of Bud. She could not +imagine the thing happening that did happen, which is the way life +has of keeping us all on the anxious seat most of the time. She could +not--at least she did not--dream that Lovin Child, at once her comfort +and her strongest argument for a new chance at happiness, would in +ten minutes or so wipe out all thought of Bud and leave only a dumb, +dreadful agony that hounded her day and night. + +She had reached Alpine early in the forenoon, and had gone to the one +little hotel, to rest and gather up her courage for the search which she +felt was only beginning. She had been too careful of her money to spend +any for a sleeper, foregoing even a berth in the tourist car. She could +make Lovin Child comfortable with a full seat in the day coach for +his little bed, and for herself it did not matter. She could not sleep +anyway. So she sat up all night and thought, and worried over the +future which was foolish, since the future held nothing at all that she +pictured in it. + +She was tired when she reached the hotel, carrying Lovin Child and her +suit case too--porters being unheard of in small villages, and the one +hotel being too sure of its patronage to bother about getting guests +from depot to hall bedroom. A deaf old fellow with white whiskers and +poor eyesight fumbled two or three keys on a nail, chose one and led the +way down a little dark hall to a little, stuffy room with another +door opening directly on the sidewalk. Marie had not registered on her +arrival, because there was no ink in the inkwell, and the pen had only +half a point; but she was rather relieved to find that she was not +obliged to write her name down--for Bud, perhaps, to see before she had +a chance to see him. + +Lovin Child was in his most romping, rambunctious mood, and Marie's head +ached so badly that she was not quite so watchful of his movements as +usual. She gave him a cracker and left him alone to investigate the tiny +room while she laid down for just a minute on the bed, grateful because +the sun shone in warmly through the window and she did not feel the +absence of a fire. She had no intention whatever of going to sleep--she +did not believe that she could sleep if she had wanted to. Fall asleep +she did, however, and she must have slept for at least half an hour, +perhaps longer. + +When she sat up with that startled sensation that follows unexpected, +undesired slumber, the door was open, and Lovin Child was gone. She had +not believed that he could open the door, but she discovered that its +latch had a very precarious hold upon the worn facing, and that a slight +twist of the knob was all it needed to swing the door open. She rushed +out, of course, to look for him, though, unaware of how long she had +slept, she was not greatly disturbed. Marie had run after Lovin Child +too often to be alarmed at a little thing like that. + +I don't know when fear first took hold of her, or when fear was swept +away by the keen agony of loss. She went the whole length of the one +little street, and looked in all the open doorways, and traversed the +one short alley that led behind the hotel. Facing the street was the +railroad, with the station farther up at the edge of the timber. Across +the railroad was the little, rushing river, swollen now with rains that +had been snow on the higher slopes of the mountain behind the town. + +Marie did not go near the river at first. Some instinct of dread made +her shun even the possibility that Lovin Child had headed that way. But +a man told her, when she broke down her diffidence and inquired, that he +had seen a little tot in a red suit and cap going off that way. He had +not thought anything of it. He was a stranger himself, he said, and he +supposed the kid belonged there, maybe. + +Marie flew to the river, the man running beside her, and three or four +others coming out of buildings to see what was the matter. She did not +find Lovin Child, but she did find half of the cracker she had given +him. It was lying so close to a deep, swirly place under the bank that +Marie gave a scream when she saw it, and the man caught her by the arm +for fear she meant to jump in. + +Thereafter, the whole of Alpine turned out and searched the river bank +as far down as they could get into the box canyon through which it +roared to the sage-covered hills beyond. No one doubted that Lovin Child +had been swept away in that tearing, rock-churned current. No one had +any hope of finding his body, though they searched just as diligently as +if they were certain. + +Marie walked the bank all that day, calling and crying and fighting off +despair. She walked the floor of her little room all night, the +door locked against sympathy that seemed to her nothing but a prying +curiosity over her torment, fighting back the hysterical cries that kept +struggling for outlet. + +The next day she was too exhausted to do anything more than climb up the +steps of the train when it stopped there. Towns and ranches on the +river below had been warned by wire and telephone and a dozen officious +citizens of Alpine assured her over and over that she would be notified +at once if anything was discovered; meaning, of course, the body of her +child. She did not talk. Beyond telling the station agent her name, and +that she was going to stay in Sacramento until she heard something, she +shrank behind her silence and would reveal nothing of her errand there +in Alpine, nothing whatever concerning herself. Mrs. Marie Moore, +General Delivery, Sacramento, was all that Alpine learned of her. + +It is not surprising then, that the subject was talked out long before +Bud or Cash came down into the town more than two months later. It is +not surprising, either, that no one thought to look up-stream for the +baby, or that they failed to consider any possible fate for him save +drowning. That nibbled piece of cracker on the very edge of the river +threw them all off in their reasoning. They took it for granted that +the baby had fallen into the river at the place where they found the +cracker. If he had done so, he would have been swept away instantly. No +one could look at the river and doubt that--therefore no one did doubt +it. That a squaw should find him sitting down where he had fallen, two +hundred yards above the town and in the edge of the thick timber, +never entered their minds at all. That she should pick him up with +the intention at first of stopping his crying, and should yield to the +temptingness of him just as Bud had yielded, would have seemed to Alpine +still more unlikely; because no Indian had ever kidnapped a white child +in that neighborhood. So much for the habit of thinking along grooves +established by precedent + +Marie went to Sacramento merely because that was the closest town of any +size, where she could wait for the news she dreaded to receive yet must +receive before she could even begin to face her tragedy. She did not +want to find Bud now. She shrank from any thought of him. Only for him, +she would still have her Lovin Child. Illogically she blamed Bud for +what had happened. He had caused her one more great heartache, and she +hoped never to see him again or to hear his name spoken. + +Dully she settled down in a cheap, semi-private boarding house to wait. +In a day or two she pulled herself together and went out to look for +work, because she must have money to live on. Go home to her mother +she would not. Nor did she write to her. There, too, her great hurt +had flung some of the blame. If her mother had not interfered and found +fault all the time with Bud, they would be living together now--happy. +It was her mother who had really brought about their separation. Her +mother would nag at her now for going after Bud, would say that she +deserved to lose her baby as a punishment for letting go her pride and +self-respect. No, she certainly did not want to see her mother, or any +one else she had ever known. Bud least of all. + +She found work without much trouble, for she was neat and efficient +looking, of the type that seems to belong in a well-ordered office, +behind a typewriter desk near a window where the sun shines in. The +place did not require much concentration--a dentist's office, where her +chief duties consisted of opening the daily budget of circulars, sending +out monthly bills, and telling pained-looking callers that the doctor +was out just then. Her salary just about paid her board, with a dollar +or two left over for headache tablets and a vaudeville show now and +then. She did not need much spending money, for her evenings were spent +mostly in crying over certain small garments and a canton-flannel dog +called “Wooh-wooh.” + +For three months she stayed, too apathetic to seek a better position. +Then the dentist's creditors became suddenly impatient, and the dentist +could not pay his office rent, much less his office girl. Wherefore +Marie found herself looking for work again, just when spring was opening +all the fruit blossoms and merchants were smilingly telling one another +that business was picking up. + +Weinstock-Lubin's big department store gave her desk space in the +mail-order department. Marie's duty it was to open the mail, check up +the orders, and see that enough money was sent, and start the wheels +moving to fill each order--to the satisfaction of the customer if +possible. + +At first the work worried her a little. But she became accustomed to +it, and settled into the routine of passing the orders along the proper +channels with as little individual thought given to each one as was +compatible with efficiency. She became acquainted with some of the +girls, and changed to a better boarding house. She still cried over the +wooh-wooh and the little garments, but she did not cry so often, nor did +she buy so many headache tablets. She was learning the futility of grief +and the wisdom of turning her back upon sorrow when she could. The sight +of a two-year-old baby boy would still bring tears to her eyes, and she +could not sit through a picture show that had scenes of children and +happy married couples, but she fought the pain of it as a weakness which +she must overcome. Her Lovin Child was gone; she had given up everything +but the sweet, poignant memory of how pretty he had been and how +endearing. + +Then, one morning in early June, her practiced fingers were going +through the pile of mail orders and they singled out one that carried +the postmark of Alpine. Marie bit her lips, but her fingers did not +falter in their task. Cheap table linen, cheap collars, cheap suits or +cheap something-or-other was wanted, she had no doubt. She took out the +paper with the blue money order folded inside, speared the money order +on the hook with others, drew her order pad closer, and began to go +through the list of articles wanted. + +This was the list:-- + + XL 94, 3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr at 59c $1.77 + XL 14 1 Buddy tucker suit 3 yr 2.00 + KL 6 1 Bunny pumps infant 5 1.25 + KL 54 1 Fat Ankle shoe infant 5 .98 + HL 389 4 Rubens vests, 3 yr at 90c 2.70 + SL 418 3 Pajamas 3 yr. at 59c 1.77 + OL 823 1 Express wagon, 15x32 in. 4.25 + -- + $14.22 + + For which money order is enclosed. Please ship at once. + + Very truly, + R. E. MOORE, + Alpine, Calif. + +Mechanically she copied the order on a slip of paper which she put into +her pocket, left her desk and her work and the store, and hurried to her +boarding house. + +Not until she was in her own room with the door locked did she dare let +herself think. She sat down with the copy spread open before her, her +slim fingers pressing against her temples. Something amazing had been +revealed to her--something so amazing that she could scarcely comprehend +its full significance. Bud--never for a minute did she doubt that it +was Bud, for she knew his handwriting too well to be mistaken--Bud was +sending for clothes for a baby boy! + +“3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr--” it sounded, to the hungry mother soul +of her, exactly like her Lovin Child. She could see so vividly just +how he would look in them. And the size--she certainly would buy than +three-year size, if she were buying for Lovin Child. And the little +“Buddy tucker” suit--that, too, sounded like Lovin Child. He must--Bud +certainly must have him up there with him! Then Lovin Child was not +drowned at all, but alive and needing dig-in-the-muds. + +“Bud's got him! Oh, Bud has got him, I know he's got him!” she whispered +over and over to herself in an ecstasy of hope. “My little Lovin Man! +He's up there right now with his Daddy Bud--” + +A vague anger stirred faintly, flared, died almost, flared again and +burned steadily within her. Bud had her Lovin Child! How did he come to +have him, then, unless he stole him? Stole him away, and let her suffer +all this while, believing her baby was dead in the river! + +“You devil!” she muttered, gritting her teeth when that thought formed +clearly in her mind. “Oh, you devil, you! If you think you can get away +with a thing like that--You devil!” + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. THE CURE COMPLETE + +In Nelson Flat the lupines were like spilled bluing in great, acre-wide +blots upon the meadow grass. Between cabin and creek bank a little plot +had been spaded and raked smooth, and already the peas and lettuce and +radishes were up and growing as if they knew how short would be the +season, and meant to take advantage of every minute of the warm days. +Here and there certain plants were lifting themselves all awry from +where they had been pressed flat by two small feet that had strutted +heedlessly down the rows. + +The cabin yard was clean, and the two small windows were curtained with +cheap, white scrim. All before the door and on the path to the creek +small footprints were scattered thick. It was these that Marie pulled up +her hired saddle horse to study in hot resentment. + +“The big brute!” she gritted, and got off and went to the cabin door, +walking straight-backed and every mental and physical fiber of her +braced for the coming struggle. She even regretted not having a gun; +rather, she wished that she was not more afraid of a gun than of any +possible need of one. She felt, at that minute, as though she could +shoot Bud Moore with no more compunction that she would feel in swatting +a fly. + +That the cabin was empty and unlocked only made her blood boil the +hotter. She went in and looked around at the crude furnishings and the +small personal belongings of those who lived there. She saw the table +all set ready for the next meal, with the extremely rustic high-chair +that had DYNAMITE painted boldly on the side of the box seat. Fastened +to a nail at one side of the box was a belt, evidently kept there for +the purpose of strapping a particularly wriggly young person into +the chair. That smacked strongly of Lovin Child, sure enough. Marie +remembered the various devices by which she had kept him in his go cart. + +She went closer and inspected the belt indignantly. Just as she +expected--it was Bud's belt; his old belt that she bought for him just +after they were married. She supposed that box beside the queer high +chair was where he would sit at table and stuff her baby with all kinds +of things he shouldn't eat. Where was her baby? A fresh spasm of longing +for Lovin Child drove her from the cabin. Find him she would, and that +no matter how cunningly Bud had hidden him away. + +On a rope stretched between a young cottonwood tree in full leaf and +a scaly, red-barked cedar, clothes that had been washed were flapping +lazily in the little breeze. Marie stopped and looked at them. A man's +shirt and drawers, two towels gray for want of bluing, a little shirt +and a nightgown and pair of stockings--and, directly in front of Marie, +a small pair of blue overalls trimmed with red bands, the blue showing +white fiber where the color had been scrubbed out of the cloth, the two +knees flaunting patches sewed with long irregular stitches such as a man +would take. + +Bud and Lovin Child. As in the cabin, so here she felt the individuality +in their belongings. Last night she had been tormented with the fear +that there might be a wife as well as a baby boy in Bud's household. +Even the evidence of the mail order, that held nothing for a woman and +that was written by Bud's hand, could scarcely reassure her. Now she +knew beyond all doubt that she had no woman to reckon with, and the +knowledge brought relief of a sort. + +She went up and touched the little overalls wistfully, laid her cheek +against one little patch, ducked under the line, and followed a crooked +little path that led up the creek. She forgot all about her horse, +which looked after her as long as she was in sight, and then turned and +trotted back the way it had come, wondering, no doubt, at the foolish +faith this rider had in him. + +The path led up along the side of the flat, through tall grass and all +the brilliant blossoms of a mountain meadow in June. Great, graceful +mountain lilies nodded from little shady tangles in the bushes. +Harebells and lupines, wild-pea vines and columbines, tiny, gnome-faced +pansies, violets, and the daintier flowering grasses lined the way with +odorous loveliness. Birds called happily from the tree tops. Away up +next the clouds an eagle sailed serene, alone, a tiny boat breasting the +currents of the sky ocean. + +Marie's rage cooled a little on that walk. It was so beautiful for Lovin +Child, up here in this little valley among the snow-topped mountains; +so sheltered. Yesterday's grind in that beehive of a department store +seemed more remote than South Africa. Unconsciously her first nervous +pace slackened. She found herself taking long breaths of this clean air, +sweetened with the scent of growing things. Why couldn't the world be +happy, since it was so beautiful? It made her think of those three weeks +in Big Basin, and the never-forgettable wonder of their love--hers and +Bud's. + +She was crying with the pain and the beauty of it when she heard the +first high, chirpy notes of a baby--her baby. Lovin Child was picketed +to a young cedar near the mouth of the Blind ledge tunnel, and he was +throwing rocks at a chipmunk that kept coming toward him in little +rushes, hoping with each rush to get a crumb of the bread and butter +that Lovin Child had flung down. Lovin Child was squealing and +jabbering, with now and then a real word that he had learned from Bud +and Cash. Not particularly nice words--“Doggone” was one and several +times he called the chipmunk a “sunny-gun.” And of course he frequently +announced that he would “Tell a worl'” something. His head was bare and +shone in the sun like the gold for which Cash and his Daddy Bud were +digging, away back in the dark hole. He had on a pair of faded overalls +trimmed with red, mates of the ones on the rope line, and he threw rocks +impartially with first his right hand and then his left, and sometimes +with both at once; which did not greatly distress the chipmunk, who knew +Lovin Child of old and had learned how wide the rocks always went of +their mark. + +Upon this scene Marie came, still crying. She had always been an +impulsive young woman, and now she forgot that Lovin Child had not seen +her for six months or so, and that baby memories are short. She rushed +in and snatched him off the ground and kissed him and squeezed him and +cried aloud upon her God and her baby, and buried her wet face against +his fat little neck. + +Cash, trundling a wheelbarrow of ore out to the tunnel's mouth, heard a +howl and broke into a run with his load, bursting out into the sunlight +with a clatter and upsetting the barrow ten feet short of the regular +dumping place. Marie was frantically trying to untie the rope, and +was having trouble because Lovin Child was in one of his worst +kicking-and-squirming tantrums. Cash rushed in and snatched the child +from her. + +“Here! What you doing to that kid? You're scaring him to death--and +you've got no right!” + +“I have got a right! I have too got a right!” Marie was clawing like a +wildcat at Cash's grimy hands. “He's my baby! He's mine! You ought to +be hung for stealing him away from me. Let go--he's mine, I tell you. +Lovin! Lovin Child! Don't you know Marie? Marie's sweet, pitty man, he +is! Come to Marie, boy baby!” + +“Tell a worl' no, no, no!” yelled Lovin Child, clinging to Cash. + +“Aw--come to Marie, sweetheart! Marie's own lovin' little man baby! You +let him go, or I'll--I'll kill you. You big brute!” + +Cash let go, but it was not because she commanded. He let go and stared +hard at Marie, lifting his eyebrows comically as he stepped back, his +hand going unconsciously up to smooth his beard. + +“Marie?” he repeated stupidly. “Marie?” He reached out and laid a hand +compellingly on her shoulder. “Ain't your name Marie Markham, young +lady? Don't you know your own dad?” + +Marie lifted her face from kissing Lovin Child very much against his +will, and stared round-eyed at Cash. She did not say anything. + +“You're my Marie, all right You ain't changed so much I can't recognize +yuh. I should think you'd remember your own father--but I guess maybe +the beard kinda changes my looks. Is this true, that this kid belongs to +you?” + +Marie gasped. “Why--father? Why--why, father!” She leaned herself and +Lovin Child into his arms. “Why, I can't believe it! Why--” She closed +her eyes and shivered, going suddenly weak, and relaxed in his arms. +“I-I-I can't--” + +Cash slid Lovin Child to the ground, where that young gentleman picked +himself up indignantly and ran as far as his picket rope would let him, +whereupon he turned and screamed “Sunny-gun! sunny-gun!” at the two like +an enraged bluejay. Cash did not pay any attention to him. He was busy +seeking out a soft, shady spot that was free of rocks, where he might +lay Marie down. He leaned over her and fanned her violently with his +hat, his lips and his eyebrows working with the complexity of his +emotions. Then suddenly he turned and ducked into the tunnel, after Bud. + +Bud heard him coming and turned from his work. Cash was not trundling +the empty barrow, which in itself was proof enough that something had +happened, even if Cash had not been running. Bud dropped his pick and +started on a run to meet him. + +“What's wrong? Is the kid--?” + +“Kid's all right” Cash stopped abruptly, blocking Bud's way. “It's +something else. Bud, his mother's come after him. She's out there +now--laid out in a faint.” + +“Lemme go.” Bud's voice had a grimness in it that spelled trouble for +the lady laid out in a faint “She can be his mother a thousand times--” + +“Yeah. Hold on a minute, Bud. You ain't going out there and raise no +hell with that poor girl. Lovins belongs to her, and she's going to have +him.... Now, just keep your shirt on a second. I've got something more +to say. He's her kid, and she wants him back, and she's going to have +him back. If you git him away from her, it'll be over my carcass. Now, +now, hold on! H-o-l-d on! You're goin' up against Cash Markham now, +remember! That girl is my girl! My girl that I ain't seen since she was +a kid in short dresses. It's her father you've got to deal with now--her +father and the kid's grandfather. You get that? You be reasonable, Bud, +and there won't be no trouble at all. But my girl ain't goin' to be +robbed of her baby--not whilst I'm around. You get that settled in your +mind before you go out there, or--you don't go out whilst I'm here to +stop you.” + +“You go to hell,” Bud stated evenly, and thrust Cash aside with one +sweep of his arm, and went down the tunnel. Cash, his eyebrows lifted +with worry and alarm, was at his heels all the way. + +“Now, Bud, be calm!” he adjured as he ran. “Don't go and make a dang +fool of yourself! She's my girl, remember. You want to hold on to +yourself, Bud, and be reasonable. Don't go and let your temper--” + +“Shut your damn mouth!” Bud commanded him savagely, and went on running. + +At the tunnel mouth he stopped and blinked, blinded for a moment by the +strong sunlight in his face. Cash stumbled and lost ten seconds or so, +picking himself up. Behind him Bud heard Cash panting, “Now, Bud, don't +go and make--a dang fool--” Bud snorted contemptuously and leaped the +dirt pile, landing close to Marie, who was just then raising herself +dizzily to an elbow. + +“Now, Bud,” Cash called tardily when he had caught up with him, “you +leave that girl alone! Don't you lay a finger on her! That's my--” + +Bud lifted his lips away from Marie's and spoke over his shoulder, his +arms tightening in their hold upon Marie's trembling, yielding body. + +“Shut up, Cash. She's my wife--now where do you get off at?” + +(That, o course, lacked a little of being the exact truth. Lacked a few +hours, in fact, because they did not reach Alpine and the railroad +until that afternoon, and were not remarried until seven o'clock that +evening.) + +“No, no, no!” cried Lovin Child from a safe distance. “Tell a worl' no, +no!” + +“I'll tell the world yes, yes!” Bud retorted ecstatically, lifting his +face again. “Come here, you little scallywag, and love your mamma Marie. +Cash, you old donkey, don't you get it yet? We've got 'em both for +keeps, you and me.” + +“Yeah--I get it, all right.” Cash came and stood awkwardly over them. “I +get it--found my girl one minute, and lost her again the next! But I'll +tell yeh one thing, Bud Moore. The kid's' goin' to call me grampaw, er +I'll know the reason why!” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cabin Fever, by B. M. Bower + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1204 *** diff --git a/1204-h/1204-h.htm b/1204-h/1204-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..60390ed --- /dev/null +++ b/1204-h/1204-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6678 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Cabin Fever, by B. M. Bower + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1204 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + CABIN FEVER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By B. M. Bower + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>CABIN FEVER</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE. </a> THE FEVER + MANIFESTS ITSELF <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO. </a> TWO + MAKE A QUARREL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE. </a> TEN + DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER + FOUR. </a> HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE. </a> BUD CANNOT PERFORM + MIRACLES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX. </a> BUD + TAKES TO THE HILLS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN. + </a> INTO THE DESERT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> + CHAPTER EIGHT. </a> MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE. </a> THE BITE OF + MEMORY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER TEN. </a> EMOTIONS + ARE TRICKY THINGS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN. + </a> THE FIRST STAGES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> + CHAPTER TWELVE. </a> MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN. </a> CABIN FEVER + IN THE WORST FORM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + </a> CASH GETS A SHOCK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN. </a> AND BUD NEVER GUESSED <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER SIXTEEN. </a> THE ANTIDOTE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. </a> LOVIN + CHILD WRIGGLES IN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + </a> THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER NINETEEN. </a> BUD FACES FACTS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER TWENTY. </a> LOVIN + CHILD STRIKES IT RICH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER + TWENTY-ONE. </a> MARIE'S SIDE OF IT <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. </a> THE + CURE COMPLETE <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + CABIN FEVER + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE. THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF + </h2> + <p> + There is a certain malady of the mind induced by too much of one thing. + Just as the body fed too long upon meat becomes a prey to that horrid + disease called scurvy, so the mind fed too long upon monotony succumbs to + the insidious mental ailment which the West calls “cabin fever.” True, it + parades under different names, according to circumstances and caste. You + may be afflicted in a palace and call it ennui, and it may drive you to + commit peccadillos and indiscretions of various sorts. You may be attacked + in a middle-class apartment house, and call it various names, and it may + drive you to cafe life and affinities and alimony. You may have it + wherever you are shunted into a backwater of life, and lose the sense of + being borne along in the full current of progress. Be sure that it will + make you abnormally sensitive to little things; irritable where once you + were amiable; glum where once you went whistling about your work and your + play. It is the crystallizer of character, the acid test of friendship, + the final seal set upon enmity. It will betray your little, hidden + weaknesses, cut and polish your undiscovered virtues, reveal you in all + your glory or your vileness to your companions in exile—if so be you + have any. + </p> + <p> + If you would test the soul of a friend, take him into the wilderness and + rub elbows with him for five months! One of three things will surely + happen: You will hate each other afterward with that enlightened hatred + which is seasoned with contempt; you will emerge with the contempt tinged + with a pitying toleration, or you will be close, unquestioning friends to + the last six feet of earth—and beyond. All these things will cabin + fever do, and more. It has committed murder, many's the time. It has + driven men crazy. It has warped and distorted character out of all + semblance to its former self. It has sweetened love and killed love. There + is an antidote—but I am going to let you find the antidote somewhere + in the story. + </p> + <p> + Bud Moore, ex-cow-puncher and now owner of an auto stage that did not run + in the winter, was touched with cabin fever and did not know what ailed + him. His stage line ran from San Jose up through Los Gatos and over the + Bear Creek road across the summit of the Santa Cruz Mountains and down to + the State Park, which is locally called Big Basin. For something over + fifty miles of wonderful scenic travel he charged six dollars, and usually + his big car was loaded to the running boards. Bud was a good driver, and + he had a friendly pair of eyes—dark blue and with a humorous little + twinkle deep down in them somewhere—and a human little smiley quirk + at the corners of his lips. He did not know it, but these things helped to + fill his car. + </p> + <p> + Until gasoline married into the skylark family, Bud did well enough to + keep him contented out of a stock saddle. (You may not know it, but it is + harder for an old cow-puncher to find content, now that the free range is + gone into history, than it is for a labor agitator to be happy in a + municipal boarding house.) + </p> + <p> + Bud did well enough, which was very well indeed. Before the second season + closed with the first fall rains, he had paid for his big car and got the + insurance policy transferred to his name. He walked up First Street with + his hat pushed back and a cigarette dangling from the quirkiest corner of + his mouth, and his hands in his pockets. The glow of prosperity warmed his + manner toward the world. He had a little money in the bank, he had his big + car, he had the good will of a smiling world. He could not walk half a + block in any one of three or four towns but he was hailed with a “Hello, + Bud!” in a welcoming tone. More people knew him than Bud remembered well + enough to call by name—which is the final proof of popularity the + world over. + </p> + <p> + In that glowing mood he had met and married a girl who went into Big Basin + with her mother and camped for three weeks. The girl had taken frequent + trips to Boulder Creek, and twice had gone on to San Jose, and she had + made it a point to ride with the driver because she was crazy about cars. + So she said. Marie had all the effect of being a pretty girl. She + habitually wore white middies with blue collar and tie, which went well + with her clear, pink skin and her hair that just escaped being red. She + knew how to tilt her “beach” hat at the most provocative angle, and she + knew just when to let Bud catch a slow, sidelong glance—of the kind + that is supposed to set a man's heart to syncopatic behavior. She did not + do it too often. She did not powder too much, and she had the latest slang + at her pink tongue's tip and was yet moderate in her use of it. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not notice Marie much on the first trip. She was demure, and Bud + had a girl in San Jose who had brought him to that interesting stage of + dalliance where he wondered if he dared kiss her good night the next time + he called. He was preoccupiedly reviewing the she-said-and-then-I-said, + and trying to make up his mind whether he should kiss her and take a + chance on her displeasure, or whether he had better wait. To him Marie + appeared hazily as another camper who helped fill the car—and his + pocket—and was not at all hard to look at. It was not until the + third trip that Bud thought her beautiful, and was secretly glad that he + had not kissed that San Jose girl. + </p> + <p> + You know how these romances develop. Every summer is saturated with them + the world over. But Bud happened to be a simple-souled fellow, and there + was something about Marie—He didn't know what it was. Men never do + know, until it is all over. He only knew that the drive through the shady + stretches of woodland grew suddenly to seem like little journeys into + paradise. Sentiment lurked behind every great, mossy tree bole. New + beauties unfolded in the winding drive up over the mountain crests. Bud + was terribly in love with the world in those days. + </p> + <p> + There were the evenings he spent in the Basin, sitting beside Marie in the + huge campfire circle, made wonderful by the shadowy giants, the redwoods; + talking foolishness in undertones while the crowd sang snatches of songs + which no one knew from beginning to end, and that went very lumpy in the + verses and very much out of harmony in the choruses. Sometimes they would + stroll down toward that sweeter music the creek made, and stand beside one + of the enormous trees and watch the glow of the fire, and the silhouettes + of the people gathered around it. + </p> + <p> + In a week they were surreptitiously holding hands. In two weeks they could + scarcely endure the partings when Bud must start back to San Jose, and + were taxing their ingenuity to invent new reasons why Marie must go along. + In three weeks they were married, and Marie's mother—a shrewd, + shrewish widow—was trying to decide whether she should wash her + hands of Marie, or whether it might be well to accept the situation and + hope that Bud would prove himself a rising young man. + </p> + <p> + But that was a year in the past. Bud had cabin fever now and did not know + what ailed him, though cause might have been summed up in two meaty + phrases: too much idleness, and too much mother-in-law. Also, not enough + comfort and not enough love. + </p> + <p> + In the kitchen of the little green cottage on North Sixth Street where Bud + had built the home nest with much nearly-Mission furniture and a piano, + Bud was frying his own hotcakes for his ten o'clock breakfast, and was + scowling over the task. He did not mind the hour so much, but he did + mortally hate to cook his own breakfast—or any other meal, for that + matter. In the next room a rocking chair was rocking with a rhythmic + squeak, and a baby was squalling with that sustained volume of sound which + never fails to fill the adult listener with amazement. It affected Bud + unpleasantly, just as the incessant bawling of a band of weaning calves + used to do. He could not bear the thought of young things going hungry. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of Mike, Marie! Why don't you feed that kid, or do something + to shut him up?” he exploded suddenly, dribbling pancake batter over the + untidy range. + </p> + <p> + The squeak, squawk of the rocker ceased abruptly. “'Cause it isn't time + yet to feed him—that's why. What's burning out there? I'll bet + you've got the stove all over dough again—” The chair resumed its + squeaking, the baby continued uninterrupted its wah-h-hah! wah-h-hah, as + though it was a phonograph that had been wound up with that record on, and + no one around to stop it + </p> + <p> + Bud turned his hotcakes with a vicious flop that spattered more batter on + the stove. He had been a father only a month or so, but that was long + enough to learn many things about babies which he had never known before. + He knew, for instance, that the baby wanted its bottle, and that Marie was + going to make him wait till feeding time by the clock. + </p> + <p> + “By heck, I wonder what would happen if that darn clock was to stop!” he + exclaimed savagely, when his nerves would bear no more. “You'd let the kid + starve to death before you'd let your own brains tell you what to do! + Husky youngster like that—feeding 'im four ounces every four days—or + some simp rule like that—” He lifted the cakes on to a plate that + held two messy-looking fried eggs whose yolks had broken, set the plate on + the cluttered table and slid petulantly into a chair and began to eat. The + squeaking chair and the crying baby continued to torment him. Furthermore, + the cakes were doughy in the middle. + </p> + <p> + “For gosh sake, Marie, give that kid his bottle!” Bud exploded again. “Use + the brains God gave yuh—such as they are! By heck, I'll stick that + darn book in the stove. Ain't yuh got any feelings at all? Why, I wouldn't + let a dog go hungry like that! Don't yuh reckon the kid knows when he's + hungry? Why, good Lord! I'll take and feed him myself, if you don't. I'll + burn that book—so help me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will—not!” Marie's voice rose shrewishly, riding the high + waves of the baby's incessant outcry against the restrictions upon + appetite imposed by enlightened motherhood. “You do, and see what'll + happen! You'd have him howling with colic, that's what you'd do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell the world he wouldn't holler for grub! You'd go by the + book if it told yuh to stand 'im on his head in the ice chest! By heck, + between a woman and a hen turkey, give me the turkey when it comes to + sense. They do take care of their young ones—” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, forget that! When it comes to sense—-” + </p> + <p> + Oh, well, why go into details? You all know how these domestic storms + arise, and how love washes overboard when the matrimonial ship begins to + wallow in the seas of recrimination. + </p> + <p> + Bud lost his temper and said a good many things should not have said. + Marie flung back angry retorts and reminded Bud of all his sins and + slights and shortcomings, and told him many of mamma's pessimistic + prophecies concerning him, most of which seemed likely to be fulfilled. + Bud fought back, telling Marie how much of a snap she had had since she + married him, and how he must have looked like ready money to her, and + added that now, by heck, he even had to do his own cooking, as well as + listen to her whining and nagging, and that there wasn't clean corner in + the house, and she'd rather let her own baby go hungry than break a simp + rule in a darn book got up by a bunch of boobs that didn't know anything + about kids. Surely to goodness, he finished his heated paragraph, it + wouldn't break any woman's back to pour a little warm water on a little + malted milk, and shake it up. + </p> + <p> + He told Marie other things, and in return, Marie informed him that he was + just a big-mouthed, lazy brute, and she could curse the day she ever met + him. That was going pretty far. Bud reminded her that she had not done any + cursing at the time, being in his opinion too busy roping him in to + support her. + </p> + <p> + By that time he had gulped down his coffee, and was into his coat, and + looking for his hat. Marie, crying and scolding and rocking the vociferous + infant, interrupted herself to tell him that she wanted a ten-cent roll of + cotton from the drug store, and added that she hoped she would not have to + wait until next Christmas for it, either. Which bit of sarcasm so inflamed + Bud's rage that he swore every step of the way to Santa Clara Avenue, and + only stopped then because he happened to meet a friend who was going down + town, and they walked together. + </p> + <p> + At the drug store on the corner of Second Street Bud stopped and bought + the cotton, feeling remorseful for some of the things he had said to + Marie, but not enough so to send him back home to tell her he was sorry. + He went on, and met another friend before he had taken twenty steps. This + friend was thinking of buying a certain second-hand automobile that was + offered at a very low price, and he wanted Bud to go with him and look her + over. Bud went, glad of the excuse to kill the rest of the forenoon. + </p> + <p> + They took the car out and drove to Schutzen Park and back. Bud opined that + she didn't bark to suit him, and she had a knock in her cylinders that + shouted of carbon. They ran her into the garage shop and went deep into + her vitals, and because she jerked when Bud threw her into second, Bud + suspected that her bevel gears had lost a tooth or two, and was eager to + find out for sure. + </p> + <p> + Bill looked at his watch and suggested that they eat first before they got + all over grease by monkeying with the rear end. So they went to the + nearest restaurant and had smothered beefsteak and mashed potato and + coffee and pie, and while they ate they talked of gears and carburetors + and transmission and ignition troubles, all of which alleviated + temporarily Bud's case of cabin fever and caused him to forget that he was + married and had quarreled with his wife and had heard a good many unkind + things which his mother-in-law had said about him. + </p> + <p> + By the time they were back in the garage and had the grease cleaned out of + the rear gears so that they could see whether they were really burred or + broken, as Bud had suspected, the twinkle was back in his eyes, and the + smiley quirk stayed at the corners of his mouth, and when he was not + talking mechanics with Bill he was whistling. He found much lost motion + and four broken teeth, and he was grease to his eyebrows—in other + words, he was happy. + </p> + <p> + When he and Bill finally shed their borrowed overalls and caps, the garage + lights were on, and the lot behind the shop was dusky. Bud sat down on the + running board and began to figure what the actual cost of the bargain + would be when Bill had put it into good mechanical condition. New + bearings, new bevel gear, new brake, lining, rebored cylinders—they + totalled a sum that made Bill gasp. + </p> + <p> + By the time Bud had proved each item an absolute necessity, and had + reached the final ejaculation: “Aw, forget it, Bill, and buy yuh a Ford!” + it was so late that he knew Marie must have given up looking for him home + to supper. She would have taken it for granted that he had eaten down + town. So, not to disappoint her, Bud did eat down town. Then Bill wanted + him to go to a movie, and after a praiseworthy hesitation Bud yielded to + temptation and went. No use going home now, just when Marie would be + rocking the kid to sleep and wouldn't let him speak above a whisper, he + told his conscience. Might as well wait till they settled down for the + night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO. TWO MAKE A QUARREL + </h2> + <p> + At nine o'clock Bud went home. He was feeling very well satisfied with + himself for some reason which he did not try to analyze, but which was + undoubtedly his sense of having saved Bill from throwing away six hundred + dollars on a bum car; and the weight in his coat pocket of a box of + chocolates that he had bought for Marie. Poor girl, it was kinda tough on + her, all right, being tied to the house now with the kid. Next spring when + he started his run to Big Basin again, he would get a little camp in there + by the Inn, and take her along with him when the travel wasn't too heavy. + She could stay at either end of the run, just as she took a notion. + Wouldn't hurt the kid a bit—he'd be bigger then, and the outdoors + would make him grow like a pig. Thinking of these things, Bud walked + briskly, whistling as he neared the little green house, so that Marie + would know who it was, and would not be afraid when he stepped up on the + front porch. + </p> + <p> + He stopped whistling rather abruptly when he reached the house, for it was + dark. He tried the door and found it locked. The key was not in the letter + box where they always kept it for the convenience of the first one who + returned, so Bud went around to the back and climbed through the pantry + window. He fell over a chair, bumped into the table, and damned a few + things. The electric light was hung in the center of the room by a cord + that kept him groping and clutching in the dark before he finally touched + the elusive bulb with his fingers and switched on the light. + </p> + <p> + The table was set for a meal—but whether it was dinner or supper Bud + could not determine. He went into the little sleeping room and turned on + the light there, looked around the empty room, grunted, and tiptoed into + the bedroom. (In the last month he had learned to enter on his toes, lest + he waken the baby.) He might have saved himself the bother, for the baby + was not there in its new gocart. The gocart was not there, Marie was not + there—one after another these facts impressed themselves upon Bud's + mind, even before he found the letter propped against the clock in the + orthodox manner of announcing unexpected departures. Bud read the letter, + crumpled it in his fist, and threw it toward the little heating stove. “If + that's the way yuh feel about it, I'll tell the world you can go and be + darned!” he snorted, and tried to let that end the matter so far as he was + concerned. But he could not shake off the sense of having been badly used. + He did not stop to consider that while he was working off his anger, that + day, Marie had been rocking back and forth, crying and magnifying the + quarrel as she dwelt upon it, and putting a new and sinister meaning into + Bud's ill-considered utterances. By the time Bud was thinking only of the + bargain car's hidden faults, Marie had reached the white heat of + resentment that demanded vigorous action. Marie was packing a suitcase and + meditating upon the scorching letter she meant to write. + </p> + <p> + Judging from the effect which the letter had upon Bud, it must have been a + masterpiece of its kind. He threw the box of chocolates into the wood-box, + crawled out of the window by which he had entered, and went down town to a + hotel. If the house wasn't good enough for Marie, let her go. He could go + just as fast and as far as she could. And if she thought he was going to + hot-foot it over to her mother's and whine around and beg her to come + home, she had another think coming. + </p> + <p> + He wouldn't go near the darn place again, except to get his clothes. He'd + bust up the joint, by thunder. He'd sell off the furniture and turn the + house over to the agent again, and Marie could whistle for a home. She had + been darn glad to get into that house, he remembered, and away from that + old cat of a mother. Let her stay there now till she was darn good and + sick of it. He'd just keep her guessing for awhile; a week or so would do + her good. Well, he wouldn't sell the furniture—he'd just move it + into another house, and give her a darn good scare. He'd get a better one, + that had a porcelain bathtub instead of a zinc one, and a better porch, + where the kid could be out in the sun. Yes, sir, he'd just do that little + thing, and lay low and see what Marie did about that. Keep her guessing—that + was the play to make. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately for his domestic happiness, Bud failed to take into account + two very important factors in the quarrel. The first and most important + one was Marie's mother, who, having been a widow for fifteen years and + therefore having acquired a habit of managing affairs that even remotely + concerned her, assumed that Marie's affairs must be managed also. The + other factor was Marie's craving to be coaxed back to smiles by the man + who drove her to tears. Marie wanted Bud to come and say he was sorry, and + had been a brute and so forth. She wanted to hear him tell how empty the + house had seemed when he returned and found her gone. She wanted him to be + good and scared with that letter. She stayed awake until after midnight, + listening for his anxious footsteps; after midnight she stayed awake to + cry over the inhuman way he was treating her, and to wish she was dead, + and so forth; also because the baby woke and wanted his bottle, and she + was teaching him to sleep all night without it, and because the baby had a + temper just like his father. + </p> + <p> + His father's temper would have yielded a point or two, the next day, had + it been given the least encouragement. For instance, he might have gone + over to see Marie before he moved the furniture out of the house, had he + not discovered an express wagon standing in front of the door when he went + home about noon to see if Marie had come back. Before he had recovered to + the point of profane speech, the express man appeared, coming out of the + house, bent nearly double under the weight of Marie's trunk. Behind him in + the doorway Bud got a glimpse of Marie's mother. + </p> + <p> + That settled it. Bud turned around and hurried to the nearest drayage + company, and ordered a domestic wrecking crew to the scene; in other + words, a packer and two draymen and a dray. He'd show 'em. Marie and her + mother couldn't put anything over on him—he'd stand over that + furniture with a sheriff first. + </p> + <p> + He went back and found Marie's mother still there, packing dishes and + doilies and the like. They had a terrible row, and all the nearest + neighbors inclined ears to doors ajar—getting an earful, as Bud + contemptuously put it. He finally led Marie's mother to the front door and + set her firmly outside. Told her that Marie had come to him with no more + than the clothes she had, and that his money had bought every teaspoon and + every towel and every stick of furniture in the darned place, and he'd be + everlastingly thus-and-so if they were going to strong-arm the stuff off + him now. If Marie was too good to live with him, why, his stuff was too + good for her to have. + </p> + <p> + Oh, yes, the neighbors certainly got an earful, as the town gossips proved + when the divorce suit seeped into the papers. Bud refused to answer the + proceedings, and was therefore ordered to pay twice as much alimony as he + could afford to pay; more, in fact, than all his domestic expense had + amounted to in the fourteen months that he had been married. Also Marie + was awarded the custody of the child and, because Marie's mother had + represented Bud to be a violent man who was a menace to her daughter's + safety—and proved it by the neighbors who had seen and heard so much—Bud + was served with a legal paper that wordily enjoined him from annoying + Marie with his presence. + </p> + <p> + That unnecessary insult snapped the last thread of Bud's regret for what + had happened. He sold the furniture and the automobile, took the money to + the judge that had tried the case, told the judge a few wholesome truths, + and laid the pile of money on the desk. + </p> + <p> + “That cleans me out, Judge,” he said stolidly. “I wasn't such a bad + husband, at that. I got sore—but I'll bet you get sore yourself and + tell your wife what-for, now and then. I didn't get a square deal, but + that's all right. I'm giving a better deal than I got. Now you can keep + that money and pay it out to Marie as she needs it, for herself and the + kid. But for the Lord's sake, Judge, don't let that wildcat of a mother of + hers get her fingers into the pile! She framed this deal, thinking she'd + get a haul outa me this way. I'm asking you to block that little game. + I've held out ten dollars, to eat on till I strike something. I'm clean; + they've licked the platter and broke the dish. So don't never ask me to + dig up any more, because I won't—not for you nor no other darn man. + Get that.” + </p> + <p> + This, you must know, was not in the courtroom, so Bud was not fined for + contempt. The judge was a married man himself, and he may have had a + sympathetic understanding of Bud's position. At any rate he listened + unofficially, and helped Bud out with the legal part of it, so that Bud + walked out of the judge's office financially free, even though he had a + suspicion that his freedom would not bear the test of prosperity, and that + Marie's mother would let him alone only so long as he and prosperity were + strangers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE. TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD + </h2> + <p> + To withhold for his own start in life only one ten-dollar bill from + fifteen hundred dollars was spectacular enough to soothe even so bruised + an ego as Bud Moore carried into the judge's office. There is an anger + which carries a person to the extreme of self-sacrifice, in the + subconscious hope of exciting pity for one so hardly used. Bud was boiling + with such an anger, and it demanded that he should all but give Marie the + shirt off his back, since she had demanded so much—and for so slight + a cause. + </p> + <p> + Bud could not see for the life of him why Marie should have quit for that + little ruction. It was not their first quarrel, nor their worst; certainly + he had not expected it to be their last. Why, he asked the high heavens, + had she told him to bring home a roll of cotton, if she was going to leave + him? Why had she turned her back on that little home, that had seemed to + mean as much to her as it had to him? + </p> + <p> + Being kin to primitive man, Bud could only bellow rage when he should have + analyzed calmly the situation. He should have seen that Marie too had + cabin fever, induced by changing too suddenly from carefree girlhood to + the ills and irks of wifehood and motherhood. He should have known that + she had been for two months wholly dedicated to the small physical wants + of their baby, and that if his nerves were fraying with watching that + incessant servitude, her own must be close to the snapping point; had + snapped, when dusk did not bring him home repentant. + </p> + <p> + But he did not know, and so he blamed Marie bitterly for the wreck of + their home, and he flung down all his worldly goods before her, and + marched off feeling self-consciously proud of his martyrdom. It soothed + him paradoxically to tell himself that he was “cleaned”; that Marie had + ruined him absolutely, and that he was just ten dollars and a decent suit + or two of clothes better off than a tramp. He was tempted to go back and + send the ten dollars after the rest of the fifteen hundred, but good sense + prevailed. He would have to borrow money for his next meal, if he did + that, and Bud was touchy about such things. + </p> + <p> + He kept the ten dollars therefore, and went down to the garage where he + felt most at home, and stood there with his hands in his pockets and the + corners of his mouth tipped downward—normally they had a way of + tipping upward, as though he was secretly amused at something—and + his eyes sullen, though they carried tiny lines at the corners to show how + they used to twinkle. He took the ten-dollar bank note from his pocket, + straightened out the wrinkles and looked at it disdainfully. As plainly as + though he spoke, his face told what he was thinking about it: that this + was what a woman had brought him to! He crumpled it up and made a gesture + as though he would throw it into the street, and a man behind him laughed + abruptly. Bud scowled and turned toward him a belligerent glance, and the + man stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun. + </p> + <p> + “If you've got money to throw to the birds, brother, I guess I won't make + the proposition I was going to make. Thought I could talk business to you, + maybe—but I guess I better tie a can to that idea.” + </p> + <p> + Bud grunted and put the ten dollars in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “What idea's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, driving a car I'm taking south. Sprained my shoulder, and don't feel + like tackling it myself. They tell me in here that you aren't doing + anything now—” He made the pause that asks for an answer. + </p> + <p> + “They told you right. I've done it.” + </p> + <p> + The man's eyebrows lifted, but since Bud did not explain, he went on with + his own explanation. + </p> + <p> + “You don't remember me, but I rode into Big Basin with you last summer. I + know you can drive, and it doesn't matter a lot whether it's asphalt or + cow trail you drive over.” + </p> + <p> + Bud was in too sour a mood to respond to the flattery. He did not even + grunt. + </p> + <p> + “Could you take a car south for me? There'll be night driving, and bad + roads, maybe—” + </p> + <p> + “If you know what you say you know about my driving, what's the idea—asking + me if I can?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, put it another way. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + “You're on. Where's the car? Here?” Bud sent a seeking look into the + depths of the garage. He knew every car in there. “What is there in it for + me?” he added perfunctorily, because he would have gone just for sake of + getting a free ride rather than stay in San Jose over night. + </p> + <p> + “There's good money in it, if you can drive with your mouth shut. This + isn't any booster parade. Fact is—let's walk to the depot, while I + tell you.” He stepped out of the doorway, and Bud gloomily followed him. + “Little trouble with my wife,” the man explained apologetically. “Having + me shadowed, and all that sort of thing. And I've got business south and + want to be left alone to do it. Darn these women!” he exploded suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Bud mentally said amen, but kept his mouth shut upon his sympathy with the + sentiment. + </p> + <p> + “Foster's my name. Now here's a key to the garage at this address.” He + handed Bud a padlock key and an address scribbled on a card. “That's my + place in Oakland, out by Lake Merritt. You go there to-night, get the car, + and have it down at the Broadway Wharf to meet the 11:30 boat—the + one the theater crowd uses. Have plenty of gas and oil; there won't be any + stops after we start. Park out pretty well near the shore end as close as + you can get to that ten-foot gum sign, and be ready to go when I climb in. + I may have a friend with me. You know Oakland?” + </p> + <p> + “Fair to middling. I can get around by myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's all right. I've got to go back to the city—catching + the next train. You better take the two-fifty to Oakland. Here's money for + whatever expense there is. And say! put these number plates in your + pocket, and take off the ones on the car. I bought these of a fellow that + had a smash—they'll do for the trip. Put them on, will you? She's + wise to the car number, of course. Put the plates you take off under the + seat cushion; don't leave 'em. Be just as careful as if it was a + life-and-death matter, will you? I've got a big deal on, down there, and I + don't want her spilling the beans just to satisfy a grudge—which she + would do in a minute. So don't fail to be at the ferry, parked so you can + slide out easy. Get down there by that big gum sign. I'll find you, all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be there.” Bud thrust the key and another ten dollars into his + pocket and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “And don't say anything—” + </p> + <p> + “Do I look like an open-faced guy?” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed. “Not much, or I wouldn't have picked you for the trip.” + He hurried down to the depot platform, for his train was already + whistling, farther down the yards. + </p> + <p> + Bud looked after him, the corners of his mouth taking their normal, upward + tilt. It began to look as though luck had not altogether deserted him, in + spite of the recent blow it had given. He slid the wrapped number plates + into the inside pocket of his overcoat, pushed his hands deep into his + pockets, and walked up to the cheap hotel which had been his bleak + substitute for a home during his trouble. He packed everything he owned—a + big suitcase held it all by squeezing—paid his bill at the office, + accepted a poor cigar, and in return said, yes, he was going to strike out + and look for work; and took the train for Oakland. + </p> + <p> + A street car landed him within two blocks of the address on the tag, and + Bud walked through thickening fog and dusk to the place. Foster had a + good-looking house, he observed. Set back on the middle of two lots, it + was, with a cement drive sloping up from the street to the garage backed + against the alley. Under cover of lighting a cigarette, he inspected the + place before he ventured farther. The blinds were drawn down—at + least upon the side next the drive. On the other he thought he caught a + gleam of light at the rear; rather, the beam that came from a gleam of + light in Foster's dining room or kitchen shining on the next house. But he + was not certain of it, and the absolute quiet reassured him so that he + went up the drive, keeping on the grass border until he reached the + garage. This, he told himself, was just like a woman—raising the + deuce around so that a man had to sneak into his own place to get his own + car out of his own garage. If Foster was up against the kind of deal Bud + had been up against, he sure had Bud's sympathy, and he sure would get the + best help Bud was capable of giving him. + </p> + <p> + The key fitted the lock, and Bud went in, set down his suitcase, and + closed the door after him. It was dark as a pocket in there, save where a + square of grayness betrayed a window. Bud felt his way to the side of the + car, groped to the robe rail, found a heavy, fringed robe, and curtained + the window until he could see no thread of light anywhere; after which he + ventured to use his flashlight until he had found the switch and turned on + the light. + </p> + <p> + There was a little side door at the back, and it was fastened on the + inside with a stout hook. Bud thought for a minute, took a long chance, + and let himself out into the yard, closing the door after him. He walked + around the garage to the front and satisfied himself that the light inside + did not show. Then he went around the back of the house and found that he + had not been mistaken about the light. The house was certainly occupied, + and like the neighboring houses seemed concerned only with the dinner hour + of the inmates. He went back, hooked the little door on the inside, and + began a careful inspection of the car he was to drive. + </p> + <p> + It was a big, late-modeled touring car, of the kind that sells for nearly + five thousand dollars. Bud's eyes lightened with satisfaction when he + looked at it. There would be pleasure as well as profit in driving this + old girl to Los Angeles, he told himself. It fairly made his mouth water + to look at her standing there. He got in and slid behind the wheel and + fingered the gear lever, and tested the clutch and the foot brake—not + because he doubted them, but because he had a hankering to feel their + smoothness of operation. Bud loved a good car just as he had loved a good + horse in the years behind him. Just as he used to walk around a good horse + and pat its sleek shoulder and feel the hard muscles of its trim legs, so + now he made love to this big car. Let that old hen of Foster's crab the + trip south? He should sa-a-ay not! + </p> + <p> + There did not seem to be a thing that he could do to her, but nevertheless + he got down and, gave all the grease cups a turn, removed the number + plates and put them under the rear seat cushion, inspected the gas tank + and the oil gauge and the fanbelt and the radiator, turned back the + trip-mileage to zero—professional driving had made Bud careful as a + taxi driver about recording the mileage of a trip—looked at the + clock set in the instrument board, and pondered. + </p> + <p> + What if the old lady took a notion to drive somewhere? She would miss the + car and raise a hullabaloo, and maybe crab the whole thing in the start. + In that case, Bud decided that the best way would be to let her go. He + could pile on to the empty trunk rack behind, and manage somehow to get + off with the car when she stopped. Still, there was not much chance of her + going out in the fog—and now that he listened, he heard the drip of + rain. No, there was not much chance. Foster had not seemed to think there + was any chance of the car being in use, and Foster ought to know. He would + wait until about ten-thirty, to play safe, and then go. + </p> + <p> + Rain spelled skid chains to Bud. He looked in the tool box, found a set, + and put them on. Then, because he was not going to take any chances, he + put another set, that he found hanging up, on the front wheels. After that + he turned out the light, took down the robe and wrapped himself in it, and + laid himself down on the rear seat to wait for ten-thirty. + </p> + <p> + He dozed, and the next he knew there was a fumbling at the door in front, + and the muttering of a voice. Bud slid noiselessly out of the car and + under it, head to the rear where he could crawl out quickly. The voice + sounded like a man, and presently the door opened and Bud was sure of it. + He caught a querulous sentence or two. + </p> + <p> + “Door left unlocked—the ignorant hound—Good thing I don't + trust him too far—” Some one came fumbling in and switched on the + light. “Careless hound—told him to be careful—never even put + the robe on the rail where it belongs—and then they howl about the + way they're treated! Want more wages—don't earn what they do get—” + </p> + <p> + Bud, twisting his head, saw a pair of slippered feet beside the running + board. The owner of the slippers was folding the robe and laying it over + the rail, and grumbling to himself all the while. “Have to come out in the + rain—daren't trust him an inch—just like him to go off and + leave the door unlocked—” With a last grunt or two the mumbling + ceased. The light was switched off, and Bud heard the doors pulled shut, + and the rattle of the padlock and chain. He waited another minute and + crawled out. + </p> + <p> + “Might have told me there was a father-in-law in the outfit,” he grumbled + to himself. “Big a butt-in as Marie's mother, at that. Huh. Never saw my + suit case, never noticed the different numbers, never got next to the + chains—huh! Regular old he-hen, and I sure don't blame Foster for + wanting to tie a can to the bunch.” + </p> + <p> + Very cautiously he turned his flashlight on the face of the automobile + clock. The hour hand stood a little past ten, and Bud decided he had + better go. He would have to fill the gas tank, and get more oil, and he + wanted to test the air in his tires. No stops after they started, said + Foster; Bud had set his heart on showing Foster something in the way of + getting a car over the road. + </p> + <p> + Father-in-law would holler if he heard the car, but Bud did not intend + that father-in-law should hear it. He would much rather run the gauntlet + of that driveway then wait in the dark any longer. He remembered the slope + down to the street, and grinned contentedly. He would give father-in-law a + chance to throw a fit, next morning. + </p> + <p> + He set his suit case in the tonneau, went out of the little door, edged + around to the front and very, very cautiously he unlocked the big doors + and set them open. He went in and felt the front wheels, judged that they + were set straight, felt around the interior until his fingers touched a + block of wood and stepped off the approximate length of the car in front + of the garage, allowing for the swing of the doors, and placed the block + there. Then he went back, eased off the emergency brake, grabbed a good + handhold and strained forward. + </p> + <p> + The chains hindered, but the floor sloped to the front a trifle, which + helped. In a moment he had the satisfaction of feeling the big car give, + then roll slowly ahead. The front wheels dipped down over the threshold, + and Bud stepped upon the running board, took the wheel, and by instinct + more than by sight guided her through the doorway without a scratch. She + rolled forward like a black shadow until a wheel jarred against the block, + whereupon he set the emergency brake and got off, breathing free once + more. He picked up the block and carried it back, quietly closed the big + doors and locked them, taking time to do it silently. Then, in a glow of + satisfaction with his work, he climbed slowly into the car, settled down + luxuriously in the driver's seat, eased off the brake, and with a little + lurch of his body forward started the car rolling down the driveway. + </p> + <p> + There was a risk, of course, in coasting out on to the street with no + lights, but he took it cheerfully, planning to dodge if he saw the lights + of another car coming. It pleased him to remember that the street inclined + toward the bay. He rolled past the house without a betraying sound, dipped + over the curb to the asphalt, swung the car townward, and coasted nearly + half a block with the ignition switch on before he pushed up the throttle, + let in his clutch, and got the answering chug-chug of the engine. With the + lights on full he went purring down the street in the misty fog, pleased + with himself and his mission. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR. HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING + </h2> + <p> + At a lunch wagon down near the water front, Bud stopped and bought two + “hot dog” sandwiches and a mug of hot coffee boiled with milk in it and + sweetened with three cubes of sugar. “O-oh, boy!” he ejaculated gleefully + when he set his teeth into biscuit and hot hamburger. Leaning back + luxuriously in the big car, he ate and drank until he could eat and drink + no more. Then, with a bag of bananas on the seat beside him, he drove on + down to the mole, searching through the drizzle for the big gum sign which + Foster had named. Just even with the coughing engine of a waiting through + train he saw it, and backed in against the curb, pointing the car's + radiator toward the mainland. He had still half an hour to wait, and he + buttoned on the curtains of the car, since a wind from across the bay was + sending the drizzle slantwise; moreover it occurred to him that Foster + would not object to the concealment while they were passing through + Oakland. Then he listlessly ate a banana while he waited. + </p> + <p> + The hoarse siren of a ferryboat bellowed through the murk. Bud started the + engine, throttled it down to his liking, and left it to warm up for the + flight. He ate another banana, thinking lazily that he wished he owned + this car. For the first time in many a day his mind was not filled and + boiling over with his trouble. Marie and all the bitterness she had come + to mean to him receded into the misty background of his mind and hovered + there, an indistinct memory of something painful in his life. + </p> + <p> + A street car slipped past, bobbing down the track like a duck sailing over + ripples. A local train clanged down to the depot and stood jangling its + bell while it disgorged passengers for the last boat to the City whose + wall of stars was hidden behind the drizzle and the clinging fog. People + came straggling down the sidewalk—not many, for few had business + with the front end of the waiting trains. Bud pushed the throttle up a + little. His fingers dropped down to the gear lever, his foot snuggled + against the clutch pedal. + </p> + <p> + Feet came hurrying. Two voices mumbled together. “Here he is,” said one. + “That's the number I gave him.” Bud felt some one step hurriedly upon the + running board. The tonneau door was yanked open. A man puffed audibly + behind him. “Yuh ready?” Foster's voice hissed in Bud's ear. + </p> + <p> + “R'aring to go.” Bud heard the second man get in and shut the door, and he + jerked the gear lever into low. His foot came gently back with the clutch, + and the car slid out and away. + </p> + <p> + Foster settled back on the cushions with a sigh. The other man was + fumbling the side curtains, swearing under his breath when his fingers + bungled the fastenings. + </p> + <p> + “Everything all ready?” Foster's voice was strident with anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Sure thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, head south—any road you know best. And keep going, till I + tell you to stop. How's the oil and gas?” + </p> + <p> + “Full up. Gas enough for three hundred miles. Extra gallon of oil in the + car. What d'yah want—the speed limit through town?” + </p> + <p> + “Nah. Side streets, if you know any. They might get quick action and + telephone ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it to me, brother.” + </p> + <p> + Bud did not know for sure, never having been pursued; but it seemed to him + that a straightaway course down a main street where other cars were + scudding homeward would be the safest route, because the simplest. He did + not want any side streets in his, he decided—and maybe run into a + mess of street-improvement litter, and have to back trail around it. He + held the car to a hurry-home pace that was well within the law, and worked + into the direct route to Hayward. He sensed that either Foster or his + friend turned frequently to look back through the square celluloid window, + but he did not pay much attention to them, for the streets were greasy + with wet, and not all drivers would equip with four skid chains. Keeping + sharp lookout for skidding cars and unexpected pedestrians and street-car + crossings and the like fully occupied Bud. + </p> + <p> + For all that, an occasional mutter came unheeded to his ears, the closed + curtains preserving articulate sounds like room walls. + </p> + <p> + “He's all right,” he heard Foster whisper once. “Better than if he was in + on it.” He did not know that Foster was speaking of him. + </p> + <p> + “—if he gets next,” the friend mumbled. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, quit your worrying,” Foster grunted. “The trick's turned; that's + something.” + </p> + <p> + Bud was under the impression that they were talking about father-in-law, + who had called Foster a careless hound; but whether they were or not + concerned him so little that his own thoughts never flagged in their + shuttle-weaving through his mind. The mechanics of handling the big car + and getting the best speed out of her with the least effort and risk, the + tearing away of the last link of his past happiness and his grief; the + feeling that this night was the real parting between him and Marie, the + real stepping out into the future; the future itself, blank beyond the end + of this trip, these were quite enough to hold Bud oblivious to the + conversation of strangers. + </p> + <p> + At dawn they neared a little village. Through this particular county the + road was unpaved and muddy, and the car was a sight to behold. The only + clean spot was on the windshield, where Bud had reached around once or + twice with a handful of waste and cleaned a place to see through. It was + raining soddenly, steadily, as though it always had rained and always + would rain. + </p> + <p> + Bud turned his face slightly to one side. “How about stopping; I'll have + to feed her some oil—and it wouldn't hurt to fill the gas tank + again. These heavy roads eat up a lot of extra power. What's her average + mileage on a gallon, Foster?” + </p> + <p> + “How the deuce should I know?” Foster snapped, just coming out of a doze. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to know, with your own car—and gas costing what it does.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—ah—what was it you asked?” Foster yawned aloud. “I musta + been asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you musta been, all right,” Bud grunted. “Do you want breakfast + here, or don't you? I've got to stop for gas and oil; that's what I was + asking?” + </p> + <p> + The two consulted together, and finally told Bud to stop at the first + garage and get his oil and gas. After that he could drive to a drug store + and buy a couple of thermos bottles, and after that he could go to the + nearest restaurant and get the bottles filled with black coffee, and have + lunch put up for six people. Foster and his friend would remain in the + car. + </p> + <p> + Bud did these things, revising the plan to the extent of eating his own + breakfast at the counter in the restaurant while the lunch was being + prepared in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + From where he sat he could look across at the muddy car standing before a + closed millinery-and-drygoods store. It surely did not look much like the + immaculate machine he had gloated over the evening before, but it was a + powerful, big brute of a car and looked its class in every line. Bud was + proud to drive a car like that. The curtains were buttoned down tight, and + he thought amusedly of the two men huddled inside, shivering and hungry, + yet refusing to come in and get warmed up with a decent breakfast. Foster, + he thought, must certainly be scared of his wife, if he daren't show + himself in this little rube town. For the first time Bud had a vagrant + suspicion that Foster had not told quite all there was to tell about this + trip. Bud wondered now if Foster was not going to meet a “Jane” somewhere + in the South. That terrifying Mann Act would account for his caution much + better than would the business deal of which Foster had hinted. + </p> + <p> + Of course, Bud told himself while the waiter refilled his coffee cup, it + was none of his business what Foster had up his sleeve. He wanted to get + somewhere quickly and quietly, and Bud was getting him there. That was all + he need to consider. Warmed and once more filled with a sense of + well-being, Bud made himself a cigarette before the lunch was ready, and + with his arms full of food he went out and across the street. Just before + he reached the car one of the thermos bottles started to slide down under + his elbow. Bud attempted to grip it against his ribs, but the thing had + developed a slipperiness that threatened the whole load, so he stopped to + rearrange his packages, and got an irritated sentence or two from his + passengers. + </p> + <p> + “Giving yourself away like that! Why couldn't you fake up a mileage? + Everybody lies or guesses about the gas—” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, what's the difference? The simp ain't next to anything. He thinks I + own it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't make the mistake of thinking he's a sheep. Once he—” + </p> + <p> + Bud suddenly remembered that he wanted something more from the restaurant, + and returned forth-with, slipping thermos bottle and all. He bought two + packages of chewing gum to while away the time when he could not handily + smoke, and when he returned to the car he went muttering disapproving + remarks about the rain and the mud and the bottles. He poked his head + under the front curtain and into a glum silence. The two men leaned back + into the two corners of the wide seat, with their heads drawn down into + their coat collars and their hands thrust under the robe. Foster reached + forward and took a thermos bottle, his partner seized another. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you might get us a bottle of good whisky, too,” said Foster, holding + out a small gold piece between his gloved thumb and finger. “Be quick + about it though—we want to be traveling. Lord, it's cold!” + </p> + <p> + Bud went into a saloon a few doors up the street, and was back presently + with the bottle and the change. There being nothing more to detain them + there, he kicked some of the mud off his feet, scraped off the rest on the + edge of the running board and climbed in, fastening the curtain against + the storm. “Lovely weather,” he grunted sarcastically. “Straight on to + Bakersfield, huh?” + </p> + <p> + There was a minute of silence save for the gurgling of liquid running out + of a bottle into an eager mouth. Bud laid an arm along the back of his + seat and waited, his head turned toward them. “Where are you fellows + going, anyway?” he asked impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Los An—” the stranger gurgled, still drinking. + </p> + <p> + “Yuma!” snapped Foster. “You shut up, Mert. I'm running this.” + </p> + <p> + “Better—” + </p> + <p> + “Yuma. You hit the shortest trail for Yuma, Bud. I'm running this.” + </p> + <p> + Foster seemed distinctly out of humor. He told Mert again to shut up, and + Mert did so grumblingly, but somewhat diverted and consoled, Bud fancied, + by the sandwiches and coffee—and the whisky too, he guessed. For + presently there was an odor from the uncorked bottle in the car. + </p> + <p> + Bud started and drove steadily on through the rain that never ceased. The + big car warmed his heart with its perfect performance, its smooth, + effortless speed, its ease of handling. He had driven too long and too + constantly to tire easily, and he was almost tempted to settle down to + sheer enjoyment in driving such a car. Last night he had enjoyed it, but + last night was not to-day. + </p> + <p> + He wished he had not overheard so much, or else had overheard more. He was + inclined to regret his retreat from the acrimonious voices as being + premature. Just why was he a simp, for instance? Was it because he thought + Foster owned the car? Bud wondered whether father-in-law had not bought + it, after all. Now that he began thinking from a different angle, he + remembered that father-in-law had behaved very much like the proud + possessor of a new car. It really did not look plausible that he would + come out in the drizzle to see if Foster's car was safely locked in for + the night. There had been, too, a fussy fastidiousness in the way the robe + had been folded and hung over the rail. No man would do that for some + other man's property, unless he was paid for it. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore, Bud finally concluded that Foster was not above helping himself + to family property. On the whole, Bud did not greatly disapprove of that; + he was too actively resentful of his own mother-in-law. He was not sure + but he might have done something of the sort himself, if his mother-in-law + had possessed a six-thousand-dollar car. Still, such a car generally means + a good deal to the owner, and he did not wonder that Foster was nervous + about it. + </p> + <p> + But in the back of his mind there lurked a faint dissatisfaction with this + easy explanation. It occurred to him that if there was going to be any + trouble about the car, he might be involved beyond the point of comfort. + After all, he did not know Foster, and he had no more reason for believing + Foster's story than he had for doubting. For all he knew, it might not be + a wife that Foster was so afraid of. + </p> + <p> + Bud was not stupid. He was merely concerned chiefly with his own affairs—a + common enough failing, surely. But now that he had thought himself into a + mental eddy where his own affairs offered no new impulse toward emotion, + he turned over and over in his mind the mysterious trip he was taking. It + had come to seem just a little too mysterious to suit him, and when Bud + Moore was not suited he was apt to do something about it. + </p> + <p> + What he did in this case was to stop in Bakersfield at a garage that had a + combination drugstore and news-stand next door. He explained shortly to + his companions that he had to stop and buy a road map and that he wouldn't + be long, and crawled out into the rain. At the open doorway of the garage + he turned and looked at the car. No, it certainly did not look in the + least like the machine he had driven down to the Oakland mole—except, + of course, that it was big and of the same make. It might have been empty, + too, for all the sign it gave of being occupied. Foster and Mert evidently + had no intention whatever of showing themselves. + </p> + <p> + Bud went into the drugstore, remained there for five minutes perhaps, and + emerged with a morning paper which he rolled up and put into his pocket. + He had glanced through its feature news, and had read hastily one + front-page article that had nothing whatever to do with the war, but told + about the daring robbery of a jewelry store in San Francisco the night + before. + </p> + <p> + The safe, it seemed, had been opened almost in plain sight of the street + crowds, with the lights full on in the store. A clever arrangement of two + movable mirrors had served to shield the thief—or thieves. For no + longer than two or three minutes, it seemed, the lights had been off, and + it was thought that the raiders had used the interval of darkness to move + the mirrors into position. Which went far toward proving that the crime + had been carefully planned in advance. Furthermore, the article stated + with some assurance that trusted employees were involved. + </p> + <p> + Bud also had glanced at the news items of less importance, and had been + startled enough—yet not so much surprised as he would have been a + few hours earlier—to read, under the caption: DARING THIEF STEALS + COSTLY CAR, to learn that a certain rich man of Oakland had lost his new + automobile. The address of the bereaved man had been given, and Bud's + heart had given a flop when he read it. The details of the theft had not + been told, but Bud never noticed their absence. His memory supplied all + that for him with sufficient vividness. + </p> + <p> + He rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and with the paper stuffed carelessly + into his pocket he went to the car, climbed in, and drove on to the south, + just as matter-of-factly as though he had not just then discovered that + he, Bud Moore, had stolen a six-thousand-dollar automobile the night + before. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE. BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES + </h2> + <p> + They went on and on, through the rain and the wind, sometimes through the + mud as well, where the roads were not paved. Foster had almost pounced + upon the newspaper when he discovered it in Bud's pocket as he climbed in, + and Bud knew that the two read that feature article avidly. But if they + had any comments to make, they saved them for future privacy. Beyond a few + muttered sentences they were silent. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not care whether they talked or not. They might have talked + themselves hoarse, when it came to that, without changing his opinions or + his attitude toward them. He had started out the most unsuspecting of men, + and now he was making up for it by suspecting Foster and Mert of being + robbers and hypocrites and potential murderers. He could readily imagine + them shooting him in the back of the head while he drove, if that would + suit their purpose, or if they thought that he suspected them. + </p> + <p> + He kept reviewing his performance in that garage. Had he really intended + to steal the car, he would not have had the nerve to take the chances he + had taken. He shivered when he recalled how he had slid under the car when + the owner came in. What if the man had seen him or heard him? He would be + in jail now, instead of splashing along the highway many miles to the + south. For that matter, he was likely to land in jail, anyway, before he + was done with Foster, unless he did some pretty close figuring. Wherefore + he drove with one part of his brain, and with the other he figured upon + how he was going to get out of the mess himself—and land Foster and + Mert deep in the middle of it. For such was his vengeful desire. + </p> + <p> + After an hour or so, when his stomach began to hint that it was eating + time for healthy men, he slowed down and turned his head toward the + tonneau. There they were, hunched down under the robe, their heads drawn + into their collars like two turtles half asleep on a mud bank. + </p> + <p> + “Say, how about some lunch?” he demanded. “Maybe you fellows can get along + on whisky and sandwiches, but I'm doing the work; and if you notice, I've + been doing it for about twelve hours now without any let-up. There's a + town ahead here a ways—” + </p> + <p> + “Drive around it, then,” growled Foster, lifting his chin to stare ahead + through the fogged windshield. “We've got hot coffee here, and there's + plenty to eat. Enough for two meals. How far have we come since we + started?” + </p> + <p> + “Far enough to be called crazy if we go much farther without a square + meal,” Bud snapped. Then he glanced at the rumpled newspaper and added + carelessly, “Anything new in the paper?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Mert spoke up sharply. “Go on. You're doing all right so far—don't + spoil it by laying down on your job!” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, go on!” Foster urged. “We'll stop when we get away from this darn + burg, and you can rest your legs a little while we eat.” + </p> + <p> + Bud went on, straight through the middle of the town without stopping. + They scurried down a long, dismal lane toward a low-lying range of hills + pertly wooded with bald patches of barren earth and rock. Beyond were + mountains which Bud guessed was the Tehachapi range. Beyond them, he + believed he would find desert and desertion. He had never been over this + road before, so he could no more than guess. He knew that the ridge road + led to Los Angeles, and he did not want anything of that road. Too many + travelers. He swung into a decent-looking road that branched off to the + left, wondering where it led, but not greatly caring. He kept that road + until they had climbed over a ridge or two and were in the mountains. + Soaked wilderness lay all about them, green in places where grass would + grow, brushy in places, barren and scarred with outcropping ledges, + pencilled with wire fences drawn up over high knolls. + </p> + <p> + In a sequestered spot where the road hugged close the concave outline of a + bushy bluff, Bud slowed and turned out behind a fringe of bushes, and + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “This is safe enough,” he announced, “and my muscles are kinda crampy. + I'll tell the world that's been quite some spell of straight driving.” + </p> + <p> + Mert grunted, but Foster was inclined to cheerfulness. “You're some + driver, Bud. I've got to hand it to you.” + </p> + <p> + Bud grinned. “All right, I'll take it—half of it, anyway, if you + don't mind. You must remember I don't know you fellows. Most generally I + collect half in advance, on a long trip like this.” Foster's eyes opened, + but he reached obediently inside his coat. Mert growled inaudible comments + upon Bud's nerve. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we can't kick, Mert,” Foster smoothed him down diplomatically. “He's + delivered the goods, so far. And he certainly does know how to put a car + over the road. He don't know us, remember!” + </p> + <p> + Mert grunted again and subsided. Foster extracted a bank note from his + bill-folder, which Bud observed had a prosperous plumpness, and held it + out to Bud. + </p> + <p> + “I guess fifty dollars won't hurt your feelings, will it, brother? That's + more than you'd charge for twice the trip, but we appreciate a tight + mouth, and the hurry-up trip you've made of it, and all that It's special + work, and we're willing to pay a special price. See?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. But I only want half, right now. Maybe,” he added with the lurking + twinkle in his eyes, “I won't suit yuh quite so well the rest of the way. + I'll have to go b'-guess and b'-gosh from here on. I've got some change + left from what I bought for yuh this morning too. Wait till I check up.” + </p> + <p> + Very precisely he did so, and accepted enough from Foster to make up the + amount to twenty-five dollars. He was tempted to take more. For one minute + he even contemplated holding the two up and taking enough to salve his + hurt pride and his endangered reputation. But he did not do anything of + the sort, of course; let's believe he was too honest to do it even in + revenge for the scurvy trick they had played him. + </p> + <p> + He ate a generous lunch of sandwiches and dill pickles and a wedge of + tasteless cocoanut cake, and drank half a pint or so of the hot, black + coffee, and felt more cheerful. + </p> + <p> + “Want to get down and stretch your legs? I've got to take a look at the + tires, anyway. Thought she was riding like one was kinda flat, the last + few miles.” + </p> + <p> + They climbed out stiffly into the rain, stood around the car and stared at + it and at Bud testing his tires, and walked off down the road for a little + distance where they stood talking earnestly together. From the corner of + his eye Bud caught Mert tilting his head that way, and smiled to himself. + Of course they were talking about him! Any fool would know that much. Also + they were discussing the best means of getting rid of him, or of saddling + upon him the crime of stealing the car, or some other angle at which he + touched their problem. + </p> + <p> + Under cover of testing the rear wheel farthest from them, he peeked into + the tonneau and took a good look at the small traveling bag they had kept + on the seat between them all the way. He wished he dared—But they + were coming back, as if they would not trust him too long alone with that + bag. He bent again to the tire, and when they climbed back into the + curtained car he was getting the pump tubing out to pump up that + particular tire a few pounds. + </p> + <p> + They did not pay much attention to him. They seemed preoccupied and not + too friendly with each other, Bud thought. Their general air of gloom he + could of course lay to the weather and the fact that they had been + traveling for about fourteen hours without any rest; but there was + something more than that in the atmosphere. He thought they had disagreed, + and that he was the subject of their disagreement. + </p> + <p> + He screwed down the valve cap, coiled the pump tube and stowed it away in + the tool box, opened the gas tank, and looked in—and right there he + did something else; something that would have spelled disaster if either + of them had seen him do it. He spilled a handful of little round white + objects like marbles into the tank before he screwed on the cap, and from + his pocket he pulled a little paper box, crushed it in his hand, and threw + it as far as he could into the bushes. Then, whistling just above his + breath, which was a habit with Bud when his work was going along + pleasantly, he scraped the mud off his feet, climbed in, and drove on down + the road. + </p> + <p> + The big car picked up speed on the down grade, racing along as though the + short rest had given it a fresh enthusiasm for the long road that wound in + and out and up and down and seemed to have no end. As though he joyed in + putting her over the miles, Bud drove. Came a hill, he sent her up it with + a devil-may-care confidence, swinging around curves with a squall of the + powerful horn that made cattle feeding half a mile away on the slopes lift + their startled heads and look. + </p> + <p> + “How much longer are you good for, Bud?” Foster leaned forward to ask, his + tone flattering with the praise that was in it. + </p> + <p> + “Me? As long as this old boat will travel,” Bud flung back gleefully, + giving her a little more speed as they rocked over a culvert and sped away + to the next hill. He chuckled, but Foster had settled back again + satisfied, and did not notice. + </p> + <p> + Halfway up the next hill the car slowed suddenly, gave a snort, gasped + twice as Bud retarded the spark to help her out, and, died. She was a + heavy car to hold on that stiff grade, and in spite of the full emergency + brake helped out with the service brake, she inched backward until the + rear wheels came full against a hump across the road and held. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not say anything; your efficient chauffeur reserves his eloquence + for something more complex than a dead engine. He took down the curtain on + that side, leaned out into the rain and inspected the road behind him, + shifted into reverse, and backed to the bottom. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong?” Foster leaned forward to ask senselessly. + </p> + <p> + “When I hit level ground, I'm going to find out,” Bud retorted, still + watching the road and steering with one hand. “Does the old girl ever cut + up with you on hills?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—no. She never has,” Foster answered dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Reason I asked, she didn't just choke down from the pull. She went and + died on me.” + </p> + <p> + “That's funny,” Foster observed weakly. + </p> + <p> + On the level Bud went into neutral and pressed the self-starter with a + pessimistic deliberation. He got three chugs and a backfire into the + carburetor, and after that silence. He tried it again, coaxing her with + the spark and throttle. The engine gave a snort, hesitated and then, quite + suddenly, began to throb with docile regularity that seemed to belie any + previous intention of “cutting up.” + </p> + <p> + Bud fed her the gas and took a run at the hill. She went up like a + thoroughbred and died at the top, just when the road had dipped into the + descent. Bud sent her down hill on compression, but at the bottom she + refused to find her voice again when he turned on the switch and pressed + the accelerator. She simply rolled down to the first incline and stopped + there like a balky mule. + </p> + <p> + “Thunder!” said Bud, and looked around at Foster. “Do you reckon the old + boat is jinxed, just because I said I could drive her as far as she'd go? + The old rip ain't shot a cylinder since we hit the top of the hill.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe the mixture—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah,” Bud interrupted with a secret grin, “I've been wondering about + that, and the needle valve, and the feed pipe, and a few other little + things. Well, we'll have a look.” + </p> + <p> + Forthwith he climbed out into the drizzle and began a conscientious search + for the trouble. He inspected the needle valve with much care, and had + Foster on the front seat trying to start her afterwards. He looked for + short circuit. He changed the carburetor adjustment, and Foster got a + weary chug-chug that ceased almost as soon as it had begun. He looked all + the spark plugs over, he went after the vacuum feed and found that working + perfectly. He stood back, finally, with his hands on his hips, and stared + at the engine and shook his head slowly twice. + </p> + <p> + Foster, in the driver's seat, swore and tried again to start it. “Maybe if + you cranked it,” he suggested tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “What for? The starter turns her over all right. Spark's all right too, + strong and hot. However—” With a sigh of resignation Bud got out + what tools he wanted and went to work. Foster got out and stood around, + offering suggestions that were too obvious to be of much use, but which + Bud made it a point to follow as far as was practicable. + </p> + <p> + Foster said it must be the carburetor, and Bud went relentlessly after the + carburetor. He impressed Foster with the fact that he knew cars, and when + he told Foster to get in and try her again, Foster did so with the air of + having seen the end of the trouble. At first it did seem so, for the + engine started at once and worked smoothly until Bud had gathered his + wrenches off the running board and was climbing it, when it slowed down + and stopped, in spite of Foster's frantic efforts to keep it alive with + spark and throttle. + </p> + <p> + “Good Glory!” cried Bud, looking reproachfully in at Foster. “What'd yuh + want to stop her for?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't!” Foster's consternation was ample proof of his innocence. “What + the devil ails the thing?” + </p> + <p> + “You tell me, and I'll fix it,” Bud retorted savagely. Then he smoothed + his manner and went back to the carburetor. “Acts like the gas kept + choking off,” he said, “but it ain't that. She's O.K. I know, 'cause I've + tested it clean back to tank. There's nothing the matter with the feed—she's + getting gas same as she has all along. I can take off the mag. and see if + anything's wrong there; but I'm pretty sure there ain't. Couldn't any + water or mud get in—not with that oil pan perfect. She looks dry as + a bone, and clean. Try her again, Foster; wait till I set the spark about + right. Now, you leave it there, and give her the gas kinda gradual, and + catch her when she talks. We'll see—” + </p> + <p> + They saw that she was not going to “talk” at all. Bud swore a little and + got out more tools and went after the magneto with grim determination. + Again Foster climbed out and stood in the drizzle and watched him. Mert + crawled over into the front seat where he could view the proceedings + through the windshield. Bud glanced up and saw him there, and grinned + maliciously. “Your friend seems to love wet weather same as a cat does,” + he observed to Foster. “He'll be terrible happy if you're stalled here + till you get a tow in somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “It's your business to see that we aren't stalled,” Mert snapped at him + viciously. “You've got to make the thing go. You've got to!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I ain't the Almighty,” Bud retorted acidly. “I can't perform + miracles while yuh wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Starting a cranky car doesn't take a miracle,” whined Mert. “Anybody that + knows cars—” + </p> + <p> + “She's no business to be a cranky car,” Foster interposed pacifically. + “Why, she's practically new!” He stepped over a puddle and stood beside + Bud, peering down at the silent engine. “Have you looked at the intake + valve?” he asked pathetically. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sure. It's all right. Everything's all right, as far as I can find + out.” Bud looked Foster straight in the eye—and if his own were a + bit anxious, that was to be expected. + </p> + <p> + “Everything's all right,” he added measuredly. “Only, she won't go.” He + waited, watching Foster's face. + </p> + <p> + Foster chewed a corner of his lip worriedly. “Well, what do you make of + it?” His tone was helpless. + </p> + <p> + Bud threw out his two hands expressively, and shook his head. He let down + the hood, climbed in, slid into the driver's seat, and went through the + operation of starting. Only, he didn't start. The self-starter hummed as + it spun the flywheel, but nothing whatever was elicited save a profane + phrase from Foster and a growl from Mert. Bud sat back flaccid, his whole + body owning defeat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that means a tow in to the nearest shop,” he stated, after a minute + of dismal silence. “She's dead as a doornail.” + </p> + <p> + Mert sat back in his corner of the seat, muttering into his collar. Foster + looked at him, looked at Bud, looked at the car and at the surrounding + hills. He seemed terribly depressed and at the same time determined to + make the best of things. Bud could almost pity him—almost. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know how far it is back to that town we passed?” he asked Bud + spiritlessly after a while. Bud looked at the speedometer, made a mental + calculation and told him it was fifteen miles. Towns, it seemed, were + rather far apart in this section of the country. + </p> + <p> + “Well, let's see the road map. How far is it to the next one?” + </p> + <p> + “Search me. They didn't have any road maps back there. Darned hick burg.” + </p> + <p> + Foster studied awhile. “Well, let's see if we can push her off the middle + of the road—and then I guess we'll have to let you walk back and get + help. Eh, Mert? There's nothing else we can do—” + </p> + <p> + “What yuh going to tell 'em?” Mert demanded suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + Bud permitted a surprised glance to slant back at Mert. “Why, whatever you + fellows fake up for me to tell,” he said naively. “I know the truth ain't + popular on this trip, so get together and dope out something. And hand me + over my suit case, will yuh? I want some dry socks to put on when I get + there.” + </p> + <p> + Foster very obligingly tilted the suit case over into the front seat. + After that he and Mert, as by a common thought impelled, climbed out and + went over to a bushy live oak to confer in privacy. Mert carried the + leather bag with him. + </p> + <p> + By the time they had finished and were coming back, Bud had gone through + his belongings and had taken out a few letters that might prove awkward if + found there later, two pairs of socks and his razor and toothbrush. He was + folding the socks to stow away in his pocket when they got in. + </p> + <p> + “You can say that we're from Los Angeles, and on our way home,” Foster + told him curtly. It was evident to Bud that the two had not quite agreed + upon some subject they had discussed. “That's all right. I'm Foster, and + he's named Brown—if any one gets too curious.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine. Fine because it's so simple. I'll eat another sandwich, if you + don't mind, before I go. I'll tell a heartless world that fifteen miles is + some little stroll—for a guy that hates walkin'.” + </p> + <p> + “You're paid for it,” Mert growled at him rudely. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I'm paid for it,” Bud assented placidly, taking a bite. They might + have wondered at his calm, but they did not. He ate what he wanted, took a + long drink of the coffee, and started off up the hill they had rolled down + an hour or more past. + </p> + <p> + He walked briskly, and when he was well out of earshot Bud began to + whistle. Now and then he stopped to chuckle, and sometimes he frowned at + an uncomfortable thought. But on the whole he was very well pleased with + his present circumstances. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX. BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS + </h2> + <p> + In a little village which he had glimpsed from the top of a hill Bud went + into the cluttered little general store and bought a few blocks of slim, + evil smelling matches and a couple of pounds of sliced bacon, a loaf of + stale bread, and two small cans of baked beans. He stuffed them all into + the pocket of his overcoat, and went out and hunted up a long-distance + telephone sign. It had not taken him more than an hour to walk to the + town, for he had only to follow a country road that branched off that way + for a couple of miles down a valley. There was a post office and the + general store and a couple of saloons and a blacksmith shop that was + thinking of turning into a garage but had gone no further than to hang out + a sign that gasoline was for sale there. It was all very sordid and very + lifeless and altogether discouraging in the drizzle of late afternoon. Bud + did not see half a dozen human beings on his way to the telephone office, + which he found was in the post office. + </p> + <p> + He called up San Francisco, and got the chief of police's office on the + wire, and told them where they would find the men who had robbed that + jewelry store of all its diamonds and some other unset jewels. Also he + mentioned the car that was stolen, and that was now stalled and waiting + for some kind soul to come and give it a tow. + </p> + <p> + He speedily had all the attention of the chief, and having thought out in + advance his answers to certain pertinent questions, he did not stutter + when they were asked. Yes, he had been hired to drive the ear south, and + he had overheard enough to make him suspicious on the way. He knew that + they had stolen the car. He was not absolutely sure that they were the + diamond thieves but it would be easy enough to find out, because officers + sent after them would naturally be mistaken for first aid from some + garage, and the cops could nab the men and look into that grip they were + so careful not to let out of their sight. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure they won't get the car repaired and go on?” It was perfectly + natural that the chief should fear that very thing. + </p> + <p> + “No chance!” Bud chuckled into the 'phone. “Not a chance in the world, + chief. They'll be right there where I left 'em, unless some car comes + along and gives 'em a tow. And if that happens you'll be able to trace + 'em.” He started to hang up, and added another bit of advice. “Say, chief, + you better tell whoever gets the car, to empty the gas tank and clean out + the carburetor and vacuum feed—and she'll go, all right! Adios.” + </p> + <p> + He hung up and paid the charge hurriedly, and went out and down a crooked + little lane that led between bushes to a creek and heavy timber. It did + not seem to him advisable to linger; the San Francisco chief of police + might set some officer in that village on his trail, just as a matter of + precaution. Bud told himself that he would do it were he in the chief's + place. When he reached the woods along the creek he ran, keeping as much + as possible on thick leaf mold that left the least impression. He headed + to the east, as nearly as he could judge, and when he came to a rocky + canyon he struck into it. + </p> + <p> + He presently found himself in a network of small gorges that twisted away + into the hills without any system whatever, as far as he could see. He + took one that seemed to lead straightest toward where the sun would rise + next morning, and climbed laboriously deeper and deeper into the hills. + After awhile he had to descend from the ridge where he found himself + standing bleakly revealed against a lowering, slaty sky that dripped rain + incessantly. As far as he could see were hills and more hills, bald and + barren except in certain canyons whose deeper shadows told of timber. Away + off to the southwest a bright light showed briefly—the headlight of + a Santa Fe train, he guessed it must be. To the east, which he faced, the + land was broken with bare hills that fell just short of being mountains. + He went down the first canyon that opened in that direction, ploughing + doggedly ahead into the unknown. + </p> + <p> + That night Bud camped in the lee of a bank that was fairly well screened + with rocks and bushes, and dined off broiled bacon and bread and a can of + beans with tomato sauce, and called it a meal. At first he was not much + inclined to take the risk of having a fire big enough to keep him warm. + Later in the night he was perfectly willing to take the risk, but could + not find enough dry wood. His rainproofed overcoat became quite soggy and + damp on the inside, in spite of his efforts to shield himself from the + rain. It was not exactly a comfortable night, but he worried through it + somehow. + </p> + <p> + At daylight he opened another can of beans and made himself two thick bean + sandwiches, and walked on while he ate them slowly. They tasted mighty + good, Bud thought—but he wished fleetingly that he was back in the + little green cottage on North Sixth Street, getting his own breakfast. He + felt as though he could drink about four cups of coffee; and as to + hotcakes—! But breakfast in the little green cottage recalled Marie, + and Marie was a bitter memory. All the more bitter because he did not know + where burrowed the root of his hot resentment. In a strong man's love for + his home and his mate was it rooted, and drew therefrom the wormwood of + love thwarted and spurned. + </p> + <p> + After awhile the high air currents flung aside the clouds like curtains + before a doorway. The sunlight flashed out dazzlingly and showed Bud that + the world, even this tumbled world, was good to look upon. His instincts + were all for the great outdoors, and from such the sun brings quick + response. Bud lifted his head, looked out over the hills to where a bare + plain stretched in the far distance, and went on more briskly. + </p> + <p> + He did not meet any one at all; but that was chiefly because he did not + want to meet any one. He went with his ears and his eyes alert, and was + not above hiding behind a clump of stunted bushes when two horsemen rode + down a canyon trail just below him. Also he searched for roads and then + avoided them. It would be a fat morsel for Marie and her mother to roll + under their tongues, he told himself savagely, if he were arrested and + appeared in the papers as one of that bunch of crooks! + </p> + <p> + Late that afternoon, by traveling steadily in one direction, he topped a + low ridge and saw an arm of the desert thrust out to meet him. A scooped + gully with gravelly sides and rocky bottom led down that way, and because + his feet were sore from so much sidehill travel, Bud went down. He was + pretty well fagged too, and ready to risk meeting men, if thereby he might + gain a square meal. Though he was not starving, or anywhere near it, he + craved warm food and hot coffee. + </p> + <p> + So when he presently came upon two sway-backed burros that showed the + sweaty imprint of packsaddles freshly removed, and a couple of horses also + sweat roughened, he straightway assumed that some one was making camp not + far away. One of the horses was hobbled, and they were all eating hungrily + the grass that grew along the gully's sides. Camp was not only close, but + had not yet reached suppertime, Bud guessed from the well-known range + signs. + </p> + <p> + Two or three minutes proved him right. He came upon a man just driving the + last tent peg. He straightened up and stared at Bud unblinkingly for a few + seconds. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, howdy,” he greeted him then with tentative friendliness, and went + on with his work. “You lost?” he added carefully. A man walking down out + of the barren hills, and carrying absolutely nothing in the way of camp + outfit, was enough to whet the curiosity of any one who knew that country. + At the same time curiosity that became too apparent might be extremely + unwelcome. So many things may drive a man into the hills—but few of + them would bear discussion with strangers. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I am, and I ain't.” Bud came up and stood with his hands in his coat + pockets, and watched the old fellow start his fire. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah—how about some supper? If you am, and you ain't as hungry as + you look—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell the world I am, and then some. I ain't had a square meal since + yesterday morning, and I grabbed that at a quick-lunch joint. I'm open to + supper engagements, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. There's a side of bacon in that kyack over there. Get it out + and slice some off, and we'll have supper before you know it. We will,” he + added pessimistically, “if this dang brush will burn.” + </p> + <p> + Bud found the bacon and cut according to his appetite. His host got out a + blackened coffeepot and half filled it with water from a dented bucket, + and balanced it on one side of the struggling fire. He remarked that they + had had some rain, to which Bud agreed. He added gravely that he believed + it was going to clear up, though—unless the wind swung back into the + storm quarter. Bud again professed cheerfully to be in perfect accord. + After which conversational sparring they fell back upon the little + commonplaces of the moment. + </p> + <p> + Bud went into a brush patch and managed to glean an armful of nearly dry + wood, which he broke up with the axe and fed to the fire, coaxing it into + freer blazing. The stranger watched him unobtrusively, critically, + pottering about while Bud fried the bacon. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you've handled a frying pan before, all right,” he remarked at + last, when the bacon was fried without burning. + </p> + <p> + Bud grinned. “I saw one in a store window once as I was going by,” he + parried facetiously. “That was quite a while back.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Well, how's your luck with bannock? I've got it all mixed.” + </p> + <p> + “Dump her in here, ole-timer,” cried Bud, holding out the frying pan + emptied of all but grease. “Wish I had another hot skillet to turn over + the top.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you've been there, all right,” the other chuckled. “Well, I don't + carry but the one frying pan. I'm equipped light, because I've got to + outfit with grub, further along.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll make out all right, just like this.” Bud propped the handle + of the frying pan high with a forked stick, and stood up. “Say, my name's + Bud Moore, and I'm not headed anywhere in particular. I'm just traveling + in one general direction, and that's with the Coast at my back. Drifting, + that's all. I ain't done anything I'm ashamed of or scared of, but I am + kinda bashful about towns. I tangled with a couple of crooks, and they're + pulled by now, I expect. I'm dodging newspaper notoriety. Don't want to be + named with 'em at all.” He, spread his hands with an air of finality. + “That's my tale of woe,” he supplemented, “boiled down to essentials. I + just thought I'd tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Well, my name's Cash Markham, and I despise to have folks get funny + over it. I'm a miner and prospector, and I'm outfitting for a trip for + another party, looking up an old location that showed good prospects ten + years ago. Man died, and his wife's trying to get the claim relocated. Get + you a plate outa that furtherest kyack, and a cup. Bannock looks about + done, so we'll eat.” + </p> + <p> + That night Bud shared Cash Markham's blankets, and in the morning he + cooked the breakfast while Cash Markham rounded up the burros and horses. + In that freemasonry of the wilderness they dispensed with credentials, + save those each man carried in his face and in his manner. And if you stop + to think of it, such credentials are not easily forged, for nature writes + them down, and nature is a truth-loving old dame who will never lead you + far astray if only she is left alone to do her work in peace. + </p> + <p> + It transpired, in the course of the forenoon's travel, that Cash Markham + would like to have a partner, if he could find a man that suited. One + guessed that he was fastidious in the matter of choosing his companions, + in spite of the easy way in which he had accepted Bud. By noon they had + agreed that Bud should go along and help relocate the widow's claim. Cash + Markham hinted that they might do a little prospecting on their own + account. It was a country he had long wanted to get into, he said, and + while he intended to do what Mrs. Thompson had hired him to do, still + there was no law against their prospecting on their own account. And that, + he explained, was one reason why he wanted a good man along. If the + Thompson claim was there, Bud could do the work under the supervision of + Cash, and Cash could prospect. + </p> + <p> + “And anyway, it's bad policy for a man to go off alone in this part of the + country,” he added with a speculative look across the sandy waste they + were skirting at a pace to suit the heavily packed burros. “Case of + sickness or accident—or suppose the stock strays off—it's bad + to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Suits me fine to go with you,” Bud declared. “I'm next thing to broke, + but I've got a lot of muscle I can cash in on the deal. And I know the + open. And I can rock a gold-pan and not spill out all the colors, if there + is any—and whatever else I know is liable to come in handy, and what + I don't know I can learn.” + </p> + <p> + “That's fair enough. Fair enough,” Markham agreed. “I'll allow you wages + on the Thompson job' till you've earned enough to balance up with the + outfit. After that it'll be fifty-fifty. How'll that be, Bud?” + </p> + <p> + “Fair enough—fair enough,” Bud retorted with faint mimicry. “If I + was all up in the air a few days ago, I seem to have lit on my feet, and + that's good enough for me right now. We'll let 'er ride that way.” + </p> + <p> + And the twinkle, as he talked, was back in his eyes, and the smiley quirk + was at the corner of his lips. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN. INTO THE DESERT + </h2> + <p> + If you want to know what mad adventure Bud found himself launched upon, + just read a few extracts from the diary which Cash Markham, being a + methodical sort of person, kept faithfully from day to day, until he cut + his thumb on a can of tomatoes which he had been cutting open with his + knife. After that Bud kept the diary for him, jotting down the main + happenings of the day. When Cash's thumb healed so that he could hold a + pencil with some comfort, Bud thankfully relinquished the task. He hated + to write, anyway, and it seemed to him that Cash ought to trust his memory + a little more than he did. + </p> + <p> + I shall skip a good many days, of course—though the diary did not, I + assure you. + </p> + <p> + First, there was the outfit. When they had outfitted at Needles for the + real trip, Cash set down the names of all living things in this wise: + </p> + <p> + Outfit, Cassius B. Markham, Bud Moore, Daddy a bull terrier, bay horse, + Mars, Pete a sorrel, Ed a burro, Swayback a jinny, Maude a jack, Cora + another jinny, Billy a riding burro & Sways colt & Maude colt a + white mean looking little devil. + </p> + <p> + Sat. Apr. 1. + </p> + <p> + Up at 7:30. Snowing and blowing 3 ft. of snow on ground. Managed to get + breakfast & returned to bed. Fed Monte & Peter our cornmeal, poor + things half frozen. Made a fire in tent at 1:30 & cooked a meal. Much + smoke, ripped hole in back of tent. Three burros in sight weathering + fairly well. No sign of let up everything under snow & wind a gale. + Making out fairly well under adverse conditions. Worst weather we have + experienced. + </p> + <p> + Apr. 2. + </p> + <p> + Up at 7 A.M. Fine & sunny snow going fast. Fixed up tent & cleaned + up generally. Alkali flat a lake, can't cross till it dries. Stock some + scattered, brought them all together. + </p> + <p> + Apr. 3. + </p> + <p> + Up 7 A.M. Clear & bright. Snow going fast. All creeks flowing. Fine + sunny day. + </p> + <p> + Apr. 4. + </p> + <p> + Up 6 A.M. Clear & bright. Went up on divide, met 3 punchers who said + road impassable. Saw 2 trains stalled away across alkali flat. Very boggy + and moist. + </p> + <p> + Apr.5. + </p> + <p> + Up 5 A.M. Clear & bright. Start out, on Monte & Pete at 6. Animals + traveled well, did not appear tired. Feed fine all over. Plenty water + everywhere. + </p> + <p> + Not much like Bud's auto stage, was it? But the very novelty of it, the + harking back to old plains days, appealed to him and sent him forward from + dull hardship to duller discomfort, and kept the quirk at the corners of + his lips and the twinkle in his eyes. Bud liked to travel this way, though + it took them all day long to cover as much distance as he had been wont to + slide behind him in an hour. He liked it—this slow, monotonous + journeying across the lean land which Cash had traversed years ago, where + the stark, black pinnacles and rough knobs of rock might be hiding Indians + with good eyesight and a vindictive temperament. Cash told him many things + out of his past, while they poked along, driving the packed burros before + them. Things which he never had set down in his diary—things which + he did not tell to any one save his few friends. + </p> + <p> + But it was not always mud and rain and snow, as Cash's meager chronicle + betrays. + </p> + <p> + May 6. + </p> + <p> + Up at sunrise. Monte & Pete gone leaving no tracks. Bud found them 3 + miles South near Indian village. Bud cut his hair, did a good job. + Prospector dropped into camp with fist full of good looking quartz. Stock + very thirsty all day. Very hot Tied Monte & Pete up for night. + </p> + <p> + May 8. + </p> + <p> + Up 5:30. Fine, but hot. Left 7:30. Pete walked over a sidewinder & Bud + shot him ten ft. in air. Also prior killed another beside road. Feed as + usual, desert weeds. Pulled grain growing side of track and fed plugs. + Water from cistern & R.R. ties for fuel. Put up tent for shade. Flies + horrible. + </p> + <p> + May 9. + </p> + <p> + Up 4. Left 6. Feed as usual. Killed a sidewinder in a bush with 3 shots of + Krag. Made 21 m. today. R.R. ties for fuel Cool breeze all day. + </p> + <p> + May 11. + </p> + <p> + Up at sunrise. Bud washed clothes. Tested rock. Fine looking mineral + country here. Dressed Monte's withers with liniment greatly reducing + swelling from saddle-gall. He likes to have it dressed & came of his + own accord. Day quite comfortable. + </p> + <p> + May 15. + </p> + <p> + Up 4. Left 6:30 over desert plain & up dry wash. Daddy suffered from + heat & ran into cactus while looking for shade. Got it in his mouth, + tongue, feet & all over body. Fixed him up poor creature groaned all + evening & would not eat his supper. Poor feed & wood here. Water + found by digging 2 ft. in sand in sandstone basins in bed of dry wash. + Monte lay down en route. Very hot & all suffered from heat. + </p> + <p> + May 16. + </p> + <p> + Bud has sick headache. Very hot so laid around camp all day. Put two + blankets up on tent pols for sun break. Daddy under weather from cactus + experience. Papago Indian boy about 18 on fine bay mare driving 4 ponies + watered at our well. Moon almost full, lots of mocking birds. Pretty + songs. + </p> + <p> + May 17. + </p> + <p> + Up 7:30 Bud some better. Day promises hot, but slight breeze. White gauzy + clouds in sky. Daddy better. Monte & Pete gone all day. Hunted twice + but impossible to track them in this stony soil Bud followed trail, found + them 2 mi. east of here in flat sound asleep about 3 P.M. At 6 went to + flat 1/4 mi. N. of camp to tie Pete, leading Monte by bell strap almost + stepped on rattler 3 ft. long. 10 rattles & a button. Killed him. To + date, 1 Prairie rattler, 3 Diamond back & 8 sidewinders, 12 in all. + Bud feels better. + </p> + <p> + May 18. + </p> + <p> + At 4 A. M. Bud woke up by stock passing camp. Spoke to me who half awake + hollered, “sic Daddy!” Daddy sicced 'em & they went up bank of wash to + right. Bud swore it was Monte & Pete. I went to flat & found M. + & P. safe. Water in sink all gone. Bud got stomach trouble. I threw up + my breakfast. Very hot weather. Lanced Monte's back & dressed it with + creoline. Turned them loose & away they put again. + </p> + <p> + Soon after this they arrived at the place where Thompson had located his + claim. It was desert, of course, sloping away on one side to a dreary + waste of sand and weeds with now and then a giant cactus standing gloomily + alone with malformed lingers stretched stiffly to the staring blue sky. + Behind where they pitched their final camp—Camp 48, Cash Markham + recorded it in his diary—the hills rose. But they were as stark and + barren almost as the desert below. Black rock humps here and there, with + ledges of mineral bearing rock. Bushes and weeds and dry washes for the + rest, with enough struggling grass to feed the horses and burros if they + rustled hard enough for it. + </p> + <p> + They settled down quietly to a life of grinding monotony that would have + driven some men crazy. But Bud, because it was a man's kind of monotony, + bore it cheerfully. He was out of doors, and he was hedged about by no + rules or petty restrictions. He liked Cash Markham and he liked Pete, his + saddle horse, and he was fond of Daddy who was still paying the penalty of + seeking too carelessly for shade and, according to Cash's record, “getting + it in his mouth, tongue, feet & all over body.” Bud liked it—all + except the blistering heat and the “side-winders” and other rattlers. He + did not bother with trying to formulate any explanation of why he liked + it. It may have been picturesque, though picturesqueness of that sort is + better appreciated when it is seen through the dim radiance of memory that + blurs sordid details. Certainly it was not adventurous, as men have come + to judge adventure. + </p> + <p> + Life droned along very dully. Day after day was filled with petty details. + A hill looks like a mountain if it rises abruptly out of a level plain, + with no real mountains in sight to measure it by. Here's the diary to + prove how little things came to look important because the days held no + contrasts. If it bores you to read it, think what it must have been to + live it. + </p> + <p> + June 10. + </p> + <p> + Up at 6:30 Baked till 11. Then unrigged well and rigged up an incline for + the stock to water. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Stock did not come in all + morning, but Monte & Pete came in before supper. Incline water shaft + does not work. Prospected & found 8 ledges. Bud found none. + </p> + <p> + June 11. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast fixed up shack—shelves, benches, tools, etc. Cleaned + guns. Bud dressed Daddy's back which is much better. Strong gold in test + of ledge, I found below creek. Took more specimens to sample. Cora comes + in with a little black colt newly born. Proud as a bull pup with two + tails. Monte & Pete did not come in so we went by lantern light a mile + or so down the wash & found them headed this way & snake them in + to drink about 80 gallons of water apiece. Daddy tied up and howling like + a demon all the while. Bud took a bath. + </p> + <p> + June 12. + </p> + <p> + Bud got out and got breakfast again. Then started off on Pete to hunt + trail that makes short cut 18 miles to Bend. Roofed the kitchen. Bud got + back about 1:30, being gone 6 hours. Found trail & two good ledges. + Cora & colt came for water. Other burros did not. Brought in specimens + from ledge up creek that showed very rich gold in tests. Burros came in at + 9:30. Bud got up and tied them up. + </p> + <p> + June 13. + </p> + <p> + Bud gets breakfast. I took Sway & brought in load of wood. Bud went + out and found a wash lined with good looking ledges. Hung up white rags on + bushes to identify same. Found large ledge of good quartz showing fine in + tests about one mile down wash. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Located a claim + west of Thompson's. Burros did not come in except Cora & colt. Pete + & Monte came separated. + </p> + <p> + June 14. + </p> + <p> + Bud got breakfast & dressed Daddy's back. Very hot day. Stock came in + about 2. Tied up Billy Maud & Cora. Bud has had headache. Monte & + Pete did not come in. Bud went after them & found them 4 miles away + where we killed the Gila monster. Sent 2 samples from big ledge to Tucson + for assay. Daddy better. + </p> + <p> + June 15. + </p> + <p> + Up 2.30. Bud left for Bend at 4. Walked down to flat but could not see + stock. About 3 Cora & Colt came in for water & Sway & Ed from + the south about 5. No Monte. Monte got in about midnight & went past + kitchen to creek on run. Got up, found him very nervous & frightened + & tied him up. + </p> + <p> + June 17. + </p> + <p> + Bud got back 4 P.M. in gale of wind & sand. Burros did not come in for + water. Very hot. Bud brought canned stuff. Rigged gallows for No. 2 shaft + also block & tackle & pail for drinking water, also washed + clothes. While drying went around in cap undershirt & shoes. + </p> + <p> + June 18. + </p> + <p> + Burros came in during night for water. Hot as nether depths of infernal + regions. Went up on hill a mile away. Seamed with veins similar to shaft + No. 2 ore. Blew in two faces & got good looking ore seamed with a + black incrustation, oxide of something, but what could not determine. + Could find neither silver nor copper in it. Monte & Pete came in about + 1 & tied them up. Very hot. Hottest day yet, even the breeze + scorching. Test of ore showed best yet. One half of solution in tube + turning to chloride of gold, 3 tests showing same. Burros except Ed & + Cora do not come in days any more. Bud made a gate for kitchen to keep + burros out. + </p> + <p> + The next morning it was that Cash cut the ball of his right thumb open on + the sharp edge of a tomato can. He wanted the diary to go on as usual. He + had promised, he said, to keep one for the widow who wanted a record of + the way the work was carried on, and the progress made. Bud could not see + that there had been much progress, except as a matter of miles. Put a + speedometer on one of his legs, he told Cash, and he'd bet it would + register more mileage chasing after them fool burros than his auto stage + could show after a full season. As for working the widow's claim, it was + not worth working, from all he could judge of it. And if it were full of + gold as the United States treasury, the burros took up all their time so + they couldn't do much. Between doggone stock drinking or not drinking and + the darn fool diary that had to be kept, Bud opined that they needed an + extra hand or two. Bud was peevish, these days. Gila Bend had exasperated + him because it was not the town it called itself, but a huddle of adobe + huts. He had come away in the sour mood of a thirsty man who finds an + alkali spring sparkling deceptively under a rock. Furthermore, the nights + had been hot and the mosquitoes a humming torment. And as a last + affliction he was called upon to keep the diary going. He did it, + faithfully enough but in a fashion of his own. + </p> + <p> + First he read back a few pages to get the hang of the thing. Then he shook + down Cash's fountain pen, that dried quickly in that heat. Then he read + another page as a model, and wrote: + </p> + <p> + June 19. + </p> + <p> + Mosquitoes last night was worse than the heat and that was worse than Gila + Bend's great white way. Hunted up the burros. Pete and Monte came in and + drank. Monte had colic. We fed them and turned them loose but the blamed + fools hung around all day and eat up some sour beans I throwed out. Cash + was peeved and swore they couldn't have another grain of feed. But Monte + come to the shack and watched Cash through a knothole the size of one eye + till Cash opened up his heart and the bag. Cash cut his thumb opening + tomatoes. The tomatoes wasn't hurt any. + </p> + <p> + June 20. + </p> + <p> + Got breakfast. Bill and harem did not come to water. Cash done the regular + hike after them. His thumb don't hurt him for hazing donkeys. Bill and + harem come in after Cash left. They must of saw him go. Cash was out four + hours and come in mad. Shot a hidrophobia skunk out by the creek. Nothing + doing. Too hot. + </p> + <p> + June 21. + </p> + <p> + The sun would blister a mud turtle so he'd holler. Cash put in most of day + holding a parasol over his garden patch. Burros did not miss their daily + drink. Night brings mosquitoes with their wings singed but their stingers + O.K. They must hole up daytimes or they would fry. + </p> + <p> + June 22. + </p> + <p> + Thought I know what heat was. I never did before. Cash took a bath. It was + his first. Burros did not come to water. Cash and I tried to sleep on + kitchen roof but the darned mosquitoes fed up on us and then played + heavenly choir all night. + </p> + <p> + June 25. + </p> + <p> + Cash got back from Bend. Thumb is better and he can have this job any time + now. He hustled up a widow that made a couple of mosquito bags to go over + our heads. No shape (bags, not widow) but help keep flies and mosquitoes + from chewing on us all day and all night. Training for hades. I can stand + the heat as well as the old boy with the pitch-fork. Ain't got used to + brimstone yet, but I'd trade mosquitoes for sulphur smoke and give some + boot. Worried about Cash. He took a bath today again, using water I had + packed for mine. Heat must be getting him. + </p> + <p> + June 26. + </p> + <p> + Cash opened up thumb again, trying to brain Pete with rock. Pete got + halfway into kitchen and eat biggest part of a pie I made. Cash threw + jagged rock, hit Pete in side of jaw. Cut big gash. Swelled now like a + punkin. Cash and I tangled over same. I'm going to quit. I have had enough + of this darn country. Creek's drying up, and mosquitoes have found way to + crawl under bags. Cash wants me to stay till we find good claim, but Cash + can go to thunder. + </p> + <p> + Then Cash's record goes on: + </p> + <p> + June 27. + </p> + <p> + Bud very sick & out of head. Think it is heat, which is terrible. + Talked all night about burros, gasoline, & camphor balls which he + seemed wanting to buy in gunny sack. No sleep for either. Burros came in + for water about daylight. Picketed Monte & Pete as may need doctor if + Bud grows worse. Thumb nearly well. + </p> + <p> + June 27. Bud same, slept most of day. Gave liver pills & made gruel of + cornmeal, best could do with present stores. Burros came at about 3 but + could not drink owing to bees around water hold. Monte got stung and + kicked over water cans & buckets I had salted for burros. Burros put + for hills again. No way of driving off bees. + </p> + <p> + June 28. + </p> + <p> + Burros came & drank in night. Cooler breeze, Bud some better & + slept. Sway has badly swollen neck. May be rattler bite or perhaps bee. + Bud wanted cigarettes but smoked last the day before he took sick. Gave + him more liver pills & sponge off with water every hour. Best can do + under circumstances. Have not prospected account Bud's sickness. + </p> + <p> + June 29. + </p> + <p> + Very hot all day, breeze like blast from furnace. Burros refuse to leave + flat. Bees better, as can't fly well in this wind. Bud worse. High fever + & very restless & flighty. Imagines much trouble with automobile, + talk very technical & can't make head or tail of it. Monte & Pete + did not come in, left soon as turned loose. No feed for them here & + figured Bud too sick to travel or stay alone so horses useless at present. + Sponged frequently with coolest water can get, seems to give some relief + as he is quieter afterwards. + </p> + <p> + July 4th. + </p> + <p> + Monte & Pete came in the night & hung around all day. Drove them + away from vicinity of shack several times but they returned & moped in + shade of house. Terrible hot, strong gusty wind. Bud sat up part of day, + slept rest of time. Looks very thin and great hollows under eyes, but + chief trouble seems to be, no cigarettes. Shade over radishes & + lettice works all right. Watered copiously at daylight & again at + dusk. Doing fine. Fixed fence which M & P. broke down while tramping + around. Prospected west of ranche. Found enormous ledge of black quartz, + looks like sulphur stem during volcanic era but may be iron. Strong gold + & heavy precipitate in test, silver test poor but on filtering showed + like white of egg in tube (unusual). Clearing iron out showed for gold the + highest yet made, being more pronounced with Fenosulphate than $1500 rock + have seen. Immense ledge of it & slightest estimate from test at least + $10. Did not tell Bud as keeping for surprise when he is able to visit + ledge. Very monotonous since Bud has been sick. Bud woke up & said + Hell of a Fourth & turned over & went to sleep again with mosquito + net over head to keep off flies. Burros came in after dark, all but Cora + & Colt, which arrived about midnight. Daddy gone since yesterday + morning leaving no trace. + </p> + <p> + July 5. + </p> + <p> + Miserable hot night. Burros trickled in sometime during night. Bud better, + managed to walk to big ledge after sundown. Suggests we call it the Burro + Lode. His idea of wit, claims we have occupied camp all summer for sake of + timing burros when they come to waterhole. Wish to call it Columbia mine + for patriotic reasons having found it on Fourth. Will settle it soon so as + to put up location. Put in 2 shots & pulpel samples for assay. Rigged + windows on shack to keep out bees, nats & flies & mosquitoes. Bud + objects because it keeps out air as well. Took them off. Sick folks must + be humored. Hot, miserable and sleepless. Bud very restless. + </p> + <p> + July 6. + </p> + <p> + Cool wind makes weather endurable, but bees terrible in kitchen & + around water-hole. Flipped a dollar to settle name of big ledge. Bud won + tails, Burro lode. Must cultivate my sense of humor so as to see the joke. + Bud agrees to stay & help develop claim. Still very weak, puttered + around house all day cleaning & baking bread & stewing fruit which + brought bees by millions so we could not eat same till after dark when + they subsided. Bud got stung twice in kitchen. Very peevish & full of + cuss. Says positively must make trip to Bend & get cigarettes tomorrow + or will blow up whole outfit. Has already blowed up same several times + today with no damage. Burros came in about 5. Monte & Pete later, tied + them up with grain. Pete has very bad eye. Bud will ride Monte if not too + hot for trip. Still no sign of daddy, think must be dead or stolen though + nobody to steal same in country. + </p> + <p> + July 7. + </p> + <p> + Put in 2 shots on Burro Lode & got her down to required depth. Hot. + Bud finds old location on widow's claim, upturns all previous calculation + & information given me by her. Wrote letter explaining same, which Bud + will mail. Bud left 4 P.M. should make Bend by midnight. Much better but + still weak Burros came in late & hung around water hole. Put up + monument at Burro Lode. Sent off samples to assay at Tucson. Killed + rattler near shack, making 16 so far killed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT. MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES + </h2> + <p> + “Well, here come them darn burros, Cash. Cora's colt ain't with 'em + though. Poor little devils—say, Cash, they look like hard sleddin', + and that's a fact. I'll tell the world they've got about as much pep as a + flat tire.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe we better grain 'em again.” Cash looked up from studying the last + assay report of the Burro Lode, and his look was not pleasant. “But it'll + cost a good deal, in both time and money. The feed around here is played + out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when it comes to that—” Bud cast a glum glance at the paper + Cash was holding. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Looks like everything's about played out. Promising ledge, too. + Like some people, though. Most all its good points is right on the + surface. Nothing to back it up.” + </p> + <p> + “She's sure running light, all right. Now,” Bud added sardonically, but + with the whimsical quirk withal, “if it was like a carburetor, and you + could give it a richer mixture—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. What do you make of it, Bud?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—aw, there comes that durn colt, bringing up the drag. Say + Cash, that colt's just about all in. Cora's nothing but a bag of bones, + too. They'll never winter—not on this range, they won't.” + </p> + <p> + Cash got up and went to the doorway, looking out over Bud's shoulder at + the spiritless donkeys trailing in to water. Beyond them the desert baked + in its rim of hot, treeless hills. Above them the sky glared a brassy blue + with never a could. Over a low ridge came Monte and Pete, walking with + heads drooping. Their hip bones lifted above their ridged paunches, their + backbones, peaked sharp above, their withers were lean and pinched + looking. In August the desert herbage has lost what little succulence it + ever possessed, and the gleanings are scarce worth the walking after. + </p> + <p> + “They're pretty thin,” Cash observed speculatively, as though he was + measuring them mentally for some particular need. + </p> + <p> + “We'd have to grain 'em heavy till we struck better feed. And pack light.” + Bud answered his thought. + </p> + <p> + “The question is, where shall we head for, Bud? Have you any particular + idea?” Cash looked slightingly down at the assayer's report. “Such as she + is, we've done all we can do to the Burro Lode, for a year at least,” he + said. “The assessment work is all done—or will be when we muck out + after that last shot. The claim is filed—I don't know what more we + can do right away. Do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure thing,” grinned Bud. “We can get outa here and go some place where + it's green.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah.” Cash meditated, absently eyeing the burros. “Where it's green.” He + looked at the near hills, and at the desert, and at the dreary march of + the starved animals. “It's a long way to green country,” he said. + </p> + <p> + They looked at the burros. + </p> + <p> + “They're tough little devils,” Bud observed hopefully. “We could take it + easy, traveling when it's coolest. And by packing light, and graining the + whole bunch—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. We can ease 'em through, I guess. It does seem as though it would + be foolish to hang on here any longer.” Carefully as he made his tests, + Cash weighed the question of their going. “This last report kills any + chance of interesting capital to the extent of developing the claim on a + large enough scale to make it profitable. It's too long a haul to take the + ore out, and it's too spotted to justify any great investment in machinery + to handle it on the ground. And,” he added with an undernote of + fierceness, “it's a terrible place for man or beast to stay in, unless the + object to be attained is great enough to justify enduring the hardships.” + </p> + <p> + “You said a mouthful, Cash. Well, can you leave your seven radishes and + three hunches of lettuce and pull out—say at daybreak?” Bud turned + to him with some eagerness. + </p> + <p> + Cash grinned sourly. “When it's time to go, seven radishes can't stop me. + No, nor a whole row of 'em—if there was a whole row.” + </p> + <p> + “And you watered 'em copiously too,” Bud murmured, with the corners of his + mouth twitching. “Well, I guess we might as well tie up the livestock. I'm + going to give 'em all a feed of rolled oats, Cash. We can get along + without, and they've got to have something to put a little heart in 'em. + There's a moon to-night—how about starting along about midnight? + That would put us in the Bend early in the forenoon to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Suits me,” said Cash. “Now I've made up my mind about going, I can't go + too soon.” + </p> + <p> + “You're on. Midnight sees us started.” Bud went out with ropes to catch + and tie up the burros and their two saddle horses. And as he went, for the + first time in two months he whistled; a detail which Cash noted with a + queer kind of smile. + </p> + <p> + Midnight and the moon riding high in the purple bowl of sky sprinkled + thick with stars; with a little, warm wind stirring the parched weeds as + they passed; with the burros shuffling single file along the dim trail + which was the short cut through the hills to the Bend, Ed taking the lead, + with the camp kitchen wabbling lumpily on his back, Cora bringing up the + rear with her skinny colt trying its best to keep up, and with no pack at + all; so they started on the long, long journey to the green country. + </p> + <p> + A silent journey it was for the most part. The moon and the starry bowl of + sky had laid their spell upon the desert, and the two men rode wordlessly, + filled with vague, unreasoning regret that they must go. Months they had + spent with the desert, learning well every little varying mood; cursing it + for its blistering heat and its sand storms and its parched thirst and its + utter, blank loneliness. Loving it too, without ever dreaming that they + loved. To-morrow they would face the future with the past dropping farther + and farther behind. To-night it rode with them. + </p> + <p> + Three months in that little, rough-walled hut had lent it an atmosphere of + home, which a man instinctively responds to with a certain clinging + affection, however crude may be the shelter he calls his own. Cash + secretly regretted the thirsty death of his radishes and lettuce which he + had planted and tended with such optimistic care. Bud wondered if Daddy + might not stray half-starved into the shack, and find them gone. While + they were there, he had agreed with Cash that the dog must be dead. But + now he felt uneasily doubtful It would be fierce if Daddy did come back + now. He would starve. He never could make the trip to the Bend alone, even + if he could track them. + </p> + <p> + There was, also, the disappointment in the Burro Lode claim. As Bud + planned it, the Burro was packing a very light load—far lighter than + had seemed possible with that strong indication on the surface. Cash's + “enormous black ledge” had shown less and less gold as they went into it, + though it still seemed worth while, if they had the capital to develop it + further. Wherefore they had done generous assessment work and had recorded + their claim and built their monuments to mark its boundaries. It would be + safe for a year, and by that time—Quien sabe? + </p> + <p> + The Thompson claim, too, had not justified any enthusiasm whatever. They + had found it, had relocated it, and worked out the assessment for the + widow. Cash had her check for all they had earned, and he had declared + profanely that he would not give his share of the check for the whole + claim. + </p> + <p> + They would go on prospecting, using the check for a grubstake, That much + they had decided without argument. The gambling instinct was wide awake in + Bud's nature—and as for Cash, he would hunt gold as long as he could + carry pick and pan. They would prospect as long as their money held out. + When that was gone, they would get more and go on prospecting. But they + would prospect in a green country where wood and water were not so + precious as in the desert and where, Cash averred, the chance of striking + it rich was just as good; better, because they could kill game and make + their grubstake last longer. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore they waited in Gila Bend for three days, to strengthen the + weakened animals with rest and good hay and grain. Then they took again to + the trail, traveling as lightly as they could, with food for themselves + and grain for the stock to last them until they reached Needles. From + there with fresh supplies they pushed on up to Goldfield, found that camp + in the throes of labor disputes, and went on to Tonopah. + </p> + <p> + There they found work for themselves and the burros, packing winter + supplies to a mine lying back in the hills. They made money at it, and + during the winter they made more. With the opening of spring they + outfitted again and took the trail, their goal the high mountains south of + Honey Lake. They did not hurry. Wherever the land they traveled through + seemed to promise gold, they would stop and prospect. Many a pan of likely + looking dirt they washed beside some stream where the burros stopped to + drink and feed a little on the grassy banks. + </p> + <p> + So, late in June, they reached Reno; outfitted and went on again, + traveling to the north, to the green country for which they yearned, + though now they were fairly in it and would have stopped if any tempting + ledge or bar had come in their way. They prospected every gulch that + showed any mineral signs at all. It was a carefree kind of life, with just + enough of variety to hold Bud's interest to the adventuring. The nomad in + him responded easily to this leisurely pilgrimage. There was no stampede + anywhere to stir their blood with the thought of quick wealth. There was + hope enough, on the other hand, to keep them going. Cash had prospected + and trapped for more than fifteen years now, and he preached the doctrine + of freedom and the great outdoors. + </p> + <p> + Of what use was a house and lot—and taxes and trouble with the + plumbing? he would chuckle. A tent and blankets and a frying pan and grub; + two good legs and wild country to travel; a gold pan and a pick—these + things, to Cash, spelled independence and the joy of living. The burros + and the two horses were luxuries, he declared. When they once got located + on a good claim they would sell off everything but a couple of burros—Sway + and Ed, most likely. The others would bring enough for a winter grubstake, + and would prolong their freedom and their independence just that much. + That is, supposing they did not strike a good claim before then. Cash had + learned, he said, to hope high but keep an eye on the grubstake. + </p> + <p> + Late in August they came upon a mountain village perched beside a swift + stream and walled in on three sided by pine-covered mountains. A branch + railroad linked the place more or less precariously with civilization, and + every day—unless there was a washout somewhere, or a snowslide, or + drifts too deep—a train passed over the road. One day it would go + up-stream, and the next day it would come back. And the houses stood drawn + up in a row alongside the track to watch for these passings. + </p> + <p> + Miners came in with burros or with horses, packed flour and bacon and tea + and coffee across their middles, got drunk, perhaps as a parting ceremony, + and went away into the hills. Cash watched them for a day or so; saw the + size of their grubstakes, asked few questions and listened to a good deal + of small-town gossip, and nodded his head contentedly. There was gold in + these hills. Not enough, perhaps, to start a stampede with—but + enough to keep wise old hermits burrowing after it. + </p> + <p> + So one day Bud sold the two horses and one of the saddles, and Cash bought + flour and bacon and beans and coffee, and added other things quite as + desirable but not so necessary. Then they too went away into the hills. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen miles from Alpine, as a cannon would shoot; high up in the hills, + where a creek flowed down through a saucerlike basin under beetling ledges + fringed all around with forest, they came, after much wandering, upon an + old log cabin whose dirt roof still held in spite of the snows that heaped + upon it through many a winter. The ledge showed the scars of old prospect + holes, and in the sand of the creek they found “colors” strong enough to + make it seem worth while to stop here—for awhile, at least. + </p> + <p> + They cleaned out the cabin and took possession of it, and the next time + they went to town Cash made cautious inquiries about the place. It was, he + learned, an old abandoned claim. Abandoned chiefly because the old miner + who had lived there died one day, and left behind him all the marks of + having died from starvation, mostly. A cursory examination of his few + belongings had revealed much want, but no gold save a little coarse dust + in a small bottle. + </p> + <p> + “About enough to fill a rifle ca'tridge,” detailed the teller of the tale. + “He'd pecked around that draw for two, three year mebby. Never showed no + gold much, for all the time he spent there. Trapped some in winter—coyotes + and bobcats and skunks, mostly. Kinda off in the upper story, old Nelson + was. I guess he just stayed there because he happened to light there and + didn't have gumption enough to git out. Hills is full of old fellers like + him. They live off to the'rselves, and peck around and git a pocket now + and then that keeps 'm in grub and tobacco. If you want to use the cabin, + I guess nobody's goin' to care. Nelson never had any folks, that anybody + knows of. Nobody ever bothered about takin' up the claim after he cashed + in, either. Didn't seem worth nothin' much. Went back to the gov'ment.” + </p> + <p> + “Trapped, you say. Any game around there now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shore! Game everywhere in these hills, from weasels up to bear and + mountain lion. If you want to trap, that's as good a place as any, I + guess.” + </p> + <p> + So Cash and Bud sold the burros and bought traps and more supplies, and + two window sashes and a crosscut saw and some wedges and a double-bitted + axe, and settled down in Nelson Flat to find what old Dame Fortune had + tucked away in this little side pocket and forgotten. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE. THE BITE OF MEMORY + </h2> + <p> + The heavy boom of a dynamite blast rolled across the fiat to the hills + that flung it back in a tardy echo like a spent ball of sound. A blob of + blue smoke curled out of a hole the size of a hogshead in a steep bank + overhung with alders. Outside, the wind caught the smoke and carried + streamers of it away to play with. A startled bluejay, on a limb high up + on the bank, lifted his slaty crest and teetered forward, clinging with + his toe nails to the branch while he scolded down at the men who had + scared him so. A rattle of clods and small rocks fell from their high + flight into the sweet air of a mountain sunset. + </p> + <p> + “Good execution, that was,” Cash remarked, craning his neck toward the + hole. “If you're a mind to go on ahead and cook supper, I'll stay and see + if we opened up anything. Or you can stay, just as you please.” + </p> + <p> + Dynamite smoke invariably made Bud's head ache splittingly. Cash was not + so susceptible. Bud chose the cooking, and went away down the flat, the + bluejay screaming insults after him. He was frying bacon when Cash came + in, a hatful of broken rock riding in the hollow of his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Got something pretty good here, Bud—if she don't turn out like that + dang Burro Lode ledge. Look here. Best looking quartz we've struck yet. + What do you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + He dumped the rock out on the oilcloth behind the sugar can and directly + under the little square window through which the sun was pouring a lavish + yellow flood of light before it dropped behind the peak. Bud set the bacon + back where it would not burn, and bent over the table to look. + </p> + <p> + “Gee, but it's heavy!” he cried, picking up a fragment the size of an egg, + and balancing it in his hands. “I don't know a lot about gold-bearing + quartz, but she looks good to me, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. It is good, unless I'm badly mistaken. I'll test some after supper. + Old Nelson couldn't have used powder at all, or he'd have uncovered enough + of this, I should think, to show the rest what he had. Or maybe he died + just when he had started that hole. Seems queer he never struck pay dirt + in this flat. Well, let's eat if it's ready, Bud. Then we'll see.” + </p> + <p> + “Seems kinda queer, don't it, Cash, that nobody stepped in and filed on + any claims here?” Bud dumped half a kettle of boiled beans into a basin + and set it on the table. “Want any prunes to-night, Cash?” + </p> + <p> + Cash did not want prunes, which was just as well, seeing there were none + cooked. He sat down and ate, with his mind and his eyes clinging to the + grayish, veined fragments of rock lying on the table beside his plate. + </p> + <p> + “We'll send some of that down to Sacramento right away,” he observed, “and + have it assayed. And we won't let out anything about it, Bud—good or + bad. I like this flat. I don't want it mucked over with a lot of + gold-crazy lunatics.” + </p> + <p> + Bud laughed and reached for the bacon. “We ain't been followed up with + stampedes so far,” he pointed out. “Burro Lode never caused a ripple in + the Bend, you recollect. And I'll tell a sinful world it looked awful + good, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Well, Arizona's hard to excite. They've had so dang much + strenuosity all their lives, and then the climate's against violent + effort, either mental or physical. I was calm, perfectly calm when I + discovered that big ledge. It is just as well—seeing how it petered + out.” + </p> + <p> + “What'll you bet this pans out the same?” + </p> + <p> + “I never bet. No one but a fool will gamble.” Cash pressed his lips + together in a way that drove the color from there. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yuh don't! Say, you're the king bee of all gamblers. Been prospecting + for fifteen years, according to you—and then you've got the nerve to + say you don't gamble!” + </p> + <p> + Cash ignored the charge. He picked up a piece of rock and held it to the + fading light. “It looks good,” he said again. “Better than that placer + ground down by the creek. That's all right, too. We can wash enough gold + there to keep us going while we develop this. That is, if this proves as + good as it looks.” + </p> + <p> + Bud looked across at him enigmatically. “Well, here's hoping she's worth a + million. You go ahead with your tests, Cash. I'll wash the dishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Cash began to conserve his enthusiasm, “there's nothing so + sure as an assay. And it was too dark in the hole to see how much was + uncovered. This may be just a freak deposit. There may not be any real + vein of it. You can't tell until it's developed further. But it looks + good. Awful good.” + </p> + <p> + His makeshift tests confirmed his opinion. Bud started out next day with + three different samples for the assayer, and an air castle or two to keep + him company. He would like to find himself half owner of a mine worth + about a million, he mused. Maybe Marie would wish then that she had + thought twice about quitting him just on her mother's say-so. He'd like to + go buzzing into San Jose behind the wheel of a car like the one Foster had + fooled him into stealing. And meet Marie, and her mother too, and let them + get an eyeful. He guessed the old lady would have to swallow what she had + said about him being lazy—just because he couldn't run an auto-stage + in the winter to Big Basin! What was the matter with the old woman, + anyway? Didn't he keep Maria in comfort. Well, he'd like to see her face + when he drove along the street in a big new Sussex. She'd wish she had let + him and Marie alone. They would have made out all right if they had been + let alone. He ought to have taken Marie to some other town, where her + mother couldn't nag at her every day about him. Marie wasn't such a bad + kid, if she were left alone. They might have been happy— + </p> + <p> + He tried then to shake himself free of thoughts of her. That was the + trouble with him, he brooded morosely. He couldn't let his thoughts ride + free, any more. They kept heading straight for Marie. He could not see why + she should cling so to his memory; he had not wronged her—unless it + was by letting her go without making a bigger fight for their home. Still, + she had gone of her own free will. He was the one that had been wronged—why, + hadn't they lied about him in court and to the gossipy neighbors? Hadn't + they broke him? No. If the mine panned out big as Cash seemed to think was + likely, the best thing he could do was steer clear of San Jose. And + whether it panned out or not, the best thing he could do was forget that + such girl as Marie had ever existed.. + </p> + <p> + Which was all very well, as far as it went. The trouble was that resolving + not to think of Marie, calling up all the bitterness he could muster + against her memory, did no more toward blotting her image from his mind + than did the miles and the months he had put between them. + </p> + <p> + He reached the town in a dour mood of unrest, spite of the promise of + wealth he carried in his pocket. He mailed the package and the letter, and + went to a saloon and had a highball. He was not a drinking man—at + least, he never had been one, beyond a convivial glass or two with his + fellows—but he felt that day the need of a little push toward + optimism. In the back part of the room three men were playing freeze-out. + Bud went over and stood with his hands in his pockets and watched them, + because there was nothing else to do, and because he was still having some + trouble with his thoughts. He was lonely, without quite knowing what ailed + him. He hungered for friends to hail him with that cordial, “Hello, Bud!” + when they saw him coming. + </p> + <p> + No one in Alpine had said hello, Bud, when he came walking in that day. + The postmaster had given him one measuring glance when he had weighed the + package of ore, but he had not spoken except to name the amount of postage + required. The bartender had made some remark about the weather, and had + smiled with a surface friendliness that did not deceive Bud for a moment. + He knew too well that the smile was not for him, but for his patronage. + </p> + <p> + He watched the game. And when the man opposite him pushed back his chair + and, looking up at Bud, asked if he wanted to sit in, Bud went and sat + down, buying a dollar's worth of chips as an evidence of his intention to + play. His interest in the game was not keen. He played for the feeling it + gave him of being one of the bunch, a man among his friends; or if not + friends, at least acquaintances. And, such was his varying luck with the + cards, he played for an hour or so without having won enough to irritate + his companions. Wherefore he rose from the table at supper time calling + one young fellow Frank quite naturally. They went to the Alpine House and + had supper together, and after that they sat in the office and talked + about automobiles for an hour, which gave Bud a comforting sense of having + fallen among friends. + </p> + <p> + Later they strolled over to a picture show which ran films two years + behind their first release, and charged fifteen cents for the privilege of + watching them. It was the first theater Bud had entered since he left San + Jose, and at the last minute he hesitated, tempted to turn back. He hated + moving pictures. They always had love scenes somewhere in the story, and + love scenes hurt. But Frank had already bought two tickets, and it seemed + unfriendly to turn back now. He went inside to the jangling of a + player-piano in dire need of a tuner's service, and sat down near the back + of the hall with his hat upon his lifted knees which could have used more + space between the seats. + </p> + <p> + While they waited for the program they talked in low tones, a mumble of + commonplaces. Bud forgot for the moment his distaste for such places, and + let himself slip easily back into the old thought channels, the old habits + of relaxation after a day's work was done. He laughed at the one-reel + comedy that had for its climax a chase of housemaids, policemen, and + outraged fruit vendors after a well-meaning but unfortunate lover. He saw + the lover pulled ignominiously out of a duck pond and soused relentlessly + into a watering trough, and laughed with Frank and called it some picture. + </p> + <p> + He eyed a succession of “current events” long since gone stale out where + the world moved swifter than here in the mountains, and he felt as though + he had come once more into close touch with life. All the dull months he + had spent with Cash and the burros dwarfed into a pointless, irrelevant + incident of his life. He felt that he ought to be out in the world, doing + bigger things than hunting gold that somehow always refused at the last + minute to be found. He stirred restlessly. He was free—there was + nothing to hold him if he wanted to go. The war—he believed he would + go over and take a hand. He could drive an ambulance or a truck— + </p> + <p> + Current Events, however, came abruptly to an end; and presently Bud's + vagrant, half-formed desire for achievement merged into biting + recollections. Here was a love drama, three reels of it. At first Bud + watched it with only a vague, disquieting sense of familiarity. Then + abruptly he recalled too vividly the time and circumstance of his first + sight of the picture. It was in San Jose, at the Liberty. He and Marie had + been married two days, and were living in that glamorous world of the + honeymoon, so poignantly sweet, so marvelous—and so fleeting. He had + whispered that the girl looked like her, and she had leaned heavily + against his shoulder. In the dusk of lowered lights their hands had groped + and found each other, and clung. + </p> + <p> + The girl did look like Marie. When she turned her head with that little + tilt of the chin, when she smiled, she was like Marie. Bud leaned forward, + staring, his brows drawn together, breathing the short, quick breaths of + emotion focussed upon one object, excluding all else. Once, when Frank + moved his body a little in the next seat, Bud's hand went out that way + involuntarily. The touch of Frank's rough coat sleeve recalled him + brutally, so that he drew away with a wincing movement as though he had + been hurt. + </p> + <p> + All those months in the desert; all those months of the slow journeying + northward; all the fought battles with memory, when he thought that he had + won—all gone for nothing, their slow anodyne serving but to sharpen + now the bite of merciless remembering. His hand shook upon his knee. Small + beads of moisture oozed out upon his forehead. He sat stunned before the + amazing revelation of how little time and distance had done to heal his + hurt. + </p> + <p> + He wanted Marie. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted her in the old + days, with a tenderness, an impulse to shield her from her own weaknesses, + her own mistakes. Then—in those old days—there had been the + glamor of mystery that is called romance. That was gone, worn away by the + close intimacies of matrimony. He knew her faults, he knew how she looked + when she was angry and petulant. He knew how little the real Marie + resembled the speciously amiable, altogether attractive Marie who faced a + smiling world when she went pleasuring. He knew, but—he wanted her + just the same. He wanted to tell her so many things about the burros, and + about the desert—things that would make her laugh, and things that + would make her blink back the tears. He was homesick for her as he had + never been homesick in his life before. The picture flickered on through + scene after scene that Bud did not see at all, though he was staring + unwinkingly at the screen all the while. The love scenes at the last were + poignantly real, but they passed before his eyes unnoticed. Bud's mind was + dwelling upon certain love scenes of his own. He was feeling Marie's + presence beside him there in the dusk. + </p> + <p> + “Poor kid—she wasn't so much to blame,” he muttered just above his + breath, when the screen was swept clean and blank at the end of the last + reel. + </p> + <p> + “Huh? Oh, he was the big mutt, right from the start,” Frank replied with + the assured air of a connoisseur. “He didn't have the brains of a bluejay, + or he'd have known all the time she was strong for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess that's right,” Bud mumbled, but he did not mean what Frank + thought he meant. “Let's go. I want a drink.” + </p> + <p> + Frank was willing enough; too willing, if the truth were known. They went + out into the cool starlight, and hurried across the side street that was + no more than a dusty roadway, to the saloon where they had spent the + afternoon. Bud called for whisky, and helped himself twice from the bottle + which the bartender placed between them. He did not speak until the second + glass was emptied, and then he turned to Frank with a purple glare in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have a game of pool or something,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “There's a good poker game going, back there,” vouchsafed the bartender, + turning his thumb toward the rear, where half a dozen men were gathered in + a close group around a table. “There's some real money in sight, + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, let's go see.” Bud turned that way, Frank following like a pet + dog at his heels. + </p> + <p> + At dawn the next morning, Bud got up stiffly from the chair where he had + spent the night. His eyeballs showed a network of tiny red veins, swollen + with the surge of alcohol in his blood and with the strain of staring all + night at the cards. Beneath his eyes were puffy ridges. His cheekbones + flamed with the whisky flush. He cashed in a double-handful of chips, + stuffed the money he had won into his coat pocket, walked, with that stiff + precision of gait by which a drunken man strives to hide his drunkenness, + to the bar and had another drink. Frank was at his elbow. Frank was + staggering, garrulous, laughing a great deal over very small jokes. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to bed,” said Bud, his tongue forming the words with a slow + carefulness. + </p> + <p> + “Come over to my shack, Bud—rotten hotel. My bed's clean, anyway.” + Frank laughed and plucked him by the sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” Bud consented gravely. “We'll take a bottle along.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TEN. EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS + </h2> + <p> + A man's mind is a tricky thing—or, speaking more exactly, a man's + emotions are tricky things. Love has come rushing to the beck of a + tip-tilted chin, or the tone of a voice, or the droop of an eyelid. It has + fled for cause as slight. Sometimes it runs before resentment for a real + or fancied wrong, but then, if you have observed it closely, you will see + that quite frequently, when anger grows slow of foot, or dies of slow + starvation, love steals back, all unsuspected and unbidden—and + mayhap causes much distress by his return. It is like a sudden + resurrection of all the loved, long-mourned dead that sleep so serenely in + their tended plots. Loved though they were and long mourned, think of the + consternation if they all came trooping back to take their old places in + life! The old places that have been filled, most of them, by others who + are loved as dearly, who would be mourned if they were taken away. + </p> + <p> + Psychologists will tell us all about the subconscious mind, the hidden + loves and hates and longings which we believe are dead and long forgotten. + When one of those emotions suddenly comes alive and stands, terribly real + and intrusive, between our souls and our everyday lives, the strongest and + the best of us may stumble and grope blindly after content, or reparation, + or forgetfulness, or whatever seems most likely to give relief. + </p> + <p> + I am apologizing now for Bud, who had spent a good many months in pushing + all thoughts of Marie out of his mind, all hunger for her out of his + heart. He had kept away from towns, from women, lest he be reminded too + keenly of his matrimonial wreck. He had stayed with Cash and had hunted + gold, partly because Cash never seemed conscious of any need of a home or + love or wife or children, and therefore never reminded Bud of the home and + the wife and the love and the child he had lost out of his own life. Cash + seldom mentioned women at all, and when he did it was in a purely general + way, as women touched some other subject he was discussing. He never paid + any attention to the children they met casually in their travels. He + seemed absolutely self-sufficient, interested only in the prospect of + finding a paying claim. What he would do with wealth, if so be he attained + it, he never seemed to know or care. He never asked Bud any questions + about his private affairs, never seemed to care how Bud had lived, or + where. And Bud thankfully left his past behind the wall of silence. So he + had come to believe that he was almost as emotion-proof as Cash appeared + to be, and had let it go at that. + </p> + <p> + Now here he was, with his heart and his mind full of Marie—after + more than a year and a half of forgetting her! Getting drunk and playing + poker all night did not help him at all, for when he woke it was from a + sweet, intimate dream of her, and it was to a tormenting desire for her, + that gnawed at his mind as hunger gnaws at the stomach. Bud could not + understand it. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. By all + his simple rules of reckoning he ought to be “over it” by now. He had + been, until he saw that picture. + </p> + <p> + He was so very far from being over his trouble that he was under it; a + beaten dog wincing under the blows of memory, stung by the lash of his + longing. He groaned, and Frank thought it was the usual “morning after” + headache, and laughed ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “Same here,” he said. “I've got one like a barrel, and I didn't punish + half the booze you did.” + </p> + <p> + Bud did not say anything, but he reached for the bottle, tilted it and + swallowed three times before he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” whispered Frank, a little enviously. + </p> + <p> + Bud glanced somberly across at Frank, who was sitting by the stove with + his jaws between his palms and his hair toweled, regarding his guest + speculatively. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to get drunk again,” Bud announced bluntly. “If you don't want + to, you'd better duck. You're too easy led—I saw that last night. + You follow anybody's lead that you happen to be with. If you follow my + lead to-day, you'll be petrified by night. You better git, and let me go + it alone.” + </p> + <p> + Frank laughed uneasily. “Aw, I guess you ain't all that fatal, Bud. Let's + go over and have some breakfast—only it'll be dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “You go, if you want to.” Bud tilted the bottle again, his eyes half + closed while he swallowed. When he had finished, he shuddered violently at + the taste of the whisky. He got up, went to the water bucket and drank + half a dipper of water. “Good glory! I hate whisky,” he grumbled. “Takes a + barrel to have any effect on me too.” He turned and looked down at Frank + with a morose kind of pity. “You go on and get your breakfast, kid. I + don't want any. I'll stay here for awhile.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down on the side of the cheap, iron bedstead, and emptied his + pockets on the top quilt. He straightened the crumpled bills and counted + them, and sorted the silver pieces. All told, he had sixty-three dollars + and twenty cents. He sat fingering the money absently, his mind upon other + things. Upon Marie and the baby, to be exact. He was fighting the impulse + to send Marie the money. She might need it for the kid. If he was sure her + mother wouldn't get any of it... A year and a half was quite a while, and + fifteen hundred dollars wasn't much to live on these days. She couldn't + work, with the baby on her hands... + </p> + <p> + Frank watched him curiously, his jaws still resting between his two palms, + his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, his lips loose and trembling. A dollar + alarm clock ticked resonantly, punctuated now and then by the dull clink + of silver as Bud lifted a coin and let it drop on the little pile. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty good luck you had last night,” Frank ventured wishfully. “They + cleaned me.” + </p> + <p> + Bud straightened his drooping shoulders and scooped the money into his + hand. He laughed recklessly, and got up. “We'll try her another whirl, and + see if luck'll bring luck. Come on—let's go hunt up some of them + marks that got all the dough last night. We'll split, fifty-fifty, and the + same with what we win. Huh?” + </p> + <p> + “You're on, ho—let's go.” Bud had gauged him correctly—Frank + would follow any one who would lead. He got up and came to the table where + Bud was dividing the money into two equal sums, as nearly as he could make + change. What was left over—and that was the three dollars and twenty + cents—he tossed into the can of tobacco on a shelf. + </p> + <p> + “We'll let that ride—to sober up on, if we go broke,” he grunted. + “Come on—let's get action.” + </p> + <p> + Action, of a sort, they proceeded to get. Luck brought luck of the same + complexion. They won in fluctuating spells of good cards and judicious + teamwork. They did not cheat, though Frank was ready if Bud had led him + that way. Frank was ready for anything that Bud suggested. He drank when + Bud drank, went from the first saloon to the one farther down and across + the street, returned to the first with cheerful alacrity and much + meaningless laughter when Bud signified a desire to change. It soothed Bud + and irritated him by turns, this ready acquiescence of Frank's. He began + to take a malicious delight in testing that acquiescence. He began to try + whether he could not find the end of Frank's endurance in staying awake, + his capacity for drink, his good nature, his credulity—he ran the + scale of Frank's various qualifications, seeking always to establish a + well-defined limitation somewhere. + </p> + <p> + But Frank was utterly, absolutely plastic. He laughed and drank when Bud + suggested that they drink. He laughed and played whatever game Bud urged + him into. He laughed and agreed with Bud when Bud made statements to test + the credulity of anyman. He laughed and said, “Sure. Let's go!” when Bud + pined for a change of scene. + </p> + <p> + On the third day Bud suddenly stopped in the midst of a game of pool which + neither was steady enough to play, and gravely inspected the chalked end + of his cue. + </p> + <p> + “That's about enough of this,” he said. “We're drunk. We're so drunk we + don't know a pocket from a prospect hole. I'm tired of being a hog. I'm + going to go get another drink and sober up. And if you're the dog Fido + you've been so far, you'll do the same.” He leaned heavily upon the table, + and regarded Frank with stern, bloodshot blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + Frank laughed and slid his cue the length of the table. He also leaned a + bit heavily. “Sure,” he said. “I'm ready, any time you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of these days,” Bud stated with drunken deliberation, “they'll take + and hang you, Frank, for being such an agreeable cuss.” He took Frank + gravely by the arm and walked him to the bar, paid for two beers with + almost his last dollar, and, still holding Frank firmly, walked him out of + doors and down the street to Frank's cabin. He pushed him inside and stood + looking in upon him with a sour appraisement. + </p> + <p> + “You are the derndest fool I ever run across—but at that you're a + good scout too,” he informed Frank. “You sober up now, like I said. You + ought to know better 'n to act the way you've been acting. I'm sure + ashamed of you, Frank. Adios—I'm going to hit the trail for camp.” + With that he pulled the door shut and walked away, with that same + circumspect exactness in his stride which marks the drunken man as surely + as does a stagger. + </p> + <p> + He remembered what it was that had brought him to town—which is more + than most men in his condition would have done. He went to the post office + and inquired for mail, got what proved to be the assayer's report, and + went on. He bought half a dozen bananas which did not remind him of that + night when he had waited on the Oakland pier for the mysterious Foster, + though they might have recalled the incident vividly to mind had he been + sober. He had been wooing forgetfulness, and for the time being he had + won. + </p> + <p> + Walking up the steep, winding trail that led to Nelson Flat cleared a + little his fogged brain. He began to remember what it was that he had been + fighting to forget. Marie's face floated sometimes before him, but the + vision was misty and remote, like distant woodland seen through the gray + film of a storm. The thought of her filled him with a vague discomfort now + when his emotions were dulled by the terrific strain he had wilfully put + upon brain and body. Resentment crept into the foreground again. Marie had + made him suffer. Marie was to blame for this beastly fit of intoxication. + He did not love Marie—he hated her. He did not want to see her, he + did not want to think of her. She had done nothing for him but bring him + trouble. Marie, forsooth! (Only, Bud put it in a slightly different way.) + </p> + <p> + Halfway to the flat, he met Cash walking down the slope where the trail + seemed tunneled through deep green, so thick stood the young spruce. Cash + was swinging his arms in that free stride of the man who has learned how + to walk with the least effort. He did not halt when he saw Bud plodding + slowly up the trail, but came on steadily, his keen, blue-gray eyes + peering sharply from beneath his forward tilted hat brim. He came up to + within ten feet of Bud, and stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” He stood eyeing Bud appraisingly, much as Bud had eyed Frank a + couple of hours before. “I was just starting out to see what had become of + you,” he added, his voice carrying the full weight of reproach that the + words only hinted at. + </p> + <p> + “Well, get an eyeful, if that's what you come for. I'm here—and + lookin's cheap.” Bud's anger flared at the disapproval he read in Cash's + eyes, his voice, the set of his lips. + </p> + <p> + But Cash did not take the challenge. “Did the report come?” he asked, as + though that was the only matter worth discussing. + </p> + <p> + Bud pulled the letter sullenly from his pocket and gave it to Cash. He + stood moodily waiting while Cash opened and read and returned it. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. About what I thought—only it runs lighter in gold, with a + higher percentage of copper. It'll pay to go on and see what's at bed + rock. If the copper holds up to this all along, we'll be figuring on the + gold to pay for getting the copper. This is copper country, Bud. Looks + like we'd found us a copper mine.” He turned and walked on beside Bud. “I + dug in to quite a rich streak of sand while you was gone,” he volunteered + after a silence. “Coarse gold, as high as fifteen cents a pan. I figure we + better work that while the weather's good, and run our tunnel in on this + other when snow comes.” + </p> + <p> + Bud turned his head and looked at Cash intently for a minute. “I've been + drunker'n a fool for three days,” he announced solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. You look it,” was Cash's dry retort, while he stared straight + ahead, up the steep, shadowed trail. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE FIRST STAGES + </h2> + <p> + For a month Bud worked and forced himself to cheerfulness, and tried to + forget. Sometimes it was easy enough, but there were other times when he + must get away by himself and walk and walk, with his rifle over his + shoulder as a mild pretense that he was hunting game. But if he brought + any back camp it was because the game walked up and waited to be shot; + half the time Bud did not know where he was going, much less whether there + were deer within ten rods or ten miles. + </p> + <p> + During those spells of heartsickness he would sit all the evening and + smoke and stare at some object which his mind failed to register. Cash + would sit and watch him furtively; but Bud was too engrossed with his own + misery to notice it. Then, quite unexpectedly, reaction would come and + leave Bud in a peace that was more than half a torpid refusal of his mind + to worry much over anything. + </p> + <p> + He worked then, and talked much with Cash, and made plans for the + development of their mine. In that month they had come to call it a mine, + and they had filed and recorded their claim, and had drawn up an agreement + of partnership in it. They would “sit tight” and work on it through the + winter, and when spring came they hoped to have something tangible upon + which to raise sufficient capital to develop it properly. Or, times when + they had done unusually well with their sandbank, they would talk + optimistically about washing enough gold out of that claim to develop the + other, and keep the title all in their own hands. + </p> + <p> + Then, one night Bud dreamed again of Marie, and awoke with an insistent + craving for the oblivion of drunkenness. He got up and cooked the + breakfast, washed the dishes and swept the cabin, and measured out two + ounces of gold from what they had saved. + </p> + <p> + “You're keeping tabs on everything, Cash,” he said shortly. “Just charge + this up to me. I'm going to town.” + </p> + <p> + Cash looked up at him from under a slanted eye-brow. His lips had a twist + of pained disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. I figured you was about due in town,” he said resignedly. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, lay off that told-you-so stuff,” Bud growled. “You never figured + anything of the kind, and you know it.” He pulled his heavy sweater down + off a nail and put it on, scowling because the sleeves had to be pulled in + place on his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Too bad you can't wait a day. I figured we'd have a clean-up to-morrow, + maybe. She's been running pretty heavy—-” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go ahead and clean up, then. You can do it alone. Or wait till I + get back.” + </p> + <p> + Cash laughed, as a retort cutting, and not because he was amused. Bud + swore and went out, slamming the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + It was exactly five days alter that when he opened it again. Cash was + mixing a batch of sour-dough bread into loaves, and he did not say + anything at all when Bud came in and stood beside the stove, warming his + hands and glowering around the room. He merely looked up, and then went on + with his bread making. + </p> + <p> + Bud was not a pretty sight. Four days and nights of trying to see how much + whisky he could drink, and how long he could play poker without going to + sleep or going broke, had left their mark on his face and his trembling + hands. His eyes were puffy and red, and his cheeks were mottled, and his + lips were fevered and had lost any sign of a humorous quirk at the + corners. He looked ugly; as if he would like nothing better than an excuse + to quarrel with Cash—since Cash was the only person at hand to + quarrel with. + </p> + <p> + But Cash had not knocked around the world for nothing. He had seen men in + that mood before, and he had no hankering for trouble which is vastly + easier to start than it is to stop. He paid no attention to Bud. He made + his loaves, tucked them into the pan and greased the top with bacon grease + saved in a tomato can for such use. He set the pan on a shelf behind the + stove, covered it with a clean flour sack, opened the stove door, and slid + in two sticks. + </p> + <p> + “She's getting cold,” he observed casually. “It'll be winter now before we + know it.” + </p> + <p> + Bud grunted, pulled an empty box toward him by the simple expedient of + hooking his toes behind the corner, and sat down. He set his elbows on his + thighs and buried his face in his hands. His hat dropped off his head and + lay crown down beside him. He made a pathetic figure of miserable manhood, + of strength mistreated. His fine, brown hair fell in heavy locks down over + his fingers that rested on his forehead. Five minutes so, and he lifted + his head and glanced around him apathetically. “Gee-man-ee, I've got a + headache!” he muttered, dropping his forehead into his spread palms again. + </p> + <p> + Cash hesitated, derision hiding in the back of his eyes. Then he pushed + the dented coffeepot forward on the stove. + </p> + <p> + “Try a cup of coffee straight,” he said unemotionally, “and then lay down. + You'll sleep it off in a few hours.” + </p> + <p> + Bud did not look up, or make any move to show that he heard. But presently + he rose and went heavily over to his bunk. “I don't want any darn coffee,” + he growled, and sprawled himself stomach down on the bed, with his face + turned from the light. + </p> + <p> + Cash eyed him coldly, with the corner of his upper lip lifted a little. + Whatever weaknesses he possessed, drinking and gambling had no place in + the list. Nor had he any patience with those faults in others. Had Bud + walked down drunk to Cash's camp, that evening when they first met, he + might have received a little food doled out to him grudgingly, but he + assuredly would not have slept in Cash's bed that night. That he tolerated + drunkenness in Bud now would have been rather surprising to any one who + knew Cash well. Perhaps he had a vague understanding of the deeps through + which Bud was struggling, and so was constrained to hide his disapproval, + hoping that the moral let-down was merely a temporary one. + </p> + <p> + He finished his strictly utilitarian household labor and went off up the + flat to the sluice boxes. Bud had not moved from his first position on the + bed, but he did not breathe like a sleeping man. Not at first; after an + hour or so he did sleep, heavily and with queer, muddled dreams that had + no sequence and left only a disturbed sense of discomfort behind then. + </p> + <p> + At noon or a little after Cash returned to the cabin, cast a sour look of + contempt at the recumbent Bud, and built a fire in the old cookstove. He + got his dinner, ate it, and washed his dishes with never a word to Bud, + who had wakened and lay with his eyes half open, sluggishly miserable and + staring dully at the rough spruce logs of the wall. + </p> + <p> + Cash put on his cap, looked at Bud and gave a snort, and went off again to + his work. Bud lay still for awhile longer, staring dully at the wall. + Finally he raised up, swung his feet to the floor, and sat there staring + around the little cabin as though he had never before seen it. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! You'd think, the way he highbrows me, that Cash never done wrong in + his life! Tin angel, him—I don't think. Next time, I'll tell a + pinheaded world I'll have to bring home a quart or two, and put on a show + right!” + </p> + <p> + Just what he meant by that remained rather obscure, even to Bud. He got + up, shut his eyes very tight and then opened them wide to clear his + vision, shook himself into his clothes and went over to the stove. Cash + had not left the coffeepot on the stove but had, with malicious intent—or + so Bud believed—put it away on the shelf so that what coffee + remained was stone cold. Bud muttered and threw out the coffee, grounds + and all—a bit of bachelor extravagance which only anger could drive + him to—and made fresh coffee, and made it strong. He did not want + it. He drank it for the work of physical regeneration it would do for him. + </p> + <p> + He lay down afterwards, and this time he dropped into a more nearly normal + sleep, which lasted until Cash returned at dusk After that he lay with his + face hidden, awake and thinking. Thinking, for the most part, of how dull + and purposeless life was, and wondering why the world was made, or the + people in it—since nobody was happy, and few even pretended to be. + Did God really make the world, and man, just to play with—for a + pastime? Then why bother about feeling ashamed for anything one did that + was contrary to God's laws? + </p> + <p> + Why be puffed up with pride for keeping one or two of them unbroken—like + Cash, for instance. Just because Cash never drank or played cards, what + right had he to charge the whole atmosphere of the cabin with his contempt + and his disapproval of Bud, who chose to do both? + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, why did he choose a spree as a relief from his + particular bunch of ghosts? Trading one misery for another was all you + could call it. Doing exactly the things that Marie's mother had predicted + he would do, committing the very sins that Marie was always a little + afraid he would commit—there must be some sort of twisted revenge in + that, he thought, but for the life of him he could not quite see any real, + permanent satisfaction in it—especially since Marie and her mother + would never get to hear of it. + </p> + <p> + For that matter, he was not so sure that they would not get to hear. He + remembered meeting, just on the first edge of his spree, one Joe De Barr, + a cigar salesman whom he had known in San Jose. Joe knew Marie—in + fact, Joe had paid her a little attention before Bud came into her life. + Joe had been in Alpine between trains, taking orders for goods from the + two saloons and the hotel. He had seen Bud drinking. Bud knew perfectly + well how much Joe had seen him drinking, and he knew perfectly well that + Joe was surprised to the point of amazement—and, Bud suspected, + secretly gratified as well. Wherefore Bud had deliberately done what he + could do to stimulate and emphasize both the surprise and the + gratification. Why is it that most human beings feel a sneaking + satisfaction in the downfall of another? Especially another who is, or has + been at sometime, a rival in love or in business? + </p> + <p> + Bud had no delusions concerning Joe De Barr. If Joe should happen to meet + Marie, he would manage somehow to let her know that Bud was going to the + dogs—on the toboggan—down and out—whatever it suited Joe + to declare him. It made Bud sore now to think of Joe standing so smug and + so well dressed and so immaculate beside the bar, smiling and twisting the + ends of his little brown mustache while he watched Bud make such a + consummate fool of himself. At the time, though, Bud had taken a perverse + delight in making himself appear more soddenly drunken, more boisterous + and reckless than he really was. + </p> + <p> + Oh, well, what was the odds? Marie couldn't think any worse of him than + she already thought. And whatever she thought, their trails had parted, + and they would never cross again—not if Bud could help it. Probably + Marie would say amen to that. He would like to know how she was getting + along—and the baby, too. Though the baby had never seemed quite real + to Bud, or as if it were a permanent member of the household. It was a + leather-lunged, red-faced, squirming little mite, and in his heart of + hearts Bud had not felt as though it belonged to him at all. He had never + rocked it, for instance, or carried it in his arms. He had been afraid he + might drop it, or squeeze it too hard, or break it somehow with his man's + strength. When he thought of Marie he did not necessarily think of the + baby, though sometimes he did, wondering vaguely how much it had grown, + and if it still hollered for its bottle, all hours of the day and night. + </p> + <p> + Coming back to Marie and Joe—it was not at all certain that they + would meet; or that Joe would mention him, even if they did. A wrecked + home is always a touchy subject, so touchy that Joe had never intimated in + his few remarks to Bud that there had ever been a Marie, and Bud, drunk as + he had been, was still not too drunk to hold back the question that + clamored to be spoken. + </p> + <p> + Whether he admitted it to himself or not, the sober Bud Moore who lay on + his bunk nursing a headache and a grouch against the world was ashamed of + the drunken Bud Moore who had paraded his drunkenness before the man who + knew Marie. He did not want Marie to hear what Joe might tell There was no + use, he told himself miserably, in making Marie despise him as well as + hate him. There was a difference. She might think him a brute, and she + might accuse him of failing to be a kind and loving husband; but she could + not, unless Joe told of his spree, say that she had ever heard of his + carousing around. That it would be his own fault if she did hear, served + only to embitter his mood. + </p> + <p> + He rolled over and glared at Cash, who had cooked his supper and was + sitting down to eat it alone. Cash was looking particularly misanthropic + as he bent his head to meet the upward journey of his coffee cup, and his + eyes, when they lifted involuntarily with Bud's sudden movement, had still + that hard look of bottled-up rancor that had impressed itself upon Bud + earlier in the day. + </p> + <p> + Neither man spoke, or made any sign of friendly recognition. Bud would not + have talked to any one in his present state of self-disgust, but for all + that Cash's silence rankled. A moment their eyes met and held; then with + shifted glances the souls of them drew apart—farther apart than they + had ever been, even when they quarreled over Pete, down in Arizona. + </p> + <p> + When Cash had finished and was filing his pipe, Bud got up and reheated + the coffee, and fried more bacon and potatoes, Cash having cooked just + enough for himself. Cash smoked and gave no heed, and Bud retorted by + eating in silence and in straightway washing his own cup, plate, knife, + and fork and wiping clean the side of the table where he always sat. He + did not look at Cash, but he felt morbidly that Cash was regarding him + with that hateful sneer hidden under his beard. He knew that it was silly + to keep that stony silence, but he kept telling himself that if Cash + wanted to talk, he had a tongue, and it was not tied. Besides, Cash had + registered pretty plainly his intentions and his wishes when he excluded + Bud from his supper. + </p> + <p> + It was a foolish quarrel, but it was that kind of foolish quarrel which is + very apt to harden into a lasting one. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWELVE. MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE + </h2> + <p> + Domestic wrecks may be a subject taboo in polite conversation, but Joe De + Barr was not excessively polite, and he had, moreover, a very likely hope + that Marie would yet choose to regard him with more favor than she had + shown in the past. He did not chance to see her at once, but as soon as + his work would permit he made it a point to meet her. He went about it + with beautiful directness. He made bold to call her up on “long distance” + from San Francisco, told her that he would be in San Jose that night, and + invited her to a show. + </p> + <p> + Marie accepted without enthusiasm—and her listlessness was not lost + over forty miles of telephone wire. Enough of it seeped to Joe's ears to + make him twist his mustache quite furiously when he came out of the + telephone booth. If she was still stuck on that fellow Bud, and couldn't + see anybody else, it was high time she was told a few things about him. It + was queer how a nice girl like Marie would hang on to some cheap guy like + Bud Moore. Regular fellows didn't stand any show—unless they played + what cards happened to fall their way. Joe, warned by her indifference, + set himself very seriously to the problem of playing his cards to the best + advantage. + </p> + <p> + He went into a flower store—disdaining the banked loveliness upon + the corners—and bought Marie a dozen great, heavy-headed + chrysanthemums, whose color he could not name to save his life, so called + them pink and let it go at that. They were not pink, and they were not + sweet—Joe held the bunch well away from his protesting olfactory + nerves which were not educated to tantalizing odors—but they were + more expensive than roses, and he knew that women raved over them. He + expected Marie to rave over them, whether she liked them or not. + </p> + <p> + Fortified by these, groomed and perfumed and as prosperous looking as a + tobacco salesman with a generous expense account may be, he went to San + Jose on an early evening train that carried a parlor car in which Joe made + himself comfortable. He fooled even the sophisticated porter into thinking + him a millionaire, wherefore he arrived in a glow of self-esteem, which + bred much optimism. + </p> + <p> + Marie was impressed—at least with his assurance and the + chrysanthemums, over which she was sufficiently enthusiastic to satisfy + even Joe. Since he had driven to the house in a hired automobile, he + presently had the added satisfaction of handing Marie into the tonneau as + though she were a queen entering the royal chariot, and of ordering the + driver to take them out around the golf links, since it was still very + early. Then, settling back with what purported to be a sigh of bliss, he + regarded Marie sitting small and still and listless beside him. The glow + of the chrysanthemums had already faded. Marie, with all the girlish + prettiness she had ever possessed, and with an added charm that was very + elusive and hard to analyze, seemed to have lost all of her old animation. + </p> + <p> + Joe tried the weather, and the small gossip of the film world, and a + judiciously expurgated sketch of his life since he had last seen her. + Marie answered him whenever his monologue required answer, but she was + unresponsive, uninterested—bored. Joe twisted his mustache, eyed her + aslant and took the plunge. + </p> + <p> + “I guess joy-ridin' kinda calls up old times, ay?” he began insidiously. + “Maybe I shouldn't have brought you out for a ride; maybe it brings back + painful memories, as the song goes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Marie spiritlessly. “I don't see why it should.” + </p> + <p> + “No? Well, that's good to hear you say so, girlie. I was kinda afraid + maybe trouble had hit you hard. A sensitive, big-hearted little person + like you. But if you've put it all outa your mind, why, that's where + you're dead right. Personally, I was glad to see you saw where you'd made + a mistake, and backed up. That takes grit and brains. Of course, we all + make mistakes—you wasn't to blame—innocent little kid like you—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Marie, “I guess I made a mistake, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure! But you seen it and backed up. And a good thing you did. Look what + he'd of brought you to by now, if you'd stuck!” + </p> + <p> + Marie tilted back her head and looked up at the tall row of eucalyptus + trees feathered against the stars. “What?” she asked uninterestedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well—I don't want to knock, especially a fellow that's on the + toboggan already. But I know a little girl that's aw-fully lucky, and I'm + honest enough to say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Marie obligingly. “Why—in particular?” + </p> + <p> + “Why in particular?” Joe leaned toward her. “Say, you must of heard how + Bud's going to the dogs. If you haven't, I don't want—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I hadn't heard,” said Marie, looking up at the Big Dipper so that her + profile, dainty and girlish still, was revealed like a cameo to Joe. “Is + he? I love to watch the stars, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I love to watch a star,” Joe breathed softly. “So you hadn't heard how + Bud's turned out to be a regular souse? Honest, didn't you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't know it,” said Marie boredly. “Has he?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, say! You couldn't tell it from the real thing! Believe me, Bud's + some pickled bum, these days. I run across him up in the mountains, a + month or so ago. Honest, I was knocked plumb silly—much as I knew + about Bud that you never knew, I never thought he'd turn out quite so—” + Joe paused, with a perfect imitation of distaste for his subject. “Say, + this is great, out here,” he murmured, tucking the robe around her with + that tender protectiveness which stops just short of being proprietary. + “Honest, Marie, do you like it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sure, I like it, Joe.” Marie smiled at him in the star-light. “It's + great, don't you think? I don't get out very often, any more. I'm working, + you know—and evenings and Sundays baby takes up all my time.” + </p> + <p> + “You working? Say, that's a darned shame! Don't Bud send you any money?” + </p> + <p> + “He left some,” said Marie frankly. “But I'm keeping that for baby, when + he grows up and needs it. He don't send any.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, say! As long as he's in the State, you can make him dig up. For the + kid's support, anyway. Why don't you get after him?” + </p> + <p> + Marie looked down over the golf links, as the car swung around the long + curve at the head of the slope. “I don't know where he is,” she said + tonelessly. “Where did you see him, Joe?” + </p> + <p> + Joe's hesitation lasted but long enough for him to give his mustache end a + twist. Marie certainly seemed to be well “over it.” There could be no harm + in telling. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when I saw him he was at Alpine; that's a little burg up in the + edge of the mountains, on the W. P. He didn't look none too prosperous, at + that. But he had money—he was playing poker and that kind of thing. + And he was drunk as a boiled owl, and getting drunker just as fast as he + knew how. Seemed to be kind of a stranger there; at least he didn't throw + in with the bunch like a native would. But that was more than a month ago, + Marie. He might not be there now. I could write up and find out for you.” + </p> + <p> + Marie settled back against the cushions as though she had already + dismissed the subject from her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't bother about it, Joe. I don't suppose he's got any money, + anyway. Let's forget him.” + </p> + <p> + “You said it, Marie. Stacked up to me like a guy that's got just enough + dough for a good big souse. He ain't hard to forget—is he, girlie?” + </p> + <p> + Marie laughed assentingly. And if she did not quite attain her old + bubbling spirits during the evening, at least she sent Joe back to San + Francisco feeling very well satisfied with himself. He must have been + satisfied with himself. He must have been satisfied with his wooing also, + because he strolled into a jewelry store the next morning and priced + several rings which he judged would be perfectly suitable for engagement + rings. He might have gone so far as to buy one, if he had been sure of the + size and of Marie's preference in stones. Since he lacked detailed + information, he decided to wait, but he intimated plainly to the clerk + that he would return in a few days. + </p> + <p> + It was just as well that he did decide to wait, for when he tried again to + see Marie he failed altogether. Marie had left town. Her mother, with an + acrid tone of resentment, declared that she did not know any more than the + man in the moon where Marie had gone, but that she “suspicioned” that some + fool had told Marie where Bud was, and that Marie had gone traipsing after + him. She had taken the baby along, which was another piece of foolishness + which her mother would never have permitted had she been at home when + Marie left. + </p> + <p> + Joe did not take the matter seriously, though he was disappointed at + having made a fruitless trip to San Jose. He did not believe that Marie + had done anything more than take a vacation from her mother's + sharp-tongued rule, and for that he could not blame her, after having + listened for fifteen minutes to the lady's monologue upon the subject of + selfish, inconsiderate, ungrateful daughters. Remembering Marie's attitude + toward Bud, he did not believe that she had gone hunting him. + </p> + <p> + Yet Marie had done that very thing. True, she had spent a sleepless night + fighting the impulse, and a harassed day trying to make up her mind + whether to write first, or whether to go and trust to the element of + surprise to help plead her cause with Bud; whether to take Lovin Child + with her, or leave him with her mother. + </p> + <p> + She definitely decided to write Bud a short note and ask him if he + remembered having had a wife and baby, once upon a time, and if he never + wished that he had them still. She wrote the letter, crying a little over + it along toward the last, as women will. But it sounded cold-blooded and + condemnatory. She wrote another, letting a little of her real self into + the lines. But that sounded sentimental and moving-pictury, and she knew + how Bud hated cheap sentimentalism. + </p> + <p> + So she tore them both up and put them in the little heating stove, and + lighted a match and set them burning, and watched them until they withered + down to gray ash, and then broke up the ashes and scattered them amongst + the cinders. Marie, you must know, had learned a good many things, one of + which was the unwisdom of whetting the curiosity of a curious woman. + </p> + <p> + After that she proceeded to pack a suit case for herself and Lovin Child, + seizing the opportunity while her mother was visiting a friend in Santa + Clara. Once the packing was began, Marie worked with a feverish intensity + of purpose and an eagerness that was amazing, considering her usual apathy + toward everything in her life as she was living it. + </p> + <p> + Everything but Lovin Child. Him she loved and gloried in. He was like Bud—so + much like him that Marie could not have loved him so much if she had + managed to hate Bud as she tried sometimes to hate him. Lovin Child was a + husky youngster, and he already had the promise of being as tall and + straight-limbed and square-shouldered as his father. Deep in his eyes + there lurked always a twinkle, as though he knew a joke that would make + you laugh—if only he dared tell it; a quizzical, secretly amused + little twinkle, as exactly like Bud's as it was possible for a + two-year-old twinkle to be. To go with the twinkle, he had a quirky little + smile. And to better the smile, he had the jolliest little chuckle that + ever came through a pair of baby lips. + </p> + <p> + He came trotting up to the suit case which Marie had spread wide open on + the bed, stood up on his tippy toes, and peered in. The quirky smile was + twitching his lips, and the look he turned toward Marie's back was full of + twinkle. He reached into the suit case, clutched a clean handkerchief and + blew his nose with solemn precision; put the handkerchief back all + crumpled, grabbed a silk stocking and drew it around his neck, and was + straining to reach his little red Brownie cap when Marie turned and caught + him up in her arms. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Lovin Child! Baby mustn't. Marie is going to take her lovin' baby + boy to find—” She glanced hastily over her shoulder to make sure + there was no one to hear, buried her face in the baby's fat neck and + whispered the wonder, “—to find hims daddy Bud! Does Lovin Man want + to see hims daddy Bud? I bet he does want! I bet hims daddy Bud will be + glad—Now you sit right still, and Marie will get him a cracker, an' + then he can watch Marie pack him little shirt, and hims little bunny suit, + and hims wooh-wooh, and hims 'tockins—” + </p> + <p> + It is a pity that Bud could not have seen the two of them in the next + hour, wherein Marie flew to her hopeful task of packing her suit case, and + Lovin Child was quite as busy pulling things out of it, and getting + stepped on, and having to be comforted, and insisting upon having on his + bunny suit, and then howling to go before Marie was ready. Bud would have + learned enough to ease the ache in his heart—enough to humble him + and fill him with an abiding reverence for a love that will live, as + Marie's had lived, on bitterness and regret. + </p> + <p> + Nearly distracted under the lash of her own eagerness and the fear that + her mother would return too soon and bully her into giving up her wild + plan, Marie, carrying Lovin Child on one arm and lugging the suit case in + the other hand, and half running, managed to catch a street car and climb + aboard all out of breath and with her hat tilted over one ear. She + deposited the baby on the seat beside her, fumbled for a nickel, and asked + the conductor pantingly if she would be in time to catch the four-five to + the city. It maddened her to watch the bored deliberation of the man as he + pulled out his watch and regarded it meditatively. + </p> + <p> + “You'll catch it—if you're lucky about your transfer,” he said, and + rang up her fare and went off to the rear platform, just as if it were not + a matter of life and death at all. Marie could have shaken him for his + indifference; and as for the motorman, she was convinced that he ran as + slow as he dared, just to drive her crazy. But even with these two inhuman + monsters doing their best to make her miss the train, and with the street + car she wanted to transfer to running off and leaving her at the very last + minute, and with Lovin Child suddenly discovering that he wanted to be + carried, and that he emphatically did not want her to carry the suit case + at all, Marie actually reached the depot ahead of the four-five train. + Much disheveled and flushed with nervousness and her exertions, she + dragged Lovin Child up the steps by one arm, found a seat in the chair car + and, a few minutes later, suddenly realized that she was really on her way + to an unknown little town in an unknown part of the country, in quest of a + man who very likely did not want to be found by her. + </p> + <p> + Two tears rolled down her cheeks, and were traced to the corners of her + mouth by the fat, investigative finger of Lovin Child before Marie could + find her handkerchief and wipe them away. Was any one in this world ever + so utterly, absolutely miserable? She doubted it. What if she found Bud—drunk, + as Joe had described him? Or, worse than that, what if she did not find + him at all? She tried not to cry, but it seemed as though she must cry or + scream. Fast as she wiped them away, other tears dropped over her eyelids + upon her cheeks, and were given the absorbed attention of Lovin Child, who + tried to catch each one with his finger. To distract him, she turned him + around face to the window. + </p> + <p> + “See all the—pitty cows,” she urged, her lips trembling so much that + they would scarcely form the words. And when Lovin Child flattened a + finger tip against the window and chuckled, and said “Ee? Ee?”—which + was his way of saying see—Marie dropped her face down upon his fuzzy + red “bunny” cap, hugged him close to her, and cried, from sheer, nervous + reaction. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTEEN. CABIN FEVER IN THE WORST FORM + </h2> + <p> + Bud Moore woke on a certain morning with a distinct and well-defined + grouch against the world as he had found it; a grouch quite different from + the sullen imp of contrariness that had possessed him lately. He did not + know just what had caused the grouch, and he did not care. He did know, + however, that he objected to the look of Cash's overshoes that stood + pigeon-toed beside Cash's bed on the opposite side of the room, where Bud + had not set his foot for three weeks and more. He disliked the audible + yawn with which Cash manifested his return from the deathlike + unconsciousness of sleep. He disliked the look of Cash's rough coat and + sweater and cap, that hung on a nail over Cash's bunk. He disliked the + thought of getting up in the cold—and more, the sure knowledge that + unless he did get up, and that speedily, Cash would be dressed ahead of + him, and starting a fire in the cookstove. Which meant that Cash would be + the first to cook and eat his breakfast, and that the warped ethics of + their dumb quarrel would demand that Bud pretend to be asleep until Cash + had fried his bacon and his hotcakes and had carried them to his end of + the oilcloth-covered table. + </p> + <p> + When, by certain well-known sounds, Bud was sure that Cash was eating, he + could, without loss of dignity or without suspicion of making any + overtures toward friendliness, get up and dress and cook his own + breakfast, and eat it at his own end of the table. Bud wondered how long + Cash, the old fool, would sulk like that. Not that he gave a darn—he + just wondered, is all. For all he cared, Cash could go on forever cooking + his own meals and living on his own side of the shack. Bud certainly would + not interrupt him in acting the fool, and if Cash wanted to keep it up + till spring, Cash was perfectly welcome to do so. It just showed how + ornery a man could be when he was let to go. So far as he was concerned, + he would just as soon as not have that dead line painted down the middle + of the cabin floor. + </p> + <p> + Nor did its presence there trouble him in the least. Just this morning, + however, the fact of Cash's stubbornness in keeping to his own side of the + line irritated Bud. He wanted to get back at the old hound somehow—without + giving in an inch in the mute deadlock. Furthermore, he was hungry, and he + did not propose to lie there and starve while old Cash pottered around the + stove. He'd tell the world he was going to have his own breakfast first, + and if Cash didn't want to set in on the cooking, Cash could lie in bed + till he was paralyzed, and be darned. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Cash pushed back the blankets that had been banked to his + ears. Simultaneously, Bud swung his feet to the cold floor with a thump + designed solely to inform Cash that Bud was getting up. Cash turned over + with his back to the room and pulled up the blankets. Bud grinned + maliciously and dressed as deliberately as the cold of the cabin would let + him. To be sure, there was the disadvantage of having to start his own + fire, but that disagreeable task was offset by the pleasure he would get + in messing around as long as he could, cooking his breakfast. He even + thought of frying potatoes and onions after he cooked his bacon. Potatoes + and onions fried together have a lovely tendency to stick to the frying + pan, especially if there is not too much grease, and if they are fried + very slowly. Cash would have to do some washing and scraping, when it came + his turn to cook. Bud knew just about how mad that would make Cash, and he + dwelt upon the prospect relishfully. + </p> + <p> + Bud never wanted potatoes for his breakfast. Coffee, bacon, and hotcakes + suited him perfectly. But just for meanness, because he felt mean and he + wanted to act mean, he sliced the potatoes and the onions into the frying + pan, and, to make his work artistically complete, he let them burn and + stick to the pan,—after he had his bacon and hotcakes fried, of + course! + </p> + <p> + He sat down and began to eat. And presently Cash crawled out into the warm + room filled with the odor of frying onions, and dressed himself with the + detached calm of the chronically sulky individual. Not once did the manner + of either man betray any consciousness of the other's presence. Unless + some detail of the day's work compelled them to speech, not once for more + than three weeks had either seemed conscious of the other. + </p> + <p> + Cash washed his face and his hands, took the side of bacon, and cut three + slices with the precision of long practice. Bud sopped his last hotcake in + a pool of syrup and watched him from the corner of his eyes, without + turning his head an inch toward Cash. His keenest desire, just then, was + to see Cash when he tackled the frying pan. + </p> + <p> + But Cash disappointed him there. He took a pie tin off the shelf and laid + his strips of bacon on it, and set it in the oven; which is a very good + way of cooking breakfast bacon, as Bud well knew. Cash then took down the + little square baking pan, greased from the last baking of bread, and in + that he fried his hot cakes. As if that were not sufficiently + exasperating, he gave absolutely no sign of being conscious of the frying + pan any more than he was conscious of Bud. He did not overdo it by + whistling, or even humming a tune—which would have given Bud an + excuse to say something almost as mean as his mood. Abstractedness rode + upon Cash's lined brow. Placid meditation shone forth from his keen old + blue-gray eyes. + </p> + <p> + The bacon came from the oven juicy-crisp and curled at the edges and + delicately browned. The cakes came out of the baking pan brown and thick + and light. Cash sat down at his end of the table, pulled his own can of + sugar and his own cup of sirup and his own square of butter toward him; + poured his coffee, that he had made in a small lard pail, and began to eat + his breakfast exactly as though he was alone in that cabin. + </p> + <p> + A great resentment filled Bud's soul to bursting, The old hound! Bud + believed now that Cash was capable of leaving that frying pan dirty for + the rest of the day! A man like that would do anything! If it wasn't for + that claim, he'd walk off and forget to come back. + </p> + <p> + Thinking of that seemed to crystallize into definite purpose what had been + muddling his mind with vague impulses to let his mood find expression. He + would go to Alpine that day. He would hunt up Frank and see if he couldn't + jar him into showing that he had a mind of his own. Twice since that first + unexpected spree, he had spent a good deal of time and gold dust and + consumed a good deal of bad whisky and beer, in testing the inherent + obligingness of Frank. The last attempt had been the cause of the final + break between him and Cash. Cash had reminded Bud harshly that they would + need that gold to develop their quartz claim, and he had further stated + that he wanted no “truck” with a gambler and a drunkard, and that Bud had + better straighten up if he wanted to keep friends with Cash. + </p> + <p> + Bud had retorted that Cash might as well remember that Bud had a half + interest in the two claims, and that he would certainly stay with it. + Meantime, he would tell the world he was his own boss, and Cash needn't + think for a minute that Bud was going to ask permission for what he did or + did not do. Cash needn't have any truck with him, either. It suited Bud + very well to keep on his own side of the cabin, and he'd thank Cash to + mind his own business and not step over the dead line. + </p> + <p> + Cash had laughed disagreeably and asked Bud what he was going to do—draw + a chalk mark, maybe? + </p> + <p> + Bud, half drunk and unable to use ordinary good sense, had said yes, by + thunder, he'd draw a chalk line if he wanted to, and if he did, Cash had + better not step over it either, unless he wanted to be kicked back. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore the broad, black line down the middle of the floor to where the + table stood. Obviously, he could not well divide the stove and the + teakettle and the frying pan and coffeepot. The line stopped abruptly with + a big blob of lampblack mixed with coal oil, just where necessity + compelled them both to use the same floor space. + </p> + <p> + The next day Bud had been ashamed of the performance, but his shame could + not override his stubbornness. The black line stared up at him accusingly. + Cash, keeping scrupulously upon his own side of it, went coldly about his + own affairs and never yielded so much as a glance at Bud. And Bud grew + more moody and dissatisfied with himself, but he would not yield, either. + Perversely he waited for Cash to apologize for what he had said about + gamblers and drunkards, and tried to believe that upon Cash rested all of + the blame. + </p> + <p> + Now he washed his own breakfast dishes, including the frying pan, spread + the blankets smooth on his bunk, swept as much of the floor as lay upon + his side of the dead line. Because the wind was in the storm quarter and + the lowering clouds promised more snow, he carried in three big armfuls of + wood and placed them upon his corner of the fireplace, to provide warmth + when he returned. Cash would not touch that wood while Bud was gone, and + Bud knew it. Cash would freeze first. But there was small chance of that, + because a small, silent rivalry had grown from the quarrel; a rivalry to + see which kept the best supply of wood, which swept cleanest under his + bunk and up to the black line, which washed his dishes cleanest, and kept + his shelf in the cupboard the tidiest. Before the fireplace in an evening + Cash would put on wood, and when next it was needed, Bud would get up and + put on wood. Neither would stoop to stinting or to shirking, neither would + give the other an inch of ground for complaint. It was not enlivening to + live together that way, but it worked well toward keeping the cabin ship + shape. + </p> + <p> + So Bud, knowing that it was going to storm, and perhaps dreading a little + the long monotony of being housed with a man as stubborn as himself, + buttoned a coat over his gray, roughneck sweater, pulled a pair of + mail-order mittens over his mail-order gloves, stamped his feet into + heavy, three-buckled overshoes, and set out to tramp fifteen miles through + the snow, seeking the kind of pleasure which turns to pain with the + finding. + </p> + <p> + He knew that Cash, out by the woodpile, let the axe blade linger in the + cut while he stared after him. He knew that Cash would be lonesome without + him, whether Cash ever admitted it or not. He knew that Cash would be + passively anxious until he returned—for the months they had spent + together had linked them closer than either would confess. Like a married + couple who bicker and nag continually when together, but are miserable + when apart, close association had become a deeply grooved habit not easily + thrust aside. Cabin fever might grip them and impel them to absurdities + such as the dead line down the middle of their floor and the silence that + neither desired but both were too stubborn to break; but it could not + break the habit of being together. So Bud was perfectly aware of the fact + that he would be missed, and he was ill-humored enough to be glad of it. + Frank, if he met Bud that day, was likely to have his amiability tested to + its limit. + </p> + <p> + Bud tramped along through the snow, wishing it was not so deep, or else + deep enough to make snow-shoeing practicable in the timber; thinking too + of Cash and how he hoped Cash would get his fill of silence, and of Frank, + and wondering where he would find him. He had covered perhaps two miles of + the fifteen, and had walked off a little of his grouch, and had stopped to + unbutton his coat, when he heard the crunching of feet in the snow, just + beyond a thick clump of young spruce. + </p> + <p> + Bud was not particularly cautious, nor was he averse to meeting people in + the trail. He stood still though, and waited to see who was coming that + way—since travelers on that trail were few enough to be noticeable. + </p> + <p> + In a minute more a fat old squaw rounded the spruce grove and shied off + startled when she glimpsed Bud. Bud grunted and started on, and the squaw + stepped clear of the faintly defined trail to let him pass. Moreover, she + swung her shapeless body around so that she half faced him as he passed. + Bud's lips tightened, and he gave her only a glance. He hated fat old + squaws that were dirty and wore their hair straggling down over their + crafty, black eyes. They burlesqued womanhood in a way that stirred always + a smoldering resentment against them. This particular squaw had nothing to + commend her to his notice. She had a dirty red bandanna tied over her + dirty, matted hair and under her grimy double chin. A grimy gray blanket + was draped closely over her squat shoulders and formed a pouch behind, + wherein the plump form of a papoose was cradled, a little red cap pulled + down over its ears. + </p> + <p> + Bud strode on, his nose lifted at the odor of stale smoke that pervaded + the air as he passed. The squaw, giving him a furtive stare, turned and + started on, bent under her burden. + </p> + <p> + Then quite suddenly a wholly unexpected sound pursued Bud and halted him + in the trail; the high, insistent howl of a child that has been denied its + dearest desire of the moment. Bud looked back inquiringly. The squaw was + hurrying on, and but for the straightness of the trail just there, her fat + old canvas-wrapped legs would have carried her speedily out of sight. Of + course, papooses did yell once in awhile, Bud supposed, though he did not + remember ever hearing one howl like that on the trail. But what made the + squaw in such a deuce of a hurry all at once? + </p> + <p> + Bud's theory of her kind was simple enough: If they fled from you, it was + because they had stolen something and were afraid you would catch them at + it. He swung around forthwith in the trail and went after her—whereat + she waddled faster through the snow like a frightened duck. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! You come back here a minute! What's all the rush?” Bud's voice and + his long legs pursued, and presently he overtook her and halted her by the + simple expedient of grasping her shoulder firmly. The high-keyed howling + ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and Bud, peering under the rolled edge + of the red stocking cap, felt his jaw go slack with surprise. + </p> + <p> + The baby was smiling at him delightedly, with a quirk of the lips and a + twinkle lodged deep somewhere in its eyes. It worked one hand free of its + odorous wrappings, spread four fat fingers wide apart over one eye, and + chirped, “Pik-k?” and chuckled infectiously deep in its throat. + </p> + <p> + Bud gulped and stared and felt a warm rush of blood from his heart up into + his head. A white baby, with eyes that laughed, and quirky red lips that + laughed with the eyes, and a chuckling voice like that, riding on the back + of that old squaw, struck him dumb with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Good glory!” he blurted, as though the words had been jolted from him by + the shock. Where-upon the baby reached out its hand to him and said + haltingly, as though its lips had not yet grown really familiar with the + words: + </p> + <p> + “Take—Uvin—Chal!” + </p> + <p> + The squaw tried to jerk away, and Bud gave her a jerk to let her know who + was boss. “Say, where'd you git that kid?” he demanded aggressively. + </p> + <p> + She moved her wrapped feet uneasily in the snow, flickered a filmy, black + eyed glance at Bud's uncompromising face, and waved a dirty paw vaguely in + a wide sweep that would have kept a compass needle revolving if it tried + to follow and was not calculated to be particularly enlightening. + </p> + <p> + “Lo-ong ways,” she crooned, and her voice was the first attractive thing + Bud had discovered about her. It was pure melody, soft and pensive as the + cooing of a wood dove. + </p> + <p> + “Who belongs to it?” Bud was plainly suspicious. The shake of the squaw's + bandannaed head was more artfully vague than her gesture. “Don' know—modder + die—fadder die—ketchum long ways—off.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what's its name?” Bud's voice harshened with his growing interest + and bewilderment. The baby was again covering one twinkling eye with its + spread, pink palm, and was saying “Pik-k?” and laughing with the funniest + little squint to its nose that Bud had ever seen. It was so absolutely + demoralizing that to relieve himself Bud gave the squaw a shake. This + tickled the baby so much that the chuckle burst into a rollicking laugh, + with a catch of the breath after each crescendo tone that made it + absolutely individual and like none other—save one. + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” Bud bullied the squaw, though his eyes were on the + baby. + </p> + <p> + “Don't know!” + </p> + <p> + “Take—Uvin—Chal,” the baby demanded imperiously. + </p> + <p> + “Uh—uh—uh? Take!” + </p> + <p> + “Uvin Chal? Now what'd yuh mean by that, oletimer?” Bud obeyed an + overpowering impulse to reach out and touch the baby's cheek with a + mittened thumb. The baby responded instantly by again demanding that Bud + should take. + </p> + <p> + “Pik-k?” said Bud, a mitten over one eye. + </p> + <p> + “Pik-k?” said the baby, spreading his fat hand again and twinkling at Bud + between his fingers. But immediately afterwards it gave a little, piteous + whimper. “Take—Uvin Chal!” it beseeched Bud with voice and starlike + blue eyes together. “Take!” + </p> + <p> + There was that in the baby's tone, in the unbaby-like insistence of its + bright eyes, which compelled obedience. Bud had never taken a baby of that + age in his arms. He was always in fear of dropping it, or crushing it with + his man's strength, or something. He liked them—at a safe distance. + He would chuck one under the chin, or feel diffidently the soft little + cheek, but a closer familiarity scared him. Yet when this baby wriggled + its other arm loose and demanded him to take, Bud reached out and grasped + its plump little red-sweatered body firmly under the armpits and drew it + forth, squirming with eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell the world I don't blame yuh for wanting to git outa that + hog's nest,” said Bud, answering the baby's gleeful chuckle. + </p> + <p> + Freed from his detaining grip on her shoulder, the squaw ducked + unexpectedly and scuttled away down the trail as fast as her old legs + would carry her; which was surprisingly speedy for one of her bulk. Bud + had opened his mouth to ask her again where she had gotten that baby. He + left it open while he stared after her astonished until the baby put up a + hand over one of Bud's eyes and said “Pik-k?” with that distracting little + quirk at the corners of its lips. + </p> + <p> + “You son of a gun!” grinned Bud, in the tone that turned the epithet in to + a caress. “You dog gone little devil, you! Pik-k! then, if that's what you + want.” + </p> + <p> + The squaw had disappeared into the thick under growth, leaving a track + like a hippo in the snow. Bud could have overtaken her, of course, and he + could have made her take the baby back again. But he could not face the + thought of it. He made no move at all toward pursuit, but instead he + turned his face toward Alpine, with some vague intention of turning the + baby over to the hotel woman there and getting the authorities to hunt up + its parents. It was plain enough that the squaw had no right to it, else + she would not have run off like that. + </p> + <p> + Bud walked at least a rod toward Alpine before he swung short around in + his tracks and started the other way. “No, I'll be doggoned if I will!” he + said. “You can't tell about women, no time. She might spank the kid, or + something. Or maybe she wouldn't feed it enough. Anyway, it's too cold, + and it's going to storm pretty pronto. Hey! Yuh cold, old-timer?” + </p> + <p> + The baby whimpered a little and snuggled its face down against Bud's + chest. So Bud lifted his foot and scraped some snow off a nearby log, and + set the baby down there while he took off his coat and wrapped it around + him, buttoning it like a bag over arms and all. The baby watched him + knowingly, its eyes round and dark blue and shining, and gave a contented + little wriggle when Bud picked it up again in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Now you're all right till we get to where it's warm,” Bud assured it + gravely. “And we'll do some steppin', believe me. I guess maybe you ain't + any more crazy over that Injun smell on yuh, than what I am—and that + ain't any at all.” He walked a few steps farther before he added grimly, + “It'll be some jolt for Cash, doggone his skin. He'll about bust, I + reckon. But we don't give a darn. Let him bust if he wants to—half + the cabin's mine, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + So, talking a few of his thoughts aloud to the baby, that presently went + to sleep with its face against his shoulder, Bud tramped steadily through + the snow, carrying Lovin Child in his arms. No remote glimmer of the + wonderful thing Fate had done for him seeped into his consciousness, but + there was a new, warm glow in his heart—the warmth that came from a + child's unquestioning faith in his protecting tenderness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOURTEEN. CASH GETS A SHOCK + </h2> + <p> + It happened that Cash was just returning to the cabin from the Blind Ledge + claim. He met Bud almost at the doorstep, just as Bud was fumbling with + the latch, trying to open the door without moving Lovin Child in his arms. + Cash may or may not have been astonished. Certainly he did not betray by + more than one quick glance that he was interested in Bud's return or in + the mysterious burden he bore. He stepped ahead of Bud and opened the door + without a word, as if he always did it just in that way, and went inside. + </p> + <p> + Bud followed him in silence, stepped across the black line to his own side + of the room and laid Lovin Child carefully down so as not to waken him. He + unbuttoned the coat he had wrapped around him, pulled off the concealing + red cap and stared down at the pale gold, silky hair and the adorable + curve of the soft cheek and the lips with the dimples tricked in at the + corners; the lashes lying like the delicate strokes of an artist's pencil + under the closed eyes. For at least five minutes he stood without moving, + his whole face softened into a boyish wistfulness. By the stove Cash stood + and stared from Bud to the sleeping baby, his bushy eyebrows lifted, his + gray eyes a study of incredulous bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + Then Bud drew a long breath and seemed about to move away from the bank, + and Cash turned abruptly to the stove and lifted a rusty lid and peered + into the cold firebox, frowning as though he was expecting to see fire and + warmth where only a sprinkle of warm ashes remained. Stubbornness held him + mute and outwardly indifferent. He whittled shavings and started a fire in + the cook stove, filled the teakettle and set it on to boil, got out the + side of bacon and cut three slices, and never once looked toward the bunk. + Bud might have brought home a winged angel, or a rainbow, or a casket of + jewels, and Cash would not have permitted himself to show any human + interest. + </p> + <p> + But when Bud went teetering from the cabin on his toes to bring in some + pine cones they had saved for quick kindling, Cash craned his neck toward + the little bundle on the bunk. He saw a fat, warm little hand stir with + some baby dream. He listened and heard soft breathing that stopped just + short of being an infantile snore. He made an errand to his own bunk and + from there inspected the mystery at closer range. He saw a nose and a + little, knobby chin and a bit of pinkish forehead with the pale yellow of + hair above. He leaned and cocked his head to one side to see more—but + at that moment he heard Bud stamping off the snow from his feet on the + doorstep, and he took two long, noiseless strides to the dish cupboard and + was fumbling there with his back to the bunk when Bud came tiptoeing in. + </p> + <p> + Bud started a fire in the fireplace and heaped the dry limbs high. Cash + fried his bacon, made his tea, and set the table for his midday meal. Bud + waited for the baby to wake, looking at his watch every minute or two, and + making frequent cautious trips to the bunk, peeking and peering to see if + the child was all right. It seemed unnatural that it should sleep so long + in the daytime. No telling what that squaw had done to it; she might have + doped it or something. He thought the kid's face looked red, as if it had + fever, and he reached down and touched anxiously the hand that was + uncovered. The hand was warm—too warm, in Bud's opinion. It would be + just his luck if the kid got sick, he'd have to pack it clear in to Alpine + in his arms. Fifteen miles of that did not appeal to Bud, whose arms ached + after the two-mile trip with that solid little body lying at ease in the + cradle they made. + </p> + <p> + His back to that end of the room, Cash sat stiff-necked and stubbornly + speechless, and ate and drank as though he were alone in the cabin. + Whenever Bud's mind left Lovin Child long enough to think about it, he + watched Cash furtively for some sign of yielding, some softening of that + grim grudge. It seemed to him as though Cash was not human, or he would + show some signs of life when a live baby was brought to camp and laid down + right under his nose. + </p> + <p> + Cash finished and began washing his dishes, keeping his back turned toward + Bud and Bud's new possession, and trying to make it appear that he did so + unconsciously. He did not fool Bud for a minute. Bud knew that Cash was + nearly bursting with curiosity, and he had occasional fleeting impulses to + provoke Cash to speech of some sort. Perhaps Cash knew what was in Bud's + mind. At any rate he left the cabin and went out and chopped wood for an + hour, furiously raining chips into the snow. + </p> + <p> + When he went in with his arms piled full of cut wood, Bud had the baby + sitting on one corner of the table, and was feeding it bread and gravy as + the nearest approach to baby food he could think of. During occasional + interludes in the steady procession of bits of bread from the plate to the + baby's mouth, Lovin Child would suck a bacon rind which he held firmly + grasped in a greasy little fist. Now and then Bud would reach into his hip + pocket, pull out his handkerchief as a make-shift napkin, and would + carefully wipe the border of gravy from the baby's mouth, and stuff the + handkerchief back into his pocket again. + </p> + <p> + Both seemed abominably happy and self-satisfied. Lovin Child kicked his + heels against the rough table frame and gurgled unintelligible + conversation whenever he was able to articulate sounds. Bud replied with a + rambling monologue that implied a perfect understanding of Lovin Child's + talk—and incidentally doled out information for Cash's benefit. + </p> + <p> + Cash cocked an eye at the two as he went by, threw the wood down on his + side of the hearth, and began to replenish the fire. If he heard, he gave + no sign of understanding or interest. + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet that old squaw musta half starved yah,” Bud addressed the baby + while he spooned gravy out of a white enamel bowl on to the second slice + of bread. “You're putting away grub like a nigger at a barbecue. I'll tell + the world I don't know what woulda happened if I hadn't run across yuh and + made her hand yuh over.” + </p> + <p> + “Ja—ja—ja—jah!” said Lovin Child, nodding his head and + regarding Bud with the twinkle in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And that's where you're dead right, Boy. I sure do wish you'd tell me + your name; but I reckon that's too much to ask of a little geezer like + you. Here. Help yourself, kid—you ain't in no Injun camp now. You're + with white folks now.” + </p> + <p> + Cash sat down on the bench he had made for himself, and stared into the + fire. His whole attitude spelled abstraction; nevertheless he missed no + little sound behind him. + </p> + <p> + He knew that Bud was talking largely for his benefit, and he knew that + here was the psychological time for breaking the spell of silence between + them. Yet he let the minutes slip past and would not yield. The quarrel + had been of Bud's making in the first place. Let Bud do the yielding, make + the first step toward amity. + </p> + <p> + But Bud had other things to occupy him just then. Having eaten all his + small stomach would hold, Lovin Child wanted to get down and explore. Bud + had other ideas, but they did not seem to count for much with Lovin Child, + who had an insistent way that was scarcely to be combated or ignored. + </p> + <p> + “But listen here, Boy!” Bud protested, after he had for the third time + prevented Lovin Child from backing off the table. “I was going to take off + these dirty duds and wash some of the Injun smell off yuh. I'll tell a + waiting world you need a bath, and your clothes washed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh, ugh, ugh,” persisted Lovin Child, and pointed to the floor. + </p> + <p> + So Bud sighed and made a virtue of defeat. “Oh, well, they say it's bad + policy to take a bath right after yuh eat. We'll let it ride awhile, but + you sure have got to be scrubbed a plenty before you can crawl in with me, + old-timer,” he said, and set him down on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child went immediately about the business that seemed most + important. He got down on his hands and knees and gravely inspected the + broad black line, hopefully testing it with tongue and with fingers to see + if it would yield him anything in the way of flavor or stickiness. It did + not. It had been there long enough to be thoroughly dry and tasteless. He + got up, planted both feet on it and teetered back and forth, chuckling up + at Bud with his eyes squinted. + </p> + <p> + He teetered so enthusiastically that he sat down unexpectedly and with + much emphasis. That put him between two impulses, and while they battled + he stared round-eyed at Bud. But he decided not to cry, and straightway + turned himself into a growly bear and went down the line on all fours + toward Cash, growling “Ooooooo!” as fearsomely as his baby throat was + capable of growling. + </p> + <p> + But Cash would not be scared. He refused absolutely to jump up and back + off in wild-eyed terror, crying out “Ooh! Here comes a bear!” the way + Marie had always done—the way every one had always done, when Lovin + Child got down and came at them growling. Cash sat rigid with his face to + the fire, and would not look. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child crawled all around him and growled his terriblest. For some + unexplainable reason it did not work. Cash sat stiff as though he had + turned to some insensate metal. From where he sat watching—curious + to see what Cash would do—Bud saw him flinch and stiffen as a man + does under pain. And because Bud had a sore spot in his own heart, Bud + felt a quick stab of understanding and sympathy. Cash Markham's past could + not have been a blank; more likely it held too much of sorrow for the + salve of speech to lighten its hurt. There might have been a child.... + </p> + <p> + “Aw, come back here!” Bud commanded Lovin Child gruffly. + </p> + <p> + But Lovin Child was too busy. He had discovered in his circling of Cash, + the fanny buckles on Cash's high overshoes. He was investigating them as + he had investigated the line, with fingers and with pink tongue, like a + puppy. From the lowest buckle he went on to the top one, where Cash's + khaki trousers were tucked inside with a deep fold on top. Lovin Child's + small forefinger went sliding up in the mysterious recesses of the fold + until they reached the flat surface of the knee. He looked up farther, + studying Cash's set face, sitting back on his little heels while he did + so. Cash tried to keep on staring into the fire, but in spite of himself + his eyes lowered to meet the upward look. + </p> + <p> + “Pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child, spreading his fingers over one eye and + twinkling up at Cash with the other. + </p> + <p> + Cash flinched again, wavered, swallowed twice, and got up so abruptly that + Lovin Child sat down again with a plunk. Cash muttered something in his + throat and rushed out into the wind and the slow-falling tiny white flakes + that presaged the storm. + </p> + <p> + Until the door slammed shut Lovin Child looked after him, scowling, his + eyes a blaze of resentment. He brought his palms together with a vicious + slap, leaned over, and bumped his forehead deliberately and painfully upon + the flat rock hearth, and set up a howl that could have been heard for + three city blocks. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN. AND BUD NEVER GUESSED + </h2> + <p> + That night, when he had been given a bath in the little zinc tub they used + for washing clothes, and had been carefully buttoned inside a clean + undershirt of Bud's, for want of better raiment, Lovin Child missed + something out of his sleepytime cudding. He wanted Marie, and he did not + know how to make his want known to this big, tender, awkward man who had + befriended him and filled his thoughts till bedtime. He began to whimper + and look seekingly around the little cabin. The whimper grew to a cry + which Bud's rude rocking back and forth on the box before the fireplace + could not still. + </p> + <p> + “M'ee—take!” wailed Lovin Child, sitting up and listening. “M'ee + take—Uvin Chal!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, now, you don't wanta go and act like that. Listen here, Boy. You lay + down here and go to sleep. You can search me for what it is you're trying + to say, but I guess you want your mama, maybe, or your bottle, chances + are. Aw, looky!” Bud pulled his watch from his pocket—a man's + infallible remedy for the weeping of infant charges—and dangled it + anxiously before Lovin Child. + </p> + <p> + With some difficulty he extracted the small hands from the long limp + tunnels of sleeves, and placed the watch in the eager fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to the tick-tick! Aw, I wouldn't bite into it... oh, well, darn + it, if nothing else'll do yuh, why, eat it up!” + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child stopped crying and condescended to take a languid interest in + the watch—which had a picture of Marie pasted inside the back of the + case, by the way. “Ee?” he inquired, with a pitiful little catch in his + breath, and held it up for Bud to see the busy little second hand. “Ee?” + he smiled tearily and tried to show Cash, sitting aloof on his bench + beside the head of his bunk and staring into the fire. But Cash gave no + sign that he heard or saw anything save the visions his memory was + conjuring in the dancing flames. + </p> + <p> + “Lay down, now, like a good boy, and go to sleep,” Bud wheedled. “You can + hold it if you want to—only don't drop it on the floor—here! + Quit kickin' your feet out like that! You wanta freeze? I'll tell the + world straight, it's plumb cold and snaky outside to-night, and you're + pretty darn lucky to be here instead of in some Injun camp where you'd + have to bed down with a mess of mangy dogs, most likely. Come on, now—lay + down like a good boy!” + </p> + <p> + “M'ee! M'ee take!” teased Lovin Child, and wept again; steadily, + insistently, with a monotonous vigor that rasped Bud's nerves and nagged + him with a vague memory of something familiar and unpleasant. He rocked + his body backward and forward, and frowned while he tried to lay hold of + the memory. It was the high-keyed wailing of this same man-child wanting + his bottle, but it eluded Bud completely. There was a tantalizing sense of + familiarity with the sound, but the lungs and the vocal chords of Lovin + Child had developed amazingly in two years, and he had lost the + small-infant wah-hah. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not remember, bat for all that his thoughts went back across those + two years and clung to his own baby, and he wished poignantly that he knew + how it was getting along; and wondered if it had grown to be as big a + handful as this youngster, and how Marie would handle the emergency he was + struggling with now: a lost, lonesome baby boy that would not go to sleep + and could not tell why. + </p> + <p> + Yet Lovin Child was answering every one of Bud's mute questions. Lying + there in his “Daddy Bud's” arms, wrapped comically in his Daddy Bud's + softest undershirt, Lovin Child was proving to his Daddy Bud that his own + man-child was strong and beautiful and had a keen little brain behind + those twinkling blue eyes. He was telling why he cried. He wanted Marie to + take him and rock him to sleep, just as she had rocked him to sleep every + night of his young memory, until that time when he had toddled out of her + life and into a new and peculiar world that held no Marie. + </p> + <p> + By and by he slept, still clinging to the watch that had Marie's picture + in the back. When he was all limp and rosy and breathing softly against + Bud's heart, Bud tiptoed over to the bunk, reached down inconveniently + with one hand and turned back the blankets, and laid Lovin Child in his + bed and covered him carefully. On his bench beyond the dead line Cash sat + leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and sucked at a pipe gone + cold, and stared abstractedly into the fire. + </p> + <p> + Bud looked at him sitting there. For the first time since their trails had + joined, he wondered what Cash was thinking about; wondered with a new kind + of sympathy about Cash's lonely life, that held no ties, no warmth of + love. For the first time it struck him as significant that in the two + years, almost, of their constant companionship, Cash's reminiscences had + stopped abruptly about fifteen years back. Beyond that he never went, save + now and then when he jumped a space, to the time when he was a boy. Of + what dark years lay between, Bud had never been permitted a glimpse. + </p> + <p> + “Some kid—that kid,” Bud observed involuntarily, for the first time + in over three weeks speaking when he was not compelled to speak to Cash. + “I wish I knew where he came from. He wants his mother.” + </p> + <p> + Cash stirred a little, like a sleeper only half awakened. But he did not + reply, and Bud gave an impatient snort, tiptoed over and picked up the + discarded clothes of Lovin Child, that held still a faint odor of wood + smoke and rancid grease, and, removing his shoes that he might move + silently, went to work. + </p> + <p> + He washed Lovin Child's clothes, even to the red sweater suit and the + fuzzy red “bunny” cap. He rigged a line before the fireplace—on his + side of the dead line, to be sure—hung the little garments upon it + and sat up to watch the fire while they dried. + </p> + <p> + While he rubbed and rinsed and wrung and hung to dry, he had planned the + details of taking the baby to Alpine and placing it in good hands there + until its parents could be found. It was stolen, he had no doubt at all. + He could picture quite plainly the agony of the parents, and common + humanity imposed upon him the duty of shortening their misery as much as + possible. But one day of the baby's presence he had taken, with the excuse + that it needed immediate warmth and wholesome food. His conscience did not + trouble him over that short delay, for he was honest enough in his + intentions and convinced that he had done the right thing. + </p> + <p> + Cash had long ago undressed and gone to bed, turning his back to the warm, + fire-lighted room and pulling the blankets up to his ears. He either slept + or pretended to sleep, Bud did not know which. Of the baby's healthy + slumber there was no doubt at all. Bud put on his overshoes and went + outside after more wood, so that there would be no delay in starting the + fire in the morning and having the cabin warm before the baby woke. + </p> + <p> + It was snowing fiercely, and the wind was biting cold. Already the + woodpile was drifted under, so that Bud had to go back and light the + lantern and hang it on a nail in the cabin wall before he could make any + headway at shovelling off the heaped snow and getting at the wood beneath. + He worked hard for half an hour, and carried in all the wood that had been + cut. He even piled Cash's end of the hearth high with the surplus, after + his own side was heaped full. + </p> + <p> + A storm like that meant that plenty of fuel would be needed to keep the + cabin snug and warm, and he was thinking of the baby's comfort now, and + would not be hampered by any grudge. + </p> + <p> + When he had done everything he could do that would add to the baby's + comfort, he folded the little garments and laid them on a box ready for + morning. Then, moving carefully, he crawled into the bed made warm by the + little body. Lovin Child, half wakened by the movement, gave a little + throaty chuckle, murmured “M'ee,” and threw one fat arm over Bud's neck + and left it there. + </p> + <p> + “Gawd,” Bud whispered in a swift passion of longing, “I wish you was my + own kid!” He snuggled Lovin Child close in his arms and held him there, + and stared dim-eyed at the flickering shadows on the wall. What he + thought, what visions filled his vigil, who can say? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE ANTIDOTE + </h2> + <p> + Three days it stormed with never a break, stormed so that the men dreaded + the carrying of water from the spring that became ice-rimmed but never + froze over; that clogged with sodden masses of snow half melted and sent + faint wisps of steam up into the chill air. Cutting wood was an ordeal, + every armload an achievement. Cash did not even attempt to visit his trap + line, but sat before the fire smoking or staring into the flames, or + pottered about the little domestic duties that could not half fill the + days. + </p> + <p> + With melted snow water, a bar of yellow soap, and one leg of an old pair + of drawers, he scrubbed on his knees the floor on his side of the dead + line, and tried not to notice Lovin Child. He failed only because Lovin + Child refused to be ignored, but insisted upon occupying the immediate + foreground and in helping—much as he had helped Marie pack her suit + case one fateful afternoon not so long before. + </p> + <p> + When Lovin Child was not permitted to dabble in the pan of soapy water, he + revenged himself by bringing Cash's mitten and throwing that in, and + crying “Ee? Ee?” with a shameless delight because it sailed round and + round until Cash turned and saw it, and threw it out. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” Lovin Child admonished himself gravely, and got it and threw + it back again. + </p> + <p> + Cash did not say anything. Indeed, he hid a grin under his thick, curling + beard which he had grown since the first frost as a protection against + cold. He picked up the mitten and laid it to dry on the slab mantel, and + when he returned, Lovin Child was sitting in the pan, rocking back and + forth and crooning “'Ock-a-by! 'Ock-a-by!” with the impish twinkle in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Cash was just picking him out of the pan when Bud came in with a load of + wood. Bud hastily dropped the wood, and without a word Cash handed Lovin + Child across the dead line, much as he would have handed over a wet puppy. + Without a word Bud took him, but the quirky smile hid at the corners of + his mouth, and under Cash's beard still lurked the grin. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” Lovin Child kept repeating smugly, all the while Bud was + stripping off his wet clothes and chucking him into the undershirt he wore + for a nightgown, and trying a man's size pair of socks on his legs. + </p> + <p> + “I should say no-no-no! You doggone little rascal, I'd rather herd a flea + on a hot plate! I've a plumb good notion to hog-tie yuh for awhile. Can't + trust yuh a minute nowhere. Now look what you got to wear while your + clothes dry!” + </p> + <p> + “Ee? Ee?” invited Lovin Child, gleefully holding up a muffled little foot + lost in the depths of Bud's sock. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see, all right! I'll tell the world I see you're a doggone + nuisance! Now see if you can keep outa mischief till I get the wood + carried in.” Bud set him down on the bunk, gave him a mail-order catalogue + to look at, and went out again into the storm. When he came back, Lovin + Child was sitting on the hearth with the socks off, and was picking bits + of charcoal from the ashes and crunching them like candy in his small, + white teeth. Cash was hurrying to finish his scrubbing before the charcoal + gave out, and was keeping an eye on the crunching to see that Lovin Child + did not get a hot ember. + </p> + <p> + “H'yah! You young imp!” Bud shouted, stubbing his toe as he hurried + forward. “Watcha think you are—a fire-eater, for gosh sake?” + </p> + <p> + Cash bent his head low—it may have been to hide a chuckle. Bud was + having his hands full with the kid, and he was trying to be stern against + the handicap of a growing worship of Lovin Child and all his little ways. + Now Lovin Child was all over ashes, and the clean undershirt was clean no + longer, after having much charcoal rubbed into its texture. Bud was not + overstocked with clothes; much traveling had formed the habit of buying as + he needed for immediate use. With Lovin Child held firmly under one arm, + where he would be sure of him, he emptied his “war-bag” on the bunk and + hunted out another shirt + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child got a bath, that time, because of the ashes he had managed to + gather on his feet and his hands and his head. Bud was patient, and Lovin + Child was delightedly unrepentant—until he was buttoned into another + shirt of Bud's, and the socks were tied on him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, doggone yuh, I'm goin' to stake you out, or hobble yuh, or some darn + thing, till I get that wood in!” he thundered, with his eyes laughing. + “You want to freeze? Hey? Now you're goin' to stay right on this bunk till + I get through, because I'm goin' to tie yuh on. You may holler—but + you little son of a gun, you'll stay safe!” + </p> + <p> + So Bud tied him, with a necktie around his body for a belt, and a strap + fastened to that and to a stout nail in the wall over the bunk. And Lovin + Child, when he discovered that it was not a new game but instead a check + upon his activities, threw himself on his back and held his breath until + he was purple, and then screeched with rage. + </p> + <p> + I don't suppose Bud ever carried in wood so fast in his life. He might as + well have taken his time, for Lovin Child was in one of his fits of + temper, the kind that his grandmother invariably called his father's + cussedness coming out in him. He howled for an hour and had both men + nearly frantic before he suddenly stopped and began to play with the + things he had scorned before to touch; the things that had made him bow + his back and scream when they were offered to him hopefully. + </p> + <p> + Bud, his sleeves rolled up, his hair rumpled and the perspiration standing + thick on his forehead, stood over him with his hands on his hips, the + picture of perturbed helplessness. + </p> + <p> + “You doggone little devil!” he breathed, his mind torn between amusement + and exasperation. “If you was my own kid, I'd spank yuh! But,” he added + with a little chuckle, “if you was my own kid, I'd tell the world you come + by that temper honestly. Darned if I wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + Cash, sitting dejected on the side of his own bunk, lifted his head, and + after that his hawklike brows, and stared from the face of Bud to the face + of Lovin Child. For the first time he was struck with the resemblance + between the two. The twinkle in the eyes, the quirk of the lips, the shape + of the forehead and, emphasizing them all, the expression of having a + secret joke, struck him with a kind of shock. If it were possible... But, + even in the delirium of fever, Bud had never hinted that he had a child, + or a wife even. He had firmly planted in Cash's mind the impression that + his life had never held any close ties whatsoever. So, lacking the clue, + Cash only wondered and did not suspect. + </p> + <p> + What most troubled Cash was the fact that he had unwittingly caused all + the trouble for Lovin Child. He should not have tried to scrub the floor + with the kid running loose all over the place. As a slight token of his + responsibility in the matter, he watched his chance when Bud was busy at + the old cookstove, and tossed a rabbit fur across to Lovin Child to play + with; a risky thing to do, since he did not know what were Lovin Child's + little peculiarities in the way of receiving strange gifts. But he was + lucky. Lovin Child was enraptured with the soft fur and rubbed it over his + baby cheeks and cooed to it and kissed it, and said “Ee? Ee?” to Cash, + which was reward enough. + </p> + <p> + There was a strained moment when Bud came over and discovered what it was + he was having so much fun with. Having had three days of experience by + which to judge, he jumped to the conclusion that Lovin Child had been in + mischief again. + </p> + <p> + “Now what yuh up to, you little scallywag?” he demanded. “How did you get + hold of that? Consarn your little hide, Boy...” + </p> + <p> + “Let the kid have it,” Cash muttered gruffly. “I gave it to him.” He got + up abruptly and went outside, and came in with wood for the cookstove, and + became exceedingly busy, never once looking toward the other end of the + room, where Bud was sprawled upon his back on the bunk, with Lovin Child + astride his middle, having a high old time with a wonderful new game of + “bronk riding.” + </p> + <p> + Now and then Bud would stop bucking long enough to slap Lovin Child in the + face with the soft side of the rabbit fur, and Lovin Child would squint + his eyes and wrinkle his nose and laugh until he seemed likely to choke. + Then Bud would cry, “Ride 'im, Boy! Ride 'im an' scratch 'im. Go get 'im, + cowboy—he's your meat!” and would bounce Lovin Child till he + squealed with glee. + </p> + <p> + Cash tried to ignore all that. Tried to keep his back to it. But he was + human, and Bud was changed so completely in the last three days that Cash + could scarcely credit his eyes and his ears. The old surly scowl was gone + from Bud's face, his eyes held again the twinkle. Cash listened to the + whoops, the baby laughter, the old, rodeo catch-phrases, and grinned while + he fried his bacon. + </p> + <p> + Presently Bud gave a whoop, forgetting the feud in his play. “Lookit, + Cash! He's ridin' straight up and whippin' as he rides! He's so-o-me + bronk-fighter, buh-lieve me!” + </p> + <p> + Cash turned and looked, grinned and turned away again—but only to + strip the rind off a fresh-fried slice of bacon the full width of the + piece. He came down the room on his own side the dead line, and tossed the + rind across to the bunk. + </p> + <p> + “Quirt him with that, Boy,” he grunted, “and then you can eat it if you + want.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN + </h2> + <p> + On the fourth day Bud's conscience pricked him into making a sort of + apology to Cash, under the guise of speaking to Lovin Child, for still + keeping the baby in camp. + </p> + <p> + “I've got a blame good notion to pack you to town to-day, Boy, and try and + find out where you belong,” he said, while he was feeding him oatmeal mush + with sugar and canned milk. “It's pretty cold, though...” He cast a + slant-eyed glance at Cash, dourly frying his own hotcakes. “We'll see what + it looks like after a while. I sure have got to hunt up your folks soon as + I can. Ain't I, old-timer?” + </p> + <p> + That salved his conscience a little, and freed him of the uneasy + conviction that Cash believed him a kidnapper. The weather did the rest. + An hour after breakfast, just when Bud was downheartedly thinking he could + not much longer put off starting without betraying how hard it was going + to be for him to give up the baby, the wind shifted the clouds and herded + them down to the Big Mountain and held them there until they began to sift + snow down upon the burdened pines. + </p> + <p> + “Gee, it's going to storm again!” Bud blustered in. “It'll be snowing like + all git-out in another hour. I'll tell a cruel world I wouldn't take a dog + out such weather as this. Your folks may be worrying about yuh, Boy, but + they ain't going to climb my carcass for packing yuh fifteen miles in a + snow-storm and letting yuh freeze, maybe. I guess the cabin's big enough + to hold yuh another day—what?” + </p> + <p> + Cash lifted his eyebrows and pinched in his lips under his beard. It did + not seem to occur to Bud that one of them could stay in the cabin with the + baby while the other carried to Alpine the news of the baby's whereabouts + and its safety. Or if it did occur to Bud, he was careful not to consider + it a feasible plan. Cash wondered if Bud thought he was pulling the wool + over anybody's eyes. Bud did not want to give up that kid, and he was + tickled to death because the storm gave him an excuse for keeping it. Cash + was cynically amused at Bud's transparency. But the kid was none of his + business, and he did not intend to make any suggestions that probably + would not be taken anyway. Let Bud pretend he was anxious to give up the + baby, if that made him feel any better about it. + </p> + <p> + That day went merrily to the music of Lovin Child's chuckling laugh and + his unintelligible chatter. Bud made the discovery that “Boy” was trying + to say Lovin Child when he wanted to be taken and rocked, and declared + that he would tell the world the name fit, like a saddle on a duck's back. + Lovin Child discovered Cash's pipe, and was caught sucking it before the + fireplace and mimicking Cash's meditative pose with a comical exactness + that made Bud roar. Even Cash was betrayed into speaking a whole sentence + to Bud before he remembered his grudge. Taken altogether, it was a day of + fruitful pleasure in spite of the storm outside. + </p> + <p> + That night the two men sat before the fire and watched the flames and + listened to the wind roaring in the pines. On his side of the dead line + Bud rocked his hard-muscled, big body back and forth, cradling Lovin Child + asleep in his arms. In one tender palm he nested Lovin Child's little bare + feet, like two fat, white mice that slept together after a day's + scampering. + </p> + <p> + Bud was thinking, as he always thought nowadays, of Marie and his own boy; + yearning, tender thoughts which his clumsy man's tongue would never + attempt to speak. Before, he had thought of Marie alone, without the baby; + but he had learned much, these last four days. He knew now how closely a + baby can creep in and cling, how they can fill the days with joy. He knew + how he would miss Lovin Child when the storm cleared and he must take him + away. It did not seem right or just that he should give him into the + keeping of strangers—and yet he must until the parents could have + him back. The black depths of their grief to-night Bud could not bring + himself to contemplate. Bad enough to forecast his own desolateness when + Lovin Child was no longer romping up and down the dead line, looking where + he might find some mischief to get into. Bad enough to know that the cabin + would again be a place of silence and gloom and futile resentments over + little things, with no happy little man-child to brighten it. He crept + into his bunk that night and snuggled the baby up in his arms, a miserable + man with no courage left in him for the future. + </p> + <p> + But the next day it was still storming, and colder than ever. No one would + expect him to take a baby out in such weather. So Bud whistled and romped + with Lovin Child, and would not worry about what must happen when the + storm was past. + </p> + <p> + All day Cash brooded before the fire, bundled in his mackinaw and sweater. + He did not even smoke, and though he seemed to feel the cold abnormally, + he did not bring in any wood except in the morning, but let Bud keep the + fireplace going with his own generous supply. He did not eat any dinner, + and at supper time he went to bed with all the clothes he possessed piled + on top of him. By all these signs, Bud knew that Cash had a bad cold. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not think much about it at first—being of the sturdy type + that makes light of a cold. But when Cash began to cough with that hoarse, + racking sound that tells the tale of laboring lungs, Bud began to feel + guiltily that he ought to do something about it. + </p> + <p> + He hushed Lovin Child's romping, that night, and would not let him ride a + bronk at bedtime. When he was asleep, Bud laid him down and went over to + the supply cupboard, which he had been obliged to rearrange with + everything except tin cans placed on shelves too high for a two-year-old + to reach even when he stood on his tiptoes and grunted. He hunted for the + small bottle of turpentine, found it and mixed some with melted bacon + grease, and went over to Cash's bunk, hesitating before he crossed the + dead line, but crossing nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + Cash seemed to be asleep, but his breathing sounded harsh and unnatural, + and his hand, lying uncovered on the blanket, clenched and unclenched + spasmodically. Bud watched him for a minute, holding the cup of grease and + turpentine in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he began constrainedly, and waited. Cash muttered something and + moved his hand irritatedly, without opening his eyes. Bud tried again. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you better swab your chest with this dope. Can't monkey with a cold, + such weather as this.” + </p> + <p> + Cash opened his eyes, gave the log wall a startled look, and swung his + glance to Bud. “Yeah—I'm all right,” he croaked, and proved his + statement wrong by coughing violently. + </p> + <p> + Bud set down the cup on a box, laid hold of Cash by the shoulders and + forced him on his back. With movements roughly gentle he opened Cash's + clothing at the throat, exposed his hairy chest, and poured on grease + until it ran in a tiny rivulets. He reached in and rubbed the grease + vigorously with the palm of his hand, giving particular attention to the + surface over the bronchial tubes. When he was satisfied that Cash's skin + could absorb no more, he turned him unceremoniously on his face and + repeated his ministrations upon Cash's shoulders. Then he rolled him back, + buttoned his shirts for him, and tramped heavily back to the table. + </p> + <p> + “I don't mind seeing a man play the mule when he's well,” he grumbled, + “but he's got a right to call it a day when he gits down sick. I ain't + going to be bothered burying no corpses, in weather like this. I'll tell + the world I ain't!” + </p> + <p> + He went searching on all the shelves for something more that he could give + Cash. He found a box of liver pills, a bottle of Jamaica ginger, and some + iodine—not an encouraging array for a man fifteen miles of untrodden + snow from the nearest human habitation. He took three of the liver pills—judging + them by size rather than what might be their composition—and a cup + of water to Cash and commanded him to sit up and swallow them. When this + was accomplished, Bud felt easier as to his conscience, though he was + still anxious over the possibilities in that cough. + </p> + <p> + Twice in the night he got up to put more wood on the fire and to stand + beside Cash's bed and listen to his breathing. Pneumonia, the strong man's + deadly foe, was what he feared. In his cow-punching days he had seen men + die of it before a doctor could be brought from the far-away town. Had he + been alone with Cash, he would have fought his way to town and brought + help, but with Lovin Child to care for he could not take the trail. + </p> + <p> + At daylight Cash woke him by stumbling across the floor to the water + bucket. Bud arose then and swore at him for a fool and sent him back to + bed, and savagely greased him again with the bacon grease and turpentine. + He was cheered a little when Cash cussed back, but he did not like the + sound of his voice, for all that, and so threatened mildly to brain him if + he got out of bed again without wrapping a blanket or something around + him. + </p> + <p> + Thoroughly awakened by this little exchange of civilities, Bud started a + fire in the stove and made coffee for Cash, who drank half a cup quite + meekly. He still had that tearing cough, and his voice was no more than a + croak; but he seemed no worse than he had been the night before. So on the + whole Bud considered the case encouraging, and ate his breakfast an hour + or so earlier than usual. Then he went out and chopped wood until he heard + Lovin Child chirping inside the cabin like a bug-hunting meadow lark, when + he had to hurry in before Lovin Child crawled off the bunk and got into + some mischief. + </p> + <p> + For a man who was wintering in what is called enforced idleness in a + snow-bound cabin in the mountains, Bud Moore did not find the next few + days hanging heavily on his hands. Far from it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES + </h2> + <p> + To begin with, Lovin Child got hold of Cash's tobacco can and was feeding + it by small handfuls to the flames, when Bud caught him. He yelled when + Bud took it away, and bumped his head on the floor and yelled again, and + spatted his hands together and yelled, and threw himself on his back and + kicked and yelled; while Bud towered over him and yelled expostulations + and reprimands and cajolery that did not cajole. + </p> + <p> + Cash turned over with a groan, his two palms pressed against his splitting + head, and hoarsely commanded the two to shut up that infernal noise. He + was a sick man. He was a very sick man, and he had stood the limit. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up?” Bud shouted above the din of Lovin Child. “Ain't I trying to + shut him up, for gosh sake? What d'yuh want me to do?—let him throw + all the tobacco you got into the fire? Here, you young imp, quit that, + before I spank you! Quick, now—we've had about enough outa you! You + lay down there, Cash, and quit your croaking. You'll croak right, if you + don't keep covered up. Hey, Boy! My jumpin' yellow-jackets, you'd drown a + Klakon till you couldn't hear it ten feet! Cash, you old fool, you shut + up, I tell yuh, or I'll come over there and shut you up! I'll tell the + world—Boy! Good glory! shut up-p!” + </p> + <p> + Cash was a sick man, but he had not lost all his resourcefulness. He had + stopped Lovin Child once, and thereby he had learned a little of the + infantile mind. He had a coyote skin on the foot of his bed, and he raised + himself up and reached for it as one reaches for a fire extinguisher. Like + a fire extinguisher he aimed it, straight in the middle of the uproar. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child, thumping head and heels regularly on the floor and + punctuating the thumps with screeches, was extinguished—suddenly, + completely silenced by the muffling fur that fell from the sky, so far as + he knew. The skin covered him completely. Not a sound came from under it. + The stillness was so absolute that Bud was scared, and so was Cash, a + little. It was as though Lovin Child, of a demon one instant, was in the + next instant snuffed out of existence. + </p> + <p> + “What yuh done?” Bud ejaculated, rolling wild eyes at Cash. “You—” + </p> + <p> + The coyote skin rattled a little. A fluff of yellow, a spark of blue, and + “Pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child from under the edge, and ducked back again + out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Bud sat down weakly on a box and shook his head slowly from one side to + the other. “You've got me going south,” he made solemn confession to the + wobbling skin—or to what it concealed. “I throw up my hands, I'll + tell the world fair.” He got up and went over and sat down on his bunk, + and rested his hands on his knees, and considered the problem of Lovin + Child. + </p> + <p> + “Here I've got wood to cut and water to bring and grub to cook, and I + can't do none of them because I've got to ride herd on you every minute. + You've got my goat, kid, and that's the truth. You sure have. Yes, + 'Pik-k,' doggone yuh—after me going crazy with yuh, just about, and + thinking you're about to blow your radiator cap plumb up through the roof! + I'll tell yuh right here and now, this storm has got to let up pretty + quick so I can pack you outa here, or else I've got to pen you up somehow, + so I can do something besides watch you. Look at the way you scattered + them beans, over there by the cupboard! By rights I oughta stand over yuh + and make yuh pick every one of 'em up! and who was it drug all the ashes + outa the stove, I'd like to know?” + </p> + <p> + The coyote skin lifted a little and moved off toward the fireplace, + growling “Ooo-ooo-ooo!” like a bear—almost. Bud rescued the bear a + scant two feet from the flames, and carried fur, baby and all, to the + bunk. “My good lord, what's a fellow going to do with yuh?” he groaned in + desperation. “Burn yourself up, you would! I can see now why folks keep + their kids corralled in high chairs and gocarts all the time. They got to, + or they wouldn't have no kids.” + </p> + <p> + Bud certainly was learning a few things that he had come near to skipping + altogether in his curriculum of life. Speaking of high chairs, whereof he + had thought little enough in his active life, set him seriously to + considering ways and means. Weinstock-Lubin had high chairs listed in + their catalogue. Very nice high chairs, for one of which Bud would have + paid its weight in gold dust (if one may believe his word) if it could + have been set down in that cabin at that particular moment. He studied the + small cuts of the chairs, holding Lovin Child off the page by main + strength the while. Wishing one out of the catalogue and into the room + being impracticable, he went after the essential features, thinking to + make one that would answer the purpose. + </p> + <p> + Accustomed as he was to exercising his inventive faculty in overcoming + certain obstacles raised by the wilderness in the path of comfort, Bud + went to work with what tools he had, and with the material closest to his + hand. Crude tools they were, and crude materials—like using a + Stilson wrench to adjust a carburetor, he told Lovin Child who tagged him + up and down the cabin. An axe, a big jack-knife, a hammer and some nails + left over from building their sluice boxes, these were the tools. He took + the axe first, and having tied Lovin Child to the leg of his bunk for + safety's sake, he went out and cut down four young oaks behind the cabin, + lopped off the branches and brought them in for chair legs. He emptied a + dynamite box of odds and ends, scrubbed it out and left it to dry while he + mounted the four legs, with braces of the green oak and a skeleton frame + on top. Then he knocked one end out of the box, padded the edges of the + box with burlap, and set Lovin Child in his new high chair. + </p> + <p> + He was tempted to call Cash's attention to his handiwork, but Cash was too + sick to be disturbed, even if the atmosphere between them had been clear + enough for easy converse. So he stifled the impulse and addressed himself + to Lovin Child, which did just as well. + </p> + <p> + Things went better after that. Bud could tie the baby in the chair, give + him a tin cup and a spoon and a bacon rind, and go out to the woodpile + feeling reasonably certain that the house would not be set afire during + his absence. He could cook a meal in peace, without fear of stepping on + the baby. And Cash could lie as close as he liked to the edge of the bed + without running the risk of having his eyes jabbed with Lovin Child's + finger, or something slapped unexpectedly in his face. + </p> + <p> + He needed protection from slight discomforts while he lay there eaten with + fever, hovering so close to pneumonia that Bud believed he really had it + and watched over him nights as well as daytimes. The care he gave Cash was + not, perhaps, such as the medical profession would have endorsed, but it + was faithful and it made for comfort and so aided Nature more than it + hindered. + </p> + <p> + Fair weather came, and days of melting snow. But they served only to + increase Bud's activities at the woodpile and in hunting small game close + by, while Lovin Child took his nap and Cash was drowsing. Sometimes he + would bundle the baby in an extra sweater and take him outside and let him + wallow in the snow while Bud cut wood and piled it on the sheltered side + of the cabin wall, a reserve supply to draw on in an emergency. + </p> + <p> + It may have been the wet snow—more likely it was the cabin air + filled with germs of cold. Whatever it was, Lovin Child caught cold and + coughed croupy all one night, and fretted and would not sleep. Bud + anointed him as he had anointed Cash, and rocked him in front of the fire, + and met the morning hollow-eyed and haggard. A great fear tore at his + heart. Cash read it in his eyes, in the tones of his voice when he crooned + soothing fragments of old range songs to the baby, and at daylight Cash + managed to dress himself and help; though what assistance he could + possibly give was not all clear to him, until he saw Bud's glance rove + anxiously toward the cook-stove. + </p> + <p> + “Hand the kid over here,” Cash said huskily. “I can hold him while you get + yourself some breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Bud looked at him stupidly, hesitated, looked down at the flushed little + face, and carefully laid him in Cash's outstretched arms. He got up + stiffly—he had been sitting there a long time, while the baby slept + uneasily—and went on his tiptoes to make a fire in the stove. + </p> + <p> + He did not wonder at Cash's sudden interest, his abrupt change from moody + aloofness to his old partnership in trouble as well as in good fortune. He + knew that Cash was not fit for the task, however, and he hurried the + coffee to the boiling point that he might the sooner send Cash back to + bed. He gulped down a cup of coffee scalding hot, ate a few mouthfuls of + bacon and bread, and brought a cup back to Cash. + </p> + <p> + “What d'yuh think about him?” he whispered, setting the coffee down on a + box so that he could take Lovin Child. “Pretty sick kid, don't yuh think?” + </p> + <p> + “It's the same cold I got,” Cash breathed huskily. “Swallows like it's his + throat, mostly. What you doing for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Bacon grease and turpentine,” Bud answered him despondently. “I'll have + to commence on something else, though—turpentine's played out I used + it most all up on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Coal oil's good. And fry up a mess of onions and make a poultice.” He put + up a shaking hand before his mouth and coughed behind it, stifling the + sound all he could. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child threw up his hands and whimpered, and Bud went over to him + anxiously. “His little hands are awful hot,” he muttered. “He's been that + way all night.” + </p> + <p> + Cash did not answer. There did not seem anything to say that would do any + good. He drank his coffee and eyed the two, lifting his eyebrows now and + then at some new thought. + </p> + <p> + “Looks like you, Bud,” he croaked suddenly. “Eyes, expression, mouth—you + could pass him off as your own kid, if you wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + “I might, at that,” Bud whispered absently. “I've been seeing you in him, + though, all along. He lifts his eyebrows same way you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't like me,” Cash denied weakly, studying Lovin Child. “Give him here + again, and you go fry them onions. I would—if I had the strength to + get around.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you ain't got the strength. You go back to bed, and I'll lay him in + with yuh. I guess he'll lay quiet. He likes to be cuddled up close.” + </p> + <p> + In this way was the feud forgotten. Save for the strange habits imposed by + sickness and the care of a baby, they dropped back into their old routine, + their old relationship. They walked over the dead line heedlessly, + forgetting why it came to be there. Cabin fever no longer tormented them + with its magnifying of little things. They had no time or thought for + trifles; a bigger matter than their own petty prejudices concerned them. + They were fighting side by side, with the Old Man of the Scythe—the + Old Man who spares not. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child was pulling farther and farther away from them. They knew it, + they felt it in his hot little hands, they read it in his fever-bright + eyes. But never once did they admit it, even to themselves. They dared not + weaken their efforts with any admissions of a possible defeat. They just + watched, and fought the fever as best they could, and waited, and kept + hope alive with fresh efforts. + </p> + <p> + Cash was tottery weak from his own illness, and he could not speak above a + whisper. Yet he directed, and helped soothe the baby with baths and slow + strokings of his hot forehead, and watched him while Bud did the work, and + worried because he could not do more. + </p> + <p> + They did not know when Lovin Child took a turn for the better, except that + they realized the fever was broken. But his listlessness, the unnatural + drooping of his whole body, scared them worse than before. Night and day + one or the other watched over him, trying to anticipate every need, every + vagrant whim. When he began to grow exacting, they were still worried, + though they were too fagged to abase themselves before him as much as they + would have liked. + </p> + <p> + Then Bud was seized with an attack of the grippe before Lovin Child had + passed the stage of wanting to be held every waking minute. Which burdened + Cash with extra duties long before he was fit. + </p> + <p> + Christmas came, and they did not know it until the day was half gone, when + Cash happened to remember. He went out then and groped in the snow and + found a little spruce, hacked it off close to the drift and brought it in, + all loaded with frozen snow, to dry before the fire. The kid, he declared, + should have a Christmas tree, anyway. He tied a candle to the top, and a + rabbit skin to the bottom, and prunes to the tip of the branches, and + tried to rouse a little enthusiasm in Lovin Child. But Lovin Child was not + interested in the makeshift. He was crying because Bud had told him to + keep out of the ashes, and he would not look. + </p> + <p> + So Cash untied the candle and the fur and the prunes, threw them across + the room, and peevishly stuck the tree in the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “Remember what you said about the Fourth of July down in Arizona, Bud?” he + asked glumly. “Well, this is the same kind of Christmas.” Bud merely + grunted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINETEEN. BUD FACES FACTS + </h2> + <p> + New Year came and passed and won nothing in the way of celebration from + the three in Nelson's cabin. Bud's bones ached, his head ached, the flesh + on his body ached. He could take no comfort anywhere, under any + circumstances. He craved clean white beds and soft-footed attendance and + soothing silence and cool drinks—and he could have none of those + things. His bedclothes were heavy upon his aching limbs; he had to wait + upon his own wants; the fretful crying of Lovin Child or the racking cough + of Cash was always in his ears, and as for cool drinks, there was ice + water in plenty, to be sure, but nothing else. Fair weather came, and + storms, and cold: more storms and cold than fair weather. Neither man ever + mentioned taking Lovin Child to Alpine. At first, because it was out of + the question; after that, because they did not want to mention it. They + frequently declared that Lovin Child was a pest, and there were times when + Bud spoke darkly of spankings—which did not materialize. But though + they did not mention it, they knew that Lovin Child was something more; + something endearing, something humanizing, something they needed to keep + them immune from cabin fever. + </p> + <p> + Some time in February it was that Cash fashioned a crude pair of snowshoes + and went to town, returning the next day. He came home loaded with little + luxuries for Lovin Child, and with the simpler medicines for other + emergencies which they might have to meet, but he did not bring any word + of seeking parents. The nearest he came to mentioning the subject was + after supper, when the baby was asleep and Bud trying to cut a small pair + of overalls from a large piece of blue duck that Cash had brought. The + shears were dull, and Lovin Child's little rompers were so patched and + shapeless that they were not much of a guide, so Bud was swearing softly + while he worked. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't hear a word said about that kid being lost,” Cash volunteered, + after he had smoked and watched Bud awhile. “Couldn't have been any one + around Alpine, or I'd have heard something about it.” + </p> + <p> + Bud frowned, though it may have been over his tailoring problem. + </p> + <p> + “Can't tell—the old squaw mighta been telling the truth,” he said + reluctantly. “I s'pose they do, once in awhile. She said his folks were + dead.” And he added defiantly, with a quick glance at Cash, “Far as I'm + concerned, I'm willing to let it ride that way. The kid's doing all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. I got some stuff for that rash on his chest. I wouldn't wonder if + we been feeding him too heavy on bacon rinds, Bud. They say too much of + that kinda thing is bad for kids. Still, he seems to feel all right.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell the world he does! He got hold of your old pipe to-day and was + suckin' away on it, I don't know how long. Never feazed him, either. If he + can stand that, I guess he ain't very delicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. I laid that pipe aside myself because it was getting so dang + strong. Ain't you getting them pants too long in the seat, Bud? They look + to me big enough for a ten-year-old.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you don't realize how that kid's growing!” Bud defended his + handiwork “And time I get the seams sewed, and the side lapped over for + buttons—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Where you going to get the buttons? You never sent for any.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll find buttons. You can donate a couple off some of your clothes, + if you want to right bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Me? I ain't got enough now to keep the wind out,” Cash protested. + “Lemme tell yuh something, Bud. If you cut more saving, you'd have enough + cloth there for two pair of pants. You don't need to cut the legs so long + as all that. They'll drag on the ground so the poor kid can't walk in 'em + without falling all over himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, good glory! Who's making these pants? Me, or you?” Bud exploded. + “If you think you can do any better job than what I'm doing, go get + yourself some cloth and fly at it! Don't think you can come hornin' in on + my job, 'cause I'll tell the world right out loud, you can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah—that's right! Go to bellerin' around like a bull buffalo, and + wake the kid up! I don't give a cuss how you make'm. Go ahead and have the + seat of his pants hangin' down below his knees if you want to!” Cash got + up and moved huffily over to the fireplace and sat with his back to Bud. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I will, at that,” Bud retorted. “You can't come around and grab the + job I'm doing.” Bud was jabbing a needle eye toward the end of a thread + too coarse for it, and it did not improve his temper to have the thread + refuse to pass through the eye. + </p> + <p> + Neither did it please him to find, when all the seams were sewn, that the + little overalls failed to look like any garment he had ever seen on a + child. When he tried them on Lovin Child, next day, Cash took one look and + bolted from the cabin with his hand over his mouth. + </p> + <p> + When he came back an hour or so later, Lovin Child was wearing his ragged + rompers, and Bud was bent over a Weinstock-Lubin mail-order catalogue. He + had a sheet of paper half filled with items, and was licking his pencil + and looking for more. He looked up and grinned a little, and asked Cash + when he was going to town again; and added that he wanted to mail a + letter. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Well, the trail's just as good now as it was when I took it,” Cash + hinted strongly. “When I go to town again, it'll be because I've got to + go. And far as I can see, I won't have to go for quite some time.” + </p> + <p> + So Bud rose before daylight the next morning, tied on the makeshift + snowshoes Cash had contrived, and made the fifteen-mile trip to Alpine and + back before dark. He brought candy for Lovin Child, tended that young + gentleman through a siege of indigestion because of the indulgence, and + waited impatiently until he was fairly certain that the wardrobe he had + ordered had arrived at the post-office. When he had counted off the two + days required for a round trip to Sacramento, and had added three days for + possible delay in filling the order, he went again, and returned in one of + the worst storms of the winter. + </p> + <p> + But he did not grudge the hardship, for he carried on his back a bulky + bundle of clothes for Lovin Child; enough to last the winter through, and + some to spare; a woman would have laughed at some of the things he chose: + impractical, dainty garments that Bud could not launder properly to save + his life. But there were little really truly overalls, in which Lovin + Child promptly developed a strut that delighted the men and earned him the + title of Old Prospector. And there were little shirts and stockings and + nightgowns and a pair of shoes, and a toy or two that failed to interest + him at all, after the first inspection. + </p> + <p> + It began to look as though Bud had deliberately resolved upon carrying a + guilty conscience all the rest of his life. He had made absolutely no + effort to trace the parents of Lovin Child when he was in town. On the + contrary he had avoided all casual conversation, for fear some one might + mention the fact that a child had been lost. He had been careful not to + buy anything in the town that would lead one to suspect that he had a + child concealed upon his premises, and he had even furnished what he + called an alibi when he bought the candy, professing to own an + inordinately sweet tooth. + </p> + <p> + Cash cast his eyes over the stock of baby clothes which Bud gleefully + unwrapped on his bunk, and pinched out a smile under his beard. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if the kid stays till he wears out all them clothes, we'll just + about have to give him a share in the company,” he said drily. + </p> + <p> + Bud looked up in quick jealousy. “What's mine's his, and I own a half + interest in both claims. I guess that'll feed him—if they pan out + anything,” he retorted. “Come here, Boy, and let's try this suit on. Looks + pretty small to me—marked three year, but I reckon they don't grow + 'em as husky as you, back where they make all these clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. But you ought to put it in writing, Bud. S'pose anything happened + to us both—and it might. Mining's always got its risky side, even + cutting out sickness, which we've had a big sample of right this winter. + Well, the kid oughta have some security in case anything did happen. Now—” + </p> + <p> + Bud looked thoughtfully down at the fuzzy yellow head that did not come + much above his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how yuh going to do anything like that without giving it away that + we've got him? Besides, what name'd we give him in the company? No, sir, + Cash, he gets what I've got, and I'll smash any damn man that tries to get + it away from him. But we can't get out any legal papers—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. But we can make our wills, can't we? And I don't know where you get + the idea, Bud, that you've got the whole say about him. We're pardners, + ain't we? Share and share alike. Mines, mules, grub—kids—equal + shares goes.” + </p> + <p> + “That's where you're dead wrong. Mines and mules and grub is all right, + but when it comes to this old Lovin Man, why—who was it found him, + for gosh sake?” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, git out!” Cash growled. “Don't you reckon I'd have grabbed him off + that squaw as quick as you did? I've humored you along, Bud, and let you + hog him nights, and feed him and wash his clothes, and I ain't kicked + none, have I? But when it comes to prope'ty—” + </p> + <p> + “You ain't goin' to horn in there, neither. Anyway, we ain't got so darn + much the kid'll miss your share, Cash.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. All the more reason why he'll need it I don't see how you're going + to stop me from willing my share where I please. And when you come down to + facts, Bud, why—you want to recollect that I plumb forgot to report + that kid, when I was in town. And I ain't a doubt in the world but what + his folks would be glad enough—” + </p> + <p> + “Forget that stuff!” Bud's tone was so sharp that Lovin Child turned clear + around to look up curiously into his face. “You know why you never + reported him, doggone yuh! You couldn't give him up no easier than I + could. And I'll tell the world to its face that if anybody gets this kid + now they've pretty near got to fight for him. It ain't right, and it ain't + honest. It's stealing to keep him, and I never stole a brass tack in my + life before. But he's mine as long as I live and can hang on to him. And + that's where I stand. I ain't hidin' behind no kind of alibi. The old + squaw did tell me his folks was dead; but if you'd ask me, I'd say she was + lying when she said it. Chances are she stole him. I'm sorry for his + folks, supposing he's got any. But I ain't sorry enough for 'em to give + him up if I can help it. I hope they've got more, and I hope they've + gentled down by this time and are used to being without him. Anyway, they + can do without him now easier than what I can, because...” Bud did not + finish that sentence, except by picking Lovin Child up in his arms and + squeezing him as hard as he dared. He laid his face down for a minute on + Lovin Child's head, and when he raised it his lashes were wet. + </p> + <p> + “Say, old-timer, you need a hair cut. Yuh know it?” he said, with a + huskiness in his voice, and pulled a tangle playfully. Then his eyes swung + round defiantly to Cash. “It's stealing to keep him, but I can't help it. + I'd rather die right here in my tracks than give up this little ole kid. + And you can take that as it lays, because I mean it.” + </p> + <p> + Cash sat quiet for a minute or two, staring down at the floor. “Yeah. I + guess there's two of us in that fix,” he observed in his dry way, lifting + his eyebrows while he studied a broken place in the side of his overshoe. + “All the more reason why we should protect the kid, ain't it? My idea is + that we ought to both of us make our wills right here and now. Each of us + to name the other for guardeen, in case of accident, and each one picking + a name for the kid, and giving him our share in the claims and anything + else we may happen to own.” He stopped abruptly, his jaw sagging a little + at some unpleasant thought. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—come to think of it, I can't just leave the kid all my + property. I—I've got a kid of my own, and if she's alive—I + ain't heard anything of her for fifteen years and more, but if she's alive + she'd come in for a share. She's a woman grown by this time. Her mother + died when she was a baby. I married the woman I hired to take care of her + and the house—like a fool. When we parted, she took the kid with + her. She did think a lot of her, I'll say that much for her, and that's + all I can say in her favor. I drifted around and lost track of 'em. Old + woman, she married again, and I heard that didn't pan out, neither. + Anyway, she kept the girl, and gave her the care and schooling that I + couldn't give. I was a drifter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she can bust the will if I leave her out, yuh see. And if the old + woman gets a finger in the pie, it'll be busted, all right. I can write + her down for a hundred dollars perviding she don't contest. That'll fix + it. And the rest goes to the kid here. But I want him to have the use of + my name, understand. Something-or-other Markham Moore ought to suit all + hands well enough.” + </p> + <p> + Bud, holding Lovin Child on his knees, frowned a little at first. But when + he looked at Cash, and caught the wistfulness in his eyes, he surrendered + warm-heartedly. + </p> + <p> + “A couple of old he-hens like us—we need a chick to look after,” he + said whimsically. “I guess Markham Moore ought to be good enough for most + any kid. And if it ain't, by gosh, we'll make it good enough! If I ain't + been all I should be, there's no law against straightening up. Markham + Moore goes as it lays—hey, Lovins?” But Lovin Child had gone to + sleep over his foster fathers' disposal of his future. His little yellow + head was wabbling on his limp neck, and Bud cradled him in his arms and + held him so. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. But what are we going to call him?” Methodical Cash wanted the + whole matter settled at one conference, it seemed. + </p> + <p> + “Call him? Why, what've we been calling him, the last two months?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” Cash retorted, “depended on what devilment he was into when we + called!” + </p> + <p> + “You said it all, that time. I guess, come to think of it—tell you + what, Cash, let's call him what the kid calls himself. That's fair enough. + He's got some say in the matter, and if he's satisfied with Lovin, we + oughta be. Lovin Markam Moore ain't half bad. Then if he wants to change + it when he grows up, he can.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. I guess that's as good as anything. I'd hate to see him named + Cassius. Well, now's as good a time as any to make them wills, Bud. We + oughta have a couple of witnesses, but we can act for each other, and I + guess it'll pass. You lay the kid down, and we'll write 'em and have it + done with and off our minds. I dunno—I've got a couple of lots in + Phoenix I'll leave to the girl. By rights she should have 'em. Lovins, + here, 'll have my share in all mining claims; these two I'll name + 'specially, because I expect them to develop into paying mines; the Blind + Lodge, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + A twinge of jealousy seized Bud. Cash was going ahead a little too + confidently in his plans for the kid. He did not want to hurt old Cash's + feelings, and of course he needed Cash's assistance if he kept Lovin Child + for his own. But Cash needn't think he was going to claim the kid himself. + </p> + <p> + “All right—put it that way. Only, when you're writing it down, you + make it read 'child of Bud Moore' or something like that. You can will him + the moon, if you want, and you can have your name sandwiched in between + his and mine. But get this, and get it right. He's mine, and if we ever + split up, the kid goes with me. I'll tell the world right now that this + kid belongs to me, and where I go he goes. You got that?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't have to beller at the top of your voice, do yuh?” snapped Cash, + prying the cork out of the ink bottle with his jackknife. “Here's another + pen point. Tie it onto a stick or something and git to work before you git + to putting it off.” + </p> + <p> + Leaning over the table facing each other, they wrote steadily for a few + minutes. Then Bud began to flag, and finally he stopped and crumpled the + sheet of tablet paper into a ball. Cash looked up, lifted his eyebrows + irritatedly, and went on with his composition. + </p> + <p> + Bud sat nibbling the end of his makeshift penholder. The obstacle that had + loomed in Cash's way and had constrained him to reveal the closed pages of + his life, loomed large in Bud's way also. Lovin Child was a near and a + very dear factor in his life—but when it came to sitting down calmly + and setting his affairs in order for those who might be left behind, Lovin + Child was not the only person he must think of. What of his own man-child? + What of Marie? + </p> + <p> + He looked across at Cash writing steadily in his precise way, duly + bequeathing his worldly goods to Lovin; owning, too, his responsibilities + in another direction, but still making Lovin Child his chief heir so far + as he knew. On the spur of the moment Bud had thought to do the same + thing. But could he do it? + </p> + <p> + He seemed to see his own baby standing wistfully aloof, pushed out of his + life that this baby he had no right to keep might have all of his + affections, all of his poor estate. And Marie, whose face was always in + the back of his memory, a tearful, accusing vision that would not let him + be—he saw Marie working in some office, earning the money to feed + and clothe their child. And Lovin Child romping up and down the cabin, + cuddled and scolded and cared for as best an awkward man may care for a + baby—a small, innocent usurper. + </p> + <p> + Bud dropped his face in his palms and tried to think the thing out coldly, + clearly, as Cash had stated his own case. Cash did not know where his own + child was, and he did not seem to care greatly. He was glad to salve his + conscience with a small bequest, keeping the bulk—if so tenuous a + thing as Cash's fortune may be said to have bulk—for this baby they + two were hiding away from its lawful parents. Cash could do it; why + couldn't be? He raised his head and looked over at Lovin Child, asleep in + his new and rumpled little finery. Why did his own baby come between them + now, and withhold his hand from doing the same? + </p> + <p> + Cash finished, glanced curiously across at Bud, looked down at what he had + written, and slid the sheet of paper across. + </p> + <p> + “You sign it, and then if you don't know just how to word yours, you can + use this for a pattern. I've read law books enough to know this will get + by, all right. It's plain, and it tells what I want, and that's sufficient + to hold in court.” + </p> + <p> + Bud read it over apathetically, signed his name as witness, and pushed the + paper back. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right for you,” he said heavily. “Your kid is grown up now, + and besides, you've got other property to give her. But—it's + different with me. I want this baby, and I can't do without him. But I + can't give him my share in the claims, Cash. I—there's others that's + got to be thought of first.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY. LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH + </h2> + <p> + It was only the next day that Bud was the means of helping Lovin Child + find a fortune for himself; which eased Bud's mind considerably, and + balanced better his half of the responsibility. Cutting out the dramatic + frills, then, this is what happened to Lovin Child and Bud: + </p> + <p> + They were romping around the cabin, like two puppies that had a surplus of + energy to work off. Part of the time Lovin Child was a bear, chasing Bud + up and down the dead line, which was getting pretty well worn out in + places. After that, Bud was a bear and chased Lovin. And when Lovin Child + got so tickled he was perfectly helpless in the corner where he had sought + refuge, Bud caught him and swung him up to his shoulder and let him grab + handfuls of dirt out of the roof. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child liked that better than being a bear, and sifted Bud's hair + full of dried mud, and threw the rest on the floor, and frequently cried + “Tell a worl'!” which he had learned from Bud and could say with the + uncanny pertinency of a parrot. + </p> + <p> + He had signified a desire to have Bud carry him along the wall, where some + lovely lumps of dirt protruded temptingly over a bulging log. Then he + leaned and grabbed with his two fat hands at a particularly big, hard + lump. It came away in his hands and fell plump on the blankets of the + bunk, half blinding Bud with the dust that came with it. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! You'll have all the chinkin' out of the dang shack, if you let him + keep that lick up, Bud,” Cash grumbled, lifting his eyebrows at the mess. + </p> + <p> + “Tell a worl'!” Lovin Child retorted over his shoulder, and made another + grab. + </p> + <p> + This time the thing he held resisted his baby strength. He pulled and he + grunted, he kicked Bud in the chest and grabbed again. Bud was patient, + and let him fuss—though in self-defense he kept his head down and + his eyes away from the expected dust bath. + </p> + <p> + “Stay with it, Boy; pull the darn roof down, if yuh want. Cash'll get out + and chink 'er up again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Cash will not,” the disapproving one amended the statement gruffly. + “He's trying to get the log outa the wall, Bud.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let him try, doggone it. Shows he's a stayer. I wouldn't have any + use for him if he didn't have gumption enough to tackle things too big for + him, and you wouldn't either. Stay with 'er, Lovins! Doggone it, can't yuh + git that log outa there nohow? Uh-h! A big old grunt and a big old heave—uh-h! + I'll tell the world in words uh one syllable, he's some stayer.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell a worl'!” chuckled Lovin Child, and pulled harder at the thing he + wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! The kid's got hold of a piece of gunny sack or something. You look + out, Bud, or he'll have all that chinkin' out. There's no sense in lettin' + him tear the whole blame shack to pieces, is there?” + </p> + <p> + “Can if he wants to. It's his shack as much as it's anybody's.” Bud + shifted Lovin Child more comfortably on his shoulder and looked up, + squinting his eyes half shut for fear of dirt in them. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of Mike, kid, what's that you've got? Looks to me like a + piece of buckskin, Cash. Here, you set down a minute, and let Bud take a + peek up there.” + </p> + <p> + “Bud—pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child from the blankets, where Bud had + deposited him unceremoniously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bud pik-k.” Bud stepped up on the bunk, which brought his head above + the low eaves. He leaned and looked, and scraped away the caked mud. “Good + glory! The kid's found a cache of some kind, sure as you live!” And he + began to claw out what had been hidden behind the mud. + </p> + <p> + First a buckskin bag, heavy and grimed and knobby. Gold inside it, he knew + without looking. He dropped it down on the bunk, carefully so as not to + smash a toe off the baby. After that he pulled out four baking-powder + cans, all heavy as lead. He laid his cheek against the log and peered down + the length of it, and jumped down beside the bunk. + </p> + <p> + “Kid's found a gold mine of his own, and I'll bet on it,” he cried + excitedly. “Looky, Cash!” + </p> + <p> + Cash was already looking, his eyebrows arched high to match his + astonishment. “Yeah. It's gold, all right. Old man Nelson's hoard, I + wouldn't wonder. I've always thought it was funny he never found any gold + in this flat, long as he lived here. And traces of washing here and there, + too. Well!” + </p> + <p> + “Looky, Boy!” Bud had the top off a can, and took out a couple of nuggets + the size of a cooked Lima bean. “Here's the real stuff for yuh. + </p> + <p> + “It's yours, too—unless—did old Nelson leave any folks, Cash, + do yuh know?” + </p> + <p> + “They say not. The county buried him, they say. And nobody ever turned up + to claim him or what little he left. No, I guess there's nobody got any + better right to it than the kid. We'll inquire around and see. But seein' + the gold is found on the claim, and we've got the claim according to law, + looks to me like—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here's your clean-up, old prospector. Don't swallow any, is all. + let's weigh it out, Cash, and see how much it is, just for a josh.” + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child had nuggets to play with there on the bed, and told the world + many unintelligible things about it. Cash and Bud dumped all the gold into + a pan, and weighed it out on the little scales Cash had for his tests. It + was not a fortune, as fortunes go. It was probably all the gold Nelson had + panned out in a couple of years, working alone and with crude devices. A + little over twenty-three hundred dollars it amounted to, not counting the + nuggets which Lovin Child had on the bunk with him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's a start for the kid, anyway,” Bud said, leaning back and + regarding the heap with eyes shining. “I helped him find it, and I kinda + feel as if I'm square with him now for not giving him my half the claim. + Twenty-three hundred would be a good price for a half interest, as the + claims stand, don't yuh think, Cash?” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah—well, I dunno's I'd sell for that. But on the showing we've + got so far—yes, five thousand, say, for the claims would be good + money.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty good haul for a kid, anyway. He's got a couple of hundred dollars + in nuggets, right there on the bunk. Let's see, Lovins. Let Bud have 'em + for a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Then it was that Lovin Child revealed a primitive human trait. He would + not give up the gold. He held fast to one big nugget, spread his fat legs + over the remaining heap of them, and fought Bud's hand away with the other + fist. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no! Tell a worl' no, no, no!” he remonstrated vehemently, until + Bud whooped with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “All right—all right! Keep your gold, durn it. You're like all the + rest—minute you get your paws on to some of the real stuff, you go + hog-wild over it.” + </p> + <p> + Cash was pouring the fine gold back into the buck skin bag and the + baking-powder cans. + </p> + <p> + “Let the kid play with it,” he said. “Getting used to gold when he's + little will maybe save him from a lot of foolishness over it when he gets + big. I dunno, but it looks reasonable to me. Let him have a few nuggets if + he wants. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say; maybe he won't get to + thinkin' too much of it if he's got it around under his nose all the time. + Same as everything else. It's the finding that hits a feller hardest, Bud—the + hunting for it and dreaming about it and not finding it. What say we go up + to the claim for an hour or so? Take the kid along. It won't hurt him if + he's bundled up good. It ain't cold to-day, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + That night they discussed soberly the prospects of the claim and their + responsibilities in the matter of Lovin Child's windfall. They would + quietly investigate the history of old Nelson, who had died a pauper in + the eyes of the community, with all his gleanings of gold hidden away. + They agreed that Lovin Child should not start off with one grain of gold + that rightfully belonged to some one else—but they agreed the more + cheerfully because neither man believed they would find any close + relatives; a wife or children they decided upon as rightful heirs. + Brothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts did not count. They were presumably + able to look after themselves just as old Nelson had done. Their ethics + were simple enough, surely. + </p> + <p> + Barring, then, the discovery of rightful heirs, their plan was to take the + gold to Sacramento in the spring, and deposit it there in a savings bank + for one Lovins Markham Moore. They would let the interest “ride” with the + principal, and they would—though neither openly confessed it to the + other—from time to time add a little from their own earnings. Bud + especially looked forward to that as a compromise with his duty to his own + child. He intended to save every cent he could, and to start a savings + account in the same bank, for his own baby, Robert Edward Moore—named + for Bud. He could not start off with as large a sum as Lovins would have, + and for that Bud was honestly sorry. But Robert Edward Moore would have + Bud's share in the claims, which would do a little toward evening things + up. + </p> + <p> + Having settled these things to the satisfaction of their desires and their + consciences, they went to bed well pleased with the day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. MARIE'S SIDE OF IT + </h2> + <p> + We all realize keenly, one time or another, the abject poverty of + language. To attempt putting some emotions into words is like trying to + play Ave Maria on a toy piano. There are heights and depths utterly beyond + the limitation of instrument and speech alike. + </p> + <p> + Marie's agonized experience in Alpine—and afterward—was of + that kind. She went there under the lure of her loneliness, her + heart-hunger for Bud. Drunk or sober, loving her still or turning away in + anger, she had to see him; had to hear him speak; had to tell him a little + of what she felt of penitence and longing, for that is what she believed + she had to do. Once she had started, she could not turn back. Come what + might, she would hunt until she found him. She had to, or go crazy, she + told herself over and over. She could not imagine any circumstance that + would turn her back from that quest. + </p> + <p> + Yet she did turn back—and with scarce a thought of Bud. She could + not imagine the thing happening that did happen, which is the way life has + of keeping us all on the anxious seat most of the time. She could not—at + least she did not—dream that Lovin Child, at once her comfort and + her strongest argument for a new chance at happiness, would in ten minutes + or so wipe out all thought of Bud and leave only a dumb, dreadful agony + that hounded her day and night. + </p> + <p> + She had reached Alpine early in the forenoon, and had gone to the one + little hotel, to rest and gather up her courage for the search which she + felt was only beginning. She had been too careful of her money to spend + any for a sleeper, foregoing even a berth in the tourist car. She could + make Lovin Child comfortable with a full seat in the day coach for his + little bed, and for herself it did not matter. She could not sleep anyway. + So she sat up all night and thought, and worried over the future which was + foolish, since the future held nothing at all that she pictured in it. + </p> + <p> + She was tired when she reached the hotel, carrying Lovin Child and her + suit case too—porters being unheard of in small villages, and the + one hotel being too sure of its patronage to bother about getting guests + from depot to hall bedroom. A deaf old fellow with white whiskers and poor + eyesight fumbled two or three keys on a nail, chose one and led the way + down a little dark hall to a little, stuffy room with another door opening + directly on the sidewalk. Marie had not registered on her arrival, because + there was no ink in the inkwell, and the pen had only half a point; but + she was rather relieved to find that she was not obliged to write her name + down—for Bud, perhaps, to see before she had a chance to see him. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child was in his most romping, rambunctious mood, and Marie's head + ached so badly that she was not quite so watchful of his movements as + usual. She gave him a cracker and left him alone to investigate the tiny + room while she laid down for just a minute on the bed, grateful because + the sun shone in warmly through the window and she did not feel the + absence of a fire. She had no intention whatever of going to sleep—she + did not believe that she could sleep if she had wanted to. Fall asleep she + did, however, and she must have slept for at least half an hour, perhaps + longer. + </p> + <p> + When she sat up with that startled sensation that follows unexpected, + undesired slumber, the door was open, and Lovin Child was gone. She had + not believed that he could open the door, but she discovered that its + latch had a very precarious hold upon the worn facing, and that a slight + twist of the knob was all it needed to swing the door open. She rushed + out, of course, to look for him, though, unaware of how long she had + slept, she was not greatly disturbed. Marie had run after Lovin Child too + often to be alarmed at a little thing like that. + </p> + <p> + I don't know when fear first took hold of her, or when fear was swept away + by the keen agony of loss. She went the whole length of the one little + street, and looked in all the open doorways, and traversed the one short + alley that led behind the hotel. Facing the street was the railroad, with + the station farther up at the edge of the timber. Across the railroad was + the little, rushing river, swollen now with rains that had been snow on + the higher slopes of the mountain behind the town. + </p> + <p> + Marie did not go near the river at first. Some instinct of dread made her + shun even the possibility that Lovin Child had headed that way. But a man + told her, when she broke down her diffidence and inquired, that he had + seen a little tot in a red suit and cap going off that way. He had not + thought anything of it. He was a stranger himself, he said, and he + supposed the kid belonged there, maybe. + </p> + <p> + Marie flew to the river, the man running beside her, and three or four + others coming out of buildings to see what was the matter. She did not + find Lovin Child, but she did find half of the cracker she had given him. + It was lying so close to a deep, swirly place under the bank that Marie + gave a scream when she saw it, and the man caught her by the arm for fear + she meant to jump in. + </p> + <p> + Thereafter, the whole of Alpine turned out and searched the river bank as + far down as they could get into the box canyon through which it roared to + the sage-covered hills beyond. No one doubted that Lovin Child had been + swept away in that tearing, rock-churned current. No one had any hope of + finding his body, though they searched just as diligently as if they were + certain. + </p> + <p> + Marie walked the bank all that day, calling and crying and fighting off + despair. She walked the floor of her little room all night, the door + locked against sympathy that seemed to her nothing but a prying curiosity + over her torment, fighting back the hysterical cries that kept struggling + for outlet. + </p> + <p> + The next day she was too exhausted to do anything more than climb up the + steps of the train when it stopped there. Towns and ranches on the river + below had been warned by wire and telephone and a dozen officious citizens + of Alpine assured her over and over that she would be notified at once if + anything was discovered; meaning, of course, the body of her child. She + did not talk. Beyond telling the station agent her name, and that she was + going to stay in Sacramento until she heard something, she shrank behind + her silence and would reveal nothing of her errand there in Alpine, + nothing whatever concerning herself. Mrs. Marie Moore, General Delivery, + Sacramento, was all that Alpine learned of her. + </p> + <p> + It is not surprising then, that the subject was talked out long before Bud + or Cash came down into the town more than two months later. It is not + surprising, either, that no one thought to look up-stream for the baby, or + that they failed to consider any possible fate for him save drowning. That + nibbled piece of cracker on the very edge of the river threw them all off + in their reasoning. They took it for granted that the baby had fallen into + the river at the place where they found the cracker. If he had done so, he + would have been swept away instantly. No one could look at the river and + doubt that—therefore no one did doubt it. That a squaw should find + him sitting down where he had fallen, two hundred yards above the town and + in the edge of the thick timber, never entered their minds at all. That + she should pick him up with the intention at first of stopping his crying, + and should yield to the temptingness of him just as Bud had yielded, would + have seemed to Alpine still more unlikely; because no Indian had ever + kidnapped a white child in that neighborhood. So much for the habit of + thinking along grooves established by precedent + </p> + <p> + Marie went to Sacramento merely because that was the closest town of any + size, where she could wait for the news she dreaded to receive yet must + receive before she could even begin to face her tragedy. She did not want + to find Bud now. She shrank from any thought of him. Only for him, she + would still have her Lovin Child. Illogically she blamed Bud for what had + happened. He had caused her one more great heartache, and she hoped never + to see him again or to hear his name spoken. + </p> + <p> + Dully she settled down in a cheap, semi-private boarding house to wait. In + a day or two she pulled herself together and went out to look for work, + because she must have money to live on. Go home to her mother she would + not. Nor did she write to her. There, too, her great hurt had flung some + of the blame. If her mother had not interfered and found fault all the + time with Bud, they would be living together now—happy. It was her + mother who had really brought about their separation. Her mother would nag + at her now for going after Bud, would say that she deserved to lose her + baby as a punishment for letting go her pride and self-respect. No, she + certainly did not want to see her mother, or any one else she had ever + known. Bud least of all. + </p> + <p> + She found work without much trouble, for she was neat and efficient + looking, of the type that seems to belong in a well-ordered office, behind + a typewriter desk near a window where the sun shines in. The place did not + require much concentration—a dentist's office, where her chief + duties consisted of opening the daily budget of circulars, sending out + monthly bills, and telling pained-looking callers that the doctor was out + just then. Her salary just about paid her board, with a dollar or two left + over for headache tablets and a vaudeville show now and then. She did not + need much spending money, for her evenings were spent mostly in crying + over certain small garments and a canton-flannel dog called “Wooh-wooh.” + </p> + <p> + For three months she stayed, too apathetic to seek a better position. Then + the dentist's creditors became suddenly impatient, and the dentist could + not pay his office rent, much less his office girl. Wherefore Marie found + herself looking for work again, just when spring was opening all the fruit + blossoms and merchants were smilingly telling one another that business + was picking up. + </p> + <p> + Weinstock-Lubin's big department store gave her desk space in the + mail-order department. Marie's duty it was to open the mail, check up the + orders, and see that enough money was sent, and start the wheels moving to + fill each order—to the satisfaction of the customer if possible. + </p> + <p> + At first the work worried her a little. But she became accustomed to it, + and settled into the routine of passing the orders along the proper + channels with as little individual thought given to each one as was + compatible with efficiency. She became acquainted with some of the girls, + and changed to a better boarding house. She still cried over the wooh-wooh + and the little garments, but she did not cry so often, nor did she buy so + many headache tablets. She was learning the futility of grief and the + wisdom of turning her back upon sorrow when she could. The sight of a + two-year-old baby boy would still bring tears to her eyes, and she could + not sit through a picture show that had scenes of children and happy + married couples, but she fought the pain of it as a weakness which she + must overcome. Her Lovin Child was gone; she had given up everything but + the sweet, poignant memory of how pretty he had been and how endearing. + </p> + <p> + Then, one morning in early June, her practiced fingers were going through + the pile of mail orders and they singled out one that carried the postmark + of Alpine. Marie bit her lips, but her fingers did not falter in their + task. Cheap table linen, cheap collars, cheap suits or cheap + something-or-other was wanted, she had no doubt. She took out the paper + with the blue money order folded inside, speared the money order on the + hook with others, drew her order pad closer, and began to go through the + list of articles wanted. + </p> + <p> + This was the list:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + XL 94, 3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr at 59c $1.77 + XL 14 1 Buddy tucker suit 3 yr 2.00 + KL 6 1 Bunny pumps infant 5 1.25 + KL 54 1 Fat Ankle shoe infant 5 .98 + HL 389 4 Rubens vests, 3 yr at 90c 2.70 + SL 418 3 Pajamas 3 yr. at 59c 1.77 + OL 823 1 Express wagon, 15x32 in. 4.25 + — + $14.22 + + For which money order is enclosed. Please ship at once. + + Very truly, + R. E. MOORE, + Alpine, Calif. +</pre> + <p> + Mechanically she copied the order on a slip of paper which she put into + her pocket, left her desk and her work and the store, and hurried to her + boarding house. + </p> + <p> + Not until she was in her own room with the door locked did she dare let + herself think. She sat down with the copy spread open before her, her slim + fingers pressing against her temples. Something amazing had been revealed + to her—something so amazing that she could scarcely comprehend its + full significance. Bud—never for a minute did she doubt that it was + Bud, for she knew his handwriting too well to be mistaken—Bud was + sending for clothes for a baby boy! + </p> + <p> + “3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr—” it sounded, to the hungry mother + soul of her, exactly like her Lovin Child. She could see so vividly just + how he would look in them. And the size—she certainly would buy than + three-year size, if she were buying for Lovin Child. And the little “Buddy + tucker” suit—that, too, sounded like Lovin Child. He must—Bud + certainly must have him up there with him! Then Lovin Child was not + drowned at all, but alive and needing dig-in-the-muds. + </p> + <p> + “Bud's got him! Oh, Bud has got him, I know he's got him!” she whispered + over and over to herself in an ecstasy of hope. “My little Lovin Man! He's + up there right now with his Daddy Bud—” + </p> + <p> + A vague anger stirred faintly, flared, died almost, flared again and + burned steadily within her. Bud had her Lovin Child! How did he come to + have him, then, unless he stole him? Stole him away, and let her suffer + all this while, believing her baby was dead in the river! + </p> + <p> + “You devil!” she muttered, gritting her teeth when that thought formed + clearly in her mind. “Oh, you devil, you! If you think you can get away + with a thing like that—You devil!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. THE CURE COMPLETE + </h2> + <p> + In Nelson Flat the lupines were like spilled bluing in great, acre-wide + blots upon the meadow grass. Between cabin and creek bank a little plot + had been spaded and raked smooth, and already the peas and lettuce and + radishes were up and growing as if they knew how short would be the + season, and meant to take advantage of every minute of the warm days. Here + and there certain plants were lifting themselves all awry from where they + had been pressed flat by two small feet that had strutted heedlessly down + the rows. + </p> + <p> + The cabin yard was clean, and the two small windows were curtained with + cheap, white scrim. All before the door and on the path to the creek small + footprints were scattered thick. It was these that Marie pulled up her + hired saddle horse to study in hot resentment. + </p> + <p> + “The big brute!” she gritted, and got off and went to the cabin door, + walking straight-backed and every mental and physical fiber of her braced + for the coming struggle. She even regretted not having a gun; rather, she + wished that she was not more afraid of a gun than of any possible need of + one. She felt, at that minute, as though she could shoot Bud Moore with no + more compunction that she would feel in swatting a fly. + </p> + <p> + That the cabin was empty and unlocked only made her blood boil the hotter. + She went in and looked around at the crude furnishings and the small + personal belongings of those who lived there. She saw the table all set + ready for the next meal, with the extremely rustic high-chair that had + DYNAMITE painted boldly on the side of the box seat. Fastened to a nail at + one side of the box was a belt, evidently kept there for the purpose of + strapping a particularly wriggly young person into the chair. That smacked + strongly of Lovin Child, sure enough. Marie remembered the various devices + by which she had kept him in his go cart. + </p> + <p> + She went closer and inspected the belt indignantly. Just as she expected—it + was Bud's belt; his old belt that she bought for him just after they were + married. She supposed that box beside the queer high chair was where he + would sit at table and stuff her baby with all kinds of things he + shouldn't eat. Where was her baby? A fresh spasm of longing for Lovin + Child drove her from the cabin. Find him she would, and that no matter how + cunningly Bud had hidden him away. + </p> + <p> + On a rope stretched between a young cottonwood tree in full leaf and a + scaly, red-barked cedar, clothes that had been washed were flapping lazily + in the little breeze. Marie stopped and looked at them. A man's shirt and + drawers, two towels gray for want of bluing, a little shirt and a + nightgown and pair of stockings—and, directly in front of Marie, a + small pair of blue overalls trimmed with red bands, the blue showing white + fiber where the color had been scrubbed out of the cloth, the two knees + flaunting patches sewed with long irregular stitches such as a man would + take. + </p> + <p> + Bud and Lovin Child. As in the cabin, so here she felt the individuality + in their belongings. Last night she had been tormented with the fear that + there might be a wife as well as a baby boy in Bud's household. Even the + evidence of the mail order, that held nothing for a woman and that was + written by Bud's hand, could scarcely reassure her. Now she knew beyond + all doubt that she had no woman to reckon with, and the knowledge brought + relief of a sort. + </p> + <p> + She went up and touched the little overalls wistfully, laid her cheek + against one little patch, ducked under the line, and followed a crooked + little path that led up the creek. She forgot all about her horse, which + looked after her as long as she was in sight, and then turned and trotted + back the way it had come, wondering, no doubt, at the foolish faith this + rider had in him. + </p> + <p> + The path led up along the side of the flat, through tall grass and all the + brilliant blossoms of a mountain meadow in June. Great, graceful mountain + lilies nodded from little shady tangles in the bushes. Harebells and + lupines, wild-pea vines and columbines, tiny, gnome-faced pansies, + violets, and the daintier flowering grasses lined the way with odorous + loveliness. Birds called happily from the tree tops. Away up next the + clouds an eagle sailed serene, alone, a tiny boat breasting the currents + of the sky ocean. + </p> + <p> + Marie's rage cooled a little on that walk. It was so beautiful for Lovin + Child, up here in this little valley among the snow-topped mountains; so + sheltered. Yesterday's grind in that beehive of a department store seemed + more remote than South Africa. Unconsciously her first nervous pace + slackened. She found herself taking long breaths of this clean air, + sweetened with the scent of growing things. Why couldn't the world be + happy, since it was so beautiful? It made her think of those three weeks + in Big Basin, and the never-forgettable wonder of their love—hers + and Bud's. + </p> + <p> + She was crying with the pain and the beauty of it when she heard the first + high, chirpy notes of a baby—her baby. Lovin Child was picketed to a + young cedar near the mouth of the Blind ledge tunnel, and he was throwing + rocks at a chipmunk that kept coming toward him in little rushes, hoping + with each rush to get a crumb of the bread and butter that Lovin Child had + flung down. Lovin Child was squealing and jabbering, with now and then a + real word that he had learned from Bud and Cash. Not particularly nice + words—“Doggone” was one and several times he called the chipmunk a + “sunny-gun.” And of course he frequently announced that he would “Tell a + worl'” something. His head was bare and shone in the sun like the gold for + which Cash and his Daddy Bud were digging, away back in the dark hole. He + had on a pair of faded overalls trimmed with red, mates of the ones on the + rope line, and he threw rocks impartially with first his right hand and + then his left, and sometimes with both at once; which did not greatly + distress the chipmunk, who knew Lovin Child of old and had learned how + wide the rocks always went of their mark. + </p> + <p> + Upon this scene Marie came, still crying. She had always been an impulsive + young woman, and now she forgot that Lovin Child had not seen her for six + months or so, and that baby memories are short. She rushed in and snatched + him off the ground and kissed him and squeezed him and cried aloud upon + her God and her baby, and buried her wet face against his fat little neck. + </p> + <p> + Cash, trundling a wheelbarrow of ore out to the tunnel's mouth, heard a + howl and broke into a run with his load, bursting out into the sunlight + with a clatter and upsetting the barrow ten feet short of the regular + dumping place. Marie was frantically trying to untie the rope, and was + having trouble because Lovin Child was in one of his worst + kicking-and-squirming tantrums. Cash rushed in and snatched the child from + her. + </p> + <p> + “Here! What you doing to that kid? You're scaring him to death—and + you've got no right!” + </p> + <p> + “I have got a right! I have too got a right!” Marie was clawing like a + wildcat at Cash's grimy hands. “He's my baby! He's mine! You ought to be + hung for stealing him away from me. Let go—he's mine, I tell you. + Lovin! Lovin Child! Don't you know Marie? Marie's sweet, pitty man, he is! + Come to Marie, boy baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell a worl' no, no, no!” yelled Lovin Child, clinging to Cash. + </p> + <p> + “Aw—come to Marie, sweetheart! Marie's own lovin' little man baby! + You let him go, or I'll—I'll kill you. You big brute!” + </p> + <p> + Cash let go, but it was not because she commanded. He let go and stared + hard at Marie, lifting his eyebrows comically as he stepped back, his hand + going unconsciously up to smooth his beard. + </p> + <p> + “Marie?” he repeated stupidly. “Marie?” He reached out and laid a hand + compellingly on her shoulder. “Ain't your name Marie Markham, young lady? + Don't you know your own dad?” + </p> + <p> + Marie lifted her face from kissing Lovin Child very much against his will, + and stared round-eyed at Cash. She did not say anything. + </p> + <p> + “You're my Marie, all right You ain't changed so much I can't recognize + yuh. I should think you'd remember your own father—but I guess maybe + the beard kinda changes my looks. Is this true, that this kid belongs to + you?” + </p> + <p> + Marie gasped. “Why—father? Why—why, father!” She leaned + herself and Lovin Child into his arms. “Why, I can't believe it! Why—” + She closed her eyes and shivered, going suddenly weak, and relaxed in his + arms. “I-I-I can't—” + </p> + <p> + Cash slid Lovin Child to the ground, where that young gentleman picked + himself up indignantly and ran as far as his picket rope would let him, + whereupon he turned and screamed “Sunny-gun! sunny-gun!” at the two like + an enraged bluejay. Cash did not pay any attention to him. He was busy + seeking out a soft, shady spot that was free of rocks, where he might lay + Marie down. He leaned over her and fanned her violently with his hat, his + lips and his eyebrows working with the complexity of his emotions. Then + suddenly he turned and ducked into the tunnel, after Bud. + </p> + <p> + Bud heard him coming and turned from his work. Cash was not trundling the + empty barrow, which in itself was proof enough that something had + happened, even if Cash had not been running. Bud dropped his pick and + started on a run to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong? Is the kid—?” + </p> + <p> + “Kid's all right” Cash stopped abruptly, blocking Bud's way. “It's + something else. Bud, his mother's come after him. She's out there now—laid + out in a faint.” + </p> + <p> + “Lemme go.” Bud's voice had a grimness in it that spelled trouble for the + lady laid out in a faint “She can be his mother a thousand times—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Hold on a minute, Bud. You ain't going out there and raise no hell + with that poor girl. Lovins belongs to her, and she's going to have + him.... Now, just keep your shirt on a second. I've got something more to + say. He's her kid, and she wants him back, and she's going to have him + back. If you git him away from her, it'll be over my carcass. Now, now, + hold on! H-o-l-d on! You're goin' up against Cash Markham now, remember! + That girl is my girl! My girl that I ain't seen since she was a kid in + short dresses. It's her father you've got to deal with now—her + father and the kid's grandfather. You get that? You be reasonable, Bud, + and there won't be no trouble at all. But my girl ain't goin' to be robbed + of her baby—not whilst I'm around. You get that settled in your mind + before you go out there, or—you don't go out whilst I'm here to stop + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You go to hell,” Bud stated evenly, and thrust Cash aside with one sweep + of his arm, and went down the tunnel. Cash, his eyebrows lifted with worry + and alarm, was at his heels all the way. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Bud, be calm!” he adjured as he ran. “Don't go and make a dang fool + of yourself! She's my girl, remember. You want to hold on to yourself, + Bud, and be reasonable. Don't go and let your temper—” + </p> + <p> + “Shut your damn mouth!” Bud commanded him savagely, and went on running. + </p> + <p> + At the tunnel mouth he stopped and blinked, blinded for a moment by the + strong sunlight in his face. Cash stumbled and lost ten seconds or so, + picking himself up. Behind him Bud heard Cash panting, “Now, Bud, don't go + and make—a dang fool—” Bud snorted contemptuously and leaped + the dirt pile, landing close to Marie, who was just then raising herself + dizzily to an elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Bud,” Cash called tardily when he had caught up with him, “you leave + that girl alone! Don't you lay a finger on her! That's my—” + </p> + <p> + Bud lifted his lips away from Marie's and spoke over his shoulder, his + arms tightening in their hold upon Marie's trembling, yielding body. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up, Cash. She's my wife—now where do you get off at?” + </p> + <p> + (That, o course, lacked a little of being the exact truth. Lacked a few + hours, in fact, because they did not reach Alpine and the railroad until + that afternoon, and were not remarried until seven o'clock that evening.) + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” cried Lovin Child from a safe distance. “Tell a worl' no, + no!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell the world yes, yes!” Bud retorted ecstatically, lifting his + face again. “Come here, you little scallywag, and love your mamma Marie. + Cash, you old donkey, don't you get it yet? We've got 'em both for keeps, + you and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah—I get it, all right.” Cash came and stood awkwardly over them. + “I get it—found my girl one minute, and lost her again the next! But + I'll tell yeh one thing, Bud Moore. The kid's' goin' to call me grampaw, + er I'll know the reason why!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1204 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e389da3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1204 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1204) diff --git a/old/1204-0.txt b/old/1204-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b197015 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1204-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6088 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cabin Fever, by B. M. Bower + +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: Cabin Fever + +Author: B. M. Bower + +Posting Date: August 15, 2008 [EBook #1204] +Release Date: February, 1998 +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CABIN FEVER *** + + + + +Produced by Anthony Matonak + + + + + +CABIN FEVER + + +By B. M. Bower + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER + + I THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF + II TWO MAKE A QUARREL + III TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD + IV HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING + V BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES + VI BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS + VII INTO THE DESERT + VIII MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES + IX THE BITE OF MEMORY + X EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS + XI THE FIRST STAGES + XII MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE + XIII CABIN FEVER IN ITS WORST FORM + XIV CASH GETS A SHOCK + XV AND BUD NEVER GUESSED + XVI THE ANTIDOTE + XVII LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN + XVIII THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES + XIX BUD FACES FACTS + XX LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH + XXI MARIE'S SIDE OF IT + XXII THE CURE COMPLETE + + + + +CABIN FEVER + + + +CHAPTER ONE. THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF + +There is a certain malady of the mind induced by too much of one thing. +Just as the body fed too long upon meat becomes a prey to that horrid +disease called scurvy, so the mind fed too long upon monotony succumbs +to the insidious mental ailment which the West calls “cabin fever.” + True, it parades under different names, according to circumstances and +caste. You may be afflicted in a palace and call it ennui, and it may +drive you to commit peccadillos and indiscretions of various sorts. You +may be attacked in a middle-class apartment house, and call it various +names, and it may drive you to cafe life and affinities and alimony. You +may have it wherever you are shunted into a backwater of life, and lose +the sense of being borne along in the full current of progress. Be sure +that it will make you abnormally sensitive to little things; irritable +where once you were amiable; glum where once you went whistling about +your work and your play. It is the crystallizer of character, the acid +test of friendship, the final seal set upon enmity. It will betray your +little, hidden weaknesses, cut and polish your undiscovered virtues, +reveal you in all your glory or your vileness to your companions in +exile--if so be you have any. + +If you would test the soul of a friend, take him into the wilderness +and rub elbows with him for five months! One of three things will surely +happen: You will hate each other afterward with that enlightened hatred +which is seasoned with contempt; you will emerge with the contempt +tinged with a pitying toleration, or you will be close, unquestioning +friends to the last six feet of earth--and beyond. All these things will +cabin fever do, and more. It has committed murder, many's the time. It +has driven men crazy. It has warped and distorted character out of all +semblance to its former self. It has sweetened love and killed love. +There is an antidote--but I am going to let you find the antidote +somewhere in the story. + +Bud Moore, ex-cow-puncher and now owner of an auto stage that did not +run in the winter, was touched with cabin fever and did not know what +ailed him. His stage line ran from San Jose up through Los Gatos and +over the Bear Creek road across the summit of the Santa Cruz Mountains +and down to the State Park, which is locally called Big Basin. For +something over fifty miles of wonderful scenic travel he charged six +dollars, and usually his big car was loaded to the running boards. Bud +was a good driver, and he had a friendly pair of eyes--dark blue and +with a humorous little twinkle deep down in them somewhere--and a human +little smiley quirk at the corners of his lips. He did not know it, but +these things helped to fill his car. + +Until gasoline married into the skylark family, Bud did well enough to +keep him contented out of a stock saddle. (You may not know it, but +it is harder for an old cow-puncher to find content, now that the free +range is gone into history, than it is for a labor agitator to be happy +in a municipal boarding house.) + +Bud did well enough, which was very well indeed. Before the second +season closed with the first fall rains, he had paid for his big car +and got the insurance policy transferred to his name. He walked up +First Street with his hat pushed back and a cigarette dangling from the +quirkiest corner of his mouth, and his hands in his pockets. The glow of +prosperity warmed his manner toward the world. He had a little money in +the bank, he had his big car, he had the good will of a smiling world. +He could not walk half a block in any one of three or four towns but he +was hailed with a “Hello, Bud!” in a welcoming tone. More people knew +him than Bud remembered well enough to call by name--which is the final +proof of popularity the world over. + +In that glowing mood he had met and married a girl who went into Big +Basin with her mother and camped for three weeks. The girl had taken +frequent trips to Boulder Creek, and twice had gone on to San Jose, and +she had made it a point to ride with the driver because she was crazy +about cars. So she said. Marie had all the effect of being a pretty +girl. She habitually wore white middies with blue collar and tie, which +went well with her clear, pink skin and her hair that just escaped being +red. She knew how to tilt her “beach” hat at the most provocative angle, +and she knew just when to let Bud catch a slow, sidelong glance--of the +kind that is supposed to set a man's heart to syncopatic behavior. She +did not do it too often. She did not powder too much, and she had the +latest slang at her pink tongue's tip and was yet moderate in her use of +it. + +Bud did not notice Marie much on the first trip. She was demure, and Bud +had a girl in San Jose who had brought him to that interesting stage +of dalliance where he wondered if he dared kiss her good night the +next time he called. He was preoccupiedly reviewing the +she-said-and-then-I-said, and trying to make up his mind whether he +should kiss her and take a chance on her displeasure, or whether he had +better wait. To him Marie appeared hazily as another camper who helped +fill the car--and his pocket--and was not at all hard to look at. It +was not until the third trip that Bud thought her beautiful, and was +secretly glad that he had not kissed that San Jose girl. + +You know how these romances develop. Every summer is saturated with them +the world over. But Bud happened to be a simple-souled fellow, and there +was something about Marie--He didn't know what it was. Men never do +know, until it is all over. He only knew that the drive through the +shady stretches of woodland grew suddenly to seem like little journeys +into paradise. Sentiment lurked behind every great, mossy tree bole. New +beauties unfolded in the winding drive up over the mountain crests. Bud +was terribly in love with the world in those days. + +There were the evenings he spent in the Basin, sitting beside Marie +in the huge campfire circle, made wonderful by the shadowy giants, +the redwoods; talking foolishness in undertones while the crowd sang +snatches of songs which no one knew from beginning to end, and that went +very lumpy in the verses and very much out of harmony in the choruses. +Sometimes they would stroll down toward that sweeter music the creek +made, and stand beside one of the enormous trees and watch the glow of +the fire, and the silhouettes of the people gathered around it. + +In a week they were surreptitiously holding hands. In two weeks they +could scarcely endure the partings when Bud must start back to San Jose, +and were taxing their ingenuity to invent new reasons why Marie must go +along. In three weeks they were married, and Marie's mother--a shrewd, +shrewish widow--was trying to decide whether she should wash her hands +of Marie, or whether it might be well to accept the situation and hope +that Bud would prove himself a rising young man. + +But that was a year in the past. Bud had cabin fever now and did not +know what ailed him, though cause might have been summed up in two meaty +phrases: too much idleness, and too much mother-in-law. Also, not enough +comfort and not enough love. + +In the kitchen of the little green cottage on North Sixth Street where +Bud had built the home nest with much nearly-Mission furniture and a +piano, Bud was frying his own hotcakes for his ten o'clock breakfast, +and was scowling over the task. He did not mind the hour so much, but he +did mortally hate to cook his own breakfast--or any other meal, for that +matter. In the next room a rocking chair was rocking with a rhythmic +squeak, and a baby was squalling with that sustained volume of sound +which never fails to fill the adult listener with amazement. It affected +Bud unpleasantly, just as the incessant bawling of a band of weaning +calves used to do. He could not bear the thought of young things going +hungry. + +“For the love of Mike, Marie! Why don't you feed that kid, or do +something to shut him up?” he exploded suddenly, dribbling pancake +batter over the untidy range. + +The squeak, squawk of the rocker ceased abruptly. “'Cause it isn't time +yet to feed him--that's why. What's burning out there? I'll bet you've +got the stove all over dough again--” The chair resumed its squeaking, +the baby continued uninterrupted its wah-h-hah! wah-h-hah, as though it +was a phonograph that had been wound up with that record on, and no one +around to stop it + +Bud turned his hotcakes with a vicious flop that spattered more batter +on the stove. He had been a father only a month or so, but that was +long enough to learn many things about babies which he had never known +before. He knew, for instance, that the baby wanted its bottle, and that +Marie was going to make him wait till feeding time by the clock. + +“By heck, I wonder what would happen if that darn clock was to stop!” he +exclaimed savagely, when his nerves would bear no more. “You'd let the +kid starve to death before you'd let your own brains tell you what +to do! Husky youngster like that--feeding 'im four ounces every four +days--or some simp rule like that--” He lifted the cakes on to a plate +that held two messy-looking fried eggs whose yolks had broken, set the +plate on the cluttered table and slid petulantly into a chair and began +to eat. The squeaking chair and the crying baby continued to torment +him. Furthermore, the cakes were doughy in the middle. + +“For gosh sake, Marie, give that kid his bottle!” Bud exploded again. +“Use the brains God gave yuh--such as they are! By heck, I'll stick +that darn book in the stove. Ain't yuh got any feelings at all? Why, I +wouldn't let a dog go hungry like that! Don't yuh reckon the kid knows +when he's hungry? Why, good Lord! I'll take and feed him myself, if you +don't. I'll burn that book--so help me!” + +“Yes, you will--not!” Marie's voice rose shrewishly, riding the high +waves of the baby's incessant outcry against the restrictions upon +appetite imposed by enlightened motherhood. “You do, and see what'll +happen! You'd have him howling with colic, that's what you'd do.” + +“Well, I'll tell the world he wouldn't holler for grub! You'd go by the +book if it told yuh to stand 'im on his head in the ice chest! By heck, +between a woman and a hen turkey, give me the turkey when it comes to +sense. They do take care of their young ones--” + +“Aw, forget that! When it comes to sense---” + +Oh, well, why go into details? You all know how these domestic storms +arise, and how love washes overboard when the matrimonial ship begins to +wallow in the seas of recrimination. + +Bud lost his temper and said a good many things should not have said. +Marie flung back angry retorts and reminded Bud of all his sins and +slights and shortcomings, and told him many of mamma's pessimistic +prophecies concerning him, most of which seemed likely to be fulfilled. +Bud fought back, telling Marie how much of a snap she had had since she +married him, and how he must have looked like ready money to her, and +added that now, by heck, he even had to do his own cooking, as well as +listen to her whining and nagging, and that there wasn't clean corner in +the house, and she'd rather let her own baby go hungry than break a simp +rule in a darn book got up by a bunch of boobs that didn't know anything +about kids. Surely to goodness, he finished his heated paragraph, it +wouldn't break any woman's back to pour a little warm water on a little +malted milk, and shake it up. + +He told Marie other things, and in return, Marie informed him that he +was just a big-mouthed, lazy brute, and she could curse the day she ever +met him. That was going pretty far. Bud reminded her that she had not +done any cursing at the time, being in his opinion too busy roping him +in to support her. + +By that time he had gulped down his coffee, and was into his coat, +and looking for his hat. Marie, crying and scolding and rocking the +vociferous infant, interrupted herself to tell him that she wanted a +ten-cent roll of cotton from the drug store, and added that she hoped +she would not have to wait until next Christmas for it, either. Which +bit of sarcasm so inflamed Bud's rage that he swore every step of the +way to Santa Clara Avenue, and only stopped then because he happened to +meet a friend who was going down town, and they walked together. + +At the drug store on the corner of Second Street Bud stopped and bought +the cotton, feeling remorseful for some of the things he had said to +Marie, but not enough so to send him back home to tell her he was sorry. +He went on, and met another friend before he had taken twenty steps. +This friend was thinking of buying a certain second-hand automobile that +was offered at a very low price, and he wanted Bud to go with him and +look her over. Bud went, glad of the excuse to kill the rest of the +forenoon. + +They took the car out and drove to Schutzen Park and back. Bud opined +that she didn't bark to suit him, and she had a knock in her cylinders +that shouted of carbon. They ran her into the garage shop and went deep +into her vitals, and because she jerked when Bud threw her into second, +Bud suspected that her bevel gears had lost a tooth or two, and was +eager to find out for sure. + +Bill looked at his watch and suggested that they eat first before they +got all over grease by monkeying with the rear end. So they went to the +nearest restaurant and had smothered beefsteak and mashed potato and +coffee and pie, and while they ate they talked of gears and carburetors +and transmission and ignition troubles, all of which alleviated +temporarily Bud's case of cabin fever and caused him to forget that he +was married and had quarreled with his wife and had heard a good many +unkind things which his mother-in-law had said about him. + +By the time they were back in the garage and had the grease cleaned out +of the rear gears so that they could see whether they were really burred +or broken, as Bud had suspected, the twinkle was back in his eyes, and +the smiley quirk stayed at the corners of his mouth, and when he was not +talking mechanics with Bill he was whistling. He found much lost motion +and four broken teeth, and he was grease to his eyebrows--in other +words, he was happy. + +When he and Bill finally shed their borrowed overalls and caps, the +garage lights were on, and the lot behind the shop was dusky. Bud sat +down on the running board and began to figure what the actual cost +of the bargain would be when Bill had put it into good mechanical +condition. New bearings, new bevel gear, new brake, lining, rebored +cylinders--they totalled a sum that made Bill gasp. + +By the time Bud had proved each item an absolute necessity, and had +reached the final ejaculation: “Aw, forget it, Bill, and buy yuh a +Ford!” it was so late that he knew Marie must have given up looking +for him home to supper. She would have taken it for granted that he had +eaten down town. So, not to disappoint her, Bud did eat down town. Then +Bill wanted him to go to a movie, and after a praiseworthy hesitation +Bud yielded to temptation and went. No use going home now, just when +Marie would be rocking the kid to sleep and wouldn't let him speak above +a whisper, he told his conscience. Might as well wait till they settled +down for the night. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. TWO MAKE A QUARREL + +At nine o'clock Bud went home. He was feeling very well satisfied with +himself for some reason which he did not try to analyze, but which +was undoubtedly his sense of having saved Bill from throwing away six +hundred dollars on a bum car; and the weight in his coat pocket of a +box of chocolates that he had bought for Marie. Poor girl, it was kinda +tough on her, all right, being tied to the house now with the kid. Next +spring when he started his run to Big Basin again, he would get a little +camp in there by the Inn, and take her along with him when the travel +wasn't too heavy. She could stay at either end of the run, just as she +took a notion. Wouldn't hurt the kid a bit--he'd be bigger then, and the +outdoors would make him grow like a pig. Thinking of these things, Bud +walked briskly, whistling as he neared the little green house, so that +Marie would know who it was, and would not be afraid when he stepped up +on the front porch. + +He stopped whistling rather abruptly when he reached the house, for it +was dark. He tried the door and found it locked. The key was not in the +letter box where they always kept it for the convenience of the first +one who returned, so Bud went around to the back and climbed through the +pantry window. He fell over a chair, bumped into the table, and damned +a few things. The electric light was hung in the center of the room by +a cord that kept him groping and clutching in the dark before he finally +touched the elusive bulb with his fingers and switched on the light. + +The table was set for a meal--but whether it was dinner or supper Bud +could not determine. He went into the little sleeping room and turned on +the light there, looked around the empty room, grunted, and tiptoed into +the bedroom. (In the last month he had learned to enter on his toes, +lest he waken the baby.) He might have saved himself the bother, for the +baby was not there in its new gocart. The gocart was not there, Marie +was not there--one after another these facts impressed themselves upon +Bud's mind, even before he found the letter propped against the clock +in the orthodox manner of announcing unexpected departures. Bud read the +letter, crumpled it in his fist, and threw it toward the little heating +stove. “If that's the way yuh feel about it, I'll tell the world you can +go and be darned!” he snorted, and tried to let that end the matter so +far as he was concerned. But he could not shake off the sense of having +been badly used. He did not stop to consider that while he was working +off his anger, that day, Marie had been rocking back and forth, crying +and magnifying the quarrel as she dwelt upon it, and putting a new and +sinister meaning into Bud's ill-considered utterances. By the time Bud +was thinking only of the bargain car's hidden faults, Marie had reached +the white heat of resentment that demanded vigorous action. Marie was +packing a suitcase and meditating upon the scorching letter she meant to +write. + +Judging from the effect which the letter had upon Bud, it must have +been a masterpiece of its kind. He threw the box of chocolates into the +wood-box, crawled out of the window by which he had entered, and went +down town to a hotel. If the house wasn't good enough for Marie, let her +go. He could go just as fast and as far as she could. And if she thought +he was going to hot-foot it over to her mother's and whine around and +beg her to come home, she had another think coming. + +He wouldn't go near the darn place again, except to get his clothes. +He'd bust up the joint, by thunder. He'd sell off the furniture and turn +the house over to the agent again, and Marie could whistle for a home. +She had been darn glad to get into that house, he remembered, and away +from that old cat of a mother. Let her stay there now till she was darn +good and sick of it. He'd just keep her guessing for awhile; a week or +so would do her good. Well, he wouldn't sell the furniture--he'd just +move it into another house, and give her a darn good scare. He'd get a +better one, that had a porcelain bathtub instead of a zinc one, and a +better porch, where the kid could be out in the sun. Yes, sir, he'd just +do that little thing, and lay low and see what Marie did about that. +Keep her guessing--that was the play to make. + +Unfortunately for his domestic happiness, Bud failed to take into +account two very important factors in the quarrel. The first and most +important one was Marie's mother, who, having been a widow for fifteen +years and therefore having acquired a habit of managing affairs that +even remotely concerned her, assumed that Marie's affairs must be +managed also. The other factor was Marie's craving to be coaxed back to +smiles by the man who drove her to tears. Marie wanted Bud to come and +say he was sorry, and had been a brute and so forth. She wanted to hear +him tell how empty the house had seemed when he returned and found her +gone. She wanted him to be good and scared with that letter. She stayed +awake until after midnight, listening for his anxious footsteps; after +midnight she stayed awake to cry over the inhuman way he was treating +her, and to wish she was dead, and so forth; also because the baby +woke and wanted his bottle, and she was teaching him to sleep all night +without it, and because the baby had a temper just like his father. + +His father's temper would have yielded a point or two, the next day, had +it been given the least encouragement. For instance, he might have gone +over to see Marie before he moved the furniture out of the house, had +he not discovered an express wagon standing in front of the door when +he went home about noon to see if Marie had come back. Before he had +recovered to the point of profane speech, the express man appeared, +coming out of the house, bent nearly double under the weight of Marie's +trunk. Behind him in the doorway Bud got a glimpse of Marie's mother. + +That settled it. Bud turned around and hurried to the nearest drayage +company, and ordered a domestic wrecking crew to the scene; in other +words, a packer and two draymen and a dray. He'd show 'em. Marie and her +mother couldn't put anything over on him--he'd stand over that furniture +with a sheriff first. + +He went back and found Marie's mother still there, packing dishes and +doilies and the like. They had a terrible row, and all the nearest +neighbors inclined ears to doors ajar--getting an earful, as Bud +contemptuously put it. He finally led Marie's mother to the front door +and set her firmly outside. Told her that Marie had come to him with +no more than the clothes she had, and that his money had bought every +teaspoon and every towel and every stick of furniture in the darned +place, and he'd be everlastingly thus-and-so if they were going to +strong-arm the stuff off him now. If Marie was too good to live with +him, why, his stuff was too good for her to have. + +Oh, yes, the neighbors certainly got an earful, as the town gossips +proved when the divorce suit seeped into the papers. Bud refused to +answer the proceedings, and was therefore ordered to pay twice as much +alimony as he could afford to pay; more, in fact, than all his domestic +expense had amounted to in the fourteen months that he had been married. +Also Marie was awarded the custody of the child and, because Marie's +mother had represented Bud to be a violent man who was a menace to her +daughter's safety--and proved it by the neighbors who had seen and heard +so much--Bud was served with a legal paper that wordily enjoined him +from annoying Marie with his presence. + +That unnecessary insult snapped the last thread of Bud's regret for what +had happened. He sold the furniture and the automobile, took the money +to the judge that had tried the case, told the judge a few wholesome +truths, and laid the pile of money on the desk. + +“That cleans me out, Judge,” he said stolidly. “I wasn't such a bad +husband, at that. I got sore--but I'll bet you get sore yourself and +tell your wife what-for, now and then. I didn't get a square deal, but +that's all right. I'm giving a better deal than I got. Now you can keep +that money and pay it out to Marie as she needs it, for herself and the +kid. But for the Lord's sake, Judge, don't let that wildcat of a mother +of hers get her fingers into the pile! She framed this deal, thinking +she'd get a haul outa me this way. I'm asking you to block that little +game. I've held out ten dollars, to eat on till I strike something. I'm +clean; they've licked the platter and broke the dish. So don't never ask +me to dig up any more, because I won't--not for you nor no other darn +man. Get that.” + +This, you must know, was not in the courtroom, so Bud was not fined for +contempt. The judge was a married man himself, and he may have had a +sympathetic understanding of Bud's position. At any rate he listened +unofficially, and helped Bud out with the legal part of it, so that Bud +walked out of the judge's office financially free, even though he had +a suspicion that his freedom would not bear the test of prosperity, +and that Marie's mother would let him alone only so long as he and +prosperity were strangers. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD + +To withhold for his own start in life only one ten-dollar bill from +fifteen hundred dollars was spectacular enough to soothe even so bruised +an ego as Bud Moore carried into the judge's office. There is an +anger which carries a person to the extreme of self-sacrifice, in the +subconscious hope of exciting pity for one so hardly used. Bud was +boiling with such an anger, and it demanded that he should all but give +Marie the shirt off his back, since she had demanded so much--and for so +slight a cause. + +Bud could not see for the life of him why Marie should have quit for +that little ruction. It was not their first quarrel, nor their worst; +certainly he had not expected it to be their last. Why, he asked the +high heavens, had she told him to bring home a roll of cotton, if she +was going to leave him? Why had she turned her back on that little home, +that had seemed to mean as much to her as it had to him? + +Being kin to primitive man, Bud could only bellow rage when he should +have analyzed calmly the situation. He should have seen that Marie too +had cabin fever, induced by changing too suddenly from carefree girlhood +to the ills and irks of wifehood and motherhood. He should have known +that she had been for two months wholly dedicated to the small physical +wants of their baby, and that if his nerves were fraying with watching +that incessant servitude, her own must be close to the snapping point; +had snapped, when dusk did not bring him home repentant. + +But he did not know, and so he blamed Marie bitterly for the wreck of +their home, and he flung down all his worldly goods before her, and +marched off feeling self-consciously proud of his martyrdom. It soothed +him paradoxically to tell himself that he was “cleaned”; that Marie had +ruined him absolutely, and that he was just ten dollars and a decent +suit or two of clothes better off than a tramp. He was tempted to go +back and send the ten dollars after the rest of the fifteen hundred, but +good sense prevailed. He would have to borrow money for his next meal, +if he did that, and Bud was touchy about such things. + +He kept the ten dollars therefore, and went down to the garage where he +felt most at home, and stood there with his hands in his pockets and the +corners of his mouth tipped downward--normally they had a way of tipping +upward, as though he was secretly amused at something--and his eyes +sullen, though they carried tiny lines at the corners to show how they +used to twinkle. He took the ten-dollar bank note from his pocket, +straightened out the wrinkles and looked at it disdainfully. As plainly +as though he spoke, his face told what he was thinking about it: that +this was what a woman had brought him to! He crumpled it up and made a +gesture as though he would throw it into the street, and a man behind +him laughed abruptly. Bud scowled and turned toward him a belligerent +glance, and the man stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun. + +“If you've got money to throw to the birds, brother, I guess I won't +make the proposition I was going to make. Thought I could talk business +to you, maybe--but I guess I better tie a can to that idea.” + +Bud grunted and put the ten dollars in his pocket. + +“What idea's that?” + +“Oh, driving a car I'm taking south. Sprained my shoulder, and don't +feel like tackling it myself. They tell me in here that you aren't doing +anything now--” He made the pause that asks for an answer. + +“They told you right. I've done it.” + +The man's eyebrows lifted, but since Bud did not explain, he went on +with his own explanation. + +“You don't remember me, but I rode into Big Basin with you last summer. +I know you can drive, and it doesn't matter a lot whether it's asphalt +or cow trail you drive over.” + +Bud was in too sour a mood to respond to the flattery. He did not even +grunt. + +“Could you take a car south for me? There'll be night driving, and bad +roads, maybe--” + +“If you know what you say you know about my driving, what's the +idea--asking me if I can?” + +“Well, put it another way. Will you?” + +“You're on. Where's the car? Here?” Bud sent a seeking look into the +depths of the garage. He knew every car in there. “What is there in it +for me?” he added perfunctorily, because he would have gone just for +sake of getting a free ride rather than stay in San Jose over night. + +“There's good money in it, if you can drive with your mouth shut. This +isn't any booster parade. Fact is--let's walk to the depot, while I +tell you.” He stepped out of the doorway, and Bud gloomily followed him. +“Little trouble with my wife,” the man explained apologetically. “Having +me shadowed, and all that sort of thing. And I've got business south and +want to be left alone to do it. Darn these women!” he exploded suddenly. + +Bud mentally said amen, but kept his mouth shut upon his sympathy with +the sentiment. + +“Foster's my name. Now here's a key to the garage at this address.” He +handed Bud a padlock key and an address scribbled on a card. “That's my +place in Oakland, out by Lake Merritt. You go there to-night, get the +car, and have it down at the Broadway Wharf to meet the 11:30 boat--the +one the theater crowd uses. Have plenty of gas and oil; there won't be +any stops after we start. Park out pretty well near the shore end as +close as you can get to that ten-foot gum sign, and be ready to go when +I climb in. I may have a friend with me. You know Oakland?” + +“Fair to middling. I can get around by myself.” + +“Well, that's all right. I've got to go back to the city--catching the +next train. You better take the two-fifty to Oakland. Here's money for +whatever expense there is. And say! put these number plates in your +pocket, and take off the ones on the car. I bought these of a fellow +that had a smash--they'll do for the trip. Put them on, will you? She's +wise to the car number, of course. Put the plates you take off under +the seat cushion; don't leave 'em. Be just as careful as if it was a +life-and-death matter, will you? I've got a big deal on, down there, and +I don't want her spilling the beans just to satisfy a grudge--which she +would do in a minute. So don't fail to be at the ferry, parked so you +can slide out easy. Get down there by that big gum sign. I'll find you, +all right.” + +“I'll be there.” Bud thrust the key and another ten dollars into his +pocket and turned away. + +“And don't say anything--” + +“Do I look like an open-faced guy?” + +The man laughed. “Not much, or I wouldn't have picked you for the +trip.” He hurried down to the depot platform, for his train was already +whistling, farther down the yards. + +Bud looked after him, the corners of his mouth taking their normal, +upward tilt. It began to look as though luck had not altogether deserted +him, in spite of the recent blow it had given. He slid the wrapped +number plates into the inside pocket of his overcoat, pushed his hands +deep into his pockets, and walked up to the cheap hotel which had been +his bleak substitute for a home during his trouble. He packed everything +he owned--a big suitcase held it all by squeezing--paid his bill at the +office, accepted a poor cigar, and in return said, yes, he was going to +strike out and look for work; and took the train for Oakland. + +A street car landed him within two blocks of the address on the tag, and +Bud walked through thickening fog and dusk to the place. Foster had a +good-looking house, he observed. Set back on the middle of two lots, it +was, with a cement drive sloping up from the street to the garage backed +against the alley. Under cover of lighting a cigarette, he inspected the +place before he ventured farther. The blinds were drawn down--at least +upon the side next the drive. On the other he thought he caught a gleam +of light at the rear; rather, the beam that came from a gleam of light +in Foster's dining room or kitchen shining on the next house. But he was +not certain of it, and the absolute quiet reassured him so that he went +up the drive, keeping on the grass border until he reached the garage. +This, he told himself, was just like a woman--raising the deuce around +so that a man had to sneak into his own place to get his own car out of +his own garage. If Foster was up against the kind of deal Bud had been +up against, he sure had Bud's sympathy, and he sure would get the best +help Bud was capable of giving him. + +The key fitted the lock, and Bud went in, set down his suitcase, and +closed the door after him. It was dark as a pocket in there, save where +a square of grayness betrayed a window. Bud felt his way to the side +of the car, groped to the robe rail, found a heavy, fringed robe, and +curtained the window until he could see no thread of light anywhere; +after which he ventured to use his flashlight until he had found the +switch and turned on the light. + +There was a little side door at the back, and it was fastened on the +inside with a stout hook. Bud thought for a minute, took a long chance, +and let himself out into the yard, closing the door after him. He walked +around the garage to the front and satisfied himself that the light +inside did not show. Then he went around the back of the house and found +that he had not been mistaken about the light. The house was certainly +occupied, and like the neighboring houses seemed concerned only with the +dinner hour of the inmates. He went back, hooked the little door on the +inside, and began a careful inspection of the car he was to drive. + +It was a big, late-modeled touring car, of the kind that sells for +nearly five thousand dollars. Bud's eyes lightened with satisfaction +when he looked at it. There would be pleasure as well as profit in +driving this old girl to Los Angeles, he told himself. It fairly made +his mouth water to look at her standing there. He got in and slid behind +the wheel and fingered the gear lever, and tested the clutch and the +foot brake--not because he doubted them, but because he had a hankering +to feel their smoothness of operation. Bud loved a good car just as he +had loved a good horse in the years behind him. Just as he used to walk +around a good horse and pat its sleek shoulder and feel the hard muscles +of its trim legs, so now he made love to this big car. Let that old hen +of Foster's crab the trip south? He should sa-a-ay not! + +There did not seem to be a thing that he could do to her, but +nevertheless he got down and, gave all the grease cups a turn, removed +the number plates and put them under the rear seat cushion, inspected +the gas tank and the oil gauge and the fanbelt and the radiator, turned +back the trip-mileage to zero--professional driving had made Bud careful +as a taxi driver about recording the mileage of a trip--looked at the +clock set in the instrument board, and pondered. + +What if the old lady took a notion to drive somewhere? She would miss +the car and raise a hullabaloo, and maybe crab the whole thing in the +start. In that case, Bud decided that the best way would be to let her +go. He could pile on to the empty trunk rack behind, and manage somehow +to get off with the car when she stopped. Still, there was not much +chance of her going out in the fog--and now that he listened, he heard +the drip of rain. No, there was not much chance. Foster had not seemed +to think there was any chance of the car being in use, and Foster ought +to know. He would wait until about ten-thirty, to play safe, and then +go. + +Rain spelled skid chains to Bud. He looked in the tool box, found a set, +and put them on. Then, because he was not going to take any chances, he +put another set, that he found hanging up, on the front wheels. After +that he turned out the light, took down the robe and wrapped himself in +it, and laid himself down on the rear seat to wait for ten-thirty. + +He dozed, and the next he knew there was a fumbling at the door in +front, and the muttering of a voice. Bud slid noiselessly out of the +car and under it, head to the rear where he could crawl out quickly. The +voice sounded like a man, and presently the door opened and Bud was sure +of it. He caught a querulous sentence or two. + +“Door left unlocked--the ignorant hound--Good thing I don't trust +him too far--” Some one came fumbling in and switched on the light. +“Careless hound--told him to be careful--never even put the robe on the +rail where it belongs--and then they howl about the way they're treated! +Want more wages--don't earn what they do get--” + +Bud, twisting his head, saw a pair of slippered feet beside the running +board. The owner of the slippers was folding the robe and laying it over +the rail, and grumbling to himself all the while. “Have to come out in +the rain--daren't trust him an inch--just like him to go off and leave +the door unlocked--” With a last grunt or two the mumbling ceased. The +light was switched off, and Bud heard the doors pulled shut, and the +rattle of the padlock and chain. He waited another minute and crawled +out. + +“Might have told me there was a father-in-law in the outfit,” he +grumbled to himself. “Big a butt-in as Marie's mother, at that. Huh. +Never saw my suit case, never noticed the different numbers, never got +next to the chains--huh! Regular old he-hen, and I sure don't blame +Foster for wanting to tie a can to the bunch.” + +Very cautiously he turned his flashlight on the face of the automobile +clock. The hour hand stood a little past ten, and Bud decided he had +better go. He would have to fill the gas tank, and get more oil, and he +wanted to test the air in his tires. No stops after they started, said +Foster; Bud had set his heart on showing Foster something in the way of +getting a car over the road. + +Father-in-law would holler if he heard the car, but Bud did not intend +that father-in-law should hear it. He would much rather run the gauntlet +of that driveway then wait in the dark any longer. He remembered +the slope down to the street, and grinned contentedly. He would give +father-in-law a chance to throw a fit, next morning. + +He set his suit case in the tonneau, went out of the little door, edged +around to the front and very, very cautiously he unlocked the big doors +and set them open. He went in and felt the front wheels, judged that +they were set straight, felt around the interior until his fingers +touched a block of wood and stepped off the approximate length of the +car in front of the garage, allowing for the swing of the doors, and +placed the block there. Then he went back, eased off the emergency +brake, grabbed a good handhold and strained forward. + +The chains hindered, but the floor sloped to the front a trifle, which +helped. In a moment he had the satisfaction of feeling the big car give, +then roll slowly ahead. The front wheels dipped down over the threshold, +and Bud stepped upon the running board, took the wheel, and by instinct +more than by sight guided her through the doorway without a scratch. +She rolled forward like a black shadow until a wheel jarred against the +block, whereupon he set the emergency brake and got off, breathing free +once more. He picked up the block and carried it back, quietly closed +the big doors and locked them, taking time to do it silently. Then, in +a glow of satisfaction with his work, he climbed slowly into the car, +settled down luxuriously in the driver's seat, eased off the brake, and +with a little lurch of his body forward started the car rolling down the +driveway. + +There was a risk, of course, in coasting out on to the street with +no lights, but he took it cheerfully, planning to dodge if he saw the +lights of another car coming. It pleased him to remember that the street +inclined toward the bay. He rolled past the house without a betraying +sound, dipped over the curb to the asphalt, swung the car townward, and +coasted nearly half a block with the ignition switch on before he pushed +up the throttle, let in his clutch, and got the answering chug-chug of +the engine. With the lights on full he went purring down the street in +the misty fog, pleased with himself and his mission. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING + +At a lunch wagon down near the water front, Bud stopped and bought two +“hot dog” sandwiches and a mug of hot coffee boiled with milk in it +and sweetened with three cubes of sugar. “O-oh, boy!” he ejaculated +gleefully when he set his teeth into biscuit and hot hamburger. Leaning +back luxuriously in the big car, he ate and drank until he could eat and +drink no more. Then, with a bag of bananas on the seat beside him, he +drove on down to the mole, searching through the drizzle for the big +gum sign which Foster had named. Just even with the coughing engine of +a waiting through train he saw it, and backed in against the curb, +pointing the car's radiator toward the mainland. He had still half an +hour to wait, and he buttoned on the curtains of the car, since a wind +from across the bay was sending the drizzle slantwise; moreover it +occurred to him that Foster would not object to the concealment while +they were passing through Oakland. Then he listlessly ate a banana while +he waited. + +The hoarse siren of a ferryboat bellowed through the murk. Bud started +the engine, throttled it down to his liking, and left it to warm up for +the flight. He ate another banana, thinking lazily that he wished he +owned this car. For the first time in many a day his mind was not filled +and boiling over with his trouble. Marie and all the bitterness she had +come to mean to him receded into the misty background of his mind and +hovered there, an indistinct memory of something painful in his life. + +A street car slipped past, bobbing down the track like a duck sailing +over ripples. A local train clanged down to the depot and stood jangling +its bell while it disgorged passengers for the last boat to the City +whose wall of stars was hidden behind the drizzle and the clinging fog. +People came straggling down the sidewalk--not many, for few had business +with the front end of the waiting trains. Bud pushed the throttle up a +little. His fingers dropped down to the gear lever, his foot snuggled +against the clutch pedal. + +Feet came hurrying. Two voices mumbled together. “Here he is,” said one. +“That's the number I gave him.” Bud felt some one step hurriedly upon +the running board. The tonneau door was yanked open. A man puffed +audibly behind him. “Yuh ready?” Foster's voice hissed in Bud's ear. + +“R'aring to go.” Bud heard the second man get in and shut the door, and +he jerked the gear lever into low. His foot came gently back with the +clutch, and the car slid out and away. + +Foster settled back on the cushions with a sigh. The other man was +fumbling the side curtains, swearing under his breath when his fingers +bungled the fastenings. + +“Everything all ready?” Foster's voice was strident with anxiety. + +“Sure thing.” + +“Well, head south--any road you know best. And keep going, till I tell +you to stop. How's the oil and gas?” + +“Full up. Gas enough for three hundred miles. Extra gallon of oil in the +car. What d'yah want--the speed limit through town?” + +“Nah. Side streets, if you know any. They might get quick action and +telephone ahead.” + +“Leave it to me, brother.” + +Bud did not know for sure, never having been pursued; but it seemed to +him that a straightaway course down a main street where other cars were +scudding homeward would be the safest route, because the simplest. He +did not want any side streets in his, he decided--and maybe run into a +mess of street-improvement litter, and have to back trail around it. +He held the car to a hurry-home pace that was well within the law, and +worked into the direct route to Hayward. He sensed that either Foster or +his friend turned frequently to look back through the square celluloid +window, but he did not pay much attention to them, for the streets were +greasy with wet, and not all drivers would equip with four skid chains. +Keeping sharp lookout for skidding cars and unexpected pedestrians and +street-car crossings and the like fully occupied Bud. + +For all that, an occasional mutter came unheeded to his ears, the closed +curtains preserving articulate sounds like room walls. + +“He's all right,” he heard Foster whisper once. “Better than if he was +in on it.” He did not know that Foster was speaking of him. + +“--if he gets next,” the friend mumbled. + +“Ah, quit your worrying,” Foster grunted. “The trick's turned; that's +something.” + +Bud was under the impression that they were talking about father-in-law, +who had called Foster a careless hound; but whether they were or not +concerned him so little that his own thoughts never flagged in their +shuttle-weaving through his mind. The mechanics of handling the big car +and getting the best speed out of her with the least effort and risk, +the tearing away of the last link of his past happiness and his grief; +the feeling that this night was the real parting between him and Marie, +the real stepping out into the future; the future itself, blank beyond +the end of this trip, these were quite enough to hold Bud oblivious to +the conversation of strangers. + +At dawn they neared a little village. Through this particular county the +road was unpaved and muddy, and the car was a sight to behold. The only +clean spot was on the windshield, where Bud had reached around once or +twice with a handful of waste and cleaned a place to see through. It was +raining soddenly, steadily, as though it always had rained and always +would rain. + +Bud turned his face slightly to one side. “How about stopping; I'll have +to feed her some oil--and it wouldn't hurt to fill the gas tank again. +These heavy roads eat up a lot of extra power. What's her average +mileage on a gallon, Foster?” + +“How the deuce should I know?” Foster snapped, just coming out of a +doze. + +“You ought to know, with your own car--and gas costing what it does.” + +“Oh!--ah--what was it you asked?” Foster yawned aloud. “I musta been +asleep.” + +“I guess you musta been, all right,” Bud grunted. “Do you want breakfast +here, or don't you? I've got to stop for gas and oil; that's what I was +asking?” + +The two consulted together, and finally told Bud to stop at the first +garage and get his oil and gas. After that he could drive to a drug +store and buy a couple of thermos bottles, and after that he could go to +the nearest restaurant and get the bottles filled with black coffee, and +have lunch put up for six people. Foster and his friend would remain in +the car. + +Bud did these things, revising the plan to the extent of eating his own +breakfast at the counter in the restaurant while the lunch was being +prepared in the kitchen. + +From where he sat he could look across at the muddy car standing before +a closed millinery-and-drygoods store. It surely did not look much like +the immaculate machine he had gloated over the evening before, but it +was a powerful, big brute of a car and looked its class in every line. +Bud was proud to drive a car like that. The curtains were buttoned down +tight, and he thought amusedly of the two men huddled inside, shivering +and hungry, yet refusing to come in and get warmed up with a decent +breakfast. Foster, he thought, must certainly be scared of his wife, if +he daren't show himself in this little rube town. For the first time Bud +had a vagrant suspicion that Foster had not told quite all there was to +tell about this trip. Bud wondered now if Foster was not going to meet +a “Jane” somewhere in the South. That terrifying Mann Act would account +for his caution much better than would the business deal of which Foster +had hinted. + +Of course, Bud told himself while the waiter refilled his coffee cup, it +was none of his business what Foster had up his sleeve. He wanted to get +somewhere quickly and quietly, and Bud was getting him there. That was +all he need to consider. Warmed and once more filled with a sense of +well-being, Bud made himself a cigarette before the lunch was ready, +and with his arms full of food he went out and across the street. Just +before he reached the car one of the thermos bottles started to slide +down under his elbow. Bud attempted to grip it against his ribs, but the +thing had developed a slipperiness that threatened the whole load, so he +stopped to rearrange his packages, and got an irritated sentence or two +from his passengers. + +“Giving yourself away like that! Why couldn't you fake up a mileage? +Everybody lies or guesses about the gas--” + +“Aw, what's the difference? The simp ain't next to anything. He thinks I +own it.” + +“Well, don't make the mistake of thinking he's a sheep. Once he--” + +Bud suddenly remembered that he wanted something more from the +restaurant, and returned forth-with, slipping thermos bottle and all. He +bought two packages of chewing gum to while away the time when he could +not handily smoke, and when he returned to the car he went muttering +disapproving remarks about the rain and the mud and the bottles. He +poked his head under the front curtain and into a glum silence. The two +men leaned back into the two corners of the wide seat, with their heads +drawn down into their coat collars and their hands thrust under the +robe. Foster reached forward and took a thermos bottle, his partner +seized another. + +“Say, you might get us a bottle of good whisky, too,” said Foster, +holding out a small gold piece between his gloved thumb and finger. “Be +quick about it though--we want to be traveling. Lord, it's cold!” + +Bud went into a saloon a few doors up the street, and was back presently +with the bottle and the change. There being nothing more to detain them +there, he kicked some of the mud off his feet, scraped off the rest +on the edge of the running board and climbed in, fastening the curtain +against the storm. “Lovely weather,” he grunted sarcastically. “Straight +on to Bakersfield, huh?” + +There was a minute of silence save for the gurgling of liquid running +out of a bottle into an eager mouth. Bud laid an arm along the back of +his seat and waited, his head turned toward them. “Where are you fellows +going, anyway?” he asked impatiently. + +“Los An--” the stranger gurgled, still drinking. + +“Yuma!” snapped Foster. “You shut up, Mert. I'm running this.” + +“Better--” + +“Yuma. You hit the shortest trail for Yuma, Bud. I'm running this.” + +Foster seemed distinctly out of humor. He told Mert again to shut up, +and Mert did so grumblingly, but somewhat diverted and consoled, Bud +fancied, by the sandwiches and coffee--and the whisky too, he guessed. +For presently there was an odor from the uncorked bottle in the car. + +Bud started and drove steadily on through the rain that never ceased. +The big car warmed his heart with its perfect performance, its smooth, +effortless speed, its ease of handling. He had driven too long and too +constantly to tire easily, and he was almost tempted to settle down to +sheer enjoyment in driving such a car. Last night he had enjoyed it, but +last night was not to-day. + +He wished he had not overheard so much, or else had overheard more. He +was inclined to regret his retreat from the acrimonious voices as being +premature. Just why was he a simp, for instance? Was it because he +thought Foster owned the car? Bud wondered whether father-in-law had not +bought it, after all. Now that he began thinking from a different angle, +he remembered that father-in-law had behaved very much like the proud +possessor of a new car. It really did not look plausible that he would +come out in the drizzle to see if Foster's car was safely locked in for +the night. There had been, too, a fussy fastidiousness in the way the +robe had been folded and hung over the rail. No man would do that for +some other man's property, unless he was paid for it. + +Wherefore, Bud finally concluded that Foster was not above helping +himself to family property. On the whole, Bud did not greatly disapprove +of that; he was too actively resentful of his own mother-in-law. He was +not sure but he might have done something of the sort himself, if his +mother-in-law had possessed a six-thousand-dollar car. Still, such a +car generally means a good deal to the owner, and he did not wonder that +Foster was nervous about it. + +But in the back of his mind there lurked a faint dissatisfaction with +this easy explanation. It occurred to him that if there was going to +be any trouble about the car, he might be involved beyond the point of +comfort. After all, he did not know Foster, and he had no more reason +for believing Foster's story than he had for doubting. For all he knew, +it might not be a wife that Foster was so afraid of. + +Bud was not stupid. He was merely concerned chiefly with his own +affairs--a common enough failing, surely. But now that he had thought +himself into a mental eddy where his own affairs offered no new impulse +toward emotion, he turned over and over in his mind the mysterious trip +he was taking. It had come to seem just a little too mysterious to suit +him, and when Bud Moore was not suited he was apt to do something about +it. + +What he did in this case was to stop in Bakersfield at a garage that had +a combination drugstore and news-stand next door. He explained shortly +to his companions that he had to stop and buy a road map and that he +wouldn't be long, and crawled out into the rain. At the open doorway +of the garage he turned and looked at the car. No, it certainly did not +look in the least like the machine he had driven down to the Oakland +mole--except, of course, that it was big and of the same make. It might +have been empty, too, for all the sign it gave of being occupied. Foster +and Mert evidently had no intention whatever of showing themselves. + +Bud went into the drugstore, remained there for five minutes perhaps, +and emerged with a morning paper which he rolled up and put into his +pocket. He had glanced through its feature news, and had read hastily +one front-page article that had nothing whatever to do with the war, but +told about the daring robbery of a jewelry store in San Francisco the +night before. + +The safe, it seemed, had been opened almost in plain sight of the street +crowds, with the lights full on in the store. A clever arrangement of +two movable mirrors had served to shield the thief--or thieves. For no +longer than two or three minutes, it seemed, the lights had been off, +and it was thought that the raiders had used the interval of darkness to +move the mirrors into position. Which went far toward proving that the +crime had been carefully planned in advance. Furthermore, the article +stated with some assurance that trusted employees were involved. + +Bud also had glanced at the news items of less importance, and had been +startled enough--yet not so much surprised as he would have been a few +hours earlier--to read, under the caption: DARING THIEF STEALS COSTLY +CAR, to learn that a certain rich man of Oakland had lost his new +automobile. The address of the bereaved man had been given, and Bud's +heart had given a flop when he read it. The details of the theft had not +been told, but Bud never noticed their absence. His memory supplied all +that for him with sufficient vividness. + +He rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and with the paper stuffed carelessly +into his pocket he went to the car, climbed in, and drove on to +the south, just as matter-of-factly as though he had not just then +discovered that he, Bud Moore, had stolen a six-thousand-dollar +automobile the night before. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES + +They went on and on, through the rain and the wind, sometimes through +the mud as well, where the roads were not paved. Foster had almost +pounced upon the newspaper when he discovered it in Bud's pocket as he +climbed in, and Bud knew that the two read that feature article avidly. +But if they had any comments to make, they saved them for future +privacy. Beyond a few muttered sentences they were silent. + +Bud did not care whether they talked or not. They might have talked +themselves hoarse, when it came to that, without changing his opinions +or his attitude toward them. He had started out the most unsuspecting +of men, and now he was making up for it by suspecting Foster and Mert of +being robbers and hypocrites and potential murderers. He could readily +imagine them shooting him in the back of the head while he drove, if +that would suit their purpose, or if they thought that he suspected +them. + +He kept reviewing his performance in that garage. Had he really intended +to steal the car, he would not have had the nerve to take the chances +he had taken. He shivered when he recalled how he had slid under the car +when the owner came in. What if the man had seen him or heard him? He +would be in jail now, instead of splashing along the highway many miles +to the south. For that matter, he was likely to land in jail, anyway, +before he was done with Foster, unless he did some pretty close +figuring. Wherefore he drove with one part of his brain, and with +the other he figured upon how he was going to get out of the mess +himself--and land Foster and Mert deep in the middle of it. For such was +his vengeful desire. + +After an hour or so, when his stomach began to hint that it was eating +time for healthy men, he slowed down and turned his head toward the +tonneau. There they were, hunched down under the robe, their heads drawn +into their collars like two turtles half asleep on a mud bank. + +“Say, how about some lunch?” he demanded. “Maybe you fellows can get +along on whisky and sandwiches, but I'm doing the work; and if you +notice, I've been doing it for about twelve hours now without any +let-up. There's a town ahead here a ways--” + +“Drive around it, then,” growled Foster, lifting his chin to stare ahead +through the fogged windshield. “We've got hot coffee here, and there's +plenty to eat. Enough for two meals. How far have we come since we +started?” + +“Far enough to be called crazy if we go much farther without a square +meal,” Bud snapped. Then he glanced at the rumpled newspaper and added +carelessly, “Anything new in the paper?” + +“No!” Mert spoke up sharply. “Go on. You're doing all right so +far--don't spoil it by laying down on your job!” + +“Sure, go on!” Foster urged. “We'll stop when we get away from this darn +burg, and you can rest your legs a little while we eat.” + +Bud went on, straight through the middle of the town without stopping. +They scurried down a long, dismal lane toward a low-lying range of hills +pertly wooded with bald patches of barren earth and rock. Beyond were +mountains which Bud guessed was the Tehachapi range. Beyond them, he +believed he would find desert and desertion. He had never been over this +road before, so he could no more than guess. He knew that the ridge road +led to Los Angeles, and he did not want anything of that road. Too many +travelers. He swung into a decent-looking road that branched off to the +left, wondering where it led, but not greatly caring. He kept that road +until they had climbed over a ridge or two and were in the mountains. +Soaked wilderness lay all about them, green in places where grass would +grow, brushy in places, barren and scarred with outcropping ledges, +pencilled with wire fences drawn up over high knolls. + +In a sequestered spot where the road hugged close the concave outline of +a bushy bluff, Bud slowed and turned out behind a fringe of bushes, and +stopped. + +“This is safe enough,” he announced, “and my muscles are kinda crampy. +I'll tell the world that's been quite some spell of straight driving.” + +Mert grunted, but Foster was inclined to cheerfulness. “You're some +driver, Bud. I've got to hand it to you.” + +Bud grinned. “All right, I'll take it--half of it, anyway, if you don't +mind. You must remember I don't know you fellows. Most generally I +collect half in advance, on a long trip like this.” Foster's eyes +opened, but he reached obediently inside his coat. Mert growled +inaudible comments upon Bud's nerve. + +“Oh, we can't kick, Mert,” Foster smoothed him down diplomatically. +“He's delivered the goods, so far. And he certainly does know how to put +a car over the road. He don't know us, remember!” + +Mert grunted again and subsided. Foster extracted a bank note from his +bill-folder, which Bud observed had a prosperous plumpness, and held it +out to Bud. + +“I guess fifty dollars won't hurt your feelings, will it, brother? +That's more than you'd charge for twice the trip, but we appreciate a +tight mouth, and the hurry-up trip you've made of it, and all that It's +special work, and we're willing to pay a special price. See?” + +“Sure. But I only want half, right now. Maybe,” he added with the +lurking twinkle in his eyes, “I won't suit yuh quite so well the rest +of the way. I'll have to go b'-guess and b'-gosh from here on. I've got +some change left from what I bought for yuh this morning too. Wait till +I check up.” + +Very precisely he did so, and accepted enough from Foster to make up +the amount to twenty-five dollars. He was tempted to take more. For +one minute he even contemplated holding the two up and taking enough to +salve his hurt pride and his endangered reputation. But he did not do +anything of the sort, of course; let's believe he was too honest to do +it even in revenge for the scurvy trick they had played him. + +He ate a generous lunch of sandwiches and dill pickles and a wedge of +tasteless cocoanut cake, and drank half a pint or so of the hot, black +coffee, and felt more cheerful. + +“Want to get down and stretch your legs? I've got to take a look at the +tires, anyway. Thought she was riding like one was kinda flat, the last +few miles.” + +They climbed out stiffly into the rain, stood around the car and stared +at it and at Bud testing his tires, and walked off down the road for a +little distance where they stood talking earnestly together. From the +corner of his eye Bud caught Mert tilting his head that way, and smiled +to himself. Of course they were talking about him! Any fool would know +that much. Also they were discussing the best means of getting rid of +him, or of saddling upon him the crime of stealing the car, or some +other angle at which he touched their problem. + +Under cover of testing the rear wheel farthest from them, he peeked into +the tonneau and took a good look at the small traveling bag they had +kept on the seat between them all the way. He wished he dared--But they +were coming back, as if they would not trust him too long alone with +that bag. He bent again to the tire, and when they climbed back into +the curtained car he was getting the pump tubing out to pump up that +particular tire a few pounds. + +They did not pay much attention to him. They seemed preoccupied and not +too friendly with each other, Bud thought. Their general air of gloom +he could of course lay to the weather and the fact that they had been +traveling for about fourteen hours without any rest; but there was +something more than that in the atmosphere. He thought they had +disagreed, and that he was the subject of their disagreement. + +He screwed down the valve cap, coiled the pump tube and stowed it away +in the tool box, opened the gas tank, and looked in--and right there he +did something else; something that would have spelled disaster if either +of them had seen him do it. He spilled a handful of little round white +objects like marbles into the tank before he screwed on the cap, and +from his pocket he pulled a little paper box, crushed it in his hand, +and threw it as far as he could into the bushes. Then, whistling just +above his breath, which was a habit with Bud when his work was going +along pleasantly, he scraped the mud off his feet, climbed in, and drove +on down the road. + +The big car picked up speed on the down grade, racing along as though +the short rest had given it a fresh enthusiasm for the long road that +wound in and out and up and down and seemed to have no end. As though he +joyed in putting her over the miles, Bud drove. Came a hill, he sent her +up it with a devil-may-care confidence, swinging around curves with a +squall of the powerful horn that made cattle feeding half a mile away on +the slopes lift their startled heads and look. + +“How much longer are you good for, Bud?” Foster leaned forward to ask, +his tone flattering with the praise that was in it. + +“Me? As long as this old boat will travel,” Bud flung back gleefully, +giving her a little more speed as they rocked over a culvert and sped +away to the next hill. He chuckled, but Foster had settled back again +satisfied, and did not notice. + +Halfway up the next hill the car slowed suddenly, gave a snort, gasped +twice as Bud retarded the spark to help her out, and, died. She was +a heavy car to hold on that stiff grade, and in spite of the full +emergency brake helped out with the service brake, she inched backward +until the rear wheels came full against a hump across the road and held. + +Bud did not say anything; your efficient chauffeur reserves his +eloquence for something more complex than a dead engine. He took down +the curtain on that side, leaned out into the rain and inspected the +road behind him, shifted into reverse, and backed to the bottom. + +“What's wrong?” Foster leaned forward to ask senselessly. + +“When I hit level ground, I'm going to find out,” Bud retorted, still +watching the road and steering with one hand. “Does the old girl ever +cut up with you on hills?” + +“Why--no. She never has,” Foster answered dubiously. + +“Reason I asked, she didn't just choke down from the pull. She went and +died on me.” + +“That's funny,” Foster observed weakly. + +On the level Bud went into neutral and pressed the self-starter with +a pessimistic deliberation. He got three chugs and a backfire into the +carburetor, and after that silence. He tried it again, coaxing her with +the spark and throttle. The engine gave a snort, hesitated and then, +quite suddenly, began to throb with docile regularity that seemed to +belie any previous intention of “cutting up.” + +Bud fed her the gas and took a run at the hill. She went up like a +thoroughbred and died at the top, just when the road had dipped into the +descent. Bud sent her down hill on compression, but at the bottom she +refused to find her voice again when he turned on the switch and pressed +the accelerator. She simply rolled down to the first incline and stopped +there like a balky mule. + +“Thunder!” said Bud, and looked around at Foster. “Do you reckon the old +boat is jinxed, just because I said I could drive her as far as she'd +go? The old rip ain't shot a cylinder since we hit the top of the hill.” + +“Maybe the mixture--” + +“Yeah,” Bud interrupted with a secret grin, “I've been wondering about +that, and the needle valve, and the feed pipe, and a few other little +things. Well, we'll have a look.” + +Forthwith he climbed out into the drizzle and began a conscientious +search for the trouble. He inspected the needle valve with much care, +and had Foster on the front seat trying to start her afterwards. He +looked for short circuit. He changed the carburetor adjustment, and +Foster got a weary chug-chug that ceased almost as soon as it had begun. +He looked all the spark plugs over, he went after the vacuum feed and +found that working perfectly. He stood back, finally, with his hands on +his hips, and stared at the engine and shook his head slowly twice. + +Foster, in the driver's seat, swore and tried again to start it. “Maybe +if you cranked it,” he suggested tentatively. + +“What for? The starter turns her over all right. Spark's all right too, +strong and hot. However--” With a sigh of resignation Bud got out what +tools he wanted and went to work. Foster got out and stood around, +offering suggestions that were too obvious to be of much use, but which +Bud made it a point to follow as far as was practicable. + +Foster said it must be the carburetor, and Bud went relentlessly after +the carburetor. He impressed Foster with the fact that he knew cars, and +when he told Foster to get in and try her again, Foster did so with the +air of having seen the end of the trouble. At first it did seem so, for +the engine started at once and worked smoothly until Bud had gathered +his wrenches off the running board and was climbing it, when it slowed +down and stopped, in spite of Foster's frantic efforts to keep it alive +with spark and throttle. + +“Good Glory!” cried Bud, looking reproachfully in at Foster. “What'd yuh +want to stop her for?” + +“I didn't!” Foster's consternation was ample proof of his innocence. +“What the devil ails the thing?” + +“You tell me, and I'll fix it,” Bud retorted savagely. Then he smoothed +his manner and went back to the carburetor. “Acts like the gas kept +choking off,” he said, “but it ain't that. She's O.K. I know, 'cause +I've tested it clean back to tank. There's nothing the matter with the +feed--she's getting gas same as she has all along. I can take off the +mag. and see if anything's wrong there; but I'm pretty sure there ain't. +Couldn't any water or mud get in--not with that oil pan perfect. She +looks dry as a bone, and clean. Try her again, Foster; wait till I set +the spark about right. Now, you leave it there, and give her the gas +kinda gradual, and catch her when she talks. We'll see--” + +They saw that she was not going to “talk” at all. Bud swore a little and +got out more tools and went after the magneto with grim determination. +Again Foster climbed out and stood in the drizzle and watched him. Mert +crawled over into the front seat where he could view the proceedings +through the windshield. Bud glanced up and saw him there, and grinned +maliciously. “Your friend seems to love wet weather same as a cat does,” + he observed to Foster. “He'll be terrible happy if you're stalled here +till you get a tow in somewhere.” + +“It's your business to see that we aren't stalled,” Mert snapped at him +viciously. “You've got to make the thing go. You've got to!” + +“Well, I ain't the Almighty,” Bud retorted acidly. “I can't perform +miracles while yuh wait.” + +“Starting a cranky car doesn't take a miracle,” whined Mert. “Anybody +that knows cars--” + +“She's no business to be a cranky car,” Foster interposed pacifically. +“Why, she's practically new!” He stepped over a puddle and stood beside +Bud, peering down at the silent engine. “Have you looked at the intake +valve?” he asked pathetically. + +“Why, sure. It's all right. Everything's all right, as far as I can find +out.” Bud looked Foster straight in the eye--and if his own were a bit +anxious, that was to be expected. + +“Everything's all right,” he added measuredly. “Only, she won't go.” He +waited, watching Foster's face. + +Foster chewed a corner of his lip worriedly. “Well, what do you make of +it?” His tone was helpless. + +Bud threw out his two hands expressively, and shook his head. He let +down the hood, climbed in, slid into the driver's seat, and went through +the operation of starting. Only, he didn't start. The self-starter +hummed as it spun the flywheel, but nothing whatever was elicited save a +profane phrase from Foster and a growl from Mert. Bud sat back flaccid, +his whole body owning defeat. + +“Well, that means a tow in to the nearest shop,” he stated, after a +minute of dismal silence. “She's dead as a doornail.” + +Mert sat back in his corner of the seat, muttering into his collar. +Foster looked at him, looked at Bud, looked at the car and at the +surrounding hills. He seemed terribly depressed and at the same +time determined to make the best of things. Bud could almost pity +him--almost. + +“Do you know how far it is back to that town we passed?” he asked Bud +spiritlessly after a while. Bud looked at the speedometer, made a mental +calculation and told him it was fifteen miles. Towns, it seemed, were +rather far apart in this section of the country. + +“Well, let's see the road map. How far is it to the next one?” + +“Search me. They didn't have any road maps back there. Darned hick +burg.” + +Foster studied awhile. “Well, let's see if we can push her off the +middle of the road--and then I guess we'll have to let you walk back and +get help. Eh, Mert? There's nothing else we can do--” + +“What yuh going to tell 'em?” Mert demanded suspiciously. + +Bud permitted a surprised glance to slant back at Mert. “Why, whatever +you fellows fake up for me to tell,” he said naively. “I know the truth +ain't popular on this trip, so get together and dope out something. And +hand me over my suit case, will yuh? I want some dry socks to put on +when I get there.” + +Foster very obligingly tilted the suit case over into the front seat. +After that he and Mert, as by a common thought impelled, climbed out +and went over to a bushy live oak to confer in privacy. Mert carried the +leather bag with him. + +By the time they had finished and were coming back, Bud had gone through +his belongings and had taken out a few letters that might prove awkward +if found there later, two pairs of socks and his razor and toothbrush. +He was folding the socks to stow away in his pocket when they got in. + +“You can say that we're from Los Angeles, and on our way home,” Foster +told him curtly. It was evident to Bud that the two had not quite agreed +upon some subject they had discussed. “That's all right. I'm Foster, and +he's named Brown--if any one gets too curious.” + +“Fine. Fine because it's so simple. I'll eat another sandwich, if you +don't mind, before I go. I'll tell a heartless world that fifteen miles +is some little stroll--for a guy that hates walkin'.” + +“You're paid for it,” Mert growled at him rudely. + +“Sure, I'm paid for it,” Bud assented placidly, taking a bite. They +might have wondered at his calm, but they did not. He ate what he +wanted, took a long drink of the coffee, and started off up the hill +they had rolled down an hour or more past. + +He walked briskly, and when he was well out of earshot Bud began to +whistle. Now and then he stopped to chuckle, and sometimes he frowned at +an uncomfortable thought. But on the whole he was very well pleased with +his present circumstances. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS + +In a little village which he had glimpsed from the top of a hill Bud +went into the cluttered little general store and bought a few blocks of +slim, evil smelling matches and a couple of pounds of sliced bacon, a +loaf of stale bread, and two small cans of baked beans. He stuffed +them all into the pocket of his overcoat, and went out and hunted up a +long-distance telephone sign. It had not taken him more than an hour to +walk to the town, for he had only to follow a country road that branched +off that way for a couple of miles down a valley. There was a post +office and the general store and a couple of saloons and a blacksmith +shop that was thinking of turning into a garage but had gone no further +than to hang out a sign that gasoline was for sale there. It was all +very sordid and very lifeless and altogether discouraging in the drizzle +of late afternoon. Bud did not see half a dozen human beings on his way +to the telephone office, which he found was in the post office. + +He called up San Francisco, and got the chief of police's office on the +wire, and told them where they would find the men who had robbed that +jewelry store of all its diamonds and some other unset jewels. Also he +mentioned the car that was stolen, and that was now stalled and waiting +for some kind soul to come and give it a tow. + +He speedily had all the attention of the chief, and having thought +out in advance his answers to certain pertinent questions, he did not +stutter when they were asked. Yes, he had been hired to drive the ear +south, and he had overheard enough to make him suspicious on the way. He +knew that they had stolen the car. He was not absolutely sure that +they were the diamond thieves but it would be easy enough to find out, +because officers sent after them would naturally be mistaken for first +aid from some garage, and the cops could nab the men and look into that +grip they were so careful not to let out of their sight. + +“Are you sure they won't get the car repaired and go on?” It was +perfectly natural that the chief should fear that very thing. + +“No chance!” Bud chuckled into the 'phone. “Not a chance in the world, +chief. They'll be right there where I left 'em, unless some car comes +along and gives 'em a tow. And if that happens you'll be able to trace +'em.” He started to hang up, and added another bit of advice. “Say, +chief, you better tell whoever gets the car, to empty the gas tank and +clean out the carburetor and vacuum feed--and she'll go, all right! +Adios.” + +He hung up and paid the charge hurriedly, and went out and down a +crooked little lane that led between bushes to a creek and heavy timber. +It did not seem to him advisable to linger; the San Francisco chief of +police might set some officer in that village on his trail, just as a +matter of precaution. Bud told himself that he would do it were he in +the chief's place. When he reached the woods along the creek he ran, +keeping as much as possible on thick leaf mold that left the least +impression. He headed to the east, as nearly as he could judge, and when +he came to a rocky canyon he struck into it. + +He presently found himself in a network of small gorges that twisted +away into the hills without any system whatever, as far as he could see. +He took one that seemed to lead straightest toward where the sun would +rise next morning, and climbed laboriously deeper and deeper into the +hills. After awhile he had to descend from the ridge where he found +himself standing bleakly revealed against a lowering, slaty sky that +dripped rain incessantly. As far as he could see were hills and more +hills, bald and barren except in certain canyons whose deeper shadows +told of timber. Away off to the southwest a bright light showed +briefly--the headlight of a Santa Fe train, he guessed it must be. To +the east, which he faced, the land was broken with bare hills that fell +just short of being mountains. He went down the first canyon that opened +in that direction, ploughing doggedly ahead into the unknown. + +That night Bud camped in the lee of a bank that was fairly well screened +with rocks and bushes, and dined off broiled bacon and bread and a can +of beans with tomato sauce, and called it a meal. At first he was not +much inclined to take the risk of having a fire big enough to keep him +warm. Later in the night he was perfectly willing to take the risk, but +could not find enough dry wood. His rainproofed overcoat became quite +soggy and damp on the inside, in spite of his efforts to shield himself +from the rain. It was not exactly a comfortable night, but he worried +through it somehow. + +At daylight he opened another can of beans and made himself two thick +bean sandwiches, and walked on while he ate them slowly. They tasted +mighty good, Bud thought--but he wished fleetingly that he was back +in the little green cottage on North Sixth Street, getting his own +breakfast. He felt as though he could drink about four cups of coffee; +and as to hotcakes--! But breakfast in the little green cottage recalled +Marie, and Marie was a bitter memory. All the more bitter because he +did not know where burrowed the root of his hot resentment. In a strong +man's love for his home and his mate was it rooted, and drew therefrom +the wormwood of love thwarted and spurned. + +After awhile the high air currents flung aside the clouds like curtains +before a doorway. The sunlight flashed out dazzlingly and showed Bud +that the world, even this tumbled world, was good to look upon. His +instincts were all for the great outdoors, and from such the sun brings +quick response. Bud lifted his head, looked out over the hills to where +a bare plain stretched in the far distance, and went on more briskly. + +He did not meet any one at all; but that was chiefly because he did not +want to meet any one. He went with his ears and his eyes alert, and was +not above hiding behind a clump of stunted bushes when two horsemen rode +down a canyon trail just below him. Also he searched for roads and then +avoided them. It would be a fat morsel for Marie and her mother to roll +under their tongues, he told himself savagely, if he were arrested and +appeared in the papers as one of that bunch of crooks! + +Late that afternoon, by traveling steadily in one direction, he topped a +low ridge and saw an arm of the desert thrust out to meet him. A scooped +gully with gravelly sides and rocky bottom led down that way, and +because his feet were sore from so much sidehill travel, Bud went down. +He was pretty well fagged too, and ready to risk meeting men, if thereby +he might gain a square meal. Though he was not starving, or anywhere +near it, he craved warm food and hot coffee. + +So when he presently came upon two sway-backed burros that showed the +sweaty imprint of packsaddles freshly removed, and a couple of horses +also sweat roughened, he straightway assumed that some one was making +camp not far away. One of the horses was hobbled, and they were all +eating hungrily the grass that grew along the gully's sides. Camp was +not only close, but had not yet reached suppertime, Bud guessed from the +well-known range signs. + +Two or three minutes proved him right. He came upon a man just driving +the last tent peg. He straightened up and stared at Bud unblinkingly for +a few seconds. + +“Howdy, howdy,” he greeted him then with tentative friendliness, and +went on with his work. “You lost?” he added carefully. A man walking +down out of the barren hills, and carrying absolutely nothing in the +way of camp outfit, was enough to whet the curiosity of any one who knew +that country. At the same time curiosity that became too apparent +might be extremely unwelcome. So many things may drive a man into the +hills--but few of them would bear discussion with strangers. + +“Yes. I am, and I ain't.” Bud came up and stood with his hands in his +coat pockets, and watched the old fellow start his fire. + +“Yeah--how about some supper? If you am, and you ain't as hungry as you +look--” + +“I'll tell the world I am, and then some. I ain't had a square meal +since yesterday morning, and I grabbed that at a quick-lunch joint. I'm +open to supper engagements, brother.” + +“All right. There's a side of bacon in that kyack over there. Get it out +and slice some off, and we'll have supper before you know it. We will,” + he added pessimistically, “if this dang brush will burn.” + +Bud found the bacon and cut according to his appetite. His host got +out a blackened coffeepot and half filled it with water from a dented +bucket, and balanced it on one side of the struggling fire. He remarked +that they had had some rain, to which Bud agreed. He added gravely that +he believed it was going to clear up, though--unless the wind swung back +into the storm quarter. Bud again professed cheerfully to be in perfect +accord. After which conversational sparring they fell back upon the +little commonplaces of the moment. + +Bud went into a brush patch and managed to glean an armful of nearly +dry wood, which he broke up with the axe and fed to the fire, coaxing it +into freer blazing. The stranger watched him unobtrusively, critically, +pottering about while Bud fried the bacon. + +“I guess you've handled a frying pan before, all right,” he remarked at +last, when the bacon was fried without burning. + +Bud grinned. “I saw one in a store window once as I was going by,” he +parried facetiously. “That was quite a while back.” + +“Yeah. Well, how's your luck with bannock? I've got it all mixed.” + +“Dump her in here, ole-timer,” cried Bud, holding out the frying pan +emptied of all but grease. “Wish I had another hot skillet to turn over +the top.” + +“I guess you've been there, all right,” the other chuckled. “Well, I +don't carry but the one frying pan. I'm equipped light, because I've got +to outfit with grub, further along.” + +“Well, we'll make out all right, just like this.” Bud propped the handle +of the frying pan high with a forked stick, and stood up. “Say, my +name's Bud Moore, and I'm not headed anywhere in particular. I'm just +traveling in one general direction, and that's with the Coast at my +back. Drifting, that's all. I ain't done anything I'm ashamed of or +scared of, but I am kinda bashful about towns. I tangled with a couple +of crooks, and they're pulled by now, I expect. I'm dodging newspaper +notoriety. Don't want to be named with 'em at all.” He, spread his +hands with an air of finality. “That's my tale of woe,” he supplemented, +“boiled down to essentials. I just thought I'd tell you.” + +“Yeah. Well, my name's Cash Markham, and I despise to have folks get +funny over it. I'm a miner and prospector, and I'm outfitting for a trip +for another party, looking up an old location that showed good prospects +ten years ago. Man died, and his wife's trying to get the claim +relocated. Get you a plate outa that furtherest kyack, and a cup. +Bannock looks about done, so we'll eat.” + +That night Bud shared Cash Markham's blankets, and in the morning +he cooked the breakfast while Cash Markham rounded up the burros and +horses. In that freemasonry of the wilderness they dispensed with +credentials, save those each man carried in his face and in his manner. +And if you stop to think of it, such credentials are not easily forged, +for nature writes them down, and nature is a truth-loving old dame who +will never lead you far astray if only she is left alone to do her work +in peace. + +It transpired, in the course of the forenoon's travel, that Cash Markham +would like to have a partner, if he could find a man that suited. One +guessed that he was fastidious in the matter of choosing his companions, +in spite of the easy way in which he had accepted Bud. By noon they had +agreed that Bud should go along and help relocate the widow's claim. +Cash Markham hinted that they might do a little prospecting on their own +account. It was a country he had long wanted to get into, he said, and +while he intended to do what Mrs. Thompson had hired him to do, still +there was no law against their prospecting on their own account. And +that, he explained, was one reason why he wanted a good man along. +If the Thompson claim was there, Bud could do the work under the +supervision of Cash, and Cash could prospect. + +“And anyway, it's bad policy for a man to go off alone in this part of +the country,” he added with a speculative look across the sandy waste +they were skirting at a pace to suit the heavily packed burros. “Case +of sickness or accident--or suppose the stock strays off--it's bad to be +alone.” + +“Suits me fine to go with you,” Bud declared. “I'm next thing to broke, +but I've got a lot of muscle I can cash in on the deal. And I know the +open. And I can rock a gold-pan and not spill out all the colors, if +there is any--and whatever else I know is liable to come in handy, and +what I don't know I can learn.” + +“That's fair enough. Fair enough,” Markham agreed. “I'll allow you wages +on the Thompson job' till you've earned enough to balance up with the +outfit. After that it'll be fifty-fifty. How'll that be, Bud?” + +“Fair enough--fair enough,” Bud retorted with faint mimicry. “If I was +all up in the air a few days ago, I seem to have lit on my feet, and +that's good enough for me right now. We'll let 'er ride that way.” + +And the twinkle, as he talked, was back in his eyes, and the smiley +quirk was at the corner of his lips. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. INTO THE DESERT + +If you want to know what mad adventure Bud found himself launched upon, +just read a few extracts from the diary which Cash Markham, being a +methodical sort of person, kept faithfully from day to day, until he cut +his thumb on a can of tomatoes which he had been cutting open with his +knife. After that Bud kept the diary for him, jotting down the main +happenings of the day. When Cash's thumb healed so that he could hold a +pencil with some comfort, Bud thankfully relinquished the task. He hated +to write, anyway, and it seemed to him that Cash ought to trust his +memory a little more than he did. + +I shall skip a good many days, of course--though the diary did not, I +assure you. + +First, there was the outfit. When they had outfitted at Needles for the +real trip, Cash set down the names of all living things in this wise: + +Outfit, Cassius B. Markham, Bud Moore, Daddy a bull terrier, bay horse, +Mars, Pete a sorrel, Ed a burro, Swayback a jinny, Maude a jack, Cora +another jinny, Billy a riding burro & Sways colt & Maude colt a white +mean looking little devil. + +Sat. Apr. 1. + +Up at 7:30. Snowing and blowing 3 ft. of snow on ground. Managed to get +breakfast & returned to bed. Fed Monte & Peter our cornmeal, poor things +half frozen. Made a fire in tent at 1:30 & cooked a meal. Much smoke, +ripped hole in back of tent. Three burros in sight weathering fairly +well. No sign of let up everything under snow & wind a gale. Making out +fairly well under adverse conditions. Worst weather we have experienced. + +Apr. 2. + +Up at 7 A.M. Fine & sunny snow going fast. Fixed up tent & cleaned up +generally. Alkali flat a lake, can't cross till it dries. Stock some +scattered, brought them all together. + +Apr. 3. + +Up 7 A.M. Clear & bright. Snow going fast. All creeks flowing. Fine +sunny day. + +Apr. 4. + +Up 6 A.M. Clear & bright. Went up on divide, met 3 punchers who said +road impassable. Saw 2 trains stalled away across alkali flat. Very +boggy and moist. + +Apr.5. + +Up 5 A.M. Clear & bright. Start out, on Monte & Pete at 6. Animals +traveled well, did not appear tired. Feed fine all over. Plenty water +everywhere. + +Not much like Bud's auto stage, was it? But the very novelty of it, the +harking back to old plains days, appealed to him and sent him forward +from dull hardship to duller discomfort, and kept the quirk at the +corners of his lips and the twinkle in his eyes. Bud liked to travel +this way, though it took them all day long to cover as much distance as +he had been wont to slide behind him in an hour. He liked it--this slow, +monotonous journeying across the lean land which Cash had traversed +years ago, where the stark, black pinnacles and rough knobs of rock +might be hiding Indians with good eyesight and a vindictive temperament. +Cash told him many things out of his past, while they poked along, +driving the packed burros before them. Things which he never had set +down in his diary--things which he did not tell to any one save his few +friends. + +But it was not always mud and rain and snow, as Cash's meager chronicle +betrays. + +May 6. + +Up at sunrise. Monte & Pete gone leaving no tracks. Bud found them +3 miles South near Indian village. Bud cut his hair, did a good job. +Prospector dropped into camp with fist full of good looking quartz. +Stock very thirsty all day. Very hot Tied Monte & Pete up for night. + +May 8. + +Up 5:30. Fine, but hot. Left 7:30. Pete walked over a sidewinder & Bud +shot him ten ft. in air. Also prior killed another beside road. Feed as +usual, desert weeds. Pulled grain growing side of track and fed plugs. +Water from cistern & R.R. ties for fuel. Put up tent for shade. Flies +horrible. + +May 9. + +Up 4. Left 6. Feed as usual. Killed a sidewinder in a bush with 3 shots +of Krag. Made 21 m. today. R.R. ties for fuel Cool breeze all day. + +May 11. + +Up at sunrise. Bud washed clothes. Tested rock. Fine looking mineral +country here. Dressed Monte's withers with liniment greatly reducing +swelling from saddle-gall. He likes to have it dressed & came of his own +accord. Day quite comfortable. + +May 15. + +Up 4. Left 6:30 over desert plain & up dry wash. Daddy suffered from +heat & ran into cactus while looking for shade. Got it in his mouth, +tongue, feet & all over body. Fixed him up poor creature groaned all +evening & would not eat his supper. Poor feed & wood here. Water found +by digging 2 ft. in sand in sandstone basins in bed of dry wash. Monte +lay down en route. Very hot & all suffered from heat. + +May 16. + +Bud has sick headache. Very hot so laid around camp all day. Put two +blankets up on tent pols for sun break. Daddy under weather from cactus +experience. Papago Indian boy about 18 on fine bay mare driving 4 ponies +watered at our well. Moon almost full, lots of mocking birds. Pretty +songs. + +May 17. + +Up 7:30 Bud some better. Day promises hot, but slight breeze. White +gauzy clouds in sky. Daddy better. Monte & Pete gone all day. Hunted +twice but impossible to track them in this stony soil Bud followed +trail, found them 2 mi. east of here in flat sound asleep about 3 P.M. +At 6 went to flat 1/4 mi. N. of camp to tie Pete, leading Monte by +bell strap almost stepped on rattler 3 ft. long. 10 rattles & a button. +Killed him. To date, 1 Prairie rattler, 3 Diamond back & 8 sidewinders, +12 in all. Bud feels better. + +May 18. + +At 4 A. M. Bud woke up by stock passing camp. Spoke to me who half awake +hollered, “sic Daddy!” Daddy sicced 'em & they went up bank of wash to +right. Bud swore it was Monte & Pete. I went to flat & found M. & P. +safe. Water in sink all gone. Bud got stomach trouble. I threw up my +breakfast. Very hot weather. Lanced Monte's back & dressed it with +creoline. Turned them loose & away they put again. + +Soon after this they arrived at the place where Thompson had located his +claim. It was desert, of course, sloping away on one side to a dreary +waste of sand and weeds with now and then a giant cactus standing +gloomily alone with malformed lingers stretched stiffly to the staring +blue sky. Behind where they pitched their final camp--Camp 48, Cash +Markham recorded it in his diary--the hills rose. But they were as stark +and barren almost as the desert below. Black rock humps here and there, +with ledges of mineral bearing rock. Bushes and weeds and dry washes for +the rest, with enough struggling grass to feed the horses and burros if +they rustled hard enough for it. + +They settled down quietly to a life of grinding monotony that would have +driven some men crazy. But Bud, because it was a man's kind of monotony, +bore it cheerfully. He was out of doors, and he was hedged about by no +rules or petty restrictions. He liked Cash Markham and he liked Pete, +his saddle horse, and he was fond of Daddy who was still paying the +penalty of seeking too carelessly for shade and, according to Cash's +record, “getting it in his mouth, tongue, feet & all over body.” Bud +liked it--all except the blistering heat and the “side-winders” + and other rattlers. He did not bother with trying to formulate any +explanation of why he liked it. It may have been picturesque, though +picturesqueness of that sort is better appreciated when it is seen +through the dim radiance of memory that blurs sordid details. Certainly +it was not adventurous, as men have come to judge adventure. + +Life droned along very dully. Day after day was filled with petty +details. A hill looks like a mountain if it rises abruptly out of a +level plain, with no real mountains in sight to measure it by. Here's +the diary to prove how little things came to look important because the +days held no contrasts. If it bores you to read it, think what it must +have been to live it. + +June 10. + +Up at 6:30 Baked till 11. Then unrigged well and rigged up an incline +for the stock to water. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Stock did not come in +all morning, but Monte & Pete came in before supper. Incline water shaft +does not work. Prospected & found 8 ledges. Bud found none. + +June 11. + +After breakfast fixed up shack--shelves, benches, tools, etc. Cleaned +guns. Bud dressed Daddy's back which is much better. Strong gold in test +of ledge, I found below creek. Took more specimens to sample. Cora comes +in with a little black colt newly born. Proud as a bull pup with two +tails. Monte & Pete did not come in so we went by lantern light a mile +or so down the wash & found them headed this way & snake them in to +drink about 80 gallons of water apiece. Daddy tied up and howling like a +demon all the while. Bud took a bath. + +June 12. + +Bud got out and got breakfast again. Then started off on Pete to hunt +trail that makes short cut 18 miles to Bend. Roofed the kitchen. Bud got +back about 1:30, being gone 6 hours. Found trail & two good ledges. Cora +& colt came for water. Other burros did not. Brought in specimens from +ledge up creek that showed very rich gold in tests. Burros came in at +9:30. Bud got up and tied them up. + +June 13. + +Bud gets breakfast. I took Sway & brought in load of wood. Bud went out +and found a wash lined with good looking ledges. Hung up white rags on +bushes to identify same. Found large ledge of good quartz showing fine +in tests about one mile down wash. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Located +a claim west of Thompson's. Burros did not come in except Cora & colt. +Pete & Monte came separated. + +June 14. + +Bud got breakfast & dressed Daddy's back. Very hot day. Stock came in +about 2. Tied up Billy Maud & Cora. Bud has had headache. Monte & Pete +did not come in. Bud went after them & found them 4 miles away where +we killed the Gila monster. Sent 2 samples from big ledge to Tucson for +assay. Daddy better. + +June 15. + +Up 2.30. Bud left for Bend at 4. Walked down to flat but could not see +stock. About 3 Cora & Colt came in for water & Sway & Ed from the south +about 5. No Monte. Monte got in about midnight & went past kitchen to +creek on run. Got up, found him very nervous & frightened & tied him up. + +June 17. + +Bud got back 4 P.M. in gale of wind & sand. Burros did not come in for +water. Very hot. Bud brought canned stuff. Rigged gallows for No. +2 shaft also block & tackle & pail for drinking water, also washed +clothes. While drying went around in cap undershirt & shoes. + +June 18. + +Burros came in during night for water. Hot as nether depths of infernal +regions. Went up on hill a mile away. Seamed with veins similar to shaft +No. 2 ore. Blew in two faces & got good looking ore seamed with a black +incrustation, oxide of something, but what could not determine. Could +find neither silver nor copper in it. Monte & Pete came in about 1 & +tied them up. Very hot. Hottest day yet, even the breeze scorching. Test +of ore showed best yet. One half of solution in tube turning to chloride +of gold, 3 tests showing same. Burros except Ed & Cora do not come in +days any more. Bud made a gate for kitchen to keep burros out. + +The next morning it was that Cash cut the ball of his right thumb open +on the sharp edge of a tomato can. He wanted the diary to go on as +usual. He had promised, he said, to keep one for the widow who wanted +a record of the way the work was carried on, and the progress made. Bud +could not see that there had been much progress, except as a matter of +miles. Put a speedometer on one of his legs, he told Cash, and he'd bet +it would register more mileage chasing after them fool burros than his +auto stage could show after a full season. As for working the widow's +claim, it was not worth working, from all he could judge of it. And if +it were full of gold as the United States treasury, the burros took up +all their time so they couldn't do much. Between doggone stock drinking +or not drinking and the darn fool diary that had to be kept, Bud opined +that they needed an extra hand or two. Bud was peevish, these days. Gila +Bend had exasperated him because it was not the town it called itself, +but a huddle of adobe huts. He had come away in the sour mood of a +thirsty man who finds an alkali spring sparkling deceptively under a +rock. Furthermore, the nights had been hot and the mosquitoes a humming +torment. And as a last affliction he was called upon to keep the diary +going. He did it, faithfully enough but in a fashion of his own. + +First he read back a few pages to get the hang of the thing. Then he +shook down Cash's fountain pen, that dried quickly in that heat. Then he +read another page as a model, and wrote: + +June 19. + +Mosquitoes last night was worse than the heat and that was worse than +Gila Bend's great white way. Hunted up the burros. Pete and Monte came +in and drank. Monte had colic. We fed them and turned them loose but the +blamed fools hung around all day and eat up some sour beans I throwed +out. Cash was peeved and swore they couldn't have another grain of feed. +But Monte come to the shack and watched Cash through a knothole the size +of one eye till Cash opened up his heart and the bag. Cash cut his thumb +opening tomatoes. The tomatoes wasn't hurt any. + +June 20. + +Got breakfast. Bill and harem did not come to water. Cash done the +regular hike after them. His thumb don't hurt him for hazing donkeys. +Bill and harem come in after Cash left. They must of saw him go. Cash +was out four hours and come in mad. Shot a hidrophobia skunk out by the +creek. Nothing doing. Too hot. + +June 21. + +The sun would blister a mud turtle so he'd holler. Cash put in most of +day holding a parasol over his garden patch. Burros did not miss their +daily drink. Night brings mosquitoes with their wings singed but their +stingers O.K. They must hole up daytimes or they would fry. + +June 22. + +Thought I know what heat was. I never did before. Cash took a bath. It +was his first. Burros did not come to water. Cash and I tried to sleep +on kitchen roof but the darned mosquitoes fed up on us and then played +heavenly choir all night. + +June 25. + +Cash got back from Bend. Thumb is better and he can have this job any +time now. He hustled up a widow that made a couple of mosquito bags to +go over our heads. No shape (bags, not widow) but help keep flies and +mosquitoes from chewing on us all day and all night. Training for hades. +I can stand the heat as well as the old boy with the pitch-fork. Ain't +got used to brimstone yet, but I'd trade mosquitoes for sulphur smoke +and give some boot. Worried about Cash. He took a bath today again, +using water I had packed for mine. Heat must be getting him. + +June 26. + +Cash opened up thumb again, trying to brain Pete with rock. Pete got +halfway into kitchen and eat biggest part of a pie I made. Cash threw +jagged rock, hit Pete in side of jaw. Cut big gash. Swelled now like +a punkin. Cash and I tangled over same. I'm going to quit. I have had +enough of this darn country. Creek's drying up, and mosquitoes have +found way to crawl under bags. Cash wants me to stay till we find good +claim, but Cash can go to thunder. + +Then Cash's record goes on: + +June 27. + +Bud very sick & out of head. Think it is heat, which is terrible. +Talked all night about burros, gasoline, & camphor balls which he seemed +wanting to buy in gunny sack. No sleep for either. Burros came in for +water about daylight. Picketed Monte & Pete as may need doctor if Bud +grows worse. Thumb nearly well. + +June 27. Bud same, slept most of day. Gave liver pills & made gruel of +cornmeal, best could do with present stores. Burros came at about 3 but +could not drink owing to bees around water hold. Monte got stung and +kicked over water cans & buckets I had salted for burros. Burros put for +hills again. No way of driving off bees. + +June 28. + +Burros came & drank in night. Cooler breeze, Bud some better & slept. +Sway has badly swollen neck. May be rattler bite or perhaps bee. Bud +wanted cigarettes but smoked last the day before he took sick. Gave him +more liver pills & sponge off with water every hour. Best can do under +circumstances. Have not prospected account Bud's sickness. + +June 29. + +Very hot all day, breeze like blast from furnace. Burros refuse to leave +flat. Bees better, as can't fly well in this wind. Bud worse. High fever +& very restless & flighty. Imagines much trouble with automobile, talk +very technical & can't make head or tail of it. Monte & Pete did not +come in, left soon as turned loose. No feed for them here & figured Bud +too sick to travel or stay alone so horses useless at present. Sponged +frequently with coolest water can get, seems to give some relief as he +is quieter afterwards. + +July 4th. + +Monte & Pete came in the night & hung around all day. Drove them away +from vicinity of shack several times but they returned & moped in shade +of house. Terrible hot, strong gusty wind. Bud sat up part of day, slept +rest of time. Looks very thin and great hollows under eyes, but chief +trouble seems to be, no cigarettes. Shade over radishes & lettice works +all right. Watered copiously at daylight & again at dusk. Doing fine. +Fixed fence which M & P. broke down while tramping around. Prospected +west of ranche. Found enormous ledge of black quartz, looks like +sulphur stem during volcanic era but may be iron. Strong gold & heavy +precipitate in test, silver test poor but on filtering showed like white +of egg in tube (unusual). Clearing iron out showed for gold the highest +yet made, being more pronounced with Fenosulphate than $1500 rock have +seen. Immense ledge of it & slightest estimate from test at least $10. +Did not tell Bud as keeping for surprise when he is able to visit ledge. +Very monotonous since Bud has been sick. Bud woke up & said Hell of a +Fourth & turned over & went to sleep again with mosquito net over head +to keep off flies. Burros came in after dark, all but Cora & Colt, which +arrived about midnight. Daddy gone since yesterday morning leaving no +trace. + +July 5. + +Miserable hot night. Burros trickled in sometime during night. Bud +better, managed to walk to big ledge after sundown. Suggests we call it +the Burro Lode. His idea of wit, claims we have occupied camp all summer +for sake of timing burros when they come to waterhole. Wish to call +it Columbia mine for patriotic reasons having found it on Fourth. Will +settle it soon so as to put up location. Put in 2 shots & pulpel samples +for assay. Rigged windows on shack to keep out bees, nats & flies & +mosquitoes. Bud objects because it keeps out air as well. Took them +off. Sick folks must be humored. Hot, miserable and sleepless. Bud very +restless. + +July 6. + +Cool wind makes weather endurable, but bees terrible in kitchen & around +water-hole. Flipped a dollar to settle name of big ledge. Bud won tails, +Burro lode. Must cultivate my sense of humor so as to see the joke. Bud +agrees to stay & help develop claim. Still very weak, puttered around +house all day cleaning & baking bread & stewing fruit which brought bees +by millions so we could not eat same till after dark when they subsided. +Bud got stung twice in kitchen. Very peevish & full of cuss. Says +positively must make trip to Bend & get cigarettes tomorrow or will blow +up whole outfit. Has already blowed up same several times today with no +damage. Burros came in about 5. Monte & Pete later, tied them up with +grain. Pete has very bad eye. Bud will ride Monte if not too hot for +trip. Still no sign of daddy, think must be dead or stolen though nobody +to steal same in country. + +July 7. + +Put in 2 shots on Burro Lode & got her down to required depth. Hot. Bud +finds old location on widow's claim, upturns all previous calculation +& information given me by her. Wrote letter explaining same, which Bud +will mail. Bud left 4 P.M. should make Bend by midnight. Much better but +still weak Burros came in late & hung around water hole. Put up monument +at Burro Lode. Sent off samples to assay at Tucson. Killed rattler near +shack, making 16 so far killed. + +CHAPTER EIGHT. MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES + +“Well, here come them darn burros, Cash. Cora's colt ain't with 'em +though. Poor little devils--say, Cash, they look like hard sleddin', and +that's a fact. I'll tell the world they've got about as much pep as a +flat tire.” + +“Maybe we better grain 'em again.” Cash looked up from studying the +last assay report of the Burro Lode, and his look was not pleasant. “But +it'll cost a good deal, in both time and money. The feed around here is +played out.” + +“Well, when it comes to that--” Bud cast a glum glance at the paper Cash +was holding. + +“Yeah. Looks like everything's about played out. Promising ledge, too. +Like some people, though. Most all its good points is right on the +surface. Nothing to back it up.” + +“She's sure running light, all right. Now,” Bud added sardonically, but +with the whimsical quirk withal, “if it was like a carburetor, and you +could give it a richer mixture--” + +“Yeah. What do you make of it, Bud?” + +“Well--aw, there comes that durn colt, bringing up the drag. Say Cash, +that colt's just about all in. Cora's nothing but a bag of bones, too. +They'll never winter--not on this range, they won't.” + +Cash got up and went to the doorway, looking out over Bud's shoulder +at the spiritless donkeys trailing in to water. Beyond them the desert +baked in its rim of hot, treeless hills. Above them the sky glared a +brassy blue with never a could. Over a low ridge came Monte and Pete, +walking with heads drooping. Their hip bones lifted above their ridged +paunches, their backbones, peaked sharp above, their withers were lean +and pinched looking. In August the desert herbage has lost what little +succulence it ever possessed, and the gleanings are scarce worth the +walking after. + +“They're pretty thin,” Cash observed speculatively, as though he was +measuring them mentally for some particular need. + +“We'd have to grain 'em heavy till we struck better feed. And pack +light.” Bud answered his thought. + +“The question is, where shall we head for, Bud? Have you any particular +idea?” Cash looked slightingly down at the assayer's report. “Such +as she is, we've done all we can do to the Burro Lode, for a year at +least,” he said. “The assessment work is all done--or will be when we +muck out after that last shot. The claim is filed--I don't know what +more we can do right away. Do you?” + +“Sure thing,” grinned Bud. “We can get outa here and go some place where +it's green.” + +“Yeah.” Cash meditated, absently eyeing the burros. “Where it's green.” + He looked at the near hills, and at the desert, and at the dreary march +of the starved animals. “It's a long way to green country,” he said. + +They looked at the burros. + +“They're tough little devils,” Bud observed hopefully. “We could take +it easy, traveling when it's coolest. And by packing light, and graining +the whole bunch--” + +“Yeah. We can ease 'em through, I guess. It does seem as though it would +be foolish to hang on here any longer.” Carefully as he made his tests, +Cash weighed the question of their going. “This last report kills any +chance of interesting capital to the extent of developing the claim on +a large enough scale to make it profitable. It's too long a haul to take +the ore out, and it's too spotted to justify any great investment in +machinery to handle it on the ground. And,” he added with an undernote +of fierceness, “it's a terrible place for man or beast to stay in, +unless the object to be attained is great enough to justify enduring the +hardships.” + +“You said a mouthful, Cash. Well, can you leave your seven radishes and +three hunches of lettuce and pull out--say at daybreak?” Bud turned to +him with some eagerness. + +Cash grinned sourly. “When it's time to go, seven radishes can't stop +me. No, nor a whole row of 'em--if there was a whole row.” + +“And you watered 'em copiously too,” Bud murmured, with the corners +of his mouth twitching. “Well, I guess we might as well tie up the +livestock. I'm going to give 'em all a feed of rolled oats, Cash. We +can get along without, and they've got to have something to put a little +heart in 'em. There's a moon to-night--how about starting along +about midnight? That would put us in the Bend early in the forenoon +to-morrow.” + +“Suits me,” said Cash. “Now I've made up my mind about going, I can't go +too soon.” + +“You're on. Midnight sees us started.” Bud went out with ropes to catch +and tie up the burros and their two saddle horses. And as he went, for +the first time in two months he whistled; a detail which Cash noted with +a queer kind of smile. + +Midnight and the moon riding high in the purple bowl of sky sprinkled +thick with stars; with a little, warm wind stirring the parched weeds as +they passed; with the burros shuffling single file along the dim trail +which was the short cut through the hills to the Bend, Ed taking the +lead, with the camp kitchen wabbling lumpily on his back, Cora bringing +up the rear with her skinny colt trying its best to keep up, and with +no pack at all; so they started on the long, long journey to the green +country. + +A silent journey it was for the most part. The moon and the starry +bowl of sky had laid their spell upon the desert, and the two men rode +wordlessly, filled with vague, unreasoning regret that they must go. +Months they had spent with the desert, learning well every little +varying mood; cursing it for its blistering heat and its sand storms +and its parched thirst and its utter, blank loneliness. Loving it too, +without ever dreaming that they loved. To-morrow they would face the +future with the past dropping farther and farther behind. To-night it +rode with them. + +Three months in that little, rough-walled hut had lent it an atmosphere +of home, which a man instinctively responds to with a certain clinging +affection, however crude may be the shelter he calls his own. Cash +secretly regretted the thirsty death of his radishes and lettuce which +he had planted and tended with such optimistic care. Bud wondered if +Daddy might not stray half-starved into the shack, and find them gone. +While they were there, he had agreed with Cash that the dog must be +dead. But now he felt uneasily doubtful It would be fierce if Daddy did +come back now. He would starve. He never could make the trip to the Bend +alone, even if he could track them. + +There was, also, the disappointment in the Burro Lode claim. As Bud +planned it, the Burro was packing a very light load--far lighter than +had seemed possible with that strong indication on the surface. Cash's +“enormous black ledge” had shown less and less gold as they went into +it, though it still seemed worth while, if they had the capital to +develop it further. Wherefore they had done generous assessment work +and had recorded their claim and built their monuments to mark its +boundaries. It would be safe for a year, and by that time--Quien sabe? + +The Thompson claim, too, had not justified any enthusiasm whatever. They +had found it, had relocated it, and worked out the assessment for the +widow. Cash had her check for all they had earned, and he had declared +profanely that he would not give his share of the check for the whole +claim. + +They would go on prospecting, using the check for a grubstake, That much +they had decided without argument. The gambling instinct was wide awake +in Bud's nature--and as for Cash, he would hunt gold as long as he could +carry pick and pan. They would prospect as long as their money held out. +When that was gone, they would get more and go on prospecting. But +they would prospect in a green country where wood and water were not +so precious as in the desert and where, Cash averred, the chance of +striking it rich was just as good; better, because they could kill game +and make their grubstake last longer. + +Wherefore they waited in Gila Bend for three days, to strengthen the +weakened animals with rest and good hay and grain. Then they took +again to the trail, traveling as lightly as they could, with food for +themselves and grain for the stock to last them until they reached +Needles. From there with fresh supplies they pushed on up to Goldfield, +found that camp in the throes of labor disputes, and went on to Tonopah. + +There they found work for themselves and the burros, packing winter +supplies to a mine lying back in the hills. They made money at it, +and during the winter they made more. With the opening of spring they +outfitted again and took the trail, their goal the high mountains south +of Honey Lake. They did not hurry. Wherever the land they traveled +through seemed to promise gold, they would stop and prospect. Many a pan +of likely looking dirt they washed beside some stream where the burros +stopped to drink and feed a little on the grassy banks. + +So, late in June, they reached Reno; outfitted and went on again, +traveling to the north, to the green country for which they yearned, +though now they were fairly in it and would have stopped if any tempting +ledge or bar had come in their way. They prospected every gulch that +showed any mineral signs at all. It was a carefree kind of life, with +just enough of variety to hold Bud's interest to the adventuring. The +nomad in him responded easily to this leisurely pilgrimage. There was no +stampede anywhere to stir their blood with the thought of quick wealth. +There was hope enough, on the other hand, to keep them going. Cash had +prospected and trapped for more than fifteen years now, and he preached +the doctrine of freedom and the great outdoors. + +Of what use was a house and lot--and taxes and trouble with the +plumbing? he would chuckle. A tent and blankets and a frying pan +and grub; two good legs and wild country to travel; a gold pan and a +pick--these things, to Cash, spelled independence and the joy of living. +The burros and the two horses were luxuries, he declared. When they once +got located on a good claim they would sell off everything but a couple +of burros--Sway and Ed, most likely. The others would bring enough for a +winter grubstake, and would prolong their freedom and their independence +just that much. That is, supposing they did not strike a good claim +before then. Cash had learned, he said, to hope high but keep an eye on +the grubstake. + +Late in August they came upon a mountain village perched beside a swift +stream and walled in on three sided by pine-covered mountains. A branch +railroad linked the place more or less precariously with civilization, +and every day--unless there was a washout somewhere, or a snowslide, +or drifts too deep--a train passed over the road. One day it would go +up-stream, and the next day it would come back. And the houses stood +drawn up in a row alongside the track to watch for these passings. + +Miners came in with burros or with horses, packed flour and bacon and +tea and coffee across their middles, got drunk, perhaps as a parting +ceremony, and went away into the hills. Cash watched them for a day or +so; saw the size of their grubstakes, asked few questions and listened +to a good deal of small-town gossip, and nodded his head contentedly. +There was gold in these hills. Not enough, perhaps, to start a stampede +with--but enough to keep wise old hermits burrowing after it. + +So one day Bud sold the two horses and one of the saddles, and Cash +bought flour and bacon and beans and coffee, and added other things +quite as desirable but not so necessary. Then they too went away into +the hills. + +Fifteen miles from Alpine, as a cannon would shoot; high up in the +hills, where a creek flowed down through a saucerlike basin under +beetling ledges fringed all around with forest, they came, after much +wandering, upon an old log cabin whose dirt roof still held in spite of +the snows that heaped upon it through many a winter. The ledge showed +the scars of old prospect holes, and in the sand of the creek they found +“colors” strong enough to make it seem worth while to stop here--for +awhile, at least. + +They cleaned out the cabin and took possession of it, and the next time +they went to town Cash made cautious inquiries about the place. It was, +he learned, an old abandoned claim. Abandoned chiefly because the old +miner who had lived there died one day, and left behind him all the +marks of having died from starvation, mostly. A cursory examination of +his few belongings had revealed much want, but no gold save a little +coarse dust in a small bottle. + +“About enough to fill a rifle ca'tridge,” detailed the teller of the +tale. “He'd pecked around that draw for two, three year mebby. Never +showed no gold much, for all the time he spent there. Trapped some in +winter--coyotes and bobcats and skunks, mostly. Kinda off in the upper +story, old Nelson was. I guess he just stayed there because he happened +to light there and didn't have gumption enough to git out. Hills is full +of old fellers like him. They live off to the'rselves, and peck around +and git a pocket now and then that keeps 'm in grub and tobacco. If you +want to use the cabin, I guess nobody's goin' to care. Nelson never had +any folks, that anybody knows of. Nobody ever bothered about takin' up +the claim after he cashed in, either. Didn't seem worth nothin' much. +Went back to the gov'ment.” + +“Trapped, you say. Any game around there now?” + +“Oh, shore! Game everywhere in these hills, from weasels up to bear and +mountain lion. If you want to trap, that's as good a place as any, I +guess.” + +So Cash and Bud sold the burros and bought traps and more supplies, and +two window sashes and a crosscut saw and some wedges and a double-bitted +axe, and settled down in Nelson Flat to find what old Dame Fortune had +tucked away in this little side pocket and forgotten. + + + +CHAPTER NINE. THE BITE OF MEMORY + +The heavy boom of a dynamite blast rolled across the fiat to the hills +that flung it back in a tardy echo like a spent ball of sound. A blob of +blue smoke curled out of a hole the size of a hogshead in a steep bank +overhung with alders. Outside, the wind caught the smoke and carried +streamers of it away to play with. A startled bluejay, on a limb high up +on the bank, lifted his slaty crest and teetered forward, clinging with +his toe nails to the branch while he scolded down at the men who had +scared him so. A rattle of clods and small rocks fell from their high +flight into the sweet air of a mountain sunset. + +“Good execution, that was,” Cash remarked, craning his neck toward the +hole. “If you're a mind to go on ahead and cook supper, I'll stay and +see if we opened up anything. Or you can stay, just as you please.” + +Dynamite smoke invariably made Bud's head ache splittingly. Cash was not +so susceptible. Bud chose the cooking, and went away down the flat, the +bluejay screaming insults after him. He was frying bacon when Cash came +in, a hatful of broken rock riding in the hollow of his arm. + +“Got something pretty good here, Bud--if she don't turn out like that +dang Burro Lode ledge. Look here. Best looking quartz we've struck yet. +What do you think of it?” + +He dumped the rock out on the oilcloth behind the sugar can and directly +under the little square window through which the sun was pouring a +lavish yellow flood of light before it dropped behind the peak. Bud set +the bacon back where it would not burn, and bent over the table to look. + +“Gee, but it's heavy!” he cried, picking up a fragment the size of +an egg, and balancing it in his hands. “I don't know a lot about +gold-bearing quartz, but she looks good to me, all right.” + +“Yeah. It is good, unless I'm badly mistaken. I'll test some after +supper. Old Nelson couldn't have used powder at all, or he'd have +uncovered enough of this, I should think, to show the rest what he had. +Or maybe he died just when he had started that hole. Seems queer he +never struck pay dirt in this flat. Well, let's eat if it's ready, Bud. +Then we'll see.” + +“Seems kinda queer, don't it, Cash, that nobody stepped in and filed on +any claims here?” Bud dumped half a kettle of boiled beans into a basin +and set it on the table. “Want any prunes to-night, Cash?” + +Cash did not want prunes, which was just as well, seeing there were none +cooked. He sat down and ate, with his mind and his eyes clinging to the +grayish, veined fragments of rock lying on the table beside his plate. + +“We'll send some of that down to Sacramento right away,” he observed, +“and have it assayed. And we won't let out anything about it, Bud--good +or bad. I like this flat. I don't want it mucked over with a lot of +gold-crazy lunatics.” + +Bud laughed and reached for the bacon. “We ain't been followed up with +stampedes so far,” he pointed out. “Burro Lode never caused a ripple in +the Bend, you recollect. And I'll tell a sinful world it looked awful +good, too.” + +“Yeah. Well, Arizona's hard to excite. They've had so dang much +strenuosity all their lives, and then the climate's against violent +effort, either mental or physical. I was calm, perfectly calm when I +discovered that big ledge. It is just as well--seeing how it petered +out.” + +“What'll you bet this pans out the same?” + +“I never bet. No one but a fool will gamble.” Cash pressed his lips +together in a way that drove the color from there. + +“Oh, yuh don't! Say, you're the king bee of all gamblers. Been +prospecting for fifteen years, according to you--and then you've got the +nerve to say you don't gamble!” + +Cash ignored the charge. He picked up a piece of rock and held it to the +fading light. “It looks good,” he said again. “Better than that placer +ground down by the creek. That's all right, too. We can wash enough gold +there to keep us going while we develop this. That is, if this proves as +good as it looks.” + +Bud looked across at him enigmatically. “Well, here's hoping she's worth +a million. You go ahead with your tests, Cash. I'll wash the dishes.” + +“Of course,” Cash began to conserve his enthusiasm, “there's nothing so +sure as an assay. And it was too dark in the hole to see how much was +uncovered. This may be just a freak deposit. There may not be any real +vein of it. You can't tell until it's developed further. But it looks +good. Awful good.” + +His makeshift tests confirmed his opinion. Bud started out next day with +three different samples for the assayer, and an air castle or two to +keep him company. He would like to find himself half owner of a mine +worth about a million, he mused. Maybe Marie would wish then that she +had thought twice about quitting him just on her mother's say-so. He'd +like to go buzzing into San Jose behind the wheel of a car like the one +Foster had fooled him into stealing. And meet Marie, and her mother +too, and let them get an eyeful. He guessed the old lady would have to +swallow what she had said about him being lazy--just because he couldn't +run an auto-stage in the winter to Big Basin! What was the matter with +the old woman, anyway? Didn't he keep Maria in comfort. Well, he'd like +to see her face when he drove along the street in a big new Sussex. +She'd wish she had let him and Marie alone. They would have made out all +right if they had been let alone. He ought to have taken Marie to some +other town, where her mother couldn't nag at her every day about him. +Marie wasn't such a bad kid, if she were left alone. They might have +been happy-- + +He tried then to shake himself free of thoughts of her. That was the +trouble with him, he brooded morosely. He couldn't let his thoughts ride +free, any more. They kept heading straight for Marie. He could not see +why she should cling so to his memory; he had not wronged her--unless +it was by letting her go without making a bigger fight for their home. +Still, she had gone of her own free will. He was the one that had been +wronged--why, hadn't they lied about him in court and to the gossipy +neighbors? Hadn't they broke him? No. If the mine panned out big as Cash +seemed to think was likely, the best thing he could do was steer clear +of San Jose. And whether it panned out or not, the best thing he could +do was forget that such girl as Marie had ever existed.. + +Which was all very well, as far as it went. The trouble was that +resolving not to think of Marie, calling up all the bitterness he could +muster against her memory, did no more toward blotting her image from +his mind than did the miles and the months he had put between them. + +He reached the town in a dour mood of unrest, spite of the promise of +wealth he carried in his pocket. He mailed the package and the letter, +and went to a saloon and had a highball. He was not a drinking man--at +least, he never had been one, beyond a convivial glass or two with his +fellows--but he felt that day the need of a little push toward optimism. +In the back part of the room three men were playing freeze-out. Bud went +over and stood with his hands in his pockets and watched them, because +there was nothing else to do, and because he was still having some +trouble with his thoughts. He was lonely, without quite knowing what +ailed him. He hungered for friends to hail him with that cordial, +“Hello, Bud!” when they saw him coming. + +No one in Alpine had said hello, Bud, when he came walking in that day. +The postmaster had given him one measuring glance when he had weighed +the package of ore, but he had not spoken except to name the amount of +postage required. The bartender had made some remark about the weather, +and had smiled with a surface friendliness that did not deceive Bud for +a moment. He knew too well that the smile was not for him, but for his +patronage. + +He watched the game. And when the man opposite him pushed back his chair +and, looking up at Bud, asked if he wanted to sit in, Bud went and sat +down, buying a dollar's worth of chips as an evidence of his intention +to play. His interest in the game was not keen. He played for the +feeling it gave him of being one of the bunch, a man among his friends; +or if not friends, at least acquaintances. And, such was his varying +luck with the cards, he played for an hour or so without having won +enough to irritate his companions. Wherefore he rose from the table at +supper time calling one young fellow Frank quite naturally. They went to +the Alpine House and had supper together, and after that they sat in +the office and talked about automobiles for an hour, which gave Bud a +comforting sense of having fallen among friends. + +Later they strolled over to a picture show which ran films two years +behind their first release, and charged fifteen cents for the privilege +of watching them. It was the first theater Bud had entered since he left +San Jose, and at the last minute he hesitated, tempted to turn back. +He hated moving pictures. They always had love scenes somewhere in the +story, and love scenes hurt. But Frank had already bought two tickets, +and it seemed unfriendly to turn back now. He went inside to the +jangling of a player-piano in dire need of a tuner's service, and sat +down near the back of the hall with his hat upon his lifted knees which +could have used more space between the seats. + +While they waited for the program they talked in low tones, a mumble of +commonplaces. Bud forgot for the moment his distaste for such places, +and let himself slip easily back into the old thought channels, the +old habits of relaxation after a day's work was done. He laughed at +the one-reel comedy that had for its climax a chase of housemaids, +policemen, and outraged fruit vendors after a well-meaning but +unfortunate lover. He saw the lover pulled ignominiously out of a duck +pond and soused relentlessly into a watering trough, and laughed with +Frank and called it some picture. + +He eyed a succession of “current events” long since gone stale out +where the world moved swifter than here in the mountains, and he felt +as though he had come once more into close touch with life. All the dull +months he had spent with Cash and the burros dwarfed into a pointless, +irrelevant incident of his life. He felt that he ought to be out in the +world, doing bigger things than hunting gold that somehow always +refused at the last minute to be found. He stirred restlessly. He was +free--there was nothing to hold him if he wanted to go. The war--he +believed he would go over and take a hand. He could drive an ambulance +or a truck-- + +Current Events, however, came abruptly to an end; and presently +Bud's vagrant, half-formed desire for achievement merged into biting +recollections. Here was a love drama, three reels of it. At first Bud +watched it with only a vague, disquieting sense of familiarity. Then +abruptly he recalled too vividly the time and circumstance of his first +sight of the picture. It was in San Jose, at the Liberty. He and Marie +had been married two days, and were living in that glamorous world of +the honeymoon, so poignantly sweet, so marvelous--and so fleeting. He +had whispered that the girl looked like her, and she had leaned heavily +against his shoulder. In the dusk of lowered lights their hands had +groped and found each other, and clung. + +The girl did look like Marie. When she turned her head with that little +tilt of the chin, when she smiled, she was like Marie. Bud leaned +forward, staring, his brows drawn together, breathing the short, quick +breaths of emotion focussed upon one object, excluding all else. Once, +when Frank moved his body a little in the next seat, Bud's hand went out +that way involuntarily. The touch of Frank's rough coat sleeve recalled +him brutally, so that he drew away with a wincing movement as though he +had been hurt. + +All those months in the desert; all those months of the slow journeying +northward; all the fought battles with memory, when he thought that he +had won--all gone for nothing, their slow anodyne serving but to sharpen +now the bite of merciless remembering. His hand shook upon his knee. +Small beads of moisture oozed out upon his forehead. He sat stunned +before the amazing revelation of how little time and distance had done +to heal his hurt. + +He wanted Marie. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted her in +the old days, with a tenderness, an impulse to shield her from her own +weaknesses, her own mistakes. Then--in those old days--there had been +the glamor of mystery that is called romance. That was gone, worn away +by the close intimacies of matrimony. He knew her faults, he knew how +she looked when she was angry and petulant. He knew how little the real +Marie resembled the speciously amiable, altogether attractive Marie who +faced a smiling world when she went pleasuring. He knew, but--he wanted +her just the same. He wanted to tell her so many things about the +burros, and about the desert--things that would make her laugh, and +things that would make her blink back the tears. He was homesick for her +as he had never been homesick in his life before. The picture flickered +on through scene after scene that Bud did not see at all, though he was +staring unwinkingly at the screen all the while. The love scenes at the +last were poignantly real, but they passed before his eyes unnoticed. +Bud's mind was dwelling upon certain love scenes of his own. He was +feeling Marie's presence beside him there in the dusk. + +“Poor kid--she wasn't so much to blame,” he muttered just above his +breath, when the screen was swept clean and blank at the end of the last +reel. + +“Huh? Oh, he was the big mutt, right from the start,” Frank replied +with the assured air of a connoisseur. “He didn't have the brains of a +bluejay, or he'd have known all the time she was strong for him.” + +“I guess that's right,” Bud mumbled, but he did not mean what Frank +thought he meant. “Let's go. I want a drink.” + +Frank was willing enough; too willing, if the truth were known. They +went out into the cool starlight, and hurried across the side street +that was no more than a dusty roadway, to the saloon where they had +spent the afternoon. Bud called for whisky, and helped himself twice +from the bottle which the bartender placed between them. He did not +speak until the second glass was emptied, and then he turned to Frank +with a purple glare in his eyes. + +“Let's have a game of pool or something,” he suggested. + +“There's a good poker game going, back there,” vouchsafed the bartender, +turning his thumb toward the rear, where half a dozen men were gathered +in a close group around a table. “There's some real money in sight, +to-night.” + +“All right, let's go see.” Bud turned that way, Frank following like a +pet dog at his heels. + +At dawn the next morning, Bud got up stiffly from the chair where he +had spent the night. His eyeballs showed a network of tiny red veins, +swollen with the surge of alcohol in his blood and with the strain of +staring all night at the cards. Beneath his eyes were puffy ridges. His +cheekbones flamed with the whisky flush. He cashed in a double-handful +of chips, stuffed the money he had won into his coat pocket, walked, +with that stiff precision of gait by which a drunken man strives to +hide his drunkenness, to the bar and had another drink. Frank was at his +elbow. Frank was staggering, garrulous, laughing a great deal over very +small jokes. + +“I'm going to bed,” said Bud, his tongue forming the words with a slow +carefulness. + +“Come over to my shack, Bud--rotten hotel. My bed's clean, anyway.” + Frank laughed and plucked him by the sleeve. + +“All right,” Bud consented gravely. “We'll take a bottle along.” + + + +CHAPTER TEN. EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS + +A man's mind is a tricky thing--or, speaking more exactly, a man's +emotions are tricky things. Love has come rushing to the back of a +tip-tilted chin, or the tone of a voice, or the droop of an eyelid. It +has fled for cause as slight. Sometimes it runs before resentment for +a real or fancied wrong, but then, if you have observed it closely, you +will see that quite frequently, when anger grows slow of foot, or dies +of slow starvation, love steals back, all unsuspected and unbidden--and +mayhap causes much distress by his return. It is like a sudden +resurrection of all the loved, long-mourned dead that sleep so serenely +in their tended plots. Loved though they were and long mourned, think +of the consternation if they all came trooping back to take their old +places in life! The old places that have been filled, most of them, by +others who are loved as dearly, who would be mourned if they were taken +away. + +Psychologists will tell us all about the subconscious mind, the +hidden loves and hates and longings which we believe are dead and long +forgotten. When one of those emotions suddenly comes alive and stands, +terribly real and intrusive, between our souls and our everyday lives, +the strongest and the best of us may stumble and grope blindly after +content, or reparation, or forgetfulness, or whatever seems most likely +to give relief. + +I am apologizing now for Bud, who had spent a good many months in +pushing all thoughts of Marie out of his mind, all hunger for her out of +his heart. He had kept away from towns, from women, lest he be reminded +too keenly of his matrimonial wreck. He had stayed with Cash and had +hunted gold, partly because Cash never seemed conscious of any need of +a home or love or wife or children, and therefore never reminded Bud of +the home and the wife and the love and the child he had lost out of his +own life. Cash seldom mentioned women at all, and when he did it was +in a purely general way, as women touched some other subject he was +discussing. He never paid any attention to the children they met +casually in their travels. He seemed absolutely self-sufficient, +interested only in the prospect of finding a paying claim. What he would +do with wealth, if so be he attained it, he never seemed to know or +care. He never asked Bud any questions about his private affairs, never +seemed to care how Bud had lived, or where. And Bud thankfully left his +past behind the wall of silence. So he had come to believe that he was +almost as emotion-proof as Cash appeared to be, and had let it go at +that. + +Now here he was, with his heart and his mind full of Marie--after more +than a year and a half of forgetting her! Getting drunk and playing +poker all night did not help him at all, for when he woke it was from a +sweet, intimate dream of her, and it was to a tormenting desire for her, +that gnawed at his mind as hunger gnaws at the stomach. Bud could not +understand it. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. By all +his simple rules of reckoning he ought to be “over it” by now. He had +been, until he saw that picture. + +He was so very far from being over his trouble that he was under it; a +beaten dog wincing under the blows of memory, stung by the lash of his +longing. He groaned, and Frank thought it was the usual “morning after” + headache, and laughed ruefully. + +“Same here,” he said. “I've got one like a barrel, and I didn't punish +half the booze you did.” + +Bud did not say anything, but he reached for the bottle, tilted it and +swallowed three times before he stopped. + +“Gee!” whispered Frank, a little enviously. + +Bud glanced somberly across at Frank, who was sitting by the stove with +his jaws between his palms and his hair toweled, regarding his guest +speculatively. + +“I'm going to get drunk again,” Bud announced bluntly. “If you don't +want to, you'd better duck. You're too easy led--I saw that last night. +You follow anybody's lead that you happen to be with. If you follow my +lead to-day, you'll be petrified by night. You better git, and let me go +it alone.” + +Frank laughed uneasily. “Aw, I guess you ain't all that fatal, Bud. +Let's go over and have some breakfast--only it'll be dinner.” + +“You go, if you want to.” Bud tilted the bottle again, his eyes half +closed while he swallowed. When he had finished, he shuddered violently +at the taste of the whisky. He got up, went to the water bucket and +drank half a dipper of water. “Good glory! I hate whisky,” he grumbled. +“Takes a barrel to have any effect on me too.” He turned and looked down +at Frank with a morose kind of pity. “You go on and get your breakfast, +kid. I don't want any. I'll stay here for awhile.” + +He sat down on the side of the cheap, iron bedstead, and emptied his +pockets on the top quilt. He straightened the crumpled bills and counted +them, and sorted the silver pieces. All told, he had sixty-three dollars +and twenty cents. He sat fingering the money absently, his mind upon +other things. Upon Marie and the baby, to be exact. He was fighting the +impulse to send Marie the money. She might need it for the kid. If he +was sure her mother wouldn't get any of it... A year and a half was +quite a while, and fifteen hundred dollars wasn't much to live on these +days. She couldn't work, with the baby on her hands... + +Frank watched him curiously, his jaws still resting between his two +palms, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, his lips loose and trembling. +A dollar alarm clock ticked resonantly, punctuated now and then by the +dull clink of silver as Bud lifted a coin and let it drop on the little +pile. + +“Pretty good luck you had last night,” Frank ventured wishfully. “They +cleaned me.” + +Bud straightened his drooping shoulders and scooped the money into his +hand. He laughed recklessly, and got up. “We'll try her another whirl, +and see if luck'll bring luck. Come on--let's go hunt up some of them +marks that got all the dough last night. We'll split, fifty-fifty, and +the same with what we win. Huh?” + +“You're on, ho--let's go.” Bud had gauged him correctly--Frank would +follow any one who would lead. He got up and came to the table where Bud +was dividing the money into two equal sums, as nearly as he could make +change. What was left over--and that was the three dollars and twenty +cents--he tossed into the can of tobacco on a shelf. + +“We'll let that ride--to sober up on, if we go broke,” he grunted. “Come +on--let's get action.” + +Action, of a sort, they proceeded to get. Luck brought luck of the same +complexion. They won in fluctuating spells of good cards and judicious +teamwork. They did not cheat, though Frank was ready if Bud had led him +that way. Frank was ready for anything that Bud suggested. He drank when +Bud drank, went from the first saloon to the one farther down and +across the street, returned to the first with cheerful alacrity and much +meaningless laughter when Bud signified a desire to change. It soothed +Bud and irritated him by turns, this ready acquiescence of Frank's. He +began to take a malicious delight in testing that acquiescence. He began +to try whether he could not find the end of Frank's endurance in staying +awake, his capacity for drink, his good nature, his credulity--he ran +the scale of Frank's various qualifications, seeking always to establish +a well-defined limitation somewhere. + +But Frank was utterly, absolutely plastic. He laughed and drank when Bud +suggested that they drink. He laughed and played whatever game Bud urged +him into. He laughed and agreed with Bud when Bud made statements to +test the credulity of anyman. He laughed and said, “Sure. Let's go!” when +Bud pined for a change of scene. + +On the third day Bud suddenly stopped in the midst of a game of pool +which neither was steady enough to play, and gravely inspected the +chalked end of his cue. + +“That's about enough of this,” he said. “We're drunk. We're so drunk we +don't know a pocket from a prospect hole. I'm tired of being a hog. I'm +going to go get another drink and sober up. And if you're the dog Fido +you've been so far, you'll do the same.” He leaned heavily upon the +table, and regarded Frank with stern, bloodshot blue eyes. + +Frank laughed and slid his cue the length of the table. He also leaned a +bit heavily. “Sure,” he said. “I'm ready, any time you are.” + +“Some of these days,” Bud stated with drunken deliberation, “they'll +take and hang you, Frank, for being such an agreeable cuss.” He took +Frank gravely by the arm and walked him to the bar, paid for two beers +with almost his last dollar, and, still holding Frank firmly, walked him +out of doors and down the street to Frank's cabin. He pushed him inside +and stood looking in upon him with a sour appraisement. + +“You are the derndest fool I ever run across--but at that you're a good +scout too,” he informed Frank. “You sober up now, like I said. You ought +to know better 'n to act the way you've been acting. I'm sure ashamed +of you, Frank. Adios--I'm going to hit the trail for camp.” With that +he pulled the door shut and walked away, with that same circumspect +exactness in his stride which marks the drunken man as surely as does a +stagger. + +He remembered what it was that had brought him to town--which is more +than most men in his condition would have done. He went to the post +office and inquired for mail, got what proved to be the assayer's +report, and went on. He bought half a dozen bananas which did not +remind him of that night when he had waited on the Oakland pier for the +mysterious Foster, though they might have recalled the incident vividly +to mind had he been sober. He had been wooing forgetfulness, and for the +time being he had won. + +Walking up the steep, winding trail that led to Nelson Flat cleared a +little his fogged brain. He began to remember what it was that he had +been fighting to forget. Marie's face floated sometimes before him, but +the vision was misty and remote, like distant woodland seen through +the gray film of a storm. The thought of her filled him with a vague +discomfort now when his emotions were dulled by the terrific strain +he had wilfully put upon brain and body. Resentment crept into the +foreground again. Marie had made him suffer. Marie was to blame for this +beastly fit of intoxication. He did not love Marie--he hated her. He +did not want to see her, he did not want to think of her. She had done +nothing for him but bring him trouble. Marie, forsooth! (Only, Bud put +it in a slightly different way.) + +Halfway to the flat, he met Cash walking down the slope where the trail +seemed tunneled through deep green, so thick stood the young spruce. +Cash was swinging his arms in that free stride of the man who has +learned how to walk with the least effort. He did not halt when he +saw Bud plodding slowly up the trail, but came on steadily, his keen, +blue-gray eyes peering sharply from beneath his forward tilted hat brim. +He came up to within ten feet of Bud, and stopped. + +“Well!” He stood eyeing Bud appraisingly, much as Bud had eyed Frank a +couple of hours before. “I was just starting out to see what had become +of you,” he added, his voice carrying the full weight of reproach that +the words only hinted at. + +“Well, get an eyeful, if that's what you come for. I'm here--and +lookin's cheap.” Bud's anger flared at the disapproval he read in Cash's +eyes, his voice, the set of his lips. + +But Cash did not take the challenge. “Did the report come?” he asked, as +though that was the only matter worth discussing. + +Bud pulled the letter sullenly from his pocket and gave it to Cash. He +stood moodily waiting while Cash opened and read and returned it. + +“Yeah. About what I thought--only it runs lighter in gold, with a higher +percentage of copper. It'll pay to go on and see what's at bed rock. If +the copper holds up to this all along, we'll be figuring on the gold to +pay for getting the copper. This is copper country, Bud. Looks like we'd +found us a copper mine.” He turned and walked on beside Bud. “I dug in +to quite a rich streak of sand while you was gone,” he volunteered after +a silence. “Coarse gold, as high as fifteen cents a pan. I figure we +better work that while the weather's good, and run our tunnel in on this +other when snow comes.” + +Bud turned his head and looked at Cash intently for a minute. “I've been +drunker'n a fool for three days,” he announced solemnly. + +“Yeah. You look it,” was Cash's dry retort, while he stared straight +ahead, up the steep, shadowed trail. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE FIRST STAGES + +For a month Bud worked and forced himself to cheerfulness, and tried to +forget. Sometimes it was easy enough, but there were other times when +he must get away by himself and walk and walk, with his rifle over his +shoulder as a mild pretense that he was hunting game. But if he brought +any back camp it was because the game walked up and waited to be shot; +half the time Bud did not know where he was going, much less whether +there were deer within ten rods or ten miles. + +During those spells of heartsickness he would sit all the evening and +smoke and stare at some object which his mind failed to register. Cash +would sit and watch him furtively; but Bud was too engrossed with his +own misery to notice it. Then, quite unexpectedly, reaction would come +and leave Bud in a peace that was more than half a torpid refusal of his +mind to worry much over anything. + +He worked then, and talked much with Cash, and made plans for the +development of their mine. In that month they had come to call it a +mine, and they had filed and recorded their claim, and had drawn up an +agreement of partnership in it. They would “sit tight” and work on it +through the winter, and when spring came they hoped to have something +tangible upon which to raise sufficient capital to develop it properly. +Or, times when they had done unusually well with their sandbank, they +would talk optimistically about washing enough gold out of that claim to +develop the other, and keep the title all in their own hands. + +Then, one night Bud dreamed again of Marie, and awoke with an insistent +craving for the oblivion of drunkenness. He got up and cooked the +breakfast, washed the dishes and swept the cabin, and measured out two +ounces of gold from what they had saved. + +“You're keeping tabs on everything, Cash,” he said shortly. “Just charge +this up to me. I'm going to town.” + +Cash looked up at him from under a slanted eye-brow. His lips had a +twist of pained disapproval. + +“Yeah. I figured you was about due in town,” he said resignedly. + +“Aw, lay off that told-you-so stuff,” Bud growled. “You never figured +anything of the kind, and you know it.” He pulled his heavy sweater down +off a nail and put it on, scowling because the sleeves had to be pulled +in place on his arms. + +“Too bad you can't wait a day. I figured we'd have a clean-up to-morrow, +maybe. She's been running pretty heavy---” + +“Well, go ahead and clean up, then. You can do it alone. Or wait till I +get back.” + +Cash laughed, as a retort cutting, and not because he was amused. Bud +swore and went out, slamming the door behind him. + +It was exactly five days alter that when he opened it again. Cash was +mixing a batch of sour-dough bread into loaves, and he did not say +anything at all when Bud came in and stood beside the stove, warming his +hands and glowering around the room. He merely looked up, and then went +on with his bread making. + +Bud was not a pretty sight. Four days and nights of trying to see how +much whisky he could drink, and how long he could play poker without +going to sleep or going broke, had left their mark on his face and +his trembling hands. His eyes were puffy and red, and his cheeks were +mottled, and his lips were fevered and had lost any sign of a humorous +quirk at the corners. He looked ugly; as if he would like nothing better +than an excuse to quarrel with Cash--since Cash was the only person at +hand to quarrel with. + +But Cash had not knocked around the world for nothing. He had seen men +in that mood before, and he had no hankering for trouble which is vastly +easier to start than it is to stop. He paid no attention to Bud. He +made his loaves, tucked them into the pan and greased the top with bacon +grease saved in a tomato can for such use. He set the pan on a shelf +behind the stove, covered it with a clean flour sack, opened the stove +door, and slid in two sticks. + +“She's getting cold,” he observed casually. “It'll be winter now before +we know it.” + +Bud grunted, pulled an empty box toward him by the simple expedient of +hooking his toes behind the corner, and sat down. He set his elbows on +his thighs and buried his face in his hands. His hat dropped off +his head and lay crown down beside him. He made a pathetic figure of +miserable manhood, of strength mistreated. His fine, brown hair fell +in heavy locks down over his fingers that rested on his forehead. Five +minutes so, and he lifted his head and glanced around him apathetically. +“Gee-man-ee, I've got a headache!” he muttered, dropping his forehead +into his spread palms again. + +Cash hesitated, derision hiding in the back of his eyes. Then he pushed +the dented coffeepot forward on the stove. + +“Try a cup of coffee straight,” he said unemotionally, “and then lay +down. You'll sleep it off in a few hours.” + +Bud did not look up, or make any move to show that he heard. But +presently he rose and went heavily over to his bunk. “I don't want any +darn coffee,” he growled, and sprawled himself stomach down on the bed, +with his face turned from the light. + +Cash eyed him coldly, with the corner of his upper lip lifted a little. +Whatever weaknesses he possessed, drinking and gambling had no place in +the list. Nor had he any patience with those faults in others. Had Bud +walked down drunk to Cash's camp, that evening when they first met, he +might have received a little food doled out to him grudgingly, but +he assuredly would not have slept in Cash's bed that night. That he +tolerated drunkenness in Bud now would have been rather surprising to +any one who knew Cash well. Perhaps he had a vague understanding of the +deeps through which Bud was struggling, and so was constrained to hide +his disapproval, hoping that the moral let-down was merely a temporary +one. + +He finished his strictly utilitarian household labor and went off up the +flat to the sluice boxes. Bud had not moved from his first position on +the bed, but he did not breathe like a sleeping man. Not at first; after +an hour or so he did sleep, heavily and with queer, muddled dreams that +had no sequence and left only a disturbed sense of discomfort behind +then. + +At noon or a little after Cash returned to the cabin, cast a sour look +of contempt at the recumbent Bud, and built a fire in the old cookstove. +He got his dinner, ate it, and washed his dishes with never a word +to Bud, who had wakened and lay with his eyes half open, sluggishly +miserable and staring dully at the rough spruce logs of the wall. + +Cash put on his cap, looked at Bud and gave a snort, and went off again +to his work. Bud lay still for awhile longer, staring dully at the wall. +Finally he raised up, swung his feet to the floor, and sat there staring +around the little cabin as though he had never before seen it. + +“Huh! You'd think, the way he highbrows me, that Cash never done wrong +in his life! Tin angel, him--I don't think. Next time, I'll tell a +pinheaded world I'll have to bring home a quart or two, and put on a +show right!” + +Just what he meant by that remained rather obscure, even to Bud. He +got up, shut his eyes very tight and then opened them wide to clear his +vision, shook himself into his clothes and went over to the stove. +Cash had not left the coffeepot on the stove but had, with malicious +intent--or so Bud believed--put it away on the shelf so that what coffee +remained was stone cold. Bud muttered and threw out the coffee, grounds +and all--a bit of bachelor extravagance which only anger could drive him +to--and made fresh coffee, and made it strong. He did not want it. He +drank it for the work of physical regeneration it would do for him. + +He lay down afterwards, and this time he dropped into a more nearly +normal sleep, which lasted until Cash returned at dusk After that he lay +with his face hidden, awake and thinking. Thinking, for the most part, +of how dull and purposeless life was, and wondering why the world +was made, or the people in it--since nobody was happy, and few even +pretended to be. Did God really make the world, and man, just to play +with--for a pastime? Then why bother about feeling ashamed for anything +one did that was contrary to God's laws? + +Why be puffed up with pride for keeping one or two of them +unbroken--like Cash, for instance. Just because Cash never drank or +played cards, what right had he to charge the whole atmosphere of the +cabin with his contempt and his disapproval of Bud, who chose to do +both? + +On the other hand, why did he choose a spree as a relief from his +particular bunch of ghosts? Trading one misery for another was all +you could call it. Doing exactly the things that Marie's mother had +predicted he would do, committing the very sins that Marie was always +a little afraid he would commit--there must be some sort of twisted +revenge in that, he thought, but for the life of him he could not quite +see any real, permanent satisfaction in it--especially since Marie and +her mother would never get to hear of it. + +For that matter, he was not so sure that they would not get to hear. +He remembered meeting, just on the first edge of his spree, one Joe De +Barr, a cigar salesman whom he had known in San Jose. Joe knew Marie--in +fact, Joe had paid her a little attention before Bud came into her life. +Joe had been in Alpine between trains, taking orders for goods from the +two saloons and the hotel. He had seen Bud drinking. Bud knew perfectly +well how much Joe had seen him drinking, and he knew perfectly well +that Joe was surprised to the point of amazement--and, Bud suspected, +secretly gratified as well. Wherefore Bud had deliberately done what +he could do to stimulate and emphasize both the surprise and the +gratification. Why is it that most human beings feel a sneaking +satisfaction in the downfall of another? Especially another who is, or +has been at sometime, a rival in love or in business? + +Bud had no delusions concerning Joe De Barr. If Joe should happen to +meet Marie, he would manage somehow to let her know that Bud was going +to the dogs--on the toboggan--down and out--whatever it suited Joe to +declare him. It made Bud sore now to think of Joe standing so smug and +so well dressed and so immaculate beside the bar, smiling and twisting +the ends of his little brown mustache while he watched Bud make such +a consummate fool of himself. At the time, though, Bud had taken a +perverse delight in making himself appear more soddenly drunken, more +boisterous and reckless than he really was. + +Oh, well, what was the odds? Marie couldn't think any worse of him than +she already thought. And whatever she thought, their trails had parted, +and they would never cross again--not if Bud could help it. Probably +Marie would say amen to that. He would like to know how she was getting +along--and the baby, too. Though the baby had never seemed quite real +to Bud, or as if it were a permanent member of the household. It was a +leather-lunged, red-faced, squirming little mite, and in his heart of +hearts Bud had not felt as though it belonged to him at all. He had +never rocked it, for instance, or carried it in his arms. He had been +afraid he might drop it, or squeeze it too hard, or break it somehow +with his man's strength. When he thought of Marie he did not necessarily +think of the baby, though sometimes he did, wondering vaguely how much +it had grown, and if it still hollered for its bottle, all hours of the +day and night. + +Coming back to Marie and Joe--it was not at all certain that they would +meet; or that Joe would mention him, even if they did. A wrecked home is +always a touchy subject, so touchy that Joe had never intimated in his +few remarks to Bud that there had ever been a Marie, and Bud, drunk +as he had been, was still not too drunk to hold back the question that +clamored to be spoken. + +Whether he admitted it to himself or not, the sober Bud Moore who lay on +his bunk nursing a headache and a grouch against the world was ashamed +of the drunken Bud Moore who had paraded his drunkenness before the man +who knew Marie. He did not want Marie to hear what Joe might tell There +was no use, he told himself miserably, in making Marie despise him as +well as hate him. There was a difference. She might think him a brute, +and she might accuse him of failing to be a kind and loving husband; but +she could not, unless Joe told of his spree, say that she had ever heard +of his carousing around. That it would be his own fault if she did hear, +served only to embitter his mood. + +He rolled over and glared at Cash, who had cooked his supper and was +sitting down to eat it alone. Cash was looking particularly misanthropic +as he bent his head to meet the upward journey of his coffee cup, and +his eyes, when they lifted involuntarily with Bud's sudden movement, had +still that hard look of bottled-up rancor that had impressed itself upon +Bud earlier in the day. + +Neither man spoke, or made any sign of friendly recognition. Bud would +not have talked to any one in his present state of self-disgust, but for +all that Cash's silence rankled. A moment their eyes met and held; then +with shifted glances the souls of them drew apart--farther apart than +they had ever been, even when they quarreled over Pete, down in Arizona. + +When Cash had finished and was filing his pipe, Bud got up and reheated +the coffee, and fried more bacon and potatoes, Cash having cooked just +enough for himself. Cash smoked and gave no heed, and Bud retorted by +eating in silence and in straightway washing his own cup, plate, knife, +and fork and wiping clean the side of the table where he always sat. He +did not look at Cash, but he felt morbidly that Cash was regarding him +with that hateful sneer hidden under his beard. He knew that it was +silly to keep that stony silence, but he kept telling himself that if +Cash wanted to talk, he had a tongue, and it was not tied. Besides, +Cash had registered pretty plainly his intentions and his wishes when he +excluded Bud from his supper. + +It was a foolish quarrel, but it was that kind of foolish quarrel which +is very apt to harden into a lasting one. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE + +Domestic wrecks may be a subject taboo in polite conversation, but Joe +De Barr was not excessively polite, and he had, moreover, a very likely +hope that Marie would yet choose to regard him with more favor than she +had shown in the past. He did not chance to see her at once, but as soon +as his work would permit he made it a point to meet her. He went about +it with beautiful directness. He made bold to call her up on “long +distance” from San Francisco, told her that he would be in San Jose that +night, and invited her to a show. + +Marie accepted without enthusiasm--and her listlessness was not lost +over forty miles of telephone wire. Enough of it seeped to Joe's ears +to make him twist his mustache quite furiously when he came out of the +telephone booth. If she was still stuck on that fellow Bud, and couldn't +see anybody else, it was high time she was told a few things about him. +It was queer how a nice girl like Marie would hang on to some cheap +guy like Bud Moore. Regular fellows didn't stand any show--unless +they played what cards happened to fall their way. Joe, warned by her +indifference, set himself very seriously to the problem of playing his +cards to the best advantage. + +He went into a flower store--disdaining the banked loveliness upon the +corners--and bought Marie a dozen great, heavy-headed chrysanthemums, +whose color he could not name to save his life, so called them pink and +let it go at that. They were not pink, and they were not sweet--Joe held +the bunch well away from his protesting olfactory nerves which were not +educated to tantalizing odors--but they were more expensive than roses, +and he knew that women raved over them. He expected Marie to rave over +them, whether she liked them or not. + +Fortified by these, groomed and perfumed and as prosperous looking as a +tobacco salesman with a generous expense account may be, he went to San +Jose on an early evening train that carried a parlor car in which Joe +made himself comfortable. He fooled even the sophisticated porter +into thinking him a millionaire, wherefore he arrived in a glow of +self-esteem, which bred much optimism. + +Marie was impressed--at least with his assurance and the chrysanthemums, +over which she was sufficiently enthusiastic to satisfy even Joe. Since +he had driven to the house in a hired automobile, he presently had the +added satisfaction of handing Marie into the tonneau as though she were +a queen entering the royal chariot, and of ordering the driver to take +them out around the golf links, since it was still very early. Then, +settling back with what purported to be a sigh of bliss, he regarded +Marie sitting small and still and listless beside him. The glow of the +chrysanthemums had already faded. Marie, with all the girlish prettiness +she had ever possessed, and with an added charm that was very elusive +and hard to analyze, seemed to have lost all of her old animation. + +Joe tried the weather, and the small gossip of the film world, and a +judiciously expurgated sketch of his life since he had last seen her. +Marie answered him whenever his monologue required answer, but she was +unresponsive, uninterested--bored. Joe twisted his mustache, eyed her +aslant and took the plunge. + +“I guess joy-ridin' kinda calls up old times, ay?” he began insidiously. +“Maybe I shouldn't have brought you out for a ride; maybe it brings back +painful memories, as the song goes.” + +“Oh, no,” said Marie spiritlessly. “I don't see why it should.” + +“No? Well, that's good to hear you say so, girlie. I was kinda afraid +maybe trouble had hit you hard. A sensitive, big-hearted little person +like you. But if you've put it all outa your mind, why, that's where +you're dead right. Personally, I was glad to see you saw where you'd +made a mistake, and backed up. That takes grit and brains. Of course, we +all make mistakes--you wasn't to blame--innocent little kid like you--” + +“Yes,” said Marie, “I guess I made a mistake, all right.” + +“Sure! But you seen it and backed up. And a good thing you did. Look +what he'd of brought you to by now, if you'd stuck!” + +Marie tilted back her head and looked up at the tall row of eucalyptus +trees feathered against the stars. “What?” she asked uninterestedly. + +“Well--I don't want to knock, especially a fellow that's on the toboggan +already. But I know a little girl that's aw-fully lucky, and I'm honest +enough to say so.” + +“Why?” asked Marie obligingly. “Why--in particular?” + +“Why in particular?” Joe leaned toward her. “Say, you must of heard how +Bud's going to the dogs. If you haven't, I don't want--” + +“No, I hadn't heard,” said Marie, looking up at the Big Dipper so that +her profile, dainty and girlish still, was revealed like a cameo to Joe. +“Is he? I love to watch the stars, don't you?” + +“I love to watch a star,” Joe breathed softly. “So you hadn't heard how +Bud's turned out to be a regular souse? Honest, didn't you know it?” + +“No, I didn't know it,” said Marie boredly. “Has he?” + +“Well, say! You couldn't tell it from the real thing! Believe me, Bud's +some pickled bum, these days. I run across him up in the mountains, a +month or so ago. Honest, I was knocked plumb silly--much as I knew about +Bud that you never knew, I never thought he'd turn out quite so--” Joe +paused, with a perfect imitation of distaste for his subject. “Say, this +is great, out here,” he murmured, tucking the robe around her with +that tender protectiveness which stops just short of being proprietary. +“Honest, Marie, do you like it?” + +“Why, sure, I like it, Joe.” Marie smiled at him in the star-light. +“It's great, don't you think? I don't get out very often, any more. I'm +working, you know--and evenings and Sundays baby takes up all my time.” + +“You working? Say, that's a darned shame! Don't Bud send you any money?” + +“He left some,” said Marie frankly. “But I'm keeping that for baby, when +he grows up and needs it. He don't send any.” + +“Well, say! As long as he's in the State, you can make him dig up. For +the kid's support, anyway. Why don't you get after him?” + +Marie looked down over the golf links, as the car swung around the long +curve at the head of the slope. “I don't know where he is,” she said +tonelessly. “Where did you see him, Joe?” + +Joe's hesitation lasted but long enough for him to give his mustache end +a twist. Marie certainly seemed to be well “over it.” There could be no +harm in telling. + +“Well, when I saw him he was at Alpine; that's a little burg up in the +edge of the mountains, on the W. P. He didn't look none too prosperous, +at that. But he had money--he was playing poker and that kind of thing. +And he was drunk as a boiled owl, and getting drunker just as fast as +he knew how. Seemed to be kind of a stranger there; at least he didn't +throw in with the bunch like a native would. But that was more than a +month ago, Marie. He might not be there now. I could write up and find +out for you.” + +Marie settled back against the cushions as though she had already +dismissed the subject from her mind. + +“Oh, don't bother about it, Joe. I don't suppose he's got any money, +anyway. Let's forget him.” + +“You said it, Marie. Stacked up to me like a guy that's got just enough +dough for a good big souse. He ain't hard to forget--is he, girlie?” + +Marie laughed assentingly. And if she did not quite attain her old +bubbling spirits during the evening, at least she sent Joe back to San +Francisco feeling very well satisfied with himself. He must have been +satisfied with himself. He must have been satisfied with his wooing +also, because he strolled into a jewelry store the next morning and +priced several rings which he judged would be perfectly suitable for +engagement rings. He might have gone so far as to buy one, if he had +been sure of the size and of Marie's preference in stones. Since he +lacked detailed information, he decided to wait, but he intimated +plainly to the clerk that he would return in a few days. + +It was just as well that he did decide to wait, for when he tried again +to see Marie he failed altogether. Marie had left town. Her mother, with +an acrid tone of resentment, declared that she did not know any +more than the man in the moon where Marie had gone, but that she +“suspicioned” that some fool had told Marie where Bud was, and that +Marie had gone traipsing after him. She had taken the baby along, which +was another piece of foolishness which her mother would never have +permitted had she been at home when Marie left. + +Joe did not take the matter seriously, though he was disappointed at +having made a fruitless trip to San Jose. He did not believe that +Marie had done anything more than take a vacation from her mother's +sharp-tongued rule, and for that he could not blame her, after having +listened for fifteen minutes to the lady's monologue upon the subject +of selfish, inconsiderate, ungrateful daughters. Remembering Marie's +attitude toward Bud, he did not believe that she had gone hunting him. + +Yet Marie had done that very thing. True, she had spent a sleepless +night fighting the impulse, and a harassed day trying to make up her +mind whether to write first, or whether to go and trust to the element +of surprise to help plead her cause with Bud; whether to take Lovin +Child with her, or leave him with her mother. + +She definitely decided to write Bud a short note and ask him if he +remembered having had a wife and baby, once upon a time, and if he never +wished that he had them still. She wrote the letter, crying a +little over it along toward the last, as women will. But it sounded +cold-blooded and condemnatory. She wrote another, letting a little +of her real self into the lines. But that sounded sentimental and +moving-pictury, and she knew how Bud hated cheap sentimentalism. + +So she tore them both up and put them in the little heating stove, +and lighted a match and set them burning, and watched them until they +withered down to gray ash, and then broke up the ashes and scattered +them amongst the cinders. Marie, you must know, had learned a good many +things, one of which was the unwisdom of whetting the curiosity of a +curious woman. + +After that she proceeded to pack a suit case for herself and Lovin +Child, seizing the opportunity while her mother was visiting a friend +in Santa Clara. Once the packing was began, Marie worked with a feverish +intensity of purpose and an eagerness that was amazing, considering her +usual apathy toward everything in her life as she was living it. + +Everything but Lovin Child. Him she loved and gloried in. He was like +Bud--so much like him that Marie could not have loved him so much if she +had managed to hate Bud as she tried sometimes to hate him. Lovin Child +was a husky youngster, and he already had the promise of being as tall +and straight-limbed and square-shouldered as his father. Deep in his +eyes there lurked always a twinkle, as though he knew a joke that would +make you laugh--if only he dared tell it; a quizzical, secretly +amused little twinkle, as exactly like Bud's as it was possible for +a two-year-old twinkle to be. To go with the twinkle, he had a quirky +little smile. And to better the smile, he had the jolliest little +chuckle that ever came through a pair of baby lips. + +He came trotting up to the suit case which Marie had spread wide open on +the bed, stood up on his tippy toes, and peered in. The quirky smile was +twitching his lips, and the look he turned toward Marie's back was full +of twinkle. He reached into the suit case, clutched a clean handkerchief +and blew his nose with solemn precision; put the handkerchief back all +crumpled, grabbed a silk stocking and drew it around his neck, and was +straining to reach his little red Brownie cap when Marie turned and +caught him up in her arms. + +“No, no, Lovin Child! Baby mustn't. Marie is going to take her lovin' +baby boy to find--” She glanced hastily over her shoulder to make sure +there was no one to hear, buried her face in the baby's fat neck and +whispered the wonder, “--to find hims daddy Bud! Does Lovin Man want +to see hims daddy Bud? I bet he does want! I bet hims daddy Bud will +be glad--Now you sit right still, and Marie will get him a cracker, an' +then he can watch Marie pack him little shirt, and hims little bunny +suit, and hims wooh-wooh, and hims 'tockins--” + +It is a pity that Bud could not have seen the two of them in the next +hour, wherein Marie flew to her hopeful task of packing her suit case, +and Lovin Child was quite as busy pulling things out of it, and getting +stepped on, and having to be comforted, and insisting upon having on +his bunny suit, and then howling to go before Marie was ready. Bud would +have learned enough to ease the ache in his heart--enough to humble him +and fill him with an abiding reverence for a love that will live, as +Marie's had lived, on bitterness and regret. + +Nearly distracted under the lash of her own eagerness and the fear that +her mother would return too soon and bully her into giving up her wild +plan, Marie, carrying Lovin Child on one arm and lugging the suit case +in the other hand, and half running, managed to catch a street car and +climb aboard all out of breath and with her hat tilted over one ear. +She deposited the baby on the seat beside her, fumbled for a nickel, +and asked the conductor pantingly if she would be in time to catch the +four-five to the city. It maddened her to watch the bored deliberation +of the man as he pulled out his watch and regarded it meditatively. + +“You'll catch it--if you're lucky about your transfer,” he said, and +rang up her fare and went off to the rear platform, just as if it were +not a matter of life and death at all. Marie could have shaken him for +his indifference; and as for the motorman, she was convinced that he ran +as slow as he dared, just to drive her crazy. But even with these two +inhuman monsters doing their best to make her miss the train, and with +the street car she wanted to transfer to running off and leaving her at +the very last minute, and with Lovin Child suddenly discovering that he +wanted to be carried, and that he emphatically did not want her to carry +the suit case at all, Marie actually reached the depot ahead of the +four-five train. Much disheveled and flushed with nervousness and her +exertions, she dragged Lovin Child up the steps by one arm, found a seat +in the chair car and, a few minutes later, suddenly realized that she +was really on her way to an unknown little town in an unknown part of +the country, in quest of a man who very likely did not want to be found +by her. + +Two tears rolled down her cheeks, and were traced to the corners of her +mouth by the fat, investigative finger of Lovin Child before Marie could +find her handkerchief and wipe them away. Was any one in this world +ever so utterly, absolutely miserable? She doubted it. What if she found +Bud--drunk, as Joe had described him? Or, worse than that, what if she +did not find him at all? She tried not to cry, but it seemed as though +she must cry or scream. Fast as she wiped them away, other tears dropped +over her eyelids upon her cheeks, and were given the absorbed attention +of Lovin Child, who tried to catch each one with his finger. To distract +him, she turned him around face to the window. + +“See all the--pitty cows,” she urged, her lips trembling so much that +they would scarcely form the words. And when Lovin Child flattened a +finger tip against the window and chuckled, and said “Ee? Ee?”--which +was his way of saying see--Marie dropped her face down upon his fuzzy +red “bunny” cap, hugged him close to her, and cried, from sheer, nervous +reaction. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. CABIN FEVER IN THE WORST FORM + +Bud Moore woke on a certain morning with a distinct and well-defined +grouch against the world as he had found it; a grouch quite different +from the sullen imp of contrariness that had possessed him lately. He +did not know just what had caused the grouch, and he did not care. He +did know, however, that he objected to the look of Cash's overshoes that +stood pigeon-toed beside Cash's bed on the opposite side of the room, +where Bud had not set his foot for three weeks and more. He disliked the +audible yawn with which Cash manifested his return from the deathlike +unconsciousness of sleep. He disliked the look of Cash's rough coat and +sweater and cap, that hung on a nail over Cash's bunk. He disliked the +thought of getting up in the cold--and more, the sure knowledge that +unless he did get up, and that speedily, Cash would be dressed ahead of +him, and starting a fire in the cookstove. Which meant that Cash would +be the first to cook and eat his breakfast, and that the warped ethics +of their dumb quarrel would demand that Bud pretend to be asleep until +Cash had fried his bacon and his hotcakes and had carried them to his +end of the oilcloth-covered table. + +When, by certain well-known sounds, Bud was sure that Cash was eating, +he could, without loss of dignity or without suspicion of making +any overtures toward friendliness, get up and dress and cook his own +breakfast, and eat it at his own end of the table. Bud wondered how long +Cash, the old fool, would sulk like that. Not that he gave a darn--he +just wondered, is all. For all he cared, Cash could go on forever +cooking his own meals and living on his own side of the shack. Bud +certainly would not interrupt him in acting the fool, and if Cash wanted +to keep it up till spring, Cash was perfectly welcome to do so. It just +showed how ornery a man could be when he was let to go. So far as he was +concerned, he would just as soon as not have that dead line painted down +the middle of the cabin floor. + +Nor did its presence there trouble him in the least. Just this morning, +however, the fact of Cash's stubbornness in keeping to his own side +of the line irritated Bud. He wanted to get back at the old hound +somehow--without giving in an inch in the mute deadlock. Furthermore, +he was hungry, and he did not propose to lie there and starve while old +Cash pottered around the stove. He'd tell the world he was going to +have his own breakfast first, and if Cash didn't want to set in on the +cooking, Cash could lie in bed till he was paralyzed, and be darned. + +At that moment Cash pushed back the blankets that had been banked to his +ears. Simultaneously, Bud swung his feet to the cold floor with a thump +designed solely to inform Cash that Bud was getting up. Cash turned +over with his back to the room and pulled up the blankets. Bud grinned +maliciously and dressed as deliberately as the cold of the cabin would +let him. To be sure, there was the disadvantage of having to start his +own fire, but that disagreeable task was offset by the pleasure he would +get in messing around as long as he could, cooking his breakfast. He +even thought of frying potatoes and onions after he cooked his bacon. +Potatoes and onions fried together have a lovely tendency to stick to +the frying pan, especially if there is not too much grease, and if they +are fried very slowly. Cash would have to do some washing and scraping, +when it came his turn to cook. Bud knew just about how mad that would +make Cash, and he dwelt upon the prospect relishfully. + +Bud never wanted potatoes for his breakfast. Coffee, bacon, and hotcakes +suited him perfectly. But just for meanness, because he felt mean and +he wanted to act mean, he sliced the potatoes and the onions into the +frying pan, and, to make his work artistically complete, he let them +burn and stick to the pan,--after he had his bacon and hotcakes fried, +of course! + +He sat down and began to eat. And presently Cash crawled out into the +warm room filled with the odor of frying onions, and dressed himself +with the detached calm of the chronically sulky individual. Not once +did the manner of either man betray any consciousness of the other's +presence. Unless some detail of the day's work compelled them to speech, +not once for more than three weeks had either seemed conscious of the +other. + +Cash washed his face and his hands, took the side of bacon, and cut +three slices with the precision of long practice. Bud sopped his last +hotcake in a pool of syrup and watched him from the corner of his eyes, +without turning his head an inch toward Cash. His keenest desire, just +then, was to see Cash when he tackled the frying pan. + +But Cash disappointed him there. He took a pie tin off the shelf and +laid his strips of bacon on it, and set it in the oven; which is a very +good way of cooking breakfast bacon, as Bud well knew. Cash then took +down the little square baking pan, greased from the last baking +of bread, and in that he fried his hot cakes. As if that were not +sufficiently exasperating, he gave absolutely no sign of being conscious +of the frying pan any more than he was conscious of Bud. He did not +overdo it by whistling, or even humming a tune--which would have +given Bud an excuse to say something almost as mean as his mood. +Abstractedness rode upon Cash's lined brow. Placid meditation shone +forth from his keen old blue-gray eyes. + +The bacon came from the oven juicy-crisp and curled at the edges and +delicately browned. The cakes came out of the baking pan brown and thick +and light. Cash sat down at his end of the table, pulled his own can of +sugar and his own cup of syrup and his own square of butter toward him; +poured his coffee, that he had made in a small lard pail, and began to +eat his breakfast exactly as though he was alone in that cabin. + +A great resentment filled Bud's soul to bursting, The old hound! Bud +believed now that Cash was capable of leaving that frying pan dirty for +the rest of the day! A man like that would do anything! If it wasn't for +that claim, he'd walk off and forget to come back. + +Thinking of that seemed to crystallize into definite purpose what +had been muddling his mind with vague impulses to let his mood find +expression. He would go to Alpine that day. He would hunt up Frank and +see if he couldn't jar him into showing that he had a mind of his own. +Twice since that first unexpected spree, he had spent a good deal of +time and gold dust and consumed a good deal of bad whisky and beer, in +testing the inherent obligingness of Frank. The last attempt had been +the cause of the final break between him and Cash. Cash had reminded Bud +harshly that they would need that gold to develop their quartz claim, +and he had further stated that he wanted no “truck” with a gambler and +a drunkard, and that Bud had better straighten up if he wanted to keep +friends with Cash. + +Bud had retorted that Cash might as well remember that Bud had a half +interest in the two claims, and that he would certainly stay with it. +Meantime, he would tell the world he was his own boss, and Cash needn't +think for a minute that Bud was going to ask permission for what he did +or did not do. Cash needn't have any truck with him, either. It suited +Bud very well to keep on his own side of the cabin, and he'd thank Cash +to mind his own business and not step over the dead line. + +Cash had laughed disagreeably and asked Bud what he was going to +do--draw a chalk mark, maybe? + +Bud, half drunk and unable to use ordinary good sense, had said yes, by +thunder, he'd draw a chalk line if he wanted to, and if he did, Cash had +better not step over it either, unless he wanted to be kicked back. + +Wherefore the broad, black line down the middle of the floor to where +the table stood. Obviously, he could not well divide the stove and the +teakettle and the frying pan and coffeepot. The line stopped abruptly +with a big blob of lampblack mixed with coal oil, just where necessity +compelled them both to use the same floor space. + +The next day Bud had been ashamed of the performance, but his shame +could not override his stubbornness. The black line stared up at him +accusingly. Cash, keeping scrupulously upon his own side of it, went +coldly about his own affairs and never yielded so much as a glance at +Bud. And Bud grew more moody and dissatisfied with himself, but he would +not yield, either. Perversely he waited for Cash to apologize for what +he had said about gamblers and drunkards, and tried to believe that upon +Cash rested all of the blame. + +Now he washed his own breakfast dishes, including the frying pan, spread +the blankets smooth on his bunk, swept as much of the floor as lay upon +his side of the dead line. Because the wind was in the storm quarter and +the lowering clouds promised more snow, he carried in three big armfuls +of wood and placed them upon his corner of the fireplace, to provide +warmth when he returned. Cash would not touch that wood while Bud was +gone, and Bud knew it. Cash would freeze first. But there was small +chance of that, because a small, silent rivalry had grown from the +quarrel; a rivalry to see which kept the best supply of wood, which +swept cleanest under his bunk and up to the black line, which washed his +dishes cleanest, and kept his shelf in the cupboard the tidiest. Before +the fireplace in an evening Cash would put on wood, and when next it +was needed, Bud would get up and put on wood. Neither would stoop to +stinting or to shirking, neither would give the other an inch of ground +for complaint. It was not enlivening to live together that way, but it +worked well toward keeping the cabin ship shape. + +So Bud, knowing that it was going to storm, and perhaps dreading a +little the long monotony of being housed with a man as stubborn as +himself, buttoned a coat over his gray, roughneck sweater, pulled a pair +of mail-order mittens over his mail-order gloves, stamped his feet +into heavy, three-buckled overshoes, and set out to tramp fifteen miles +through the snow, seeking the kind of pleasure which turns to pain with +the finding. + +He knew that Cash, out by the woodpile, let the axe blade linger in +the cut while he stared after him. He knew that Cash would be lonesome +without him, whether Cash ever admitted it or not. He knew that Cash +would be passively anxious until he returned--for the months they had +spent together had linked them closer than either would confess. Like +a married couple who bicker and nag continually when together, but are +miserable when apart, close association had become a deeply grooved +habit not easily thrust aside. Cabin fever might grip them and impel +them to absurdities such as the dead line down the middle of their +floor and the silence that neither desired but both were too stubborn +to break; but it could not break the habit of being together. So Bud +was perfectly aware of the fact that he would be missed, and he was +ill-humored enough to be glad of it. Frank, if he met Bud that day, was +likely to have his amiability tested to its limit. + +Bud tramped along through the snow, wishing it was not so deep, or else +deep enough to make snow-shoeing practicable in the timber; thinking +too of Cash and how he hoped Cash would get his fill of silence, and of +Frank, and wondering where he would find him. He had covered perhaps two +miles of the fifteen, and had walked off a little of his grouch, and had +stopped to unbutton his coat, when he heard the crunching of feet in the +snow, just beyond a thick clump of young spruce. + +Bud was not particularly cautious, nor was he averse to meeting people +in the trail. He stood still though, and waited to see who was +coming that way--since travelers on that trail were few enough to be +noticeable. + +In a minute more a fat old squaw rounded the spruce grove and shied +off startled when she glimpsed Bud. Bud grunted and started on, and +the squaw stepped clear of the faintly defined trail to let him pass. +Moreover, she swung her shapeless body around so that she half faced him +as he passed. Bud's lips tightened, and he gave her only a glance. He +hated fat old squaws that were dirty and wore their hair straggling down +over their crafty, black eyes. They burlesqued womanhood in a way that +stirred always a smoldering resentment against them. This particular +squaw had nothing to commend her to his notice. She had a dirty red +bandanna tied over her dirty, matted hair and under her grimy double +chin. A grimy gray blanket was draped closely over her squat shoulders +and formed a pouch behind, wherein the plump form of a papoose was +cradled, a little red cap pulled down over its ears. + +Bud strode on, his nose lifted at the odor of stale smoke that pervaded +the air as he passed. The squaw, giving him a furtive stare, turned and +started on, bent under her burden. + +Then quite suddenly a wholly unexpected sound pursued Bud and halted him +in the trail; the high, insistent howl of a child that has been denied +its dearest desire of the moment. Bud looked back inquiringly. The squaw +was hurrying on, and but for the straightness of the trail just there, +her fat old canvas-wrapped legs would have carried her speedily out of +sight. Of course, papooses did yell once in awhile, Bud supposed, though +he did not remember ever hearing one howl like that on the trail. But +what made the squaw in such a deuce of a hurry all at once? + +Bud's theory of her kind was simple enough: If they fled from you, it +was because they had stolen something and were afraid you would catch +them at it. He swung around forthwith in the trail and went after +her--whereat she waddled faster through the snow like a frightened duck. + +“Hey! You come back here a minute! What's all the rush?” Bud's voice and +his long legs pursued, and presently he overtook her and halted her by +the simple expedient of grasping her shoulder firmly. The high-keyed +howling ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and Bud, peering under +the rolled edge of the red stocking cap, felt his jaw go slack with +surprise. + +The baby was smiling at him delightedly, with a quirk of the lips and +a twinkle lodged deep somewhere in its eyes. It worked one hand free of +its odorous wrappings, spread four fat fingers wide apart over one eye, +and chirped, “Pik-k?” and chuckled infectiously deep in its throat. + +Bud gulped and stared and felt a warm rush of blood from his heart up +into his head. A white baby, with eyes that laughed, and quirky red lips +that laughed with the eyes, and a chuckling voice like that, riding on +the back of that old squaw, struck him dumb with astonishment. + +“Good glory!” he blurted, as though the words had been jolted from him +by the shock. Where-upon the baby reached out its hand to him and said +haltingly, as though its lips had not yet grown really familiar with the +words: + +“Take--Uvin--Chal!” + +The squaw tried to jerk away, and Bud gave her a jerk to let her know +who was boss. “Say, where'd you git that kid?” he demanded aggressively. + +She moved her wrapped feet uneasily in the snow, flickered a filmy, +black eyed glance at Bud's uncompromising face, and waved a dirty paw +vaguely in a wide sweep that would have kept a compass needle revolving +if it tried to follow and was not calculated to be particularly +enlightening. + +“Lo-ong ways,” she crooned, and her voice was the first attractive thing +Bud had discovered about her. It was pure melody, soft and pensive as +the cooing of a wood dove. + +“Who belongs to it?” Bud was plainly suspicious. The shake of the +squaw's bandannaed head was more artfully vague than her gesture. “Don' +know--modder die--fadder die--ketchum long ways--off.” + +“Well, what's its name?” Bud's voice harshened with his growing interest +and bewilderment. The baby was again covering one twinkling eye with +its spread, pink palm, and was saying “Pik-k?” and laughing with the +funniest little squint to its nose that Bud had ever seen. It was so +absolutely demoralizing that to relieve himself Bud gave the squaw +a shake. This tickled the baby so much that the chuckle burst into a +rollicking laugh, with a catch of the breath after each crescendo tone +that made it absolutely individual and like none other--save one. + +“What's his name?” Bud bullied the squaw, though his eyes were on the +baby. + +“Don't know!” + +“Take--Uvin--Chal,” the baby demanded imperiously. + +“Uh--uh--uh? Take!” + +“Uvin Chal? Now what'd yuh mean by that, oletimer?” Bud obeyed an +overpowering impulse to reach out and touch the baby's cheek with a +mittened thumb. The baby responded instantly by again demanding that Bud +should take. + +“Pik-k?” said Bud, a mitten over one eye. + +“Pik-k?” said the baby, spreading his fat hand again and twinkling at +Bud between his fingers. But immediately afterwards it gave a little, +piteous whimper. “Take--Uvin Chal!” it beseeched Bud with voice and +starlike blue eyes together. “Take!” + +There was that in the baby's tone, in the unbaby-like insistence of its +bright eyes, which compelled obedience. Bud had never taken a baby of +that age in his arms. He was always in fear of dropping it, or crushing +it with his man's strength, or something. He liked them--at a safe +distance. He would chuck one under the chin, or feel diffidently the +soft little cheek, but a closer familiarity scared him. Yet when this +baby wriggled its other arm loose and demanded him to take, Bud reached +out and grasped its plump little red-sweatered body firmly under the +armpits and drew it forth, squirming with eagerness. + +“Well, I'll tell the world I don't blame yuh for wanting to git outa +that hog's nest,” said Bud, answering the baby's gleeful chuckle. + +Freed from his detaining grip on her shoulder, the squaw ducked +unexpectedly and scuttled away down the trail as fast as her old legs +would carry her; which was surprisingly speedy for one of her bulk. Bud +had opened his mouth to ask her again where she had gotten that baby. He +left it open while he stared after her astonished until the baby put up +a hand over one of Bud's eyes and said “Pik-k?” with that distracting +little quirk at the corners of its lips. + +“You son of a gun!” grinned Bud, in the tone that turned the epithet +in to a caress. “You dog gone little devil, you! Pik-k! then, if that's +what you want.” + +The squaw had disappeared into the thick under growth, leaving a track +like a hippo in the snow. Bud could have overtaken her, of course, and +he could have made her take the baby back again. But he could not face +the thought of it. He made no move at all toward pursuit, but instead he +turned his face toward Alpine, with some vague intention of turning the +baby over to the hotel woman there and getting the authorities to hunt +up its parents. It was plain enough that the squaw had no right to it, +else she would not have run off like that. + +Bud walked at least a rod toward Alpine before he swung short around in +his tracks and started the other way. “No, I'll be doggoned if I will!” + he said. “You can't tell about women, no time. She might spank the kid, +or something. Or maybe she wouldn't feed it enough. Anyway, it's too +cold, and it's going to storm pretty pronto. Hey! Yuh cold, old-timer?” + +The baby whimpered a little and snuggled its face down against Bud's +chest. So Bud lifted his foot and scraped some snow off a nearby log, +and set the baby down there while he took off his coat and wrapped it +around him, buttoning it like a bag over arms and all. The baby watched +him knowingly, its eyes round and dark blue and shining, and gave a +contented little wriggle when Bud picked it up again in his arms. + +“Now you're all right till we get to where it's warm,” Bud assured it +gravely. “And we'll do some steppin', believe me. I guess maybe you +ain't any more crazy over that Injun smell on yuh, than what I am--and +that ain't any at all.” He walked a few steps farther before he added +grimly, “It'll be some jolt for Cash, doggone his skin. He'll about +bust, I reckon. But we don't give a darn. Let him bust if he wants +to--half the cabin's mine, anyway.” + +So, talking a few of his thoughts aloud to the baby, that presently +went to sleep with its face against his shoulder, Bud tramped steadily +through the snow, carrying Lovin Child in his arms. No remote glimmer of +the wonderful thing Fate had done for him seeped into his consciousness, +but there was a new, warm glow in his heart--the warmth that came from a +child's unquestioning faith in his protecting tenderness. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. CASH GETS A SHOCK + +It happened that Cash was just returning to the cabin from the Blind +Ledge claim. He met Bud almost at the doorstep, just as Bud was fumbling +with the latch, trying to open the door without moving Lovin Child in +his arms. Cash may or may not have been astonished. Certainly he did +not betray by more than one quick glance that he was interested in Bud's +return or in the mysterious burden he bore. He stepped ahead of Bud and +opened the door without a word, as if he always did it just in that way, +and went inside. + +Bud followed him in silence, stepped across the black line to his own +side of the room and laid Lovin Child carefully down so as not to waken +him. He unbuttoned the coat he had wrapped around him, pulled off the +concealing red cap and stared down at the pale gold, silky hair and the +adorable curve of the soft cheek and the lips with the dimples tricked +in at the corners; the lashes lying like the delicate strokes of an +artist's pencil under the closed eyes. For at least five minutes he +stood without moving, his whole face softened into a boyish wistfulness. +By the stove Cash stood and stared from Bud to the sleeping baby, +his bushy eyebrows lifted, his gray eyes a study of incredulous +bewilderment. + +Then Bud drew a long breath and seemed about to move away from the bank, +and Cash turned abruptly to the stove and lifted a rusty lid and peered +into the cold firebox, frowning as though he was expecting to see fire +and warmth where only a sprinkle of warm ashes remained. Stubbornness +held him mute and outwardly indifferent. He whittled shavings and +started a fire in the cook stove, filled the teakettle and set it on +to boil, got out the side of bacon and cut three slices, and never once +looked toward the bunk. Bud might have brought home a winged angel, or +a rainbow, or a casket of jewels, and Cash would not have permitted +himself to show any human interest. + +But when Bud went teetering from the cabin on his toes to bring in +some pine cones they had saved for quick kindling, Cash craned his neck +toward the little bundle on the bunk. He saw a fat, warm little hand +stir with some baby dream. He listened and heard soft breathing that +stopped just short of being an infantile snore. He made an errand to his +own bunk and from there inspected the mystery at closer range. He saw +a nose and a little, knobby chin and a bit of pinkish forehead with the +pale yellow of hair above. He leaned and cocked his head to one side to +see more--but at that moment he heard Bud stamping off the snow from +his feet on the doorstep, and he took two long, noiseless strides to the +dish cupboard and was fumbling there with his back to the bunk when Bud +came tiptoeing in. + +Bud started a fire in the fireplace and heaped the dry limbs high. Cash +fried his bacon, made his tea, and set the table for his midday meal. +Bud waited for the baby to wake, looking at his watch every minute or +two, and making frequent cautious trips to the bunk, peeking and peering +to see if the child was all right. It seemed unnatural that it should +sleep so long in the daytime. No telling what that squaw had done to it; +she might have doped it or something. He thought the kid's face looked +red, as if it had fever, and he reached down and touched anxiously the +hand that was uncovered. The hand was warm--too warm, in Bud's opinion. +It would be just his luck if the kid got sick, he'd have to pack it +clear in to Alpine in his arms. Fifteen miles of that did not appeal +to Bud, whose arms ached after the two-mile trip with that solid little +body lying at ease in the cradle they made. + +His back to that end of the room, Cash sat stiff-necked and stubbornly +speechless, and ate and drank as though he were alone in the cabin. +Whenever Bud's mind left Lovin Child long enough to think about it, he +watched Cash furtively for some sign of yielding, some softening of that +grim grudge. It seemed to him as though Cash was not human, or he would +show some signs of life when a live baby was brought to camp and laid +down right under his nose. + +Cash finished and began washing his dishes, keeping his back turned +toward Bud and Bud's new possession, and trying to make it appear that +he did so unconsciously. He did not fool Bud for a minute. Bud knew that +Cash was nearly bursting with curiosity, and he had occasional fleeting +impulses to provoke Cash to speech of some sort. Perhaps Cash knew +what was in Bud's mind. At any rate he left the cabin and went out and +chopped wood for an hour, furiously raining chips into the snow. + +When he went in with his arms piled full of cut wood, Bud had the baby +sitting on one corner of the table, and was feeding it bread and +gravy as the nearest approach to baby food he could think of. During +occasional interludes in the steady procession of bits of bread from the +plate to the baby's mouth, Lovin Child would suck a bacon rind which +he held firmly grasped in a greasy little fist. Now and then Bud would +reach into his hip pocket, pull out his handkerchief as a make-shift +napkin, and would carefully wipe the border of gravy from the baby's +mouth, and stuff the handkerchief back into his pocket again. + +Both seemed abominably happy and self-satisfied. Lovin Child kicked +his heels against the rough table frame and gurgled unintelligible +conversation whenever he was able to articulate sounds. Bud replied +with a rambling monologue that implied a perfect understanding of Lovin +Child's talk--and incidentally doled out information for Cash's benefit. + +Cash cocked an eye at the two as he went by, threw the wood down on his +side of the hearth, and began to replenish the fire. If he heard, he +gave no sign of understanding or interest. + +“I'll bet that old squaw musta half starved yah,” Bud addressed the baby +while he spooned gravy out of a white enamel bowl on to the second slice +of bread. “You're putting away grub like a nigger at a barbecue. I'll +tell the world I don't know what woulda happened if I hadn't run across +yuh and made her hand yuh over.” + +“Ja--ja--ja--jah!” said Lovin Child, nodding his head and regarding Bud +with the twinkle in his eyes. + +“And that's where you're dead right, Boy. I sure do wish you'd tell me +your name; but I reckon that's too much to ask of a little geezer like +you. Here. Help yourself, kid--you ain't in no Injun camp now. You're +with white folks now.” + +Cash sat down on the bench he had made for himself, and stared into the +fire. His whole attitude spelled abstraction; nevertheless he missed no +little sound behind him. + +He knew that Bud was talking largely for his benefit, and he knew +that here was the psychological time for breaking the spell of silence +between them. Yet he let the minutes slip past and would not yield. +The quarrel had been of Bud's making in the first place. Let Bud do the +yielding, make the first step toward amity. + +But Bud had other things to occupy him just then. Having eaten all his +small stomach would hold, Lovin Child wanted to get down and explore. +Bud had other ideas, but they did not seem to count for much with Lovin +Child, who had an insistent way that was scarcely to be combated or +ignored. + +“But listen here, Boy!” Bud protested, after he had for the third time +prevented Lovin Child from backing off the table. “I was going to take +off these dirty duds and wash some of the Injun smell off yuh. I'll tell +a waiting world you need a bath, and your clothes washed.” + +“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” persisted Lovin Child, and pointed to the floor. + +So Bud sighed and made a virtue of defeat. “Oh, well, they say it's bad +policy to take a bath right after yuh eat. We'll let it ride awhile, but +you sure have got to be scrubbed a plenty before you can crawl in with +me, old-timer,” he said, and set him down on the floor. + +Lovin Child went immediately about the business that seemed most +important. He got down on his hands and knees and gravely inspected the +broad black line, hopefully testing it with tongue and with fingers to +see if it would yield him anything in the way of flavor or stickiness. +It did not. It had been there long enough to be thoroughly dry and +tasteless. He got up, planted both feet on it and teetered back and +forth, chuckling up at Bud with his eyes squinted. + +He teetered so enthusiastically that he sat down unexpectedly and with +much emphasis. That put him between two impulses, and while they battled +he stared round-eyed at Bud. But he decided not to cry, and straightway +turned himself into a growly bear and went down the line on all fours +toward Cash, growling “Ooooooo!” as fearsomely as his baby throat was +capable of growling. + +But Cash would not be scared. He refused absolutely to jump up and back +off in wild-eyed terror, crying out “Ooh! Here comes a bear!” the way +Marie had always done--the way every one had always done, when Lovin +Child got down and came at them growling. Cash sat rigid with his face +to the fire, and would not look. + +Lovin Child crawled all around him and growled his terriblest. For some +unexplainable reason it did not work. Cash sat stiff as though he had +turned to some insensate metal. From where he sat watching--curious to +see what Cash would do--Bud saw him flinch and stiffen as a man does +under pain. And because Bud had a sore spot in his own heart, Bud felt a +quick stab of understanding and sympathy. Cash Markham's past could not +have been a blank; more likely it held too much of sorrow for the salve +of speech to lighten its hurt. There might have been a child.... + +“Aw, come back here!” Bud commanded Lovin Child gruffly. + +But Lovin Child was too busy. He had discovered in his circling of Cash, +the fanny buckles on Cash's high overshoes. He was investigating them as +he had investigated the line, with fingers and with pink tongue, like +a puppy. From the lowest buckle he went on to the top one, where Cash's +khaki trousers were tucked inside with a deep fold on top. Lovin Child's +small forefinger went sliding up in the mysterious recesses of the fold +until they reached the flat surface of the knee. He looked up farther, +studying Cash's set face, sitting back on his little heels while he did +so. Cash tried to keep on staring into the fire, but in spite of himself +his eyes lowered to meet the upward look. + +“Pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child, spreading his fingers over one eye and +twinkling up at Cash with the other. + +Cash flinched again, wavered, swallowed twice, and got up so abruptly +that Lovin Child sat down again with a plunk. Cash muttered something in +his throat and rushed out into the wind and the slow-falling tiny white +flakes that presaged the storm. + +Until the door slammed shut Lovin Child looked after him, scowling, his +eyes a blaze of resentment. He brought his palms together with a vicious +slap, leaned over, and bumped his forehead deliberately and painfully +upon the flat rock hearth, and set up a howl that could have been heard +for three city blocks. + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. AND BUD NEVER GUESSED + +That night, when he had been given a bath in the little zinc tub they +used for washing clothes, and had been carefully buttoned inside a clean +undershirt of Bud's, for want of better raiment, Lovin Child missed +something out of his sleepytime cudding. He wanted Marie, and he did not +know how to make his want known to this big, tender, awkward man who had +befriended him and filled his thoughts till bedtime. He began to whimper +and look seekingly around the little cabin. The whimper grew to a cry +which Bud's rude rocking back and forth on the box before the fireplace +could not still. + +“M'ee--take!” wailed Lovin Child, sitting up and listening. “M'ee +take--Uvin Chal!” + +“Aw, now, you don't wanta go and act like that. Listen here, Boy. You +lay down here and go to sleep. You can search me for what it is you're +trying to say, but I guess you want your mama, maybe, or your bottle, +chances are. Aw, looky!” Bud pulled his watch from his pocket--a man's +infallible remedy for the weeping of infant charges--and dangled it +anxiously before Lovin Child. + +With some difficulty he extracted the small hands from the long limp +tunnels of sleeves, and placed the watch in the eager fingers. + +“Listen to the tick-tick! Aw, I wouldn't bite into it... oh, well, darn +it, if nothing else'll do yuh, why, eat it up!” + +Lovin Child stopped crying and condescended to take a languid interest +in the watch--which had a picture of Marie pasted inside the back of the +case, by the way. “Ee?” he inquired, with a pitiful little catch in his +breath, and held it up for Bud to see the busy little second hand. “Ee?” + he smiled tearily and tried to show Cash, sitting aloof on his bench +beside the head of his bunk and staring into the fire. But Cash gave +no sign that he heard or saw anything save the visions his memory was +conjuring in the dancing flames. + +“Lay down, now, like a good boy, and go to sleep,” Bud wheedled. “You +can hold it if you want to--only don't drop it on the floor--here! Quit +kickin' your feet out like that! You wanta freeze? I'll tell the world +straight, it's plumb cold and snaky outside to-night, and you're pretty +darn lucky to be here instead of in some Injun camp where you'd have to +bed down with a mess of mangy dogs, most likely. Come on, now--lay down +like a good boy!” + +“M'ee! M'ee take!” teased Lovin Child, and wept again; steadily, +insistently, with a monotonous vigor that rasped Bud's nerves and nagged +him with a vague memory of something familiar and unpleasant. He rocked +his body backward and forward, and frowned while he tried to lay hold of +the memory. It was the high-keyed wailing of this same man-child wanting +his bottle, but it eluded Bud completely. There was a tantalizing sense +of familiarity with the sound, but the lungs and the vocal chords of +Lovin Child had developed amazingly in two years, and he had lost the +small-infant wah-hah. + +Bud did not remember, bat for all that his thoughts went back across +those two years and clung to his own baby, and he wished poignantly that +he knew how it was getting along; and wondered if it had grown to be +as big a handful as this youngster, and how Marie would handle the +emergency he was struggling with now: a lost, lonesome baby boy that +would not go to sleep and could not tell why. + +Yet Lovin Child was answering every one of Bud's mute questions. Lying +there in his “Daddy Bud's” arms, wrapped comically in his Daddy Bud's +softest undershirt, Lovin Child was proving to his Daddy Bud that his +own man-child was strong and beautiful and had a keen little brain +behind those twinkling blue eyes. He was telling why he cried. He wanted +Marie to take him and rock him to sleep, just as she had rocked him +to sleep every night of his young memory, until that time when he had +toddled out of her life and into a new and peculiar world that held no +Marie. + +By and by he slept, still clinging to the watch that had Marie's picture +in the back. When he was all limp and rosy and breathing softly against +Bud's heart, Bud tiptoed over to the bunk, reached down inconveniently +with one hand and turned back the blankets, and laid Lovin Child in his +bed and covered him carefully. On his bench beyond the dead line Cash +sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and sucked at a pipe +gone cold, and stared abstractedly into the fire. + +Bud looked at him sitting there. For the first time since their trails +had joined, he wondered what Cash was thinking about; wondered with a +new kind of sympathy about Cash's lonely life, that held no ties, no +warmth of love. For the first time it struck him as significant that +in the two years, almost, of their constant companionship, Cash's +reminiscences had stopped abruptly about fifteen years back. Beyond that +he never went, save now and then when he jumped a space, to the time +when he was a boy. Of what dark years lay between, Bud had never been +permitted a glimpse. + +“Some kid--that kid,” Bud observed involuntarily, for the first time in +over three weeks speaking when he was not compelled to speak to Cash. “I +wish I knew where he came from. He wants his mother.” + +Cash stirred a little, like a sleeper only half awakened. But he did not +reply, and Bud gave an impatient snort, tiptoed over and picked up the +discarded clothes of Lovin Child, that held still a faint odor of wood +smoke and rancid grease, and, removing his shoes that he might move +silently, went to work. + +He washed Lovin Child's clothes, even to the red sweater suit and the +fuzzy red “bunny” cap. He rigged a line before the fireplace--on his +side of the dead line, to be sure--hung the little garments upon it and +sat up to watch the fire while they dried. + +While he rubbed and rinsed and wrung and hung to dry, he had planned the +details of taking the baby to Alpine and placing it in good hands there +until its parents could be found. It was stolen, he had no doubt at +all. He could picture quite plainly the agony of the parents, and common +humanity imposed upon him the duty of shortening their misery as much +as possible. But one day of the baby's presence he had taken, with +the excuse that it needed immediate warmth and wholesome food. His +conscience did not trouble him over that short delay, for he was honest +enough in his intentions and convinced that he had done the right thing. + +Cash had long ago undressed and gone to bed, turning his back to the +warm, fire-lighted room and pulling the blankets up to his ears. He +either slept or pretended to sleep, Bud did not know which. Of the +baby's healthy slumber there was no doubt at all. Bud put on his +overshoes and went outside after more wood, so that there would be no +delay in starting the fire in the morning and having the cabin warm +before the baby woke. + +It was snowing fiercely, and the wind was biting cold. Already the +woodpile was drifted under, so that Bud had to go back and light the +lantern and hang it on a nail in the cabin wall before he could make +any headway at shovelling off the heaped snow and getting at the wood +beneath. He worked hard for half an hour, and carried in all the wood +that had been cut. He even piled Cash's end of the hearth high with the +surplus, after his own side was heaped full. + +A storm like that meant that plenty of fuel would be needed to keep the +cabin snug and warm, and he was thinking of the baby's comfort now, and +would not be hampered by any grudge. + +When he had done everything he could do that would add to the baby's +comfort, he folded the little garments and laid them on a box ready for +morning. Then, moving carefully, he crawled into the bed made warm +by the little body. Lovin Child, half wakened by the movement, gave +a little throaty chuckle, murmured “M'ee,” and threw one fat arm over +Bud's neck and left it there. + +“Gawd,” Bud whispered in a swift passion of longing, “I wish you was my +own kid!” He snuggled Lovin Child close in his arms and held him there, +and stared dim-eyed at the flickering shadows on the wall. What he +thought, what visions filled his vigil, who can say? + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE ANTIDOTE + +Three days it stormed with never a break, stormed so that the men +dreaded the carrying of water from the spring that became ice-rimmed but +never froze over; that clogged with sodden masses of snow half melted +and sent faint wisps of steam up into the chill air. Cutting wood was an +ordeal, every armload an achievement. Cash did not even attempt to +visit his trap line, but sat before the fire smoking or staring into the +flames, or pottered about the little domestic duties that could not half +fill the days. + +With melted snow water, a bar of yellow soap, and one leg of an old pair +of drawers, he scrubbed on his knees the floor on his side of the dead +line, and tried not to notice Lovin Child. He failed only because Lovin +Child refused to be ignored, but insisted upon occupying the immediate +foreground and in helping--much as he had helped Marie pack her suit +case one fateful afternoon not so long before. + +When Lovin Child was not permitted to dabble in the pan of soapy water, +he revenged himself by bringing Cash's mitten and throwing that in, and +crying “Ee? Ee?” with a shameless delight because it sailed round and +round until Cash turned and saw it, and threw it out. + +“No, no, no!” Lovin Child admonished himself gravely, and got it and +threw it back again. + +Cash did not say anything. Indeed, he hid a grin under his thick, +curling beard which he had grown since the first frost as a protection +against cold. He picked up the mitten and laid it to dry on the slab +mantel, and when he returned, Lovin Child was sitting in the pan, +rocking back and forth and crooning “'Ock-a-by! 'Ock-a-by!” with the +impish twinkle in his eyes. + +Cash was just picking him out of the pan when Bud came in with a load of +wood. Bud hastily dropped the wood, and without a word Cash handed Lovin +Child across the dead line, much as he would have handed over a wet +puppy. Without a word Bud took him, but the quirky smile hid at the +corners of his mouth, and under Cash's beard still lurked the grin. + +“No, no, no!” Lovin Child kept repeating smugly, all the while Bud was +stripping off his wet clothes and chucking him into the undershirt he +wore for a nightgown, and trying a man's size pair of socks on his legs. + +“I should say no-no-no! You doggone little rascal, I'd rather herd a +flea on a hot plate! I've a plumb good notion to hog-tie yuh for awhile. +Can't trust yuh a minute nowhere. Now look what you got to wear while +your clothes dry!” + +“Ee? Ee?” invited Lovin Child, gleefully holding up a muffled little +foot lost in the depths of Bud's sock. + +“Oh, I see, all right! I'll tell the world I see you're a doggone +nuisance! Now see if you can keep outa mischief till I get the wood +carried in.” Bud set him down on the bunk, gave him a mail-order +catalogue to look at, and went out again into the storm. When he came +back, Lovin Child was sitting on the hearth with the socks off, and was +picking bits of charcoal from the ashes and crunching them like candy in +his small, white teeth. Cash was hurrying to finish his scrubbing before +the charcoal gave out, and was keeping an eye on the crunching to see +that Lovin Child did not get a hot ember. + +“H'yah! You young imp!” Bud shouted, stubbing his toe as he hurried +forward. “Watcha think you are--a fire-eater, for gosh sake?” + +Cash bent his head low--it may have been to hide a chuckle. Bud was +having his hands full with the kid, and he was trying to be stern +against the handicap of a growing worship of Lovin Child and all +his little ways. Now Lovin Child was all over ashes, and the clean +undershirt was clean no longer, after having much charcoal rubbed into +its texture. Bud was not overstocked with clothes; much traveling had +formed the habit of buying as he needed for immediate use. With Lovin +Child held firmly under one arm, where he would be sure of him, he +emptied his “war-bag” on the bunk and hunted out another shirt + +Lovin Child got a bath, that time, because of the ashes he had managed +to gather on his feet and his hands and his head. Bud was patient, and +Lovin Child was delightedly unrepentant--until he was buttoned into +another shirt of Bud's, and the socks were tied on him. + +“Now, doggone yuh, I'm goin' to stake you out, or hobble yuh, or some +darn thing, till I get that wood in!” he thundered, with his eyes +laughing. “You want to freeze? Hey? Now you're goin' to stay right on +this bunk till I get through, because I'm goin' to tie yuh on. You may +holler--but you little son of a gun, you'll stay safe!” + +So Bud tied him, with a necktie around his body for a belt, and a strap +fastened to that and to a stout nail in the wall over the bunk. And +Lovin Child, when he discovered that it was not a new game but instead a +check upon his activities, threw himself on his back and held his breath +until he was purple, and then screeched with rage. + +I don't suppose Bud ever carried in wood so fast in his life. He might +as well have taken his time, for Lovin Child was in one of his fits of +temper, the kind that his grandmother invariably called his father's +cussedness coming out in him. He howled for an hour and had both men +nearly frantic before he suddenly stopped and began to play with the +things he had scorned before to touch; the things that had made him bow +his back and scream when they were offered to him hopefully. + +Bud, his sleeves rolled up, his hair rumpled and the perspiration +standing thick on his forehead, stood over him with his hands on his +hips, the picture of perturbed helplessness. + +“You doggone little devil!” he breathed, his mind torn between amusement +and exasperation. “If you was my own kid, I'd spank yuh! But,” he added +with a little chuckle, “if you was my own kid, I'd tell the world you +come by that temper honestly. Darned if I wouldn't.” + +Cash, sitting dejected on the side of his own bunk, lifted his head, and +after that his hawklike brows, and stared from the face of Bud to +the face of Lovin Child. For the first time he was struck with the +resemblance between the two. The twinkle in the eyes, the quirk of +the lips, the shape of the forehead and, emphasizing them all, the +expression of having a secret joke, struck him with a kind of shock. If +it were possible... But, even in the delirium of fever, Bud had never +hinted that he had a child, or a wife even. He had firmly planted in +Cash's mind the impression that his life had never held any close +ties whatsoever. So, lacking the clue, Cash only wondered and did not +suspect. + +What most troubled Cash was the fact that he had unwittingly caused all +the trouble for Lovin Child. He should not have tried to scrub the floor +with the kid running loose all over the place. As a slight token of his +responsibility in the matter, he watched his chance when Bud was busy at +the old cookstove, and tossed a rabbit fur across to Lovin Child to play +with; a risky thing to do, since he did not know what were Lovin Child's +little peculiarities in the way of receiving strange gifts. But he was +lucky. Lovin Child was enraptured with the soft fur and rubbed it over +his baby cheeks and cooed to it and kissed it, and said “Ee? Ee?” to +Cash, which was reward enough. + +There was a strained moment when Bud came over and discovered what it +was he was having so much fun with. Having had three days of experience +by which to judge, he jumped to the conclusion that Lovin Child had been +in mischief again. + +“Now what yuh up to, you little scallywag?” he demanded. “How did you +get hold of that? Consarn your little hide, Boy...” + +“Let the kid have it,” Cash muttered gruffly. “I gave it to him.” He got +up abruptly and went outside, and came in with wood for the cookstove, +and became exceedingly busy, never once looking toward the other end of +the room, where Bud was sprawled upon his back on the bunk, with Lovin +Child astride his middle, having a high old time with a wonderful new +game of “bronk riding.” + +Now and then Bud would stop bucking long enough to slap Lovin Child in +the face with the soft side of the rabbit fur, and Lovin Child would +squint his eyes and wrinkle his nose and laugh until he seemed likely to +choke. Then Bud would cry, “Ride 'im, Boy! Ride 'im an' scratch 'im. Go +get 'im, cowboy--he's your meat!” and would bounce Lovin Child till he +squealed with glee. + +Cash tried to ignore all that. Tried to keep his back to it. But he was +human, and Bud was changed so completely in the last three days that +Cash could scarcely credit his eyes and his ears. The old surly scowl +was gone from Bud's face, his eyes held again the twinkle. Cash listened +to the whoops, the baby laughter, the old, rodeo catch-phrases, and +grinned while he fried his bacon. + +Presently Bud gave a whoop, forgetting the feud in his play. “Lookit, +Cash! He's ridin' straight up and whippin' as he rides! He's so-o-me +bronk-fighter, buh-lieve me!” + +Cash turned and looked, grinned and turned away again--but only to strip +the rind off a fresh-fried slice of bacon the full width of the piece. +He came down the room on his own side the dead line, and tossed the rind +across to the bunk. + +“Quirt him with that, Boy,” he grunted, “and then you can eat it if you +want.” + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN + +On the fourth day Bud's conscience pricked him into making a sort of +apology to Cash, under the guise of speaking to Lovin Child, for still +keeping the baby in camp. + +“I've got a blame good notion to pack you to town to-day, Boy, and +try and find out where you belong,” he said, while he was feeding him +oatmeal mush with sugar and canned milk. “It's pretty cold, though...” + He cast a slant-eyed glance at Cash, dourly frying his own hotcakes. +“We'll see what it looks like after a while. I sure have got to hunt up +your folks soon as I can. Ain't I, old-timer?” + +That salved his conscience a little, and freed him of the uneasy +conviction that Cash believed him a kidnapper. The weather did the rest. +An hour after breakfast, just when Bud was downheartedly thinking he +could not much longer put off starting without betraying how hard it was +going to be for him to give up the baby, the wind shifted the clouds +and herded them down to the Big Mountain and held them there until they +began to sift snow down upon the burdened pines. + +“Gee, it's going to storm again!” Bud blustered in. “It'll be snowing +like all git-out in another hour. I'll tell a cruel world I wouldn't +take a dog out such weather as this. Your folks may be worrying about +yuh, Boy, but they ain't going to climb my carcass for packing yuh +fifteen miles in a snow-storm and letting yuh freeze, maybe. I guess the +cabin's big enough to hold yuh another day--what?” + +Cash lifted his eyebrows and pinched in his lips under his beard. It did +not seem to occur to Bud that one of them could stay in the cabin +with the baby while the other carried to Alpine the news of the baby's +whereabouts and its safety. Or if it did occur to Bud, he was careful +not to consider it a feasible plan. Cash wondered if Bud thought he was +pulling the wool over anybody's eyes. Bud did not want to give up that +kid, and he was tickled to death because the storm gave him an excuse +for keeping it. Cash was cynically amused at Bud's transparency. But +the kid was none of his business, and he did not intend to make any +suggestions that probably would not be taken anyway. Let Bud pretend he +was anxious to give up the baby, if that made him feel any better about +it. + +That day went merrily to the music of Lovin Child's chuckling laugh and +his unintelligible chatter. Bud made the discovery that “Boy” was trying +to say Lovin Child when he wanted to be taken and rocked, and declared +that he would tell the world the name fit, like a saddle on a duck's +back. Lovin Child discovered Cash's pipe, and was caught sucking it +before the fireplace and mimicking Cash's meditative pose with a comical +exactness that made Bud roar. Even Cash was betrayed into speaking a +whole sentence to Bud before he remembered his grudge. Taken altogether, +it was a day of fruitful pleasure in spite of the storm outside. + +That night the two men sat before the fire and watched the flames and +listened to the wind roaring in the pines. On his side of the dead line +Bud rocked his hard-muscled, big body back and forth, cradling Lovin +Child asleep in his arms. In one tender palm he nested Lovin Child's +little bare feet, like two fat, white mice that slept together after a +day's scampering. + +Bud was thinking, as he always thought nowadays, of Marie and his own +boy; yearning, tender thoughts which his clumsy man's tongue would never +attempt to speak. Before, he had thought of Marie alone, without the +baby; but he had learned much, these last four days. He knew now how +closely a baby can creep in and cling, how they can fill the days with +joy. He knew how he would miss Lovin Child when the storm cleared and +he must take him away. It did not seem right or just that he should give +him into the keeping of strangers--and yet he must until the parents +could have him back. The black depths of their grief to-night Bud +could not bring himself to contemplate. Bad enough to forecast his own +desolateness when Lovin Child was no longer romping up and down the dead +line, looking where he might find some mischief to get into. Bad enough +to know that the cabin would again be a place of silence and gloom and +futile resentments over little things, with no happy little man-child to +brighten it. He crept into his bunk that night and snuggled the baby up +in his arms, a miserable man with no courage left in him for the future. + +But the next day it was still storming, and colder than ever. No one +would expect him to take a baby out in such weather. So Bud whistled and +romped with Lovin Child, and would not worry about what must happen when +the storm was past. + +All day Cash brooded before the fire, bundled in his mackinaw and +sweater. He did not even smoke, and though he seemed to feel the cold +abnormally, he did not bring in any wood except in the morning, but let +Bud keep the fireplace going with his own generous supply. He did not +eat any dinner, and at supper time he went to bed with all the clothes +he possessed piled on top of him. By all these signs, Bud knew that Cash +had a bad cold. + +Bud did not think much about it at first--being of the sturdy type that +makes light of a cold. But when Cash began to cough with that hoarse, +racking sound that tells the tale of laboring lungs, Bud began to feel +guiltily that he ought to do something about it. + +He hushed Lovin Child's romping, that night, and would not let him ride +a bronk at bedtime. When he was asleep, Bud laid him down and went over +to the supply cupboard, which he had been obliged to rearrange with +everything except tin cans placed on shelves too high for a two-year-old +to reach even when he stood on his tiptoes and grunted. He hunted for +the small bottle of turpentine, found it and mixed some with melted +bacon grease, and went over to Cash's bunk, hesitating before he crossed +the dead line, but crossing nevertheless. + +Cash seemed to be asleep, but his breathing sounded harsh and unnatural, +and his hand, lying uncovered on the blanket, clenched and unclenched +spasmodically. Bud watched him for a minute, holding the cup of grease +and turpentine in his hand. + +“Say,” he began constrainedly, and waited. Cash muttered something and +moved his hand irritatedly, without opening his eyes. Bud tried again. + +“Say, you better swab your chest with this dope. Can't monkey with a +cold, such weather as this.” + +Cash opened his eyes, gave the log wall a startled look, and swung +his glance to Bud. “Yeah--I'm all right,” he croaked, and proved his +statement wrong by coughing violently. + +Bud set down the cup on a box, laid hold of Cash by the shoulders and +forced him on his back. With movements roughly gentle he opened Cash's +clothing at the throat, exposed his hairy chest, and poured on grease +until it ran in a tiny rivulets. He reached in and rubbed the grease +vigorously with the palm of his hand, giving particular attention to the +surface over the bronchial tubes. When he was satisfied that Cash's +skin could absorb no more, he turned him unceremoniously on his face +and repeated his ministrations upon Cash's shoulders. Then he rolled +him back, buttoned his shirts for him, and tramped heavily back to the +table. + +“I don't mind seeing a man play the mule when he's well,” he grumbled, +“but he's got a right to call it a day when he gits down sick. I ain't +going to be bothered burying no corpses, in weather like this. I'll tell +the world I ain't!” + +He went searching on all the shelves for something more that he could +give Cash. He found a box of liver pills, a bottle of Jamaica ginger, +and some iodine--not an encouraging array for a man fifteen miles of +untrodden snow from the nearest human habitation. He took three of +the liver pills--judging them by size rather than what might be their +composition--and a cup of water to Cash and commanded him to sit up +and swallow them. When this was accomplished, Bud felt easier as to his +conscience, though he was still anxious over the possibilities in that +cough. + +Twice in the night he got up to put more wood on the fire and to stand +beside Cash's bed and listen to his breathing. Pneumonia, the strong +man's deadly foe, was what he feared. In his cow-punching days he had +seen men die of it before a doctor could be brought from the far-away +town. Had he been alone with Cash, he would have fought his way to town +and brought help, but with Lovin Child to care for he could not take the +trail. + +At daylight Cash woke him by stumbling across the floor to the water +bucket. Bud arose then and swore at him for a fool and sent him back +to bed, and savagely greased him again with the bacon grease and +turpentine. He was cheered a little when Cash cussed back, but he did +not like the sound of his voice, for all that, and so threatened mildly +to brain him if he got out of bed again without wrapping a blanket or +something around him. + +Thoroughly awakened by this little exchange of civilities, Bud started +a fire in the stove and made coffee for Cash, who drank half a cup quite +meekly. He still had that tearing cough, and his voice was no more than +a croak; but he seemed no worse than he had been the night before. So on +the whole Bud considered the case encouraging, and ate his breakfast an +hour or so earlier than usual. Then he went out and chopped wood until +he heard Lovin Child chirping inside the cabin like a bug-hunting meadow +lark, when he had to hurry in before Lovin Child crawled off the bunk +and got into some mischief. + +For a man who was wintering in what is called enforced idleness in a +snow-bound cabin in the mountains, Bud Moore did not find the next few +days hanging heavily on his hands. Far from it. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES + +To begin with, Lovin Child got hold of Cash's tobacco can and was +feeding it by small handfuls to the flames, when Bud caught him. He +yelled when Bud took it away, and bumped his head on the floor and +yelled again, and spatted his hands together and yelled, and threw +himself on his back and kicked and yelled; while Bud towered over him +and yelled expostulations and reprimands and cajolery that did not +cajole. + +Cash turned over with a groan, his two palms pressed against his +splitting head, and hoarsely commanded the two to shut up that infernal +noise. He was a sick man. He was a very sick man, and he had stood the +limit. + +“Shut up?” Bud shouted above the din of Lovin Child. “Ain't I trying to +shut him up, for gosh sake? What d'yuh want me to do?--let him throw +all the tobacco you got into the fire? Here, you young imp, quit that, +before I spank you! Quick, now--we've had about enough outa you! You +lay down there, Cash, and quit your croaking. You'll croak right, if you +don't keep covered up. Hey, Boy! My jumpin' yellow-jackets, you'd drown +a Klakon till you couldn't hear it ten feet! Cash, you old fool, you +shut up, I tell yuh, or I'll come over there and shut you up! I'll tell +the world--Boy! Good glory! shut up-p!” + +Cash was a sick man, but he had not lost all his resourcefulness. He +had stopped Lovin Child once, and thereby he had learned a little of +the infantile mind. He had a coyote skin on the foot of his bed, and +he raised himself up and reached for it as one reaches for a fire +extinguisher. Like a fire extinguisher he aimed it, straight in the +middle of the uproar. + +Lovin Child, thumping head and heels regularly on the floor and +punctuating the thumps with screeches, was extinguished--suddenly, +completely silenced by the muffling fur that fell from the sky, so far +as he knew. The skin covered him completely. Not a sound came from under +it. The stillness was so absolute that Bud was scared, and so was Cash, +a little. It was as though Lovin Child, of a demon one instant, was in +the next instant snuffed out of existence. + +“What yuh done?” Bud ejaculated, rolling wild eyes at Cash. “You--” + +The coyote skin rattled a little. A fluff of yellow, a spark of blue, +and “Pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child from under the edge, and ducked back +again out of sight. + +Bud sat down weakly on a box and shook his head slowly from one side to +the other. “You've got me going south,” he made solemn confession to the +wobbling skin--or to what it concealed. “I throw up my hands, I'll tell +the world fair.” He got up and went over and sat down on his bunk, +and rested his hands on his knees, and considered the problem of Lovin +Child. + +“Here I've got wood to cut and water to bring and grub to cook, and I +can't do none of them because I've got to ride herd on you every minute. +You've got my goat, kid, and that's the truth. You sure have. Yes, +'Pik-k,' doggone yuh--after me going crazy with yuh, just about, and +thinking you're about to blow your radiator cap plumb up through the +roof! I'll tell yuh right here and now, this storm has got to let up +pretty quick so I can pack you outa here, or else I've got to pen you +up somehow, so I can do something besides watch you. Look at the way +you scattered them beans, over there by the cupboard! By rights I oughta +stand over yuh and make yuh pick every one of 'em up! and who was it +drug all the ashes outa the stove, I'd like to know?” + +The coyote skin lifted a little and moved off toward the fireplace, +growling “Ooo-ooo-ooo!” like a bear--almost. Bud rescued the bear a +scant two feet from the flames, and carried fur, baby and all, to the +bunk. “My good lord, what's a fellow going to do with yuh?” he groaned +in desperation. “Burn yourself up, you would! I can see now why folks +keep their kids corralled in high chairs and gocarts all the time. They +got to, or they wouldn't have no kids.” + +Bud certainly was learning a few things that he had come near to +skipping altogether in his curriculum of life. Speaking of high chairs, +whereof he had thought little enough in his active life, set him +seriously to considering ways and means. Weinstock-Lubin had high chairs +listed in their catalogue. Very nice high chairs, for one of which Bud +would have paid its weight in gold dust (if one may believe his word) if +it could have been set down in that cabin at that particular moment. He +studied the small cuts of the chairs, holding Lovin Child off the page +by main strength the while. Wishing one out of the catalogue and into +the room being impracticable, he went after the essential features, +thinking to make one that would answer the purpose. + +Accustomed as he was to exercising his inventive faculty in overcoming +certain obstacles raised by the wilderness in the path of comfort, Bud +went to work with what tools he had, and with the material closest +to his hand. Crude tools they were, and crude materials--like using a +Stilson wrench to adjust a carburetor, he told Lovin Child who tagged +him up and down the cabin. An axe, a big jack-knife, a hammer and some +nails left over from building their sluice boxes, these were the tools. +He took the axe first, and having tied Lovin Child to the leg of his +bunk for safety's sake, he went out and cut down four young oaks behind +the cabin, lopped off the branches and brought them in for chair legs. +He emptied a dynamite box of odds and ends, scrubbed it out and left it +to dry while he mounted the four legs, with braces of the green oak and +a skeleton frame on top. Then he knocked one end out of the box, padded +the edges of the box with burlap, and set Lovin Child in his new high +chair. + +He was tempted to call Cash's attention to his handiwork, but Cash was +too sick to be disturbed, even if the atmosphere between them had been +clear enough for easy converse. So he stifled the impulse and addressed +himself to Lovin Child, which did just as well. + +Things went better after that. Bud could tie the baby in the chair, give +him a tin cup and a spoon and a bacon rind, and go out to the woodpile +feeling reasonably certain that the house would not be set afire during +his absence. He could cook a meal in peace, without fear of stepping on +the baby. And Cash could lie as close as he liked to the edge of the bed +without running the risk of having his eyes jabbed with Lovin Child's +finger, or something slapped unexpectedly in his face. + +He needed protection from slight discomforts while he lay there eaten +with fever, hovering so close to pneumonia that Bud believed he really +had it and watched over him nights as well as daytimes. The care he +gave Cash was not, perhaps, such as the medical profession would have +endorsed, but it was faithful and it made for comfort and so aided +Nature more than it hindered. + +Fair weather came, and days of melting snow. But they served only to +increase Bud's activities at the woodpile and in hunting small game +close by, while Lovin Child took his nap and Cash was drowsing. +Sometimes he would bundle the baby in an extra sweater and take him +outside and let him wallow in the snow while Bud cut wood and piled it +on the sheltered side of the cabin wall, a reserve supply to draw on in +an emergency. + +It may have been the wet snow--more likely it was the cabin air filled +with germs of cold. Whatever it was, Lovin Child caught cold and coughed +croupy all one night, and fretted and would not sleep. Bud anointed him +as he had anointed Cash, and rocked him in front of the fire, and met +the morning hollow-eyed and haggard. A great fear tore at his heart. +Cash read it in his eyes, in the tones of his voice when he crooned +soothing fragments of old range songs to the baby, and at daylight +Cash managed to dress himself and help; though what assistance he could +possibly give was not all clear to him, until he saw Bud's glance rove +anxiously toward the cook-stove. + +“Hand the kid over here,” Cash said huskily. “I can hold him while you +get yourself some breakfast.” + +Bud looked at him stupidly, hesitated, looked down at the flushed little +face, and carefully laid him in Cash's outstretched arms. He got up +stiffly--he had been sitting there a long time, while the baby slept +uneasily--and went on his tiptoes to make a fire in the stove. + +He did not wonder at Cash's sudden interest, his abrupt change from +moody aloofness to his old partnership in trouble as well as in good +fortune. He knew that Cash was not fit for the task, however, and he +hurried the coffee to the boiling point that he might the sooner send +Cash back to bed. He gulped down a cup of coffee scalding hot, ate a few +mouthfuls of bacon and bread, and brought a cup back to Cash. + +“What d'yuh think about him?” he whispered, setting the coffee down on +a box so that he could take Lovin Child. “Pretty sick kid, don't yuh +think?” + +“It's the same cold I got,” Cash breathed huskily. “Swallows like it's +his throat, mostly. What you doing for him?” + +“Bacon grease and turpentine,” Bud answered him despondently. “I'll have +to commence on something else, though--turpentine's played out I used it +most all up on you.” + +“Coal oil's good. And fry up a mess of onions and make a poultice.” He +put up a shaking hand before his mouth and coughed behind it, stifling +the sound all he could. + +Lovin Child threw up his hands and whimpered, and Bud went over to him +anxiously. “His little hands are awful hot,” he muttered. “He's been +that way all night.” + +Cash did not answer. There did not seem anything to say that would do +any good. He drank his coffee and eyed the two, lifting his eyebrows now +and then at some new thought. + +“Looks like you, Bud,” he croaked suddenly. “Eyes, expression, +mouth--you could pass him off as your own kid, if you wanted to.” + +“I might, at that,” Bud whispered absently. “I've been seeing you in +him, though, all along. He lifts his eyebrows same way you do.” + +“Ain't like me,” Cash denied weakly, studying Lovin Child. “Give him +here again, and you go fry them onions. I would--if I had the strength +to get around.” + +“Well, you ain't got the strength. You go back to bed, and I'll lay him +in with yuh. I guess he'll lay quiet. He likes to be cuddled up close.” + +In this way was the feud forgotten. Save for the strange habits imposed +by sickness and the care of a baby, they dropped back into their +old routine, their old relationship. They walked over the dead line +heedlessly, forgetting why it came to be there. Cabin fever no longer +tormented them with its magnifying of little things. They had no time +or thought for trifles; a bigger matter than their own petty prejudices +concerned them. They were fighting side by side, with the Old Man of the +Scythe--the Old Man who spares not. + +Lovin Child was pulling farther and farther away from them. They +knew it, they felt it in his hot little hands, they read it in his +fever-bright eyes. But never once did they admit it, even to themselves. +They dared not weaken their efforts with any admissions of a possible +defeat. They just watched, and fought the fever as best they could, and +waited, and kept hope alive with fresh efforts. + +Cash was tottery weak from his own illness, and he could not speak above +a whisper. Yet he directed, and helped soothe the baby with baths and +slow strokings of his hot forehead, and watched him while Bud did the +work, and worried because he could not do more. + +They did not know when Lovin Child took a turn for the better, except +that they realized the fever was broken. But his listlessness, the +unnatural drooping of his whole body, scared them worse than before. +Night and day one or the other watched over him, trying to anticipate +every need, every vagrant whim. When he began to grow exacting, they +were still worried, though they were too fagged to abase themselves +before him as much as they would have liked. + +Then Bud was seized with an attack of the grippe before Lovin Child +had passed the stage of wanting to be held every waking minute. Which +burdened Cash with extra duties long before he was fit. + +Christmas came, and they did not know it until the day was half gone, +when Cash happened to remember. He went out then and groped in the snow +and found a little spruce, hacked it off close to the drift and brought +it in, all loaded with frozen snow, to dry before the fire. The kid, he +declared, should have a Christmas tree, anyway. He tied a candle to +the top, and a rabbit skin to the bottom, and prunes to the tip of the +branches, and tried to rouse a little enthusiasm in Lovin Child. But +Lovin Child was not interested in the makeshift. He was crying because +Bud had told him to keep out of the ashes, and he would not look. + +So Cash untied the candle and the fur and the prunes, threw them across +the room, and peevishly stuck the tree in the fireplace. + +“Remember what you said about the Fourth of July down in Arizona, Bud?” + he asked glumly. “Well, this is the same kind of Christmas.” Bud merely +grunted. + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. BUD FACES FACTS + +New Year came and passed and won nothing in the way of celebration from +the three in Nelson's cabin. Bud's bones ached, his head ached, the +flesh on his body ached. He could take no comfort anywhere, under any +circumstances. He craved clean white beds and soft-footed attendance +and soothing silence and cool drinks--and he could have none of those +things. His bedclothes were heavy upon his aching limbs; he had to wait +upon his own wants; the fretful crying of Lovin Child or the racking +cough of Cash was always in his ears, and as for cool drinks, there was +ice water in plenty, to be sure, but nothing else. Fair weather came, +and storms, and cold: more storms and cold than fair weather. Neither +man ever mentioned taking Lovin Child to Alpine. At first, because +it was out of the question; after that, because they did not want to +mention it. They frequently declared that Lovin Child was a pest, and +there were times when Bud spoke darkly of spankings--which did not +materialize. But though they did not mention it, they knew that Lovin +Child was something more; something endearing, something humanizing, +something they needed to keep them immune from cabin fever. + +Some time in February it was that Cash fashioned a crude pair of +snowshoes and went to town, returning the next day. He came home loaded +with little luxuries for Lovin Child, and with the simpler medicines for +other emergencies which they might have to meet, but he did not bring +any word of seeking parents. The nearest he came to mentioning the +subject was after supper, when the baby was asleep and Bud trying to cut +a small pair of overalls from a large piece of blue duck that Cash had +brought. The shears were dull, and Lovin Child's little rompers were +so patched and shapeless that they were not much of a guide, so Bud was +swearing softly while he worked. + +“I didn't hear a word said about that kid being lost,” Cash volunteered, +after he had smoked and watched Bud awhile. “Couldn't have been any one +around Alpine, or I'd have heard something about it.” + +Bud frowned, though it may have been over his tailoring problem. + +“Can't tell--the old squaw mighta been telling the truth,” he said +reluctantly. “I s'pose they do, once in awhile. She said his folks were +dead.” And he added defiantly, with a quick glance at Cash, “Far as +I'm concerned, I'm willing to let it ride that way. The kid's doing all +right.” + +“Yeah. I got some stuff for that rash on his chest. I wouldn't wonder if +we been feeding him too heavy on bacon rinds, Bud. They say too much of +that kinda thing is bad for kids. Still, he seems to feel all right.” + +“I'll tell the world he does! He got hold of your old pipe to-day and +was suckin' away on it, I don't know how long. Never feazed him, either. +If he can stand that, I guess he ain't very delicate.” + +“Yeah. I laid that pipe aside myself because it was getting so dang +strong. Ain't you getting them pants too long in the seat, Bud? They +look to me big enough for a ten-year-old.” + +“I guess you don't realize how that kid's growing!” Bud defended his +handiwork “And time I get the seams sewed, and the side lapped over for +buttons--” + +“Yeah. Where you going to get the buttons? You never sent for any.” + +“Oh, I'll find buttons. You can donate a couple off some of your +clothes, if you want to right bad.” + +“Who? Me? I ain't got enough now to keep the wind out,” Cash protested. +“Lemme tell yuh something, Bud. If you cut more saving, you'd have +enough cloth there for two pair of pants. You don't need to cut the legs +so long as all that. They'll drag on the ground so the poor kid can't +walk in 'em without falling all over himself.” + +“Well, good glory! Who's making these pants? Me, or you?” Bud exploded. +“If you think you can do any better job than what I'm doing, go get +yourself some cloth and fly at it! Don't think you can come hornin' in +on my job, 'cause I'll tell the world right out loud, you can't.” + +“Yeah--that's right! Go to bellerin' around like a bull buffalo, and +wake the kid up! I don't give a cuss how you make'm. Go ahead and have +the seat of his pants hangin' down below his knees if you want to!” Cash +got up and moved huffily over to the fireplace and sat with his back to +Bud. + +“Maybe I will, at that,” Bud retorted. “You can't come around and grab +the job I'm doing.” Bud was jabbing a needle eye toward the end of a +thread too coarse for it, and it did not improve his temper to have the +thread refuse to pass through the eye. + +Neither did it please him to find, when all the seams were sewn, that +the little overalls failed to look like any garment he had ever seen on +a child. When he tried them on Lovin Child, next day, Cash took one look +and bolted from the cabin with his hand over his mouth. + +When he came back an hour or so later, Lovin Child was wearing his +ragged rompers, and Bud was bent over a Weinstock-Lubin mail-order +catalogue. He had a sheet of paper half filled with items, and was +licking his pencil and looking for more. He looked up and grinned a +little, and asked Cash when he was going to town again; and added that +he wanted to mail a letter. + +“Yeah. Well, the trail's just as good now as it was when I took it,” + Cash hinted strongly. “When I go to town again, it'll be because I've +got to go. And far as I can see, I won't have to go for quite some +time.” + +So Bud rose before daylight the next morning, tied on the makeshift +snowshoes Cash had contrived, and made the fifteen-mile trip to Alpine +and back before dark. He brought candy for Lovin Child, tended +that young gentleman through a siege of indigestion because of the +indulgence, and waited impatiently until he was fairly certain that +the wardrobe he had ordered had arrived at the post-office. When he had +counted off the two days required for a round trip to Sacramento, and +had added three days for possible delay in filling the order, he went +again, and returned in one of the worst storms of the winter. + +But he did not grudge the hardship, for he carried on his back a bulky +bundle of clothes for Lovin Child; enough to last the winter through, +and some to spare; a woman would have laughed at some of the things he +chose: impractical, dainty garments that Bud could not launder properly +to save his life. But there were little really truly overalls, in which +Lovin Child promptly developed a strut that delighted the men and +earned him the title of Old Prospector. And there were little shirts +and stockings and nightgowns and a pair of shoes, and a toy or two that +failed to interest him at all, after the first inspection. + +It began to look as though Bud had deliberately resolved upon carrying +a guilty conscience all the rest of his life. He had made absolutely no +effort to trace the parents of Lovin Child when he was in town. On the +contrary he had avoided all casual conversation, for fear some one might +mention the fact that a child had been lost. He had been careful not to +buy anything in the town that would lead one to suspect that he had a +child concealed upon his premises, and he had even furnished what +he called an alibi when he bought the candy, professing to own an +inordinately sweet tooth. + +Cash cast his eyes over the stock of baby clothes which Bud gleefully +unwrapped on his bunk, and pinched out a smile under his beard. + +“Well, if the kid stays till he wears out all them clothes, we'll just +about have to give him a share in the company,” he said drily. + +Bud looked up in quick jealousy. “What's mine's his, and I own a half +interest in both claims. I guess that'll feed him--if they pan out +anything,” he retorted. “Come here, Boy, and let's try this suit on. +Looks pretty small to me--marked three year, but I reckon they don't +grow 'em as husky as you, back where they make all these clothes.” + +“Yeah. But you ought to put it in writing, Bud. S'pose anything happened +to us both--and it might. Mining's always got its risky side, even +cutting out sickness, which we've had a big sample of right this winter. +Well, the kid oughta have some security in case anything did happen. +Now--” + +Bud looked thoughtfully down at the fuzzy yellow head that did not come +much above his knee. + +“Well, how yuh going to do anything like that without giving it away +that we've got him? Besides, what name'd we give him in the company? No, +sir, Cash, he gets what I've got, and I'll smash any damn man that tries +to get it away from him. But we can't get out any legal papers--” + +“Yeah. But we can make our wills, can't we? And I don't know where +you get the idea, Bud, that you've got the whole say about him. +We're pardners, ain't we? Share and share alike. Mines, mules, +grub--kids--equal shares goes.” + +“That's where you're dead wrong. Mines and mules and grub is all right, +but when it comes to this old Lovin Man, why--who was it found him, for +gosh sake?” + +“Aw, git out!” Cash growled. “Don't you reckon I'd have grabbed him off +that squaw as quick as you did? I've humored you along, Bud, and let you +hog him nights, and feed him and wash his clothes, and I ain't kicked +none, have I? But when it comes to prope'ty--” + +“You ain't goin' to horn in there, neither. Anyway, we ain't got so darn +much the kid'll miss your share, Cash.” + +“Yeah. All the more reason why he'll need it I don't see how you're +going to stop me from willing my share where I please. And when you come +down to facts, Bud, why--you want to recollect that I plumb forgot to +report that kid, when I was in town. And I ain't a doubt in the world +but what his folks would be glad enough--” + +“Forget that stuff!” Bud's tone was so sharp that Lovin Child turned +clear around to look up curiously into his face. “You know why you never +reported him, doggone yuh! You couldn't give him up no easier than I +could. And I'll tell the world to its face that if anybody gets this +kid now they've pretty near got to fight for him. It ain't right, and it +ain't honest. It's stealing to keep him, and I never stole a brass tack +in my life before. But he's mine as long as I live and can hang on to +him. And that's where I stand. I ain't hidin' behind no kind of alibi. +The old squaw did tell me his folks was dead; but if you'd ask me, I'd +say she was lying when she said it. Chances are she stole him. I'm sorry +for his folks, supposing he's got any. But I ain't sorry enough for 'em +to give him up if I can help it. I hope they've got more, and I hope +they've gentled down by this time and are used to being without him. +Anyway, they can do without him now easier than what I can, because...” + Bud did not finish that sentence, except by picking Lovin Child up in +his arms and squeezing him as hard as he dared. He laid his face down +for a minute on Lovin Child's head, and when he raised it his lashes +were wet. + +“Say, old-timer, you need a hair cut. Yuh know it?” he said, with a +huskiness in his voice, and pulled a tangle playfully. Then his eyes +swung round defiantly to Cash. “It's stealing to keep him, but I can't +help it. I'd rather die right here in my tracks than give up this little +ole kid. And you can take that as it lays, because I mean it.” + +Cash sat quiet for a minute or two, staring down at the floor. “Yeah. +I guess there's two of us in that fix,” he observed in his dry way, +lifting his eyebrows while he studied a broken place in the side of his +overshoe. “All the more reason why we should protect the kid, ain't it? +My idea is that we ought to both of us make our wills right here and +now. Each of us to name the other for guardeen, in case of accident, +and each one picking a name for the kid, and giving him our share in the +claims and anything else we may happen to own.” He stopped abruptly, his +jaw sagging a little at some unpleasant thought. + +“I don't know--come to think of it, I can't just leave the kid all my +property. I--I've got a kid of my own, and if she's alive--I ain't heard +anything of her for fifteen years and more, but if she's alive she'd +come in for a share. She's a woman grown by this time. Her mother died +when she was a baby. I married the woman I hired to take care of her and +the house--like a fool. When we parted, she took the kid with her. She +did think a lot of her, I'll say that much for her, and that's all I can +say in her favor. I drifted around and lost track of 'em. Old woman, +she married again, and I heard that didn't pan out, neither. Anyway, she +kept the girl, and gave her the care and schooling that I couldn't give. +I was a drifter. + +“Well, she can bust the will if I leave her out, yuh see. And if the old +woman gets a finger in the pie, it'll be busted, all right. I can write +her down for a hundred dollars perviding she don't contest. That'll fix +it. And the rest goes to the kid here. But I want him to have the use of +my name, understand. Something-or-other Markham Moore ought to suit all +hands well enough.” + +Bud, holding Lovin Child on his knees, frowned a little at first. But +when he looked at Cash, and caught the wistfulness in his eyes, he +surrendered warm-heartedly. + +“A couple of old he-hens like us--we need a chick to look after,” he +said whimsically. “I guess Markham Moore ought to be good enough for +most any kid. And if it ain't, by gosh, we'll make it good enough! If +I ain't been all I should be, there's no law against straightening up. +Markham Moore goes as it lays--hey, Lovins?” But Lovin Child had gone to +sleep over his foster fathers' disposal of his future. His little yellow +head was wabbling on his limp neck, and Bud cradled him in his arms and +held him so. + +“Yeah. But what are we going to call him?” Methodical Cash wanted the +whole matter settled at one conference, it seemed. + +“Call him? Why, what've we been calling him, the last two months?” + +“That,” Cash retorted, “depended on what devilment he was into when we +called!” + +“You said it all, that time. I guess, come to think of it--tell you +what, Cash, let's call him what the kid calls himself. That's fair +enough. He's got some say in the matter, and if he's satisfied with +Lovin, we oughta be. Lovin Markam Moore ain't half bad. Then if he wants +to change it when he grows up, he can.” + +“Yeah. I guess that's as good as anything. I'd hate to see him named +Cassius. Well, now's as good a time as any to make them wills, Bud. We +oughta have a couple of witnesses, but we can act for each other, and I +guess it'll pass. You lay the kid down, and we'll write 'em and have +it done with and off our minds. I dunno--I've got a couple of lots in +Phoenix I'll leave to the girl. By rights she should have 'em. Lovins, +here, 'll have my share in all mining claims; these two I'll name +'specially, because I expect them to develop into paying mines; the +Blind Lodge, anyway.” + +A twinge of jealousy seized Bud. Cash was going ahead a little too +confidently in his plans for the kid. He did not want to hurt old Cash's +feelings, and of course he needed Cash's assistance if he kept Lovin +Child for his own. But Cash needn't think he was going to claim the kid +himself. + +“All right--put it that way. Only, when you're writing it down, you make +it read 'child of Bud Moore' or something like that. You can will him +the moon, if you want, and you can have your name sandwiched in between +his and mine. But get this, and get it right. He's mine, and if we ever +split up, the kid goes with me. I'll tell the world right now that this +kid belongs to me, and where I go he goes. You got that?” + +“You don't have to beller at the top of your voice, do yuh?” snapped +Cash, prying the cork out of the ink bottle with his jackknife. “Here's +another pen point. Tie it onto a stick or something and git to work +before you git to putting it off.” + +Leaning over the table facing each other, they wrote steadily for a few +minutes. Then Bud began to flag, and finally he stopped and crumpled the +sheet of tablet paper into a ball. Cash looked up, lifted his eyebrows +irritatedly, and went on with his composition. + +Bud sat nibbling the end of his makeshift penholder. The obstacle that +had loomed in Cash's way and had constrained him to reveal the closed +pages of his life, loomed large in Bud's way also. Lovin Child was a +near and a very dear factor in his life--but when it came to sitting +down calmly and setting his affairs in order for those who might be left +behind, Lovin Child was not the only person he must think of. What of +his own man-child? What of Marie? + +He looked across at Cash writing steadily in his precise way, +duly bequeathing his worldly goods to Lovin; owning, too, his +responsibilities in another direction, but still making Lovin Child his +chief heir so far as he knew. On the spur of the moment Bud had thought +to do the same thing. But could he do it? + +He seemed to see his own baby standing wistfully aloof, pushed out of +his life that this baby he had no right to keep might have all of his +affections, all of his poor estate. And Marie, whose face was always in +the back of his memory, a tearful, accusing vision that would not let +him be--he saw Marie working in some office, earning the money to feed +and clothe their child. And Lovin Child romping up and down the cabin, +cuddled and scolded and cared for as best an awkward man may care for a +baby--a small, innocent usurper. + +Bud dropped his face in his palms and tried to think the thing out +coldly, clearly, as Cash had stated his own case. Cash did not know +where his own child was, and he did not seem to care greatly. He was +glad to salve his conscience with a small bequest, keeping the bulk--if +so tenuous a thing as Cash's fortune may be said to have bulk--for this +baby they two were hiding away from its lawful parents. Cash could do +it; why couldn't be? He raised his head and looked over at Lovin Child, +asleep in his new and rumpled little finery. Why did his own baby come +between them now, and withhold his hand from doing the same? + +Cash finished, glanced curiously across at Bud, looked down at what he +had written, and slid the sheet of paper across. + +“You sign it, and then if you don't know just how to word yours, you can +use this for a pattern. I've read law books enough to know this will +get by, all right. It's plain, and it tells what I want, and that's +sufficient to hold in court.” + +Bud read it over apathetically, signed his name as witness, and pushed +the paper back. + +“That's all right for you,” he said heavily. “Your kid is grown up now, +and besides, you've got other property to give her. But--it's different +with me. I want this baby, and I can't do without him. But I can't give +him my share in the claims, Cash. I--there's others that's got to be +thought of first.” + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH + +It was only the next day that Bud was the means of helping Lovin Child +find a fortune for himself; which eased Bud's mind considerably, and +balanced better his half of the responsibility. Cutting out the dramatic +frills, then, this is what happened to Lovin Child and Bud: + +They were romping around the cabin, like two puppies that had a surplus +of energy to work off. Part of the time Lovin Child was a bear, chasing +Bud up and down the dead line, which was getting pretty well worn out +in places. After that, Bud was a bear and chased Lovin. And when Lovin +Child got so tickled he was perfectly helpless in the corner where he +had sought refuge, Bud caught him and swung him up to his shoulder and +let him grab handfuls of dirt out of the roof. + +Lovin Child liked that better than being a bear, and sifted Bud's hair +full of dried mud, and threw the rest on the floor, and frequently cried +“Tell a worl'!” which he had learned from Bud and could say with the +uncanny pertinency of a parrot. + +He had signified a desire to have Bud carry him along the wall, where +some lovely lumps of dirt protruded temptingly over a bulging log. Then +he leaned and grabbed with his two fat hands at a particularly big, hard +lump. It came away in his hands and fell plump on the blankets of the +bunk, half blinding Bud with the dust that came with it. + +“Hey! You'll have all the chinkin' out of the dang shack, if you let +him keep that lick up, Bud,” Cash grumbled, lifting his eyebrows at the +mess. + +“Tell a worl'!” Lovin Child retorted over his shoulder, and made another +grab. + +This time the thing he held resisted his baby strength. He pulled and he +grunted, he kicked Bud in the chest and grabbed again. Bud was patient, +and let him fuss--though in self-defense he kept his head down and his +eyes away from the expected dust bath. + +“Stay with it, Boy; pull the darn roof down, if yuh want. Cash'll get +out and chink 'er up again.” + +“Yeah. Cash will not,” the disapproving one amended the statement +gruffly. “He's trying to get the log outa the wall, Bud.” + +“Well, let him try, doggone it. Shows he's a stayer. I wouldn't have any +use for him if he didn't have gumption enough to tackle things too big +for him, and you wouldn't either. Stay with 'er, Lovins! Doggone it, +can't yuh git that log outa there nohow? Uh-h! A big old grunt and a big +old heave--uh-h! I'll tell the world in words uh one syllable, he's some +stayer.” + +“Tell a worl'!” chuckled Lovin Child, and pulled harder at the thing he +wanted. + +“Hey! The kid's got hold of a piece of gunny sack or something. You +look out, Bud, or he'll have all that chinkin' out. There's no sense in +lettin' him tear the whole blame shack to pieces, is there?” + +“Can if he wants to. It's his shack as much as it's anybody's.” Bud +shifted Lovin Child more comfortably on his shoulder and looked up, +squinting his eyes half shut for fear of dirt in them. + +“For the love of Mike, kid, what's that you've got? Looks to me like a +piece of buckskin, Cash. Here, you set down a minute, and let Bud take a +peek up there.” + +“Bud--pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child from the blankets, where Bud had +deposited him unceremoniously. + +“Yes, Bud pik-k.” Bud stepped up on the bunk, which brought his head +above the low eaves. He leaned and looked, and scraped away the caked +mud. “Good glory! The kid's found a cache of some kind, sure as you +live!” And he began to claw out what had been hidden behind the mud. + +First a buckskin bag, heavy and grimed and knobby. Gold inside it, he +knew without looking. He dropped it down on the bunk, carefully so +as not to smash a toe off the baby. After that he pulled out four +baking-powder cans, all heavy as lead. He laid his cheek against the log +and peered down the length of it, and jumped down beside the bunk. + +“Kid's found a gold mine of his own, and I'll bet on it,” he cried +excitedly. “Looky, Cash!” + +Cash was already looking, his eyebrows arched high to match his +astonishment. “Yeah. It's gold, all right. Old man Nelson's hoard, I +wouldn't wonder. I've always thought it was funny he never found any +gold in this flat, long as he lived here. And traces of washing here and +there, too. Well!” + +“Looky, Boy!” Bud had the top off a can, and took out a couple of +nuggets the size of a cooked Lima bean. “Here's the real stuff for yuh. + +“It's yours, too--unless--did old Nelson leave any folks, Cash, do yuh +know?” + +“They say not. The county buried him, they say. And nobody ever turned +up to claim him or what little he left. No, I guess there's nobody got +any better right to it than the kid. We'll inquire around and see. But +seein' the gold is found on the claim, and we've got the claim according +to law, looks to me like--” + +“Well, here's your clean-up, old prospector. Don't swallow any, is all. +let's weigh it out, Cash, and see how much it is, just for a josh.” + +Lovin Child had nuggets to play with there on the bed, and told the +world many unintelligible things about it. Cash and Bud dumped all the +gold into a pan, and weighed it out on the little scales Cash had for +his tests. It was not a fortune, as fortunes go. It was probably all the +gold Nelson had panned out in a couple of years, working alone and with +crude devices. A little over twenty-three hundred dollars it amounted +to, not counting the nuggets which Lovin Child had on the bunk with him. + +“Well, it's a start for the kid, anyway,” Bud said, leaning back and +regarding the heap with eyes shining. “I helped him find it, and I kinda +feel as if I'm square with him now for not giving him my half the claim. +Twenty-three hundred would be a good price for a half interest, as the +claims stand, don't yuh think, Cash?” + +“Yeah--well, I dunno's I'd sell for that. But on the showing we've got +so far--yes, five thousand, say, for the claims would be good money.” + +“Pretty good haul for a kid, anyway. He's got a couple of hundred +dollars in nuggets, right there on the bunk. Let's see, Lovins. Let Bud +have 'em for a minute.” + +Then it was that Lovin Child revealed a primitive human trait. He would +not give up the gold. He held fast to one big nugget, spread his fat +legs over the remaining heap of them, and fought Bud's hand away with +the other fist. + +“No, no, no! Tell a worl' no, no, no!” he remonstrated vehemently, until +Bud whooped with laughter. + +“All right--all right! Keep your gold, durn it. You're like all the +rest--minute you get your paws on to some of the real stuff, you go +hog-wild over it.” + +Cash was pouring the fine gold back into the buck skin bag and the +baking-powder cans. + +“Let the kid play with it,” he said. “Getting used to gold when he's +little will maybe save him from a lot of foolishness over it when he +gets big. I dunno, but it looks reasonable to me. Let him have a few +nuggets if he wants. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say; maybe he +won't get to thinkin' too much of it if he's got it around under his +nose all the time. Same as everything else. It's the finding that hits +a feller hardest, Bud--the hunting for it and dreaming about it and not +finding it. What say we go up to the claim for an hour or so? Take the +kid along. It won't hurt him if he's bundled up good. It ain't cold +to-day, anyhow.” + +That night they discussed soberly the prospects of the claim and their +responsibilities in the matter of Lovin Child's windfall. They would +quietly investigate the history of old Nelson, who had died a pauper in +the eyes of the community, with all his gleanings of gold hidden away. +They agreed that Lovin Child should not start off with one grain of +gold that rightfully belonged to some one else--but they agreed the +more cheerfully because neither man believed they would find any close +relatives; a wife or children they decided upon as rightful heirs. +Brothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts did not count. They were +presumably able to look after themselves just as old Nelson had done. +Their ethics were simple enough, surely. + +Barring, then, the discovery of rightful heirs, their plan was to take +the gold to Sacramento in the spring, and deposit it there in a savings +bank for one Lovins Markham Moore. They would let the interest “ride” + with the principal, and they would--though neither openly confessed it +to the other--from time to time add a little from their own earnings. +Bud especially looked forward to that as a compromise with his duty to +his own child. He intended to save every cent he could, and to start +a savings account in the same bank, for his own baby, Robert Edward +Moore--named for Bud. He could not start off with as large a sum as +Lovins would have, and for that Bud was honestly sorry. But Robert +Edward Moore would have Bud's share in the claims, which would do a +little toward evening things up. + +Having settled these things to the satisfaction of their desires and +their consciences, they went to bed well pleased with the day. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. MARIE'S SIDE OF IT + +We all realize keenly, one time or another, the abject poverty of +language. To attempt putting some emotions into words is like trying +to play Ave Maria on a toy piano. There are heights and depths utterly +beyond the limitation of instrument and speech alike. + +Marie's agonized experience in Alpine--and afterward--was of that kind. +She went there under the lure of her loneliness, her heart-hunger for +Bud. Drunk or sober, loving her still or turning away in anger, she had +to see him; had to hear him speak; had to tell him a little of what she +felt of penitence and longing, for that is what she believed she had to +do. Once she had started, she could not turn back. Come what might, +she would hunt until she found him. She had to, or go crazy, she told +herself over and over. She could not imagine any circumstance that would +turn her back from that quest. + +Yet she did turn back--and with scarce a thought of Bud. She could not +imagine the thing happening that did happen, which is the way life +has of keeping us all on the anxious seat most of the time. She could +not--at least she did not--dream that Lovin Child, at once her comfort +and her strongest argument for a new chance at happiness, would in +ten minutes or so wipe out all thought of Bud and leave only a dumb, +dreadful agony that hounded her day and night. + +She had reached Alpine early in the forenoon, and had gone to the one +little hotel, to rest and gather up her courage for the search which she +felt was only beginning. She had been too careful of her money to spend +any for a sleeper, foregoing even a berth in the tourist car. She could +make Lovin Child comfortable with a full seat in the day coach for +his little bed, and for herself it did not matter. She could not sleep +anyway. So she sat up all night and thought, and worried over the +future which was foolish, since the future held nothing at all that she +pictured in it. + +She was tired when she reached the hotel, carrying Lovin Child and her +suit case too--porters being unheard of in small villages, and the one +hotel being too sure of its patronage to bother about getting guests +from depot to hall bedroom. A deaf old fellow with white whiskers and +poor eyesight fumbled two or three keys on a nail, chose one and led the +way down a little dark hall to a little, stuffy room with another +door opening directly on the sidewalk. Marie had not registered on her +arrival, because there was no ink in the inkwell, and the pen had only +half a point; but she was rather relieved to find that she was not +obliged to write her name down--for Bud, perhaps, to see before she had +a chance to see him. + +Lovin Child was in his most romping, rambunctious mood, and Marie's head +ached so badly that she was not quite so watchful of his movements as +usual. She gave him a cracker and left him alone to investigate the tiny +room while she laid down for just a minute on the bed, grateful because +the sun shone in warmly through the window and she did not feel the +absence of a fire. She had no intention whatever of going to sleep--she +did not believe that she could sleep if she had wanted to. Fall asleep +she did, however, and she must have slept for at least half an hour, +perhaps longer. + +When she sat up with that startled sensation that follows unexpected, +undesired slumber, the door was open, and Lovin Child was gone. She had +not believed that he could open the door, but she discovered that its +latch had a very precarious hold upon the worn facing, and that a slight +twist of the knob was all it needed to swing the door open. She rushed +out, of course, to look for him, though, unaware of how long she had +slept, she was not greatly disturbed. Marie had run after Lovin Child +too often to be alarmed at a little thing like that. + +I don't know when fear first took hold of her, or when fear was swept +away by the keen agony of loss. She went the whole length of the one +little street, and looked in all the open doorways, and traversed the +one short alley that led behind the hotel. Facing the street was the +railroad, with the station farther up at the edge of the timber. Across +the railroad was the little, rushing river, swollen now with rains that +had been snow on the higher slopes of the mountain behind the town. + +Marie did not go near the river at first. Some instinct of dread made +her shun even the possibility that Lovin Child had headed that way. But +a man told her, when she broke down her diffidence and inquired, that he +had seen a little tot in a red suit and cap going off that way. He had +not thought anything of it. He was a stranger himself, he said, and he +supposed the kid belonged there, maybe. + +Marie flew to the river, the man running beside her, and three or four +others coming out of buildings to see what was the matter. She did not +find Lovin Child, but she did find half of the cracker she had given +him. It was lying so close to a deep, swirly place under the bank that +Marie gave a scream when she saw it, and the man caught her by the arm +for fear she meant to jump in. + +Thereafter, the whole of Alpine turned out and searched the river bank +as far down as they could get into the box canyon through which it +roared to the sage-covered hills beyond. No one doubted that Lovin Child +had been swept away in that tearing, rock-churned current. No one had +any hope of finding his body, though they searched just as diligently as +if they were certain. + +Marie walked the bank all that day, calling and crying and fighting off +despair. She walked the floor of her little room all night, the +door locked against sympathy that seemed to her nothing but a prying +curiosity over her torment, fighting back the hysterical cries that kept +struggling for outlet. + +The next day she was too exhausted to do anything more than climb up the +steps of the train when it stopped there. Towns and ranches on the +river below had been warned by wire and telephone and a dozen officious +citizens of Alpine assured her over and over that she would be notified +at once if anything was discovered; meaning, of course, the body of her +child. She did not talk. Beyond telling the station agent her name, and +that she was going to stay in Sacramento until she heard something, she +shrank behind her silence and would reveal nothing of her errand there +in Alpine, nothing whatever concerning herself. Mrs. Marie Moore, +General Delivery, Sacramento, was all that Alpine learned of her. + +It is not surprising then, that the subject was talked out long before +Bud or Cash came down into the town more than two months later. It is +not surprising, either, that no one thought to look up-stream for the +baby, or that they failed to consider any possible fate for him save +drowning. That nibbled piece of cracker on the very edge of the river +threw them all off in their reasoning. They took it for granted that +the baby had fallen into the river at the place where they found the +cracker. If he had done so, he would have been swept away instantly. No +one could look at the river and doubt that--therefore no one did doubt +it. That a squaw should find him sitting down where he had fallen, two +hundred yards above the town and in the edge of the thick timber, +never entered their minds at all. That she should pick him up with +the intention at first of stopping his crying, and should yield to the +temptingness of him just as Bud had yielded, would have seemed to Alpine +still more unlikely; because no Indian had ever kidnapped a white child +in that neighborhood. So much for the habit of thinking along grooves +established by precedent + +Marie went to Sacramento merely because that was the closest town of any +size, where she could wait for the news she dreaded to receive yet must +receive before she could even begin to face her tragedy. She did not +want to find Bud now. She shrank from any thought of him. Only for him, +she would still have her Lovin Child. Illogically she blamed Bud for +what had happened. He had caused her one more great heartache, and she +hoped never to see him again or to hear his name spoken. + +Dully she settled down in a cheap, semi-private boarding house to wait. +In a day or two she pulled herself together and went out to look for +work, because she must have money to live on. Go home to her mother +she would not. Nor did she write to her. There, too, her great hurt +had flung some of the blame. If her mother had not interfered and found +fault all the time with Bud, they would be living together now--happy. +It was her mother who had really brought about their separation. Her +mother would nag at her now for going after Bud, would say that she +deserved to lose her baby as a punishment for letting go her pride and +self-respect. No, she certainly did not want to see her mother, or any +one else she had ever known. Bud least of all. + +She found work without much trouble, for she was neat and efficient +looking, of the type that seems to belong in a well-ordered office, +behind a typewriter desk near a window where the sun shines in. The +place did not require much concentration--a dentist's office, where her +chief duties consisted of opening the daily budget of circulars, sending +out monthly bills, and telling pained-looking callers that the doctor +was out just then. Her salary just about paid her board, with a dollar +or two left over for headache tablets and a vaudeville show now and +then. She did not need much spending money, for her evenings were spent +mostly in crying over certain small garments and a canton-flannel dog +called “Wooh-wooh.” + +For three months she stayed, too apathetic to seek a better position. +Then the dentist's creditors became suddenly impatient, and the dentist +could not pay his office rent, much less his office girl. Wherefore +Marie found herself looking for work again, just when spring was opening +all the fruit blossoms and merchants were smilingly telling one another +that business was picking up. + +Weinstock-Lubin's big department store gave her desk space in the +mail-order department. Marie's duty it was to open the mail, check up +the orders, and see that enough money was sent, and start the wheels +moving to fill each order--to the satisfaction of the customer if +possible. + +At first the work worried her a little. But she became accustomed to +it, and settled into the routine of passing the orders along the proper +channels with as little individual thought given to each one as was +compatible with efficiency. She became acquainted with some of the +girls, and changed to a better boarding house. She still cried over the +wooh-wooh and the little garments, but she did not cry so often, nor did +she buy so many headache tablets. She was learning the futility of grief +and the wisdom of turning her back upon sorrow when she could. The sight +of a two-year-old baby boy would still bring tears to her eyes, and she +could not sit through a picture show that had scenes of children and +happy married couples, but she fought the pain of it as a weakness which +she must overcome. Her Lovin Child was gone; she had given up everything +but the sweet, poignant memory of how pretty he had been and how +endearing. + +Then, one morning in early June, her practiced fingers were going +through the pile of mail orders and they singled out one that carried +the postmark of Alpine. Marie bit her lips, but her fingers did not +falter in their task. Cheap table linen, cheap collars, cheap suits or +cheap something-or-other was wanted, she had no doubt. She took out the +paper with the blue money order folded inside, speared the money order +on the hook with others, drew her order pad closer, and began to go +through the list of articles wanted. + +This was the list:-- + + XL 94, 3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr at 59c $1.77 + XL 14 1 Buddy tucker suit 3 yr 2.00 + KL 6 1 Bunny pumps infant 5 1.25 + KL 54 1 Fat Ankle shoe infant 5 .98 + HL 389 4 Rubens vests, 3 yr at 90c 2.70 + SL 418 3 Pajamas 3 yr. at 59c 1.77 + OL 823 1 Express wagon, 15x32 in. 4.25 + -- + $14.22 + + For which money order is enclosed. Please ship at once. + + Very truly, + R. E. MOORE, + Alpine, Calif. + +Mechanically she copied the order on a slip of paper which she put into +her pocket, left her desk and her work and the store, and hurried to her +boarding house. + +Not until she was in her own room with the door locked did she dare let +herself think. She sat down with the copy spread open before her, her +slim fingers pressing against her temples. Something amazing had been +revealed to her--something so amazing that she could scarcely comprehend +its full significance. Bud--never for a minute did she doubt that it +was Bud, for she knew his handwriting too well to be mistaken--Bud was +sending for clothes for a baby boy! + +“3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr--” it sounded, to the hungry mother soul +of her, exactly like her Lovin Child. She could see so vividly just +how he would look in them. And the size--she certainly would buy than +three-year size, if she were buying for Lovin Child. And the little +“Buddy tucker” suit--that, too, sounded like Lovin Child. He must--Bud +certainly must have him up there with him! Then Lovin Child was not +drowned at all, but alive and needing dig-in-the-muds. + +“Bud's got him! Oh, Bud has got him, I know he's got him!” she whispered +over and over to herself in an ecstasy of hope. “My little Lovin Man! +He's up there right now with his Daddy Bud--” + +A vague anger stirred faintly, flared, died almost, flared again and +burned steadily within her. Bud had her Lovin Child! How did he come to +have him, then, unless he stole him? Stole him away, and let her suffer +all this while, believing her baby was dead in the river! + +“You devil!” she muttered, gritting her teeth when that thought formed +clearly in her mind. “Oh, you devil, you! If you think you can get away +with a thing like that--You devil!” + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. THE CURE COMPLETE + +In Nelson Flat the lupines were like spilled bluing in great, acre-wide +blots upon the meadow grass. Between cabin and creek bank a little plot +had been spaded and raked smooth, and already the peas and lettuce and +radishes were up and growing as if they knew how short would be the +season, and meant to take advantage of every minute of the warm days. +Here and there certain plants were lifting themselves all awry from +where they had been pressed flat by two small feet that had strutted +heedlessly down the rows. + +The cabin yard was clean, and the two small windows were curtained with +cheap, white scrim. All before the door and on the path to the creek +small footprints were scattered thick. It was these that Marie pulled up +her hired saddle horse to study in hot resentment. + +“The big brute!” she gritted, and got off and went to the cabin door, +walking straight-backed and every mental and physical fiber of her +braced for the coming struggle. She even regretted not having a gun; +rather, she wished that she was not more afraid of a gun than of any +possible need of one. She felt, at that minute, as though she could +shoot Bud Moore with no more compunction that she would feel in swatting +a fly. + +That the cabin was empty and unlocked only made her blood boil the +hotter. She went in and looked around at the crude furnishings and the +small personal belongings of those who lived there. She saw the table +all set ready for the next meal, with the extremely rustic high-chair +that had DYNAMITE painted boldly on the side of the box seat. Fastened +to a nail at one side of the box was a belt, evidently kept there for +the purpose of strapping a particularly wriggly young person into +the chair. That smacked strongly of Lovin Child, sure enough. Marie +remembered the various devices by which she had kept him in his go cart. + +She went closer and inspected the belt indignantly. Just as she +expected--it was Bud's belt; his old belt that she bought for him just +after they were married. She supposed that box beside the queer high +chair was where he would sit at table and stuff her baby with all kinds +of things he shouldn't eat. Where was her baby? A fresh spasm of longing +for Lovin Child drove her from the cabin. Find him she would, and that +no matter how cunningly Bud had hidden him away. + +On a rope stretched between a young cottonwood tree in full leaf and +a scaly, red-barked cedar, clothes that had been washed were flapping +lazily in the little breeze. Marie stopped and looked at them. A man's +shirt and drawers, two towels gray for want of bluing, a little shirt +and a nightgown and pair of stockings--and, directly in front of Marie, +a small pair of blue overalls trimmed with red bands, the blue showing +white fiber where the color had been scrubbed out of the cloth, the two +knees flaunting patches sewed with long irregular stitches such as a man +would take. + +Bud and Lovin Child. As in the cabin, so here she felt the individuality +in their belongings. Last night she had been tormented with the fear +that there might be a wife as well as a baby boy in Bud's household. +Even the evidence of the mail order, that held nothing for a woman and +that was written by Bud's hand, could scarcely reassure her. Now she +knew beyond all doubt that she had no woman to reckon with, and the +knowledge brought relief of a sort. + +She went up and touched the little overalls wistfully, laid her cheek +against one little patch, ducked under the line, and followed a crooked +little path that led up the creek. She forgot all about her horse, +which looked after her as long as she was in sight, and then turned and +trotted back the way it had come, wondering, no doubt, at the foolish +faith this rider had in him. + +The path led up along the side of the flat, through tall grass and all +the brilliant blossoms of a mountain meadow in June. Great, graceful +mountain lilies nodded from little shady tangles in the bushes. +Harebells and lupines, wild-pea vines and columbines, tiny, gnome-faced +pansies, violets, and the daintier flowering grasses lined the way with +odorous loveliness. Birds called happily from the tree tops. Away up +next the clouds an eagle sailed serene, alone, a tiny boat breasting the +currents of the sky ocean. + +Marie's rage cooled a little on that walk. It was so beautiful for Lovin +Child, up here in this little valley among the snow-topped mountains; +so sheltered. Yesterday's grind in that beehive of a department store +seemed more remote than South Africa. Unconsciously her first nervous +pace slackened. She found herself taking long breaths of this clean air, +sweetened with the scent of growing things. Why couldn't the world be +happy, since it was so beautiful? It made her think of those three weeks +in Big Basin, and the never-forgettable wonder of their love--hers and +Bud's. + +She was crying with the pain and the beauty of it when she heard the +first high, chirpy notes of a baby--her baby. Lovin Child was picketed +to a young cedar near the mouth of the Blind ledge tunnel, and he was +throwing rocks at a chipmunk that kept coming toward him in little +rushes, hoping with each rush to get a crumb of the bread and butter +that Lovin Child had flung down. Lovin Child was squealing and +jabbering, with now and then a real word that he had learned from Bud +and Cash. Not particularly nice words--“Doggone” was one and several +times he called the chipmunk a “sunny-gun.” And of course he frequently +announced that he would “Tell a worl'” something. His head was bare and +shone in the sun like the gold for which Cash and his Daddy Bud were +digging, away back in the dark hole. He had on a pair of faded overalls +trimmed with red, mates of the ones on the rope line, and he threw rocks +impartially with first his right hand and then his left, and sometimes +with both at once; which did not greatly distress the chipmunk, who knew +Lovin Child of old and had learned how wide the rocks always went of +their mark. + +Upon this scene Marie came, still crying. She had always been an +impulsive young woman, and now she forgot that Lovin Child had not seen +her for six months or so, and that baby memories are short. She rushed +in and snatched him off the ground and kissed him and squeezed him and +cried aloud upon her God and her baby, and buried her wet face against +his fat little neck. + +Cash, trundling a wheelbarrow of ore out to the tunnel's mouth, heard a +howl and broke into a run with his load, bursting out into the sunlight +with a clatter and upsetting the barrow ten feet short of the regular +dumping place. Marie was frantically trying to untie the rope, and +was having trouble because Lovin Child was in one of his worst +kicking-and-squirming tantrums. Cash rushed in and snatched the child +from her. + +“Here! What you doing to that kid? You're scaring him to death--and +you've got no right!” + +“I have got a right! I have too got a right!” Marie was clawing like a +wildcat at Cash's grimy hands. “He's my baby! He's mine! You ought to +be hung for stealing him away from me. Let go--he's mine, I tell you. +Lovin! Lovin Child! Don't you know Marie? Marie's sweet, pitty man, he +is! Come to Marie, boy baby!” + +“Tell a worl' no, no, no!” yelled Lovin Child, clinging to Cash. + +“Aw--come to Marie, sweetheart! Marie's own lovin' little man baby! You +let him go, or I'll--I'll kill you. You big brute!” + +Cash let go, but it was not because she commanded. He let go and stared +hard at Marie, lifting his eyebrows comically as he stepped back, his +hand going unconsciously up to smooth his beard. + +“Marie?” he repeated stupidly. “Marie?” He reached out and laid a hand +compellingly on her shoulder. “Ain't your name Marie Markham, young +lady? Don't you know your own dad?” + +Marie lifted her face from kissing Lovin Child very much against his +will, and stared round-eyed at Cash. She did not say anything. + +“You're my Marie, all right You ain't changed so much I can't recognize +yuh. I should think you'd remember your own father--but I guess maybe +the beard kinda changes my looks. Is this true, that this kid belongs to +you?” + +Marie gasped. “Why--father? Why--why, father!” She leaned herself and +Lovin Child into his arms. “Why, I can't believe it! Why--” She closed +her eyes and shivered, going suddenly weak, and relaxed in his arms. +“I-I-I can't--” + +Cash slid Lovin Child to the ground, where that young gentleman picked +himself up indignantly and ran as far as his picket rope would let him, +whereupon he turned and screamed “Sunny-gun! sunny-gun!” at the two like +an enraged bluejay. Cash did not pay any attention to him. He was busy +seeking out a soft, shady spot that was free of rocks, where he might +lay Marie down. He leaned over her and fanned her violently with his +hat, his lips and his eyebrows working with the complexity of his +emotions. Then suddenly he turned and ducked into the tunnel, after Bud. + +Bud heard him coming and turned from his work. Cash was not trundling +the empty barrow, which in itself was proof enough that something had +happened, even if Cash had not been running. Bud dropped his pick and +started on a run to meet him. + +“What's wrong? Is the kid--?” + +“Kid's all right” Cash stopped abruptly, blocking Bud's way. “It's +something else. Bud, his mother's come after him. She's out there +now--laid out in a faint.” + +“Lemme go.” Bud's voice had a grimness in it that spelled trouble for +the lady laid out in a faint “She can be his mother a thousand times--” + +“Yeah. Hold on a minute, Bud. You ain't going out there and raise no +hell with that poor girl. Lovins belongs to her, and she's going to have +him.... Now, just keep your shirt on a second. I've got something more +to say. He's her kid, and she wants him back, and she's going to have +him back. If you git him away from her, it'll be over my carcass. Now, +now, hold on! H-o-l-d on! You're goin' up against Cash Markham now, +remember! That girl is my girl! My girl that I ain't seen since she was +a kid in short dresses. It's her father you've got to deal with now--her +father and the kid's grandfather. You get that? You be reasonable, Bud, +and there won't be no trouble at all. But my girl ain't goin' to be +robbed of her baby--not whilst I'm around. You get that settled in your +mind before you go out there, or--you don't go out whilst I'm here to +stop you.” + +“You go to hell,” Bud stated evenly, and thrust Cash aside with one +sweep of his arm, and went down the tunnel. Cash, his eyebrows lifted +with worry and alarm, was at his heels all the way. + +“Now, Bud, be calm!” he adjured as he ran. “Don't go and make a dang +fool of yourself! She's my girl, remember. You want to hold on to +yourself, Bud, and be reasonable. Don't go and let your temper--” + +“Shut your damn mouth!” Bud commanded him savagely, and went on running. + +At the tunnel mouth he stopped and blinked, blinded for a moment by the +strong sunlight in his face. Cash stumbled and lost ten seconds or so, +picking himself up. Behind him Bud heard Cash panting, “Now, Bud, don't +go and make--a dang fool--” Bud snorted contemptuously and leaped the +dirt pile, landing close to Marie, who was just then raising herself +dizzily to an elbow. + +“Now, Bud,” Cash called tardily when he had caught up with him, “you +leave that girl alone! Don't you lay a finger on her! That's my--” + +Bud lifted his lips away from Marie's and spoke over his shoulder, his +arms tightening in their hold upon Marie's trembling, yielding body. + +“Shut up, Cash. She's my wife--now where do you get off at?” + +(That, o course, lacked a little of being the exact truth. Lacked a few +hours, in fact, because they did not reach Alpine and the railroad +until that afternoon, and were not remarried until seven o'clock that +evening.) + +“No, no, no!” cried Lovin Child from a safe distance. “Tell a worl' no, +no!” + +“I'll tell the world yes, yes!” Bud retorted ecstatically, lifting his +face again. “Come here, you little scallywag, and love your mamma Marie. +Cash, you old donkey, don't you get it yet? We've got 'em both for +keeps, you and me.” + +“Yeah--I get it, all right.” Cash came and stood awkwardly over them. “I +get it--found my girl one minute, and lost her again the next! But I'll +tell yeh one thing, Bud Moore. The kid's' goin' to call me grampaw, er +I'll know the reason why!” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cabin Fever, by B. M. Bower + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CABIN FEVER *** + +***** This file should be named 1204-0.txt or 1204-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/1204/ + +Produced by Anthony Matonak + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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M. Bower + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cabin Fever, by B. M. Bower + +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: Cabin Fever + +Author: B. M. Bower + + +Release Date: February, 1998 [EBook #1204] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CABIN FEVER *** + + + + +Produced by Anthony Matonak, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + CABIN FEVER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By B. M. Bower + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>CABIN FEVER</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE. </a> THE FEVER + MANIFESTS ITSELF <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO. </a> TWO + MAKE A QUARREL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE. </a> TEN + DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER + FOUR. </a> HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE. </a> BUD CANNOT PERFORM + MIRACLES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX. </a> BUD + TAKES TO THE HILLS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN. + </a> INTO THE DESERT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> + CHAPTER EIGHT. </a> MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE. </a> THE BITE OF + MEMORY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER TEN. </a> EMOTIONS + ARE TRICKY THINGS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN. + </a> THE FIRST STAGES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> + CHAPTER TWELVE. </a> MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN. </a> CABIN FEVER + IN THE WORST FORM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + </a> CASH GETS A SHOCK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN. </a> AND BUD NEVER GUESSED <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER SIXTEEN. </a> THE ANTIDOTE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. </a> LOVIN + CHILD WRIGGLES IN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + </a> THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER NINETEEN. </a> BUD FACES FACTS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER TWENTY. </a> LOVIN + CHILD STRIKES IT RICH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER + TWENTY-ONE. </a> MARIE'S SIDE OF IT <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. </a> THE + CURE COMPLETE <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + CABIN FEVER + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE. THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF + </h2> + <p> + There is a certain malady of the mind induced by too much of one thing. + Just as the body fed too long upon meat becomes a prey to that horrid + disease called scurvy, so the mind fed too long upon monotony succumbs to + the insidious mental ailment which the West calls “cabin fever.” True, it + parades under different names, according to circumstances and caste. You + may be afflicted in a palace and call it ennui, and it may drive you to + commit peccadillos and indiscretions of various sorts. You may be attacked + in a middle-class apartment house, and call it various names, and it may + drive you to cafe life and affinities and alimony. You may have it + wherever you are shunted into a backwater of life, and lose the sense of + being borne along in the full current of progress. Be sure that it will + make you abnormally sensitive to little things; irritable where once you + were amiable; glum where once you went whistling about your work and your + play. It is the crystallizer of character, the acid test of friendship, + the final seal set upon enmity. It will betray your little, hidden + weaknesses, cut and polish your undiscovered virtues, reveal you in all + your glory or your vileness to your companions in exile—if so be you + have any. + </p> + <p> + If you would test the soul of a friend, take him into the wilderness and + rub elbows with him for five months! One of three things will surely + happen: You will hate each other afterward with that enlightened hatred + which is seasoned with contempt; you will emerge with the contempt tinged + with a pitying toleration, or you will be close, unquestioning friends to + the last six feet of earth—and beyond. All these things will cabin + fever do, and more. It has committed murder, many's the time. It has + driven men crazy. It has warped and distorted character out of all + semblance to its former self. It has sweetened love and killed love. There + is an antidote—but I am going to let you find the antidote somewhere + in the story. + </p> + <p> + Bud Moore, ex-cow-puncher and now owner of an auto stage that did not run + in the winter, was touched with cabin fever and did not know what ailed + him. His stage line ran from San Jose up through Los Gatos and over the + Bear Creek road across the summit of the Santa Cruz Mountains and down to + the State Park, which is locally called Big Basin. For something over + fifty miles of wonderful scenic travel he charged six dollars, and usually + his big car was loaded to the running boards. Bud was a good driver, and + he had a friendly pair of eyes—dark blue and with a humorous little + twinkle deep down in them somewhere—and a human little smiley quirk + at the corners of his lips. He did not know it, but these things helped to + fill his car. + </p> + <p> + Until gasoline married into the skylark family, Bud did well enough to + keep him contented out of a stock saddle. (You may not know it, but it is + harder for an old cow-puncher to find content, now that the free range is + gone into history, than it is for a labor agitator to be happy in a + municipal boarding house.) + </p> + <p> + Bud did well enough, which was very well indeed. Before the second season + closed with the first fall rains, he had paid for his big car and got the + insurance policy transferred to his name. He walked up First Street with + his hat pushed back and a cigarette dangling from the quirkiest corner of + his mouth, and his hands in his pockets. The glow of prosperity warmed his + manner toward the world. He had a little money in the bank, he had his big + car, he had the good will of a smiling world. He could not walk half a + block in any one of three or four towns but he was hailed with a “Hello, + Bud!” in a welcoming tone. More people knew him than Bud remembered well + enough to call by name—which is the final proof of popularity the + world over. + </p> + <p> + In that glowing mood he had met and married a girl who went into Big Basin + with her mother and camped for three weeks. The girl had taken frequent + trips to Boulder Creek, and twice had gone on to San Jose, and she had + made it a point to ride with the driver because she was crazy about cars. + So she said. Marie had all the effect of being a pretty girl. She + habitually wore white middies with blue collar and tie, which went well + with her clear, pink skin and her hair that just escaped being red. She + knew how to tilt her “beach” hat at the most provocative angle, and she + knew just when to let Bud catch a slow, sidelong glance—of the kind + that is supposed to set a man's heart to syncopatic behavior. She did not + do it too often. She did not powder too much, and she had the latest slang + at her pink tongue's tip and was yet moderate in her use of it. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not notice Marie much on the first trip. She was demure, and Bud + had a girl in San Jose who had brought him to that interesting stage of + dalliance where he wondered if he dared kiss her good night the next time + he called. He was preoccupiedly reviewing the she-said-and-then-I-said, + and trying to make up his mind whether he should kiss her and take a + chance on her displeasure, or whether he had better wait. To him Marie + appeared hazily as another camper who helped fill the car—and his + pocket—and was not at all hard to look at. It was not until the + third trip that Bud thought her beautiful, and was secretly glad that he + had not kissed that San Jose girl. + </p> + <p> + You know how these romances develop. Every summer is saturated with them + the world over. But Bud happened to be a simple-souled fellow, and there + was something about Marie—He didn't know what it was. Men never do + know, until it is all over. He only knew that the drive through the shady + stretches of woodland grew suddenly to seem like little journeys into + paradise. Sentiment lurked behind every great, mossy tree bole. New + beauties unfolded in the winding drive up over the mountain crests. Bud + was terribly in love with the world in those days. + </p> + <p> + There were the evenings he spent in the Basin, sitting beside Marie in the + huge campfire circle, made wonderful by the shadowy giants, the redwoods; + talking foolishness in undertones while the crowd sang snatches of songs + which no one knew from beginning to end, and that went very lumpy in the + verses and very much out of harmony in the choruses. Sometimes they would + stroll down toward that sweeter music the creek made, and stand beside one + of the enormous trees and watch the glow of the fire, and the silhouettes + of the people gathered around it. + </p> + <p> + In a week they were surreptitiously holding hands. In two weeks they could + scarcely endure the partings when Bud must start back to San Jose, and + were taxing their ingenuity to invent new reasons why Marie must go along. + In three weeks they were married, and Marie's mother—a shrewd, + shrewish widow—was trying to decide whether she should wash her + hands of Marie, or whether it might be well to accept the situation and + hope that Bud would prove himself a rising young man. + </p> + <p> + But that was a year in the past. Bud had cabin fever now and did not know + what ailed him, though cause might have been summed up in two meaty + phrases: too much idleness, and too much mother-in-law. Also, not enough + comfort and not enough love. + </p> + <p> + In the kitchen of the little green cottage on North Sixth Street where Bud + had built the home nest with much nearly-Mission furniture and a piano, + Bud was frying his own hotcakes for his ten o'clock breakfast, and was + scowling over the task. He did not mind the hour so much, but he did + mortally hate to cook his own breakfast—or any other meal, for that + matter. In the next room a rocking chair was rocking with a rhythmic + squeak, and a baby was squalling with that sustained volume of sound which + never fails to fill the adult listener with amazement. It affected Bud + unpleasantly, just as the incessant bawling of a band of weaning calves + used to do. He could not bear the thought of young things going hungry. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of Mike, Marie! Why don't you feed that kid, or do something + to shut him up?” he exploded suddenly, dribbling pancake batter over the + untidy range. + </p> + <p> + The squeak, squawk of the rocker ceased abruptly. “'Cause it isn't time + yet to feed him—that's why. What's burning out there? I'll bet + you've got the stove all over dough again—” The chair resumed its + squeaking, the baby continued uninterrupted its wah-h-hah! wah-h-hah, as + though it was a phonograph that had been wound up with that record on, and + no one around to stop it + </p> + <p> + Bud turned his hotcakes with a vicious flop that spattered more batter on + the stove. He had been a father only a month or so, but that was long + enough to learn many things about babies which he had never known before. + He knew, for instance, that the baby wanted its bottle, and that Marie was + going to make him wait till feeding time by the clock. + </p> + <p> + “By heck, I wonder what would happen if that darn clock was to stop!” he + exclaimed savagely, when his nerves would bear no more. “You'd let the kid + starve to death before you'd let your own brains tell you what to do! + Husky youngster like that—feeding 'im four ounces every four days—or + some simp rule like that—” He lifted the cakes on to a plate that + held two messy-looking fried eggs whose yolks had broken, set the plate on + the cluttered table and slid petulantly into a chair and began to eat. The + squeaking chair and the crying baby continued to torment him. Furthermore, + the cakes were doughy in the middle. + </p> + <p> + “For gosh sake, Marie, give that kid his bottle!” Bud exploded again. “Use + the brains God gave yuh—such as they are! By heck, I'll stick that + darn book in the stove. Ain't yuh got any feelings at all? Why, I wouldn't + let a dog go hungry like that! Don't yuh reckon the kid knows when he's + hungry? Why, good Lord! I'll take and feed him myself, if you don't. I'll + burn that book—so help me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will—not!” Marie's voice rose shrewishly, riding the high + waves of the baby's incessant outcry against the restrictions upon + appetite imposed by enlightened motherhood. “You do, and see what'll + happen! You'd have him howling with colic, that's what you'd do.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell the world he wouldn't holler for grub! You'd go by the + book if it told yuh to stand 'im on his head in the ice chest! By heck, + between a woman and a hen turkey, give me the turkey when it comes to + sense. They do take care of their young ones—” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, forget that! When it comes to sense—-” + </p> + <p> + Oh, well, why go into details? You all know how these domestic storms + arise, and how love washes overboard when the matrimonial ship begins to + wallow in the seas of recrimination. + </p> + <p> + Bud lost his temper and said a good many things should not have said. + Marie flung back angry retorts and reminded Bud of all his sins and + slights and shortcomings, and told him many of mamma's pessimistic + prophecies concerning him, most of which seemed likely to be fulfilled. + Bud fought back, telling Marie how much of a snap she had had since she + married him, and how he must have looked like ready money to her, and + added that now, by heck, he even had to do his own cooking, as well as + listen to her whining and nagging, and that there wasn't clean corner in + the house, and she'd rather let her own baby go hungry than break a simp + rule in a darn book got up by a bunch of boobs that didn't know anything + about kids. Surely to goodness, he finished his heated paragraph, it + wouldn't break any woman's back to pour a little warm water on a little + malted milk, and shake it up. + </p> + <p> + He told Marie other things, and in return, Marie informed him that he was + just a big-mouthed, lazy brute, and she could curse the day she ever met + him. That was going pretty far. Bud reminded her that she had not done any + cursing at the time, being in his opinion too busy roping him in to + support her. + </p> + <p> + By that time he had gulped down his coffee, and was into his coat, and + looking for his hat. Marie, crying and scolding and rocking the vociferous + infant, interrupted herself to tell him that she wanted a ten-cent roll of + cotton from the drug store, and added that she hoped she would not have to + wait until next Christmas for it, either. Which bit of sarcasm so inflamed + Bud's rage that he swore every step of the way to Santa Clara Avenue, and + only stopped then because he happened to meet a friend who was going down + town, and they walked together. + </p> + <p> + At the drug store on the corner of Second Street Bud stopped and bought + the cotton, feeling remorseful for some of the things he had said to + Marie, but not enough so to send him back home to tell her he was sorry. + He went on, and met another friend before he had taken twenty steps. This + friend was thinking of buying a certain second-hand automobile that was + offered at a very low price, and he wanted Bud to go with him and look her + over. Bud went, glad of the excuse to kill the rest of the forenoon. + </p> + <p> + They took the car out and drove to Schutzen Park and back. Bud opined that + she didn't bark to suit him, and she had a knock in her cylinders that + shouted of carbon. They ran her into the garage shop and went deep into + her vitals, and because she jerked when Bud threw her into second, Bud + suspected that her bevel gears had lost a tooth or two, and was eager to + find out for sure. + </p> + <p> + Bill looked at his watch and suggested that they eat first before they got + all over grease by monkeying with the rear end. So they went to the + nearest restaurant and had smothered beefsteak and mashed potato and + coffee and pie, and while they ate they talked of gears and carburetors + and transmission and ignition troubles, all of which alleviated + temporarily Bud's case of cabin fever and caused him to forget that he was + married and had quarreled with his wife and had heard a good many unkind + things which his mother-in-law had said about him. + </p> + <p> + By the time they were back in the garage and had the grease cleaned out of + the rear gears so that they could see whether they were really burred or + broken, as Bud had suspected, the twinkle was back in his eyes, and the + smiley quirk stayed at the corners of his mouth, and when he was not + talking mechanics with Bill he was whistling. He found much lost motion + and four broken teeth, and he was grease to his eyebrows—in other + words, he was happy. + </p> + <p> + When he and Bill finally shed their borrowed overalls and caps, the garage + lights were on, and the lot behind the shop was dusky. Bud sat down on the + running board and began to figure what the actual cost of the bargain + would be when Bill had put it into good mechanical condition. New + bearings, new bevel gear, new brake, lining, rebored cylinders—they + totalled a sum that made Bill gasp. + </p> + <p> + By the time Bud had proved each item an absolute necessity, and had + reached the final ejaculation: “Aw, forget it, Bill, and buy yuh a Ford!” + it was so late that he knew Marie must have given up looking for him home + to supper. She would have taken it for granted that he had eaten down + town. So, not to disappoint her, Bud did eat down town. Then Bill wanted + him to go to a movie, and after a praiseworthy hesitation Bud yielded to + temptation and went. No use going home now, just when Marie would be + rocking the kid to sleep and wouldn't let him speak above a whisper, he + told his conscience. Might as well wait till they settled down for the + night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO. TWO MAKE A QUARREL + </h2> + <p> + At nine o'clock Bud went home. He was feeling very well satisfied with + himself for some reason which he did not try to analyze, but which was + undoubtedly his sense of having saved Bill from throwing away six hundred + dollars on a bum car; and the weight in his coat pocket of a box of + chocolates that he had bought for Marie. Poor girl, it was kinda tough on + her, all right, being tied to the house now with the kid. Next spring when + he started his run to Big Basin again, he would get a little camp in there + by the Inn, and take her along with him when the travel wasn't too heavy. + She could stay at either end of the run, just as she took a notion. + Wouldn't hurt the kid a bit—he'd be bigger then, and the outdoors + would make him grow like a pig. Thinking of these things, Bud walked + briskly, whistling as he neared the little green house, so that Marie + would know who it was, and would not be afraid when he stepped up on the + front porch. + </p> + <p> + He stopped whistling rather abruptly when he reached the house, for it was + dark. He tried the door and found it locked. The key was not in the letter + box where they always kept it for the convenience of the first one who + returned, so Bud went around to the back and climbed through the pantry + window. He fell over a chair, bumped into the table, and damned a few + things. The electric light was hung in the center of the room by a cord + that kept him groping and clutching in the dark before he finally touched + the elusive bulb with his fingers and switched on the light. + </p> + <p> + The table was set for a meal—but whether it was dinner or supper Bud + could not determine. He went into the little sleeping room and turned on + the light there, looked around the empty room, grunted, and tiptoed into + the bedroom. (In the last month he had learned to enter on his toes, lest + he waken the baby.) He might have saved himself the bother, for the baby + was not there in its new gocart. The gocart was not there, Marie was not + there—one after another these facts impressed themselves upon Bud's + mind, even before he found the letter propped against the clock in the + orthodox manner of announcing unexpected departures. Bud read the letter, + crumpled it in his fist, and threw it toward the little heating stove. “If + that's the way yuh feel about it, I'll tell the world you can go and be + darned!” he snorted, and tried to let that end the matter so far as he was + concerned. But he could not shake off the sense of having been badly used. + He did not stop to consider that while he was working off his anger, that + day, Marie had been rocking back and forth, crying and magnifying the + quarrel as she dwelt upon it, and putting a new and sinister meaning into + Bud's ill-considered utterances. By the time Bud was thinking only of the + bargain car's hidden faults, Marie had reached the white heat of + resentment that demanded vigorous action. Marie was packing a suitcase and + meditating upon the scorching letter she meant to write. + </p> + <p> + Judging from the effect which the letter had upon Bud, it must have been a + masterpiece of its kind. He threw the box of chocolates into the wood-box, + crawled out of the window by which he had entered, and went down town to a + hotel. If the house wasn't good enough for Marie, let her go. He could go + just as fast and as far as she could. And if she thought he was going to + hot-foot it over to her mother's and whine around and beg her to come + home, she had another think coming. + </p> + <p> + He wouldn't go near the darn place again, except to get his clothes. He'd + bust up the joint, by thunder. He'd sell off the furniture and turn the + house over to the agent again, and Marie could whistle for a home. She had + been darn glad to get into that house, he remembered, and away from that + old cat of a mother. Let her stay there now till she was darn good and + sick of it. He'd just keep her guessing for awhile; a week or so would do + her good. Well, he wouldn't sell the furniture—he'd just move it + into another house, and give her a darn good scare. He'd get a better one, + that had a porcelain bathtub instead of a zinc one, and a better porch, + where the kid could be out in the sun. Yes, sir, he'd just do that little + thing, and lay low and see what Marie did about that. Keep her guessing—that + was the play to make. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately for his domestic happiness, Bud failed to take into account + two very important factors in the quarrel. The first and most important + one was Marie's mother, who, having been a widow for fifteen years and + therefore having acquired a habit of managing affairs that even remotely + concerned her, assumed that Marie's affairs must be managed also. The + other factor was Marie's craving to be coaxed back to smiles by the man + who drove her to tears. Marie wanted Bud to come and say he was sorry, and + had been a brute and so forth. She wanted to hear him tell how empty the + house had seemed when he returned and found her gone. She wanted him to be + good and scared with that letter. She stayed awake until after midnight, + listening for his anxious footsteps; after midnight she stayed awake to + cry over the inhuman way he was treating her, and to wish she was dead, + and so forth; also because the baby woke and wanted his bottle, and she + was teaching him to sleep all night without it, and because the baby had a + temper just like his father. + </p> + <p> + His father's temper would have yielded a point or two, the next day, had + it been given the least encouragement. For instance, he might have gone + over to see Marie before he moved the furniture out of the house, had he + not discovered an express wagon standing in front of the door when he went + home about noon to see if Marie had come back. Before he had recovered to + the point of profane speech, the express man appeared, coming out of the + house, bent nearly double under the weight of Marie's trunk. Behind him in + the doorway Bud got a glimpse of Marie's mother. + </p> + <p> + That settled it. Bud turned around and hurried to the nearest drayage + company, and ordered a domestic wrecking crew to the scene; in other + words, a packer and two draymen and a dray. He'd show 'em. Marie and her + mother couldn't put anything over on him—he'd stand over that + furniture with a sheriff first. + </p> + <p> + He went back and found Marie's mother still there, packing dishes and + doilies and the like. They had a terrible row, and all the nearest + neighbors inclined ears to doors ajar—getting an earful, as Bud + contemptuously put it. He finally led Marie's mother to the front door and + set her firmly outside. Told her that Marie had come to him with no more + than the clothes she had, and that his money had bought every teaspoon and + every towel and every stick of furniture in the darned place, and he'd be + everlastingly thus-and-so if they were going to strong-arm the stuff off + him now. If Marie was too good to live with him, why, his stuff was too + good for her to have. + </p> + <p> + Oh, yes, the neighbors certainly got an earful, as the town gossips proved + when the divorce suit seeped into the papers. Bud refused to answer the + proceedings, and was therefore ordered to pay twice as much alimony as he + could afford to pay; more, in fact, than all his domestic expense had + amounted to in the fourteen months that he had been married. Also Marie + was awarded the custody of the child and, because Marie's mother had + represented Bud to be a violent man who was a menace to her daughter's + safety—and proved it by the neighbors who had seen and heard so much—Bud + was served with a legal paper that wordily enjoined him from annoying + Marie with his presence. + </p> + <p> + That unnecessary insult snapped the last thread of Bud's regret for what + had happened. He sold the furniture and the automobile, took the money to + the judge that had tried the case, told the judge a few wholesome truths, + and laid the pile of money on the desk. + </p> + <p> + “That cleans me out, Judge,” he said stolidly. “I wasn't such a bad + husband, at that. I got sore—but I'll bet you get sore yourself and + tell your wife what-for, now and then. I didn't get a square deal, but + that's all right. I'm giving a better deal than I got. Now you can keep + that money and pay it out to Marie as she needs it, for herself and the + kid. But for the Lord's sake, Judge, don't let that wildcat of a mother of + hers get her fingers into the pile! She framed this deal, thinking she'd + get a haul outa me this way. I'm asking you to block that little game. + I've held out ten dollars, to eat on till I strike something. I'm clean; + they've licked the platter and broke the dish. So don't never ask me to + dig up any more, because I won't—not for you nor no other darn man. + Get that.” + </p> + <p> + This, you must know, was not in the courtroom, so Bud was not fined for + contempt. The judge was a married man himself, and he may have had a + sympathetic understanding of Bud's position. At any rate he listened + unofficially, and helped Bud out with the legal part of it, so that Bud + walked out of the judge's office financially free, even though he had a + suspicion that his freedom would not bear the test of prosperity, and that + Marie's mother would let him alone only so long as he and prosperity were + strangers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE. TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD + </h2> + <p> + To withhold for his own start in life only one ten-dollar bill from + fifteen hundred dollars was spectacular enough to soothe even so bruised + an ego as Bud Moore carried into the judge's office. There is an anger + which carries a person to the extreme of self-sacrifice, in the + subconscious hope of exciting pity for one so hardly used. Bud was boiling + with such an anger, and it demanded that he should all but give Marie the + shirt off his back, since she had demanded so much—and for so slight + a cause. + </p> + <p> + Bud could not see for the life of him why Marie should have quit for that + little ruction. It was not their first quarrel, nor their worst; certainly + he had not expected it to be their last. Why, he asked the high heavens, + had she told him to bring home a roll of cotton, if she was going to leave + him? Why had she turned her back on that little home, that had seemed to + mean as much to her as it had to him? + </p> + <p> + Being kin to primitive man, Bud could only bellow rage when he should have + analyzed calmly the situation. He should have seen that Marie too had + cabin fever, induced by changing too suddenly from carefree girlhood to + the ills and irks of wifehood and motherhood. He should have known that + she had been for two months wholly dedicated to the small physical wants + of their baby, and that if his nerves were fraying with watching that + incessant servitude, her own must be close to the snapping point; had + snapped, when dusk did not bring him home repentant. + </p> + <p> + But he did not know, and so he blamed Marie bitterly for the wreck of + their home, and he flung down all his worldly goods before her, and + marched off feeling self-consciously proud of his martyrdom. It soothed + him paradoxically to tell himself that he was “cleaned”; that Marie had + ruined him absolutely, and that he was just ten dollars and a decent suit + or two of clothes better off than a tramp. He was tempted to go back and + send the ten dollars after the rest of the fifteen hundred, but good sense + prevailed. He would have to borrow money for his next meal, if he did + that, and Bud was touchy about such things. + </p> + <p> + He kept the ten dollars therefore, and went down to the garage where he + felt most at home, and stood there with his hands in his pockets and the + corners of his mouth tipped downward—normally they had a way of + tipping upward, as though he was secretly amused at something—and + his eyes sullen, though they carried tiny lines at the corners to show how + they used to twinkle. He took the ten-dollar bank note from his pocket, + straightened out the wrinkles and looked at it disdainfully. As plainly as + though he spoke, his face told what he was thinking about it: that this + was what a woman had brought him to! He crumpled it up and made a gesture + as though he would throw it into the street, and a man behind him laughed + abruptly. Bud scowled and turned toward him a belligerent glance, and the + man stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun. + </p> + <p> + “If you've got money to throw to the birds, brother, I guess I won't make + the proposition I was going to make. Thought I could talk business to you, + maybe—but I guess I better tie a can to that idea.” + </p> + <p> + Bud grunted and put the ten dollars in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “What idea's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, driving a car I'm taking south. Sprained my shoulder, and don't feel + like tackling it myself. They tell me in here that you aren't doing + anything now—” He made the pause that asks for an answer. + </p> + <p> + “They told you right. I've done it.” + </p> + <p> + The man's eyebrows lifted, but since Bud did not explain, he went on with + his own explanation. + </p> + <p> + “You don't remember me, but I rode into Big Basin with you last summer. I + know you can drive, and it doesn't matter a lot whether it's asphalt or + cow trail you drive over.” + </p> + <p> + Bud was in too sour a mood to respond to the flattery. He did not even + grunt. + </p> + <p> + “Could you take a car south for me? There'll be night driving, and bad + roads, maybe—” + </p> + <p> + “If you know what you say you know about my driving, what's the idea—asking + me if I can?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, put it another way. Will you?” + </p> + <p> + “You're on. Where's the car? Here?” Bud sent a seeking look into the + depths of the garage. He knew every car in there. “What is there in it for + me?” he added perfunctorily, because he would have gone just for sake of + getting a free ride rather than stay in San Jose over night. + </p> + <p> + “There's good money in it, if you can drive with your mouth shut. This + isn't any booster parade. Fact is—let's walk to the depot, while I + tell you.” He stepped out of the doorway, and Bud gloomily followed him. + “Little trouble with my wife,” the man explained apologetically. “Having + me shadowed, and all that sort of thing. And I've got business south and + want to be left alone to do it. Darn these women!” he exploded suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Bud mentally said amen, but kept his mouth shut upon his sympathy with the + sentiment. + </p> + <p> + “Foster's my name. Now here's a key to the garage at this address.” He + handed Bud a padlock key and an address scribbled on a card. “That's my + place in Oakland, out by Lake Merritt. You go there to-night, get the car, + and have it down at the Broadway Wharf to meet the 11:30 boat—the + one the theater crowd uses. Have plenty of gas and oil; there won't be any + stops after we start. Park out pretty well near the shore end as close as + you can get to that ten-foot gum sign, and be ready to go when I climb in. + I may have a friend with me. You know Oakland?” + </p> + <p> + “Fair to middling. I can get around by myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's all right. I've got to go back to the city—catching + the next train. You better take the two-fifty to Oakland. Here's money for + whatever expense there is. And say! put these number plates in your + pocket, and take off the ones on the car. I bought these of a fellow that + had a smash—they'll do for the trip. Put them on, will you? She's + wise to the car number, of course. Put the plates you take off under the + seat cushion; don't leave 'em. Be just as careful as if it was a + life-and-death matter, will you? I've got a big deal on, down there, and I + don't want her spilling the beans just to satisfy a grudge—which she + would do in a minute. So don't fail to be at the ferry, parked so you can + slide out easy. Get down there by that big gum sign. I'll find you, all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be there.” Bud thrust the key and another ten dollars into his + pocket and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “And don't say anything—” + </p> + <p> + “Do I look like an open-faced guy?” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed. “Not much, or I wouldn't have picked you for the trip.” + He hurried down to the depot platform, for his train was already + whistling, farther down the yards. + </p> + <p> + Bud looked after him, the corners of his mouth taking their normal, upward + tilt. It began to look as though luck had not altogether deserted him, in + spite of the recent blow it had given. He slid the wrapped number plates + into the inside pocket of his overcoat, pushed his hands deep into his + pockets, and walked up to the cheap hotel which had been his bleak + substitute for a home during his trouble. He packed everything he owned—a + big suitcase held it all by squeezing—paid his bill at the office, + accepted a poor cigar, and in return said, yes, he was going to strike out + and look for work; and took the train for Oakland. + </p> + <p> + A street car landed him within two blocks of the address on the tag, and + Bud walked through thickening fog and dusk to the place. Foster had a + good-looking house, he observed. Set back on the middle of two lots, it + was, with a cement drive sloping up from the street to the garage backed + against the alley. Under cover of lighting a cigarette, he inspected the + place before he ventured farther. The blinds were drawn down—at + least upon the side next the drive. On the other he thought he caught a + gleam of light at the rear; rather, the beam that came from a gleam of + light in Foster's dining room or kitchen shining on the next house. But he + was not certain of it, and the absolute quiet reassured him so that he + went up the drive, keeping on the grass border until he reached the + garage. This, he told himself, was just like a woman—raising the + deuce around so that a man had to sneak into his own place to get his own + car out of his own garage. If Foster was up against the kind of deal Bud + had been up against, he sure had Bud's sympathy, and he sure would get the + best help Bud was capable of giving him. + </p> + <p> + The key fitted the lock, and Bud went in, set down his suitcase, and + closed the door after him. It was dark as a pocket in there, save where a + square of grayness betrayed a window. Bud felt his way to the side of the + car, groped to the robe rail, found a heavy, fringed robe, and curtained + the window until he could see no thread of light anywhere; after which he + ventured to use his flashlight until he had found the switch and turned on + the light. + </p> + <p> + There was a little side door at the back, and it was fastened on the + inside with a stout hook. Bud thought for a minute, took a long chance, + and let himself out into the yard, closing the door after him. He walked + around the garage to the front and satisfied himself that the light inside + did not show. Then he went around the back of the house and found that he + had not been mistaken about the light. The house was certainly occupied, + and like the neighboring houses seemed concerned only with the dinner hour + of the inmates. He went back, hooked the little door on the inside, and + began a careful inspection of the car he was to drive. + </p> + <p> + It was a big, late-modeled touring car, of the kind that sells for nearly + five thousand dollars. Bud's eyes lightened with satisfaction when he + looked at it. There would be pleasure as well as profit in driving this + old girl to Los Angeles, he told himself. It fairly made his mouth water + to look at her standing there. He got in and slid behind the wheel and + fingered the gear lever, and tested the clutch and the foot brake—not + because he doubted them, but because he had a hankering to feel their + smoothness of operation. Bud loved a good car just as he had loved a good + horse in the years behind him. Just as he used to walk around a good horse + and pat its sleek shoulder and feel the hard muscles of its trim legs, so + now he made love to this big car. Let that old hen of Foster's crab the + trip south? He should sa-a-ay not! + </p> + <p> + There did not seem to be a thing that he could do to her, but nevertheless + he got down and, gave all the grease cups a turn, removed the number + plates and put them under the rear seat cushion, inspected the gas tank + and the oil gauge and the fanbelt and the radiator, turned back the + trip-mileage to zero—professional driving had made Bud careful as a + taxi driver about recording the mileage of a trip—looked at the + clock set in the instrument board, and pondered. + </p> + <p> + What if the old lady took a notion to drive somewhere? She would miss the + car and raise a hullabaloo, and maybe crab the whole thing in the start. + In that case, Bud decided that the best way would be to let her go. He + could pile on to the empty trunk rack behind, and manage somehow to get + off with the car when she stopped. Still, there was not much chance of her + going out in the fog—and now that he listened, he heard the drip of + rain. No, there was not much chance. Foster had not seemed to think there + was any chance of the car being in use, and Foster ought to know. He would + wait until about ten-thirty, to play safe, and then go. + </p> + <p> + Rain spelled skid chains to Bud. He looked in the tool box, found a set, + and put them on. Then, because he was not going to take any chances, he + put another set, that he found hanging up, on the front wheels. After that + he turned out the light, took down the robe and wrapped himself in it, and + laid himself down on the rear seat to wait for ten-thirty. + </p> + <p> + He dozed, and the next he knew there was a fumbling at the door in front, + and the muttering of a voice. Bud slid noiselessly out of the car and + under it, head to the rear where he could crawl out quickly. The voice + sounded like a man, and presently the door opened and Bud was sure of it. + He caught a querulous sentence or two. + </p> + <p> + “Door left unlocked—the ignorant hound—Good thing I don't + trust him too far—” Some one came fumbling in and switched on the + light. “Careless hound—told him to be careful—never even put + the robe on the rail where it belongs—and then they howl about the + way they're treated! Want more wages—don't earn what they do get—” + </p> + <p> + Bud, twisting his head, saw a pair of slippered feet beside the running + board. The owner of the slippers was folding the robe and laying it over + the rail, and grumbling to himself all the while. “Have to come out in the + rain—daren't trust him an inch—just like him to go off and + leave the door unlocked—” With a last grunt or two the mumbling + ceased. The light was switched off, and Bud heard the doors pulled shut, + and the rattle of the padlock and chain. He waited another minute and + crawled out. + </p> + <p> + “Might have told me there was a father-in-law in the outfit,” he grumbled + to himself. “Big a butt-in as Marie's mother, at that. Huh. Never saw my + suit case, never noticed the different numbers, never got next to the + chains—huh! Regular old he-hen, and I sure don't blame Foster for + wanting to tie a can to the bunch.” + </p> + <p> + Very cautiously he turned his flashlight on the face of the automobile + clock. The hour hand stood a little past ten, and Bud decided he had + better go. He would have to fill the gas tank, and get more oil, and he + wanted to test the air in his tires. No stops after they started, said + Foster; Bud had set his heart on showing Foster something in the way of + getting a car over the road. + </p> + <p> + Father-in-law would holler if he heard the car, but Bud did not intend + that father-in-law should hear it. He would much rather run the gauntlet + of that driveway then wait in the dark any longer. He remembered the slope + down to the street, and grinned contentedly. He would give father-in-law a + chance to throw a fit, next morning. + </p> + <p> + He set his suit case in the tonneau, went out of the little door, edged + around to the front and very, very cautiously he unlocked the big doors + and set them open. He went in and felt the front wheels, judged that they + were set straight, felt around the interior until his fingers touched a + block of wood and stepped off the approximate length of the car in front + of the garage, allowing for the swing of the doors, and placed the block + there. Then he went back, eased off the emergency brake, grabbed a good + handhold and strained forward. + </p> + <p> + The chains hindered, but the floor sloped to the front a trifle, which + helped. In a moment he had the satisfaction of feeling the big car give, + then roll slowly ahead. The front wheels dipped down over the threshold, + and Bud stepped upon the running board, took the wheel, and by instinct + more than by sight guided her through the doorway without a scratch. She + rolled forward like a black shadow until a wheel jarred against the block, + whereupon he set the emergency brake and got off, breathing free once + more. He picked up the block and carried it back, quietly closed the big + doors and locked them, taking time to do it silently. Then, in a glow of + satisfaction with his work, he climbed slowly into the car, settled down + luxuriously in the driver's seat, eased off the brake, and with a little + lurch of his body forward started the car rolling down the driveway. + </p> + <p> + There was a risk, of course, in coasting out on to the street with no + lights, but he took it cheerfully, planning to dodge if he saw the lights + of another car coming. It pleased him to remember that the street inclined + toward the bay. He rolled past the house without a betraying sound, dipped + over the curb to the asphalt, swung the car townward, and coasted nearly + half a block with the ignition switch on before he pushed up the throttle, + let in his clutch, and got the answering chug-chug of the engine. With the + lights on full he went purring down the street in the misty fog, pleased + with himself and his mission. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR. HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING + </h2> + <p> + At a lunch wagon down near the water front, Bud stopped and bought two + “hot dog” sandwiches and a mug of hot coffee boiled with milk in it and + sweetened with three cubes of sugar. “O-oh, boy!” he ejaculated gleefully + when he set his teeth into biscuit and hot hamburger. Leaning back + luxuriously in the big car, he ate and drank until he could eat and drink + no more. Then, with a bag of bananas on the seat beside him, he drove on + down to the mole, searching through the drizzle for the big gum sign which + Foster had named. Just even with the coughing engine of a waiting through + train he saw it, and backed in against the curb, pointing the car's + radiator toward the mainland. He had still half an hour to wait, and he + buttoned on the curtains of the car, since a wind from across the bay was + sending the drizzle slantwise; moreover it occurred to him that Foster + would not object to the concealment while they were passing through + Oakland. Then he listlessly ate a banana while he waited. + </p> + <p> + The hoarse siren of a ferryboat bellowed through the murk. Bud started the + engine, throttled it down to his liking, and left it to warm up for the + flight. He ate another banana, thinking lazily that he wished he owned + this car. For the first time in many a day his mind was not filled and + boiling over with his trouble. Marie and all the bitterness she had come + to mean to him receded into the misty background of his mind and hovered + there, an indistinct memory of something painful in his life. + </p> + <p> + A street car slipped past, bobbing down the track like a duck sailing over + ripples. A local train clanged down to the depot and stood jangling its + bell while it disgorged passengers for the last boat to the City whose + wall of stars was hidden behind the drizzle and the clinging fog. People + came straggling down the sidewalk—not many, for few had business + with the front end of the waiting trains. Bud pushed the throttle up a + little. His fingers dropped down to the gear lever, his foot snuggled + against the clutch pedal. + </p> + <p> + Feet came hurrying. Two voices mumbled together. “Here he is,” said one. + “That's the number I gave him.” Bud felt some one step hurriedly upon the + running board. The tonneau door was yanked open. A man puffed audibly + behind him. “Yuh ready?” Foster's voice hissed in Bud's ear. + </p> + <p> + “R'aring to go.” Bud heard the second man get in and shut the door, and he + jerked the gear lever into low. His foot came gently back with the clutch, + and the car slid out and away. + </p> + <p> + Foster settled back on the cushions with a sigh. The other man was + fumbling the side curtains, swearing under his breath when his fingers + bungled the fastenings. + </p> + <p> + “Everything all ready?” Foster's voice was strident with anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Sure thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, head south—any road you know best. And keep going, till I + tell you to stop. How's the oil and gas?” + </p> + <p> + “Full up. Gas enough for three hundred miles. Extra gallon of oil in the + car. What d'yah want—the speed limit through town?” + </p> + <p> + “Nah. Side streets, if you know any. They might get quick action and + telephone ahead.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave it to me, brother.” + </p> + <p> + Bud did not know for sure, never having been pursued; but it seemed to him + that a straightaway course down a main street where other cars were + scudding homeward would be the safest route, because the simplest. He did + not want any side streets in his, he decided—and maybe run into a + mess of street-improvement litter, and have to back trail around it. He + held the car to a hurry-home pace that was well within the law, and worked + into the direct route to Hayward. He sensed that either Foster or his + friend turned frequently to look back through the square celluloid window, + but he did not pay much attention to them, for the streets were greasy + with wet, and not all drivers would equip with four skid chains. Keeping + sharp lookout for skidding cars and unexpected pedestrians and street-car + crossings and the like fully occupied Bud. + </p> + <p> + For all that, an occasional mutter came unheeded to his ears, the closed + curtains preserving articulate sounds like room walls. + </p> + <p> + “He's all right,” he heard Foster whisper once. “Better than if he was in + on it.” He did not know that Foster was speaking of him. + </p> + <p> + “—if he gets next,” the friend mumbled. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, quit your worrying,” Foster grunted. “The trick's turned; that's + something.” + </p> + <p> + Bud was under the impression that they were talking about father-in-law, + who had called Foster a careless hound; but whether they were or not + concerned him so little that his own thoughts never flagged in their + shuttle-weaving through his mind. The mechanics of handling the big car + and getting the best speed out of her with the least effort and risk, the + tearing away of the last link of his past happiness and his grief; the + feeling that this night was the real parting between him and Marie, the + real stepping out into the future; the future itself, blank beyond the end + of this trip, these were quite enough to hold Bud oblivious to the + conversation of strangers. + </p> + <p> + At dawn they neared a little village. Through this particular county the + road was unpaved and muddy, and the car was a sight to behold. The only + clean spot was on the windshield, where Bud had reached around once or + twice with a handful of waste and cleaned a place to see through. It was + raining soddenly, steadily, as though it always had rained and always + would rain. + </p> + <p> + Bud turned his face slightly to one side. “How about stopping; I'll have + to feed her some oil—and it wouldn't hurt to fill the gas tank + again. These heavy roads eat up a lot of extra power. What's her average + mileage on a gallon, Foster?” + </p> + <p> + “How the deuce should I know?” Foster snapped, just coming out of a doze. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to know, with your own car—and gas costing what it does.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—ah—what was it you asked?” Foster yawned aloud. “I musta + been asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you musta been, all right,” Bud grunted. “Do you want breakfast + here, or don't you? I've got to stop for gas and oil; that's what I was + asking?” + </p> + <p> + The two consulted together, and finally told Bud to stop at the first + garage and get his oil and gas. After that he could drive to a drug store + and buy a couple of thermos bottles, and after that he could go to the + nearest restaurant and get the bottles filled with black coffee, and have + lunch put up for six people. Foster and his friend would remain in the + car. + </p> + <p> + Bud did these things, revising the plan to the extent of eating his own + breakfast at the counter in the restaurant while the lunch was being + prepared in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + From where he sat he could look across at the muddy car standing before a + closed millinery-and-drygoods store. It surely did not look much like the + immaculate machine he had gloated over the evening before, but it was a + powerful, big brute of a car and looked its class in every line. Bud was + proud to drive a car like that. The curtains were buttoned down tight, and + he thought amusedly of the two men huddled inside, shivering and hungry, + yet refusing to come in and get warmed up with a decent breakfast. Foster, + he thought, must certainly be scared of his wife, if he daren't show + himself in this little rube town. For the first time Bud had a vagrant + suspicion that Foster had not told quite all there was to tell about this + trip. Bud wondered now if Foster was not going to meet a “Jane” somewhere + in the South. That terrifying Mann Act would account for his caution much + better than would the business deal of which Foster had hinted. + </p> + <p> + Of course, Bud told himself while the waiter refilled his coffee cup, it + was none of his business what Foster had up his sleeve. He wanted to get + somewhere quickly and quietly, and Bud was getting him there. That was all + he need to consider. Warmed and once more filled with a sense of + well-being, Bud made himself a cigarette before the lunch was ready, and + with his arms full of food he went out and across the street. Just before + he reached the car one of the thermos bottles started to slide down under + his elbow. Bud attempted to grip it against his ribs, but the thing had + developed a slipperiness that threatened the whole load, so he stopped to + rearrange his packages, and got an irritated sentence or two from his + passengers. + </p> + <p> + “Giving yourself away like that! Why couldn't you fake up a mileage? + Everybody lies or guesses about the gas—” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, what's the difference? The simp ain't next to anything. He thinks I + own it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't make the mistake of thinking he's a sheep. Once he—” + </p> + <p> + Bud suddenly remembered that he wanted something more from the restaurant, + and returned forth-with, slipping thermos bottle and all. He bought two + packages of chewing gum to while away the time when he could not handily + smoke, and when he returned to the car he went muttering disapproving + remarks about the rain and the mud and the bottles. He poked his head + under the front curtain and into a glum silence. The two men leaned back + into the two corners of the wide seat, with their heads drawn down into + their coat collars and their hands thrust under the robe. Foster reached + forward and took a thermos bottle, his partner seized another. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you might get us a bottle of good whisky, too,” said Foster, holding + out a small gold piece between his gloved thumb and finger. “Be quick + about it though—we want to be traveling. Lord, it's cold!” + </p> + <p> + Bud went into a saloon a few doors up the street, and was back presently + with the bottle and the change. There being nothing more to detain them + there, he kicked some of the mud off his feet, scraped off the rest on the + edge of the running board and climbed in, fastening the curtain against + the storm. “Lovely weather,” he grunted sarcastically. “Straight on to + Bakersfield, huh?” + </p> + <p> + There was a minute of silence save for the gurgling of liquid running out + of a bottle into an eager mouth. Bud laid an arm along the back of his + seat and waited, his head turned toward them. “Where are you fellows + going, anyway?” he asked impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Los An—” the stranger gurgled, still drinking. + </p> + <p> + “Yuma!” snapped Foster. “You shut up, Mert. I'm running this.” + </p> + <p> + “Better—” + </p> + <p> + “Yuma. You hit the shortest trail for Yuma, Bud. I'm running this.” + </p> + <p> + Foster seemed distinctly out of humor. He told Mert again to shut up, and + Mert did so grumblingly, but somewhat diverted and consoled, Bud fancied, + by the sandwiches and coffee—and the whisky too, he guessed. For + presently there was an odor from the uncorked bottle in the car. + </p> + <p> + Bud started and drove steadily on through the rain that never ceased. The + big car warmed his heart with its perfect performance, its smooth, + effortless speed, its ease of handling. He had driven too long and too + constantly to tire easily, and he was almost tempted to settle down to + sheer enjoyment in driving such a car. Last night he had enjoyed it, but + last night was not to-day. + </p> + <p> + He wished he had not overheard so much, or else had overheard more. He was + inclined to regret his retreat from the acrimonious voices as being + premature. Just why was he a simp, for instance? Was it because he thought + Foster owned the car? Bud wondered whether father-in-law had not bought + it, after all. Now that he began thinking from a different angle, he + remembered that father-in-law had behaved very much like the proud + possessor of a new car. It really did not look plausible that he would + come out in the drizzle to see if Foster's car was safely locked in for + the night. There had been, too, a fussy fastidiousness in the way the robe + had been folded and hung over the rail. No man would do that for some + other man's property, unless he was paid for it. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore, Bud finally concluded that Foster was not above helping himself + to family property. On the whole, Bud did not greatly disapprove of that; + he was too actively resentful of his own mother-in-law. He was not sure + but he might have done something of the sort himself, if his mother-in-law + had possessed a six-thousand-dollar car. Still, such a car generally means + a good deal to the owner, and he did not wonder that Foster was nervous + about it. + </p> + <p> + But in the back of his mind there lurked a faint dissatisfaction with this + easy explanation. It occurred to him that if there was going to be any + trouble about the car, he might be involved beyond the point of comfort. + After all, he did not know Foster, and he had no more reason for believing + Foster's story than he had for doubting. For all he knew, it might not be + a wife that Foster was so afraid of. + </p> + <p> + Bud was not stupid. He was merely concerned chiefly with his own affairs—a + common enough failing, surely. But now that he had thought himself into a + mental eddy where his own affairs offered no new impulse toward emotion, + he turned over and over in his mind the mysterious trip he was taking. It + had come to seem just a little too mysterious to suit him, and when Bud + Moore was not suited he was apt to do something about it. + </p> + <p> + What he did in this case was to stop in Bakersfield at a garage that had a + combination drugstore and news-stand next door. He explained shortly to + his companions that he had to stop and buy a road map and that he wouldn't + be long, and crawled out into the rain. At the open doorway of the garage + he turned and looked at the car. No, it certainly did not look in the + least like the machine he had driven down to the Oakland mole—except, + of course, that it was big and of the same make. It might have been empty, + too, for all the sign it gave of being occupied. Foster and Mert evidently + had no intention whatever of showing themselves. + </p> + <p> + Bud went into the drugstore, remained there for five minutes perhaps, and + emerged with a morning paper which he rolled up and put into his pocket. + He had glanced through its feature news, and had read hastily one + front-page article that had nothing whatever to do with the war, but told + about the daring robbery of a jewelry store in San Francisco the night + before. + </p> + <p> + The safe, it seemed, had been opened almost in plain sight of the street + crowds, with the lights full on in the store. A clever arrangement of two + movable mirrors had served to shield the thief—or thieves. For no + longer than two or three minutes, it seemed, the lights had been off, and + it was thought that the raiders had used the interval of darkness to move + the mirrors into position. Which went far toward proving that the crime + had been carefully planned in advance. Furthermore, the article stated + with some assurance that trusted employees were involved. + </p> + <p> + Bud also had glanced at the news items of less importance, and had been + startled enough—yet not so much surprised as he would have been a + few hours earlier—to read, under the caption: DARING THIEF STEALS + COSTLY CAR, to learn that a certain rich man of Oakland had lost his new + automobile. The address of the bereaved man had been given, and Bud's + heart had given a flop when he read it. The details of the theft had not + been told, but Bud never noticed their absence. His memory supplied all + that for him with sufficient vividness. + </p> + <p> + He rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and with the paper stuffed carelessly + into his pocket he went to the car, climbed in, and drove on to the south, + just as matter-of-factly as though he had not just then discovered that + he, Bud Moore, had stolen a six-thousand-dollar automobile the night + before. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE. BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES + </h2> + <p> + They went on and on, through the rain and the wind, sometimes through the + mud as well, where the roads were not paved. Foster had almost pounced + upon the newspaper when he discovered it in Bud's pocket as he climbed in, + and Bud knew that the two read that feature article avidly. But if they + had any comments to make, they saved them for future privacy. Beyond a few + muttered sentences they were silent. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not care whether they talked or not. They might have talked + themselves hoarse, when it came to that, without changing his opinions or + his attitude toward them. He had started out the most unsuspecting of men, + and now he was making up for it by suspecting Foster and Mert of being + robbers and hypocrites and potential murderers. He could readily imagine + them shooting him in the back of the head while he drove, if that would + suit their purpose, or if they thought that he suspected them. + </p> + <p> + He kept reviewing his performance in that garage. Had he really intended + to steal the car, he would not have had the nerve to take the chances he + had taken. He shivered when he recalled how he had slid under the car when + the owner came in. What if the man had seen him or heard him? He would be + in jail now, instead of splashing along the highway many miles to the + south. For that matter, he was likely to land in jail, anyway, before he + was done with Foster, unless he did some pretty close figuring. Wherefore + he drove with one part of his brain, and with the other he figured upon + how he was going to get out of the mess himself—and land Foster and + Mert deep in the middle of it. For such was his vengeful desire. + </p> + <p> + After an hour or so, when his stomach began to hint that it was eating + time for healthy men, he slowed down and turned his head toward the + tonneau. There they were, hunched down under the robe, their heads drawn + into their collars like two turtles half asleep on a mud bank. + </p> + <p> + “Say, how about some lunch?” he demanded. “Maybe you fellows can get along + on whisky and sandwiches, but I'm doing the work; and if you notice, I've + been doing it for about twelve hours now without any let-up. There's a + town ahead here a ways—” + </p> + <p> + “Drive around it, then,” growled Foster, lifting his chin to stare ahead + through the fogged windshield. “We've got hot coffee here, and there's + plenty to eat. Enough for two meals. How far have we come since we + started?” + </p> + <p> + “Far enough to be called crazy if we go much farther without a square + meal,” Bud snapped. Then he glanced at the rumpled newspaper and added + carelessly, “Anything new in the paper?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Mert spoke up sharply. “Go on. You're doing all right so far—don't + spoil it by laying down on your job!” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, go on!” Foster urged. “We'll stop when we get away from this darn + burg, and you can rest your legs a little while we eat.” + </p> + <p> + Bud went on, straight through the middle of the town without stopping. + They scurried down a long, dismal lane toward a low-lying range of hills + pertly wooded with bald patches of barren earth and rock. Beyond were + mountains which Bud guessed was the Tehachapi range. Beyond them, he + believed he would find desert and desertion. He had never been over this + road before, so he could no more than guess. He knew that the ridge road + led to Los Angeles, and he did not want anything of that road. Too many + travelers. He swung into a decent-looking road that branched off to the + left, wondering where it led, but not greatly caring. He kept that road + until they had climbed over a ridge or two and were in the mountains. + Soaked wilderness lay all about them, green in places where grass would + grow, brushy in places, barren and scarred with outcropping ledges, + pencilled with wire fences drawn up over high knolls. + </p> + <p> + In a sequestered spot where the road hugged close the concave outline of a + bushy bluff, Bud slowed and turned out behind a fringe of bushes, and + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “This is safe enough,” he announced, “and my muscles are kinda crampy. + I'll tell the world that's been quite some spell of straight driving.” + </p> + <p> + Mert grunted, but Foster was inclined to cheerfulness. “You're some + driver, Bud. I've got to hand it to you.” + </p> + <p> + Bud grinned. “All right, I'll take it—half of it, anyway, if you + don't mind. You must remember I don't know you fellows. Most generally I + collect half in advance, on a long trip like this.” Foster's eyes opened, + but he reached obediently inside his coat. Mert growled inaudible comments + upon Bud's nerve. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we can't kick, Mert,” Foster smoothed him down diplomatically. “He's + delivered the goods, so far. And he certainly does know how to put a car + over the road. He don't know us, remember!” + </p> + <p> + Mert grunted again and subsided. Foster extracted a bank note from his + bill-folder, which Bud observed had a prosperous plumpness, and held it + out to Bud. + </p> + <p> + “I guess fifty dollars won't hurt your feelings, will it, brother? That's + more than you'd charge for twice the trip, but we appreciate a tight + mouth, and the hurry-up trip you've made of it, and all that It's special + work, and we're willing to pay a special price. See?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure. But I only want half, right now. Maybe,” he added with the lurking + twinkle in his eyes, “I won't suit yuh quite so well the rest of the way. + I'll have to go b'-guess and b'-gosh from here on. I've got some change + left from what I bought for yuh this morning too. Wait till I check up.” + </p> + <p> + Very precisely he did so, and accepted enough from Foster to make up the + amount to twenty-five dollars. He was tempted to take more. For one minute + he even contemplated holding the two up and taking enough to salve his + hurt pride and his endangered reputation. But he did not do anything of + the sort, of course; let's believe he was too honest to do it even in + revenge for the scurvy trick they had played him. + </p> + <p> + He ate a generous lunch of sandwiches and dill pickles and a wedge of + tasteless cocoanut cake, and drank half a pint or so of the hot, black + coffee, and felt more cheerful. + </p> + <p> + “Want to get down and stretch your legs? I've got to take a look at the + tires, anyway. Thought she was riding like one was kinda flat, the last + few miles.” + </p> + <p> + They climbed out stiffly into the rain, stood around the car and stared at + it and at Bud testing his tires, and walked off down the road for a little + distance where they stood talking earnestly together. From the corner of + his eye Bud caught Mert tilting his head that way, and smiled to himself. + Of course they were talking about him! Any fool would know that much. Also + they were discussing the best means of getting rid of him, or of saddling + upon him the crime of stealing the car, or some other angle at which he + touched their problem. + </p> + <p> + Under cover of testing the rear wheel farthest from them, he peeked into + the tonneau and took a good look at the small traveling bag they had kept + on the seat between them all the way. He wished he dared—But they + were coming back, as if they would not trust him too long alone with that + bag. He bent again to the tire, and when they climbed back into the + curtained car he was getting the pump tubing out to pump up that + particular tire a few pounds. + </p> + <p> + They did not pay much attention to him. They seemed preoccupied and not + too friendly with each other, Bud thought. Their general air of gloom he + could of course lay to the weather and the fact that they had been + traveling for about fourteen hours without any rest; but there was + something more than that in the atmosphere. He thought they had disagreed, + and that he was the subject of their disagreement. + </p> + <p> + He screwed down the valve cap, coiled the pump tube and stowed it away in + the tool box, opened the gas tank, and looked in—and right there he + did something else; something that would have spelled disaster if either + of them had seen him do it. He spilled a handful of little round white + objects like marbles into the tank before he screwed on the cap, and from + his pocket he pulled a little paper box, crushed it in his hand, and threw + it as far as he could into the bushes. Then, whistling just above his + breath, which was a habit with Bud when his work was going along + pleasantly, he scraped the mud off his feet, climbed in, and drove on down + the road. + </p> + <p> + The big car picked up speed on the down grade, racing along as though the + short rest had given it a fresh enthusiasm for the long road that wound in + and out and up and down and seemed to have no end. As though he joyed in + putting her over the miles, Bud drove. Came a hill, he sent her up it with + a devil-may-care confidence, swinging around curves with a squall of the + powerful horn that made cattle feeding half a mile away on the slopes lift + their startled heads and look. + </p> + <p> + “How much longer are you good for, Bud?” Foster leaned forward to ask, his + tone flattering with the praise that was in it. + </p> + <p> + “Me? As long as this old boat will travel,” Bud flung back gleefully, + giving her a little more speed as they rocked over a culvert and sped away + to the next hill. He chuckled, but Foster had settled back again + satisfied, and did not notice. + </p> + <p> + Halfway up the next hill the car slowed suddenly, gave a snort, gasped + twice as Bud retarded the spark to help her out, and, died. She was a + heavy car to hold on that stiff grade, and in spite of the full emergency + brake helped out with the service brake, she inched backward until the + rear wheels came full against a hump across the road and held. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not say anything; your efficient chauffeur reserves his eloquence + for something more complex than a dead engine. He took down the curtain on + that side, leaned out into the rain and inspected the road behind him, + shifted into reverse, and backed to the bottom. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong?” Foster leaned forward to ask senselessly. + </p> + <p> + “When I hit level ground, I'm going to find out,” Bud retorted, still + watching the road and steering with one hand. “Does the old girl ever cut + up with you on hills?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—no. She never has,” Foster answered dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Reason I asked, she didn't just choke down from the pull. She went and + died on me.” + </p> + <p> + “That's funny,” Foster observed weakly. + </p> + <p> + On the level Bud went into neutral and pressed the self-starter with a + pessimistic deliberation. He got three chugs and a backfire into the + carburetor, and after that silence. He tried it again, coaxing her with + the spark and throttle. The engine gave a snort, hesitated and then, quite + suddenly, began to throb with docile regularity that seemed to belie any + previous intention of “cutting up.” + </p> + <p> + Bud fed her the gas and took a run at the hill. She went up like a + thoroughbred and died at the top, just when the road had dipped into the + descent. Bud sent her down hill on compression, but at the bottom she + refused to find her voice again when he turned on the switch and pressed + the accelerator. She simply rolled down to the first incline and stopped + there like a balky mule. + </p> + <p> + “Thunder!” said Bud, and looked around at Foster. “Do you reckon the old + boat is jinxed, just because I said I could drive her as far as she'd go? + The old rip ain't shot a cylinder since we hit the top of the hill.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe the mixture—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah,” Bud interrupted with a secret grin, “I've been wondering about + that, and the needle valve, and the feed pipe, and a few other little + things. Well, we'll have a look.” + </p> + <p> + Forthwith he climbed out into the drizzle and began a conscientious search + for the trouble. He inspected the needle valve with much care, and had + Foster on the front seat trying to start her afterwards. He looked for + short circuit. He changed the carburetor adjustment, and Foster got a + weary chug-chug that ceased almost as soon as it had begun. He looked all + the spark plugs over, he went after the vacuum feed and found that working + perfectly. He stood back, finally, with his hands on his hips, and stared + at the engine and shook his head slowly twice. + </p> + <p> + Foster, in the driver's seat, swore and tried again to start it. “Maybe if + you cranked it,” he suggested tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “What for? The starter turns her over all right. Spark's all right too, + strong and hot. However—” With a sigh of resignation Bud got out + what tools he wanted and went to work. Foster got out and stood around, + offering suggestions that were too obvious to be of much use, but which + Bud made it a point to follow as far as was practicable. + </p> + <p> + Foster said it must be the carburetor, and Bud went relentlessly after the + carburetor. He impressed Foster with the fact that he knew cars, and when + he told Foster to get in and try her again, Foster did so with the air of + having seen the end of the trouble. At first it did seem so, for the + engine started at once and worked smoothly until Bud had gathered his + wrenches off the running board and was climbing it, when it slowed down + and stopped, in spite of Foster's frantic efforts to keep it alive with + spark and throttle. + </p> + <p> + “Good Glory!” cried Bud, looking reproachfully in at Foster. “What'd yuh + want to stop her for?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't!” Foster's consternation was ample proof of his innocence. “What + the devil ails the thing?” + </p> + <p> + “You tell me, and I'll fix it,” Bud retorted savagely. Then he smoothed + his manner and went back to the carburetor. “Acts like the gas kept + choking off,” he said, “but it ain't that. She's O.K. I know, 'cause I've + tested it clean back to tank. There's nothing the matter with the feed—she's + getting gas same as she has all along. I can take off the mag. and see if + anything's wrong there; but I'm pretty sure there ain't. Couldn't any + water or mud get in—not with that oil pan perfect. She looks dry as + a bone, and clean. Try her again, Foster; wait till I set the spark about + right. Now, you leave it there, and give her the gas kinda gradual, and + catch her when she talks. We'll see—” + </p> + <p> + They saw that she was not going to “talk” at all. Bud swore a little and + got out more tools and went after the magneto with grim determination. + Again Foster climbed out and stood in the drizzle and watched him. Mert + crawled over into the front seat where he could view the proceedings + through the windshield. Bud glanced up and saw him there, and grinned + maliciously. “Your friend seems to love wet weather same as a cat does,” + he observed to Foster. “He'll be terrible happy if you're stalled here + till you get a tow in somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “It's your business to see that we aren't stalled,” Mert snapped at him + viciously. “You've got to make the thing go. You've got to!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I ain't the Almighty,” Bud retorted acidly. “I can't perform + miracles while yuh wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Starting a cranky car doesn't take a miracle,” whined Mert. “Anybody that + knows cars—” + </p> + <p> + “She's no business to be a cranky car,” Foster interposed pacifically. + “Why, she's practically new!” He stepped over a puddle and stood beside + Bud, peering down at the silent engine. “Have you looked at the intake + valve?” he asked pathetically. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sure. It's all right. Everything's all right, as far as I can find + out.” Bud looked Foster straight in the eye—and if his own were a + bit anxious, that was to be expected. + </p> + <p> + “Everything's all right,” he added measuredly. “Only, she won't go.” He + waited, watching Foster's face. + </p> + <p> + Foster chewed a corner of his lip worriedly. “Well, what do you make of + it?” His tone was helpless. + </p> + <p> + Bud threw out his two hands expressively, and shook his head. He let down + the hood, climbed in, slid into the driver's seat, and went through the + operation of starting. Only, he didn't start. The self-starter hummed as + it spun the flywheel, but nothing whatever was elicited save a profane + phrase from Foster and a growl from Mert. Bud sat back flaccid, his whole + body owning defeat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that means a tow in to the nearest shop,” he stated, after a minute + of dismal silence. “She's dead as a doornail.” + </p> + <p> + Mert sat back in his corner of the seat, muttering into his collar. Foster + looked at him, looked at Bud, looked at the car and at the surrounding + hills. He seemed terribly depressed and at the same time determined to + make the best of things. Bud could almost pity him—almost. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know how far it is back to that town we passed?” he asked Bud + spiritlessly after a while. Bud looked at the speedometer, made a mental + calculation and told him it was fifteen miles. Towns, it seemed, were + rather far apart in this section of the country. + </p> + <p> + “Well, let's see the road map. How far is it to the next one?” + </p> + <p> + “Search me. They didn't have any road maps back there. Darned hick burg.” + </p> + <p> + Foster studied awhile. “Well, let's see if we can push her off the middle + of the road—and then I guess we'll have to let you walk back and get + help. Eh, Mert? There's nothing else we can do—” + </p> + <p> + “What yuh going to tell 'em?” Mert demanded suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + Bud permitted a surprised glance to slant back at Mert. “Why, whatever you + fellows fake up for me to tell,” he said naively. “I know the truth ain't + popular on this trip, so get together and dope out something. And hand me + over my suit case, will yuh? I want some dry socks to put on when I get + there.” + </p> + <p> + Foster very obligingly tilted the suit case over into the front seat. + After that he and Mert, as by a common thought impelled, climbed out and + went over to a bushy live oak to confer in privacy. Mert carried the + leather bag with him. + </p> + <p> + By the time they had finished and were coming back, Bud had gone through + his belongings and had taken out a few letters that might prove awkward if + found there later, two pairs of socks and his razor and toothbrush. He was + folding the socks to stow away in his pocket when they got in. + </p> + <p> + “You can say that we're from Los Angeles, and on our way home,” Foster + told him curtly. It was evident to Bud that the two had not quite agreed + upon some subject they had discussed. “That's all right. I'm Foster, and + he's named Brown—if any one gets too curious.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine. Fine because it's so simple. I'll eat another sandwich, if you + don't mind, before I go. I'll tell a heartless world that fifteen miles is + some little stroll—for a guy that hates walkin'.” + </p> + <p> + “You're paid for it,” Mert growled at him rudely. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I'm paid for it,” Bud assented placidly, taking a bite. They might + have wondered at his calm, but they did not. He ate what he wanted, took a + long drink of the coffee, and started off up the hill they had rolled down + an hour or more past. + </p> + <p> + He walked briskly, and when he was well out of earshot Bud began to + whistle. Now and then he stopped to chuckle, and sometimes he frowned at + an uncomfortable thought. But on the whole he was very well pleased with + his present circumstances. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX. BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS + </h2> + <p> + In a little village which he had glimpsed from the top of a hill Bud went + into the cluttered little general store and bought a few blocks of slim, + evil smelling matches and a couple of pounds of sliced bacon, a loaf of + stale bread, and two small cans of baked beans. He stuffed them all into + the pocket of his overcoat, and went out and hunted up a long-distance + telephone sign. It had not taken him more than an hour to walk to the + town, for he had only to follow a country road that branched off that way + for a couple of miles down a valley. There was a post office and the + general store and a couple of saloons and a blacksmith shop that was + thinking of turning into a garage but had gone no further than to hang out + a sign that gasoline was for sale there. It was all very sordid and very + lifeless and altogether discouraging in the drizzle of late afternoon. Bud + did not see half a dozen human beings on his way to the telephone office, + which he found was in the post office. + </p> + <p> + He called up San Francisco, and got the chief of police's office on the + wire, and told them where they would find the men who had robbed that + jewelry store of all its diamonds and some other unset jewels. Also he + mentioned the car that was stolen, and that was now stalled and waiting + for some kind soul to come and give it a tow. + </p> + <p> + He speedily had all the attention of the chief, and having thought out in + advance his answers to certain pertinent questions, he did not stutter + when they were asked. Yes, he had been hired to drive the ear south, and + he had overheard enough to make him suspicious on the way. He knew that + they had stolen the car. He was not absolutely sure that they were the + diamond thieves but it would be easy enough to find out, because officers + sent after them would naturally be mistaken for first aid from some + garage, and the cops could nab the men and look into that grip they were + so careful not to let out of their sight. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure they won't get the car repaired and go on?” It was perfectly + natural that the chief should fear that very thing. + </p> + <p> + “No chance!” Bud chuckled into the 'phone. “Not a chance in the world, + chief. They'll be right there where I left 'em, unless some car comes + along and gives 'em a tow. And if that happens you'll be able to trace + 'em.” He started to hang up, and added another bit of advice. “Say, chief, + you better tell whoever gets the car, to empty the gas tank and clean out + the carburetor and vacuum feed—and she'll go, all right! Adios.” + </p> + <p> + He hung up and paid the charge hurriedly, and went out and down a crooked + little lane that led between bushes to a creek and heavy timber. It did + not seem to him advisable to linger; the San Francisco chief of police + might set some officer in that village on his trail, just as a matter of + precaution. Bud told himself that he would do it were he in the chief's + place. When he reached the woods along the creek he ran, keeping as much + as possible on thick leaf mold that left the least impression. He headed + to the east, as nearly as he could judge, and when he came to a rocky + canyon he struck into it. + </p> + <p> + He presently found himself in a network of small gorges that twisted away + into the hills without any system whatever, as far as he could see. He + took one that seemed to lead straightest toward where the sun would rise + next morning, and climbed laboriously deeper and deeper into the hills. + After awhile he had to descend from the ridge where he found himself + standing bleakly revealed against a lowering, slaty sky that dripped rain + incessantly. As far as he could see were hills and more hills, bald and + barren except in certain canyons whose deeper shadows told of timber. Away + off to the southwest a bright light showed briefly—the headlight of + a Santa Fe train, he guessed it must be. To the east, which he faced, the + land was broken with bare hills that fell just short of being mountains. + He went down the first canyon that opened in that direction, ploughing + doggedly ahead into the unknown. + </p> + <p> + That night Bud camped in the lee of a bank that was fairly well screened + with rocks and bushes, and dined off broiled bacon and bread and a can of + beans with tomato sauce, and called it a meal. At first he was not much + inclined to take the risk of having a fire big enough to keep him warm. + Later in the night he was perfectly willing to take the risk, but could + not find enough dry wood. His rainproofed overcoat became quite soggy and + damp on the inside, in spite of his efforts to shield himself from the + rain. It was not exactly a comfortable night, but he worried through it + somehow. + </p> + <p> + At daylight he opened another can of beans and made himself two thick bean + sandwiches, and walked on while he ate them slowly. They tasted mighty + good, Bud thought—but he wished fleetingly that he was back in the + little green cottage on North Sixth Street, getting his own breakfast. He + felt as though he could drink about four cups of coffee; and as to + hotcakes—! But breakfast in the little green cottage recalled Marie, + and Marie was a bitter memory. All the more bitter because he did not know + where burrowed the root of his hot resentment. In a strong man's love for + his home and his mate was it rooted, and drew therefrom the wormwood of + love thwarted and spurned. + </p> + <p> + After awhile the high air currents flung aside the clouds like curtains + before a doorway. The sunlight flashed out dazzlingly and showed Bud that + the world, even this tumbled world, was good to look upon. His instincts + were all for the great outdoors, and from such the sun brings quick + response. Bud lifted his head, looked out over the hills to where a bare + plain stretched in the far distance, and went on more briskly. + </p> + <p> + He did not meet any one at all; but that was chiefly because he did not + want to meet any one. He went with his ears and his eyes alert, and was + not above hiding behind a clump of stunted bushes when two horsemen rode + down a canyon trail just below him. Also he searched for roads and then + avoided them. It would be a fat morsel for Marie and her mother to roll + under their tongues, he told himself savagely, if he were arrested and + appeared in the papers as one of that bunch of crooks! + </p> + <p> + Late that afternoon, by traveling steadily in one direction, he topped a + low ridge and saw an arm of the desert thrust out to meet him. A scooped + gully with gravelly sides and rocky bottom led down that way, and because + his feet were sore from so much sidehill travel, Bud went down. He was + pretty well fagged too, and ready to risk meeting men, if thereby he might + gain a square meal. Though he was not starving, or anywhere near it, he + craved warm food and hot coffee. + </p> + <p> + So when he presently came upon two sway-backed burros that showed the + sweaty imprint of packsaddles freshly removed, and a couple of horses also + sweat roughened, he straightway assumed that some one was making camp not + far away. One of the horses was hobbled, and they were all eating hungrily + the grass that grew along the gully's sides. Camp was not only close, but + had not yet reached suppertime, Bud guessed from the well-known range + signs. + </p> + <p> + Two or three minutes proved him right. He came upon a man just driving the + last tent peg. He straightened up and stared at Bud unblinkingly for a few + seconds. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, howdy,” he greeted him then with tentative friendliness, and went + on with his work. “You lost?” he added carefully. A man walking down out + of the barren hills, and carrying absolutely nothing in the way of camp + outfit, was enough to whet the curiosity of any one who knew that country. + At the same time curiosity that became too apparent might be extremely + unwelcome. So many things may drive a man into the hills—but few of + them would bear discussion with strangers. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I am, and I ain't.” Bud came up and stood with his hands in his coat + pockets, and watched the old fellow start his fire. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah—how about some supper? If you am, and you ain't as hungry as + you look—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell the world I am, and then some. I ain't had a square meal since + yesterday morning, and I grabbed that at a quick-lunch joint. I'm open to + supper engagements, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. There's a side of bacon in that kyack over there. Get it out + and slice some off, and we'll have supper before you know it. We will,” he + added pessimistically, “if this dang brush will burn.” + </p> + <p> + Bud found the bacon and cut according to his appetite. His host got out a + blackened coffeepot and half filled it with water from a dented bucket, + and balanced it on one side of the struggling fire. He remarked that they + had had some rain, to which Bud agreed. He added gravely that he believed + it was going to clear up, though—unless the wind swung back into the + storm quarter. Bud again professed cheerfully to be in perfect accord. + After which conversational sparring they fell back upon the little + commonplaces of the moment. + </p> + <p> + Bud went into a brush patch and managed to glean an armful of nearly dry + wood, which he broke up with the axe and fed to the fire, coaxing it into + freer blazing. The stranger watched him unobtrusively, critically, + pottering about while Bud fried the bacon. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you've handled a frying pan before, all right,” he remarked at + last, when the bacon was fried without burning. + </p> + <p> + Bud grinned. “I saw one in a store window once as I was going by,” he + parried facetiously. “That was quite a while back.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Well, how's your luck with bannock? I've got it all mixed.” + </p> + <p> + “Dump her in here, ole-timer,” cried Bud, holding out the frying pan + emptied of all but grease. “Wish I had another hot skillet to turn over + the top.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you've been there, all right,” the other chuckled. “Well, I don't + carry but the one frying pan. I'm equipped light, because I've got to + outfit with grub, further along.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll make out all right, just like this.” Bud propped the handle + of the frying pan high with a forked stick, and stood up. “Say, my name's + Bud Moore, and I'm not headed anywhere in particular. I'm just traveling + in one general direction, and that's with the Coast at my back. Drifting, + that's all. I ain't done anything I'm ashamed of or scared of, but I am + kinda bashful about towns. I tangled with a couple of crooks, and they're + pulled by now, I expect. I'm dodging newspaper notoriety. Don't want to be + named with 'em at all.” He, spread his hands with an air of finality. + “That's my tale of woe,” he supplemented, “boiled down to essentials. I + just thought I'd tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Well, my name's Cash Markham, and I despise to have folks get funny + over it. I'm a miner and prospector, and I'm outfitting for a trip for + another party, looking up an old location that showed good prospects ten + years ago. Man died, and his wife's trying to get the claim relocated. Get + you a plate outa that furtherest kyack, and a cup. Bannock looks about + done, so we'll eat.” + </p> + <p> + That night Bud shared Cash Markham's blankets, and in the morning he + cooked the breakfast while Cash Markham rounded up the burros and horses. + In that freemasonry of the wilderness they dispensed with credentials, + save those each man carried in his face and in his manner. And if you stop + to think of it, such credentials are not easily forged, for nature writes + them down, and nature is a truth-loving old dame who will never lead you + far astray if only she is left alone to do her work in peace. + </p> + <p> + It transpired, in the course of the forenoon's travel, that Cash Markham + would like to have a partner, if he could find a man that suited. One + guessed that he was fastidious in the matter of choosing his companions, + in spite of the easy way in which he had accepted Bud. By noon they had + agreed that Bud should go along and help relocate the widow's claim. Cash + Markham hinted that they might do a little prospecting on their own + account. It was a country he had long wanted to get into, he said, and + while he intended to do what Mrs. Thompson had hired him to do, still + there was no law against their prospecting on their own account. And that, + he explained, was one reason why he wanted a good man along. If the + Thompson claim was there, Bud could do the work under the supervision of + Cash, and Cash could prospect. + </p> + <p> + “And anyway, it's bad policy for a man to go off alone in this part of the + country,” he added with a speculative look across the sandy waste they + were skirting at a pace to suit the heavily packed burros. “Case of + sickness or accident—or suppose the stock strays off—it's bad + to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Suits me fine to go with you,” Bud declared. “I'm next thing to broke, + but I've got a lot of muscle I can cash in on the deal. And I know the + open. And I can rock a gold-pan and not spill out all the colors, if there + is any—and whatever else I know is liable to come in handy, and what + I don't know I can learn.” + </p> + <p> + “That's fair enough. Fair enough,” Markham agreed. “I'll allow you wages + on the Thompson job' till you've earned enough to balance up with the + outfit. After that it'll be fifty-fifty. How'll that be, Bud?” + </p> + <p> + “Fair enough—fair enough,” Bud retorted with faint mimicry. “If I + was all up in the air a few days ago, I seem to have lit on my feet, and + that's good enough for me right now. We'll let 'er ride that way.” + </p> + <p> + And the twinkle, as he talked, was back in his eyes, and the smiley quirk + was at the corner of his lips. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN. INTO THE DESERT + </h2> + <p> + If you want to know what mad adventure Bud found himself launched upon, + just read a few extracts from the diary which Cash Markham, being a + methodical sort of person, kept faithfully from day to day, until he cut + his thumb on a can of tomatoes which he had been cutting open with his + knife. After that Bud kept the diary for him, jotting down the main + happenings of the day. When Cash's thumb healed so that he could hold a + pencil with some comfort, Bud thankfully relinquished the task. He hated + to write, anyway, and it seemed to him that Cash ought to trust his memory + a little more than he did. + </p> + <p> + I shall skip a good many days, of course—though the diary did not, I + assure you. + </p> + <p> + First, there was the outfit. When they had outfitted at Needles for the + real trip, Cash set down the names of all living things in this wise: + </p> + <p> + Outfit, Cassius B. Markham, Bud Moore, Daddy a bull terrier, bay horse, + Mars, Pete a sorrel, Ed a burro, Swayback a jinny, Maude a jack, Cora + another jinny, Billy a riding burro & Sways colt & Maude colt a + white mean looking little devil. + </p> + <p> + Sat. Apr. 1. + </p> + <p> + Up at 7:30. Snowing and blowing 3 ft. of snow on ground. Managed to get + breakfast & returned to bed. Fed Monte & Peter our cornmeal, poor + things half frozen. Made a fire in tent at 1:30 & cooked a meal. Much + smoke, ripped hole in back of tent. Three burros in sight weathering + fairly well. No sign of let up everything under snow & wind a gale. + Making out fairly well under adverse conditions. Worst weather we have + experienced. + </p> + <p> + Apr. 2. + </p> + <p> + Up at 7 A.M. Fine & sunny snow going fast. Fixed up tent & cleaned + up generally. Alkali flat a lake, can't cross till it dries. Stock some + scattered, brought them all together. + </p> + <p> + Apr. 3. + </p> + <p> + Up 7 A.M. Clear & bright. Snow going fast. All creeks flowing. Fine + sunny day. + </p> + <p> + Apr. 4. + </p> + <p> + Up 6 A.M. Clear & bright. Went up on divide, met 3 punchers who said + road impassable. Saw 2 trains stalled away across alkali flat. Very boggy + and moist. + </p> + <p> + Apr.5. + </p> + <p> + Up 5 A.M. Clear & bright. Start out, on Monte & Pete at 6. Animals + traveled well, did not appear tired. Feed fine all over. Plenty water + everywhere. + </p> + <p> + Not much like Bud's auto stage, was it? But the very novelty of it, the + harking back to old plains days, appealed to him and sent him forward from + dull hardship to duller discomfort, and kept the quirk at the corners of + his lips and the twinkle in his eyes. Bud liked to travel this way, though + it took them all day long to cover as much distance as he had been wont to + slide behind him in an hour. He liked it—this slow, monotonous + journeying across the lean land which Cash had traversed years ago, where + the stark, black pinnacles and rough knobs of rock might be hiding Indians + with good eyesight and a vindictive temperament. Cash told him many things + out of his past, while they poked along, driving the packed burros before + them. Things which he never had set down in his diary—things which + he did not tell to any one save his few friends. + </p> + <p> + But it was not always mud and rain and snow, as Cash's meager chronicle + betrays. + </p> + <p> + May 6. + </p> + <p> + Up at sunrise. Monte & Pete gone leaving no tracks. Bud found them 3 + miles South near Indian village. Bud cut his hair, did a good job. + Prospector dropped into camp with fist full of good looking quartz. Stock + very thirsty all day. Very hot Tied Monte & Pete up for night. + </p> + <p> + May 8. + </p> + <p> + Up 5:30. Fine, but hot. Left 7:30. Pete walked over a sidewinder & Bud + shot him ten ft. in air. Also prior killed another beside road. Feed as + usual, desert weeds. Pulled grain growing side of track and fed plugs. + Water from cistern & R.R. ties for fuel. Put up tent for shade. Flies + horrible. + </p> + <p> + May 9. + </p> + <p> + Up 4. Left 6. Feed as usual. Killed a sidewinder in a bush with 3 shots of + Krag. Made 21 m. today. R.R. ties for fuel Cool breeze all day. + </p> + <p> + May 11. + </p> + <p> + Up at sunrise. Bud washed clothes. Tested rock. Fine looking mineral + country here. Dressed Monte's withers with liniment greatly reducing + swelling from saddle-gall. He likes to have it dressed & came of his + own accord. Day quite comfortable. + </p> + <p> + May 15. + </p> + <p> + Up 4. Left 6:30 over desert plain & up dry wash. Daddy suffered from + heat & ran into cactus while looking for shade. Got it in his mouth, + tongue, feet & all over body. Fixed him up poor creature groaned all + evening & would not eat his supper. Poor feed & wood here. Water + found by digging 2 ft. in sand in sandstone basins in bed of dry wash. + Monte lay down en route. Very hot & all suffered from heat. + </p> + <p> + May 16. + </p> + <p> + Bud has sick headache. Very hot so laid around camp all day. Put two + blankets up on tent pols for sun break. Daddy under weather from cactus + experience. Papago Indian boy about 18 on fine bay mare driving 4 ponies + watered at our well. Moon almost full, lots of mocking birds. Pretty + songs. + </p> + <p> + May 17. + </p> + <p> + Up 7:30 Bud some better. Day promises hot, but slight breeze. White gauzy + clouds in sky. Daddy better. Monte & Pete gone all day. Hunted twice + but impossible to track them in this stony soil Bud followed trail, found + them 2 mi. east of here in flat sound asleep about 3 P.M. At 6 went to + flat 1/4 mi. N. of camp to tie Pete, leading Monte by bell strap almost + stepped on rattler 3 ft. long. 10 rattles & a button. Killed him. To + date, 1 Prairie rattler, 3 Diamond back & 8 sidewinders, 12 in all. + Bud feels better. + </p> + <p> + May 18. + </p> + <p> + At 4 A. M. Bud woke up by stock passing camp. Spoke to me who half awake + hollered, “sic Daddy!” Daddy sicced 'em & they went up bank of wash to + right. Bud swore it was Monte & Pete. I went to flat & found M. + & P. safe. Water in sink all gone. Bud got stomach trouble. I threw up + my breakfast. Very hot weather. Lanced Monte's back & dressed it with + creoline. Turned them loose & away they put again. + </p> + <p> + Soon after this they arrived at the place where Thompson had located his + claim. It was desert, of course, sloping away on one side to a dreary + waste of sand and weeds with now and then a giant cactus standing gloomily + alone with malformed lingers stretched stiffly to the staring blue sky. + Behind where they pitched their final camp—Camp 48, Cash Markham + recorded it in his diary—the hills rose. But they were as stark and + barren almost as the desert below. Black rock humps here and there, with + ledges of mineral bearing rock. Bushes and weeds and dry washes for the + rest, with enough struggling grass to feed the horses and burros if they + rustled hard enough for it. + </p> + <p> + They settled down quietly to a life of grinding monotony that would have + driven some men crazy. But Bud, because it was a man's kind of monotony, + bore it cheerfully. He was out of doors, and he was hedged about by no + rules or petty restrictions. He liked Cash Markham and he liked Pete, his + saddle horse, and he was fond of Daddy who was still paying the penalty of + seeking too carelessly for shade and, according to Cash's record, “getting + it in his mouth, tongue, feet & all over body.” Bud liked it—all + except the blistering heat and the “side-winders” and other rattlers. He + did not bother with trying to formulate any explanation of why he liked + it. It may have been picturesque, though picturesqueness of that sort is + better appreciated when it is seen through the dim radiance of memory that + blurs sordid details. Certainly it was not adventurous, as men have come + to judge adventure. + </p> + <p> + Life droned along very dully. Day after day was filled with petty details. + A hill looks like a mountain if it rises abruptly out of a level plain, + with no real mountains in sight to measure it by. Here's the diary to + prove how little things came to look important because the days held no + contrasts. If it bores you to read it, think what it must have been to + live it. + </p> + <p> + June 10. + </p> + <p> + Up at 6:30 Baked till 11. Then unrigged well and rigged up an incline for + the stock to water. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Stock did not come in all + morning, but Monte & Pete came in before supper. Incline water shaft + does not work. Prospected & found 8 ledges. Bud found none. + </p> + <p> + June 11. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast fixed up shack—shelves, benches, tools, etc. Cleaned + guns. Bud dressed Daddy's back which is much better. Strong gold in test + of ledge, I found below creek. Took more specimens to sample. Cora comes + in with a little black colt newly born. Proud as a bull pup with two + tails. Monte & Pete did not come in so we went by lantern light a mile + or so down the wash & found them headed this way & snake them in + to drink about 80 gallons of water apiece. Daddy tied up and howling like + a demon all the while. Bud took a bath. + </p> + <p> + June 12. + </p> + <p> + Bud got out and got breakfast again. Then started off on Pete to hunt + trail that makes short cut 18 miles to Bend. Roofed the kitchen. Bud got + back about 1:30, being gone 6 hours. Found trail & two good ledges. + Cora & colt came for water. Other burros did not. Brought in specimens + from ledge up creek that showed very rich gold in tests. Burros came in at + 9:30. Bud got up and tied them up. + </p> + <p> + June 13. + </p> + <p> + Bud gets breakfast. I took Sway & brought in load of wood. Bud went + out and found a wash lined with good looking ledges. Hung up white rags on + bushes to identify same. Found large ledge of good quartz showing fine in + tests about one mile down wash. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Located a claim + west of Thompson's. Burros did not come in except Cora & colt. Pete + & Monte came separated. + </p> + <p> + June 14. + </p> + <p> + Bud got breakfast & dressed Daddy's back. Very hot day. Stock came in + about 2. Tied up Billy Maud & Cora. Bud has had headache. Monte & + Pete did not come in. Bud went after them & found them 4 miles away + where we killed the Gila monster. Sent 2 samples from big ledge to Tucson + for assay. Daddy better. + </p> + <p> + June 15. + </p> + <p> + Up 2.30. Bud left for Bend at 4. Walked down to flat but could not see + stock. About 3 Cora & Colt came in for water & Sway & Ed from + the south about 5. No Monte. Monte got in about midnight & went past + kitchen to creek on run. Got up, found him very nervous & frightened + & tied him up. + </p> + <p> + June 17. + </p> + <p> + Bud got back 4 P.M. in gale of wind & sand. Burros did not come in for + water. Very hot. Bud brought canned stuff. Rigged gallows for No. 2 shaft + also block & tackle & pail for drinking water, also washed + clothes. While drying went around in cap undershirt & shoes. + </p> + <p> + June 18. + </p> + <p> + Burros came in during night for water. Hot as nether depths of infernal + regions. Went up on hill a mile away. Seamed with veins similar to shaft + No. 2 ore. Blew in two faces & got good looking ore seamed with a + black incrustation, oxide of something, but what could not determine. + Could find neither silver nor copper in it. Monte & Pete came in about + 1 & tied them up. Very hot. Hottest day yet, even the breeze + scorching. Test of ore showed best yet. One half of solution in tube + turning to chloride of gold, 3 tests showing same. Burros except Ed & + Cora do not come in days any more. Bud made a gate for kitchen to keep + burros out. + </p> + <p> + The next morning it was that Cash cut the ball of his right thumb open on + the sharp edge of a tomato can. He wanted the diary to go on as usual. He + had promised, he said, to keep one for the widow who wanted a record of + the way the work was carried on, and the progress made. Bud could not see + that there had been much progress, except as a matter of miles. Put a + speedometer on one of his legs, he told Cash, and he'd bet it would + register more mileage chasing after them fool burros than his auto stage + could show after a full season. As for working the widow's claim, it was + not worth working, from all he could judge of it. And if it were full of + gold as the United States treasury, the burros took up all their time so + they couldn't do much. Between doggone stock drinking or not drinking and + the darn fool diary that had to be kept, Bud opined that they needed an + extra hand or two. Bud was peevish, these days. Gila Bend had exasperated + him because it was not the town it called itself, but a huddle of adobe + huts. He had come away in the sour mood of a thirsty man who finds an + alkali spring sparkling deceptively under a rock. Furthermore, the nights + had been hot and the mosquitoes a humming torment. And as a last + affliction he was called upon to keep the diary going. He did it, + faithfully enough but in a fashion of his own. + </p> + <p> + First he read back a few pages to get the hang of the thing. Then he shook + down Cash's fountain pen, that dried quickly in that heat. Then he read + another page as a model, and wrote: + </p> + <p> + June 19. + </p> + <p> + Mosquitoes last night was worse than the heat and that was worse than Gila + Bend's great white way. Hunted up the burros. Pete and Monte came in and + drank. Monte had colic. We fed them and turned them loose but the blamed + fools hung around all day and eat up some sour beans I throwed out. Cash + was peeved and swore they couldn't have another grain of feed. But Monte + come to the shack and watched Cash through a knothole the size of one eye + till Cash opened up his heart and the bag. Cash cut his thumb opening + tomatoes. The tomatoes wasn't hurt any. + </p> + <p> + June 20. + </p> + <p> + Got breakfast. Bill and harem did not come to water. Cash done the regular + hike after them. His thumb don't hurt him for hazing donkeys. Bill and + harem come in after Cash left. They must of saw him go. Cash was out four + hours and come in mad. Shot a hidrophobia skunk out by the creek. Nothing + doing. Too hot. + </p> + <p> + June 21. + </p> + <p> + The sun would blister a mud turtle so he'd holler. Cash put in most of day + holding a parasol over his garden patch. Burros did not miss their daily + drink. Night brings mosquitoes with their wings singed but their stingers + O.K. They must hole up daytimes or they would fry. + </p> + <p> + June 22. + </p> + <p> + Thought I know what heat was. I never did before. Cash took a bath. It was + his first. Burros did not come to water. Cash and I tried to sleep on + kitchen roof but the darned mosquitoes fed up on us and then played + heavenly choir all night. + </p> + <p> + June 25. + </p> + <p> + Cash got back from Bend. Thumb is better and he can have this job any time + now. He hustled up a widow that made a couple of mosquito bags to go over + our heads. No shape (bags, not widow) but help keep flies and mosquitoes + from chewing on us all day and all night. Training for hades. I can stand + the heat as well as the old boy with the pitch-fork. Ain't got used to + brimstone yet, but I'd trade mosquitoes for sulphur smoke and give some + boot. Worried about Cash. He took a bath today again, using water I had + packed for mine. Heat must be getting him. + </p> + <p> + June 26. + </p> + <p> + Cash opened up thumb again, trying to brain Pete with rock. Pete got + halfway into kitchen and eat biggest part of a pie I made. Cash threw + jagged rock, hit Pete in side of jaw. Cut big gash. Swelled now like a + punkin. Cash and I tangled over same. I'm going to quit. I have had enough + of this darn country. Creek's drying up, and mosquitoes have found way to + crawl under bags. Cash wants me to stay till we find good claim, but Cash + can go to thunder. + </p> + <p> + Then Cash's record goes on: + </p> + <p> + June 27. + </p> + <p> + Bud very sick & out of head. Think it is heat, which is terrible. + Talked all night about burros, gasoline, & camphor balls which he + seemed wanting to buy in gunny sack. No sleep for either. Burros came in + for water about daylight. Picketed Monte & Pete as may need doctor if + Bud grows worse. Thumb nearly well. + </p> + <p> + June 27. Bud same, slept most of day. Gave liver pills & made gruel of + cornmeal, best could do with present stores. Burros came at about 3 but + could not drink owing to bees around water hold. Monte got stung and + kicked over water cans & buckets I had salted for burros. Burros put + for hills again. No way of driving off bees. + </p> + <p> + June 28. + </p> + <p> + Burros came & drank in night. Cooler breeze, Bud some better & + slept. Sway has badly swollen neck. May be rattler bite or perhaps bee. + Bud wanted cigarettes but smoked last the day before he took sick. Gave + him more liver pills & sponge off with water every hour. Best can do + under circumstances. Have not prospected account Bud's sickness. + </p> + <p> + June 29. + </p> + <p> + Very hot all day, breeze like blast from furnace. Burros refuse to leave + flat. Bees better, as can't fly well in this wind. Bud worse. High fever + & very restless & flighty. Imagines much trouble with automobile, + talk very technical & can't make head or tail of it. Monte & Pete + did not come in, left soon as turned loose. No feed for them here & + figured Bud too sick to travel or stay alone so horses useless at present. + Sponged frequently with coolest water can get, seems to give some relief + as he is quieter afterwards. + </p> + <p> + July 4th. + </p> + <p> + Monte & Pete came in the night & hung around all day. Drove them + away from vicinity of shack several times but they returned & moped in + shade of house. Terrible hot, strong gusty wind. Bud sat up part of day, + slept rest of time. Looks very thin and great hollows under eyes, but + chief trouble seems to be, no cigarettes. Shade over radishes & + lettice works all right. Watered copiously at daylight & again at + dusk. Doing fine. Fixed fence which M & P. broke down while tramping + around. Prospected west of ranche. Found enormous ledge of black quartz, + looks like sulphur stem during volcanic era but may be iron. Strong gold + & heavy precipitate in test, silver test poor but on filtering showed + like white of egg in tube (unusual). Clearing iron out showed for gold the + highest yet made, being more pronounced with Fenosulphate than $1500 rock + have seen. Immense ledge of it & slightest estimate from test at least + $10. Did not tell Bud as keeping for surprise when he is able to visit + ledge. Very monotonous since Bud has been sick. Bud woke up & said + Hell of a Fourth & turned over & went to sleep again with mosquito + net over head to keep off flies. Burros came in after dark, all but Cora + & Colt, which arrived about midnight. Daddy gone since yesterday + morning leaving no trace. + </p> + <p> + July 5. + </p> + <p> + Miserable hot night. Burros trickled in sometime during night. Bud better, + managed to walk to big ledge after sundown. Suggests we call it the Burro + Lode. His idea of wit, claims we have occupied camp all summer for sake of + timing burros when they come to waterhole. Wish to call it Columbia mine + for patriotic reasons having found it on Fourth. Will settle it soon so as + to put up location. Put in 2 shots & pulpel samples for assay. Rigged + windows on shack to keep out bees, nats & flies & mosquitoes. Bud + objects because it keeps out air as well. Took them off. Sick folks must + be humored. Hot, miserable and sleepless. Bud very restless. + </p> + <p> + July 6. + </p> + <p> + Cool wind makes weather endurable, but bees terrible in kitchen & + around water-hole. Flipped a dollar to settle name of big ledge. Bud won + tails, Burro lode. Must cultivate my sense of humor so as to see the joke. + Bud agrees to stay & help develop claim. Still very weak, puttered + around house all day cleaning & baking bread & stewing fruit which + brought bees by millions so we could not eat same till after dark when + they subsided. Bud got stung twice in kitchen. Very peevish & full of + cuss. Says positively must make trip to Bend & get cigarettes tomorrow + or will blow up whole outfit. Has already blowed up same several times + today with no damage. Burros came in about 5. Monte & Pete later, tied + them up with grain. Pete has very bad eye. Bud will ride Monte if not too + hot for trip. Still no sign of daddy, think must be dead or stolen though + nobody to steal same in country. + </p> + <p> + July 7. + </p> + <p> + Put in 2 shots on Burro Lode & got her down to required depth. Hot. + Bud finds old location on widow's claim, upturns all previous calculation + & information given me by her. Wrote letter explaining same, which Bud + will mail. Bud left 4 P.M. should make Bend by midnight. Much better but + still weak Burros came in late & hung around water hole. Put up + monument at Burro Lode. Sent off samples to assay at Tucson. Killed + rattler near shack, making 16 so far killed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT. MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES + </h2> + <p> + “Well, here come them darn burros, Cash. Cora's colt ain't with 'em + though. Poor little devils—say, Cash, they look like hard sleddin', + and that's a fact. I'll tell the world they've got about as much pep as a + flat tire.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe we better grain 'em again.” Cash looked up from studying the last + assay report of the Burro Lode, and his look was not pleasant. “But it'll + cost a good deal, in both time and money. The feed around here is played + out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when it comes to that—” Bud cast a glum glance at the paper + Cash was holding. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Looks like everything's about played out. Promising ledge, too. + Like some people, though. Most all its good points is right on the + surface. Nothing to back it up.” + </p> + <p> + “She's sure running light, all right. Now,” Bud added sardonically, but + with the whimsical quirk withal, “if it was like a carburetor, and you + could give it a richer mixture—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. What do you make of it, Bud?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—aw, there comes that durn colt, bringing up the drag. Say + Cash, that colt's just about all in. Cora's nothing but a bag of bones, + too. They'll never winter—not on this range, they won't.” + </p> + <p> + Cash got up and went to the doorway, looking out over Bud's shoulder at + the spiritless donkeys trailing in to water. Beyond them the desert baked + in its rim of hot, treeless hills. Above them the sky glared a brassy blue + with never a could. Over a low ridge came Monte and Pete, walking with + heads drooping. Their hip bones lifted above their ridged paunches, their + backbones, peaked sharp above, their withers were lean and pinched + looking. In August the desert herbage has lost what little succulence it + ever possessed, and the gleanings are scarce worth the walking after. + </p> + <p> + “They're pretty thin,” Cash observed speculatively, as though he was + measuring them mentally for some particular need. + </p> + <p> + “We'd have to grain 'em heavy till we struck better feed. And pack light.” + Bud answered his thought. + </p> + <p> + “The question is, where shall we head for, Bud? Have you any particular + idea?” Cash looked slightingly down at the assayer's report. “Such as she + is, we've done all we can do to the Burro Lode, for a year at least,” he + said. “The assessment work is all done—or will be when we muck out + after that last shot. The claim is filed—I don't know what more we + can do right away. Do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure thing,” grinned Bud. “We can get outa here and go some place where + it's green.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah.” Cash meditated, absently eyeing the burros. “Where it's green.” He + looked at the near hills, and at the desert, and at the dreary march of + the starved animals. “It's a long way to green country,” he said. + </p> + <p> + They looked at the burros. + </p> + <p> + “They're tough little devils,” Bud observed hopefully. “We could take it + easy, traveling when it's coolest. And by packing light, and graining the + whole bunch—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. We can ease 'em through, I guess. It does seem as though it would + be foolish to hang on here any longer.” Carefully as he made his tests, + Cash weighed the question of their going. “This last report kills any + chance of interesting capital to the extent of developing the claim on a + large enough scale to make it profitable. It's too long a haul to take the + ore out, and it's too spotted to justify any great investment in machinery + to handle it on the ground. And,” he added with an undernote of + fierceness, “it's a terrible place for man or beast to stay in, unless the + object to be attained is great enough to justify enduring the hardships.” + </p> + <p> + “You said a mouthful, Cash. Well, can you leave your seven radishes and + three hunches of lettuce and pull out—say at daybreak?” Bud turned + to him with some eagerness. + </p> + <p> + Cash grinned sourly. “When it's time to go, seven radishes can't stop me. + No, nor a whole row of 'em—if there was a whole row.” + </p> + <p> + “And you watered 'em copiously too,” Bud murmured, with the corners of his + mouth twitching. “Well, I guess we might as well tie up the livestock. I'm + going to give 'em all a feed of rolled oats, Cash. We can get along + without, and they've got to have something to put a little heart in 'em. + There's a moon to-night—how about starting along about midnight? + That would put us in the Bend early in the forenoon to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Suits me,” said Cash. “Now I've made up my mind about going, I can't go + too soon.” + </p> + <p> + “You're on. Midnight sees us started.” Bud went out with ropes to catch + and tie up the burros and their two saddle horses. And as he went, for the + first time in two months he whistled; a detail which Cash noted with a + queer kind of smile. + </p> + <p> + Midnight and the moon riding high in the purple bowl of sky sprinkled + thick with stars; with a little, warm wind stirring the parched weeds as + they passed; with the burros shuffling single file along the dim trail + which was the short cut through the hills to the Bend, Ed taking the lead, + with the camp kitchen wabbling lumpily on his back, Cora bringing up the + rear with her skinny colt trying its best to keep up, and with no pack at + all; so they started on the long, long journey to the green country. + </p> + <p> + A silent journey it was for the most part. The moon and the starry bowl of + sky had laid their spell upon the desert, and the two men rode wordlessly, + filled with vague, unreasoning regret that they must go. Months they had + spent with the desert, learning well every little varying mood; cursing it + for its blistering heat and its sand storms and its parched thirst and its + utter, blank loneliness. Loving it too, without ever dreaming that they + loved. To-morrow they would face the future with the past dropping farther + and farther behind. To-night it rode with them. + </p> + <p> + Three months in that little, rough-walled hut had lent it an atmosphere of + home, which a man instinctively responds to with a certain clinging + affection, however crude may be the shelter he calls his own. Cash + secretly regretted the thirsty death of his radishes and lettuce which he + had planted and tended with such optimistic care. Bud wondered if Daddy + might not stray half-starved into the shack, and find them gone. While + they were there, he had agreed with Cash that the dog must be dead. But + now he felt uneasily doubtful It would be fierce if Daddy did come back + now. He would starve. He never could make the trip to the Bend alone, even + if he could track them. + </p> + <p> + There was, also, the disappointment in the Burro Lode claim. As Bud + planned it, the Burro was packing a very light load—far lighter than + had seemed possible with that strong indication on the surface. Cash's + “enormous black ledge” had shown less and less gold as they went into it, + though it still seemed worth while, if they had the capital to develop it + further. Wherefore they had done generous assessment work and had recorded + their claim and built their monuments to mark its boundaries. It would be + safe for a year, and by that time—Quien sabe? + </p> + <p> + The Thompson claim, too, had not justified any enthusiasm whatever. They + had found it, had relocated it, and worked out the assessment for the + widow. Cash had her check for all they had earned, and he had declared + profanely that he would not give his share of the check for the whole + claim. + </p> + <p> + They would go on prospecting, using the check for a grubstake, That much + they had decided without argument. The gambling instinct was wide awake in + Bud's nature—and as for Cash, he would hunt gold as long as he could + carry pick and pan. They would prospect as long as their money held out. + When that was gone, they would get more and go on prospecting. But they + would prospect in a green country where wood and water were not so + precious as in the desert and where, Cash averred, the chance of striking + it rich was just as good; better, because they could kill game and make + their grubstake last longer. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore they waited in Gila Bend for three days, to strengthen the + weakened animals with rest and good hay and grain. Then they took again to + the trail, traveling as lightly as they could, with food for themselves + and grain for the stock to last them until they reached Needles. From + there with fresh supplies they pushed on up to Goldfield, found that camp + in the throes of labor disputes, and went on to Tonopah. + </p> + <p> + There they found work for themselves and the burros, packing winter + supplies to a mine lying back in the hills. They made money at it, and + during the winter they made more. With the opening of spring they + outfitted again and took the trail, their goal the high mountains south of + Honey Lake. They did not hurry. Wherever the land they traveled through + seemed to promise gold, they would stop and prospect. Many a pan of likely + looking dirt they washed beside some stream where the burros stopped to + drink and feed a little on the grassy banks. + </p> + <p> + So, late in June, they reached Reno; outfitted and went on again, + traveling to the north, to the green country for which they yearned, + though now they were fairly in it and would have stopped if any tempting + ledge or bar had come in their way. They prospected every gulch that + showed any mineral signs at all. It was a carefree kind of life, with just + enough of variety to hold Bud's interest to the adventuring. The nomad in + him responded easily to this leisurely pilgrimage. There was no stampede + anywhere to stir their blood with the thought of quick wealth. There was + hope enough, on the other hand, to keep them going. Cash had prospected + and trapped for more than fifteen years now, and he preached the doctrine + of freedom and the great outdoors. + </p> + <p> + Of what use was a house and lot—and taxes and trouble with the + plumbing? he would chuckle. A tent and blankets and a frying pan and grub; + two good legs and wild country to travel; a gold pan and a pick—these + things, to Cash, spelled independence and the joy of living. The burros + and the two horses were luxuries, he declared. When they once got located + on a good claim they would sell off everything but a couple of burros—Sway + and Ed, most likely. The others would bring enough for a winter grubstake, + and would prolong their freedom and their independence just that much. + That is, supposing they did not strike a good claim before then. Cash had + learned, he said, to hope high but keep an eye on the grubstake. + </p> + <p> + Late in August they came upon a mountain village perched beside a swift + stream and walled in on three sided by pine-covered mountains. A branch + railroad linked the place more or less precariously with civilization, and + every day—unless there was a washout somewhere, or a snowslide, or + drifts too deep—a train passed over the road. One day it would go + up-stream, and the next day it would come back. And the houses stood drawn + up in a row alongside the track to watch for these passings. + </p> + <p> + Miners came in with burros or with horses, packed flour and bacon and tea + and coffee across their middles, got drunk, perhaps as a parting ceremony, + and went away into the hills. Cash watched them for a day or so; saw the + size of their grubstakes, asked few questions and listened to a good deal + of small-town gossip, and nodded his head contentedly. There was gold in + these hills. Not enough, perhaps, to start a stampede with—but + enough to keep wise old hermits burrowing after it. + </p> + <p> + So one day Bud sold the two horses and one of the saddles, and Cash bought + flour and bacon and beans and coffee, and added other things quite as + desirable but not so necessary. Then they too went away into the hills. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen miles from Alpine, as a cannon would shoot; high up in the hills, + where a creek flowed down through a saucerlike basin under beetling ledges + fringed all around with forest, they came, after much wandering, upon an + old log cabin whose dirt roof still held in spite of the snows that heaped + upon it through many a winter. The ledge showed the scars of old prospect + holes, and in the sand of the creek they found “colors” strong enough to + make it seem worth while to stop here—for awhile, at least. + </p> + <p> + They cleaned out the cabin and took possession of it, and the next time + they went to town Cash made cautious inquiries about the place. It was, he + learned, an old abandoned claim. Abandoned chiefly because the old miner + who had lived there died one day, and left behind him all the marks of + having died from starvation, mostly. A cursory examination of his few + belongings had revealed much want, but no gold save a little coarse dust + in a small bottle. + </p> + <p> + “About enough to fill a rifle ca'tridge,” detailed the teller of the tale. + “He'd pecked around that draw for two, three year mebby. Never showed no + gold much, for all the time he spent there. Trapped some in winter—coyotes + and bobcats and skunks, mostly. Kinda off in the upper story, old Nelson + was. I guess he just stayed there because he happened to light there and + didn't have gumption enough to git out. Hills is full of old fellers like + him. They live off to the'rselves, and peck around and git a pocket now + and then that keeps 'm in grub and tobacco. If you want to use the cabin, + I guess nobody's goin' to care. Nelson never had any folks, that anybody + knows of. Nobody ever bothered about takin' up the claim after he cashed + in, either. Didn't seem worth nothin' much. Went back to the gov'ment.” + </p> + <p> + “Trapped, you say. Any game around there now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shore! Game everywhere in these hills, from weasels up to bear and + mountain lion. If you want to trap, that's as good a place as any, I + guess.” + </p> + <p> + So Cash and Bud sold the burros and bought traps and more supplies, and + two window sashes and a crosscut saw and some wedges and a double-bitted + axe, and settled down in Nelson Flat to find what old Dame Fortune had + tucked away in this little side pocket and forgotten. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE. THE BITE OF MEMORY + </h2> + <p> + The heavy boom of a dynamite blast rolled across the fiat to the hills + that flung it back in a tardy echo like a spent ball of sound. A blob of + blue smoke curled out of a hole the size of a hogshead in a steep bank + overhung with alders. Outside, the wind caught the smoke and carried + streamers of it away to play with. A startled bluejay, on a limb high up + on the bank, lifted his slaty crest and teetered forward, clinging with + his toe nails to the branch while he scolded down at the men who had + scared him so. A rattle of clods and small rocks fell from their high + flight into the sweet air of a mountain sunset. + </p> + <p> + “Good execution, that was,” Cash remarked, craning his neck toward the + hole. “If you're a mind to go on ahead and cook supper, I'll stay and see + if we opened up anything. Or you can stay, just as you please.” + </p> + <p> + Dynamite smoke invariably made Bud's head ache splittingly. Cash was not + so susceptible. Bud chose the cooking, and went away down the flat, the + bluejay screaming insults after him. He was frying bacon when Cash came + in, a hatful of broken rock riding in the hollow of his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Got something pretty good here, Bud—if she don't turn out like that + dang Burro Lode ledge. Look here. Best looking quartz we've struck yet. + What do you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + He dumped the rock out on the oilcloth behind the sugar can and directly + under the little square window through which the sun was pouring a lavish + yellow flood of light before it dropped behind the peak. Bud set the bacon + back where it would not burn, and bent over the table to look. + </p> + <p> + “Gee, but it's heavy!” he cried, picking up a fragment the size of an egg, + and balancing it in his hands. “I don't know a lot about gold-bearing + quartz, but she looks good to me, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. It is good, unless I'm badly mistaken. I'll test some after supper. + Old Nelson couldn't have used powder at all, or he'd have uncovered enough + of this, I should think, to show the rest what he had. Or maybe he died + just when he had started that hole. Seems queer he never struck pay dirt + in this flat. Well, let's eat if it's ready, Bud. Then we'll see.” + </p> + <p> + “Seems kinda queer, don't it, Cash, that nobody stepped in and filed on + any claims here?” Bud dumped half a kettle of boiled beans into a basin + and set it on the table. “Want any prunes to-night, Cash?” + </p> + <p> + Cash did not want prunes, which was just as well, seeing there were none + cooked. He sat down and ate, with his mind and his eyes clinging to the + grayish, veined fragments of rock lying on the table beside his plate. + </p> + <p> + “We'll send some of that down to Sacramento right away,” he observed, “and + have it assayed. And we won't let out anything about it, Bud—good or + bad. I like this flat. I don't want it mucked over with a lot of + gold-crazy lunatics.” + </p> + <p> + Bud laughed and reached for the bacon. “We ain't been followed up with + stampedes so far,” he pointed out. “Burro Lode never caused a ripple in + the Bend, you recollect. And I'll tell a sinful world it looked awful + good, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Well, Arizona's hard to excite. They've had so dang much + strenuosity all their lives, and then the climate's against violent + effort, either mental or physical. I was calm, perfectly calm when I + discovered that big ledge. It is just as well—seeing how it petered + out.” + </p> + <p> + “What'll you bet this pans out the same?” + </p> + <p> + “I never bet. No one but a fool will gamble.” Cash pressed his lips + together in a way that drove the color from there. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yuh don't! Say, you're the king bee of all gamblers. Been prospecting + for fifteen years, according to you—and then you've got the nerve to + say you don't gamble!” + </p> + <p> + Cash ignored the charge. He picked up a piece of rock and held it to the + fading light. “It looks good,” he said again. “Better than that placer + ground down by the creek. That's all right, too. We can wash enough gold + there to keep us going while we develop this. That is, if this proves as + good as it looks.” + </p> + <p> + Bud looked across at him enigmatically. “Well, here's hoping she's worth a + million. You go ahead with your tests, Cash. I'll wash the dishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Cash began to conserve his enthusiasm, “there's nothing so + sure as an assay. And it was too dark in the hole to see how much was + uncovered. This may be just a freak deposit. There may not be any real + vein of it. You can't tell until it's developed further. But it looks + good. Awful good.” + </p> + <p> + His makeshift tests confirmed his opinion. Bud started out next day with + three different samples for the assayer, and an air castle or two to keep + him company. He would like to find himself half owner of a mine worth + about a million, he mused. Maybe Marie would wish then that she had + thought twice about quitting him just on her mother's say-so. He'd like to + go buzzing into San Jose behind the wheel of a car like the one Foster had + fooled him into stealing. And meet Marie, and her mother too, and let them + get an eyeful. He guessed the old lady would have to swallow what she had + said about him being lazy—just because he couldn't run an auto-stage + in the winter to Big Basin! What was the matter with the old woman, + anyway? Didn't he keep Maria in comfort. Well, he'd like to see her face + when he drove along the street in a big new Sussex. She'd wish she had let + him and Marie alone. They would have made out all right if they had been + let alone. He ought to have taken Marie to some other town, where her + mother couldn't nag at her every day about him. Marie wasn't such a bad + kid, if she were left alone. They might have been happy— + </p> + <p> + He tried then to shake himself free of thoughts of her. That was the + trouble with him, he brooded morosely. He couldn't let his thoughts ride + free, any more. They kept heading straight for Marie. He could not see why + she should cling so to his memory; he had not wronged her—unless it + was by letting her go without making a bigger fight for their home. Still, + she had gone of her own free will. He was the one that had been wronged—why, + hadn't they lied about him in court and to the gossipy neighbors? Hadn't + they broke him? No. If the mine panned out big as Cash seemed to think was + likely, the best thing he could do was steer clear of San Jose. And + whether it panned out or not, the best thing he could do was forget that + such girl as Marie had ever existed.. + </p> + <p> + Which was all very well, as far as it went. The trouble was that resolving + not to think of Marie, calling up all the bitterness he could muster + against her memory, did no more toward blotting her image from his mind + than did the miles and the months he had put between them. + </p> + <p> + He reached the town in a dour mood of unrest, spite of the promise of + wealth he carried in his pocket. He mailed the package and the letter, and + went to a saloon and had a highball. He was not a drinking man—at + least, he never had been one, beyond a convivial glass or two with his + fellows—but he felt that day the need of a little push toward + optimism. In the back part of the room three men were playing freeze-out. + Bud went over and stood with his hands in his pockets and watched them, + because there was nothing else to do, and because he was still having some + trouble with his thoughts. He was lonely, without quite knowing what ailed + him. He hungered for friends to hail him with that cordial, “Hello, Bud!” + when they saw him coming. + </p> + <p> + No one in Alpine had said hello, Bud, when he came walking in that day. + The postmaster had given him one measuring glance when he had weighed the + package of ore, but he had not spoken except to name the amount of postage + required. The bartender had made some remark about the weather, and had + smiled with a surface friendliness that did not deceive Bud for a moment. + He knew too well that the smile was not for him, but for his patronage. + </p> + <p> + He watched the game. And when the man opposite him pushed back his chair + and, looking up at Bud, asked if he wanted to sit in, Bud went and sat + down, buying a dollar's worth of chips as an evidence of his intention to + play. His interest in the game was not keen. He played for the feeling it + gave him of being one of the bunch, a man among his friends; or if not + friends, at least acquaintances. And, such was his varying luck with the + cards, he played for an hour or so without having won enough to irritate + his companions. Wherefore he rose from the table at supper time calling + one young fellow Frank quite naturally. They went to the Alpine House and + had supper together, and after that they sat in the office and talked + about automobiles for an hour, which gave Bud a comforting sense of having + fallen among friends. + </p> + <p> + Later they strolled over to a picture show which ran films two years + behind their first release, and charged fifteen cents for the privilege of + watching them. It was the first theater Bud had entered since he left San + Jose, and at the last minute he hesitated, tempted to turn back. He hated + moving pictures. They always had love scenes somewhere in the story, and + love scenes hurt. But Frank had already bought two tickets, and it seemed + unfriendly to turn back now. He went inside to the jangling of a + player-piano in dire need of a tuner's service, and sat down near the back + of the hall with his hat upon his lifted knees which could have used more + space between the seats. + </p> + <p> + While they waited for the program they talked in low tones, a mumble of + commonplaces. Bud forgot for the moment his distaste for such places, and + let himself slip easily back into the old thought channels, the old habits + of relaxation after a day's work was done. He laughed at the one-reel + comedy that had for its climax a chase of housemaids, policemen, and + outraged fruit vendors after a well-meaning but unfortunate lover. He saw + the lover pulled ignominiously out of a duck pond and soused relentlessly + into a watering trough, and laughed with Frank and called it some picture. + </p> + <p> + He eyed a succession of “current events” long since gone stale out where + the world moved swifter than here in the mountains, and he felt as though + he had come once more into close touch with life. All the dull months he + had spent with Cash and the burros dwarfed into a pointless, irrelevant + incident of his life. He felt that he ought to be out in the world, doing + bigger things than hunting gold that somehow always refused at the last + minute to be found. He stirred restlessly. He was free—there was + nothing to hold him if he wanted to go. The war—he believed he would + go over and take a hand. He could drive an ambulance or a truck— + </p> + <p> + Current Events, however, came abruptly to an end; and presently Bud's + vagrant, half-formed desire for achievement merged into biting + recollections. Here was a love drama, three reels of it. At first Bud + watched it with only a vague, disquieting sense of familiarity. Then + abruptly he recalled too vividly the time and circumstance of his first + sight of the picture. It was in San Jose, at the Liberty. He and Marie had + been married two days, and were living in that glamorous world of the + honeymoon, so poignantly sweet, so marvelous—and so fleeting. He had + whispered that the girl looked like her, and she had leaned heavily + against his shoulder. In the dusk of lowered lights their hands had groped + and found each other, and clung. + </p> + <p> + The girl did look like Marie. When she turned her head with that little + tilt of the chin, when she smiled, she was like Marie. Bud leaned forward, + staring, his brows drawn together, breathing the short, quick breaths of + emotion focussed upon one object, excluding all else. Once, when Frank + moved his body a little in the next seat, Bud's hand went out that way + involuntarily. The touch of Frank's rough coat sleeve recalled him + brutally, so that he drew away with a wincing movement as though he had + been hurt. + </p> + <p> + All those months in the desert; all those months of the slow journeying + northward; all the fought battles with memory, when he thought that he had + won—all gone for nothing, their slow anodyne serving but to sharpen + now the bite of merciless remembering. His hand shook upon his knee. Small + beads of moisture oozed out upon his forehead. He sat stunned before the + amazing revelation of how little time and distance had done to heal his + hurt. + </p> + <p> + He wanted Marie. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted her in the old + days, with a tenderness, an impulse to shield her from her own weaknesses, + her own mistakes. Then—in those old days—there had been the + glamor of mystery that is called romance. That was gone, worn away by the + close intimacies of matrimony. He knew her faults, he knew how she looked + when she was angry and petulant. He knew how little the real Marie + resembled the speciously amiable, altogether attractive Marie who faced a + smiling world when she went pleasuring. He knew, but—he wanted her + just the same. He wanted to tell her so many things about the burros, and + about the desert—things that would make her laugh, and things that + would make her blink back the tears. He was homesick for her as he had + never been homesick in his life before. The picture flickered on through + scene after scene that Bud did not see at all, though he was staring + unwinkingly at the screen all the while. The love scenes at the last were + poignantly real, but they passed before his eyes unnoticed. Bud's mind was + dwelling upon certain love scenes of his own. He was feeling Marie's + presence beside him there in the dusk. + </p> + <p> + “Poor kid—she wasn't so much to blame,” he muttered just above his + breath, when the screen was swept clean and blank at the end of the last + reel. + </p> + <p> + “Huh? Oh, he was the big mutt, right from the start,” Frank replied with + the assured air of a connoisseur. “He didn't have the brains of a bluejay, + or he'd have known all the time she was strong for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess that's right,” Bud mumbled, but he did not mean what Frank + thought he meant. “Let's go. I want a drink.” + </p> + <p> + Frank was willing enough; too willing, if the truth were known. They went + out into the cool starlight, and hurried across the side street that was + no more than a dusty roadway, to the saloon where they had spent the + afternoon. Bud called for whisky, and helped himself twice from the bottle + which the bartender placed between them. He did not speak until the second + glass was emptied, and then he turned to Frank with a purple glare in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Let's have a game of pool or something,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “There's a good poker game going, back there,” vouchsafed the bartender, + turning his thumb toward the rear, where half a dozen men were gathered in + a close group around a table. “There's some real money in sight, + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, let's go see.” Bud turned that way, Frank following like a pet + dog at his heels. + </p> + <p> + At dawn the next morning, Bud got up stiffly from the chair where he had + spent the night. His eyeballs showed a network of tiny red veins, swollen + with the surge of alcohol in his blood and with the strain of staring all + night at the cards. Beneath his eyes were puffy ridges. His cheekbones + flamed with the whisky flush. He cashed in a double-handful of chips, + stuffed the money he had won into his coat pocket, walked, with that stiff + precision of gait by which a drunken man strives to hide his drunkenness, + to the bar and had another drink. Frank was at his elbow. Frank was + staggering, garrulous, laughing a great deal over very small jokes. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to bed,” said Bud, his tongue forming the words with a slow + carefulness. + </p> + <p> + “Come over to my shack, Bud—rotten hotel. My bed's clean, anyway.” + Frank laughed and plucked him by the sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” Bud consented gravely. “We'll take a bottle along.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TEN. EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS + </h2> + <p> + A man's mind is a tricky thing—or, speaking more exactly, a man's + emotions are tricky things. Love has come rushing to the beck of a + tip-tilted chin, or the tone of a voice, or the droop of an eyelid. It has + fled for cause as slight. Sometimes it runs before resentment for a real + or fancied wrong, but then, if you have observed it closely, you will see + that quite frequently, when anger grows slow of foot, or dies of slow + starvation, love steals back, all unsuspected and unbidden—and + mayhap causes much distress by his return. It is like a sudden + resurrection of all the loved, long-mourned dead that sleep so serenely in + their tended plots. Loved though they were and long mourned, think of the + consternation if they all came trooping back to take their old places in + life! The old places that have been filled, most of them, by others who + are loved as dearly, who would be mourned if they were taken away. + </p> + <p> + Psychologists will tell us all about the subconscious mind, the hidden + loves and hates and longings which we believe are dead and long forgotten. + When one of those emotions suddenly comes alive and stands, terribly real + and intrusive, between our souls and our everyday lives, the strongest and + the best of us may stumble and grope blindly after content, or reparation, + or forgetfulness, or whatever seems most likely to give relief. + </p> + <p> + I am apologizing now for Bud, who had spent a good many months in pushing + all thoughts of Marie out of his mind, all hunger for her out of his + heart. He had kept away from towns, from women, lest he be reminded too + keenly of his matrimonial wreck. He had stayed with Cash and had hunted + gold, partly because Cash never seemed conscious of any need of a home or + love or wife or children, and therefore never reminded Bud of the home and + the wife and the love and the child he had lost out of his own life. Cash + seldom mentioned women at all, and when he did it was in a purely general + way, as women touched some other subject he was discussing. He never paid + any attention to the children they met casually in their travels. He + seemed absolutely self-sufficient, interested only in the prospect of + finding a paying claim. What he would do with wealth, if so be he attained + it, he never seemed to know or care. He never asked Bud any questions + about his private affairs, never seemed to care how Bud had lived, or + where. And Bud thankfully left his past behind the wall of silence. So he + had come to believe that he was almost as emotion-proof as Cash appeared + to be, and had let it go at that. + </p> + <p> + Now here he was, with his heart and his mind full of Marie—after + more than a year and a half of forgetting her! Getting drunk and playing + poker all night did not help him at all, for when he woke it was from a + sweet, intimate dream of her, and it was to a tormenting desire for her, + that gnawed at his mind as hunger gnaws at the stomach. Bud could not + understand it. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. By all + his simple rules of reckoning he ought to be “over it” by now. He had + been, until he saw that picture. + </p> + <p> + He was so very far from being over his trouble that he was under it; a + beaten dog wincing under the blows of memory, stung by the lash of his + longing. He groaned, and Frank thought it was the usual “morning after” + headache, and laughed ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “Same here,” he said. “I've got one like a barrel, and I didn't punish + half the booze you did.” + </p> + <p> + Bud did not say anything, but he reached for the bottle, tilted it and + swallowed three times before he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” whispered Frank, a little enviously. + </p> + <p> + Bud glanced somberly across at Frank, who was sitting by the stove with + his jaws between his palms and his hair toweled, regarding his guest + speculatively. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to get drunk again,” Bud announced bluntly. “If you don't want + to, you'd better duck. You're too easy led—I saw that last night. + You follow anybody's lead that you happen to be with. If you follow my + lead to-day, you'll be petrified by night. You better git, and let me go + it alone.” + </p> + <p> + Frank laughed uneasily. “Aw, I guess you ain't all that fatal, Bud. Let's + go over and have some breakfast—only it'll be dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “You go, if you want to.” Bud tilted the bottle again, his eyes half + closed while he swallowed. When he had finished, he shuddered violently at + the taste of the whisky. He got up, went to the water bucket and drank + half a dipper of water. “Good glory! I hate whisky,” he grumbled. “Takes a + barrel to have any effect on me too.” He turned and looked down at Frank + with a morose kind of pity. “You go on and get your breakfast, kid. I + don't want any. I'll stay here for awhile.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down on the side of the cheap, iron bedstead, and emptied his + pockets on the top quilt. He straightened the crumpled bills and counted + them, and sorted the silver pieces. All told, he had sixty-three dollars + and twenty cents. He sat fingering the money absently, his mind upon other + things. Upon Marie and the baby, to be exact. He was fighting the impulse + to send Marie the money. She might need it for the kid. If he was sure her + mother wouldn't get any of it... A year and a half was quite a while, and + fifteen hundred dollars wasn't much to live on these days. She couldn't + work, with the baby on her hands... + </p> + <p> + Frank watched him curiously, his jaws still resting between his two palms, + his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, his lips loose and trembling. A dollar + alarm clock ticked resonantly, punctuated now and then by the dull clink + of silver as Bud lifted a coin and let it drop on the little pile. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty good luck you had last night,” Frank ventured wishfully. “They + cleaned me.” + </p> + <p> + Bud straightened his drooping shoulders and scooped the money into his + hand. He laughed recklessly, and got up. “We'll try her another whirl, and + see if luck'll bring luck. Come on—let's go hunt up some of them + marks that got all the dough last night. We'll split, fifty-fifty, and the + same with what we win. Huh?” + </p> + <p> + “You're on, ho—let's go.” Bud had gauged him correctly—Frank + would follow any one who would lead. He got up and came to the table where + Bud was dividing the money into two equal sums, as nearly as he could make + change. What was left over—and that was the three dollars and twenty + cents—he tossed into the can of tobacco on a shelf. + </p> + <p> + “We'll let that ride—to sober up on, if we go broke,” he grunted. + “Come on—let's get action.” + </p> + <p> + Action, of a sort, they proceeded to get. Luck brought luck of the same + complexion. They won in fluctuating spells of good cards and judicious + teamwork. They did not cheat, though Frank was ready if Bud had led him + that way. Frank was ready for anything that Bud suggested. He drank when + Bud drank, went from the first saloon to the one farther down and across + the street, returned to the first with cheerful alacrity and much + meaningless laughter when Bud signified a desire to change. It soothed Bud + and irritated him by turns, this ready acquiescence of Frank's. He began + to take a malicious delight in testing that acquiescence. He began to try + whether he could not find the end of Frank's endurance in staying awake, + his capacity for drink, his good nature, his credulity—he ran the + scale of Frank's various qualifications, seeking always to establish a + well-defined limitation somewhere. + </p> + <p> + But Frank was utterly, absolutely plastic. He laughed and drank when Bud + suggested that they drink. He laughed and played whatever game Bud urged + him into. He laughed and agreed with Bud when Bud made statements to test + the credulity of anyman. He laughed and said, “Sure. Let's go!” when Bud + pined for a change of scene. + </p> + <p> + On the third day Bud suddenly stopped in the midst of a game of pool which + neither was steady enough to play, and gravely inspected the chalked end + of his cue. + </p> + <p> + “That's about enough of this,” he said. “We're drunk. We're so drunk we + don't know a pocket from a prospect hole. I'm tired of being a hog. I'm + going to go get another drink and sober up. And if you're the dog Fido + you've been so far, you'll do the same.” He leaned heavily upon the table, + and regarded Frank with stern, bloodshot blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + Frank laughed and slid his cue the length of the table. He also leaned a + bit heavily. “Sure,” he said. “I'm ready, any time you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of these days,” Bud stated with drunken deliberation, “they'll take + and hang you, Frank, for being such an agreeable cuss.” He took Frank + gravely by the arm and walked him to the bar, paid for two beers with + almost his last dollar, and, still holding Frank firmly, walked him out of + doors and down the street to Frank's cabin. He pushed him inside and stood + looking in upon him with a sour appraisement. + </p> + <p> + “You are the derndest fool I ever run across—but at that you're a + good scout too,” he informed Frank. “You sober up now, like I said. You + ought to know better 'n to act the way you've been acting. I'm sure + ashamed of you, Frank. Adios—I'm going to hit the trail for camp.” + With that he pulled the door shut and walked away, with that same + circumspect exactness in his stride which marks the drunken man as surely + as does a stagger. + </p> + <p> + He remembered what it was that had brought him to town—which is more + than most men in his condition would have done. He went to the post office + and inquired for mail, got what proved to be the assayer's report, and + went on. He bought half a dozen bananas which did not remind him of that + night when he had waited on the Oakland pier for the mysterious Foster, + though they might have recalled the incident vividly to mind had he been + sober. He had been wooing forgetfulness, and for the time being he had + won. + </p> + <p> + Walking up the steep, winding trail that led to Nelson Flat cleared a + little his fogged brain. He began to remember what it was that he had been + fighting to forget. Marie's face floated sometimes before him, but the + vision was misty and remote, like distant woodland seen through the gray + film of a storm. The thought of her filled him with a vague discomfort now + when his emotions were dulled by the terrific strain he had wilfully put + upon brain and body. Resentment crept into the foreground again. Marie had + made him suffer. Marie was to blame for this beastly fit of intoxication. + He did not love Marie—he hated her. He did not want to see her, he + did not want to think of her. She had done nothing for him but bring him + trouble. Marie, forsooth! (Only, Bud put it in a slightly different way.) + </p> + <p> + Halfway to the flat, he met Cash walking down the slope where the trail + seemed tunneled through deep green, so thick stood the young spruce. Cash + was swinging his arms in that free stride of the man who has learned how + to walk with the least effort. He did not halt when he saw Bud plodding + slowly up the trail, but came on steadily, his keen, blue-gray eyes + peering sharply from beneath his forward tilted hat brim. He came up to + within ten feet of Bud, and stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” He stood eyeing Bud appraisingly, much as Bud had eyed Frank a + couple of hours before. “I was just starting out to see what had become of + you,” he added, his voice carrying the full weight of reproach that the + words only hinted at. + </p> + <p> + “Well, get an eyeful, if that's what you come for. I'm here—and + lookin's cheap.” Bud's anger flared at the disapproval he read in Cash's + eyes, his voice, the set of his lips. + </p> + <p> + But Cash did not take the challenge. “Did the report come?” he asked, as + though that was the only matter worth discussing. + </p> + <p> + Bud pulled the letter sullenly from his pocket and gave it to Cash. He + stood moodily waiting while Cash opened and read and returned it. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. About what I thought—only it runs lighter in gold, with a + higher percentage of copper. It'll pay to go on and see what's at bed + rock. If the copper holds up to this all along, we'll be figuring on the + gold to pay for getting the copper. This is copper country, Bud. Looks + like we'd found us a copper mine.” He turned and walked on beside Bud. “I + dug in to quite a rich streak of sand while you was gone,” he volunteered + after a silence. “Coarse gold, as high as fifteen cents a pan. I figure we + better work that while the weather's good, and run our tunnel in on this + other when snow comes.” + </p> + <p> + Bud turned his head and looked at Cash intently for a minute. “I've been + drunker'n a fool for three days,” he announced solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. You look it,” was Cash's dry retort, while he stared straight + ahead, up the steep, shadowed trail. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE FIRST STAGES + </h2> + <p> + For a month Bud worked and forced himself to cheerfulness, and tried to + forget. Sometimes it was easy enough, but there were other times when he + must get away by himself and walk and walk, with his rifle over his + shoulder as a mild pretense that he was hunting game. But if he brought + any back camp it was because the game walked up and waited to be shot; + half the time Bud did not know where he was going, much less whether there + were deer within ten rods or ten miles. + </p> + <p> + During those spells of heartsickness he would sit all the evening and + smoke and stare at some object which his mind failed to register. Cash + would sit and watch him furtively; but Bud was too engrossed with his own + misery to notice it. Then, quite unexpectedly, reaction would come and + leave Bud in a peace that was more than half a torpid refusal of his mind + to worry much over anything. + </p> + <p> + He worked then, and talked much with Cash, and made plans for the + development of their mine. In that month they had come to call it a mine, + and they had filed and recorded their claim, and had drawn up an agreement + of partnership in it. They would “sit tight” and work on it through the + winter, and when spring came they hoped to have something tangible upon + which to raise sufficient capital to develop it properly. Or, times when + they had done unusually well with their sandbank, they would talk + optimistically about washing enough gold out of that claim to develop the + other, and keep the title all in their own hands. + </p> + <p> + Then, one night Bud dreamed again of Marie, and awoke with an insistent + craving for the oblivion of drunkenness. He got up and cooked the + breakfast, washed the dishes and swept the cabin, and measured out two + ounces of gold from what they had saved. + </p> + <p> + “You're keeping tabs on everything, Cash,” he said shortly. “Just charge + this up to me. I'm going to town.” + </p> + <p> + Cash looked up at him from under a slanted eye-brow. His lips had a twist + of pained disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. I figured you was about due in town,” he said resignedly. + </p> + <p> + “Aw, lay off that told-you-so stuff,” Bud growled. “You never figured + anything of the kind, and you know it.” He pulled his heavy sweater down + off a nail and put it on, scowling because the sleeves had to be pulled in + place on his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Too bad you can't wait a day. I figured we'd have a clean-up to-morrow, + maybe. She's been running pretty heavy—-” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go ahead and clean up, then. You can do it alone. Or wait till I + get back.” + </p> + <p> + Cash laughed, as a retort cutting, and not because he was amused. Bud + swore and went out, slamming the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + It was exactly five days alter that when he opened it again. Cash was + mixing a batch of sour-dough bread into loaves, and he did not say + anything at all when Bud came in and stood beside the stove, warming his + hands and glowering around the room. He merely looked up, and then went on + with his bread making. + </p> + <p> + Bud was not a pretty sight. Four days and nights of trying to see how much + whisky he could drink, and how long he could play poker without going to + sleep or going broke, had left their mark on his face and his trembling + hands. His eyes were puffy and red, and his cheeks were mottled, and his + lips were fevered and had lost any sign of a humorous quirk at the + corners. He looked ugly; as if he would like nothing better than an excuse + to quarrel with Cash—since Cash was the only person at hand to + quarrel with. + </p> + <p> + But Cash had not knocked around the world for nothing. He had seen men in + that mood before, and he had no hankering for trouble which is vastly + easier to start than it is to stop. He paid no attention to Bud. He made + his loaves, tucked them into the pan and greased the top with bacon grease + saved in a tomato can for such use. He set the pan on a shelf behind the + stove, covered it with a clean flour sack, opened the stove door, and slid + in two sticks. + </p> + <p> + “She's getting cold,” he observed casually. “It'll be winter now before we + know it.” + </p> + <p> + Bud grunted, pulled an empty box toward him by the simple expedient of + hooking his toes behind the corner, and sat down. He set his elbows on his + thighs and buried his face in his hands. His hat dropped off his head and + lay crown down beside him. He made a pathetic figure of miserable manhood, + of strength mistreated. His fine, brown hair fell in heavy locks down over + his fingers that rested on his forehead. Five minutes so, and he lifted + his head and glanced around him apathetically. “Gee-man-ee, I've got a + headache!” he muttered, dropping his forehead into his spread palms again. + </p> + <p> + Cash hesitated, derision hiding in the back of his eyes. Then he pushed + the dented coffeepot forward on the stove. + </p> + <p> + “Try a cup of coffee straight,” he said unemotionally, “and then lay down. + You'll sleep it off in a few hours.” + </p> + <p> + Bud did not look up, or make any move to show that he heard. But presently + he rose and went heavily over to his bunk. “I don't want any darn coffee,” + he growled, and sprawled himself stomach down on the bed, with his face + turned from the light. + </p> + <p> + Cash eyed him coldly, with the corner of his upper lip lifted a little. + Whatever weaknesses he possessed, drinking and gambling had no place in + the list. Nor had he any patience with those faults in others. Had Bud + walked down drunk to Cash's camp, that evening when they first met, he + might have received a little food doled out to him grudgingly, but he + assuredly would not have slept in Cash's bed that night. That he tolerated + drunkenness in Bud now would have been rather surprising to any one who + knew Cash well. Perhaps he had a vague understanding of the deeps through + which Bud was struggling, and so was constrained to hide his disapproval, + hoping that the moral let-down was merely a temporary one. + </p> + <p> + He finished his strictly utilitarian household labor and went off up the + flat to the sluice boxes. Bud had not moved from his first position on the + bed, but he did not breathe like a sleeping man. Not at first; after an + hour or so he did sleep, heavily and with queer, muddled dreams that had + no sequence and left only a disturbed sense of discomfort behind then. + </p> + <p> + At noon or a little after Cash returned to the cabin, cast a sour look of + contempt at the recumbent Bud, and built a fire in the old cookstove. He + got his dinner, ate it, and washed his dishes with never a word to Bud, + who had wakened and lay with his eyes half open, sluggishly miserable and + staring dully at the rough spruce logs of the wall. + </p> + <p> + Cash put on his cap, looked at Bud and gave a snort, and went off again to + his work. Bud lay still for awhile longer, staring dully at the wall. + Finally he raised up, swung his feet to the floor, and sat there staring + around the little cabin as though he had never before seen it. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! You'd think, the way he highbrows me, that Cash never done wrong in + his life! Tin angel, him—I don't think. Next time, I'll tell a + pinheaded world I'll have to bring home a quart or two, and put on a show + right!” + </p> + <p> + Just what he meant by that remained rather obscure, even to Bud. He got + up, shut his eyes very tight and then opened them wide to clear his + vision, shook himself into his clothes and went over to the stove. Cash + had not left the coffeepot on the stove but had, with malicious intent—or + so Bud believed—put it away on the shelf so that what coffee + remained was stone cold. Bud muttered and threw out the coffee, grounds + and all—a bit of bachelor extravagance which only anger could drive + him to—and made fresh coffee, and made it strong. He did not want + it. He drank it for the work of physical regeneration it would do for him. + </p> + <p> + He lay down afterwards, and this time he dropped into a more nearly normal + sleep, which lasted until Cash returned at dusk After that he lay with his + face hidden, awake and thinking. Thinking, for the most part, of how dull + and purposeless life was, and wondering why the world was made, or the + people in it—since nobody was happy, and few even pretended to be. + Did God really make the world, and man, just to play with—for a + pastime? Then why bother about feeling ashamed for anything one did that + was contrary to God's laws? + </p> + <p> + Why be puffed up with pride for keeping one or two of them unbroken—like + Cash, for instance. Just because Cash never drank or played cards, what + right had he to charge the whole atmosphere of the cabin with his contempt + and his disapproval of Bud, who chose to do both? + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, why did he choose a spree as a relief from his + particular bunch of ghosts? Trading one misery for another was all you + could call it. Doing exactly the things that Marie's mother had predicted + he would do, committing the very sins that Marie was always a little + afraid he would commit—there must be some sort of twisted revenge in + that, he thought, but for the life of him he could not quite see any real, + permanent satisfaction in it—especially since Marie and her mother + would never get to hear of it. + </p> + <p> + For that matter, he was not so sure that they would not get to hear. He + remembered meeting, just on the first edge of his spree, one Joe De Barr, + a cigar salesman whom he had known in San Jose. Joe knew Marie—in + fact, Joe had paid her a little attention before Bud came into her life. + Joe had been in Alpine between trains, taking orders for goods from the + two saloons and the hotel. He had seen Bud drinking. Bud knew perfectly + well how much Joe had seen him drinking, and he knew perfectly well that + Joe was surprised to the point of amazement—and, Bud suspected, + secretly gratified as well. Wherefore Bud had deliberately done what he + could do to stimulate and emphasize both the surprise and the + gratification. Why is it that most human beings feel a sneaking + satisfaction in the downfall of another? Especially another who is, or has + been at sometime, a rival in love or in business? + </p> + <p> + Bud had no delusions concerning Joe De Barr. If Joe should happen to meet + Marie, he would manage somehow to let her know that Bud was going to the + dogs—on the toboggan—down and out—whatever it suited Joe + to declare him. It made Bud sore now to think of Joe standing so smug and + so well dressed and so immaculate beside the bar, smiling and twisting the + ends of his little brown mustache while he watched Bud make such a + consummate fool of himself. At the time, though, Bud had taken a perverse + delight in making himself appear more soddenly drunken, more boisterous + and reckless than he really was. + </p> + <p> + Oh, well, what was the odds? Marie couldn't think any worse of him than + she already thought. And whatever she thought, their trails had parted, + and they would never cross again—not if Bud could help it. Probably + Marie would say amen to that. He would like to know how she was getting + along—and the baby, too. Though the baby had never seemed quite real + to Bud, or as if it were a permanent member of the household. It was a + leather-lunged, red-faced, squirming little mite, and in his heart of + hearts Bud had not felt as though it belonged to him at all. He had never + rocked it, for instance, or carried it in his arms. He had been afraid he + might drop it, or squeeze it too hard, or break it somehow with his man's + strength. When he thought of Marie he did not necessarily think of the + baby, though sometimes he did, wondering vaguely how much it had grown, + and if it still hollered for its bottle, all hours of the day and night. + </p> + <p> + Coming back to Marie and Joe—it was not at all certain that they + would meet; or that Joe would mention him, even if they did. A wrecked + home is always a touchy subject, so touchy that Joe had never intimated in + his few remarks to Bud that there had ever been a Marie, and Bud, drunk as + he had been, was still not too drunk to hold back the question that + clamored to be spoken. + </p> + <p> + Whether he admitted it to himself or not, the sober Bud Moore who lay on + his bunk nursing a headache and a grouch against the world was ashamed of + the drunken Bud Moore who had paraded his drunkenness before the man who + knew Marie. He did not want Marie to hear what Joe might tell There was no + use, he told himself miserably, in making Marie despise him as well as + hate him. There was a difference. She might think him a brute, and she + might accuse him of failing to be a kind and loving husband; but she could + not, unless Joe told of his spree, say that she had ever heard of his + carousing around. That it would be his own fault if she did hear, served + only to embitter his mood. + </p> + <p> + He rolled over and glared at Cash, who had cooked his supper and was + sitting down to eat it alone. Cash was looking particularly misanthropic + as he bent his head to meet the upward journey of his coffee cup, and his + eyes, when they lifted involuntarily with Bud's sudden movement, had still + that hard look of bottled-up rancor that had impressed itself upon Bud + earlier in the day. + </p> + <p> + Neither man spoke, or made any sign of friendly recognition. Bud would not + have talked to any one in his present state of self-disgust, but for all + that Cash's silence rankled. A moment their eyes met and held; then with + shifted glances the souls of them drew apart—farther apart than they + had ever been, even when they quarreled over Pete, down in Arizona. + </p> + <p> + When Cash had finished and was filing his pipe, Bud got up and reheated + the coffee, and fried more bacon and potatoes, Cash having cooked just + enough for himself. Cash smoked and gave no heed, and Bud retorted by + eating in silence and in straightway washing his own cup, plate, knife, + and fork and wiping clean the side of the table where he always sat. He + did not look at Cash, but he felt morbidly that Cash was regarding him + with that hateful sneer hidden under his beard. He knew that it was silly + to keep that stony silence, but he kept telling himself that if Cash + wanted to talk, he had a tongue, and it was not tied. Besides, Cash had + registered pretty plainly his intentions and his wishes when he excluded + Bud from his supper. + </p> + <p> + It was a foolish quarrel, but it was that kind of foolish quarrel which is + very apt to harden into a lasting one. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWELVE. MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE + </h2> + <p> + Domestic wrecks may be a subject taboo in polite conversation, but Joe De + Barr was not excessively polite, and he had, moreover, a very likely hope + that Marie would yet choose to regard him with more favor than she had + shown in the past. He did not chance to see her at once, but as soon as + his work would permit he made it a point to meet her. He went about it + with beautiful directness. He made bold to call her up on “long distance” + from San Francisco, told her that he would be in San Jose that night, and + invited her to a show. + </p> + <p> + Marie accepted without enthusiasm—and her listlessness was not lost + over forty miles of telephone wire. Enough of it seeped to Joe's ears to + make him twist his mustache quite furiously when he came out of the + telephone booth. If she was still stuck on that fellow Bud, and couldn't + see anybody else, it was high time she was told a few things about him. It + was queer how a nice girl like Marie would hang on to some cheap guy like + Bud Moore. Regular fellows didn't stand any show—unless they played + what cards happened to fall their way. Joe, warned by her indifference, + set himself very seriously to the problem of playing his cards to the best + advantage. + </p> + <p> + He went into a flower store—disdaining the banked loveliness upon + the corners—and bought Marie a dozen great, heavy-headed + chrysanthemums, whose color he could not name to save his life, so called + them pink and let it go at that. They were not pink, and they were not + sweet—Joe held the bunch well away from his protesting olfactory + nerves which were not educated to tantalizing odors—but they were + more expensive than roses, and he knew that women raved over them. He + expected Marie to rave over them, whether she liked them or not. + </p> + <p> + Fortified by these, groomed and perfumed and as prosperous looking as a + tobacco salesman with a generous expense account may be, he went to San + Jose on an early evening train that carried a parlor car in which Joe made + himself comfortable. He fooled even the sophisticated porter into thinking + him a millionaire, wherefore he arrived in a glow of self-esteem, which + bred much optimism. + </p> + <p> + Marie was impressed—at least with his assurance and the + chrysanthemums, over which she was sufficiently enthusiastic to satisfy + even Joe. Since he had driven to the house in a hired automobile, he + presently had the added satisfaction of handing Marie into the tonneau as + though she were a queen entering the royal chariot, and of ordering the + driver to take them out around the golf links, since it was still very + early. Then, settling back with what purported to be a sigh of bliss, he + regarded Marie sitting small and still and listless beside him. The glow + of the chrysanthemums had already faded. Marie, with all the girlish + prettiness she had ever possessed, and with an added charm that was very + elusive and hard to analyze, seemed to have lost all of her old animation. + </p> + <p> + Joe tried the weather, and the small gossip of the film world, and a + judiciously expurgated sketch of his life since he had last seen her. + Marie answered him whenever his monologue required answer, but she was + unresponsive, uninterested—bored. Joe twisted his mustache, eyed her + aslant and took the plunge. + </p> + <p> + “I guess joy-ridin' kinda calls up old times, ay?” he began insidiously. + “Maybe I shouldn't have brought you out for a ride; maybe it brings back + painful memories, as the song goes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Marie spiritlessly. “I don't see why it should.” + </p> + <p> + “No? Well, that's good to hear you say so, girlie. I was kinda afraid + maybe trouble had hit you hard. A sensitive, big-hearted little person + like you. But if you've put it all outa your mind, why, that's where + you're dead right. Personally, I was glad to see you saw where you'd made + a mistake, and backed up. That takes grit and brains. Of course, we all + make mistakes—you wasn't to blame—innocent little kid like you—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Marie, “I guess I made a mistake, all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure! But you seen it and backed up. And a good thing you did. Look what + he'd of brought you to by now, if you'd stuck!” + </p> + <p> + Marie tilted back her head and looked up at the tall row of eucalyptus + trees feathered against the stars. “What?” she asked uninterestedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well—I don't want to knock, especially a fellow that's on the + toboggan already. But I know a little girl that's aw-fully lucky, and I'm + honest enough to say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Marie obligingly. “Why—in particular?” + </p> + <p> + “Why in particular?” Joe leaned toward her. “Say, you must of heard how + Bud's going to the dogs. If you haven't, I don't want—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I hadn't heard,” said Marie, looking up at the Big Dipper so that her + profile, dainty and girlish still, was revealed like a cameo to Joe. “Is + he? I love to watch the stars, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I love to watch a star,” Joe breathed softly. “So you hadn't heard how + Bud's turned out to be a regular souse? Honest, didn't you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't know it,” said Marie boredly. “Has he?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, say! You couldn't tell it from the real thing! Believe me, Bud's + some pickled bum, these days. I run across him up in the mountains, a + month or so ago. Honest, I was knocked plumb silly—much as I knew + about Bud that you never knew, I never thought he'd turn out quite so—” + Joe paused, with a perfect imitation of distaste for his subject. “Say, + this is great, out here,” he murmured, tucking the robe around her with + that tender protectiveness which stops just short of being proprietary. + “Honest, Marie, do you like it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sure, I like it, Joe.” Marie smiled at him in the star-light. “It's + great, don't you think? I don't get out very often, any more. I'm working, + you know—and evenings and Sundays baby takes up all my time.” + </p> + <p> + “You working? Say, that's a darned shame! Don't Bud send you any money?” + </p> + <p> + “He left some,” said Marie frankly. “But I'm keeping that for baby, when + he grows up and needs it. He don't send any.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, say! As long as he's in the State, you can make him dig up. For the + kid's support, anyway. Why don't you get after him?” + </p> + <p> + Marie looked down over the golf links, as the car swung around the long + curve at the head of the slope. “I don't know where he is,” she said + tonelessly. “Where did you see him, Joe?” + </p> + <p> + Joe's hesitation lasted but long enough for him to give his mustache end a + twist. Marie certainly seemed to be well “over it.” There could be no harm + in telling. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when I saw him he was at Alpine; that's a little burg up in the + edge of the mountains, on the W. P. He didn't look none too prosperous, at + that. But he had money—he was playing poker and that kind of thing. + And he was drunk as a boiled owl, and getting drunker just as fast as he + knew how. Seemed to be kind of a stranger there; at least he didn't throw + in with the bunch like a native would. But that was more than a month ago, + Marie. He might not be there now. I could write up and find out for you.” + </p> + <p> + Marie settled back against the cushions as though she had already + dismissed the subject from her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't bother about it, Joe. I don't suppose he's got any money, + anyway. Let's forget him.” + </p> + <p> + “You said it, Marie. Stacked up to me like a guy that's got just enough + dough for a good big souse. He ain't hard to forget—is he, girlie?” + </p> + <p> + Marie laughed assentingly. And if she did not quite attain her old + bubbling spirits during the evening, at least she sent Joe back to San + Francisco feeling very well satisfied with himself. He must have been + satisfied with himself. He must have been satisfied with his wooing also, + because he strolled into a jewelry store the next morning and priced + several rings which he judged would be perfectly suitable for engagement + rings. He might have gone so far as to buy one, if he had been sure of the + size and of Marie's preference in stones. Since he lacked detailed + information, he decided to wait, but he intimated plainly to the clerk + that he would return in a few days. + </p> + <p> + It was just as well that he did decide to wait, for when he tried again to + see Marie he failed altogether. Marie had left town. Her mother, with an + acrid tone of resentment, declared that she did not know any more than the + man in the moon where Marie had gone, but that she “suspicioned” that some + fool had told Marie where Bud was, and that Marie had gone traipsing after + him. She had taken the baby along, which was another piece of foolishness + which her mother would never have permitted had she been at home when + Marie left. + </p> + <p> + Joe did not take the matter seriously, though he was disappointed at + having made a fruitless trip to San Jose. He did not believe that Marie + had done anything more than take a vacation from her mother's + sharp-tongued rule, and for that he could not blame her, after having + listened for fifteen minutes to the lady's monologue upon the subject of + selfish, inconsiderate, ungrateful daughters. Remembering Marie's attitude + toward Bud, he did not believe that she had gone hunting him. + </p> + <p> + Yet Marie had done that very thing. True, she had spent a sleepless night + fighting the impulse, and a harassed day trying to make up her mind + whether to write first, or whether to go and trust to the element of + surprise to help plead her cause with Bud; whether to take Lovin Child + with her, or leave him with her mother. + </p> + <p> + She definitely decided to write Bud a short note and ask him if he + remembered having had a wife and baby, once upon a time, and if he never + wished that he had them still. She wrote the letter, crying a little over + it along toward the last, as women will. But it sounded cold-blooded and + condemnatory. She wrote another, letting a little of her real self into + the lines. But that sounded sentimental and moving-pictury, and she knew + how Bud hated cheap sentimentalism. + </p> + <p> + So she tore them both up and put them in the little heating stove, and + lighted a match and set them burning, and watched them until they withered + down to gray ash, and then broke up the ashes and scattered them amongst + the cinders. Marie, you must know, had learned a good many things, one of + which was the unwisdom of whetting the curiosity of a curious woman. + </p> + <p> + After that she proceeded to pack a suit case for herself and Lovin Child, + seizing the opportunity while her mother was visiting a friend in Santa + Clara. Once the packing was began, Marie worked with a feverish intensity + of purpose and an eagerness that was amazing, considering her usual apathy + toward everything in her life as she was living it. + </p> + <p> + Everything but Lovin Child. Him she loved and gloried in. He was like Bud—so + much like him that Marie could not have loved him so much if she had + managed to hate Bud as she tried sometimes to hate him. Lovin Child was a + husky youngster, and he already had the promise of being as tall and + straight-limbed and square-shouldered as his father. Deep in his eyes + there lurked always a twinkle, as though he knew a joke that would make + you laugh—if only he dared tell it; a quizzical, secretly amused + little twinkle, as exactly like Bud's as it was possible for a + two-year-old twinkle to be. To go with the twinkle, he had a quirky little + smile. And to better the smile, he had the jolliest little chuckle that + ever came through a pair of baby lips. + </p> + <p> + He came trotting up to the suit case which Marie had spread wide open on + the bed, stood up on his tippy toes, and peered in. The quirky smile was + twitching his lips, and the look he turned toward Marie's back was full of + twinkle. He reached into the suit case, clutched a clean handkerchief and + blew his nose with solemn precision; put the handkerchief back all + crumpled, grabbed a silk stocking and drew it around his neck, and was + straining to reach his little red Brownie cap when Marie turned and caught + him up in her arms. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Lovin Child! Baby mustn't. Marie is going to take her lovin' baby + boy to find—” She glanced hastily over her shoulder to make sure + there was no one to hear, buried her face in the baby's fat neck and + whispered the wonder, “—to find hims daddy Bud! Does Lovin Man want + to see hims daddy Bud? I bet he does want! I bet hims daddy Bud will be + glad—Now you sit right still, and Marie will get him a cracker, an' + then he can watch Marie pack him little shirt, and hims little bunny suit, + and hims wooh-wooh, and hims 'tockins—” + </p> + <p> + It is a pity that Bud could not have seen the two of them in the next + hour, wherein Marie flew to her hopeful task of packing her suit case, and + Lovin Child was quite as busy pulling things out of it, and getting + stepped on, and having to be comforted, and insisting upon having on his + bunny suit, and then howling to go before Marie was ready. Bud would have + learned enough to ease the ache in his heart—enough to humble him + and fill him with an abiding reverence for a love that will live, as + Marie's had lived, on bitterness and regret. + </p> + <p> + Nearly distracted under the lash of her own eagerness and the fear that + her mother would return too soon and bully her into giving up her wild + plan, Marie, carrying Lovin Child on one arm and lugging the suit case in + the other hand, and half running, managed to catch a street car and climb + aboard all out of breath and with her hat tilted over one ear. She + deposited the baby on the seat beside her, fumbled for a nickel, and asked + the conductor pantingly if she would be in time to catch the four-five to + the city. It maddened her to watch the bored deliberation of the man as he + pulled out his watch and regarded it meditatively. + </p> + <p> + “You'll catch it—if you're lucky about your transfer,” he said, and + rang up her fare and went off to the rear platform, just as if it were not + a matter of life and death at all. Marie could have shaken him for his + indifference; and as for the motorman, she was convinced that he ran as + slow as he dared, just to drive her crazy. But even with these two inhuman + monsters doing their best to make her miss the train, and with the street + car she wanted to transfer to running off and leaving her at the very last + minute, and with Lovin Child suddenly discovering that he wanted to be + carried, and that he emphatically did not want her to carry the suit case + at all, Marie actually reached the depot ahead of the four-five train. + Much disheveled and flushed with nervousness and her exertions, she + dragged Lovin Child up the steps by one arm, found a seat in the chair car + and, a few minutes later, suddenly realized that she was really on her way + to an unknown little town in an unknown part of the country, in quest of a + man who very likely did not want to be found by her. + </p> + <p> + Two tears rolled down her cheeks, and were traced to the corners of her + mouth by the fat, investigative finger of Lovin Child before Marie could + find her handkerchief and wipe them away. Was any one in this world ever + so utterly, absolutely miserable? She doubted it. What if she found Bud—drunk, + as Joe had described him? Or, worse than that, what if she did not find + him at all? She tried not to cry, but it seemed as though she must cry or + scream. Fast as she wiped them away, other tears dropped over her eyelids + upon her cheeks, and were given the absorbed attention of Lovin Child, who + tried to catch each one with his finger. To distract him, she turned him + around face to the window. + </p> + <p> + “See all the—pitty cows,” she urged, her lips trembling so much that + they would scarcely form the words. And when Lovin Child flattened a + finger tip against the window and chuckled, and said “Ee? Ee?”—which + was his way of saying see—Marie dropped her face down upon his fuzzy + red “bunny” cap, hugged him close to her, and cried, from sheer, nervous + reaction. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTEEN. CABIN FEVER IN THE WORST FORM + </h2> + <p> + Bud Moore woke on a certain morning with a distinct and well-defined + grouch against the world as he had found it; a grouch quite different from + the sullen imp of contrariness that had possessed him lately. He did not + know just what had caused the grouch, and he did not care. He did know, + however, that he objected to the look of Cash's overshoes that stood + pigeon-toed beside Cash's bed on the opposite side of the room, where Bud + had not set his foot for three weeks and more. He disliked the audible + yawn with which Cash manifested his return from the deathlike + unconsciousness of sleep. He disliked the look of Cash's rough coat and + sweater and cap, that hung on a nail over Cash's bunk. He disliked the + thought of getting up in the cold—and more, the sure knowledge that + unless he did get up, and that speedily, Cash would be dressed ahead of + him, and starting a fire in the cookstove. Which meant that Cash would be + the first to cook and eat his breakfast, and that the warped ethics of + their dumb quarrel would demand that Bud pretend to be asleep until Cash + had fried his bacon and his hotcakes and had carried them to his end of + the oilcloth-covered table. + </p> + <p> + When, by certain well-known sounds, Bud was sure that Cash was eating, he + could, without loss of dignity or without suspicion of making any + overtures toward friendliness, get up and dress and cook his own + breakfast, and eat it at his own end of the table. Bud wondered how long + Cash, the old fool, would sulk like that. Not that he gave a darn—he + just wondered, is all. For all he cared, Cash could go on forever cooking + his own meals and living on his own side of the shack. Bud certainly would + not interrupt him in acting the fool, and if Cash wanted to keep it up + till spring, Cash was perfectly welcome to do so. It just showed how + ornery a man could be when he was let to go. So far as he was concerned, + he would just as soon as not have that dead line painted down the middle + of the cabin floor. + </p> + <p> + Nor did its presence there trouble him in the least. Just this morning, + however, the fact of Cash's stubbornness in keeping to his own side of the + line irritated Bud. He wanted to get back at the old hound somehow—without + giving in an inch in the mute deadlock. Furthermore, he was hungry, and he + did not propose to lie there and starve while old Cash pottered around the + stove. He'd tell the world he was going to have his own breakfast first, + and if Cash didn't want to set in on the cooking, Cash could lie in bed + till he was paralyzed, and be darned. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Cash pushed back the blankets that had been banked to his + ears. Simultaneously, Bud swung his feet to the cold floor with a thump + designed solely to inform Cash that Bud was getting up. Cash turned over + with his back to the room and pulled up the blankets. Bud grinned + maliciously and dressed as deliberately as the cold of the cabin would let + him. To be sure, there was the disadvantage of having to start his own + fire, but that disagreeable task was offset by the pleasure he would get + in messing around as long as he could, cooking his breakfast. He even + thought of frying potatoes and onions after he cooked his bacon. Potatoes + and onions fried together have a lovely tendency to stick to the frying + pan, especially if there is not too much grease, and if they are fried + very slowly. Cash would have to do some washing and scraping, when it came + his turn to cook. Bud knew just about how mad that would make Cash, and he + dwelt upon the prospect relishfully. + </p> + <p> + Bud never wanted potatoes for his breakfast. Coffee, bacon, and hotcakes + suited him perfectly. But just for meanness, because he felt mean and he + wanted to act mean, he sliced the potatoes and the onions into the frying + pan, and, to make his work artistically complete, he let them burn and + stick to the pan,—after he had his bacon and hotcakes fried, of + course! + </p> + <p> + He sat down and began to eat. And presently Cash crawled out into the warm + room filled with the odor of frying onions, and dressed himself with the + detached calm of the chronically sulky individual. Not once did the manner + of either man betray any consciousness of the other's presence. Unless + some detail of the day's work compelled them to speech, not once for more + than three weeks had either seemed conscious of the other. + </p> + <p> + Cash washed his face and his hands, took the side of bacon, and cut three + slices with the precision of long practice. Bud sopped his last hotcake in + a pool of syrup and watched him from the corner of his eyes, without + turning his head an inch toward Cash. His keenest desire, just then, was + to see Cash when he tackled the frying pan. + </p> + <p> + But Cash disappointed him there. He took a pie tin off the shelf and laid + his strips of bacon on it, and set it in the oven; which is a very good + way of cooking breakfast bacon, as Bud well knew. Cash then took down the + little square baking pan, greased from the last baking of bread, and in + that he fried his hot cakes. As if that were not sufficiently + exasperating, he gave absolutely no sign of being conscious of the frying + pan any more than he was conscious of Bud. He did not overdo it by + whistling, or even humming a tune—which would have given Bud an + excuse to say something almost as mean as his mood. Abstractedness rode + upon Cash's lined brow. Placid meditation shone forth from his keen old + blue-gray eyes. + </p> + <p> + The bacon came from the oven juicy-crisp and curled at the edges and + delicately browned. The cakes came out of the baking pan brown and thick + and light. Cash sat down at his end of the table, pulled his own can of + sugar and his own cup of sirup and his own square of butter toward him; + poured his coffee, that he had made in a small lard pail, and began to eat + his breakfast exactly as though he was alone in that cabin. + </p> + <p> + A great resentment filled Bud's soul to bursting, The old hound! Bud + believed now that Cash was capable of leaving that frying pan dirty for + the rest of the day! A man like that would do anything! If it wasn't for + that claim, he'd walk off and forget to come back. + </p> + <p> + Thinking of that seemed to crystallize into definite purpose what had been + muddling his mind with vague impulses to let his mood find expression. He + would go to Alpine that day. He would hunt up Frank and see if he couldn't + jar him into showing that he had a mind of his own. Twice since that first + unexpected spree, he had spent a good deal of time and gold dust and + consumed a good deal of bad whisky and beer, in testing the inherent + obligingness of Frank. The last attempt had been the cause of the final + break between him and Cash. Cash had reminded Bud harshly that they would + need that gold to develop their quartz claim, and he had further stated + that he wanted no “truck” with a gambler and a drunkard, and that Bud had + better straighten up if he wanted to keep friends with Cash. + </p> + <p> + Bud had retorted that Cash might as well remember that Bud had a half + interest in the two claims, and that he would certainly stay with it. + Meantime, he would tell the world he was his own boss, and Cash needn't + think for a minute that Bud was going to ask permission for what he did or + did not do. Cash needn't have any truck with him, either. It suited Bud + very well to keep on his own side of the cabin, and he'd thank Cash to + mind his own business and not step over the dead line. + </p> + <p> + Cash had laughed disagreeably and asked Bud what he was going to do—draw + a chalk mark, maybe? + </p> + <p> + Bud, half drunk and unable to use ordinary good sense, had said yes, by + thunder, he'd draw a chalk line if he wanted to, and if he did, Cash had + better not step over it either, unless he wanted to be kicked back. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore the broad, black line down the middle of the floor to where the + table stood. Obviously, he could not well divide the stove and the + teakettle and the frying pan and coffeepot. The line stopped abruptly with + a big blob of lampblack mixed with coal oil, just where necessity + compelled them both to use the same floor space. + </p> + <p> + The next day Bud had been ashamed of the performance, but his shame could + not override his stubbornness. The black line stared up at him accusingly. + Cash, keeping scrupulously upon his own side of it, went coldly about his + own affairs and never yielded so much as a glance at Bud. And Bud grew + more moody and dissatisfied with himself, but he would not yield, either. + Perversely he waited for Cash to apologize for what he had said about + gamblers and drunkards, and tried to believe that upon Cash rested all of + the blame. + </p> + <p> + Now he washed his own breakfast dishes, including the frying pan, spread + the blankets smooth on his bunk, swept as much of the floor as lay upon + his side of the dead line. Because the wind was in the storm quarter and + the lowering clouds promised more snow, he carried in three big armfuls of + wood and placed them upon his corner of the fireplace, to provide warmth + when he returned. Cash would not touch that wood while Bud was gone, and + Bud knew it. Cash would freeze first. But there was small chance of that, + because a small, silent rivalry had grown from the quarrel; a rivalry to + see which kept the best supply of wood, which swept cleanest under his + bunk and up to the black line, which washed his dishes cleanest, and kept + his shelf in the cupboard the tidiest. Before the fireplace in an evening + Cash would put on wood, and when next it was needed, Bud would get up and + put on wood. Neither would stoop to stinting or to shirking, neither would + give the other an inch of ground for complaint. It was not enlivening to + live together that way, but it worked well toward keeping the cabin ship + shape. + </p> + <p> + So Bud, knowing that it was going to storm, and perhaps dreading a little + the long monotony of being housed with a man as stubborn as himself, + buttoned a coat over his gray, roughneck sweater, pulled a pair of + mail-order mittens over his mail-order gloves, stamped his feet into + heavy, three-buckled overshoes, and set out to tramp fifteen miles through + the snow, seeking the kind of pleasure which turns to pain with the + finding. + </p> + <p> + He knew that Cash, out by the woodpile, let the axe blade linger in the + cut while he stared after him. He knew that Cash would be lonesome without + him, whether Cash ever admitted it or not. He knew that Cash would be + passively anxious until he returned—for the months they had spent + together had linked them closer than either would confess. Like a married + couple who bicker and nag continually when together, but are miserable + when apart, close association had become a deeply grooved habit not easily + thrust aside. Cabin fever might grip them and impel them to absurdities + such as the dead line down the middle of their floor and the silence that + neither desired but both were too stubborn to break; but it could not + break the habit of being together. So Bud was perfectly aware of the fact + that he would be missed, and he was ill-humored enough to be glad of it. + Frank, if he met Bud that day, was likely to have his amiability tested to + its limit. + </p> + <p> + Bud tramped along through the snow, wishing it was not so deep, or else + deep enough to make snow-shoeing practicable in the timber; thinking too + of Cash and how he hoped Cash would get his fill of silence, and of Frank, + and wondering where he would find him. He had covered perhaps two miles of + the fifteen, and had walked off a little of his grouch, and had stopped to + unbutton his coat, when he heard the crunching of feet in the snow, just + beyond a thick clump of young spruce. + </p> + <p> + Bud was not particularly cautious, nor was he averse to meeting people in + the trail. He stood still though, and waited to see who was coming that + way—since travelers on that trail were few enough to be noticeable. + </p> + <p> + In a minute more a fat old squaw rounded the spruce grove and shied off + startled when she glimpsed Bud. Bud grunted and started on, and the squaw + stepped clear of the faintly defined trail to let him pass. Moreover, she + swung her shapeless body around so that she half faced him as he passed. + Bud's lips tightened, and he gave her only a glance. He hated fat old + squaws that were dirty and wore their hair straggling down over their + crafty, black eyes. They burlesqued womanhood in a way that stirred always + a smoldering resentment against them. This particular squaw had nothing to + commend her to his notice. She had a dirty red bandanna tied over her + dirty, matted hair and under her grimy double chin. A grimy gray blanket + was draped closely over her squat shoulders and formed a pouch behind, + wherein the plump form of a papoose was cradled, a little red cap pulled + down over its ears. + </p> + <p> + Bud strode on, his nose lifted at the odor of stale smoke that pervaded + the air as he passed. The squaw, giving him a furtive stare, turned and + started on, bent under her burden. + </p> + <p> + Then quite suddenly a wholly unexpected sound pursued Bud and halted him + in the trail; the high, insistent howl of a child that has been denied its + dearest desire of the moment. Bud looked back inquiringly. The squaw was + hurrying on, and but for the straightness of the trail just there, her fat + old canvas-wrapped legs would have carried her speedily out of sight. Of + course, papooses did yell once in awhile, Bud supposed, though he did not + remember ever hearing one howl like that on the trail. But what made the + squaw in such a deuce of a hurry all at once? + </p> + <p> + Bud's theory of her kind was simple enough: If they fled from you, it was + because they had stolen something and were afraid you would catch them at + it. He swung around forthwith in the trail and went after her—whereat + she waddled faster through the snow like a frightened duck. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! You come back here a minute! What's all the rush?” Bud's voice and + his long legs pursued, and presently he overtook her and halted her by the + simple expedient of grasping her shoulder firmly. The high-keyed howling + ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and Bud, peering under the rolled edge + of the red stocking cap, felt his jaw go slack with surprise. + </p> + <p> + The baby was smiling at him delightedly, with a quirk of the lips and a + twinkle lodged deep somewhere in its eyes. It worked one hand free of its + odorous wrappings, spread four fat fingers wide apart over one eye, and + chirped, “Pik-k?” and chuckled infectiously deep in its throat. + </p> + <p> + Bud gulped and stared and felt a warm rush of blood from his heart up into + his head. A white baby, with eyes that laughed, and quirky red lips that + laughed with the eyes, and a chuckling voice like that, riding on the back + of that old squaw, struck him dumb with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Good glory!” he blurted, as though the words had been jolted from him by + the shock. Where-upon the baby reached out its hand to him and said + haltingly, as though its lips had not yet grown really familiar with the + words: + </p> + <p> + “Take—Uvin—Chal!” + </p> + <p> + The squaw tried to jerk away, and Bud gave her a jerk to let her know who + was boss. “Say, where'd you git that kid?” he demanded aggressively. + </p> + <p> + She moved her wrapped feet uneasily in the snow, flickered a filmy, black + eyed glance at Bud's uncompromising face, and waved a dirty paw vaguely in + a wide sweep that would have kept a compass needle revolving if it tried + to follow and was not calculated to be particularly enlightening. + </p> + <p> + “Lo-ong ways,” she crooned, and her voice was the first attractive thing + Bud had discovered about her. It was pure melody, soft and pensive as the + cooing of a wood dove. + </p> + <p> + “Who belongs to it?” Bud was plainly suspicious. The shake of the squaw's + bandannaed head was more artfully vague than her gesture. “Don' know—modder + die—fadder die—ketchum long ways—off.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what's its name?” Bud's voice harshened with his growing interest + and bewilderment. The baby was again covering one twinkling eye with its + spread, pink palm, and was saying “Pik-k?” and laughing with the funniest + little squint to its nose that Bud had ever seen. It was so absolutely + demoralizing that to relieve himself Bud gave the squaw a shake. This + tickled the baby so much that the chuckle burst into a rollicking laugh, + with a catch of the breath after each crescendo tone that made it + absolutely individual and like none other—save one. + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” Bud bullied the squaw, though his eyes were on the + baby. + </p> + <p> + “Don't know!” + </p> + <p> + “Take—Uvin—Chal,” the baby demanded imperiously. + </p> + <p> + “Uh—uh—uh? Take!” + </p> + <p> + “Uvin Chal? Now what'd yuh mean by that, oletimer?” Bud obeyed an + overpowering impulse to reach out and touch the baby's cheek with a + mittened thumb. The baby responded instantly by again demanding that Bud + should take. + </p> + <p> + “Pik-k?” said Bud, a mitten over one eye. + </p> + <p> + “Pik-k?” said the baby, spreading his fat hand again and twinkling at Bud + between his fingers. But immediately afterwards it gave a little, piteous + whimper. “Take—Uvin Chal!” it beseeched Bud with voice and starlike + blue eyes together. “Take!” + </p> + <p> + There was that in the baby's tone, in the unbaby-like insistence of its + bright eyes, which compelled obedience. Bud had never taken a baby of that + age in his arms. He was always in fear of dropping it, or crushing it with + his man's strength, or something. He liked them—at a safe distance. + He would chuck one under the chin, or feel diffidently the soft little + cheek, but a closer familiarity scared him. Yet when this baby wriggled + its other arm loose and demanded him to take, Bud reached out and grasped + its plump little red-sweatered body firmly under the armpits and drew it + forth, squirming with eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll tell the world I don't blame yuh for wanting to git outa that + hog's nest,” said Bud, answering the baby's gleeful chuckle. + </p> + <p> + Freed from his detaining grip on her shoulder, the squaw ducked + unexpectedly and scuttled away down the trail as fast as her old legs + would carry her; which was surprisingly speedy for one of her bulk. Bud + had opened his mouth to ask her again where she had gotten that baby. He + left it open while he stared after her astonished until the baby put up a + hand over one of Bud's eyes and said “Pik-k?” with that distracting little + quirk at the corners of its lips. + </p> + <p> + “You son of a gun!” grinned Bud, in the tone that turned the epithet in to + a caress. “You dog gone little devil, you! Pik-k! then, if that's what you + want.” + </p> + <p> + The squaw had disappeared into the thick under growth, leaving a track + like a hippo in the snow. Bud could have overtaken her, of course, and he + could have made her take the baby back again. But he could not face the + thought of it. He made no move at all toward pursuit, but instead he + turned his face toward Alpine, with some vague intention of turning the + baby over to the hotel woman there and getting the authorities to hunt up + its parents. It was plain enough that the squaw had no right to it, else + she would not have run off like that. + </p> + <p> + Bud walked at least a rod toward Alpine before he swung short around in + his tracks and started the other way. “No, I'll be doggoned if I will!” he + said. “You can't tell about women, no time. She might spank the kid, or + something. Or maybe she wouldn't feed it enough. Anyway, it's too cold, + and it's going to storm pretty pronto. Hey! Yuh cold, old-timer?” + </p> + <p> + The baby whimpered a little and snuggled its face down against Bud's + chest. So Bud lifted his foot and scraped some snow off a nearby log, and + set the baby down there while he took off his coat and wrapped it around + him, buttoning it like a bag over arms and all. The baby watched him + knowingly, its eyes round and dark blue and shining, and gave a contented + little wriggle when Bud picked it up again in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Now you're all right till we get to where it's warm,” Bud assured it + gravely. “And we'll do some steppin', believe me. I guess maybe you ain't + any more crazy over that Injun smell on yuh, than what I am—and that + ain't any at all.” He walked a few steps farther before he added grimly, + “It'll be some jolt for Cash, doggone his skin. He'll about bust, I + reckon. But we don't give a darn. Let him bust if he wants to—half + the cabin's mine, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + So, talking a few of his thoughts aloud to the baby, that presently went + to sleep with its face against his shoulder, Bud tramped steadily through + the snow, carrying Lovin Child in his arms. No remote glimmer of the + wonderful thing Fate had done for him seeped into his consciousness, but + there was a new, warm glow in his heart—the warmth that came from a + child's unquestioning faith in his protecting tenderness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOURTEEN. CASH GETS A SHOCK + </h2> + <p> + It happened that Cash was just returning to the cabin from the Blind Ledge + claim. He met Bud almost at the doorstep, just as Bud was fumbling with + the latch, trying to open the door without moving Lovin Child in his arms. + Cash may or may not have been astonished. Certainly he did not betray by + more than one quick glance that he was interested in Bud's return or in + the mysterious burden he bore. He stepped ahead of Bud and opened the door + without a word, as if he always did it just in that way, and went inside. + </p> + <p> + Bud followed him in silence, stepped across the black line to his own side + of the room and laid Lovin Child carefully down so as not to waken him. He + unbuttoned the coat he had wrapped around him, pulled off the concealing + red cap and stared down at the pale gold, silky hair and the adorable + curve of the soft cheek and the lips with the dimples tricked in at the + corners; the lashes lying like the delicate strokes of an artist's pencil + under the closed eyes. For at least five minutes he stood without moving, + his whole face softened into a boyish wistfulness. By the stove Cash stood + and stared from Bud to the sleeping baby, his bushy eyebrows lifted, his + gray eyes a study of incredulous bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + Then Bud drew a long breath and seemed about to move away from the bank, + and Cash turned abruptly to the stove and lifted a rusty lid and peered + into the cold firebox, frowning as though he was expecting to see fire and + warmth where only a sprinkle of warm ashes remained. Stubbornness held him + mute and outwardly indifferent. He whittled shavings and started a fire in + the cook stove, filled the teakettle and set it on to boil, got out the + side of bacon and cut three slices, and never once looked toward the bunk. + Bud might have brought home a winged angel, or a rainbow, or a casket of + jewels, and Cash would not have permitted himself to show any human + interest. + </p> + <p> + But when Bud went teetering from the cabin on his toes to bring in some + pine cones they had saved for quick kindling, Cash craned his neck toward + the little bundle on the bunk. He saw a fat, warm little hand stir with + some baby dream. He listened and heard soft breathing that stopped just + short of being an infantile snore. He made an errand to his own bunk and + from there inspected the mystery at closer range. He saw a nose and a + little, knobby chin and a bit of pinkish forehead with the pale yellow of + hair above. He leaned and cocked his head to one side to see more—but + at that moment he heard Bud stamping off the snow from his feet on the + doorstep, and he took two long, noiseless strides to the dish cupboard and + was fumbling there with his back to the bunk when Bud came tiptoeing in. + </p> + <p> + Bud started a fire in the fireplace and heaped the dry limbs high. Cash + fried his bacon, made his tea, and set the table for his midday meal. Bud + waited for the baby to wake, looking at his watch every minute or two, and + making frequent cautious trips to the bunk, peeking and peering to see if + the child was all right. It seemed unnatural that it should sleep so long + in the daytime. No telling what that squaw had done to it; she might have + doped it or something. He thought the kid's face looked red, as if it had + fever, and he reached down and touched anxiously the hand that was + uncovered. The hand was warm—too warm, in Bud's opinion. It would be + just his luck if the kid got sick, he'd have to pack it clear in to Alpine + in his arms. Fifteen miles of that did not appeal to Bud, whose arms ached + after the two-mile trip with that solid little body lying at ease in the + cradle they made. + </p> + <p> + His back to that end of the room, Cash sat stiff-necked and stubbornly + speechless, and ate and drank as though he were alone in the cabin. + Whenever Bud's mind left Lovin Child long enough to think about it, he + watched Cash furtively for some sign of yielding, some softening of that + grim grudge. It seemed to him as though Cash was not human, or he would + show some signs of life when a live baby was brought to camp and laid down + right under his nose. + </p> + <p> + Cash finished and began washing his dishes, keeping his back turned toward + Bud and Bud's new possession, and trying to make it appear that he did so + unconsciously. He did not fool Bud for a minute. Bud knew that Cash was + nearly bursting with curiosity, and he had occasional fleeting impulses to + provoke Cash to speech of some sort. Perhaps Cash knew what was in Bud's + mind. At any rate he left the cabin and went out and chopped wood for an + hour, furiously raining chips into the snow. + </p> + <p> + When he went in with his arms piled full of cut wood, Bud had the baby + sitting on one corner of the table, and was feeding it bread and gravy as + the nearest approach to baby food he could think of. During occasional + interludes in the steady procession of bits of bread from the plate to the + baby's mouth, Lovin Child would suck a bacon rind which he held firmly + grasped in a greasy little fist. Now and then Bud would reach into his hip + pocket, pull out his handkerchief as a make-shift napkin, and would + carefully wipe the border of gravy from the baby's mouth, and stuff the + handkerchief back into his pocket again. + </p> + <p> + Both seemed abominably happy and self-satisfied. Lovin Child kicked his + heels against the rough table frame and gurgled unintelligible + conversation whenever he was able to articulate sounds. Bud replied with a + rambling monologue that implied a perfect understanding of Lovin Child's + talk—and incidentally doled out information for Cash's benefit. + </p> + <p> + Cash cocked an eye at the two as he went by, threw the wood down on his + side of the hearth, and began to replenish the fire. If he heard, he gave + no sign of understanding or interest. + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet that old squaw musta half starved yah,” Bud addressed the baby + while he spooned gravy out of a white enamel bowl on to the second slice + of bread. “You're putting away grub like a nigger at a barbecue. I'll tell + the world I don't know what woulda happened if I hadn't run across yuh and + made her hand yuh over.” + </p> + <p> + “Ja—ja—ja—jah!” said Lovin Child, nodding his head and + regarding Bud with the twinkle in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And that's where you're dead right, Boy. I sure do wish you'd tell me + your name; but I reckon that's too much to ask of a little geezer like + you. Here. Help yourself, kid—you ain't in no Injun camp now. You're + with white folks now.” + </p> + <p> + Cash sat down on the bench he had made for himself, and stared into the + fire. His whole attitude spelled abstraction; nevertheless he missed no + little sound behind him. + </p> + <p> + He knew that Bud was talking largely for his benefit, and he knew that + here was the psychological time for breaking the spell of silence between + them. Yet he let the minutes slip past and would not yield. The quarrel + had been of Bud's making in the first place. Let Bud do the yielding, make + the first step toward amity. + </p> + <p> + But Bud had other things to occupy him just then. Having eaten all his + small stomach would hold, Lovin Child wanted to get down and explore. Bud + had other ideas, but they did not seem to count for much with Lovin Child, + who had an insistent way that was scarcely to be combated or ignored. + </p> + <p> + “But listen here, Boy!” Bud protested, after he had for the third time + prevented Lovin Child from backing off the table. “I was going to take off + these dirty duds and wash some of the Injun smell off yuh. I'll tell a + waiting world you need a bath, and your clothes washed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh, ugh, ugh,” persisted Lovin Child, and pointed to the floor. + </p> + <p> + So Bud sighed and made a virtue of defeat. “Oh, well, they say it's bad + policy to take a bath right after yuh eat. We'll let it ride awhile, but + you sure have got to be scrubbed a plenty before you can crawl in with me, + old-timer,” he said, and set him down on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child went immediately about the business that seemed most + important. He got down on his hands and knees and gravely inspected the + broad black line, hopefully testing it with tongue and with fingers to see + if it would yield him anything in the way of flavor or stickiness. It did + not. It had been there long enough to be thoroughly dry and tasteless. He + got up, planted both feet on it and teetered back and forth, chuckling up + at Bud with his eyes squinted. + </p> + <p> + He teetered so enthusiastically that he sat down unexpectedly and with + much emphasis. That put him between two impulses, and while they battled + he stared round-eyed at Bud. But he decided not to cry, and straightway + turned himself into a growly bear and went down the line on all fours + toward Cash, growling “Ooooooo!” as fearsomely as his baby throat was + capable of growling. + </p> + <p> + But Cash would not be scared. He refused absolutely to jump up and back + off in wild-eyed terror, crying out “Ooh! Here comes a bear!” the way + Marie had always done—the way every one had always done, when Lovin + Child got down and came at them growling. Cash sat rigid with his face to + the fire, and would not look. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child crawled all around him and growled his terriblest. For some + unexplainable reason it did not work. Cash sat stiff as though he had + turned to some insensate metal. From where he sat watching—curious + to see what Cash would do—Bud saw him flinch and stiffen as a man + does under pain. And because Bud had a sore spot in his own heart, Bud + felt a quick stab of understanding and sympathy. Cash Markham's past could + not have been a blank; more likely it held too much of sorrow for the + salve of speech to lighten its hurt. There might have been a child.... + </p> + <p> + “Aw, come back here!” Bud commanded Lovin Child gruffly. + </p> + <p> + But Lovin Child was too busy. He had discovered in his circling of Cash, + the fanny buckles on Cash's high overshoes. He was investigating them as + he had investigated the line, with fingers and with pink tongue, like a + puppy. From the lowest buckle he went on to the top one, where Cash's + khaki trousers were tucked inside with a deep fold on top. Lovin Child's + small forefinger went sliding up in the mysterious recesses of the fold + until they reached the flat surface of the knee. He looked up farther, + studying Cash's set face, sitting back on his little heels while he did + so. Cash tried to keep on staring into the fire, but in spite of himself + his eyes lowered to meet the upward look. + </p> + <p> + “Pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child, spreading his fingers over one eye and + twinkling up at Cash with the other. + </p> + <p> + Cash flinched again, wavered, swallowed twice, and got up so abruptly that + Lovin Child sat down again with a plunk. Cash muttered something in his + throat and rushed out into the wind and the slow-falling tiny white flakes + that presaged the storm. + </p> + <p> + Until the door slammed shut Lovin Child looked after him, scowling, his + eyes a blaze of resentment. He brought his palms together with a vicious + slap, leaned over, and bumped his forehead deliberately and painfully upon + the flat rock hearth, and set up a howl that could have been heard for + three city blocks. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN. AND BUD NEVER GUESSED + </h2> + <p> + That night, when he had been given a bath in the little zinc tub they used + for washing clothes, and had been carefully buttoned inside a clean + undershirt of Bud's, for want of better raiment, Lovin Child missed + something out of his sleepytime cudding. He wanted Marie, and he did not + know how to make his want known to this big, tender, awkward man who had + befriended him and filled his thoughts till bedtime. He began to whimper + and look seekingly around the little cabin. The whimper grew to a cry + which Bud's rude rocking back and forth on the box before the fireplace + could not still. + </p> + <p> + “M'ee—take!” wailed Lovin Child, sitting up and listening. “M'ee + take—Uvin Chal!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, now, you don't wanta go and act like that. Listen here, Boy. You lay + down here and go to sleep. You can search me for what it is you're trying + to say, but I guess you want your mama, maybe, or your bottle, chances + are. Aw, looky!” Bud pulled his watch from his pocket—a man's + infallible remedy for the weeping of infant charges—and dangled it + anxiously before Lovin Child. + </p> + <p> + With some difficulty he extracted the small hands from the long limp + tunnels of sleeves, and placed the watch in the eager fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to the tick-tick! Aw, I wouldn't bite into it... oh, well, darn + it, if nothing else'll do yuh, why, eat it up!” + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child stopped crying and condescended to take a languid interest in + the watch—which had a picture of Marie pasted inside the back of the + case, by the way. “Ee?” he inquired, with a pitiful little catch in his + breath, and held it up for Bud to see the busy little second hand. “Ee?” + he smiled tearily and tried to show Cash, sitting aloof on his bench + beside the head of his bunk and staring into the fire. But Cash gave no + sign that he heard or saw anything save the visions his memory was + conjuring in the dancing flames. + </p> + <p> + “Lay down, now, like a good boy, and go to sleep,” Bud wheedled. “You can + hold it if you want to—only don't drop it on the floor—here! + Quit kickin' your feet out like that! You wanta freeze? I'll tell the + world straight, it's plumb cold and snaky outside to-night, and you're + pretty darn lucky to be here instead of in some Injun camp where you'd + have to bed down with a mess of mangy dogs, most likely. Come on, now—lay + down like a good boy!” + </p> + <p> + “M'ee! M'ee take!” teased Lovin Child, and wept again; steadily, + insistently, with a monotonous vigor that rasped Bud's nerves and nagged + him with a vague memory of something familiar and unpleasant. He rocked + his body backward and forward, and frowned while he tried to lay hold of + the memory. It was the high-keyed wailing of this same man-child wanting + his bottle, but it eluded Bud completely. There was a tantalizing sense of + familiarity with the sound, but the lungs and the vocal chords of Lovin + Child had developed amazingly in two years, and he had lost the + small-infant wah-hah. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not remember, bat for all that his thoughts went back across those + two years and clung to his own baby, and he wished poignantly that he knew + how it was getting along; and wondered if it had grown to be as big a + handful as this youngster, and how Marie would handle the emergency he was + struggling with now: a lost, lonesome baby boy that would not go to sleep + and could not tell why. + </p> + <p> + Yet Lovin Child was answering every one of Bud's mute questions. Lying + there in his “Daddy Bud's” arms, wrapped comically in his Daddy Bud's + softest undershirt, Lovin Child was proving to his Daddy Bud that his own + man-child was strong and beautiful and had a keen little brain behind + those twinkling blue eyes. He was telling why he cried. He wanted Marie to + take him and rock him to sleep, just as she had rocked him to sleep every + night of his young memory, until that time when he had toddled out of her + life and into a new and peculiar world that held no Marie. + </p> + <p> + By and by he slept, still clinging to the watch that had Marie's picture + in the back. When he was all limp and rosy and breathing softly against + Bud's heart, Bud tiptoed over to the bunk, reached down inconveniently + with one hand and turned back the blankets, and laid Lovin Child in his + bed and covered him carefully. On his bench beyond the dead line Cash sat + leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and sucked at a pipe gone + cold, and stared abstractedly into the fire. + </p> + <p> + Bud looked at him sitting there. For the first time since their trails had + joined, he wondered what Cash was thinking about; wondered with a new kind + of sympathy about Cash's lonely life, that held no ties, no warmth of + love. For the first time it struck him as significant that in the two + years, almost, of their constant companionship, Cash's reminiscences had + stopped abruptly about fifteen years back. Beyond that he never went, save + now and then when he jumped a space, to the time when he was a boy. Of + what dark years lay between, Bud had never been permitted a glimpse. + </p> + <p> + “Some kid—that kid,” Bud observed involuntarily, for the first time + in over three weeks speaking when he was not compelled to speak to Cash. + “I wish I knew where he came from. He wants his mother.” + </p> + <p> + Cash stirred a little, like a sleeper only half awakened. But he did not + reply, and Bud gave an impatient snort, tiptoed over and picked up the + discarded clothes of Lovin Child, that held still a faint odor of wood + smoke and rancid grease, and, removing his shoes that he might move + silently, went to work. + </p> + <p> + He washed Lovin Child's clothes, even to the red sweater suit and the + fuzzy red “bunny” cap. He rigged a line before the fireplace—on his + side of the dead line, to be sure—hung the little garments upon it + and sat up to watch the fire while they dried. + </p> + <p> + While he rubbed and rinsed and wrung and hung to dry, he had planned the + details of taking the baby to Alpine and placing it in good hands there + until its parents could be found. It was stolen, he had no doubt at all. + He could picture quite plainly the agony of the parents, and common + humanity imposed upon him the duty of shortening their misery as much as + possible. But one day of the baby's presence he had taken, with the excuse + that it needed immediate warmth and wholesome food. His conscience did not + trouble him over that short delay, for he was honest enough in his + intentions and convinced that he had done the right thing. + </p> + <p> + Cash had long ago undressed and gone to bed, turning his back to the warm, + fire-lighted room and pulling the blankets up to his ears. He either slept + or pretended to sleep, Bud did not know which. Of the baby's healthy + slumber there was no doubt at all. Bud put on his overshoes and went + outside after more wood, so that there would be no delay in starting the + fire in the morning and having the cabin warm before the baby woke. + </p> + <p> + It was snowing fiercely, and the wind was biting cold. Already the + woodpile was drifted under, so that Bud had to go back and light the + lantern and hang it on a nail in the cabin wall before he could make any + headway at shovelling off the heaped snow and getting at the wood beneath. + He worked hard for half an hour, and carried in all the wood that had been + cut. He even piled Cash's end of the hearth high with the surplus, after + his own side was heaped full. + </p> + <p> + A storm like that meant that plenty of fuel would be needed to keep the + cabin snug and warm, and he was thinking of the baby's comfort now, and + would not be hampered by any grudge. + </p> + <p> + When he had done everything he could do that would add to the baby's + comfort, he folded the little garments and laid them on a box ready for + morning. Then, moving carefully, he crawled into the bed made warm by the + little body. Lovin Child, half wakened by the movement, gave a little + throaty chuckle, murmured “M'ee,” and threw one fat arm over Bud's neck + and left it there. + </p> + <p> + “Gawd,” Bud whispered in a swift passion of longing, “I wish you was my + own kid!” He snuggled Lovin Child close in his arms and held him there, + and stared dim-eyed at the flickering shadows on the wall. What he + thought, what visions filled his vigil, who can say? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE ANTIDOTE + </h2> + <p> + Three days it stormed with never a break, stormed so that the men dreaded + the carrying of water from the spring that became ice-rimmed but never + froze over; that clogged with sodden masses of snow half melted and sent + faint wisps of steam up into the chill air. Cutting wood was an ordeal, + every armload an achievement. Cash did not even attempt to visit his trap + line, but sat before the fire smoking or staring into the flames, or + pottered about the little domestic duties that could not half fill the + days. + </p> + <p> + With melted snow water, a bar of yellow soap, and one leg of an old pair + of drawers, he scrubbed on his knees the floor on his side of the dead + line, and tried not to notice Lovin Child. He failed only because Lovin + Child refused to be ignored, but insisted upon occupying the immediate + foreground and in helping—much as he had helped Marie pack her suit + case one fateful afternoon not so long before. + </p> + <p> + When Lovin Child was not permitted to dabble in the pan of soapy water, he + revenged himself by bringing Cash's mitten and throwing that in, and + crying “Ee? Ee?” with a shameless delight because it sailed round and + round until Cash turned and saw it, and threw it out. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” Lovin Child admonished himself gravely, and got it and threw + it back again. + </p> + <p> + Cash did not say anything. Indeed, he hid a grin under his thick, curling + beard which he had grown since the first frost as a protection against + cold. He picked up the mitten and laid it to dry on the slab mantel, and + when he returned, Lovin Child was sitting in the pan, rocking back and + forth and crooning “'Ock-a-by! 'Ock-a-by!” with the impish twinkle in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Cash was just picking him out of the pan when Bud came in with a load of + wood. Bud hastily dropped the wood, and without a word Cash handed Lovin + Child across the dead line, much as he would have handed over a wet puppy. + Without a word Bud took him, but the quirky smile hid at the corners of + his mouth, and under Cash's beard still lurked the grin. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” Lovin Child kept repeating smugly, all the while Bud was + stripping off his wet clothes and chucking him into the undershirt he wore + for a nightgown, and trying a man's size pair of socks on his legs. + </p> + <p> + “I should say no-no-no! You doggone little rascal, I'd rather herd a flea + on a hot plate! I've a plumb good notion to hog-tie yuh for awhile. Can't + trust yuh a minute nowhere. Now look what you got to wear while your + clothes dry!” + </p> + <p> + “Ee? Ee?” invited Lovin Child, gleefully holding up a muffled little foot + lost in the depths of Bud's sock. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see, all right! I'll tell the world I see you're a doggone + nuisance! Now see if you can keep outa mischief till I get the wood + carried in.” Bud set him down on the bunk, gave him a mail-order catalogue + to look at, and went out again into the storm. When he came back, Lovin + Child was sitting on the hearth with the socks off, and was picking bits + of charcoal from the ashes and crunching them like candy in his small, + white teeth. Cash was hurrying to finish his scrubbing before the charcoal + gave out, and was keeping an eye on the crunching to see that Lovin Child + did not get a hot ember. + </p> + <p> + “H'yah! You young imp!” Bud shouted, stubbing his toe as he hurried + forward. “Watcha think you are—a fire-eater, for gosh sake?” + </p> + <p> + Cash bent his head low—it may have been to hide a chuckle. Bud was + having his hands full with the kid, and he was trying to be stern against + the handicap of a growing worship of Lovin Child and all his little ways. + Now Lovin Child was all over ashes, and the clean undershirt was clean no + longer, after having much charcoal rubbed into its texture. Bud was not + overstocked with clothes; much traveling had formed the habit of buying as + he needed for immediate use. With Lovin Child held firmly under one arm, + where he would be sure of him, he emptied his “war-bag” on the bunk and + hunted out another shirt + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child got a bath, that time, because of the ashes he had managed to + gather on his feet and his hands and his head. Bud was patient, and Lovin + Child was delightedly unrepentant—until he was buttoned into another + shirt of Bud's, and the socks were tied on him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, doggone yuh, I'm goin' to stake you out, or hobble yuh, or some darn + thing, till I get that wood in!” he thundered, with his eyes laughing. + “You want to freeze? Hey? Now you're goin' to stay right on this bunk till + I get through, because I'm goin' to tie yuh on. You may holler—but + you little son of a gun, you'll stay safe!” + </p> + <p> + So Bud tied him, with a necktie around his body for a belt, and a strap + fastened to that and to a stout nail in the wall over the bunk. And Lovin + Child, when he discovered that it was not a new game but instead a check + upon his activities, threw himself on his back and held his breath until + he was purple, and then screeched with rage. + </p> + <p> + I don't suppose Bud ever carried in wood so fast in his life. He might as + well have taken his time, for Lovin Child was in one of his fits of + temper, the kind that his grandmother invariably called his father's + cussedness coming out in him. He howled for an hour and had both men + nearly frantic before he suddenly stopped and began to play with the + things he had scorned before to touch; the things that had made him bow + his back and scream when they were offered to him hopefully. + </p> + <p> + Bud, his sleeves rolled up, his hair rumpled and the perspiration standing + thick on his forehead, stood over him with his hands on his hips, the + picture of perturbed helplessness. + </p> + <p> + “You doggone little devil!” he breathed, his mind torn between amusement + and exasperation. “If you was my own kid, I'd spank yuh! But,” he added + with a little chuckle, “if you was my own kid, I'd tell the world you come + by that temper honestly. Darned if I wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + Cash, sitting dejected on the side of his own bunk, lifted his head, and + after that his hawklike brows, and stared from the face of Bud to the face + of Lovin Child. For the first time he was struck with the resemblance + between the two. The twinkle in the eyes, the quirk of the lips, the shape + of the forehead and, emphasizing them all, the expression of having a + secret joke, struck him with a kind of shock. If it were possible... But, + even in the delirium of fever, Bud had never hinted that he had a child, + or a wife even. He had firmly planted in Cash's mind the impression that + his life had never held any close ties whatsoever. So, lacking the clue, + Cash only wondered and did not suspect. + </p> + <p> + What most troubled Cash was the fact that he had unwittingly caused all + the trouble for Lovin Child. He should not have tried to scrub the floor + with the kid running loose all over the place. As a slight token of his + responsibility in the matter, he watched his chance when Bud was busy at + the old cookstove, and tossed a rabbit fur across to Lovin Child to play + with; a risky thing to do, since he did not know what were Lovin Child's + little peculiarities in the way of receiving strange gifts. But he was + lucky. Lovin Child was enraptured with the soft fur and rubbed it over his + baby cheeks and cooed to it and kissed it, and said “Ee? Ee?” to Cash, + which was reward enough. + </p> + <p> + There was a strained moment when Bud came over and discovered what it was + he was having so much fun with. Having had three days of experience by + which to judge, he jumped to the conclusion that Lovin Child had been in + mischief again. + </p> + <p> + “Now what yuh up to, you little scallywag?” he demanded. “How did you get + hold of that? Consarn your little hide, Boy...” + </p> + <p> + “Let the kid have it,” Cash muttered gruffly. “I gave it to him.” He got + up abruptly and went outside, and came in with wood for the cookstove, and + became exceedingly busy, never once looking toward the other end of the + room, where Bud was sprawled upon his back on the bunk, with Lovin Child + astride his middle, having a high old time with a wonderful new game of + “bronk riding.” + </p> + <p> + Now and then Bud would stop bucking long enough to slap Lovin Child in the + face with the soft side of the rabbit fur, and Lovin Child would squint + his eyes and wrinkle his nose and laugh until he seemed likely to choke. + Then Bud would cry, “Ride 'im, Boy! Ride 'im an' scratch 'im. Go get 'im, + cowboy—he's your meat!” and would bounce Lovin Child till he + squealed with glee. + </p> + <p> + Cash tried to ignore all that. Tried to keep his back to it. But he was + human, and Bud was changed so completely in the last three days that Cash + could scarcely credit his eyes and his ears. The old surly scowl was gone + from Bud's face, his eyes held again the twinkle. Cash listened to the + whoops, the baby laughter, the old, rodeo catch-phrases, and grinned while + he fried his bacon. + </p> + <p> + Presently Bud gave a whoop, forgetting the feud in his play. “Lookit, + Cash! He's ridin' straight up and whippin' as he rides! He's so-o-me + bronk-fighter, buh-lieve me!” + </p> + <p> + Cash turned and looked, grinned and turned away again—but only to + strip the rind off a fresh-fried slice of bacon the full width of the + piece. He came down the room on his own side the dead line, and tossed the + rind across to the bunk. + </p> + <p> + “Quirt him with that, Boy,” he grunted, “and then you can eat it if you + want.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN + </h2> + <p> + On the fourth day Bud's conscience pricked him into making a sort of + apology to Cash, under the guise of speaking to Lovin Child, for still + keeping the baby in camp. + </p> + <p> + “I've got a blame good notion to pack you to town to-day, Boy, and try and + find out where you belong,” he said, while he was feeding him oatmeal mush + with sugar and canned milk. “It's pretty cold, though...” He cast a + slant-eyed glance at Cash, dourly frying his own hotcakes. “We'll see what + it looks like after a while. I sure have got to hunt up your folks soon as + I can. Ain't I, old-timer?” + </p> + <p> + That salved his conscience a little, and freed him of the uneasy + conviction that Cash believed him a kidnapper. The weather did the rest. + An hour after breakfast, just when Bud was downheartedly thinking he could + not much longer put off starting without betraying how hard it was going + to be for him to give up the baby, the wind shifted the clouds and herded + them down to the Big Mountain and held them there until they began to sift + snow down upon the burdened pines. + </p> + <p> + “Gee, it's going to storm again!” Bud blustered in. “It'll be snowing like + all git-out in another hour. I'll tell a cruel world I wouldn't take a dog + out such weather as this. Your folks may be worrying about yuh, Boy, but + they ain't going to climb my carcass for packing yuh fifteen miles in a + snow-storm and letting yuh freeze, maybe. I guess the cabin's big enough + to hold yuh another day—what?” + </p> + <p> + Cash lifted his eyebrows and pinched in his lips under his beard. It did + not seem to occur to Bud that one of them could stay in the cabin with the + baby while the other carried to Alpine the news of the baby's whereabouts + and its safety. Or if it did occur to Bud, he was careful not to consider + it a feasible plan. Cash wondered if Bud thought he was pulling the wool + over anybody's eyes. Bud did not want to give up that kid, and he was + tickled to death because the storm gave him an excuse for keeping it. Cash + was cynically amused at Bud's transparency. But the kid was none of his + business, and he did not intend to make any suggestions that probably + would not be taken anyway. Let Bud pretend he was anxious to give up the + baby, if that made him feel any better about it. + </p> + <p> + That day went merrily to the music of Lovin Child's chuckling laugh and + his unintelligible chatter. Bud made the discovery that “Boy” was trying + to say Lovin Child when he wanted to be taken and rocked, and declared + that he would tell the world the name fit, like a saddle on a duck's back. + Lovin Child discovered Cash's pipe, and was caught sucking it before the + fireplace and mimicking Cash's meditative pose with a comical exactness + that made Bud roar. Even Cash was betrayed into speaking a whole sentence + to Bud before he remembered his grudge. Taken altogether, it was a day of + fruitful pleasure in spite of the storm outside. + </p> + <p> + That night the two men sat before the fire and watched the flames and + listened to the wind roaring in the pines. On his side of the dead line + Bud rocked his hard-muscled, big body back and forth, cradling Lovin Child + asleep in his arms. In one tender palm he nested Lovin Child's little bare + feet, like two fat, white mice that slept together after a day's + scampering. + </p> + <p> + Bud was thinking, as he always thought nowadays, of Marie and his own boy; + yearning, tender thoughts which his clumsy man's tongue would never + attempt to speak. Before, he had thought of Marie alone, without the baby; + but he had learned much, these last four days. He knew now how closely a + baby can creep in and cling, how they can fill the days with joy. He knew + how he would miss Lovin Child when the storm cleared and he must take him + away. It did not seem right or just that he should give him into the + keeping of strangers—and yet he must until the parents could have + him back. The black depths of their grief to-night Bud could not bring + himself to contemplate. Bad enough to forecast his own desolateness when + Lovin Child was no longer romping up and down the dead line, looking where + he might find some mischief to get into. Bad enough to know that the cabin + would again be a place of silence and gloom and futile resentments over + little things, with no happy little man-child to brighten it. He crept + into his bunk that night and snuggled the baby up in his arms, a miserable + man with no courage left in him for the future. + </p> + <p> + But the next day it was still storming, and colder than ever. No one would + expect him to take a baby out in such weather. So Bud whistled and romped + with Lovin Child, and would not worry about what must happen when the + storm was past. + </p> + <p> + All day Cash brooded before the fire, bundled in his mackinaw and sweater. + He did not even smoke, and though he seemed to feel the cold abnormally, + he did not bring in any wood except in the morning, but let Bud keep the + fireplace going with his own generous supply. He did not eat any dinner, + and at supper time he went to bed with all the clothes he possessed piled + on top of him. By all these signs, Bud knew that Cash had a bad cold. + </p> + <p> + Bud did not think much about it at first—being of the sturdy type + that makes light of a cold. But when Cash began to cough with that hoarse, + racking sound that tells the tale of laboring lungs, Bud began to feel + guiltily that he ought to do something about it. + </p> + <p> + He hushed Lovin Child's romping, that night, and would not let him ride a + bronk at bedtime. When he was asleep, Bud laid him down and went over to + the supply cupboard, which he had been obliged to rearrange with + everything except tin cans placed on shelves too high for a two-year-old + to reach even when he stood on his tiptoes and grunted. He hunted for the + small bottle of turpentine, found it and mixed some with melted bacon + grease, and went over to Cash's bunk, hesitating before he crossed the + dead line, but crossing nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + Cash seemed to be asleep, but his breathing sounded harsh and unnatural, + and his hand, lying uncovered on the blanket, clenched and unclenched + spasmodically. Bud watched him for a minute, holding the cup of grease and + turpentine in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he began constrainedly, and waited. Cash muttered something and + moved his hand irritatedly, without opening his eyes. Bud tried again. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you better swab your chest with this dope. Can't monkey with a cold, + such weather as this.” + </p> + <p> + Cash opened his eyes, gave the log wall a startled look, and swung his + glance to Bud. “Yeah—I'm all right,” he croaked, and proved his + statement wrong by coughing violently. + </p> + <p> + Bud set down the cup on a box, laid hold of Cash by the shoulders and + forced him on his back. With movements roughly gentle he opened Cash's + clothing at the throat, exposed his hairy chest, and poured on grease + until it ran in a tiny rivulets. He reached in and rubbed the grease + vigorously with the palm of his hand, giving particular attention to the + surface over the bronchial tubes. When he was satisfied that Cash's skin + could absorb no more, he turned him unceremoniously on his face and + repeated his ministrations upon Cash's shoulders. Then he rolled him back, + buttoned his shirts for him, and tramped heavily back to the table. + </p> + <p> + “I don't mind seeing a man play the mule when he's well,” he grumbled, + “but he's got a right to call it a day when he gits down sick. I ain't + going to be bothered burying no corpses, in weather like this. I'll tell + the world I ain't!” + </p> + <p> + He went searching on all the shelves for something more that he could give + Cash. He found a box of liver pills, a bottle of Jamaica ginger, and some + iodine—not an encouraging array for a man fifteen miles of untrodden + snow from the nearest human habitation. He took three of the liver pills—judging + them by size rather than what might be their composition—and a cup + of water to Cash and commanded him to sit up and swallow them. When this + was accomplished, Bud felt easier as to his conscience, though he was + still anxious over the possibilities in that cough. + </p> + <p> + Twice in the night he got up to put more wood on the fire and to stand + beside Cash's bed and listen to his breathing. Pneumonia, the strong man's + deadly foe, was what he feared. In his cow-punching days he had seen men + die of it before a doctor could be brought from the far-away town. Had he + been alone with Cash, he would have fought his way to town and brought + help, but with Lovin Child to care for he could not take the trail. + </p> + <p> + At daylight Cash woke him by stumbling across the floor to the water + bucket. Bud arose then and swore at him for a fool and sent him back to + bed, and savagely greased him again with the bacon grease and turpentine. + He was cheered a little when Cash cussed back, but he did not like the + sound of his voice, for all that, and so threatened mildly to brain him if + he got out of bed again without wrapping a blanket or something around + him. + </p> + <p> + Thoroughly awakened by this little exchange of civilities, Bud started a + fire in the stove and made coffee for Cash, who drank half a cup quite + meekly. He still had that tearing cough, and his voice was no more than a + croak; but he seemed no worse than he had been the night before. So on the + whole Bud considered the case encouraging, and ate his breakfast an hour + or so earlier than usual. Then he went out and chopped wood until he heard + Lovin Child chirping inside the cabin like a bug-hunting meadow lark, when + he had to hurry in before Lovin Child crawled off the bunk and got into + some mischief. + </p> + <p> + For a man who was wintering in what is called enforced idleness in a + snow-bound cabin in the mountains, Bud Moore did not find the next few + days hanging heavily on his hands. Far from it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES + </h2> + <p> + To begin with, Lovin Child got hold of Cash's tobacco can and was feeding + it by small handfuls to the flames, when Bud caught him. He yelled when + Bud took it away, and bumped his head on the floor and yelled again, and + spatted his hands together and yelled, and threw himself on his back and + kicked and yelled; while Bud towered over him and yelled expostulations + and reprimands and cajolery that did not cajole. + </p> + <p> + Cash turned over with a groan, his two palms pressed against his splitting + head, and hoarsely commanded the two to shut up that infernal noise. He + was a sick man. He was a very sick man, and he had stood the limit. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up?” Bud shouted above the din of Lovin Child. “Ain't I trying to + shut him up, for gosh sake? What d'yuh want me to do?—let him throw + all the tobacco you got into the fire? Here, you young imp, quit that, + before I spank you! Quick, now—we've had about enough outa you! You + lay down there, Cash, and quit your croaking. You'll croak right, if you + don't keep covered up. Hey, Boy! My jumpin' yellow-jackets, you'd drown a + Klakon till you couldn't hear it ten feet! Cash, you old fool, you shut + up, I tell yuh, or I'll come over there and shut you up! I'll tell the + world—Boy! Good glory! shut up-p!” + </p> + <p> + Cash was a sick man, but he had not lost all his resourcefulness. He had + stopped Lovin Child once, and thereby he had learned a little of the + infantile mind. He had a coyote skin on the foot of his bed, and he raised + himself up and reached for it as one reaches for a fire extinguisher. Like + a fire extinguisher he aimed it, straight in the middle of the uproar. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child, thumping head and heels regularly on the floor and + punctuating the thumps with screeches, was extinguished—suddenly, + completely silenced by the muffling fur that fell from the sky, so far as + he knew. The skin covered him completely. Not a sound came from under it. + The stillness was so absolute that Bud was scared, and so was Cash, a + little. It was as though Lovin Child, of a demon one instant, was in the + next instant snuffed out of existence. + </p> + <p> + “What yuh done?” Bud ejaculated, rolling wild eyes at Cash. “You—” + </p> + <p> + The coyote skin rattled a little. A fluff of yellow, a spark of blue, and + “Pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child from under the edge, and ducked back again + out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Bud sat down weakly on a box and shook his head slowly from one side to + the other. “You've got me going south,” he made solemn confession to the + wobbling skin—or to what it concealed. “I throw up my hands, I'll + tell the world fair.” He got up and went over and sat down on his bunk, + and rested his hands on his knees, and considered the problem of Lovin + Child. + </p> + <p> + “Here I've got wood to cut and water to bring and grub to cook, and I + can't do none of them because I've got to ride herd on you every minute. + You've got my goat, kid, and that's the truth. You sure have. Yes, + 'Pik-k,' doggone yuh—after me going crazy with yuh, just about, and + thinking you're about to blow your radiator cap plumb up through the roof! + I'll tell yuh right here and now, this storm has got to let up pretty + quick so I can pack you outa here, or else I've got to pen you up somehow, + so I can do something besides watch you. Look at the way you scattered + them beans, over there by the cupboard! By rights I oughta stand over yuh + and make yuh pick every one of 'em up! and who was it drug all the ashes + outa the stove, I'd like to know?” + </p> + <p> + The coyote skin lifted a little and moved off toward the fireplace, + growling “Ooo-ooo-ooo!” like a bear—almost. Bud rescued the bear a + scant two feet from the flames, and carried fur, baby and all, to the + bunk. “My good lord, what's a fellow going to do with yuh?” he groaned in + desperation. “Burn yourself up, you would! I can see now why folks keep + their kids corralled in high chairs and gocarts all the time. They got to, + or they wouldn't have no kids.” + </p> + <p> + Bud certainly was learning a few things that he had come near to skipping + altogether in his curriculum of life. Speaking of high chairs, whereof he + had thought little enough in his active life, set him seriously to + considering ways and means. Weinstock-Lubin had high chairs listed in + their catalogue. Very nice high chairs, for one of which Bud would have + paid its weight in gold dust (if one may believe his word) if it could + have been set down in that cabin at that particular moment. He studied the + small cuts of the chairs, holding Lovin Child off the page by main + strength the while. Wishing one out of the catalogue and into the room + being impracticable, he went after the essential features, thinking to + make one that would answer the purpose. + </p> + <p> + Accustomed as he was to exercising his inventive faculty in overcoming + certain obstacles raised by the wilderness in the path of comfort, Bud + went to work with what tools he had, and with the material closest to his + hand. Crude tools they were, and crude materials—like using a + Stilson wrench to adjust a carburetor, he told Lovin Child who tagged him + up and down the cabin. An axe, a big jack-knife, a hammer and some nails + left over from building their sluice boxes, these were the tools. He took + the axe first, and having tied Lovin Child to the leg of his bunk for + safety's sake, he went out and cut down four young oaks behind the cabin, + lopped off the branches and brought them in for chair legs. He emptied a + dynamite box of odds and ends, scrubbed it out and left it to dry while he + mounted the four legs, with braces of the green oak and a skeleton frame + on top. Then he knocked one end out of the box, padded the edges of the + box with burlap, and set Lovin Child in his new high chair. + </p> + <p> + He was tempted to call Cash's attention to his handiwork, but Cash was too + sick to be disturbed, even if the atmosphere between them had been clear + enough for easy converse. So he stifled the impulse and addressed himself + to Lovin Child, which did just as well. + </p> + <p> + Things went better after that. Bud could tie the baby in the chair, give + him a tin cup and a spoon and a bacon rind, and go out to the woodpile + feeling reasonably certain that the house would not be set afire during + his absence. He could cook a meal in peace, without fear of stepping on + the baby. And Cash could lie as close as he liked to the edge of the bed + without running the risk of having his eyes jabbed with Lovin Child's + finger, or something slapped unexpectedly in his face. + </p> + <p> + He needed protection from slight discomforts while he lay there eaten with + fever, hovering so close to pneumonia that Bud believed he really had it + and watched over him nights as well as daytimes. The care he gave Cash was + not, perhaps, such as the medical profession would have endorsed, but it + was faithful and it made for comfort and so aided Nature more than it + hindered. + </p> + <p> + Fair weather came, and days of melting snow. But they served only to + increase Bud's activities at the woodpile and in hunting small game close + by, while Lovin Child took his nap and Cash was drowsing. Sometimes he + would bundle the baby in an extra sweater and take him outside and let him + wallow in the snow while Bud cut wood and piled it on the sheltered side + of the cabin wall, a reserve supply to draw on in an emergency. + </p> + <p> + It may have been the wet snow—more likely it was the cabin air + filled with germs of cold. Whatever it was, Lovin Child caught cold and + coughed croupy all one night, and fretted and would not sleep. Bud + anointed him as he had anointed Cash, and rocked him in front of the fire, + and met the morning hollow-eyed and haggard. A great fear tore at his + heart. Cash read it in his eyes, in the tones of his voice when he crooned + soothing fragments of old range songs to the baby, and at daylight Cash + managed to dress himself and help; though what assistance he could + possibly give was not all clear to him, until he saw Bud's glance rove + anxiously toward the cook-stove. + </p> + <p> + “Hand the kid over here,” Cash said huskily. “I can hold him while you get + yourself some breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Bud looked at him stupidly, hesitated, looked down at the flushed little + face, and carefully laid him in Cash's outstretched arms. He got up + stiffly—he had been sitting there a long time, while the baby slept + uneasily—and went on his tiptoes to make a fire in the stove. + </p> + <p> + He did not wonder at Cash's sudden interest, his abrupt change from moody + aloofness to his old partnership in trouble as well as in good fortune. He + knew that Cash was not fit for the task, however, and he hurried the + coffee to the boiling point that he might the sooner send Cash back to + bed. He gulped down a cup of coffee scalding hot, ate a few mouthfuls of + bacon and bread, and brought a cup back to Cash. + </p> + <p> + “What d'yuh think about him?” he whispered, setting the coffee down on a + box so that he could take Lovin Child. “Pretty sick kid, don't yuh think?” + </p> + <p> + “It's the same cold I got,” Cash breathed huskily. “Swallows like it's his + throat, mostly. What you doing for him?” + </p> + <p> + “Bacon grease and turpentine,” Bud answered him despondently. “I'll have + to commence on something else, though—turpentine's played out I used + it most all up on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Coal oil's good. And fry up a mess of onions and make a poultice.” He put + up a shaking hand before his mouth and coughed behind it, stifling the + sound all he could. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child threw up his hands and whimpered, and Bud went over to him + anxiously. “His little hands are awful hot,” he muttered. “He's been that + way all night.” + </p> + <p> + Cash did not answer. There did not seem anything to say that would do any + good. He drank his coffee and eyed the two, lifting his eyebrows now and + then at some new thought. + </p> + <p> + “Looks like you, Bud,” he croaked suddenly. “Eyes, expression, mouth—you + could pass him off as your own kid, if you wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + “I might, at that,” Bud whispered absently. “I've been seeing you in him, + though, all along. He lifts his eyebrows same way you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't like me,” Cash denied weakly, studying Lovin Child. “Give him here + again, and you go fry them onions. I would—if I had the strength to + get around.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you ain't got the strength. You go back to bed, and I'll lay him in + with yuh. I guess he'll lay quiet. He likes to be cuddled up close.” + </p> + <p> + In this way was the feud forgotten. Save for the strange habits imposed by + sickness and the care of a baby, they dropped back into their old routine, + their old relationship. They walked over the dead line heedlessly, + forgetting why it came to be there. Cabin fever no longer tormented them + with its magnifying of little things. They had no time or thought for + trifles; a bigger matter than their own petty prejudices concerned them. + They were fighting side by side, with the Old Man of the Scythe—the + Old Man who spares not. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child was pulling farther and farther away from them. They knew it, + they felt it in his hot little hands, they read it in his fever-bright + eyes. But never once did they admit it, even to themselves. They dared not + weaken their efforts with any admissions of a possible defeat. They just + watched, and fought the fever as best they could, and waited, and kept + hope alive with fresh efforts. + </p> + <p> + Cash was tottery weak from his own illness, and he could not speak above a + whisper. Yet he directed, and helped soothe the baby with baths and slow + strokings of his hot forehead, and watched him while Bud did the work, and + worried because he could not do more. + </p> + <p> + They did not know when Lovin Child took a turn for the better, except that + they realized the fever was broken. But his listlessness, the unnatural + drooping of his whole body, scared them worse than before. Night and day + one or the other watched over him, trying to anticipate every need, every + vagrant whim. When he began to grow exacting, they were still worried, + though they were too fagged to abase themselves before him as much as they + would have liked. + </p> + <p> + Then Bud was seized with an attack of the grippe before Lovin Child had + passed the stage of wanting to be held every waking minute. Which burdened + Cash with extra duties long before he was fit. + </p> + <p> + Christmas came, and they did not know it until the day was half gone, when + Cash happened to remember. He went out then and groped in the snow and + found a little spruce, hacked it off close to the drift and brought it in, + all loaded with frozen snow, to dry before the fire. The kid, he declared, + should have a Christmas tree, anyway. He tied a candle to the top, and a + rabbit skin to the bottom, and prunes to the tip of the branches, and + tried to rouse a little enthusiasm in Lovin Child. But Lovin Child was not + interested in the makeshift. He was crying because Bud had told him to + keep out of the ashes, and he would not look. + </p> + <p> + So Cash untied the candle and the fur and the prunes, threw them across + the room, and peevishly stuck the tree in the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “Remember what you said about the Fourth of July down in Arizona, Bud?” he + asked glumly. “Well, this is the same kind of Christmas.” Bud merely + grunted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINETEEN. BUD FACES FACTS + </h2> + <p> + New Year came and passed and won nothing in the way of celebration from + the three in Nelson's cabin. Bud's bones ached, his head ached, the flesh + on his body ached. He could take no comfort anywhere, under any + circumstances. He craved clean white beds and soft-footed attendance and + soothing silence and cool drinks—and he could have none of those + things. His bedclothes were heavy upon his aching limbs; he had to wait + upon his own wants; the fretful crying of Lovin Child or the racking cough + of Cash was always in his ears, and as for cool drinks, there was ice + water in plenty, to be sure, but nothing else. Fair weather came, and + storms, and cold: more storms and cold than fair weather. Neither man ever + mentioned taking Lovin Child to Alpine. At first, because it was out of + the question; after that, because they did not want to mention it. They + frequently declared that Lovin Child was a pest, and there were times when + Bud spoke darkly of spankings—which did not materialize. But though + they did not mention it, they knew that Lovin Child was something more; + something endearing, something humanizing, something they needed to keep + them immune from cabin fever. + </p> + <p> + Some time in February it was that Cash fashioned a crude pair of snowshoes + and went to town, returning the next day. He came home loaded with little + luxuries for Lovin Child, and with the simpler medicines for other + emergencies which they might have to meet, but he did not bring any word + of seeking parents. The nearest he came to mentioning the subject was + after supper, when the baby was asleep and Bud trying to cut a small pair + of overalls from a large piece of blue duck that Cash had brought. The + shears were dull, and Lovin Child's little rompers were so patched and + shapeless that they were not much of a guide, so Bud was swearing softly + while he worked. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't hear a word said about that kid being lost,” Cash volunteered, + after he had smoked and watched Bud awhile. “Couldn't have been any one + around Alpine, or I'd have heard something about it.” + </p> + <p> + Bud frowned, though it may have been over his tailoring problem. + </p> + <p> + “Can't tell—the old squaw mighta been telling the truth,” he said + reluctantly. “I s'pose they do, once in awhile. She said his folks were + dead.” And he added defiantly, with a quick glance at Cash, “Far as I'm + concerned, I'm willing to let it ride that way. The kid's doing all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. I got some stuff for that rash on his chest. I wouldn't wonder if + we been feeding him too heavy on bacon rinds, Bud. They say too much of + that kinda thing is bad for kids. Still, he seems to feel all right.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell the world he does! He got hold of your old pipe to-day and was + suckin' away on it, I don't know how long. Never feazed him, either. If he + can stand that, I guess he ain't very delicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. I laid that pipe aside myself because it was getting so dang + strong. Ain't you getting them pants too long in the seat, Bud? They look + to me big enough for a ten-year-old.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you don't realize how that kid's growing!” Bud defended his + handiwork “And time I get the seams sewed, and the side lapped over for + buttons—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Where you going to get the buttons? You never sent for any.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'll find buttons. You can donate a couple off some of your clothes, + if you want to right bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Me? I ain't got enough now to keep the wind out,” Cash protested. + “Lemme tell yuh something, Bud. If you cut more saving, you'd have enough + cloth there for two pair of pants. You don't need to cut the legs so long + as all that. They'll drag on the ground so the poor kid can't walk in 'em + without falling all over himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, good glory! Who's making these pants? Me, or you?” Bud exploded. + “If you think you can do any better job than what I'm doing, go get + yourself some cloth and fly at it! Don't think you can come hornin' in on + my job, 'cause I'll tell the world right out loud, you can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah—that's right! Go to bellerin' around like a bull buffalo, and + wake the kid up! I don't give a cuss how you make'm. Go ahead and have the + seat of his pants hangin' down below his knees if you want to!” Cash got + up and moved huffily over to the fireplace and sat with his back to Bud. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I will, at that,” Bud retorted. “You can't come around and grab the + job I'm doing.” Bud was jabbing a needle eye toward the end of a thread + too coarse for it, and it did not improve his temper to have the thread + refuse to pass through the eye. + </p> + <p> + Neither did it please him to find, when all the seams were sewn, that the + little overalls failed to look like any garment he had ever seen on a + child. When he tried them on Lovin Child, next day, Cash took one look and + bolted from the cabin with his hand over his mouth. + </p> + <p> + When he came back an hour or so later, Lovin Child was wearing his ragged + rompers, and Bud was bent over a Weinstock-Lubin mail-order catalogue. He + had a sheet of paper half filled with items, and was licking his pencil + and looking for more. He looked up and grinned a little, and asked Cash + when he was going to town again; and added that he wanted to mail a + letter. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Well, the trail's just as good now as it was when I took it,” Cash + hinted strongly. “When I go to town again, it'll be because I've got to + go. And far as I can see, I won't have to go for quite some time.” + </p> + <p> + So Bud rose before daylight the next morning, tied on the makeshift + snowshoes Cash had contrived, and made the fifteen-mile trip to Alpine and + back before dark. He brought candy for Lovin Child, tended that young + gentleman through a siege of indigestion because of the indulgence, and + waited impatiently until he was fairly certain that the wardrobe he had + ordered had arrived at the post-office. When he had counted off the two + days required for a round trip to Sacramento, and had added three days for + possible delay in filling the order, he went again, and returned in one of + the worst storms of the winter. + </p> + <p> + But he did not grudge the hardship, for he carried on his back a bulky + bundle of clothes for Lovin Child; enough to last the winter through, and + some to spare; a woman would have laughed at some of the things he chose: + impractical, dainty garments that Bud could not launder properly to save + his life. But there were little really truly overalls, in which Lovin + Child promptly developed a strut that delighted the men and earned him the + title of Old Prospector. And there were little shirts and stockings and + nightgowns and a pair of shoes, and a toy or two that failed to interest + him at all, after the first inspection. + </p> + <p> + It began to look as though Bud had deliberately resolved upon carrying a + guilty conscience all the rest of his life. He had made absolutely no + effort to trace the parents of Lovin Child when he was in town. On the + contrary he had avoided all casual conversation, for fear some one might + mention the fact that a child had been lost. He had been careful not to + buy anything in the town that would lead one to suspect that he had a + child concealed upon his premises, and he had even furnished what he + called an alibi when he bought the candy, professing to own an + inordinately sweet tooth. + </p> + <p> + Cash cast his eyes over the stock of baby clothes which Bud gleefully + unwrapped on his bunk, and pinched out a smile under his beard. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if the kid stays till he wears out all them clothes, we'll just + about have to give him a share in the company,” he said drily. + </p> + <p> + Bud looked up in quick jealousy. “What's mine's his, and I own a half + interest in both claims. I guess that'll feed him—if they pan out + anything,” he retorted. “Come here, Boy, and let's try this suit on. Looks + pretty small to me—marked three year, but I reckon they don't grow + 'em as husky as you, back where they make all these clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. But you ought to put it in writing, Bud. S'pose anything happened + to us both—and it might. Mining's always got its risky side, even + cutting out sickness, which we've had a big sample of right this winter. + Well, the kid oughta have some security in case anything did happen. Now—” + </p> + <p> + Bud looked thoughtfully down at the fuzzy yellow head that did not come + much above his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how yuh going to do anything like that without giving it away that + we've got him? Besides, what name'd we give him in the company? No, sir, + Cash, he gets what I've got, and I'll smash any damn man that tries to get + it away from him. But we can't get out any legal papers—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. But we can make our wills, can't we? And I don't know where you get + the idea, Bud, that you've got the whole say about him. We're pardners, + ain't we? Share and share alike. Mines, mules, grub—kids—equal + shares goes.” + </p> + <p> + “That's where you're dead wrong. Mines and mules and grub is all right, + but when it comes to this old Lovin Man, why—who was it found him, + for gosh sake?” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, git out!” Cash growled. “Don't you reckon I'd have grabbed him off + that squaw as quick as you did? I've humored you along, Bud, and let you + hog him nights, and feed him and wash his clothes, and I ain't kicked + none, have I? But when it comes to prope'ty—” + </p> + <p> + “You ain't goin' to horn in there, neither. Anyway, we ain't got so darn + much the kid'll miss your share, Cash.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. All the more reason why he'll need it I don't see how you're going + to stop me from willing my share where I please. And when you come down to + facts, Bud, why—you want to recollect that I plumb forgot to report + that kid, when I was in town. And I ain't a doubt in the world but what + his folks would be glad enough—” + </p> + <p> + “Forget that stuff!” Bud's tone was so sharp that Lovin Child turned clear + around to look up curiously into his face. “You know why you never + reported him, doggone yuh! You couldn't give him up no easier than I + could. And I'll tell the world to its face that if anybody gets this kid + now they've pretty near got to fight for him. It ain't right, and it ain't + honest. It's stealing to keep him, and I never stole a brass tack in my + life before. But he's mine as long as I live and can hang on to him. And + that's where I stand. I ain't hidin' behind no kind of alibi. The old + squaw did tell me his folks was dead; but if you'd ask me, I'd say she was + lying when she said it. Chances are she stole him. I'm sorry for his + folks, supposing he's got any. But I ain't sorry enough for 'em to give + him up if I can help it. I hope they've got more, and I hope they've + gentled down by this time and are used to being without him. Anyway, they + can do without him now easier than what I can, because...” Bud did not + finish that sentence, except by picking Lovin Child up in his arms and + squeezing him as hard as he dared. He laid his face down for a minute on + Lovin Child's head, and when he raised it his lashes were wet. + </p> + <p> + “Say, old-timer, you need a hair cut. Yuh know it?” he said, with a + huskiness in his voice, and pulled a tangle playfully. Then his eyes swung + round defiantly to Cash. “It's stealing to keep him, but I can't help it. + I'd rather die right here in my tracks than give up this little ole kid. + And you can take that as it lays, because I mean it.” + </p> + <p> + Cash sat quiet for a minute or two, staring down at the floor. “Yeah. I + guess there's two of us in that fix,” he observed in his dry way, lifting + his eyebrows while he studied a broken place in the side of his overshoe. + “All the more reason why we should protect the kid, ain't it? My idea is + that we ought to both of us make our wills right here and now. Each of us + to name the other for guardeen, in case of accident, and each one picking + a name for the kid, and giving him our share in the claims and anything + else we may happen to own.” He stopped abruptly, his jaw sagging a little + at some unpleasant thought. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—come to think of it, I can't just leave the kid all my + property. I—I've got a kid of my own, and if she's alive—I + ain't heard anything of her for fifteen years and more, but if she's alive + she'd come in for a share. She's a woman grown by this time. Her mother + died when she was a baby. I married the woman I hired to take care of her + and the house—like a fool. When we parted, she took the kid with + her. She did think a lot of her, I'll say that much for her, and that's + all I can say in her favor. I drifted around and lost track of 'em. Old + woman, she married again, and I heard that didn't pan out, neither. + Anyway, she kept the girl, and gave her the care and schooling that I + couldn't give. I was a drifter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she can bust the will if I leave her out, yuh see. And if the old + woman gets a finger in the pie, it'll be busted, all right. I can write + her down for a hundred dollars perviding she don't contest. That'll fix + it. And the rest goes to the kid here. But I want him to have the use of + my name, understand. Something-or-other Markham Moore ought to suit all + hands well enough.” + </p> + <p> + Bud, holding Lovin Child on his knees, frowned a little at first. But when + he looked at Cash, and caught the wistfulness in his eyes, he surrendered + warm-heartedly. + </p> + <p> + “A couple of old he-hens like us—we need a chick to look after,” he + said whimsically. “I guess Markham Moore ought to be good enough for most + any kid. And if it ain't, by gosh, we'll make it good enough! If I ain't + been all I should be, there's no law against straightening up. Markham + Moore goes as it lays—hey, Lovins?” But Lovin Child had gone to + sleep over his foster fathers' disposal of his future. His little yellow + head was wabbling on his limp neck, and Bud cradled him in his arms and + held him so. + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. But what are we going to call him?” Methodical Cash wanted the + whole matter settled at one conference, it seemed. + </p> + <p> + “Call him? Why, what've we been calling him, the last two months?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” Cash retorted, “depended on what devilment he was into when we + called!” + </p> + <p> + “You said it all, that time. I guess, come to think of it—tell you + what, Cash, let's call him what the kid calls himself. That's fair enough. + He's got some say in the matter, and if he's satisfied with Lovin, we + oughta be. Lovin Markam Moore ain't half bad. Then if he wants to change + it when he grows up, he can.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. I guess that's as good as anything. I'd hate to see him named + Cassius. Well, now's as good a time as any to make them wills, Bud. We + oughta have a couple of witnesses, but we can act for each other, and I + guess it'll pass. You lay the kid down, and we'll write 'em and have it + done with and off our minds. I dunno—I've got a couple of lots in + Phoenix I'll leave to the girl. By rights she should have 'em. Lovins, + here, 'll have my share in all mining claims; these two I'll name + 'specially, because I expect them to develop into paying mines; the Blind + Lodge, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + A twinge of jealousy seized Bud. Cash was going ahead a little too + confidently in his plans for the kid. He did not want to hurt old Cash's + feelings, and of course he needed Cash's assistance if he kept Lovin Child + for his own. But Cash needn't think he was going to claim the kid himself. + </p> + <p> + “All right—put it that way. Only, when you're writing it down, you + make it read 'child of Bud Moore' or something like that. You can will him + the moon, if you want, and you can have your name sandwiched in between + his and mine. But get this, and get it right. He's mine, and if we ever + split up, the kid goes with me. I'll tell the world right now that this + kid belongs to me, and where I go he goes. You got that?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't have to beller at the top of your voice, do yuh?” snapped Cash, + prying the cork out of the ink bottle with his jackknife. “Here's another + pen point. Tie it onto a stick or something and git to work before you git + to putting it off.” + </p> + <p> + Leaning over the table facing each other, they wrote steadily for a few + minutes. Then Bud began to flag, and finally he stopped and crumpled the + sheet of tablet paper into a ball. Cash looked up, lifted his eyebrows + irritatedly, and went on with his composition. + </p> + <p> + Bud sat nibbling the end of his makeshift penholder. The obstacle that had + loomed in Cash's way and had constrained him to reveal the closed pages of + his life, loomed large in Bud's way also. Lovin Child was a near and a + very dear factor in his life—but when it came to sitting down calmly + and setting his affairs in order for those who might be left behind, Lovin + Child was not the only person he must think of. What of his own man-child? + What of Marie? + </p> + <p> + He looked across at Cash writing steadily in his precise way, duly + bequeathing his worldly goods to Lovin; owning, too, his responsibilities + in another direction, but still making Lovin Child his chief heir so far + as he knew. On the spur of the moment Bud had thought to do the same + thing. But could he do it? + </p> + <p> + He seemed to see his own baby standing wistfully aloof, pushed out of his + life that this baby he had no right to keep might have all of his + affections, all of his poor estate. And Marie, whose face was always in + the back of his memory, a tearful, accusing vision that would not let him + be—he saw Marie working in some office, earning the money to feed + and clothe their child. And Lovin Child romping up and down the cabin, + cuddled and scolded and cared for as best an awkward man may care for a + baby—a small, innocent usurper. + </p> + <p> + Bud dropped his face in his palms and tried to think the thing out coldly, + clearly, as Cash had stated his own case. Cash did not know where his own + child was, and he did not seem to care greatly. He was glad to salve his + conscience with a small bequest, keeping the bulk—if so tenuous a + thing as Cash's fortune may be said to have bulk—for this baby they + two were hiding away from its lawful parents. Cash could do it; why + couldn't be? He raised his head and looked over at Lovin Child, asleep in + his new and rumpled little finery. Why did his own baby come between them + now, and withhold his hand from doing the same? + </p> + <p> + Cash finished, glanced curiously across at Bud, looked down at what he had + written, and slid the sheet of paper across. + </p> + <p> + “You sign it, and then if you don't know just how to word yours, you can + use this for a pattern. I've read law books enough to know this will get + by, all right. It's plain, and it tells what I want, and that's sufficient + to hold in court.” + </p> + <p> + Bud read it over apathetically, signed his name as witness, and pushed the + paper back. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right for you,” he said heavily. “Your kid is grown up now, + and besides, you've got other property to give her. But—it's + different with me. I want this baby, and I can't do without him. But I + can't give him my share in the claims, Cash. I—there's others that's + got to be thought of first.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY. LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH + </h2> + <p> + It was only the next day that Bud was the means of helping Lovin Child + find a fortune for himself; which eased Bud's mind considerably, and + balanced better his half of the responsibility. Cutting out the dramatic + frills, then, this is what happened to Lovin Child and Bud: + </p> + <p> + They were romping around the cabin, like two puppies that had a surplus of + energy to work off. Part of the time Lovin Child was a bear, chasing Bud + up and down the dead line, which was getting pretty well worn out in + places. After that, Bud was a bear and chased Lovin. And when Lovin Child + got so tickled he was perfectly helpless in the corner where he had sought + refuge, Bud caught him and swung him up to his shoulder and let him grab + handfuls of dirt out of the roof. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child liked that better than being a bear, and sifted Bud's hair + full of dried mud, and threw the rest on the floor, and frequently cried + “Tell a worl'!” which he had learned from Bud and could say with the + uncanny pertinency of a parrot. + </p> + <p> + He had signified a desire to have Bud carry him along the wall, where some + lovely lumps of dirt protruded temptingly over a bulging log. Then he + leaned and grabbed with his two fat hands at a particularly big, hard + lump. It came away in his hands and fell plump on the blankets of the + bunk, half blinding Bud with the dust that came with it. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! You'll have all the chinkin' out of the dang shack, if you let him + keep that lick up, Bud,” Cash grumbled, lifting his eyebrows at the mess. + </p> + <p> + “Tell a worl'!” Lovin Child retorted over his shoulder, and made another + grab. + </p> + <p> + This time the thing he held resisted his baby strength. He pulled and he + grunted, he kicked Bud in the chest and grabbed again. Bud was patient, + and let him fuss—though in self-defense he kept his head down and + his eyes away from the expected dust bath. + </p> + <p> + “Stay with it, Boy; pull the darn roof down, if yuh want. Cash'll get out + and chink 'er up again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Cash will not,” the disapproving one amended the statement gruffly. + “He's trying to get the log outa the wall, Bud.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let him try, doggone it. Shows he's a stayer. I wouldn't have any + use for him if he didn't have gumption enough to tackle things too big for + him, and you wouldn't either. Stay with 'er, Lovins! Doggone it, can't yuh + git that log outa there nohow? Uh-h! A big old grunt and a big old heave—uh-h! + I'll tell the world in words uh one syllable, he's some stayer.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell a worl'!” chuckled Lovin Child, and pulled harder at the thing he + wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! The kid's got hold of a piece of gunny sack or something. You look + out, Bud, or he'll have all that chinkin' out. There's no sense in lettin' + him tear the whole blame shack to pieces, is there?” + </p> + <p> + “Can if he wants to. It's his shack as much as it's anybody's.” Bud + shifted Lovin Child more comfortably on his shoulder and looked up, + squinting his eyes half shut for fear of dirt in them. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of Mike, kid, what's that you've got? Looks to me like a + piece of buckskin, Cash. Here, you set down a minute, and let Bud take a + peek up there.” + </p> + <p> + “Bud—pik-k?” chirped Lovin Child from the blankets, where Bud had + deposited him unceremoniously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bud pik-k.” Bud stepped up on the bunk, which brought his head above + the low eaves. He leaned and looked, and scraped away the caked mud. “Good + glory! The kid's found a cache of some kind, sure as you live!” And he + began to claw out what had been hidden behind the mud. + </p> + <p> + First a buckskin bag, heavy and grimed and knobby. Gold inside it, he knew + without looking. He dropped it down on the bunk, carefully so as not to + smash a toe off the baby. After that he pulled out four baking-powder + cans, all heavy as lead. He laid his cheek against the log and peered down + the length of it, and jumped down beside the bunk. + </p> + <p> + “Kid's found a gold mine of his own, and I'll bet on it,” he cried + excitedly. “Looky, Cash!” + </p> + <p> + Cash was already looking, his eyebrows arched high to match his + astonishment. “Yeah. It's gold, all right. Old man Nelson's hoard, I + wouldn't wonder. I've always thought it was funny he never found any gold + in this flat, long as he lived here. And traces of washing here and there, + too. Well!” + </p> + <p> + “Looky, Boy!” Bud had the top off a can, and took out a couple of nuggets + the size of a cooked Lima bean. “Here's the real stuff for yuh. + </p> + <p> + “It's yours, too—unless—did old Nelson leave any folks, Cash, + do yuh know?” + </p> + <p> + “They say not. The county buried him, they say. And nobody ever turned up + to claim him or what little he left. No, I guess there's nobody got any + better right to it than the kid. We'll inquire around and see. But seein' + the gold is found on the claim, and we've got the claim according to law, + looks to me like—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here's your clean-up, old prospector. Don't swallow any, is all. + let's weigh it out, Cash, and see how much it is, just for a josh.” + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child had nuggets to play with there on the bed, and told the world + many unintelligible things about it. Cash and Bud dumped all the gold into + a pan, and weighed it out on the little scales Cash had for his tests. It + was not a fortune, as fortunes go. It was probably all the gold Nelson had + panned out in a couple of years, working alone and with crude devices. A + little over twenty-three hundred dollars it amounted to, not counting the + nuggets which Lovin Child had on the bunk with him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's a start for the kid, anyway,” Bud said, leaning back and + regarding the heap with eyes shining. “I helped him find it, and I kinda + feel as if I'm square with him now for not giving him my half the claim. + Twenty-three hundred would be a good price for a half interest, as the + claims stand, don't yuh think, Cash?” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah—well, I dunno's I'd sell for that. But on the showing we've + got so far—yes, five thousand, say, for the claims would be good + money.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty good haul for a kid, anyway. He's got a couple of hundred dollars + in nuggets, right there on the bunk. Let's see, Lovins. Let Bud have 'em + for a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Then it was that Lovin Child revealed a primitive human trait. He would + not give up the gold. He held fast to one big nugget, spread his fat legs + over the remaining heap of them, and fought Bud's hand away with the other + fist. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no! Tell a worl' no, no, no!” he remonstrated vehemently, until + Bud whooped with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “All right—all right! Keep your gold, durn it. You're like all the + rest—minute you get your paws on to some of the real stuff, you go + hog-wild over it.” + </p> + <p> + Cash was pouring the fine gold back into the buck skin bag and the + baking-powder cans. + </p> + <p> + “Let the kid play with it,” he said. “Getting used to gold when he's + little will maybe save him from a lot of foolishness over it when he gets + big. I dunno, but it looks reasonable to me. Let him have a few nuggets if + he wants. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say; maybe he won't get to + thinkin' too much of it if he's got it around under his nose all the time. + Same as everything else. It's the finding that hits a feller hardest, Bud—the + hunting for it and dreaming about it and not finding it. What say we go up + to the claim for an hour or so? Take the kid along. It won't hurt him if + he's bundled up good. It ain't cold to-day, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + That night they discussed soberly the prospects of the claim and their + responsibilities in the matter of Lovin Child's windfall. They would + quietly investigate the history of old Nelson, who had died a pauper in + the eyes of the community, with all his gleanings of gold hidden away. + They agreed that Lovin Child should not start off with one grain of gold + that rightfully belonged to some one else—but they agreed the more + cheerfully because neither man believed they would find any close + relatives; a wife or children they decided upon as rightful heirs. + Brothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts did not count. They were presumably + able to look after themselves just as old Nelson had done. Their ethics + were simple enough, surely. + </p> + <p> + Barring, then, the discovery of rightful heirs, their plan was to take the + gold to Sacramento in the spring, and deposit it there in a savings bank + for one Lovins Markham Moore. They would let the interest “ride” with the + principal, and they would—though neither openly confessed it to the + other—from time to time add a little from their own earnings. Bud + especially looked forward to that as a compromise with his duty to his own + child. He intended to save every cent he could, and to start a savings + account in the same bank, for his own baby, Robert Edward Moore—named + for Bud. He could not start off with as large a sum as Lovins would have, + and for that Bud was honestly sorry. But Robert Edward Moore would have + Bud's share in the claims, which would do a little toward evening things + up. + </p> + <p> + Having settled these things to the satisfaction of their desires and their + consciences, they went to bed well pleased with the day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. MARIE'S SIDE OF IT + </h2> + <p> + We all realize keenly, one time or another, the abject poverty of + language. To attempt putting some emotions into words is like trying to + play Ave Maria on a toy piano. There are heights and depths utterly beyond + the limitation of instrument and speech alike. + </p> + <p> + Marie's agonized experience in Alpine—and afterward—was of + that kind. She went there under the lure of her loneliness, her + heart-hunger for Bud. Drunk or sober, loving her still or turning away in + anger, she had to see him; had to hear him speak; had to tell him a little + of what she felt of penitence and longing, for that is what she believed + she had to do. Once she had started, she could not turn back. Come what + might, she would hunt until she found him. She had to, or go crazy, she + told herself over and over. She could not imagine any circumstance that + would turn her back from that quest. + </p> + <p> + Yet she did turn back—and with scarce a thought of Bud. She could + not imagine the thing happening that did happen, which is the way life has + of keeping us all on the anxious seat most of the time. She could not—at + least she did not—dream that Lovin Child, at once her comfort and + her strongest argument for a new chance at happiness, would in ten minutes + or so wipe out all thought of Bud and leave only a dumb, dreadful agony + that hounded her day and night. + </p> + <p> + She had reached Alpine early in the forenoon, and had gone to the one + little hotel, to rest and gather up her courage for the search which she + felt was only beginning. She had been too careful of her money to spend + any for a sleeper, foregoing even a berth in the tourist car. She could + make Lovin Child comfortable with a full seat in the day coach for his + little bed, and for herself it did not matter. She could not sleep anyway. + So she sat up all night and thought, and worried over the future which was + foolish, since the future held nothing at all that she pictured in it. + </p> + <p> + She was tired when she reached the hotel, carrying Lovin Child and her + suit case too—porters being unheard of in small villages, and the + one hotel being too sure of its patronage to bother about getting guests + from depot to hall bedroom. A deaf old fellow with white whiskers and poor + eyesight fumbled two or three keys on a nail, chose one and led the way + down a little dark hall to a little, stuffy room with another door opening + directly on the sidewalk. Marie had not registered on her arrival, because + there was no ink in the inkwell, and the pen had only half a point; but + she was rather relieved to find that she was not obliged to write her name + down—for Bud, perhaps, to see before she had a chance to see him. + </p> + <p> + Lovin Child was in his most romping, rambunctious mood, and Marie's head + ached so badly that she was not quite so watchful of his movements as + usual. She gave him a cracker and left him alone to investigate the tiny + room while she laid down for just a minute on the bed, grateful because + the sun shone in warmly through the window and she did not feel the + absence of a fire. She had no intention whatever of going to sleep—she + did not believe that she could sleep if she had wanted to. Fall asleep she + did, however, and she must have slept for at least half an hour, perhaps + longer. + </p> + <p> + When she sat up with that startled sensation that follows unexpected, + undesired slumber, the door was open, and Lovin Child was gone. She had + not believed that he could open the door, but she discovered that its + latch had a very precarious hold upon the worn facing, and that a slight + twist of the knob was all it needed to swing the door open. She rushed + out, of course, to look for him, though, unaware of how long she had + slept, she was not greatly disturbed. Marie had run after Lovin Child too + often to be alarmed at a little thing like that. + </p> + <p> + I don't know when fear first took hold of her, or when fear was swept away + by the keen agony of loss. She went the whole length of the one little + street, and looked in all the open doorways, and traversed the one short + alley that led behind the hotel. Facing the street was the railroad, with + the station farther up at the edge of the timber. Across the railroad was + the little, rushing river, swollen now with rains that had been snow on + the higher slopes of the mountain behind the town. + </p> + <p> + Marie did not go near the river at first. Some instinct of dread made her + shun even the possibility that Lovin Child had headed that way. But a man + told her, when she broke down her diffidence and inquired, that he had + seen a little tot in a red suit and cap going off that way. He had not + thought anything of it. He was a stranger himself, he said, and he + supposed the kid belonged there, maybe. + </p> + <p> + Marie flew to the river, the man running beside her, and three or four + others coming out of buildings to see what was the matter. She did not + find Lovin Child, but she did find half of the cracker she had given him. + It was lying so close to a deep, swirly place under the bank that Marie + gave a scream when she saw it, and the man caught her by the arm for fear + she meant to jump in. + </p> + <p> + Thereafter, the whole of Alpine turned out and searched the river bank as + far down as they could get into the box canyon through which it roared to + the sage-covered hills beyond. No one doubted that Lovin Child had been + swept away in that tearing, rock-churned current. No one had any hope of + finding his body, though they searched just as diligently as if they were + certain. + </p> + <p> + Marie walked the bank all that day, calling and crying and fighting off + despair. She walked the floor of her little room all night, the door + locked against sympathy that seemed to her nothing but a prying curiosity + over her torment, fighting back the hysterical cries that kept struggling + for outlet. + </p> + <p> + The next day she was too exhausted to do anything more than climb up the + steps of the train when it stopped there. Towns and ranches on the river + below had been warned by wire and telephone and a dozen officious citizens + of Alpine assured her over and over that she would be notified at once if + anything was discovered; meaning, of course, the body of her child. She + did not talk. Beyond telling the station agent her name, and that she was + going to stay in Sacramento until she heard something, she shrank behind + her silence and would reveal nothing of her errand there in Alpine, + nothing whatever concerning herself. Mrs. Marie Moore, General Delivery, + Sacramento, was all that Alpine learned of her. + </p> + <p> + It is not surprising then, that the subject was talked out long before Bud + or Cash came down into the town more than two months later. It is not + surprising, either, that no one thought to look up-stream for the baby, or + that they failed to consider any possible fate for him save drowning. That + nibbled piece of cracker on the very edge of the river threw them all off + in their reasoning. They took it for granted that the baby had fallen into + the river at the place where they found the cracker. If he had done so, he + would have been swept away instantly. No one could look at the river and + doubt that—therefore no one did doubt it. That a squaw should find + him sitting down where he had fallen, two hundred yards above the town and + in the edge of the thick timber, never entered their minds at all. That + she should pick him up with the intention at first of stopping his crying, + and should yield to the temptingness of him just as Bud had yielded, would + have seemed to Alpine still more unlikely; because no Indian had ever + kidnapped a white child in that neighborhood. So much for the habit of + thinking along grooves established by precedent + </p> + <p> + Marie went to Sacramento merely because that was the closest town of any + size, where she could wait for the news she dreaded to receive yet must + receive before she could even begin to face her tragedy. She did not want + to find Bud now. She shrank from any thought of him. Only for him, she + would still have her Lovin Child. Illogically she blamed Bud for what had + happened. He had caused her one more great heartache, and she hoped never + to see him again or to hear his name spoken. + </p> + <p> + Dully she settled down in a cheap, semi-private boarding house to wait. In + a day or two she pulled herself together and went out to look for work, + because she must have money to live on. Go home to her mother she would + not. Nor did she write to her. There, too, her great hurt had flung some + of the blame. If her mother had not interfered and found fault all the + time with Bud, they would be living together now—happy. It was her + mother who had really brought about their separation. Her mother would nag + at her now for going after Bud, would say that she deserved to lose her + baby as a punishment for letting go her pride and self-respect. No, she + certainly did not want to see her mother, or any one else she had ever + known. Bud least of all. + </p> + <p> + She found work without much trouble, for she was neat and efficient + looking, of the type that seems to belong in a well-ordered office, behind + a typewriter desk near a window where the sun shines in. The place did not + require much concentration—a dentist's office, where her chief + duties consisted of opening the daily budget of circulars, sending out + monthly bills, and telling pained-looking callers that the doctor was out + just then. Her salary just about paid her board, with a dollar or two left + over for headache tablets and a vaudeville show now and then. She did not + need much spending money, for her evenings were spent mostly in crying + over certain small garments and a canton-flannel dog called “Wooh-wooh.” + </p> + <p> + For three months she stayed, too apathetic to seek a better position. Then + the dentist's creditors became suddenly impatient, and the dentist could + not pay his office rent, much less his office girl. Wherefore Marie found + herself looking for work again, just when spring was opening all the fruit + blossoms and merchants were smilingly telling one another that business + was picking up. + </p> + <p> + Weinstock-Lubin's big department store gave her desk space in the + mail-order department. Marie's duty it was to open the mail, check up the + orders, and see that enough money was sent, and start the wheels moving to + fill each order—to the satisfaction of the customer if possible. + </p> + <p> + At first the work worried her a little. But she became accustomed to it, + and settled into the routine of passing the orders along the proper + channels with as little individual thought given to each one as was + compatible with efficiency. She became acquainted with some of the girls, + and changed to a better boarding house. She still cried over the wooh-wooh + and the little garments, but she did not cry so often, nor did she buy so + many headache tablets. She was learning the futility of grief and the + wisdom of turning her back upon sorrow when she could. The sight of a + two-year-old baby boy would still bring tears to her eyes, and she could + not sit through a picture show that had scenes of children and happy + married couples, but she fought the pain of it as a weakness which she + must overcome. Her Lovin Child was gone; she had given up everything but + the sweet, poignant memory of how pretty he had been and how endearing. + </p> + <p> + Then, one morning in early June, her practiced fingers were going through + the pile of mail orders and they singled out one that carried the postmark + of Alpine. Marie bit her lips, but her fingers did not falter in their + task. Cheap table linen, cheap collars, cheap suits or cheap + something-or-other was wanted, she had no doubt. She took out the paper + with the blue money order folded inside, speared the money order on the + hook with others, drew her order pad closer, and began to go through the + list of articles wanted. + </p> + <p> + This was the list:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + XL 94, 3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr at 59c $1.77 + XL 14 1 Buddy tucker suit 3 yr 2.00 + KL 6 1 Bunny pumps infant 5 1.25 + KL 54 1 Fat Ankle shoe infant 5 .98 + HL 389 4 Rubens vests, 3 yr at 90c 2.70 + SL 418 3 Pajamas 3 yr. at 59c 1.77 + OL 823 1 Express wagon, 15x32 in. 4.25 + — + $14.22 + + For which money order is enclosed. Please ship at once. + + Very truly, + R. E. MOORE, + Alpine, Calif. +</pre> + <p> + Mechanically she copied the order on a slip of paper which she put into + her pocket, left her desk and her work and the store, and hurried to her + boarding house. + </p> + <p> + Not until she was in her own room with the door locked did she dare let + herself think. She sat down with the copy spread open before her, her slim + fingers pressing against her temples. Something amazing had been revealed + to her—something so amazing that she could scarcely comprehend its + full significance. Bud—never for a minute did she doubt that it was + Bud, for she knew his handwriting too well to be mistaken—Bud was + sending for clothes for a baby boy! + </p> + <p> + “3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr—” it sounded, to the hungry mother + soul of her, exactly like her Lovin Child. She could see so vividly just + how he would look in them. And the size—she certainly would buy than + three-year size, if she were buying for Lovin Child. And the little “Buddy + tucker” suit—that, too, sounded like Lovin Child. He must—Bud + certainly must have him up there with him! Then Lovin Child was not + drowned at all, but alive and needing dig-in-the-muds. + </p> + <p> + “Bud's got him! Oh, Bud has got him, I know he's got him!” she whispered + over and over to herself in an ecstasy of hope. “My little Lovin Man! He's + up there right now with his Daddy Bud—” + </p> + <p> + A vague anger stirred faintly, flared, died almost, flared again and + burned steadily within her. Bud had her Lovin Child! How did he come to + have him, then, unless he stole him? Stole him away, and let her suffer + all this while, believing her baby was dead in the river! + </p> + <p> + “You devil!” she muttered, gritting her teeth when that thought formed + clearly in her mind. “Oh, you devil, you! If you think you can get away + with a thing like that—You devil!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. THE CURE COMPLETE + </h2> + <p> + In Nelson Flat the lupines were like spilled bluing in great, acre-wide + blots upon the meadow grass. Between cabin and creek bank a little plot + had been spaded and raked smooth, and already the peas and lettuce and + radishes were up and growing as if they knew how short would be the + season, and meant to take advantage of every minute of the warm days. Here + and there certain plants were lifting themselves all awry from where they + had been pressed flat by two small feet that had strutted heedlessly down + the rows. + </p> + <p> + The cabin yard was clean, and the two small windows were curtained with + cheap, white scrim. All before the door and on the path to the creek small + footprints were scattered thick. It was these that Marie pulled up her + hired saddle horse to study in hot resentment. + </p> + <p> + “The big brute!” she gritted, and got off and went to the cabin door, + walking straight-backed and every mental and physical fiber of her braced + for the coming struggle. She even regretted not having a gun; rather, she + wished that she was not more afraid of a gun than of any possible need of + one. She felt, at that minute, as though she could shoot Bud Moore with no + more compunction that she would feel in swatting a fly. + </p> + <p> + That the cabin was empty and unlocked only made her blood boil the hotter. + She went in and looked around at the crude furnishings and the small + personal belongings of those who lived there. She saw the table all set + ready for the next meal, with the extremely rustic high-chair that had + DYNAMITE painted boldly on the side of the box seat. Fastened to a nail at + one side of the box was a belt, evidently kept there for the purpose of + strapping a particularly wriggly young person into the chair. That smacked + strongly of Lovin Child, sure enough. Marie remembered the various devices + by which she had kept him in his go cart. + </p> + <p> + She went closer and inspected the belt indignantly. Just as she expected—it + was Bud's belt; his old belt that she bought for him just after they were + married. She supposed that box beside the queer high chair was where he + would sit at table and stuff her baby with all kinds of things he + shouldn't eat. Where was her baby? A fresh spasm of longing for Lovin + Child drove her from the cabin. Find him she would, and that no matter how + cunningly Bud had hidden him away. + </p> + <p> + On a rope stretched between a young cottonwood tree in full leaf and a + scaly, red-barked cedar, clothes that had been washed were flapping lazily + in the little breeze. Marie stopped and looked at them. A man's shirt and + drawers, two towels gray for want of bluing, a little shirt and a + nightgown and pair of stockings—and, directly in front of Marie, a + small pair of blue overalls trimmed with red bands, the blue showing white + fiber where the color had been scrubbed out of the cloth, the two knees + flaunting patches sewed with long irregular stitches such as a man would + take. + </p> + <p> + Bud and Lovin Child. As in the cabin, so here she felt the individuality + in their belongings. Last night she had been tormented with the fear that + there might be a wife as well as a baby boy in Bud's household. Even the + evidence of the mail order, that held nothing for a woman and that was + written by Bud's hand, could scarcely reassure her. Now she knew beyond + all doubt that she had no woman to reckon with, and the knowledge brought + relief of a sort. + </p> + <p> + She went up and touched the little overalls wistfully, laid her cheek + against one little patch, ducked under the line, and followed a crooked + little path that led up the creek. She forgot all about her horse, which + looked after her as long as she was in sight, and then turned and trotted + back the way it had come, wondering, no doubt, at the foolish faith this + rider had in him. + </p> + <p> + The path led up along the side of the flat, through tall grass and all the + brilliant blossoms of a mountain meadow in June. Great, graceful mountain + lilies nodded from little shady tangles in the bushes. Harebells and + lupines, wild-pea vines and columbines, tiny, gnome-faced pansies, + violets, and the daintier flowering grasses lined the way with odorous + loveliness. Birds called happily from the tree tops. Away up next the + clouds an eagle sailed serene, alone, a tiny boat breasting the currents + of the sky ocean. + </p> + <p> + Marie's rage cooled a little on that walk. It was so beautiful for Lovin + Child, up here in this little valley among the snow-topped mountains; so + sheltered. Yesterday's grind in that beehive of a department store seemed + more remote than South Africa. Unconsciously her first nervous pace + slackened. She found herself taking long breaths of this clean air, + sweetened with the scent of growing things. Why couldn't the world be + happy, since it was so beautiful? It made her think of those three weeks + in Big Basin, and the never-forgettable wonder of their love—hers + and Bud's. + </p> + <p> + She was crying with the pain and the beauty of it when she heard the first + high, chirpy notes of a baby—her baby. Lovin Child was picketed to a + young cedar near the mouth of the Blind ledge tunnel, and he was throwing + rocks at a chipmunk that kept coming toward him in little rushes, hoping + with each rush to get a crumb of the bread and butter that Lovin Child had + flung down. Lovin Child was squealing and jabbering, with now and then a + real word that he had learned from Bud and Cash. Not particularly nice + words—“Doggone” was one and several times he called the chipmunk a + “sunny-gun.” And of course he frequently announced that he would “Tell a + worl'” something. His head was bare and shone in the sun like the gold for + which Cash and his Daddy Bud were digging, away back in the dark hole. He + had on a pair of faded overalls trimmed with red, mates of the ones on the + rope line, and he threw rocks impartially with first his right hand and + then his left, and sometimes with both at once; which did not greatly + distress the chipmunk, who knew Lovin Child of old and had learned how + wide the rocks always went of their mark. + </p> + <p> + Upon this scene Marie came, still crying. She had always been an impulsive + young woman, and now she forgot that Lovin Child had not seen her for six + months or so, and that baby memories are short. She rushed in and snatched + him off the ground and kissed him and squeezed him and cried aloud upon + her God and her baby, and buried her wet face against his fat little neck. + </p> + <p> + Cash, trundling a wheelbarrow of ore out to the tunnel's mouth, heard a + howl and broke into a run with his load, bursting out into the sunlight + with a clatter and upsetting the barrow ten feet short of the regular + dumping place. Marie was frantically trying to untie the rope, and was + having trouble because Lovin Child was in one of his worst + kicking-and-squirming tantrums. Cash rushed in and snatched the child from + her. + </p> + <p> + “Here! What you doing to that kid? You're scaring him to death—and + you've got no right!” + </p> + <p> + “I have got a right! I have too got a right!” Marie was clawing like a + wildcat at Cash's grimy hands. “He's my baby! He's mine! You ought to be + hung for stealing him away from me. Let go—he's mine, I tell you. + Lovin! Lovin Child! Don't you know Marie? Marie's sweet, pitty man, he is! + Come to Marie, boy baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell a worl' no, no, no!” yelled Lovin Child, clinging to Cash. + </p> + <p> + “Aw—come to Marie, sweetheart! Marie's own lovin' little man baby! + You let him go, or I'll—I'll kill you. You big brute!” + </p> + <p> + Cash let go, but it was not because she commanded. He let go and stared + hard at Marie, lifting his eyebrows comically as he stepped back, his hand + going unconsciously up to smooth his beard. + </p> + <p> + “Marie?” he repeated stupidly. “Marie?” He reached out and laid a hand + compellingly on her shoulder. “Ain't your name Marie Markham, young lady? + Don't you know your own dad?” + </p> + <p> + Marie lifted her face from kissing Lovin Child very much against his will, + and stared round-eyed at Cash. She did not say anything. + </p> + <p> + “You're my Marie, all right You ain't changed so much I can't recognize + yuh. I should think you'd remember your own father—but I guess maybe + the beard kinda changes my looks. Is this true, that this kid belongs to + you?” + </p> + <p> + Marie gasped. “Why—father? Why—why, father!” She leaned + herself and Lovin Child into his arms. “Why, I can't believe it! Why—” + She closed her eyes and shivered, going suddenly weak, and relaxed in his + arms. “I-I-I can't—” + </p> + <p> + Cash slid Lovin Child to the ground, where that young gentleman picked + himself up indignantly and ran as far as his picket rope would let him, + whereupon he turned and screamed “Sunny-gun! sunny-gun!” at the two like + an enraged bluejay. Cash did not pay any attention to him. He was busy + seeking out a soft, shady spot that was free of rocks, where he might lay + Marie down. He leaned over her and fanned her violently with his hat, his + lips and his eyebrows working with the complexity of his emotions. Then + suddenly he turned and ducked into the tunnel, after Bud. + </p> + <p> + Bud heard him coming and turned from his work. Cash was not trundling the + empty barrow, which in itself was proof enough that something had + happened, even if Cash had not been running. Bud dropped his pick and + started on a run to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “What's wrong? Is the kid—?” + </p> + <p> + “Kid's all right” Cash stopped abruptly, blocking Bud's way. “It's + something else. Bud, his mother's come after him. She's out there now—laid + out in a faint.” + </p> + <p> + “Lemme go.” Bud's voice had a grimness in it that spelled trouble for the + lady laid out in a faint “She can be his mother a thousand times—” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah. Hold on a minute, Bud. You ain't going out there and raise no hell + with that poor girl. Lovins belongs to her, and she's going to have + him.... Now, just keep your shirt on a second. I've got something more to + say. He's her kid, and she wants him back, and she's going to have him + back. If you git him away from her, it'll be over my carcass. Now, now, + hold on! H-o-l-d on! You're goin' up against Cash Markham now, remember! + That girl is my girl! My girl that I ain't seen since she was a kid in + short dresses. It's her father you've got to deal with now—her + father and the kid's grandfather. You get that? You be reasonable, Bud, + and there won't be no trouble at all. But my girl ain't goin' to be robbed + of her baby—not whilst I'm around. You get that settled in your mind + before you go out there, or—you don't go out whilst I'm here to stop + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You go to hell,” Bud stated evenly, and thrust Cash aside with one sweep + of his arm, and went down the tunnel. Cash, his eyebrows lifted with worry + and alarm, was at his heels all the way. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Bud, be calm!” he adjured as he ran. “Don't go and make a dang fool + of yourself! She's my girl, remember. You want to hold on to yourself, + Bud, and be reasonable. Don't go and let your temper—” + </p> + <p> + “Shut your damn mouth!” Bud commanded him savagely, and went on running. + </p> + <p> + At the tunnel mouth he stopped and blinked, blinded for a moment by the + strong sunlight in his face. Cash stumbled and lost ten seconds or so, + picking himself up. Behind him Bud heard Cash panting, “Now, Bud, don't go + and make—a dang fool—” Bud snorted contemptuously and leaped + the dirt pile, landing close to Marie, who was just then raising herself + dizzily to an elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Bud,” Cash called tardily when he had caught up with him, “you leave + that girl alone! Don't you lay a finger on her! That's my—” + </p> + <p> + Bud lifted his lips away from Marie's and spoke over his shoulder, his + arms tightening in their hold upon Marie's trembling, yielding body. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up, Cash. She's my wife—now where do you get off at?” + </p> + <p> + (That, o course, lacked a little of being the exact truth. Lacked a few + hours, in fact, because they did not reach Alpine and the railroad until + that afternoon, and were not remarried until seven o'clock that evening.) + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” cried Lovin Child from a safe distance. “Tell a worl' no, + no!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell the world yes, yes!” Bud retorted ecstatically, lifting his + face again. “Come here, you little scallywag, and love your mamma Marie. + Cash, you old donkey, don't you get it yet? We've got 'em both for keeps, + you and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeah—I get it, all right.” Cash came and stood awkwardly over them. + “I get it—found my girl one minute, and lost her again the next! But + I'll tell yeh one thing, Bud Moore. The kid's' goin' to call me grampaw, + er I'll know the reason why!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cabin Fever, by B. M. 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Bower + +Posting Date: August 15, 2008 [EBook #1204] +Release Date: February, 1998 +Last Updated: January 6, 2009 +Last updated: June 21, 2012 +Last updated: June 24, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CABIN FEVER *** + + + + +Produced by Anthony Matonak + + + + + +CABIN FEVER + + +By B. M. Bower + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER + + I THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF + II TWO MAKE A QUARREL + III TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD + IV HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING + V BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES + VI BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS + VII INTO THE DESERT + VIII MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES + IX THE BITE OF MEMORY + X EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS + XI THE FIRST STAGES + XII MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE + XIII CABIN FEVER IN ITS WORST FORM + XIV CASH GETS A SHOCK + XV AND BUD NEVER GUESSED + XVI THE ANTIDOTE + XVII LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN + XVIII THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES + XIX BUD FACES FACTS + XX LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH + XXI MARIE'S SIDE OF IT + XXII THE CURE COMPLETE + + + + +CABIN FEVER + + + +CHAPTER ONE. THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF + +There is a certain malady of the mind induced by too much of one thing. +Just as the body fed too long upon meat becomes a prey to that horrid +disease called scurvy, so the mind fed too long upon monotony succumbs +to the insidious mental ailment which the West calls "cabin fever." +True, it parades under different names, according to circumstances and +caste. You may be afflicted in a palace and call it ennui, and it may +drive you to commit peccadillos and indiscretions of various sorts. You +may be attacked in a middle-class apartment house, and call it various +names, and it may drive you to cafe life and affinities and alimony. You +may have it wherever you are shunted into a backwater of life, and lose +the sense of being borne along in the full current of progress. Be sure +that it will make you abnormally sensitive to little things; irritable +where once you were amiable; glum where once you went whistling about +your work and your play. It is the crystallizer of character, the acid +test of friendship, the final seal set upon enmity. It will betray your +little, hidden weaknesses, cut and polish your undiscovered virtues, +reveal you in all your glory or your vileness to your companions in +exile--if so be you have any. + +If you would test the soul of a friend, take him into the wilderness +and rub elbows with him for five months! One of three things will surely +happen: You will hate each other afterward with that enlightened hatred +which is seasoned with contempt; you will emerge with the contempt +tinged with a pitying toleration, or you will be close, unquestioning +friends to the last six feet of earth--and beyond. All these things will +cabin fever do, and more. It has committed murder, many's the time. It +has driven men crazy. It has warped and distorted character out of all +semblance to its former self. It has sweetened love and killed love. +There is an antidote--but I am going to let you find the antidote +somewhere in the story. + +Bud Moore, ex-cow-puncher and now owner of an auto stage that did not +run in the winter, was touched with cabin fever and did not know what +ailed him. His stage line ran from San Jose up through Los Gatos and +over the Bear Creek road across the summit of the Santa Cruz Mountains +and down to the State Park, which is locally called Big Basin. For +something over fifty miles of wonderful scenic travel he charged six +dollars, and usually his big car was loaded to the running boards. Bud +was a good driver, and he had a friendly pair of eyes--dark blue and +with a humorous little twinkle deep down in them somewhere--and a human +little smiley quirk at the corners of his lips. He did not know it, but +these things helped to fill his car. + +Until gasoline married into the skylark family, Bud did well enough to +keep him contented out of a stock saddle. (You may not know it, but +it is harder for an old cow-puncher to find content, now that the free +range is gone into history, than it is for a labor agitator to be happy +in a municipal boarding house.) + +Bud did well enough, which was very well indeed. Before the second +season closed with the first fall rains, he had paid for his big car +and got the insurance policy transferred to his name. He walked up +First Street with his hat pushed back and a cigarette dangling from the +quirkiest corner of his mouth, and his hands in his pockets. The glow of +prosperity warmed his manner toward the world. He had a little money in +the bank, he had his big car, he had the good will of a smiling world. +He could not walk half a block in any one of three or four towns but he +was hailed with a "Hello, Bud!" in a welcoming tone. More people knew +him than Bud remembered well enough to call by name--which is the final +proof of popularity the world over. + +In that glowing mood he had met and married a girl who went into Big +Basin with her mother and camped for three weeks. The girl had taken +frequent trips to Boulder Creek, and twice had gone on to San Jose, and +she had made it a point to ride with the driver because she was crazy +about cars. So she said. Marie had all the effect of being a pretty +girl. She habitually wore white middies with blue collar and tie, which +went well with her clear, pink skin and her hair that just escaped being +red. She knew how to tilt her "beach" hat at the most provocative angle, +and she knew just when to let Bud catch a slow, sidelong glance--of the +kind that is supposed to set a man's heart to syncopatic behavior. She +did not do it too often. She did not powder too much, and she had the +latest slang at her pink tongue's tip and was yet moderate in her use of +it. + +Bud did not notice Marie much on the first trip. She was demure, and Bud +had a girl in San Jose who had brought him to that interesting stage +of dalliance where he wondered if he dared kiss her good night the +next time he called. He was preoccupiedly reviewing the +she-said-and-then-I-said, and trying to make up his mind whether he +should kiss her and take a chance on her displeasure, or whether he had +better wait. To him Marie appeared hazily as another camper who helped +fill the car--and his pocket--and was not at all hard to look at. It +was not until the third trip that Bud thought her beautiful, and was +secretly glad that he had not kissed that San Jose girl. + +You know how these romances develop. Every summer is saturated with them +the world over. But Bud happened to be a simple-souled fellow, and there +was something about Marie--He didn't know what it was. Men never do +know, until it is all over. He only knew that the drive through the +shady stretches of woodland grew suddenly to seem like little journeys +into paradise. Sentiment lurked behind every great, mossy tree bole. New +beauties unfolded in the winding drive up over the mountain crests. Bud +was terribly in love with the world in those days. + +There were the evenings he spent in the Basin, sitting beside Marie +in the huge campfire circle, made wonderful by the shadowy giants, +the redwoods; talking foolishness in undertones while the crowd sang +snatches of songs which no one knew from beginning to end, and that went +very lumpy in the verses and very much out of harmony in the choruses. +Sometimes they would stroll down toward that sweeter music the creek +made, and stand beside one of the enormous trees and watch the glow of +the fire, and the silhouettes of the people gathered around it. + +In a week they were surreptitiously holding hands. In two weeks they +could scarcely endure the partings when Bud must start back to San Jose, +and were taxing their ingenuity to invent new reasons why Marie must go +along. In three weeks they were married, and Marie's mother--a shrewd, +shrewish widow--was trying to decide whether she should wash her hands +of Marie, or whether it might be well to accept the situation and hope +that Bud would prove himself a rising young man. + +But that was a year in the past. Bud had cabin fever now and did not +know what ailed him, though cause might have been summed up in two meaty +phrases: too much idleness, and too much mother-in-law. Also, not enough +comfort and not enough love. + +In the kitchen of the little green cottage on North Sixth Street where +Bud had built the home nest with much nearly-Mission furniture and a +piano, Bud was frying his own hotcakes for his ten o'clock breakfast, +and was scowling over the task. He did not mind the hour so much, but he +did mortally hate to cook his own breakfast--or any other meal, for that +matter. In the next room a rocking chair was rocking with a rhythmic +squeak, and a baby was squalling with that sustained volume of sound +which never fails to fill the adult listener with amazement. It affected +Bud unpleasantly, just as the incessant bawling of a band of weaning +calves used to do. He could not bear the thought of young things going +hungry. + +"For the love of Mike, Marie! Why don't you feed that kid, or do +something to shut him up?" he exploded suddenly, dribbling pancake +batter over the untidy range. + +The squeak, squawk of the rocker ceased abruptly. "'Cause it isn't time +yet to feed him--that's why. What's burning out there? I'll bet you've +got the stove all over dough again--" The chair resumed its squeaking, +the baby continued uninterrupted its wah-h-hah! wah-h-hah, as though it +was a phonograph that had been wound up with that record on, and no one +around to stop it + +Bud turned his hotcakes with a vicious flop that spattered more batter +on the stove. He had been a father only a month or so, but that was +long enough to learn many things about babies which he had never known +before. He knew, for instance, that the baby wanted its bottle, and that +Marie was going to make him wait till feeding time by the clock. + +"By heck, I wonder what would happen if that darn clock was to stop!" he +exclaimed savagely, when his nerves would bear no more. "You'd let the +kid starve to death before you'd let your own brains tell you what +to do! Husky youngster like that--feeding 'im four ounces every four +days--or some simp rule like that--" He lifted the cakes on to a plate +that held two messy-looking fried eggs whose yolks had broken, set the +plate on the cluttered table and slid petulantly into a chair and began +to eat. The squeaking chair and the crying baby continued to torment +him. Furthermore, the cakes were doughy in the middle. + +"For gosh sake, Marie, give that kid his bottle!" Bud exploded again. +"Use the brains God gave yuh--such as they are! By heck, I'll stick +that darn book in the stove. Ain't yuh got any feelings at all? Why, I +wouldn't let a dog go hungry like that! Don't yuh reckon the kid knows +when he's hungry? Why, good Lord! I'll take and feed him myself, if you +don't. I'll burn that book--so help me!" + +"Yes, you will--not!" Marie's voice rose shrewishly, riding the high +waves of the baby's incessant outcry against the restrictions upon +appetite imposed by enlightened motherhood. "You do, and see what'll +happen! You'd have him howling with colic, that's what you'd do." + +"Well, I'll tell the world he wouldn't holler for grub! You'd go by the +book if it told yuh to stand 'im on his head in the ice chest! By heck, +between a woman and a hen turkey, give me the turkey when it comes to +sense. They do take care of their young ones--" + +"Aw, forget that! When it comes to sense---" + +Oh, well, why go into details? You all know how these domestic storms +arise, and how love washes overboard when the matrimonial ship begins to +wallow in the seas of recrimination. + +Bud lost his temper and said a good many things should not have said. +Marie flung back angry retorts and reminded Bud of all his sins and +slights and shortcomings, and told him many of mamma's pessimistic +prophecies concerning him, most of which seemed likely to be fulfilled. +Bud fought back, telling Marie how much of a snap she had had since she +married him, and how he must have looked like ready money to her, and +added that now, by heck, he even had to do his own cooking, as well as +listen to her whining and nagging, and that there wasn't clean corner in +the house, and she'd rather let her own baby go hungry than break a simp +rule in a darn book got up by a bunch of boobs that didn't know anything +about kids. Surely to goodness, he finished his heated paragraph, it +wouldn't break any woman's back to pour a little warm water on a little +malted milk, and shake it up. + +He told Marie other things, and in return, Marie informed him that he +was just a big-mouthed, lazy brute, and she could curse the day she ever +met him. That was going pretty far. Bud reminded her that she had not +done any cursing at the time, being in his opinion too busy roping him +in to support her. + +By that time he had gulped down his coffee, and was into his coat, +and looking for his hat. Marie, crying and scolding and rocking the +vociferous infant, interrupted herself to tell him that she wanted a +ten-cent roll of cotton from the drug store, and added that she hoped +she would not have to wait until next Christmas for it, either. Which +bit of sarcasm so inflamed Bud's rage that he swore every step of the +way to Santa Clara Avenue, and only stopped then because he happened to +meet a friend who was going down town, and they walked together. + +At the drug store on the corner of Second Street Bud stopped and bought +the cotton, feeling remorseful for some of the things he had said to +Marie, but not enough so to send him back home to tell her he was sorry. +He went on, and met another friend before he had taken twenty steps. +This friend was thinking of buying a certain second-hand automobile that +was offered at a very low price, and he wanted Bud to go with him and +look her over. Bud went, glad of the excuse to kill the rest of the +forenoon. + +They took the car out and drove to Schutzen Park and back. Bud opined +that she didn't bark to suit him, and she had a knock in her cylinders +that shouted of carbon. They ran her into the garage shop and went deep +into her vitals, and because she jerked when Bud threw her into second, +Bud suspected that her bevel gears had lost a tooth or two, and was +eager to find out for sure. + +Bill looked at his watch and suggested that they eat first before they +got all over grease by monkeying with the rear end. So they went to the +nearest restaurant and had smothered beefsteak and mashed potato and +coffee and pie, and while they ate they talked of gears and carburetors +and transmission and ignition troubles, all of which alleviated +temporarily Bud's case of cabin fever and caused him to forget that he +was married and had quarreled with his wife and had heard a good many +unkind things which his mother-in-law had said about him. + +By the time they were back in the garage and had the grease cleaned out +of the rear gears so that they could see whether they were really burred +or broken, as Bud had suspected, the twinkle was back in his eyes, and +the smiley quirk stayed at the corners of his mouth, and when he was not +talking mechanics with Bill he was whistling. He found much lost motion +and four broken teeth, and he was grease to his eyebrows--in other +words, he was happy. + +When he and Bill finally shed their borrowed overalls and caps, the +garage lights were on, and the lot behind the shop was dusky. Bud sat +down on the running board and began to figure what the actual cost +of the bargain would be when Bill had put it into good mechanical +condition. New bearings, new bevel gear, new brake, lining, rebored +cylinders--they totalled a sum that made Bill gasp. + +By the time Bud had proved each item an absolute necessity, and had +reached the final ejaculation: "Aw, forget it, Bill, and buy yuh a +Ford!" it was so late that he knew Marie must have given up looking +for him home to supper. She would have taken it for granted that he had +eaten down town. So, not to disappoint her, Bud did eat down town. Then +Bill wanted him to go to a movie, and after a praiseworthy hesitation +Bud yielded to temptation and went. No use going home now, just when +Marie would be rocking the kid to sleep and wouldn't let him speak above +a whisper, he told his conscience. Might as well wait till they settled +down for the night. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. TWO MAKE A QUARREL + +At nine o'clock Bud went home. He was feeling very well satisfied with +himself for some reason which he did not try to analyze, but which +was undoubtedly his sense of having saved Bill from throwing away six +hundred dollars on a bum car; and the weight in his coat pocket of a +box of chocolates that he had bought for Marie. Poor girl, it was kinda +tough on her, all right, being tied to the house now with the kid. Next +spring when he started his run to Big Basin again, he would get a little +camp in there by the Inn, and take her along with him when the travel +wasn't too heavy. She could stay at either end of the run, just as she +took a notion. Wouldn't hurt the kid a bit--he'd be bigger then, and the +outdoors would make him grow like a pig. Thinking of these things, Bud +walked briskly, whistling as he neared the little green house, so that +Marie would know who it was, and would not be afraid when he stepped up +on the front porch. + +He stopped whistling rather abruptly when he reached the house, for it +was dark. He tried the door and found it locked. The key was not in the +letter box where they always kept it for the convenience of the first +one who returned, so Bud went around to the back and climbed through the +pantry window. He fell over a chair, bumped into the table, and damned +a few things. The electric light was hung in the center of the room by +a cord that kept him groping and clutching in the dark before he finally +touched the elusive bulb with his fingers and switched on the light. + +The table was set for a meal--but whether it was dinner or supper Bud +could not determine. He went into the little sleeping room and turned on +the light there, looked around the empty room, grunted, and tiptoed into +the bedroom. (In the last month he had learned to enter on his toes, +lest he waken the baby.) He might have saved himself the bother, for the +baby was not there in its new gocart. The gocart was not there, Marie +was not there--one after another these facts impressed themselves upon +Bud's mind, even before he found the letter propped against the clock +in the orthodox manner of announcing unexpected departures. Bud read the +letter, crumpled it in his fist, and threw it toward the little heating +stove. "If that's the way yuh feel about it, I'll tell the world you can +go and be darned!" he snorted, and tried to let that end the matter so +far as he was concerned. But he could not shake off the sense of having +been badly used. He did not stop to consider that while he was working +off his anger, that day, Marie had been rocking back and forth, crying +and magnifying the quarrel as she dwelt upon it, and putting a new and +sinister meaning into Bud's ill-considered utterances. By the time Bud +was thinking only of the bargain car's hidden faults, Marie had reached +the white heat of resentment that demanded vigorous action. Marie was +packing a suitcase and meditating upon the scorching letter she meant to +write. + +Judging from the effect which the letter had upon Bud, it must have +been a masterpiece of its kind. He threw the box of chocolates into the +wood-box, crawled out of the window by which he had entered, and went +down town to a hotel. If the house wasn't good enough for Marie, let her +go. He could go just as fast and as far as she could. And if she thought +he was going to hot-foot it over to her mother's and whine around and +beg her to come home, she had another think coming. + +He wouldn't go near the darn place again, except to get his clothes. +He'd bust up the joint, by thunder. He'd sell off the furniture and turn +the house over to the agent again, and Marie could whistle for a home. +She had been darn glad to get into that house, he remembered, and away +from that old cat of a mother. Let her stay there now till she was darn +good and sick of it. He'd just keep her guessing for awhile; a week or +so would do her good. Well, he wouldn't sell the furniture--he'd just +move it into another house, and give her a darn good scare. He'd get a +better one, that had a porcelain bathtub instead of a zinc one, and a +better porch, where the kid could be out in the sun. Yes, sir, he'd just +do that little thing, and lay low and see what Marie did about that. +Keep her guessing--that was the play to make. + +Unfortunately for his domestic happiness, Bud failed to take into +account two very important factors in the quarrel. The first and most +important one was Marie's mother, who, having been a widow for fifteen +years and therefore having acquired a habit of managing affairs that +even remotely concerned her, assumed that Marie's affairs must be +managed also. The other factor was Marie's craving to be coaxed back to +smiles by the man who drove her to tears. Marie wanted Bud to come and +say he was sorry, and had been a brute and so forth. She wanted to hear +him tell how empty the house had seemed when he returned and found her +gone. She wanted him to be good and scared with that letter. She stayed +awake until after midnight, listening for his anxious footsteps; after +midnight she stayed awake to cry over the inhuman way he was treating +her, and to wish she was dead, and so forth; also because the baby +woke and wanted his bottle, and she was teaching him to sleep all night +without it, and because the baby had a temper just like his father. + +His father's temper would have yielded a point or two, the next day, had +it been given the least encouragement. For instance, he might have gone +over to see Marie before he moved the furniture out of the house, had +he not discovered an express wagon standing in front of the door when +he went home about noon to see if Marie had come back. Before he had +recovered to the point of profane speech, the express man appeared, +coming out of the house, bent nearly double under the weight of Marie's +trunk. Behind him in the doorway Bud got a glimpse of Marie's mother. + +That settled it. Bud turned around and hurried to the nearest drayage +company, and ordered a domestic wrecking crew to the scene; in other +words, a packer and two draymen and a dray. He'd show 'em. Marie and her +mother couldn't put anything over on him--he'd stand over that furniture +with a sheriff first. + +He went back and found Marie's mother still there, packing dishes and +doilies and the like. They had a terrible row, and all the nearest +neighbors inclined ears to doors ajar--getting an earful, as Bud +contemptuously put it. He finally led Marie's mother to the front door +and set her firmly outside. Told her that Marie had come to him with +no more than the clothes she had, and that his money had bought every +teaspoon and every towel and every stick of furniture in the darned +place, and he'd be everlastingly thus-and-so if they were going to +strong-arm the stuff off him now. If Marie was too good to live with +him, why, his stuff was too good for her to have. + +Oh, yes, the neighbors certainly got an earful, as the town gossips +proved when the divorce suit seeped into the papers. Bud refused to +answer the proceedings, and was therefore ordered to pay twice as much +alimony as he could afford to pay; more, in fact, than all his domestic +expense had amounted to in the fourteen months that he had been married. +Also Marie was awarded the custody of the child and, because Marie's +mother had represented Bud to be a violent man who was a menace to her +daughter's safety--and proved it by the neighbors who had seen and heard +so much--Bud was served with a legal paper that wordily enjoined him +from annoying Marie with his presence. + +That unnecessary insult snapped the last thread of Bud's regret for what +had happened. He sold the furniture and the automobile, took the money +to the judge that had tried the case, told the judge a few wholesome +truths, and laid the pile of money on the desk. + +"That cleans me out, Judge," he said stolidly. "I wasn't such a bad +husband, at that. I got sore--but I'll bet you get sore yourself and +tell your wife what-for, now and then. I didn't get a square deal, but +that's all right. I'm giving a better deal than I got. Now you can keep +that money and pay it out to Marie as she needs it, for herself and the +kid. But for the Lord's sake, Judge, don't let that wildcat of a mother +of hers get her fingers into the pile! She framed this deal, thinking +she'd get a haul outa me this way. I'm asking you to block that little +game. I've held out ten dollars, to eat on till I strike something. I'm +clean; they've licked the platter and broke the dish. So don't never ask +me to dig up any more, because I won't--not for you nor no other darn +man. Get that." + +This, you must know, was not in the courtroom, so Bud was not fined for +contempt. The judge was a married man himself, and he may have had a +sympathetic understanding of Bud's position. At any rate he listened +unofficially, and helped Bud out with the legal part of it, so that Bud +walked out of the judge's office financially free, even though he had +a suspicion that his freedom would not bear the test of prosperity, +and that Marie's mother would let him alone only so long as he and +prosperity were strangers. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD + +To withhold for his own start in life only one ten-dollar bill from +fifteen hundred dollars was spectacular enough to soothe even so bruised +an ego as Bud Moore carried into the judge's office. There is an +anger which carries a person to the extreme of self-sacrifice, in the +subconscious hope of exciting pity for one so hardly used. Bud was +boiling with such an anger, and it demanded that he should all but give +Marie the shirt off his back, since she had demanded so much--and for so +slight a cause. + +Bud could not see for the life of him why Marie should have quit for +that little ruction. It was not their first quarrel, nor their worst; +certainly he had not expected it to be their last. Why, he asked the +high heavens, had she told him to bring home a roll of cotton, if she +was going to leave him? Why had she turned her back on that little home, +that had seemed to mean as much to her as it had to him? + +Being kin to primitive man, Bud could only bellow rage when he should +have analyzed calmly the situation. He should have seen that Marie too +had cabin fever, induced by changing too suddenly from carefree girlhood +to the ills and irks of wifehood and motherhood. He should have known +that she had been for two months wholly dedicated to the small physical +wants of their baby, and that if his nerves were fraying with watching +that incessant servitude, her own must be close to the snapping point; +had snapped, when dusk did not bring him home repentant. + +But he did not know, and so he blamed Marie bitterly for the wreck of +their home, and he flung down all his worldly goods before her, and +marched off feeling self-consciously proud of his martyrdom. It soothed +him paradoxically to tell himself that he was "cleaned"; that Marie had +ruined him absolutely, and that he was just ten dollars and a decent +suit or two of clothes better off than a tramp. He was tempted to go +back and send the ten dollars after the rest of the fifteen hundred, but +good sense prevailed. He would have to borrow money for his next meal, +if he did that, and Bud was touchy about such things. + +He kept the ten dollars therefore, and went down to the garage where he +felt most at home, and stood there with his hands in his pockets and the +corners of his mouth tipped downward--normally they had a way of tipping +upward, as though he was secretly amused at something--and his eyes +sullen, though they carried tiny lines at the corners to show how they +used to twinkle. He took the ten-dollar bank note from his pocket, +straightened out the wrinkles and looked at it disdainfully. As plainly +as though he spoke, his face told what he was thinking about it: that +this was what a woman had brought him to! He crumpled it up and made a +gesture as though he would throw it into the street, and a man behind +him laughed abruptly. Bud scowled and turned toward him a belligerent +glance, and the man stopped laughing as suddenly as he had begun. + +"If you've got money to throw to the birds, brother, I guess I won't +make the proposition I was going to make. Thought I could talk business +to you, maybe--but I guess I better tie a can to that idea." + +Bud grunted and put the ten dollars in his pocket. + +"What idea's that?" + +"Oh, driving a car I'm taking south. Sprained my shoulder, and don't +feel like tackling it myself. They tell me in here that you aren't doing +anything now--" He made the pause that asks for an answer. + +"They told you right. I've done it." + +The man's eyebrows lifted, but since Bud did not explain, he went on +with his own explanation. + +"You don't remember me, but I rode into Big Basin with you last summer. +I know you can drive, and it doesn't matter a lot whether it's asphalt +or cow trail you drive over." + +Bud was in too sour a mood to respond to the flattery. He did not even +grunt. + +"Could you take a car south for me? There'll be night driving, and bad +roads, maybe--" + +"If you know what you say you know about my driving, what's the +idea--asking me if I can?" + +"Well, put it another way. Will you?" + +"You're on. Where's the car? Here?" Bud sent a seeking look into the +depths of the garage. He knew every car in there. "What is there in it +for me?" he added perfunctorily, because he would have gone just for +sake of getting a free ride rather than stay in San Jose over night. + +"There's good money in it, if you can drive with your mouth shut. This +isn't any booster parade. Fact is--let's walk to the depot, while I +tell you." He stepped out of the doorway, and Bud gloomily followed him. +"Little trouble with my wife," the man explained apologetically. "Having +me shadowed, and all that sort of thing. And I've got business south and +want to be left alone to do it. Darn these women!" he exploded suddenly. + +Bud mentally said amen, but kept his mouth shut upon his sympathy with +the sentiment. + +"Foster's my name. Now here's a key to the garage at this address." He +handed Bud a padlock key and an address scribbled on a card. "That's my +place in Oakland, out by Lake Merritt. You go there to-night, get the +car, and have it down at the Broadway Wharf to meet the 11:30 boat--the +one the theater crowd uses. Have plenty of gas and oil; there won't be +any stops after we start. Park out pretty well near the shore end as +close as you can get to that ten-foot gum sign, and be ready to go when +I climb in. I may have a friend with me. You know Oakland?" + +"Fair to middling. I can get around by myself." + +"Well, that's all right. I've got to go back to the city--catching the +next train. You better take the two-fifty to Oakland. Here's money for +whatever expense there is. And say! put these number plates in your +pocket, and take off the ones on the car. I bought these of a fellow +that had a smash--they'll do for the trip. Put them on, will you? She's +wise to the car number, of course. Put the plates you take off under +the seat cushion; don't leave 'em. Be just as careful as if it was a +life-and-death matter, will you? I've got a big deal on, down there, and +I don't want her spilling the beans just to satisfy a grudge--which she +would do in a minute. So don't fail to be at the ferry, parked so you +can slide out easy. Get down there by that big gum sign. I'll find you, +all right." + +"I'll be there." Bud thrust the key and another ten dollars into his +pocket and turned away. + +"And don't say anything--" + +"Do I look like an open-faced guy?" + +The man laughed. "Not much, or I wouldn't have picked you for the +trip." He hurried down to the depot platform, for his train was already +whistling, farther down the yards. + +Bud looked after him, the corners of his mouth taking their normal, +upward tilt. It began to look as though luck had not altogether deserted +him, in spite of the recent blow it had given. He slid the wrapped +number plates into the inside pocket of his overcoat, pushed his hands +deep into his pockets, and walked up to the cheap hotel which had been +his bleak substitute for a home during his trouble. He packed everything +he owned--a big suitcase held it all by squeezing--paid his bill at the +office, accepted a poor cigar, and in return said, yes, he was going to +strike out and look for work; and took the train for Oakland. + +A street car landed him within two blocks of the address on the tag, and +Bud walked through thickening fog and dusk to the place. Foster had a +good-looking house, he observed. Set back on the middle of two lots, it +was, with a cement drive sloping up from the street to the garage backed +against the alley. Under cover of lighting a cigarette, he inspected the +place before he ventured farther. The blinds were drawn down--at least +upon the side next the drive. On the other he thought he caught a gleam +of light at the rear; rather, the beam that came from a gleam of light +in Foster's dining room or kitchen shining on the next house. But he was +not certain of it, and the absolute quiet reassured him so that he went +up the drive, keeping on the grass border until he reached the garage. +This, he told himself, was just like a woman--raising the deuce around +so that a man had to sneak into his own place to get his own car out of +his own garage. If Foster was up against the kind of deal Bud had been +up against, he sure had Bud's sympathy, and he sure would get the best +help Bud was capable of giving him. + +The key fitted the lock, and Bud went in, set down his suitcase, and +closed the door after him. It was dark as a pocket in there, save where +a square of grayness betrayed a window. Bud felt his way to the side +of the car, groped to the robe rail, found a heavy, fringed robe, and +curtained the window until he could see no thread of light anywhere; +after which he ventured to use his flashlight until he had found the +switch and turned on the light. + +There was a little side door at the back, and it was fastened on the +inside with a stout hook. Bud thought for a minute, took a long chance, +and let himself out into the yard, closing the door after him. He walked +around the garage to the front and satisfied himself that the light +inside did not show. Then he went around the back of the house and found +that he had not been mistaken about the light. The house was certainly +occupied, and like the neighboring houses seemed concerned only with the +dinner hour of the inmates. He went back, hooked the little door on the +inside, and began a careful inspection of the car he was to drive. + +It was a big, late-modeled touring car, of the kind that sells for +nearly five thousand dollars. Bud's eyes lightened with satisfaction +when he looked at it. There would be pleasure as well as profit in +driving this old girl to Los Angeles, he told himself. It fairly made +his mouth water to look at her standing there. He got in and slid behind +the wheel and fingered the gear lever, and tested the clutch and the +foot brake--not because he doubted them, but because he had a hankering +to feel their smoothness of operation. Bud loved a good car just as he +had loved a good horse in the years behind him. Just as he used to walk +around a good horse and pat its sleek shoulder and feel the hard muscles +of its trim legs, so now he made love to this big car. Let that old hen +of Foster's crab the trip south? He should sa-a-ay not! + +There did not seem to be a thing that he could do to her, but +nevertheless he got down and, gave all the grease cups a turn, removed +the number plates and put them under the rear seat cushion, inspected +the gas tank and the oil gauge and the fanbelt and the radiator, turned +back the trip-mileage to zero--professional driving had made Bud careful +as a taxi driver about recording the mileage of a trip--looked at the +clock set in the instrument board, and pondered. + +What if the old lady took a notion to drive somewhere? She would miss +the car and raise a hullabaloo, and maybe crab the whole thing in the +start. In that case, Bud decided that the best way would be to let her +go. He could pile on to the empty trunk rack behind, and manage somehow +to get off with the car when she stopped. Still, there was not much +chance of her going out in the fog--and now that he listened, he heard +the drip of rain. No, there was not much chance. Foster had not seemed +to think there was any chance of the car being in use, and Foster ought +to know. He would wait until about ten-thirty, to play safe, and then +go. + +Rain spelled skid chains to Bud. He looked in the tool box, found a set, +and put them on. Then, because he was not going to take any chances, he +put another set, that he found hanging up, on the front wheels. After +that he turned out the light, took down the robe and wrapped himself in +it, and laid himself down on the rear seat to wait for ten-thirty. + +He dozed, and the next he knew there was a fumbling at the door in +front, and the muttering of a voice. Bud slid noiselessly out of the +car and under it, head to the rear where he could crawl out quickly. The +voice sounded like a man, and presently the door opened and Bud was sure +of it. He caught a querulous sentence or two. + +"Door left unlocked--the ignorant hound--Good thing I don't trust +him too far--" Some one came fumbling in and switched on the light. +"Careless hound--told him to be careful--never even put the robe on the +rail where it belongs--and then they howl about the way they're treated! +Want more wages--don't earn what they do get--" + +Bud, twisting his head, saw a pair of slippered feet beside the running +board. The owner of the slippers was folding the robe and laying it over +the rail, and grumbling to himself all the while. "Have to come out in +the rain--daren't trust him an inch--just like him to go off and leave +the door unlocked--" With a last grunt or two the mumbling ceased. The +light was switched off, and Bud heard the doors pulled shut, and the +rattle of the padlock and chain. He waited another minute and crawled +out. + +"Might have told me there was a father-in-law in the outfit," he +grumbled to himself. "Big a butt-in as Marie's mother, at that. Huh. +Never saw my suit case, never noticed the different numbers, never got +next to the chains--huh! Regular old he-hen, and I sure don't blame +Foster for wanting to tie a can to the bunch." + +Very cautiously he turned his flashlight on the face of the automobile +clock. The hour hand stood a little past ten, and Bud decided he had +better go. He would have to fill the gas tank, and get more oil, and he +wanted to test the air in his tires. No stops after they started, said +Foster; Bud had set his heart on showing Foster something in the way of +getting a car over the road. + +Father-in-law would holler if he heard the car, but Bud did not intend +that father-in-law should hear it. He would much rather run the gauntlet +of that driveway then wait in the dark any longer. He remembered +the slope down to the street, and grinned contentedly. He would give +father-in-law a chance to throw a fit, next morning. + +He set his suit case in the tonneau, went out of the little door, edged +around to the front and very, very cautiously he unlocked the big doors +and set them open. He went in and felt the front wheels, judged that +they were set straight, felt around the interior until his fingers +touched a block of wood and stepped off the approximate length of the +car in front of the garage, allowing for the swing of the doors, and +placed the block there. Then he went back, eased off the emergency +brake, grabbed a good handhold and strained forward. + +The chains hindered, but the floor sloped to the front a trifle, which +helped. In a moment he had the satisfaction of feeling the big car give, +then roll slowly ahead. The front wheels dipped down over the threshold, +and Bud stepped upon the running board, took the wheel, and by instinct +more than by sight guided her through the doorway without a scratch. +She rolled forward like a black shadow until a wheel jarred against the +block, whereupon he set the emergency brake and got off, breathing free +once more. He picked up the block and carried it back, quietly closed +the big doors and locked them, taking time to do it silently. Then, in +a glow of satisfaction with his work, he climbed slowly into the car, +settled down luxuriously in the driver's seat, eased off the brake, and +with a little lurch of his body forward started the car rolling down the +driveway. + +There was a risk, of course, in coasting out on to the street with +no lights, but he took it cheerfully, planning to dodge if he saw the +lights of another car coming. It pleased him to remember that the street +inclined toward the bay. He rolled past the house without a betraying +sound, dipped over the curb to the asphalt, swung the car townward, and +coasted nearly half a block with the ignition switch on before he pushed +up the throttle, let in his clutch, and got the answering chug-chug of +the engine. With the lights on full he went purring down the street in +the misty fog, pleased with himself and his mission. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING + +At a lunch wagon down near the water front, Bud stopped and bought two +"hot dog" sandwiches and a mug of hot coffee boiled with milk in it +and sweetened with three cubes of sugar. "O-oh, boy!" he ejaculated +gleefully when he set his teeth into biscuit and hot hamburger. Leaning +back luxuriously in the big car, he ate and drank until he could eat and +drink no more. Then, with a bag of bananas on the seat beside him, he +drove on down to the mole, searching through the drizzle for the big +gum sign which Foster had named. Just even with the coughing engine of +a waiting through train he saw it, and backed in against the curb, +pointing the car's radiator toward the mainland. He had still half an +hour to wait, and he buttoned on the curtains of the car, since a wind +from across the bay was sending the drizzle slantwise; moreover it +occurred to him that Foster would not object to the concealment while +they were passing through Oakland. Then he listlessly ate a banana while +he waited. + +The hoarse siren of a ferryboat bellowed through the murk. Bud started +the engine, throttled it down to his liking, and left it to warm up for +the flight. He ate another banana, thinking lazily that he wished he +owned this car. For the first time in many a day his mind was not filled +and boiling over with his trouble. Marie and all the bitterness she had +come to mean to him receded into the misty background of his mind and +hovered there, an indistinct memory of something painful in his life. + +A street car slipped past, bobbing down the track like a duck sailing +over ripples. A local train clanged down to the depot and stood jangling +its bell while it disgorged passengers for the last boat to the City +whose wall of stars was hidden behind the drizzle and the clinging fog. +People came straggling down the sidewalk--not many, for few had business +with the front end of the waiting trains. Bud pushed the throttle up a +little. His fingers dropped down to the gear lever, his foot snuggled +against the clutch pedal. + +Feet came hurrying. Two voices mumbled together. "Here he is," said one. +"That's the number I gave him." Bud felt some one step hurriedly upon +the running board. The tonneau door was yanked open. A man puffed +audibly behind him. "Yuh ready?" Foster's voice hissed in Bud's ear. + +"R'aring to go." Bud heard the second man get in and shut the door, and +he jerked the gear lever into low. His foot came gently back with the +clutch, and the car slid out and away. + +Foster settled back on the cushions with a sigh. The other man was +fumbling the side curtains, swearing under his breath when his fingers +bungled the fastenings. + +"Everything all ready?" Foster's voice was strident with anxiety. + +"Sure thing." + +"Well, head south--any road you know best. And keep going, till I tell +you to stop. How's the oil and gas?" + +"Full up. Gas enough for three hundred miles. Extra gallon of oil in the +car. What d'yah want--the speed limit through town?" + +"Nah. Side streets, if you know any. They might get quick action and +telephone ahead." + +"Leave it to me, brother." + +Bud did not know for sure, never having been pursued; but it seemed to +him that a straightaway course down a main street where other cars were +scudding homeward would be the safest route, because the simplest. He +did not want any side streets in his, he decided--and maybe run into a +mess of street-improvement litter, and have to back trail around it. +He held the car to a hurry-home pace that was well within the law, and +worked into the direct route to Hayward. He sensed that either Foster or +his friend turned frequently to look back through the square celluloid +window, but he did not pay much attention to them, for the streets were +greasy with wet, and not all drivers would equip with four skid chains. +Keeping sharp lookout for skidding cars and unexpected pedestrians and +street-car crossings and the like fully occupied Bud. + +For all that, an occasional mutter came unheeded to his ears, the closed +curtains preserving articulate sounds like room walls. + +"He's all right," he heard Foster whisper once. "Better than if he was +in on it." He did not know that Foster was speaking of him. + +"--if he gets next," the friend mumbled. + +"Ah, quit your worrying," Foster grunted. "The trick's turned; that's +something." + +Bud was under the impression that they were talking about father-in-law, +who had called Foster a careless hound; but whether they were or not +concerned him so little that his own thoughts never flagged in their +shuttle-weaving through his mind. The mechanics of handling the big car +and getting the best speed out of her with the least effort and risk, +the tearing away of the last link of his past happiness and his grief; +the feeling that this night was the real parting between him and Marie, +the real stepping out into the future; the future itself, blank beyond +the end of this trip, these were quite enough to hold Bud oblivious to +the conversation of strangers. + +At dawn they neared a little village. Through this particular county the +road was unpaved and muddy, and the car was a sight to behold. The only +clean spot was on the windshield, where Bud had reached around once or +twice with a handful of waste and cleaned a place to see through. It was +raining soddenly, steadily, as though it always had rained and always +would rain. + +Bud turned his face slightly to one side. "How about stopping; I'll have +to feed her some oil--and it wouldn't hurt to fill the gas tank again. +These heavy roads eat up a lot of extra power. What's her average +mileage on a gallon, Foster?" + +"How the deuce should I know?" Foster snapped, just coming out of a +doze. + +"You ought to know, with your own car--and gas costing what it does." + +"Oh!--ah--what was it you asked?" Foster yawned aloud. "I musta been +asleep." + +"I guess you musta been, all right," Bud grunted. "Do you want breakfast +here, or don't you? I've got to stop for gas and oil; that's what I was +asking?" + +The two consulted together, and finally told Bud to stop at the first +garage and get his oil and gas. After that he could drive to a drug +store and buy a couple of thermos bottles, and after that he could go to +the nearest restaurant and get the bottles filled with black coffee, and +have lunch put up for six people. Foster and his friend would remain in +the car. + +Bud did these things, revising the plan to the extent of eating his own +breakfast at the counter in the restaurant while the lunch was being +prepared in the kitchen. + +From where he sat he could look across at the muddy car standing before +a closed millinery-and-drygoods store. It surely did not look much like +the immaculate machine he had gloated over the evening before, but it +was a powerful, big brute of a car and looked its class in every line. +Bud was proud to drive a car like that. The curtains were buttoned down +tight, and he thought amusedly of the two men huddled inside, shivering +and hungry, yet refusing to come in and get warmed up with a decent +breakfast. Foster, he thought, must certainly be scared of his wife, if +he daren't show himself in this little rube town. For the first time Bud +had a vagrant suspicion that Foster had not told quite all there was to +tell about this trip. Bud wondered now if Foster was not going to meet +a "Jane" somewhere in the South. That terrifying Mann Act would account +for his caution much better than would the business deal of which Foster +had hinted. + +Of course, Bud told himself while the waiter refilled his coffee cup, it +was none of his business what Foster had up his sleeve. He wanted to get +somewhere quickly and quietly, and Bud was getting him there. That was +all he need to consider. Warmed and once more filled with a sense of +well-being, Bud made himself a cigarette before the lunch was ready, +and with his arms full of food he went out and across the street. Just +before he reached the car one of the thermos bottles started to slide +down under his elbow. Bud attempted to grip it against his ribs, but the +thing had developed a slipperiness that threatened the whole load, so he +stopped to rearrange his packages, and got an irritated sentence or two +from his passengers. + +"Giving yourself away like that! Why couldn't you fake up a mileage? +Everybody lies or guesses about the gas--" + +"Aw, what's the difference? The simp ain't next to anything. He thinks I +own it." + +"Well, don't make the mistake of thinking he's a sheep. Once he--" + +Bud suddenly remembered that he wanted something more from the +restaurant, and returned forth-with, slipping thermos bottle and all. He +bought two packages of chewing gum to while away the time when he could +not handily smoke, and when he returned to the car he went muttering +disapproving remarks about the rain and the mud and the bottles. He +poked his head under the front curtain and into a glum silence. The two +men leaned back into the two corners of the wide seat, with their heads +drawn down into their coat collars and their hands thrust under the +robe. Foster reached forward and took a thermos bottle, his partner +seized another. + +"Say, you might get us a bottle of good whisky, too," said Foster, +holding out a small gold piece between his gloved thumb and finger. "Be +quick about it though--we want to be traveling. Lord, it's cold!" + +Bud went into a saloon a few doors up the street, and was back presently +with the bottle and the change. There being nothing more to detain them +there, he kicked some of the mud off his feet, scraped off the rest +on the edge of the running board and climbed in, fastening the curtain +against the storm. "Lovely weather," he grunted sarcastically. "Straight +on to Bakersfield, huh?" + +There was a minute of silence save for the gurgling of liquid running +out of a bottle into an eager mouth. Bud laid an arm along the back of +his seat and waited, his head turned toward them. "Where are you fellows +going, anyway?" he asked impatiently. + +"Los An--" the stranger gurgled, still drinking. + +"Yuma!" snapped Foster. "You shut up, Mert. I'm running this." + +"Better--" + +"Yuma. You hit the shortest trail for Yuma, Bud. I'm running this." + +Foster seemed distinctly out of humor. He told Mert again to shut up, +and Mert did so grumblingly, but somewhat diverted and consoled, Bud +fancied, by the sandwiches and coffee--and the whisky too, he guessed. +For presently there was an odor from the uncorked bottle in the car. + +Bud started and drove steadily on through the rain that never ceased. +The big car warmed his heart with its perfect performance, its smooth, +effortless speed, its ease of handling. He had driven too long and too +constantly to tire easily, and he was almost tempted to settle down to +sheer enjoyment in driving such a car. Last night he had enjoyed it, but +last night was not to-day. + +He wished he had not overheard so much, or else had overheard more. He +was inclined to regret his retreat from the acrimonious voices as being +premature. Just why was he a simp, for instance? Was it because he +thought Foster owned the car? Bud wondered whether father-in-law had not +bought it, after all. Now that he began thinking from a different angle, +he remembered that father-in-law had behaved very much like the proud +possessor of a new car. It really did not look plausible that he would +come out in the drizzle to see if Foster's car was safely locked in for +the night. There had been, too, a fussy fastidiousness in the way the +robe had been folded and hung over the rail. No man would do that for +some other man's property, unless he was paid for it. + +Wherefore, Bud finally concluded that Foster was not above helping +himself to family property. On the whole, Bud did not greatly disapprove +of that; he was too actively resentful of his own mother-in-law. He was +not sure but he might have done something of the sort himself, if his +mother-in-law had possessed a six-thousand-dollar car. Still, such a +car generally means a good deal to the owner, and he did not wonder that +Foster was nervous about it. + +But in the back of his mind there lurked a faint dissatisfaction with +this easy explanation. It occurred to him that if there was going to +be any trouble about the car, he might be involved beyond the point of +comfort. After all, he did not know Foster, and he had no more reason +for believing Foster's story than he had for doubting. For all he knew, +it might not be a wife that Foster was so afraid of. + +Bud was not stupid. He was merely concerned chiefly with his own +affairs--a common enough failing, surely. But now that he had thought +himself into a mental eddy where his own affairs offered no new impulse +toward emotion, he turned over and over in his mind the mysterious trip +he was taking. It had come to seem just a little too mysterious to suit +him, and when Bud Moore was not suited he was apt to do something about +it. + +What he did in this case was to stop in Bakersfield at a garage that had +a combination drugstore and news-stand next door. He explained shortly +to his companions that he had to stop and buy a road map and that he +wouldn't be long, and crawled out into the rain. At the open doorway +of the garage he turned and looked at the car. No, it certainly did not +look in the least like the machine he had driven down to the Oakland +mole--except, of course, that it was big and of the same make. It might +have been empty, too, for all the sign it gave of being occupied. Foster +and Mert evidently had no intention whatever of showing themselves. + +Bud went into the drugstore, remained there for five minutes perhaps, +and emerged with a morning paper which he rolled up and put into his +pocket. He had glanced through its feature news, and had read hastily +one front-page article that had nothing whatever to do with the war, but +told about the daring robbery of a jewelry store in San Francisco the +night before. + +The safe, it seemed, had been opened almost in plain sight of the street +crowds, with the lights full on in the store. A clever arrangement of +two movable mirrors had served to shield the thief--or thieves. For no +longer than two or three minutes, it seemed, the lights had been off, +and it was thought that the raiders had used the interval of darkness to +move the mirrors into position. Which went far toward proving that the +crime had been carefully planned in advance. Furthermore, the article +stated with some assurance that trusted employees were involved. + +Bud also had glanced at the news items of less importance, and had been +startled enough--yet not so much surprised as he would have been a few +hours earlier--to read, under the caption: DARING THIEF STEALS COSTLY +CAR, to learn that a certain rich man of Oakland had lost his new +automobile. The address of the bereaved man had been given, and Bud's +heart had given a flop when he read it. The details of the theft had not +been told, but Bud never noticed their absence. His memory supplied all +that for him with sufficient vividness. + +He rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and with the paper stuffed carelessly +into his pocket he went to the car, climbed in, and drove on to +the south, just as matter-of-factly as though he had not just then +discovered that he, Bud Moore, had stolen a six-thousand-dollar +automobile the night before. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES + +They went on and on, through the rain and the wind, sometimes through +the mud as well, where the roads were not paved. Foster had almost +pounced upon the newspaper when he discovered it in Bud's pocket as he +climbed in, and Bud knew that the two read that feature article avidly. +But if they had any comments to make, they saved them for future +privacy. Beyond a few muttered sentences they were silent. + +Bud did not care whether they talked or not. They might have talked +themselves hoarse, when it came to that, without changing his opinions +or his attitude toward them. He had started out the most unsuspecting +of men, and now he was making up for it by suspecting Foster and Mert of +being robbers and hypocrites and potential murderers. He could readily +imagine them shooting him in the back of the head while he drove, if +that would suit their purpose, or if they thought that he suspected +them. + +He kept reviewing his performance in that garage. Had he really intended +to steal the car, he would not have had the nerve to take the chances +he had taken. He shivered when he recalled how he had slid under the car +when the owner came in. What if the man had seen him or heard him? He +would be in jail now, instead of splashing along the highway many miles +to the south. For that matter, he was likely to land in jail, anyway, +before he was done with Foster, unless he did some pretty close +figuring. Wherefore he drove with one part of his brain, and with +the other he figured upon how he was going to get out of the mess +himself--and land Foster and Mert deep in the middle of it. For such was +his vengeful desire. + +After an hour or so, when his stomach began to hint that it was eating +time for healthy men, he slowed down and turned his head toward the +tonneau. There they were, hunched down under the robe, their heads drawn +into their collars like two turtles half asleep on a mud bank. + +"Say, how about some lunch?" he demanded. "Maybe you fellows can get +along on whisky and sandwiches, but I'm doing the work; and if you +notice, I've been doing it for about twelve hours now without any +let-up. There's a town ahead here a ways--" + +"Drive around it, then," growled Foster, lifting his chin to stare ahead +through the fogged windshield. "We've got hot coffee here, and there's +plenty to eat. Enough for two meals. How far have we come since we +started?" + +"Far enough to be called crazy if we go much farther without a square +meal," Bud snapped. Then he glanced at the rumpled newspaper and added +carelessly, "Anything new in the paper?" + +"No!" Mert spoke up sharply. "Go on. You're doing all right so +far--don't spoil it by laying down on your job!" + +"Sure, go on!" Foster urged. "We'll stop when we get away from this darn +burg, and you can rest your legs a little while we eat." + +Bud went on, straight through the middle of the town without stopping. +They scurried down a long, dismal lane toward a low-lying range of hills +pertly wooded with bald patches of barren earth and rock. Beyond were +mountains which Bud guessed was the Tehachapi range. Beyond them, he +believed he would find desert and desertion. He had never been over this +road before, so he could no more than guess. He knew that the ridge road +led to Los Angeles, and he did not want anything of that road. Too many +travelers. He swung into a decent-looking road that branched off to the +left, wondering where it led, but not greatly caring. He kept that road +until they had climbed over a ridge or two and were in the mountains. +Soaked wilderness lay all about them, green in places where grass would +grow, brushy in places, barren and scarred with outcropping ledges, +pencilled with wire fences drawn up over high knolls. + +In a sequestered spot where the road hugged close the concave outline of +a bushy bluff, Bud slowed and turned out behind a fringe of bushes, and +stopped. + +"This is safe enough," he announced, "and my muscles are kinda crampy. +I'll tell the world that's been quite some spell of straight driving." + +Mert grunted, but Foster was inclined to cheerfulness. "You're some +driver, Bud. I've got to hand it to you." + +Bud grinned. "All right, I'll take it--half of it, anyway, if you don't +mind. You must remember I don't know you fellows. Most generally I +collect half in advance, on a long trip like this." Foster's eyes +opened, but he reached obediently inside his coat. Mert growled +inaudible comments upon Bud's nerve. + +"Oh, we can't kick, Mert," Foster smoothed him down diplomatically. +"He's delivered the goods, so far. And he certainly does know how to put +a car over the road. He don't know us, remember!" + +Mert grunted again and subsided. Foster extracted a bank note from his +bill-folder, which Bud observed had a prosperous plumpness, and held it +out to Bud. + +"I guess fifty dollars won't hurt your feelings, will it, brother? +That's more than you'd charge for twice the trip, but we appreciate a +tight mouth, and the hurry-up trip you've made of it, and all that It's +special work, and we're willing to pay a special price. See?" + +"Sure. But I only want half, right now. Maybe," he added with the +lurking twinkle in his eyes, "I won't suit yuh quite so well the rest +of the way. I'll have to go b'-guess and b'-gosh from here on. I've got +some change left from what I bought for yuh this morning too. Wait till +I check up." + +Very precisely he did so, and accepted enough from Foster to make up +the amount to twenty-five dollars. He was tempted to take more. For +one minute he even contemplated holding the two up and taking enough to +salve his hurt pride and his endangered reputation. But he did not do +anything of the sort, of course; let's believe he was too honest to do +it even in revenge for the scurvy trick they had played him. + +He ate a generous lunch of sandwiches and dill pickles and a wedge of +tasteless cocoanut cake, and drank half a pint or so of the hot, black +coffee, and felt more cheerful. + +"Want to get down and stretch your legs? I've got to take a look at the +tires, anyway. Thought she was riding like one was kinda flat, the last +few miles." + +They climbed out stiffly into the rain, stood around the car and stared +at it and at Bud testing his tires, and walked off down the road for a +little distance where they stood talking earnestly together. From the +corner of his eye Bud caught Mert tilting his head that way, and smiled +to himself. Of course they were talking about him! Any fool would know +that much. Also they were discussing the best means of getting rid of +him, or of saddling upon him the crime of stealing the car, or some +other angle at which he touched their problem. + +Under cover of testing the rear wheel farthest from them, he peeked into +the tonneau and took a good look at the small traveling bag they had +kept on the seat between them all the way. He wished he dared--But they +were coming back, as if they would not trust him too long alone with +that bag. He bent again to the tire, and when they climbed back into +the curtained car he was getting the pump tubing out to pump up that +particular tire a few pounds. + +They did not pay much attention to him. They seemed preoccupied and not +too friendly with each other, Bud thought. Their general air of gloom +he could of course lay to the weather and the fact that they had been +traveling for about fourteen hours without any rest; but there was +something more than that in the atmosphere. He thought they had +disagreed, and that he was the subject of their disagreement. + +He screwed down the valve cap, coiled the pump tube and stowed it away +in the tool box, opened the gas tank, and looked in--and right there he +did something else; something that would have spelled disaster if either +of them had seen him do it. He spilled a handful of little round white +objects like marbles into the tank before he screwed on the cap, and +from his pocket he pulled a little paper box, crushed it in his hand, +and threw it as far as he could into the bushes. Then, whistling just +above his breath, which was a habit with Bud when his work was going +along pleasantly, he scraped the mud off his feet, climbed in, and drove +on down the road. + +The big car picked up speed on the down grade, racing along as though +the short rest had given it a fresh enthusiasm for the long road that +wound in and out and up and down and seemed to have no end. As though he +joyed in putting her over the miles, Bud drove. Came a hill, he sent her +up it with a devil-may-care confidence, swinging around curves with a +squall of the powerful horn that made cattle feeding half a mile away on +the slopes lift their startled heads and look. + +"How much longer are you good for, Bud?" Foster leaned forward to ask, +his tone flattering with the praise that was in it. + +"Me? As long as this old boat will travel," Bud flung back gleefully, +giving her a little more speed as they rocked over a culvert and sped +away to the next hill. He chuckled, but Foster had settled back again +satisfied, and did not notice. + +Halfway up the next hill the car slowed suddenly, gave a snort, gasped +twice as Bud retarded the spark to help her out, and, died. She was +a heavy car to hold on that stiff grade, and in spite of the full +emergency brake helped out with the service brake, she inched backward +until the rear wheels came full against a hump across the road and held. + +Bud did not say anything; your efficient chauffeur reserves his +eloquence for something more complex than a dead engine. He took down +the curtain on that side, leaned out into the rain and inspected the +road behind him, shifted into reverse, and backed to the bottom. + +"What's wrong?" Foster leaned forward to ask senselessly. + +"When I hit level ground, I'm going to find out," Bud retorted, still +watching the road and steering with one hand. "Does the old girl ever +cut up with you on hills?" + +"Why--no. She never has," Foster answered dubiously. + +"Reason I asked, she didn't just choke down from the pull. She went and +died on me." + +"That's funny," Foster observed weakly. + +On the level Bud went into neutral and pressed the self-starter with +a pessimistic deliberation. He got three chugs and a backfire into the +carburetor, and after that silence. He tried it again, coaxing her with +the spark and throttle. The engine gave a snort, hesitated and then, +quite suddenly, began to throb with docile regularity that seemed to +belie any previous intention of "cutting up." + +Bud fed her the gas and took a run at the hill. She went up like a +thoroughbred and died at the top, just when the road had dipped into the +descent. Bud sent her down hill on compression, but at the bottom she +refused to find her voice again when he turned on the switch and pressed +the accelerator. She simply rolled down to the first incline and stopped +there like a balky mule. + +"Thunder!" said Bud, and looked around at Foster. "Do you reckon the old +boat is jinxed, just because I said I could drive her as far as she'd +go? The old rip ain't shot a cylinder since we hit the top of the hill." + +"Maybe the mixture--" + +"Yeah," Bud interrupted with a secret grin, "I've been wondering about +that, and the needle valve, and the feed pipe, and a few other little +things. Well, we'll have a look." + +Forthwith he climbed out into the drizzle and began a conscientious +search for the trouble. He inspected the needle valve with much care, +and had Foster on the front seat trying to start her afterwards. He +looked for short circuit. He changed the carburetor adjustment, and +Foster got a weary chug-chug that ceased almost as soon as it had begun. +He looked all the spark plugs over, he went after the vacuum feed and +found that working perfectly. He stood back, finally, with his hands on +his hips, and stared at the engine and shook his head slowly twice. + +Foster, in the driver's seat, swore and tried again to start it. "Maybe +if you cranked it," he suggested tentatively. + +"What for? The starter turns her over all right. Spark's all right too, +strong and hot. However--" With a sigh of resignation Bud got out what +tools he wanted and went to work. Foster got out and stood around, +offering suggestions that were too obvious to be of much use, but which +Bud made it a point to follow as far as was practicable. + +Foster said it must be the carburetor, and Bud went relentlessly after +the carburetor. He impressed Foster with the fact that he knew cars, and +when he told Foster to get in and try her again, Foster did so with the +air of having seen the end of the trouble. At first it did seem so, for +the engine started at once and worked smoothly until Bud had gathered +his wrenches off the running board and was climbing it, when it slowed +down and stopped, in spite of Foster's frantic efforts to keep it alive +with spark and throttle. + +"Good Glory!" cried Bud, looking reproachfully in at Foster. "What'd yuh +want to stop her for?" + +"I didn't!" Foster's consternation was ample proof of his innocence. +"What the devil ails the thing?" + +"You tell me, and I'll fix it," Bud retorted savagely. Then he smoothed +his manner and went back to the carburetor. "Acts like the gas kept +choking off," he said, "but it ain't that. She's O.K. I know, 'cause +I've tested it clean back to tank. There's nothing the matter with the +feed--she's getting gas same as she has all along. I can take off the +mag. and see if anything's wrong there; but I'm pretty sure there ain't. +Couldn't any water or mud get in--not with that oil pan perfect. She +looks dry as a bone, and clean. Try her again, Foster; wait till I set +the spark about right. Now, you leave it there, and give her the gas +kinda gradual, and catch her when she talks. We'll see--" + +They saw that she was not going to "talk" at all. Bud swore a little and +got out more tools and went after the magneto with grim determination. +Again Foster climbed out and stood in the drizzle and watched him. Mert +crawled over into the front seat where he could view the proceedings +through the windshield. Bud glanced up and saw him there, and grinned +maliciously. "Your friend seems to love wet weather same as a cat does," +he observed to Foster. "He'll be terrible happy if you're stalled here +till you get a tow in somewhere." + +"It's your business to see that we aren't stalled," Mert snapped at him +viciously. "You've got to make the thing go. You've got to!" + +"Well, I ain't the Almighty," Bud retorted acidly. "I can't perform +miracles while yuh wait." + +"Starting a cranky car doesn't take a miracle," whined Mert. "Anybody +that knows cars--" + +"She's no business to be a cranky car," Foster interposed pacifically. +"Why, she's practically new!" He stepped over a puddle and stood beside +Bud, peering down at the silent engine. "Have you looked at the intake +valve?" he asked pathetically. + +"Why, sure. It's all right. Everything's all right, as far as I can find +out." Bud looked Foster straight in the eye--and if his own were a bit +anxious, that was to be expected. + +"Everything's all right," he added measuredly. "Only, she won't go." He +waited, watching Foster's face. + +Foster chewed a corner of his lip worriedly. "Well, what do you make of +it?" His tone was helpless. + +Bud threw out his two hands expressively, and shook his head. He let +down the hood, climbed in, slid into the driver's seat, and went through +the operation of starting. Only, he didn't start. The self-starter +hummed as it spun the flywheel, but nothing whatever was elicited save a +profane phrase from Foster and a growl from Mert. Bud sat back flaccid, +his whole body owning defeat. + +"Well, that means a tow in to the nearest shop," he stated, after a +minute of dismal silence. "She's dead as a doornail." + +Mert sat back in his corner of the seat, muttering into his collar. +Foster looked at him, looked at Bud, looked at the car and at the +surrounding hills. He seemed terribly depressed and at the same +time determined to make the best of things. Bud could almost pity +him--almost. + +"Do you know how far it is back to that town we passed?" he asked Bud +spiritlessly after a while. Bud looked at the speedometer, made a mental +calculation and told him it was fifteen miles. Towns, it seemed, were +rather far apart in this section of the country. + +"Well, let's see the road map. How far is it to the next one?" + +"Search me. They didn't have any road maps back there. Darned hick +burg." + +Foster studied awhile. "Well, let's see if we can push her off the +middle of the road--and then I guess we'll have to let you walk back and +get help. Eh, Mert? There's nothing else we can do--" + +"What yuh going to tell 'em?" Mert demanded suspiciously. + +Bud permitted a surprised glance to slant back at Mert. "Why, whatever +you fellows fake up for me to tell," he said naively. "I know the truth +ain't popular on this trip, so get together and dope out something. And +hand me over my suit case, will yuh? I want some dry socks to put on +when I get there." + +Foster very obligingly tilted the suit case over into the front seat. +After that he and Mert, as by a common thought impelled, climbed out +and went over to a bushy live oak to confer in privacy. Mert carried the +leather bag with him. + +By the time they had finished and were coming back, Bud had gone through +his belongings and had taken out a few letters that might prove awkward +if found there later, two pairs of socks and his razor and toothbrush. +He was folding the socks to stow away in his pocket when they got in. + +"You can say that we're from Los Angeles, and on our way home," Foster +told him curtly. It was evident to Bud that the two had not quite agreed +upon some subject they had discussed. "That's all right. I'm Foster, and +he's named Brown--if any one gets too curious." + +"Fine. Fine because it's so simple. I'll eat another sandwich, if you +don't mind, before I go. I'll tell a heartless world that fifteen miles +is some little stroll--for a guy that hates walkin'." + +"You're paid for it," Mert growled at him rudely. + +"Sure, I'm paid for it," Bud assented placidly, taking a bite. They +might have wondered at his calm, but they did not. He ate what he +wanted, took a long drink of the coffee, and started off up the hill +they had rolled down an hour or more past. + +He walked briskly, and when he was well out of earshot Bud began to +whistle. Now and then he stopped to chuckle, and sometimes he frowned at +an uncomfortable thought. But on the whole he was very well pleased with +his present circumstances. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS + +In a little village which he had glimpsed from the top of a hill Bud +went into the cluttered little general store and bought a few blocks of +slim, evil smelling matches and a couple of pounds of sliced bacon, a +loaf of stale bread, and two small cans of baked beans. He stuffed +them all into the pocket of his overcoat, and went out and hunted up a +long-distance telephone sign. It had not taken him more than an hour to +walk to the town, for he had only to follow a country road that branched +off that way for a couple of miles down a valley. There was a post +office and the general store and a couple of saloons and a blacksmith +shop that was thinking of turning into a garage but had gone no further +than to hang out a sign that gasoline was for sale there. It was all +very sordid and very lifeless and altogether discouraging in the drizzle +of late afternoon. Bud did not see half a dozen human beings on his way +to the telephone office, which he found was in the post office. + +He called up San Francisco, and got the chief of police's office on the +wire, and told them where they would find the men who had robbed that +jewelry store of all its diamonds and some other unset jewels. Also he +mentioned the car that was stolen, and that was now stalled and waiting +for some kind soul to come and give it a tow. + +He speedily had all the attention of the chief, and having thought +out in advance his answers to certain pertinent questions, he did not +stutter when they were asked. Yes, he had been hired to drive the ear +south, and he had overheard enough to make him suspicious on the way. He +knew that they had stolen the car. He was not absolutely sure that +they were the diamond thieves but it would be easy enough to find out, +because officers sent after them would naturally be mistaken for first +aid from some garage, and the cops could nab the men and look into that +grip they were so careful not to let out of their sight. + +"Are you sure they won't get the car repaired and go on?" It was +perfectly natural that the chief should fear that very thing. + +"No chance!" Bud chuckled into the 'phone. "Not a chance in the world, +chief. They'll be right there where I left 'em, unless some car comes +along and gives 'em a tow. And if that happens you'll be able to trace +'em." He started to hang up, and added another bit of advice. "Say, +chief, you better tell whoever gets the car, to empty the gas tank and +clean out the carburetor and vacuum feed--and she'll go, all right! +Adios." + +He hung up and paid the charge hurriedly, and went out and down a +crooked little lane that led between bushes to a creek and heavy timber. +It did not seem to him advisable to linger; the San Francisco chief of +police might set some officer in that village on his trail, just as a +matter of precaution. Bud told himself that he would do it were he in +the chief's place. When he reached the woods along the creek he ran, +keeping as much as possible on thick leaf mold that left the least +impression. He headed to the east, as nearly as he could judge, and when +he came to a rocky canyon he struck into it. + +He presently found himself in a network of small gorges that twisted +away into the hills without any system whatever, as far as he could see. +He took one that seemed to lead straightest toward where the sun would +rise next morning, and climbed laboriously deeper and deeper into the +hills. After awhile he had to descend from the ridge where he found +himself standing bleakly revealed against a lowering, slaty sky that +dripped rain incessantly. As far as he could see were hills and more +hills, bald and barren except in certain canyons whose deeper shadows +told of timber. Away off to the southwest a bright light showed +briefly--the headlight of a Santa Fe train, he guessed it must be. To +the east, which he faced, the land was broken with bare hills that fell +just short of being mountains. He went down the first canyon that opened +in that direction, ploughing doggedly ahead into the unknown. + +That night Bud camped in the lee of a bank that was fairly well screened +with rocks and bushes, and dined off broiled bacon and bread and a can +of beans with tomato sauce, and called it a meal. At first he was not +much inclined to take the risk of having a fire big enough to keep him +warm. Later in the night he was perfectly willing to take the risk, but +could not find enough dry wood. His rainproofed overcoat became quite +soggy and damp on the inside, in spite of his efforts to shield himself +from the rain. It was not exactly a comfortable night, but he worried +through it somehow. + +At daylight he opened another can of beans and made himself two thick +bean sandwiches, and walked on while he ate them slowly. They tasted +mighty good, Bud thought--but he wished fleetingly that he was back +in the little green cottage on North Sixth Street, getting his own +breakfast. He felt as though he could drink about four cups of coffee; +and as to hotcakes--! But breakfast in the little green cottage recalled +Marie, and Marie was a bitter memory. All the more bitter because he +did not know where burrowed the root of his hot resentment. In a strong +man's love for his home and his mate was it rooted, and drew therefrom +the wormwood of love thwarted and spurned. + +After awhile the high air currents flung aside the clouds like curtains +before a doorway. The sunlight flashed out dazzlingly and showed Bud +that the world, even this tumbled world, was good to look upon. His +instincts were all for the great outdoors, and from such the sun brings +quick response. Bud lifted his head, looked out over the hills to where +a bare plain stretched in the far distance, and went on more briskly. + +He did not meet any one at all; but that was chiefly because he did not +want to meet any one. He went with his ears and his eyes alert, and was +not above hiding behind a clump of stunted bushes when two horsemen rode +down a canyon trail just below him. Also he searched for roads and then +avoided them. It would be a fat morsel for Marie and her mother to roll +under their tongues, he told himself savagely, if he were arrested and +appeared in the papers as one of that bunch of crooks! + +Late that afternoon, by traveling steadily in one direction, he topped a +low ridge and saw an arm of the desert thrust out to meet him. A scooped +gully with gravelly sides and rocky bottom led down that way, and +because his feet were sore from so much sidehill travel, Bud went down. +He was pretty well fagged too, and ready to risk meeting men, if thereby +he might gain a square meal. Though he was not starving, or anywhere +near it, he craved warm food and hot coffee. + +So when he presently came upon two sway-backed burros that showed the +sweaty imprint of packsaddles freshly removed, and a couple of horses +also sweat roughened, he straightway assumed that some one was making +camp not far away. One of the horses was hobbled, and they were all +eating hungrily the grass that grew along the gully's sides. Camp was +not only close, but had not yet reached suppertime, Bud guessed from the +well-known range signs. + +Two or three minutes proved him right. He came upon a man just driving +the last tent peg. He straightened up and stared at Bud unblinkingly for +a few seconds. + +"Howdy, howdy," he greeted him then with tentative friendliness, and +went on with his work. "You lost?" he added carefully. A man walking +down out of the barren hills, and carrying absolutely nothing in the +way of camp outfit, was enough to whet the curiosity of any one who knew +that country. At the same time curiosity that became too apparent +might be extremely unwelcome. So many things may drive a man into the +hills--but few of them would bear discussion with strangers. + +"Yes. I am, and I ain't." Bud came up and stood with his hands in his +coat pockets, and watched the old fellow start his fire. + +"Yeah--how about some supper? If you am, and you ain't as hungry as you +look--" + +"I'll tell the world I am, and then some. I ain't had a square meal +since yesterday morning, and I grabbed that at a quick-lunch joint. I'm +open to supper engagements, brother." + +"All right. There's a side of bacon in that kyack over there. Get it out +and slice some off, and we'll have supper before you know it. We will," +he added pessimistically, "if this dang brush will burn." + +Bud found the bacon and cut according to his appetite. His host got +out a blackened coffeepot and half filled it with water from a dented +bucket, and balanced it on one side of the struggling fire. He remarked +that they had had some rain, to which Bud agreed. He added gravely that +he believed it was going to clear up, though--unless the wind swung back +into the storm quarter. Bud again professed cheerfully to be in perfect +accord. After which conversational sparring they fell back upon the +little commonplaces of the moment. + +Bud went into a brush patch and managed to glean an armful of nearly +dry wood, which he broke up with the axe and fed to the fire, coaxing it +into freer blazing. The stranger watched him unobtrusively, critically, +pottering about while Bud fried the bacon. + +"I guess you've handled a frying pan before, all right," he remarked at +last, when the bacon was fried without burning. + +Bud grinned. "I saw one in a store window once as I was going by," he +parried facetiously. "That was quite a while back." + +"Yeah. Well, how's your luck with bannock? I've got it all mixed." + +"Dump her in here, ole-timer," cried Bud, holding out the frying pan +emptied of all but grease. "Wish I had another hot skillet to turn over +the top." + +"I guess you've been there, all right," the other chuckled. "Well, I +don't carry but the one frying pan. I'm equipped light, because I've got +to outfit with grub, further along." + +"Well, we'll make out all right, just like this." Bud propped the handle +of the frying pan high with a forked stick, and stood up. "Say, my +name's Bud Moore, and I'm not headed anywhere in particular. I'm just +traveling in one general direction, and that's with the Coast at my +back. Drifting, that's all. I ain't done anything I'm ashamed of or +scared of, but I am kinda bashful about towns. I tangled with a couple +of crooks, and they're pulled by now, I expect. I'm dodging newspaper +notoriety. Don't want to be named with 'em at all." He, spread his +hands with an air of finality. "That's my tale of woe," he supplemented, +"boiled down to essentials. I just thought I'd tell you." + +"Yeah. Well, my name's Cash Markham, and I despise to have folks get +funny over it. I'm a miner and prospector, and I'm outfitting for a trip +for another party, looking up an old location that showed good prospects +ten years ago. Man died, and his wife's trying to get the claim +relocated. Get you a plate outa that furtherest kyack, and a cup. +Bannock looks about done, so we'll eat." + +That night Bud shared Cash Markham's blankets, and in the morning +he cooked the breakfast while Cash Markham rounded up the burros and +horses. In that freemasonry of the wilderness they dispensed with +credentials, save those each man carried in his face and in his manner. +And if you stop to think of it, such credentials are not easily forged, +for nature writes them down, and nature is a truth-loving old dame who +will never lead you far astray if only she is left alone to do her work +in peace. + +It transpired, in the course of the forenoon's travel, that Cash Markham +would like to have a partner, if he could find a man that suited. One +guessed that he was fastidious in the matter of choosing his companions, +in spite of the easy way in which he had accepted Bud. By noon they had +agreed that Bud should go along and help relocate the widow's claim. +Cash Markham hinted that they might do a little prospecting on their own +account. It was a country he had long wanted to get into, he said, and +while he intended to do what Mrs. Thompson had hired him to do, still +there was no law against their prospecting on their own account. And +that, he explained, was one reason why he wanted a good man along. +If the Thompson claim was there, Bud could do the work under the +supervision of Cash, and Cash could prospect. + +"And anyway, it's bad policy for a man to go off alone in this part of +the country," he added with a speculative look across the sandy waste +they were skirting at a pace to suit the heavily packed burros. "Case +of sickness or accident--or suppose the stock strays off--it's bad to be +alone." + +"Suits me fine to go with you," Bud declared. "I'm next thing to broke, +but I've got a lot of muscle I can cash in on the deal. And I know the +open. And I can rock a gold-pan and not spill out all the colors, if +there is any--and whatever else I know is liable to come in handy, and +what I don't know I can learn." + +"That's fair enough. Fair enough," Markham agreed. "I'll allow you wages +on the Thompson job' till you've earned enough to balance up with the +outfit. After that it'll be fifty-fifty. How'll that be, Bud?" + +"Fair enough--fair enough," Bud retorted with faint mimicry. "If I was +all up in the air a few days ago, I seem to have lit on my feet, and +that's good enough for me right now. We'll let 'er ride that way." + +And the twinkle, as he talked, was back in his eyes, and the smiley +quirk was at the corner of his lips. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. INTO THE DESERT + +If you want to know what mad adventure Bud found himself launched upon, +just read a few extracts from the diary which Cash Markham, being a +methodical sort of person, kept faithfully from day to day, until he cut +his thumb on a can of tomatoes which he had been cutting open with his +knife. After that Bud kept the diary for him, jotting down the main +happenings of the day. When Cash's thumb healed so that he could hold a +pencil with some comfort, Bud thankfully relinquished the task. He hated +to write, anyway, and it seemed to him that Cash ought to trust his +memory a little more than he did. + +I shall skip a good many days, of course--though the diary did not, I +assure you. + +First, there was the outfit. When they had outfitted at Needles for the +real trip, Cash set down the names of all living things in this wise: + +Outfit, Cassius B. Markham, Bud Moore, Daddy a bull terrier, bay horse, +Mars, Pete a sorrel, Ed a burro, Swayback a jinny, Maude a jack, Cora +another jinny, Billy a riding burro & Sways colt & Maude colt a white +mean looking little devil. + +Sat. Apr. 1. + +Up at 7:30. Snowing and blowing 3 ft. of snow on ground. Managed to get +breakfast & returned to bed. Fed Monte & Peter our cornmeal, poor things +half frozen. Made a fire in tent at 1:30 & cooked a meal. Much smoke, +ripped hole in back of tent. Three burros in sight weathering fairly +well. No sign of let up everything under snow & wind a gale. Making out +fairly well under adverse conditions. Worst weather we have experienced. + +Apr. 2. + +Up at 7 A.M. Fine & sunny snow going fast. Fixed up tent & cleaned up +generally. Alkali flat a lake, can't cross till it dries. Stock some +scattered, brought them all together. + +Apr. 3. + +Up 7 A.M. Clear & bright. Snow going fast. All creeks flowing. Fine +sunny day. + +Apr. 4. + +Up 6 A.M. Clear & bright. Went up on divide, met 3 punchers who said +road impassable. Saw 2 trains stalled away across alkali flat. Very +boggy and moist. + +Apr.5. + +Up 5 A.M. Clear & bright. Start out, on Monte & Pete at 6. Animals +traveled well, did not appear tired. Feed fine all over. Plenty water +everywhere. + +Not much like Bud's auto stage, was it? But the very novelty of it, the +harking back to old plains days, appealed to him and sent him forward +from dull hardship to duller discomfort, and kept the quirk at the +corners of his lips and the twinkle in his eyes. Bud liked to travel +this way, though it took them all day long to cover as much distance as +he had been wont to slide behind him in an hour. He liked it--this slow, +monotonous journeying across the lean land which Cash had traversed +years ago, where the stark, black pinnacles and rough knobs of rock +might be hiding Indians with good eyesight and a vindictive temperament. +Cash told him many things out of his past, while they poked along, +driving the packed burros before them. Things which he never had set +down in his diary--things which he did not tell to any one save his few +friends. + +But it was not always mud and rain and snow, as Cash's meager chronicle +betrays. + +May 6. + +Up at sunrise. Monte & Pete gone leaving no tracks. Bud found them +3 miles South near Indian village. Bud cut his hair, did a good job. +Prospector dropped into camp with fist full of good looking quartz. +Stock very thirsty all day. Very hot Tied Monte & Pete up for night. + +May 8. + +Up 5:30. Fine, but hot. Left 7:30. Pete walked over a sidewinder & Bud +shot him ten ft. in air. Also prior killed another beside road. Feed as +usual, desert weeds. Pulled grain growing side of track and fed plugs. +Water from cistern & R.R. ties for fuel. Put up tent for shade. Flies +horrible. + +May 9. + +Up 4. Left 6. Feed as usual. Killed a sidewinder in a bush with 3 shots +of Krag. Made 21 m. today. R.R. ties for fuel Cool breeze all day. + +May 11. + +Up at sunrise. Bud washed clothes. Tested rock. Fine looking mineral +country here. Dressed Monte's withers with liniment greatly reducing +swelling from saddle-gall. He likes to have it dressed & came of his own +accord. Day quite comfortable. + +May 15. + +Up 4. Left 6:30 over desert plain & up dry wash. Daddy suffered from +heat & ran into cactus while looking for shade. Got it in his mouth, +tongue, feet & all over body. Fixed him up poor creature groaned all +evening & would not eat his supper. Poor feed & wood here. Water found +by digging 2 ft. in sand in sandstone basins in bed of dry wash. Monte +lay down en route. Very hot & all suffered from heat. + +May 16. + +Bud has sick headache. Very hot so laid around camp all day. Put two +blankets up on tent pols for sun break. Daddy under weather from cactus +experience. Papago Indian boy about 18 on fine bay mare driving 4 ponies +watered at our well. Moon almost full, lots of mocking birds. Pretty +songs. + +May 17. + +Up 7:30 Bud some better. Day promises hot, but slight breeze. White +gauzy clouds in sky. Daddy better. Monte & Pete gone all day. Hunted +twice but impossible to track them in this stony soil Bud followed +trail, found them 2 mi. east of here in flat sound asleep about 3 P.M. +At 6 went to flat 1/4 mi. N. of camp to tie Pete, leading Monte by +bell strap almost stepped on rattler 3 ft. long. 10 rattles & a button. +Killed him. To date, 1 Prairie rattler, 3 Diamond back & 8 sidewinders, +12 in all. Bud feels better. + +May 18. + +At 4 A. M. Bud woke up by stock passing camp. Spoke to me who half awake +hollered, "sic Daddy!" Daddy sicced 'em & they went up bank of wash to +right. Bud swore it was Monte & Pete. I went to flat & found M. & P. +safe. Water in sink all gone. Bud got stomach trouble. I threw up my +breakfast. Very hot weather. Lanced Monte's back & dressed it with +creoline. Turned them loose & away they put again. + +Soon after this they arrived at the place where Thompson had located his +claim. It was desert, of course, sloping away on one side to a dreary +waste of sand and weeds with now and then a giant cactus standing +gloomily alone with malformed lingers stretched stiffly to the staring +blue sky. Behind where they pitched their final camp--Camp 48, Cash +Markham recorded it in his diary--the hills rose. But they were as stark +and barren almost as the desert below. Black rock humps here and there, +with ledges of mineral bearing rock. Bushes and weeds and dry washes for +the rest, with enough struggling grass to feed the horses and burros if +they rustled hard enough for it. + +They settled down quietly to a life of grinding monotony that would have +driven some men crazy. But Bud, because it was a man's kind of monotony, +bore it cheerfully. He was out of doors, and he was hedged about by no +rules or petty restrictions. He liked Cash Markham and he liked Pete, +his saddle horse, and he was fond of Daddy who was still paying the +penalty of seeking too carelessly for shade and, according to Cash's +record, "getting it in his mouth, tongue, feet & all over body." Bud +liked it--all except the blistering heat and the "side-winders" +and other rattlers. He did not bother with trying to formulate any +explanation of why he liked it. It may have been picturesque, though +picturesqueness of that sort is better appreciated when it is seen +through the dim radiance of memory that blurs sordid details. Certainly +it was not adventurous, as men have come to judge adventure. + +Life droned along very dully. Day after day was filled with petty +details. A hill looks like a mountain if it rises abruptly out of a +level plain, with no real mountains in sight to measure it by. Here's +the diary to prove how little things came to look important because the +days held no contrasts. If it bores you to read it, think what it must +have been to live it. + +June 10. + +Up at 6:30 Baked till 11. Then unrigged well and rigged up an incline +for the stock to water. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Stock did not come in +all morning, but Monte & Pete came in before supper. Incline water shaft +does not work. Prospected & found 8 ledges. Bud found none. + +June 11. + +After breakfast fixed up shack--shelves, benches, tools, etc. Cleaned +guns. Bud dressed Daddy's back which is much better. Strong gold in test +of ledge, I found below creek. Took more specimens to sample. Cora comes +in with a little black colt newly born. Proud as a bull pup with two +tails. Monte & Pete did not come in so we went by lantern light a mile +or so down the wash & found them headed this way & snake them in to +drink about 80 gallons of water apiece. Daddy tied up and howling like a +demon all the while. Bud took a bath. + +June 12. + +Bud got out and got breakfast again. Then started off on Pete to hunt +trail that makes short cut 18 miles to Bend. Roofed the kitchen. Bud got +back about 1:30, being gone 6 hours. Found trail & two good ledges. Cora +& colt came for water. Other burros did not. Brought in specimens from +ledge up creek that showed very rich gold in tests. Burros came in at +9:30. Bud got up and tied them up. + +June 13. + +Bud gets breakfast. I took Sway & brought in load of wood. Bud went out +and found a wash lined with good looking ledges. Hung up white rags on +bushes to identify same. Found large ledge of good quartz showing fine +in tests about one mile down wash. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Located +a claim west of Thompson's. Burros did not come in except Cora & colt. +Pete & Monte came separated. + +June 14. + +Bud got breakfast & dressed Daddy's back. Very hot day. Stock came in +about 2. Tied up Billy Maud & Cora. Bud has had headache. Monte & Pete +did not come in. Bud went after them & found them 4 miles away where +we killed the Gila monster. Sent 2 samples from big ledge to Tucson for +assay. Daddy better. + +June 15. + +Up 2.30. Bud left for Bend at 4. Walked down to flat but could not see +stock. About 3 Cora & Colt came in for water & Sway & Ed from the south +about 5. No Monte. Monte got in about midnight & went past kitchen to +creek on run. Got up, found him very nervous & frightened & tied him up. + +June 17. + +Bud got back 4 P.M. in gale of wind & sand. Burros did not come in for +water. Very hot. Bud brought canned stuff. Rigged gallows for No. +2 shaft also block & tackle & pail for drinking water, also washed +clothes. While drying went around in cap undershirt & shoes. + +June 18. + +Burros came in during night for water. Hot as nether depths of infernal +regions. Went up on hill a mile away. Seamed with veins similar to shaft +No. 2 ore. Blew in two faces & got good looking ore seamed with a black +incrustation, oxide of something, but what could not determine. Could +find neither silver nor copper in it. Monte & Pete came in about 1 & +tied them up. Very hot. Hottest day yet, even the breeze scorching. Test +of ore showed best yet. One half of solution in tube turning to chloride +of gold, 3 tests showing same. Burros except Ed & Cora do not come in +days any more. Bud made a gate for kitchen to keep burros out. + +The next morning it was that Cash cut the ball of his right thumb open +on the sharp edge of a tomato can. He wanted the diary to go on as +usual. He had promised, he said, to keep one for the widow who wanted +a record of the way the work was carried on, and the progress made. Bud +could not see that there had been much progress, except as a matter of +miles. Put a speedometer on one of his legs, he told Cash, and he'd bet +it would register more mileage chasing after them fool burros than his +auto stage could show after a full season. As for working the widow's +claim, it was not worth working, from all he could judge of it. And if +it were full of gold as the United States treasury, the burros took up +all their time so they couldn't do much. Between doggone stock drinking +or not drinking and the darn fool diary that had to be kept, Bud opined +that they needed an extra hand or two. Bud was peevish, these days. Gila +Bend had exasperated him because it was not the town it called itself, +but a huddle of adobe huts. He had come away in the sour mood of a +thirsty man who finds an alkali spring sparkling deceptively under a +rock. Furthermore, the nights had been hot and the mosquitoes a humming +torment. And as a last affliction he was called upon to keep the diary +going. He did it, faithfully enough but in a fashion of his own. + +First he read back a few pages to get the hang of the thing. Then he +shook down Cash's fountain pen, that dried quickly in that heat. Then he +read another page as a model, and wrote: + +June 19. + +Mosquitoes last night was worse than the heat and that was worse than +Gila Bend's great white way. Hunted up the burros. Pete and Monte came +in and drank. Monte had colic. We fed them and turned them loose but the +blamed fools hung around all day and eat up some sour beans I throwed +out. Cash was peeved and swore they couldn't have another grain of feed. +But Monte come to the shack and watched Cash through a knothole the size +of one eye till Cash opened up his heart and the bag. Cash cut his thumb +opening tomatoes. The tomatoes wasn't hurt any. + +June 20. + +Got breakfast. Bill and harem did not come to water. Cash done the +regular hike after them. His thumb don't hurt him for hazing donkeys. +Bill and harem come in after Cash left. They must of saw him go. Cash +was out four hours and come in mad. Shot a hidrophobia skunk out by the +creek. Nothing doing. Too hot. + +June 21. + +The sun would blister a mud turtle so he'd holler. Cash put in most of +day holding a parasol over his garden patch. Burros did not miss their +daily drink. Night brings mosquitoes with their wings singed but their +stingers O.K. They must hole up daytimes or they would fry. + +June 22. + +Thought I know what heat was. I never did before. Cash took a bath. It +was his first. Burros did not come to water. Cash and I tried to sleep +on kitchen roof but the darned mosquitoes fed up on us and then played +heavenly choir all night. + +June 25. + +Cash got back from Bend. Thumb is better and he can have this job any +time now. He hustled up a widow that made a couple of mosquito bags to +go over our heads. No shape (bags, not widow) but help keep flies and +mosquitoes from chewing on us all day and all night. Training for hades. +I can stand the heat as well as the old boy with the pitch-fork. Ain't +got used to brimstone yet, but I'd trade mosquitoes for sulphur smoke +and give some boot. Worried about Cash. He took a bath today again, +using water I had packed for mine. Heat must be getting him. + +June 26. + +Cash opened up thumb again, trying to brain Pete with rock. Pete got +halfway into kitchen and eat biggest part of a pie I made. Cash threw +jagged rock, hit Pete in side of jaw. Cut big gash. Swelled now like +a punkin. Cash and I tangled over same. I'm going to quit. I have had +enough of this darn country. Creek's drying up, and mosquitoes have +found way to crawl under bags. Cash wants me to stay till we find good +claim, but Cash can go to thunder. + +Then Cash's record goes on: + +June 27. + +Bud very sick & out of head. Think it is heat, which is terrible. +Talked all night about burros, gasoline, & camphor balls which he seemed +wanting to buy in gunny sack. No sleep for either. Burros came in for +water about daylight. Picketed Monte & Pete as may need doctor if Bud +grows worse. Thumb nearly well. + +June 27. Bud same, slept most of day. Gave liver pills & made gruel of +cornmeal, best could do with present stores. Burros came at about 3 but +could not drink owing to bees around water hold. Monte got stung and +kicked over water cans & buckets I had salted for burros. Burros put for +hills again. No way of driving off bees. + +June 28. + +Burros came & drank in night. Cooler breeze, Bud some better & slept. +Sway has badly swollen neck. May be rattler bite or perhaps bee. Bud +wanted cigarettes but smoked last the day before he took sick. Gave him +more liver pills & sponge off with water every hour. Best can do under +circumstances. Have not prospected account Bud's sickness. + +June 29. + +Very hot all day, breeze like blast from furnace. Burros refuse to leave +flat. Bees better, as can't fly well in this wind. Bud worse. High fever +& very restless & flighty. Imagines much trouble with automobile, talk +very technical & can't make head or tail of it. Monte & Pete did not +come in, left soon as turned loose. No feed for them here & figured Bud +too sick to travel or stay alone so horses useless at present. Sponged +frequently with coolest water can get, seems to give some relief as he +is quieter afterwards. + +July 4th. + +Monte & Pete came in the night & hung around all day. Drove them away +from vicinity of shack several times but they returned & moped in shade +of house. Terrible hot, strong gusty wind. Bud sat up part of day, slept +rest of time. Looks very thin and great hollows under eyes, but chief +trouble seems to be, no cigarettes. Shade over radishes & lettice works +all right. Watered copiously at daylight & again at dusk. Doing fine. +Fixed fence which M & P. broke down while tramping around. Prospected +west of ranche. Found enormous ledge of black quartz, looks like +sulphur stem during volcanic era but may be iron. Strong gold & heavy +precipitate in test, silver test poor but on filtering showed like white +of egg in tube (unusual). Clearing iron out showed for gold the highest +yet made, being more pronounced with Fenosulphate than $1500 rock have +seen. Immense ledge of it & slightest estimate from test at least $10. +Did not tell Bud as keeping for surprise when he is able to visit ledge. +Very monotonous since Bud has been sick. Bud woke up & said Hell of a +Fourth & turned over & went to sleep again with mosquito net over head +to keep off flies. Burros came in after dark, all but Cora & Colt, which +arrived about midnight. Daddy gone since yesterday morning leaving no +trace. + +July 5. + +Miserable hot night. Burros trickled in sometime during night. Bud +better, managed to walk to big ledge after sundown. Suggests we call it +the Burro Lode. His idea of wit, claims we have occupied camp all summer +for sake of timing burros when they come to waterhole. Wish to call +it Columbia mine for patriotic reasons having found it on Fourth. Will +settle it soon so as to put up location. Put in 2 shots & pulpel samples +for assay. Rigged windows on shack to keep out bees, nats & flies & +mosquitoes. Bud objects because it keeps out air as well. Took them +off. Sick folks must be humored. Hot, miserable and sleepless. Bud very +restless. + +July 6. + +Cool wind makes weather endurable, but bees terrible in kitchen & around +water-hole. Flipped a dollar to settle name of big ledge. Bud won tails, +Burro lode. Must cultivate my sense of humor so as to see the joke. Bud +agrees to stay & help develop claim. Still very weak, puttered around +house all day cleaning & baking bread & stewing fruit which brought bees +by millions so we could not eat same till after dark when they subsided. +Bud got stung twice in kitchen. Very peevish & full of cuss. Says +positively must make trip to Bend & get cigarettes tomorrow or will blow +up whole outfit. Has already blowed up same several times today with no +damage. Burros came in about 5. Monte & Pete later, tied them up with +grain. Pete has very bad eye. Bud will ride Monte if not too hot for +trip. Still no sign of daddy, think must be dead or stolen though nobody +to steal same in country. + +July 7. + +Put in 2 shots on Burro Lode & got her down to required depth. Hot. Bud +finds old location on widow's claim, upturns all previous calculation +& information given me by her. Wrote letter explaining same, which Bud +will mail. Bud left 4 P.M. should make Bend by midnight. Much better but +still weak Burros came in late & hung around water hole. Put up monument +at Burro Lode. Sent off samples to assay at Tucson. Killed rattler near +shack, making 16 so far killed. + +CHAPTER EIGHT. MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES + +"Well, here come them darn burros, Cash. Cora's colt ain't with 'em +though. Poor little devils--say, Cash, they look like hard sleddin', and +that's a fact. I'll tell the world they've got about as much pep as a +flat tire." + +"Maybe we better grain 'em again." Cash looked up from studying the +last assay report of the Burro Lode, and his look was not pleasant. "But +it'll cost a good deal, in both time and money. The feed around here is +played out." + +"Well, when it comes to that--" Bud cast a glum glance at the paper Cash +was holding. + +"Yeah. Looks like everything's about played out. Promising ledge, too. +Like some people, though. Most all its good points is right on the +surface. Nothing to back it up." + +"She's sure running light, all right. Now," Bud added sardonically, but +with the whimsical quirk withal, "if it was like a carburetor, and you +could give it a richer mixture--" + +"Yeah. What do you make of it, Bud?" + +"Well--aw, there comes that durn colt, bringing up the drag. Say Cash, +that colt's just about all in. Cora's nothing but a bag of bones, too. +They'll never winter--not on this range, they won't." + +Cash got up and went to the doorway, looking out over Bud's shoulder +at the spiritless donkeys trailing in to water. Beyond them the desert +baked in its rim of hot, treeless hills. Above them the sky glared a +brassy blue with never a could. Over a low ridge came Monte and Pete, +walking with heads drooping. Their hip bones lifted above their ridged +paunches, their backbones, peaked sharp above, their withers were lean +and pinched looking. In August the desert herbage has lost what little +succulence it ever possessed, and the gleanings are scarce worth the +walking after. + +"They're pretty thin," Cash observed speculatively, as though he was +measuring them mentally for some particular need. + +"We'd have to grain 'em heavy till we struck better feed. And pack +light." Bud answered his thought. + +"The question is, where shall we head for, Bud? Have you any particular +idea?" Cash looked slightingly down at the assayer's report. "Such +as she is, we've done all we can do to the Burro Lode, for a year at +least," he said. "The assessment work is all done--or will be when we +muck out after that last shot. The claim is filed--I don't know what +more we can do right away. Do you?" + +"Sure thing," grinned Bud. "We can get outa here and go some place where +it's green." + +"Yeah." Cash meditated, absently eyeing the burros. "Where it's green." +He looked at the near hills, and at the desert, and at the dreary march +of the starved animals. "It's a long way to green country," he said. + +They looked at the burros. + +"They're tough little devils," Bud observed hopefully. "We could take +it easy, traveling when it's coolest. And by packing light, and graining +the whole bunch--" + +"Yeah. We can ease 'em through, I guess. It does seem as though it would +be foolish to hang on here any longer." Carefully as he made his tests, +Cash weighed the question of their going. "This last report kills any +chance of interesting capital to the extent of developing the claim on +a large enough scale to make it profitable. It's too long a haul to take +the ore out, and it's too spotted to justify any great investment in +machinery to handle it on the ground. And," he added with an undernote +of fierceness, "it's a terrible place for man or beast to stay in, +unless the object to be attained is great enough to justify enduring the +hardships." + +"You said a mouthful, Cash. Well, can you leave your seven radishes and +three hunches of lettuce and pull out--say at daybreak?" Bud turned to +him with some eagerness. + +Cash grinned sourly. "When it's time to go, seven radishes can't stop +me. No, nor a whole row of 'em--if there was a whole row." + +"And you watered 'em copiously too," Bud murmured, with the corners +of his mouth twitching. "Well, I guess we might as well tie up the +livestock. I'm going to give 'em all a feed of rolled oats, Cash. We +can get along without, and they've got to have something to put a little +heart in 'em. There's a moon to-night--how about starting along +about midnight? That would put us in the Bend early in the forenoon +to-morrow." + +"Suits me," said Cash. "Now I've made up my mind about going, I can't go +too soon." + +"You're on. Midnight sees us started." Bud went out with ropes to catch +and tie up the burros and their two saddle horses. And as he went, for +the first time in two months he whistled; a detail which Cash noted with +a queer kind of smile. + +Midnight and the moon riding high in the purple bowl of sky sprinkled +thick with stars; with a little, warm wind stirring the parched weeds as +they passed; with the burros shuffling single file along the dim trail +which was the short cut through the hills to the Bend, Ed taking the +lead, with the camp kitchen wabbling lumpily on his back, Cora bringing +up the rear with her skinny colt trying its best to keep up, and with +no pack at all; so they started on the long, long journey to the green +country. + +A silent journey it was for the most part. The moon and the starry +bowl of sky had laid their spell upon the desert, and the two men rode +wordlessly, filled with vague, unreasoning regret that they must go. +Months they had spent with the desert, learning well every little +varying mood; cursing it for its blistering heat and its sand storms +and its parched thirst and its utter, blank loneliness. Loving it too, +without ever dreaming that they loved. To-morrow they would face the +future with the past dropping farther and farther behind. To-night it +rode with them. + +Three months in that little, rough-walled hut had lent it an atmosphere +of home, which a man instinctively responds to with a certain clinging +affection, however crude may be the shelter he calls his own. Cash +secretly regretted the thirsty death of his radishes and lettuce which +he had planted and tended with such optimistic care. Bud wondered if +Daddy might not stray half-starved into the shack, and find them gone. +While they were there, he had agreed with Cash that the dog must be +dead. But now he felt uneasily doubtful It would be fierce if Daddy did +come back now. He would starve. He never could make the trip to the Bend +alone, even if he could track them. + +There was, also, the disappointment in the Burro Lode claim. As Bud +planned it, the Burro was packing a very light load--far lighter than +had seemed possible with that strong indication on the surface. Cash's +"enormous black ledge" had shown less and less gold as they went into +it, though it still seemed worth while, if they had the capital to +develop it further. Wherefore they had done generous assessment work +and had recorded their claim and built their monuments to mark its +boundaries. It would be safe for a year, and by that time--Quien sabe? + +The Thompson claim, too, had not justified any enthusiasm whatever. They +had found it, had relocated it, and worked out the assessment for the +widow. Cash had her check for all they had earned, and he had declared +profanely that he would not give his share of the check for the whole +claim. + +They would go on prospecting, using the check for a grubstake, That much +they had decided without argument. The gambling instinct was wide awake +in Bud's nature--and as for Cash, he would hunt gold as long as he could +carry pick and pan. They would prospect as long as their money held out. +When that was gone, they would get more and go on prospecting. But +they would prospect in a green country where wood and water were not +so precious as in the desert and where, Cash averred, the chance of +striking it rich was just as good; better, because they could kill game +and make their grubstake last longer. + +Wherefore they waited in Gila Bend for three days, to strengthen the +weakened animals with rest and good hay and grain. Then they took +again to the trail, traveling as lightly as they could, with food for +themselves and grain for the stock to last them until they reached +Needles. From there with fresh supplies they pushed on up to Goldfield, +found that camp in the throes of labor disputes, and went on to Tonopah. + +There they found work for themselves and the burros, packing winter +supplies to a mine lying back in the hills. They made money at it, +and during the winter they made more. With the opening of spring they +outfitted again and took the trail, their goal the high mountains south +of Honey Lake. They did not hurry. Wherever the land they traveled +through seemed to promise gold, they would stop and prospect. Many a pan +of likely looking dirt they washed beside some stream where the burros +stopped to drink and feed a little on the grassy banks. + +So, late in June, they reached Reno; outfitted and went on again, +traveling to the north, to the green country for which they yearned, +though now they were fairly in it and would have stopped if any tempting +ledge or bar had come in their way. They prospected every gulch that +showed any mineral signs at all. It was a carefree kind of life, with +just enough of variety to hold Bud's interest to the adventuring. The +nomad in him responded easily to this leisurely pilgrimage. There was no +stampede anywhere to stir their blood with the thought of quick wealth. +There was hope enough, on the other hand, to keep them going. Cash had +prospected and trapped for more than fifteen years now, and he preached +the doctrine of freedom and the great outdoors. + +Of what use was a house and lot--and taxes and trouble with the +plumbing? he would chuckle. A tent and blankets and a frying pan +and grub; two good legs and wild country to travel; a gold pan and a +pick--these things, to Cash, spelled independence and the joy of living. +The burros and the two horses were luxuries, he declared. When they once +got located on a good claim they would sell off everything but a couple +of burros--Sway and Ed, most likely. The others would bring enough for a +winter grubstake, and would prolong their freedom and their independence +just that much. That is, supposing they did not strike a good claim +before then. Cash had learned, he said, to hope high but keep an eye on +the grubstake. + +Late in August they came upon a mountain village perched beside a swift +stream and walled in on three sided by pine-covered mountains. A branch +railroad linked the place more or less precariously with civilization, +and every day--unless there was a washout somewhere, or a snowslide, +or drifts too deep--a train passed over the road. One day it would go +up-stream, and the next day it would come back. And the houses stood +drawn up in a row alongside the track to watch for these passings. + +Miners came in with burros or with horses, packed flour and bacon and +tea and coffee across their middles, got drunk, perhaps as a parting +ceremony, and went away into the hills. Cash watched them for a day or +so; saw the size of their grubstakes, asked few questions and listened +to a good deal of small-town gossip, and nodded his head contentedly. +There was gold in these hills. Not enough, perhaps, to start a stampede +with--but enough to keep wise old hermits burrowing after it. + +So one day Bud sold the two horses and one of the saddles, and Cash +bought flour and bacon and beans and coffee, and added other things +quite as desirable but not so necessary. Then they too went away into +the hills. + +Fifteen miles from Alpine, as a cannon would shoot; high up in the +hills, where a creek flowed down through a saucerlike basin under +beetling ledges fringed all around with forest, they came, after much +wandering, upon an old log cabin whose dirt roof still held in spite of +the snows that heaped upon it through many a winter. The ledge showed +the scars of old prospect holes, and in the sand of the creek they found +"colors" strong enough to make it seem worth while to stop here--for +awhile, at least. + +They cleaned out the cabin and took possession of it, and the next time +they went to town Cash made cautious inquiries about the place. It was, +he learned, an old abandoned claim. Abandoned chiefly because the old +miner who had lived there died one day, and left behind him all the +marks of having died from starvation, mostly. A cursory examination of +his few belongings had revealed much want, but no gold save a little +coarse dust in a small bottle. + +"About enough to fill a rifle ca'tridge," detailed the teller of the +tale. "He'd pecked around that draw for two, three year mebby. Never +showed no gold much, for all the time he spent there. Trapped some in +winter--coyotes and bobcats and skunks, mostly. Kinda off in the upper +story, old Nelson was. I guess he just stayed there because he happened +to light there and didn't have gumption enough to git out. Hills is full +of old fellers like him. They live off to the'rselves, and peck around +and git a pocket now and then that keeps 'm in grub and tobacco. If you +want to use the cabin, I guess nobody's goin' to care. Nelson never had +any folks, that anybody knows of. Nobody ever bothered about takin' up +the claim after he cashed in, either. Didn't seem worth nothin' much. +Went back to the gov'ment." + +"Trapped, you say. Any game around there now?" + +"Oh, shore! Game everywhere in these hills, from weasels up to bear and +mountain lion. If you want to trap, that's as good a place as any, I +guess." + +So Cash and Bud sold the burros and bought traps and more supplies, and +two window sashes and a crosscut saw and some wedges and a double-bitted +axe, and settled down in Nelson Flat to find what old Dame Fortune had +tucked away in this little side pocket and forgotten. + + + +CHAPTER NINE. THE BITE OF MEMORY + +The heavy boom of a dynamite blast rolled across the fiat to the hills +that flung it back in a tardy echo like a spent ball of sound. A blob of +blue smoke curled out of a hole the size of a hogshead in a steep bank +overhung with alders. Outside, the wind caught the smoke and carried +streamers of it away to play with. A startled bluejay, on a limb high up +on the bank, lifted his slaty crest and teetered forward, clinging with +his toe nails to the branch while he scolded down at the men who had +scared him so. A rattle of clods and small rocks fell from their high +flight into the sweet air of a mountain sunset. + +"Good execution, that was," Cash remarked, craning his neck toward the +hole. "If you're a mind to go on ahead and cook supper, I'll stay and +see if we opened up anything. Or you can stay, just as you please." + +Dynamite smoke invariably made Bud's head ache splittingly. Cash was not +so susceptible. Bud chose the cooking, and went away down the flat, the +bluejay screaming insults after him. He was frying bacon when Cash came +in, a hatful of broken rock riding in the hollow of his arm. + +"Got something pretty good here, Bud--if she don't turn out like that +dang Burro Lode ledge. Look here. Best looking quartz we've struck yet. +What do you think of it?" + +He dumped the rock out on the oilcloth behind the sugar can and directly +under the little square window through which the sun was pouring a +lavish yellow flood of light before it dropped behind the peak. Bud set +the bacon back where it would not burn, and bent over the table to look. + +"Gee, but it's heavy!" he cried, picking up a fragment the size of +an egg, and balancing it in his hands. "I don't know a lot about +gold-bearing quartz, but she looks good to me, all right." + +"Yeah. It is good, unless I'm badly mistaken. I'll test some after +supper. Old Nelson couldn't have used powder at all, or he'd have +uncovered enough of this, I should think, to show the rest what he had. +Or maybe he died just when he had started that hole. Seems queer he +never struck pay dirt in this flat. Well, let's eat if it's ready, Bud. +Then we'll see." + +"Seems kinda queer, don't it, Cash, that nobody stepped in and filed on +any claims here?" Bud dumped half a kettle of boiled beans into a basin +and set it on the table. "Want any prunes to-night, Cash?" + +Cash did not want prunes, which was just as well, seeing there were none +cooked. He sat down and ate, with his mind and his eyes clinging to the +grayish, veined fragments of rock lying on the table beside his plate. + +"We'll send some of that down to Sacramento right away," he observed, +"and have it assayed. And we won't let out anything about it, Bud--good +or bad. I like this flat. I don't want it mucked over with a lot of +gold-crazy lunatics." + +Bud laughed and reached for the bacon. "We ain't been followed up with +stampedes so far," he pointed out. "Burro Lode never caused a ripple in +the Bend, you recollect. And I'll tell a sinful world it looked awful +good, too." + +"Yeah. Well, Arizona's hard to excite. They've had so dang much +strenuosity all their lives, and then the climate's against violent +effort, either mental or physical. I was calm, perfectly calm when I +discovered that big ledge. It is just as well--seeing how it petered +out." + +"What'll you bet this pans out the same?" + +"I never bet. No one but a fool will gamble." Cash pressed his lips +together in a way that drove the color from there. + +"Oh, yuh don't! Say, you're the king bee of all gamblers. Been +prospecting for fifteen years, according to you--and then you've got the +nerve to say you don't gamble!" + +Cash ignored the charge. He picked up a piece of rock and held it to the +fading light. "It looks good," he said again. "Better than that placer +ground down by the creek. That's all right, too. We can wash enough gold +there to keep us going while we develop this. That is, if this proves as +good as it looks." + +Bud looked across at him enigmatically. "Well, here's hoping she's worth +a million. You go ahead with your tests, Cash. I'll wash the dishes." + +"Of course," Cash began to conserve his enthusiasm, "there's nothing so +sure as an assay. And it was too dark in the hole to see how much was +uncovered. This may be just a freak deposit. There may not be any real +vein of it. You can't tell until it's developed further. But it looks +good. Awful good." + +His makeshift tests confirmed his opinion. Bud started out next day with +three different samples for the assayer, and an air castle or two to +keep him company. He would like to find himself half owner of a mine +worth about a million, he mused. Maybe Marie would wish then that she +had thought twice about quitting him just on her mother's say-so. He'd +like to go buzzing into San Jose behind the wheel of a car like the one +Foster had fooled him into stealing. And meet Marie, and her mother +too, and let them get an eyeful. He guessed the old lady would have to +swallow what she had said about him being lazy--just because he couldn't +run an auto-stage in the winter to Big Basin! What was the matter with +the old woman, anyway? Didn't he keep Maria in comfort. Well, he'd like +to see her face when he drove along the street in a big new Sussex. +She'd wish she had let him and Marie alone. They would have made out all +right if they had been let alone. He ought to have taken Marie to some +other town, where her mother couldn't nag at her every day about him. +Marie wasn't such a bad kid, if she were left alone. They might have +been happy-- + +He tried then to shake himself free of thoughts of her. That was the +trouble with him, he brooded morosely. He couldn't let his thoughts ride +free, any more. They kept heading straight for Marie. He could not see +why she should cling so to his memory; he had not wronged her--unless +it was by letting her go without making a bigger fight for their home. +Still, she had gone of her own free will. He was the one that had been +wronged--why, hadn't they lied about him in court and to the gossipy +neighbors? Hadn't they broke him? No. If the mine panned out big as Cash +seemed to think was likely, the best thing he could do was steer clear +of San Jose. And whether it panned out or not, the best thing he could +do was forget that such girl as Marie had ever existed.. + +Which was all very well, as far as it went. The trouble was that +resolving not to think of Marie, calling up all the bitterness he could +muster against her memory, did no more toward blotting her image from +his mind than did the miles and the months he had put between them. + +He reached the town in a dour mood of unrest, spite of the promise of +wealth he carried in his pocket. He mailed the package and the letter, +and went to a saloon and had a highball. He was not a drinking man--at +least, he never had been one, beyond a convivial glass or two with his +fellows--but he felt that day the need of a little push toward optimism. +In the back part of the room three men were playing freeze-out. Bud went +over and stood with his hands in his pockets and watched them, because +there was nothing else to do, and because he was still having some +trouble with his thoughts. He was lonely, without quite knowing what +ailed him. He hungered for friends to hail him with that cordial, +"Hello, Bud!" when they saw him coming. + +No one in Alpine had said hello, Bud, when he came walking in that day. +The postmaster had given him one measuring glance when he had weighed +the package of ore, but he had not spoken except to name the amount of +postage required. The bartender had made some remark about the weather, +and had smiled with a surface friendliness that did not deceive Bud for +a moment. He knew too well that the smile was not for him, but for his +patronage. + +He watched the game. And when the man opposite him pushed back his chair +and, looking up at Bud, asked if he wanted to sit in, Bud went and sat +down, buying a dollar's worth of chips as an evidence of his intention +to play. His interest in the game was not keen. He played for the +feeling it gave him of being one of the bunch, a man among his friends; +or if not friends, at least acquaintances. And, such was his varying +luck with the cards, he played for an hour or so without having won +enough to irritate his companions. Wherefore he rose from the table at +supper time calling one young fellow Frank quite naturally. They went to +the Alpine House and had supper together, and after that they sat in +the office and talked about automobiles for an hour, which gave Bud a +comforting sense of having fallen among friends. + +Later they strolled over to a picture show which ran films two years +behind their first release, and charged fifteen cents for the privilege +of watching them. It was the first theater Bud had entered since he left +San Jose, and at the last minute he hesitated, tempted to turn back. +He hated moving pictures. They always had love scenes somewhere in the +story, and love scenes hurt. But Frank had already bought two tickets, +and it seemed unfriendly to turn back now. He went inside to the +jangling of a player-piano in dire need of a tuner's service, and sat +down near the back of the hall with his hat upon his lifted knees which +could have used more space between the seats. + +While they waited for the program they talked in low tones, a mumble of +commonplaces. Bud forgot for the moment his distaste for such places, +and let himself slip easily back into the old thought channels, the +old habits of relaxation after a day's work was done. He laughed at +the one-reel comedy that had for its climax a chase of housemaids, +policemen, and outraged fruit vendors after a well-meaning but +unfortunate lover. He saw the lover pulled ignominiously out of a duck +pond and soused relentlessly into a watering trough, and laughed with +Frank and called it some picture. + +He eyed a succession of "current events" long since gone stale out +where the world moved swifter than here in the mountains, and he felt +as though he had come once more into close touch with life. All the dull +months he had spent with Cash and the burros dwarfed into a pointless, +irrelevant incident of his life. He felt that he ought to be out in the +world, doing bigger things than hunting gold that somehow always +refused at the last minute to be found. He stirred restlessly. He was +free--there was nothing to hold him if he wanted to go. The war--he +believed he would go over and take a hand. He could drive an ambulance +or a truck-- + +Current Events, however, came abruptly to an end; and presently +Bud's vagrant, half-formed desire for achievement merged into biting +recollections. Here was a love drama, three reels of it. At first Bud +watched it with only a vague, disquieting sense of familiarity. Then +abruptly he recalled too vividly the time and circumstance of his first +sight of the picture. It was in San Jose, at the Liberty. He and Marie +had been married two days, and were living in that glamorous world of +the honeymoon, so poignantly sweet, so marvelous--and so fleeting. He +had whispered that the girl looked like her, and she had leaned heavily +against his shoulder. In the dusk of lowered lights their hands had +groped and found each other, and clung. + +The girl did look like Marie. When she turned her head with that little +tilt of the chin, when she smiled, she was like Marie. Bud leaned +forward, staring, his brows drawn together, breathing the short, quick +breaths of emotion focussed upon one object, excluding all else. Once, +when Frank moved his body a little in the next seat, Bud's hand went out +that way involuntarily. The touch of Frank's rough coat sleeve recalled +him brutally, so that he drew away with a wincing movement as though he +had been hurt. + +All those months in the desert; all those months of the slow journeying +northward; all the fought battles with memory, when he thought that he +had won--all gone for nothing, their slow anodyne serving but to sharpen +now the bite of merciless remembering. His hand shook upon his knee. +Small beads of moisture oozed out upon his forehead. He sat stunned +before the amazing revelation of how little time and distance had done +to heal his hurt. + +He wanted Marie. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted her in +the old days, with a tenderness, an impulse to shield her from her own +weaknesses, her own mistakes. Then--in those old days--there had been +the glamor of mystery that is called romance. That was gone, worn away +by the close intimacies of matrimony. He knew her faults, he knew how +she looked when she was angry and petulant. He knew how little the real +Marie resembled the speciously amiable, altogether attractive Marie who +faced a smiling world when she went pleasuring. He knew, but--he wanted +her just the same. He wanted to tell her so many things about the +burros, and about the desert--things that would make her laugh, and +things that would make her blink back the tears. He was homesick for her +as he had never been homesick in his life before. The picture flickered +on through scene after scene that Bud did not see at all, though he was +staring unwinkingly at the screen all the while. The love scenes at the +last were poignantly real, but they passed before his eyes unnoticed. +Bud's mind was dwelling upon certain love scenes of his own. He was +feeling Marie's presence beside him there in the dusk. + +"Poor kid--she wasn't so much to blame," he muttered just above his +breath, when the screen was swept clean and blank at the end of the last +reel. + +"Huh? Oh, he was the big mutt, right from the start," Frank replied +with the assured air of a connoisseur. "He didn't have the brains of a +bluejay, or he'd have known all the time she was strong for him." + +"I guess that's right," Bud mumbled, but he did not mean what Frank +thought he meant. "Let's go. I want a drink." + +Frank was willing enough; too willing, if the truth were known. They +went out into the cool starlight, and hurried across the side street +that was no more than a dusty roadway, to the saloon where they had +spent the afternoon. Bud called for whisky, and helped himself twice +from the bottle which the bartender placed between them. He did not +speak until the second glass was emptied, and then he turned to Frank +with a purple glare in his eyes. + +"Let's have a game of pool or something," he suggested. + +"There's a good poker game going, back there," vouchsafed the bartender, +turning his thumb toward the rear, where half a dozen men were gathered +in a close group around a table. "There's some real money in sight, +to-night." + +"All right, let's go see." Bud turned that way, Frank following like a +pet dog at his heels. + +At dawn the next morning, Bud got up stiffly from the chair where he +had spent the night. His eyeballs showed a network of tiny red veins, +swollen with the surge of alcohol in his blood and with the strain of +staring all night at the cards. Beneath his eyes were puffy ridges. His +cheekbones flamed with the whisky flush. He cashed in a double-handful +of chips, stuffed the money he had won into his coat pocket, walked, +with that stiff precision of gait by which a drunken man strives to +hide his drunkenness, to the bar and had another drink. Frank was at his +elbow. Frank was staggering, garrulous, laughing a great deal over very +small jokes. + +"I'm going to bed," said Bud, his tongue forming the words with a slow +carefulness. + +"Come over to my shack, Bud--rotten hotel. My bed's clean, anyway." +Frank laughed and plucked him by the sleeve. + +"All right," Bud consented gravely. "We'll take a bottle along." + + + +CHAPTER TEN. EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS + +A man's mind is a tricky thing--or, speaking more exactly, a man's +emotions are tricky things. Love has come rushing to the back of a +tip-tilted chin, or the tone of a voice, or the droop of an eyelid. It +has fled for cause as slight. Sometimes it runs before resentment for +a real or fancied wrong, but then, if you have observed it closely, you +will see that quite frequently, when anger grows slow of foot, or dies +of slow starvation, love steals back, all unsuspected and unbidden--and +mayhap causes much distress by his return. It is like a sudden +resurrection of all the loved, long-mourned dead that sleep so serenely +in their tended plots. Loved though they were and long mourned, think +of the consternation if they all came trooping back to take their old +places in life! The old places that have been filled, most of them, by +others who are loved as dearly, who would be mourned if they were taken +away. + +Psychologists will tell us all about the subconscious mind, the +hidden loves and hates and longings which we believe are dead and long +forgotten. When one of those emotions suddenly comes alive and stands, +terribly real and intrusive, between our souls and our everyday lives, +the strongest and the best of us may stumble and grope blindly after +content, or reparation, or forgetfulness, or whatever seems most likely +to give relief. + +I am apologizing now for Bud, who had spent a good many months in +pushing all thoughts of Marie out of his mind, all hunger for her out of +his heart. He had kept away from towns, from women, lest he be reminded +too keenly of his matrimonial wreck. He had stayed with Cash and had +hunted gold, partly because Cash never seemed conscious of any need of +a home or love or wife or children, and therefore never reminded Bud of +the home and the wife and the love and the child he had lost out of his +own life. Cash seldom mentioned women at all, and when he did it was +in a purely general way, as women touched some other subject he was +discussing. He never paid any attention to the children they met +casually in their travels. He seemed absolutely self-sufficient, +interested only in the prospect of finding a paying claim. What he would +do with wealth, if so be he attained it, he never seemed to know or +care. He never asked Bud any questions about his private affairs, never +seemed to care how Bud had lived, or where. And Bud thankfully left his +past behind the wall of silence. So he had come to believe that he was +almost as emotion-proof as Cash appeared to be, and had let it go at +that. + +Now here he was, with his heart and his mind full of Marie--after more +than a year and a half of forgetting her! Getting drunk and playing +poker all night did not help him at all, for when he woke it was from a +sweet, intimate dream of her, and it was to a tormenting desire for her, +that gnawed at his mind as hunger gnaws at the stomach. Bud could not +understand it. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. By all +his simple rules of reckoning he ought to be "over it" by now. He had +been, until he saw that picture. + +He was so very far from being over his trouble that he was under it; a +beaten dog wincing under the blows of memory, stung by the lash of his +longing. He groaned, and Frank thought it was the usual "morning after" +headache, and laughed ruefully. + +"Same here," he said. "I've got one like a barrel, and I didn't punish +half the booze you did." + +Bud did not say anything, but he reached for the bottle, tilted it and +swallowed three times before he stopped. + +"Gee!" whispered Frank, a little enviously. + +Bud glanced somberly across at Frank, who was sitting by the stove with +his jaws between his palms and his hair toweled, regarding his guest +speculatively. + +"I'm going to get drunk again," Bud announced bluntly. "If you don't +want to, you'd better duck. You're too easy led--I saw that last night. +You follow anybody's lead that you happen to be with. If you follow my +lead to-day, you'll be petrified by night. You better git, and let me go +it alone." + +Frank laughed uneasily. "Aw, I guess you ain't all that fatal, Bud. +Let's go over and have some breakfast--only it'll be dinner." + +"You go, if you want to." Bud tilted the bottle again, his eyes half +closed while he swallowed. When he had finished, he shuddered violently +at the taste of the whisky. He got up, went to the water bucket and +drank half a dipper of water. "Good glory! I hate whisky," he grumbled. +"Takes a barrel to have any effect on me too." He turned and looked down +at Frank with a morose kind of pity. "You go on and get your breakfast, +kid. I don't want any. I'll stay here for awhile." + +He sat down on the side of the cheap, iron bedstead, and emptied his +pockets on the top quilt. He straightened the crumpled bills and counted +them, and sorted the silver pieces. All told, he had sixty-three dollars +and twenty cents. He sat fingering the money absently, his mind upon +other things. Upon Marie and the baby, to be exact. He was fighting the +impulse to send Marie the money. She might need it for the kid. If he +was sure her mother wouldn't get any of it... A year and a half was +quite a while, and fifteen hundred dollars wasn't much to live on these +days. She couldn't work, with the baby on her hands... + +Frank watched him curiously, his jaws still resting between his two +palms, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, his lips loose and trembling. +A dollar alarm clock ticked resonantly, punctuated now and then by the +dull clink of silver as Bud lifted a coin and let it drop on the little +pile. + +"Pretty good luck you had last night," Frank ventured wishfully. "They +cleaned me." + +Bud straightened his drooping shoulders and scooped the money into his +hand. He laughed recklessly, and got up. "We'll try her another whirl, +and see if luck'll bring luck. Come on--let's go hunt up some of them +marks that got all the dough last night. We'll split, fifty-fifty, and +the same with what we win. Huh?" + +"You're on, ho--let's go." Bud had gauged him correctly--Frank would +follow any one who would lead. He got up and came to the table where Bud +was dividing the money into two equal sums, as nearly as he could make +change. What was left over--and that was the three dollars and twenty +cents--he tossed into the can of tobacco on a shelf. + +"We'll let that ride--to sober up on, if we go broke," he grunted. "Come +on--let's get action." + +Action, of a sort, they proceeded to get. Luck brought luck of the same +complexion. They won in fluctuating spells of good cards and judicious +teamwork. They did not cheat, though Frank was ready if Bud had led him +that way. Frank was ready for anything that Bud suggested. He drank when +Bud drank, went from the first saloon to the one farther down and +across the street, returned to the first with cheerful alacrity and much +meaningless laughter when Bud signified a desire to change. It soothed +Bud and irritated him by turns, this ready acquiescence of Frank's. He +began to take a malicious delight in testing that acquiescence. He began +to try whether he could not find the end of Frank's endurance in staying +awake, his capacity for drink, his good nature, his credulity--he ran +the scale of Frank's various qualifications, seeking always to establish +a well-defined limitation somewhere. + +But Frank was utterly, absolutely plastic. He laughed and drank when Bud +suggested that they drink. He laughed and played whatever game Bud urged +him into. He laughed and agreed with Bud when Bud made statements to +test the credulity of anyman. He laughed and said, "Sure. Let's go!" when +Bud pined for a change of scene. + +On the third day Bud suddenly stopped in the midst of a game of pool +which neither was steady enough to play, and gravely inspected the +chalked end of his cue. + +"That's about enough of this," he said. "We're drunk. We're so drunk we +don't know a pocket from a prospect hole. I'm tired of being a hog. I'm +going to go get another drink and sober up. And if you're the dog Fido +you've been so far, you'll do the same." He leaned heavily upon the +table, and regarded Frank with stern, bloodshot blue eyes. + +Frank laughed and slid his cue the length of the table. He also leaned a +bit heavily. "Sure," he said. "I'm ready, any time you are." + +"Some of these days," Bud stated with drunken deliberation, "they'll +take and hang you, Frank, for being such an agreeable cuss." He took +Frank gravely by the arm and walked him to the bar, paid for two beers +with almost his last dollar, and, still holding Frank firmly, walked him +out of doors and down the street to Frank's cabin. He pushed him inside +and stood looking in upon him with a sour appraisement. + +"You are the derndest fool I ever run across--but at that you're a good +scout too," he informed Frank. "You sober up now, like I said. You ought +to know better 'n to act the way you've been acting. I'm sure ashamed +of you, Frank. Adios--I'm going to hit the trail for camp." With that +he pulled the door shut and walked away, with that same circumspect +exactness in his stride which marks the drunken man as surely as does a +stagger. + +He remembered what it was that had brought him to town--which is more +than most men in his condition would have done. He went to the post +office and inquired for mail, got what proved to be the assayer's +report, and went on. He bought half a dozen bananas which did not +remind him of that night when he had waited on the Oakland pier for the +mysterious Foster, though they might have recalled the incident vividly +to mind had he been sober. He had been wooing forgetfulness, and for the +time being he had won. + +Walking up the steep, winding trail that led to Nelson Flat cleared a +little his fogged brain. He began to remember what it was that he had +been fighting to forget. Marie's face floated sometimes before him, but +the vision was misty and remote, like distant woodland seen through +the gray film of a storm. The thought of her filled him with a vague +discomfort now when his emotions were dulled by the terrific strain +he had wilfully put upon brain and body. Resentment crept into the +foreground again. Marie had made him suffer. Marie was to blame for this +beastly fit of intoxication. He did not love Marie--he hated her. He +did not want to see her, he did not want to think of her. She had done +nothing for him but bring him trouble. Marie, forsooth! (Only, Bud put +it in a slightly different way.) + +Halfway to the flat, he met Cash walking down the slope where the trail +seemed tunneled through deep green, so thick stood the young spruce. +Cash was swinging his arms in that free stride of the man who has +learned how to walk with the least effort. He did not halt when he +saw Bud plodding slowly up the trail, but came on steadily, his keen, +blue-gray eyes peering sharply from beneath his forward tilted hat brim. +He came up to within ten feet of Bud, and stopped. + +"Well!" He stood eyeing Bud appraisingly, much as Bud had eyed Frank a +couple of hours before. "I was just starting out to see what had become +of you," he added, his voice carrying the full weight of reproach that +the words only hinted at. + +"Well, get an eyeful, if that's what you come for. I'm here--and +lookin's cheap." Bud's anger flared at the disapproval he read in Cash's +eyes, his voice, the set of his lips. + +But Cash did not take the challenge. "Did the report come?" he asked, as +though that was the only matter worth discussing. + +Bud pulled the letter sullenly from his pocket and gave it to Cash. He +stood moodily waiting while Cash opened and read and returned it. + +"Yeah. About what I thought--only it runs lighter in gold, with a higher +percentage of copper. It'll pay to go on and see what's at bed rock. If +the copper holds up to this all along, we'll be figuring on the gold to +pay for getting the copper. This is copper country, Bud. Looks like we'd +found us a copper mine." He turned and walked on beside Bud. "I dug in +to quite a rich streak of sand while you was gone," he volunteered after +a silence. "Coarse gold, as high as fifteen cents a pan. I figure we +better work that while the weather's good, and run our tunnel in on this +other when snow comes." + +Bud turned his head and looked at Cash intently for a minute. "I've been +drunker'n a fool for three days," he announced solemnly. + +"Yeah. You look it," was Cash's dry retort, while he stared straight +ahead, up the steep, shadowed trail. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE FIRST STAGES + +For a month Bud worked and forced himself to cheerfulness, and tried to +forget. Sometimes it was easy enough, but there were other times when +he must get away by himself and walk and walk, with his rifle over his +shoulder as a mild pretense that he was hunting game. But if he brought +any back camp it was because the game walked up and waited to be shot; +half the time Bud did not know where he was going, much less whether +there were deer within ten rods or ten miles. + +During those spells of heartsickness he would sit all the evening and +smoke and stare at some object which his mind failed to register. Cash +would sit and watch him furtively; but Bud was too engrossed with his +own misery to notice it. Then, quite unexpectedly, reaction would come +and leave Bud in a peace that was more than half a torpid refusal of his +mind to worry much over anything. + +He worked then, and talked much with Cash, and made plans for the +development of their mine. In that month they had come to call it a +mine, and they had filed and recorded their claim, and had drawn up an +agreement of partnership in it. They would "sit tight" and work on it +through the winter, and when spring came they hoped to have something +tangible upon which to raise sufficient capital to develop it properly. +Or, times when they had done unusually well with their sandbank, they +would talk optimistically about washing enough gold out of that claim to +develop the other, and keep the title all in their own hands. + +Then, one night Bud dreamed again of Marie, and awoke with an insistent +craving for the oblivion of drunkenness. He got up and cooked the +breakfast, washed the dishes and swept the cabin, and measured out two +ounces of gold from what they had saved. + +"You're keeping tabs on everything, Cash," he said shortly. "Just charge +this up to me. I'm going to town." + +Cash looked up at him from under a slanted eye-brow. His lips had a +twist of pained disapproval. + +"Yeah. I figured you was about due in town," he said resignedly. + +"Aw, lay off that told-you-so stuff," Bud growled. "You never figured +anything of the kind, and you know it." He pulled his heavy sweater down +off a nail and put it on, scowling because the sleeves had to be pulled +in place on his arms. + +"Too bad you can't wait a day. I figured we'd have a clean-up to-morrow, +maybe. She's been running pretty heavy---" + +"Well, go ahead and clean up, then. You can do it alone. Or wait till I +get back." + +Cash laughed, as a retort cutting, and not because he was amused. Bud +swore and went out, slamming the door behind him. + +It was exactly five days alter that when he opened it again. Cash was +mixing a batch of sour-dough bread into loaves, and he did not say +anything at all when Bud came in and stood beside the stove, warming his +hands and glowering around the room. He merely looked up, and then went +on with his bread making. + +Bud was not a pretty sight. Four days and nights of trying to see how +much whisky he could drink, and how long he could play poker without +going to sleep or going broke, had left their mark on his face and +his trembling hands. His eyes were puffy and red, and his cheeks were +mottled, and his lips were fevered and had lost any sign of a humorous +quirk at the corners. He looked ugly; as if he would like nothing better +than an excuse to quarrel with Cash--since Cash was the only person at +hand to quarrel with. + +But Cash had not knocked around the world for nothing. He had seen men +in that mood before, and he had no hankering for trouble which is vastly +easier to start than it is to stop. He paid no attention to Bud. He +made his loaves, tucked them into the pan and greased the top with bacon +grease saved in a tomato can for such use. He set the pan on a shelf +behind the stove, covered it with a clean flour sack, opened the stove +door, and slid in two sticks. + +"She's getting cold," he observed casually. "It'll be winter now before +we know it." + +Bud grunted, pulled an empty box toward him by the simple expedient of +hooking his toes behind the corner, and sat down. He set his elbows on +his thighs and buried his face in his hands. His hat dropped off +his head and lay crown down beside him. He made a pathetic figure of +miserable manhood, of strength mistreated. His fine, brown hair fell +in heavy locks down over his fingers that rested on his forehead. Five +minutes so, and he lifted his head and glanced around him apathetically. +"Gee-man-ee, I've got a headache!" he muttered, dropping his forehead +into his spread palms again. + +Cash hesitated, derision hiding in the back of his eyes. Then he pushed +the dented coffeepot forward on the stove. + +"Try a cup of coffee straight," he said unemotionally, "and then lay +down. You'll sleep it off in a few hours." + +Bud did not look up, or make any move to show that he heard. But +presently he rose and went heavily over to his bunk. "I don't want any +darn coffee," he growled, and sprawled himself stomach down on the bed, +with his face turned from the light. + +Cash eyed him coldly, with the corner of his upper lip lifted a little. +Whatever weaknesses he possessed, drinking and gambling had no place in +the list. Nor had he any patience with those faults in others. Had Bud +walked down drunk to Cash's camp, that evening when they first met, he +might have received a little food doled out to him grudgingly, but +he assuredly would not have slept in Cash's bed that night. That he +tolerated drunkenness in Bud now would have been rather surprising to +any one who knew Cash well. Perhaps he had a vague understanding of the +deeps through which Bud was struggling, and so was constrained to hide +his disapproval, hoping that the moral let-down was merely a temporary +one. + +He finished his strictly utilitarian household labor and went off up the +flat to the sluice boxes. Bud had not moved from his first position on +the bed, but he did not breathe like a sleeping man. Not at first; after +an hour or so he did sleep, heavily and with queer, muddled dreams that +had no sequence and left only a disturbed sense of discomfort behind +then. + +At noon or a little after Cash returned to the cabin, cast a sour look +of contempt at the recumbent Bud, and built a fire in the old cookstove. +He got his dinner, ate it, and washed his dishes with never a word +to Bud, who had wakened and lay with his eyes half open, sluggishly +miserable and staring dully at the rough spruce logs of the wall. + +Cash put on his cap, looked at Bud and gave a snort, and went off again +to his work. Bud lay still for awhile longer, staring dully at the wall. +Finally he raised up, swung his feet to the floor, and sat there staring +around the little cabin as though he had never before seen it. + +"Huh! You'd think, the way he highbrows me, that Cash never done wrong +in his life! Tin angel, him--I don't think. Next time, I'll tell a +pinheaded world I'll have to bring home a quart or two, and put on a +show right!" + +Just what he meant by that remained rather obscure, even to Bud. He +got up, shut his eyes very tight and then opened them wide to clear his +vision, shook himself into his clothes and went over to the stove. +Cash had not left the coffeepot on the stove but had, with malicious +intent--or so Bud believed--put it away on the shelf so that what coffee +remained was stone cold. Bud muttered and threw out the coffee, grounds +and all--a bit of bachelor extravagance which only anger could drive him +to--and made fresh coffee, and made it strong. He did not want it. He +drank it for the work of physical regeneration it would do for him. + +He lay down afterwards, and this time he dropped into a more nearly +normal sleep, which lasted until Cash returned at dusk After that he lay +with his face hidden, awake and thinking. Thinking, for the most part, +of how dull and purposeless life was, and wondering why the world +was made, or the people in it--since nobody was happy, and few even +pretended to be. Did God really make the world, and man, just to play +with--for a pastime? Then why bother about feeling ashamed for anything +one did that was contrary to God's laws? + +Why be puffed up with pride for keeping one or two of them +unbroken--like Cash, for instance. Just because Cash never drank or +played cards, what right had he to charge the whole atmosphere of the +cabin with his contempt and his disapproval of Bud, who chose to do +both? + +On the other hand, why did he choose a spree as a relief from his +particular bunch of ghosts? Trading one misery for another was all +you could call it. Doing exactly the things that Marie's mother had +predicted he would do, committing the very sins that Marie was always +a little afraid he would commit--there must be some sort of twisted +revenge in that, he thought, but for the life of him he could not quite +see any real, permanent satisfaction in it--especially since Marie and +her mother would never get to hear of it. + +For that matter, he was not so sure that they would not get to hear. +He remembered meeting, just on the first edge of his spree, one Joe De +Barr, a cigar salesman whom he had known in San Jose. Joe knew Marie--in +fact, Joe had paid her a little attention before Bud came into her life. +Joe had been in Alpine between trains, taking orders for goods from the +two saloons and the hotel. He had seen Bud drinking. Bud knew perfectly +well how much Joe had seen him drinking, and he knew perfectly well +that Joe was surprised to the point of amazement--and, Bud suspected, +secretly gratified as well. Wherefore Bud had deliberately done what +he could do to stimulate and emphasize both the surprise and the +gratification. Why is it that most human beings feel a sneaking +satisfaction in the downfall of another? Especially another who is, or +has been at sometime, a rival in love or in business? + +Bud had no delusions concerning Joe De Barr. If Joe should happen to +meet Marie, he would manage somehow to let her know that Bud was going +to the dogs--on the toboggan--down and out--whatever it suited Joe to +declare him. It made Bud sore now to think of Joe standing so smug and +so well dressed and so immaculate beside the bar, smiling and twisting +the ends of his little brown mustache while he watched Bud make such +a consummate fool of himself. At the time, though, Bud had taken a +perverse delight in making himself appear more soddenly drunken, more +boisterous and reckless than he really was. + +Oh, well, what was the odds? Marie couldn't think any worse of him than +she already thought. And whatever she thought, their trails had parted, +and they would never cross again--not if Bud could help it. Probably +Marie would say amen to that. He would like to know how she was getting +along--and the baby, too. Though the baby had never seemed quite real +to Bud, or as if it were a permanent member of the household. It was a +leather-lunged, red-faced, squirming little mite, and in his heart of +hearts Bud had not felt as though it belonged to him at all. He had +never rocked it, for instance, or carried it in his arms. He had been +afraid he might drop it, or squeeze it too hard, or break it somehow +with his man's strength. When he thought of Marie he did not necessarily +think of the baby, though sometimes he did, wondering vaguely how much +it had grown, and if it still hollered for its bottle, all hours of the +day and night. + +Coming back to Marie and Joe--it was not at all certain that they would +meet; or that Joe would mention him, even if they did. A wrecked home is +always a touchy subject, so touchy that Joe had never intimated in his +few remarks to Bud that there had ever been a Marie, and Bud, drunk +as he had been, was still not too drunk to hold back the question that +clamored to be spoken. + +Whether he admitted it to himself or not, the sober Bud Moore who lay on +his bunk nursing a headache and a grouch against the world was ashamed +of the drunken Bud Moore who had paraded his drunkenness before the man +who knew Marie. He did not want Marie to hear what Joe might tell There +was no use, he told himself miserably, in making Marie despise him as +well as hate him. There was a difference. She might think him a brute, +and she might accuse him of failing to be a kind and loving husband; but +she could not, unless Joe told of his spree, say that she had ever heard +of his carousing around. That it would be his own fault if she did hear, +served only to embitter his mood. + +He rolled over and glared at Cash, who had cooked his supper and was +sitting down to eat it alone. Cash was looking particularly misanthropic +as he bent his head to meet the upward journey of his coffee cup, and +his eyes, when they lifted involuntarily with Bud's sudden movement, had +still that hard look of bottled-up rancor that had impressed itself upon +Bud earlier in the day. + +Neither man spoke, or made any sign of friendly recognition. Bud would +not have talked to any one in his present state of self-disgust, but for +all that Cash's silence rankled. A moment their eyes met and held; then +with shifted glances the souls of them drew apart--farther apart than +they had ever been, even when they quarreled over Pete, down in Arizona. + +When Cash had finished and was filing his pipe, Bud got up and reheated +the coffee, and fried more bacon and potatoes, Cash having cooked just +enough for himself. Cash smoked and gave no heed, and Bud retorted by +eating in silence and in straightway washing his own cup, plate, knife, +and fork and wiping clean the side of the table where he always sat. He +did not look at Cash, but he felt morbidly that Cash was regarding him +with that hateful sneer hidden under his beard. He knew that it was +silly to keep that stony silence, but he kept telling himself that if +Cash wanted to talk, he had a tongue, and it was not tied. Besides, +Cash had registered pretty plainly his intentions and his wishes when he +excluded Bud from his supper. + +It was a foolish quarrel, but it was that kind of foolish quarrel which +is very apt to harden into a lasting one. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE + +Domestic wrecks may be a subject taboo in polite conversation, but Joe +De Barr was not excessively polite, and he had, moreover, a very likely +hope that Marie would yet choose to regard him with more favor than she +had shown in the past. He did not chance to see her at once, but as soon +as his work would permit he made it a point to meet her. He went about +it with beautiful directness. He made bold to call her up on "long +distance" from San Francisco, told her that he would be in San Jose that +night, and invited her to a show. + +Marie accepted without enthusiasm--and her listlessness was not lost +over forty miles of telephone wire. Enough of it seeped to Joe's ears +to make him twist his mustache quite furiously when he came out of the +telephone booth. If she was still stuck on that fellow Bud, and couldn't +see anybody else, it was high time she was told a few things about him. +It was queer how a nice girl like Marie would hang on to some cheap +guy like Bud Moore. Regular fellows didn't stand any show--unless +they played what cards happened to fall their way. Joe, warned by her +indifference, set himself very seriously to the problem of playing his +cards to the best advantage. + +He went into a flower store--disdaining the banked loveliness upon the +corners--and bought Marie a dozen great, heavy-headed chrysanthemums, +whose color he could not name to save his life, so called them pink and +let it go at that. They were not pink, and they were not sweet--Joe held +the bunch well away from his protesting olfactory nerves which were not +educated to tantalizing odors--but they were more expensive than roses, +and he knew that women raved over them. He expected Marie to rave over +them, whether she liked them or not. + +Fortified by these, groomed and perfumed and as prosperous looking as a +tobacco salesman with a generous expense account may be, he went to San +Jose on an early evening train that carried a parlor car in which Joe +made himself comfortable. He fooled even the sophisticated porter +into thinking him a millionaire, wherefore he arrived in a glow of +self-esteem, which bred much optimism. + +Marie was impressed--at least with his assurance and the chrysanthemums, +over which she was sufficiently enthusiastic to satisfy even Joe. Since +he had driven to the house in a hired automobile, he presently had the +added satisfaction of handing Marie into the tonneau as though she were +a queen entering the royal chariot, and of ordering the driver to take +them out around the golf links, since it was still very early. Then, +settling back with what purported to be a sigh of bliss, he regarded +Marie sitting small and still and listless beside him. The glow of the +chrysanthemums had already faded. Marie, with all the girlish prettiness +she had ever possessed, and with an added charm that was very elusive +and hard to analyze, seemed to have lost all of her old animation. + +Joe tried the weather, and the small gossip of the film world, and a +judiciously expurgated sketch of his life since he had last seen her. +Marie answered him whenever his monologue required answer, but she was +unresponsive, uninterested--bored. Joe twisted his mustache, eyed her +aslant and took the plunge. + +"I guess joy-ridin' kinda calls up old times, ay?" he began insidiously. +"Maybe I shouldn't have brought you out for a ride; maybe it brings back +painful memories, as the song goes." + +"Oh, no," said Marie spiritlessly. "I don't see why it should." + +"No? Well, that's good to hear you say so, girlie. I was kinda afraid +maybe trouble had hit you hard. A sensitive, big-hearted little person +like you. But if you've put it all outa your mind, why, that's where +you're dead right. Personally, I was glad to see you saw where you'd +made a mistake, and backed up. That takes grit and brains. Of course, we +all make mistakes--you wasn't to blame--innocent little kid like you--" + +"Yes," said Marie, "I guess I made a mistake, all right." + +"Sure! But you seen it and backed up. And a good thing you did. Look +what he'd of brought you to by now, if you'd stuck!" + +Marie tilted back her head and looked up at the tall row of eucalyptus +trees feathered against the stars. "What?" she asked uninterestedly. + +"Well--I don't want to knock, especially a fellow that's on the toboggan +already. But I know a little girl that's aw-fully lucky, and I'm honest +enough to say so." + +"Why?" asked Marie obligingly. "Why--in particular?" + +"Why in particular?" Joe leaned toward her. "Say, you must of heard how +Bud's going to the dogs. If you haven't, I don't want--" + +"No, I hadn't heard," said Marie, looking up at the Big Dipper so that +her profile, dainty and girlish still, was revealed like a cameo to Joe. +"Is he? I love to watch the stars, don't you?" + +"I love to watch a star," Joe breathed softly. "So you hadn't heard how +Bud's turned out to be a regular souse? Honest, didn't you know it?" + +"No, I didn't know it," said Marie boredly. "Has he?" + +"Well, say! You couldn't tell it from the real thing! Believe me, Bud's +some pickled bum, these days. I run across him up in the mountains, a +month or so ago. Honest, I was knocked plumb silly--much as I knew about +Bud that you never knew, I never thought he'd turn out quite so--" Joe +paused, with a perfect imitation of distaste for his subject. "Say, this +is great, out here," he murmured, tucking the robe around her with +that tender protectiveness which stops just short of being proprietary. +"Honest, Marie, do you like it?" + +"Why, sure, I like it, Joe." Marie smiled at him in the star-light. +"It's great, don't you think? I don't get out very often, any more. I'm +working, you know--and evenings and Sundays baby takes up all my time." + +"You working? Say, that's a darned shame! Don't Bud send you any money?" + +"He left some," said Marie frankly. "But I'm keeping that for baby, when +he grows up and needs it. He don't send any." + +"Well, say! As long as he's in the State, you can make him dig up. For +the kid's support, anyway. Why don't you get after him?" + +Marie looked down over the golf links, as the car swung around the long +curve at the head of the slope. "I don't know where he is," she said +tonelessly. "Where did you see him, Joe?" + +Joe's hesitation lasted but long enough for him to give his mustache end +a twist. Marie certainly seemed to be well "over it." There could be no +harm in telling. + +"Well, when I saw him he was at Alpine; that's a little burg up in the +edge of the mountains, on the W. P. He didn't look none too prosperous, +at that. But he had money--he was playing poker and that kind of thing. +And he was drunk as a boiled owl, and getting drunker just as fast as +he knew how. Seemed to be kind of a stranger there; at least he didn't +throw in with the bunch like a native would. But that was more than a +month ago, Marie. He might not be there now. I could write up and find +out for you." + +Marie settled back against the cushions as though she had already +dismissed the subject from her mind. + +"Oh, don't bother about it, Joe. I don't suppose he's got any money, +anyway. Let's forget him." + +"You said it, Marie. Stacked up to me like a guy that's got just enough +dough for a good big souse. He ain't hard to forget--is he, girlie?" + +Marie laughed assentingly. And if she did not quite attain her old +bubbling spirits during the evening, at least she sent Joe back to San +Francisco feeling very well satisfied with himself. He must have been +satisfied with himself. He must have been satisfied with his wooing +also, because he strolled into a jewelry store the next morning and +priced several rings which he judged would be perfectly suitable for +engagement rings. He might have gone so far as to buy one, if he had +been sure of the size and of Marie's preference in stones. Since he +lacked detailed information, he decided to wait, but he intimated +plainly to the clerk that he would return in a few days. + +It was just as well that he did decide to wait, for when he tried again +to see Marie he failed altogether. Marie had left town. Her mother, with +an acrid tone of resentment, declared that she did not know any +more than the man in the moon where Marie had gone, but that she +"suspicioned" that some fool had told Marie where Bud was, and that +Marie had gone traipsing after him. She had taken the baby along, which +was another piece of foolishness which her mother would never have +permitted had she been at home when Marie left. + +Joe did not take the matter seriously, though he was disappointed at +having made a fruitless trip to San Jose. He did not believe that +Marie had done anything more than take a vacation from her mother's +sharp-tongued rule, and for that he could not blame her, after having +listened for fifteen minutes to the lady's monologue upon the subject +of selfish, inconsiderate, ungrateful daughters. Remembering Marie's +attitude toward Bud, he did not believe that she had gone hunting him. + +Yet Marie had done that very thing. True, she had spent a sleepless +night fighting the impulse, and a harassed day trying to make up her +mind whether to write first, or whether to go and trust to the element +of surprise to help plead her cause with Bud; whether to take Lovin +Child with her, or leave him with her mother. + +She definitely decided to write Bud a short note and ask him if he +remembered having had a wife and baby, once upon a time, and if he never +wished that he had them still. She wrote the letter, crying a +little over it along toward the last, as women will. But it sounded +cold-blooded and condemnatory. She wrote another, letting a little +of her real self into the lines. But that sounded sentimental and +moving-pictury, and she knew how Bud hated cheap sentimentalism. + +So she tore them both up and put them in the little heating stove, +and lighted a match and set them burning, and watched them until they +withered down to gray ash, and then broke up the ashes and scattered +them amongst the cinders. Marie, you must know, had learned a good many +things, one of which was the unwisdom of whetting the curiosity of a +curious woman. + +After that she proceeded to pack a suit case for herself and Lovin +Child, seizing the opportunity while her mother was visiting a friend +in Santa Clara. Once the packing was began, Marie worked with a feverish +intensity of purpose and an eagerness that was amazing, considering her +usual apathy toward everything in her life as she was living it. + +Everything but Lovin Child. Him she loved and gloried in. He was like +Bud--so much like him that Marie could not have loved him so much if she +had managed to hate Bud as she tried sometimes to hate him. Lovin Child +was a husky youngster, and he already had the promise of being as tall +and straight-limbed and square-shouldered as his father. Deep in his +eyes there lurked always a twinkle, as though he knew a joke that would +make you laugh--if only he dared tell it; a quizzical, secretly +amused little twinkle, as exactly like Bud's as it was possible for +a two-year-old twinkle to be. To go with the twinkle, he had a quirky +little smile. And to better the smile, he had the jolliest little +chuckle that ever came through a pair of baby lips. + +He came trotting up to the suit case which Marie had spread wide open on +the bed, stood up on his tippy toes, and peered in. The quirky smile was +twitching his lips, and the look he turned toward Marie's back was full +of twinkle. He reached into the suit case, clutched a clean handkerchief +and blew his nose with solemn precision; put the handkerchief back all +crumpled, grabbed a silk stocking and drew it around his neck, and was +straining to reach his little red Brownie cap when Marie turned and +caught him up in her arms. + +"No, no, Lovin Child! Baby mustn't. Marie is going to take her lovin' +baby boy to find--" She glanced hastily over her shoulder to make sure +there was no one to hear, buried her face in the baby's fat neck and +whispered the wonder, "--to find hims daddy Bud! Does Lovin Man want +to see hims daddy Bud? I bet he does want! I bet hims daddy Bud will +be glad--Now you sit right still, and Marie will get him a cracker, an' +then he can watch Marie pack him little shirt, and hims little bunny +suit, and hims wooh-wooh, and hims 'tockins--" + +It is a pity that Bud could not have seen the two of them in the next +hour, wherein Marie flew to her hopeful task of packing her suit case, +and Lovin Child was quite as busy pulling things out of it, and getting +stepped on, and having to be comforted, and insisting upon having on +his bunny suit, and then howling to go before Marie was ready. Bud would +have learned enough to ease the ache in his heart--enough to humble him +and fill him with an abiding reverence for a love that will live, as +Marie's had lived, on bitterness and regret. + +Nearly distracted under the lash of her own eagerness and the fear that +her mother would return too soon and bully her into giving up her wild +plan, Marie, carrying Lovin Child on one arm and lugging the suit case +in the other hand, and half running, managed to catch a street car and +climb aboard all out of breath and with her hat tilted over one ear. +She deposited the baby on the seat beside her, fumbled for a nickel, +and asked the conductor pantingly if she would be in time to catch the +four-five to the city. It maddened her to watch the bored deliberation +of the man as he pulled out his watch and regarded it meditatively. + +"You'll catch it--if you're lucky about your transfer," he said, and +rang up her fare and went off to the rear platform, just as if it were +not a matter of life and death at all. Marie could have shaken him for +his indifference; and as for the motorman, she was convinced that he ran +as slow as he dared, just to drive her crazy. But even with these two +inhuman monsters doing their best to make her miss the train, and with +the street car she wanted to transfer to running off and leaving her at +the very last minute, and with Lovin Child suddenly discovering that he +wanted to be carried, and that he emphatically did not want her to carry +the suit case at all, Marie actually reached the depot ahead of the +four-five train. Much disheveled and flushed with nervousness and her +exertions, she dragged Lovin Child up the steps by one arm, found a seat +in the chair car and, a few minutes later, suddenly realized that she +was really on her way to an unknown little town in an unknown part of +the country, in quest of a man who very likely did not want to be found +by her. + +Two tears rolled down her cheeks, and were traced to the corners of her +mouth by the fat, investigative finger of Lovin Child before Marie could +find her handkerchief and wipe them away. Was any one in this world +ever so utterly, absolutely miserable? She doubted it. What if she found +Bud--drunk, as Joe had described him? Or, worse than that, what if she +did not find him at all? She tried not to cry, but it seemed as though +she must cry or scream. Fast as she wiped them away, other tears dropped +over her eyelids upon her cheeks, and were given the absorbed attention +of Lovin Child, who tried to catch each one with his finger. To distract +him, she turned him around face to the window. + +"See all the--pitty cows," she urged, her lips trembling so much that +they would scarcely form the words. And when Lovin Child flattened a +finger tip against the window and chuckled, and said "Ee? Ee?"--which +was his way of saying see--Marie dropped her face down upon his fuzzy +red "bunny" cap, hugged him close to her, and cried, from sheer, nervous +reaction. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. CABIN FEVER IN THE WORST FORM + +Bud Moore woke on a certain morning with a distinct and well-defined +grouch against the world as he had found it; a grouch quite different +from the sullen imp of contrariness that had possessed him lately. He +did not know just what had caused the grouch, and he did not care. He +did know, however, that he objected to the look of Cash's overshoes that +stood pigeon-toed beside Cash's bed on the opposite side of the room, +where Bud had not set his foot for three weeks and more. He disliked the +audible yawn with which Cash manifested his return from the deathlike +unconsciousness of sleep. He disliked the look of Cash's rough coat and +sweater and cap, that hung on a nail over Cash's bunk. He disliked the +thought of getting up in the cold--and more, the sure knowledge that +unless he did get up, and that speedily, Cash would be dressed ahead of +him, and starting a fire in the cookstove. Which meant that Cash would +be the first to cook and eat his breakfast, and that the warped ethics +of their dumb quarrel would demand that Bud pretend to be asleep until +Cash had fried his bacon and his hotcakes and had carried them to his +end of the oilcloth-covered table. + +When, by certain well-known sounds, Bud was sure that Cash was eating, +he could, without loss of dignity or without suspicion of making +any overtures toward friendliness, get up and dress and cook his own +breakfast, and eat it at his own end of the table. Bud wondered how long +Cash, the old fool, would sulk like that. Not that he gave a darn--he +just wondered, is all. For all he cared, Cash could go on forever +cooking his own meals and living on his own side of the shack. Bud +certainly would not interrupt him in acting the fool, and if Cash wanted +to keep it up till spring, Cash was perfectly welcome to do so. It just +showed how ornery a man could be when he was let to go. So far as he was +concerned, he would just as soon as not have that dead line painted down +the middle of the cabin floor. + +Nor did its presence there trouble him in the least. Just this morning, +however, the fact of Cash's stubbornness in keeping to his own side +of the line irritated Bud. He wanted to get back at the old hound +somehow--without giving in an inch in the mute deadlock. Furthermore, +he was hungry, and he did not propose to lie there and starve while old +Cash pottered around the stove. He'd tell the world he was going to +have his own breakfast first, and if Cash didn't want to set in on the +cooking, Cash could lie in bed till he was paralyzed, and be darned. + +At that moment Cash pushed back the blankets that had been banked to his +ears. Simultaneously, Bud swung his feet to the cold floor with a thump +designed solely to inform Cash that Bud was getting up. Cash turned +over with his back to the room and pulled up the blankets. Bud grinned +maliciously and dressed as deliberately as the cold of the cabin would +let him. To be sure, there was the disadvantage of having to start his +own fire, but that disagreeable task was offset by the pleasure he would +get in messing around as long as he could, cooking his breakfast. He +even thought of frying potatoes and onions after he cooked his bacon. +Potatoes and onions fried together have a lovely tendency to stick to +the frying pan, especially if there is not too much grease, and if they +are fried very slowly. Cash would have to do some washing and scraping, +when it came his turn to cook. Bud knew just about how mad that would +make Cash, and he dwelt upon the prospect relishfully. + +Bud never wanted potatoes for his breakfast. Coffee, bacon, and hotcakes +suited him perfectly. But just for meanness, because he felt mean and +he wanted to act mean, he sliced the potatoes and the onions into the +frying pan, and, to make his work artistically complete, he let them +burn and stick to the pan,--after he had his bacon and hotcakes fried, +of course! + +He sat down and began to eat. And presently Cash crawled out into the +warm room filled with the odor of frying onions, and dressed himself +with the detached calm of the chronically sulky individual. Not once +did the manner of either man betray any consciousness of the other's +presence. Unless some detail of the day's work compelled them to speech, +not once for more than three weeks had either seemed conscious of the +other. + +Cash washed his face and his hands, took the side of bacon, and cut +three slices with the precision of long practice. Bud sopped his last +hotcake in a pool of syrup and watched him from the corner of his eyes, +without turning his head an inch toward Cash. His keenest desire, just +then, was to see Cash when he tackled the frying pan. + +But Cash disappointed him there. He took a pie tin off the shelf and +laid his strips of bacon on it, and set it in the oven; which is a very +good way of cooking breakfast bacon, as Bud well knew. Cash then took +down the little square baking pan, greased from the last baking +of bread, and in that he fried his hot cakes. As if that were not +sufficiently exasperating, he gave absolutely no sign of being conscious +of the frying pan any more than he was conscious of Bud. He did not +overdo it by whistling, or even humming a tune--which would have +given Bud an excuse to say something almost as mean as his mood. +Abstractedness rode upon Cash's lined brow. Placid meditation shone +forth from his keen old blue-gray eyes. + +The bacon came from the oven juicy-crisp and curled at the edges and +delicately browned. The cakes came out of the baking pan brown and thick +and light. Cash sat down at his end of the table, pulled his own can of +sugar and his own cup of syrup and his own square of butter toward him; +poured his coffee, that he had made in a small lard pail, and began to +eat his breakfast exactly as though he was alone in that cabin. + +A great resentment filled Bud's soul to bursting, The old hound! Bud +believed now that Cash was capable of leaving that frying pan dirty for +the rest of the day! A man like that would do anything! If it wasn't for +that claim, he'd walk off and forget to come back. + +Thinking of that seemed to crystallize into definite purpose what +had been muddling his mind with vague impulses to let his mood find +expression. He would go to Alpine that day. He would hunt up Frank and +see if he couldn't jar him into showing that he had a mind of his own. +Twice since that first unexpected spree, he had spent a good deal of +time and gold dust and consumed a good deal of bad whisky and beer, in +testing the inherent obligingness of Frank. The last attempt had been +the cause of the final break between him and Cash. Cash had reminded Bud +harshly that they would need that gold to develop their quartz claim, +and he had further stated that he wanted no "truck" with a gambler and +a drunkard, and that Bud had better straighten up if he wanted to keep +friends with Cash. + +Bud had retorted that Cash might as well remember that Bud had a half +interest in the two claims, and that he would certainly stay with it. +Meantime, he would tell the world he was his own boss, and Cash needn't +think for a minute that Bud was going to ask permission for what he did +or did not do. Cash needn't have any truck with him, either. It suited +Bud very well to keep on his own side of the cabin, and he'd thank Cash +to mind his own business and not step over the dead line. + +Cash had laughed disagreeably and asked Bud what he was going to +do--draw a chalk mark, maybe? + +Bud, half drunk and unable to use ordinary good sense, had said yes, by +thunder, he'd draw a chalk line if he wanted to, and if he did, Cash had +better not step over it either, unless he wanted to be kicked back. + +Wherefore the broad, black line down the middle of the floor to where +the table stood. Obviously, he could not well divide the stove and the +teakettle and the frying pan and coffeepot. The line stopped abruptly +with a big blob of lampblack mixed with coal oil, just where necessity +compelled them both to use the same floor space. + +The next day Bud had been ashamed of the performance, but his shame +could not override his stubbornness. The black line stared up at him +accusingly. Cash, keeping scrupulously upon his own side of it, went +coldly about his own affairs and never yielded so much as a glance at +Bud. And Bud grew more moody and dissatisfied with himself, but he would +not yield, either. Perversely he waited for Cash to apologize for what +he had said about gamblers and drunkards, and tried to believe that upon +Cash rested all of the blame. + +Now he washed his own breakfast dishes, including the frying pan, spread +the blankets smooth on his bunk, swept as much of the floor as lay upon +his side of the dead line. Because the wind was in the storm quarter and +the lowering clouds promised more snow, he carried in three big armfuls +of wood and placed them upon his corner of the fireplace, to provide +warmth when he returned. Cash would not touch that wood while Bud was +gone, and Bud knew it. Cash would freeze first. But there was small +chance of that, because a small, silent rivalry had grown from the +quarrel; a rivalry to see which kept the best supply of wood, which +swept cleanest under his bunk and up to the black line, which washed his +dishes cleanest, and kept his shelf in the cupboard the tidiest. Before +the fireplace in an evening Cash would put on wood, and when next it +was needed, Bud would get up and put on wood. Neither would stoop to +stinting or to shirking, neither would give the other an inch of ground +for complaint. It was not enlivening to live together that way, but it +worked well toward keeping the cabin ship shape. + +So Bud, knowing that it was going to storm, and perhaps dreading a +little the long monotony of being housed with a man as stubborn as +himself, buttoned a coat over his gray, roughneck sweater, pulled a pair +of mail-order mittens over his mail-order gloves, stamped his feet +into heavy, three-buckled overshoes, and set out to tramp fifteen miles +through the snow, seeking the kind of pleasure which turns to pain with +the finding. + +He knew that Cash, out by the woodpile, let the axe blade linger in +the cut while he stared after him. He knew that Cash would be lonesome +without him, whether Cash ever admitted it or not. He knew that Cash +would be passively anxious until he returned--for the months they had +spent together had linked them closer than either would confess. Like +a married couple who bicker and nag continually when together, but are +miserable when apart, close association had become a deeply grooved +habit not easily thrust aside. Cabin fever might grip them and impel +them to absurdities such as the dead line down the middle of their +floor and the silence that neither desired but both were too stubborn +to break; but it could not break the habit of being together. So Bud +was perfectly aware of the fact that he would be missed, and he was +ill-humored enough to be glad of it. Frank, if he met Bud that day, was +likely to have his amiability tested to its limit. + +Bud tramped along through the snow, wishing it was not so deep, or else +deep enough to make snow-shoeing practicable in the timber; thinking +too of Cash and how he hoped Cash would get his fill of silence, and of +Frank, and wondering where he would find him. He had covered perhaps two +miles of the fifteen, and had walked off a little of his grouch, and had +stopped to unbutton his coat, when he heard the crunching of feet in the +snow, just beyond a thick clump of young spruce. + +Bud was not particularly cautious, nor was he averse to meeting people +in the trail. He stood still though, and waited to see who was +coming that way--since travelers on that trail were few enough to be +noticeable. + +In a minute more a fat old squaw rounded the spruce grove and shied +off startled when she glimpsed Bud. Bud grunted and started on, and +the squaw stepped clear of the faintly defined trail to let him pass. +Moreover, she swung her shapeless body around so that she half faced him +as he passed. Bud's lips tightened, and he gave her only a glance. He +hated fat old squaws that were dirty and wore their hair straggling down +over their crafty, black eyes. They burlesqued womanhood in a way that +stirred always a smoldering resentment against them. This particular +squaw had nothing to commend her to his notice. She had a dirty red +bandanna tied over her dirty, matted hair and under her grimy double +chin. A grimy gray blanket was draped closely over her squat shoulders +and formed a pouch behind, wherein the plump form of a papoose was +cradled, a little red cap pulled down over its ears. + +Bud strode on, his nose lifted at the odor of stale smoke that pervaded +the air as he passed. The squaw, giving him a furtive stare, turned and +started on, bent under her burden. + +Then quite suddenly a wholly unexpected sound pursued Bud and halted him +in the trail; the high, insistent howl of a child that has been denied +its dearest desire of the moment. Bud looked back inquiringly. The squaw +was hurrying on, and but for the straightness of the trail just there, +her fat old canvas-wrapped legs would have carried her speedily out of +sight. Of course, papooses did yell once in awhile, Bud supposed, though +he did not remember ever hearing one howl like that on the trail. But +what made the squaw in such a deuce of a hurry all at once? + +Bud's theory of her kind was simple enough: If they fled from you, it +was because they had stolen something and were afraid you would catch +them at it. He swung around forthwith in the trail and went after +her--whereat she waddled faster through the snow like a frightened duck. + +"Hey! You come back here a minute! What's all the rush?" Bud's voice and +his long legs pursued, and presently he overtook her and halted her by +the simple expedient of grasping her shoulder firmly. The high-keyed +howling ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and Bud, peering under +the rolled edge of the red stocking cap, felt his jaw go slack with +surprise. + +The baby was smiling at him delightedly, with a quirk of the lips and +a twinkle lodged deep somewhere in its eyes. It worked one hand free of +its odorous wrappings, spread four fat fingers wide apart over one eye, +and chirped, "Pik-k?" and chuckled infectiously deep in its throat. + +Bud gulped and stared and felt a warm rush of blood from his heart up +into his head. A white baby, with eyes that laughed, and quirky red lips +that laughed with the eyes, and a chuckling voice like that, riding on +the back of that old squaw, struck him dumb with astonishment. + +"Good glory!" he blurted, as though the words had been jolted from him +by the shock. Where-upon the baby reached out its hand to him and said +haltingly, as though its lips had not yet grown really familiar with the +words: + +"Take--Uvin--Chal!" + +The squaw tried to jerk away, and Bud gave her a jerk to let her know +who was boss. "Say, where'd you git that kid?" he demanded aggressively. + +She moved her wrapped feet uneasily in the snow, flickered a filmy, +black eyed glance at Bud's uncompromising face, and waved a dirty paw +vaguely in a wide sweep that would have kept a compass needle revolving +if it tried to follow and was not calculated to be particularly +enlightening. + +"Lo-ong ways," she crooned, and her voice was the first attractive thing +Bud had discovered about her. It was pure melody, soft and pensive as +the cooing of a wood dove. + +"Who belongs to it?" Bud was plainly suspicious. The shake of the +squaw's bandannaed head was more artfully vague than her gesture. "Don' +know--modder die--fadder die--ketchum long ways--off." + +"Well, what's its name?" Bud's voice harshened with his growing interest +and bewilderment. The baby was again covering one twinkling eye with +its spread, pink palm, and was saying "Pik-k?" and laughing with the +funniest little squint to its nose that Bud had ever seen. It was so +absolutely demoralizing that to relieve himself Bud gave the squaw +a shake. This tickled the baby so much that the chuckle burst into a +rollicking laugh, with a catch of the breath after each crescendo tone +that made it absolutely individual and like none other--save one. + +"What's his name?" Bud bullied the squaw, though his eyes were on the +baby. + +"Don't know!" + +"Take--Uvin--Chal," the baby demanded imperiously. + +"Uh--uh--uh? Take!" + +"Uvin Chal? Now what'd yuh mean by that, oletimer?" Bud obeyed an +overpowering impulse to reach out and touch the baby's cheek with a +mittened thumb. The baby responded instantly by again demanding that Bud +should take. + +"Pik-k?" said Bud, a mitten over one eye. + +"Pik-k?" said the baby, spreading his fat hand again and twinkling at +Bud between his fingers. But immediately afterwards it gave a little, +piteous whimper. "Take--Uvin Chal!" it beseeched Bud with voice and +starlike blue eyes together. "Take!" + +There was that in the baby's tone, in the unbaby-like insistence of its +bright eyes, which compelled obedience. Bud had never taken a baby of +that age in his arms. He was always in fear of dropping it, or crushing +it with his man's strength, or something. He liked them--at a safe +distance. He would chuck one under the chin, or feel diffidently the +soft little cheek, but a closer familiarity scared him. Yet when this +baby wriggled its other arm loose and demanded him to take, Bud reached +out and grasped its plump little red-sweatered body firmly under the +armpits and drew it forth, squirming with eagerness. + +"Well, I'll tell the world I don't blame yuh for wanting to git outa +that hog's nest," said Bud, answering the baby's gleeful chuckle. + +Freed from his detaining grip on her shoulder, the squaw ducked +unexpectedly and scuttled away down the trail as fast as her old legs +would carry her; which was surprisingly speedy for one of her bulk. Bud +had opened his mouth to ask her again where she had gotten that baby. He +left it open while he stared after her astonished until the baby put up +a hand over one of Bud's eyes and said "Pik-k?" with that distracting +little quirk at the corners of its lips. + +"You son of a gun!" grinned Bud, in the tone that turned the epithet +in to a caress. "You dog gone little devil, you! Pik-k! then, if that's +what you want." + +The squaw had disappeared into the thick under growth, leaving a track +like a hippo in the snow. Bud could have overtaken her, of course, and +he could have made her take the baby back again. But he could not face +the thought of it. He made no move at all toward pursuit, but instead he +turned his face toward Alpine, with some vague intention of turning the +baby over to the hotel woman there and getting the authorities to hunt +up its parents. It was plain enough that the squaw had no right to it, +else she would not have run off like that. + +Bud walked at least a rod toward Alpine before he swung short around in +his tracks and started the other way. "No, I'll be doggoned if I will!" +he said. "You can't tell about women, no time. She might spank the kid, +or something. Or maybe she wouldn't feed it enough. Anyway, it's too +cold, and it's going to storm pretty pronto. Hey! Yuh cold, old-timer?" + +The baby whimpered a little and snuggled its face down against Bud's +chest. So Bud lifted his foot and scraped some snow off a nearby log, +and set the baby down there while he took off his coat and wrapped it +around him, buttoning it like a bag over arms and all. The baby watched +him knowingly, its eyes round and dark blue and shining, and gave a +contented little wriggle when Bud picked it up again in his arms. + +"Now you're all right till we get to where it's warm," Bud assured it +gravely. "And we'll do some steppin', believe me. I guess maybe you +ain't any more crazy over that Injun smell on yuh, than what I am--and +that ain't any at all." He walked a few steps farther before he added +grimly, "It'll be some jolt for Cash, doggone his skin. He'll about +bust, I reckon. But we don't give a darn. Let him bust if he wants +to--half the cabin's mine, anyway." + +So, talking a few of his thoughts aloud to the baby, that presently +went to sleep with its face against his shoulder, Bud tramped steadily +through the snow, carrying Lovin Child in his arms. No remote glimmer of +the wonderful thing Fate had done for him seeped into his consciousness, +but there was a new, warm glow in his heart--the warmth that came from a +child's unquestioning faith in his protecting tenderness. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. CASH GETS A SHOCK + +It happened that Cash was just returning to the cabin from the Blind +Ledge claim. He met Bud almost at the doorstep, just as Bud was fumbling +with the latch, trying to open the door without moving Lovin Child in +his arms. Cash may or may not have been astonished. Certainly he did +not betray by more than one quick glance that he was interested in Bud's +return or in the mysterious burden he bore. He stepped ahead of Bud and +opened the door without a word, as if he always did it just in that way, +and went inside. + +Bud followed him in silence, stepped across the black line to his own +side of the room and laid Lovin Child carefully down so as not to waken +him. He unbuttoned the coat he had wrapped around him, pulled off the +concealing red cap and stared down at the pale gold, silky hair and the +adorable curve of the soft cheek and the lips with the dimples tricked +in at the corners; the lashes lying like the delicate strokes of an +artist's pencil under the closed eyes. For at least five minutes he +stood without moving, his whole face softened into a boyish wistfulness. +By the stove Cash stood and stared from Bud to the sleeping baby, +his bushy eyebrows lifted, his gray eyes a study of incredulous +bewilderment. + +Then Bud drew a long breath and seemed about to move away from the bank, +and Cash turned abruptly to the stove and lifted a rusty lid and peered +into the cold firebox, frowning as though he was expecting to see fire +and warmth where only a sprinkle of warm ashes remained. Stubbornness +held him mute and outwardly indifferent. He whittled shavings and +started a fire in the cook stove, filled the teakettle and set it on +to boil, got out the side of bacon and cut three slices, and never once +looked toward the bunk. Bud might have brought home a winged angel, or +a rainbow, or a casket of jewels, and Cash would not have permitted +himself to show any human interest. + +But when Bud went teetering from the cabin on his toes to bring in +some pine cones they had saved for quick kindling, Cash craned his neck +toward the little bundle on the bunk. He saw a fat, warm little hand +stir with some baby dream. He listened and heard soft breathing that +stopped just short of being an infantile snore. He made an errand to his +own bunk and from there inspected the mystery at closer range. He saw +a nose and a little, knobby chin and a bit of pinkish forehead with the +pale yellow of hair above. He leaned and cocked his head to one side to +see more--but at that moment he heard Bud stamping off the snow from +his feet on the doorstep, and he took two long, noiseless strides to the +dish cupboard and was fumbling there with his back to the bunk when Bud +came tiptoeing in. + +Bud started a fire in the fireplace and heaped the dry limbs high. Cash +fried his bacon, made his tea, and set the table for his midday meal. +Bud waited for the baby to wake, looking at his watch every minute or +two, and making frequent cautious trips to the bunk, peeking and peering +to see if the child was all right. It seemed unnatural that it should +sleep so long in the daytime. No telling what that squaw had done to it; +she might have doped it or something. He thought the kid's face looked +red, as if it had fever, and he reached down and touched anxiously the +hand that was uncovered. The hand was warm--too warm, in Bud's opinion. +It would be just his luck if the kid got sick, he'd have to pack it +clear in to Alpine in his arms. Fifteen miles of that did not appeal +to Bud, whose arms ached after the two-mile trip with that solid little +body lying at ease in the cradle they made. + +His back to that end of the room, Cash sat stiff-necked and stubbornly +speechless, and ate and drank as though he were alone in the cabin. +Whenever Bud's mind left Lovin Child long enough to think about it, he +watched Cash furtively for some sign of yielding, some softening of that +grim grudge. It seemed to him as though Cash was not human, or he would +show some signs of life when a live baby was brought to camp and laid +down right under his nose. + +Cash finished and began washing his dishes, keeping his back turned +toward Bud and Bud's new possession, and trying to make it appear that +he did so unconsciously. He did not fool Bud for a minute. Bud knew that +Cash was nearly bursting with curiosity, and he had occasional fleeting +impulses to provoke Cash to speech of some sort. Perhaps Cash knew +what was in Bud's mind. At any rate he left the cabin and went out and +chopped wood for an hour, furiously raining chips into the snow. + +When he went in with his arms piled full of cut wood, Bud had the baby +sitting on one corner of the table, and was feeding it bread and +gravy as the nearest approach to baby food he could think of. During +occasional interludes in the steady procession of bits of bread from the +plate to the baby's mouth, Lovin Child would suck a bacon rind which +he held firmly grasped in a greasy little fist. Now and then Bud would +reach into his hip pocket, pull out his handkerchief as a make-shift +napkin, and would carefully wipe the border of gravy from the baby's +mouth, and stuff the handkerchief back into his pocket again. + +Both seemed abominably happy and self-satisfied. Lovin Child kicked +his heels against the rough table frame and gurgled unintelligible +conversation whenever he was able to articulate sounds. Bud replied +with a rambling monologue that implied a perfect understanding of Lovin +Child's talk--and incidentally doled out information for Cash's benefit. + +Cash cocked an eye at the two as he went by, threw the wood down on his +side of the hearth, and began to replenish the fire. If he heard, he +gave no sign of understanding or interest. + +"I'll bet that old squaw musta half starved yah," Bud addressed the baby +while he spooned gravy out of a white enamel bowl on to the second slice +of bread. "You're putting away grub like a nigger at a barbecue. I'll +tell the world I don't know what woulda happened if I hadn't run across +yuh and made her hand yuh over." + +"Ja--ja--ja--jah!" said Lovin Child, nodding his head and regarding Bud +with the twinkle in his eyes. + +"And that's where you're dead right, Boy. I sure do wish you'd tell me +your name; but I reckon that's too much to ask of a little geezer like +you. Here. Help yourself, kid--you ain't in no Injun camp now. You're +with white folks now." + +Cash sat down on the bench he had made for himself, and stared into the +fire. His whole attitude spelled abstraction; nevertheless he missed no +little sound behind him. + +He knew that Bud was talking largely for his benefit, and he knew +that here was the psychological time for breaking the spell of silence +between them. Yet he let the minutes slip past and would not yield. +The quarrel had been of Bud's making in the first place. Let Bud do the +yielding, make the first step toward amity. + +But Bud had other things to occupy him just then. Having eaten all his +small stomach would hold, Lovin Child wanted to get down and explore. +Bud had other ideas, but they did not seem to count for much with Lovin +Child, who had an insistent way that was scarcely to be combated or +ignored. + +"But listen here, Boy!" Bud protested, after he had for the third time +prevented Lovin Child from backing off the table. "I was going to take +off these dirty duds and wash some of the Injun smell off yuh. I'll tell +a waiting world you need a bath, and your clothes washed." + +"Ugh, ugh, ugh," persisted Lovin Child, and pointed to the floor. + +So Bud sighed and made a virtue of defeat. "Oh, well, they say it's bad +policy to take a bath right after yuh eat. We'll let it ride awhile, but +you sure have got to be scrubbed a plenty before you can crawl in with +me, old-timer," he said, and set him down on the floor. + +Lovin Child went immediately about the business that seemed most +important. He got down on his hands and knees and gravely inspected the +broad black line, hopefully testing it with tongue and with fingers to +see if it would yield him anything in the way of flavor or stickiness. +It did not. It had been there long enough to be thoroughly dry and +tasteless. He got up, planted both feet on it and teetered back and +forth, chuckling up at Bud with his eyes squinted. + +He teetered so enthusiastically that he sat down unexpectedly and with +much emphasis. That put him between two impulses, and while they battled +he stared round-eyed at Bud. But he decided not to cry, and straightway +turned himself into a growly bear and went down the line on all fours +toward Cash, growling "Ooooooo!" as fearsomely as his baby throat was +capable of growling. + +But Cash would not be scared. He refused absolutely to jump up and back +off in wild-eyed terror, crying out "Ooh! Here comes a bear!" the way +Marie had always done--the way every one had always done, when Lovin +Child got down and came at them growling. Cash sat rigid with his face +to the fire, and would not look. + +Lovin Child crawled all around him and growled his terriblest. For some +unexplainable reason it did not work. Cash sat stiff as though he had +turned to some insensate metal. From where he sat watching--curious to +see what Cash would do--Bud saw him flinch and stiffen as a man does +under pain. And because Bud had a sore spot in his own heart, Bud felt a +quick stab of understanding and sympathy. Cash Markham's past could not +have been a blank; more likely it held too much of sorrow for the salve +of speech to lighten its hurt. There might have been a child.... + +"Aw, come back here!" Bud commanded Lovin Child gruffly. + +But Lovin Child was too busy. He had discovered in his circling of Cash, +the fanny buckles on Cash's high overshoes. He was investigating them as +he had investigated the line, with fingers and with pink tongue, like +a puppy. From the lowest buckle he went on to the top one, where Cash's +khaki trousers were tucked inside with a deep fold on top. Lovin Child's +small forefinger went sliding up in the mysterious recesses of the fold +until they reached the flat surface of the knee. He looked up farther, +studying Cash's set face, sitting back on his little heels while he did +so. Cash tried to keep on staring into the fire, but in spite of himself +his eyes lowered to meet the upward look. + +"Pik-k?" chirped Lovin Child, spreading his fingers over one eye and +twinkling up at Cash with the other. + +Cash flinched again, wavered, swallowed twice, and got up so abruptly +that Lovin Child sat down again with a plunk. Cash muttered something in +his throat and rushed out into the wind and the slow-falling tiny white +flakes that presaged the storm. + +Until the door slammed shut Lovin Child looked after him, scowling, his +eyes a blaze of resentment. He brought his palms together with a vicious +slap, leaned over, and bumped his forehead deliberately and painfully +upon the flat rock hearth, and set up a howl that could have been heard +for three city blocks. + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. AND BUD NEVER GUESSED + +That night, when he had been given a bath in the little zinc tub they +used for washing clothes, and had been carefully buttoned inside a clean +undershirt of Bud's, for want of better raiment, Lovin Child missed +something out of his sleepytime cudding. He wanted Marie, and he did not +know how to make his want known to this big, tender, awkward man who had +befriended him and filled his thoughts till bedtime. He began to whimper +and look seekingly around the little cabin. The whimper grew to a cry +which Bud's rude rocking back and forth on the box before the fireplace +could not still. + +"M'ee--take!" wailed Lovin Child, sitting up and listening. "M'ee +take--Uvin Chal!" + +"Aw, now, you don't wanta go and act like that. Listen here, Boy. You +lay down here and go to sleep. You can search me for what it is you're +trying to say, but I guess you want your mama, maybe, or your bottle, +chances are. Aw, looky!" Bud pulled his watch from his pocket--a man's +infallible remedy for the weeping of infant charges--and dangled it +anxiously before Lovin Child. + +With some difficulty he extracted the small hands from the long limp +tunnels of sleeves, and placed the watch in the eager fingers. + +"Listen to the tick-tick! Aw, I wouldn't bite into it... oh, well, darn +it, if nothing else'll do yuh, why, eat it up!" + +Lovin Child stopped crying and condescended to take a languid interest +in the watch--which had a picture of Marie pasted inside the back of the +case, by the way. "Ee?" he inquired, with a pitiful little catch in his +breath, and held it up for Bud to see the busy little second hand. "Ee?" +he smiled tearily and tried to show Cash, sitting aloof on his bench +beside the head of his bunk and staring into the fire. But Cash gave +no sign that he heard or saw anything save the visions his memory was +conjuring in the dancing flames. + +"Lay down, now, like a good boy, and go to sleep," Bud wheedled. "You +can hold it if you want to--only don't drop it on the floor--here! Quit +kickin' your feet out like that! You wanta freeze? I'll tell the world +straight, it's plumb cold and snaky outside to-night, and you're pretty +darn lucky to be here instead of in some Injun camp where you'd have to +bed down with a mess of mangy dogs, most likely. Come on, now--lay down +like a good boy!" + +"M'ee! M'ee take!" teased Lovin Child, and wept again; steadily, +insistently, with a monotonous vigor that rasped Bud's nerves and nagged +him with a vague memory of something familiar and unpleasant. He rocked +his body backward and forward, and frowned while he tried to lay hold of +the memory. It was the high-keyed wailing of this same man-child wanting +his bottle, but it eluded Bud completely. There was a tantalizing sense +of familiarity with the sound, but the lungs and the vocal chords of +Lovin Child had developed amazingly in two years, and he had lost the +small-infant wah-hah. + +Bud did not remember, bat for all that his thoughts went back across +those two years and clung to his own baby, and he wished poignantly that +he knew how it was getting along; and wondered if it had grown to be +as big a handful as this youngster, and how Marie would handle the +emergency he was struggling with now: a lost, lonesome baby boy that +would not go to sleep and could not tell why. + +Yet Lovin Child was answering every one of Bud's mute questions. Lying +there in his "Daddy Bud's" arms, wrapped comically in his Daddy Bud's +softest undershirt, Lovin Child was proving to his Daddy Bud that his +own man-child was strong and beautiful and had a keen little brain +behind those twinkling blue eyes. He was telling why he cried. He wanted +Marie to take him and rock him to sleep, just as she had rocked him +to sleep every night of his young memory, until that time when he had +toddled out of her life and into a new and peculiar world that held no +Marie. + +By and by he slept, still clinging to the watch that had Marie's picture +in the back. When he was all limp and rosy and breathing softly against +Bud's heart, Bud tiptoed over to the bunk, reached down inconveniently +with one hand and turned back the blankets, and laid Lovin Child in his +bed and covered him carefully. On his bench beyond the dead line Cash +sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and sucked at a pipe +gone cold, and stared abstractedly into the fire. + +Bud looked at him sitting there. For the first time since their trails +had joined, he wondered what Cash was thinking about; wondered with a +new kind of sympathy about Cash's lonely life, that held no ties, no +warmth of love. For the first time it struck him as significant that +in the two years, almost, of their constant companionship, Cash's +reminiscences had stopped abruptly about fifteen years back. Beyond that +he never went, save now and then when he jumped a space, to the time +when he was a boy. Of what dark years lay between, Bud had never been +permitted a glimpse. + +"Some kid--that kid," Bud observed involuntarily, for the first time in +over three weeks speaking when he was not compelled to speak to Cash. "I +wish I knew where he came from. He wants his mother." + +Cash stirred a little, like a sleeper only half awakened. But he did not +reply, and Bud gave an impatient snort, tiptoed over and picked up the +discarded clothes of Lovin Child, that held still a faint odor of wood +smoke and rancid grease, and, removing his shoes that he might move +silently, went to work. + +He washed Lovin Child's clothes, even to the red sweater suit and the +fuzzy red "bunny" cap. He rigged a line before the fireplace--on his +side of the dead line, to be sure--hung the little garments upon it and +sat up to watch the fire while they dried. + +While he rubbed and rinsed and wrung and hung to dry, he had planned the +details of taking the baby to Alpine and placing it in good hands there +until its parents could be found. It was stolen, he had no doubt at +all. He could picture quite plainly the agony of the parents, and common +humanity imposed upon him the duty of shortening their misery as much +as possible. But one day of the baby's presence he had taken, with +the excuse that it needed immediate warmth and wholesome food. His +conscience did not trouble him over that short delay, for he was honest +enough in his intentions and convinced that he had done the right thing. + +Cash had long ago undressed and gone to bed, turning his back to the +warm, fire-lighted room and pulling the blankets up to his ears. He +either slept or pretended to sleep, Bud did not know which. Of the +baby's healthy slumber there was no doubt at all. Bud put on his +overshoes and went outside after more wood, so that there would be no +delay in starting the fire in the morning and having the cabin warm +before the baby woke. + +It was snowing fiercely, and the wind was biting cold. Already the +woodpile was drifted under, so that Bud had to go back and light the +lantern and hang it on a nail in the cabin wall before he could make +any headway at shovelling off the heaped snow and getting at the wood +beneath. He worked hard for half an hour, and carried in all the wood +that had been cut. He even piled Cash's end of the hearth high with the +surplus, after his own side was heaped full. + +A storm like that meant that plenty of fuel would be needed to keep the +cabin snug and warm, and he was thinking of the baby's comfort now, and +would not be hampered by any grudge. + +When he had done everything he could do that would add to the baby's +comfort, he folded the little garments and laid them on a box ready for +morning. Then, moving carefully, he crawled into the bed made warm +by the little body. Lovin Child, half wakened by the movement, gave +a little throaty chuckle, murmured "M'ee," and threw one fat arm over +Bud's neck and left it there. + +"Gawd," Bud whispered in a swift passion of longing, "I wish you was my +own kid!" He snuggled Lovin Child close in his arms and held him there, +and stared dim-eyed at the flickering shadows on the wall. What he +thought, what visions filled his vigil, who can say? + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE ANTIDOTE + +Three days it stormed with never a break, stormed so that the men +dreaded the carrying of water from the spring that became ice-rimmed but +never froze over; that clogged with sodden masses of snow half melted +and sent faint wisps of steam up into the chill air. Cutting wood was an +ordeal, every armload an achievement. Cash did not even attempt to +visit his trap line, but sat before the fire smoking or staring into the +flames, or pottered about the little domestic duties that could not half +fill the days. + +With melted snow water, a bar of yellow soap, and one leg of an old pair +of drawers, he scrubbed on his knees the floor on his side of the dead +line, and tried not to notice Lovin Child. He failed only because Lovin +Child refused to be ignored, but insisted upon occupying the immediate +foreground and in helping--much as he had helped Marie pack her suit +case one fateful afternoon not so long before. + +When Lovin Child was not permitted to dabble in the pan of soapy water, +he revenged himself by bringing Cash's mitten and throwing that in, and +crying "Ee? Ee?" with a shameless delight because it sailed round and +round until Cash turned and saw it, and threw it out. + +"No, no, no!" Lovin Child admonished himself gravely, and got it and +threw it back again. + +Cash did not say anything. Indeed, he hid a grin under his thick, +curling beard which he had grown since the first frost as a protection +against cold. He picked up the mitten and laid it to dry on the slab +mantel, and when he returned, Lovin Child was sitting in the pan, +rocking back and forth and crooning "'Ock-a-by! 'Ock-a-by!" with the +impish twinkle in his eyes. + +Cash was just picking him out of the pan when Bud came in with a load of +wood. Bud hastily dropped the wood, and without a word Cash handed Lovin +Child across the dead line, much as he would have handed over a wet +puppy. Without a word Bud took him, but the quirky smile hid at the +corners of his mouth, and under Cash's beard still lurked the grin. + +"No, no, no!" Lovin Child kept repeating smugly, all the while Bud was +stripping off his wet clothes and chucking him into the undershirt he +wore for a nightgown, and trying a man's size pair of socks on his legs. + +"I should say no-no-no! You doggone little rascal, I'd rather herd a +flea on a hot plate! I've a plumb good notion to hog-tie yuh for awhile. +Can't trust yuh a minute nowhere. Now look what you got to wear while +your clothes dry!" + +"Ee? Ee?" invited Lovin Child, gleefully holding up a muffled little +foot lost in the depths of Bud's sock. + +"Oh, I see, all right! I'll tell the world I see you're a doggone +nuisance! Now see if you can keep outa mischief till I get the wood +carried in." Bud set him down on the bunk, gave him a mail-order +catalogue to look at, and went out again into the storm. When he came +back, Lovin Child was sitting on the hearth with the socks off, and was +picking bits of charcoal from the ashes and crunching them like candy in +his small, white teeth. Cash was hurrying to finish his scrubbing before +the charcoal gave out, and was keeping an eye on the crunching to see +that Lovin Child did not get a hot ember. + +"H'yah! You young imp!" Bud shouted, stubbing his toe as he hurried +forward. "Watcha think you are--a fire-eater, for gosh sake?" + +Cash bent his head low--it may have been to hide a chuckle. Bud was +having his hands full with the kid, and he was trying to be stern +against the handicap of a growing worship of Lovin Child and all +his little ways. Now Lovin Child was all over ashes, and the clean +undershirt was clean no longer, after having much charcoal rubbed into +its texture. Bud was not overstocked with clothes; much traveling had +formed the habit of buying as he needed for immediate use. With Lovin +Child held firmly under one arm, where he would be sure of him, he +emptied his "war-bag" on the bunk and hunted out another shirt + +Lovin Child got a bath, that time, because of the ashes he had managed +to gather on his feet and his hands and his head. Bud was patient, and +Lovin Child was delightedly unrepentant--until he was buttoned into +another shirt of Bud's, and the socks were tied on him. + +"Now, doggone yuh, I'm goin' to stake you out, or hobble yuh, or some +darn thing, till I get that wood in!" he thundered, with his eyes +laughing. "You want to freeze? Hey? Now you're goin' to stay right on +this bunk till I get through, because I'm goin' to tie yuh on. You may +holler--but you little son of a gun, you'll stay safe!" + +So Bud tied him, with a necktie around his body for a belt, and a strap +fastened to that and to a stout nail in the wall over the bunk. And +Lovin Child, when he discovered that it was not a new game but instead a +check upon his activities, threw himself on his back and held his breath +until he was purple, and then screeched with rage. + +I don't suppose Bud ever carried in wood so fast in his life. He might +as well have taken his time, for Lovin Child was in one of his fits of +temper, the kind that his grandmother invariably called his father's +cussedness coming out in him. He howled for an hour and had both men +nearly frantic before he suddenly stopped and began to play with the +things he had scorned before to touch; the things that had made him bow +his back and scream when they were offered to him hopefully. + +Bud, his sleeves rolled up, his hair rumpled and the perspiration +standing thick on his forehead, stood over him with his hands on his +hips, the picture of perturbed helplessness. + +"You doggone little devil!" he breathed, his mind torn between amusement +and exasperation. "If you was my own kid, I'd spank yuh! But," he added +with a little chuckle, "if you was my own kid, I'd tell the world you +come by that temper honestly. Darned if I wouldn't." + +Cash, sitting dejected on the side of his own bunk, lifted his head, and +after that his hawklike brows, and stared from the face of Bud to +the face of Lovin Child. For the first time he was struck with the +resemblance between the two. The twinkle in the eyes, the quirk of +the lips, the shape of the forehead and, emphasizing them all, the +expression of having a secret joke, struck him with a kind of shock. If +it were possible... But, even in the delirium of fever, Bud had never +hinted that he had a child, or a wife even. He had firmly planted in +Cash's mind the impression that his life had never held any close +ties whatsoever. So, lacking the clue, Cash only wondered and did not +suspect. + +What most troubled Cash was the fact that he had unwittingly caused all +the trouble for Lovin Child. He should not have tried to scrub the floor +with the kid running loose all over the place. As a slight token of his +responsibility in the matter, he watched his chance when Bud was busy at +the old cookstove, and tossed a rabbit fur across to Lovin Child to play +with; a risky thing to do, since he did not know what were Lovin Child's +little peculiarities in the way of receiving strange gifts. But he was +lucky. Lovin Child was enraptured with the soft fur and rubbed it over +his baby cheeks and cooed to it and kissed it, and said "Ee? Ee?" to +Cash, which was reward enough. + +There was a strained moment when Bud came over and discovered what it +was he was having so much fun with. Having had three days of experience +by which to judge, he jumped to the conclusion that Lovin Child had been +in mischief again. + +"Now what yuh up to, you little scallywag?" he demanded. "How did you +get hold of that? Consarn your little hide, Boy..." + +"Let the kid have it," Cash muttered gruffly. "I gave it to him." He got +up abruptly and went outside, and came in with wood for the cookstove, +and became exceedingly busy, never once looking toward the other end of +the room, where Bud was sprawled upon his back on the bunk, with Lovin +Child astride his middle, having a high old time with a wonderful new +game of "bronk riding." + +Now and then Bud would stop bucking long enough to slap Lovin Child in +the face with the soft side of the rabbit fur, and Lovin Child would +squint his eyes and wrinkle his nose and laugh until he seemed likely to +choke. Then Bud would cry, "Ride 'im, Boy! Ride 'im an' scratch 'im. Go +get 'im, cowboy--he's your meat!" and would bounce Lovin Child till he +squealed with glee. + +Cash tried to ignore all that. Tried to keep his back to it. But he was +human, and Bud was changed so completely in the last three days that +Cash could scarcely credit his eyes and his ears. The old surly scowl +was gone from Bud's face, his eyes held again the twinkle. Cash listened +to the whoops, the baby laughter, the old, rodeo catch-phrases, and +grinned while he fried his bacon. + +Presently Bud gave a whoop, forgetting the feud in his play. "Lookit, +Cash! He's ridin' straight up and whippin' as he rides! He's so-o-me +bronk-fighter, buh-lieve me!" + +Cash turned and looked, grinned and turned away again--but only to strip +the rind off a fresh-fried slice of bacon the full width of the piece. +He came down the room on his own side the dead line, and tossed the rind +across to the bunk. + +"Quirt him with that, Boy," he grunted, "and then you can eat it if you +want." + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN + +On the fourth day Bud's conscience pricked him into making a sort of +apology to Cash, under the guise of speaking to Lovin Child, for still +keeping the baby in camp. + +"I've got a blame good notion to pack you to town to-day, Boy, and +try and find out where you belong," he said, while he was feeding him +oatmeal mush with sugar and canned milk. "It's pretty cold, though..." +He cast a slant-eyed glance at Cash, dourly frying his own hotcakes. +"We'll see what it looks like after a while. I sure have got to hunt up +your folks soon as I can. Ain't I, old-timer?" + +That salved his conscience a little, and freed him of the uneasy +conviction that Cash believed him a kidnapper. The weather did the rest. +An hour after breakfast, just when Bud was downheartedly thinking he +could not much longer put off starting without betraying how hard it was +going to be for him to give up the baby, the wind shifted the clouds +and herded them down to the Big Mountain and held them there until they +began to sift snow down upon the burdened pines. + +"Gee, it's going to storm again!" Bud blustered in. "It'll be snowing +like all git-out in another hour. I'll tell a cruel world I wouldn't +take a dog out such weather as this. Your folks may be worrying about +yuh, Boy, but they ain't going to climb my carcass for packing yuh +fifteen miles in a snow-storm and letting yuh freeze, maybe. I guess the +cabin's big enough to hold yuh another day--what?" + +Cash lifted his eyebrows and pinched in his lips under his beard. It did +not seem to occur to Bud that one of them could stay in the cabin +with the baby while the other carried to Alpine the news of the baby's +whereabouts and its safety. Or if it did occur to Bud, he was careful +not to consider it a feasible plan. Cash wondered if Bud thought he was +pulling the wool over anybody's eyes. Bud did not want to give up that +kid, and he was tickled to death because the storm gave him an excuse +for keeping it. Cash was cynically amused at Bud's transparency. But +the kid was none of his business, and he did not intend to make any +suggestions that probably would not be taken anyway. Let Bud pretend he +was anxious to give up the baby, if that made him feel any better about +it. + +That day went merrily to the music of Lovin Child's chuckling laugh and +his unintelligible chatter. Bud made the discovery that "Boy" was trying +to say Lovin Child when he wanted to be taken and rocked, and declared +that he would tell the world the name fit, like a saddle on a duck's +back. Lovin Child discovered Cash's pipe, and was caught sucking it +before the fireplace and mimicking Cash's meditative pose with a comical +exactness that made Bud roar. Even Cash was betrayed into speaking a +whole sentence to Bud before he remembered his grudge. Taken altogether, +it was a day of fruitful pleasure in spite of the storm outside. + +That night the two men sat before the fire and watched the flames and +listened to the wind roaring in the pines. On his side of the dead line +Bud rocked his hard-muscled, big body back and forth, cradling Lovin +Child asleep in his arms. In one tender palm he nested Lovin Child's +little bare feet, like two fat, white mice that slept together after a +day's scampering. + +Bud was thinking, as he always thought nowadays, of Marie and his own +boy; yearning, tender thoughts which his clumsy man's tongue would never +attempt to speak. Before, he had thought of Marie alone, without the +baby; but he had learned much, these last four days. He knew now how +closely a baby can creep in and cling, how they can fill the days with +joy. He knew how he would miss Lovin Child when the storm cleared and +he must take him away. It did not seem right or just that he should give +him into the keeping of strangers--and yet he must until the parents +could have him back. The black depths of their grief to-night Bud +could not bring himself to contemplate. Bad enough to forecast his own +desolateness when Lovin Child was no longer romping up and down the dead +line, looking where he might find some mischief to get into. Bad enough +to know that the cabin would again be a place of silence and gloom and +futile resentments over little things, with no happy little man-child to +brighten it. He crept into his bunk that night and snuggled the baby up +in his arms, a miserable man with no courage left in him for the future. + +But the next day it was still storming, and colder than ever. No one +would expect him to take a baby out in such weather. So Bud whistled and +romped with Lovin Child, and would not worry about what must happen when +the storm was past. + +All day Cash brooded before the fire, bundled in his mackinaw and +sweater. He did not even smoke, and though he seemed to feel the cold +abnormally, he did not bring in any wood except in the morning, but let +Bud keep the fireplace going with his own generous supply. He did not +eat any dinner, and at supper time he went to bed with all the clothes +he possessed piled on top of him. By all these signs, Bud knew that Cash +had a bad cold. + +Bud did not think much about it at first--being of the sturdy type that +makes light of a cold. But when Cash began to cough with that hoarse, +racking sound that tells the tale of laboring lungs, Bud began to feel +guiltily that he ought to do something about it. + +He hushed Lovin Child's romping, that night, and would not let him ride +a bronk at bedtime. When he was asleep, Bud laid him down and went over +to the supply cupboard, which he had been obliged to rearrange with +everything except tin cans placed on shelves too high for a two-year-old +to reach even when he stood on his tiptoes and grunted. He hunted for +the small bottle of turpentine, found it and mixed some with melted +bacon grease, and went over to Cash's bunk, hesitating before he crossed +the dead line, but crossing nevertheless. + +Cash seemed to be asleep, but his breathing sounded harsh and unnatural, +and his hand, lying uncovered on the blanket, clenched and unclenched +spasmodically. Bud watched him for a minute, holding the cup of grease +and turpentine in his hand. + +"Say," he began constrainedly, and waited. Cash muttered something and +moved his hand irritatedly, without opening his eyes. Bud tried again. + +"Say, you better swab your chest with this dope. Can't monkey with a +cold, such weather as this." + +Cash opened his eyes, gave the log wall a startled look, and swung +his glance to Bud. "Yeah--I'm all right," he croaked, and proved his +statement wrong by coughing violently. + +Bud set down the cup on a box, laid hold of Cash by the shoulders and +forced him on his back. With movements roughly gentle he opened Cash's +clothing at the throat, exposed his hairy chest, and poured on grease +until it ran in a tiny rivulets. He reached in and rubbed the grease +vigorously with the palm of his hand, giving particular attention to the +surface over the bronchial tubes. When he was satisfied that Cash's +skin could absorb no more, he turned him unceremoniously on his face +and repeated his ministrations upon Cash's shoulders. Then he rolled +him back, buttoned his shirts for him, and tramped heavily back to the +table. + +"I don't mind seeing a man play the mule when he's well," he grumbled, +"but he's got a right to call it a day when he gits down sick. I ain't +going to be bothered burying no corpses, in weather like this. I'll tell +the world I ain't!" + +He went searching on all the shelves for something more that he could +give Cash. He found a box of liver pills, a bottle of Jamaica ginger, +and some iodine--not an encouraging array for a man fifteen miles of +untrodden snow from the nearest human habitation. He took three of +the liver pills--judging them by size rather than what might be their +composition--and a cup of water to Cash and commanded him to sit up +and swallow them. When this was accomplished, Bud felt easier as to his +conscience, though he was still anxious over the possibilities in that +cough. + +Twice in the night he got up to put more wood on the fire and to stand +beside Cash's bed and listen to his breathing. Pneumonia, the strong +man's deadly foe, was what he feared. In his cow-punching days he had +seen men die of it before a doctor could be brought from the far-away +town. Had he been alone with Cash, he would have fought his way to town +and brought help, but with Lovin Child to care for he could not take the +trail. + +At daylight Cash woke him by stumbling across the floor to the water +bucket. Bud arose then and swore at him for a fool and sent him back +to bed, and savagely greased him again with the bacon grease and +turpentine. He was cheered a little when Cash cussed back, but he did +not like the sound of his voice, for all that, and so threatened mildly +to brain him if he got out of bed again without wrapping a blanket or +something around him. + +Thoroughly awakened by this little exchange of civilities, Bud started +a fire in the stove and made coffee for Cash, who drank half a cup quite +meekly. He still had that tearing cough, and his voice was no more than +a croak; but he seemed no worse than he had been the night before. So on +the whole Bud considered the case encouraging, and ate his breakfast an +hour or so earlier than usual. Then he went out and chopped wood until +he heard Lovin Child chirping inside the cabin like a bug-hunting meadow +lark, when he had to hurry in before Lovin Child crawled off the bunk +and got into some mischief. + +For a man who was wintering in what is called enforced idleness in a +snow-bound cabin in the mountains, Bud Moore did not find the next few +days hanging heavily on his hands. Far from it. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES + +To begin with, Lovin Child got hold of Cash's tobacco can and was +feeding it by small handfuls to the flames, when Bud caught him. He +yelled when Bud took it away, and bumped his head on the floor and +yelled again, and spatted his hands together and yelled, and threw +himself on his back and kicked and yelled; while Bud towered over him +and yelled expostulations and reprimands and cajolery that did not +cajole. + +Cash turned over with a groan, his two palms pressed against his +splitting head, and hoarsely commanded the two to shut up that infernal +noise. He was a sick man. He was a very sick man, and he had stood the +limit. + +"Shut up?" Bud shouted above the din of Lovin Child. "Ain't I trying to +shut him up, for gosh sake? What d'yuh want me to do?--let him throw +all the tobacco you got into the fire? Here, you young imp, quit that, +before I spank you! Quick, now--we've had about enough outa you! You +lay down there, Cash, and quit your croaking. You'll croak right, if you +don't keep covered up. Hey, Boy! My jumpin' yellow-jackets, you'd drown +a Klakon till you couldn't hear it ten feet! Cash, you old fool, you +shut up, I tell yuh, or I'll come over there and shut you up! I'll tell +the world--Boy! Good glory! shut up-p!" + +Cash was a sick man, but he had not lost all his resourcefulness. He +had stopped Lovin Child once, and thereby he had learned a little of +the infantile mind. He had a coyote skin on the foot of his bed, and +he raised himself up and reached for it as one reaches for a fire +extinguisher. Like a fire extinguisher he aimed it, straight in the +middle of the uproar. + +Lovin Child, thumping head and heels regularly on the floor and +punctuating the thumps with screeches, was extinguished--suddenly, +completely silenced by the muffling fur that fell from the sky, so far +as he knew. The skin covered him completely. Not a sound came from under +it. The stillness was so absolute that Bud was scared, and so was Cash, +a little. It was as though Lovin Child, of a demon one instant, was in +the next instant snuffed out of existence. + +"What yuh done?" Bud ejaculated, rolling wild eyes at Cash. "You--" + +The coyote skin rattled a little. A fluff of yellow, a spark of blue, +and "Pik-k?" chirped Lovin Child from under the edge, and ducked back +again out of sight. + +Bud sat down weakly on a box and shook his head slowly from one side to +the other. "You've got me going south," he made solemn confession to the +wobbling skin--or to what it concealed. "I throw up my hands, I'll tell +the world fair." He got up and went over and sat down on his bunk, +and rested his hands on his knees, and considered the problem of Lovin +Child. + +"Here I've got wood to cut and water to bring and grub to cook, and I +can't do none of them because I've got to ride herd on you every minute. +You've got my goat, kid, and that's the truth. You sure have. Yes, +'Pik-k,' doggone yuh--after me going crazy with yuh, just about, and +thinking you're about to blow your radiator cap plumb up through the +roof! I'll tell yuh right here and now, this storm has got to let up +pretty quick so I can pack you outa here, or else I've got to pen you +up somehow, so I can do something besides watch you. Look at the way +you scattered them beans, over there by the cupboard! By rights I oughta +stand over yuh and make yuh pick every one of 'em up! and who was it +drug all the ashes outa the stove, I'd like to know?" + +The coyote skin lifted a little and moved off toward the fireplace, +growling "Ooo-ooo-ooo!" like a bear--almost. Bud rescued the bear a +scant two feet from the flames, and carried fur, baby and all, to the +bunk. "My good lord, what's a fellow going to do with yuh?" he groaned +in desperation. "Burn yourself up, you would! I can see now why folks +keep their kids corralled in high chairs and gocarts all the time. They +got to, or they wouldn't have no kids." + +Bud certainly was learning a few things that he had come near to +skipping altogether in his curriculum of life. Speaking of high chairs, +whereof he had thought little enough in his active life, set him +seriously to considering ways and means. Weinstock-Lubin had high chairs +listed in their catalogue. Very nice high chairs, for one of which Bud +would have paid its weight in gold dust (if one may believe his word) if +it could have been set down in that cabin at that particular moment. He +studied the small cuts of the chairs, holding Lovin Child off the page +by main strength the while. Wishing one out of the catalogue and into +the room being impracticable, he went after the essential features, +thinking to make one that would answer the purpose. + +Accustomed as he was to exercising his inventive faculty in overcoming +certain obstacles raised by the wilderness in the path of comfort, Bud +went to work with what tools he had, and with the material closest +to his hand. Crude tools they were, and crude materials--like using a +Stilson wrench to adjust a carburetor, he told Lovin Child who tagged +him up and down the cabin. An axe, a big jack-knife, a hammer and some +nails left over from building their sluice boxes, these were the tools. +He took the axe first, and having tied Lovin Child to the leg of his +bunk for safety's sake, he went out and cut down four young oaks behind +the cabin, lopped off the branches and brought them in for chair legs. +He emptied a dynamite box of odds and ends, scrubbed it out and left it +to dry while he mounted the four legs, with braces of the green oak and +a skeleton frame on top. Then he knocked one end out of the box, padded +the edges of the box with burlap, and set Lovin Child in his new high +chair. + +He was tempted to call Cash's attention to his handiwork, but Cash was +too sick to be disturbed, even if the atmosphere between them had been +clear enough for easy converse. So he stifled the impulse and addressed +himself to Lovin Child, which did just as well. + +Things went better after that. Bud could tie the baby in the chair, give +him a tin cup and a spoon and a bacon rind, and go out to the woodpile +feeling reasonably certain that the house would not be set afire during +his absence. He could cook a meal in peace, without fear of stepping on +the baby. And Cash could lie as close as he liked to the edge of the bed +without running the risk of having his eyes jabbed with Lovin Child's +finger, or something slapped unexpectedly in his face. + +He needed protection from slight discomforts while he lay there eaten +with fever, hovering so close to pneumonia that Bud believed he really +had it and watched over him nights as well as daytimes. The care he +gave Cash was not, perhaps, such as the medical profession would have +endorsed, but it was faithful and it made for comfort and so aided +Nature more than it hindered. + +Fair weather came, and days of melting snow. But they served only to +increase Bud's activities at the woodpile and in hunting small game +close by, while Lovin Child took his nap and Cash was drowsing. +Sometimes he would bundle the baby in an extra sweater and take him +outside and let him wallow in the snow while Bud cut wood and piled it +on the sheltered side of the cabin wall, a reserve supply to draw on in +an emergency. + +It may have been the wet snow--more likely it was the cabin air filled +with germs of cold. Whatever it was, Lovin Child caught cold and coughed +croupy all one night, and fretted and would not sleep. Bud anointed him +as he had anointed Cash, and rocked him in front of the fire, and met +the morning hollow-eyed and haggard. A great fear tore at his heart. +Cash read it in his eyes, in the tones of his voice when he crooned +soothing fragments of old range songs to the baby, and at daylight +Cash managed to dress himself and help; though what assistance he could +possibly give was not all clear to him, until he saw Bud's glance rove +anxiously toward the cook-stove. + +"Hand the kid over here," Cash said huskily. "I can hold him while you +get yourself some breakfast." + +Bud looked at him stupidly, hesitated, looked down at the flushed little +face, and carefully laid him in Cash's outstretched arms. He got up +stiffly--he had been sitting there a long time, while the baby slept +uneasily--and went on his tiptoes to make a fire in the stove. + +He did not wonder at Cash's sudden interest, his abrupt change from +moody aloofness to his old partnership in trouble as well as in good +fortune. He knew that Cash was not fit for the task, however, and he +hurried the coffee to the boiling point that he might the sooner send +Cash back to bed. He gulped down a cup of coffee scalding hot, ate a few +mouthfuls of bacon and bread, and brought a cup back to Cash. + +"What d'yuh think about him?" he whispered, setting the coffee down on +a box so that he could take Lovin Child. "Pretty sick kid, don't yuh +think?" + +"It's the same cold I got," Cash breathed huskily. "Swallows like it's +his throat, mostly. What you doing for him?" + +"Bacon grease and turpentine," Bud answered him despondently. "I'll have +to commence on something else, though--turpentine's played out I used it +most all up on you." + +"Coal oil's good. And fry up a mess of onions and make a poultice." He +put up a shaking hand before his mouth and coughed behind it, stifling +the sound all he could. + +Lovin Child threw up his hands and whimpered, and Bud went over to him +anxiously. "His little hands are awful hot," he muttered. "He's been +that way all night." + +Cash did not answer. There did not seem anything to say that would do +any good. He drank his coffee and eyed the two, lifting his eyebrows now +and then at some new thought. + +"Looks like you, Bud," he croaked suddenly. "Eyes, expression, +mouth--you could pass him off as your own kid, if you wanted to." + +"I might, at that," Bud whispered absently. "I've been seeing you in +him, though, all along. He lifts his eyebrows same way you do." + +"Ain't like me," Cash denied weakly, studying Lovin Child. "Give him +here again, and you go fry them onions. I would--if I had the strength +to get around." + +"Well, you ain't got the strength. You go back to bed, and I'll lay him +in with yuh. I guess he'll lay quiet. He likes to be cuddled up close." + +In this way was the feud forgotten. Save for the strange habits imposed +by sickness and the care of a baby, they dropped back into their +old routine, their old relationship. They walked over the dead line +heedlessly, forgetting why it came to be there. Cabin fever no longer +tormented them with its magnifying of little things. They had no time +or thought for trifles; a bigger matter than their own petty prejudices +concerned them. They were fighting side by side, with the Old Man of the +Scythe--the Old Man who spares not. + +Lovin Child was pulling farther and farther away from them. They +knew it, they felt it in his hot little hands, they read it in his +fever-bright eyes. But never once did they admit it, even to themselves. +They dared not weaken their efforts with any admissions of a possible +defeat. They just watched, and fought the fever as best they could, and +waited, and kept hope alive with fresh efforts. + +Cash was tottery weak from his own illness, and he could not speak above +a whisper. Yet he directed, and helped soothe the baby with baths and +slow strokings of his hot forehead, and watched him while Bud did the +work, and worried because he could not do more. + +They did not know when Lovin Child took a turn for the better, except +that they realized the fever was broken. But his listlessness, the +unnatural drooping of his whole body, scared them worse than before. +Night and day one or the other watched over him, trying to anticipate +every need, every vagrant whim. When he began to grow exacting, they +were still worried, though they were too fagged to abase themselves +before him as much as they would have liked. + +Then Bud was seized with an attack of the grippe before Lovin Child +had passed the stage of wanting to be held every waking minute. Which +burdened Cash with extra duties long before he was fit. + +Christmas came, and they did not know it until the day was half gone, +when Cash happened to remember. He went out then and groped in the snow +and found a little spruce, hacked it off close to the drift and brought +it in, all loaded with frozen snow, to dry before the fire. The kid, he +declared, should have a Christmas tree, anyway. He tied a candle to +the top, and a rabbit skin to the bottom, and prunes to the tip of the +branches, and tried to rouse a little enthusiasm in Lovin Child. But +Lovin Child was not interested in the makeshift. He was crying because +Bud had told him to keep out of the ashes, and he would not look. + +So Cash untied the candle and the fur and the prunes, threw them across +the room, and peevishly stuck the tree in the fireplace. + +"Remember what you said about the Fourth of July down in Arizona, Bud?" +he asked glumly. "Well, this is the same kind of Christmas." Bud merely +grunted. + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. BUD FACES FACTS + +New Year came and passed and won nothing in the way of celebration from +the three in Nelson's cabin. Bud's bones ached, his head ached, the +flesh on his body ached. He could take no comfort anywhere, under any +circumstances. He craved clean white beds and soft-footed attendance +and soothing silence and cool drinks--and he could have none of those +things. His bedclothes were heavy upon his aching limbs; he had to wait +upon his own wants; the fretful crying of Lovin Child or the racking +cough of Cash was always in his ears, and as for cool drinks, there was +ice water in plenty, to be sure, but nothing else. Fair weather came, +and storms, and cold: more storms and cold than fair weather. Neither +man ever mentioned taking Lovin Child to Alpine. At first, because +it was out of the question; after that, because they did not want to +mention it. They frequently declared that Lovin Child was a pest, and +there were times when Bud spoke darkly of spankings--which did not +materialize. But though they did not mention it, they knew that Lovin +Child was something more; something endearing, something humanizing, +something they needed to keep them immune from cabin fever. + +Some time in February it was that Cash fashioned a crude pair of +snowshoes and went to town, returning the next day. He came home loaded +with little luxuries for Lovin Child, and with the simpler medicines for +other emergencies which they might have to meet, but he did not bring +any word of seeking parents. The nearest he came to mentioning the +subject was after supper, when the baby was asleep and Bud trying to cut +a small pair of overalls from a large piece of blue duck that Cash had +brought. The shears were dull, and Lovin Child's little rompers were +so patched and shapeless that they were not much of a guide, so Bud was +swearing softly while he worked. + +"I didn't hear a word said about that kid being lost," Cash volunteered, +after he had smoked and watched Bud awhile. "Couldn't have been any one +around Alpine, or I'd have heard something about it." + +Bud frowned, though it may have been over his tailoring problem. + +"Can't tell--the old squaw mighta been telling the truth," he said +reluctantly. "I s'pose they do, once in awhile. She said his folks were +dead." And he added defiantly, with a quick glance at Cash, "Far as +I'm concerned, I'm willing to let it ride that way. The kid's doing all +right." + +"Yeah. I got some stuff for that rash on his chest. I wouldn't wonder if +we been feeding him too heavy on bacon rinds, Bud. They say too much of +that kinda thing is bad for kids. Still, he seems to feel all right." + +"I'll tell the world he does! He got hold of your old pipe to-day and +was suckin' away on it, I don't know how long. Never feazed him, either. +If he can stand that, I guess he ain't very delicate." + +"Yeah. I laid that pipe aside myself because it was getting so dang +strong. Ain't you getting them pants too long in the seat, Bud? They +look to me big enough for a ten-year-old." + +"I guess you don't realize how that kid's growing!" Bud defended his +handiwork "And time I get the seams sewed, and the side lapped over for +buttons--" + +"Yeah. Where you going to get the buttons? You never sent for any." + +"Oh, I'll find buttons. You can donate a couple off some of your +clothes, if you want to right bad." + +"Who? Me? I ain't got enough now to keep the wind out," Cash protested. +"Lemme tell yuh something, Bud. If you cut more saving, you'd have +enough cloth there for two pair of pants. You don't need to cut the legs +so long as all that. They'll drag on the ground so the poor kid can't +walk in 'em without falling all over himself." + +"Well, good glory! Who's making these pants? Me, or you?" Bud exploded. +"If you think you can do any better job than what I'm doing, go get +yourself some cloth and fly at it! Don't think you can come hornin' in +on my job, 'cause I'll tell the world right out loud, you can't." + +"Yeah--that's right! Go to bellerin' around like a bull buffalo, and +wake the kid up! I don't give a cuss how you make'm. Go ahead and have +the seat of his pants hangin' down below his knees if you want to!" Cash +got up and moved huffily over to the fireplace and sat with his back to +Bud. + +"Maybe I will, at that," Bud retorted. "You can't come around and grab +the job I'm doing." Bud was jabbing a needle eye toward the end of a +thread too coarse for it, and it did not improve his temper to have the +thread refuse to pass through the eye. + +Neither did it please him to find, when all the seams were sewn, that +the little overalls failed to look like any garment he had ever seen on +a child. When he tried them on Lovin Child, next day, Cash took one look +and bolted from the cabin with his hand over his mouth. + +When he came back an hour or so later, Lovin Child was wearing his +ragged rompers, and Bud was bent over a Weinstock-Lubin mail-order +catalogue. He had a sheet of paper half filled with items, and was +licking his pencil and looking for more. He looked up and grinned a +little, and asked Cash when he was going to town again; and added that +he wanted to mail a letter. + +"Yeah. Well, the trail's just as good now as it was when I took it," +Cash hinted strongly. "When I go to town again, it'll be because I've +got to go. And far as I can see, I won't have to go for quite some +time." + +So Bud rose before daylight the next morning, tied on the makeshift +snowshoes Cash had contrived, and made the fifteen-mile trip to Alpine +and back before dark. He brought candy for Lovin Child, tended +that young gentleman through a siege of indigestion because of the +indulgence, and waited impatiently until he was fairly certain that +the wardrobe he had ordered had arrived at the post-office. When he had +counted off the two days required for a round trip to Sacramento, and +had added three days for possible delay in filling the order, he went +again, and returned in one of the worst storms of the winter. + +But he did not grudge the hardship, for he carried on his back a bulky +bundle of clothes for Lovin Child; enough to last the winter through, +and some to spare; a woman would have laughed at some of the things he +chose: impractical, dainty garments that Bud could not launder properly +to save his life. But there were little really truly overalls, in which +Lovin Child promptly developed a strut that delighted the men and +earned him the title of Old Prospector. And there were little shirts +and stockings and nightgowns and a pair of shoes, and a toy or two that +failed to interest him at all, after the first inspection. + +It began to look as though Bud had deliberately resolved upon carrying +a guilty conscience all the rest of his life. He had made absolutely no +effort to trace the parents of Lovin Child when he was in town. On the +contrary he had avoided all casual conversation, for fear some one might +mention the fact that a child had been lost. He had been careful not to +buy anything in the town that would lead one to suspect that he had a +child concealed upon his premises, and he had even furnished what +he called an alibi when he bought the candy, professing to own an +inordinately sweet tooth. + +Cash cast his eyes over the stock of baby clothes which Bud gleefully +unwrapped on his bunk, and pinched out a smile under his beard. + +"Well, if the kid stays till he wears out all them clothes, we'll just +about have to give him a share in the company," he said drily. + +Bud looked up in quick jealousy. "What's mine's his, and I own a half +interest in both claims. I guess that'll feed him--if they pan out +anything," he retorted. "Come here, Boy, and let's try this suit on. +Looks pretty small to me--marked three year, but I reckon they don't +grow 'em as husky as you, back where they make all these clothes." + +"Yeah. But you ought to put it in writing, Bud. S'pose anything happened +to us both--and it might. Mining's always got its risky side, even +cutting out sickness, which we've had a big sample of right this winter. +Well, the kid oughta have some security in case anything did happen. +Now--" + +Bud looked thoughtfully down at the fuzzy yellow head that did not come +much above his knee. + +"Well, how yuh going to do anything like that without giving it away +that we've got him? Besides, what name'd we give him in the company? No, +sir, Cash, he gets what I've got, and I'll smash any damn man that tries +to get it away from him. But we can't get out any legal papers--" + +"Yeah. But we can make our wills, can't we? And I don't know where +you get the idea, Bud, that you've got the whole say about him. +We're pardners, ain't we? Share and share alike. Mines, mules, +grub--kids--equal shares goes." + +"That's where you're dead wrong. Mines and mules and grub is all right, +but when it comes to this old Lovin Man, why--who was it found him, for +gosh sake?" + +"Aw, git out!" Cash growled. "Don't you reckon I'd have grabbed him off +that squaw as quick as you did? I've humored you along, Bud, and let you +hog him nights, and feed him and wash his clothes, and I ain't kicked +none, have I? But when it comes to prope'ty--" + +"You ain't goin' to horn in there, neither. Anyway, we ain't got so darn +much the kid'll miss your share, Cash." + +"Yeah. All the more reason why he'll need it I don't see how you're +going to stop me from willing my share where I please. And when you come +down to facts, Bud, why--you want to recollect that I plumb forgot to +report that kid, when I was in town. And I ain't a doubt in the world +but what his folks would be glad enough--" + +"Forget that stuff!" Bud's tone was so sharp that Lovin Child turned +clear around to look up curiously into his face. "You know why you never +reported him, doggone yuh! You couldn't give him up no easier than I +could. And I'll tell the world to its face that if anybody gets this +kid now they've pretty near got to fight for him. It ain't right, and it +ain't honest. It's stealing to keep him, and I never stole a brass tack +in my life before. But he's mine as long as I live and can hang on to +him. And that's where I stand. I ain't hidin' behind no kind of alibi. +The old squaw did tell me his folks was dead; but if you'd ask me, I'd +say she was lying when she said it. Chances are she stole him. I'm sorry +for his folks, supposing he's got any. But I ain't sorry enough for 'em +to give him up if I can help it. I hope they've got more, and I hope +they've gentled down by this time and are used to being without him. +Anyway, they can do without him now easier than what I can, because..." +Bud did not finish that sentence, except by picking Lovin Child up in +his arms and squeezing him as hard as he dared. He laid his face down +for a minute on Lovin Child's head, and when he raised it his lashes +were wet. + +"Say, old-timer, you need a hair cut. Yuh know it?" he said, with a +huskiness in his voice, and pulled a tangle playfully. Then his eyes +swung round defiantly to Cash. "It's stealing to keep him, but I can't +help it. I'd rather die right here in my tracks than give up this little +ole kid. And you can take that as it lays, because I mean it." + +Cash sat quiet for a minute or two, staring down at the floor. "Yeah. +I guess there's two of us in that fix," he observed in his dry way, +lifting his eyebrows while he studied a broken place in the side of his +overshoe. "All the more reason why we should protect the kid, ain't it? +My idea is that we ought to both of us make our wills right here and +now. Each of us to name the other for guardeen, in case of accident, +and each one picking a name for the kid, and giving him our share in the +claims and anything else we may happen to own." He stopped abruptly, his +jaw sagging a little at some unpleasant thought. + +"I don't know--come to think of it, I can't just leave the kid all my +property. I--I've got a kid of my own, and if she's alive--I ain't heard +anything of her for fifteen years and more, but if she's alive she'd +come in for a share. She's a woman grown by this time. Her mother died +when she was a baby. I married the woman I hired to take care of her and +the house--like a fool. When we parted, she took the kid with her. She +did think a lot of her, I'll say that much for her, and that's all I can +say in her favor. I drifted around and lost track of 'em. Old woman, +she married again, and I heard that didn't pan out, neither. Anyway, she +kept the girl, and gave her the care and schooling that I couldn't give. +I was a drifter. + +"Well, she can bust the will if I leave her out, yuh see. And if the old +woman gets a finger in the pie, it'll be busted, all right. I can write +her down for a hundred dollars perviding she don't contest. That'll fix +it. And the rest goes to the kid here. But I want him to have the use of +my name, understand. Something-or-other Markham Moore ought to suit all +hands well enough." + +Bud, holding Lovin Child on his knees, frowned a little at first. But +when he looked at Cash, and caught the wistfulness in his eyes, he +surrendered warm-heartedly. + +"A couple of old he-hens like us--we need a chick to look after," he +said whimsically. "I guess Markham Moore ought to be good enough for +most any kid. And if it ain't, by gosh, we'll make it good enough! If +I ain't been all I should be, there's no law against straightening up. +Markham Moore goes as it lays--hey, Lovins?" But Lovin Child had gone to +sleep over his foster fathers' disposal of his future. His little yellow +head was wabbling on his limp neck, and Bud cradled him in his arms and +held him so. + +"Yeah. But what are we going to call him?" Methodical Cash wanted the +whole matter settled at one conference, it seemed. + +"Call him? Why, what've we been calling him, the last two months?" + +"That," Cash retorted, "depended on what devilment he was into when we +called!" + +"You said it all, that time. I guess, come to think of it--tell you +what, Cash, let's call him what the kid calls himself. That's fair +enough. He's got some say in the matter, and if he's satisfied with +Lovin, we oughta be. Lovin Markam Moore ain't half bad. Then if he wants +to change it when he grows up, he can." + +"Yeah. I guess that's as good as anything. I'd hate to see him named +Cassius. Well, now's as good a time as any to make them wills, Bud. We +oughta have a couple of witnesses, but we can act for each other, and I +guess it'll pass. You lay the kid down, and we'll write 'em and have +it done with and off our minds. I dunno--I've got a couple of lots in +Phoenix I'll leave to the girl. By rights she should have 'em. Lovins, +here, 'll have my share in all mining claims; these two I'll name +'specially, because I expect them to develop into paying mines; the +Blind Lodge, anyway." + +A twinge of jealousy seized Bud. Cash was going ahead a little too +confidently in his plans for the kid. He did not want to hurt old Cash's +feelings, and of course he needed Cash's assistance if he kept Lovin +Child for his own. But Cash needn't think he was going to claim the kid +himself. + +"All right--put it that way. Only, when you're writing it down, you make +it read 'child of Bud Moore' or something like that. You can will him +the moon, if you want, and you can have your name sandwiched in between +his and mine. But get this, and get it right. He's mine, and if we ever +split up, the kid goes with me. I'll tell the world right now that this +kid belongs to me, and where I go he goes. You got that?" + +"You don't have to beller at the top of your voice, do yuh?" snapped +Cash, prying the cork out of the ink bottle with his jackknife. "Here's +another pen point. Tie it onto a stick or something and git to work +before you git to putting it off." + +Leaning over the table facing each other, they wrote steadily for a few +minutes. Then Bud began to flag, and finally he stopped and crumpled the +sheet of tablet paper into a ball. Cash looked up, lifted his eyebrows +irritatedly, and went on with his composition. + +Bud sat nibbling the end of his makeshift penholder. The obstacle that +had loomed in Cash's way and had constrained him to reveal the closed +pages of his life, loomed large in Bud's way also. Lovin Child was a +near and a very dear factor in his life--but when it came to sitting +down calmly and setting his affairs in order for those who might be left +behind, Lovin Child was not the only person he must think of. What of +his own man-child? What of Marie? + +He looked across at Cash writing steadily in his precise way, +duly bequeathing his worldly goods to Lovin; owning, too, his +responsibilities in another direction, but still making Lovin Child his +chief heir so far as he knew. On the spur of the moment Bud had thought +to do the same thing. But could he do it? + +He seemed to see his own baby standing wistfully aloof, pushed out of +his life that this baby he had no right to keep might have all of his +affections, all of his poor estate. And Marie, whose face was always in +the back of his memory, a tearful, accusing vision that would not let +him be--he saw Marie working in some office, earning the money to feed +and clothe their child. And Lovin Child romping up and down the cabin, +cuddled and scolded and cared for as best an awkward man may care for a +baby--a small, innocent usurper. + +Bud dropped his face in his palms and tried to think the thing out +coldly, clearly, as Cash had stated his own case. Cash did not know +where his own child was, and he did not seem to care greatly. He was +glad to salve his conscience with a small bequest, keeping the bulk--if +so tenuous a thing as Cash's fortune may be said to have bulk--for this +baby they two were hiding away from its lawful parents. Cash could do +it; why couldn't be? He raised his head and looked over at Lovin Child, +asleep in his new and rumpled little finery. Why did his own baby come +between them now, and withhold his hand from doing the same? + +Cash finished, glanced curiously across at Bud, looked down at what he +had written, and slid the sheet of paper across. + +"You sign it, and then if you don't know just how to word yours, you can +use this for a pattern. I've read law books enough to know this will +get by, all right. It's plain, and it tells what I want, and that's +sufficient to hold in court." + +Bud read it over apathetically, signed his name as witness, and pushed +the paper back. + +"That's all right for you," he said heavily. "Your kid is grown up now, +and besides, you've got other property to give her. But--it's different +with me. I want this baby, and I can't do without him. But I can't give +him my share in the claims, Cash. I--there's others that's got to be +thought of first." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH + +It was only the next day that Bud was the means of helping Lovin Child +find a fortune for himself; which eased Bud's mind considerably, and +balanced better his half of the responsibility. Cutting out the dramatic +frills, then, this is what happened to Lovin Child and Bud: + +They were romping around the cabin, like two puppies that had a surplus +of energy to work off. Part of the time Lovin Child was a bear, chasing +Bud up and down the dead line, which was getting pretty well worn out +in places. After that, Bud was a bear and chased Lovin. And when Lovin +Child got so tickled he was perfectly helpless in the corner where he +had sought refuge, Bud caught him and swung him up to his shoulder and +let him grab handfuls of dirt out of the roof. + +Lovin Child liked that better than being a bear, and sifted Bud's hair +full of dried mud, and threw the rest on the floor, and frequently cried +"Tell a worl'!" which he had learned from Bud and could say with the +uncanny pertinency of a parrot. + +He had signified a desire to have Bud carry him along the wall, where +some lovely lumps of dirt protruded temptingly over a bulging log. Then +he leaned and grabbed with his two fat hands at a particularly big, hard +lump. It came away in his hands and fell plump on the blankets of the +bunk, half blinding Bud with the dust that came with it. + +"Hey! You'll have all the chinkin' out of the dang shack, if you let +him keep that lick up, Bud," Cash grumbled, lifting his eyebrows at the +mess. + +"Tell a worl'!" Lovin Child retorted over his shoulder, and made another +grab. + +This time the thing he held resisted his baby strength. He pulled and he +grunted, he kicked Bud in the chest and grabbed again. Bud was patient, +and let him fuss--though in self-defense he kept his head down and his +eyes away from the expected dust bath. + +"Stay with it, Boy; pull the darn roof down, if yuh want. Cash'll get +out and chink 'er up again." + +"Yeah. Cash will not," the disapproving one amended the statement +gruffly. "He's trying to get the log outa the wall, Bud." + +"Well, let him try, doggone it. Shows he's a stayer. I wouldn't have any +use for him if he didn't have gumption enough to tackle things too big +for him, and you wouldn't either. Stay with 'er, Lovins! Doggone it, +can't yuh git that log outa there nohow? Uh-h! A big old grunt and a big +old heave--uh-h! I'll tell the world in words uh one syllable, he's some +stayer." + +"Tell a worl'!" chuckled Lovin Child, and pulled harder at the thing he +wanted. + +"Hey! The kid's got hold of a piece of gunny sack or something. You +look out, Bud, or he'll have all that chinkin' out. There's no sense in +lettin' him tear the whole blame shack to pieces, is there?" + +"Can if he wants to. It's his shack as much as it's anybody's." Bud +shifted Lovin Child more comfortably on his shoulder and looked up, +squinting his eyes half shut for fear of dirt in them. + +"For the love of Mike, kid, what's that you've got? Looks to me like a +piece of buckskin, Cash. Here, you set down a minute, and let Bud take a +peek up there." + +"Bud--pik-k?" chirped Lovin Child from the blankets, where Bud had +deposited him unceremoniously. + +"Yes, Bud pik-k." Bud stepped up on the bunk, which brought his head +above the low eaves. He leaned and looked, and scraped away the caked +mud. "Good glory! The kid's found a cache of some kind, sure as you +live!" And he began to claw out what had been hidden behind the mud. + +First a buckskin bag, heavy and grimed and knobby. Gold inside it, he +knew without looking. He dropped it down on the bunk, carefully so +as not to smash a toe off the baby. After that he pulled out four +baking-powder cans, all heavy as lead. He laid his cheek against the log +and peered down the length of it, and jumped down beside the bunk. + +"Kid's found a gold mine of his own, and I'll bet on it," he cried +excitedly. "Looky, Cash!" + +Cash was already looking, his eyebrows arched high to match his +astonishment. "Yeah. It's gold, all right. Old man Nelson's hoard, I +wouldn't wonder. I've always thought it was funny he never found any +gold in this flat, long as he lived here. And traces of washing here and +there, too. Well!" + +"Looky, Boy!" Bud had the top off a can, and took out a couple of +nuggets the size of a cooked Lima bean. "Here's the real stuff for yuh. + +"It's yours, too--unless--did old Nelson leave any folks, Cash, do yuh +know?" + +"They say not. The county buried him, they say. And nobody ever turned +up to claim him or what little he left. No, I guess there's nobody got +any better right to it than the kid. We'll inquire around and see. But +seein' the gold is found on the claim, and we've got the claim according +to law, looks to me like--" + +"Well, here's your clean-up, old prospector. Don't swallow any, is all. +let's weigh it out, Cash, and see how much it is, just for a josh." + +Lovin Child had nuggets to play with there on the bed, and told the +world many unintelligible things about it. Cash and Bud dumped all the +gold into a pan, and weighed it out on the little scales Cash had for +his tests. It was not a fortune, as fortunes go. It was probably all the +gold Nelson had panned out in a couple of years, working alone and with +crude devices. A little over twenty-three hundred dollars it amounted +to, not counting the nuggets which Lovin Child had on the bunk with him. + +"Well, it's a start for the kid, anyway," Bud said, leaning back and +regarding the heap with eyes shining. "I helped him find it, and I kinda +feel as if I'm square with him now for not giving him my half the claim. +Twenty-three hundred would be a good price for a half interest, as the +claims stand, don't yuh think, Cash?" + +"Yeah--well, I dunno's I'd sell for that. But on the showing we've got +so far--yes, five thousand, say, for the claims would be good money." + +"Pretty good haul for a kid, anyway. He's got a couple of hundred +dollars in nuggets, right there on the bunk. Let's see, Lovins. Let Bud +have 'em for a minute." + +Then it was that Lovin Child revealed a primitive human trait. He would +not give up the gold. He held fast to one big nugget, spread his fat +legs over the remaining heap of them, and fought Bud's hand away with +the other fist. + +"No, no, no! Tell a worl' no, no, no!" he remonstrated vehemently, until +Bud whooped with laughter. + +"All right--all right! Keep your gold, durn it. You're like all the +rest--minute you get your paws on to some of the real stuff, you go +hog-wild over it." + +Cash was pouring the fine gold back into the buck skin bag and the +baking-powder cans. + +"Let the kid play with it," he said. "Getting used to gold when he's +little will maybe save him from a lot of foolishness over it when he +gets big. I dunno, but it looks reasonable to me. Let him have a few +nuggets if he wants. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say; maybe he +won't get to thinkin' too much of it if he's got it around under his +nose all the time. Same as everything else. It's the finding that hits +a feller hardest, Bud--the hunting for it and dreaming about it and not +finding it. What say we go up to the claim for an hour or so? Take the +kid along. It won't hurt him if he's bundled up good. It ain't cold +to-day, anyhow." + +That night they discussed soberly the prospects of the claim and their +responsibilities in the matter of Lovin Child's windfall. They would +quietly investigate the history of old Nelson, who had died a pauper in +the eyes of the community, with all his gleanings of gold hidden away. +They agreed that Lovin Child should not start off with one grain of +gold that rightfully belonged to some one else--but they agreed the +more cheerfully because neither man believed they would find any close +relatives; a wife or children they decided upon as rightful heirs. +Brothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts did not count. They were +presumably able to look after themselves just as old Nelson had done. +Their ethics were simple enough, surely. + +Barring, then, the discovery of rightful heirs, their plan was to take +the gold to Sacramento in the spring, and deposit it there in a savings +bank for one Lovins Markham Moore. They would let the interest "ride" +with the principal, and they would--though neither openly confessed it +to the other--from time to time add a little from their own earnings. +Bud especially looked forward to that as a compromise with his duty to +his own child. He intended to save every cent he could, and to start +a savings account in the same bank, for his own baby, Robert Edward +Moore--named for Bud. He could not start off with as large a sum as +Lovins would have, and for that Bud was honestly sorry. But Robert +Edward Moore would have Bud's share in the claims, which would do a +little toward evening things up. + +Having settled these things to the satisfaction of their desires and +their consciences, they went to bed well pleased with the day. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. MARIE'S SIDE OF IT + +We all realize keenly, one time or another, the abject poverty of +language. To attempt putting some emotions into words is like trying +to play Ave Maria on a toy piano. There are heights and depths utterly +beyond the limitation of instrument and speech alike. + +Marie's agonized experience in Alpine--and afterward--was of that kind. +She went there under the lure of her loneliness, her heart-hunger for +Bud. Drunk or sober, loving her still or turning away in anger, she had +to see him; had to hear him speak; had to tell him a little of what she +felt of penitence and longing, for that is what she believed she had to +do. Once she had started, she could not turn back. Come what might, +she would hunt until she found him. She had to, or go crazy, she told +herself over and over. She could not imagine any circumstance that would +turn her back from that quest. + +Yet she did turn back--and with scarce a thought of Bud. She could not +imagine the thing happening that did happen, which is the way life +has of keeping us all on the anxious seat most of the time. She could +not--at least she did not--dream that Lovin Child, at once her comfort +and her strongest argument for a new chance at happiness, would in +ten minutes or so wipe out all thought of Bud and leave only a dumb, +dreadful agony that hounded her day and night. + +She had reached Alpine early in the forenoon, and had gone to the one +little hotel, to rest and gather up her courage for the search which she +felt was only beginning. She had been too careful of her money to spend +any for a sleeper, foregoing even a berth in the tourist car. She could +make Lovin Child comfortable with a full seat in the day coach for +his little bed, and for herself it did not matter. She could not sleep +anyway. So she sat up all night and thought, and worried over the +future which was foolish, since the future held nothing at all that she +pictured in it. + +She was tired when she reached the hotel, carrying Lovin Child and her +suit case too--porters being unheard of in small villages, and the one +hotel being too sure of its patronage to bother about getting guests +from depot to hall bedroom. A deaf old fellow with white whiskers and +poor eyesight fumbled two or three keys on a nail, chose one and led the +way down a little dark hall to a little, stuffy room with another +door opening directly on the sidewalk. Marie had not registered on her +arrival, because there was no ink in the inkwell, and the pen had only +half a point; but she was rather relieved to find that she was not +obliged to write her name down--for Bud, perhaps, to see before she had +a chance to see him. + +Lovin Child was in his most romping, rambunctious mood, and Marie's head +ached so badly that she was not quite so watchful of his movements as +usual. She gave him a cracker and left him alone to investigate the tiny +room while she laid down for just a minute on the bed, grateful because +the sun shone in warmly through the window and she did not feel the +absence of a fire. She had no intention whatever of going to sleep--she +did not believe that she could sleep if she had wanted to. Fall asleep +she did, however, and she must have slept for at least half an hour, +perhaps longer. + +When she sat up with that startled sensation that follows unexpected, +undesired slumber, the door was open, and Lovin Child was gone. She had +not believed that he could open the door, but she discovered that its +latch had a very precarious hold upon the worn facing, and that a slight +twist of the knob was all it needed to swing the door open. She rushed +out, of course, to look for him, though, unaware of how long she had +slept, she was not greatly disturbed. Marie had run after Lovin Child +too often to be alarmed at a little thing like that. + +I don't know when fear first took hold of her, or when fear was swept +away by the keen agony of loss. She went the whole length of the one +little street, and looked in all the open doorways, and traversed the +one short alley that led behind the hotel. Facing the street was the +railroad, with the station farther up at the edge of the timber. Across +the railroad was the little, rushing river, swollen now with rains that +had been snow on the higher slopes of the mountain behind the town. + +Marie did not go near the river at first. Some instinct of dread made +her shun even the possibility that Lovin Child had headed that way. But +a man told her, when she broke down her diffidence and inquired, that he +had seen a little tot in a red suit and cap going off that way. He had +not thought anything of it. He was a stranger himself, he said, and he +supposed the kid belonged there, maybe. + +Marie flew to the river, the man running beside her, and three or four +others coming out of buildings to see what was the matter. She did not +find Lovin Child, but she did find half of the cracker she had given +him. It was lying so close to a deep, swirly place under the bank that +Marie gave a scream when she saw it, and the man caught her by the arm +for fear she meant to jump in. + +Thereafter, the whole of Alpine turned out and searched the river bank +as far down as they could get into the box canyon through which it +roared to the sage-covered hills beyond. No one doubted that Lovin Child +had been swept away in that tearing, rock-churned current. No one had +any hope of finding his body, though they searched just as diligently as +if they were certain. + +Marie walked the bank all that day, calling and crying and fighting off +despair. She walked the floor of her little room all night, the +door locked against sympathy that seemed to her nothing but a prying +curiosity over her torment, fighting back the hysterical cries that kept +struggling for outlet. + +The next day she was too exhausted to do anything more than climb up the +steps of the train when it stopped there. Towns and ranches on the +river below had been warned by wire and telephone and a dozen officious +citizens of Alpine assured her over and over that she would be notified +at once if anything was discovered; meaning, of course, the body of her +child. She did not talk. Beyond telling the station agent her name, and +that she was going to stay in Sacramento until she heard something, she +shrank behind her silence and would reveal nothing of her errand there +in Alpine, nothing whatever concerning herself. Mrs. Marie Moore, +General Delivery, Sacramento, was all that Alpine learned of her. + +It is not surprising then, that the subject was talked out long before +Bud or Cash came down into the town more than two months later. It is +not surprising, either, that no one thought to look up-stream for the +baby, or that they failed to consider any possible fate for him save +drowning. That nibbled piece of cracker on the very edge of the river +threw them all off in their reasoning. They took it for granted that +the baby had fallen into the river at the place where they found the +cracker. If he had done so, he would have been swept away instantly. No +one could look at the river and doubt that--therefore no one did doubt +it. That a squaw should find him sitting down where he had fallen, two +hundred yards above the town and in the edge of the thick timber, +never entered their minds at all. That she should pick him up with +the intention at first of stopping his crying, and should yield to the +temptingness of him just as Bud had yielded, would have seemed to Alpine +still more unlikely; because no Indian had ever kidnapped a white child +in that neighborhood. So much for the habit of thinking along grooves +established by precedent + +Marie went to Sacramento merely because that was the closest town of any +size, where she could wait for the news she dreaded to receive yet must +receive before she could even begin to face her tragedy. She did not +want to find Bud now. She shrank from any thought of him. Only for him, +she would still have her Lovin Child. Illogically she blamed Bud for +what had happened. He had caused her one more great heartache, and she +hoped never to see him again or to hear his name spoken. + +Dully she settled down in a cheap, semi-private boarding house to wait. +In a day or two she pulled herself together and went out to look for +work, because she must have money to live on. Go home to her mother +she would not. Nor did she write to her. There, too, her great hurt +had flung some of the blame. If her mother had not interfered and found +fault all the time with Bud, they would be living together now--happy. +It was her mother who had really brought about their separation. Her +mother would nag at her now for going after Bud, would say that she +deserved to lose her baby as a punishment for letting go her pride and +self-respect. No, she certainly did not want to see her mother, or any +one else she had ever known. Bud least of all. + +She found work without much trouble, for she was neat and efficient +looking, of the type that seems to belong in a well-ordered office, +behind a typewriter desk near a window where the sun shines in. The +place did not require much concentration--a dentist's office, where her +chief duties consisted of opening the daily budget of circulars, sending +out monthly bills, and telling pained-looking callers that the doctor +was out just then. Her salary just about paid her board, with a dollar +or two left over for headache tablets and a vaudeville show now and +then. She did not need much spending money, for her evenings were spent +mostly in crying over certain small garments and a canton-flannel dog +called "Wooh-wooh." + +For three months she stayed, too apathetic to seek a better position. +Then the dentist's creditors became suddenly impatient, and the dentist +could not pay his office rent, much less his office girl. Wherefore +Marie found herself looking for work again, just when spring was opening +all the fruit blossoms and merchants were smilingly telling one another +that business was picking up. + +Weinstock-Lubin's big department store gave her desk space in the +mail-order department. Marie's duty it was to open the mail, check up +the orders, and see that enough money was sent, and start the wheels +moving to fill each order--to the satisfaction of the customer if +possible. + +At first the work worried her a little. But she became accustomed to +it, and settled into the routine of passing the orders along the proper +channels with as little individual thought given to each one as was +compatible with efficiency. She became acquainted with some of the +girls, and changed to a better boarding house. She still cried over the +wooh-wooh and the little garments, but she did not cry so often, nor did +she buy so many headache tablets. She was learning the futility of grief +and the wisdom of turning her back upon sorrow when she could. The sight +of a two-year-old baby boy would still bring tears to her eyes, and she +could not sit through a picture show that had scenes of children and +happy married couples, but she fought the pain of it as a weakness which +she must overcome. Her Lovin Child was gone; she had given up everything +but the sweet, poignant memory of how pretty he had been and how +endearing. + +Then, one morning in early June, her practiced fingers were going +through the pile of mail orders and they singled out one that carried +the postmark of Alpine. Marie bit her lips, but her fingers did not +falter in their task. Cheap table linen, cheap collars, cheap suits or +cheap something-or-other was wanted, she had no doubt. She took out the +paper with the blue money order folded inside, speared the money order +on the hook with others, drew her order pad closer, and began to go +through the list of articles wanted. + +This was the list:-- + + XL 94, 3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr at 59c $1.77 + XL 14 1 Buddy tucker suit 3 yr 2.00 + KL 6 1 Bunny pumps infant 5 1.25 + KL 54 1 Fat Ankle shoe infant 5 .98 + HL 389 4 Rubens vests, 3 yr at 90c 2.70 + SL 418 3 Pajamas 3 yr. at 59c 1.77 + OL 823 1 Express wagon, 15x32 in. 4.25 + -- + $14.22 + + For which money order is enclosed. Please ship at once. + + Very truly, + R. E. MOORE, + Alpine, Calif. + +Mechanically she copied the order on a slip of paper which she put into +her pocket, left her desk and her work and the store, and hurried to her +boarding house. + +Not until she was in her own room with the door locked did she dare let +herself think. She sat down with the copy spread open before her, her +slim fingers pressing against her temples. Something amazing had been +revealed to her--something so amazing that she could scarcely comprehend +its full significance. Bud--never for a minute did she doubt that it +was Bud, for she knew his handwriting too well to be mistaken--Bud was +sending for clothes for a baby boy! + +"3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr--" it sounded, to the hungry mother soul +of her, exactly like her Lovin Child. She could see so vividly just +how he would look in them. And the size--she certainly would buy than +three-year size, if she were buying for Lovin Child. And the little +"Buddy tucker" suit--that, too, sounded like Lovin Child. He must--Bud +certainly must have him up there with him! Then Lovin Child was not +drowned at all, but alive and needing dig-in-the-muds. + +"Bud's got him! Oh, Bud has got him, I know he's got him!" she whispered +over and over to herself in an ecstasy of hope. "My little Lovin Man! +He's up there right now with his Daddy Bud--" + +A vague anger stirred faintly, flared, died almost, flared again and +burned steadily within her. Bud had her Lovin Child! How did he come to +have him, then, unless he stole him? Stole him away, and let her suffer +all this while, believing her baby was dead in the river! + +"You devil!" she muttered, gritting her teeth when that thought formed +clearly in her mind. "Oh, you devil, you! If you think you can get away +with a thing like that--You devil!" + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. THE CURE COMPLETE + +In Nelson Flat the lupines were like spilled bluing in great, acre-wide +blots upon the meadow grass. Between cabin and creek bank a little plot +had been spaded and raked smooth, and already the peas and lettuce and +radishes were up and growing as if they knew how short would be the +season, and meant to take advantage of every minute of the warm days. +Here and there certain plants were lifting themselves all awry from +where they had been pressed flat by two small feet that had strutted +heedlessly down the rows. + +The cabin yard was clean, and the two small windows were curtained with +cheap, white scrim. All before the door and on the path to the creek +small footprints were scattered thick. It was these that Marie pulled up +her hired saddle horse to study in hot resentment. + +"The big brute!" she gritted, and got off and went to the cabin door, +walking straight-backed and every mental and physical fiber of her +braced for the coming struggle. She even regretted not having a gun; +rather, she wished that she was not more afraid of a gun than of any +possible need of one. She felt, at that minute, as though she could +shoot Bud Moore with no more compunction that she would feel in swatting +a fly. + +That the cabin was empty and unlocked only made her blood boil the +hotter. She went in and looked around at the crude furnishings and the +small personal belongings of those who lived there. She saw the table +all set ready for the next meal, with the extremely rustic high-chair +that had DYNAMITE painted boldly on the side of the box seat. Fastened +to a nail at one side of the box was a belt, evidently kept there for +the purpose of strapping a particularly wriggly young person into +the chair. That smacked strongly of Lovin Child, sure enough. Marie +remembered the various devices by which she had kept him in his go cart. + +She went closer and inspected the belt indignantly. Just as she +expected--it was Bud's belt; his old belt that she bought for him just +after they were married. She supposed that box beside the queer high +chair was where he would sit at table and stuff her baby with all kinds +of things he shouldn't eat. Where was her baby? A fresh spasm of longing +for Lovin Child drove her from the cabin. Find him she would, and that +no matter how cunningly Bud had hidden him away. + +On a rope stretched between a young cottonwood tree in full leaf and +a scaly, red-barked cedar, clothes that had been washed were flapping +lazily in the little breeze. Marie stopped and looked at them. A man's +shirt and drawers, two towels gray for want of bluing, a little shirt +and a nightgown and pair of stockings--and, directly in front of Marie, +a small pair of blue overalls trimmed with red bands, the blue showing +white fiber where the color had been scrubbed out of the cloth, the two +knees flaunting patches sewed with long irregular stitches such as a man +would take. + +Bud and Lovin Child. As in the cabin, so here she felt the individuality +in their belongings. Last night she had been tormented with the fear +that there might be a wife as well as a baby boy in Bud's household. +Even the evidence of the mail order, that held nothing for a woman and +that was written by Bud's hand, could scarcely reassure her. Now she +knew beyond all doubt that she had no woman to reckon with, and the +knowledge brought relief of a sort. + +She went up and touched the little overalls wistfully, laid her cheek +against one little patch, ducked under the line, and followed a crooked +little path that led up the creek. She forgot all about her horse, +which looked after her as long as she was in sight, and then turned and +trotted back the way it had come, wondering, no doubt, at the foolish +faith this rider had in him. + +The path led up along the side of the flat, through tall grass and all +the brilliant blossoms of a mountain meadow in June. Great, graceful +mountain lilies nodded from little shady tangles in the bushes. +Harebells and lupines, wild-pea vines and columbines, tiny, gnome-faced +pansies, violets, and the daintier flowering grasses lined the way with +odorous loveliness. Birds called happily from the tree tops. Away up +next the clouds an eagle sailed serene, alone, a tiny boat breasting the +currents of the sky ocean. + +Marie's rage cooled a little on that walk. It was so beautiful for Lovin +Child, up here in this little valley among the snow-topped mountains; +so sheltered. Yesterday's grind in that beehive of a department store +seemed more remote than South Africa. Unconsciously her first nervous +pace slackened. She found herself taking long breaths of this clean air, +sweetened with the scent of growing things. Why couldn't the world be +happy, since it was so beautiful? It made her think of those three weeks +in Big Basin, and the never-forgettable wonder of their love--hers and +Bud's. + +She was crying with the pain and the beauty of it when she heard the +first high, chirpy notes of a baby--her baby. Lovin Child was picketed +to a young cedar near the mouth of the Blind ledge tunnel, and he was +throwing rocks at a chipmunk that kept coming toward him in little +rushes, hoping with each rush to get a crumb of the bread and butter +that Lovin Child had flung down. Lovin Child was squealing and +jabbering, with now and then a real word that he had learned from Bud +and Cash. Not particularly nice words--"Doggone" was one and several +times he called the chipmunk a "sunny-gun." And of course he frequently +announced that he would "Tell a worl'" something. His head was bare and +shone in the sun like the gold for which Cash and his Daddy Bud were +digging, away back in the dark hole. He had on a pair of faded overalls +trimmed with red, mates of the ones on the rope line, and he threw rocks +impartially with first his right hand and then his left, and sometimes +with both at once; which did not greatly distress the chipmunk, who knew +Lovin Child of old and had learned how wide the rocks always went of +their mark. + +Upon this scene Marie came, still crying. She had always been an +impulsive young woman, and now she forgot that Lovin Child had not seen +her for six months or so, and that baby memories are short. She rushed +in and snatched him off the ground and kissed him and squeezed him and +cried aloud upon her God and her baby, and buried her wet face against +his fat little neck. + +Cash, trundling a wheelbarrow of ore out to the tunnel's mouth, heard a +howl and broke into a run with his load, bursting out into the sunlight +with a clatter and upsetting the barrow ten feet short of the regular +dumping place. Marie was frantically trying to untie the rope, and +was having trouble because Lovin Child was in one of his worst +kicking-and-squirming tantrums. Cash rushed in and snatched the child +from her. + +"Here! What you doing to that kid? You're scaring him to death--and +you've got no right!" + +"I have got a right! I have too got a right!" Marie was clawing like a +wildcat at Cash's grimy hands. "He's my baby! He's mine! You ought to +be hung for stealing him away from me. Let go--he's mine, I tell you. +Lovin! Lovin Child! Don't you know Marie? Marie's sweet, pitty man, he +is! Come to Marie, boy baby!" + +"Tell a worl' no, no, no!" yelled Lovin Child, clinging to Cash. + +"Aw--come to Marie, sweetheart! Marie's own lovin' little man baby! You +let him go, or I'll--I'll kill you. You big brute!" + +Cash let go, but it was not because she commanded. He let go and stared +hard at Marie, lifting his eyebrows comically as he stepped back, his +hand going unconsciously up to smooth his beard. + +"Marie?" he repeated stupidly. "Marie?" He reached out and laid a hand +compellingly on her shoulder. "Ain't your name Marie Markham, young +lady? Don't you know your own dad?" + +Marie lifted her face from kissing Lovin Child very much against his +will, and stared round-eyed at Cash. She did not say anything. + +"You're my Marie, all right You ain't changed so much I can't recognize +yuh. I should think you'd remember your own father--but I guess maybe +the beard kinda changes my looks. Is this true, that this kid belongs to +you?" + +Marie gasped. "Why--father? Why--why, father!" She leaned herself and +Lovin Child into his arms. "Why, I can't believe it! Why--" She closed +her eyes and shivered, going suddenly weak, and relaxed in his arms. +"I-I-I can't--" + +Cash slid Lovin Child to the ground, where that young gentleman picked +himself up indignantly and ran as far as his picket rope would let him, +whereupon he turned and screamed "Sunny-gun! sunny-gun!" at the two like +an enraged bluejay. Cash did not pay any attention to him. He was busy +seeking out a soft, shady spot that was free of rocks, where he might +lay Marie down. He leaned over her and fanned her violently with his +hat, his lips and his eyebrows working with the complexity of his +emotions. Then suddenly he turned and ducked into the tunnel, after Bud. + +Bud heard him coming and turned from his work. Cash was not trundling +the empty barrow, which in itself was proof enough that something had +happened, even if Cash had not been running. Bud dropped his pick and +started on a run to meet him. + +"What's wrong? Is the kid--?" + +"Kid's all right" Cash stopped abruptly, blocking Bud's way. "It's +something else. Bud, his mother's come after him. She's out there +now--laid out in a faint." + +"Lemme go." Bud's voice had a grimness in it that spelled trouble for +the lady laid out in a faint "She can be his mother a thousand times--" + +"Yeah. Hold on a minute, Bud. You ain't going out there and raise no +hell with that poor girl. Lovins belongs to her, and she's going to have +him.... Now, just keep your shirt on a second. I've got something more +to say. He's her kid, and she wants him back, and she's going to have +him back. If you git him away from her, it'll be over my carcass. Now, +now, hold on! H-o-l-d on! You're goin' up against Cash Markham now, +remember! That girl is my girl! My girl that I ain't seen since she was +a kid in short dresses. It's her father you've got to deal with now--her +father and the kid's grandfather. You get that? You be reasonable, Bud, +and there won't be no trouble at all. But my girl ain't goin' to be +robbed of her baby--not whilst I'm around. You get that settled in your +mind before you go out there, or--you don't go out whilst I'm here to +stop you." + +"You go to hell," Bud stated evenly, and thrust Cash aside with one +sweep of his arm, and went down the tunnel. Cash, his eyebrows lifted +with worry and alarm, was at his heels all the way. + +"Now, Bud, be calm!" he adjured as he ran. "Don't go and make a dang +fool of yourself! She's my girl, remember. You want to hold on to +yourself, Bud, and be reasonable. Don't go and let your temper--" + +"Shut your damn mouth!" Bud commanded him savagely, and went on running. + +At the tunnel mouth he stopped and blinked, blinded for a moment by the +strong sunlight in his face. Cash stumbled and lost ten seconds or so, +picking himself up. Behind him Bud heard Cash panting, "Now, Bud, don't +go and make--a dang fool--" Bud snorted contemptuously and leaped the +dirt pile, landing close to Marie, who was just then raising herself +dizzily to an elbow. + +"Now, Bud," Cash called tardily when he had caught up with him, "you +leave that girl alone! Don't you lay a finger on her! That's my--" + +Bud lifted his lips away from Marie's and spoke over his shoulder, his +arms tightening in their hold upon Marie's trembling, yielding body. + +"Shut up, Cash. She's my wife--now where do you get off at?" + +(That, o course, lacked a little of being the exact truth. Lacked a few +hours, in fact, because they did not reach Alpine and the railroad +until that afternoon, and were not remarried until seven o'clock that +evening.) + +"No, no, no!" cried Lovin Child from a safe distance. "Tell a worl' no, +no!" + +"I'll tell the world yes, yes!" Bud retorted ecstatically, lifting his +face again. "Come here, you little scallywag, and love your mamma Marie. +Cash, you old donkey, don't you get it yet? We've got 'em both for +keeps, you and me." + +"Yeah--I get it, all right." Cash came and stood awkwardly over them. "I +get it--found my girl one minute, and lost her again the next! But I'll +tell yeh one thing, Bud Moore. The kid's' goin' to call me grampaw, er +I'll know the reason why!" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cabin Fever, by B. M. 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Bower + + + + +CONTENTS +CHAPTER + +I THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF +II TWO MAKE A QUARREL +III TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOR BUD +IV HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING +V BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES +VI BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS +VII INTO THE DESERT +VIII MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES +IX THE BITE OF MEMORY +X EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS +XI THE FIRST STAGES +XII MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE +XIII CABIN FEVER IN ITS WORST FORM +XIV CASH GETS A SHOCK +XV AND BUD NEVER GUESSED +XVI THE ANTIDOTE +XVII LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN +XVIII THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES +XIX BUD FACES FACTS +XX LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH +XXI MARIE'S SIDE OF IT +XXII THE CURE COMPLETE + + + +CABIN FEVER + +CHAPTER ONE. THE FEVER MANIFESTS ITSELF + +There is a certain malady of the mind induced by too much of one +thing. Just as the body fed too long upon meat becomes a prey to +that horrid disease called scurvy, so the mind fed too long upon +monotony succumbs to the insidious mental ailment which the West +calls "cabin fever." True, it parades under different names, +according to circumstances and caste. You may be afflicted in a +palace and call it ennui, and it may drive you to commit +peccadillos and indiscretions of various sorts. You may be +attacked in a middle-class apartment house, and call it various +names, and it may drive you to cafe life and affinities and +alimony. You may have it wherever you are shunted into a +backwater of life, and lose the sense of being borne along in the +full current of progress. Be sure that it will make you +abnormally sensitive to little things; irritable where once you +were amiable; glum where once you went whistling about your work +and your play. It is the crystallizer of character, the acid test +of friendship, the final seal set upon enmity. It will betray +your little, hidden weaknesses, cut and polish your undiscovered +virtues, reveal you in all your glory or your vileness to your +companions in exile--if so be you have any. + +If you would test the soul of a friend, take him into the +wilderness and rub elbows with him for five months! One of three +things will surely happen: You will hate each other afterward +with that enlightened hatred which is seasoned with contempt; you +will emerge with the contempt tinged with a pitying toleration, +or you will be close, unquestioning friends to the last six feet +of earth--and beyond. All these things will cabin fever do, +and more. It has committed murder, many's the time. It has driven +men crazy. It has warped and distorted character out of all +semblance to its former self. It has sweetened love and killed +love. There is an antidote--but I am going to let you find the +antidote somewhere in the story. + +Bud Moore, ex-cow-puncher and now owner of an auto stage that +did not run in the winter, was touched with cabin fever and did +not know what ailed him. His stage line ran from San Jose up +through Los Gatos and over the Bear Creek road across the summit +of the Santa Cruz Mountains and down to the State Park, which is +locally called Big Basin. For something over fifty miles of +wonderful scenic travel he charged six dollars, and usually his +big car was loaded to the running boards. Bud was a good driver, +and he had a friendly pair of eyes--dark blue and with a +humorous little twinkle deep down in them somewhere--and a +human little smiley quirk at the corners of his lips. He did not +know it, but these things helped to fill his car. + +Until gasoline married into the skylark family, Bud did well +enough to keep him contented out of a stock saddle. (You may not +know it, but it is harder for an old cow-puncher to find content, +now that the free range is gone into history, than it is for a +labor agitator to be happy in a municipal boarding house.) + +Bud did well enough, which was very well indeed. Before the +second season closed with the first fall rains, he had paid for +his big car and got the insurance policy transferred to his name. +He walked up First Street with his hat pushed back and a +cigarette dangling from the quirkiest corner of his mouth, and +his hands in his pockets. The glow of prosperity warmed his +manner toward the world. He had a little money in the bank, he +had his big car, he had the good will of a smiling world. He +could not walk half a block in any one of three or four towns but +he was hailed with a "Hello, Bud!" in a welcoming tone. More +people knew him than Bud remembered well enough to call by +name--which is the final proof of popularity the world over. + +In that glowing mood he had met and married a girl who went +into Big Basin with her mother and camped for three weeks. The +girl had taken frequent trips to Boulder Creek, and twice had +gone on to San Jose, and she had made it a point to ride with the +driver because she was crazy about cars. So she said. Marie had +all the effect of being a pretty girl. She habitually wore white +middies with blue collar and tie, which went well with her clear, +pink skin and her hair that just escaped being red. She knew how +to tilt her "beach" hat at the most provocative angle, and she +knew just when to let Bud catch a slow, sidelong glance--of +the kind that is supposed to set a man's heart to syncopatic +behavior. She did not do it too often. She did not powder too +much, and she had the latest slang at her pink tongue's tip and +was yet moderate in her use of it. + +Bud did not notice Marie much on the first trip. She was +demure, and Bud had a girl in San Jose who had brought him to +that interesting stage of dalliance where he wondered if he dared +kiss her good night the next time he called. He was preoccupiedly +reviewing the she-said-and-then-I-said, and trying to make up his +mind whether he should kiss her and take a chance on her +displeasure, or whether he had better wait. To him Marie appeared +hazily as another camper who helped fill the car--and his +pocket--and was not at all hard to look at. It was not until the +third trip that Bud thought her beautiful, and was secretly glad +that he had not kissed that San Jose girl. + +You know how these romances develop. Every summer is saturated +with them the world over. But Bud happened to be a simple-souled +fellow, and there was something about Marie--He didn't know +what it was. Men never do know, until it is all over. He only +knew that the drive through the shady stretches of woodland grew +suddenly to seem like little journeys into paradise. Sentiment +lurked behind every great, mossy tree bole. New beauties unfolded +in the winding drive up over the mountain crests. Bud was +terribly in love with the world in those days. + +There were the evenings he spent in the Basin, sitting beside +Marie in the huge campfire circle, made wonderful by the shadowy +giants, the redwoods; talking foolishness in undertones while the +crowd sang snatches of songs which no one knew from beginning to +end, and that went very lumpy in the verses and very much out of +harmony in the choruses. Sometimes they would stroll down toward +that sweeter music the creek made, and stand beside one of the +enormous trees and watch the glow of the fire, and the +silhouettes of the people gathered around it. + +In a week they were surreptitiously holding hands. In two weeks +they could scarcely endure the partings when Bud must start back +to San Jose, and were taxing their ingenuity to invent new +reasons why Marie must go along. In three weeks they were +married, and Marie's mother--a shrewd, shrewish widow--was +trying to decide whether she should wash her hands of Marie, or +whether it might be well to accept the situation and hope that +Bud would prove himself a rising young man. + +But that was a year in the past. Bud had cabin fever now and +did not know what ailed him, though cause might have been summed +up in two meaty phrases: too much idleness, and too much mother- +in-law. Also, not enough comfort and not enough love. + +In the kitchen of the little green cottage on North Sixth +Street where Bud had built the home nest with much nearly-Mission +furniture and a piano, Bud was frying his own hotcakes for his +ten o'clock breakfast, and was scowling over the task. He did not +mind the hour so much, but he did mortally hate to cook his own +breakfast--or any other meal, for that matter. In the next +room a rocking chair was rocking with a rhythmic squeak, and a +baby was squalling with that sustained volume of sound which +never fails to fill the adult listener with amazement. It +affected Bud unpleasantly, just as the incessant bawling of a +band of weaning calves used to do. He could not bear the thought +of young things going hungry. + +"For the love of Mike, Marie! Why don't you feed that kid, or +do something to shut him up?" he exploded suddenly, dribbling +pancake batter over the untidy range. + +The squeak, squawk of the rocker ceased abruptly. "'Cause it +isn't time yet to feed him--that's why. What's burning out +there? I'll bet you've got the stove all over dough again--" +The chair resumed its squeaking, the baby continued uninterrupted +its wah-h-hah! wah-h-hah, as though it was a phonograph that had +been wound up with that record on, and no one around to stop it + +Bud turned his hotcakes with a vicious flop that spattered more +batter on the stove. He had been a father only a month or so, but +that was long enough to learn many things about babies which he +had never known before. He knew, for instance, that the baby +wanted its bottle, and that Marie was going to make him wait till +feeding time by the clock. + +"By heck, I wonder what would happen if that darn clock was to +stop!" he exclaimed savagely, when his nerves would bear no more. +"You'd let the kid starve to death before you'd let your own +brains tell you what to do! Husky youngster like that--feeding +'im four ounces every four days--or some simp rule like that--" +He lifted the cakes on to a plate that held two messy-looking +fried eggs whose yolks had broken, set the plate on the cluttered +table and slid petulantly into a chair and began to eat. The +squeaking chair and the crying baby continued to torment him. +Furthermore, the cakes were doughy in the middle. + +"For gosh sake, Marie, give that kid his bottle!" Bud exploded +again. "Use the brains God gave yuh--such as they are! By +heck, I'll stick that darn book in the stove. Ain't yuh got any +feelings at all? Why, I wouldn't let a dog go hungry like that! +Don't yuh reckon the kid knows when he's hungry? Why, good Lord! +I'll take and feed him myself, if you don't. I'll burn that +book--so help me!" + +"Yes, you will--not!" Marie's voice rose shrewishly, riding +the high waves of the baby's incessant outcry against the +restrictions upon appetite imposed by enlightened motherhood. +"You do, and see what'll happen! You'd have him howling with +colic, that's what you'd do." + +"Well, I'll tell the world he wouldn't holler for grub! You'd +go by the book if it told yuh to stand 'im on his head in the ice +chest! By heck, between a woman and a hen turkey, give me the +turkey when it comes to sense. They do take care of their young +ones--" + +"Aw, forget that! When it comes to sense---" + +Oh, well, why go into details? You all know how these domestic +storms arise, and how love washes overboard when the matrimonial +ship begins to wallow in the seas of recrimination. + +Bud lost his temper and said a good many things should not have +said. Marie flung back angry retorts and reminded Bud of all his +sins and slights and shortcomings, and told him many of mamma's +pessimistic prophecies concerning him, most of which seemed +likely to be fulfilled. Bud fought back, telling Marie how much +of a snap she had had since she married him, and how he must have +looked like ready money to her, and added that now, by heck, he +even had to do his own cooking, as well as listen to her whining +and nagging, and that there wasn't clean corner in the house, and +she'd rather let her own baby go hungry than break a simp rule in +a darn book got up by a bunch of boobs that didn't know anything +about kids. Surely to goodness, he finished his heated paragraph, +it wouldn't break any woman's back to pour a little warm water on +a little malted milk, and shake it up. + +He told Marie other things, and in return, Marie informed him +that he was just a big-mouthed, lazy brute, and she could curse +the day she ever met him. That was going pretty far. Bud reminded +her that she had not done any cursing at the time, being in his +opinion too busy roping him in to support her. + +By that time he had gulped down his coffee, and was into his +coat, and looking for his hat. Marie, crying and scolding and +rocking the vociferous infant, interrupted herself to tell him +that she wanted a ten-cent roll of cotton from the drug store, +and added that she hoped she would not have to wait until next +Christmas for it, either. Which bit of sarcasm so inflamed Bud's +rage that he swore every step of the way to Santa Clara Avenue, +and only stopped then because he happened to meet a friend who +was going down town, and they walked together. + +At the drug store on the corner of Second Street Bud stopped +and bought the cotton, feeling remorseful for some of the +things he had said to Marie, but not enough so to send him back +home to tell her he was sorry. He went on, and met another friend +before he had taken twenty steps. +This friend was thinking of buying a certain second-hand +automobile that was offered at a very low price, and he wanted +Bud to go with him and look her over. Bud went, glad of the +excuse to kill the rest of the forenoon. + +They took the car out and drove to Schutzen Park and back. Bud +opined that she didn't bark to suit him, and she had a knock in +her cylinders that shouted of carbon. They ran her into the +garage shop and went deep into her vitals, and because she jerked +when Bud threw her into second, Bud suspected that her bevel +gears had lost a tooth or two, and was eager to find out for +sure. + +Bill looked at his watch and suggested that they eat first +before they got all over grease by monkeying with the rear end. +So they went to the nearest restaurant and had smothered +beefsteak and mashed potato and coffee and pie, and while they +ate they talked of gears and carburetors and transmission and +ignition troubles, all of which alleviated temporarily Bud's case +of cabin fever and caused him to forget that he was married and +had quarreled with his wife and had heard a good many unkind +things which his mother-in-law had said about him. + +By the time they were back in the garage and had the grease +cleaned out of the rear gears so that they could see whether they +were really burred or broken, as Bud had suspected, the twinkle +was back in his eyes, and the smiley quirk stayed at the corners +of his mouth, and when he was not talking mechanics with Bill he +was whistling. He found much lost motion and four broken teeth, +and he was grease to his eyebrows--in other words, he was happy. + +When he and Bill finally shed their borrowed overalls and caps, +the garage lights were on, and the lot behind the shop was dusky. +Bud sat down on the running board and began to figure what the +actual cost of the bargain would be when Bill had put it into +good mechanical condition. New bearings, new bevel gear, new +brake, lining, rebored cylinders--they totalled a sum that +made Bill gasp. + +By the time Bud had proved each item an absolute necessity, and +had reached the final ejaculation: "Aw, forget it, Bill, and buy +yuh a Ford!" it was so late that he knew Marie must have given up +looking for him home to supper. She would have taken it for +granted that he had eaten down town. So, not to disappoint her, +Bud did eat down town. Then Bill wanted him to go to a movie, and +after a praiseworthy hesitation Bud yielded to temptation and +went. No use going home now, just when Marie would be rocking the +kid to sleep and wouldn't let him speak above a whisper, he told +his conscience. Might as well wait till they settled down for the +night. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. TWO MAKE A QUARREL + +At nine o'clock Bud went home. He was feeling very well +satisfied with himself for some reason which he did not try to +analyze, but which was undoubtedly his sense of having saved Bill +from throwing away six hundred dollars on a bum car; and the +weight in his coat pocket of a box of chocolates that he had +bought for Marie. Poor girl, it was kinda tough on her, all +right, being tied to the house now with the kid. Next spring when +he started his run to Big Basin again, he would get a little camp +in there by the Inn, and take her along with him when the travel +wasn't too heavy. She could stay at either end of the run, just +as she took a notion. Wouldn't hurt the kid a bit--he'd be +bigger then, and the outdoors would make him grow like a pig. +Thinking of these things, Bud walked briskly, whistling as he +neared the little green house, so that Marie would know who it +was, and would not be afraid when he stepped up on the front +porch. + +He stopped whistling rather abruptly when he reached the house, +for it was dark. He tried the door and found it locked. The key +was not in the letter box where they always kept it for the +convenience of the first one who returned, so Bud went around to +the back and climbed through the pantry window. He fell over a +chair, bumped into the table, and damned a few things. The +electric light was hung in the center of the room by a cord that +kept him groping and clutching in the dark before he finally +touched the elusive bulb with his fingers and switched on the +light. + +The table was set for a meal--but whether it was dinner or +supper Bud could not determine. He went into the little sleeping +room and turned on the light there, looked around the empty room, +grunted, and tiptoed into the bedroom. (In the last month he had +learned to enter on his toes, lest he waken the baby.) He might +have saved himself the bother, for the baby was not there in its +new gocart. The gocart was not there, Marie was not there--one +after another these facts impressed themselves upon Bud's mind, +even before he found the letter propped against the clock in the +orthodox manner of announcing unexpected departures. Bud read the +letter, crumpled it in his fist, and threw it toward the little +heating stove. "If that's the way yuh feel about it, I'll tell +the world you can go and be darned!" he snorted, and tried to let +that end the matter so far as he was concerned. But he could not +shake off the sense of having been badly used. He did not stop to +consider that while he was working off his anger, that day, Marie +had been rocking back and forth, crying and magnifying the +quarrel as she dwelt upon it, and putting a new and sinister +meaning into Bud's ill-considered utterances. By the time Bud was +thinking only of the bargain car's hidden faults, Marie had +reached the white heat of resentment that demanded vigorous +action. Marie was packing a suitcase and meditating upon the +scorching letter she meant to write. + +Judging from the effect which the letter had upon Bud, it must +have been a masterpiece of its kind. He threw the box of +chocolates into the wood-box, crawled out of the window by which +he had entered, and went down town to a hotel. If the house +wasn't good enough for Marie, let her go. He could go just as +fast and as far as she could. And if she thought he was going to +hot-foot it over to her mother's and whine around and beg her to +come home, she had another think coming. + +He wouldn't go near the darn place again, except to get his +clothes. He'd bust up the joint, by thunder. He'd sell off the +furniture and turn the house over to the agent again, and Marie +could whistle for a home. She had been darn glad to get into that +house, he remembered, and away from that old cat of a mother. Let +her stay there now till she was darn good and sick of it. He'd +just keep her guessing for awhile; a week or so would do her +good. Well, he wouldn't sell the furniture--he'd just move it +into another house, and give her a darn good scare. He'd get a +better one, that had a porcelain bathtub instead of a zinc one, +and a better porch, where the kid could be out in the sun. Yes, +sir, he'd just do that little thing, and lay low and see what +Marie did about that. Keep her guessing--that was the play to +make. + +Unfortunately for his domestic happiness, Bud failed to take +into account two very important factors in the quarrel. The first +and most important one was Marie's mother, who, having been a +widow for fifteen years and therefore having acquired a habit of +managing affairs that even remotely concerned her, assumed that +Marie's affairs must be managed also. The other factor was +Marie's craving to be coaxed back to smiles by the man who drove +her to tears. Marie wanted Bud to come and say he was sorry, and +had been a brute and so forth. She wanted to hear him tell how +empty the house had seemed when he returned and found her gone. +She wanted him to be good and scared with that letter. She stayed +awake until after midnight, listening for his anxious footsteps; +after midnight she stayed awake to cry over the inhuman way he +was treating her, and to wish she was dead, and so forth; also +because the baby woke and wanted his bottle, and she was teaching +him to sleep all night without it, and because the baby had a +temper just like his father. + +His father's temper would have yielded a point or two, the next +day, had it been given the least encouragement. For instance, he +might have gone over to see Marie before he moved the furniture +out of the house, had he not discovered an express wagon standing +in front of the door when he went home about noon to see if Marie +had come back. Before he had recovered to the point of profane +speech, the express man appeared, coming out of the house, bent +nearly double under the weight of Marie's trunk. Behind him in +the doorway Bud got a glimpse of Marie's mother. + +That settled it. Bud turned around and hurried to the nearest +drayage company, and ordered a domestic wrecking crew to the +scene; in other words, a packer and two draymen and a dray. He'd +show 'em. Marie and her mother couldn't put anything over on him +--he'd stand over that furniture with a sheriff first. + +He went back and found Marie's mother still there, packing +dishes and doilies and the like. They had a terrible row, and all +the nearest neighbors inclined ears to doors ajar--getting an +earful, as Bud contemptuously put it. He finally led Marie's +mother to the front door and set her firmly outside. Told her +that Marie had come to him with no more than the clothes she had, +and that his money had bought every teaspoon and every towel and +every stick of furniture in the darned place, and he'd be +everlastingly thus-and-so if they were going to strong-arm the +stuff off him now. If Marie was too good to live with him, why, +his stuff was too good for her to have. + +Oh, yes, the neighbors certainly got an earful, as the town +gossips proved when the divorce suit seeped into the papers. Bud +refused to answer the proceedings, and was therefore ordered to +pay twice as much alimony as he could afford to pay; more, in +fact, than all his domestic expense had amounted to in the +fourteen months that he had been married. Also Marie was awarded +the custody of the child and, because Marie's mother had +represented Bud to be a violent man who was a menace to her +daughter's safety--and proved it by the neighbors who had seen +and heard so much--Bud was served with a legal paper that +wordily enjoined him from annoying Marie with his presence. + +That unnecessary insult snapped the last thread of Bud's regret +for what had happened. He sold the furniture and the automobile, +took the money to the judge that had tried the case, told the +judge a few wholesome truths, and laid the pile of money on the +desk. + +"That cleans me out, Judge," he said stolidly. "I wasn't such a +bad husband, at that. I got sore--but I'll bet you get sore +yourself and tell your wife what-for, now and then. I didn't get +a square deal, but that's all right. I'm giving a better deal +than I got. Now you can keep that money and pay it out to Marie +as she needs it, for herself and the kid. But for the Lord's +sake, Judge, don't let that wildcat of a mother of hers get her +fingers into the pile! She framed this deal, thinking she'd get a +haul outa me this way. I'm asking you to block that little game. +I've held out ten dollars, to eat on till I strike something. I'm +clean; they've licked the platter and broke the dish. So don't +never ask me to dig up any more, because I won't--not for you +nor no other darn man. Get that." + +This, you must know, was not in the courtroom, so Bud was not +fined for contempt. The judge was a married man himself, and he +may have had a sympathetic understanding of Bud's position. At +any rate he listened unofficially, and helped Bud out with the +legal part of it, so that Bud walked out of the judge's office +financially free, even though he had a suspicion that his freedom +would not bear the test of prosperity, and that Marie's mother +would let him alone only so long as he and prosperity were +strangers. + + + +CHAPTER THREE. TEN DOLLARS AND A JOB FOB BUD + +To withhold for his own start in life only one ten-dollar bill +from fifteen hundred dollars was spectacular enough to soothe +even so bruised an ego as Bud Moore carried into the judge's +office. There is an anger which carries a person to the extreme +of self-sacrifice, in the subconscious hope of exciting pity for +one so hardly used. Bud was boiling with such an anger, and it +demanded that he should all but give Marie the shirt off his +back, since she had demanded so much--and for so slight a +cause. + +Bud could not see for the life of him why Marie should have +quit for that little ruction. It was not their first quarrel, nor +their worst; certainly he had not expected it to be their last. +Why, he asked the high heavens, had she told him to bring home a +roll of cotton, if she was going to leave him? Why had she turned +her back on that little home, that had seemed to mean as much to +her as it had to him? + +Being kin to primitive man, Bud could only bellow rage when he +should have analyzed calmly the situation. He should have seen +that Marie too had cabin fever, induced by changing too suddenly +from carefree girlhood to the ills and irks of wifehood and +motherhood. He should have known that she had been for two months +wholly dedicated to the small physical wants of their baby, and +that if his nerves were fraying with watching that incessant +servitude, her own must be close to the snapping point; had +snapped, when dusk did not bring him home repentant. + +But he did not know, and so he blamed Marie bitterly for the +wreck of their home, and he flung down all his worldly goods +before her, and marched off feeling self-consciously proud of his +martyrdom. It soothed him paradoxically to tell himself that he +was "cleaned"; that Marie had ruined him absolutely, and that he +was just ten dollars and a decent suit or two of clothes better +off than a tramp. He was tempted to go back and send the ten +dollars after the rest of the fifteen hundred, but good sense +prevailed. He would have to borrow money for his next meal, if he +did that, and Bud was touchy about such things. + +He kept the ten dollars therefore, and went down to the garage +where he felt most at home, and stood there with his hands in his +pockets and the corners of his mouth tipped downward--normally +they had a way of tipping upward, as though he was secretly +amused at something--and his eyes sullen, though they carried +tiny lines at the corners to show how they used to twinkle. He +took the ten-dollar bank note from his pocket, straightened out +the wrinkles and looked at it disdainfully. As plainly as though +he spoke, his face told what he was thinking about it: that this +was what a woman had brought him to! He crumpled it up and made a +gesture as though he would throw it into the street, and a man +behind him laughed abruptly. Bud scowled and turned toward him a +belligerent glance, and the man stopped laughing as suddenly as +he had begun. + +"If you've got money to throw to the birds, brother, I guess I +won't make the proposition I was going to make. Thought I could +talk business to you, maybe--but I guess I better tie a can to +that idea." + +Bud grunted and put the ten dollars in his pocket. + +"What idea's that?" + +"Oh, driving a car I'm taking south. Sprained my shoulder, and +don't feel like tackling it myself. They tell me in here that you +aren't doing anything now--" He made the pause that asks for an +answer. + +"They told you right. I've done it." + +The man's eyebrows lifted, but since Bud did not explain, he +went on with his own explanation. + +"You don't remember me, but I rode into Big Basin with you last +summer. I know you can drive, and it doesn't matter a lot whether +it's asphalt or cow trail you drive over." + +Bud was in too sour a mood to respond to the flattery. He did +not even grunt. + +"Could you take a car south for me? There'll be night driving, +and bad roads, maybe--" + +"If you know what you say you know about my driving, what's the +idea--asking me if I can?" + +"Well, put it another way. Will you?" + +"You're on. Where's the car? Here?" Bud sent a seeking look +into the depths of the garage. He knew every car in there. "What +is there in it for me?" he added perfunctorily, because he would +have gone just for sake of getting a free ride rather than stay +in San Jose over night. + +"There's good money in it, if you can drive with your mouth +shut. This isn't any booster parade. Fact is--let's walk to +the depot, while I tell you." He stepped out of the doorway, and +Bud gloomily followed him. "Little trouble with my wife," the man +explained apologetically. "Having me shadowed, and all that sort +of thing. And I've got business south and want to be left alone +to do it. Darn these women!" he exploded suddenly. + +Bud mentally said amen, but kept his mouth shut upon his +sympathy with the sentiment. + +"Foster's my name. Now here's a key to the garage at this +address." He handed Bud a padlock key and an address scribbled on +a card. "That's my place in Oakland, out by Lake Merritt. You go +there to-night, get the car, and have it down at the Broadway +Wharf to meet the 11:30 boat--the one the theater crowd uses. +Have plenty of gas and oil; there won't be any stops after we +start. Park out pretty well near the shore end as close as you +can get to that ten-foot gum sign, and be ready to go when I +climb in. I may have a friend with me. You know Oakland?" + +"Fair to middling. I can get around by myself." + +"Well, that's all right. I've got to go back to the city-- +catching the next train. You better take the two-fifty to +Oakland. Here's money for whatever expense there is. And say! put +these number plates in your pocket, and take off the ones on the +car. I bought these of a fellow that had a smash--they'll do +for the trip. Put them on, will you? She's wise to the car +number, of course. Put the plates you take off under the seat +cushion; don't leave 'em. Be just as careful as if it was a +life-and-death matter, will you? I've got a big deal on, down +there,and I don't want her spilling the beans just to satisfy a +grudge--which she would do in a minute. So don't fail to be at +the ferry, parked so you can slide out easy. Get down there by +that big gum sign. I'll find you, all right." + +"I'll be there." Bud thrust the key and another ten dollars into +his pocket and turned away. + +"And don't say anything--" + +"Do I look like an open-faced guy?" + +The man laughed. "Not much, or I wouldn't have picked you for +the trip." He hurried down to the depot platform, for his train +was already whistling, farther down the yards. + +Bud looked after him, the corners of his mouth taking their +normal, upward tilt. It began to look as though luck had not +altogether deserted him, in spite of the recent blow it had +given. He slid the wrapped number plates into the inside pocket +of his overcoat, pushed his hands deep into his pockets, and +walked up to the cheap hotel which had been his bleak substitute +for a home during his trouble. He packed everything he owned-- +a big suitcase held it all by squeezing--paid his bill at the +office, accepted a poor cigar, and in return said, yes, he was +going to strike out and look for work; and took the train for +Oakland. + +A street car landed him within two blocks of the address on the +tag, and Bud walked through thickening fog and dusk to the place. +Foster had a good-looking house, he observed. Set back on the +middle of two lots, it was, with a cement drive sloping up from +the street to the garage backed against the alley. Under cover of +lighting a cigarette, he inspected the place before he ventured +farther. The blinds were drawn down--at least upon the side +next the drive. On the other he thought he caught a gleam of +light at the rear; rather, the beam that came from a gleam of +light in Foster's dining room or kitchen shining on the next +house. But he was not certain of it, and the absolute quiet +reassured him so that he went up the drive, keeping on the grass +border until he reached the garage. This, he told himself, was +just like a woman--raising the deuce around so that a man had +to sneak into his own place to get his own car out of his own +garage. If Foster was up against the kind of deal Bud had been up +against, he sure had Bud's sympathy, and he sure would get the +best help Bud was capable of giving him. + +The key fitted the lock, and Bud went in, set down his +suitcase, and closed the door after him. It was dark as a pocket +in there, save where a square of grayness betrayed a window. Bud +felt his way to the side of the car, groped to the robe rail, +found a heavy, fringed robe, and curtained the window until he +could see no thread of light anywhere; after which he ventured to +use his flashlight until he had found the switch and turned on +the light. + +There was a little side door at the back, and it was fastened +on the inside with a stout hook. Bud thought for a minute, took a +long chance, and let himself out into the yard, closing the door +after him. He walked around the garage to the front and satisfied +himself that the light inside did not show. Then he went around +the back of the house and found that he had not been mistaken +about the light. The house was certainly occupied, and like the +neighboring houses seemed concerned only with the dinner hour of +the inmates. He went back, hooked the little door on the inside, +and began a careful inspection of the car he was to drive. + +It was a big, late-modeled touring car, of the kind that sells +for nearly five thousand dollars. Bud's eyes lightened with +satisfaction when he looked at it. There would be pleasure as +well as profit in driving this old girl to Los Angeles, he told +himself. It fairly made his mouth water to look at her standing +there. He got in and slid behind the wheel and fingered the gear +lever, and tested the clutch and the foot brake--not because +he doubted them, but because he had a hankering to feel their +smoothness of operation. Bud loved a good car just as he had +loved a good horse in the years behind him. Just as he used to +walk around a good horse and pat its sleek shoulder and feel the +hard muscles of its trim legs, so now he made love to this big +car. Let that old hen of Foster's crab the trip south? He should +sa-a-ay not! + +There did not seem to be a thing that he could do to her, but +nevertheless he got down and, gave all the grease cups a turn, +removed the number plates and put them under the rear seat +cushion, inspected the gas tank and the oil gauge and the fanbelt +and the radiator, turned back the trip-mileage to zero-- +professional driving had made Bud careful as a taxi driver about +recording the mileage of a trip--looked at the clock set in +the instrument board, and pondered. + +What if the old lady took a notion to drive somewhere? She +would miss the car and raise a hullabaloo, and maybe crab the +whole thing in the start. In that case, Bud decided that the best +way would be to let her go. He could pile on to the empty trunk +rack behind, and manage somehow to get off with the car when she +stopped. Still, there was not much chance of her going out in the +fog--and now that he listened, he heard the drip of rain. No, +there was not much chance. Foster had not seemed to think there +was any chance of the car being in use, and Foster ought to know. +He would wait until about ten-thirty, to play safe, and then go. + +Rain spelled skid chains to Bud. He looked in the tool box, +found a set, and put them on. Then, because he was not going to +take any chances, he put another set, that he found hanging up, +on the front wheels. After that he turned out the light, took +down the robe and wrapped himself in it, and laid himself down on +the rear seat to wait for ten-thirty. + +He dozed, and the next he knew there was a fumbling at the door +in front, and the muttering of a voice. Bud slid noiselessly out +of the car and under it, head to the rear where he could crawl +out quickly. The voice sounded like a man, and presently the door +opened and Bud was sure of it. He caught a querulous sentence or +two. + +"Door left unlocked--the ignorant hound--Good thing I +don't trust him too far--" Some one came fumbling in and +switched on the light. "Careless hound--told him to be careful +--never even put the robe on the rail where it belongs--and +then they howl about the way they're treated! Want more wages-- +don't earn what they do get--" + +Bud, twisting his head, saw a pair of slippered feet beside the +running board. The owner of the slippers was folding the robe and +laying it over the rail, and grumbling to himself all the while. +"Have to come out in the rain--daren't trust him an inch-- +just like him to go off and leave the door unlocked--" With a +last grunt or two the mumbling ceased. The light was switched +off, and Bud heard the doors pulled shut, and the rattle of the +padlock and chain. He waited another minute and crawled out. + +"Might have told me there was a father-in-law in the outfit," +he grumbled to himself. "Big a butt-in as Marie's mother, at +that. Huh. Never saw my suit case, never noticed the different +numbers, never got next to the chains--huh! Regular old he-hen, +and I sure don't blame Foster for wanting to tie a can to the +bunch." + +Very cautiously he turned his flashlight on the face of the +automobile clock. The hour hand stood a little past ten, and Bud +decided he had better go. He would have to fill the gas tank, and +get more oil, and he wanted to test the air in his tires. No +stops after they started, said Foster; Bud had set his heart on +showing Foster something in the way of getting a car over the +road. + +Father-in-law would holler if he heard the car, but Bud did not +intend that father-in-law should hear it. He would much rather +run the gauntlet of that driveway then wait in the dark any +longer. He remembered the slope down to the street, and grinned +contentedly. He would give father-in-law a chance to throw a fit, +next morning. + +He set his suit case in the tonneau, went out of the little +door, edged around to the front and very, very cautiously he +unlocked the big doors and set them open. He went in and felt the +front wheels, judged that they were set straight, felt around the +interior until his fingers touched a block of wood and stepped +off the approximate length of the car in front of the garage, +allowing for the swing of the doors, and placed the block there. +Then he went back, eased off the emergency brake, grabbed a good +handhold and strained forward. + +The chains hindered, but the floor sloped to the front a +trifle, which helped. In a moment he had the satisfaction of +feeling the big car give, then roll slowly ahead. The front +wheels dipped down over the threshold, and Bud stepped upon the +running board, took the wheel, and by instinct more than by sight +guided her through the doorway without a scratch. She rolled +forward like a black shadow until a wheel jarred against the +block, whereupon he set the emergency brake and got off, +breathing free once more. He picked up the block and carried it +back, quietly closed the big doors and locked them, taking time +to do it silently. Then, in a glow of satisfaction with his work, +he climbed slowly into the car, settled down luxuriously in the +driver's seat, eased off the brake, and with a little lurch of +his body forward started the car rolling down the driveway. + +There was a risk, of course, in coasting out on to the street +with no lights, but he took it cheerfully, planning to dodge if +he saw the lights of another car coming. It pleased him to +remember that the street inclined toward the bay. He rolled past +the house without a betraying sound, dipped over the curb to the +asphalt, swung the car townward, and coasted nearly half a block +with the ignition switch on before he pushed up the throttle, let +in his clutch, and got the answering chug-chug of the engine. +With the lights on full he went purring down the street in the +misty fog, pleased with himself and his mission. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. HEAD SOUTH AND KEEP GOING + +At a lunch wagon down near the water front, Bud stopped and +bought two "hot dog" sandwiches and a mug of hot coffee boiled +with milk in it and sweetened with three cubes of sugar. "O-oh, +boy!" he ejaculated gleefully when he set his teeth into biscuit +and hot hamburger. Leaning back luxuriously in the big car, he +ate and drank until he could eat and drink no more. Then, with a +bag of bananas on the seat beside him, he drove on down to the +mole, searching through the drizzle for the big gum sign which +Foster had named. Just even with the coughing engine of a waiting +through train he saw it, and backed in against the curb, pointing +the car's radiator toward the mainland. He had still half an hour +to wait, and he buttoned on the curtains of the car, since a wind +from across the bay was sending the drizzle slantwise; moreover +it occurred to him that Foster would not object to the +concealment while they were passing through Oakland. Then he +listlessly ate a banana while he waited. + +The hoarse siren of a ferryboat bellowed through the murk. Bud +started the engine, throttled it down to his liking, and left it +to warm up for the flight. He ate another banana, thinking lazily +that he wished he owned this car. For the first time in many a +day his mind was not filled and boiling over with his trouble. +Marie and all the bitterness she had come to mean to him receded +into the misty background of his mind and hovered there, an +indistinct memory of something painful in his life. + +A street car slipped past, bobbing down the track like a duck +sailing over ripples. A local train clanged down to the depot and +stood jangling its bell while it disgorged passengers for the +last boat to the City whose wall of stars was hidden behind the +drizzle and the clinging fog. People came straggling down the +sidewalk--not many, for few had business with the front end of +the waiting trains. Bud pushed the throttle up a little. His +fingers dropped down to the gear lever, his foot snuggled against +the clutch pedal. + +Feet came hurrying. Two voices mumbled together. "Here he is," +said one. "That's the number I gave him." Bud felt some one step +hurriedly upon the running board. The tonneau door was yanked +open. A man puffed audibly behind him. "Yuh ready?" Foster's +voice hissed in Bud's ear. + +"R'aring to go." Bud heard the second man get in and shut the +door, and he jerked the gear lever into low. His foot came gently +back with the clutch, and the car slid out and away. + +Foster settled back on the cushions with a sigh. The other man +was fumbling the side curtains, swearing under his breath when +his fingers bungled the fastenings. + +"Everything all ready?" Foster's voice was strident with +anxiety. + +"Sure thing." + +"Well, head south--any road you know best. And keep going, +till I tell you to stop. How's the oil and gas?" + +"Full up. Gas enough for three hundred miles. Extra gallon of +oil in the car. What d'yah want--the speed limit through town?" + +"Nah. Side streets, if you know any. They might get quick +action and telephone ahead." + +"Leave it to me, brother." + +Bud did not know for sure, never having been pursued; but it +seemed to him that a straightaway course down a main street where +other cars were scudding homeward would be the safest route, +because the simplest. He did not want any side streets in his, he +decided--and maybe run into a mess of street-improvement +litter, and have to back trail around it. He held the car to a +hurry-home pace that was well within the law, and worked into the +direct route to Hayward. He sensed that either Foster or his +friend turned frequently to look back through the square +celluloid window, but he did not pay much attention to them, for +the streets were greasy with wet, and not all drivers would equip +with four skid chains. Keeping sharp lookout for skidding cars +and unexpected pedestrians and street-car crossings and the like +fully occupied Bud. + +For all that, an occasional mutter came unheeded to his ears, +the closed curtains preserving articulate sounds like room walls. + +"He's all right," he heard Foster whisper once. "Better than if +he was in on it." He did not know that Foster was speaking of +him. + +"--if he gets next," the friend mumbled. + +"Ah, quit your worrying," Foster grunted. "The trick's turned; +that's something." + +Bud was under the impression that they were talking about +father-in-law, who had called Foster a careless hound; but +whether they were or not concerned him so little that his own +thoughts never flagged in their shuttle-weaving through his mind. +The mechanics of handling the big car and getting the best speed +out of her with the least effort and risk, the tearing away of +the last link of his past happiness and his grief; the feeling +that this night was the real parting between him and Marie, the +real stepping out into the future; the future itself, blank +beyond the end of this trip, these were quite enough to hold Bud +oblivious to the conversation of strangers. + +At dawn they neared a little village. Through this particular +county the road was unpaved and muddy, and the car was a sight to +behold. The only clean spot was on the windshield, where Bud had +reached around once or twice with a handful of waste and cleaned +a place to see through. It was raining soddenly, steadily, as +though it always had rained and always would rain. + +Bud turned his face slightly to one side. "How about stopping; +I'll have to feed her some oil--and it wouldn't hurt to fill +the gas tank again. These heavy roads eat up a lot of extra +power. What's her average mileage on a gallon, Foster?" + +"How the deuce should I know?" Foster snapped, just coming out +of a doze. + +"You ought to know, with your own car--and gas costing what +it does." + +"Oh!--ah--what was it you asked?" Foster yawned aloud. "I +musta been asleep." + +"I guess you musta been, all right," Bud grunted. "Do you want +breakfast here, or don't you? I've got to stop for gas and oil; +that's what I was asking?" + +The two consulted together, and finally told Bud to stop at the +first garage and get his oil and gas. After that he could drive +to a drug store and buy a couple of thermos bottles, and after +that he could go to the nearest restaurant and get the bottles +filled with black coffee, and have lunch put up for six people. +Foster and his friend would remain in the car. + +Bud did these things, revising the plan to the extent of eating +his own breakfast at the counter in the restaurant while the +lunch was being prepared in the kitchen. + +From where he sat he could look across at the muddy car +standing before a closed millinery-and-drygoods store. It surely +did not look much like the immaculate machine he had gloated over +the evening before, but it was a powerful, big brute of a car and +looked its class in every line. Bud was proud to drive a car like +that. The curtains were buttoned down tight, and he thought +amusedly of the two men huddled inside, shivering and hungry, yet +refusing to come in and get warmed up with a decent breakfast. +Foster, he thought, must certainly be scared of his wife, if he +daren't show himself in this little rube town. For the first time +Bud had a vagrant suspicion that Foster had not told quite all +there was to tell about this trip. Bud wondered now if Foster was +not going to meet a "Jane" somewhere in the South. That +terrifying Mann Act would account for his caution much better +than would the business deal of which Foster had hinted. + +Of course, Bud told himself while the waiter refilled his +coffee cup, it was none of his business what Foster had up his +sleeve. He wanted to get somewhere quickly and quietly, and Bud +was getting him there. That was all he need to consider. Warmed +and once more filled with a sense of well-being, Bud made +himself a cigarette before the lunch was ready, and with his arms +full of food he went out and across the street. Just before he +reached the car one of the thermos bottles started to slide down +under his elbow. Bud attempted to grip it against his ribs, but +the thing had developed a slipperiness that threatened the whole +load, so he stopped to rearrange his packages, and got an +irritated sentence or two from his passengers. + +"Giving yourself away like that! Why couldn't you fake up a +mileage? Everybody lies or guesses about the gas--" + +"Aw, what's the difference? The simp ain't next to anything. He +thinks I own it." + +"Well, don't make the mistake of thinking he's a sheep. Once he +--" + +Bud suddenly remembered that he wanted something more from the +restaurant, and returned forth-with, slipping thermos bottle and +all. He bought two packages of chewing gum to while away the time +when he could not handily smoke, and when he returned to the car +he went muttering disapproving remarks about the rain and the mud +and the bottles. He poked his head under the front curtain and +into a glum silence. The two men leaned back into the two corners +of the wide seat, with their heads drawn down into their coat +collars and their hands thrust under the robe. Foster reached +forward and took a thermos bottle, his partner seized another. + +"Say, you might get us a bottle of good whisky, too," said +Foster, holding out a small gold piece between his gloved thumb +and finger. "Be quick about it though--we want to be traveling. +Lord, it's cold! " + +Bud went into a saloon a few doors up the street, and was back +presently with the bottle and the change. There being nothing +more to detain them there, he kicked some of the mud off his +feet, scraped off the rest on the edge of the running board and +climbed in, fastening the curtain against the storm. "Lovely +weather," he grunted sarcastically. "Straight on to Bakersfield, +huh?" + +There was a minute of silence save for the gurgling of liquid +running out of a bottle into an eager mouth. Bud laid an arm +along the back of his seat and waited, his head turned toward +them. "Where are you fellows going, anyway?" he asked +impatiently. + +"Los An--" the stranger gurgled, still drinking. + +"Yuma!" snapped Foster. "You shut up, Mert. I'm running this." + +"Better--" + +"Yuma. You hit the shortest trail for Yuma, Bud. I'm running +this." + +Foster seemed distinctly out of humor. He told Mert again to +shut up, and Mert did so grumblingly, but somewhat diverted and +consoled, Bud fancied, by the sandwiches and coffee--and the +whisky too, he guessed. For presently there was an odor from the +uncorked bottle in the car. + +Bud started and drove steadily on through the rain that never +ceased. The big car warmed his heart with its perfect +performance, its smooth, effortless speed, its ease of handling. +He had driven too long and too constantly to tire easily, and he +was almost tempted to settle down to sheer enjoyment in driving +such a car. Last night he had enjoyed it, but last night was not +to-day. + +He wished he had not overheard so much, or else had overheard +more. He was inclined to regret his retreat from the acrimonious +voices as being premature. Just why was he a simp, for instance? +Was it because he thought Foster owned the car? Bud wondered +whether father-in-law had not bought it, after all. Now that he +began thinking from a different angle, he remembered that father- +in-law had behaved very much like the proud possessor of a new +car. It really did not look plausible that he would come out in +the drizzle to see if Foster's car was safely locked in for the +night. There had been, too, a fussy fastidiousness in the way the +robe had been folded and hung over the rail. No man would do that +for some other man's property, unless he was paid for it. + +Wherefore, Bud finally concluded that Foster was not above +helping himself to family property. On the whole, Bud did not +greatly disapprove of that; he was too actively resentful of his +own mother-in-law. He was not sure but he might have done +something of the sort himself, if his mother-in-law had possessed +a six-thousand-dollar car. Still, such a car generally means a +good deal to the owner, and he did not wonder that Foster was +nervous about it. + +But in the back of his mind there lurked a faint +dissatisfaction with this easy explanation. It occurred to him +that if there was going to be any trouble about the car, he might +be involved beyond the point of comfort. After all, he did not +know Foster, and he had no more reason for believing Foster's +story than he had for doubting. For all he knew, it might not be +a wife that Foster was so afraid of. + +Bud was not stupid. He was merely concerned chiefly with his +own affairs--a common enough failing, surely. But now that he +had thought himself into a mental eddy where his own affairs +offered no new impulse toward emotion, he turned over and over in +his mind the mysterious trip he was taking. It had come to seem +just a little too mysterious to suit him, and when Bud Moore was +not suited he was apt to do something about it. + +What he did in this case was to stop in Bakersfield at a garage +that had a combination drugstore and news-stand next door. He +explained shortly to his companions that he had to stop and buy a +road map and that he wouldn't be long, and crawled out into the +rain. At the open doorway of the garage he turned and looked at +the car. No, it certainly did not look in the least like the +machine he had driven down to the Oakland mole--except, of +course, that it was big and of the same make. It might have been +empty, too, for all the sign it gave of being occupied. Foster +and Mert evidently had no intention whatever of showing +themselves. + +Bud went into the drugstore, remained there for five minutes +perhaps, and emerged with a morning paper which he rolled up and +put into his pocket. He had glanced through its feature news, and +had read hastily one front-page article that had nothing whatever +to do with the war, but told about the daring robbery of a +jewelry store in San Francisco the night before. + +The safe, it seemed, had been opened almost in plain sight of +the street crowds, with the lights full on in the store. A clever +arrangement of two movable mirrors had served to shield the thief +--or thieves. For no longer than two or three minutes, it +seemed, the lights had been off, and it was thought that the +raiders had used the interval of darkness to move the mirrors +into position. Which went far toward proving that the crime had +been carefully planned in advance. Furthermore, the article +stated with some assurance that trusted employees were involved. + +Bud also had glanced at the news items of less importance, and +had been startled enough--yet not so much surprised as he +would have been a few hours earlier--to read, under the +caption: DARING THIEF STEALS COSTLY CAR, to learn that a certain +rich man of Oakland had lost his new automobile. The address of +the bereaved man had been given, and Bud's heart had given a flop +when he read it. The details of the theft had not been told, but +Bud never noticed their absence. His memory supplied all that for +him with sufficient vividness. + +He rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and with the paper stuffed +carelessly into his pocket he went to the car, climbed in, and +drove on to the south, just as matter-of-factly as though he had +not just then discovered that he, Bud Moore, had stolen a six- +thousand-dollar automobile the night before. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. BUD CANNOT PERFORM MIRACLES + +They went on and on, through the rain and the wind, sometimes +through the mud as well, where the roads were not paved. Foster +had almost pounced upon the newspaper when he discovered it in +Bud's pocket as he climbed in, and Bud knew that the two read +that feature article avidly. But if they had any comments to +make, they saved them for future privacy. Beyond a few muttered +sentences they were silent. + +Bud did not care whether they talked or not. They might have +talked themselves hoarse, when it came to that, without changing +his opinions or his attitude toward them. He had started out the +most unsuspecting of men, and now he was making up for it by +suspecting Foster and Mert of being robbers and hypocrites and +potential murderers. He could readily imagine them shooting him +in the back of the head while he drove, if that would suit their +purpose, or if they thought that he suspected them. + +He kept reviewing his performance in that garage. Had he really +intended to steal the car, he would not have had the nerve to +take the chances he had taken. He shivered when he recalled how +he had slid under the car when the owner came in. What if the man +had seen him or heard him? He would be in jail now, instead of +splashing along the highway many miles to the south. For that +matter, he was likely to land in jail, anyway, before he was done +with Foster, unless he did some pretty close figuring. Wherefore +he drove with one part of his brain, and with the other he +figured upon how he was going to get out of the mess himself-- +and land Foster and Mert deep in the middle of it. For such was +his vengeful desire. + +After an hour or so, when his stomach began to hint that it was +eating time for healthy men, he slowed down and turned his head +toward the tonneau. There they were, hunched down under the robe, +their heeds drawn into their collars like two turtles half asleep +on a mud bank. + +"Say, how about some lunch?" he demanded. "Maybe you fellows can +get along on whisky and sandwiches, but I'm doing the work; and +if you notice, I've been doing it for about twelve hours now +without any let-up. There's a town ahead here a ways--" + +"Drive around it, then," growled Foster, lifting his chin to +stare ahead through the fogged windshield. "We've got hot coffee +here, and there's plenty to eat. Enough for two meals. How far +have we come since we started?" + +"Far enough to be called crazy if we go much farther without a +square meal," Bud snapped. Then he glanced at the rumpled +newspaper and added carelessly, "Anything new in the paper?" + +"No!" Mert spoke up sharply. "Go on. You're doing all right so +far--don't spoil it by laying down on your job!" + +"Sure, go on!" Foster urged. "We'll stop when we get away from +this darn burg, and you can rest your legs a little while we +eat." + +Bud went on, straight through the middle of the town without +stopping. They scurried down a long, dismal lane toward a low- +lying range of hills pertly wooded with bald patches of barren +earth and rock. Beyond were mountains which Bud guessed was the +Tehachapi range. Beyond them, he believed he would find desert +and desertion. He had never been over this road before, so he +could no more than guess. He knew that the ridge road led to Los +Angeles, and he did not want anything of that road. Too many +travelers. He swung into a decent-looking road that branched off +to the left, wondering where it led, but not greatly caring. He +kept that road until they had climbed over a ridge or two and +were in the mountains. Soaked wilderness lay all about them, +green in places where grass would grow, brushy in places, barren +and scarred with outcropping ledges, pencilled with wire fences +drawn up over high knolls. + +In a sequestered spot where the road hugged close the concave +outline of a bushy bluff, Bud slowed and turned out behind a +fringe of bushes, and stopped. + +"This is safe enough," he announced, "and my muscles are kinda +crampy. I'll tell the world that's been quite some spell of +straight driving." + +Mert grunted, but Foster was inclined to cheerfulness. "You're +some driver, Bud. I've got to hand it to you." + +Bud grinned. "All right, I'll take it--half of it, anyway, +if you don't mind. You must remember I don't know you fellows. +Most generally I collect half in advance, on a long trip like +this." Foster's eyes opened, but he reached obediently inside his +coat. Mert growled inaudible comments upon Bud's nerve. + +"Oh, we can't kick, Mert," Foster smoothed him down +diplomatically. "He's delivered the goods, so far. And he +certainly does know how to put a car over the road. He don't know +us, remember!" + +Mert grunted again and subsided. Foster extracted a bank note +from his bill-folder, which Bud observed had a prosperous +plumpness, and held it out to Bud. + +"I guess fifty dollars won't hurt your feelings, will it, +brother? That's more than you'd charge for twice the trip, but we +appreciate a tight mouth, and the hurry-up trip you've made of +it, and all that It's special work, and we're willing to pay a +special price. See?" + +"Sure. But I only want half, right now. Maybe," he added with +the lurking twinkle in his eyes, "I won't suit yuh quite so well +the rest of the way. I'll have to go b'-guess and b'-gosh from +here on. I've got some change left from what I bought for yuh +this morning too. Wait till I check up." + +Very precisely he did so, and accepted enough from Foster to +make up the amount to twenty-five dollars. He was tempted to take +more. For one minute he even contemplated holding the two up and +taking enough to salve his hurt pride and his endangered +reputation. But he did not do anything of the sort, of course; +let's believe he was too honest to do it even in revenge for the +scurvy trick they had played him. + +He ate a generous lunch of sandwiches and dill pickles and a +wedge of tasteless cocoanut cake, and drank half a pint or so of +the hot, black coffee, and felt more cheerful. + +"Want to get down and stretch your legs? I've got to take a +look at the tires, anyway. Thought she was riding like one was +kinda flat, the last few miles." + +They climbed out stiffly into the rain, stood around the car +and stared at it and at Bud testing his tires, and walked off +down the road for a little distance where they stood talking +earnestly together. From the corner of his eye Bud caught Mert +tilting his head that way, and smiled to himself. Of course they +were talking about him! Any fool would know that much. Also they +were discussing the best means of getting rid of him, or of +saddling upon him the crime of stealing the car, or some other +angle at which he touched their problem. + +Under cover of testing the rear wheel farthest from them, he +peeked into the tonneau and took a good look at the small +traveling bag they had kept on the seat between them all the way. +He wished he dared--But they were coming back, as if they +would not trust him too long alone with that bag. He bent again +to the tire, and when they climbed back into the curtained car he +was getting the pump tubing out to pump up that particular tire a +few pounds. + +They did not pay much attention to him. They seemed preoccupied +and not too friendly with each other, Bud thought. Their general +air of gloom he could of course lay to the weather and the fact +that they had been traveling for about fourteen hours without any +rest; but there was something more than that in the atmosphere. +He thought they had disagreed, and that he was the subject of +their disagreement. + +He screwed down the valve cap, coiled the pump tube and stowed +it away in the tool box, opened the gas tank, and looked in-- +and right there he did something else; something that would have +spelled disaster if either of them had seen him do it. He spilled +a handful of little round white objects like marbles into the +tank before he screwed on the cap, and from his pocket he pulled +a little paper box, crushed it in his hand, and threw it as far +as he could into the bushes. Then, whistling just above his +breath, which was a habit with Bud when his work was going along +pleasantly, he scraped the mud off his feet, climbed in, and +drove on down the road. + +The big car picked up speed on the down grade, racing along as +though the short rest had given it a fresh enthusiasm for the +long road that wound in and out and up and down and seemed to +have no end. As though he joyed in putting her over the miles, +Bud drove. Came a hill, he sent her up it with a devil-may-care +confidence, swinging around curves with a squall of the powerful +horn that made cattle feeding half a mile away on the slopes lift +their startled heads and look. + +"How much longer are you good for, Bud?" Foster leaned forward +to ask, his tone flattering with the praise that was in it. + +"Me? As long as this old boat will travel," Bud +flung back gleefully, giving her a little more speed +as they rocked over a culvert and sped away to the +next hill. He chuckled, but Foster had settled back +again satisfied, and did not notice. + +Halfway up the next hill the car slowed suddenly, gave a snort, +gasped twice as Bud retarded the spark to help her out, and, +died. She was a heavy car to hold on that stiff grade, and in +spite of the full emergency brake helped out with the service +brake, she inched backward until the rear wheels came full +against a hump across the road and held. + +Bud did not say anything; your efficient chauffeur reserves his +eloquence for something more complex than a dead engine. He took +down the curtain on that side, leaned out into the rain and +inspected the road behind him, shifted into reverse, and backed +to the bottom. + +"What's wrong?" Foster leaned forward to ask senselessly. + +"When I hit level ground, I'm going to find out," Bud retorted, +still watching the road and steering with one hand. "Does the old +girl ever cut up with you on hills?" + +"Why--no. She never has," Foster answered dubiously. + +"Reason I asked, she didn't just choke down from the pull. She +went and died on me." + +"That's funny," Foster observed weakly. + +On the level Bud went into neutral and pressed the self-starter +with a pessimistic deliberation. He got three chugs and a +backfire into the carburetor, and after that silence. He tried it +again, coaxing her with the spark and throttle. The engine gave a +snort, hesitated and then, quite suddenly, began to throb with +docile regularity that seemed to belie any previous intention of +"cutting up." + +Bud fed her the gas and took a run at the hill. She went up +like a thoroughbred and died at the top, just when the road had +dipped into the descent. Bud sent her down hill on compression, +but at the bottom she refused to find her voice again when he +turned on the switch and pressed the accelerator. She simply +rolled down to the first incline and stopped there like a balky +mule. + +"Thunder!" said Bud, and looked around at Foster. "Do you +reckon the old boat is jinxed, just because I said I could drive +her as far as she'd go? The old rip ain't shot a cylinder since +we hit the top of the hill." + +"Maybe the mixture--" + +"Yeah," Bud interrupted with a secret grin, "I've been wondering +about that, and the needle valve, and the feed pipe, and a few +other little things. Well, we'll have a look." + +Forthwith he climbed out into the drizzle and began a +conscientious search for the trouble. He inspected the needle +valve with much care, and had Foster on the front seat trying to +start her afterwards. He looked for short circuit. He changed the +carburetor adjustment, and Foster got a weary chug-chug that +ceased almost as soon as it had begun. He looked all the spark +plugs over, he went after the vacuum feed and found that working +perfectly. He stood back, finally, with his hands on his hips, +and stared at the engine and shook his head slowly twice. + +Foster, in the driver's seat, swore and tried again to start +it. "Maybe if you cranked it," he suggested tentatively. + +"What for? The starter turns her over all right. Spark's all +right too, strong and hot. However--" With a sigh of +resignation Bud got out what tools he wanted and went to work. +Foster got out and stood around, offering suggestions that were +too obvious to be of much use, but which Bud made it a point to +follow as far as was practicable. + +Foster said it must be the carburetor, and Bud went +relentlessly after the carburetor. He impressed Foster with the +fact that he knew cars, and when he told Foster to get in and try +her again, Foster did so with the air of having seen the end of +the trouble. At first it did seem so, for the engine started at +once and worked smoothly until Bud had gathered his wrenches off +the running board and was climbing it, when it slowed down and +stopped, in spite of Foster's frantic efforts to keep it alive +with spark and throttle. + +"Good Glory!" cried Bud, looking reproachfully in at Foster. +"What'd yuh want to stop her for?" + +"I didn't!" Foster's consternation was ample proof of his +innocence. "What the devil ails the thing?" + +"You tell me, and I'll fix it," Bud retorted savagely. Then he +smoothed his manner and went back to the carburetor. "Acts like +the gas kept choking off," he said, "but it ain't that. She's +O.K. I know, 'cause I've tested it clean back to tank. There's +nothing the matter with the feed--she's getting gas same as +she has all along. I can take off the mag. and see if anything's +wrong there; but I'm pretty sure there ain't. Couldn't any water +or mud get in--not with that oil pan perfect. She looks dry as +a bone, and clean. Try her again, Foster; wait till I set the +spark about right. Now, you leave it there, and give her the gas +kinda gradual, and catch her when she talks. We'll see--" + +They saw that she was not going to "talk" at all. Bud swore a +little and got out more tools and went after the magneto with +grim determination. Again Foster climbed out and stood in the +drizzle and watched him. Mert crawled over into the front seat +where he could view the proceedings through the windshield. Bud +glanced up and saw him there, and grinned maliciously. "Your +friend seems to love wet weather same as a cat does," he observed +to Foster. "He'll be terrible happy if you're stalled here till +you get a tow in somewhere." + +"It's your business to see that we aren't stalled," Mert +snapped at him viciously. "You've got to make the thing go. +You've got to!" + +"Well, I ain't the Almighty," Bud retorted acidly. "I can't +perform miracles while yuh wait." + +"Starting a cranky car doesn't take a miracle," whined Mert. +"Anybody that knows cars--" + +"She's no business to be a cranky car," Foster interposed +pacifically. "Why, she's practically new!" He stepped over a +puddle and stood beside Bud, peering down at the silent engine. +"Have you looked at the intake valve?" he asked pathetically. + +"Why, sure. It's all right. Everything's all right, as far as I +can find out." Bud looked Foster straight in the eye--and if +his own were a bit anxious, that was to be expected. + +"Everything's all right," he added measuredly. "Only, she won't +go." He waited, watching Foster's face. + +Foster chewed a corner of his lip worriedly. "Well, what do you +make of it?" His tone was helpless. + +Bud threw out his two hands expressively, and shook his head. +He let down the hood, climbed in, slid into the driver's seat, +and went through the operation of starting. Only, he didn't +start. The self-starter hummed as it spun the flywheel, but +nothing whatever was elicited save a profane phrase from Foster +and a growl from Mert. Bud sat back flaccid, his whole body +owning defeat. + +"Well, that means a tow in to the nearest shop," he stated, +after a minute of dismal silence. "She's dead as a doornail." + +Mert sat back in his corner of the seat, muttering into his +collar. Foster looked at him, looked at Bud, looked at the car +and at the surrounding hills. He seemed terribly depressed and at +the same time determined to make the best of things. Bud could +almost pity him--almost. + +"Do you know how far it is back to that town we passed?" he +asked Bud spiritlessly after a while. Bud looked at the +speedometer, made a mental calculation and told him it was +fifteen miles. Towns, it seemed, were rather far apart in this +section of the country. + +"Well, let's see the road map. How far is it to the next one?" + +"Search me. They didn't have any road maps back there. Darned +hick burg." + +Foster studied awhile. "Well, let's see if we can push her off +the middle of the road--and then I guess we'll have to let you +walk back and get help. Eh, Mert? There's nothing else we can +do--" + +"What yuh going to tell 'em?" Mert demanded suspiciously. + +Bud permitted a surprised glance to slant back at Mert. "Why, +whatever you fellows fake up for me to tell," he said naively. "I +know the truth ain't popular on this trip, so get together and +dope out something. And hand me over my suit case, will yuh? I +want some dry socks to put on when I get there." + +Foster very obligingly tilted the suit case over into the front +seat. After that he and Mert, as by a common thought impelled, +climbed out and went over to a bushy live oak to confer in +privacy. Mert carried the leather bag with him. + +By the time they had finished and were coming back, Bud had +gone through his belongings and had taken out a few letters that +might prove awkward if found there later, two pairs of socks and +his razor and toothbrush. He was folding the socks to stow away +in his pocket when they got in. + +"You can say that we're from Los Angeles, and on our way home," +Foster told him curtly. It was evident to Bud that the two had +not quite agreed upon some subject they had discussed. "That's +all right. I'm Foster, and he's named Brown--if any one gets +too curious" + +"Fine. Fine because it's so simple. I'll eat another sandwich, +if you don't mind, before I go. I'll tell a heartless world that +fifteen miles is some little stroll--for a guy that hates +walkin'." + +"You're paid for it," Mert growled at him rudely. + +"Sure, I'm paid for it," Bud assented placidly, taking a bite. +They might have wondered at his calm, but they did not. He ate +what he wanted, took a long drink of the coffee, and started off +up the hill they had rolled down an hour or more past. + +He walked briskly, and when he was well out of earshot Bud +began to whistle. Now and then he stopped to chuckle, and +sometimes he frowned at an uncomfortable thought. But on the +whole he was very well pleased with his present circumstances. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. BUD TAKES TO THE HILLS + +In a little village which he had glimpsed from the top of a +hill Bud went into the cluttered little general store and bought +a few blocks of slim, evil smelling matches and a couple of +pounds of sliced bacon, a loaf of stale bread, and two small cans +of baked beans. He stuffed them all into the pocket of his +overcoat, and went out and hunted up a long-distance telephone +sign. It had not taken him more than an hour to walk to the town, +for he had only to follow a country road that branched off that +way for a couple of miles down a valley. There was a post office +and the general store and a couple of saloons and a blacksmith +shop that was thinking of turning into a garage but had gone no +further than to hang out a sign that gasoline was for sale there. +It was all very sordid and very lifeless and altogether +discouraging in the drizzle of late afternoon. Bud did not see +half a dozen human beings on his way to the telephone office, +which he found was in the post office. + +He called up San Francisco, and got the chief of police's +office on the wire, and told them where they would find the men +who had robbed that jewelry store of all its diamonds and some +other unset jewels. Also he mentioned the car that was stolen, +and that was now stalled and waiting for some kind soul to come +and give it a tow. + +He speedily had all the attention of the chief, and having +thought out in advance his answers to certain pertinent +questions, he did not stutter when they were asked. Yes, he had +been hired to drive the ear south, and he had overheard enough to +make him suspicious on the way. He knew that they had stolen the +car. He was not absolutely sure that they were the diamond +thieves but it would be easy enough to find out, because officers +sent after them would naturally be mistaken for first aid from +some garage, and the cops could nab the men and look into that +grip they were so careful not to let out of their sight. + +"Are you sure they won't get the car repaired and go on?" It +was perfectly natural that the chief should fear that very thing. + +"No chance!" Bud chuckled into the 'phone. "Not a chance in the +world, chief. They'll be right there where I left 'em, unless +some car comes along and gives 'em a tow. And if that happens +you'll be able to trace 'em." He started to hang up, and added +another bit of advice. "Say, chief, you better tell whoever gets +the car, to empty the gas tank and clean out the carburetor and +vacuum feed--and she'll go, all right! Adios." + +He hung up and paid the charge hurriedly, and went out and down +a crooked little lane that led between bushes to a creek and +heavy timber. It did not seem to him advisable to linger; the San +Francisco chief of police might set some officer in that village +on his trail, just as a matter of precaution. Bud told himself +that he would do it were he in the chief's place. When he reached +the woods along the creek he ran, keeping as much as possible on +thick leaf mold that left the least impression. He headed to the +east, as nearly as he could judge, and when he came to a rocky +canyon he struck into it. + +He presently found himself in a network of small gorges that +twisted away into the hills without any system whatever, as far +as he could see. He took one that seemed to lead straightest +toward where the sun would rise next morning, and climbed +laboriously deeper and deeper into the hills. After awhile he had +to descend from the ridge where he found himself standing bleakly +revealed against a lowering, slaty sky that dripped rain +incessantly. As far as he could see were hills and more hills, +bald and barren except in certain canyons whose deeper shadows +told of timber. Away off to the southwest a bright light showed +briefly--the headlight of a Santa Fe train, he guessed it must +be. To the east which be faced the land was broken with bare +hills that fell just short of being mountains. He went down the +first canyon that opened in that direction, ploughing doggedly +ahead into the unknown. + +That night Bud camped in the lee of a bank that was fairly well +screened with rocks and bushes, and dined off broiled bacon and +bread and a can of beans with tomato sauce, and called it a meal. +At first he was not much inclined to take the risk of having a +fire big enough to keep him warm. Later in the night he was +perfectly willing to take the risk, but could not find enough dry +wood. His rainproofed overcoat became quite soggy and damp on the +inside, in spite of his efforts to shield himself from the rain. +It was not exactly a comfortable night, but he worried through it +somehow. + +At daylight he opened another can of beans and made himself two +thick bean sandwiches, and walked on while he ate them slowly. +They tasted mighty good, Bud thought--but he wished fleetingly +that he was back in the little green cottage on North Sixth +Street, getting his own breakfast. He felt as though he could +drink about four caps of coffee; and as to hotcakes--! But +breakfast in the little green cottage recalled Marie, and Marie +was a bitter memory. All the more bitter because he did not know +where burrowed the root of his hot resentment. In a strong man's +love for his home and his mate was it rooted, and drew therefrom +the wormwood of love thwarted and spurned. + +After awhile the high air currents flung aside the clouds like +curtains before a doorway. The sunlight flashed out dazzlingly +and showed Bud that the world, even this tumbled world, was good +to look upon. His instincts were all for the great outdoors, and +from such the sun brings quick response. Bud lifted his head, +looked out over the hills to where a bare plain stretched in the +far distance, and went on more briskly. + +He did not meet any one at all; but that was chiefly because he +did not want to meet any one. He went with his ears and his eyes +alert, and was not above hiding behind a clump of stunted bushes +when two horsemen rode down a canyon trail just below him. Also +he searched for roads and then avoided them. It would be a fat +morsel for Marie and her mother to roll under their tongues, he +told himself savagely, if he were arrested and appeared in the +papers as one of that bunch of crooks! + +Late that afternoon, by traveling steadily in one direction, he +topped a low ridge and saw an arm of the desert thrust out to +meet him. A scooped gully with gravelly sides and rocky bottom +led down that way, and because his feet were sore from so much +sidehill travel, Bud went down. He was pretty well fagged too, +and ready to risk meeting men, if thereby he might gain a square +meal. Though he was not starving, or anywhere near it, he craved +warm food and hot coffee. + +So when he presently came upon two sway-backed burros that +showed the sweaty imprint of packsaddles freshly removed, and a +couple of horses also sweat roughened, he straightway assumed +that some one was making camp not far away. One of the horses was +hobbled, and they were all eating hungrily the grass that grew +along the gully's sides. Camp was not only close, but had not +yet reached suppertime, Bud guessed from the well-known range +signs. + +Two or three minutes proved him right. He came upon a man just +driving the last tent peg. He straightened up and stared at Bud +unblinkingly for a few seconds. + +"Howdy, howdy," he greeted him then with tentative +friendliness, and went on with his work. "You lost?" he added +carefully. A man walking down out of the barren hills, and +carrying absolutely nothing in the way of camp outfit, was enough +to whet the curiosity of any one who knew that country. At the +same time curiosity that became too apparent might be extremely +unwelcome. So many things may drive a man into the hills--but +few of them would bear discussion with strangers. + +"Yes. I am, and I ain't." Bud came up and stood with his hands +in his coat pockets, and watched the old fellow start his fire. + +"Yeah--how about some supper? If you am, and you ain't as +hungry as you look--" + +"I'll tell the world I am, and then some. I ain't had a square +meal since yesterday morning, and I grabbed that at a quick-lunch +joint. I'm open to supper engagements, brother." + +"All right. There's a side of bacon in that kyack over there. +Get it out and slice some off, and we'll have supper before you +know it. We will," he added pessimistically, "if this dang brush +will burn." + +Bud found the bacon and cut according to his appetite. His host +got out a blackened coffeepot and half filled it with water from +a dented bucket, and balanced it on one side of the struggling +fire. He remarked that they had had some rain, to which Bud +agreed. He added gravely that he believed it was going to clear +up, though--unless the wind swung back into the storm quarter. +Bud again professed cheerfully to be in perfect accord. After +which conversational sparring they fell back upon the little +commonplaces of the moment. + +Bud went into a brush patch and managed to glean an armful of +nearly dry wood, which he broke up with the axe and fed to the +fire, coaxing it into freer blazing. The stranger watched him +unobtrusively, critically, pottering about while Bud fried the +bacon. + +"I guess you've handled a frying pan before, all right," he +remarked at last, when the bacon was fried without burning. + +Bud grinned. "I saw one in a store window once as I was going +by," he parried facetiously. "That was quite a while back." + +"Yeah. Well, how's your luck with bannock? I've got it all +mixed." + +"Dump her in here, ole-timer," cried Bud, holding out the +frying pan emptied of all but grease. "Wish I had another hot +skillet to turn over the top." + +"I guess you've been there, all right," the other chuckled. +"Well, I don't carry but the one frying pan. I'm equipped light, +because I've got to outfit with grub, further along." + +"Well, we'll make out all right, just like this." Bud propped +the handle of the frying pan high with a forked stick, and stood +up. "Say, my name's Bud Moore, and I'm not headed anywhere in +particular. I'm just traveling in one general direction, and +that's with the Coast at my back. Drifting, that's all. I ain't +done anything I'm ashamed of or scared of, but I am kinda bashful +about towns. I tangled with a couple of crooks, and they're +pulled by now, I expect. I'm dodging newspaper notoriety. Don't +want to be named with 'em at all." He, spread his hands with an +air of finality. "That's my tale of woe," he supplemented, +"boiled down to essentials. I just thought I'd tell you." + +"Yeah. Well, my name's Cash Markham, and I despise to have +folks get funny over it. I'm a miner and prospector, and I'm +outfitting for a trip for another party, looking up an old +location that showed good prospects ten years ago. Man died, and +his wife's trying to get the claim relocated. Get you a plate +outa that furtherest kyack, and a cup. Bannock looks about done, +so we'll eat." + +That night Bud shared Cash Markham's blankets, and in the +morning he cooked the breakfast while Cash Markham rounded up the +burros and horses. In that freemasonry of the wilderness they +dispensed with credentials, save those each man carried in his +face and in his manner. And if you stop to think of it, such +credentials are not easily forged, for nature writes them down, +and nature is a truth-loving old dame who will never lead you far +astray if only she is left alone to do her work in peace. + +It transpired, in the course of the forenoon's travel, that +Cash Markham would like to have a partner, if he could find a man +that suited. One guessed that he was fastidious in the matter of +choosing his companions, in spite of the easy way in which he had +accepted Bud. By noon they had agreed that Bud should go along +and help relocate the widow's claim. Cash Markham hinted that +they might do a little prospecting on their own account. It was a +country he had long wanted to get into, he said, and while he +intended to do what Mrs. Thompson had hired him to do, still +there was no law against their prospecting on their own account. +And that, he explained, was one reason why he wanted a good man +along. If the Thompson claim was there, Bud could do the work +under the supervision of Cash, and Cash could prospect. + +"And anyway, it's bad policy for a man to go off alone in this +part of the country," he added with a speculative look across the +sandy waste they were skirting at a pace to suit the heavily +packed burros. "Case of sickness or accident--or suppose the +stock strays off--it's bad to be alone." + +"Suits me fine to go with you," Bud declared. "I'm next thing +to broke, but I've got a lot of muscle I can cash in on the deal. +And I know the open. And I can rock a gold-pan and not spill out +all the colors, if there is any--and whatever else I know is +liable to come in handy, and what I don't know I can learn." + +"That's fair enough. Fair enough," Markham agreed. "I'll allow +you wages on the Thompson job' till you've earned enough to +balance up with the outfit. After that it'll be fifty-fifty. +How'll that be, Bud?" + +"Fair enough--fair enough," Bud retorted with faint mimicry. +"If I was all up in the air a few days ago, I seem to have lit on +my feet, and that's good enough for me right now. We'll let 'er +ride that way." + +And the twinkle, as he talked, was back in his eyes, and the +smiley quirk was at the corner of his lips. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. INTO THE DESERT + +If you want to know what mad adventure Bud found himself +launched upon, just read a few extracts from the diary which Cash +Markham, being a methodical sort of person, kept faithfully from +day to day, until he cut his thumb on a can of tomatoes which he +had been cutting open with his knife. Alter that Bud kept the +diary for him, jotting down the main happenings of the day. When +Cash's thumb healed so that he could hold a pencil with some +comfort, Bud thankfully relinquished the task. He hated to write, +anyway, and it seemed to him that Cash ought to trust his memory +a little more than he did. + +I shall skip a good many days, of course--though the diary +did not, I assure you. + +First, there was the outfit. When they had outfitted at Needles +for the real trip, Cash set down the names of all living things +in this wise: + +Outfit, Cassius B. Markham, Bud Moore, Daddy a bull terrier, +bay horse, Mars, Pete a sorrel, Ed a burro, Swayback a jinny, +Maude a jack, Cora another jinny, Billy a riding burro & Sways +colt & Maude colt a white mean looking little devil + +Sat. Apr. 1. + +Up at 7:30. Snowing and blowing 3 ft. of snow on ground. +Managed to get breakfast & returned to bed. Fed Monte & Peter our +cornmeal, poor things half frozen. Made a fire in tent at 1:30 & +cooked a meal. Much smoke, ripped hole in back of tent. Three +burros in sight weathering fairly well. No sign of let up +everything under snow & wind a gale. Making out fairly well under +adverse conditions. Worst weather we have experienced. + +Apr. 2. + +Up at 7 A.M. Fine & sunny snow going fast. Fixed up tent & +cleaned up generally. Alkali flat a lake, can't cross till it +dries. Stock some scattered, brought them all together. + +Apr. 3. + +Up 7 A.M. Clear & bright. Snow going fast. All creeks flowing. +Fine sunny day. + +Apr. 4. + +Up 6 A.M. Clear & bright. Went up on divide, met 3 punchers +who said road impassable. Saw 2 trains stalled away across alkali +flat. Very boggy and moist. + +Apr.5. + +Up 5 A.M. Clear & bright. Start out, on Monte & Pete at +6. Animals traveled well, did not appear tired. Feed fine all +over. Plenty water everywhere. + +Not much like Bud's auto stage, was it? But the very novelty of +it, the harking back to old plains days, appealed to him and sent +him forward from dull hardship to duller discomfort, and kept the +quirk at the corners of his lips and the twinkle in his eyes. Bud +liked to travel this way, though it took them all day long to +cover as much distance as he had been wont to slide behind him in +an hour. He liked it--this slow, monotonous journeying across +the lean land which Cash had traversed years ago, where the +stark, black pinnacles and rough knobs of rock might be hiding +Indians with good eyesight and a vindictive temperament. Cash +told him many things out of his past, while they poked along, +driving the packed burros before them. Things which he never had +set down in his diary--things which he did not tell to any one +save his few friends. + +But it was not always mud and rain and snow, as Cash's meager +chronicle betrays. + +May 6. + +Up at sunrise. Monte & Pete gone leaving no tracks. Bud found +them 3 miles South near Indian village. Bud cut his hair, did a +good job. Prospector dropped into camp with fist full of good +looking quartz. Stock very thirsty all day. Very hot Tied Monte & +Pete up for night. + +May 8. + +Up 5:30. Fine, but hot. Left 7:30. Pete walked over a +sidewinder & Bud shot him ten ft. in air. Also prior killed +another beside road. Feed as usual, desert weeds. Pulled grain +growing side of track and fed plugs. Water from cistern & R.R. +ties for fuel. Put up tent for shade. Flies horrible. + +May 9. + +Up 4. Left 6. Feed as usual. Killed a sidewinder in a bush with +3 shots of Krag. Made 21 m. today. R.R. ties for fuel Cool breeze +all day. + +May 11. + +Up at sunrise. Bud washed clothes. Tested rock. Fine looking +mineral country here. Dressed Monte's withers with liniment +greatly reducing swelling from saddle-gall. He likes to have it +dressed & came of his own accord. Day quite comfortable. + +May 15. + +Up 4. Left 6:30 over desert plain & up dry wash. Daddy suffered +from heat & ran into cactus while looking for shade. Got it in +his mouth, tongue, feet & all over body. Fixed him up poor +creature groaned all evening & would not eat his supper. Poor +feed & wood here. Water found by digging 2 ft. in sand in +sandstone basins in bed of dry wash. Monte lay down en route. +Very hot & all suffered from heat. + +May 16. + +Bud has sick headache. Very hot so laid around camp all day. +Put two blankets up on tent pols for sun break. Daddy under +weather from cactus experience. Papago Indian boy about 18 on +fine bay mare driving 4 ponies watered at our well. Moon almost +full, lots of mocking birds. Pretty songs. + +May 17. + +Up 7:30 Bud some better. Day promises hot, but slight breeze. +White gauzy clouds in sky. Daddy better. Monte & Pete gone all +day. Hunted twice but impossible to track them in this stony soil +Bud followed trail, found them 2 mi. east of here in flat sound +asleep about 3 P.M. At 6 went to flat 1/4 mi. N. of camp to tie +Pete, leading Monte by bell strap almost stepped on rattler 3 ft. +long. 10 rattles & a button. Killed him. To date, 1 Prairie +rattler, 3 Diamond back & 8 sidewinders, 12 in all. Bud feels +better. + +May 18. + +At 4 A. M. Bud woke up by stock passing camp. Spoke to me who +half awake hollered, "sic Daddy!" Daddy sicced 'em & they went up +bank of wash to right. Bud swore it was Monte & Pete. I went to +flat & found M. & P. safe. Water in sink all gone. Bud got +stomach trouble. I threw up my breakfast. Very hot weather. +Lanced Monte's back & dressed it with creoline. Turned them loose +& away they put again. + +Soon after this they arrived at the place where Thompson had +located his claim. It was desert, of course, sloping away on one +side to a dreary waste of sand and weeds with now and then a +giant cactus standing gloomily alone with malformed lingers +stretched stiffly to the staring blue sky. Behind where they +pitched their final camp--Camp 48, Cash Markham recorded it in +his diary--the hills rose. But they were as stark and barren +almost as the desert below. Black rock humps here and there, with +ledges of mineral bearing rock. Bushes and weeds and dry washes +for the rest, with enough struggling grass to feed the horses and +burros if they rustled hard enough for it. + +They settled down quietly to a life of grinding monotony that +would have driven some men crazy. But Bud, because it was a man's +kind of monotony, bore it cheerfully. He was out of doors, and he +was hedged about by no rules or petty restrictions. He liked Cash +Markham and he liked Pete, his saddle horse, and he was fond of +Daddy who was still paying the penalty of seeking too carelessly +for shade and, according to Cash's record, "getting it in his +mouth, tongue, feet & all over body." Bud liked it--all except +the blistering heat and the "side-winders" and other rattlers. He +did not bother with trying to formulate any explanation of why he +liked it. It may have been picturesque, though picturesqueness +of that sort is better appreciated when it is seen through the +dim radiance of memory that blurs sordid details. Certainly it +was not adventurous, as men have come to judge adventure. + +Life droned along very dully. Day after day was filled with +petty details. A hill looks like a mountain if it rises abruptly +out of a level plain, with no real mountains in sight to measure +it by. Here's the diary to prove how little things came to look +important because the days held no contrasts. If it bores you to +read it, think what it must have been to live it. + +June 10. + +Up at 6:30 Baked till 11. Then unrigged well and rigged up an +incline for the stock to water. Bud dressed Daddy's back. Stock +did not come in all morning, but Monte & Pete came in before +supper. Incline water shaft does not work. Prospected & found 8 +ledges. Bud found none. + +June 11. + +After breakfast fixed up shack--shelves, benches, tools, +etc. Cleaned guns. Bud dressed Daddy's back which is much better. +Strong gold in test of ledge, I found below creek. Took more +specimens to sample. Cora comes in with a little black colt newly +born. Proud as a bull pup with two tails. Monte & Pete did not +come in so we went by lantern light a mile or so down the wash & +found them headed this way & snake them in to drink about 80 +gallons of water apiece. Daddy tied up and howling like a demon +all the while. Bud took a bath. + +June 12. + +Bud got out and got breakfast again. Then started off on Pete +to hunt trail that makes short cut 18 miles to Bend. Roofed the +kitchen. Bud got back about 1:30, being gone 6 hours. Found trail +& two good ledges. Cora & colt came for water. Other burros did +not. Brought in specimens from ledge up creek that showed very +rich gold in tests. Burros came in at 9:30. Bud got up and tied +them up. + +June 13. + +Bud gets breakfast. I took Sway & brought in load of wood. Bud +went out and found a wash lined with good looking ledges. Hung up +white rags on bushes to identify same. Found large ledge of good +quartz showing fine in tests about one mile down wash. Bud +dressed Daddy's back. Located a claim west of Thompson's. Burros +did not come in except Cora & colt. Pete & Monte came separated. + +June 14. + +Bud got breakfast & dressed Daddy's back. Very hot day. Stock +came in about 2. Tied up Billy Maud & Cora. Bud has had headache. +Monte & Pete did not come in. Bud went after them & found them 4 +miles away where we killed the Gila monster. Sent 2 samples from +big ledge to Tucson for assay. Daddy better. + +June 15. + +Up 2.30. Bud left for Bend at 4. Walked down to flat but could +not see stock. About 3 Cora & Colt came in for water & Sway & Ed +from the south about 5. No Monte. Monte got in about midnight & +went past kitchen to creek on run. Got up, found him very nervous +& frightened & tied him up. + +June 17. + +Bud got back 4 P.M. in gale of wind & sand. Burros did not come +in for water. Very hot. Bud brought canned stuff. Rigged gallows +for No. 2 shaft also block & tackle & pail for drinking water, +also washed clothes. While drying went around in cap undershirt & +shoes. + +June 18. + +Burros came in during night for water. Hot as nether depths of +infernal regions. Went up on hill a mile away. Seamed with veins +similar to shaft No. 2 ore. Blew in two faces & got good looking +ore seamed with a black incrustation, oxide of something, but +what could not determine. Could find neither silver nor copper in +it. Monte & Pete came in about 1 & tied them up. Very hot. +Hottest day yet, even the breeze scorching. Test of ore showed +best yet. One half of solution in tube turning to chloride of +gold, 3 tests showing same. Burros except Ed & Cora do not come +in days any more. Bud made a gate for kitchen to keep burros out. + +The next morning it was that Cash cut the ball of his right +thumb open on the sharp edge of a tomato can. He wanted the diary +to go on as usual. He had promised, he said, to keep one for the +widow who wanted a record of the way the work was carried on, and +the progress made. Bud could not see that there had been much +progress, except as a matter of miles. Put a speedometer on one +of his legs, he told Cash, and he'd bet it would register more +mileage chasing after them fool burros than his auto stage could +show after a full season. As for working the widow's claim, it +was not worth working, from all he could judge of it. And if it +were full of gold as the United States treasury, the burros took +up all their time so they couldn't do much. Between doggone stock +drinking or not drinking and the darn fool diary that had to be +kept, Bud opined that they needed an extra hand or two. Bud was +peevish, these days. Gila Bend had exasperated him because it was +not the town it called itself, but a huddle of adobe huts. He had +come away in the sour mood of a thirsty man who finds an alkali +spring sparkling deceptively under a rock. Furthermore, the +nights had been hot and the mosquitoes a humming torment. And as +a last affliction he was called upon to keep the diary going. He +did it, faithfully enough but in a fashion of his own. + +First he read back a few pages to get the hang of the thing. +Then he shook down Cash's fountain pen, that dried quickly in +that heat. Then he read another page as a model, and wrote: + +June 19. + +Mosquitoes last night was worse than the heat and that was +worse than Gila Bend's great white way. Hunted up the burros. +Pete and Monte came in and drank. Monte had colic. We fed them +and turned them loose but the blamed fools hung around all day +and eat up some sour beans I throwed out. Cash was peeved and +swore they couldn't have another grain of feed. But Monte come to +the shack and watched Cash through a knothole the size of one eye +till Cash opened up his heart and the bag. Cash cut his thumb +opening tomatoes. The tomatoes wasn't hurt any. + +June 20. + +Got breakfast. Bill and harem did not come to water. Cash done +the regular hike after them. His thumb don't hurt him for hazing +donkeys. Bill and harem come in after Cash left. They must of saw +him go. Cash was out four hours and come in mad. Shot a +hidrophobia skunk out by the creek. Nothing doing. Too hot. + +June 21. + +The sun would blister a mud turtle so he'd holler. Cash put in +most of day holding a parasol over his garden patch. Burros did +not miss their daily drink. Night brings mosquitoes with their +wings singed but their stingers O.K. They must hole up daytimes +or they would fry. + +June 22. + +Thought I know what heat was. I never did before. Cash took a +bath. It was his first. Burros did not come to water. Cash and I +tried to sleep on kitchen roof but the darned mosquitoes fed up +on us and then played heavenly choir all night. + +June 25. + +Cash got back from Bend. Thumb is better and he can have this +job any time now. He hustled up a widow that made a couple of +mosquito bags to go over our heads. No shape (bags, not widow) +but help keep flies and mosquitoes from chewing on us all day and +all night. Training for hades. I can stand the heat as well as +the old boy with the pitch-fork. Ain't got used to brimstone yet, +but I'd trade mosquitoes for sulphur smoke and give some boot. +Worried about Cash. He took a bath today again, using water I had +packed for mine. Heat must be getting him. + +June 26. + +Cash opened up thumb again, trying to brain Pete with rock. +Pete got halfway into kitchen and eat biggest part of a pie I +made. Cash threw jagged rock, hit Pete in side of jaw. Cut big +gash. Swelled now like a punkin. Cash and I tangled over same. +I'm going to quit. I have had enough of this darn country. +Creek's drying up, and mosquitoes have found way to crawl under +bags. Cash wants me to stay till we find good claim, but Cash can +go to thunder. + +Then Cash's record goes on: + +June 27. + +Bud very sick & out of head. Think it is heat, which is +terrible. Talked all night about burros, gasoline, & camphor +balls which he seemed wanting to buy in gunny sack. No sleep for +either. Burros came in for water about daylight. Picketed Monte & +Pete as may need doctor if Bud grows worse. Thumb nearly well. + +June 27. +Bud same, slept most of day. Gave liver pills & made gruel of +cornmeal, best could do with present stores. Burros came at about +3 but could not drink owing to bees around water hold. Monte got +stung and kicked over water cans & buckets I had salted for +burros. Burros put for hills again. No way of driving off bees. + +June 28. + +Burros came & drank in night. Cooler breeze, Bud some better & +slept. Sway has badly swollen neck. May be rattler bite or +perhaps bee. Bud wanted cigarettes but smoked last the day before +he took sick. Gave him more liver pills & sponge off with water +every hour. Best can do under circumstances. Have not prospected +account Bud's sickness. + +June 29. + +Very hot all day, breeze like blast from furnace. Burros refuse +to leave flat. Bees better, as can't fly well in this wind. Bud +worse. High fever & very restless & flighty. Imagines much +trouble with automobile, talk very technical & can't make head or +tail of it. Monte & Pete did not come in, left soon as turned +loose. No feed for them here & figured Bud too sick to travel or +stay alone so horses useless at present. Sponged frequently with +coolest water can get, seems to give some relief as he is quieter +afterwards. + +July 4th. + +Monte & Pete came in the night & hung around all day. Drove +them away from vicinity of shack several times but they returned +& moped in shade of house. Terrible hot, strong gusty wind. Bud +sat up part of day, slept rest of time. Looks very thin and great +hollows under eyes, but chief trouble seems to be, no cigarettes. +Shade over radishes & lettice works all right. Watered copiously +at daylight & again at dusk. Doing fine. Fixed fence which M & P. +broke down while tramping around. Prospected west of ranche. +Found enormous ledge of black quartz, looks like sulphur stem +during volcanic era but may be iron. Strong gold & heavy +precipitate in test, silver test poor but on filtering showed +like white of egg in tube (unusual). Clearing iron out showed for +gold the highest yet made, being more pronounced with +Fenosulphate than $1500 rock have seen. Immense ledge of it & +slightest estimate from test at least $10. Did not tell Bud as +keeping for surprise when he is able to visit ledge. Very +monotonous since Bud has been sick. Bud woke up & said Hell of a +Fourth & turned over & went to sleep again with mosquito net over +head to keep off flies. Burros came in after dark, all but Cora & +Colt, which arrived about midnight. Daddy gone since yesterday +morning leaving no trace. + +July 5. + +Miserable hot night. Burros trickled in sometime during night. +Bud better, managed to walk to big ledge after sundown. Suggests +we call it the Burro Lode. His idea of wit, claims we have +occupied camp all summer for sake of timing burros when they come +to waterhole. Wish to call it Columbia mine for patriotic reasons +having found it on Fourth. Will settle it soon so as to put up +location. Put in 2 shots & pulpel samples for assay. Rigged +windows on shack to keep out bees, nats & flies & mosquitoes. Bud +objects because it keeps out air as well. Took them off. Sick +folks must be humored. Hot, miserable and sleepless. Bud very +restless. + +July 6. + +Cool wind makes weather endurable, but bees terrible in kitchen +& around water-hole. Flipped a dollar to settle name of big +ledge. Bud won tails, Burro lode. Must cultivate my sense of +humor so as to see the joke. Bud agrees to stay & help develop +claim. Still very weak, puttered around house all day cleaning & +baking bread & stewing fruit which brought bees by millions so we +could not eat same till after dark when they subsided. Bud got +stung twice in kitchen. Very peevish & full of cuss. Says +positively must make trip to Bend & get cigarettes tomorrow or +will blow up whole outfit. Has already blowed up same several +times today with no damage. Burros came in about 5. Monte & Pete +later, tied them up with grain. Pete has very bad eye. Bud will +ride Monte if not too hot for trip. Still no sign of daddy, think +must be dead or stolen though nobody to steal same in country. + +July 7. + +Put in 2 shots on Burro Lode & got her down to required depth. +Hot. Bud finds old location on widow's claim, upturns all +previous calculation & information given me by her. Wrote letter +explaining same, which Bud will mail. Bud left 4 P.M. should make +Bend by midnight. Much better but still weak Burros came in late +& hung around water hole. Put up monument at Burro Lode. Sent off +samples to assay at Tucson. Killed rattler near shack, making 16 +so far killed. + +CHAPTER EIGHT. MANY BARREN MONTHS AND MILES + +"Well, here come them darn burros, Cash. Cora's colt ain't with +'em though. Poor little devils--say, Cash, they look like hard +sleddin', and that's a fact. I'll tell the world they've got +about as much pep as a flat tire." + +"Maybe we better grain 'em again." Cash looked up from studying +the last assay report of the Burro Lode, and his look was not +pleasant. "But it'll cost a good deal, in both time and money. +The feed around here is played out" + +"Well, when it comes to that--" Bud cast a glum glance at the +paper Cash was holding. + +"Yeah. Looks like everything's about played out. Promising +ledge, too. Like some people, though. Most all its good points is +right on the surface. Nothing to back it up." + +"She's sure running light, all right Now," Bud added +sardonically, but with the whimsical quirk withal, "if it was +like a carburetor, and you could give it a richer mixture--" + +"Yeah. What do you make of it, Bud?" + +"Well--aw, there comes that durn colt, bringing up the drag. +Say Cash, that colt's just about all in. Cora's nothing but a bag +of bones, too. They'll never winter--not on this range, they +won't." + +Cash got up and went to the doorway, looking out over Bud's +shoulder at the spiritless donkeys trailing in to water. Beyond +them the desert baked in its rim of hot, treeless hills. Above +them the sky glared a brassy blue with never a could. Over a low +ridge came Monte and Pete, walking with heads drooping. Their hip +bones lifted above their ridged paunches, their backbones, peaked +sharp above, their withers were lean and pinched looking. In +August the desert herbage has lost what little succulence it ever +possessed, and the gleanings are scarce worth the walking after. + +"They're pretty thin," Cash observed speculatively, as though +be was measuring them mentally for some particular need. + +"We'd have to grain 'em heavy till we struck better feed. And +pack light." Bud answered his thought. + +"The question is, where shall we head for, Bud? Have you any +particular idea?" Cash looked slightingly down at the assayer's +report. "Such as she is, we've done all we can do to the Burro +Lode, for a year at least," he said. "The assessment work is all +done--or will be when we muck out after that last shot. The +claim is filed--I don't know what more we can do right away. +Do you?" + +"Sure thing," grinned Bud. "We can get outa here and go some +place where it's green." + +"Yeah." Cash meditated, absently eyeing the burros. "Where it's +green." He looked at the near hills, and at the desert, and at +the dreary march of the starved animals. "It's a long way to +green. country," he said. + +They looked at the burros. + +"They're tough little devils," Bud observed hopefully. "We +could take it easy, traveling when it's coolest. And by packing +light, and graining the whole bunch--" + +"Yeah. We con ease 'em through, I guess. It does seem as +though it would be foolish to hang on here any longer." Carefully +as he made his tests, Cash weighed the question of their going. +"This last report kills any chance of interesting capital to the +extent of developing the claim on a large enough scale to make it +profitable. It's too long a haul to take the ore out, and it's +too spotted to justify any great investment in machinery to +handle it on the ground. And," he added with an undernote of +fierceness, "it's a terrible place for man or beast to stay in, +unless the object to be attained is great enough to justify +enduring the hardships." + +"You said a mouthful, Cash. Well, can you leave your seven +radishes and three hunches of lettuce and pull out--say at +daybreak?" Bud turned to him with some eagerness. + +Cash grinned sourly. "When it's time to go, seven radishes +can't stop me. No, nor a whole row of 'em--if there was a +whole row." + +"And you watered 'em copiously too," Bud murmured, with the +corners of his mouth twitching. "Well, I guess we might as well +tie up the livestock. I'm going to give 'em all a feed of +rolled oats, Cash. We can get along without, and they've got to +have something to put a little heart in 'em. There's a moon to- +night--how about starting along about midnight? That would put +us in the Bend early in the forenoon to-morrow." + +"Suits me," said Cash. "Now I've made up my mind about going, I +can't go too soon." + +"You're on. Midnight sees us started." Bud went out with ropes +to catch and tie up the burros and their two saddle horses. And +as he went, for the first time in two months he whistled; a +detail which Cash noted with a queer kind of smile. + +Midnight and the moon riding high in the purple bowl of sky +sprinkled thick with stars; with a little, warm wind stirring the +parched weeds as they passed; with the burros shuffling single +file along the dim trail which was the short cut through the +hills to the Bend, Ed taking the lead, with the camp kitchen +wabbling lumpily on his back, Cora bringing up the rear with her +skinny colt trying its best to keep up, and with no pack at all; +so they started on the long, long journey to the green country. + +A silent journey it was for the most part. The moon and the +starry bowl of sky had laid their spell upon the desert, and the +two men rode wordlessly, filled with vague, unreasoning regret +that they must go. Months they had spent with the desert, +learning well every little varying mood; cursing it for its +blistering heat and its sand storms and its parched thirst and +its utter, blank loneliness. Loving it too, without ever dreaming +that they loved. To-morrow they would face the future with the +past dropping farther and farther behind. To-night it rode with +them. + +Three months in that little, rough-walled hut had lent it an +atmosphere of home, which a man instinctively responds to with a +certain clinging affection, however crude may be the shelter he +calls his own. Cash secretly regretted the thirsty death of his +radishes and lettuce which he had planted and tended with such +optimistic care. Bud wondered if Daddy might not stray half- +starved into the shack, and find them gone. While they were +there, he had agreed with Cash that the dog must be dead. But now +he felt uneasily doubtful It would be fierce if Daddy did come +beck now. He would starve. He never could make the trip to the +Bend alone, even if he could track them. + +There was, also, the disappointment in the Burro Lode claim. As +Bud planned it, the Burro was packing a very light load--far +lighter than had seemed possible with that strong indication on +the surface. Cash's "enormous black ledge" had shown less and +less gold as they went into it, though it still seemed worth +while, if they had the capital to develop it further. Wherefore +they had done generous assessment work and had recorded their +claim and built their monuments to mark its boundaries. It would +be safe for a year, and by that time--Quien sabe? + +The Thompson claim, too, had not justified any enthusiasm +whatever. They had found it, had relocated it, and worked out the +assessment for the widow. Cash had her check for all they had +earned, and he had declared profanely that he would not give his +share of the check for the whole claim. + +They would go on prospecting, using the check for a grubstake, +That much they had decided without argument. The gambling +instinct was wide awake in Bud's nature--and as for Cash, he +would hunt gold as long as he could carry pick and pan. They +would prospect as long as their money held out. When that was +gone, they would get more and go on prospecting. But they would +prospect in a green country where wood and water were not so +precious as in the desert and where, Cash averred, the chance of +striking it rich was just as good; better, because they could +kill game and make their grubstake last longer. + +Wherefore. they waited in Gila Bend for three days, to +strengthen the weakened animals with rest and good hay and grain. +Then they took again to the trail, traveling as lightly as they +could, with food for themselves and grain for the stock to last +them until they reached Needles. From there with fresh supplies +they pushed on up to Goldfield, found that camp in the throes of +labor disputes, and went on to Tonopah. + +There they found work for themselves and the burros, packing +winter supplies to a mine lying back in the hills. They made +money at it, and during the winter they made more. With the +opening of spring they outfitted again and took the trail, their +goal the high mountains south of Honey Lake. They did not hurry. +Wherever the land they traveled through seemed to promise gold, +they would stop and prospect. Many a pan of likely looking dirt +they washed beside some stream where the burros stopped to drink +and feed a little on the grassy banks, + +So, late in June, they reached Reno; outfitted and went on +again, traveling to the north, to the green country for which +they yearned, though now they were fairly in it and would have +stopped if any tempting ledge or bar had come in their way. They +prospected every gulch that showed any mineral signs at all. It +was a carefree kind of life, with just enough of variety to hold +Bud's interest to the adventuring. The nomad in him responded +easily to this leisurely pilgrimage. There was no stampede +anywhere to stir their blood with the thought of quick wealth. +There was hope enough, on the other hand, to keep them going. +Cash had prospected and trapped for more than fifteen years now, +and he preached the doctrine of freedom and the great outdoors. + +Of what use was a house and lot--and taxes and trouble with +the plumbing? he would chuckle. A tent and blankets and a frying +pan and grub; two good legs and wild country to travel; a gold +pan and a pick--these things, to Cash, spelled independence +and the joy of living. The burros and the two horses were +luxuries, he declared. When they once got located on a good claim +they would sell off everything but a couple of burros--Sway +and Ed, most likely. The others would bring enough for a winter +grubstake, and would prolong their freedom and their independence +just that much. That is, supposing they did not strike a good +claim before then. Cash had learned, he said, to hope high but +keep an eye on the grubstake. + +Late in August they came upon a mountain village perched +beside a swift stream and walled in on three sided by pine- +covered mountains. A branch railroad linked the place more or +less precariously with civilization, and every day--unless +there was a washout somewhere, or a snowslide, or drifts too deep +--a train passed over the road. One day it would go up-stream, +and the next day it would come back. And the houses stood drawn +up in a row alongside the track to watch for these passings. + +Miners came in with burros or with horses, packed flour and +bacon and tea and coffee across their middles, got drunk, perhaps +as a parting ceremony, and went away into the hills. Cash watched +them for a day or so; saw the size of their grubstakes, asked few +questions and listened to a good deal of small-town gossip, and +nodded his head contentedly. There was gold in these hills. Not +enough, perhaps, to start a stampede with--but enough to keep +wise old hermits burrowing after it. + +So one day Bud sold the two horses and one of the saddles, and +Cash bought flour and bacon and beans and coffee, and added other +things quite as desirable but not so necessary. Then they too +went away into the hills. + +Fifteen miles from Alpine, as a cannon would shoot; high up in +the hills, where a creek flowed down through a saucerlike basin +under beetling ledges fringed all around with forest, they came, +after much wandering, upon an old log cabin whose dirt roof still +held in spite of the snows that heaped upon it through many a +winter. The ledge showed the scars of old prospect holes, and in +the sand of the creek they found "colors" strong enough to make +it seem worth while to stop here--for awhile, at least. + +They cleaned out the cabin and took possession of it, and the +next time they went to town Cash made cautious inquiries about +the place. It was, he learned, an old abandoned claim. Abandoned +chiefly because the old miner who had lived there died one day, +and left behind him all the marks of having died from starvation, +mostly. A cursory examination of his few belongings had revealed +much want, but no gold save a little coarse dust in a small +bottle. + +"About enough to fill a rifle ca'tridge," detailed the teller +of the tale. "He'd pecked around that draw for two, three year +mebby. Never showed no gold much, for all the time he spent +there. Trapped some in winter--coyotes and bobcats and skunks, +mostly. Kinda off in the upper story, old Nelson was. I guess he +just stayed there because he happened to light there and didn't +have gumption enough to git out. Hills is full of old fellers +like him. They live off to the'rselves, and peck around and git a +pocket now and then that keeps 'm in grub and tobacco. If you +want to use the cabin, I guess nobody's goin' to care. Nelson +never had any folks, that anybody knows of. Nobody ever bothered +about takin' up the claim after he cashed in, either. Didn't seem +worth nothin' much. Went back to the gov'ment." + +"Trapped, you say. Any game around there now?" + +"Oh, shore! Game everywhere in these hills, from weasels up to +bear and mountain lion. If you want to trap, that's as good a +place as any, I guess." + +So Cash and Bud sold the burros and bought traps and more +supplies, and two window sashes and a crosscut saw and some +wedges and a double-bitted axe, and settled down in Nelson Flat +to find what old Dame Fortune had tucked away in this little side +pocket and forgotten. + + + +CHAPTER NINE. THE BITE OF MEMORY + +The heavy boom of a dynamite blast rolled across the fiat to +the hills that flung it back in a tardy echo like a spent ball of +sound. A blob of blue smoke curled out of a hole the size of a +hogshead in a steep bank overhung with alders. Outside, the wind +caught the smoke and carried streamers of it away to play with. A +startled bluejay, on a limb high up on the bank, lifted his slaty +crest and teetered forward, clinging with his toe nails to the +branch while he scolded down at the men who had scared him so. A +rattle of clods and small rocks fell from their high flight into +the sweet air of a mountain sunset. + +"Good execution, that was," Cash remarked, craning his neck +toward the hole. "If you're a mind to go on ahead and cook +supper, I'll stay and see if we opened up anything. Or you can +stay, just as you please." + +Dynamite smoke invariably made Bud's head ache splittingly. +Cash was not so susceptible. Bud chose the cooking, and went away +down the flat, the bluejay screaming insults after him. He was +frying bacon when Cash came in, a hatful of broken rock riding in +the hollow of his arm. + +"Got something pretty good here, Bud--if she don't turn out +like that dang Burro Lode ledge. Look here. Best looking quartz +we've struck yet. What do you think of it?" + +He dumped the rock out on the oilcloth behind the sugar can and +directly under the little square window through which the sun was +pouring a lavish yellow flood of light before it dropped behind +the peak. Bud set the bacon back where it would not burn, and +bent over the table to look. + +"Gee, but it's heavy!" he cried, picking up a fragment the size +of an egg, and balancing it in his hands. "I don't know a lot +about gold-bearing quartz, but she looks good to me, all right." + +"Yeah. It is good, unless I'm badly mistaken. I'll test some +after supper. Old Nelson couldn't have used powder at all, or +he'd have uncovered enough of this, I should think, to show the +rest what he had. Or maybe he died just when he had started that +hole. Seems queer he never struck pay dirt in this flat. Well, +let's eat if it's ready, Bud. Then we'll see." + +"Seems kinda queer, don't it, Cash, that nobody stepped in and +filed on any claims here?" Bud dumped half a kettle of boiled +beans into a basin and set it on the table. "Want any prunes to- +night, Cash?" + +Cash did not want prunes, which was just as well, seeing there +were none cooked. He sat down and ate, with his mind and his eyes +clinging to the grayish, veined fragments of rock lying on the +table beside his plate. + +"We'll send some of that down to Sacramento right away," he +observed, "and have it assayed. And we won't let out anything +about it, Bud--good or bad. I like this flat. I don't want it +mucked over with a lot of gold-crazy lunatics." + +Bud laughed and reached for the bacon. "We ain't been followed +up with stampedes so far," he pointed out. "Burro Lode never +caused a ripple in the Bend, you recollect. And I'll tell a +sinful world it looked awful good, too." + +"Yeah. Well, Arizona's hard to excite. They've had so dang much +strenuosity all their lives, and then the climate's against +violent effort, either mental or physical. I was calm, perfectly +calm when I discovered that big ledge. It is just as well-- +seeing how it petered out." + +"What'll you bet this pans out the same?" + +"I never bet. No one but a fool will gamble." Cash pressed his +lips together in a way that drove the color from there. + +"Oh, yuh don't! Say, you're the king bee of all gamblers. Been +prospecting for fifteen years, according to you--and then +you've got the nerve to say you don't gamble!" + +Cash ignored the charge. He picked up a piece of rock and held +it to the fading light. "It looks good," he said again. "Better +than that placer ground down by the creek. That's all right, too. +We can wash enough gold there to keep us going while we develop +this. That is, if this proves as good as it looks." + +Bud looked across at him enigmatically. "Well, here's hoping +she's worth a million. You go ahead with your tests, Cash. I'll +wash the dishes." + +"Of course," Cash began to conserve his enthusiasm, "there's +nothing so sure as an assay. And it was too dark in the hole to +see how much was uncovered. This may be just a freak deposit. +There may not be any real vein of it. You can't tell until it's +developed further. But it looks good. Awful good." + +His makeshift tests confirmed his opinion. Bud started out next +day with three different samples for the assayer, and an air +castle or two to keep him company. He would like to find himself +half owner of a mine worth about a million, he mused. Maybe Marie +would wish then that she had thought twice about quitting him +just on her mother's say-so. He'd like to go buzzing into San +Jose behind the wheel of a car like the one Foster had fooled him +into stealing. And meet Marie, and her mother too, and let them +get an eyeful. He guessed the old lady would have to swallow what +she had said about him being lazy--just because he couldn't +run an auto-stage in the winter to Big Basin! What was the matter +with the old woman, anyway? Didn't he keep Maria in comfort. +Well, he'd like to see her face when he drove along the street in +a big new Sussex. She'd wish she had let him and Marie alone. +They would have made out all right if they had been let alone. He +ought to have taken Marie to some other town, where her mother +couldn't nag at her every day about him. Marie wasn't such a bad +kid, if she were left alone. They might have been happy-- + +He tried then to shake himself free of thoughts of her. That +was the trouble with him, he brooded morosely. He couldn't let +his thoughts ride free, any more. They kept heading straight for +Marie. He could not see why she should cling so to his memory; he +had not wronged her--unless it was by letting her go without +making a bigger fight for their home. Still, she had gone of her +own free will. He was the one that had been wronged--why, +hadn't they lied about him in court and to the gossipy neighbors? +Hadn't they broke him? No. If the mine panned out big as Cash +seemed to think was likely, the best thing he could do was steer +clear of San Jose. And whether it panned out or not, the best +thing he could do was forget that such girl as Marie had ever +existed.. + +Which was all very well, as far as it went. The trouble was +that resolving not to think of Marie, calling up all the +bitterness he could muster against her memory, did no more toward +blotting her image from his mind than did the miles and the +months he had put between them. + +He reached the town in a dour mood of unrest, spite of the +promise of wealth he carried in his pocket. He mailed the package +and the letter, and went to a saloon and had a highball. He was +not a drinking man--at least, he never had been one, beyond a +convivial glass or two with his fellows--but he felt that day +the need of a little push toward optimism. In the back part of +the room three men were playing freeze-out. Bud went over and +stood with his hands in his pockets and watched them, because +there was nothing else to do, and because he was still having +some trouble with his thoughts. He was lonely, without quite +knowing what ailed him. He hungered for friends to hail him with +that cordial, "Hello, Bud!" when they saw him coming. + +No one in Alpine had said hello, Bud, when he came walking in +that day. The postmaster bad given him one measuring glance when +he had weighed the package of ore, but he had not spoken except +to name the amount of postage required. The bartender had made +some remark about the weather, and had smiled with a surface +friendliness that did not deceive Bud for a moment. He knew too +well that the smile was not for him, but for his patronage. + +He watched the game. And when the man opposite him pushed back +his chair and, looking up at Bud, asked if he wanted to sit in, +Bud went and sat down, buying a dollar's worth of chips as an +evidence of his intention to play. His interest in the game was +not keen. He played for the feeling it gave him of being one of +the bunch, a man among his friends; or if not friends, at least +acquaintances. And, such was his varying luck with the cards, he +played for an hour or so without having won enough to irritate +his companions. Wherefore he rose from the table at supper time +calling one young fellow Frank quite naturally. They went to the +Alpine House and had supper together, and after that they sat in +the office and talked about automobiles for an hour, which gave +Bud a comforting sense of having fallen among friends. + +Later they strolled over to a picture show which ran films two +years behind their first release, and charged fifteen cents for +the privilege of watching them. It was the first theater Bud had +entered since he left San Jose, and at the last minute he +hesitated, tempted to turn back. He hated moving pictures. They +always had love scenes somewhere in the story, and love scenes +hurt. But Frank had already bought two tickets, and it seemed +unfriendly to turn back now. He went inside to the jangling of a +player-piano in dire need of a tuner's service, and sat down near +the back of the hall with his hat upon his lifted knees which +could have used more space between the seats. + +While they waited for the program they talked in low tones, a +mumble of commonplaces. Bud forgot for the moment his distaste +for such places, and let himself slip easily back into the old +thought channels, the old habits of relaxation after a day's work +was done. He laughed at the one-reel comedy that had for its +climax a chase of housemaids, policemen, and outraged fruit +vendors after a well-meaning but unfortunate lover. He saw the +lover pulled ignominiously out of a duck pond and soused +relentlessly into a watering trough, and laughed with Frank and +called it some picture. + +He eyed a succession of "current events" long since gone stale +out where the world moved swifter than here in the mountains, and +he felt as though he had come once more into close touch with +life. All the dull months he had spent with Cash and the burros +dwarfed into a pointless, irrelevant incident of his life. He +felt that he ought to be out in the world, doing bigger things +than hunting gold that somehow always refused at the last minute +to be found. He stirred restlessly. He was free--there was +nothing to hold him if he wanted to go. The war--he believed +he would go over and take a hand. He could drive an ambulance or +a truck-- + +Current Events, however, came abruptly to an end; and presently +Bud's vagrant, half-formed desire for achievement merged into +biting recollections. Here was a love drama, three reels of it. +At first Bud watched it with only a vague, disquieting sense of +familiarity. Then abruptly he recalled too vividly the time and +circumstance of his first sight of the picture. It was in San +Jose, at the Liberty. He and Marie had been married two days, and +were living in that glamorous world of the honeymoon, so +poignantly sweet, so marvelous--and so fleeting. He had +whispered that the girl looked like her, and she had leaned +heavily against his shoulder. In the dusk of lowered lights their +hands had groped and found each other, and clung. + +The girl did look like Marie. When she turned her head with +that little tilt of the chin, when she smiled, she was like +Marie. Bud leaned forward, staring, his brows drawn together, +breathing the short, quick breaths of emotion focussed upon one +object, excluding all else. Once, when Frank moved his body a +little in the next seat, Bud's hand went out that way +involuntarily. The touch of Frank's rough coat sleeve recalled +him brutally, so that he drew away with a wincing movement as +though he bad been hurt. + +All those months in the desert; all those months of the slow +journeying northward; all the fought battles with memory, when he +thought that he had won--all gone for nothing, their slow +anodyne serving but to sharpen now the bite of merciless +remembering. His hand shook upon his knee. Small beads of +moisture oozed out upon his forehead. He sat stunned before the +amazing revelation of how little time and distance had done to +heal his hurt. + +He wanted Marie. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted her +in the old days, with a tenderness, an impulse to shield her from +her own weaknesses, her own mistakes. Then--in those old days +--there had been the glamor of mystery that is called romance. +That was gone, worn away by the close intimacies of matrimony. He +knew her faults, he knew how she looked when she was angry and +petulant. He knew how little the real Marie resembled the +speciously amiable, altogether attractive Marie who faced a +smiling world when she went pleasuring. He knew, but--he +wanted her just the same. He wanted to tell her so many things +about the burros, and about the desert--things that would make +her laugh, and things that would make her blink back the tears. +He was homesick for her as he had never been homesick in his life +before. The picture flickered on through scene after scene that +Bud did not see at all, though he was staring unwinkingly at the +screen all the while. The love scenes at the last were poignantly +real, but they passed before his eyes unnoticed. Bud's mind was +dwelling upon certain love scenes of his own. He was feeling +Marie's presence beside him there in the dusk. + +"Poor kid--she wasn't so much to blame," he muttered just +above his breath, when the screen was swept clean and blank at +the end of the last reel. + +"Huh? Oh, he was the big mutt, right from the start," Frank +replied with the assured air of a connoisseur. "He didn't have +the brains of a bluejay, or he'd have known all the time she was +strong for him." + +"I guess that's right," Bud mumbled, but he did not mean what +Frank thought he meant. "Let's go. I want a drink." + +Frank was willing enough; too willing, if the truth were known. +They went out into the cool starlight, and hurried across the +side street that was no more than a dusty roadway, to the saloon +where they had spent the afternoon. Bud called for whisky, and +helped himself twice from the bottle which the bartender placed +between them. He did not speak until the second glass was +emptied, and then he turned to Frank with a purple glare in his +eyes. + +"Let's have a game of pool or something," he suggested. + +"There's a good poker game going, back there," vouchsafed the +bartender, turning his thumb toward the rear, where half a dozen +men were gathered in a close group around a table. "There's some +real money in sight, to-night." + +"All right, let's go see." Bud turned that way, Frank following +like a pet dog at his heels. + +At dawn the next morning, Bud got up stiffly from the chair +where he had spent the night. His eyeballs showed a network of +tiny red veins, swollen with the surge of alcohol in his blood +and with the strain of staring all night at the cards. Beneath +his eyes were puffy ridges. His cheekbones flamed with the whisky +flush. He cashed in a double-handful of chips, stuffed the money +he had won into his coat pocket, walked, with that stiff +precision of gait by which a drunken man strives to hide his +drunkenness, to the bar and had another drink. Frank was at his +elbow. Frank was staggering, garrulous, laughing a great deal +over very small jokes. + +"I'm going to bed," said Bud, his tongue forming the words with +a slow carefulness. + +"Come over to my shack, Bud--rotten hotel. My bed's clean, +anyway." Frank laughed and plucked him by the sleeve. + +"All right," Bud consented gravely. "We'll take a bottle +along." + + + +CHAPTER TEN. EMOTIONS ARE TRICKY THINGS + +A man's mind is a tricky thing--or, speaking more exactly, a +man's emotions are tricky things. Love has come rushing to the +beck of a tip-tilted chin, or the tone of a voice, or the droop +of an eyelid. It has fled for cause as slight. Sometimes it runs +before resentment for a real or fancied wrong, but then, if you +have observed it closely, you will see that quite frequently, +when anger grows slow of foot, or dies of slow starvation, love +steals back, all unsuspected and unbidden--and mayhap causes +much distress by his return. It is like a sudden resurrection of +all the loved, long-mourned dead that sleep so serenely in their +tended plots. Loved though they were and long mourned, think of +the consternation if they all came trooping back to take their +old places in life! The old places that have been filled, most of +them, by others who are loved as dearly, who would be mourned if +they were taken away. + +Psychologists will tell us all about the subconscious mind, the +hidden loves and hates and longings which we believe are dead and +long forgotten. When one of those emotions suddenly comes alive +and stands, terribly real and intrusive, between our souls and +our everyday lives, the strongest and the best of us may stumble +and grope blindly after content, or reparation, or forgetfulness, +or whatever seems most likely to give relief. + +I am apologizing now for Bud, who had spent a good many months +in pushing all thoughts of Marie out of his mind, all hunger for +her out of his heart. He had kept away from towns, from women, +lest he be reminded too keenly of his matrimonial wreck. He had +stayed with Cash and had hunted gold, partly because Cash never +seemed conscious of any need of a home or love or wife or +children, and therefore never reminded Bud of the home and the +wife and the love and the child he had lost out of his own life. +Cash seldom mentioned women at all, and when he did it was in a +purely general way, as women touched some other subject he was +discussing. He never paid any attention to the children they met +casually in their travels. He seemed absolutely self-sufficient, +interested only in the prospect of finding a paying claim. What +he would do with wealth, if so be he attained it, he never seemed +to know or care. He never asked Bud any questions about his +private affairs, never seemed to care how Bud had lived, or +where. And Bud thankfully left his past behind the wall of +silence. So he had come to believe that he was almost as emotion- +proof as Cash appeared to be, and had let it go at that. + +Now here be was, with his heart and his mind full of Marie-- +after more than a year and a half of forgetting her! Getting +drunk and playing poker all night did not help him at all, for +when he woke it was from a sweet, intimate dream of her, and it +was to a tormenting desire for her, that gnawed at his mind as +hunger gnaws at the stomach. Bud could not understand it. Nothing +like that had ever happened to him before. By all his simple +rules of reckoning he ought to be "over it" by now. He had been, +until he saw that picture. + +He was so very far from being over his trouble that he was +under it; a beaten dog wincing under the blows of memory, stung +by the lash of his longing. He groaned, and Frank thought it was +the usual "morning after" headache, and laughed ruefully. + +"Same here," he said. "I've got one like a barrel, and I +didn't punish half the booze you did." + +Bud did not say anything, but he reached for the bottle, tilted +it and swallowed three times before he stopped. + +"Gee!" whispered Frank, a little enviously. + +Bud glanced somberly across at Frank, who was sitting by the +stove with his jaws between his palms and his hair toweled, +regarding his guest speculatively. + +"I'm going to get drunk again," Bud announced bluntly. "If you +don't want to, you'd better duck. You're too easy led--I saw +that last night. You follow anybody's lead that you happen to be +with. If you follow my lead to-day, you'll be petrified by night. +You better git, and let me go it alone." + +Frank laughed uneasily. "Aw, I guess you ain't all that fatal, +Bud. Let's go over and have some breakfast--only it'll be +dinner." + +"You go, if you want to." Bud tilted the bottle again, his eyes +half closed while he swallowed. When he had finished, he +shuddered violently at the taste of the whisky. He got up, went +to the water bucket and drank half a dipper of water. "Good +glory! I hate whisky," he grumbled. "Takes a barrel to have any +effect on me too." He turned and looked down at Frank with a +morose kind of pity. "You go on and get your breakfast, kid. I +don't want any. I'll stay here for awhile." + +He sat down on the side of the cheap, iron bedstead, and +emptied his pockets on the top quilt. He straightened the +crumpled bills and counted them, and sorted the silver pieces. +All told, he had sixty-three dollars and twenty cents. He sat +fingering the money absently, his mind upon other things. Upon +Marie and the baby, to be exact. He was fighting the impulse to +send Marie the money. She might need it for the kid. If he was +sure her mother wouldn't get any of it... A year and a half was +quite a while, and fifteen hundred dollars wasn't much to live on +these days. She couldn't work, with the baby on her hands... + +Frank watched him curiously, his jaws still resting between his +two palms, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, his lips loose and +trembling. A dollar alarm clock ticked resonantly, punctuated now +and then by the dull clink of silver as Bud lifted a coin and let +it drop on the little pile. + +"Pretty good luck you had last night," Frank ventured wishfully. +"They cleaned me." + +Bud straightened his drooping shoulders and scooped the money +into his hand. He laughed recklessly, and got up. "We'll try her +another whirl, and see if luck'll bring luck. Come on--let's +go hunt up some of them marks that got all the dough last night. +We'll split, fifty-fifty, and the same with what we win. Huh?" + +"You're on, bo--let's go." Bud had gauged him correctly-- +Frank would follow any one who would lead. He got up and came to +the table where Bud was dividing the money into two equal sums, +as nearly as he could make change. What was left over--and +that was the three dollars and twenty cents--he tossed into the +can of tobacco on a shelf. + +"We'll let that ride--to sober up on, if we go broke," he +grunted. "Come on--let's get action." + +Action, of a sort, they proceeded to get. Luck brought luck of +the same complexion. They won in fluctuating spells of good cards +and judicious teamwork. They did not cheat, though Frank was +ready if Bud had led him that way. Frank was ready for anything +that Bud suggested. He drank when Bud drank, went from the first +saloon to the one farther down and across the street, returned to +the first with cheerful alacrity and much meaningless laughter +when Bud signified a desire to change. It soothed Bud and +irritated him by turns, this ready acquiescence of Frank's. He +began to take a malicious delight in testing that acquiescence. +He began to try whether he could not find the end of Frank's +endurance in staying awake, his capacity for drink, his good +nature, his credulity--he ran the scale of Frank's various +qualifications, seeking always to establish a well-defined +limitation somewhere. + +But Frank was utterly, absolutely plastic. He laughed and drank +when Bud suggested that they drink. He laughed and played +whatever game Bud urged him into. He laughed and agreed with Bud +when Bud made statements to test the credulity of anyman. He +laughed and said,"Sure. Let's go!" when Bud pined for a change of +scene. + +On the third day Bud suddenly stopped in the midst of a game of +pool which neither was steady enough to play, and gravely +inspected the chalked end of his cue. + +"That's about enough of this," he said. "We're drunk. We're so +drunk we don't know a pocket from a prospect hole. I'm tired of +being a hog. I'm going to go get another drink and sober up. And +if you're the dog Fido you've been so far, you'll do the same." +He leaned heavily upon the table, and regarded Frank with stern, +bloodshot blue eyes. + +Frank laughed and slid his cue the length of the table. He also +leaned a bit heavily. "Sure," he said. "I'm ready, any time you +are." + +"Some of these days," Bud stated with drunken deliberation, +"they'll take and hang you, Frank, for being such an agreeable +cuss." He took Frank gravely by the arm and walked him to the +bar, paid for two beers with almost his last dollar, and, still +holding Frank firmly, walked him out of doors and down the street +to Frank's cabin. He pushed him inside and stood looking in upon +him with a sour appraisement. + +"You are the derndest fool I ever run across--but at that +you're a good scout too," he informed Frank. "You sober up now, +like I said. You ought to know better 'n to act the way you've +been acting. I'm sure ashamed of you, Frank. Adios--I'm going +to hit the trail for camp." With that he pulled the door shut and +walked away, with that same circumspect exactness in his stride +which marks the drunken man as surely as does a stagger. + +He remembered what it was that had brought him to town-- +which is more than most men in his condition would have done. He +went to the pest office and inquired for mail, got what proved to +be the assayer's report, and went on. He bought half a dozen +bananas which did not remind him of that night when he had waited +on the Oakland pier for the mysterious Foster, though they might +have recalled the incident vividly to mind had he been sober. He +had been wooing forgetfulness, and for the time being he had won. + +Walking up the steep, winding trail that led to Nelson Flat +cleared a little his fogged brain. He began to remember what it +was that he had been fighting to forget. Marie's face floated +sometimes before him, but the vision was misty and remote, like +distant woodland seen through the gray film of a storm. The +thought of her filled him with a vague discomfort now when his +emotions were dulled by the terrific strain he had wilfully put +upon brain and body. Resentment crept into the foreground again. +Marie had made him suffer. Marie was to blame for this beastly +fit of intoxication. He did not love Marie--he hated her. He +did not want to see her, he did not want to think of her. She had +done nothing for him but bring him trouble. Marie, forsooth! +(Only, Bud put it in a slightly different way.) + +Halfway to the flat, he met Cash walking down the slope where +the trail seemed tunneled through deep green, so thick stood the +young spruce. Cash was swinging his arms in that free stride of +the man who has learned how to walk with the least effort. He did +not halt when he saw Bud plodding slowly up the trail, but came +on steadily, his keen, blue-gray eyes peering sharply from +beneath his forward tilted hat brim. He came up to within ten +feet of Bud, and stopped. + +"Well!" He stood eyeing Bud appraisingly, much as Bud had eyed +Frank a couple of hours before. "I was just starting out to see +what had become of you," he added, his voice carrying the full +weight of reproach that the words only hinted at. + +"Well, get an eyeful, if that's what you come for. I'm here-- +and lookin's cheap." Bud's anger flared at the disapproval he +read in Cash's eyes, his voice, the set of his lips. + +But Cash did not take the challenge. "Did the report come?" he +asked, as though that was the only matter worth discussing. + +Bud pulled the letter sullenly from his pocket and gave it to +Cash. He stood moodily waiting while Cash opened and read and +returned it. + +"Yeah. About what I thought--only it runs lighter in gold, +with a higher percentage of copper. It'll pay to go on and see +what's at bed rock. If the copper holds up to this all along, +we'll be figuring on the gold to pay for getting the copper. This +is copper country, Bud. Looks like we'd found us a copper mine." +He turned and walked on beside Bud. "I dug in to quite a rich +streak of sand while you was gone," he volunteered after a +silence. "Coarse gold, as high as fifteen cents a pan. I figure +we better work that while the weather's good, and run our tunnel +in on this other when snow comes." + +Bud turned his head and looked at Cash intently for a minute. +"I've been drunker'n a fool for three days," he announced +solemnly. + +"Yeah. You look it," was Cash's dry retort, while he stared +straight ahead, up the steep, shadowed trail. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE FIRST STAGES + +For a month Bud worked and forced himself to cheerfulness, and +tried to forget. Sometimes it was easy enough, but there were +other times when he must get away by himself and walk and walk, +with his rifle over his shoulder as a mild pretense that he was +hunting game. But if he brought any back camp it was because the +game walked up and waited to he shot; half the time Bud did not +know where he was going, much less whether there were deer within +ten rods or ten miles. + +During those spells of heartsickness he would sit all the +evening and smoke and stare at some object which his mind failed +to register. Cash would sit and watch him furtively; but Bud was +too engrossed with his own misery to notice it. Then, quite +unexpectedly, reaction would come and leave Bud in a peace that +was more than half a torpid refusal of his mind to worry much +over anything. + +He worked then, and talked much with Cash, and made plans for +the development of their mine. In that month they had come to +call it a mine, and they had filed and recorded their claim, and +had drawn up an agreement of partnership in it. They would "sit +tight" and work on it through the winter, and when spring came +they hoped to have something tangible upon which to raise +sufficient capital to develop it properly. Or, times when they +had done unusually well with their sandbank, they would talk +optimistically about washing enough gold out of that claim to +develop the other, and keep the title all in their own hands. + +Then, one night Bud dreamed again of Marie, and awoke with an +insistent craving for the oblivion of drunkenness. He got up and +cooked the breakfast, washed the dishes and swept the cabin, and +measured out two ounces of gold from what they had saved. + +"You're keeping tabs on everything, Cash," he said shortly. +"Just charge this up to me. I'm going to town." + +Cash looked up at him from under a slanted eye. brow. His lips +had a twist of pained disapproval. + +"Yeah. I figured you was about due in town," he said +resignedly. + +"Aw, lay off that told-you-so stuff," Bud growled. "You never +figured anything of the kind, and you know it." He pulled his +heavy sweater down off a nail and put it on, scowling because the +sleeves had to be pulled in place on his arms. + +"Too bad you can't wait a day. I figured we'd have a clean-up +to-morrow, maybe. She's been running pretty heavy---" + +"Well, go ahead and clean up, then. You can do it alone. Or +wait till I get back." + +Cash laughed, as a retort cutting, and not because he was +amused. Bud swore and went out, slamming the door behind him. + +It was exactly five days alter that when he opened it again. +Cash was mixing a batch of sour-dough bread into loaves, and he +did not say anything at all when Bud came in and stood beside the +stove, warming his hands and glowering around the, room. He +merely looked up, and then went on with his bread making. + +Bud was not a pretty sight. Four days and nights of trying to +see how much whisky he could drink, and how long he could play +poker without going to sleep or going broke, had left their mark +on his face and his trembling hands. His eyes were puffy and red, +and his cheeks were mottled, and his lips were fevered and had +lost any sign of a humorous quirk at the corners. He looked ugly; +as if he would like nothing better than an excuse to quarrel with +Cash--since Cash was the only person at hand to quarrel with. + +But Cash had not knocked around the world for nothing. He had +seen men in that mood before, and he had no hankering for trouble +which is vastly easier to start than it is to stop. He paid no +attention to Bud. He made his loaves, tucked them into the pan +and greased the top with bacon grease saved in a tomato can for +such use. He set the pan on a shelf behind the stove, covered it +with a clean flour sack, opened the stove door, and slid in two +sticks. + +"She's getting cold," he observed casually. "It'll be winter +now before we know it." + +Bud grunted, pulled an empty box toward him by the simple +expedient of hooking his toes behind the corner, and sat down. He +set his elbows on his thighs and buried his face in his hands. +His hat dropped off his head and lay crown down beside him. He +made a pathetic figure of miserable manhood, of strength +mistreated. His fine, brown hair fell in heavy locks down over +his fingers that rested on his forehead. Five minutes so, and he +lifted his head and glanced around him apathetically. "Gee-man- +ee, I've got a headache!" he muttered, dropping his forehead into +his spread palms again. + +Cash hesitated, derision hiding in the back of his eyes. Then +he pushed the dented coffeepot forward on the stove. + +"Try a cup of coffee straight," he said unemotionally, "and +then lay down. You'll sleep it off in a few hours." + +Bud did not look up, or make any move to show that he heard. +But presently he rose and went heavily over to his bunk. "I don't +want any darn coffee," he growled, and sprawled himself stomach +down on the bed, with his face turned from the light. + +Cash eyed him coldly, with the corner of his upper lip lifted a +little. Whatever weaknesses he possessed, drinking and gambling +had no place in the list. Nor had he any patience with those +faults in others. Had Bud walked down drunk to Cash's camp, that +evening when they first met, he might have received a little food +doled out to him grudgingly, but he assuredly would not have +slept in Cash's bed that night. That he tolerated drunkenness in +Bud now would have been rather surprising to any one who knew +Cash well. Perhaps he had a vague understanding of the deeps +through which Bud was struggling, and so was constrained to hide +his disapproval, hoping that the moral let-down was merely a +temporary one. + +He finished his strictly utilitarian household labor and went +off up the flat to the sluice boxes. Bud had not moved from his +first position on the bed, but he did not breathe like a sleeping +man. Not at first; after an hour or so he did sleep, heavily and +with queer, muddled dreams that had no sequence and left only a +disturbed sense of discomfort behind then. + +At noon or a little after Cash returned to the cabin, cast a +sour look of contempt at the recumbent Bud, and built a fire in +the old cookstove. He got his dinner, ate it, and washed his +dishes with never a word to Bud, who had wakened and lay with his +eyes half open, sluggishly miserable and staring dully at the +rough spruce logs of the wall. + +Cash put on his cap, looked at Bud and gave a snort, and went +off again to his work. Bud lay still for awhile longer, staring +dully at the wall. Finally he raised up, swung his feet to the +floor, and sat there staring around the little cabin as though he +had never before seen it. + +"Huh! You'd think, the way he highbrows me, that Cash never +done wrong in his life! Tin angel, him--I don't think. Next +time, I'll tell a pinheaded world I'll have to bring home a quart +or two, and put on a show right!" + +Just what he meant by that remained rather obscure, even to +Bud. He got up, shut his eyes very tight and then opened them +wide to clear his vision, shook himself into his clothes and went +over to the stove. Cash had not left the coffeepot on the stove +but had, with malicious intent--or so Bud believed--put it +away on the shelf so that what coffee remained was stone cold. +Bud muttered and threw out the coffee, grounds and all--a bit +of bachelor extravagance which only anger could drive him to-- +and made fresh coffee, and made it strong. He did not want it. He +drank it for the work of physical regeneration it would do for +him. + +He lay down afterwards, and this time he dropped into a more +nearly normal sleep, which lasted until Cash returned at dusk +After that he lay with his face hidden, awake and thinking. +Thinking, for the most part, of how dull and purposeless life +was, and wondering why the world was made, or the people in it +--since nobody was happy, and few even pretended to be. Did God +really make the world, and man, just to play with--for a +pastime? Then why bother about feeling ashamed for anything one +did that was contrary to God's laws? + +Why be puffed up with pride for keeping one or two of them +unbroken--like Cash, for instance. Just because Cash never +drank or played cards, what right had he to charge the whole +atmosphere of the cabin with his contempt and his disapproval of +Bud, who chose to do both? + +On the other hand, why did he choose a spree as a relief from +his particular bunch of ghosts? Trading one misery for another +was all you could call it. Doing exactly the things that Marie's +mother had predicted he would do, committing the very sins that +Marie was always a little afraid he would commit--there must +be some sort of twisted revenge in that, he thought, but for the +life of him he could not quite see any real, permanent +satisfaction in it--especially since Marie and her mother +would never get to hear of it. + +For that matter, he was not so sure that they would not get to +hear. He remembered meeting, just on the first edge of his spree, +one Joe De Barr, a cigar salesman whom he had known in San Jose. +Joe knew Marie--in fact, Joe had paid her a little attention +before Bud came into her life. Joe had been in Alpine between +trains, taking orders for goods from the two saloons and the +hotel. He had seen Bud drinking. Bud knew perfectly well how much +Joe had seen him drinking, and he knew perfectly well that Joe +was surprised to the point of amazement--and, Bud suspected, +secretly gratified as well. Wherefore Bud had deliberately done +what he could do to stimulate and emphasize both the surprise and +the gratification. Why is it that most human beings feel a +sneaking satisfaction in the downfall of another? Especially +another who is, or has been at sometime, a rival in love or in +business? + +Bud had no delusions concerning Joe De Barr. If Joe should +happen to meet Marie, he would manage somehow to let her know +that Bud was going to the dogs--on the toboggan--down and +out--whatever it suited Joe to declare him. It made Bud sore +now to think of Joe standing so smug and so well dressed and so +immaculate beside the bar, smiling and twisting the ends of his +little brown mustache while he watched Bud make such a consummate +fool of himself. At the time, though, Bud had taken a perverse +delight in making himself appear more soddenly drunken, more +boisterous and reckless than he really was. + +Oh, well, what was the odds? Marie couldn't think any worse of +him than she already thought. And whatever she thought, their +trails had parted, and they would never cross again--not if +Bud could help it. Probably Marie would say amen to that. He +would like to know how she was getting along--and the baby, +too. Though the baby had never seemed quite real to Bud, or as if +it were a permanent member of the household. It was a leather- +lunged, red-faced, squirming little mite, and in his heart of +hearts Bud had not felt as though it belonged to him at all. He +had never rocked it, for instance, or carried it in his arms. He +had been afraid he might drop it, or squeeze it too hard, or +break it somehow with his man's strength. When he thought of +Marie he did not necessarily think of the baby, though sometimes +he did, wondering vaguely how much it had grown, and if it still +hollered for its bottle, all hours of the day and night. + +Coming back to Marie and Joe--it was not at all certain that +they would meet; or that Joe would mention him, even if they did. +A wrecked home is always a touchy subject, so touchy that Joe had +never intimated in his few remarks to Bud that there had ever +been a Marie, and Bud, drunk as he had been, was still not too +drunk to held back the question that clamored to be spoken. + +Whether he admitted it to himself or not, the sober Bud Moore +who lay on his bunk nursing a headache and a grouch against the +world was ashamed of the drunken Bud Moore who had paraded his +drunkenness before the man who knew Marie. He did not want Marie +to hear what Joe might tell There was no use, he told himself +miserably, in making Marie despise him as well as hate him. There +was a difference. She might think him a brute, and she might +accuse him of failing to be a kind and loving husband; but she +could not, unless Joe told of his spree, say that she had ever +heard of his carousing around. That it would be his own fault if +she did hear, served only to embitter his mood. + +He rolled over and glared at Cash, who had cooked his supper +and was sitting down to eat it alone. Cash was looking +particularly misanthropic as he bent his head to meet the upward +journey of his coffee cup, and his eyes, when they lifted +involuntarily with Bud's sudden movement. had still that hard +look of bottled-up rancor that had impressed itself upon Bud +earlier in the day. + +Neither man spoke, or made any sign of friendly recognition. +Bud would not have talked to any one in his present state of +self-disgust, but for all that Cash's silence rankled. A moment +their eyes met and held; then with shifted glances the souls of +them drew apart--farther apart than they had ever been, even +when they quarreled over Pete, down in Arizona. + +When Cash had finished and was filing his pipe, Bud got up and +reheated the coffee, and fried more bacon and potatoes, Cash +having cooked just enough for himself. Cash smoked and gave no +heed, and Bud retorted by eating in silence and in straightway +washing his own cup, plate, knife, and fork and wiping clean the +side of the table where he always sat. He did not look at Cash, +but he felt morbidly that Cash was regarding him with that +hateful sneer hidden under his beard. He knew that it was silly +to keep that stony silence, but he kept telling himself that if +Cash wanted to talk, he had a tongue, and it was not tied. +Besides, Cash had registered pretty plainly his intentions and +his wishes when he excluded Bud from his supper. + +It was a foolish quarrel, but it was that kind of foolish +quarrel which is very apt to harden into a lasting one. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. MARIE TAKES A DESPERATE CHANCE + +Domestic wrecks may be a subject taboo in polite conversation, +but Joe De Barr was not excessively polite, and he had, moreover, +a very likely hope that Marie would yet choose to regard him with +more favor than she had shown in the past. He did not chance to +see her at once, but as soon as his work would permit he made it +a point to meet her. He went about it with beautiful directness. +He made bold to call her up on "long distance" from San +Francisco, told her that he would be in San Jose that night, and +invited her to a show. + +Marie accepted without enthusiasm--and her listlessness was +not lost over forty miles of telephone wire. Enough of it seeped +to Joe's ears to make him twist his mustache quite furiously when +he came out of the telephone booth. If she was still stuck on +that fellow Bud, and couldn't see anybody else, it was high time +she was told a few things about him. It was queer how a nice girl +like Marie would hang on to some cheap guy like Bud Moore. +Regular fellows didn't stand any show--unless they played what +cards happened to fall their way. Joe, warned by her +indifference, set himself very seriously to the problem of +playing his cards to the best advantage. + +He went into a flower store--disdaining the banked +loveliness upon the corners--and bought Marie a dozen great, +heavy-headed chrysanthemums, whose color he could not name to +save his life, so called them pink and let it go at that. They +were not pink, and they were not sweet--Joe held the bunch +well away from his protesting olfactory nerves which were not +educated to tantalizing odors--but they were more expensive +than roses, and he knew that women raved over them. He expected +Marie to rave over them, whether she liked them or not. + +Fortified by these, groomed and perfumed and as prosperous +looking as a tobacco salesman with a generous expense account may +be, he went to San Jose on an early evening train that carried a +parlor car in which Joe made himself comfortable. He fooled even +the sophisticated porter into thinking him a millionaire, +wherefore he arrived in a glow of self-esteem, which bred much +optimism. + +Marie was impressed--at least with his assurance and the +chrysanthemums, over which she was sufficiently enthusiastic to +satisfy even Joe. Since he had driven to the house in a hired +automobile, he presently had the added satisfaction of handing +Marie into the tonneau as though she were a queen entering the +royal chariot, and of ordering the driver to take them out around +the golf links, since it was still very early. Then, settling +back with what purported to be a sigh of bliss, he regarded Marie +sitting small and still and listless beside him. The glow of the +chrysanthemums had already faded. Marie, with all the girlish +prettiness she had ever possessed, and with an added charm that +was very elusive and hard to analyze, seemed to have lost all of +her old animation. + +Joe tried the weather, and the small gossip of the film world, +and a judiciously expurgated sketch of his life since he had last +seen her. Marie answered him whenever his monologue required +answer, but she was unresponsive, uninterested--bored. Joe +twisted his mustache, eyed her aslant and took the plunge. + +"I guess joy-ridin' kinda calls up old times, ay?" he began +insidiously. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought you out for a ride; +maybe it brings back painful memories, as the song goes." + +"Oh, no," said Marie spiritlessly. "I don't see why it should." + +"No? Well, that's good to hear you say so, girlie. I was kinda +afraid maybe trouble had hit you hard. A sensitive, big-hearted +little person like you. But if you've put it all outa your mind, +why, that's where you're dead right. Personally, I was glad to +see you saw where you'd made a mistake, and backed up. That takes +grit and brains. Of course, we all make mistakes--you wasn't +to blame--innocent little kid like you--" + +"Yes," said Marie, "I guess I made a mistake, all right." + +"Sure! But you seen it and backed up. And a good thing you did. +Look what he'd of brought you to by now, if you'd stuck!" + +Marie tilted back her head and looked up at the tall row of +eucalyptus trees feathered against the stars. "What?" she asked +uninterestedly. + +"Well--I don't want to knock, especially a fellow that's on +the toboggan already. But I know a little girl that's aw-fully +lucky, and I'm honest enough to say so." + +"Why?" asked Marie obligingly. "Why--in particular?" + +"Why in particular?" Joe leaned toward her. "Say, you must of +heard how Bud's going to the dogs. If you haven't, I don't +want--" + +"No, I hadn't heard," said Marie, looking up at the Big Dipper +so that her profile, dainty and girlish still, was revealed like +a cameo to Joe. "Is he? I love to watch the stars, don't you?" + +"I love to watch a star," Joe breathed softly. "So you hadn't +heard how Bud's turned out to be a regular souse? Honest, didn't +you know it?" + +"No, I didn't know it," said Marie boredly. "Has he?" + +"Well, say! You couldn't tell it from the real thing! Believe +me, Buds some pickled bum, these days. I run across him up in the +mountains, a month or so ago. Honest, I was knocked plumb +silly--much as I knew about Bud that you never knew, I never +thought he'd turn out quite so--" Joe paused, with a perfect +imitation of distaste for his subject. "Say, this is great, out +here," he murmured, tucking the robe around her with that tender +protectiveness which stops just short of being proprietary. +"Honest, Marie, do you like it?" + +"Why, sure, I like it, Joe." Marie smiled at him in the star- +light. "It's great, don't you think? I don't get out very often, +any more. I'm working, you know--and evenings and Sundays baby +takes up all my time." + +"You working? Say, that's a darned shame! Don't Bud send you +any money?" + +"He left some," said Marie frankly. "But I'm keeping that for +baby, when he grows up and needs it. He don't send any." + +"Well, say! As long as he's in the State, you can make him dig +up. For the kid's support, anyway. Why don't you get after him?" + +Marie looked down over the golf links, as the car swung around +the long curve at the head of the slope. "I don't know where he +is," she said tonelessly. "Where did you see him, Joe?" + +Joe's hesitation lasted but long enough for him to give his +mustache end a twist. Marie certainly seemed to be well "over +it." There could be no harm in telling. + +"Well, when I saw him he was at Alpine; that's a little burg up +in the edge of the mountains, on the W. P. He didn't look none +too prosperous, at that. But he had money--he was playing +poker and that kind of thing. And he was drunk as a boiled owl, +and getting drunker just as fast as he knew how. Seemed to be +kind of a stranger there; at least he didn't throw in with the +bunch like a native would. But that was more than a month ago, +Marie. He might not be there now. I could write up and find out +for you." + +Marie settled back against the cushions as though she had +already dismissed the subject from her mind. + +"Oh, don't bother about it, Joe. I don't suppose he's got any +money, anyway. Let's forget him." + +"You said it, Marie. Stacked up to me like a guy that's got +just enough dough for a good big souse. He ain't hard to forget +--is he, girlie?" + +Marie laughed assentingly. And if she did not quite attain her +old bubbling spirits during the evening, at least she sent Joe +back to San Francisco feeling very well satisfied with himself. +He must have been satisfied with himself. He must have been +satisfied with his wooing also, because he strolled into a +jewelry store the next morning and priced several rings which he +judged would be perfectly suitable for engagement rings. He might +have gone so far as to buy one, if he had been sure of the size +and of Marie's preference in stones. Since he lacked detailed +information, he decided to wait, but he intimated plainly to the +clerk that he would return in a few days. + +It was just as well that he did decide to wait, for when he +tried again to see Marie he failed altogether. Marie had left +town. Her mother, with an acrid tone of resentment, declared that +she did not know any more than the man in the moon where Marie +had gone, but that she "suspicioned" that some fool had told +Marie where Bud was, and that Marie had gone traipsing after him. +She had taken the baby along, which was another piece of +foolishness which her mother would never have permitted had she +been at home when Marie left. + +Joe did not take the matter seriously, though he was +disappointed at having made a fruitless trip to San Jose. He did +not believe that Marie had done anything more than take a +vacation from her mother's sharp-tongued rule, and for that he +could not blame her, after having listened for fifteen minutes to +the lady's monologue upon the subject of selfish, inconsiderate, +ungrateful daughters. Remembering Marie's attitude toward Bud, he +did not believe that she had gone hunting him. + +Yet Marie had done that very thing. True, she had spent a +sleepless night fighting the impulse, and a harassed day trying +to make up her mind whether to write first, or whether to go and +trust to the element of surprise to help plead her cause with +Bud; whether to take Lovin Child with her, or leave him with her +mother. + +She definitely decided to write Bud a short note and ask him if +he remembered having had a wife and baby, once upon a time, and +if he never wished that he bad them still. She wrote the letter, +crying a little over it along toward the last, as women will. But +it sounded cold-blooded and condemnatory. She wrote another, +letting a little of her real self into the lines. But that +sounded sentimental and moving-pictury, and she knew how Bud +hated cheap sentimentalism. + +So she tore them both up and put them in the little heating +stove, and lighted a match and set them burning, and watched them +until they withered down to gray ash, and then broke up the ashes +and scattered them amongst the cinders. Marie, you must know, had +learned a good many things, one of which was the unwisdom of +whetting the curiosity of a curious woman. + +After that she proceeded to pack a suit case for herself and +Lovin Child, seizing the opportunity while her mother was +visiting a friend in Santa Clara. Once the packing was began, +Marie worked with a feverish intensity of purpose and an +eagerness that was amazing, considering her usual apathy toward +everything in her life as she was living it. + +Everything but Lovin Child. Him she loved and gloried in. He +was like Bud--so much like him that Marie could not have loved +him so much if she had managed to hate Bud as she tried sometimes +to hate him. Lovin Child was a husky youngster, and he already +had the promise of being as tall and straight-limbed and square- +shouldered as his father. Deep in his eyes there lurked always a +twinkle, as though he knew a joke that would make you laugh-- +if only he dared tell it; a quizzical, secretly amused little +twinkle, as exactly like Bud's as it was possible for a two-year- +old twinkle to be. To go with the twinkle, he had a quirky little +smile. And to better the smile, he had the jolliest little +chuckle that ever came through a pair of baby lips. + +He came trotting up to the suit case which Marie had spread +wide open on the bed, stood up on his tippy toes, and peered in. +The quirky smile was twitching his lips, and the look he turned +toward Marie's back was full of twinkle. He reached into the suit +case, clutched a clean handkerchief and blew his nose with solemn +precision; put the handkerchief back all crumpled, grabbed a silk +stocking and drew it around his neck, and was straining to reach +his little red Brownie cap when Marie turned and caught him up in +her arms. + +"No, no, Lovin Child! Baby mustn't. Marie is going to take her +lovin' baby boy to find--" She glanced hastily over her +shoulder to make sure there was no one to hear, buried her face +in the baby's fat neck and whispered the wonder. "--to find +hims daddy Bud! Does Lovin Man want to see hims daddy Bud? I bet +he does want! I bet hims daddy Bud will be glad--Now you sit +right still, and Marie will get him a cracker, an' then he can +watch Marie pack him little shirt, and hims little bunny suit, +and hims wooh-wooh, and hims 'tockins--" + +It is a pity that Bud could not have seen the two of them in +the next hour, wherein Marie flew to her hopeful task of packing +her suit case, and Lovin Child was quite as busy pulling things +out of it, and getting stepped on, and having to be comforted, +and insisting upon having on his bunny suit, and then howling to +go before Marie was ready. Bud would have learned enough to ease +the ache in his heart--enough to humble him and fill him with +an abiding reverence for a love that will live, as Marie's had +lived, on bitterness and regret. + +Nearly distracted under the lash of her own eagerness and the +fear that her mother would return too soon and bully her into +giving up her wild plan, Marie, carrying Lovin Child on one arm +and lugging the suit case in the other hand, and half running, +managed to catch a street car and climb aboard all out of breath +and with her hat tilted over one ear. She deposited the baby on +the seat beside her, fumbled for a nickel, and asked the +conductor pantingly if she would be in time to catch the four- +five to the city. It maddened her to watch the bored deliberation +of the man as he pulled out his watch and regarded it +meditatively. + +"You'll catch it--if you're lucky about your transfer," he +said, and rang up her fare and went off to the rear platform, +just as if it were not a matter of life and death at all. Marie +could have shaken him for his indifference; and as for the +motorman, she was convinced that he ran as slow as he dared, just +to drive her crazy. But even with these two inhuman monsters +doing their best to make her miss the train, and with the street +car she wanted to transfer to running off and leaving her at the +very last minute, and with Lovin Child suddenly discovering that +he wanted to be carried, and that he emphatically did not want +her to carry the suit case at all, Marie actually reached the +depot ahead of the four-five train. Much disheveled and flushed +with nervousness and her exertions, she dragged Lovin Child up +the steps by one arm, found a seat in the chair car and, a few +minutes later, suddenly realized that she was really on her way +to an unknown little town in an unknown part of the country, in +quest of a man who very likely did not want to be found by her. + +Two tears rolled down her cheeks, and were traced to the +corners of her mouth by the fat, investigative finger of Lovin +Child before Marie could find her handkerchief and wipe them +away. Was any one in this world ever so utterly, absolutely +miserable? She doubted it. What if she found Bud--drunk, as +Joe had described him? Or, worse than that, what if she did not +find him at all? She tried not to cry, but it seemed as though +she must cry or scream. Fast as she wiped them away, other tears +dropped over her eyelids upon her cheeks, and were given the +absorbed attention of Lovin Child, who tried to catch each one +with his finger. To distract him, she turned him around face to +the window. + +"See all the--pitty cows," she urged, her lips trembling so +much that they would scarcely form the words. And when Lovin +Child flattened a finger tip against the window and chuckled, and +said "Ee? Ee?"--which was his way of saying see--Marie +dropped her face down upon his fuzzy red "bunny" cap, hugged him +close to her, and cried, from sheer, nervous reaction. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. CABIN FEVER IN THE WORST FORM + +Bud Moore woke on a certain morning with a distinct and well- +defined grouch against the world as he had found it; a grouch +quite different from the sullen imp of contrariness that had +possessed him lately. He did not know just what had caused the +grouch, and he did not care. He did know, however, that he +objected to the look of Cash's overshoes that stood pigeon-toed +beside Cash's bed on the opposite side of the room, where Bud had +not set his foot for three weeks and more. He disliked the +audible yawn with which Cash manifested his return from the +deathlike unconsciousness of sleep. He disliked the look of +Cash's rough coat and sweater and cap, that hung on a nail over +Cash's bunk. He disliked the thought of getting up in the +cold--and more, the sure knowledge that unless he did get up, and +that speedily, Cash would be dressed ahead of him, and starting a +fire in the cookstove. Which meant that Cash would be the first +to cook and eat his breakfast, and that the warped ethics of +their dumb quarrel would demand that Bud pretend to be asleep +until Cash had fried his bacon and his hotcakes and had carried +them to his end of the oilcloth-covered table. + +When, by certain well-known sounds, Bud was sure that Cash was +eating, he could, without loss of dignity or without suspicion of +making any overtures toward friendliness, get up and dress and +cook his own breakfast, and eat it at his own end of the table. +Bud wondered how long Cash, the old fool, would sulk like that +Not that he gave a darn--he just wondered, is all. For all he +cared, Cash could go on forever cooking his own meals and living +on his own side of the shack. Bud certainly would not interrupt +him in acting the fool, and if Cash wanted to keep it up till +spring, Cash was perfectly welcome to do so. It just showed how +ornery a man could be when he was let to go. So far as he was +concerned, he would just as soon as not have that dead line +painted down the middle of the cabin floor. + +Nor did its presence there trouble him in the least. Just this +morning, however, the fact of Cash's stubbornness in keeping to +his own side of the line irritated Bud. He wanted to get back at +the old hound somehow--without giving in an inch in the mute +deadlock. Furthermore, he was hungry, and he did not propose to +lie there and starve while old Cash pottered around the stove. +He'd tell the world he was going to have his own breakfast first, +and if Cash didn't want to set in on the cooking, Cash could lie +in bed till he was paralyzed, and be darned. + +At that moment Cash pushed back the blankets that had been +banked to his ears. Simultaneously, Bud swung his feet to the +cold floor with a thump designed solely to inform Cash that Bud +was getting up. Cash turned over with his back to the room and +pulled up the blankets. Bud grinned maliciously and dressed as +deliberately as the cold of the cabin would let him. To be sure, +there was the disadvantage of having to start his own fire, but +that disagreeable task was offset by the pleasure he would get in +messing around as long as he could, cooking his breakfast. He +even thought of frying potatoes and onions after he cooked his +bacon. Potatoes and onions fried together have a lovely tendency +to stick to the frying pan, especially if there is not too much +grease, and if they are fried very slowly. Cash would have to do +some washing and scraping, when it came his turn to cook. Bud +knew just about how mad that would make Cash, and he dwelt upon +the prospect relishfully. + +Bud never wanted potatoes for his breakfast. Coffee, bacon, and +hotcakes suited him perfectly. But just for meanness, because he +felt mean and he wanted to act mean, he sliced the potatoes and +the onions into the frying pan, and, to make his work +artistically complete, he let them burn and stick to the pan,-- +after he had his bacon and hotcakes fried, of course! + +He sat down and began to eat. And presently Cash crawled out +into the warm room filled with the odor of frying onions, and +dressed himself with the detached calm of the chronically sulky +individual. Not once did the manner of either man betray any +consciousness of the other's presence. Unless some detail of the +day's work compelled them to speech, not once for more than three +weeks had either seemed conscious of the other. + +Cash washed his face and his hands, took the side of bacon, and +cut three slices with the precision of long practice. Bud sopped +his last hotcake in a pool of syrup and watched him from the +corner of his eyes, without turning his head an inch toward Cash. +His keenest desire, just then, was to see Cash when he tackled +the frying pan. + +But Cash disappointed him there. He took a pie tin off the +shelf and laid his strips of bacon on it, and set it in the oven; +which is a very good way of cooking breakfast bacon, as Bud well +knew. Cash then took down the little square baking pan, greased +from the last baking of bread, and in that he fried his hot +cakes. As if that were not sufficiently exasperating, he gave +absolutely no sign of being conscious of the frying pan any more +than he was conscious of Bud. He did not overdo it by whistling, +or even humming a tune--which would have given Bud an excuse +to say something almost as mean as his mood. Abstractedness rode +upon Cash's lined brow. Placid meditation shone forth from his +keen old blue-gray eyes. + +The bacon came from the oven juicy-crisp and curled at the +edges and delicately browned. The cakes came out of the baking +pan brown and thick and light. Cash sat down at his end of the +table, pulled his own can of sugar and his own cup of sirup and +his own square of butter toward him; poured his coffee, that he +had made in a small lard pail, and began to eat his breakfast +exactly as though he was alone in that cabin. + +A great resentment filled Bud's soul to bursting, The old +hound! Bud believed now that Cash was capable of leaving that +frying pan dirty for the rest of the day! A man like that would +do anything! If it wasn't for that claim, he'd walk off and +forget to come back. + +Thinking of that seemed to crystallize into definite purpose +what had been muddling his mind with vague impulses to let his +mood find expression. He would go to Alpine that day. He would +hunt up Frank and see if he couldn't jar him into showing that +he had a mind of his own. Twice since that first unexpected +spree, he had spent a good deal of time and gold dust and +consumed a good deal of bad whisky and beer, in testing the +inherent obligingness of Frank. The last attempt had been the +cause of the final break between him and Cash. Cash had reminded +Bud harshly that they would need that gold to develop their +quartz claim, and he had further stated that he wanted no "truck" +with a gambler and a drunkard, and that Bud had better straighten +up if he wanted to keep friends with Cash. + +Bud had retorted that Cash might as well remember that Bud had +a half interest in the two claims, and that he would certainly +stay with it. Meantime, he would tell the world he was his own +boss, and Cash needn't think for a minute that Bud was going to +ask permission for what he did or did not do. Cash needn't have +any truck with him, either. It suited Bud very well to keep on +his own side of the cabin, and he'd thank Cash to mind his own +business and not step over the dead line. + +Cash had laughed disagreeably and asked Bud what he was going +to do--draw a chalk mark, maybe? + +Bud, half drunk and unable to use ordinary good sense, had said +yes, by thunder, he'd draw a chalk line if he wanted to, and if +he did, Cash had better not step over it either, unless he wanted +to be kicked back. + +Wherefore the broad, black line down the middle of the floor to +where the table stood. Obviously, he could not well divide the +stove and the teakettle and the frying pan and coffeepot. The +line stopped abruptly with a big blob of lampblack mixed with +coal oil, just where necessity compelled them both to use the +same floor space. + +The next day Bud had been ashamed of the performance, but his +shame could not override his stubbornness. The black line stared +up at him accusingly. Cash, keeping scrupulously upon his own +side of it, went coldly about his own affairs and never yielded +so much as a glance at Bud. And Bud grew more moody and +dissatisfied with himself, but he would not yield, either. +Perversely he waited for Cash to apologize for what he had said +about gamblers and drunkards, and tried to believe that upon Cash +rested all of the blame. + +Now he washed his own breakfast dishes, including the frying +pan, spread the blankets smooth on his bunk, swept as much of the +floor as lay upon his side of the dead line. Because the wind was +in the storm quarter and the lowering clouds promised more snow, +he carried in three big armfuls of wood and placed them upon his +corner of the fireplace, to provide warmth when he returned. Cash +would not touch that wood while Bud was gone, and Bud knew it. +Cash would freeze first. But there was small chance of that, +because a small, silent rivalry had grown from the quarrel; a +rivalry to see which kept the best supply of wood, which swept +cleanest under his bunk and up to the black line, which washed +his dishes cleanest, and kept his shelf in the cupboard the +tidiest. Before the fireplace in an evening Cash would put on +wood, and when next it was needed, Bud would get up and put on +wood. Neither would stoop to stinting or to shirking, neither +would give the other an inch of ground for complaint. It was not +enlivening to live together that way, but it worked well toward +keeping the cabin ship shape. + +So Bud, knowing that it was going to storm, and perhaps +dreading a little the long monotony of being housed with a man as +stubborn as himself, buttoned a coat over his gray, roughneck +sweater, pulled a pair of mail-order mittens over his mail-order +gloves, stamped his feet into heavy, three-buckled overshoes, and +set out to tramp fifteen miles through the snow, seeking the kind +of pleasure which turns to pain with the finding. + +He knew that Cash, out by the woodpile, let the axe blade +linger in the cut while he stared after him. He knew that Cash +would be lonesome without him, whether Cash ever admitted it or +not. He knew that Cash would be passively anxious until he +returned--for the months they had spent together had linked +them closer than either would confess. Like a married couple who +bicker and nag continually when together, but are miserable when +apart, close association had become a deeply grooved habit not +easily thrust aside. Cabin fever might grip them and impel them +to absurdities such as the dead line down the middle of their +floor and the silence that neither desired but both were too +stubborn to break; but it could not break the habit of being +together. So Bud was perfectly aware of the fact that he would be +missed, and he was ill-humored enough to be glad of it. Frank, if +he met Bud that day, was likely to have his amiability tested to +its limit. + +Bud tramped along through the snow, wishing it was not so deep, +or else deep enough to make snow-shoeing practicable in the +timber; thinking too of Cash and how he hoped Cash would get his +fill of silence, and of Frank, and wondering where ho would find +him. He had covered perhaps two miles of the fifteen, and had +walked off a little of his grouch, and had stopped to unbutton +his coat, when he heard the crunching of feet in the snow, just +beyond a thick clump of young spruce. + +Bud was not particularly cautious, nor was he averse to meeting +people in the trail. He stood still though, and waited to see who +was coming that way--since travelers on that trail were few +enough to be noticeable. + +In a minute more a fat old squaw rounded the spruce grove and +shied off startled when she glimpsed Bud. Bud grunted and started +on, and the squaw stepped clear of the faintly defined trail to +let him pass. Moreover, she swung her shapeless body around so +that she half faced him as he passed. Bud's lips tightened, and +he gave her only a glance. He hated fat old squaws that were +dirty and wore their hair straggling down over their crafty, +black eyes. They burlesqued womanhood in a way that stirred +always a smoldering resentment against them. This particular +squaw had nothing to commend her to his notice. She had a dirty +red bandanna tied over her dirty, matted hair and under her grimy +double chin. A grimy gray blanket was draped closely over her +squat shoulders and formed a pouch behind, wherein the plump form +of a papoose was cradled, a little red cap pulled down over its +ears. + +Bud strode on, his nose lifted at the odor of stale smoke that +pervaded the air as he passed. The squaw, giving him a furtive +stare, turned and started on, bent under her burden. + +Then quite suddenly a wholly unexpected sound pursued Bud and +halted him in the trail; the high, insistent howl of a child that +has been denied its dearest desire of the moment. Bud looked back +inquiringly. The squaw was hurrying on, and but for the +straightness of the trail just there, her fat old canvas-wrapped +legs would have carried her speedily out of sight. Of course, +papooses did yell once in awhile, Bud supposed, though he did not +remember ever hearing one howl like that on the trail. But what +made the squaw in such a deuce of a hurry all at once? + +Bud's theory of her kind was simple enough: If they fled from +you, it was because they had stolen something and were afraid you +would catch them at it. He swung around forthwith in the trail +and went after her--whereat she waddled faster through the +snow like a frightened duck. + +"Hey! You come back here a minute! What's all the rush?" Bud's +voice and his long legs pursued, and presently he overtook her +and halted her by the simple expedient of grasping her shoulder +firmly. The high-keyed howling ceased as suddenly as it had +begun, and Bud, peering under the rolled edge of the red stocking +cap, felt his jaw go slack with surprise. + +The baby was smiling at him delightedly, with a quirk of the +lips and a twinkle lodged deep somewhere in its eyes. It worked +one hand free of its odorous wrappings, spread four fat fingers +wide apart over one eye, and chirped, "Pik-k?" and chuckled +infectiously deep in its throat. + +Bud gulped and stared and felt a warm rush of blood from his +heart up into his head. A white baby, with eyes that laughed, and +quirky red lips that laughed with the eyes, and a chuckling voice +like that, riding on the back of that old squaw, struck him dumb +with astonishment. + +"Good glory!" he blurted, as though the words had been jolted +from him by the shock. Where-upon the baby reached out its hand +to him and said haltingly, as though its lips had not yet grown +really familiar with the words: + +"Take--Uvin--Chal!" + +The squaw tried to jerk away, and Bud gave her a jerk to let +her know who was boss. "Say, where'd you git that kid?" he +demanded aggressively. + +She moved her wrapped feet uneasily in the snow, flickered a +filmy, black eyed glance at Bud's uncompromising face, and waved +a dirty paw vaguely in a wide sweep that would have kept a +compass needle revolving if it tried to follow and was not +calculated to be particularly enlightening. + +"Lo-ong ways," she crooned, and her voice was the first +attractive thing Bud had discovered about her. It was pure +melody, soft and pensive as the cooing of a wood dove. + +"Who belongs to it?" Bud was plainly suspicious. The shake of +the squaw's bandannaed head was more artfully vague than her +gesture. "Don' know--modder die--fadder die--ketchum +long ways--off." + +"Well, what's its name?" Bud's voice harshened with his growing +interest and bewilderment. The baby was again covering one +twinkling eye with its spread, pink palm, and was saying "Pik-k?" +and laughing with the funniest little squint to its nose that Bud +had ever seen. It was so absolutely demoralizing that to relieve +himself Bud gave the squaw a shake. This tickled the baby so much +that the chuckle burst into a rollicking laugh, with a catch of +the breath after each crescendo tone that made it absolutely +individual and like none other--save one. + +"What's his name?" Bud bullied the squaw, though his eyes were +on the baby. + +"Don't know " + +"Take--Uvin--Chal," the baby demanded imperiously. + +"Uh--uh--uh? Take!" + +"Uvin Chal? Now what'd yuh mean by that, oletimer?" Bud obeyed +an overpowering impulse to reach out and touch the baby's cheek +with a mittened thumb. The baby responded instantly by again +demanding that Bud should take. + +"Pik-k?" said Bud, a mitten over one eye. + +"Pik-k?" said the baby, spreading his fat hand again and +twinkling at Bud between his fingers. But immediately afterwards +it gave a little, piteous whimper. "Take--Uvin Chal!" it +beseeched Bud with voice and starlike blue eyes together. "Take!" + +There was that in the baby's tone, in the unbaby-like +insistence of its bright eyes, which compelled obedience. Bud had +never taken a baby of that age in his arms. He was always in fear +of dropping it, or crushing it with his man's strength, or +something. He liked them--at a safe distance. He would chuck +one under the chin, or feel diffidently the soft little cheek, +but a closer familiarity scared him. Yet when this baby wriggled +its other arm loose and demanded him to take, Bud reached out and +grasped its plump little red-sweatered body firmly under the +armpits and drew it forth, squirming with eagerness. + +"Well, I'll tell the world I don't blame yuh for wanting to git +outa that hog's nest," said Bud, answering the baby's gleeful +chuckle. + +Freed from his detaining grip on her shoulder, the squaw ducked +unexpectedly and scuttled away down the trail as fast as her old +legs would carry her; which was surprisingly speedy for one of +her bulk. Bud had opened his mouth to ask her again where she had +gotten that baby. He left it open while he stared after her +astonished until the baby put up a hand over one of Bud's eyes +and said "Pik-k?" with that distracting little quirk at the +corners of its lips. + +"You son of a gun!" grinned Bud, in the tone that turned the +epithet in to a caress. "You dog gone little devil, you! Pik-k! +then, if that's what you want." + +The squaw had disappeared into the thick under growth, leaving +a track like a hippo in the snow. Bud could have overtaken her, +of course, and he could have made her take the baby back again. +But he could not face the thought of it. He made no move at all +toward pursuit, but instead he turned his face toward Alpine, +with some vague intention of turning the baby over to the hotel +woman there and getting the authorities to hunt up its parents. +It was plain enough that the squaw had no right to it, else she +would not have run off like that. + +Bud walked at least a rod toward Alpine before he swung short +around in his tracks and started the other way. "No, I'll be +doggoned if I will!" he said. "You can't tell about women, no +time. She might spank the kid, or something. Or maybe she +wouldn't feed it enough. Anyway, it's too cold, and it's going to +storm pretty pronto. Hey! Yuh cold. old-timer?" + +The baby whimpered a little and snuggled its face down against +Bud's chest. So Bud lifted his foot and scraped some snow off a +nearby log, and set the baby down there while he took off his +coat and wrapped it around him, buttoning it like a bag over arms +and all. The baby watched him knowingly, its eyes round and dark +blue and shining, and gave a contented little wriggle when Bud +picked it up again in his arms. + +"Now you're all right till we get to where it's warm," Bud +assured it gravely. "And we'll do some steppin', believe me. I +guess maybe you ain't any more crazy over that Injun smell on +yuh, than what I am--and that ain't any at all." He walked a +few steps farther before he added grimly, "It'll be some jolt for +Cash, doggone his skin. He'll about bust, I reckon. But we don't +give a darn. Let him bust if he wants to--half the cabin's +mine, anyway." + +So, talking a few of his thoughts aloud to the baby, that +presently went to sleep with its face against his shoulder, Bud +tramped steadily through the snow, carrying Lovin Child in his +arms. No remote glimmer of the wonderful thing Fate had done for +him seeped into his consciousness, but there was a new, warm glow +in his heart--the warmth that came from a child's +unquestioning faith in his protecting tenderness. + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. CASH GETS A SHOCK + +It happened that Cash was just returning to the cabin from the +Blind Ledge claim. He met Bud almost at the doorstep, just as Bud +was fumbling with the latch, trying to open the door without +moving Lovin Child in his arms. Cash may or may not have been +astonished. Certainly he did not betray by more than one quick +glance that he was interested in Bud's return or in the +mysterious burden he bore. He stepped ahead of Bud and opened the +door without a word, as if he always did it just in that way, and +went inside. + +Bud followed him in silence, stepped across the black line to +his own side of the room and laid Lovin Child carefully down so +as not to waken him. He unbuttoned the coat he had wrapped around +him, pulled off the concealing red cap and stared down at the +pale gold, silky hair and the adorable curve of the soft cheek +and the lips with the dimples tricked in at the corners; the +lashes lying like the delicate strokes of an artist's pencil +under the closed eyes. For at least five minutes he stood without +moving, his whole face softened into a boyish wistfulness. By the +stove Cash stood and stared from Bud to the sleeping baby, his +bushy eyebrows lifted, his gray eyes a study of incredulous +bewilderment. + +Then Bud drew a long breath and seemed about to move away from +the bank, and Cash turned abruptly to the stove and lifted a +rusty lid and peered into the cold firebox, frowning as though he +was expecting to see fire and warmth where only a sprinkle of +warm ashes remained. Stubbornness held him mute and outwardly +indifferent. He whittled shavings and started a fire in the cook +stove, filled the teakettle and set it on to boil, got out the +side of bacon and cut three slices, and never once looked toward +the bunk. Bud might have brought home a winged angel, or a +rainbow, or a casket of jewels, and Cash would not have permitted +himself to show any human interest. + +But when Bud went teetering from the cabin on his toes to bring +in some pine cones they had saved for quick kindling, Cash craned +his neck toward the little bundle on the bunk. He saw a fat, warm +little hand stir with some baby dream. He listened and heard soft +breathing that stopped just short of being an infantile snore. He +made an errand to his own bunk and from there inspected the +mystery at closer range. He saw a nose and a little, knobby chin +and a bit of pinkish forehead with the pale yellow of hair above. +He leaned and cocked his head to one aide to see more--but at +that moment he heard Bud stamping off the snow from his feet on +the doorstep, and he took two long, noiseless strides to the dish +cupboard and was fumbling there with his back to the bunk when +Bud came tiptoeing in. + +Bud started a fire in the fireplace and heaped the dry limbs +high. Cash fried his bacon, made his tea, and set the table for +his midday meal. Bud waited for the baby to wake, looking at his +watch every minute or two, and making frequent cautious trips to +the bunk, peeking and peering to see if the child was all right. +It seemed unnatural that it should sleep so long in the daytime. +No telling what that squaw had done to it; she might have doped +it or something. He thought the kid's face looked red, as if it +had fever, and he reached down and touched anxiously the hand +that was uncovered. The hand was warm--too warm, in Bud's +opinion. It would be just his luck if the kid got sick, he'd have +to pack it clear in to Alpine in his arms. Fifteen miles of that +did not appeal to Bud, whose arms ached after the two-mile trip +with that solid little body lying at ease in the cradle they +made. + +His back to that end of the room, Cash sat stiff-necked and +stubbornly speechless, and ate and drank as though he were alone +in the cabin. Whenever Bud's mind left Lovin Child long enough to +think about it, he watched Cash furtively for some sign of +yielding, some softening of that grim grudge. It seemed to him as +though Cash was not human, or he would show some signs of life +when a live baby was brought to camp and laid down right under +his nose. + +Cash finished and began washing his dishes, keeping his back +turned toward Bud and Bud's new possession, and trying to make it +appear that he did so unconsciously. He did not fool Bud for a +minute. Bud knew that Cash was nearly bursting with curiosity, +and he had occasional fleeting impulses to provoke Cash to speech +of some sort. Perhaps Cash knew what was in Bud's mind. At any +rate he left the cabin and went out and chopped wood for an hour, +furiously raining chips into the snow. + +When he went in with his arms piled full of cut wood, Bud had +the baby sitting on one corner of the table, and was feeding it +bread and gravy as the nearest approach to baby food he could +think of. During occasional interludes in the steady procession +of bits of bread from the plate to the baby's mouth, Lovin Child +would suck a bacon rind which he held firmly grasped in a greasy +little fist. Now and then Bud would reach into his hip pocket, +pull out his handkerchief as a make-shift napkin, and would +carefully wipe the border of gravy from the baby's mouth, and +stuff the handkerchief back into his pocket again. + +Both seemed abominably happy and self-satisfied. Lovin Child +kicked his heels against the rough table frame and gurgled +unintelligible conversation whenever he was able to articulate +sounds. Bud replied with a rambling monologue that implied a +perfect understanding of Lovin Child's talk--and incidentally +doled out information for Cash's benefit. + +Cash cocked an eye at the two as he went by, threw the wood +down on his side of the hearth, and began to replenish the fire. +If he heard, he gave no sign of understanding or interest. + +"I'll bet that old squaw musta half starved yah," Bud addressed +the baby while he spooned gravy out of a white enamel bowl on to +the second slice of bread. "You're putting away grub like a +nigger at a barbecue. I'll tell the world I don't know what +woulda happened if I hadn't run across yuh and made her hand yuh +over." + +"Ja--ja--ja--jah!" said Lovin Child, nodding his head +and regarding Bud with the twinkle in his eyes. + +"And that's where you're dead right, Boy. I sure do wish you'd +tell me your name; but I reckon that's too much to ask of a +little geezer like you. Here. Help yourself, kid--you ain't in +no Injun camp now. You're with white folks now." + +Cash sat down on the bench he had made for himself, and stared +into the fire. His whole attitude spelled abstraction; +nevertheless he missed no little sound behind him. + +He knew that Bud was talking largely for his benefit, and he +knew that here was the psychological time for breaking the spell +of silence between them. Yet he let the minutes slip past and +would not yield. The quarrel had been of Bud's making in the +first place. Let Bud do the yielding, make the first step toward +amity. + +But Bud had other things to occupy him just then. Having eaten +all his small stomach would hold, Lovin Child wanted to get down +and explore. Bud had other ideas, but they did not seem to count +for much with Lovin Child, who had an insistent way that was +scarcely to be combated or ignored. + +"But listen here, Boy!" Bud protested, after he had for the +third time prevented Lovin Child from backing off the table. "I +was going to take off these dirty duds and wash some of the Injun +smell off yuh. I'll tell a waiting world you need a bath, and +your clothes washed." + +"Ugh, ugh, ugh," persisted Lovin Child, and pointed to the +floor. + +So Bud sighed and made a virtue of defeat. "Oh, well, they say +it's bad policy to take a bath right after yuh eat. We'll let it +ride awhile, but you sure have got to be scrubbed a plenty before +you can crawl in with me, old-timer," he said, and set him down +on the floor. + +Lovin Child went immediately about the business that seemed +most important. He got down on his hands and knees and gravely +inspected the broad black line, hopefully testing it with tongue +and with fingers to see if it would yield him anything in the way +of flavor or stickiness. It did not. It had been there long +enough to be thoroughly dry and tasteless. He got up, planted +both feet on it and teetered back and forth, chuckling up at Bud +with his eyes squinted. + +He teetered so enthusiastically that he sat down unexpectedly +and with much emphasis. That put him between two impulses, and +while they battled he stared round-eyed at Bud. But he decided +not to cry, and straightway turned himself into a growly bear and +went down the line on all fours toward Cash, growling "Ooooooo!" +as fearsomely as his baby throat was capable of growling. + +But Cash would not be scared. He refused absolutely to jump up +and back off in wild-eyed terror, crying out "Ooh! Here comes a +bear!" the way Marie had always done--the way every one had +always done, when Lovin Child got down and came at them growling. +Cash sat rigid with his face to the fire, and would not look. + +Lovin Child crawled all around him and growled his terriblest. +For some unexplainable reason it did not work. Cash sat stiff as +though he had turned to some insensate metal. From where he sat +watching--curious to see what Cash would do--Bud saw him +flinch and stiffen as a man does under pain. And because Bud had +a sore spot in his own heart, Bud felt a quick stab of +understanding and sympathy. Cash Markham's past could not have +been a blank; more likely it held too much of sorrow for the +salve of speech to lighten its hurt. There might have been a +child.... + +"Aw, come back here!" Bud commanded Lovin Child gruffly. + +But Lovin Child was too busy. He had discovered in his circling +of Cash, the fanny buckles on Cash's high overshoes. He was +investigating them as he had investigated the line, with fingers +and with pink tongue, like a puppy. From the lowest buckle he +went on to the top one, where Cash's khaki trousers were tucked +inside with a deep fold on top. Lovin Child's small forefinger +went sliding up in the mysterious recesses of the fold until they +reached the flat surface of the knee. He looked up farther, +studying Cash's set face, sitting back on his little heels while +he did so. Cash tried to keep on staring into the fire, but in +spite of himself his eyes lowered to meet the upward look. + +"Pik-k?" chirped Lovin Child, spreading his fingers over one +eye and twinkling up at Cash with the other. + +Cash flinched again, wavered, swallowed twice, and got up so +abruptly that Lovin Child sat down again with a plunk. Cash +muttered something in his throat and rushed out into the wind and +the slow-falling tiny white flakes that presaged the storm. + +Until the door slammed shut Lovin Child looked after him, +scowling, his eyes a blaze of resentment. He brought his palms +together with a vicious slap, leaned over, and bumped his +forehead deliberately and painfully upon the flat rock hearth, +and set up a howl that could have been heard for three city +blocks. + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. AND BUD NEVER GUESSED + +That night, when he had been given a bath in the little zinc +tub they used for washing clothes, and had been carefully +buttoned inside a clean undershirt of Bud's, for want of better +raiment, Lovin Child missed something out of his sleepytime +cudding. He wanted Marie, and he did not know how to make his +want known to this big, tender, awkward man who had befriended +him and filled his thoughts till bedtime. He began to whimper and +look seekingly around the little cabin. The whimper grew to a cry +which Bud's rude rocking back and forth on the box before the +fireplace could not still. + +"M'ee--take!" wailed Lovin Child, sitting up and listening. +"M'ee take--Uvin Chal!" + +"Aw, now, you don't wanta go and act like that. Listen here, +Boy. You lay down here and go to sleep. You can search me for +what it is you're trying to say, but I guess you want your mama, +maybe, or your bottle, chances are. Aw, looky!" Bud pulled his +watch from his pocket--a man's infallible remedy for the +weeping of infant charges--and dangled it anxiously before +Lovin Child. + +With some difficulty he extracted the small hands from the long +limp tunnels of sleeves, and placed the watch in the eager +fingers. + +"Listen to the tick-tick! Aw, I wouldn't bite into it... oh, +well, darn it, if nothing else'll do yuh, why, eat it up!" + +Lovin Child stopped crying and condescended to take a languid +interest in the watch--which had a picture of Marie pasted +inside the back of the case, by the way. "Ee?" he inquired, with +a pitiful little catch in his breath, and held it up for Bud to +see the busy little second hand. "Ee?" he smiled tearily and +tried to show Cash, sitting aloof on his bench beside the head of +his bunk and staring into the fire. But Cash gave no sign that he +heard or saw anything save the visions his memory was conjuring +in the dancing flames. + +"Lay down, now, like a good boy, and go to sleep," Bud +wheedled. "You can hold it if you want to--only don't drop it +on the floor--here! Quit kickin' your feet out like that! You +wanta freeze? I'll tell the world straight, it's plumb cold and +snaky outside to-night, and you're pretty darn lucky to be here +instead of in some Injun camp where you'd have to bed down with a +mess of mangy dogs, most likely. Come on, now--lay down like a +good boy!" + +"M'ee! M'ee take!" teased Lovin Child, and wept again; +steadily, insistently, with a monotonous vigor that rasped Bud's +nerves and nagged him with a vague memory of something familiar +and unpleasant. He rocked his body backward and forward, and +frowned while he tried to lay hold of the memory. It was the +high-keyed wailing of this same man-child wanting his bottle, but +it eluded Bud completely. There was a tantalizing sense of +familiarity with the sound, but the lungs and the vocal chords of +Lovin Child had developed amazingly in two years, and he had lost +the small-infant wah-hah. + +Bud did not remember, bat for all that his thoughts went back +across those two years and clung to his own baby, and he wished +poignantly that he knew how it was getting along; and wondered if +it had grown to be as big a handful as this youngster, and how +Marie would handle the emergency he was struggling with now: a +lost, lonesome baby boy that would not go to sleep and could not +tell why. + +Yet Lovin Child was answering every one of Bud's mute +questions. Lying there in his "Daddy Bud's" arms, wrapped +comically in his Daddy Bud's softest undershirt, Lovin Child was +proving to his Daddy Bud that his own man-child was strong and +beautiful and had a keen little brain behind those twinkling blue +eyes. He was telling why he cried. He wanted Marie to take him +and rock him to sleep, just as she had rocked him to sleep every +night of his young memory, until that time when he had toddled +out of her life and into a new and peculiar world that held no +Marie. + +By and by he slept, still clinging to the watch that had +Marie's picture in the back. When he was all limp and rosy and +breathing softly against Bud's heart, Bud tiptoed over to the +bunk, reached down inconveniently with one hand and turned back +the blankets, and laid Lovin Child in his bed and covered him +carefully. On his bench beyond the dead line Cash sat leaning +forward with his elbows on his knees, and sucked at a pipe gone +cold, and stared abstractedly into the fire. + +Bud looked at him sitting there. For the first time since their +trails had joined, he wondered what Cash was thinking about; +wondered with a new kind of sympathy about Cash's lonely life, +that held no ties, no warmth of love. For the first time it +struck him as significant that in the two years, almost, of their +constant companionship, Cash's reminiscences had stopped abruptly +about fifteen years back. Beyond that he never went, save now and +then when he jumped a space, to the time when he was a boy. Of +what dark years lay between, Bud had never been permitted a +glimpse. + +"Some kid--that kid," Bud observed involuntarily, for the +first time in over three weeks speaking when he was not compelled +to speak to Cash. "I wish I knew where he came from. He wants his +mother." + +Cash stirred a little, like a sleeper only half awakened. But +he did not reply, and Bud gave an impatient snort, tiptoed over +and picked up the discarded clothes of Lovin Child, that held +still a faint odor of wood smoke and rancid grease, and, removing +his shoes that he might move silently, went to work + +He washed Lovin Child's clothes, even to the red sweater suit +and the fuzzy red "bunny" cap. He rigged a line before the +fireplace--on his side of the dead line, to be sure--hung +the little garments upon it and sat up to watch the fire while +they dried. + +While he rubbed and rinsed and wrung and hung to dry, he had +planned the details of taking the baby to Alpine and placing it +in good hands there until its parents could be found. It was +stolen, he had no doubt at all. He could picture quite plainly +the agony of the parents, and common humanity imposed upon him +the duty of shortening their misery as much as possible. But one +day of the baby's presence he had taken, with the excuse that it +needed immediate warmth and wholesome food. His conscience did +not trouble him over that short delay, for he was honest enough +in his intentions and convinced that he had done the right thing. + +Cash had long ago undressed and gone to bed, turning his back +to the warm, fire-lighted room and pulling the blankets up to his +ears. He either slept or pretended to sleep, Bud did not know +which. Of the baby's healthy slumber there was no doubt at all. +Bud put on his overshoes and went outside after more wood, so +that there would be no delay in starting the fire in the morning +and having the cabin warm before the baby woke. + +It was snowing fiercely, and the wind was biting cold. Already +the woodpile was drifted under, so that Bud had to go back and +light the lantern and hang it on a nail in the cabin wall before +he could make any headway at shovelling off the heaped snow and +getting at the wood beneath. He worked hard for half an hour, and +carried in all the wood that had been cut. He even piled Cash's +end of the hearth high with the surplus, after his own side was +heaped full. + +A storm like that meant that plenty of fuel would be needed to +keep the cabin snug and warm, and he was thinking of the baby's +comfort now, and would not be hampered by any grudge. + +When he had done everything he could do that would add to the +baby's comfort, he folded the little garments and laid them on a +box ready for morning. Then, moving carefully, he crawled into +the bed made warm by the little body. Lovin Child, half wakened +by the movement, gave a little throaty chuckle, murmured "M'ee," +and threw one fat arm over Bud's neck and left it there. + +"Gawd," Bud whispered in a swift passion of longing, "I wish +you was my own kid!" He snuggled Lovin Child close in his arms +and held him there, and stared dim-eyed at the flickering shadows +on the wall. What he thought, what visions filled his vigil, who +can say? + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE ANTIDOTE + +Three days it stormed with never a break, stormed so that the +men dreaded the carrying of water from the spring that became +ice-rimmed but never froze over; that clogged with sodden masses +of snow half melted and sent faint wisps of steam up into the +chill air. Cutting wood was an ordeal, every armload an +achievement. Cash did not even attempt to visit his trap line, +but sat before the fire smoking or staring into the flames, or +pottered about the little domestic duties that could not half +fill the days. + +With melted snow water, a bar of yellow soap, and one leg of an +old pair of drawers, he scrubbed on his knees the floor on his +side of the dead line, and tried not to notice Lovin Child. He +failed only because Lovin Child refused to be ignored, but +insisted upon occupying the immediate foreground and in helping +--much as he had helped Marie pack her suit case one fateful +afternoon not so long before. + +When Lovin Child was not permitted to dabble in the pan of +soapy water, he revenged himself by bringing Cash's mitten and +throwing that in, and crying "Ee? Ee?" with a shameless delight +because it sailed round and round until Cash turned and saw it, +and threw it out. + +"No, no, no!" Lovin Child admonished himself gravely, and got +it and threw it back again. + +Cash did not say anything. Indeed, he hid a grin under his +thick, curling beard which he had grown since the first frost as +a protection against cold. He picked up the mitten and laid it to +dry on the slab mantel, and when he returned, Lovin Child was +sitting in the pan, rocking back and forth and crooning "'Ock-a- +by! 'Ock-a-by!" with the impish twinkle in his eyes. + +Cash was just picking him out of the pan when Bud came in with +a load of wood. Bud hastily dropped the wood, and without a word +Cash handed Lovin Child across the dead line, much as he would +have handed over a wet puppy. Without a word Bud took him, but +the quirky smile hid at the corners of his mouth, and under +Cash's beard still lurked the grin. + +"No, no, no!" Lovin Child kept repeating smugly, all the while +Bud was stripping off his wet clothes and chucking him into the +undershirt he wore for a nightgown, and trying a man's size pair +of socks on his legs. + +"I should say no-no-no! You doggone little rascal, I'd rather +herd a flea on a hot plate! I've a plumb good notion to hog-tie +yuh for awhile. Can't trust yuh a minute nowhere. Now look what +you got to wear while your clothes dry!" + +"Ee? Ee?" invited Lovin Child, gleefully holding up a muffled +little foot lost in the depths of Bud's sock. + +"Oh, I see, all right! I'll tell the world I see you're a +doggone nuisance! Now see if you can keep outa mischief till I +get the wood carried in." Bud set him down on the bunk, gave him +a mail-order catalogue to look at, and went out again into the +storm. When he came back, Lovin Child was sitting on the hearth +with the socks off, and was picking bits of charcoal from the +ashes and crunching them like candy in his small, white teeth. +Cash was hurrying to finish his scrubbing before the charcoal +gave out, and was keeping an eye on the crunching to see that +Lovin Child did not get a hot ember. + +"H'yah! You young imp!" Bud shouted, stubbing his toe as he +hurried forward. "Watcha think you are--a fire-eater, for gosh +sake?" + +Cash bent his head low--it may have been to hide a chuckle. +Bud was having his hands full with the kid, and he was trying to +be stern against the handicap of a growing worship of Lovin Child +and all his little ways. Now Lovin Child was all over ashes, and +the clean undershirt was clean no longer, after having much +charcoal rubbed into its texture. Bud was not overstocked with +clothes; much traveling had formed the habit of buying as he +needed for immediate use. With Lovin Child held firmly under one +arm, where he would he sure of him, he emptied his "war-bag" on +the bunk and hunted out another shirt + +Lovin Child got a bath, that time, because of the ashes he had +managed to gather on his feet and his hands and his head. Bud was +patient, and Lovin Child was delightedly unrepentant--until he +was buttoned into another shirt of Bud's, and the socks were tied +on him. + +"Now, doggone yuh, I'm goin' to stake you out, or hobble yuh, +or some darn thing, till I get that wood in!" he thundered, with +his eyes laughing. "You want to freeze? Hey? Now you're goin' to +stay right on this bunk till I get through, because I'm goin' to +tie yuh on. You may holler--but you little son of a gun, +you'll stay safe!" + +So Bud tied him, with a necktie around his body for a belt, and +a strap fastened to that and to a stout nail in the wall over the +bunk. And Lovin Child, when he discovered that it was not a new +game but instead a check upon his activities, threw himself on +his back and held his breath until he was purple, and then +screeched with rage. + +I don't suppose Bud ever carried in wood so fast in his life. +He might as well have taken his time, for Lovin Child was in one +of his fits of temper, the kind that his grandmother invariably +called his father's cussedness coming out in him. He howled for +an hour and had both men nearly frantic before he suddenly +stopped and began to play with the things he had scorned before +to touch; the things that had made him bow his back and scream +when they were offered to him hopefully. + +Bud, his sleeves rolled up, his hair rumpled and the +perspiration standing thick on his forehead, stood over him with +his hands on his hips, the picture of perturbed helplessness. + +"You doggone little devil!" he breathed, his mind torn between +amusement and exasperation. "If you was my own kid, I'd spank +yuh! But," he added with a little chuckle, "if you was my own +kid, I'd tell the world you come by that temper honestly. Darned +if I wouldn't" + +Cash, sitting dejected on the side of his own bunk, lifted his +head, and after that his hawklike brows, and stared from the face +of Bud to the face of Lovin Child. For the first time he was +struck with the resemblance between the two. The twinkle in the +eyes, the quirk of the lips, the shape of the forehead and, +emphasizing them all, the expression of having a secret joke, +struck him with a kind of shock. If it were possible... But, even +in the delirium of fever, Bud had never hinted that he had a +child, or a wife even. He had firmly planted in Cash's mind the +impression that his life had never held any close ties +whatsoever. So, lacking the clue, Cash only wondered and did not +suspect. + +What most troubled Cash was the fact that he had unwittingly +caused all the trouble for Lovin Child. He should not have tried +to scrub the floor with the kid running loose all over the place. +As a slight token of his responsibility in the matter, he watched +his chance when Bud was busy at the old cookstove, and tossed a +rabbit fur across to Lovin Child to play with; a risky thing to +do, since he did not know what were Lovin Child's little +peculiarities in the way of receiving strange gifts. But he was +lucky. Lovin Child was enraptured with the soft fur and rubbed it +over his baby cheeks and cooed to it and kissed it, and said "Ee? +Ee?" to Cash, which was reward enough. + +There was a strained moment when Bud came over and discovered +what it was he was having so much fun with. Having had three days +of experience by which to judge, he jumped to the conclusion that +Lovin Child had been in mischief again. + +"Now what yuh up to, you little scallywag? " he demanded. "How +did you get hold of that? Consarn your little hide, Boy..." + +"Let the kid have it," Cash muttered gruffly. "I gave it to him." +He got up abruptly and went outside, and came in with wood for +the cookstove, and became exceedingly busy, never once looking +toward the other end of the room, where Bud was sprawled upon his +back on the bunk, with Lovin Child astride his middle, having a +high old time with a wonderful new game of "bronk riding." + +Now and then Bud would stop bucking long enough to slap Lovin +Child in the face with the soft side of the rabbit fur, and Lovin +Child would squint his eyes and wrinkle his nose and laugh until +he seemed likely to choke. Then Bud would cry, "Ride 'im, Boy! +Ride 'im an' scratch 'im. Go get 'im, cowboy--he's your meat!" +and would bounce Lovin Child till he squealed with glee. + +Cash tried to ignore all that. Tried to keep his back to it. +But he was human, and Bud was changed so completely in the last +three days that Cash could scarcely credit his eyes and his ears. +The old surly scowl was gone from Bud's face, his eyes held again +the twinkle. Cash listened to the whoops, the baby laughter, the +old, rodeo catch-phrases, and grinned while he fried his bacon. + +Presently Bud gave a whoop, forgetting the feud in his play. +"Lookit, Cash! He's ridin' straight up and whippin' as he rides! +He's so-o-me bronk-fighter, buh-lieve me!" + +Cash turned and looked, grinned and turned away again--but +only to strip the rind off a fresh-fried slice of bacon the full +width of the piece. He came down the room on his own side the +dead line, and tossed the rind across to the bunk. + +"Quirt him with that, Boy," he grunted, "and then you can eat +it if you want." + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. LOVIN CHILD WRIGGLES IN + +On the fourth day Bud's conscience pricked him into making a +sort of apology to Cash, under the guise of speaking to Lovin +Child, for still keeping the baby in camp. + +"I've got a blame good notion to pack you to town to-day, Boy, +and try and find out where you belong," he said, while he was +feeding him oatmeal mush with sugar and canned milk. "It's pretty +cold, though ..." He cast a slant-eyed glance at Cash, dourly +frying his own hotcakes. "We'll see what it looks like after a +while. I sure have got to hunt up your folks soon as I can. Ain't +I, old-timer?" + +That salved his conscience a little, and freed him of the +uneasy conviction that Cash believed him a kidnapper. The weather +did the rest. An hour after breakfast, just when Bud was +downheartedly thinking he could not much longer put off starting +without betraying how hard it was going to be for him to give up +the baby, the wind shifted the clouds and herded them down to the +Big Mountain and held them there until they began to sift snow +down upon the burdened pines. + +"Gee, it's going to storm again!" Bud blustered in. "It'll be +snowing like all git-out in another hour. I'll tell a cruel world +I wouldn't take a dog out such weather as this. Your folks may be +worrying about yuh, Boy, but they ain't going to climb my +carcass for packing yuh fifteen miles in a snow-storm and letting +yuh freeze, maybe. I guess the cabin's big enough to hold yuh +another day--what?" + +Cash lifted his eyebrows and pinched in his lips under his +beard. It did not seem to occur to Bud that one of them could +stay in the cabin with the baby while the other carried to Alpine +the news of the baby's whereabouts and its safety. Or if it did +occur to Bud, he was careful not to consider it a feasible plan. +Cash wondered if Bud thought he was pulling the wool over +anybody's eyes. Bud did not want to give up that kid, and he was +tickled to death because the storm gave him an excuse for keeping +it. Cash was cynically amused at Bud's transparency. But the kid +was none of his business, and he did not intend to make any +suggestions that probably would not be taken anyway. Let Bud +pretend he was anxious to give up the baby, if that made him feel +any better about it. + +That day went merrily to the music of Lovin Child's chuckling +laugh and his unintelligible chatter. Bud made the discovery that +"Boy" was trying to say Lovin Child when he wanted to be taken +and rocked, and declared that he would tell the world the name +fit, like a saddle on a duck's back. Lovin Child discovered +Cash's pipe, and was caught sucking it before the fireplace and +mimicking Cash's meditative pose with a comical exactness that +made Bud roar. Even Cash was betrayed into speaking a whole +sentence to Bud before he remembered his grudge. Taken +altogether, it was a day of fruitful pleasure in spite of the +storm outside. + +That night the two men sat before the fire and watched the +flames and listened to the wind roaring in the pines. On his side +of the dead line Bud rocked his hard-muscled, big body back and +forth, cradling Lovin Child asleep in his arms. In one tender +palm he nested Lovin Child's little bare feet, like two fat, +white mice that slept together after a day's scampering. + +Bud was thinking, as he always thought nowadays, of Marie and +his own boy; yearning, tender thoughts which his clumsy man's +tongue would never attempt to speak. Before, he had thought of +Marie alone, without the baby; but he had learned much, these +last four days. He knew now how closely a baby can creep in and +cling, how they can fill the days with joy. He knew how he would +miss Lovin Child when the storm cleared and he must take him +away. It did not seem right or just that he should give him into +the keeping of strangers--and yet he must until the parents +could have him back. The black depths of their grief to-night Bud +could not bring himself to contemplate. Bad enough to forecast +his own desolateness when Lovin Child was no longer romping up +and down the dead line, looking where he might find some mischief +to get into. Bad enough to know that the cabin would again be a +place of silence and gloom and futile resentments over little +things, with no happy little man-child to brighten it. He crept +into his bunk that night and snuggled the baby up in his arms, a +miserable man with no courage left in him for the future. + +But the next day it was still storming, and colder than ever. +No one would expect him to take a baby out in such weather. So +Bud whistled and romped with Lovin Child, and would not worry +about what must happen when the storm was past. + +All day Cash brooded before the fire, bundled in his mackinaw +and sweater. He did not even smoke, and though he seemed to feel +the cold abnormally, he did not bring in any wood except in the +morning, but let Bud keep the fireplace going with his own +generous supply. He did not eat any dinner, and at supper time he +went to bed with all the clothes he possessed piled on top of +him. By all these signs, Bud knew that Cash had a bad cold. + +Bud did not think much about it at first--being of the +sturdy type that makes light of a cold. But when Cash began to +cough with that hoarse, racking sound that tells the tale of +laboring lungs, Bud began to feel guiltily that he ought to do +something about it. + +He hushed Lovin Child's romping, that night, and would not let +him ride a bronk at bedtime. When he was asleep, Bud laid him +down and went over to the supply cupboard, which he had been +obliged to rearrange with everything except tin cans placed on +shelves too high for a two-year-old to reach even when he stood +on his tiptoes and grunted. He hunted for the small bottle of +turpentine, found it and mixed some with melted bacon grease, and +went over to Cash's bunk, hesitating before he crossed the dead +line, but crossing nevertheless. + +Cash seemed to be asleep, but his breathing sounded harsh and +unnatural, and his hand, lying uncovered on the blanket, clenched +and unclenched spasmodically. Bud watched him for a minute, +holding the cup of grease and turpentine in his hand. + +"Say," he began constrainedly, and waited. Cash muttered +something and moved his hand irritatedly, without opening his +eyes. Bud tried again. + +"Say, you better swab your chest with this dope. Can't monkey +with a cold, such weather as this." + +Cash opened his eyes, gave the log wall a startled look, and +swung his glance to Bud. "Yeah--I'm all right," he croaked, +and proved his statement wrong by coughing violently. + +Bud set down the cup on a box, laid hold of Cash by the +shoulders and forced him on his back. With movements roughly +gentle he opened Cash's clothing at the throat, exposed his hairy +chest, and poured on grease until it ran in a tiny rivulets. He +reached in and rubbed the grease vigorously with the palm of his +hand, giving particular attention to the surface over the +bronchial tubes. When he was satisfied that Cash's skin could +absorb no more, he turned him unceremoniously on his face and +repeated his ministrations upon Cash's shoulders. Then he rolled +him back, buttoned his shirts for him, and tramped heavily back +to the table. + +"I don't mind seeing a man play the mule when he's well," he +grumbled, "but he's got a right to call it a day when he gits +down sick. I ain't going to be bothered burying no corpses, in +weather like this. I'll tell the world I ain't!" + +He went searching on all the shelves for something more that he +could give Cash. He found a box of liver pills, a bottle of +Jamaica ginger, and some iodine--not an encouraging array for +a man fifteen miles of untrodden snow from the nearest human +habitation. He took three of the liver pills--judging them by +size rather than what might be their composition--and a cup of +water to Cash and commanded him to sit up and swallow them. When +this was accomplished, Bud felt easier as to his conscience, +though he was still anxious over the possibilities in that cough. + +Twice in the night he got up to put more wood on the fire and +to stand beside Cash's bed and listen to his breathing. +Pneumonia, the strong man's deadly foe, was what he feared. In +his cow-punching days he had seen men die of it before a doctor +could be brought from the far-away town. Had he been alone with +Cash, he would have fought his way to town and brought help, but +with Lovin Child to care for he could not take the trail. + +At daylight Cash woke him by stumbling across the floor to the +water bucket. Bud arose then and swore at him for a fool and sent +him back to bed, and savagely greased him again with the bacon +grease and turpentine. He was cheered a little when Cash cussed +back, but he did not like the sound of his voice, for all that, +and so threatened mildly to brain him if he got out of bed again +without wrapping a blanket or something around him. + +Thoroughly awakened by this little exchange of civilities, Bud +started a fire in the stove and made coffee for Cash, who drank +half a cup quite meekly. He still had that tearing cough, and his +voice was no more than a croak; but he seemed no worse than he +had been the night before. So on the whole Bud considered the +case encouraging, and ate his breakfast an hour or so earlier +than usual. Then he went out and chopped wood until he heard +Lovin Child chirping inside the cabin like a bug-hunting meadow +lark, when he had to hurry in before Lovin Child crawled off the +bunk and got into some mischief. + +For a man who was wintering in what is called enforced idleness +in a snow-bound cabin in the mountains, Bud Moore did not find +the next few days hanging heavily on his hands. Far from it. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. THEY HAVE THEIR TROUBLES + +To begin with, Lovin Child got hold of Cash's tobacco can and +was feeding it by small handfuls to the flames, when Bud caught +him. He yelled when Bud took it away, and bumped his head on the +floor and yelled again, and spatted his hands together and +yelled, and threw himself on his back and kicked and yelled; +while Bud towered over him and yelled expostulations and +reprimands and cajolery that did not cajole. + +Cash turned over with a groan, his two palms pressed against +his splitting head, and hoarsely commanded the two to shut up +that infernal noise. He was a sick man. He was a very sick man, +and he had stood the limit. + +"Shut up?" Bud shouted above the din of Lovin Child. "Ain't I +trying to shut him up, for gosh sake? What d'yuh want me to do? +--let him throw all the tobacco you got into the fire? Here, +you young imp, quit that, before I spank you! Quick, now--we've +had about enough outa you! You lay down there, Cash, and +quit your croaking. You'll croak right, if you don't keep covered +up. Hey, Boy! My jumpin' yellow-jackets, you'd drown a Klakon +till you couldn't hear it ten feet! Cash, you old fool, you shut +up, I tell yuh, or I'll come over there and shut you up! I'll +tell the world--Boy! Good glory! shut up-p!" + +Cash was a sick man, but he had not lost all his +resourcefulness. He had stopped Lovin Child once, and thereby he +had learned a little of the infantile mind. He had a coyote skin +on the foot of his bed, and he raised himself up and reached for +it as one reaches for a fire extinguisher. Like a fire +extinguisher he aimed it, straight in the middle of the uproar. + +Lovin Child, thumping head and heels regularly on the floor and +punctuating the thumps with screeches, was extinguished-- +suddenly, completely silenced by the muffling fur that fell from +the sky, so far as he knew. The skin covered him completely. Not +a sound came from under it. The stillness was so absolute that +Bud was scared, and so was Cash, a little. It was as though Lovin +Child, of a demon one instant, was in the next instant snuffed +out of existence. + +"What yuh done?" Bud ejaculated, rolling wild eyes at Cash. +"You--" + +The coyote skin rattled a little. A fluff of yellow, a spark of +blue, and "Pik-k?" chirped Lovin Child from under the edge, and +ducked back again out of sight + +Bud sat down weakly on a box and shook his head slowly from one +side to the other. "You've got me going south," he made solemn +confession to the wobbling skin--or to what it concealed. "I +throw up my hands, I'll tell the world fair." He got up and went +over and sat down on his bunk, and rested his hands on his knees, +and considered the problem of Lovin Child. + +"Here I've got wood to cut and water to bring and grub to cook, +and I can't do none of them because I've got to ride herd on you +every minute. You've got my goat, kid, and that's the truth. You +sure have. Yes, 'Pik-k,' doggone yuh--after me going crazy +with yuh, just about, and thinking you're about to blow your +radiator cap plumb up through the roof! I'll tell yuh right here +and now, this storm has got to let up pretty quick so I can pack +you outa here, or else I've got to pen you up somehow, so I can +do something besides watch you. Look at the way you scattered +them beans, over there by the cupboard! By rights I oughta stand +over yuh and make yuh pick every one of 'em up! and who was it +drug all the ashes outa the stove, I'd like to know?" + +The coyote skin lifted a little and moved off toward the +fireplace, growling "Ooo-ooo-ooo!" like a bear--almost. Bud +rescued the bear a scant two feet from the flames, and carried +fur, baby and all, to the bunk. "My good lord, what's a fellow +going to do with yuh?" he groaned in desperation. "Burn yourself +up, you would! I can see now why folks keep their kids corralled +in high chairs and gocarts all the time. They got to, or they +wouldn't have no kids." + +Bud certainly was learning a few things that he had come near +to skipping altogether in his curriculum of life. Speaking of +high chairs, whereof he had thought little enough in his active +life, set him seriously to considering ways and means. Weinstock- +Lubin had high chairs listed in their catalogue. Very nice high +chairs, for one of which Bud would have paid its weight in gold +dust (if one may believe his word) if it could have been set down +in that cabin at that particular moment. He studied the small +cuts of the chairs, holding Lovin Child off the page by main +strength the while. Wishing one out of the catalogue and into the +room being impracticable, he went after the essential features, +thinking to make one that would answer the purpose. + +Accustomed as he was to exercising his inventive faculty in +overcoming certain obstacles raised by the wilderness in the path +of comfort, Bud went to work with what tools he had, and with the +material closest to his hand. Crude tools they were, and crude +materials--like using a Stilson wrench to adjust a carburetor, +he told Lovin Child who tagged him up and down the cabin. An axe, +a big jack-knife, a hammer and some nails left over from building +their sluice boxes, these were the tools. He took the axe first, +and having tied Lovin Child to the leg of his bunk for safety's +sake, he went out and cut down four young oaks behind the cabin, +lopped off the branches and brought them in for chair legs. He +emptied a dynamite box of odds and ends, scrubbed it out and left +it to dry while he mounted the four legs, with braces of the +green oak and a skeleton frame on top. Then he knocked one end +out of the box, padded the edges of the box with burlap, and set +Lovin Child in his new high chair. + +He was tempted to call Cash's attention to his handiwork, but +Cash was too sick to be disturbed, even if the atmosphere between +them had been clear enough for easy converse. So he stifled the +impulse and addressed himself to Lovin Child, which did just as +well. + +Things went better after that. Bud could tie the baby in the +chair, give him a tin cup and a spoon and a bacon rind, and go +out to the woodpile feeling reasonably certain that the house +would not be set afire during his absence. He could cook a meal +in peace, without fear of stepping on the baby. And Cash could +lie as close as he liked to the edge of the bed without running +the risk of having his eyes jabbed with Lovin Child's finger, or +something slapped unexpectedly in his face. + +He needed protection from slight discomforts while he lay there +eaten with fever, hovering so close to pneumonia that Bud +believed he really had it and watched over him nights as well as +daytimes. The care he gave Cash was not, perhaps, such as the +medical profession would have endorsed, but it was faithful and +it made for comfort and so aided Nature more than it hindered. + +Fair weather came, and days of melting snow. But they served +only to increase Bud's activities at the woodpile and in hunting +small game close by, while Lovin Child took his nap and Cash was +drowsing. Sometimes he would bundle the baby in an extra sweater +and take him outside and let him wallow in the snow while Bud cut +wood and piled it on the sheltered side of the cabin wall, a +reserve supply to draw on in an emergency. + +It may have been the wet snow--more likely it was the cabin +air filled with germs of cold. Whatever it was, Lovin Child +caught cold and coughed croupy all one night, and fretted and +would not sleep. Bud anointed him as he had anointed Cash, and +rocked him in front of the fire, and met the morning hollow-eyed +and haggard. A great fear tore at his heart. Cash read it in his +eyes, in the tones of his voice when he crooned soothing +fragments of old range songs to the baby, and at daylight Cash +managed to dress himself and help; though what assistance he +could possibly give was not all clear to him, until he saw Bud's +glance rove anxiously toward the cook-stove. + +"Hand the kid over here," Cash said huskily. "I can hold him +while you get yourself some breakfast" + +Bud looked at him stupidly, hesitated, looked down at the +flushed little face, and carefully laid him in Cash's +outstretched arms. He got up stiffly--he had been sitting +there a long time, while the baby slept uneasily--and went on +his tiptoes to make a fire in the stove. + +He did not wonder at Cash's sudden interest, his abrupt change +from moody aloofness to his old partnership in trouble as well as +in good fortune. He knew that Cash was not fit for the task, +however, and he hurried the coffee to the boiling point that he +might the sooner send Cash back to bed. He gulped down a cup of +coffee scalding hot, ate a few mouthfuls of bacon and bread, and +brought a cup back to Cash. + +"What d'yuh think about him?" he whispered, setting the coffee +down on a box so that he could take Lovin Child. "Pretty sick +kid, don't yuh think?" + +"It's the same cold I got," Cash breathed huskily. "Swallows +like it's his throat, mostly. What you doing for him?" + +"Bacon grease and turpentine, " Bud answered him despondently. +"I'll have to commence on something else, though--turpentine's +played out I used it most all up on you." + +"Coal oil's good. And fry up a mess of onions and make a +poultice." He put up a shaking hand before his mouth and coughed +behind it, stifling the sound all he could. + +Lovin Child threw up his hands and whimpered, and Bud went over +to him anxiously. "His little hands are awful hot," he muttered. +"He's been that way all night." + +Cash did not answer. There did not seem anything to say that +would do any good. He drank his coffee and eyed the two, lifting +his eyebrows now and then at some new thought. + +"Looks like you, Bud," he croaked suddenly. "Eyes, expression, +mouth--you could pass him off as your own kid, if you wanted +to." + +"I might, at that," Bud whispered absently. "I've been seeing +you in him, though, all along. He lifts his eyebrows same way you +do." + +"Ain't like me," Cash denied weakly, studying Lovin Child. +"Give him here again, and you go fry them onions. I would--if +I had the strength to get around." + +"Well, you ain't got the strength. You go back to bed, and I'll +lay him in with yuh. I guess he'll lay quiet. He likes to be +cuddled up close." + +In this way was the feud forgotten. Save for the strange habits +imposed by sickness and the care of a baby, they dropped back +into their old routine, their old relationship. They walked over +the dead line heedlessly, forgetting why it came to be there. +Cabin fever no longer tormented them with its magnifying of +little things. They had no time or thought for trifles; a bigger +matter than their own petty prejudices concerned them. They were +fighting side by side, with the Old Man of the Scythe--the Old +Man who spares not. + +Lovin Child was pulling farther and farther away from them. +They knew it, they felt it in his hot little hands, they read it +in his fever-bright eyes. But never once did they admit it, even +to themselves. They dared not weaken their efforts with any +admissions of a possible defeat. They just watched, and fought +the fever as best they could, and waited, and kept hope alive +with fresh efforts. + +Cash was tottery weak from his own illness, and he could not +speak above a whisper. Yet he directed, and helped soothe the +baby with baths and slow strokings of his hot forehead, and +watched him while Bud did the work, and worried because he could +not do more. + +They did not know when Lovin Child took a turn for the better, +except that they realized the fever was broken. But his +listlessness, the unnatural drooping of his whole body, scared +them worse than before. Night and day one or the other watched +over him, trying to anticipate every need, every vagrant whim. +When he began to grow exacting, they were still worried, though +they were too fagged to abase themselves before him as much as +they would have liked. + +Then Bud was seized with an attack of the grippe before Lovin +Child had passed the stage of wanting to be held every waking +minute. Which burdened Cash with extra duties long before he was +fit. + +Christmas came, and they did not know it until the day was half +gone, when Cash happened to remember. He went out then and groped +in the snow and found a little spruce, hacked it off close to the +drift and brought it in, all loaded with frozen snow, to dry +before the fire. The kid, he declared, should have a Christmas +tree, anyway. He tied a candle to the top, and a rabbit skin to +the bottom, and prunes to the tip of the branches, and tried to +rouse a little enthusiasm in Lovin Child. But Lovin Child was not +interested in the makeshift. He was crying because Bud had told +him to keep out of the ashes, and he would not look. + +So Cash untied the candle and the fur and the prunes, threw +them across the room, and peevishly stuck the tree in the +fireplace. + +"Remember what you said about the Fourth of July down in +Arizona, Bud?" he asked glumly. "Well, this is the same kind of +Christmas." Bud merely grunted. + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. BUD FACES FACTS + +New Year came and passed and won nothing in the way of +celebration from the three in Nelson's cabin. Bud's bones ached, +his head ached, the flesh on his body ached. He could take no +comfort anywhere, under any circumstances. He craved clean white +beds and soft-footed attendance and soothing silence and cool +drinks--and he could have none of those things. His bedclothes +were heavy upon his aching limbs; he had to wait upon his own +wants; the fretful crying of Lovin Child or the racking cough of +Cash was always in his ears, and as for cool drinks, there was +ice water in plenty, to be sure, but nothing else. Fair weather +came, and storms, and cold: more storms and cold than fair +weather. Neither man ever mentioned taking Lovin Child to Alpine. +At first, because it was out of the question; after that, because +they did not want to mention it. They frequently declared that +Lovin Child was a pest, and there were times when Bud spoke +darkly of spankings--which did not materialize. But though +they did not mention it, they knew that Lovin Child was something +more; something endearing, something humanizing, something they +needed to keep them immune from cabin fever. + +Some time in February it was that Cash fashioned a crude pair +of snowshoes and went to town, returning the next day. He came +home loaded with little luxuries for Lovin Child, and with the +simpler medicines for other emergencies which they might have to +meet, but he did not bring any word of seeking parents. The +nearest he came to mentioning the subject was after supper, when +the baby was asleep and Bud trying to cut a small pair of +overalls from a large piece of blue duck that Cash had brought. +The shears were dull, and Lovin Child's little rompers were so +patched and shapeless that they were not much of a guide, so Bud +was swearing softly while he worked. + +"I didn't hear a word said about that kid being lost," Cash +volunteered, after he had smoked and watched Bud awhile. +"Couldn't have been any one around Alpine, or I'd have heard +something about it." + +Bud frowned, though it may have been over his tailoring +problem. + +"Can't tell--the old squaw mighta been telling the truth," +he said reluctantly. "I s'pose they do, once in awhile. She said +his folks were dead." And he added defiantly, with a quick glance +at Cash, "Far as I'm concerned, I'm willing to let it ride that +way. The kid's doing all right." + +"Yeah. I got some stuff for that rash on his chest. I wouldn't +wonder if we been feeding him too heavy on bacon rinds, Bud. They +say too much of that kinda thing is bad for kids. Still, he seems +to feel all right." + +"I'll tell the world he does! He got hold of your old pipe to-day +and was suckin' away on it, I don't know how long. Never +feazed him, either. If he can stand that, I guess he ain't very +delicate." + +"Yeah. I laid that pipe aside myself because it was getting so +dang strong. Ain't you getting them pants too long in the seat, +Bud? They look to me big enough for a ten-year-old." + +"I guess you don't realize how that kid's growing!" Bud +defended his handiwork "And time I get the seams sewed, and the +side lapped over for buttons--" + +"Yeah. Where you going to get the buttons? You never sent for +any." + +"Oh, I'll find buttons. You can donate a couple off some of +your clothes, if you want to right bad." + +"Who? Me? I ain't got enough now to keep the wind out," Cash +protested. "Lemme tell yuh something, Bud. If you cut more +saving, you'd have enough cloth there for two pair of pants. You +don't need to cut the legs so long as all that. They'll drag on +the ground so the poor kid can't walk in 'em without falling all +over himself." + +"Well, good glory! Who's making these pants? Me, or you?" Bud +exploded. "If you think you can do any better job than what I'm +doing, go get yourself some cloth and fly at it! Don't think you +can come hornin' in on my job, 'cause I'll tell the world right +out loud, you can't." + +"Yeah--that's right! Go to bellerin' around like a bull +buffalo, and wake the kid up! I don't give a cuss how you make'm. +Go ahead and have the seat of his pants hangin' down below his +knees if you want to!" Cash got up and moved huffily over to the +fireplace and sat with his back to Bud. + +"Maybe I will, at that," Bud retorted. "You can't come around +and grab the job I'm doing." Bud was jabbing a needle eye toward +the end of a thread too coarse for it, and it did not improve his +temper to have the thread refuse to pass through the eye. + +Neither did it please him to find, when all the seams were +sewn, that the little overalls failed to look like any garment he +had ever seen on a child. When he tried them on Lovin Child, next +day, Cash took one look and bolted from the cabin with his hand +over his mouth. + +When he came back an hour or so later, Lovin Child was wearing +his ragged rompers, and Bud was bent over a Weinstock-Lubin +mail-order catalogue. He had a sheet of paper half filled with +items, and was licking his pencil and looking for more. He looked +up and grinned a little, and asked Cash when he was going to town +again; and added that he wanted to mail a letter. + +"Yeah. Well, the trail's just as good now as it was when I took +it," Cash hinted strongly. "When I go to town again, it'll be +because I've got to go. And far as I can see, I won't have to go +for quite some time." + +So Bud rose before daylight the next morning, tied on the +makeshift snowshoes Cash had contrived, and made the fifteen-mile +trip to Alpine and back before dark. He brought candy for Lovin +Child, tended that young gentleman through a siege of indigestion +because of the indulgence, and waited impatiently until he was +fairly certain that the wardrobe he had ordered had arrived at +the post-office. When he had counted off the two days required +for a round trip to Sacramento, and had added three days for +possible delay in filling the order, he went again, and returned +in one of the worst storms of the winter. + +But he did not grudge the hardship, for he carried on his back +a bulky bundle of clothes for Lovin Child; enough to last the +winter through, and some to spare; a woman would have laughed at +some of the things he chose: impractical, dainty garments that +Bud could not launder properly to save his life. But there were +little really truly overalls, in which Lovin Child promptly +developed a strut that delighted the men and earned him the title +of Old Prospector. And there were little shirts and stockings and +nightgowns and a pair of shoes, and a toy or two that failed to +interest him at all, after the first inspection. + +It began to look as though Bud had deliberately resolved upon +carrying a guilty conscience all the rest of his life. He had +made absolutely no effort to trace the parents of Lovin Child +when he was in town. On the contrary he had avoided all casual +conversation, for fear some one might mention the fact that a +child had been lost. He had been careful not to buy anything in +the town that would lead one to suspect that he had a child +concealed upon his premises, and he had even furnished what he +called an alibi when he bought the candy, professing to own an +inordinately sweet tooth. + +Cash cast his eyes over the stock of baby clothes which Bud +gleefully unwrapped on his bunk, and pinched out a smile under +his beard. + +"Well, if the kid stays till he wears out all them clothes, +we'll just about have to give him a share in the company," he +said drily. + +Bud looked up in quick jealousy. "What's mine's his, and I own +a half interest in both claims. I guess that'll feed him--if +they pan out anything," he retorted. "Come here, Boy, and let's +try this suit on. Looks pretty small to me--marked three year, +but I reckon they don't grow 'em as husky as you, back where they +make all these clothes." + +"Yeah. But you ought to put it in writing, Bud. S'pose anything +happened to us both--and it might. Mining's always got its +risky side, even cutting out sickness, which we've had a big +sample of right this winter. Well, the kid oughta have some +security in case anything did happen. Now--" + +Bud looked thoughtfully down at the fuzzy yellow head that did +not come much above his knee. + +"Well, how yuh going to do anything like that without giving it +away that we've got him? Besides, what name'd we give him in the +company? No, sir, Cash, he gets what I've got, and I'll smash any +damn man that tries to get it away from him. But we can't get out +any legal papers--" + +"Yeah. But we can make our wills, can't we? And I don't know +where you get the idea, Bud, that you've got the whole say about +him. We're pardners, ain't we? Share and share alike. Mines, +mules, grub--kids--equal shares goes." + +"That's where you're dead wrong. Mines and mules and grub is +all right, but when it comes to this old Lovin Man, why--who +was it found him, for gosh sake?" + +"Aw, git out!" Cash growled. "Don't you reckon I'd have grabbed +him off that squaw as quick as you did? I've humored you along, +Bud, and let you hog him nights, and feed him and wash his +clothes, and I ain't kicked none, have I? But when it comes to +prope'ty--" + +"You ain't goin' to horn in there, neither. Anyway, we ain't +got so darn much the kid'll miss your share, Cash." + +"Yeah. All the more reason why he'll need it I don't see how +you're going to stop me from willing my share where I please. And +when you come down to facts, Bud, why--you want to recollect +that I plumb forgot to report that kid, when I was in town. And I +ain't a doubt in the world but what his folks would be glad +enough--" + +"Forget that stuff!" Bud's tone was so sharp that Lovin Child +turned clear around to look up curiously into his face. "You know +why you never reported him, doggone yuh! You couldn't give him up +no easier than I could. And I'll tell the world to its face that +if anybody gets this kid now they've pretty near got to fight for +him. It ain't right, and it ain't honest. It's stealing to keep +him, and I never stole a brass tack in my life before. But he's +mine as long as I live and can hang on to him. And that's where I +stand. I ain't hidin' behind no kind of alibi. The old squaw did +tell me his folks was dead; but if you'd ask me, I'd say she was +lying when she said it. Chances are she stole him. I'm sorry for +his folks, supposing he's got any. But I ain't sorry enough for +'em to give him up if I can help it. I hope they've got more, and +I hope they've gentled down by this time and are used to being +without him. Anyway, they can do without him now easier than what +I can, because ..." Bud did not finish that sentence, except by +picking Lovin Child up in his arms and squeezing him as hard as +he dared. He laid his face down for a minute on Lovin Child's +head, and when he raised it his lashes were wet. + +"Say, old-timer, you need a hair cut. Yuh know it?" he said, +with a huskiness in his voice, and pulled a tangle playfully. +Then his eyes swung round defiantly to Cash. "It's stealing to +keep him, but I can't help it. I'd rather die right here in my +tracks than give up this little ole kid. And you can take that as +it lays, because I mean it." + +Cash sat quiet for a minute or two, staring down at the floor. +"Yeah. I guess there's two of us in that fix," he observed in his +dry way, lifting his eyebrows while he studied a broken place in +the side of his overshoe. "All the more reason why we should +protect the kid, ain't it? My idea is that we ought to both of us +make our wills right here and now. Each of us to name the other +for guardeen, in case of accident, and each one picking a name +for the kid, and giving him our share in the claims and anything +else we may happen to own." He stopped abruptly, his jaw sagging +a little at some unpleasant thought. + +"I don't know--come to think of it, I can't just leave the +kid all my property. I--I've got a kid of my own, and if she's +alive--I ain't heard anything of her for fifteen years and +more, but if she's alive she'd come in for a share. She's a woman +grown by this time. Her mother died when she was a baby. I +married the woman I hired to take care of her and the house-- +like a fool. When we parted, she took the kid with her. She did +think a lot of her, I'll say that much for her, and that's all I +can say in her favor. I drifted around and lost track of 'em. Old +woman, she married again, and I heard that didn't pan out, +neither. Anyway, she kept the girl, and gave her the care and +schooling that I couldn't give. I was a drifter. + +"Well, she can bust the will if I leave her out, yuh see. And +if the old woman gets a finger in the pie, it'll be busted, all +right. I can write her down for a hundred dollars perviding she +don't contest. That'll fix it. And the rest goes to the kid here. +But I want him to have the use of my name, understand. Something- +or-other Markham Moore ought to suit all hands well enough." + +Bud, holding Lovin Child on his knees, frowned a little at +first. But when he looked at Cash, and caught the wistfulness in +his eyes, he surrendered warm-heartedly. + +"A couple of old he-hens like us--we need a chick to look +after," he said whimsically. "I guess Markham Moore ought to be +good enough for most any kid. And if it ain't, by gosh, we'll +make it good enough! If I ain't been all I should be, there's no +law against straightening up. Markham Moore goes as it lays-- +hey, Lovins?" But Lovin Child had gone to sleep over his foster +fathers' disposal of his future. His little yellow head was +wabbling on his limp neck, and Bud cradled him in his arms and +held him so. + +"Yeah. But what are we going to call him?" Methodical Cash +wanted the whole matter settled at one conference, it seemed. + +"Call him? Why, what've we been calling him, the last two +months? " + +"That," Cash retorted, "depended on what devilment he was into +when we called!" + +"You said it all, that time. I guess, come to think of it-- +tell you what, Cash, let's call him what the kid calls himself. +That's fair enough. He's got some say in the matter, and if he's +satisfied with Lovin, we oughta be. Lovin Markam Moore ain't half +bad. Then if he wants to change it when he grows up, he can." + +"Yeah. I guess that's as good as anything. I'd hate to see him +named Cassius. Well, now's as good a time as any to make them +wills, Bud. We oughta have a couple of witnesses, but we can act +for each other, and I guess it'll pass. You lay the kid down, and +we'll write 'em and have it done with and off our minds. I dunno +--I've got a couple of lots in Phoenix I'll leave to the girl. +By rights she should have 'em. Lovins, here, 'll have my share in +all mining claims; these two I'll name 'specially, because I +expect them to develop into paying mines; the Blind Lodge, +anyway." + +A twinge of jealousy seized Bud. Cash was going ahead a little +too confidently in his plans for the kid. He did not want to hurt +old Cash's feelings, and of course he needed Cash's assistance if +he kept Lovin Child for his own. But Cash needn't think he was +going to claim the kid himself. + +"All right--put it that way. Only, when you're writing it +down, you make it read 'child of Bud Moore' or something like +that. You can will him the moon, if you want, and you can have +your name sandwiched in between his and mine. But get this, and +get it right. He's mine, and if we ever split up, the kid goes +with me. I'll tell the world right now that this kid belongs to +me, and where I go he goes. You got that?" + +"You don't have to beller at the top of your voice, do yuh? " +snapped Cash, prying the cork out of the ink bottle with his +jackknife. "Here's another pen point. Tie it onto a stick or +something and git to work before you git to putting it off." + +Leaning over the table facing each other, they wrote steadily +for a few minutes. Then Bud began to flag, and finally he stopped +and crumpled the sheet of tablet paper into a ball. Cash looked +up, lifted his eyebrows irritatedly, and went on with his +composition. + +Bud sat nibbling the end of his makeshift penholder. The +obstacle that had loomed in Cash's way and had constrained him to +reveal the closed pages of his life, loomed large in Bud's way +also. Lovin Child was a near and a very dear factor in his life +--but when it came to sitting down calmly and setting his +affairs in order for those who might be left behind, Lovin Child +was not the only person he must think of. What of his own +man-child? What of Marie? + +He looked across at Cash writing steadily in his precise way, +duly bequeathing his worldly goods to Lovin; owning, too, his +responsibilities in another direction, but still making Lovin +Child his chief heir so far as he knew. On the spur of the moment +Bud had thought to do the same thing. But could he do it? + +He seemed to see his own baby standing wistfully aloof, pushed +out of his life that this baby he had no right to keep might have +all of his affections, all of his poor estate. And Marie, whose +face was always in the back of his memory, a tearful, accusing +vision that would not let him be--he saw Marie working in some +office, earning the money to feed and clothe their child. And +Lovin Child romping up and down the cabin, cuddled and scolded +and cared for as best an awkward man may care for a baby--a +small, innocent usurper. + +Bud dropped his face in his palms and tried to think the thing +out coldly, clearly, as Cash had stated his own case. Cash did +not know where his own child was, and he did not seem to care +greatly. He was glad to salve his conscience with a small +bequest, keeping the bulk--if so tenuous a thing as Cash's +fortune may be said to have bulk--for this baby they two were +hiding away from its lawful parents. Cash could do it; why +couldn't be? He raised his head and looked over at Lovin Child, +asleep in his new and rumpled little finery. Why did his own baby +come between them now, and withhold his hand from doing the same? + +Cash finished, glanced curiously across at Bud, looked down at +what he had written, and slid the sheet of paper across. + +"You sign it, and then if you don't know just how to word +yours, you can use this for a pattern. I've read law books enough +to know this will get by, all right. It's plain, and it tells +what I want, and that's sufficient to hold in court." + +Bud read it over apathetically, signed his name as witness, and +pushed the paper back. + +"That's all right for you," he said heavily. "Your kid is grown +up now, and besides, you've got other property to give her. But +--it's different with me. I want this baby, and I can't do +without him. But I can't give him my share in the claims, Cash. I +--there's others that's got to be thought of first." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. LOVIN CHILD STRIKES IT RICH + +It was only the next day that Bud was the means of helping +Lovin Child find a fortune for himself; which eased Bud's mind +considerably, and balanced better his half of the responsibility. +Cutting out the dramatic frills, then, this is what happened to +Lovin Child and Bud: + +They were romping around the cabin, like two puppies that had a +surplus of energy to work off. Part of the time Lovin Child was a +bear, chasing Bud up and down the dead line, which was getting +pretty well worn out in places. After that, Bud was a bear and +chased Lovin. And when Lovin Child got so tickled he was +perfectly helpless in the corner where he had sought refuge, Bud +caught him and swung him up to his shoulder and let him grab +handfuls of dirt out of the roof. + +Lovin Child liked that better than being a bear, and sifted +Bud's hair full of dried mud, and threw the rest on the floor, +and frequently cried "Tell a worl'!" which he had learned from +Bud and could say with the uncanny pertinency of a parrot. + +He had signified a desire to have Bud carry him along the wall, +where some lovely lumps of dirt protruded temptingly over a +bulging log. Then he leaned and grabbed with his two fat hands at +a particularly big, hard lump. It came away in his hands and fell +plump on the blankets of the bunk, half blinding Bud with the +dust that came with it. + +"Hey! You'll have all the chinkin' out of the dang shack, if +you let him keep that lick up, Bud," Cash grumbled, lifting his +eyebrows at the mess. + +"Tell a worl'!" Lovin Child retorted over his shoulder, and +made another grab. + +This time the thing he held resisted his baby strength. He +pulled and he grunted, he kicked Bud in the chest and grabbed +again. Bud was patient, and let him fuss--though in self-defense +he kept his head down and his eyes away from the expected dust +bath. + +"Stay with it, Boy; pull the darn roof down, if yuh want. +Cash'll get out and chink 'er up again. " + +"Yeah. Cash will not," the disapproving one amended the +statement gruffly. "He's trying to get the log outa the wall, +Bud." + +"Well, let him try, doggone it. Shows he's a stayer. I wouldn't +have any use for him if he didn't have gumption enough to tackle +things too big for him, and you wouldn't either. Stay with 'er, +Lovins! Doggone it, can't yuh git that log outa there nohow? Uh- +h! A big old grunt and a big old heave--uh-h! I'll tell the +world in words uh one syllable, he's some stayer." + +"Tell a worl'!" chuckled Lovin Child, and pulled harder at the +thing he wanted. + +"Hey! The kid's got hold of a piece of gunny sack or something. +You look out, Bud, or he'll have all that chinkin' out. There's +no sense in lettin' him tear the whole blame shack to pieces, is +there?" + +"Can if he wants to. It's his shack as much as it's anybody's." +Bud shifted Lovin Child more comfortably on his shoulder and +looked up, squinting his eyes half shut for fear of dirt in them. + +"For the love of Mike, kid, what's that you've got? Looks to me +like a piece of buckskin, Cash. Here, you set down a minute, and +let Bud take a peek up there." + +"Bud--pik-k?" chirped Lovin Child from the blankets, where +Bud had deposited him unceremoniously. + +"Yes, Bud pik-k." Bud stepped up on the bunk, which brought his +head above the low eaves. He leaned and looked, and scraped away +the caked mud. "Good glory! The kid's found a cache of some kind, +sure as you live!" And he began to claw out what had been hidden +behind the mud. + +First a buckskin bag, heavy and grimed and knobby. Gold inside +it, he knew without looking. He dropped it down on the bunk, +carefully so as not to smash a toe off the baby. After that he +pulled out four baking-powder cans, all heavy as lead. He laid +his cheek against the log and peered down the length of it, and +jumped down beside the bunk. + +"Kid's found a gold mine of his own, and I'll bet on it," he +cried excitedly. "Looky, Cash!" + +Cash was already looking, his eyebrows arched high to match his +astonishment. "Yeah. It's gold, all right. Old man Nelson's +hoard, I wouldn't wonder. I've always thought it was funny he +never found any gold in this flat, long as he lived here. And +traces of washing here and there, too. Well!" + +"Looky, Boy!" Bud had the top off a can, and took out a couple of +nuggets the size of a cooked Lima bean. "Here's the real stuff +for yuh. + +"It's yours, too--unless--did old Nelson leave any folks, +Cash, do yuh know?" + +"They say not. The county buried him, they say. And nobody ever +turned up to claim him or what little he left. No, I guess +there's nobody got any better right to it than the kid. We'll +inquire around and see. But seein' the gold is found on the +claim, and we've got the claim according to law, looks to me +like--" + +"Well, here's your clean-up, old prospector. Don't swallow any, +is all. let's weigh it out, Cash, and see how much it is, just +for a josh." + +Lovin Child had nuggets to play with there on the bed, and told +the world many unintelligible things about it. Cash and Bud +dumped all the gold into a pan, and weighed it out on the little +scales Cash had for his tests. It was not a fortune, as fortunes +go. It was probably all the gold Nelson had panned out in a +couple of years, working alone and with crude devices. A little +over twenty-three hundred dollars it amounted to, not counting +the nuggets which Lovin Child had on the bunk with him. + +"Well, it's a start for the kid, anyway," Bud said, leaning +back and regarding the heap with eyes shining. "I helped him find +it, and I kinda feel as if I'm square with him now for not giving +him my half the claim. Twenty-three hundred would be a good price +for a half interest, as the claims stand, don't yuh think, Cash?" + +"Yeah--well, I dunno's I'd sell for that. But on the showing +we've got so far--yes, five thousand, say, for the claims +would be good money. " + +"Pretty good haul for a kid, anyway. He's got a couple of +hundred dollars in nuggets, right there on the bunk. Let's see, +Lovins. Let Bud have 'em for a minute." + +Then it was that Lovin Child revealed a primitive human trait. +He would not give up the gold. He held fast to one big nugget, +spread his fat legs over the remaining heap of them, and fought +Bud's hand away with the other fist. + +"No, no, no! Tell a worl' no, no, no!" he remonstrated +vehemently, until Bud whooped with laughter. + +"All right--all right! Keep your gold, durn it. You're like +all the rest--minute you get your paws on to some of the real +stuff, you go hog-wild over it." + +Cash was pouring the fine gold back into the buck skin bag and +the baking-powder cans. + +"Let the kid play with it," he said. "Getting used to gold when +he's little will maybe save him from a lot of foolishness over it +when he gets big. I dunno, but it looks reasonable to me. Let him +have a few nuggets if he wants. Familiarity breeds contempt, they +say; maybe he won't get to thinkin' too much of it if he's got it +around under his nose all the time. Same as everything else. It's +the finding that hits a feller hardest, Bud--the hunting for +it and dreaming about it and not finding it. What say we go up to +the claim for an hour or so? Take the kid along. It won't hurt +him if he's bundled up good. It ain't cold to-day, anyhow." + +That night they discussed soberly the prospects of the claim +and their responsibilities in the matter of Lovin Child's +windfall. They would quietly investigate the history of old +Nelson, who had died a pauper in the eyes of the community, with +all his gleanings of gold hidden away. They agreed that Lovin +Child should not start off with one grain of gold that rightfully +belonged to some one else--but they agreed the more cheerfully +because neither man believed they would find any close relatives; +a wife or children they decided upon as rightful heirs. Brothers, +sisters, cousins, and aunts did not count. They were presumably +able to look after themselves just as old Nelson had done. Their +ethics were simple enough, surely. + +Barring, then, the discovery of rightful heirs, their plan was +to take the gold to Sacramento in the spring, and deposit it +there in a savings bank for one Lovins Markham Moore. They would +let the interest "ride" with the principal, and they would-- +though neither openly confessed it to the other--from time to +time add a little from their own earnings. Bud especially looked +forward to that as a compromise with his duty to his own child. +He intended to save every cent he could, and to start a savings +account in the same bank, for his own baby, Robert Edward +Moore--named for Bud. He could not start off with as large a sum +as Lovins would have, and for that Bud was honestly sorry. But +Robert Edward Moore would have Bud's share in the claims, which +would do a little toward evening things up. + +Having settled these things to the satisfaction of their +desires and their consciences, they went to bed well pleased with +the day. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. MARIE'S SIDE OF IT + +We all realize keenly, one time or another, the abject poverty +of language. To attempt putting some emotions into words is like +trying to play Ave Maria on a toy piano. There are heights and +depths utterly beyond the limitation of instrument and speech +alike. + +Marie's agonized experience in Alpine--and afterward--was +of that kind. She went there under the lure of her loneliness, +her heart-hunger for Bud. Drunk or sober, loving her still or +turning away in anger, she had to see him; had to hear him speak; +had to tell him a little of what she felt of penitence and +longing, for that is what she believed she had to do. Once she +had started, she could not turn back. Come what might, she would +hunt until she found him. She had to, or go crazy, she told +herself over and over. She could not imagine any circumstance +that would turn her back from that quest. + +Yet she did turn back--and with scarce a thought of Bud. She +could not imagine the thing happening that did happen, which is +the way life has of keeping us all on the anxious seat most of +the time. She could not--at least she did not--dream that +Lovin Child, at once her comfort and her strongest argument for a +new chance at happiness, would in ten minutes or so wipe out all +thought of Bud and leave only a dumb, dreadful agony that hounded +her day and night. + +She had reached Alpine early in the forenoon, and had gone to +the one little hotel, to rest and gather up her courage for the +search which she felt was only beginning. She had been too +careful of her money to spend any for a sleeper, foregoing even a +berth in the tourist car. She could make Lovin Child comfortable +with a full seat in the day coach for his little bed, and for +herself it did not matter. She could not sleep anyway. So she sat +up all night and thought, and worried over the future which was +foolish, since the future held nothing at all that she pictured +in it. + +She was tired when she reached the hotel, carrying Lovin Child +and her suit case too--porters being unheard of in small +villages, and the one hotel being too sure of its patronage to +bother about getting guests from depot to hall bedroom. A deaf +old fellow with white whiskers and poor eyesight fumbled two or +three keys on a nail, chose one and led the way down a little +dark hall to a little, stuffy room with another door opening +directly on the sidewalk. Marie had not registered on her +arrival, because there was no ink in the inkwell, and the pen had +only half a point; but she was rather relieved to find that she +was not obliged to write her name down--for Bud, perhaps, to +see before she had a chance to see him. + +Lovin Child was in his most romping, rambunctious mood, and +Marie's head ached so badly that she was not quite so watchful of +his movements as usual. She gave him a cracker and left him alone +to investigate the tiny room while she laid down for just a +minute on the bed, grateful because the sun shone in warmly +through the window and she did not feel the absence of a fire. +She had no intention whatever of going to sleep--she did not +believe that she could sleep if she had wanted to. Fall asleep +she did, however, and she must have slept for at least half an +hour, perhaps longer. + +When she sat up with that startled sensation that follows +unexpected, undesired slumber, the door was open, and Lovin Child +was gone. She had not believed that he could open the door, but +she discovered that its latch had a very precarious hold upon the +worn facing, and that a slight twist of the knob was all it +needed to swing the door open. She rushed out, of course, to look +for him, though, unaware of how long she had slept, she was not +greatly disturbed. Marie had run after Lovin Child too often to +be alarmed at a little thing like that. + +I don't know when fear first took hold of her, or when fear was +swept away by the keen agony of loss. She went the whole length +of the one little street, and looked in all the open doorways, +and traversed the one short alley that led behind the hotel. +Facing the street was the railroad, with the station farther up +at the edge of the timber. Across the railroad was the little, +rushing river, swollen now with rains that had been snow on the +higher slopes of the mountain behind the town. + +Marie did not go near the river at first. Some instinct of +dread made her shun even the possibility that Lovin Child had +headed that way. But a man told her, when she broke down her +diffidence and inquired, that he had seen a little tot in a red +suit and cap going off that way. He had not thought anything of +it. He was a stranger himself, he said, and he supposed the kid +belonged there, maybe. + +Marie flew to the river, the man running beside her, and three +or four others coming out of buildings to see what was the +matter. She did not find Lovin Child, but she did find half of +the cracker she had given him. It was lying so close to a deep, +swirly place under the bank that Marie gave a scream when she saw +it, and the man caught her by the arm for fear she meant to jump +in. + +Thereafter, the whole of Alpine turned out and searched the +river bank as far down as they could get into the box canyon +through which it roared to the sage-covered hills beyond. No one +doubted that Lovin Child had been swept away in that tearing, +rock-churned current. No one had any hope of finding his body, +though they searched just as diligently as if they were certain. + +Marie walked the bank all that day, calling and crying and +fighting off despair. She walked the floor of her little room all +night, the door locked against sympathy that seemed to her +nothing but a prying curiosity over her torment, fighting back +the hysterical cries that kept struggling for outlet + +The next day she was too exhausted to do anything more than +climb up the steps of the train when it stopped there. Towns and +ranches on the river below had been warned by wire and telephone +and a dozen officious citizens of Alpine assured her over and +over that she would be notified at once if anything was +discovered; meaning, of course, the body of her child. She did +not talk. Beyond telling the station agent her name, and that she +was going to stay in Sacramento until she heard something, she +shrank behind her silence and would reveal nothing of her errand +there in Alpine, nothing whatever concerning herself. Mrs. Marie +Moore, General Delivery, Sacramento, was all that Alpine learned +of her. + +It is not surprising then, that the subject was talked out long +before Bud or Cash came down into the town more than two months +later. It is not surprising, either, that no one thought to look +up-stream for the baby, or that they failed to consider any +possible fate for him save drowning. That nibbled piece of +cracker on the very edge of the river threw them all off in their +reasoning. They took it for granted that the baby had fallen into +the river at the place where they found the cracker. If he had +done so, he would have been swept away instantly. No one could +look at the river and doubt that--therefore no one did doubt +it. That a squaw should find him sitting down where he had +fallen, two hundred yards above the town and in the edge of the +thick timber, never entered their minds at all. That she should +pick him up with the intention at first of stopping his crying, +and should yield to the temptingness of him just as Bud bad +yielded, would have seemed to Alpine still more unlikely; because +no Indian had ever kidnapped a white child in that neighborhood. +So much for the habit of thinking along grooves established by +precedent + +Marie went to Sacramento merely because that was the closest +town of any size, where she could wait for the news she dreaded +to receive yet must receive before she could even begin to face +her tragedy. She did not want to find Bud now. She shrank from +any thought of him. Only for him, she would still have her Lovin +Child. Illogically she blamed Bud for what had happened. He had +caused her one more great heartache, and she hoped never to see +him again or to hear his name spoken. + +Dully she settled down in a cheap, semi-private boarding house +to wait. In a day or two she pulled herself together and went out +to look for work, because she must have money to live on. Go home +to her mother she would not. Nor did she write to her. There, +too, her great hurt had flung some of the blame. If her mother +had not interfered and found fault all the time with Bud, they +would be living together now--happy. It was her mother who +had really brought about their separation. Her mother would nag +at her now for going after Bud, would say that she deserved to +lose her baby as a punishment for letting go her pride and self- +respect. No, she certainly did not want to see her mother, or any +one else she had ever known. Bud least of all. + +She found work without much trouble, for she was neat and +efficient looking, of the type that seems to belong in a well- +ordered office, behind a typewriter desk near a window where the +sun shines in. The place did not require much concentration--a +dentist's office, where her chief duties consisted of opening the +daily budget of circulars, sending out monthly bills, and telling +pained-looking callers that the doctor was out just then. Her +salary just about paid her board, with a dollar or two left over +for headache tablets and a vaudeville show now and then. She did +not need much spending money, for her evenings were spent mostly +in crying over certain small garments and a canton-flannel dog +called "Wooh-wooh." + +For three months she stayed, too apathetic to seek a better +position. Then the dentist's creditors became suddenly impatient, +and the dentist could not pay his office rent, much less his +office girl. Wherefore Marie found herself looking for work +again, just when spring was opening all the fruit blossoms and +merchants were smilingly telling one another that business was +picking up. + +Weinstock-Lubin's big department store gave her desk space in +the mail-order department. Marie's duty it was to open the mail, +check up the orders, and see that enough money was sent, and +start the wheels moving to fill each order--to the +satisfaction of the customer if possible. + +At first the work worried her a little. But she became +accustomed to it, and settled into the routine of passing the +orders along the proper channels with as little individual +thought given to each one as was compatible with efficiency. She +became acquainted with some of the girls, and changed to a better +boarding house. She still cried over the wooh-wooh and the little +garments, but she did not cry so often, nor did she buy so many +headache tablets. She was learning the futility of grief and the +wisdom of turning her back upon sorrow when she could. The sight +of a two-year-old baby boy would still bring tears to her eyes, +and she could not sit through a picture show that had scenes of +children and happy married couples, but she fought the pain of it +as a weakness which she must overcome. Her Lovin Child was gone; +she had given up everything but the sweet, poignant memory of how +pretty he had been and how endearing. + +Then, one morning in early June, her practiced fingers were +going through the pile of mail orders and they singled out one +that carried the postmark of Alpine. Marie bit her lips, but her +fingers did not falter in their task. Cheap table linen, cheap +collars, cheap suits or cheap something-or-other was wanted, she +had no doubt. She took out the paper with the blue money order +folded inside, speared the money order on the hook with others, +drew her order pad closer, and began to go through the list of +articles wanted. + +This was the list:-- + +XL 94, 3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr at 59c $1.77 +XL 14 1 Buddy tucker suit 3 yr 2.00 +KL 6 1 Bunny pumps infant 5 1.25 +KL 54 1 Fat Ankle shoe infant 5 .98 +HL 389 4 Rubens vests, 3 yr at 90c 2.70 +SL 418 3 Pajamas 3 yr. at 59c 1.77 +OL 823 1 Express wagon, 15x32 in. 4.25 + -- + $14.22 + + For which money order is enclosed. Please ship at once. + + Very truly, + R. E. MOORE, + Alpine, Calif. + +Mechanically she copied the order on a slip of paper which she +put into her pocket, left her desk and her work and the store, +and hurried to her boarding house. + +Not until she was in her own room with the door locked did she +dare let herself think. She sat down with the copy spread open +before her, her slim fingers pressing against her temples. +Something amazing had been revealed to her--something so +amazing that she could scarcely comprehend its full significance. +Bud--never for a minute did she doubt that it was Bud, for she +knew his handwriting too well to be mistaken--Bud was sending +for clothes for a baby boy! + +"3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr--" it sounded, to the hungry +mother soul of her, exactly like her Lovin Child. She could see +so vividly just how he would look in them. And the size--she +certainly would buy than three-year size, if she were buying for +Lovin Child. And the little "Buddy tucker" suit--that, too, +sounded like Lovin Child. He must--Bud certainly must have him +up there with him! Then Lovin Child was not drowned at all, but +alive and needing dig-in-the-muds. + +"Bud's got him! Oh, Bud has got him, I know he's got him!" she +whispered over and over to herself in an ecstasy of hope. +"My little Lovin Man! He's up there right now with his Daddy +Bud--" + +A vague anger stirred faintly, flared, died almost, flared +again and burned steadily within her. Bud had her Lovin Child! +How did he come to have him, then, unless he stole him? Stole him +away, and let her suffer all this while, believing her baby was +dead in the river! + +"You devil!" she muttered, gritting her teeth when that thought +formed clearly in her mind. "Oh, you devil, you! If you think you +can get away with a thing like that--You devil!" + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. THE CURE COMPLETE + +In Nelson Flat the lupines were like spilled bluing in great, +acre-wide blots upon the meadow grass. Between cabin and creek +bank a little plot had been spaded and raked smooth, and already +the peas and lettuce and radishes were up and growing as if they +knew how short would be the season, and meant to take advantage +of every minute of the warm days. Here and there certain plants +were lifting themselves all awry from where they had been pressed +flat by two small feet that had strutted heedlessly down the +rows. + +The cabin yard was clean, and the two small windows were +curtained with cheap, white scrim. All before the door and on the +path to the creek small footprints were scattered thick. It was +these that Marie pulled up her hired saddle horse to study in hot +resentment. + +"The big brute!" she gritted, and got off and went to the cabin +door, walking straight-backed and every mental and physical fiber +of her braced for the coming struggle. She even regretted not +having a gun; rather, she wished that she was not more afraid of +a gun than of any possible need of one. She felt, at that minute, +as though she could shoot Bud Moore with no more compunction that +she would feel in swatting a fly. + +That the cabin was empty and unlocked only made her blood boil +the hotter. She went in and looked around at the crude +furnishings and the small personal belongings of those who lived +there. She saw the table all set ready for the next meal, with +the extremely rustic high-chair that had DYNAMITE painted boldly +on the side of the box seat. Fastened to a nail at one side of +the box was a belt, evidently kept there for the purpose of +strapping a particularly wriggly young person into the chair. +That smacked strongly of Lovin Child, sure enough. Marie +remembered the various devices by which she had kept him in his +go cart. + +She went closer and inspected the belt indignantly. Just as she +expected--it was Bud's belt; his old belt that she bought for +him just after they were married. She supposed that box beside +the queer high chair was where he would sit at table and stuff +her baby with all kinds of things he shouldn't eat. Where was her +baby? A fresh spasm of longing for Lovin Child drove her from the +cabin. Find him she would, and that no matter how cunningly Bud +had hidden him away. + +On a rope stretched between a young cottonwood tree in full +leaf and a scaly, red-barked cedar, clothes that had been washed +were flapping lazily in the little breeze. Marie stopped and +looked at them. A man's shirt and drawers, two towels gray for +want of bluing, a little shirt and a nightgown and pair of +stockings--and, directly in front of Marie, a small pair of +blue overalls trimmed with red bands, the blue showing white +fiber where the color had been scrubbed out of the cloth, the two +knees flaunting patches sewed with long irregular stitches such +as a man would take. + +Bud and Lovin Child. As in the cabin, so here she felt the +individuality in their belongings. Last night she had been +tormented with the fear that there might be a wife as well as a +baby boy in Bud's household. Even the evidence of the mail order, +that held nothing for a woman and that was written by Bud's hand, +could scarcely reassure her. Now she knew beyond all doubt that +she had no woman to reckon with, and the knowledge brought relief +of a sort. + +She went up and touched the little overalls wistfully, laid her +cheek against one little patch, ducked under the line, and +followed a crooked little path that led up the creek. She forgot +all about her horse, which looked after her as long as she was in +sight, and then turned and trotted back the way it had come, +wondering, no doubt, at the foolish faith this rider had in him. + +The path led up along the side of the flat, through tall grass +and all the brilliant blossoms of a mountain meadow in June. +Great, graceful mountain lilies nodded from little shady tangles +in the bushes. Harebells and lupines, wild-pea vines and +columbines, tiny, gnome-faced pansies, violets, and the daintier +flowering grasses lined the way with odorous loveliness. Birds +called happily from the tree tops. Away up next the clouds an +eagle sailed serene, alone, a tiny boat breasting the currents of +the sky ocean. + +Marie's rage cooled a little on that walk. It was so beautiful +for Lovin Child, up here in this little valley among the snow- +topped mountains; so sheltered. Yesterday's grind in that beehive +of a department store seemed more remote than South Africa. +Unconsciously her first nervous pace slackened. She found herself +taking long breaths of this clean air, sweetened with the scent +of growing things. Why couldn't the world be happy, since it was +so beautiful? It made her think of those three weeks in Big +Basin, and the never-forgettable wonder of their love--hers +and Bud's. + +She was crying with the pain and the beauty of it when she +heard the first high, chirpy notes of a baby--her baby. Lovin +Child was picketed to a young cedar near the mouth of the Blind +ledge tunnel, and he was throwing rocks at a chipmunk that kept +coming toward him in little rushes, hoping with each rush to get +a crumb of the bread and butter that Lovin Child had flung down. +Lovin Child was squealing and jabbering, with now and then a real +word that he had learned from Bud and Cash. Not particularly nice +words--"Doggone" was one and several times he called the +chipmunk a "sunny-gun." And of course he frequently announced +that he would "Tell a worl'" something. His head was bare and +shone in the sun like the gold for which Cash and his Daddy Bud +were digging, away back in the dark hole. He had on a pair of +faded overalls trimmed with red, mates of the ones on the rope +line, and he threw rocks impartially with first his right hand +and then his left, and sometimes with both at once; which did not +greatly distress the chipmunk, who knew Lovin Child of old and +had learned how wide the rocks always went of their mark. + +Upon this scene Marie came, still crying. She had always been +an impulsive young woman, and now she forgot that Lovin Child had +not seen her for six months or so, and that baby memories are +short. She rushed in and snatched him off the ground and kissed +him and squeezed him and cried aloud upon her God and her baby, +and buried her wet face against his fat little neck. + +Cash, trundling a wheelbarrow of ore out to the tunnel's mouth, +heard a howl and broke into a run with his load, bursting out +into the sunlight with a clatter and upsetting the barrow ten +feet short of the regular dumping place. Marie was frantically +trying to untie the rope, and was having trouble because Lovin +Child was in one of his worst kicking-and-squirming tantrums. +Cash rushed in and snatched the child from her. + +"Here! What you doing to that kid? You're scaring him to death +--and you've got no right!" + +"I have got a right! I have too got a right!" Marie was clawing +like a wildcat at Cash's grimy hands. "He's my baby! He's mine! +You ought to be hung for stealing him away from me. Let go-- +he's mine, I tell you. Lovin! Lovin Child! Don't you know Marie? +Marie's sweet, pitty man, he is! Come to Marie, boy baby!" + +"Tell a worl' no, no, no!" yelled Lovin Child, clinging to +Cash. + +"Aw--come to Marie, sweetheart! Marie's own lovin' little +man baby! You let him go, or I'll--I'll kill you. You big +brute!" + +Cash let go, but it was not because she commanded. He let go +and stared hard at Marie, lifting his eyebrows comically as he +stepped back, his hand going unconsciously up to smooth his +beard. + +"Marie?" he repeated stupidly. "Marie?" He reached out and laid +a hand compellingly on her shoulder. "Ain't your name Marie +Markham, young lady? Don't you know your own dad?" + +Marie lifted her face from kissing Lovin Child very much +against his will, and stared round-eyed at Cash. She did not say +anything. + +"You're my Marie, all right You ain't changed so much I can't +recognize yuh. I should think you'd remember your own father-- +but I guess maybe the beard kinda changes my looks. Is this true, +that this kid belongs to you?" + +Marie gasped. "Why--father? Why--why, father!" She leaned +herself and Lovin Child into his arms. "Why, I can't believe it! +Why--" She closed her eyes and shivered, going suddenly weak, +and relaxed in his arms. "I-I-I can't--" + +Cash slid Lovin Child to the ground, where that young gentleman +picked himself up indignantly and ran as far as his picket rope +would let him, whereupon he turned and screamed "Sunny-gun! +sunny-gun!" at the two like an enraged bluejay. Cash did not pay +any attention to him. He was busy seeking out a soft, shady spot +that was free of rocks, where he might lay Marie down. He leaned +over her and fanned her violently with his hat, his lips and his +eyebrows working with the complexity of his emotions. Then +suddenly he turned and ducked into the tunnel, after Bud. + +Bud heard him coming and turned from his work. Cash was not +trundling the empty barrow, which in itself was proof enough that +something had happened, even if Cash had not been running. Bud +dropped his pick and started on a run to meet him. + +"What's wrong? Is the kid--?" + +"Kid's all right" Cash stopped abruptly, blocking Bud's way. +"It's something else. Bud, his mother's come after him. She's out +there now--laid out in a faint." + +"Lemme go." Bud's voice had a grimness in it that spelled +trouble for the lady laid out in a faint "She can be his mother a +thousand times--" + +"Yeah. Hold on a minute, Bud. You ain't going out there and +raise no hell with that poor girl. Lovins belongs to her, and +she's going to have him. ... Now, just keep your shirt on a +second. I've got something more to say. He's her kid, and she +wants him back, and she's going to have him back. If you git him +away from her, it'll be over my carcass. Now, now, hold on! +H-o-l-d on! You're goin' up against Cash Markham now, remember! +That girl is my girl! My girl that I ain't seen since she was a +kid in short dresses. It's her father you've got to deal with +now--her father and the kid's grandfather. You get that? You be +reasonable, Bud, and there won't be no trouble at all. But my +girl ain't goin' to be robbed of her baby--not whilst I'm +around. You get that settled in your mind before you go out +there, or--you don't go out whilst I'm here to stop you." + +"You go to hell," Bud stated evenly, and thrust Cash aside with +one sweep of his arm, and went down the tunnel. Cash, his +eyebrows lifted with worry and alarm, was at his heels all the +way. + +"Now, Bud, be calm!" he adjured as he ran. "Don't go and make a +dang fool of yourself! She's my girl, remember. You want to hold +on to yourself, Bud, and be reasonable. Don't go and let your +temper--" + +"Shut your damn mouth!" Bud commanded him savagely, and went on +running. + +At the tunnel mouth he stopped and blinked, blinded for a +moment by the strong sunlight in his face. Cash stumbled and lost +ten seconds or so, picking himself up. Behind him Bud heard Cash +panting, "Now, Bud, don't go and make--a dang fool--" Bud +snorted contemptuously and leaped the dirt pile, landing close to +Marie, who was just then raising herself dizzily to an elbow. + +"Now, Bud," Cash called tardily when he had caught up with him, +"you leave that girl alone! Don't you lay a finger on her! That's +my--" + +Bud lifted his lips away from Marie's and spoke over his +shoulder, his arms tightening in their hold upon Marie's +trembling, yielding body. + +"Shut up, Cash. She's my wife--now where do you get off at?" + +(That, o course, lacked a little of being the exact truth. +Lacked a few hours, in fact, because they did not reach Alpine +and the railroad until that afternoon, and were not remarried +until seven o'clock that evening.) + +"No, no, no!" cried Lovin Child from a safe distance. "Tell a +worl' no, no!" + +"I'll tell the world yes, yes!" Bud retorted ecstatically, +lifting his face again. "Come here, you little scallywag, and +love your mamma Marie. Cash, you old donkey, don't you get it +yet? We've got 'em both for keeps, you and me." + +"Yeah--I get it, all right." Cash came and stood awkwardly +over them. "I get it--found my girl one minute, and lost her +again the next! But I'll tell yeh one thing, Bud Moore. The +kid's' goin' to call me grampaw, er I'll know the reason why!" + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Cabin Fever by B. M. Bower + diff --git a/old/old/cabfv10.zip b/old/old/cabfv10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..910073e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/cabfv10.zip |