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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> |