diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/1595.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/1595.txt | 9474 |
1 files changed, 9474 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/1595.txt b/old/1595.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c7292d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1595.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9474 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Whirligigs, by O. Henry + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Whirligigs + + +Author: O. Henry + + + +Release Date: January, 1999 [eBook #1595] +Most recently updated: February 3, 2011 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHIRLIGIGS*** + + +E-text prepared by anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteers +and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +WHIRLIGIGS + +by + +O. HENRY + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. THE WORLD AND THE DOOR + + II. THE THEORY AND THE HOUND + + III. THE HYPOTHESES OF FAILURE + + IV. CALLOWAY'S CODE + + V. A MATTER OF MEAN ELEVATION + + VI. "GIRL" + + VII. SOCIOLOGY IN SERGE AND STRAW + + VIII. THE RANSOM OF RED CHIEF + + IX. THE MARRY MONTH OF MAY + + X. A TECHNICAL ERROR + + XI. SUITE HOMES AND THEIR ROMANCE + + XII. THE WHIRLIGIG OF LIFE + + XIII. A SACRIFICE HIT + + XIV. THE ROADS WE TAKE + + XV. A BLACKJACK BARGAINER + + XVI. THE SONG AND THE SERGEANT + + XVII. ONE DOLLAR'S WORTH + +XVIII. A NEWSPAPER STORY + + XIX. TOMMY'S BURGLAR + + XX. A CHAPARRAL CHRISTMAS + + XXI. A LITTLE LOCAL COLOUR + + XXII. GEORGIA'S RULING + +XXIII. BLIND MAN'S HOLIDAY + + XXIV. MADAME BO-PEEP, OF THE RANCHES + + + + +I + +THE WORLD AND THE DOOR + + +A favourite dodge to get your story read by the public is to assert +that it is true, and then add that Truth is stranger than Fiction. +I do not know if the yarn I am anxious for you to read is true; but +the Spanish purser of the fruit steamer _El Carrero_ swore to me by +the shrine of Santa Guadalupe that he had the facts from the U. S. +vice-consul at La Paz--a person who could not possibly have been +cognizant of half of them. + +As for the adage quoted above, I take pleasure in puncturing it by +affirming that I read in a purely fictional story the other day the +line: "'Be it so,' said the policeman." Nothing so strange has yet +cropped out in Truth. + + +When H. Ferguson Hedges, millionaire promoter, investor and +man-about-New-York, turned his thoughts upon matters convivial, and +word of it went "down the line," bouncers took a precautionary turn +at the Indian clubs, waiters put ironstone china on his favourite +tables, cab drivers crowded close to the curbstone in front of +all-night cafes, and careful cashiers in his regular haunts charged +up a few bottles to his account by way of preface and introduction. + +As a money power a one-millionaire is of small account in a city where +the man who cuts your slice of beef behind the free-lunch counter +rides to work in his own automobile. But Hedges spent his money as +lavishly, loudly and showily as though he were only a clerk +squandering a week's wages. And, after all, the bartender takes no +interest in your reserve fund. He would rather look you up on his +cash register than in Bradstreet. + +On the evening that the material allegation of facts begins, Hedges +was bidding dull care begone in the company of five or six good +fellows--acquaintances and friends who had gathered in his wake. + +Among them were two younger men--Ralph Merriam, a broker, and Wade, +his friend. + +Two deep-sea cabmen were chartered. At Columbus Circle they hove +to long enough to revile the statue of the great navigator, +unpatriotically rebuking him for having voyaged in search of land +instead of liquids. Midnight overtook the party marooned in the rear +of a cheap cafe far uptown. + +Hedges was arrogant, overriding and quarrelsome. He was burly and +tough, iron-gray but vigorous, "good" for the rest of the night. There +was a dispute--about nothing that matters--and the five-fingered words +were passed--the words that represent the glove cast into the lists. +Merriam played the role of the verbal Hotspur. + +Hedges rose quickly, seized his chair, swung it once and smashed +wildly down at Merriam's head. Merriam dodged, drew a small revolver +and shot Hedges in the chest. The leading roysterer stumbled, fell in +a wry heap, and lay still. + +Wade, a commuter, had formed that habit of promptness. He juggled +Merriam out a side door, walked him to the corner, ran him a block and +caught a hansom. They rode five minutes and then got out on a dark +corner and dismissed the cab. Across the street the lights of a small +saloon betrayed its hectic hospitality. + +"Go in the back room of that saloon," said Wade, "and wait. I'll go +find out what's doing and let you know. You may take two drinks while +I am gone--no more." + +At ten minutes to one o'clock Wade returned. "Brace up, old chap," he +said. "The ambulance got there just as I did. The doctor says he's +dead. You may have one more drink. You let me run this thing for +you. You've got to skip. I don't believe a chair is legally a deadly +weapon. You've got to make tracks, that's all there is to it." + +Merriam complained of the cold querulously, and asked for another +drink. "Did you notice what big veins he had on the back of his +hands?" he said. "I never could stand--I never could--" + +"Take one more," said Wade, "and then come on. I'll see you through." + +Wade kept his promise so well that at eleven o'clock the next morning +Merriam, with a new suit case full of new clothes and hair-brushes, +stepped quietly on board a little 500-ton fruit steamer at an East +River pier. The vessel had brought the season's first cargo of limes +from Port Limon, and was homeward bound. Merriam had his bank balance +of $2,800 in his pocket in large bills, and brief instructions to pile +up as much water as he could between himself and New York. There was +no time for anything more. + +From Port Limon Merriam worked down the coast by schooner and sloop to +Colon, thence across the isthmus to Panama, where he caught a tramp +bound for Callao and such intermediate ports as might tempt the +discursive skipper from his course. + +It was at La Paz that Merriam decided to land--La Paz the Beautiful, +a little harbourless town smothered in a living green ribbon that +banded the foot of a cloud-piercing mountain. Here the little +steamer stopped to tread water while the captain's dory took him +ashore that he might feel the pulse of the cocoanut market. Merriam +went too, with his suit case, and remained. + +Kalb, the vice-consul, a Graeco-Armenian citizen of the United States, +born in Hessen-Darmstadt, and educated in Cincinnati ward primaries, +considered all Americans his brothers and bankers. He attached +himself to Merriam's elbow, introduced him to every one in La Paz who +wore shoes, borrowed ten dollars and went back to his hammock. + +There was a little wooden hotel in the edge of a banana grove, facing +the sea, that catered to the tastes of the few foreigners that had +dropped out of the world into the _triste_ Peruvian town. At Kalb's +introductory: "Shake hands with ----," he had obediently exchanged +manual salutations with a German doctor, one French and two Italian +merchants, and three or four Americans who were spoken of as gold men, +rubber men, mahogany men--anything but men of living tissue. + +After dinner Merriam sat in a corner of the broad front _galeria_ with +Bibb, a Vermonter interested in hydraulic mining, and smoked and drank +Scotch "smoke." The moonlit sea, spreading infinitely before him, +seemed to separate him beyond all apprehension from his old life. The +horrid tragedy in which he had played such a disastrous part now +began, for the first time since he stole on board the fruiter, a +wretched fugitive, to lose its sharper outlines. Distance lent +assuagement to his view. Bibb had opened the flood-gates of a stream +of long-dammed discourse, overjoyed to have captured an audience that +had not suffered under a hundred repetitions of his views and +theories. + +"One year more," said Bibb, "and I'll go back to God's country. Oh, I +know it's pretty here, and you get _dolce far niente_ handed to you in +chunks, but this country wasn't made for a white man to live in. +You've got to have to plug through snow now and then, and see a game +of baseball and wear a stiff collar and have a policeman cuss you. +Still, La Paz is a good sort of a pipe-dreamy old hole. And Mrs. +Conant is here. When any of us feels particularly like jumping into +the sea we rush around to her house and propose. It's nicer to be +rejected by Mrs. Conant than it is to be drowned. And they say +drowning is a delightful sensation." + +"Many like her here?" asked Merriam. + +"Not anywhere," said Bibb, with a comfortable sigh. "She's the only +white woman in La Paz. The rest range from a dappled dun to the +colour of a b-flat piano key. She's been here a year. Comes +from--well, you know how a woman can talk--ask 'em to say 'string' +and they'll say 'crow's foot' or 'cat's cradle.' Sometimes you'd think +she was from Oshkosh, and again from Jacksonville, Florida, and the +next day from Cape Cod." + +"Mystery?" ventured Merriam. + +"M--well, she looks it; but her talk's translucent enough. But +that's a woman. I suppose if the Sphinx were to begin talking she'd +merely say: 'Goodness me! more visitors coming for dinner, and nothing +to eat but the sand which is here.' But you won't think about that +when you meet her, Merriam. You'll propose to her too." + +To make a hard story soft, Merriam did meet her and propose to her. +He found her to be a woman in black with hair the colour of a bronze +turkey's wings, and mysterious, _remembering_ eyes that--well, that +looked as if she might have been a trained nurse looking on when Eve +was created. Her words and manner, though, were translucent, as Bibb +had said. She spoke, vaguely, of friends in California and some of +the lower parishes in Louisiana. The tropical climate and indolent +life suited her; she had thought of buying an orange grove later on; +La Paz, all in all, charmed her. + +Merriam's courtship of the Sphinx lasted three months, although be did +not know that he was courting her. He was using her as an antidote +for remorse, until he found, too late, that he had acquired the habit. +During that time he had received no news from home. Wade did not know +where he was; and he was not sure of Wade's exact address, and was +afraid to write. He thought he had better let matters rest as they +were for a while. + +One afternoon he and Mrs. Conant hired two ponies and rode out along +the mountain trail as far as the little cold river that came tumbling +down the foothills. There they stopped for a drink, and Merriam spoke +his piece--he proposed, as Bibb had prophesied. + +Mrs. Conant gave him one glance of brilliant tenderness, and then her +face took on such a strange, haggard look that Merriam was shaken out +of his intoxication and back to his senses. + +"I beg your pardon, Florence," he said, releasing her hand; "but I'll +have to hedge on part of what I said. I can't ask you to marry me, of +course. I killed a man in New York--a man who was my friend--shot +him down--in quite a cowardly manner, I understand. Of course, the +drinking didn't excuse it. Well, I couldn't resist having my say; and +I'll always mean it. I'm here as a fugitive from justice, and--I +suppose that ends our acquaintance." + +Mrs. Conant plucked little leaves assiduously from the low-hanging +branch of a lime tree. + +"I suppose so," she said, in low and oddly uneven tones; "but that +depends upon you. I'll be as honest as you were. I poisoned my +husband. I am a self-made widow. A man cannot love a murderess. So +I suppose that ends our acquaintance." + +She looked up at him slowly. His face turned a little pale, and he +stared at her blankly, like a deaf-and-dumb man who was wondering what +it was all about. + +She took a swift step toward him, with stiffened arms and eyes +blazing. + +"Don't look at me like that!" she cried, as though she were in acute +pain. "Curse me, or turn your back on me, but don't look that way. +Am I a woman to be beaten? If I could show you--here on my arms, +and on my back are scars--and it has been more than a year--scars +that he made in his brutal rages. A holy nun would have risen and +struck the fiend down. Yes, I killed him. The foul and horrible +words that he hurled at me that last day are repeated in my ears every +night when I sleep. And then came his blows, and the end of my +endurance. I got the poison that afternoon. It was his custom to +drink every night in the library before going to bed a hot punch made +of rum and wine. Only from my fair hands would he receive it-- +because he knew the fumes of spirits always sickened me. That night +when the maid brought it to me I sent her downstairs on an errand. +Before taking him his drink I went to my little private cabinet and +poured into it more than a tea-spoonful of tincture of aconite-- +enough to kill three men, so I had learned. I had drawn $6,000 that I +had in bank, and with that and a few things in a satchel I left the +house without any one seeing me. As I passed the library I heard him +stagger up and fall heavily on a couch. I took a night train for New +Orleans, and from there I sailed to the Bermudas. I finally cast +anchor in La Paz. And now what have you to say? Can you open your +mouth?" + +Merriam came back to life. + +"Florence," he said earnestly, "I want you. I don't care what you've +done. If the world--" + +"Ralph," she interrupted, almost with a scream, "be my world!" + +Her eyes melted; she relaxed magnificently and swayed toward Merriam +so suddenly that he had to jump to catch her. + +Dear me! in such scenes how the talk runs into artificial prose. But +it can't be helped. It's the subconscious smell of the footlights' +smoke that's in all of us. Stir the depths of your cook's soul +sufficiently and she will discourse in Bulwer-Lyttonese. + +Merriam and Mrs. Conant were very happy. He announced their +engagement at the Hotel Orilla del Mar. Eight foreigners and four +native Astors pounded his back and shouted insincere congratulations +at him. Pedrito, the Castilian-mannered barkeep, was goaded to extra +duty until his agility would have turned a Boston cherry-phosphate +clerk a pale lilac with envy. + +They were both very happy. According to the strange mathematics of +the god of mutual affinity, the shadows that clouded their pasts when +united became only half as dense instead of darker. They shut the +world out and bolted the doors. Each was the other's world. Mrs. +Conant lived again. The remembering look left her eyes. Merriam was +with her every moment that was possible. On a little plateau under a +grove of palms and calabash trees they were going to build a fairy +bungalow. They were to be married in two months. Many hours of the +day they had their heads together over the house plans. Their joint +capital would set up a business in fruit or woods that would yield a +comfortable support. "Good night, my world," would say Mrs. Conant +every evening when Merriam left her for his hotel. They were very +happy. Their love had, circumstantially, that element of melancholy +in it that it seems to require to attain its supremest elevation. And +it seemed that their mutual great misfortune or sin was a bond that +nothing could sever. + +One day a steamer hove in the offing. Bare-legged and bare-shouldered +La Paz scampered down to the beach, for the arrival of a steamer was +their loop-the-loop, circus, Emancipation Day and four-o'clock tea. + +When the steamer was near enough, wise ones proclaimed that she was +the _Pajaro_, bound up-coast from Callao to Panama. + +The _Pajaro_ put on brakes a mile off shore. Soon a boat came bobbing +shoreward. Merriam strolled down on the beach to look on. In the +shallow water the Carib sailors sprang out and dragged the boat with a +mighty rush to the firm shingle. Out climbed the purser, the captain +and two passengers, ploughing their way through the deep sand toward +the hotel. Merriam glanced toward them with the mild interest due to +strangers. There was something familiar to him in the walk of one of +the passengers. He looked again, and his blood seemed to turn to +strawberry ice cream in his veins. Burly, arrogant, debonair as ever, +H. Ferguson Hedges, the man he had killed, was coming toward him ten +feet away. + +When Hedges saw Merriam his face flushed a dark red. Then he shouted +in his old, bluff way: "Hello, Merriam. Glad to see you. Didn't +expect to find you out here. Quinby, this is my old friend Merriam, +of New York--Merriam, Mr. Quinby." + +Merriam gave Hedges and then Quinby an ice-cold hand. "Br-r-r-r!" said +Hedges. "But you've got a frapped flipper! Man, you're not well. +You're as yellow as a Chinaman. Malarial here? Steer us to a bar if +there is such a thing, and let's take a prophylactic." + +Merriam, still half comatose, led them toward the Hotel Orilla del +Mar. + +"Quinby and I," explained Hedges, puffing through the slippery sand, +"are looking out along the coast for some investments. We've just +come up from Concepcion and Valparaiso and Lima. The captain of this +subsidized ferry boat told us there was some good picking around +here in silver mines. So we got off. Now, where is that cafe, +Merriam? Oh, in this portable soda water pavilion?" + +Leaving Quinby at the bar, Hedges drew Merriam aside. + +"Now, what does this mean?" he said, with gruff kindness. "Are you +sulking about that fool row we had?" + +"I thought," stammered Merriam--"I heard--they told me you were-- +that I had--" + +"Well, you didn't, and I'm not," said Hedges. "That fool young +ambulance surgeon told Wade I was a candidate for a coffin just +because I'd got tired and quit breathing. I laid up in a private +hospital for a month; but here I am, kicking as hard as ever. Wade +and I tried to find you, but couldn't. Now, Merriam, shake hands and +forget it all. I was as much to blame as you were; and the shot +really did me good--I came out of the hospital as healthy and fit as +a cab horse. Come on; that drink's waiting." + +"Old man," said Merriam, brokenly, "I don't know how to thank you--I +--well, you know--" + +"Oh, forget it," boomed Hedges. "Quinby'll die of thirst if we don't +join him." + +Bibb was sitting on the shady side of the gallery waiting for the +eleven-o'clock breakfast. Presently Merriam came out and joined him. +His eye was strangely bright. + +"Bibb, my boy," said he, slowly waving his hand, "do you see those +mountains and that sea and sky and sunshine?--they're mine, Bibbsy +--all mine." + +"You go in," said Bibb, "and take eight grains of quinine, right away. +It won't do in this climate for a man to get to thinking he's +Rockefeller, or James O'Neill either." + +Inside, the purser was untying a great roll of newspapers, many of +them weeks old, gathered in the lower ports by the _Pajaro_ to be +distributed at casual stopping-places. Thus do the beneficent voyagers +scatter news and entertainment among the prisoners of sea and +mountains. + +Tio Pancho, the hotel proprietor, set his great silver-rimmed _anteojos_ +upon his nose and divided the papers into a number of smaller rolls. +A barefooted _muchacho_ dashed in, desiring the post of messenger. + +"_Bien venido_," said Tio Pancho. "This to Senora Conant; that to el +Doctor S-S-Schlegel--_Dios_! what a name to say!--that to Senor Davis +--one for Don Alberto. These two for the _Casa de Huespedes, Numero +6, en la calle de las Buenas Gracias_. And say to them all, _muchacho_, +that the _Pajaro_ sails for Panama at three this afternoon. If any have +letters to send by the post, let them come quickly, that they may +first pass through the _correo_." + +Mrs. Conant received her roll of newspapers at four o'clock. The boy +was late in delivering them, because he had been deflected from his +duty by an iguana that crossed his path and to which he immediately +gave chase. But it made no hardship, for she had no letters to send. + +She was idling in a hammock in the patio of the house that she +occupied, half awake, half happily dreaming of the paradise that she +and Merriam had created out of the wrecks of their pasts. She was +content now for the horizon of that shimmering sea to be the horizon +of her life. They had shut out the world and closed the door. + +Merriam was coming to her house at seven, after his dinner at the +hotel. She would put on a white dress and an apricot-coloured lace +mantilla, and they would walk an hour under the cocoanut palms by the +lagoon. She smiled contentedly, and chose a paper at random from the +roll the boy had brought. + +At first the words of a certain headline of a Sunday newspaper meant +nothing to her; they conveyed only a visualized sense of familiarity. +The largest type ran thus: "Lloyd B. Conant secures divorce." And then +the subheadings: "Well-known Saint Louis paint manufacturer wins +suit, pleading one year's absence of wife." "Her mysterious +disappearance recalled." "Nothing has been heard of her since." + +Twisting herself quickly out of the hammock, Mrs. Conant's eye soon +traversed the half-column of the "Recall." It ended thus: "It will be +remembered that Mrs. Conant disappeared one evening in March of last +year. It was freely rumoured that her marriage with Lloyd B. Conant +resulted in much unhappiness. Stories were not wanting to the effect +that his cruelty toward his wife had more than once taken the form of +physical abuse. After her departure a full bottle of tincture of +aconite, a deadly poison, was found in a small medicine cabinet in her +bedroom. This might have been an indication that she meditated +suicide. It is supposed that she abandoned such an intention if she +possessed it, and left her home instead." + +Mrs. Conant slowly dropped the paper, and sat on a chair, clasping her +hands tightly. + +"Let me think--O God!--let me think," she whispered. "I took +the bottle with me . . . I threw it out of the window of the train +. . . I-- . . . there was another bottle in the cabinet . . . +there were two, side by side--the aconite--and the valerian that I +took when I could not sleep . . . If they found the aconite bottle +full, why--but, he is alive, of course--I gave him only a +harmless dose of valerian . . . I am not a murderess in fact . . . +Ralph, I--O God, don't let this be a dream!" + +She went into the part of the house that she rented from the old +Peruvian man and his wife, shut the door, and walked up and down her +room swiftly and feverishly for half an hour. Merriam's photograph +stood in a frame on a table. She picked it up, looked at it with a +smile of exquisite tenderness, and--dropped four tears on it. And +Merriam only twenty rods away! Then she stood still for ten minutes, +looking into space. She looked into space through a slowly opening +door. On her side of the door was the building material for a castle +of Romance--love, an Arcady of waving palms, a lullaby of waves on +the shore of a haven of rest, respite, peace, a lotus land of dreamy +ease and security--a life of poetry and heart's ease and refuge. +Romanticist, will you tell me what Mrs. Conant saw on the other side +of the door? You cannot?--that is, you will not? Very well; then +listen. + +_She saw herself go into a department store and buy five spools of +silk thread and three yards of gingham to make an apron for the cook. +"Shall I charge it, ma'am?" asked the clerk. As she walked out a +lady whom she met greeted her cordially. "Oh, where did you get the +pattern for those sleeves, dear Mrs. Conant?" she said. At the corner +a policeman helped her across the street and touched his helmet. "Any +callers?" she asked the maid when she reached home. "Mrs. Waldron," +answered the maid, "and the two Misses Jenkinson." "Very well," she +said. "You may bring me a cup of tea, Maggie._" + +Mrs. Conant went to the door and called Angela, the old Peruvian +woman. "If Mateo is there send him to me." Mateo, a half-breed, +shuffling and old but efficient, came. + +"Is there a steamer or a vessel of any kind leaving this coast +to-night or to-morrow that I can get passage on?" she asked. + +Mateo considered. + +"At Punta Reina, thirty miles down the coast, senora," he answered, +"there is a small steamer loading with cinchona and dyewoods. She +sails for San Francisco to-morrow at sunrise. So says my brother, who +arrived in his sloop to-day, passing by Punta Reina." + +"You must take me in that sloop to that steamer to-night. Will you do +that?" + +"Perhaps--" Mateo shrugged a suggestive shoulder. Mrs. Conant +took a handful of money from a drawer and gave it to him. + +"Get the sloop ready behind the little point of land below the town," +she ordered. "Get sailors, and be ready to sail at six o'clock. In +half an hour bring a cart partly filled with straw into the patio +here, and take my trunk to the sloop. There is more money yet. Now, +hurry." + +For one time Mateo walked away without shuffling his feet. + +"Angela," cried Mrs. Conant, almost fiercely, "come and help me pack. +I am going away. Out with this trunk. My clothes first. Stir +yourself. Those dark dresses first. Hurry." + +From the first she did not waver from her decision. Her view was clear +and final. Her door had opened and let the world in. Her love for +Merriam was not lessened; but it now appeared a hopeless and +unrealizable thing. The visions of their future that had seemed so +blissful and complete had vanished. She tried to assure herself that +her renunciation was rather for his sake than for her own. Now that +she was cleared of her burden--at least, technically--would not +his own weigh too heavily upon him? If she should cling to him, would +not the difference forever silently mar and corrode their happiness? +Thus she reasoned; but there were a thousand little voices calling to +her that she could feel rather than hear, like the hum of distant, +powerful machinery--the little voices of the world, that, when +raised in unison, can send their insistent call through the thickest +door. + +Once while packing, a brief shadow of the lotus dream came back to +her. She held Merriam's picture to her heart with one hand, while she +threw a pair of shoes into the trunk with her other. + +At six o'clock Mateo returned and reported the sloop ready. He and +his brother lifted the trunk into the cart, covered it with straw and +conveyed it to the point of embarkation. From there they transferred +it on board in the sloop's dory. Then Mateo returned for additional +orders. + +Mrs. Conant was ready. She had settled all business matters with +Angela, and was impatiently waiting. She wore a long, loose black-silk +duster that she often walked about in when the evenings were chilly. +On her head was a small round hat, and over it the apricot-coloured +lace mantilla. + +Dusk had quickly followed the short twilight. Mateo led her by dark +and grass-grown streets toward the point behind which the sloop was +anchored. On turning a corner they beheld the Hotel Orilla del Mar +three streets away, nebulously aglow with its array of kerosene lamps. + +Mrs. Conant paused, with streaming eyes. "I must, I _must_ see him +once before I go," she murmured in anguish. But even then she did not +falter in her decision. Quickly she invented a plan by which she might +speak to him, and yet make her departure without his knowing. She +would walk past the hotel, ask some one to call him out and talk a few +moments on some trivial excuse, leaving him expecting to see her at +her home at seven. + +She unpinned her hat and gave it to Mateo. "Keep this, and wait here +till I come," she ordered. Then she draped the mantilla over her head +as she usually did when walking after sunset, and went straight to the +Orilla del Mar. + +She was glad to see the bulky, white-clad figure of Tio Pancho +standing alone on the gallery. + +"Tio Pancho," she said, with a charming smile, "may I trouble you to +ask Mr. Merriam to come out for just a few moments that I may speak +with him?" + +Tio Pancho bowed as an elephant bows. + +"Buenas tardes, Senora Conant," he said, as a cavalier talks. And +then he went on, less at his ease: + +"But does not the senora know that Senor Merriam sailed on the _Pajaro_ +for Panama at three o'clock of this afternoon?" + + + + +II + +THE THEORY AND THE HOUND + + +Not many days ago my old friend from the tropics, J. P. Bridger, +United States consul on the island of Ratona, was in the city. We +had wassail and jubilee and saw the Flatiron building, and missed +seeing the Bronxless menagerie by about a couple of nights. And +then, at the ebb tide, we were walking up a street that parallels and +parodies Broadway. + +A woman with a comely and mundane countenance passed us, holding in +leash a wheezing, vicious, waddling, brute of a yellow pug. The dog +entangled himself with Bridger's legs and mumbled his ankles in a +snarling, peevish, sulky bite. Bridger, with a happy smile, kicked +the breath out of the brute; the woman showered us with a quick rain +of well-conceived adjectives that left us in no doubt as to our place +in her opinion, and we passed on. Ten yards farther an old woman +with disordered white hair and her bankbook tucked well hidden +beneath her tattered shawl begged. Bridger stopped and disinterred +for her a quarter from his holiday waistcoat. + +On the next corner a quarter of a ton of well-clothed man with a +rice-powdered, fat, white jowl, stood holding the chain of a +devil-born bulldog whose forelegs were strangers by the length of a +dachshund. A little woman in a last-season's hat confronted him and +wept, which was plainly all she could do, while he cursed her in low +sweet, practised tones. + +Bridger smiled again--strictly to himself--and this time he took out +a little memorandum book and made a note of it. This he had no right +to do without due explanation, and I said so. + +"It's a new theory," said Bridger, "that I picked up down in Ratona. +I've been gathering support for it as I knock about. The world isn't +ripe for it yet, but--well I'll tell you; and then you run your +mind back along the people you've known and see what you make of it." + +And so I cornered Bridger in a place where they have artificial palms +and wine; and he told me the story which is here in my words and on +his responsibility. + +One afternoon at three o'clock, on the island of Ratona, a boy raced +along the beach screaming, "_Pajaro_, ahoy!" + +Thus he made known the keenness of his hearing and the justice of his +discrimination in pitch. + +He who first heard and made oral proclamation concerning the toot +of an approaching steamer's whistle, and correctly named the steamer, +was a small hero in Ratona--until the next steamer came. Wherefore, +there was rivalry among the barefoot youth of Ratona, and many fell +victims to the softly blown conch shells of sloops which, as they +enter harbour, sound surprisingly like a distant steamer's signal. +And some could name you the vessel when its call, in your duller +ears, sounded no louder than the sigh of the wind through the +branches of the cocoanut palms. + +But to-day he who proclaimed the _Pajaro_ gained his honours. Ratona +bent its ear to listen; and soon the deep-tongued blast grew louder +and nearer, and at length Ratona saw above the line of palms on the +low "point" the two black funnels of the fruiter slowly creeping +toward the mouth of the harbour. + +You must know that Ratona is an island twenty miles off the south of +a South American republic. It is a port of that republic; and it +sleeps sweetly in a smiling sea, toiling not nor spinning; fed by the +abundant tropics where all things "ripen, cease and fall toward the +grave." + +Eight hundred people dream life away in a green-embowered village +that follows the horseshoe curve of its bijou harbour. They are +mostly Spanish and Indian _mestizos_, with a shading of San Domingo +Negroes, a lightening of pure-blood Spanish officials and a slight +leavening of the froth of three or four pioneering white races. No +steamers touch at Ratona save the fruit steamers which take on their +banana inspectors there on their way to the coast. They leave Sunday +newspapers, ice, quinine, bacon, watermelons and vaccine matter at +the island and that is about all the touch Ratona gets with the +world. + +The _Pajaro_ paused at the mouth of the harbour, rolling heavily in +the swell that sent the whitecaps racing beyond the smooth water +inside. Already two dories from the village--one conveying fruit +inspectors, the other going for what it could get--were halfway out +to the steamer. + +The inspectors' dory was taken on board with them, and the _Pajaro_ +steamed away for the mainland for its load of fruit. + +The other boat returned to Ratona bearing a contribution from the +_Pajaro's_ store of ice, the usual roll of newspapers and one +passenger--Taylor Plunkett, sheriff of Chatham County, Kentucky. + +Bridger, the United States consul at Ratona, was cleaning his rifle +in the official shanty under a bread-fruit tree twenty yards from the +water of the harbour. The consul occupied a place somewhat near the +tail of his political party's procession. The music of the band +wagon sounded very faintly to him in the distance. The plums of +office went to others. Bridger's share of the spoils--the +consulship at Ratona--was little more than a prune--a dried prune +from the boarding-house department of the public crib. But $900 +yearly was opulence in Ratona. Besides, Bridger had contracted a +passion for shooting alligators in the lagoons near his consulate, +and was not unhappy. + +He looked up from a careful inspection of his rifle lock and saw a +broad man filling his doorway. A broad, noiseless, slow-moving man, +sunburned almost to the brown of Vandyke. A man of forty-five, +neatly clothed in homespun, with scanty light hair, a close-clipped +brown-and-gray beard and pale-blue eyes expressing mildness and +simplicity. + +"You are Mr. Bridger, the consul," said the broad man. "They +directed me here. Can you tell me what those big bunches of things +like gourds are in those trees that look like feather dusters along +the edge of the water?" + +"Take that chair," said the consul, reoiling his cleaning rag. +"No, the other one--that bamboo thing won't hold you. Why, they're +cocoanuts--green cocoanuts. The shell of 'em is always a light +green before they're ripe." + +"Much obliged," said the other man, sitting down carefully. "I +didn't quite like to tell the folks at home they were olives unless I +was sure about it. My name is Plunkett. I'm sheriff of Chatham +County, Kentucky. I've got extradition papers in my pocket +authorizing the arrest of a man on this island. They've been signed +by the President of this country, and they're in correct shape. The +man's name is Wade Williams. He's in the cocoanut raising +business. What he's wanted for is the murder of his wife two years +ago. Where can I find him?" + +The consul squinted an eye and looked through his rifle barrel. + +"There's nobody on the island who calls himself 'Williams,'" he +remarked. + +"Didn't suppose there was," said Plunkett mildly. "He'll do by any +other name." + +"Besides myself," said Bridger, "there are only two Americans on +Ratona--Bob Reeves and Henry Morgan." + +"The man I want sells cocoanuts," suggested Plunkett. + +"You see that cocoanut walk extending up to the point?" said the +consul, waving his hand toward the open door. "That belongs to Bob +Reeves. Henry Morgan owns half the trees to loo'ard on the island." + +"One, month ago," said the sheriff, "Wade Williams wrote a +confidential letter to a man in Chatham county, telling him where he +was and how he was getting along. The letter was lost; and the person +that found it gave it away. They sent me after him, and I've got the +papers. I reckon he's one of your cocoanut men for certain." + +"You've got his picture, of course," said Bridger. "It might be +Reeves or Morgan, but I'd hate to think it. They're both as fine +fellows as you'd meet in an all-day auto ride." + +"No," doubtfully answered Plunkett; "there wasn't any picture of +Williams to be had. And I never saw him myself. I've been sheriff +only a year. But I've got a pretty accurate description of him. About +5 feet 11; dark-hair and eyes; nose inclined to be Roman; heavy about +the shoulders; strong, white teeth, with none missing; laughs a good +deal, talkative; drinks considerably but never to intoxication; looks +you square in the eye when talking; age thirty-five. Which one of +your men does that description fit?" + +The consul grinned broadly. + +"I'll tell you what you do," he said, laying down his rifle and +slipping on his dingy black alpaca coat. "You come along, Mr. +Plunkett, and I'll take you up to see the boys. If you can tell +which one of 'em your description fits better than it does the +other you have the advantage of me." + +Bridger conducted the sheriff out and along the hard beach close to +which the tiny houses of the village were distributed. Immediately +back of the town rose sudden, small, thickly wooded hills. Up one of +these, by means of steps cut in the hard clay, the consul led +Plunkett. On the very verge of an eminence was perched a two-room +wooden cottage with a thatched roof. A Carib woman was washing +clothes outside. The consul ushered the sheriff to the door of the +room that overlooked the harbour. + +Two men were in the room, about to sit down, in their shirt sleeves, +to a table spread for dinner. They bore little resemblance one to +the other in detail; but the general description given by Plunkett +could have been justly applied to either. In height, colour of hair, +shape of nose, build and manners each of them tallied with it. They +were fair types of jovial, ready-witted, broad-gauged Americans who +had gravitated together for companionship in an alien land. + +"Hello, Bridger" they called in unison at sight Of the consul. "Come +and have dinner with us!" And then they noticed Plunkett at his +heels, and came forward with hospitable curiosity. + +"Gentlemen," said the consul, his voice taking on unaccustomed +formality, "this is Mr. Plunkett. Mr. Plunkett--Mr. Reeves and Mr. +Morgan." + +The cocoanut barons greeted the newcomer joyously. Reeves seemed +about an inch taller than Morgan, but his laugh was not quite as +loud. Morgan's eyes were deep brown; Reeves's were black. Reeves +was the host and busied himself with fetching other chairs and +calling to the Carib woman for supplemental table ware. It was +explained that Morgan lived in a bamboo shack to "loo'ard," but that +every day the two friends dined together. Plunkett stood still +during the preparations, looking about mildly with his pale-blue +eyes. Bridger looked apologetic and uneasy. + +At length two other covers were laid and the company was assigned to +places. Reeves and Morgan stood side by side across the table from +the visitors. Reeves nodded genially as a signal for all to seat +themselves. And then suddenly Plunkett raised his hand with a +gesture of authority. He was looking straight between Reeves and +Morgan. + +"Wade Williams," he said quietly, "you are under arrest for murder." + +Reeves and Morgan instantly exchanged a quick, bright glance, the +quality of which was interrogation, with a seasoning of surprise. +Then, simultaneously they turned to the speaker with a puzzled and +frank deprecation in their gaze. + +"Can't say that we understand you, Mr. Plunkett," said Morgan, +cheerfully. "Did you say 'Williams'?" + +"What's the joke, Bridgy?" asked Reeves, turning, to the consul with +a smile. + +Before Bridger could answer Plunkett spoke again. + +"I'll explain," he said, quietly. "One of you don't need any +explanation, but this is for the other one. One of you is Wade +Williams of Chatham County, Kentucky. You murdered your wife on May +5, two years ago, after ill-treating and abusing her continually for +five years. I have the proper papers in my pocket for taking you +back with me, and you are going. We will return on the fruit steamer +that comes back by this island to-morrow to leave its inspectors. I +acknowledge, gentlemen, that I'm not quite sure which one of you is +Williams. But Wade Williams goes back to Chatham County to-morrow. I +want you to understand that." + +A great sound of merry laughter from Morgan and Reeves went out over +the still harbour. Two or three fishermen in the fleet of sloops +anchored there looked up at the house of the diablos Americanos on +the hill and wondered. + +"My dear Mr. Plunkett," cried Morgan, conquering his mirth, "the +dinner is getting, cold. Let us sit down and eat. I am anxious to +get my spoon into that shark-fin soup. Business afterward." + +"Sit down, gentlemen, if you please," added Reeves, pleasantly. "I +am sure Mr. Plunkett will not object. Perhaps a little time may be of +advantage to him in identifying--the gentleman he wishes to +arrest." + +"No objections, I'm sure," said Plunkett, dropping into his chair +heavily. "I'm hungry myself. I didn't want to accept the +hospitality of you folks without giving you notice; that's all." + +Reeves set bottles and glasses on the table. + +"There's cognac," he said, "and anisada, and Scotch 'smoke,' and rye. +Take your choice." + +Bridger chose rye, Reeves poured three fingers of Scotch for himself, +Morgan took the same. The sheriff, against much protestation, filled +his glass from the water bottle. + +"Here's to the appetite," said Reeves, raising his glass, "of Mr. +Williams!" Morgan's laugh and his drink encountering sent him into a +choking splutter. All began to pay attention to the dinner, which +was well cooked and palatable. + +"Williams!" called Plunkett, suddenly and sharply. + +All looked up wonderingly. Reeves found the sheriff's mild eye +resting upon him. He flushed a little. + +"See here," he said, with some asperity, "my name's Reeves, and I +don't want you to--" But the comedy of the thing came to his rescue, +and he ended with a laugh. + +"I suppose, Mr. Plunkett," said Morgan, carefully seasoning an +alligator pear, "that you are aware of the fact that you will import +a good deal of trouble for yourself into Kentucky if you take back +the wrong man--that is, of course, if you take anybody back?" + +"Thank you for the salt," said the sheriff. "Oh, I'll take somebody +back. It'll be one of you two gentlemen. Yes, I know I'd get stuck +for damages if I make a mistake. But I'm going to try to get the +right man." + +"I'll tell you what you do," said Morgan, leaning forward with a +jolly twinkle in his eyes. "You take me. I'll go without any +trouble. The cocoanut business hasn't panned out well this year, and +I'd like to make some extra money out of your bondsmen." + +"That's not fair," chimed in Reeves. "I got only $16 a thousand for +my last shipment. Take me, Mr. Plunkett." + +"I'll take Wade Williams," said the sheriff, patiently, "or I'll come +pretty close to it." + +"It's like dining with a ghost," remarked Morgan, with a pretended +shiver. "The ghost of a murderer, too! Will somebody pass the +toothpicks to the shade of the naughty Mr. Williams?" + +Plunkett seemed as unconcerned as if he were dining at his own table +in Chatham County. He was a gallant trencherman, and the strange +tropic viands tickled his palate. Heavy, commonplace, almost +slothful in his movements, he appeared to be devoid of all the +cunning and watchfulness of the sleuth. He even ceased to observe, +with any sharpness or attempted discrimination, the two men, one of +whom he had undertaken with surprising self-confidence, to drag +away upon the serious charge of wife-murder. Here, indeed, was a +problem set before him that if wrongly solved would have amounted to +his serious discomfiture, yet there he sat puzzling his soul (to all +appearances) over the novel flavour of a broiled iguana cutlet. + +The consul felt a decided discomfort. Reeves and Morgan were his +friends and pals; yet the sheriff from Kentucky had a certain right +to his official aid and moral support. So Bridger sat the silentest +around the board and tried to estimate the peculiar situation. His +conclusion was that both Reeves and Morgan, quickwitted, as he knew +them to be, had conceived at the moment of Plunkett's disclosure of +his mission--and in the brief space of a lightning flash--the +idea that the other might be the guilty Williams; and that each of +them had decided in that moment loyally to protect his comrade +against the doom that threatened him. This was the consul's theory +and if he had been a bookmaker at a race of wits for life and liberty +he would have offered heavy odds against the plodding sheriff from +Chatham County, Kentucky. + +When the meal was concluded the Carib woman came and removed the +dishes and cloth. Reeves strewed the table with excellent cigars, +and Plunkett, with the others, lighted one of these with evident +gratification. + +"I may be dull," said Morgan, with a grin and a wink at Bridger; "but +I want to know if I am. Now, I say this is all a joke of Mr. +Plunkett's, concocted to frighten two babes-in-the-woods. Is this +Williamson to be taken seriously or not?" + +"'Williams,'" corrected Plunkett gravely. "I never got off any jokes +in my life. I know I wouldn't travel 2,000 miles to get off a poor +one as this would be if I didn't take Wade Williams back with me. +Gentlemen!" continued the sheriff, now letting his mild eyes travel +impartially from one of the company to another, "see if you can find +any joke in this case. Wade Williams is listening to the words I +utter now; but out of politeness, I will speak of him as a third +person. For five years he made his wife lead the life of a dog--No; +I'll take that back. No dog in Kentucky was ever treated as she +was. He spent the money that she brought him--spent it at races, at +the card table and on horses and hunting. He was a good fellow to +his friends, but a cold, sullen demon at home. He wound up the five +years of neglect by striking her with his closed hand--a hand as +hard as a stone--when she was ill and weak from suffering. She +died the next day; and he skipped. That's all there is to it. It's +enough. I never saw Williams; but I knew his wife. I'm not a man to +tell half. She and I were keeping company when she met him. She +went to Louisville on a visit and saw him there. I'll admit that he +spoilt my chances in no time. I lived then on the edge of the +Cumberland mountains. I was elected sheriff of Chatham County a year +after Wade Williams killed his wife. My official duty sends me out +here after him; but I'll admit that there's personal feeling, too. +And he's going back with me. Mr.--er--Reeves, will you pass me a +match? + +"Awfully imprudent of Williams," said Morgan, putting his feet up +against the wall, "to strike a Kentucky lady. Seems to me I've heard +they were scrappers." + +"Bad, bad Williams," said Reeves, pouring out more Scotch. + +The two men spoke lightly, but the consul saw and felt the tension +and the carefulness in their actions and words. "Good old fellows," +he said to himself; "they're both all right. Each of 'em is standing +by the other like a little brick church." + +And then a dog walked into the room where they sat--a black-and-tan +hound, long-eared, lazy, confident of welcome. + +Plunkett turned his head and looked at the animal, which halted, +confidently, within a few feet of his chair. + +Suddenly the sheriff, with a deep-mouthed oath, left his seat and, +bestowed upon the dog a vicious and heavy kick, with his ponderous +shoe. + +The hound, heartbroken, astonished, with flapping ears and incurved +tail, uttered a piercing yelp of pain and surprise. + +Reeves and the consul remained in their chairs, saying nothing, but +astonished at the unexpected show of intolerance from the easy-going +man from Chatham county. + +But Morgan, with a suddenly purpling face, leaped, to his feet and +raised a threatening arm above the guest. + +"You--brute!" he shouted, passionately; "why did you do that?" + +Quickly the amenities returned, Plunkett muttered some indistinct +apology and regained his seat. Morgan with a decided effort +controlled his indignation and also returned to his chair. + +And then Plunkett with the spring of a tiger, leaped around the +corner of the table and snapped handcuffs on the paralyzed Morgan's +wrists. + +"Hound-lover and woman-killer!" he cried; "get ready to meet your +God." + +When Bridger had finished I asked him: + +"Did he get the right man?" + +"He did," said the Consul. + +"And how did he know?" I inquired, being in a kind of bewilderment. + +"When he put Morgan in the dory," answered Bridger, "the next day to +take him aboard the _Pajaro_, this man Plunkett stopped to shake hands +with me and I asked him the same question." + +"'Mr. Bridger,' said he, 'I'm a Kentuckian, and I've seen a great +deal of both men and animals. And I never yet saw a man that was +overfond of horses and dogs but what was cruel to women.'" + + + + +III + +THE HYPOTHESES OF FAILURE + + +Lawyer Gooch bestowed his undivided attention upon the engrossing arts +of his profession. But one flight of fancy did he allow his mind to +entertain. He was fond of likening his suite of office rooms to the +bottom of a ship. The rooms were three in number, with a door +opening from one to another. These doors could also be closed. + +"Ships," Lawyer Gooch would say, "are constructed for safety, with +separate, water-tight compartments in their bottoms. If one +compartment springs a leak it fills with water; but the good ship goes +on unhurt. Were it not for the separating bulkheads one leak would +sink the vessel. Now it often happens that while I am occupied with +clients, other clients with conflicting interests call. With the +assistance of Archibald--an office boy with a future--I cause the +dangerous influx to be diverted into separate compartments, while I +sound with my legal plummet the depth of each. If necessary, they +may be baled into the hallway and permitted to escape by way of the +stairs, which we may term the lee scuppers. Thus the good ship of +business is kept afloat; whereas if the element that supports her were +allowed to mingle freely in her hold we might be swamped--ha, ha, ha!" + +The law is dry. Good jokes are few. Surely it might be permitted +Lawyer Gooch to mitigate the bore of briefs, the tedium of torts and +the prosiness of processes with even so light a levy upon the good +property of humour. + +Lawyer Gooch's practice leaned largely to the settlement of marital +infelicities. Did matrimony languish through complications, he +mediated, soothed and arbitrated. Did it suffer from implications, +he readjusted, defended and championed. Did it arrive at the +extremity of duplications, he always got light sentences for his +clients. + +But not always was Lawyer Gooch the keen, armed, wily belligerent, +ready with his two-edged sword to lop off the shackles of Hymen. He +had been known to build up instead of demolishing, to reunite instead +of severing, to lead erring and foolish ones back into the fold +instead of scattering the flock. Often had he by his eloquent and +moving appeals sent husband and wife, weeping, back into each other's +arms. Frequently he had coached childhood so successfully that, at +the psychological moment (and at a given signal) the plaintive pipe of +"Papa, won't you tum home adain to me and muvver?" had won the day +and upheld the pillars of a tottering home. + +Unprejudiced persons admitted that Lawyer Gooch received as big fees +from these reyoked clients as would have been paid him had the cases +been contested in court. Prejudiced ones intimated that his fees were +doubled, because the penitent couples always came back later for the +divorce, anyhow. + +There came a season in June when the legal ship of Lawyer Gooch (to +borrow his own figure) was nearly becalmed. The divorce mill grinds +slowly in June. It is the month of Cupid and Hymen. + +Lawyer Gooch, then, sat idle in the middle room of his clientless +suite. A small anteroom connected--or rather separated--this +apartment from the hallway. Here was stationed Archibald, who wrested +from visitors their cards or oral nomenclature which he bore to his +master while they waited. + +Suddenly, on this day, there came a great knocking at the outermost +door. + +Archibald, opening it, was thrust aside as superfluous by the visitor, +who without due reverence at once penetrated to the office of Lawyer +Gooch and threw himself with good-natured insolence into a comfortable +chair facing that gentlemen. + +"You are Phineas C. Gooch, attorney-at-law?" said the visitor, his +tone of voice and inflection making his words at once a question, an +assertion and an accusation. + +Before committing himself by a reply, the lawyer estimated his +possible client in one of his brief but shrewd and calculating +glances. + +The man was of the emphatic type--large-sized, active, bold and +debonair in demeanour, vain beyond a doubt, slightly swaggering, ready +and at ease. He was well-clothed, but with a shade too much +ornateness. He was seeking a lawyer; but if that fact would seem to +saddle him with troubles they were not patent in his beaming eye and +courageous air. + +"My name is Gooch," at length the lawyer admitted. Upon pressure he +would also have confessed to the Phineas C. But he did not consider it +good practice to volunteer information. "I did not receive your +card," he continued, by way of rebuke, "so I--" + +"I know you didn't," remarked the visitor, coolly; "And you won't just +yet. Light up?" He threw a leg over an arm of his chair, and tossed +a handful of rich-hued cigars upon the table. Lawyer Gooch knew the +brand. He thawed just enough to accept the invitation to smoke. + +"You are a divorce lawyer," said the cardless visitor. This time there +was no interrogation in his voice. Nor did his words constitute a +simple assertion. They formed a charge--a denunciation--as one would +say to a dog: "You are a dog." Lawyer Gooch was silent under the +imputation. + +"You handle," continued the visitor, "all the various ramifications of +busted-up connubiality. You are a surgeon, we might saw, who extracts +Cupid's darts when he shoots 'em into the wrong parties. You furnish +patent, incandescent lights for premises where the torch of Hymen has +burned so low you can't light a cigar at it. Am I right, Mr. Gooch?" + +"I have undertaken cases," said the lawyer, guardedly, "in the line to +which your figurative speech seems to refer. Do you wish to consult me +professionally, Mr.--" The lawyer paused, with significance. + +"Not yet," said the other, with an arch wave of his cigar, "not just +yet. Let us approach the subject with the caution that should have +been used in the original act that makes this pow-wow necessary. +There exists a matrimonial jumble to be straightened out. But before +I give you names I want your honest--well, anyhow, your professional +opinion on the merits of the mix-up. I want you to size up the +catastrophe--abstractly--you understand? I'm Mr. Nobody; and I've got +a story to tell you. Then you say what's what. Do you get my +wireless?" + +"You want to state a hypothetical case?" suggested Lawyer Gooch. + +"That's the word I was after. 'Apothecary' was the best shot I could +make at it in my mind. The hypothetical goes. I'll state the case. +Suppose there's a woman--a deuced fine-looking woman--who has run +away from her husband and home? She's badly mashed on another man who +went to her town to work up some real estate business. Now, we may as +well call this woman's husband Thomas R. Billings, for that's his +name. I'm giving you straight tips on the cognomens. The Lothario +chap is Henry K. Jessup. The Billingses lived in a little town called +Susanville--a good many miles from here. Now, Jessup leaves +Susanville two weeks ago. The next day Mrs. Billings follows him. +She's dead gone on this man Jessup; you can bet your law library on +that." + +Lawyer Gooch's client said this with such unctuous satisfaction that +even the callous lawyer experienced a slight ripple of repulsion. He +now saw clearly in his fatuous visitor the conceit of the lady-killer, +the egoistic complacency of the successful trifler. + +"Now," continued the visitor, "suppose this Mrs. Billings wasn't happy +at home? We'll say she and her husband didn't gee worth a cent. +They've got incompatibility to burn. The things she likes, Billings +wouldn't have as a gift with trading-stamps. It's Tabby and Rover +with them all the time. She's an educated woman in science and +culture, and she reads things out loud at meetings. Billings is not +on. He don't appreciate progress and obelisks and ethics, and +things of that sort. Old Billings is simply a blink when it comes to +such things. The lady is out and out above his class. Now, lawyer, +don't it look like a fair equalization of rights and wrongs that a +woman like that should be allowed to throw down Billings and take the +man that can appreciate her? + +"Incompatibility," said Lawyer Gooch, "is undoubtedly the source of +much marital discord and unhappiness. Where it is positively proved, +divorce would seem to be the equitable remedy. Are you--excuse me--is +this man Jessup one to whom the lady may safely trust her future?" + +"Oh, you can bet on Jessup," said the client, with a confident wag of +his head. "Jessup's all right. He'll do the square thing. Why, he +left Susanville just to keep people from talking about Mrs. Billings. +But she followed him up, and now, of course, he'll stick to her. +When she gets a divorce, all legal and proper, Jessup will do the +proper thing." + +"And now," said Lawyer Gooch, "continuing the hypothesis, if you +prefer, and supposing that my services should be desired in the case, +what--" + +The client rose impulsively to his feet. + +"Oh, dang the hypothetical business," he exclaimed, impatiently. +"Let's let her drop, and get down to straight talk. You ought to know +who I am by this time. I want that woman to have her divorce. I'll +pay for it. The day you set Mrs. Billings free I'll pay you five +hundred dollars." + +Lawyer Gooch's client banged his fist upon the table to punctuate his +generosity. + +"If that is the case--" began the lawyer. + +"Lady to see you, sir," bawled Archibald, bouncing in from his +anteroom. He had orders to always announce immediately any client +that might come. There was no sense in turning business away. + +Lawyer Gooch took client number one by the arm and led him suavely +into one of the adjoining rooms. "Favour me by remaining here a few +minutes, sir," said he. "I will return and resume our consultation +with the least possible delay. I am rather expecting a visit from a +very wealthy old lady in connection with a will. I will not keep you +waiting long." + +The breezy gentleman seated himself with obliging acquiescence, and +took up a magazine. The lawyer returned to the middle office, +carefully closing behind him the connecting door. + +"Show the lady in, Archibald," he said to the office boy, who was +awaiting the order. + +A tall lady, of commanding presence and sternly handsome, entered +the room. She wore robes--robes; not clothes--ample and fluent. +In her eye could be perceived the lambent flame of genius and soul. +In her hand was a green bag of the capacity of a bushel, and an +umbrella that also seemed to wear a robe, ample and fluent. She +accepted a chair. + +"Are you Mr. Phineas C. Gooch, the lawyer?" she asked, in formal and +unconciliatory tones. + +"I am," answered Lawyer Gooch, without circumlocution. He never +circumlocuted when dealing with a woman. Women circumlocute. Time is +wasted when both sides in debate employ the same tactics. + +"As a lawyer, sir," began the lady, "you may have acquired some +knowledge of the human heart. Do you believe that the pusillanimous +and petty conventions of our artificial social life should stand as an +obstacle in the way of a noble and affectionate heart when it finds +its true mate among the miserable and worthless wretches in the world +that are called men?" + +"Madam," said Lawyer Gooch, in the tone that he used in curbing his +female clients, "this is an office for conducting the practice of law. +I am a lawyer, not a philosopher, nor the editor of an 'Answers to the +Lovelorn' column of a newspaper. I have other clients waiting. I +will ask you kindly to come to the point." + +"Well, you needn't get so stiff around the gills about it," said the +lady, with a snap of her luminous eyes and a startling gyration of her +umbrella. "Business is what I've come for. I want your opinion in +the matter of a suit for divorce, as the vulgar would call it, but +which is really only the readjustment of the false and ignoble +conditions that the short-sighted laws of man have interposed between +a loving--" + +"I beg your pardon, madam," interrupted Lawyer Gooch, with some +impatience, "for reminding you again that this is a law office. +Perhaps Mrs. Wilcox--" + +"Mrs. Wilcox is all right," cut in the lady, with a hint of asperity. +"And so are Tolstoi, and Mrs. Gertrude Atherton, and Omar Khayyam, and +Mr. Edward Bok. I've read 'em all. I would like to discuss with you +the divine right of the soul as opposed to the freedom-destroying +restrictions of a bigoted and narrow-minded society. But I will +proceed to business. I would prefer to lay the matter before you in +an impersonal way until you pass upon its merits. That is to describe +it as a supposable instance, without--" + +"You wish to state a hypothetical case?" said Lawyer Gooch. + +"I was going to say that," said the lady, sharply. "Now, suppose there +is a woman who is all soul and heart and aspirations for a complete +existence. This woman has a husband who is far below her in intellect, +in taste--in everything. Bah! he is a brute. He despises literature. +He sneers at the lofty thoughts of the world's great thinkers. He +thinks only of real estate and such sordid things. He is no mate for a +woman with soul. We will say that this unfortunate wife one day meets +with her ideal--a man with brain and heart and force. She loves him. +Although this man feels the thrill of a new-found affinity he is too +noble, too honourable to declare himself. He flies from the presence +of his beloved. She flies after him, trampling, with superb +indifference, upon the fetters with which an unenlightened social +system would bind her. Now, what will a divorce cost? Eliza Ann +Timmins, the poetess of Sycamore Gap, got one for three hundred and +forty dollars. Can I--I mean can this lady I speak of get one that +cheap?" + +"Madam," said Lawyer Gooch, "your last two or three sentences delight +me with their intelligence and clearness. Can we not now abandon the +hypothetical and come down to names and business?" + +"I should say so," exclaimed the lady, adopting the practical with +admirable readiness. "Thomas R. Billings is the name of the low +brute who stands between the happiness of his legal--his legal, but +not his spiritual--wife and Henry K. Jessup, the noble man whom +nature intended for her mate. I," concluded the client, with an air +of dramatic revelation, "am Mrs. Billings!" + +"Gentlemen to see you, sir," shouted Archibald, invading the room +almost at a handspring. Lawyer Gooch arose from his chair. + +"Mrs. Billings," he said courteously, "allow me to conduct you into +the adjoining office apartment for a few minutes. I am expecting a +very wealthy old gentleman on business connected with a will. In a +very short while I will join you, and continue our consultation." + +With his accustomed chivalrous manner, Lawyer Gooch ushered his +soulful client into the remaining unoccupied room, and came out, +closing the door with circumspection. + +The next visitor introduced by Archibald was a thin, nervous, +irritable-looking man of middle age, with a worried and apprehensive +expression of countenance. He carried in one hand a small satchel, +which he set down upon the floor beside the chair which the lawyer +placed for him. His clothing was of good quality, but it was worn +without regard to neatness or style, and appeared to be covered with +the dust of travel. + +"You make a specialty of divorce cases," he said, in, an agitated but +business-like tone. + +"I may say," began Lawyer Gooch, "that my practice has not +altogether avoided--" + +"I know you do," interrupted client number three. "You needn't tell +me. I've heard all about you. I have a case to lay before you +without necessarily disclosing any connection that I might have with +it--that is--" + +"You wish," said Lawyer Gooch, "to state a hypothetical case. + +"You may call it that. I am a plain man of business. I will be as +brief as possible. We will first take up hypothetical woman. We will +say she is married uncongenially. In many ways she is a superior +woman. Physically she is considered to be handsome. She is devoted +to what she calls literature--poetry and prose, and such stuff. Her +husband is a plain man in the business walks of life. Their home has +not been happy, although the husband has tried to make it so. Some +time ago a man--a stranger--came to the peaceful town in which +they lived and engaged in some real estate operations. This woman met +him, and became unaccountably infatuated with him. Her attentions +became so open that the man felt the community to be no safe place for +him, so he left it. She abandoned husband and home, and followed him. +She forsook her home, where she was provided with every comfort, to +follow this man who had inspired her with such a strange affection. +Is there anything more to be deplored," concluded the client, in a +trembling voice, "than the wrecking of a home by a woman's +uncalculating folly?" + +Lawyer Gooch delivered the cautious opinion that there was not. + +"This man she has gone to join," resumed the visitor, "is not the man +to make her happy. It is a wild and foolish self-deception that makes +her think he will. Her husband, in spite of their many disagreements, +is the only one capable of dealing with her sensitive and peculiar +nature. But this she does not realize now." + +"Would you consider a divorce the logical cure in the case you +present?" asked Lawyer Gooch, who felt that the conversation was +wandering too far from the field of business. + +"A divorce!" exclaimed the client, feelingly--almost tearfully. +"No, no--not that. I have read, Mr. Gooch, of many instances where +your sympathy and kindly interest led you to act as a mediator +between estranged husband and wife, and brought them together again. +Let us drop the hypothetical case--I need conceal no longer that it +is I who am the sufferer in this sad affair--the names you shall +have--Thomas R. Billings and wife--and Henry K. Jessup, the man +with whom she is infatuated." + +Client number three laid his hand upon Mr. Gooch's arm. Deep emotion +was written upon his careworn face. "For Heaven's sake", he said +fervently, "help me in this hour of trouble. Seek out Mrs. Billings, +and persuade her to abandon this distressing pursuit of her lamentable +folly. Tell her, Mr. Gooch, that her husband is willing to receive +her back to his heart and home--promise her anything that will +induce her to return. I have heard of your success in these matters. +Mrs. Billings cannot be very far away. I am worn out with travel +and weariness. Twice during the pursuit I saw her, but various +circumstances prevented our having an interview. Will you undertake +this mission for me, Mr. Gooch, and earn my everlasting gratitude?" + +"It is true," said Lawyer Gooch, frowning slightly at the other's last +words, but immediately calling up an expression of virtuous +benevolence, "that on a number of occasions I have been successful in +persuading couples who sought the severing of their matrimonial bonds +to think better of their rash intentions and return to their homes +reconciled. But I assure you that the work is often exceedingly +difficult. The amount of argument, perseverance, and, if I may be +allowed to say it, eloquence that it requires would astonish you. But +this is a case in which my sympathies would be wholly enlisted. I +feel deeply for you sir, and I would be most happy to see husband and +wife reunited. But my time," concluded the lawyer, looking at his +watch as if suddenly reminded of the fact, "is valuable." + +"I am aware of that," said the client, "and if you will take the case +and persuade Mrs. Billings to return home and leave the man alone that +she is following--on that day I will pay you the sum of one thousand +dollars. I have made a little money in real estate during the recent +boom in Susanville, and I will not begrudge that amount." + +"Retain your seat for a few moments, please," said Lawyer Gooch, +arising, and again consulting his watch. "I have another client +waiting in an adjoining room whom I had very nearly forgotten. I will +return in the briefest possible space." + +The situation was now one that fully satisfied Lawyer Gooch's love of +intricacy and complication. He revelled in cases that presented such +subtle problems and possibilities. It pleased him to think that he +was master of the happiness and fate of the three individuals who sat, +unconscious of one another's presence, within his reach. His old +figure of the ship glided into his mind. But now the figure failed, +for to have filled every compartment of an actual vessel would have +been to endanger her safety; with his compartments full, his ship of +affairs could but sail on to the advantageous port of a fine, fat fee. +The thing for him to do, of course, was to wring the best bargain he +could from some one of his anxious cargo. + +First he called to the office boy: "Lock the outer door, Archibald, +and admit no one." Then he moved, with long, silent strides into the +room in which client number one waited. That gentleman sat, patiently +scanning the pictures in the magazine, with a cigar in his mouth and +his feet upon a table. + +"Well," he remarked, cheerfully, as the lawyer entered, "have you made +up your mind? Does five hundred dollars go for getting the fair lady +a divorce?" + +"You mean that as a retainer?" asked Lawyer Gooch, softly +interrogative. + +"Hey? No; for the whole job. It's enough, ain't it?" + +"My fee," said Lawyer Gooch, "would be one thousand five hundred +dollars. Five hundred dollars down, and the remainder upon issuance +of the divorce." + +A loud whistle came from client number one. His feet descended to the +floor. + +"Guess we can't close the deal," he said, arising, "I cleaned up five +hundred dollars in a little real estate dicker down in Susanville. +I'd do anything I could to free the lady, but it out-sizes my pile." + +"Could you stand one thousand two hundred dollars?" asked the lawyer, +insinuatingly. + +"Five hundred is my limit, I tell you. Guess I'll have to hunt up a +cheaper lawyer." The client put on his hat. + +"Out this way, please," said Lawyer Gooch, opening the door that led +into the hallway. + +As the gentleman flowed out of the compartment and down the stairs, +Lawyer Gooch smiled to himself. "Exit Mr. Jessup," he murmured, as he +fingered the Henry Clay tuft of hair at his ear. "And now for the +forsaken husband." He returned to the middle office, and assumed a +businesslike manner. + +"I understand," he said to client number three, "that you agree to pay +one thousand dollars if I bring about, or am instrumental in bringing +about, the return of Mrs. Billings to her home, and her abandonment of +her infatuated pursuit of the man for whom she has conceived such a +violent fancy. Also that the case is now unreservedly in my hands on +that basis. Is that correct?" + +"Entirely", said the other, eagerly. "And I can produce the cash any +time at two hours' notice." + +Lawyer Gooch stood up at his full height. His thin figure seemed to +expand. His thumbs sought the arm-holes of his vest. Upon his face +was a look of sympathetic benignity that he always wore during such +undertakings. + +"Then, sir," he said, in kindly tones, "I think I can promise you an +early relief from your troubles. I have that much confidence in my +powers of argument and persuasion, in the natural impulses of the +human heart toward good, and in the strong influence of a husband's +unfaltering love. Mrs. Billings, sir, is here--in that room--" the +lawyer's long arm pointed to the door. "I will call her in at once; +and our united pleadings--" + +Lawyer Gooch paused, for client number three had leaped from his chair +as if propelled by steel springs, and clutched his satchel. + +"What the devil," he exclaimed, harshly, "do you mean? That woman in +there! I thought I shook her off forty miles back." + +He ran to the open window, looked out below, and threw one leg over +the sill. + +"Stop!" cried Lawyer Gooch, in amazement. "What would you do? Come, +Mr. Billings, and face your erring but innocent wife. Our combined +entreaties cannot fail to--" + +"Billings!" shouted the now thoroughly moved client. "I'll Billings +you, you old idiot!" + +Turning, he hurled his satchel with fury at the lawyer's head. It +struck that astounded peacemaker between the eyes, causing him to +stagger backward a pace or two. When Lawyer Gooch recovered his wits +he saw that his client had disappeared. Rushing to the window, he +leaned out, and saw the recreant gathering himself up from the top of +a shed upon which he had dropped from the second-story window. +Without stopping to collect his hat he then plunged downward the +remaining ten feet to the alley, up which he flew with prodigious +celerity until the surrounding building swallowed him up from view. + +Lawyer Gooch passed his hand tremblingly across his brow. It was a +habitual act with him, serving to clear his thoughts. Perhaps also it +now seemed to soothe the spot where a very hard alligator-hide satchel +had struck. + +The satchel lay upon the floor, wide open, with its contents spilled +about. Mechanically, Lawyer Gooch stooped to gather up the articles. +The first was a collar; and the omniscient eye of the man of law +perceived, wonderingly, the initials H. K. J. marked upon it. Then +came a comb, a brush, a folded map, and a piece of soap. Lastly, a +handful of old business letters, addressed--every one of them--to +"Henry K. Jessup, Esq." + +Lawyer Gooch closed the satchel, and set it upon the table. He +hesitated for a moment, and then put on his hat and walked into the +office boy's anteroom. + +"Archibald," he said mildly, as he opened the hall door, "I am going +around to the Supreme Court rooms. In five minutes you may step into +the inner office, and inform the lady who is waiting there that"-- +here Lawyer Gooch made use of the vernacular--"that there's nothing +doing." + + + + +IV + +CALLOWAY'S CODE + + +The New York _Enterprise_ sent H. B. Calloway as special correspondent +to the Russo-Japanese-Portsmouth war. + +For two months Calloway hung about Yokohama and Tokio, shaking dice +with the other correspondents for drinks of 'rickshaws--oh, no, +that's something to ride in; anyhow, he wasn't earning the salary +that his paper was paying him. But that was not Calloway's fault. +The little brown men who held the strings of Fate between their +fingers were not ready for the readers of the _Enterprise_ to season +their breakfast bacon and eggs with the battles of the descendants of +the gods. + +But soon the column of correspondents that were to go out with the +First Army tightened their field-glass belts and went down to the +Yalu with Kuroki. Calloway was one of these. + +Now, this is no history of the battle of the Yalu River. That has +been told in detail by the correspondents who gazed at the shrapnel +smoke rings from a distance of three miles. But, for justice's sake, +let it be understood that the Japanese commander prohibited a nearer +view. + +Calloway's feat was accomplished before the battle. What he did was +to furnish the _Enterprise_ with the biggest beat of the war. That +paper published exclusively and in detail the news of the attack on +the lines of the Russian General on the same day that it was made. +No other paper printed a word about it for two days afterward, except +a London paper, whose account was absolutely incorrect and untrue. + +Calloway did this in face of the fact that General Kuroki was making +his moves and laying his plans with the profoundest secrecy as far +as the world outside his camps was concerned. The correspondents +were forbidden to send out any news whatever of his plans; and every +message that was allowed on the wires was censored with rigid +severity. + +The correspondent for the London paper handed in a cablegram +describing Kuroki's plans; but as it was wrong from beginning to end +the censor grinned and let it go through. + +So, there they were--Kuroki on one side of the Yalu with forty-two +thousand infantry, five thousand cavalry, and one hundred and +twenty-four guns. On the other side, Zassulitch waited for him with +only twenty-three thousand men, and with a long stretch of river to +guard. And Calloway had got hold of some important inside information +that he knew would bring the _Enterprise_ staff around a cablegram as +thick as flies around a Park Row lemonade stand. If he could only get +that message past the censor--the new censor who had arrived and +taken his post that day! + +Calloway did the obviously proper thing. He lit his pipe and sat down +on a gun carriage to think it over. And there we must leave him; for +the rest of the story belongs to Vesey, a sixteen-dollar-a-week +reporter on the _Enterprise_. + + +Calloway's cablegram was handed to the managing editor at four +o'clock in the afternoon. He read it three times; and then drew a +pocket mirror from a pigeon-hole in his desk, and looked at his +reflection carefully. Then he went over to the desk of Boyd, his +assistant (he usually called Boyd when he wanted him), and laid the +cablegram before him. + +"It's from Calloway," he said. "See what you make of it." + +The message was dated at Wi-ju, and these were the words of it: + + + Foregone preconcerted rash witching goes muffled rumour mine dark + silent unfortunate richmond existing great hotly brute select + mooted parlous beggars ye angel incontrovertible. + + +Boyd read it twice. + +"It's either a cipher or a sunstroke," said he. + +"Ever hear of anything like a code in the office--a secret code?" +asked the m. e., who had held his desk for only two years. Managing +editors come and go. + +"None except the vernacular that the lady specials write in," said +Boyd. "Couldn't be an acrostic, could it?" + +"I thought of that," said the m. e., "but the beginning letters +contain only four vowels. It must be a code of some sort." + +"Try em in groups," suggested Boyd. "Let's see--'Rash witching +goes'--not with me it doesn't. 'Muffled rumour mine'--must +have an underground wire. 'Dark silent unfortunate richmond'--no +reason why he should knock that town so hard. 'Existing great +hotly'--no it doesn't pan out. I'll call Scott." + +The city editor came in a hurry, and tried his luck. A city editor +must know something about everything; so Scott knew a little about +cipher-writing. + +"It may be what is called an inverted alphabet cipher," said he. +"I'll try that. 'R' seems to be the oftenest used initial letter, +with the exception of 'm.' Assuming 'r' to mean 'e', the most +frequently used vowel, we transpose the letters--so." + +Scott worked rapidly with his pencil for two minutes; and then showed +the first word according to his reading--the word "Scejtzez." + +"Great!" cried Boyd. "It's a charade. My first is a Russian +general. Go on, Scott." + +"No, that won't work," said the city editor. "It's undoubtedly a +code. It's impossible to read it without the key. Has the office +ever used a cipher code?" + +"Just what I was asking," said the m.e. "Hustle everybody up that +ought to know. We must get at it some way. Calloway has evidently +got hold of something big, and the censor has put the screws on, or +he wouldn't have cabled in a lot of chop suey like this." + +Throughout the office of the _Enterprise_ a dragnet was sent, hauling +in such members of the staff as would be likely to know of a code, +past or present, by reason of their wisdom, information, natural +intelligence, or length of servitude. They got together in a group +in the city room, with the m. e. in the centre. No one had heard +of a code. All began to explain to the head investigator that +newspapers never use a code, anyhow--that is, a cipher code. Of +course the Associated Press stuff is a sort of code--an abbreviation, +rather--but-- + +The m. e. knew all that, and said so. He asked each man how long he +had worked on the paper. Not one of them had drawn pay from an +_Enterprise_ envelope for longer than six years. Calloway had been on +the paper twelve years. + +"Try old Heffelbauer," said the m. e. "He was here when Park Row was +a potato patch." + +Heffelbauer was an institution. He was half janitor, half handy-man +about the office, and half watchman--thus becoming the peer of +thirteen and one-half tailors. Sent for, he came, radiating his +nationality. + +"Heffelbauer," said the m. e., "did you ever hear of a code belonging +to the office a long time ago--a private code? You know what a code +is, don't you?" + +"Yah," said Heffelbauer. "Sure I know vat a code is. Yah, apout +dwelf or fifteen year ago der office had a code. Der reborters in der +city-room haf it here." + +"Ah!" said the m. e. "We're getting on the trail now. Where was it +kept, Heffelbauer? What do you know about it?" + +"Somedimes," said the retainer, "dey keep it in der little room +behind der library room." + +"Can you find it?" asked the m. e. eagerly. "Do you know where it is?" + +"Mein Gott!" said Heffelbauer. "How long you dink a code live? Der +reborters call him a maskeet. But von day he butt mit his head der +editor, und--" + +"Oh, he's talking about a goat," said Boyd. "Get out, Heffelbauer." + +Again discomfited, the concerted wit and resource of the _Enterprise_ +huddled around Calloway's puzzle, considering its mysterious words +in vain. + +Then Vesey came in. + +Vesey was the youngest reporter. He had a thirty-two-inch chest and +wore a number fourteen collar; but his bright Scotch plaid suit gave +him presence and conferred no obscurity upon his whereabouts. He +wore his hat in such a position that people followed him about to see +him take it off, convinced that it must be hung upon a peg driven +into the back of his head. He was never without an immense, knotted, +hard-wood cane with a German-silver tip on its crooked handle. Vesey +was the best photograph hustler in the office. Scott said it was +because no living human being could resist the personal triumph it +was to hand his picture over to Vesey. Vesey always wrote his own +news stories, except the big ones, which were sent to the rewrite +men. Add to this fact that among all the inhabitants, temples, and +groves of the earth nothing existed that could abash Vesey, and his +dim sketch is concluded. + +Vesey butted into the circle of cipher readers very much as +Heffelbauer's "code" would have done, and asked what was up. Some +one explained, with the touch of half-familiar condescension that +they always used toward him. Vesey reached out and took the +cablegram from the m. e.'s hand. Under the protection of some +special Providence, he was always doing appalling things like that, +and coming, off unscathed. + +"It's a code," said Vesey. "Anybody got the key?" + +"The office has no code," said Boyd, reaching for the message. Vesey +held to it. + +"Then old Calloway expects us to read it, anyhow," said he. "He's up +a tree, or something, and he's made this up so as to get it by the +censor. It's up to us. Gee! I wish they had sent me, too. Say--we +can't afford to fall down on our end of it. 'Foregone, preconcerted +rash, witching'--h'm." + +Vesey sat down on a table corner and began to whistle softly, +frowning at the cablegram. + +"Let's have it, please," said the m. e. "We've got to get to work on +it." + +"I believe I've got a line on it," said Vesey. "Give me ten +minutes." + +He walked to his desk, threw his hat into a waste-basket, spread out +flat on his chest like a gorgeous lizard, and started his pencil +going. The wit and wisdom of the _Enterprise_ remained in a loose +group, and smiled at one another, nodding their heads toward Vesey. +Then they began to exchange their theories about the cipher. + +It took Vesey exactly fifteen minutes. He brought to the m. e. a pad +with the code-key written on it. + +"I felt the swing of it as soon as I saw it," said Vesey. "Hurrah for +old Calloway! He's done the Japs and every paper in town that prints +literature instead of news. Take a look at that." + +Thus had Vesey set forth the reading of the code: + + Foregone - conclusion + Preconcerted - arrangement + Rash - act + Witching - hour of midnight + Goes - without saying + Muffled - report + Rumour - hath it + Mine - host + Dark - horse + Silent - majority + Unfortunate - pedestrians* + Richmond - in the field + Existing - conditions + Great - White Way + Hotly - contested + Brute - force + Select - few + Mooted - question + Parlous - times + Beggars - description + Ye - correspondent + Angel - unawares + Incontrovertible - fact + + *Mr. Vesey afterward explained that the logical journalistic + complement of the word "unfortunate" was once the word + "victim." But, since the automobile became so popular, the + correct following word is now "pedestrians." Of course, in + Calloway's code it meant infantry. + +"It's simply newspaper English," explained Vesey. "I've been +reporting on the _Enterprise_ long enough to know it by heart. Old +Calloway gives us the cue word, and we use the word that naturally +follows it just as we use 'em in the paper. Read it over, and you'll +see how pat they drop into their places. Now, here's the message he +intended us to get." + +Vesey handed out another sheet of paper. + + Concluded arrangement to act at hour of midnight + without saying. Report hath it that a large body of + cavalry and an overwhelming force of infantry will be + thrown into the field. Conditions white. Way contested + by only a small force. Question the Times description. + Its correspondent is unaware of the facts. + +"Great stuff!" cried Boyd excitedly. "Kuroki crosses the Yalu +to-night and attacks. Oh, we won't do a thing to the sheets that make +up with Addison's essays, real estate transfers, and bowling scores!" + +"Mr. Vesey," said the m. e., with his jollying-which-you-should-regard- +as-a-favour manner, "you have cast a serious reflection upon the +literary standards of the paper that employs you. You have also +assisted materially in giving us the biggest 'beat' of the year. I +will let you know in a day or two whether you are to be discharged or +retained at a larger salary. Somebody send Ames to me." + +Ames was the king-pin, the snowy-petalled Marguerite, the star-bright +looloo of the rewrite men. He saw attempted murder in the pains of +green-apple colic, cyclones in the summer zephyr, lost children in +every top-spinning urchin, an uprising of the down-trodden masses in +every hurling of a derelict potato at a passing automobile. When not +rewriting, Ames sat on the porch of his Brooklyn villa playing +checkers with his ten-year-old son. + +Ames and the "war editor" shut themselves in a room. There was a map +in there stuck full of little pins that represented armies and +divisions. Their fingers had been itching for days to move those +pins along the crooked line of the Yalu. They did so now; and in +words of fire Ames translated Calloway's brief message into a front +page masterpiece that set the world talking. He told of the secret +councils of the Japanese officers; gave Kuroki's flaming speeches in +full; counted the cavalry and infantry to a man and a horse; +described the quick and silent building, of the bridge at Suikauchen, +across which the Mikado's legions were hurled upon the surprised +Zassulitch, whose troops were widely scattered along the river. And +the battle!--well, you know what Ames can do with a battle if you give +him just one smell of smoke for a foundation. And in the same story, +with seemingly supernatural knowledge, he gleefully scored the most +profound and ponderous paper in England for the false and misleading +account of the intended movements of the Japanese First Army printed +in its issue of _the same date_. + +Only one error was made; and that was the fault of the cable operator +at Wi-ju. Calloway pointed it out after he came back. The word +"great" in his code should have been "gage," and its complemental +words "of battle." But it went to Ames "conditions white," and of +course he took that to mean snow. His description of the Japanese +army struggling through the snowstorm, blinded by the whirling flakes, +was thrillingly vivid. The artists turned out some effective +illustrations that made a hit as pictures of the artillery dragging +their guns through the drifts. But, as the attack was made on the +first day of May, "conditions white" excited some amusement. But it +in made no difference to the _Enterprise_, anyway. + +It was wonderful. And Calloway was wonderful in having made the new +censor believe that his jargon of words meant no more than a +complaint of the dearth of news and a petition for more expense +money. And Vesey was wonderful. And most wonderful of all are +words, and how they make friends one with another, being oft +associated, until not even obituary notices them do part. + + +On the second day following, the city editor halted at Vesey's desk +where the reporter was writing the story of a man who had broken his +leg by falling into a coal-hole--Ames having failed to find a +murder motive in it. + +"The old man says your salary is to be raised to twenty a week," said +Scott. + +"All right," said Vesey. "Every little helps. Say--Mr. Scott, +which would you say--'We can state without fear of successful +contradiction,' or, 'On the whole it can be safely asserted'?" + + + + +V + +A MATTER OF MEAN ELEVATION + + +One winter the Alcazar Opera Company of New Orleans made a speculative +trip along the Mexican, Central American and South American coasts. +The venture proved a most successful one. The music-loving, +impressionable Spanish-Americans deluged the company with dollars and +"vivas." The manager waxed plump and amiable. But for the +prohibitive climate he would have put forth the distinctive flower of +his prosperity--the overcoat of fur, braided, frogged and opulent. +Almost was he persuaded to raise the salaries of his company. But +with a mighty effort he conquered the impulse toward such an +unprofitable effervescence of joy. + +At Macuto, on the coast of Venezuela, the company scored its greatest +success. Imagine Coney Island translated into Spanish and you will +comprehend Macuto. The fashionable season is from November to March. +Down from La Guayra and Caracas and Valencia and other interior towns +flock the people for their holiday season. There are bathing and +fiestas and bull fights and scandal. And then the people have a +passion for music that the bands in the plaza and on the sea beach +stir but do not satisfy. The coming of the Alcazar Opera Company +aroused the utmost ardour and zeal among the pleasure seekers. + +The illustrious Guzman Blanco, President and Dictator of Venezuela, +sojourned in Macuto with his court for the season. That potent ruler +--who himself paid a subsidy of 40,000 pesos each year to grand opera +in Caracas--ordered one of the Government warehouses to be cleared +for a temporary theatre. A stage was quickly constructed and rough +wooden benches made for the audience. Private boxes were added for +the use of the President and the notables of the army and Government. + +The company remained in Macuto for two weeks. Each performance filled +the house as closely as it could be packed. Then the music-mad people +fought for room in the open doors and windows, and crowded about, +hundreds deep, on the outside. Those audiences formed a brilliantly +diversified patch of colour. The hue of their faces ranged from the +clear olive of the pure-blood Spaniards down through the yellow and +brown shades of the Mestizos to the coal-black Carib and the Jamaica +Negro. Scattered among them were little groups of Indians with faces +like stone idols, wrapped in gaudy fibre-woven blankets--Indians +down from the mountain states of Zamora and Los Andes and Miranda to +trade their gold dust in the coast towns. + +The spell cast upon these denizens of the interior fastnesses was +remarkable. They sat in petrified ecstasy, conspicuous among the +excitable Macutians, who wildly strove with tongue and hand to give +evidence of their delight. Only once did the sombre rapture of these +aboriginals find expression. During the rendition of "Faust," Guzman +Blanco, extravagantly pleased by the "Jewel Song," cast upon the stage +a purse of gold pieces. Other distinguished citizens followed his lead +to the extent of whatever loose coin they had convenient, while some +of the fair and fashionable senoras were moved, in imitation, to +fling a jewel or a ring or two at the feet of the Marguerite--who +was, according to the bills, Mlle. Nina Giraud. Then, from different +parts of the house rose sundry of the stolid hillmen and cast upon the +stage little brown and dun bags that fell with soft "thumps" and did +not rebound. It was, no doubt, pleasure at the tribute to her art +that caused Mlle. Giraud's eyes to shine so brightly when she opened +these little deerskin bags in her dressing room and found them to +contain pure gold dust. If so, the pleasure was rightly hers, for her +voice in song, pure, strong and thrilling with the feeling of the +emotional artist, deserved the tribute that it earned. + +But the triumph of the Alcazar Opera Company is not the theme--it +but leans upon and colours it. There happened in Macuto a tragic +thing, an unsolvable mystery, that sobered for a time the gaiety of +the happy season. + +One evening between the short twilight and the time when she should +have whirled upon the stage in the red and black of the ardent Carmen, +Mlle. Nina Giraud disappeared from the sight and ken of 6,000 pairs +of eyes and as many minds in Macuto. There was the usual turmoil and +hurrying to seek her. Messengers flew to the little French-kept hotel +where she stayed; others of the company hastened here or there where +she might be lingering in some tienda or unduly prolonging her bath +upon the beach. All search was fruitless. Mademoiselle had +vanished. + +Half an hour passed and she did not appear. The dictator, unused to +the caprices of prime donne, became impatient. He sent an aide from +his box to say to the manager that if the curtain did not at once rise +he would immediately hale the entire company to the calabosa, though +it would desolate his heart, indeed, to be compelled to such an act. +Birds in Macuto could be made to sing. + +The manager abandoned hope for the time of Mlle. Giraud. A member of +the chorus, who had dreamed hopelessly for years of the blessed +opportunity, quickly Carmenized herself and the opera went on. + +Afterward, when the lost cantatrice appeared not, the aid of the +authorities was invoked. The President at once set the army, the +police and all citizens to the search. Not one clue to Mlle. Giraud's +disappearance was found. The Alcazar left to fill engagements farther +down the coast. + +On the way back the steamer stopped at Macuto and the manager made +anxious inquiry. Not a trace of the lady had been discovered. The +Alcazar could do no more. The personal belongings of the missing lady +were stored in the hotel against her possible later reappearance and +the opera company continued upon its homeward voyage to New Orleans. + + * * * * * + +On the camino real along the beach the two saddle mules and the four +pack mules of Don Senor Johnny Armstrong stood, patiently awaiting the +crack of the whip of the _arriero_, Luis. That would be the signal for +the start on another long journey into the mountains. The pack mules +were loaded with a varied assortment of hardware and cutlery. These +articles Don Johnny traded to the interior Indians for the gold dust +that they washed from the Andean streams and stored in quills and bags +against his coming. It was a profitable business, and Senor Armstrong +expected soon to be able to purchase the coffee plantation that he +coveted. + +Armstrong stood on the narrow sidewalk, exchanging garbled Spanish +with old Peralto, the rich native merchant who had just charged him +four prices for half a gross of pot-metal hatchets, and abridged +English with Rucker, the little German who was Consul for the United +States. + +"Take with you, senor," said Peralto, "the blessings of the saints +upon your journey." + +"Better try quinine," growled Rucker through his pipe. "Take two +grains every night. And don't make your trip too long, Johnny, +because we haf needs of you. It is ein villainous game dot Melville +play of whist, and dere is no oder substitute. _Auf wiedersehen_, und +keep your eyes dot mule's ears between when you on der edge of der +brecipices ride." + +The bells of Luis's mule jingled and the pack train filed after the +warning note. Armstrong, waved a good-bye and took his place at the +tail of the procession. Up the narrow street they turned, and passed +the two-story wooden Hotel Ingles, where Ives and Dawson and Richards +and the rest of the chaps were dawdling on the broad piazza, reading +week-old newspapers. They crowded to the railing and shouted many +friendly and wise and foolish farewells after him. Across the plaza +they trotted slowly past the bronze statue of Guzman Blanco, within +its fence of bayoneted rifles captured from revolutionists, and out +of the town between the rows of thatched huts swarming with the +unclothed youth of Macuto. They plunged into the damp coolness of +banana groves at length to emerge upon a bright stream, where brown +women in scant raiment laundered clothes destructively upon the rocks. +Then the pack train, fording the stream, attacked the sudden ascent, +and bade adieu to such civilization as the coast afforded. + +For weeks Armstrong, guided by Luis, followed his regular route among +the mountains. After he had collected an arroba of the precious +metal, winning a profit of nearly $5,000, the heads of the lightened +mules were turned down-trail again. Where the head of the Guarico +River springs from a great gash in the mountain-side, Luis halted the +train. + +"Half a day's journey from here, Senor," said he, "is the village of +Tacuzama, which we have never visited. I think many ounces of gold may +be procured there. It is worth the trial." + +Armstrong concurred, and they turned again upward toward Tacuzama. +The trail was abrupt and precipitous, mounting through a dense +forest. As night fell, dark and gloomy, Luis once more halted. +Before them was a black chasm, bisecting the path as far as they could +see. + +Luis dismounted. "There should be a bridge," he called, and ran along +the cleft a distance. "It is here," he cried, and remounting, led the +way. In a few moments Armstrong, heard a sound as though a thunderous +drum were beating somewhere in the dark. It was the falling of the +mules' hoofs upon the bridge made of strong hides lashed to poles and +stretched across the chasm. Half a mile further was Tacuzama. The +village was a congregation of rock and mud huts set in the +profundity of an obscure wood. As they rode in a sound inconsistent +with that brooding solitude met their ears. From a long, low mud hut +that they were nearing rose the glorious voice of a woman in song. +The words were English, the air familiar to Armstrong's memory, but +not to his musical knowledge. + +He slipped from his mule and stole to a narrow window in one end of +the house. Peering cautiously inside, he saw, within three feet of +him, a woman of marvellous, imposing beauty, clothed in a splendid +loose robe of leopard skins. The hut was packed close to the small +space in which she stood with the squatting figures of Indians. + +The woman finished her song and seated herself close to the little +window, as if grateful for the unpolluted air that entered it. +When she had ceased several of the audience rose and cast little +softly-falling bags at her feet. A harsh murmur--no doubt a +barbarous kind of applause and comment--went through the grim +assembly. + +Armstrong, was used to seizing opportunities promptly. Taking +advantage of the noise he called to the woman in a low but distinct +voice: "Do not turn your head this way, but listen. I am an American. +If you need assistance tell me how I can render it. Answer as briefly +as you can." + +The woman was worthy of his boldness. Only by a sudden flush of her +pale cheek did she acknowledge understanding of his words. Then she +spoke, scarcely moving her lips. + +"I am held a prisoner by these Indians. God knows I need help. In +two hours come to the little hut twenty yards toward the Mountainside. +There will be a light and a red curtain in the window. There is +always a guard at the door, whom you will have to overcome. For the +love of heaven, do not fail to come." + +The story seems to shrink from adventure and rescue and mystery. The +theme is one too gentle for those brave and quickening tones. And yet +it reaches as far back as time itself. It has been named +"environment," which is as weak a word as any to express the +unnameable kinship of man to nature, that queer fraternity that causes +stones and trees and salt water and clouds to play upon our emotions. +Why are we made serious and solemn and sublime by mountain heights, +grave and contemplative by an abundance of overhanging trees, +reduced to inconstancy and monkey capers by the ripples on a sandy +beach? Did the protoplasm--but enough. The chemists are looking +into the matter, and before long they will have all life in the table +of the symbols. + +Briefly, then, in order to confine the story within scientific bounds, +John Armstrong, went to the hut, choked the Indian guard and carried +away Mlle. Giraud. With her was also conveyed a number of pounds of +gold dust she had collected during her six months' forced engagement +in Tacuzama. The Carabobo Indians are easily the most enthusiastic +lovers of music between the equator and the French Opera House in New +Orleans. They are also strong believers that the advice of Emerson +was good when he said: "The thing thou wantest, O discontented man +--take it, and pay the price." A number of them had attended the +performance of the Alcazar Opera Company in Macuto, and found Mlle. +Giraud's style and technique satisfactory. They wanted her, so they +took her one evening suddenly and without any fuss. They treated her +with much consideration, exacting only one song recital each day. She +was quite pleased at being rescued by Mr. Armstrong. So much for +mystery and adventure. Now to resume the theory of the protoplasm. + +John Armstrong and Mlle. Giraud rode among the Andean peaks, enveloped +in their greatness and sublimity. The mightiest cousins, furthest +removed, in nature's great family become conscious of the tie. Among +those huge piles of primordial upheaval, amid those gigantic silences +and elongated fields of distance the littlenesses of men are +precipitated as one chemical throws down a sediment from another. +They moved reverently, as in a temple. Their souls were uplifted in +unison with the stately heights. They travelled in a zone of majesty +and peace. + +To Armstrong the woman seemed almost a holy thing. Yet bathed in the +white, still dignity of her martyrdom that purified her earthly beauty +and gave out, it seemed, an aura of transcendent loveliness, in those +first hours of companionship she drew from him an adoration that was +half human love, half the worship of a descended goddess. + +Never yet since her rescue had she smiled. Over her dress she still +wore the robe of leopard skins, for the mountain air was cold. She +looked to be some splendid princess belonging to those wild and +awesome altitudes. The spirit of the region chimed with hers. Her +eyes were always turned upon the sombre cliffs, the blue gorges and +the snow-clad turrets, looking a sublime melancholy equal to their +own. At times on the journey she sang thrilling te deums and +misereres that struck the true note of the hills, and made their +route seem like a solemn march down a cathedral aisle. The rescued +one spoke but seldom, her mood partaking of the hush of nature that +surrounded them. Armstrong looked upon her as an angel. He could not +bring himself to the sacrilege of attempting to woo her as other +women may be wooed. + +On the third day they had descended as far as the _tierra templada_, +the zona of the table lands and foot hills. The mountains were +receding in their rear, but still towered, exhibiting yet impressively +their formidable heads. Here they met signs of man. They saw the +white houses of coffee plantations gleam across the clearings. They +struck into a road where they met travellers and pack-mules. Cattle +were grazing on the slopes. They passed a little village where the +round-eyed _ninos_ shrieked and called at sight of them. + +Mlle. Giraud laid aside her leopard-skin robe. It seemed to be a +trifle incongruous now. In the mountains it had appeared fitting +and natural. And if Armstrong was not mistaken she laid aside with +it something of the high dignity of her demeanour. As the country +became more populous and significant of comfortable life he saw, with +a feeling of joy, that the exalted princess and priestess of the +Andean peaks was changing to a woman--an earth woman, but no less +enticing. A little colour crept to the surface of her marble cheek. +She arranged the conventional dress that the removal of the robe now +disclosed with the solicitous touch of one who is conscious of the +eyes of others. She smoothed the careless sweep of her hair. A +mundane interest, long latent in the chilling atmosphere of the +ascetic peaks, showed in her eyes. + +This thaw in his divinity sent Armstrong's heart going faster. So +might an Arctic explorer thrill at his first ken of green fields and +liquescent waters. They were on a lower plane of earth and life and +were succumbing to its peculiar, subtle influence. The austerity of +the hills no longer thinned the air they breathed. About them was the +breath of fruit and corn and builded homes, the comfortable smell of +smoke and warm earth and the consolations man has placed between +himself and the dust of his brother earth from which he sprung. +While traversing those awful mountains, Mile. Giraud had seemed to +be wrapped in their spirit of reverent reserve. Was this that same +woman--now palpitating, warm, eager, throbbing with conscious life and +charm, feminine to her finger-tips? Pondering over this, Armstrong +felt certain misgivings intrude upon his thoughts. He wished he could +stop there with this changing creature, descending no farther. Here +was the elevation and environment to which her nature seemed to +respond with its best. He feared to go down upon the man-dominated +levels. Would her spirit not yield still further in that artificial +zone to which they were descending? + +Now from a little plateau they saw the sea flash at the edge of the +green lowlands. Mile. Giraud gave a little, catching sigh. + +"Oh! look, Mr. Armstrong, there is the sea! Isn't it lovely? I'm so +tired of mountains." She heaved a pretty shoulder in a gesture of +repugnance. "Those horrid Indians! Just think of what I suffered! +Although I suppose I attained my ambition of becoming a stellar +attraction, I wouldn't care to repeat the engagement. It was very +nice of you to bring me away. Tell me, Mr. Armstrong--honestly, now +--do I look such an awful, awful fright? I haven't looked into a +mirror, you know, for months." + +Armstrong made answer according to his changed moods. Also he laid +his hand upon hers as it rested upon the horn of her saddle. Luis was +at the head of the pack train and could not see. She allowed it to +remain there, and her eyes smiled frankly into his. + +Then at sundown they dropped upon the coast level under the palms and +lemons among the vivid greens and scarlets and ochres of the _tierra +caliente_. They rode into Macuto, and saw the line of volatile bathers +frolicking in the surf. The mountains were very far away. + +Mlle. Giraud's eyes were shining with a joy that could not have +existed under the chaperonage of the mountain-tops. There were other +spirits calling to her--nymphs of the orange groves, pixies from the +chattering surf, imps, born of the music, the perfumes, colours and +the insinuating presence of humanity. She laughed aloud, musically, +at a sudden thought. + +"Won't there be a sensation?" she called to Armstrong. "Don't I wish +I had an engagement just now, though! What a picnic the press agent +would have! 'Held a prisoner by a band of savage Indians subdued by +the spell of her wonderful voice'--wouldn't that make great stuff? +But I guess I quit the game winner, anyhow--there ought to be a +couple of thousand dollars in that sack of gold dust I collected as +encores, don't you think?" + +He left her at the door of the little Hotel de Buen Descansar, where +she had stopped before. Two hours later he returned to the hotel. He +glanced in at the open door of the little combined reception room and +cafe. + +Half a dozen of Macuto's representative social and official +_caballeros_ were distributed about the room. Senor Villablanca, the +wealthy rubber concessionist, reposed his fat figure on two chairs, +with an emollient smile beaming upon his chocolate-coloured face. +Guilbert, the French mining engineer, leered through his polished +nose-glasses. Colonel Mendez, of the regular army, in gold-laced +uniform and fatuous grin, was busily extracting corks from champagne +bottles. Other patterns of Macutian gallantry and fashion pranced and +posed. The air was hazy with cigarette smoke. Wine dripped upon the +floor. + +Perched upon a table in the centre of the room in an attitude of easy +preeminence was Mlle. Giraud. A chic costume of white lawn and cherry +ribbons supplanted her travelling garb. There was a suggestion of +lace, and a frill or two, with a discreet, small implication of +hand-embroidered pink hosiery. Upon her lap rested a guitar. In her +face was the light of resurrection, the peace of elysium attained +through fire and suffering. She was singing to a lively accompaniment +a little song: + + "When you see de big round moon + Comin' up like a balloon, + Dis nigger skips fur to kiss de lips + Ob his stylish, black-faced coon." + +The singer caught sight of Armstrong. + +"Hi! there, Johnny," she called; "I've been expecting you for an +hour. What kept you? Gee! but these smoked guys are the slowest you +ever saw. They ain't on, at all. Come along in, and I'll make this +coffee-coloured old sport with the gold epaulettes open one for you +right off the ice." + +"Thank you," said Armstrong; "not just now, I believe. I've several +things to attend to." + +He walked out and down the street, and met Rucker coming up from the +Consulate. + +"Play you a game of billiards," said Armstrong. "I want something to +take the taste of the sea level out of my mouth." + + + + +VI + +"GIRL" + + +In gilt letters on the ground glass of the door of room No. 962 were +the words: "Robbins & Hartley, Brokers." The clerks had gone. It was +past five, and with the solid tramp of a drove of prize Percherons, +scrub-women were invading the cloud-capped twenty-story office +building. A puff of red-hot air flavoured with lemon peelings, +soft-coal smoke and train oil came in through the half-open windows. + +Robbins, fifty, something of an overweight beau, and addicted to first +nights and hotel palm-rooms, pretended to be envious of his partner's +commuter's joys. + +"Going to be something doing in the humidity line to-night," he said. +"You out-of-town chaps will be the people, with your katydids and +moonlight and long drinks and things out on the front porch." + +Hartley, twenty-nine, serious, thin, good-looking, nervous, sighed +and frowned a little. + +"Yes," said he, "we always have cool nights in Floralhurst, especially +in the winter." + +A man with an air of mystery came in the door and went up to Hartley. + +"I've found where she lives," he announced in the portentous +half-whisper that makes the detective at work a marked being to his +fellow men. + +Hartley scowled him into a state of dramatic silence and quietude. +But by that time Robbins had got his cane and set his tie pin to his +liking, and with a debonair nod went out to his metropolitan +amusements. + +"Here is the address," said the detective in a natural tone, being +deprived of an audience to foil. + +Hartley took the leaf torn out of the sleuth's dingy memorandum book. +On it were pencilled the words "Vivienne Arlington, No. 341 East +----th Street, care of Mrs. McComus." + +"Moved there a week ago," said the detective. "Now, if you want any +shadowing done, Mr. Hartley, I can do you as fine a job in that line +as anybody in the city. It will be only $7 a day and expenses. Can +send in a daily typewritten report, covering--" + +"You needn't go on," interrupted the broker. "It isn't a case of that +kind. I merely wanted the address. How much shall I pay you?" + +"One day's work," said the sleuth. "A tenner will cover it." + +Hartley paid the man and dismissed him. Then he left the office and +boarded a Broadway car. At the first large crosstown artery of travel +he took an eastbound car that deposited him in a decaying avenue, +whose ancient structures once sheltered the pride and glory of the +town. + +Walking a few squares, he came to the building that he sought. It was +a new flathouse, bearing carved upon its cheap stone portal its +sonorous name, "The Vallambrosa." Fire-escapes zigzagged down its +front--these laden with household goods, drying clothes, and +squalling children evicted by the midsummer heat. Here and there a +pale rubber plant peeped from the miscellaneous mass, as if wondering +to what kingdom it belonged--vegetable, animal or artificial. + +Hartley pressed the "McComus" button. The door latch clicked +spasmodically--now hospitably, now doubtfully, as though in +anxiety whether it might be admitting friends or duns. Hartley +entered and began to climb the stairs after the manner of those who +seek their friends in city flat-houses--which is the manner of a boy +who climbs an apple-tree, stopping when he comes upon what he wants. + +On the fourth floor he saw Vivienne standing in an open door. She +invited him inside, with a nod and a bright, genuine smile. She +placed a chair for him near a window, and poised herself gracefully +upon the edge of one of those Jekyll-and-Hyde pieces of furniture that +are masked and mysteriously hooded, unguessable bulks by day and +inquisitorial racks of torture by night. + +Hartley cast a quick, critical, appreciative glance at her before +speaking, and told himself that his taste in choosing had been +flawless. + +Vivienne was about twenty-one. She was of the purest Saxon type. Her +hair was a ruddy golden, each filament of the neatly gathered mass +shining with its own lustre and delicate graduation of colour. In +perfect harmony were her ivory-clear complexion and deep sea-blue eyes +that looked upon the world with the ingenuous calmness of a mermaid or +the pixie of an undiscovered mountain stream. Her frame was strong +and yet possessed the grace of absolute naturalness. And yet with all +her Northern clearness and frankness of line and colouring, there +seemed to be something of the tropics in her--something of languor +in the droop of her pose, of love of ease in her ingenious complacency +of satisfaction and comfort in the mere act of breathing--something +that seemed to claim for her a right as a perfect work of nature to +exist and be admired equally with a rare flower or some beautiful, +milk-white dove among its sober-hued companions. + +She was dressed in a white waist and dark skirt--that discreet +masquerade of goose-girl and duchess. + +"Vivienne," said Hartley, looking at her pleadingly, "you did not +answer my last letter. It was only by nearly a week's search that I +found where you had moved to. Why have you kept me in suspense when +you knew how anxiously I was waiting to see you and hear from you?" + +The girl looked out the window dreamily. + +"Mr. Hartley," she said hesitatingly, "I hardly know what to say to +you. I realize all the advantages of your offer, and sometimes I feel +sure that I could be contented with you. But, again, I am doubtful. +I was born a city girl, and I am afraid to bind myself to a quiet +suburban life." + +"My dear girl," said Hartley, ardently, "have I not told you that you +shall have everything that your heart can desire that is in my power +to give you? You shall come to the city for the theatres, for +shopping and to visit your friends as often as you care to. You can +trust me, can you not?" + +"To the fullest," she said, turning her frank eyes upon him with a +smile. "I know you are the kindest of men, and that the girl you get +will be a lucky one. I learned all about you when I was at the +Montgomerys'." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Hartley, with a tender, reminiscent light in his eye; +"I remember well the evening I first saw you at the Montgomerys'. +Mrs. Montgomery was sounding your praises to me all the evening. +And she hardly did you justice. I shall never forget that supper. +Come, Vivienne, promise me. I want you. You'll never regret coming +with me. No one else will ever give you as pleasant a home." + +The girl sighed and looked down at her folded hands. + +A sudden jealous suspicion seized Hartley. + +"Tell me, Vivienne," he asked, regarding her keenly, "is there +another--is there some one else?" + +A rosy flush crept slowly over her fair cheeks and neck. + +"You shouldn't ask that, Mr. Hartley," she said, in some confusion. +"But I will tell you. There is one other--but he has no right--I +have promised him nothing." + +"His name?" demanded Hartley, sternly. + +"Townsend." + +"Rafford Townsend!" exclaimed Hartley, with a grim tightening of his +jaw. "How did that man come to know you? After all I've done for +him--" + +"His auto has just stopped below," said Vivienne, bending over the +window-sill. "He's coming for his answer. Oh I don't know what to +do!" + +The bell in the flat kitchen whirred. Vivienne hurried to press the +latch button. + +"Stay here," said Hartley. "I will meet him in the hall." + +Townsend, looking like a Spanish grandee in his light tweeds, Panama +hat and curling black mustache, came up the stairs three at a time. +He stopped at sight of Hartley and looked foolish. + +"Go back," said Hartley, firmly, pointing downstairs with his +forefinger. + +"Hullo!" said Townsend, feigning surprise. "What's up? What are you +doing here, old man?" + +"Go back," repeated Hartley, inflexibly. "The Law of the Jungle. Do +you want the Pack to tear you in pieces? The kill is mine." + +"I came here to see a plumber about the bathroom connections," said +Townsend, bravely. + +"All right," said Hartley. "You shall have that lying plaster to +stick upon your traitorous soul. But, go back." Townsend went +downstairs, leaving a bitter word to be wafted up the draught of the +staircase. Hartley went back to his wooing. + +"Vivienne," said he, masterfully. "I have got to have you. I will +take no more refusals or dilly-dallying." + +"When do you want me?" she asked. + +"Now. As soon as you can get ready." + +She stood calmly before him and looked him in the eye. + +"Do you think for one moment," she said, "that I would enter your home +while Heloise is there?" + +Hartley cringed as if from an unexpected blow. He folded his arms and +paced the carpet once or twice. + +"She shall go," he declared grimly. Drops stood upon his brow. "Why +should I let that woman make my life miserable? Never have I seen one +day of freedom from trouble since I have known her. You are right, +Vivienne. Heloise must be sent away before I can take you home. But +she shall go. I have decided. I will turn her from my doors." + +"When will you do this?" asked the girl. + +Hartley clinched his teeth and bent his brows together. + +"To-night," he said, resolutely. "I will send her away to-night." + +"Then," said Vivienne, "my answer is 'yes.' Come for me when you +will." + +She looked into his eyes with a sweet, sincere light in her own. +Hartley could scarcely believe that her surrender was true, it was +so swift and complete. + +"Promise me," he said feelingly, "on your word and honour." + +"On my word and honour," repeated Vivienne, softly. + +At the door he turned and gazed at her happily, but yet as one who +scarcely trusts the foundations of his joy. + +"To-morrow," he said, with a forefinger of reminder uplifted. + +"To-morrow," she repeated with a smile of truth and candour. + +In an hour and forty minutes Hartley stepped off the train at +Floralhurst. A brisk walk of ten minutes brought him to the gate of a +handsome two-story cottage set upon a wide and well-tended lawn. +Halfway to the house he was met by a woman with jet-black braided hair +and flowing white summer gown, who half strangled him without apparent +cause. + +When they stepped into the hall she said: + +"Mamma's here. The auto is coming for her in half an hour. She came +to dinner, but there's no dinner." + +"I've something to tell you," said Hartley. "I thought to break it to +you gently, but since your mother is here we may as well out with it." + +He stooped and whispered something at her ear. + +His wife screamed. Her mother came running into the hall. The +dark-haired woman screamed again--the joyful scream of a well-beloved +and petted woman. + +"Oh, mamma!" she cried ecstatically, "what do you think? Vivienne is +coming to cook for us! She is the one that stayed with the +Montgomerys a whole year. And now, Billy, dear," she concluded, "you +must go right down into the kitchen and discharge Heloise. She has +been drunk again the whole day long." + + + + +VII + +SOCIOLOGY IN SERGE AND STRAW + + +The season of irresponsibility is at hand. Come, let us twine round +our brows wreaths of poison ivy (that is for idiocy), and wander hand +in hand with sociology in the summer fields. + +Likely as not the world is flat. The wise men have tried to prove +that it is round, with indifferent success. They pointed out to us a +ship going to sea, and bade us observe that, at length, the convexity +of the earth hid from our view all but the vessel's topmast. But we +picked up a telescope and looked, and saw the decks and hull again. +Then the wise men said: "Oh, pshaw! anyhow, the variation of the +intersection of the equator and the ecliptic proves it." We could not +see this through our telescope, so we remained silent. But it stands +to reason that, if the world were round, the queues of Chinamen +would stand straight up from their heads instead of hanging down their +backs, as travellers assure us they do. + +Another hot-weather corroboration of the flat theory is the fact that +all of life, as we know it, moves in little, unavailing circles. +More justly than to anything else, it can be likened to the game +of baseball. Crack! we hit the ball, and away we go. If we earn a +run (in life we call it success) we get back to the home plate and +sit upon a bench. If we are thrown out, we walk back to the home +plate--and sit upon a bench. + +The circumnavigators of the alleged globe may have sailed the rim of a +watery circle back to the same port again. The truly great return at +the high tide of their attainments to the simplicity of a child. The +billionaire sits down at his mahogany to his bowl of bread and milk. +When you reach the end of your career, just take down the sign "Goal" +and look at the other side of it. You will find "Beginning Point" +there. It has been reversed while you were going around the track. + +But this is humour, and must be stopped. Let us get back to the +serious questions that arise whenever Sociology turns summer boarder. +You are invited to consider the scene of the story--wild, Atlantic +waves, thundering against a wooded and rock-bound shore--in the +Greater City of New York. + +The town of Fishampton, on the south shore of Long Island, is noted +for its clam fritters and the summer residence of the Van Plushvelts. + +The Van Plushvelts have a hundred million dollars, and their name is a +household word with tradesmen and photographers. + +On the fifteenth of June the Van Plushvelts boarded up the front door +of their city house, carefully deposited their cat on the sidewalk, +instructed the caretaker not to allow it to eat any of the ivy on the +walls, and whizzed away in a 40-horse-power to Fishampton to stray +alone in the shade--Amaryllis not being in their class. If you are a +subscriber to the _Toadies' Magazine_, you have often--You say you are +not? Well, you buy it at a news-stand, thinking that the newsdealer +is not wise to you. But he knows about it all. HE knows--HE knows! +I say that you have often seen in the _Toadies' Magazine_ pictures of +the Van Plushvelts' summer home; so it will not be described here. +Our business is with young Haywood Van Plushvelt, sixteen years old, +heir to the century of millions, darling of the financial gods and +great grandson of Peter Van Plushvelt, former owner of a particularly +fine cabbage patch that has been ruined by an intrusive lot of +downtown skyscrapers. + +One afternoon young Haywood Van Plushvelt strolled out between the +granite gate posts of "Dolce far Niente"--that's what they called +the place; and it was an improvement on dolce Far Rockaway, I can +tell you. + +Haywood walked down into the village. He was human, after all, and +his prospective millions weighed upon him. Wealth had wreaked upon +him its direfullest. He was the product of private tutors. Even under +his first hobby-horse had tan bark been strewn. He had been born with +a gold spoon, lobster fork and fish-set in his mouth. For which I +hope, later, to submit justification, I must ask your consideration of +his haberdashery and tailoring. + +Young Fortunatus was dressed in a neat suit of dark blue serge, a +neat, white straw hat, neat low-cut tan shoes, of the well-known +"immaculate" trade mark, a neat, narrow four-in-hand tie, and carried +a slender, neat, bamboo cane. + +Down Persimmon Street (there's never tree north of Hagerstown, Md.) +came from the village "Smoky" Dodson, fifteen and a half, worst boy in +Fishampton. "Smoky" was dressed in a ragged red sweater, wrecked and +weather-worn golf cap, run-over shoes, and trousers of the +"serviceable" brand. Dust, clinging to the moisture induced by free +exercise, darkened wide areas of his face. "Smoky" carried a baseball +bat, and a league ball that advertised itself in the rotundity of his +trousers pocket. Haywood stopped and passed the time of day. + +"Going to play ball?" he asked. + +"Smoky's" eyes and countenance confronted him with a frank +blue-and-freckled scrutiny. + +"Me?" he said, with deadly mildness; "sure not. Can't you see I've +got a divin' suit on? I'm goin' up in a submarine balloon to catch +butterflies with a two-inch auger. + +"Excuse me," said Haywood, with the insulting politeness of his +caste, "for mistaking you for a gentleman. I might have known +better." + +"How might you have known better if you thought I was one?" said +"Smoky," unconsciously a logician. + +"By your appearance," said Haywood. "No gentleman is dirty, ragged +and a liar." + +"Smoky" hooted once like a ferry-boat, spat on his hand, got a firm +grip on his baseball bat and then dropped it against the fence. + +"Say," said he, "I knows you. You're the pup that belongs in that +swell private summer sanitarium for city-guys over there. I seen you +come out of the gate. You can't bluff nobody because you're rich. +And because you got on swell clothes. Arabella! Yah!" + +"Ragamuffin!" said Haywood. + +"Smoky" picked up a fence-rail splinter and laid it on his shoulder. + +"Dare you to knock it off," he challenged. + +"I wouldn't soil my hands with you," said the aristocrat. + +"'Fraid," said "Smoky" concisely. "Youse city-ducks ain't got the I +sand. I kin lick you with one-hand." + +"I don't wish to have any trouble with you," said Haywood. "I asked +you a civil question; and you replied, like a--like a--a cad." + +"Wot's a cad?" asked "Smoky." + +"A cad is a disagreeable person," answered Haywood, "who lacks manners +and doesn't know his place. They sometimes play baseball." + +"I can tell you what a mollycoddle is," said "Smoky." "It's a monkey +dressed up by its mother and sent out to pick daisies on the lawn." + +"When you have the honour to refer to the members of my family," said +Haywood, with some dim ideas of a code in his mind, "you'd better +leave the ladies out of your remarks." + +"Ho! ladies!" mocked the rude one. "I say ladies! I know what them +rich women in the city does. They, drink cocktails and swear and give +parties to gorillas. The papers say so." + +Then Haywood knew that it must be. He took off his coat, folded it +neatly and laid it on the roadside grass, placed his hat upon it and +began to unknot his blue silk tie. + +"Hadn't yer better ring fer yer maid, Arabella?" taunted "Smoky." +"Wot yer going to do--go to bed?" + +"I'm going to give you a good trouncing," said the hero. He did not +hesitate, although the enemy was far beneath him socially. He +remembered that his father once thrashed a cabman, and the papers gave +it two columns, first page. And the _Toadies' Magazine_ had a special +article on Upper Cuts by the Upper Classes, and ran new pictures of +the Van Plushvelt country seat, at Fishampton. + +"Wot's trouncing?" asked "Smoky," suspiciously. "I don't want your +old clothes. I'm no--oh, you mean to scrap! My, my! I won't do a +thing to mamma's pet. Criminy! I'd hate to be a hand-laundered thing +like you. + +"Smoky" waited with some awkwardness for his adversary to prepare for +battle. His own decks were always clear for action. When he should +spit upon the palm of his terrible right it was equivalent to "You may +fire now, Gridley." + +The hated patrician advanced, with his shirt sleeves neatly rolled up. +"Smoky" waited, in an attitude of ease, expecting the affair to be +conducted according to Fishampton's rules of war. These allowed +combat to be prefaced by stigma, recrimination, epithet, abuse and +insult gradually increasing in emphasis and degree. After a round of +these "you're anothers" would come the chip knocked from the shoulder, +or the advance across the "dare" line drawn with a toe on the ground. +Next light taps given and taken, these also increasing in force until +finally the blood was up and fists going at their best. + +But Haywood did not know Fishampton's rules. Noblesse oblige kept a +faint smile on his face as he walked slowly up to "Smoky" and said: + +"Going to play ball?" + +"Smoky" quickly understood this to be a putting of the previous +question, giving him the chance to make practical apology by answering +it with civility and relevance. + +"Listen this time," said he. "I'm goin' skatin' on the river. Don't +you see me automobile with Chinese lanterns on it standin' and waitin' +for me?" + +Haywood knocked him down. + +"Smoky" felt wronged. To thus deprive him of preliminary wrangle and +objurgation was to send an armoured knight full tilt against a +crashing lance without permitting him first to caracole around the +list to the flourish of trumpets. But he scrambled up and fell upon +his foe, head, feet and fists. + +The fight lasted one round of an hour and ten minutes. It was +lengthened until it was more like a war or a family feud than a fight. +Haywood had learned some of the science of boxing and wrestling from +his tutors, but these he discarded for the more instinctive methods of +battle handed down by the cave-dwelling Van Plushvelts. + +So, when he found himself, during the melee, seated upon the kicking +and roaring "Smoky's" chest, he improved the opportunity by vigorously +kneading handfuls of sand and soil into his adversary's ears, eyes +and mouth, and when "Smoky" got the proper leg hold and "turned" him, +he fastened both hands in the Plushvelt hair and pounded the Plushvelt +head against the lap of mother earth. Of course, the strife was not +incessantly active. There were seasons when one sat upon the other, +holding him down, while each blew like a grampus, spat out the more +inconveniently large sections of gravel and earth and strove to subdue +the spirit of his opponent with a frightful and soul-paralyzing glare. + +At last, it seemed that in the language of the ring, their efforts +lacked steam. They broke away, and each disappeared in a cloud as he +brushed away the dust of the conflict. As soon as his breath +permitted, Haywood walked close to "Smoky" and said: + +"Going to play ball?" + +"Smoky" looked pensively at the sky, at his bat lying on the ground, +and at the "leaguer" rounding his pocket. + +"Sure," he said, offhandedly. "The 'Yellowjackets' plays the 'Long +Islands.' I'm cap'n of the 'Long Islands.'" + +"I guess I didn't mean to say you were ragged," said Haywood. "But +you are dirty, you know." + +"Sure," said "Smoky." "Yer get that way knockin' around. Say, I +don't believe them New York papers about ladies drinkin' and havin' +monkeys dinin' at the table with 'em. I guess they're lies, like they +print about people eatin' out of silver plates, and ownin' dogs that +cost $100." + +"Certainly," said Haywood. "What do you play on your team?" + +"Ketcher. Ever play any?" + +"Never in my life," said Haywood. "I've never known any fellows +except one or two of my cousins." + +"Jer like to learn? We're goin' to have a practice-game before the +match. Wanter come along? I'll put yer in left-field, and yer won't +be long ketchin' on." + +"I'd like it bully," said Haywood. "I've always wanted to play +baseball." + +The ladies' maids of New York and the families of Western mine owners +with social ambitions will remember well the sensation that was +created by the report that the young multi-millionaire, Haywood Van +Plushvelt, was playing ball with the village youths of Fishampton. It +was conceded that the millennium of democracy had come. Reporters and +photographers swarmed to the island. The papers printed half-page +pictures of him as short-stop stopping a hot grounder. The _Toadies' +Magazine_ got out a Bat and Ball number that covered the subject +historically, beginning with the vampire bat and ending with the +Patriarchs' ball--illustrated with interior views of the Van +Plushvelt country seat. Ministers, educators and sociologists +everywhere hailed the event as the tocsin call that proclaimed the +universal brotherhood of man. + +One afternoon I was reclining under the trees near the shore at +Fishampton in the esteemed company of an eminent, bald-headed young +sociologist. By way of note it may be inserted that all sociologists +are more or less bald, and exactly thirty-two. Look 'em over. + +The sociologist was citing the Van Plushvelt case as the most +important "uplift" symptom of a generation, and as an excuse for his +own existence. + +Immediately before us were the village baseball grounds. And now came +the sportive youth of Fishampton and distributed themselves, shouting, +about the diamond. + +"There," said the sociologist, pointing, "there is young Van +Plushvelt." + +I raised myself (so far a cosycophant with Mary Ann) and gazed. + +Young Van Plushvelt sat upon the ground. He was dressed in a ragged +red sweater, wrecked and weather-worn golf cap, run-over shoes, and +trousers of the "serviceable" brand. Dust clinging to the moisture +induced by free exercise, darkened wide areas of his face. + +"That is he," repeated the sociologist. If he had said "him" I could +have been less vindictive. + +On a bench, with an air, sat the young millionaire's chum. + +He was dressed in a neat suit of dark blue serge, a neat white straw +hat, neat low-cut tan shoes, linen of the well-known "immaculate" +trade mark, a neat, narrow four-in-hand tie, and carried a slender, +neat bamboo cane. + +I laughed loudly and vulgarly. + +"What you want to do," said I to the sociologist, "is to establish a +reformatory for the Logical Vicious Circle. Or else I've got wheels. +It looks to me as if things are running round and round in circles +instead of getting anywhere." + +"What do you mean?" asked the man of progress. + +"Why, look what he has done to 'Smoky'," I replied. + +"You will always be a fool," said my friend, the sociologist, +getting up and walking away. + + + + +VIII + +THE RANSOM OF RED CHIEF + + +It looked like a good thing: but wait till I tell you. We were down +South, in Alabama--Bill Driscoll and myself--when this kidnapping +idea struck us. It was, as Bill afterward expressed it, "during a +moment of temporary mental apparition"; but we didn't find that out +till later. + +There was a town down there, as flat as a flannel-cake, and called +Summit, of course. It contained inhabitants of as undeleterious and +self-satisfied a class of peasantry as ever clustered around a +Maypole. + +Bill and me had a joint capital of about six hundred dollars, and +we needed just two thousand dollars more to pull off a fraudulent +town-lot scheme in Western Illinois with. We talked it over on the +front steps of the hotel. Philoprogenitiveness, says we, is strong +in semi-rural communities; therefore and for other reasons, a +kidnapping project ought to do better there than in the radius of +newspapers that send reporters out in plain clothes to stir up talk +about such things. We knew that Summit couldn't get after us with +anything stronger than constables and maybe some lackadaisical +bloodhounds and a diatribe or two in the _Weekly Farmers' Budget_. +So, it looked good. + +We selected for our victim the only child of a prominent citizen named +Ebenezer Dorset. The father was respectable and tight, a mortgage +fancier and a stern, upright collection-plate passer and forecloser. +The kid was a boy of ten, with bas-relief freckles, and hair the +colour of the cover of the magazine you buy at the news-stand when you +want to catch a train. Bill and me figured that Ebenezer would melt +down for a ransom of two thousand dollars to a cent. But wait till I +tell you. + +About two miles from Summit was a little mountain, covered with a +dense cedar brake. On the rear elevation of this mountain was a cave. +There we stored provisions. One evening after sundown, we drove in a +buggy past old Dorset's house. The kid was in the street, throwing +rocks at a kitten on the opposite fence. + +"Hey, little boy!" says Bill, "would you like to have a bag of candy +and a nice ride?" + +The boy catches Bill neatly in the eye with a piece of brick. + +"That will cost the old man an extra five hundred dollars," says Bill, +climbing over the wheel. + +That boy put up a fight like a welter-weight cinnamon bear; but, at +last, we got him down in the bottom of the buggy and drove away. We +took him up to the cave and I hitched the horse in the cedar brake. +After dark I drove the buggy to the little village, three miles away, +where we had hired it, and walked back to the mountain. + +Bill was pasting court-plaster over the scratches and bruises on his +features. There was a fire burning behind the big rock at the entrance +of the cave, and the boy was watching a pot of boiling coffee, with +two buzzard tail-feathers stuck in his red hair. He points a stick +at me when I come up, and says: + +"Ha! cursed paleface, do you dare to enter the camp of Red Chief, the +terror of the plains? + +"He's all right now," says Bill, rolling up his trousers and examining +some bruises on his shins. "We're playing Indian. We're making +Buffalo Bill's show look like magic-lantern views of Palestine in the +town hall. I'm Old Hank, the Trapper, Red Chief's captive, and I'm to +be scalped at daybreak. By Geronimo! that kid can kick hard." + +Yes, sir, that boy seemed to be having the time of his life. The fun +of camping out in a cave had made him forget that he was a captive +himself. He immediately christened me Snake-eye, the Spy, and +announced that, when his braves returned from the warpath, I was to be +broiled at the stake at the rising of the sun. + +Then we had supper; and he filled his mouth full of bacon and bread +and gravy, and began to talk. He made a during-dinner speech +something like this: + +"I like this fine. I never camped out before; but I had a pet 'possum +once, and I was nine last birthday. I hate to go to school. Rats ate +up sixteen of Jimmy Talbot's aunt's speckled hen's eggs. Are there +any real Indians in these woods? I want some more gravy. Does the +trees moving make the wind blow? We had five puppies. What makes your +nose so red, Hank? My father has lots of money. Are the stars hot? I +whipped Ed Walker twice, Saturday. I don't like girls. You dassent +catch toads unless with a string. Do oxen make any noise? Why are +oranges round? Have you got beds to sleep on in this cave? Amos Murray +has got six toes. A parrot can talk, but a monkey or a fish can't. +How many does it take to make twelve?" + +Every few minutes he would remember that he was a pesky redskin, and +pick up his stick rifle and tiptoe to the mouth of the cave to rubber +for the scouts of the hated paleface. Now and then he would let out a +war-whoop that made Old Hank the Trapper shiver. That boy had Bill +terrorized from the start. + +"Red Chief," says I to the kid, "would you like to go home?" + +"Aw, what for?" says he. "I don't have any fun at home. I hate to +go to school. I like to camp out. You won't take me back home again, +Snake-eye, will you?" + +"Not right away," says I. "We'll stay here in the cave a while." + +"All right!" says he. "That'll be fine. I never had such fun in all +my life." + +We went to bed about eleven o'clock. We spread down some wide +blankets and quilts and put Red Chief between us. We weren't afraid +he'd run away. He kept us awake for three hours, jumping up and +reaching for his rifle and screeching: "Hist! pard," in mine and +Bill's ears, as the fancied crackle of a twig or the rustle of a leaf +revealed to his young imagination the stealthy approach of the outlaw +band. At last, I fell into a troubled sleep, and dreamed that I had +been kidnapped and chained to a tree by a ferocious pirate with red +hair. + +Just at daybreak, I was awakened by a series of awful screams from +Bill. They weren't yells, or howls, or shouts, or whoops, or yawps, +such as you'd expect from a manly set of vocal organs--they were +simply indecent, terrifying, humiliating screams, such as women emit +when they see ghosts or caterpillars. It's an awful thing to hear a +strong, desperate, fat man scream incontinently in a cave at daybreak. + +I jumped up to see what the matter was. Red Chief was sitting on +Bill's chest, with one hand twined in Bill's hair. In the other he +had the sharp case-knife we used for slicing bacon; and he was +industriously and realistically trying to take Bill's scalp, according +to the sentence that had been pronounced upon him the evening before. + +I got the knife away from the kid and made him lie down again. But, +from that moment, Bill's spirit was broken. He laid down on his side +of the bed, but he never closed an eye again in sleep as long as that +boy was with us. I dozed off for a while, but along toward sun-up I +remembered that Red Chief had said I was to be burned at the stake +at the rising of the sun. I wasn't nervous or afraid; but I sat up +and lit my pipe and leaned against a rock. + +"What you getting up so soon for, Sam?" asked Bill. + +"Me?" says I. "Oh, I got a kind of a pain in my shoulder. I thought +sitting up would rest it." + +"You're a liar!" says Bill. "You're afraid. You was to be burned at +sunrise, and you was afraid he'd do it. And he would, too, if he +could find a match. Ain't it awful, Sam? Do you think anybody will pay +out money to get a little imp like that back home?" + +"Sure," said I. "A rowdy kid like that is just the kind that parents +dote on. Now, you and the Chief get up and cook breakfast, while I go +up on the top of this mountain and reconnoitre." + +I went up on the peak of the little mountain and ran my eye over the +contiguous vicinity. Over toward Summit I expected to see the sturdy +yeomanry of the village armed with scythes and pitchforks beating the +countryside for the dastardly kidnappers. But what I saw was a +peaceful landscape dotted with one man ploughing with a dun mule. +Nobody was dragging the creek; no couriers dashed hither and yon, +bringing tidings of no news to the distracted parents. There was a +sylvan attitude of somnolent sleepiness pervading that section of the +external outward surface of Alabama that lay exposed to my view. +"Perhaps," says I to myself, "it has not yet been discovered that +the wolves have borne away the tender lambkin from the fold. Heaven +help the wolves!" says I, and I went down the mountain to breakfast. + +When I got to the cave I found Bill backed up against the side of it, +breathing hard, and the boy threatening to smash him with a rock half +as big as a cocoanut. + +"He put a red-hot boiled potato down my back," explained Bill, "and +then mashed it with his foot; and I boxed his ears. Have you got a gun +about you, Sam?" + +I took the rock away from the boy and kind of patched up the argument. +"I'll fix you," says the kid to Bill. "No man ever yet struck the Red +Chief but what he got paid for it. You better beware!" + +After breakfast the kid takes a piece of leather with strings wrapped +around it out of his pocket and goes outside the cave unwinding it. + +"What's he up to now?" says Bill, anxiously. "You don't think he'll +run away, do you, Sam?" + +"No fear of it," says I. "He don't seem to be much of a home body. +But we've got to fix up some plan about the ransom. There don't seem +to be much excitement around Summit on account of his disappearance; +but maybe they haven't realized yet that he's gone. His folks may +think he's spending the night with Aunt Jane or one of the neighbours. +Anyhow, he'll be missed to-day. To-night we must get a message to his +father demanding the two thousand dollars for his return." + +Just then we heard a kind Of war-whoop, such as David might have +emitted when he knocked out the champion Goliath. It was a sling that +Red Chief had pulled out of his pocket, and he was whirling it around +his head. + +I dodged, and heard a heavy thud and a kind of a sigh from Bill, like +a horse gives out when you take his saddle off. A niggerhead rock the +size of an egg had caught Bill just behind his left ear. He loosened +himself all over and fell in the fire across the frying pan of hot +water for washing the dishes. I dragged him out and poured cold water +on his head for half an hour. + +By and by, Bill sits up and feels behind his ear and says: "Sam, do +you know who my favourite Biblical character is?" + +"Take it easy," says I. "You'll come to your senses presently." + +"King Herod," says he. "You won't go away and leave me here alone, +will you, Sam?" + +I went out and caught that boy and shook him until his freckles +rattled. + +"If you don't behave," says I, "I'll take you straight home. Now, are +you going to be good, or not?" + +"I was only funning," says he sullenly. "I didn't mean to hurt Old +Hank. But what did he hit me for? I'll behave, Snake-eye, if you +won't send me home, and if you'll let me play the Black Scout to-day." + +"I don't know the game," says I. "That's for you and Mr. Bill to +decide. He's your playmate for the day. I'm going away for a while, +on business. Now, you come in and make friends with him and say you +are sorry for hurting him, or home you go, at once." + +I made him and Bill shake hands, and then I took Bill aside and told +him I was going to Poplar Cove, a little village three miles from the +cave, and find out what I could about how the kidnapping had been +regarded in Summit. Also, I thought it best to send a peremptory +letter to old man Dorset that day, demanding the ransom and dictating +how it should be paid. + +"You know, Sam," says Bill, "I've stood by you without batting an +eye in earthquakes, fire and flood--in poker games, dynamite +outrages, police raids, train robberies and cyclones. I never lost my +nerve yet till we kidnapped that two-legged skyrocket of a kid. He's +got me going. You won't leave me long with him, will you, Sam?" + +"I'll be back some time this afternoon," says I. "You must keep the +boy amused and quiet till I return. And now we'll write the letter to +old Dorset." + +Bill and I got paper and pencil and worked on the letter while Red +Chief, with a blanket wrapped around him, strutted up and down, +guarding the mouth of the cave. Bill begged me tearfully to make the +ransom fifteen hundred dollars instead of two thousand. "I ain't +attempting," says he, "to decry the celebrated moral aspect of +parental affection, but we're dealing with humans, and it ain't human +for anybody to give up two thousand dollars for that forty-pound chunk +of freckled wildcat. I'm willing to take a chance at fifteen hundred +dollars. You can charge the difference up to me." + +So, to relieve Bill, I acceded, and we collaborated a letter that ran +this way: + + _Ebenezer Dorset, Esq.:_ + + We have your boy concealed in a place far from Summit. It is useless + for you or the most skilful detectives to attempt to find him. + Absolutely, the only terms on which you can have him restored to you + are these: We demand fifteen hundred dollars in large bills for his + return; the money to be left at midnight to-night at the same spot + and in the same box as your reply--as hereinafter described. If + you agree to these terms, send your answer in writing by a solitary + messenger to-night at half-past eight o'clock. After crossing Owl + Creek, on the road to Poplar Cove, there are three large trees about + a hundred yards apart, close to the fence of the wheat field on the + right-hand side. At the bottom of the fence-post, opposite the + third tree, will be found a small pasteboard box. + + The messenger will place the answer in this box and return + immediately to Summit. + + If you attempt any treachery or fail to comply with our demand as + stated, you will never see your boy again. + + If you pay the money as demanded, he will be returned to you safe + and well within three hours. These terms are final, and if you do + not accede to them no further communication will be attempted. + + TWO DESPERATE MEN. + +I addressed this letter to Dorset, and put it in my pocket. As I was +about to start, the kid comes up to me and says: + +"Aw, Snake-eye, you said I could play the Black Scout while you was +gone." + +"Play it, of course," says I. "Mr. Bill will play with you. What +kind of a game is it?" + +"I'm the Black Scout," says Red Chief, "and I have to ride to the +stockade to warn the settlers that the Indians are coming. I'm tired +of playing Indian myself. I want to be the Black Scout." + +"All right," says I. "It sounds harmless to me. I guess Mr. Bill will +help you foil the pesky savages." + +"What am I to do?" asks Bill, looking at the kid suspiciously. + +"You are the hoss," says Black Scout. "Get down on your hands and +knees. How can I ride to the stockade without a hoss?" + +"You'd better keep him interested," said I, "till we get the scheme +going. Loosen up." + +Bill gets down on his all fours, and a look comes in his eye like a +rabbit's when you catch it in a trap. + +"How far is it to the stockade, kid?" he asks, in a husky manner of +voice. + +"Ninety miles," says the Black Scout. "And you have to hump yourself +to get there on time. Whoa, now!" + +The Black Scout jumps on Bill's back and digs his heels in his side. + +"For Heaven's sake," says Bill, "hurry back, Sam, as soon as you can. +I wish we hadn't made the ransom more than a thousand. Say, you quit +kicking me or I'll get up and warm you good." + +I walked over to Poplar Cove and sat around the postoffice and +store, talking with the chawbacons that came in to trade. One +whiskerando says that he hears Summit is all upset on account of Elder +Ebenezer Dorset's boy having been lost or stolen. That was all I +wanted to know. I bought some smoking tobacco, referred casually to +the price of black-eyed peas, posted my letter surreptitiously and +came away. The postmaster said the mail-carrier would come by in an +hour to take the mail on to Summit. + +When I got back to the cave Bill and the boy were not to be found. I +explored the vicinity of the cave, and risked a yodel or two, but +there was no response. + +So I lighted my pipe and sat down on a mossy bank to await +developments. + +In about half an hour I heard the bushes rustle, and Bill wabbled out +into the little glade in front of the cave. Behind him was the kid, +stepping softly like a scout, with a broad grin on his face. Bill +stopped, took off his hat and wiped his face with a red handkerchief. +The kid stopped about eight feet behind him. + +"Sam," says Bill, "I suppose you'll think I'm a renegade, but I +couldn't help it. I'm a grown person with masculine proclivities and +habits of self-defense, but there is a time when all systems of +egotism and predominance fail. The boy is gone. I have sent him +home. All is off. There was martyrs in old times," goes on Bill, +"that suffered death rather than give up the particular graft they +enjoyed. None of 'em ever was subjugated to such supernatural +tortures as I have been. I tried to be faithful to our articles of +depredation; but there came a limit." + +"What's the trouble, Bill?" I asks him. + +"I was rode," says Bill, "the ninety miles to the stockade, not +barring an inch. Then, when the settlers was rescued, I was given +oats. Sand ain't a palatable substitute. And then, for an hour I +had to try to explain to him why there was nothin' in holes, how +a road can run both ways and what makes the grass green. I tell +you, Sam, a human can only stand so much. I takes him by the neck +of his clothes and drags him down the mountain. On the way he +kicks my legs black-and-blue from the knees down; and I've got to +have two or three bites on my thumb and hand cauterized. + +"But he's gone"--continues Bill--"gone home. I showed him the +road to Summit and kicked him about eight feet nearer there at one +kick. I'm sorry we lose the ransom; but it was either that or Bill +Driscoll to the madhouse." + +Bill is puffing and blowing, but there is a look of ineffable peace +and growing content on his rose-pink features. + +"Bill," says I, "there isn't any heart disease in your family, is +there? + +"No," says Bill, "nothing chronic except malaria and accidents. Why?" + +"Then you might turn around," says I, "and have a took behind you." + +Bill turns and sees the boy, and loses his complexion and sits down +plump on the round and begins to pluck aimlessly at grass and little +sticks. For an hour I was afraid for his mind. And then I told him +that my scheme was to put the whole job through immediately and that +we would get the ransom and be off with it by midnight if old Dorset +fell in with our proposition. So Bill braced up enough to give the +kid a weak sort of a smile and a promise to play the Russian in a +Japanese war with him is soon as he felt a little better. + +I had a scheme for collecting that ransom without danger of being +caught by counterplots that ought to commend itself to professional +kidnappers. The tree under which the answer was to be left--and the +money later on--was close to the road fence with big, bare fields on +all sides. If a gang of constables should be watching for any one to +come for the note they could see him a long way off crossing the +fields or in the road. But no, sirree! At half-past eight I was up in +that tree as well hidden as a tree toad, waiting for the messenger to +arrive. + +Exactly on time, a half-grown boy rides up the road on a bicycle, +locates the pasteboard box at the foot of the fence-post, slips a +folded piece of paper into it and pedals away again back toward +Summit. + +I waited an hour and then concluded the thing was square. I slid down +the tree, got the note, slipped along the fence till I struck the +woods, and was back at the cave in another half an hour. I opened the +note, got near the lantern and read it to Bill. It was written with a +pen in a crabbed hand, and the sum and substance of it was this: + + _Two Desperate Men. + + Gentlemen:_ I received your letter to-day by post, in regard to the + ransom you ask for the return of my son. I think you are a little + high in your demands, and I hereby make you a counter-proposition, + which I am inclined to believe you will accept. You bring Johnny + home and pay me two hundred and fifty dollars in cash, and I agree + to take him off your hands. You had better come at night, for the + neighbours believe he is lost, and I couldn't be responsible for + what they would do to anybody they saw bringing him back. Very + respectfully, + + EBENEZER DORSET. + +"Great pirates of Penzance!" says I; "of all the impudent--" + +But I glanced at Bill, and hesitated. He had the most appealing look +in his eyes I ever saw on the face of a dumb or a talking brute. + +"Sam," says he, "what's two hundred and fifty dollars, after all? +We've got the money. One more night of this kid will send me to a bed +in Bedlam. Besides being a thorough gentleman, I think Mr. Dorset is +a spendthrift for making us such a liberal offer. You ain't going +to let the chance go, are you?" + +"Tell you the truth, Bill," says I, "this little he ewe lamb has +somewhat got on my nerves too. We'll take him home, pay the ransom +and make our get-away." + +We took him home that night. We got him to go by telling him that his +father had bought a silver-mounted rifle and a pair of moccasins for +him, and we were going to hunt bears the next day. + +It was just twelve o'clock when we knocked at Ebenezer's front door. +Just at the moment when I should have been abstracting the fifteen +hundred dollars from the box under the tree, according to the original +proposition, Bill was counting out two hundred and fifty dollars into +Dorset's hand. + +When the kid found out we were going to leave him at home he started +up a howl like a calliope and fastened himself as tight as a leech to +Bill's leg. His father peeled him away gradually, like a porous +plaster. + +"How long can you hold him?" asks Bill. + +"I'm not as strong as I used to be," says old Dorset, "but I think I +can promise you ten minutes." + +"Enough," says Bill. "In ten minutes I shall cross the Central, +Southern and Middle Western States, and be legging it trippingly for +the Canadian border." + +And, as dark as it was, and as fat as Bill was, and as good a runner +as I am, he was a good mile and a half out of Summit before I could +catch up with him. + + + + +IX + +THE MARRY MONTH OF MAY + + +Prithee, smite the poet in the eye when he would sing to you praises +of the month of May. It is a month presided over by the spirits of +mischief and madness. Pixies and flibbertigibbets haunt the budding +woods: Puck and his train of midgets are busy in town and country. + +In May nature holds up at us a chiding finger, bidding us remember +that we are not gods, but overconceited members of her own great +family. She reminds us that we are brothers to the chowder-doomed +clam and the donkey; lineal scions of the pansy and the chimpanzee, +and but cousins-german to the cooing doves, the quacking ducks and the +housemaids and policemen in the parks. + +In May Cupid shoots blindfolded--millionaires marry stenographers; +wise professors woo white-aproned gum-chewers behind quick-lunch +counters; schoolma'ams make big bad boys remain after school; lads +with ladders steal lightly over lawns where Juliet waits in her +trellissed window with her telescope packed; young couples out for a +walk come home married; old chaps put on white spats and promenade +near the Normal School; even married men, grown unwontedly tender and +sentimental, whack their spouses on the back and growl: "How goes it, +old girl:" + +This May, who is no goddess, but Circe, masquerading at the dance +given in honour of the fair debutante, Summer, puts the kibosh on us +all. + +Old Mr. Coulson groaned a little, and then sat up straight in his +invalid's chair. He had the gout very bad in one foot, a house near +Gramercy Park, half a million dollars and a daughter. And he had a +housekeeper, Mrs. Widdup. The fact and the name deserve a sentence +each. They have it. + +When May poked Mr. Coulson he became elder brother to the turtle-dove. +In the window near which he sat were boxes of jonquils, of hyacinths, +geraniums and pansies. The breeze brought their odour into the room. +Immediately there was a well-contested round between the breath of the +flowers and the able and active effluvium from gout liniment. The +liniment won easily; but not before the flowers got an uppercut to +old Mr. Coulson's nose. The deadly work of the implacable, false +enchantress May was done. + +Across the park to the olfactories of Mr. Coulson came other +unmistakable, characteristic, copyrighted smells of spring that belong +to the-big-city-above-the-Subway, alone. The smells of hot asphalt, +underground caverns, gasoline, patchouli, orange peel, sewer gas, +Albany grabs, Egyptian cigarettes, mortar and the undried ink on +newspapers. The inblowing air was sweet and mild. Sparrows wrangled +happily everywhere outdoors. Never trust May. + +Mr. Coulson twisted the ends of his white mustache, cursed his foot, +and pounded a bell on the table by his side. + +In came Mrs. Widdup. She was comely to the eye, fair, flustered, +forty and foxy. + +"Higgins is out, sir," she said, with a smile suggestive of vibratory +massage. "He went to post a letter. Can I do anything for you, sir?" + +"It's time for my aconite," said old Mr. Coulson. "Drop it for me. +The bottle's there. Three drops. In water. D---- that is, confound +Higgins! There's nobody in this house cares if I die here in this +chair for want of attention." + +Mrs. Widdup sighed deeply. + +"Don't be saying that, sir," she said. "There's them that would care +more than any one knows. Thirteen drops, you said, sir?" + +"Three," said old man Coulson. + +He took his dose and then Mrs. Widdup's hand. She blushed. Oh, yes, +it can be done. Just hold your breath and compress the diaphragm. + +"Mrs. Widdup," said Mr. Coulson, "the springtime's full upon us." + +"Ain't that right?" said Mrs. Widdup. "The air's real warm. And +there's bock-beer signs on every corner. And the park's all yaller and +pink and blue with flowers; and I have such shooting pains up my legs +and body." + +"'In the spring,'" quoted Mr. Coulson, curling his mustache, "'a y---- +that is, a man's--fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.'" + +"Lawsy, now!" exclaimed Mrs. Widdup; "ain't that right? Seems like +it's in the air." + +"'In the spring,'" continued old Mr. Coulson, "'a livelier iris shines +upon the burnished dove.'" + +"They do be lively, the Irish," sighed Mrs. Widdup pensively. + +"Mrs. Widdup," said Mr. Coulson, making a face at a twinge of his gouty +foot, "this would be a lonesome house without you. I'm an--that is, +I'm an elderly man--but I'm worth a comfortable lot of money. If half +a million dollars' worth of Government bonds and the true affection of +a heart that, though no longer beating with the first ardour of youth, +can still throb with genuine--" + +The loud noise of an overturned chair near the portieres of the +adjoining room interrupted the venerable and scarcely suspecting +victim of May. + +In stalked Miss Van Meeker Constantia Coulson, bony, durable, tall, +high-nosed, frigid, well-bred, thirty-five, in-the-neighbourhood-of- +Gramercy-Parkish. She put up a lorgnette. Mrs. Widdup hastily +stooped and arranged the bandages on Mr. Coulson's gouty foot. + +"I thought Higgins was with you," said Miss Van Meeker Constantia. + +"Higgins went out," explained her father, "and Mrs. Widdup answered +the bell. That is better now, Mrs. Widdup, thank you. No; there is +nothing else I require." + +The housekeeper retired, pink under the cool, inquiring stare of Miss +Coulson. + +"This spring weather is lovely, isn't it, daughter?" said the old man, +consciously conscious. + +"That's just it," replied Miss Van Meeker Constantia Coulson, somewhat +obscurely. "When does Mrs. Widdup start on her vacation, papa?" + +"I believe she said a week from to-day," said Mr. Coulson. + +Miss Van Meeker Constantia stood for a minute at the window gazing, +toward the little park, flooded with the mellow afternoon sunlight. +With the eye of a botanist she viewed the flowers--most potent +weapons of insidious May. With the cool pulses of a virgin of +Cologne she withstood the attack of the ethereal mildness. The arrows +of the pleasant sunshine fell back, frostbitten, from the cold panoply +of her unthrilled bosom. The odour of the flowers waked no soft +sentiments in the unexplored recesses of her dormant heart. The chirp +of the sparrows gave her a pain. She mocked at May. + +But although Miss Coulson was proof against the season, she was +keen enough to estimate its power. She knew that elderly men and +thick-waisted women jumped as educated fleas in the ridiculous train +of May, the merry mocker of the months. She had heard of foolish old +gentlemen marrying their housekeepers before. What a humiliating +thing, after all, was this feeling called love! + +The next morning at 8 o'clock, when the iceman called, the cook told +him that Miss Coulson wanted to see him in the basement. + +"Well, ain't I the Olcott and Depew; not mentioning the first name at +all?" said the iceman, admiringly, of himself. + +As a concession he rolled his sleeves down, dropped his icehooks on a +syringa and went back. When Miss Van Meeker Constantia Coulson +addressed him he took off his hat. + +"There is a rear entrance to this basement," said Miss Coulson, "which +can be reached by driving into the vacant lot next door, where they +are excavating for a building. I want you to bring in that way within +two hours 1,000 pounds of ice. You may have to bring another man or +two to help you. I will show you where I want it placed. I also want +1,000 pounds a day delivered the same way for the next four days. +Your company may charge the ice on our regular bill. This is for your +extra trouble." + +Miss Coulson tendered a ten-dollar bill. The iceman bowed, and held +his hat in his two hands behind him. + +"Not if you'll excuse me, lady. It'll be a pleasure to fix things up +for you any way you please." + +Alas for May! + +About noon Mr. Coulson knocked two glasses off his table, broke the +spring of his bell and yelled for Higgins at the same time. + +"Bring an axe," commanded Mr. Coulson, sardonically, "or send out +for a quart of prussic acid, or have a policeman come in and shoot me. +I'd rather that than be frozen to death." + +"It does seem to be getting cool, Sir," said Higgins. "I hadn't +noticed it before. I'll close the window, Sir." + +"Do," said Mr. Coulson. "They call this spring, do they? If it keeps +up long I'll go back to Palm Beach. House feels like a morgue." + +Later Miss Coulson dutifully came in to inquire how the gout was +progressing. + +"'Stantia," said the old man, "how is the weather outdoors?" + +"Bright," answered Miss Coulson, "but chilly." + +"Feels like the dead of winter to me," said Mr. Coulson. + +"An instance," said Constantia, gazing abstractedly out the window, +"of 'winter lingering in the lap of spring,' though the metaphor is +not in the most refined taste." + +A little later she walked down by the side of the little park and on +westward to Broadway to accomplish a little shopping. + +A little later than that Mrs. Widdup entered the invalid's room. + +"Did you ring, Sir?" she asked, dimpling in many places. "I asked +Higgins to go to the drug store, and I thought I heard your bell." + +"I did not," said Mr. Coulson. + +"I'm afraid," said Mrs. Widdup, "I interrupted you sir, yesterday when +you were about to say something." + +"How comes it, Mrs. Widdup," said old man Coulson sternly, "that I +find it so cold in this house?" + +"Cold, Sir?" said the housekeeper, "why, now, since you speak of it +it do seem cold in this room. But, outdoors it's as warm and fine +as June, sir. And how this weather do seem to make one's heart jump +out of one's shirt waist, sir. And the ivy all leaved out on the side +of the house, and the hand-organs playing, and the children dancing on +the sidewalk--'tis a great time for speaking out what's in the +heart. You were saying yesterday, sir--" + +"Woman!" roared Mr. Coulson; "you are a fool. I pay you to take care +of this house. I am freezing to death in my own room, and you come in +and drivel to me about ivy and hand-organs. Get me an overcoat at +once. See that all doors and windows are closed below. An old, fat, +irresponsible, one-sided object like you prating about springtime +and flowers in the middle of winter! When Higgins comes back, tell him +to bring me a hot rum punch. And now get out!" + +But who shall shame the bright face of May? Rogue though she be and +disturber of sane men's peace, no wise virgins cunning nor cold +storage shall make her bow her head in the bright galaxy of months. + +Oh, yes, the story was not quite finished. + +A night passed, and Higgins helped old man Coulson in the morning to +his chair by the window. The cold of the room was gone. Heavenly +odours and fragrant mildness entered. + +In hurried Mrs. Widdup, and stood by his chair. Mr. Coulson reached +his bony hand and grasped her plump one. + +"Mrs. Widdup," he said, "this house would be no home without you. I +have half a million dollars. If that and the true affection of a +heart no longer in its youthful prime, but still not cold, could--" + +"I found out what made it cold," said Mrs. Widdup, leanin' against his +chair. "'Twas ice--tons of it--in the basement and in the furnace +room, everywhere. I shut off the registers that it was coming through +into your room, Mr. Coulson, poor soul! And now it's Maytime again." + +"A true heart," went on old man Coulson, a little wanderingly, "that +the springtime has brought to life again, and--but what will my +daughter say, Mrs. Widdup?" + +"Never fear, sir," said Mrs. Widdup, cheerfully. "Miss Coulson, she +ran away with the iceman last night, sir!" + + + + +X + +A TECHNICAL ERROR + + +I never cared especially for feuds, believing them to be even more +overrated products of our country than grapefruit, scrapple, or +honeymoons. Nevertheless, if I may be allowed, I will tell you of an +Indian Territory feud of which I was press-agent, camp-follower, and +inaccessory during the fact. + +I was on a visit to Sam Durkee's ranch, where I had a great time +falling off unmanicured ponies and waving my bare hand at the lower +jaws of wolves about two miles away. Sam was a hardened person of +about twenty-five, with a reputation for going home in the dark with +perfect equanimity, though often with reluctance. + +Over in the Creek Nation was a family bearing the name of Tatum. I +was told that the Durkees and Tatums had been feuding for years. +Several of each family had bitten the grass, and it was expected that +more Nebuchadnezzars would follow. A younger generation of each +family was growing up, and the grass was keeping pace with them. But I +gathered that they had fought fairly; that they had not lain in +cornfields and aimed at the division of their enemies' suspenders in +the back--partly, perhaps, because there were no cornfields, and +nobody wore more than one suspender. Nor had any woman or child of +either house ever been harmed. In those days--and you will find it +so yet--their women were safe. + +Sam Durkee had a girl. (If it were an all-fiction magazine that I +expect to sell this story to, I should say, "Mr. Durkee rejoiced in a +fiancee.") Her name was Ella Baynes. They appeared to be devoted to +each other, and to have perfect confidence in each other, as all +couples do who are and have or aren't and haven't. She was tolerably +pretty, with a heavy mass of brown hair that helped her along. He +introduced me to her, which seemed not to lessen her preference for +him; so I reasoned that they were surely soul-mates. + +Miss Baynes lived in Kingfisher, twenty miles from the ranch. Sam +lived on a gallop between the two places. + +One day there came to Kingfisher a courageous young man, rather small, +with smooth face and regular features. He made many inquiries about +the business of the town, and especially of the inhabitants +cognominally. He said he was from Muscogee, and he looked it, with +his yellow shoes and crocheted four-in-hand. I met him once when I +rode in for the mail. He said his name was Beverly Travers, which +seemed rather improbable. + +There were active times on the ranch, just then, and Sam was too busy +to go to town often. As an incompetent and generally worthless guest, +it devolved upon me to ride in for little things such as post cards, +barrels of flour, baking-powder, smoking-tobacco, and--letters from +Ella. + +One day, when I was messenger for half a gross of cigarette papers +and a couple of wagon tires, I saw the alleged Beverly Travers in a +yellow-wheeled buggy with Ella Baynes, driving about town as +ostentatiously as the black, waxy mud would permit. I knew that +this information would bring no balm of Gilead to Sam's soul, so I +refrained from including it in the news of the city that I retailed +on my return. But on the next afternoon an elongated ex-cowboy of +the name of Simmons, an old-time pal of Sam's, who kept a feed store +in Kingfisher, rode out to the ranch and rolled and burned many +cigarettes before he would talk. When he did make oration, his words +were these: + +"Say, Sam, there's been a description of a galoot miscallin' himself +Bevel-edged Travels impairing the atmospheric air of Kingfisher for +the past two weeks. You know who he was? He was not otherwise than +Ben Tatum, from the Creek Nation, son of old Gopher Tatum that your +Uncle Newt shot last February. You know what he done this morning? +He killed your brother Lester--shot him in the co't-house yard." + +I wondered if Sam had heard. He pulled a twig from a mesquite bush, +chewed it gravely, and said: + +"He did, did he? He killed Lester?" + +"The same," said Simmons. "And he did more. He run away with your +girl, the same as to say Miss Ella Baynes. I thought you might like +to know, so I rode out to impart the information." + +"I am much obliged, Jim," said Sam, taking the chewed twig from his +mouth. "Yes, I'm glad you rode Out. Yes, I'm right glad." + +"Well, I'll be ridin' back, I reckon. That boy I left in the feed +store don't know hay from oats. He shot Lester in the back." + +"Shot him in the back?" + +"Yes, while he was hitchin' his hoss." + +"I'm much obliged, Jim." + +"I kind of thought you'd like to know as soon as you could." + +"Come in and have some coffee before you ride back, Jim?" + +"Why, no, I reckon not; I must get back to the store." + +"And you say--" + +"Yes, Sam. Everybody seen 'em drive away together in a buckboard, +with a big bundle, like clothes, tied up in the back of it. He was +drivin' the team he brought over with him from Muscogee. They'll be +hard to overtake right away." + +"And which--" + +"I was goin' on to tell you. They left on the Guthrie road; but +there's no tellin' which forks they'll take--you know that." + +"All right, Jim; much obliged." + +"You're welcome, Sam." + +Simmons rolled a cigarette and stabbed his pony with both heels. +Twenty yards away he reined up and called back: + +"You don't want no--assistance, as you might say?" + +"Not any, thanks." + +"I didn't think you would. Well, so long!" + +Sam took out and opened a bone-handled pocket-knife and scraped a +dried piece of mud from his left boot. I thought at first he was +going to swear a vendetta on the blade of it, or recite "The Gipsy's +Curse." The few feuds I had ever seen or read about usually opened +that way. This one seemed to be presented with a new treatment. +Thus offered on the stage, it would have been hissed off, and one of +Belasco's thrilling melodramas demanded instead. + +"I wonder," said Sam, with a profoundly thoughtful expression, "if the +cook has any cold beans left over!" + +He called Wash, the Negro cook, and finding that he had some, ordered +him to heat up the pot and make some strong coffee. Then we went into +Sam's private room, where he slept, and kept his armoury, dogs, and the +saddles of his favourite mounts. He took three or four six-shooters +out of a bookcase and began to look them over, whistling "The Cowboy's +Lament" abstractedly. Afterward he ordered the two best horses on the +ranch saddled and tied to the hitching-post. + +Now, in the feud business, in all sections of the country, I have +observed that in one particular there is a delicate but strict +etiquette belonging. You must not mention the word or refer to the +subject in the presence of a feudist. It would be more reprehensible +than commenting upon the mole on the chin of your rich aunt. I found, +later on, that there is another unwritten rule, but I think that +belongs solely to the West. + +It yet lacked two hours to supper-time; but in twenty minutes Sam and +I were plunging deep into the reheated beans, hot coffee, and cold +beef. + +"Nothing like a good meal before a long ride," said Sam. "Eat hearty." + +I had a sudden suspicion. + +"Why did you have two horses saddled?" I asked. + +"One, two--one, two," said Sam. "You can count, can't you?" + +His mathematics carried with it a momentary qualm and a lesson. The +thought had not occurred to him that the thought could possibly occur +to me not to ride at his side on that red road to revenge and justice. +It was the higher calculus. I was booked for the trail. I began to +eat more beans. + +In an hour we set forth at a steady gallop eastward. Our horses were +Kentucky-bred, strengthened by the mesquite grass of the west. Ben +Tatum's steeds may have been swifter, and he had a good lead; but if +he had heard the punctual thuds of the hoofs of those trailers of +ours, born in the heart of feudland, he might have felt that +retribution was creeping up on the hoof-prints of his dapper nags. + +I knew that Ben Tatum's card to play was flight--flight until he +came within the safer territory of his own henchmen and supporters. +He knew that the man pursuing him would follow the trail to any end +where it might lead. + +During the ride Sam talked of the prospect for rain, of the price of +beef, and of the musical glasses. You would have thought he had never +had a brother or a sweetheart or an enemy on earth. There are some +subjects too big even for the words in the "Unabridged." Knowing +this phase of the feud code, but not having practised it sufficiently, +I overdid the thing by telling some slightly funny anecdotes. Sam +laughed at exactly the right place--laughed with his mouth. When I +caught sight of his mouth, I wished I had been blessed with enough +sense of humour to have suppressed those anecdotes. + +Our first sight of them we had in Guthrie. Tired and hungry, we +stumbled, unwashed, into a little yellow-pine hotel and sat at a +table. In the opposite corner we saw the fugitives. They were bent +upon their meal, but looked around at times uneasily. + +The girl was dressed in brown--one of these smooth, half-shiny, +silky-looking affairs with lace collar and cuffs, and what I believe +they call an accordion-plaited skirt. She wore a thick brown veil down +to her nose, and a broad-brimmed straw hat with some kind of feathers +adorning it. The man wore plain, dark clothes, and his hair was +trimmed very short. He was such a man as you might see anywhere. + +There they were--the murderer and the woman he had stolen. There we +were--the rightful avenger, according to the code, and the +supernumerary who writes these words. + +For one time, at least, in the heart of the supernumerary there rose +the killing instinct. For one moment he joined the force of +combatants--orally. + +"What are you waiting for, Sam?" I said in a whisper. "Let him have +it now!" + +Sam gave a melancholy sigh. + +"You don't understand; but _he_ does," he said. "_He_ knows. Mr. +Tenderfoot, there's a rule out here among white men in the Nation that +you can't shoot a man when he's with a woman. I never knew it to be +broke yet. You _can't_ do it. You've got to get him in a gang of men or +by himself. That's why. He knows it, too. We all know. So, that's +Mr. Ben Tatum! One of the 'pretty men'! I'll cut him out of the herd +before they leave the hotel, and regulate his account!" + +After supper the flying pair disappeared quickly. Although Sam haunted +lobby and stairway and halls half the night, in some mysterious way +the fugitives eluded him; and in the morning the veiled lady in the +brown dress with the accordion-plaited skirt and the dapper young man +with the close-clipped hair, and the buckboard with the prancing nags, +were gone. + + +It is a monotonous story, that of the ride; so it shall be +curtailed. Once again we overtook them on a road. We were about +fifty yards behind. They turned in the buckboard and looked at us; +then drove on without whipping up their horses. Their safety no +longer lay in speed. Ben Tatum knew. He knew that the only rock of +safety left to him was the code. There is no doubt that, had he +been alone, the matter would have been settled quickly with Sam +Durkee in the usual way; but he had something at his side that +kept still the trigger-finger of both. It seemed likely that he +was no coward. + +So, you may perceive that woman, on occasions, may postpone instead of +precipitating conflict between man and man. But not willingly or +consciously. She is oblivious of codes. + +Five miles farther, we came upon the future great Western city of +Chandler. The horses of pursuers and pursued were starved and weary. +There was one hotel that offered danger to man and entertainment to +beast; so the four of us met again in the dining room at the ringing +of a bell so resonant and large that it had cracked the welkin long +ago. The dining room was not as large as the one at Guthrie. + +Just as we were eating apple pie--how Ben Davises and tragedy +impinge upon each other!--I noticed Sam looking with keen +intentness at our quarry where they were seated at a table across the +room. The girl still wore the brown dress with lace collar and cuffs, +and the veil drawn down to her nose. The man bent over his plate, +with his close cropped head held low. + +"There's a code," I heard Sam say, either to me or to himself, "that +won't let you shoot a man in the company of a woman; but, by thunder, +there ain't one to keep you from killing a woman in the company of a +man!" + +And, quicker than my mind could follow his argument, he whipped a +Colt's automatic from under his left arm and pumped six bullets into +the body that the brown dress covered--the brown dress with the lace +collar and cuffs and the accordion-plaited skirt. + +The young person in the dark sack suit, from whose head and from whose +life a woman's glory had been clipped, laid her head on her arms +stretched upon the table; while people came running to raise Ben Tatum +from the floor in his feminine masquerade that had given Sam the +opportunity to set aside, technically, the obligations of the code. + + + + +XI + +SUITE HOMES AND THEIR ROMANCE + + +Few young couples in the Big-City-of-Bluff began their married +existence with greater promise of happiness than did Mr. and Mrs. +Claude Turpin. They felt no especial animosity toward each other; +they were comfortably established in a handsome apartment house that +had a name and accommodations like those of a sleeping-car; they were +living as expensively as the couple on the next floor above who had +twice their income; and their marriage had occurred on a wager, a +ferry-boat and first acquaintance, thus securing a sensational +newspaper notice with their names attached to pictures of the Queen of +Roumania and M. Santos-Dumont. + +Turpin's income was $200 per month. On pay day, after calculating the +amounts due for rent, instalments on furniture and piano, gas, and +bills owed to the florist, confectioner, milliner, tailor, wine +merchant and cab company, the Turpins would find that they still had +$200 left to spend. How to do this is one of the secrets of +metropolitan life. + +The domestic life of the Turpins was a beautiful picture to see. But +you couldn't gaze upon it as you could at an oleograph of "Don't Wake +Grandma," or "Brooklyn by Moonlight." + +You had to blink when looked at it; and you heard a fizzing sound just +like the machine with a "scope" at the end of it. Yes; there wasn't +much repose about the picture of the Turpins' domestic life. It was +something like "Spearing Salmon in the Columbia River," or "Japanese +Artillery in Action." + +Every day was just like another; as the days are in New York. In the +morning Turpin would take bromo-seltzer, his pocket change from under +the clock, his hat, no breakfast and his departure for the office. At +noon Mrs. Turpin would get out of bed and humour, put on a kimono, +airs, and the water to boil for coffee. + +Turpin lunched downtown. He came home at 6 to dress for dinner. They +always dined out. They strayed from the chop-house to chop-sueydom, +from terrace to table d'hote, from rathskeller to roadhouse, from cafe +to casino, from Maria's to the Martha Washington. Such is domestic +life in the great city. Your vine is the mistletoe; your fig tree +bears dates. Your household gods are Mercury and John Howard Payne. +For the wedding march you now hear only "Come with the Gypsy Bride." +You rarely dine at the same place twice in succession. You tire of +the food; and, besides, you want to give them time for the question of +that souvenir silver sugar bowl to blow over. + +The Turpins were therefore happy. They made many warm and delightful +friends, some of whom they remembered the next day. Their home life +was an ideal one, according to the rules and regulations of the Book +of Bluff. + +There came a time when it dawned upon Turpin that his wife was getting +away with too much money. If you belong to the near-swell class in the +Big City, and your income is $200 per month, and you find at the end +of the month, after looking over the bills for current expenses, that +you, yourself, have spent $150, you very naturally wonder what has +become of the other $50. So you suspect your wife. And perhaps you +give her a hint that something needs explanation. + +"I say, Vivien," said Turpin, one afternoon when they were enjoying in +rapt silence the peace and quiet of their cozy apartment, "you've been +creating a hiatus big enough for a dog to crawl through in this +month's honorarium. You haven't been paying your dressmaker +anything on account, have you?" + +There was a moment's silence. No sounds could be heard except the +breathing of the fox terrier, and the subdued, monotonous sizzling of +Vivien's fulvous locks against the insensate curling irons. Claude +Turpin, sitting upon a pillow that he had thoughtfully placed upon the +convolutions of the apartment sofa, narrowly watched the riante, +lovely face of his wife. + +"Claudie, dear," said she, touching her finger to her ruby tongue and +testing the unresponsive curling irons, "you do me an injustice. Mme. +Toinette has not seen a cent of mine since the day you paid your +tailor ten dollars on account." + +Turpin's suspicions were allayed for the time. But one day soon there +came an anonymous letter to him that read: + + + "Watch your wife. She is blowing in your money secretly. I was + a sufferer just as you are. The place is No. 345 Blank Street. + A word to the wise, etc. + A MAN WHO KNOWS" + + +Turpin took this letter to the captain of police of the precinct that +he lived in. + +"My precinct is as clean as a hound's tooth," said the captain. "The +lid's shut down as close there as it is over the eye of a Williamsburg +girl when she's kissed at a party. But if you think there's anything +queer at the address, I'll go there with ye." + +On the next afternoon at 3, Turpin and the captain crept softly up the +stairs of No. 345 Blank Street. A dozen plain-clothes men, dressed in +full police uniforms, so as to allay suspicion, waited in the hall +below. + +At the top of the stairs was a door, which was found to be locked. +The captain took a key from his pocket and unlocked it. The two men +entered. + +They found themselves in a large room, occupied by twenty or +twenty-five elegantly clothed ladies. Racing charts hung against the +walls, a ticker clicked in one corner; with a telephone receiver to +his ear a man was calling out the various positions of the horses in +a very exciting race. The occupants of the room looked up at the +intruders; but, as if reassured by the sight of the captain's uniform, +they reverted their attention to the man at the telephone. + +"You see," said the captain to Turpin, "the value of an anonymous +letter! No high-minded and self-respecting gentleman should +consider one worthy of notice. Is your wife among this assembly, Mr. +Turpin?" + +"She is not," said Turpin. + +"And if she was," continued the captain, "would she be within the +reach of the tongue of slander? These ladies constitute a Browning +Society. They meet to discuss the meaning of the great poet. The +telephone is connected with Boston, whence the parent society +transmits frequently its interpretations of the poems. Be ashamed of +yer suspicions, Mr. Turpin." + +"Go soak your shield," said Turpin. "Vivien knows how to take care of +herself in a pool-room. She's not dropping anything on the ponies. +There must be something queer going on here." + +"Nothing but Browning," said the captain. "Hear that?" + +"Thanatopsis by a nose," drawled the man at the telephone. + +"That's not Browning; that's Longfellow," said Turpin, who sometimes +read books. + +"Back to the pasture!" exclaimed the captain. "Longfellow made the +pacing-to-wagon record of 7.53 'way back in 1868." + +"I believe there's something queer about this joint," repeated Turpin. + +"I don't see it," said the captain. + +"I know it looks like a pool-room, all right," persisted Turpin, "but +that's all a blind. Vivien has been dropping a lot of coin somewhere. +I believe there's some under-handed work going on here." + +A number of racing sheets were tacked close together, covering a large +space on one of the walls. Turpin, suspicious, tore several of them +down. A door, previously hidden, was revealed. Turpin placed an +ear to the crack and listened intently. He heard the soft hum of many +voices, low and guarded laughter, and a sharp, metallic clicking and +scraping as if from a multitude of tiny but busy objects. + +"My God! It is as I feared!" whispered Turpin to himself. "Summon +your men at once!" he called to the captain. "She is in there, I +know." + +At the blowing of the captain's whistle the uniformed plain-clothes +men rushed up the stairs into the pool-room. When they saw the +betting paraphernalia distributed around they halted, surprised and +puzzled to know why they had been summoned. + +But the captain pointed to the locked door and bade them break it +down. In a few moments they demolished it with the axes they carried. +Into the other room sprang Claude Turpin, with the captain at his +heels. + +The scene was one that lingered long in Turpin's mind. Nearly a score +of women--women expensively and fashionably clothed, many beautiful +and of refined appearance--had been seated at little marble-topped +tables. When the police burst open the door they shrieked and ran +here and there like gayly plumed birds that had been disturbed in a +tropical grove. Some became hysterical; one or two fainted; several +knelt at the feet of the officers and besought them for mercy on +account of their families and social position. + +A man who had been seated behind a desk had seized a roll of currency +as large as the ankle of a Paradise Roof Gardens chorus girl and +jumped out of the window. Half a dozen attendants huddled at one end +of the room, breathless from fear. + +Upon the tables remained the damning and incontrovertible evidences +of the guilt of the habituees of that sinister room--dish after dish +heaped high with ice cream, and surrounded by stacks of empty ones, +scraped to the last spoonful. + +"Ladies," said the captain to his weeping circle of prisoners, "I'll +not hold any of yez. Some of yez I recognize as having fine houses and +good standing in the community, with hard-working husbands and childer +at home. But I'll read ye a bit of a lecture before ye go. In the +next room there's a 20-to-1 shot just dropped in under the wire three +lengths ahead of the field. Is this the way ye waste your husbands' +money instead of helping earn it? Home wid yez! The lid's on the +ice-cream freezer in this precinct." + +Claude Turpin's wife was among the patrons of the raided room. He led +her to their apartment in stern silence. There she wept so +remorsefully and besought his forgiveness so pleadingly that he forgot +his just anger, and soon he gathered his penitent golden-haired Vivien +in his arms and forgave her. + +"Darling," she murmured, half sobbingly, as the moonlight drifted +through the open window, glorifying her sweet, upturned face, "I know +I done wrong. I will never touch ice cream again. I forgot you were +not a millionaire. I used to go there every day. But to-day I felt +some strange, sad presentiment of evil, and I was not myself. I ate +only eleven saucers." + +"Say no more," said Claude, gently as he fondly caressed her waving +curls. + +"And you are sure that you fully forgive me?" asked Vivien, gazing at +him entreatingly with dewy eyes of heavenly blue. + +"Almost sure, little one," answered Claude, stooping and lightly +touching her snowy forehead with his lips. "I'll let you know +later on. I've got a month's salary down on Vanilla to win the +three-year-old steeplechase to-morrow; and if the ice-cream hunch +is to the good you are It again--see?" + + + + +XII + +THE WHIRLIGIG OF LIFE + + +Justice-of-the-Peace Benaja Widdup sat in the door of his office +smoking his elder-stem pipe. Half-way to the zenith the Cumberland +range rose blue-gray in the afternoon haze. A speckled hen swaggered +down the main street of the "settlement," cackling foolishly. + +Up the road came a sound of creaking axles, and then a slow cloud of +dust, and then a bull-cart bearing Ransie Bilbro and his wife. The +cart stopped at the Justice's door, and the two climbed down. Ransie +was a narrow six feet of sallow brown skin and yellow hair. The +imperturbability of the mountains hung upon him like a suit of armour. +The woman was calicoed, angled, snuff-brushed, and weary with unknown +desires. Through it all gleamed a faint protest of cheated youth +unconscious of its loss. + +The Justice of the Peace slipped his feet into his shoes, for the sake +of dignity, and moved to let them enter. + +"We-all," said the woman, in a voice like the wind blowing through pine +boughs, "wants a divo'ce." She looked at Ransie to see if he noted any +flaw or ambiguity or evasion or partiality or self-partisanship in her +statement of their business. + +"A divo'ce," repeated Ransie, with a solemn nod. "We-all can't git +along together nohow. It's lonesome enough fur to live in the +mount'ins when a man and a woman keers fur one another. But when +she's a-spittin' like a wildcat or a-sullenin' like a hoot-owl in the +cabin, a man ain't got no call to live with her." + +"When he's a no-'count varmint," said the woman, "without any especial +warmth, a-traipsin' along of scalawags and moonshiners and a-layin' on +his back pizen 'ith co'n whiskey, and a-pesterin' folks with a pack o' +hungry, triflin' houn's to feed!" + +"When she keeps a-throwin' skillet lids," came Ransie's antiphony, +"and slings b'ilin' water on the best coon-dog in the Cumberlands, and +sets herself agin' cookin' a man's victuals, and keeps him awake o' +nights accusin' him of a sight of doin's!" + +"When he's al'ays a-fightin' the revenues, and gits a hard name in the +mount'ins fur a mean man, who's gwine to be able fur to sleep o' +nights?" + +The Justice of the Peace stirred deliberately to his duties. He +placed his one chair and a wooden stool for his petitioners. He +opened his book of statutes on the table and scanned the index. +Presently he wiped his spectacles and shifted his inkstand. + +"The law and the statutes," said he, "air silent on the subjeck of +divo'ce as fur as the jurisdiction of this co't air concerned. But, +accordin' to equity and the Constitution and the golden rule, it's a +bad barg'in that can't run both ways. If a justice of the peace can +marry a couple, it's plain that he is bound to be able to divo'ce 'em. +This here office will issue a decree of divo'ce and abide by the +decision of the Supreme Co't to hold it good." + +Ransie Bilbro drew a small tobacco-bag from his trousers pocket. Out +of this he shook upon the table a five-dollar note. "Sold a b'arskin +and two foxes fur that," he remarked. "It's all the money we got." + +"The regular price of a divo'ce in this co't," said the Justice, "air +five dollars." He stuffed the bill into the pocket of his homespun +vest with a deceptive air of indifference. With much bodily toil +and mental travail he wrote the decree upon half a sheet of foolscap, +and then copied it upon the other. Ransie Bilbro and his wife +listened to his reading of the document that was to give them freedom: + +"Know all men by these presents that Ransie Bilbro and his wife, +Ariela Bilbro, this day personally appeared before me and promises +that hereinafter they will neither love, honour, nor obey each other, +neither for better nor worse, being of sound mind and body, and accept +summons for divorce according to the peace and dignity of the State. +Herein fail not, so help you God. Benaja Widdup, justice of the peace +in and for the county of Piedmont, State of Tennessee." + +The Justice was about to hand one of the documents to Ransie. The +voice of Ariela delayed the transfer. Both men looked at her. Their +dull masculinity was confronted by something sudden and unexpected in +the woman. + +"Judge, don't you give him that air paper yit. 'Tain't all settled, +nohow. I got to have my rights first. I got to have my ali-money. +'Tain't no kind of a way to do fur a man to divo'ce his wife 'thout +her havin' a cent fur to do with. I'm a-layin' off to be a-goin' up +to brother Ed's up on Hogback Mount'in. I'm bound fur to hev a pa'r +of shoes and some snuff and things besides. Ef Rance kin affo'd a +divo'ce, let him pay me ali-money." + +Ransie Bilbro was stricken to dumb perplexity. There had been no +previous hint of alimony. Women were always bringing up startling and +unlooked-for issues. + +Justice Benaja Widdup felt that the point demanded judicial decision. +The authorities were also silent on the subject of alimony. But the +woman's feet were bare. The trail to Hogback Mountain was steep and +flinty. + +"Ariela Bilbro," he asked, in official tones, "how much did you 'low +would be good and sufficient ali-money in the case befo' the co't." + +"I 'lowed," she answered, "fur the shoes and all, to say five dollars. +That ain't much fur ali-money, but I reckon that'll git me to up +brother Ed's." + +"The amount," said the Justice, "air not onreasonable. Ransie Bilbro, +you air ordered by the co't to pay the plaintiff the sum of five +dollars befo' the decree of divo'ce air issued." + +"I hain't no mo' money," breathed Ransie, heavily. "I done paid you +all I had." + +"Otherwise," said the Justice, looking severely over his spectacles, +"you air in contempt of co't." + +"I reckon if you gimme till to-morrow," pleaded the husband, "I mout +be able to rake or scrape it up somewhars. I never looked for to be +a-payin' no ali-money." + +"The case air adjourned," said Benaja Widdup, "till to-morrow, when +you-all will present yo'selves and obey the order of the co't. +Followin' of which the decrees of divo'ce will be delivered." He sat +down in the door and began to loosen a shoestring. + +"We mout as well go down to Uncle Ziah's," decided Ransie, "and spend +the night." He climbed into the cart on one side, and Ariela climbed +in on the other. Obeying the flap of his rope, the little red bull +slowly came around on a tack, and the cart crawled away in the nimbus +arising from its wheels. + +Justice-of-the-peace Benaja Widdup smoked his elder-stem pipe. Late +in the afternoon he got his weekly paper, and read it until the +twilight dimmed its lines. Then he lit the tallow candle on his +table, and read until the moon rose, marking the time for supper. He +lived in the double log cabin on the slope near the girdled poplar. +Going home to supper he crossed a little branch darkened by a laurel +thicket. The dark figure of a man stepped from the laurels and +pointed a rifle at his breast. His hat was pulled down low, and +something covered most of his face. + +"I want yo' money," said the figure, "'thout any talk. I'm gettin' +nervous, and my finger's a-wabblin' on this here trigger." + +"I've only got f-f-five dollars," said the Justice, producing it +from his vest pocket. + +"Roll it up," came the order, "and stick it in the end of this here +gun-bar'l." + +The bill was crisp and new. Even fingers that were clumsy and +trembling found little difficulty in making a spill of it and +inserting it (this with less ease) into the muzzle of the rifle. + +"Now I reckon you kin be goin' along," said the robber. + +The Justice lingered not on his way. + + +The next day came the little red bull, drawing the cart to the +office door. Justice Benaja Widdup had his shoes on, for he was +expecting the visit. In his presence Ransie Bilbro handed to his +wife a five-dollar bill. The official's eye sharply viewed it. +It seemed to curl up as though it had been rolled and inserted into +the end of a gun-barrel. But the Justice refrained from comment. +It is true that other bills might be inclined to curl. He handed +each one a decree of divorce. Each stood awkwardly silent, slowly +folding the guarantee of freedom. The woman cast a shy glance +full of constraint at Ransie. + +"I reckon you'll be goin' back up to the cabin," she said, "along +'ith the bull-cart. There's bread in the tin box settin' on the +shelf. I put the bacon in the b'ilin'-pot to keep the hounds from +gittin' it. Don't forget to wind the clock to-night." + +"You air a-goin' to your brother Ed's?" asked Ransie, with fine +unconcern. + +"I was 'lowin' to get along up thar afore night. I ain't sayin' as +they'll pester theyselves any to make me welcome, but I hain't nowhar +else fur to go. It's a right smart ways, and I reckon I better be +goin'. I'll be a-sayin' good-bye, Ranse--that is, if you keer fur to +say so." + +"I don't know as anybody's a hound dog," said Ransie, in a martyr's +voice, "fur to not want to say good-bye--'less you air so anxious to +git away that you don't want me to say it." + +Ariela was silent. She folded the five-dollar bill and her decree +carefully, and placed them in the bosom of her dress. Benaja Widdup +watched the money disappear with mournful eyes behind his spectacles. + +And then with his next words he achieved rank (as his thoughts ran) +with either the great crowd of the world's sympathizers or the little +crowd of its great financiers. + +"Be kind o' lonesome in the old cabin to-night, Ranse," he said. + +Ransie Bilbro stared out at the Cumberlands, clear blue now in the +sunlight. He did not look at Ariela. + +"I 'low it might be lonesome," he said; "but when folks gits mad and +wants a divo'ce, you can't make folks stay." + +"There's others wanted a divo'ce," said Ariela, speaking to the wooden +stool. "Besides, nobody don't want nobody to stay." + +"Nobody never said they didn't." + +"Nobody never said they did. I reckon I better start on now to +brother Ed's." + +"Nobody can't wind that old clock." + +"Want me to go back along 'ith you in the cart and wind it fur you, +Ranse?" + +The mountaineer's countenance was proof against emotion. But he +reached out a big hand and enclosed Ariela's thin brown one. Her soul +peeped out once through her impassive face, hallowing it. + +"Them hounds shan't pester you no more," said Ransie. "I reckon I +been mean and low down. You wind that clock, Ariela." + +"My heart hit's in that cabin, Ranse," she whispered, "along 'ith you. +I ai'nt a-goin' to git mad no more. Le's be startin', Ranse, so's we +kin git home by sundown." + +Justice-of-the-peace Benaja Widdup interposed as they started for the +door, forgetting his presence. + +"In the name of the State of Tennessee," he said, "I forbid you-all to +be a-defyin' of its laws and statutes. This co't is mo' than willin' +and full of joy to see the clouds of discord and misunderstandin' +rollin' away from two lovin' hearts, but it air the duty of the co't +to p'eserve the morals and integrity of the State. The co't reminds +you that you air no longer man and wife, but air divo'ced by regular +decree, and as such air not entitled to the benefits and 'purtenances +of the mattermonal estate." + +Ariela caught Ransie's arm. Did those words mean that she must lose +him now when they had just learned the lesson of life? + +"But the co't air prepared," went on the Justice, "fur to remove the +disabilities set up by the decree of divo'ce. The co't air on hand to +perform the solemn ceremony of marri'ge, thus fixin' things up and +enablin' the parties in the case to resume the honour'ble and +elevatin' state of mattermony which they desires. The fee fur +performin' said ceremony will be, in this case, to wit, five dollars." + +Ariela caught the gleam of promise in his words. Swiftly her hand went +to her bosom. Freely as an alighting dove the bill fluttered to the +Justice's table. Her sallow cheek coloured as she stood hand in hand +with Ransie and listened to the reuniting words. + +Ransie helped her into the cart, and climbed in beside her. The +little red bull turned once more, and they set out, hand-clasped, for +the mountains. + +Justice-of-the-peace Benaja Widdup sat in his door and took off his +shoes. Once again he fingered the bill tucked down in his vest +pocket. Once again he smoked his elder-stem pipe. Once again the +speckled hen swaggered down the main street of the "settlement," +cackling foolishly. + + + + +XIII + +A SACRIFICE HIT + + +The editor of the _Hearthstone Magazine_ has his own ideas about the +selection of manuscript for his publication. His theory is no secret; +in fact, he will expound it to you willingly sitting at his mahogany +desk, smiling benignantly and tapping his knee gently with his +gold-rimmed eye-glasses. + +"The _Hearthstone_," he will say, "does not employ a staff of +readers. We obtain opinions of the manuscripts submitted to us +directly from types of the various classes of our readers." + +That is the editor's theory; and this is the way he carries it out: + +When a batch of MSS. is received the editor stuffs every one of his +pockets full of them and distributes them as he goes about during the +day. The office employees, the hall porter, the janitor, the elevator +man, messenger boys, the waiters at the cafe where the editor has +luncheon, the man at the news-stand where he buys his evening paper, +the grocer and milkman, the guard on the 5.30 uptown elevated train, +the ticket-chopper at Sixty ----th street, the cook and maid at his +home--these are the readers who pass upon MSS. sent in to the +_Hearthstone Magazine_. If his pockets are not entirely emptied by +the time he reaches the bosom of his family the remaining ones are +handed over to his wife to read after the baby goes to sleep. A few +days later the editor gathers in the MSS. during his regular rounds +and considers the verdict of his assorted readers. + +This system of making up a magazine has been very successful; and the +circulation, paced by the advertising rates, is making a wonderful +record of speed. + +The _Hearthstone_ Company also publishes books, and its imprint is to +be found on several successful works--all recommended, says the +editor, by the _Hearthstone's_ army of volunteer readers. Now and +then (according to talkative members of the editorial staff) the +_Hearthstone_ has allowed manuscripts to slip through its fingers on +the advice of its heterogeneous readers, that afterward proved to be +famous sellers when brought out by other houses. + +For instance (the gossips say), "The Rise and Fall of Silas Latham" +was unfavourably passed upon by the elevator-man; the office-boy +unanimously rejected "The Boss"; "In the Bishop's Carriage" was +contemptuously looked upon by the street-car conductor; "The +Deliverance" was turned down by a clerk in the subscription department +whose wife's mother had just begun a two-months' visit at his home; +"The Queen's Quair" came back from the janitor with the comment: "So +is the book." + +But nevertheless the _Hearthstone_ adheres to its theory and system, +and it will never lack volunteer readers; for each one of the widely +scattered staff, from the young lady stenographer in the editorial +office to the man who shovels in coal (whose adverse decision lost to +the _Hearthstone_ Company the manuscript of "The Under World"), has +expectations of becoming editor of the magazine some day. + +This method of the _Hearthstone_ was well known to Allen Slayton when +he wrote his novelette entitled "Love Is All." Slayton had hung about +the editorial offices of all the magazines so persistently that he was +acquainted with the inner workings of every one in Gotham. + +He knew not only that the editor of the Hearthstone handed his MSS. +around among different types of people for reading, but that the +stories of sentimental love-interest went to Miss Puffkin, the +editor's stenographer. Another of the editor's peculiar customs was to +conceal invariably the name of the writer from his readers of MSS. so +that a glittering name might not influence the sincerity of their +reports. + +Slayton made "Love Is All" the effort of his life. He gave it six +months of the best work of his heart and brain. It was a pure +love-story, fine, elevated, romantic, passionate--a prose poem that +set the divine blessing of love (I am transposing from the manuscript) +high above all earthly gifts and honours, and listed it in the +catalogue of heaven's choicest rewards. Slayton's literary ambition +was intense. He would have sacrificed all other worldly possessions +to have gained fame in his chosen art. He would almost have cut off +his right hand, or have offered himself to the knife of the +appendicitis fancier to have realized his dream of seeing one of his +efforts published in the _Hearthstone_. + +Slayton finished "Love Is All," and took it to the _Hearthstone_ in +person. The office of the magazine was in a large, conglomerate +building, presided under by a janitor. + +As the writer stepped inside the door on his way to the elevator a +potato masher flew through the hall, wrecking Slayton's hat, and +smashing the glass of the door. Closely following in the wake of the +utensil flew the janitor, a bulky, unwholesome man, suspenderless and +sordid, panic-stricken and breathless. A frowsy, fat woman with +flying hair followed the missile. The janitor's foot slipped on the +tiled floor, he fell in a heap with an exclamation of despair. The +woman pounced upon him and seized his hair. The man bellowed lustily. + +Her vengeance wreaked, the virago rose and stalked triumphant as +Minerva, back to some cryptic domestic retreat at the rear. The +janitor got to his feet, blown and humiliated. + +"This is married life," he said to Slayton, with a certain bruised +humour. "That's the girl I used to lay awake of nights thinking +about. Sorry about your hat, mister. Say, don't snitch to the tenants +about this, will yer? I don't want to lose me job." + +Slayton took the elevator at the end of the hall and went up to the +offices of the _Hearthstone_. He left the MS. of "Love Is All" with +the editor, who agreed to give him an answer as to its availability +at the end of a week. + +Slayton formulated his great winning scheme on his way down. It +struck him with one brilliant flash, and he could not refrain from +admiring his own genius in conceiving the idea. That very night he +set about carrying it into execution. + +Miss Puffkin, the _Hearthstone_ stenographer, boarded in the same house +with the author. She was an oldish, thin, exclusive, languishing, +sentimental maid; and Slayton had been introduced to her some time +before. + +The writer's daring and self-sacrificing project was this: He knew +that the editor of the _Hearthstone_ relied strongly upon Miss +Puffkin's judgment in the manuscript of romantic and sentimental +fiction. Her taste represented the immense average of mediocre women +who devour novels and stories of that type. The central idea and +keynote of "Love Is All" was love at first sight--the enrapturing, +irresistible, soul-thrilling feeling that compels a man or a woman +to recognize his or her spirit-mate as soon as heart speaks to heart. +Suppose he should impress this divine truth upon Miss Puffkin +personally!--would she not surely indorse her new and rapturous +sensations by recommending highly to the editor of the _Hearthstone_ +the novelette "Love Is All"? + +Slayton thought so. And that night he took Miss Puffkin to the +theatre. The next night he made vehement love to her in the dim +parlour of the boarding-house. He quoted freely from "Love Is All"; +and he wound up with Miss Puffkin's head on his shoulder, and visions +of literary fame dancing in his head. + +But Slayton did not stop at love-making. This, he said to himself, +was the turning point of his life; and, like a true sportsman, he +"went the limit." On Thursday night he and Miss Puffkin walked over +to the Big Church in the Middle of the Block and were married. + +Brave Slayton! Chateaubriand died in a garret, Byron courted a widow, +Keats starved to death, Poe mixed his drinks, De Quincey hit the pipe, +Ade lived in Chicago, James kept on doing it, Dickens wore white +socks, De Maupassant wore a strait-jacket, Tom Watson became a +Populist, Jeremiah wept, all these authors did these things for the +sake of literature, but thou didst cap them all; thou marriedst a wife +for to carve for thyself a niche in the temple of fame! + +On Friday morning Mrs. Slayton said she would go over to the +_Hearthstone_ office, hand in one or two manuscripts that the editor +had given to her to read, and resign her position as stenographer. + +"Was there anything--er--that--er--you particularly fancied +in the stories you are going to turn in?" asked Slayton with a +thumping heart. + +"There was one--a novelette, that I liked so much," said his wife. "I +haven't read anything in years that I thought was half as nice and +true to life." + +That afternoon Slayton hurried down to the _Hearthstone_ office. He +felt that his reward was close at hand. With a novelette in the +_Hearthstone_, literary reputation would soon be his. + +The office boy met him at the railing in the outer office. It was not +for unsuccessful authors to hold personal colloquy with the editor +except at rare intervals. + +Slayton, hugging himself internally, was nursing in his heart the +exquisite hope of being able to crush the office boy with his +forthcoming success. + +He inquired concerning his novelette. The office boy went into the +sacred precincts and brought forth a large envelope, thick with more +than the bulk of a thousand checks. + +"The boss told me to tell you he's sorry," said the boy, "but your +manuscript ain't available for the magazine." + +Slayton stood, dazed. "Can you tell me," he stammered, "whether or +no Miss Puff--that is my--I mean Miss Puffkin--handed in a novelette +this morning that she had been asked to read?" + +"Sure she did," answered the office boy wisely. "I heard the old man +say that Miss Puffkin said it was a daisy. The name of it was, +'Married for the Mazuma, or a Working Girl's Triumph.'" + +"Say, you!" said the office boy confidentially, "your name's Slayton, +ain't it? I guess I mixed cases on you without meanin' to do it. The +boss give me some manuscript to hand around the other day and I got +the ones for Miss Puffkin and the janitor mixed. I guess it's all +right, though." + +And then Slayton looked closer and saw on the cover of his manuscript, +under the title "Love Is All," the janitor's comment scribbled with a +piece of charcoal: + +"The ---- you say!" + + + + +XIV + +THE ROADS WE TAKE + + +Twenty miles west of Tucson, the "Sunset Express" stopped at a tank to +take on water. Besides the aqueous addition the engine of that famous +flyer acquired some other things that were not good for it. + +While the fireman was lowering the feeding hose, Bob Tidball, "Shark" +Dodson and a quarter-bred Creek Indian called John Big Dog climbed on +the engine and showed the engineer three round orifices in pieces of +ordnance that they carried. These orifices so impressed the engineer +with their possibilities that he raised both hands in a gesture such +as accompanies the ejaculation "Do tell!" + +At the crisp command of Shark Dodson, who was leader of the attacking +force the engineer descended to the ground and uncoupled the engine +and tender. Then John Big Dog, perched upon the coal, sportively held +two guns upon the engine driver and the fireman, and suggested that +they run the engine fifty yards away and there await further orders. + +Shark Dodson and Bob Tidball, scorning to put such low-grade ore as +the passengers through the mill, struck out for the rich pocket of the +express car. They found the messenger serene in the belief that the +"Sunset Express" was taking on nothing more stimulating and dangerous +than aqua pura. While Bob was knocking this idea out of his head with +the butt-end of his six-shooter Shark Dodson was already dosing the +express-car safe with dynamite. + +The safe exploded to the tune of $30,000, all gold and currency. The +passengers thrust their heads casually out of the windows to look for +the thunder-cloud. The conductor jerked at the bell-rope, which +sagged down loose and unresisting, at his tug. Shark Dodson and Bob +Tidball, with their booty in a stout canvas bag, tumbled out of the +express car and ran awkwardly in their high-heeled boots to the +engine. + +The engineer, sullenly angry but wise, ran the engine, according to +orders, rapidly away from the inert train. But before this was +accomplished the express messenger, recovered from Bob Tidball's +persuader to neutrality, jumped out of his car with a Winchester rifle +and took a trick in the game. Mr. John Big Dog, sitting on the coal +tender, unwittingly made a wrong lead by giving an imitation of a +target, and the messenger trumped him. With a ball exactly between +his shoulder blades the Creek chevalier of industry rolled off to +the ground, thus increasing the share of his comrades in the loot by +one-sixth each. + +Two miles from the tank the engineer was ordered to stop. + +The robbers waved a defiant adieu and plunged down the steep slope +into the thick woods that lined the track. Five minutes of crashing +through a thicket of chaparral brought them to open woods, where three +horses were tied to low-hanging branches. One was waiting for John +Big Dog, who would never ride by night or day again. This animal the +robbers divested of saddle and bridle and set free. They mounted the +other two with the bag across one pommel, and rode fast and with +discretion through the forest and up a primeval, lonely gorge. Here +the animal that bore Bob Tidball slipped on a mossy boulder and broke +a foreleg. They shot him through the head at once and sat down to +hold a council of flight. Made secure for the present by the tortuous +trail they had travelled, the question of time was no longer so big. +Many miles and hours lay between them and the spryest posse that could +follow. Shark Dodson's horse, with trailing rope and dropped bridle, +panted and cropped thankfully of the grass along the stream in the +gorge. Bob Tidball opened the sack, drew out double handfuls of the +neat packages of currency and the one sack of gold and chuckled with +the glee of a child. + +"Say, you old double-decked pirate," he called joyfully to Dodson, +"you said we could do it--you got a head for financing that knocks +the horns off of anything in Arizona." + +"What are we going to do about a hoss for you, Bob? We ain't got long +to wait here. They'll be on our trail before daylight in the +mornin'." + +"Oh, I guess that cayuse of yourn'll carry double for a while," +answered the sanguine Bob. "We'll annex the first animal we come +across. By jingoes, we made a haul, didn't we? Accordin' to the +marks on this money there's $30,000--$15,000 apiece!" + +"It's short of what I expected," said Shark Dodson, kicking softly at +the packages with the toe of his boot. And then he looked pensively at +the wet sides of his tired horse. + +"Old Bolivar's mighty nigh played out," he said, slowly. "I wish that +sorrel of yours hadn't got hurt." + +"So do I," said Bob, heartily, "but it can't be helped. Bolivar's got +plenty of bottom--he'll get us both far enough to get fresh mounts. +Dang it, Shark, I can't help thinkin' how funny it is that an +Easterner like you can come out here and give us Western fellows cards +and spades in the desperado business. What part of the East was you +from, anyway?" + +"New York State," said Shark Dodson, sitting down on a boulder and +chewing a twig. "I was born on a farm in Ulster County. I ran away +from home when I was seventeen. It was an accident my coming West. I +was walkin' along the road with my clothes in a bundle, makin' for New +York City. I had an idea of goin' there and makin' lots of money. I +always felt like I could do it. I came to a place one evenin' where +the road forked and I didn't know which fork to take. I studied about +it for half an hour, and then I took the left-hand. That night I run +into the camp of a Wild West show that was travellin' among the little +towns, and I went West with it. I've often wondered if I wouldn't +have turned out different if I'd took the other road." + +"Oh, I reckon you'd have ended up about the same," said Bob Tidball, +cheerfully philosophical. "It ain't the roads we take; it's what's +inside of us that makes us turn out the way we do." + +Shark Dodson got up and leaned against a tree. + +"I'd a good deal rather that sorrel of yourn hadn't hurt himself, +Bob," he said again, almost pathetically. + +"Same here," agreed Bob; "he was sure a first-rate kind of a crowbait. +But Bolivar, he'll pull us through all right. Reckon we'd better be +movin' on, hadn't we, Shark? I'll bag this boodle ag'in and we'll hit +the trail for higher timber." + +Bob Tidball replaced the spoil in the bag and tied the mouth of it +tightly with a cord. When he looked up the most prominent object that +he saw was the muzzle of Shark Dodson's .45 held upon him without a +waver. + +"Stop your funnin'," said Bob, with a grin. "We got to be hittin' the +breeze." + +"Set still," said Shark. "You ain't goin' to hit no breeze, Bob. I +hate to tell you, but there ain't any chance for but one of us. +Bolivar, he's plenty tired, and he can't carry double." + +"We been pards, me and you, Shark Dodson, for three year," Bob said +quietly. "We've risked our lives together time and again. I've +always give you a square deal, and I thought you was a man. I've +heard some queer stories about you shootin' one or two men in a +peculiar way, but I never believed 'em. Now if you're just havin' a +little fun with me, Shark, put your gun up, and we'll get on Bolivar +and vamose. If you mean to shoot--shoot, you blackhearted son of a +tarantula!" + +Shark Dodson's face bore a deeply sorrowful look. "You don't know how +bad I feel," he sighed, "about that sorrel of yourn breakin' his leg, +Bob." + +The expression on Dodson's face changed in an instant to one of cold +ferocity mingled with inexorable cupidity. The soul of the man showed +itself for a moment like an evil face in the window of a reputable +house. + +Truly Bob Tidball was never to "hit the breeze" again. The deadly .45 +of the false friend cracked and filled the gorge with a roar that the +walls hurled back with indignant echoes. And Bolivar, unconscious +accomplice, swiftly bore away the last of the holders-up of the +"Sunset Express," not put to the stress of "carrying double." + +But as "Shark" Dodson galloped away the woods seemed to fade from his +view; the revolver in his right hand turned to the curved arm of a +mahogany chair; his saddle was strangely upholstered, and he opened +his eyes and saw his feet, not in stirrups, but resting quietly on the +edge of a quartered-oak desk. + + +I am telling you that Dodson, of the firm of Dodson & Decker, Wall +Street brokers, opened his eyes. Peabody, the confidential clerk, was +standing by his chair, hesitating to speak. There was a confused hum +of wheels below, and the sedative buzz of an electric fan. + +"Ahem! Peabody," said Dodson, blinking. "I must have fallen asleep. +I had a most remarkable dream. What is it, Peabody?" + +"Mr. Williams, sir, of Tracy & Williams, is outside. He has come to +settle his deal in X. Y. Z. The market caught him short, sir, if you +remember." + +"Yes, I remember. What is X. Y. Z. quoted at to-day, Peabody?" + +"One eighty-five, sir." + +"Then that's his price." + +"Excuse me," said Peabody, rather nervously "for speaking of it, but +I've been talking to Williams. He's an old friend of yours, Mr. +Dodson, and you practically have a corner in X. Y. Z. I thought you +might--that is, I thought you might not remember that he sold you +the stock at 98. If he settles at the market price it will take every +cent he has in the world and his home too to deliver the shares." + +The expression on Dodson's face changed in an instant to one of cold +ferocity mingled with inexorable cupidity. The soul of the man showed +itself for a moment like an evil face in the window of a reputable +house. + +"He will settle at one eighty-five," said Dodson. "Bolivar cannot +carry double." + + + + +XV + +A BLACKJACK BARGAINER + + +The most disreputable thing in Yancey Goree's law office was Goree +himself, sprawled in his creaky old arm-chair. The rickety little +office, built of red brick, was set flush with the street--the main +street of the town of Bethel. + +Bethel rested upon the foot-hills of the Blue Ridge. Above it the +mountains were piled to the sky. Far below it the turbid Catawba +gleamed yellow along its disconsolate valley. + +The June day was at its sultriest hour. Bethel dozed in the tepid +shade. Trade was not. It was so still that Goree, reclining in his +chair, distinctly heard the clicking of the chips in the grand-jury +room, where the "court-house gang" was playing poker. From the open +back door of the office a well-worn path meandered across the grassy +lot to the court-house. The treading out of that path had cost Goree +all he ever had--first inheritance of a few thousand dollars, next +the old family home, and, latterly the last shreds of his self-respect +and manhood. The "gang" had cleaned him out. The broken gambler had +turned drunkard and parasite; he had lived to see this day come when +the men who had stripped him denied him a seat at the game. His word +was no longer to be taken. The daily bouts at cards had arranged +itself accordingly, and to him was assigned the ignoble part of the +onlooker. The sheriff, the county clerk, a sportive deputy, a gay +attorney, and a chalk-faced man hailing "from the valley," sat at +table, and the sheared one was thus tacitly advised to go and grow +more wool. + +Soon wearying of his ostracism, Goree had departed for his office, +muttering to himself as he unsteadily traversed the unlucky pathway. +After a drink of corn whiskey from a demijohn under the table, he had +flung himself into the chair, staring, in a sort of maudlin apathy, +out at the mountains immersed in the summer haze. The little white +patch he saw away up on the side of Blackjack was Laurel, the village +near which he had been born and bred. There, also, was the birthplace +of the feud between the Gorees and the Coltranes. Now no direct heir +of the Gorees survived except this plucked and singed bird of +misfortune. To the Coltranes, also, but one male supporter was left +--Colonel Abner Coltrane, a man of substance and standing, a member +of the State Legislature, and a contemporary with Goree's father. The +feud had been a typical one of the region; it had left a red record of +hate, wrong and slaughter. + +But Yancey Goree was not thinking of feuds. His befuddled brain was +hopelessly attacking the problem of the future maintenance of himself +and his favourite follies. Of late, old friends of the family had +seen to it that he had whereof to eat and a place to sleep--but whiskey +they would not buy for him, and he must have whiskey. His law business +was extinct; no case had been intrusted to him in two years. He had +been a borrower and a sponge, and it seemed that if he fell no lower +it would be from lack of opportunity. One more chance--he was saying +to himself--if he had one more stake at the game, he thought he could +win; but he had nothing left to sell, and his credit was more than +exhausted. + +He could not help smiling, even in his misery, as he thought of the +man to whom, six months before, he had sold the old Goree homestead. +There had come from "back yan'" in the mountains two of the strangest +creatures, a man named Pike Garvey and his wife. "Back yan'," with a +wave of the hand toward the hills, was understood among the +mountaineers to designate the remotest fastnesses, the unplumbed +gorges, the haunts of lawbreakers, the wolf's den, and the boudoir of +the bear. In the cabin far up on Blackjack's shoulder, in the wildest +part of these retreats, this odd couple had lived for twenty years. +They had neither dog nor children to mitigate the heavy silence of the +hills. Pike Garvey was little known in the settlements, but all who +had dealt with him pronounced him "crazy as a loon." He acknowledged +no occupation save that of a squirrel hunter, but he "moonshined" +occasionally by way of diversion. Once the "revenues" had dragged him +from his lair, fighting silently and desperately like a terrier, and +he had been sent to state's prison for two years. Released, he popped +back into his hole like an angry weasel. + +Fortune, passing over many anxious wooers, made a freakish flight into +Blackjack's bosky pockets to smile upon Pike and his faithful partner. + +One day a party of spectacled, knickerbockered, and altogether absurd +prospectors invaded the vicinity of the Garvey's cabin. Pike lifted +his squirrel rifle off the hooks and took a shot at them at long range +on the chance of their being revenues. Happily he missed, and the +unconscious agents of good luck drew nearer, disclosing their +innocence of anything resembling law or justice. Later on, they +offered the Garveys an enormous quantity of ready, green, crisp money +for their thirty-acre patch of cleared land, mentioning, as an excuse +for such a mad action, some irrelevant and inadequate nonsense about a +bed of mica underlying the said property. + +When the Garveys became possessed of so many dollars that they +faltered in computing them, the deficiencies of life on Blackjack +began to grow prominent. Pike began to talk of new shoes, a hogshead +of tobacco to set in the corner, a new lock to his rifle; and, leading +Martella to a certain spot on the mountain-side, he pointed out to her +how a small cannon--doubtless a thing not beyond the scope of their +fortune in price--might be planted so as to command and defend the +sole accessible trail to the cabin, to the confusion of revenues and +meddling strangers forever. + +But Adam reckoned without his Eve. These things represented to him +the applied power of wealth, but there slumbered in his dingy cabin an +ambition that soared far above his primitive wants. Somewhere in Mrs. +Garvey's bosom still survived a spot of femininity unstarved by twenty +years of Blackjack. For so long a time the sounds in her ears had +been the scaly-barks dropping in the woods at noon, and the wolves +singing among the rocks at night, and it was enough to have purged her +of vanities. She had grown fat and sad and yellow and dull. But when +the means came, she felt a rekindled desire to assume the perquisites +of her sex--to sit at tea tables; to buy futile things; to whitewash +the hideous veracity of life with a little form and ceremony. So she +coldly vetoed Pike's proposed system of fortifications, and +announced that they would descend upon the world, and gyrate socially. + +And thus, at length, it was decided, and the thing done. The village +of Laurel was their compromise between Mrs. Garvey's preference for +one of the large valley towns and Pike's hankering for primeval +solitudes. Laurel yielded a halting round of feeble social +distractions comportable with Martella's ambitions, and was not +entirely without recommendation to Pike, its contiguity to the +mountains presenting advantages for sudden retreat in case fashionable +society should make it advisable. + +Their descent upon Laurel had been coincident with Yancey Goree's +feverish desire to convert property into cash, and they bought the old +Goree homestead, paying four thousand dollars ready money into the +spendthrift's shaking hands. + +Thus it happened that while the disreputable last of the Gorees +sprawled in his disreputable office, at the end of his row, spurned by +the cronies whom he had gorged, strangers dwelt in the halls of his +fathers. + +A cloud of dust was rolling, slowly up the parched street, with +something travelling in the midst of it. A little breeze wafted the +cloud to one side, and a new, brightly painted carryall, drawn by a +slothful gray horse, became visible. The vehicle deflected from the +middle of the street as it neared Goree's office, and stopped in the +gutter directly in front of his door. + +On the front seat sat a gaunt, tall man, dressed in black broadcloth, +his rigid hands incarcerated in yellow kid gloves. On the back seat +was a lady who triumphed over the June heat. Her stout form was +armoured in a skin-tight silk dress of the description known as +"changeable," being a gorgeous combination of shifting hues. She sat +erect, waving a much-ornamented fan, with her eyes fixed stonily far +down the street. However Martella Garvey's heart might be rejoicing +at the pleasures of her new life, Blackjack had done his work with her +exterior. He had carved her countenance to the image of emptiness and +inanity; had imbued her with the stolidity of his crags, and the +reserve of his hushed interiors. She always seemed to hear, whatever +her surroundings were, the scaly-barks falling and pattering down the +mountain-side. She could always hear the awful silence of Blackjack +sounding through the stillest of nights. + +Goree watched this solemn equipage, as it drove to his door, with only +faint interest; but when the lank driver wrapped the reins about his +whip, awkwardly descended, and stepped into the office, he rose +unsteadily to receive him, recognizing Pike Garvey, the new, the +transformed, the recently civilized. + +The mountaineer took the chair Goree offered him. They who cast doubts +upon Garvey's soundness of mind had a strong witness in the man's +countenance. His face was too long, a dull saffron in hue, and +immobile as a statue's. Pale-blue, unwinking round eyes without +lashes added to the singularity of his gruesome visage. Goree was at a +loss to account for the visit. + +"Everything all right at Laurel, Mr. Garvey?" he inquired. + +"Everything all right, sir, and mighty pleased is Missis Garvey and me +with the property. Missis Garvey likes yo' old place, and she likes +the neighbourhood. Society is what she 'lows she wants, and she is +gettin' of it. The Rogerses, the Hapgoods, the Pratts and the Troys +hev been to see Missis Garvey, and she hev et meals to most of thar +houses. The best folks hev axed her to differ'nt kinds of doin's. I +cyan't say, Mr. Goree, that sech things suits me--fur me, give me +them thar." Garvey's huge, yellow-gloved hand flourished in the +direction of the mountains. "That's whar I b'long, 'mongst the wild +honey bees and the b'ars. But that ain't what I come fur to say, Mr. +Goree. Thar's somethin' you got what me and Missis Garvey wants to +buy." + +"Buy!" echoed Goree. "From me?" Then he laughed harshly. "I reckon +you are mistaken about that. I reckon you are mistaken about that. I +sold out to you, as you yourself expressed it, 'lock, stock and +barrel.' There isn't even a ramrod left to sell." + +"You've got it; and we 'uns want it. 'Take the money,' says Missis +Garvey, 'and buy it fa'r and squar'.'" + +Goree shook his head. "The cupboard's bare," he said. + +"We've riz," pursued the mountaineer, undeflected from his object, "a +heap. We was pore as possums, and now we could hev folks to dinner +every day. We been recognized, Missis Garvey says, by the best +society. But there's somethin' we need we ain't got. She says it +ought to been put in the 'ventory ov the sale, but it tain't thar. +'Take the money, then,' says she, 'and buy it fa'r and squar'."' + +"Out with it," said Goree, his racked nerves growing impatient. + +Garvey threw his slouch hat upon the table, and leaned forward, fixing +his unblinking eyes upon Goree's. + +"There's a old feud," he said distinctly and slowly, "'tween you 'uns +and the Coltranes." + +Goree frowned ominously. To speak of his feud to a feudist is a +serious breach of the mountain etiquette. The man from "back yan'" +knew it as well as the lawyer did. + +"Na offense," he went on "but purely in the way of business. Missis +Garvey hev studied all about feuds. Most of the quality folks in the +mountains hev 'em. The Settles and the Goforths, the Rankins and the +Boyds, the Silers and the Galloways, hev all been cyarin' on feuds +f'om twenty to a hundred year. The last man to drap was when yo' +uncle, Jedge Paisley Goree, 'journed co't and shot Len Coltrane f'om +the bench. Missis Garvey and me, we come f'om the po' white trash. +Nobody wouldn't pick a feud with we 'uns, no mo'n with a fam'ly of +tree-toads. Quality people everywhar, says Missis Garvey, has feuds. +We 'uns ain't quality, but we're buyin' into it as fur as we can. +'Take the money, then,' says Missis Garvey, 'and buy Mr. Goree's feud, +fa'r and squar'.'" + +The squirrel hunter straightened a leg half across the room, drew a +roll of bills from his pocket, and threw them on the table. + +"Thar's two hundred dollars, Mr. Goree; what you would call a fa'r +price for a feud that's been 'lowed to run down like yourn hev. +Thar's only you left to cyar' on yo' side of it, and you'd make mighty +po' killin'. I'll take it off yo' hands, and it'll set me and Missis +Garvey up among the quality. Thar's the money." + +The little roll of currency on the table slowly untwisted itself, +writhing and jumping as its folds relaxed. In the silence that +followed Garvey's last speech the rattling of the poker chips in the +court-house could be plainly heard. Goree knew that the sheriff had +just won a pot, for the subdued whoop with which he always greeted +a victory floated across the square upon the crinkly heat waves. +Beads of moisture stood on Goree's brow. Stooping, he drew the +wicker-covered demijohn from under the table, and filled a tumbler +from it. + +"A little corn liquor, Mr. Garvey? Of course you are joking about-- +what you spoke of? Opens quite a new market, doesn't it? Feuds. +Prime, two-fifty to three. Feuds, slightly damaged--two hundred, I +believe you said, Mr. Garvey?" + +Goree laughed self-consciously. + +The mountaineer took the glass Goree handed him, and drank the whisky +without a tremor of the lids of his staring eyes. The lawyer +applauded the feat by a look of envious admiration. He poured his own +drink, and took it like a drunkard, by gulps, and with shudders at the +smell and taste. + +"Two hundred," repeated Garvey. "Thar's the money." + +A sudden passion flared up in Goree's brain. He struck the table with +his fist. One of the bills flipped over and touched his hand. He +flinched as if something had stung him. + +"Do you come to me," he shouted, "seriously with such a ridiculous, +insulting, darned-fool proposition?" + +"It's fa'r and squar'," said the squirrel hunter, but he reached out +his hand as if to take back the money; and then Goree knew that his +own flurry of rage had not been from pride or resentment, but from +anger at himself, knowing that he would set foot in the deeper depths +that were being opened to him. He turned in an instant from an +outraged gentleman to an anxious chafferer recommending his goods. + +"Don't be in a hurry, Garvey," he said, his face crimson and his +speech thick. "I accept your p-p-proposition, though it's dirt cheap +at two hundred. A t-trade's all right when both p-purchaser and +b-buyer are s-satisfied. Shall I w-wrap it up for you, Mr. Garvey?" + +Garvey rose, and shook out his broadcloth. "Missis Garvey will be +pleased. You air out of it, and it stands Coltrane and Garvey. Just +a scrap ov writin', Mr. Goree, you bein' a lawyer, to show we traded." + +Goree seized a sheet of paper and a pen. The money was clutched in +his moist hand. Everything else suddenly seemed to grow trivial and +light. + +"Bill of sale, by all means. 'Right, title, and interest in and to' +. . . 'forever warrant and--' No, Garvey, we'll have to leave out that +'defend,'" said Goree with a loud laugh. "You'll have to defend this +title yourself." + +The mountaineer received the amazing screed that the lawyer handed +him, folded it with immense labour, and laced it carefully in his +pocket. + +Goree was standing near the window. "Step here," he said, raising his +finger, "and I'll show you your recently purchased enemy. There he +goes, down the other side of the street." + +The mountaineer crooked his long frame to look through the window in +the direction indicated by the other. Colonel Abner Coltrane, an +erect, portly gentleman of about fifty, wearing the inevitable long, +double-breasted frock coat of the Southern lawmaker, and an old high +silk hat, was passing on the opposite sidewalk. As Garvey looked, +Goree glanced at his face. If there be such a thing as a yellow wolf, +here was its counterpart. Garvey snarled as his unhuman eyes followed +the moving figure, disclosing long, amber-coloured fangs. + +"Is that him? Why, that's the man who sent me to the pen'tentiary +once!" + +"He used to be district attorney," said Goree carelessly. "And, by +the way, he's a first-class shot." + +"I kin hit a squirrel's eye at a hundred yard," said Garvey. "So that +thar's Coltrane! I made a better trade than I was thinkin'. I'll +take keer ov this feud, Mr. Goree, better'n you ever did!" + +He moved toward the door, but lingered there, betraying a slight +perplexity. + +"Anything else to-day?" inquired Goree with frothy sarcasm. "Any +family traditions, ancestral ghosts, or skeletons in the closet? +Prices as low as the lowest." + +"Thar was another thing," replied the unmoved squirrel hunter, "that +Missis Garvey was thinkin' of. 'Tain't so much in my line as t'other, +but she wanted partic'lar that I should inquire, and ef you was +willin', 'pay fur it,' she says, 'fa'r and squar'.' Thar's a buryin' +groun', as you know, Mr. Goree, in the yard of yo' old place, under +the cedars. Them that lies thar is yo' folks what was killed by the +Coltranes. The monyments has the names on 'em. Missis Garvey says a +fam'ly buryin' groun' is a sho' sign of quality. She says ef we git +the feud, thar's somethin' else ought to go with it. The names on +them monyments is 'Goree,' but they can be changed to ourn by--" + +"Go! Go!" screamed Goree, his face turning purple. He stretched out +both hands toward the mountaineer, his fingers hooked and shaking. +"Go, you ghoul! Even a Ch-Chinaman protects the g-graves of his +ancestors--go!" + +The squirrel hunter slouched out of the door to his carryall. While +he was climbing over the wheel Goree was collecting, with feverish +celerity, the money that had fallen from his hand to the floor. As +the vehicle slowly turned about, the sheep, with a coat of newly +grown wool, was hurrying, in indecent haste, along the path to the +court-house. + +At three o'clock in the morning they brought him back to his office, +shorn and unconscious. The sheriff, the sportive deputy, the county +clerk, and the gay attorney carried him, the chalk-faced man "from the +valley" acting as escort. + +"On the table," said one of them, and they deposited him there among +the litter of his unprofitable books and papers. + +"Yance thinks a lot of a pair of deuces when he's liquored up," sighed +the sheriff reflectively. + +"Too much," said the gay attorney. "A man has no business to play +poker who drinks as much as he does. I wonder how much he dropped +to-night." + +"Close to two hundred. What I wonder is whar he got it. Yance ain't +had a cent fur over a month, I know." + +"Struck a client, maybe. Well, let's get home before daylight. He'll +be all right when he wakes up, except for a sort of beehive about the +cranium." + +The gang slipped away through the early morning twilight. The next +eye to gaze upon the miserable Goree was the orb of day. He peered +through the uncurtained window, first deluging the sleeper in a flood +of faint gold, but soon pouring upon the mottled red of his flesh a +searching, white, summer heat. Goree stirred, half unconsciously, +among the table's debris, and turned his face from the window. His +movement dislodged a heavy law book, which crashed upon the floor. +Opening his eyes, he saw, bending over him, a man in a black frock +coat. Looking higher, he discovered a well-worn silk hat, and beneath +it the kindly, smooth face of Colonel Abner Coltrane. + +A little uncertain of the outcome, the colonel waited for the other to +make some sign of recognition. Not in twenty years had male members +of these two families faced each other in peace. Goree's eyelids +puckered as he strained his blurred sight toward this visitor, and +then he smiled serenely. + +"Have you brought Stella and Lucy over to play?" he said calmly. + +"Do you know me, Yancey?" asked Coltrane. + +"Of course I do. You brought me a whip with a whistle in the end." + +So he had--twenty-four years ago; when Yancey's father was his best +friend. + +Goree's eyes wandered about the room. The colonel understood. "Lie +still, and I'll bring you some," said he. There was a pump in the yard +at the rear, and Goree closed his eyes, listening with rapture to the +click of its handle, and the bubbling of the falling stream. Coltrane +brought a pitcher of the cool water, and held it for him to drink. +Presently Goree sat up--a most forlorn object, his summer suit of flax +soiled and crumpled, his discreditable head tousled and unsteady. He +tried to wave one of his hands toward the colonel. + +"Ex-excuse--everything, will you?" he said. "I must have drunk too +much whiskey last night, and gone to bed on the table." His brows +knitted into a puzzled frown. + +"Out with the boys awhile?" asked Coltrane kindly. + +"No, I went nowhere. I haven't had a dollar to spend in the last two +months. Struck the demijohn too often, I reckon, as usual." + +Colonel Coltrane touched him on the shoulder. + +"A little while ago, Yancey," he began, "you asked me if I had brought +Stella and Lucy over to play. You weren't quite awake then, and must +have been dreaming you were a boy again. You are awake now, and I +want you to listen to me. I have come from Stella and Lucy to their +old playmate, and to my old friend's son. They know that I am going +to bring you home with me, and you will find them as ready with a +welcome as they were in the old days. I want you to come to my house +and stay until you are yourself again, and as much longer as you will. +We heard of your being down in the world, and in the midst of +temptation, and we agreed that you should come over and play at our +house once more. Will you come, my boy? Will you drop our old family +trouble and come with me?" + +"Trouble!" said Goree, opening his eyes wide. "There was never any +trouble between us that I know of. I'm sure we've always been the +best friends. But, good Lord, Colonel, how could I go to your home as +I am--a drunken wretch, a miserable, degraded spendthrift and +gambler--" + +He lurched from the table into his armchair, and began to weep maudlin +tears, mingled with genuine drops of remorse and shame. Coltrane +talked to him persistently and reasonably, reminding him of the +simple mountain pleasures of which he had once been so fond, and +insisting upon the genuineness of the invitation. + +Finally he landed Goree by telling him he was counting upon his help +in the engineering and transportation of a large amount of felled +timber from a high mountain-side to a waterway. He knew that Goree +had once invented a device for this purpose--a series of slides and +chutes upon which he had justly prided himself. In an instant the +poor fellow, delighted at the idea of his being of use to any one, had +paper spread upon the table, and was drawing rapid but pitifully shaky +lines in demonstration of what he could and would do. + +The man was sickened of the husks; his prodigal heart was turning +again toward the mountains. His mind was yet strangely clogged, and +his thoughts and memories were returning to his brain one by one, like +carrier pigeons over a stormy sea. But Coltrane was satisfied with +the progress he had made. + +Bethel received the surprise of its existence that afternoon when a +Coltrane and a Goree rode amicably together through the town. Side by +side they rode, out from the dusty streets and gaping townspeople, +down across the creek bridge, and up toward the mountain. The +prodigal had brushed and washed and combed himself to a more decent +figure, but he was unsteady in the saddle, and he seemed to be deep in +the contemplation of some vexing problem. Coltrane left him in his +mood, relying upon the influence of changed surroundings to restore +his equilibrium. + +Once Goree was seized with a shaking fit, and almost came to a +collapse. He had to dismount and rest at the side of the road. The +colonel, foreseeing such a condition, had provided a small flask of +whisky for the journey but when it was offered to him Goree refused it +almost with violence, declaring he would never touch it again. By and +by he was recovered, and went quietly enough for a mile or two. Then +he pulled up his horse suddenly, and said: + +"I lost two hundred dollars last night, playing poker. Now, where did +I get that money?" + +"Take it easy, Yancey. The mountain air will soon clear it up. We'll +go fishing, first thing, at the Pinnacle Falls. The trout are jumping +there like bullfrogs. We'll take Stella and Lucy along, and have a +picnic on Eagle Rock. Have you forgotten how a hickory-cured-ham +sandwich tastes, Yancey, to a hungry fisherman?" + +Evidently the colonel did not believe the story of his lost wealth; so +Goree retired again into brooding silence. + +By late Afternoon they had travelled ten of the twelve miles between +Bethel and Laurel. Half a mile this side of Laurel lay the old Goree +place; a mile or two beyond the village lived the Coltranes. The road +was now steep and laborious, but the compensations were many. The +tilted aisles of the forest were opulent with leaf and bird and bloom. +The tonic air put to shame the pharmacopaeia. The glades were dark +with mossy shade, and bright with shy rivulets winking from the ferns +and laurels. On the lower side they viewed, framed in the near +foliage, exquisite sketches of the far valley swooning in its opal +haze. + +Coltrane was pleased to see that his companion was yielding to the +spell of the hills and woods. For now they had but to skirt the base +of Painter's Cliff; to cross Elder Branch and mount the hill beyond, +and Goree would have to face the squandered home of his fathers. Every +rock he passed, every tree, every foot of the rocky way, was familiar +to him. Though he had forgotten the woods, they thrilled him like the +music of "Home, Sweet Home." + +They rounded the cliff, descended into Elder Branch, and paused there +to let the horses drink and splash in the swift water. On the right +was a rail fence that cornered there, and followed the road and +stream. Inclosed by it was the old apple orchard of the home place; +the house was yet concealed by the brow of the steep hill. Inside and +along the fence, pokeberries, elders, sassafras, and sumac grew high +and dense. At a rustle of their branches, both Goree and Coltrane +glanced up, and saw a long, yellow, wolfish face above the fence, +staring at them with pale, unwinking eyes. The head quickly +disappeared; there was a violent swaying of the bushes, and an +ungainly figure ran up through the apple orchard in the direction of +the house, zig-zagging among the trees. + +"That's Garvey," said Coltrane; "the man you sold out to. There's no +doubt but he's considerably cracked. I had to send him up for +moonshining once, several years ago, in spite of the fact that I +believed him irresponsible. Why, what's the matter, Yancey?" + +Goree was wiping his forehead, and his face had lost its colour. "Do +I look queer, too?" he asked, trying to smile. "I'm just remembering +a few more things." Some of the alcohol had evaporated from his brain. +"I recollect now where I got that two hundred dollars." + +"Don't think of it," said Coltrane cheerfully. "Later on we'll figure +it all out together." + +They rode out of the branch, and when they reached the foot of the +hill Goree stopped again. + +"Did you ever suspect I was a very vain kind of fellow, Colonel?" he +asked. "Sort of foolish proud about appearances?" + +The colonel's eyes refused to wander to the soiled, sagging suit of +flax and the faded slouch hat. + +"It seems to me," he replied, mystified, but humouring him, "I +remember a young buck about twenty, with the tightest coat, the +sleekest hair, and the prancingest saddle horse in the Blue Ridge." + +"Right you are," said Goree eagerly. "And it's in me yet, though it +don't show. Oh, I'm as vain as a turkey gobbler, and as proud as +Lucifer. I'm going to ask you to indulge this weakness of mine in a +little matter." + +"Speak out, Yancey. We'll create you Duke of Laurel and Baron of Blue +Ridge, if you choose; and you shall have a feather out of Stella's +peacock's tail to wear in your hat." + +"I'm in earnest. In a few minutes we'll pass the house up there on +the hill where I was born, and where my people have lived for nearly a +century. Strangers live there now--and look at me! I am about to +show myself to them ragged and poverty-stricken, a wastrel and a +beggar. Colonel Coltrane, I'm ashamed to do it. I want you to let me +wear your coat and hat until we are out of sight beyond. I know you +think it a foolish pride, but I want to make as good a showing as I +can when I pass the old place." + +"Now, what does this mean?" said Coltrane to himself, as he +compared his companion's sane looks and quiet demeanour with his +strange request. But he was already unbuttoning the coat, assenting +readily, as if the fancy were in no wise to be considered strange. + +The coat and hat fitted Goree well. He buttoned the former about him +with a look of satisfaction and dignity. He and Coltrane were nearly +the same size--rather tall, portly, and erect. Twenty-five years +were between them, but in appearance they might have been brothers. +Goree looked older than his age; his face was puffy and lined; the +colonel had the smooth, fresh complexion of a temperate liver. He put +on Goree's disreputable old flax coat and faded slouch hat. + +"Now," said Goree, taking up the reins, "I'm all right. I want you to +ride about ten feet in the rear as we go by, Colonel, so that they can +get a good look at me. They'll see I'm no back number yet, by any +means. I guess I'll show up pretty well to them once more, anyhow. +Let's ride on." + +He set out up the hill at a smart trot, the colonel following, as he +had been requested. + +Goree sat straight in the saddle, with head erect, but his eyes were +turned to the right, sharply scanning every shrub and fence and +hiding-place in the old homestead yard. Once he muttered to himself, +"Will the crazy fool try it, or did I dream half of it?" + +It was when he came opposite the little family burying ground that he +saw what he had been looking for--a puff of white smoke, coming from +the thick cedars in one corner. He toppled so slowly to the left that +Coltrane had time to urge his horse to that side, and catch him with +one arm. + +The squirrel hunter had not overpraised his aim. He had sent the +bullet where he intended, and where Goree had expected that it would +pass--through the breast of Colonel Abner Coltrane's black frock +coat. + +Goree leaned heavily against Coltrane, but he did not fall. The +horses kept pace, side by side, and the Colonel's arm kept him steady. +The little white houses of Laurel shone through the trees, half a mile +away. Goree reached out one hand and groped until it rested upon +Coltrane's fingers, which held his bridle. + +"Good friend," he said, and that was all. + +Thus did Yancey Goree, as he rode past his old home, make, considering +all things, the best showing that was in his power. + + + + +XVI + +THE SONG AND THE SERGEANT + + +Half a dozen people supping at a table in one of the upper-Broadway +all-night restaurants were making too much noise. Three times the +manager walked past them with a politely warning glance; but their +argument had waxed too warm to be quelled by a manager's gaze. It was +midnight, and the restaurant was filled with patrons from the theatres +of that district. Some among the dispersed audiences must have +recognized among the quarrelsome sextet the faces of the players +belonging to the Carroll Comedy Company. + +Four of the six made up the company. Another was the author of the +comedietta, "A Gay Coquette," which the quartette of players had been +presenting with fair success at several vaudeville houses in the city. +The sixth at the table was a person inconsequent in the realm of art, +but one at whose bidding many lobsters had perished. + +Loudly the six maintained their clamorous debate. No one of the Party +was silent except when answers were stormed from him by the excited +ones. That was the comedian of "A Gay Coquette." He was a young man +with a face even too melancholy for his profession. + +The oral warfare of four immoderate tongues was directed at Miss +Clarice Carroll, the twinkling star of the small aggregation. +Excepting the downcast comedian, all members of the party united in +casting upon her with vehemence the blame of some momentous +misfortune. Fifty times they told her: "It is your fault, Clarice--it +is you alone who spoilt the scene. It is only of late that you have +acted this way. At this rate the sketch will have to be taken off." + +Miss Carroll was a match for any four. Gallic ancestry gave her a +vivacity that could easily mount to fury. Her large eyes flashed a +scorching denial at her accusers. Her slender, eloquent arms +constantly menaced the tableware. Her high, clear soprano voice rose +to what would have been a scream had it not possessed so pure a +musical quality. She hurled back at the attacking four their +denunciations in tones sweet, but of too great carrying power for a +Broadway restaurant. + +Finally they exhausted her patience both as a woman and an artist. +She sprang up like a panther, managed to smash half a dozen plates and +glasses with one royal sweep of her arm, and defied her critics. They +rose and wrangled more loudly. The comedian sighed and looked a +trifle sadder and disinterested. The manager came tripping and +suggested peace. He was told to go to the popular synonym for war so +promptly that the affair might have happened at The Hague. + +Thus was the manager angered. He made a sign with his hand and a +waiter slipped out of the door. In twenty minutes the party of six +was in a police station facing a grizzled and philosophical desk +sergeant. + +"Disorderly conduct in a restaurant," said the policeman who had +brought the party in. + +The author of "A Gay Coquette" stepped to the front. He wore +nose-glasses and evening clothes, even if his shoes had been tans +before they met the patent-leather-polish bottle. + +"Mr. Sergeant," said he, out of his throat, like Actor Irving, "I +would like to protest against this arrest. The company of actors who +are performing in a little play that I have written, in company with a +friend and myself were having a little supper. We became deeply +interested in the discussion as to which one of the cast is +responsible for a scene in the sketch that lately has fallen so flat +that the piece is about to become a failure. We may have been rather +noisy and intolerant of interruption by the restaurant people; but the +matter was of considerable importance to all of us. You see that we +are sober and are not the kind of people who desire to raise +disturbances. I hope that the case will not be pressed and that we may +be allowed to go." + +"Who makes the charge?" asked the sergeant. + +"Me," said a white-aproned voice in the rear. "De restaurant sent me +to. De gang was raisin' a rough-house and breakin' dishes." + +"The dishes were paid for," said the playwright. "They were not broken +purposely. In her anger, because we remonstrated with her for +spoiling the scene, Miss--" + +"It's not true, sergeant," cried the clear voice of Miss Clarice +Carroll. In a long coat of tan silk and a red-plumed hat, she +bounded before the desk. + +"It's not my fault," she cried indignantly. "How dare they say such +a thing! I've played the title role ever since it was staged, and if +you want to know who made it a success, ask the public--that's all." + +"What Miss Carroll says is true in part," said the author. "For five +months the comedietta was a drawing-card in the best houses. But +during the last two weeks it has lost favour. There is one scene in +it in which Miss Carroll made a big hit. Now she hardly gets a hand +out of it. She spoils it by acting it entirely different from her old +way." + +"It is not my fault," reiterated the actress. + +"There are only two of you on in the scene," argued the playwright +hotly, "you and Delmars, here--" + +"Then it's his fault," declared Miss Carroll, with a lightning glance +of scorn from her dark eyes. The comedian caught it, and gazed with +increased melancholy at the panels of the sergeant's desk. + +The night was a dull one in that particular police station. + +The sergeant's long-blunted curiosity awoke a little. + +"I've heard you," he said to the author. And then he addressed the +thin-faced and ascetic-looking lady of the company who played "Aunt +Turnip-top" in the little comedy. + +"Who do you think spoils the scene you are fussing about?" he asked. + +"I'm no knocker," said that lady, "and everybody knows it. So, when I +say that Clarice falls down every time in that scene I'm judging her +art and not herself. She was great in it once. She does it something +fierce now. It'll dope the show if she keeps it up." + +The sergeant looked at the comedian. + +"You and the lady have this scene together, I understand. I suppose +there's no use asking you which one of you queers it?" + +The comedian avoided the direct rays from the two fixed stars of Miss +Carroll's eyes. + +"I don't know," he said, looking down at his patent-leather toes. + +"Are you one of the actors?" asked the sergeant of a dwarfish youth +with a middle-aged face. + +"Why, say!" replied the last Thespian witness, "you don't notice any +tin spear in my hands, do you? You haven't heard me shout: 'See, the +Emperor comes!' since I've been in here, have you? I guess I'm on the +stage long enough for 'em not to start a panic by mistaking me for a +thin curl of smoke rising above the footlights." + +"In your opinion, if you've got one," said the sergeant, "is the frost +that gathers on the scene in question the work of the lady or the +gentleman who takes part in it?" + +The middle-aged youth looked pained. + +"I regret to say," he answered, "that Miss Carroll seems to have +lost her grip on that scene. She's all right in the rest of the +play, but--but I tell you, sergeant, she can do it--she has done +it equal to any of 'em--and she can do it again." + +Miss Carroll ran forward, glowing and palpitating. + +"Thank you, Jimmy, for the first good word I've had in many a day," +she cried. And then she turned her eager face toward the desk. + +"I'll show you, sergeant, whether I am to blame. I'll show them +whether I can do that scene. Come, Mr. Delmars; let us begin. You +will let us, won't you, sergeant?" + +"How long will it take?" asked the sergeant, dubiously. + +"Eight minutes," said the playwright. "The entire play consumes but +thirty." + +"You may go ahead," said the sergeant. "Most of you seem to side +against the little lady. Maybe she had a right to crack up a saucer +or two in that restaurant. We'll see how she does the turn before we +take that up." + +The matron of the police station had been standing near, listening to +the singular argument. She came nigher and stood near the sergeant's +chair. Two or three of the reserves strolled in, big and yawning. + +"Before beginning the scene," said the playwright, "and assuming that +you have not seen a production of 'A Gay Coquette,' I will make a +brief but necessary explanation. It is a musical-farce-comedy-- +burlesque-comedietta. As the title implies, Miss Carroll's role is +that of a gay, rollicking, mischievous, heartless coquette. She +sustains that character throughout the entire comedy part of the +production. And I have designed the extravaganza features so that she +may preserve and present the same coquettish idea. + +"Now, the scene in which we take exception to Miss Carroll's acting is +called the 'gorilla dance.' She is costumed to represent a wood nymph, +and there is a great song-and-dance scene with a gorilla--played by +Mr. Delmars, the comedian. A tropical-forest stage is set. + +"That used to get four and five recalls. The main thing was the +acting and the dance--it was the funniest thing in New York for five +months. Delmars's song, 'I'll Woo Thee to My Sylvan Home,' while he +and Miss Carroll were cutting hide-and-seek capers among the tropical +plants, was a winner." + +"What's the trouble with the scene now?" asked the sergeant. + +"Miss Carroll spoils it right in the middle of it," said the +playwright wrathfully. + +With a wide gesture of her ever-moving arms the actress waved back the +little group of spectators, leaving a space in front of the desk for +the scene of her vindication or fall. Then she whipped off her long +tan cloak and tossed it across the arm of the policeman who still +stood officially among them. + +Miss Carroll had gone to supper well cloaked, but in the costume of +the tropic wood nymph. A skirt of fern leaves touched her knee; she +was like a humming-bird--green and golden and purple. + +And then she danced a fluttering, fantastic dance, so agile and light +and mazy in her steps that the other three members of the Carroll +Comedy Company broke into applause at the art of it. + +And at the proper time Delmars leaped out at her side, mimicking +the uncouth, hideous bounds of the gorilla so funnily that the +grizzled sergeant himself gave a short laugh like the closing of a +padlock. They danced together the gorilla dance, and won a hand from +all. + +Then began the most fantastic part of the scene--the wooing of the +nymph by the gorilla. It was a kind of dance itself--eccentric and +prankish, with the nymph in coquettish and seductive retreat, followed +by the gorilla as he sang "I'll Woo Thee to My Sylvan Home." + +The song was a lyric of merit. The words were non-sense, as befitted +the play, but the music was worthy of something better. Delmars +struck into it in a rich tenor that owned a quality that shamed the +flippant words. + +During one verse of the song the wood nymph performed the grotesque +evolutions designed for the scene. At the middle of the second verse +she stood still, with a strange look on her face, seeming to gaze +dreamily into the depths of the scenic forest. The gorilla's last +leap had brought him to her feet, and there he knelt, holding her +hand, until he had finished the haunting-lyric that was set in the +absurd comedy like a diamond in a piece of putty. + +When Delmars ceased Miss Carroll started, and covered a sudden flow of +tears with both hands. + +"There!" cried the playwright, gesticulating with violence; "there +you have it, sergeant. For two weeks she has spoiled that scene in +just that manner at every performance. I have begged her to consider +that it is not Ophelia or Juliet that she is playing. Do you wonder +now at our impatience? Tears for the gorilla song! The play is lost!" + +Out of her bewitchment, whatever it was, the wood nymph flared +suddenly, and pointed a desperate finger at Delmars. + +"It is you--you who have done this," she cried wildly. "You never +sang that song that way until lately. It is your doing." + +"I give it up," said the sergeant. + +And then the gray-haired matron of the police station came forward +from behind the sergeant's chair. + +"Must an old woman teach you all?" she said. She went up to Miss +Carroll and took her hand. + +"The man's wearing his heart out for you, my dear. Couldn't you tell +it the first note you heard him sing? All of his monkey flip-flops +wouldn't have kept it from me. Must you be deaf as well as blind? +That's why you couldn't act your part, child. Do you love him or must +he be a gorilla for the rest of his days?" + +Miss Carroll whirled around and caught Delmars with a lightning glance +of her eye. He came toward her, melancholy. + +"Did you hear, Mr. Delmars?" she asked, with a catching breath. + +"I did," said the comedian. "It is true. I didn't think there was +any use. I tried to let you know with the song." + +"Silly!" said the matron; "why didn't you speak?" + +"No, no," cried the wood nymph, "his way was the best. I didn't know, +but--it was just what I wanted, Bobby." + +She sprang like a green grasshopper; and the comedian opened his arms, +and--smiled. + +"Get out of this," roared the desk sergeant to the waiting waiter from +the restaurant. "There's nothing doing here for you." + + + + +XVII + +ONE DOLLAR'S WORTH + + +The judge of the United States court of the district lying along the +Rio Grande border found the following letter one morning in his mail: + + + JUDGE: + When you sent me up for four years you made a talk. + Among other hard things, you called me a rattlesnake. + Maybe I am one--anyhow, you hear me rattling now. + One year after I got to the pen, my daughter died of-- + well, they said it was poverty and the disgrace together. + You've got a daughter, Judge, and I'm going to make + you know how it feels to lose one. And I'm going to + bite that district attorney that spoke against me. I'm + free now, and I guess I've turned to rattlesnake all right. + I feel like one. I don't say much, but this is my rattle. + Look out when I strike. + Yours respectfully, + RATTLESNAKE. + + +Judge Derwent threw the letter carelessly aside. It was nothing new +to receive such epistles from desperate men whom he had been called +upon to judge. He felt no alarm. Later on he showed the letter to +Littlefield, the young district attorney, for Littlefield's name was +included in the threat, and the judge was punctilious in matters +between himself and his fellow men. + +Littlefield honoured the rattle of the writer, as far as it concerned +himself, with a smile of contempt; but he frowned a little over the +reference to the Judge's daughter, for he and Nancy Derwent were to be +married in the fall. + +Littlefield went to the clerk of the court and looked over the records +with him. They decided that the letter might have been sent by Mexico +Sam, a half-breed border desperado who had been imprisoned for +manslaughter four years before. Then official duties crowded the +matter from his mind, and the rattle of the revengeful serpent was +forgotten. + +Court was in session at Brownsville. Most of the cases to be tried +were charges of smuggling, counterfeiting, post-office robberies, and +violations of Federal laws along the border. One case was that of a +young Mexican, Rafael Ortiz, who had been rounded up by a clever +deputy marshal in the act of passing a counterfeit silver dollar. He +had been suspected of many such deviations from rectitude, but this +was the first time that anything provable had been fixed upon him. +Ortiz languished cozily in jail, smoking brown cigarettes and waiting +for trial. Kilpatrick, the deputy, brought the counterfeit dollar and +handed it to the district attorney in his office in the court-house. +The deputy and a reputable druggist were prepared to swear that Ortiz +paid for a bottle of medicine with it. The coin was a poor +counterfeit, soft, dull-looking, and made principally of lead. It was +the day before the morning on which the docket would reach the case of +Ortiz, and the district attorney was preparing himself for trial. + +"Not much need of having in high-priced experts to prove the coin's +queer, is there, Kil?" smiled Littlefield, as he thumped the dollar +down upon the table, where it fell with no more ring than would have +come from a lump of putty. + +"I guess the Greaser's as good as behind the bars," said the deputy, +easing up his holsters. "You've got him dead. If it had been just +one time, these Mexicans can't tell good money from bad; but this +little yaller rascal belongs to a gang of counterfeiters, I know. +This is the first time I've been able to catch him doing the trick. +He's got a girl down there in them Mexican jacals on the river bank. +I seen her one day when I was watching him. She's as pretty as a red +heifer in a flower bed." + +Littlefield shoved the counterfeit dollar into his pocket, and slipped +his memoranda of the case into an envelope. Just then a bright, +winsome face, as frank and jolly as a boy's, appeared in the doorway, +and in walked Nancy Derwent. + +"Oh, Bob, didn't court adjourn at twelve to-day until to-morrow?" she +asked of Littlefield. + +"It did," said the district attorney, "and I'm very glad of it. I've +got a lot of rulings to look up, and--" + +"Now, that's just like you. I wonder you and father don't turn +to law books or rulings or something! I want you to take me out +plover-shooting this afternoon. Long Prairie is just alive with them. +Don't say no, please! I want to try my new twelve-bore hammerless. +I've sent to the livery stable to engage Fly and Bess for the +buckboard; they stand fire so nicely. I was sure you would go." + +They were to be married in the fall. The glamour was at its +height. The plovers won the day--or, rather, the afternoon--over +the calf-bound authorities. Littlefield began to put his papers +away. + +There was a knock at the door. Kilpatrick answered it. A beautiful, +dark-eyed girl with a skin tinged with the faintest lemon colour +walked into the room. A black shawl was thrown over her head and +wound once around her neck. + +She began to talk in Spanish, a voluble, mournful stream of melancholy +music. Littlefield did not understand Spanish. The deputy did, and +he translated her talk by portions, at intervals holding up his hand +to check the flow of her words. + +"She came to see you, Mr. Littlefield. Her name's Joya Trevinas. She +wants to see you about--well, she's mixed up with that Rafael Ortiz. +She's his--she's his girl. She says he's innocent. She says she +made the money and got him to pass it. Don't you believe her, Mr. +Littlefield. That's the way with these Mexican girls; they'll lie, +steal, or kill for a fellow when they get stuck on him. Never trust a +woman that's in love!" + +"Mr. Kilpatrick!" + +Nancy Derwent's indignant exclamation caused the deputy to flounder +for a moment in attempting to explain that he had misquoted his own +sentiments, and then he went on with the translation: + +"She says she's willing to take his place in the jail if you'll let +him out. She says she was down sick with the fever, and the doctor +said she'd die if she didn't have medicine. That's why he passed the +lead dollar on the drug store. She says it saved her life. This +Rafael seems to be her honey, all right; there's a lot of stuff in her +talk about love and such things that you don't want to hear." + +It was an old story to the district attorney. + +"Tell her," said he, "that I can do nothing. The case comes up in the +morning, and he will have to make his fight before the court." + +Nancy Derwent was not so hardened. She was looking with sympathetic +interest at Joya Trevinas and at Littlefield alternately. The deputy +repeated the district attorney's words to the girl. She spoke a +sentence or two in a low voice, pulled her shawl closely about her +face, and left the room. + +"What did she say then?" asked the district attorney. + +"Nothing special," said the deputy. "She said: 'If the life of the +one'--let's see how it went--'_Si la vida de ella a quien tu amas_ +--if the life of the girl you love is ever in danger, remember Rafael +Ortiz.'" + +Kilpatrick strolled out through the corridor in the direction of the +marshal's office. + +"Can't you do anything for them, Bob?" asked Nancy. "It's such a +little thing--just one counterfeit dollar--to ruin the happiness +of two lives! She was in danger of death, and he did it to save her. +Doesn't the law know the feeling of pity?" + +"It hasn't a place in jurisprudence, Nan," said Littlefield, +"especially _in re_ the district attorney's duty. I'll promise you +that the prosecution will not be vindictive; but the man is as good as +convicted when the case is called. Witnesses will swear to his passing +the bad dollar which I have in my pocket at this moment as 'Exhibit +A.' There are no Mexicans on the jury, and it will vote Mr. Greaser +guilty without leaving the box." + + +The plover-shooting was fine that afternoon, and in the excitement of +the sport the case of Rafael and the grief of Joya Trevinas was +forgotten. The district attorney and Nancy Derwent drove out from +the town three miles along a smooth, grassy road, and then struck +across a rolling prairie toward a heavy line of timber on Piedra +Creek. Beyond this creek lay Long Prairie, the favourite haunt of the +plover. As they were nearing the creek they heard the galloping of a +horse to their right, and saw a man with black hair and a swarthy face +riding toward the woods at a tangent, as if he had come up behind +them. + +"I've seen that fellow somewhere," said Littlefield, who had a memory +for faces, "but I can't exactly place him. Some ranchman, I suppose, +taking a short cut home." + +They spent an hour on Long Prairie, shooting from the buckboard. +Nancy Derwent, an active, outdoor Western girl, was pleased with her +twelve-bore. She had bagged within two brace of her companion's +score. + +They started homeward at a gentle trot. When within a hundred yards +of Piedra Creek a man rode out of the timber directly toward them. + +"It looks like the man we saw coming over," remarked Miss Derwent. + +As the distance between them lessened, the district attorney suddenly +pulled up his team sharply, with his eyes fixed upon the advancing +horseman. That individual had drawn a Winchester from its scabbard +on his saddle and thrown it over his arm. + +"Now I know you, Mexico Sam!" muttered Littlefield to himself. "It +was you who shook your rattles in that gentle epistle." + +Mexico Sam did not leave things long in doubt. He had a nice eye in +all matters relating to firearms, so when he was within good rifle +range, but outside of danger from No. 8 shot, he threw up his +Winchester and opened fire upon the occupants of the buckboard. + +The first shot cracked the back of the seat within the two-inch space +between the shoulders of Littlefield and Miss Derwent. The next went +through the dashboard and Littlefield's trouser leg. + +The district attorney hustled Nancy out of the buck-board to the +ground. She was a little pale, but asked no questions. She had the +frontier instinct that accepts conditions in an emergency without +superfluous argument. They kept their guns in hand, and Littlefield +hastily gathered some handfuls of cartridges from the pasteboard box +on the seat and crowded them into his pockets. + +"Keep behind the horses, Nan," he commanded. "That fellow is a ruffian +I sent to prison once. He's trying to get even. He knows our shot +won't hurt him at that distance." + +"All right, Bob," said Nancy steadily. "I'm not afraid. But you come +close, too. Whoa, Bess; stand still, now!" + +She stroked Bess's mane. Littlefield stood with his gun ready, +praying that the desperado would come within range. + +But Mexico Sam was playing his vendetta along safe lines. He was +a bird of different feather from the plover. His accurate eye drew +an imaginary line of circumference around the area of danger from +bird-shot, and upon this line lie rode. His horse wheeled to the +right, and as his victims rounded to the safe side of their equine +breast-work he sent a ball through the district attorney's hat. Once +he miscalculated in making a detour, and over-stepped his margin. +Littlefield's gun flashed, and Mexico Sam ducked his head to the +harmless patter of the shot. A few of them stung his horse, which +pranced promptly back to the safety line. + +The desperado fired again. A little cry came from Nancy Derwent. +Littlefield whirled, with blazing eyes, and saw the blood trickling +down her cheek. + +"I'm not hurt, Bob--only a splinter struck me. I think he hit one +of the wheel-spokes." + +"Lord!" groaned Littlefield. "If I only had a charge of buckshot!" + +The ruffian got his horse still, and took careful aim. Fly gave a +snort and fell in the harness, struck in the neck. Bess, now +disabused of the idea that plover were being fired at, broke her +traces and galloped wildly away. Mexican Sam sent a ball neatly +through the fulness of Nancy Derwent's shooting jacket. + +"Lie down--lie down!" snapped Littlefield. "Close to the horse--flat +on the ground--so." He almost threw her upon the grass against the +back of the recumbent Fly. Oddly enough, at that moment the words +of the Mexican girl returned to his mind: + +"If the life of the girl you love is ever in danger, remember Rafael +Ortiz." + +Littlefield uttered an exclamation. + +"Open fire on him, Nan, across the horse's back. Fire as fast as you +can! You can't hurt him, but keep him dodging shot for one minute +while I try to work a little scheme." + +Nancy gave a quick glance at Littlefield, and saw him take out his +pocket-knife and open it. Then she turned her face to obey orders, +keeping up a rapid fire at the enemy. + +Mexico Sam waited patiently until this innocuous fusillade ceased. +He had plenty of time, and he did not care to risk the chance of a +bird-shot in his eye when it could be avoided by a little caution. +He pulled his heavy Stetson low down over his face until the shots +ceased. Then he drew a little nearer, and fired with careful aim at +what he could see of his victims above the fallen horse. + +Neither of them moved. He urged his horse a few steps nearer. He +saw the district attorney rise to one knee and deliberately level +his shotgun. He pulled his hat down and awaited the harmless rattle +of the tiny pellets. + +The shotgun blazed with a heavy report. Mexico Sam sighed, turned +limp all over, and slowly fell from his horse--a dead rattlesnake. + + +At ten o'clock the next morning court opened, and the case of the +United States versus Rafael Ortiz was called. The district attorney, +with his arm in a sling, rose and addressed the court. + +"May it please your honour," he said, "I desire to enter a _nolle +pros._ in this case. Even though the defendant should be guilty, +there is not sufficient evidence in the hands of the government to +secure a conviction. The piece of counterfeit coin upon the +identity of which the case was built is not now available as +evidence. I ask, therefore, that the case be stricken off." + +At the noon recess Kilpatrick strolled into the district attorney's +office. + +"I've just been down to take a squint at old Mexico Sam," said the +deputy. "They've got him laid out. Old Mexico was a tough outfit, I +reckon. The boys was wonderin' down there what you shot him with. +Some said it must have been nails. I never see a gun carry anything +to make holes like he had." + +"I shot him," said the district attorney, "with Exhibit A of your +counterfeiting case. Lucky thing for me--and somebody else--that +it was as bad money as it was! It sliced up into slugs very nicely. +Say, Kil, can't you go down to the jacals and find where that Mexican +girl lives? Miss Derwent wants to know." + + + + +XVIII + +A NEWSPAPER STORY + + +At 8 A. M. it lay on Giuseppi's news-stand, still damp from the +presses. Giuseppi, with the cunning of his ilk, philandered on the +opposite corner, leaving his patrons to help themselves, no doubt on +a theory related to the hypothesis of the watched pot. + +This particular newspaper was, according to its custom and design, an +educator, a guide, a monitor, a champion and a household counsellor +and _vade mecum_. + +From its many excellencies might be selected three editorials. One +was in simple and chaste but illuminating language directed to +parents and teachers, deprecating corporal punishment for children. + +Another was an accusive and significant warning addressed to a +notorious labour leader who was on the point of instigating his +clients to a troublesome strike. + +The third was an eloquent demand that the police force be sustained +and aided in everything that tended to increase its efficiency as +public guardians and servants. + +Besides these more important chidings and requisitions upon the store +of good citizenship was a wise prescription or form of procedure laid +out by the editor of the heart-to-heart column in the specific case +of a young man who had complained of the obduracy of his lady love, +teaching him how he might win her. + +Again, there was, on the beauty page, a complete answer to a young +lady inquirer who desired admonition toward the securing of bright +eyes, rosy cheeks and a beautiful countenance. + +One other item requiring special cognizance was a brief "personal," +running thus: + + + DEAR JACK:--Forgive me. You were right. Meet me corner Madison and + ----th at 8.30 this morning. We leave at noon. PENITENT. + + +At 8 o'clock a young man with a haggard look and the feverish gleam of +unrest in his eye dropped a penny and picked up the top paper as he +passed Giuseppi's stand. A sleepless night had left him a late riser. +There was an office to be reached by nine, and a shave and a hasty cup +of coffee to be crowded into the interval. + +He visited his barber shop and then hurried on his way. He pocketed +his paper, meditating a belated perusal of it at the luncheon hour. +At the next corner it fell from his pocket, carrying with it his pair +of new gloves. Three blocks he walked, missed the gloves and turned +back fuming. + +Just on the half-hour he reached the corner where lay the gloves and +the paper. But he strangely ignored that which he had come to seek. +He was holding two little hands as tightly as ever he could and +looking into two penitent brown eyes, while joy rioted in his heart. + +"Dear Jack," she said, "I knew you would be here on time." + +"I wonder what she means by that," he was saying to himself; "but it's +all right, it's all right." + +A big wind puffed out of the west, picked up the paper from the +sidewalk, opened it out and sent it flying and whirling down a side +street. Up that street was driving a skittish bay to a spider-wheel +buggy, the young man who had written to the heart-to-heart editor for +a recipe that he might win her for whom he sighed. + +The wind, with a prankish flurry, flapped the flying newspaper against +the face of the skittish bay. There was a lengthened streak of bay +mingled with the red of running gear that stretched itself out for +four blocks. Then a water-hydrant played its part in the cosmogony, +the buggy became matchwood as foreordained, and the driver rested very +quietly where he had been flung on the asphalt in front of a certain +brownstone mansion. + +They came out and had him inside very promptly. And there was one who +made herself a pillow for his head, and cared for no curious eyes, +bending over and saying, "Oh, it was you; it was you all the time, +Bobby! Couldn't you see it? And if you die, why, so must I, and--" + +But in all this wind we must hurry to keep in touch with our paper. + +Policeman O'Brine arrested it as a character dangerous to traffic. +Straightening its dishevelled leaves with his big, slow fingers, he +stood a few feet from the family entrance of the Shandon Bells Cafe. +One headline he spelled out ponderously: "The Papers to the Front in a +Move to Help the Police." + +But, whisht! The voice of Danny, the head bartender, through the +crack of the door: "Here's a nip for ye, Mike, ould man." + +Behind the widespread, amicable columns of the press Policeman O'Brine +receives swiftly his nip of the real stuff. He moves away, stalwart, +refreshed, fortified, to his duties. Might not the editor man view +with pride the early, the spiritual, the literal fruit that had +blessed his labours. + +Policeman O'Brine folded the paper and poked it playfully under the +arm of a small boy that was passing. That boy was named Johnny, and he +took the paper home with him. His sister was named Gladys, and she +had written to the beauty editor of the paper asking for the +practicable touchstone of beauty. That was weeks ago, and she had +ceased to look for an answer. Gladys was a pale girl, with dull eyes +and a discontented expression. She was dressing to go up to the +avenue to get some braid. Beneath her skirt she pinned two leaves of +the paper Johnny had brought. When she walked the rustling sound was +an exact imitation of the real thing. + +On the street she met the Brown girl from the flat below and stopped +to talk. The Brown girl turned green. Only silk at $5 a yard could +make the sound that she heard when Gladys moved. The Brown girl, +consumed by jealousy, said something spiteful and went her way, with +pinched lips. + +Gladys proceeded toward the avenue. Her eyes now sparkled like +jagerfonteins. A rosy bloom visited her cheeks; a triumphant, subtle, +vivifying, smile transfigured her face. She was beautiful. Could the +beauty editor have seen her then! There was something in her answer +in the paper, I believe, about cultivating kind feelings toward others +in order to make plain features attractive. + +The labour leader against whom the paper's solemn and weighty +editorial injunction was laid was the father of Gladys and Johnny. He +picked up the remains of the journal from which Gladys had ravished a +cosmetic of silken sounds. The editorial did not come under his eye, +but instead it was greeted by one of those ingenious and specious +puzzle problems that enthrall alike the simpleton and the sage. + +The labour leader tore off half of the page, provided himself with +table, pencil and paper and glued himself to his puzzle. + +Three hours later, after waiting vainly for him at the appointed +place, other more conservative leaders declared and ruled in favour of +arbitration, and the strike with its attendant dangers was averted. +Subsequent editions of the paper referred, in coloured inks, to the +clarion tone of its successful denunciation of the labour leader's +intended designs. + +The remaining leaves of the active journal also went loyally to the +proving of its potency. + +When Johnny returned from school he sought a secluded spot and removed +the missing columns from the inside of his clothing, where they had +been artfully distributed so as to successfully defend such areas as +are generally attacked during scholastic castigations. Johnny +attended a private school and had had trouble with his teacher. As +has been said, there was an excellent editorial against corporal +punishment in that morning's issue, and no doubt it had its effect. + +After this can any one doubt the power of the press? + + + + +XIX + +TOMMY'S BURGLAR + + +At ten o'clock P. M. Felicia, the maid, left by the basement door with +the policeman to get a raspberry phosphate around the corner. She +detested the policeman and objected earnestly to the arrangement. +She pointed out, not unreasonably, that she might have been allowed to +fall asleep over one of St. George Rathbone's novels on the third +floor, but she was overruled. Raspberries and cops were not created +for nothing. + +The burglar got into the house without much difficulty; because we +must have action and not too much description in a 2,000-word story. + +In the dining room he opened the slide of his dark lantern. With a +brace and centrebit he began to bore into the lock of the silver-closet. + +Suddenly a click was heard. The room was flooded with electric light. +The dark velvet portieres parted to admit a fair-haired boy of eight +in pink pajamas, bearing a bottle of olive oil in his hand. + +"Are you a burglar?" he asked, in a sweet, childish voice. + +"Listen to that," exclaimed the man, in a hoarse voice. "Am I a +burglar? Wot do you suppose I have a three-days' growth of bristly +beard on my face for, and a cap with flaps? Give me the oil, quick, +and let me grease the bit, so I won't wake up your mamma, who is lying +down with a headache, and left you in charge of Felicia who has been +faithless to her trust." + +"Oh, dear," said Tommy, with a sigh. "I thought you would be more +up-to-date. This oil is for the salad when I bring lunch from the +pantry for you. And mamma and papa have gone to the Metropolitan to +hear De Reszke. But that isn't my fault. It only shows how long the +story has been knocking around among the editors. If the author had +been wise he'd have changed it to Caruso in the proofs." + +"Be quiet," hissed the burglar, under his breath. "If you raise an +alarm I'll wring your neck like a rabbit's." + +"Like a chicken's," corrected Tommy. "You had that wrong. You don't +wring rabbits' necks." + +"Aren't you afraid of me?" asked the burglar. + +"You know I'm not," answered Tommy. "Don't you suppose I know fact +from fiction. If this wasn't a story I'd yell like an Indian when I +saw you; and you'd probably tumble downstairs and get pinched on the +sidewalk." + +"I see," said the burglar, "that you're on to your job. Go on with +the performance." + +Tommy seated himself in an armchair and drew his toes up under him. + +"Why do you go around robbing strangers, Mr. Burglar? Have you no +friends?" + +"I see what you're driving at," said the burglar, with a dark frown. +"It's the same old story. Your innocence and childish insouciance is +going to lead me back into an honest life. Every time I crack a crib +where there's a kid around, it happens." + +"Would you mind gazing with wolfish eyes at the plate of cold beef +that the butler has left on the dining table?" said Tommy. "I'm +afraid it's growing late." + +The burglar accommodated. + +"Poor man," said Tommy. "You must be hungry. If you will please stand +in a listless attitude I will get you something to eat." + +The boy brought a roast chicken, a jar of marmalade and a bottle of +wine from the pantry. The burglar seized a knife and fork sullenly. + +"It's only been an hour," he grumbled, "since I had a lobster and a +pint of musty ale up on Broadway. I wish these story writers would +let a fellow have a pepsin tablet, anyhow, between feeds." + +"My papa writes books," remarked Tommy. + +The burglar jumped to his feet quickly. + +"You said he had gone to the opera," he hissed, hoarsely and with +immediate suspicion. + +"I ought to have explained," said Tommy. "He didn't buy the tickets." +The burglar sat again and toyed with the wishbone. + +"Why do you burgle houses?" asked the boy, wonderingly. + +"Because," replied the burglar, with a sudden flow of tears. "God +bless my little brown-haired boy Bessie at home." + +"Ah," said Tommy, wrinkling his nose, "you got that answer in the +wrong place. You want to tell your hard-luck story before you pull +out the child stop." + +"Oh, yes," said the burglar, "I forgot. Well, once I lived in +Milwaukee, and--" + +"Take the silver," said Tommy, rising from his chair. + +"Hold on," said the burglar. "But I moved away. I could find no +other employment. For a while I managed to support my wife and +child by passing confederate money; but, alas! I was forced to give +that up because it did not belong to the union. I became desperate +and a burglar." + +"Have you ever fallen into the hands of the police?" asked Tommy. + +"I said 'burglar,' not 'beggar,'" answered the cracksman. + +"After you finish your lunch," said Tommy, "and experience the usual +change of heart, how shall we wind up the story?" + +"Suppose," said the burglar, thoughtfully, "that Tony Pastor turns out +earlier than usual to-night, and your father gets in from 'Parsifal' +at 10.30. I am thoroughly repentant because you have made me think of +my own little boy Bessie, and--" + +"Say," said Tommy, "haven't you got that wrong?" + +"Not on your coloured crayon drawings by B. Cory Kilvert," said the +burglar. "It's always a Bessie that I have at home, artlessly +prattling to the pale-cheeked burglar's bride. As I was saying, your +father opens the front door just as I am departing with admonitions +and sandwiches that you have wrapped up for me. Upon recognizing me +as an old Harvard classmate he starts back in--" + +"Not in surprise?" interrupted Tommy, with wide, open eyes. + +"He starts back in the doorway," continued the burglar. And then he +rose to his feet and began to shout "Rah, rah, rah! rah, rah, rah! +rah, rah, rah!" + +"Well," said Tommy, wonderingly, "that's the first time I ever knew a +burglar to give a college yell when he was burglarizing a house, even +in a story." + +"That's one on you," said the burglar, with a laugh. "I was practising +the dramatization. If this is put on the stage that college touch is +about the only thing that will make it go." + +Tommy looked his admiration. + +"You're on, all right," he said. + +"And there's another mistake you've made," said the burglar. "You +should have gone some time ago and brought me the $9 gold piece your +mother gave you on your birthday to take to Bessie." + +"But she didn't give it to me to take to Bessie," said Tommy, pouting. + +"Come, come!" said the burglar, sternly. "It's not nice of you to +take advantage because the story contains an ambiguous sentence. You +know what I mean. It's mighty little I get out of these fictional +jobs, anyhow. I lose all the loot, and I have to reform every time; +and all the swag I'm allowed is the blamed little fol-de-rols and +luck-pieces that you kids hand over. Why, in one story, all I got was +a kiss from a little girl who came in on me when I was opening a safe. +And it tasted of molasses candy, too. I've a good notion to tie this +table cover over your head and keep on into the silver-closet." + +"Oh, no, you haven't," said Tommy, wrapping his arms around his knees. +"Because if you did no editor would buy the story. You know you've +got to preserve the unities." + +"So've you," said the burglar, rather glumly. "Instead of sitting here +talking impudence and taking the bread out of a poor man's mouth, what +you'd like to be doing is hiding under the bed and screeching at the +top of your voice." + +"You're right, old man," said Tommy, heartily. "I wonder what they +make us do it for? I think the S. P. C. C. ought to interfere. I'm +sure it's neither agreeable nor usual for a kid of my age to butt in +when a full-grown burglar is at work and offer him a red sled and a +pair of skates not to awaken his sick mother. And look how they make +the burglars act! You'd think editors would know--but what's the +use?" + +The burglar wiped his hands on the tablecloth and arose with a yawn. + +"Well, let's get through with it," he said. "God bless you, my little +boy! you have saved a man from committing a crime this night. Bessie +shall pray for you as soon as I get home and give her her orders. I +shall never burglarize another house--at least not until the June +magazines are out. It'll be your little sister's turn then to run in +on me while I am abstracting the U. S. 4 per cent. from the tea urn +and buy me off with her coral necklace and a falsetto kiss." + +"You haven't got all the kicks coming to you," sighed Tommy, crawling +out of his chair. "Think of the sleep I'm losing. But it's tough on +both of us, old man. I wish you could get out of the story and really +rob somebody. Maybe you'll have the chance if they dramatize us." + +"Never!" said the burglar, gloomily. "Between the box office and my +better impulses that your leading juveniles are supposed to awaken +and the magazines that pay on publication, I guess I'll always be +broke." + +"I'm sorry," said Tommy, sympathetically. "But I can't help myself +any more than you can. It's one of the canons of household fiction +that no burglar shall be successful. The burglar must be foiled by +a kid like me, or by a young lady heroine, or at the last moment by +his old pal, Red Mike, who recognizes the house as one in which he +used to be the coachman. You have got the worst end of it in any kind +of a story." + +"Well, I suppose I must be clearing out now," said the burglar, taking +up his lantern and bracebit. + +"You have to take the rest of this chicken and the bottle of wine with +you for Bessie and her mother," said Tommy, calmly. + +"But confound it," exclaimed the burglar, in an annoyed tone, "they +don't want it. I've got five cases of Chateau de Beychsvelle at home +that was bottled in 1853. That claret of yours is corked. And you +couldn't get either of them to look at a chicken unless it was stewed +in champagne. You know, after I get out of the story I don't have so +many limitations. I make a turn now and then." + +"Yes, but you must take them," said Tommy, loading his arms with the +bundles. + +"Bless you, young master!" recited the burglar, obedient. "Second-Story +Saul will never forget you. And now hurry and let me out, kid. Our +2,000 words must be nearly up." + +Tommy led the way through the hall toward the front door. Suddenly +the burglar stopped and called to him softly: "Ain't there a cop out +there in front somewhere sparking the girl?" + +"Yes," said Tommy, "but what--" + +"I'm afraid he'll catch me," said the burglar. "You mustn't forget +that this is fiction." + +"Great head!" said Tommy, turning. "Come out by the back door." + + + + +XX + +A CHAPARRAL CHRISTMAS GIFT + + +The original cause of the trouble was about twenty years in growing. + +At the end of that time it was worth it. + +Had you lived anywhere within fifty miles of Sundown Ranch you would +have heard of it. It possessed a quantity of jet-black hair, a pair +of extremely frank, deep-brown eyes and a laugh that rippled across +the prairie like the sound of a hidden brook. The name of it was +Rosita McMullen; and she was the daughter of old man McMullen of the +Sundown Sheep Ranch. + +There came riding on red roan steeds--or, to be more explicit, on a +paint and a flea-bitten sorrel--two wooers. One was Madison Lane, +and the other was the Frio Kid. But at that time they did not call him +the Frio Kid, for he had not earned the honours of special +nomenclature. His name was simply Johnny McRoy. + +It must not be supposed that these two were the sum of the agreeable +Rosita's admirers. The bronchos of a dozen others champed their bits +at the long hitching rack of the Sundown Ranch. Many were the +sheeps'-eyes that were cast in those savannas that did not belong to +the flocks of Dan McMullen. But of all the cavaliers, Madison Lane +and Johnny McRoy galloped far ahead, wherefore they are to be +chronicled. + +Madison Lane, a young cattleman from the Nueces country, won the race. +He and Rosita were married one Christmas day. Armed, hilarious, +vociferous, magnanimous, the cowmen and the sheepmen, laying aside +their hereditary hatred, joined forces to celebrate the occasion. + +Sundown Ranch was sonorous with the cracking of jokes and sixshooters, +the shine of buckles and bright eyes, the outspoken congratulations of +the herders of kine. + +But while the wedding feast was at its liveliest there descended upon +it Johnny McRoy, bitten by jealousy, like one possessed. + +"I'll give you a Christmas present," he yelled, shrilly, at the door, +with his .45 in his hand. Even then he had some reputation as an +offhand shot. + +His first bullet cut a neat underbit in Madison Lane's right ear. The +barrel of his gun moved an inch. The next shot would have been the +bride's had not Carson, a sheepman, possessed a mind with triggers +somewhat well oiled and in repair. The guns of the wedding party had +been hung, in their belts, upon nails in the wall when they sat at +table, as a concession to good taste. But Carson, with great +promptness, hurled his plate of roast venison and frijoles at McRoy, +spoiling his aim. The second bullet, then, only shattered the white +petals of a Spanish dagger flower suspended two feet above Rosita's +head. + +The guests spurned their chairs and jumped for their weapons. It was +considered an improper act to shoot the bride and groom at a wedding. +In about six seconds there were twenty or so bullets due to be +whizzing in the direction of Mr. McRoy. + +"I'll shoot better next time," yelled Johnny; "and there'll be a next +time." He backed rapidly out the door. + +Carson, the sheepman, spurred on to attempt further exploits by the +success of his plate-throwing, was first to reach the door. McRoy's +bullet from the darkness laid him low. + +The cattlemen then swept out upon him, calling for vengeance, for, +while the slaughter of a sheepman has not always lacked condonement, +it was a decided misdemeanour in this instance. Carson was +innocent; he was no accomplice at the matrimonial proceedings; nor had +any one heard him quote the line "Christmas comes but once a year" to +the guests. + +But the sortie failed in its vengeance. McRoy was on his horse and +away, shouting back curses and threats as he galloped into the +concealing chaparral. + +That night was the birthnight of the Frio Kid. He became the "bad +man" of that portion of the State. The rejection of his suit by Miss +McMullen turned him to a dangerous man. When officers went after him +for the shooting of Carson, he killed two of them, and entered upon +the life of an outlaw. He became a marvellous shot with either hand. +He would turn up in towns and settlements, raise a quarrel at the +slightest opportunity, pick off his man and laugh at the officers +of the law. He was so cool, so deadly, so rapid, so inhumanly +blood-thirsty that none but faint attempts were ever made to capture +him. When he was at last shot and killed by a little one-armed Mexican +who was nearly dead himself from fright, the Frio Kid had the deaths +of eighteen men on his head. About half of these were killed in fair +duels depending upon the quickness of the draw. The other half were +men whom he assassinated from absolute wantonness and cruelty. + +Many tales are told along the border of his impudent courage and +daring. But he was not one of the breed of desperadoes who have +seasons of generosity and even of softness. They say he never had +mercy on the object of his anger. Yet at this and every Christmastide +it is well to give each one credit, if it can be done, for whatever +speck of good he may have possessed. If the Frio Kid ever did a +kindly act or felt a throb of generosity in his heart it was once at +such a time and season, and this is the way it happened. + + +One who has been crossed in love should never breathe the odour from +the blossoms of the ratama tree. It stirs the memory to a dangerous +degree. + +One December in the Frio country there was a ratama tree in full +bloom, for the winter had been as warm as springtime. That way rode +the Frio Kid and his satellite and co-murderer, Mexican Frank. The kid +reined in his mustang, and sat in his saddle, thoughtful and grim, +with dangerously narrowing eyes. The rich, sweet scent touched him +somewhere beneath his ice and iron. + +"I don't know what I've been thinking about, Mex," he remarked in his +usual mild drawl, "to have forgot all about a Christmas present I got +to give. I'm going to ride over to-morrow night and shoot Madison +Lane in his own house. He got my girl--Rosita would have had me if +he hadn't cut into the game. I wonder why I happened to overlook it +up to now?" + +"Ah, shucks, Kid," said Mexican, "don't talk foolishness. You know +you can't get within a mile of Mad Lane's house to-morrow night. I +see old man Allen day before yesterday, and he says Mad is going to +have Christmas doings at his house. You remember how you shot up the +festivities when Mad was married, and about the threats you made? +Don't you suppose Mad Lane'll kind of keep his eye open for a certain +Mr. Kid? You plumb make me tired, Kid, with such remarks." + +"I'm going," repeated the Frio Kid, without heat, "to go to Madison +Lane's Christmas doings, and kill him. I ought to have done it a long +time ago. Why, Mex, just two weeks ago I dreamed me and Rosita was +married instead of her and him; and we was living in a house, and I +could see her smiling at me, and--oh! h----l, Mex, he got her; and +I'll get him--yes, sir, on Christmas Eve he got her, and then's when +I'll get him." + +"There's other ways of committing suicide," advised Mexican. "Why +don't you go and surrender to the sheriff?" + +"I'll get him," said the Kid. + +Christmas Eve fell as balmy as April. Perhaps there was a hint of +far-away frostiness in the air, but it tingles like seltzer, perfumed +faintly with late prairie blossoms and the mesquite grass. + +When night came the five or six rooms of the ranch-house were +brightly lit. In one room was a Christmas tree, for the Lanes had a +boy of three, and a dozen or more guests were expected from the nearer +ranches. + +At nightfall Madison Lane called aside Jim Belcher and three other +cowboys employed on his ranch. + +"Now, boys," said Lane, "keep your eyes open. Walk around the house +and watch the road well. All of you know the 'Frio Kid,' as they call +him now, and if you see him, open fire on him without asking any +questions. I'm not afraid of his coming around, but Rosita is. She's +been afraid he'd come in on us every Christmas since we were married." + +The guests had arrived in buckboards and on horseback, and were making +themselves comfortable inside. + +The evening went along pleasantly. The guests enjoyed and praised +Rosita's excellent supper, and afterward the men scattered in groups +about the rooms or on the broad "gallery," smoking and chatting. + +The Christmas tree, of course, delighted the youngsters, and above all +were they pleased when Santa Claus himself in magnificent white beard +and furs appeared and began to distribute the toys. + +"It's my papa," announced Billy Sampson, aged six. "I've seen him wear +'em before." + +Berkly, a sheepman, an old friend of Lane, stopped Rosita as she was +passing by him on the gallery, where he was sitting smoking. + +"Well, Mrs. Lane," said he, "I suppose by this Christmas you've +gotten over being afraid of that fellow McRoy, haven't you? Madison +and I have talked about it, you know." + +"Very nearly," said Rosita, smiling, "but I am still nervous +sometimes. I shall never forget that awful time when he came so near +to killing us." + +"He's the most cold-hearted villain in the world," said Berkly. "The +citizens all along the border ought to turn out and hunt him down like +a wolf." + +"He has committed awful crimes," said Rosita, "but--I--don't--know. +I think there is a spot of good somewhere in everybody. He was not +always bad--that I know." + +Rosita turned into the hallway between the rooms. Santa Claus, in +muffling whiskers and furs, was just coming through. + +"I heard what you said through the window, Mrs. Lane," he said. "I +was just going down in my pocket for a Christmas present for your +husband. But I've left one for you, instead. It's in the room to +your right." + +"Oh, thank you, kind Santa Claus," said Rosita, brightly. + +Rosita went into the room, while Santa Claus stepped into the cooler +air of the yard. + +She found no one in the room but Madison. + +"Where is my present that Santa said he left for me in here?" she +asked. + +"Haven't seen anything in the way of a present," said her husband, +laughing, "unless he could have meant me." + + +The next day Gabriel Radd, the foreman of the X O Ranch, dropped into +the post-office at Loma Alta. + +"Well, the Frio Kid's got his dose of lead at last," he remarked to +the postmaster. + +"That so? How'd it happen?" + +"One of old Sanchez's Mexican sheep herders did it!--think of it! +the Frio Kid killed by a sheep herder! The Greaser saw him riding +along past his camp about twelve o'clock last night, and was so +skeered that he up with a Winchester and let him have it. Funniest +part of it was that the Kid was dressed all up with white Angora-skin +whiskers and a regular Santy Claus rig-out from head to foot. Think +of the Frio Kid playing Santy!" + + + + +XXI + +A LITTLE LOCAL COLOUR + + +I mentioned to Rivington that I was in search of characteristic New +York scenes and incidents--something typical, I told him, without +necessarily having to spell the first syllable with an "i." + +"Oh, for your writing business," said Rivington; "you couldn't have +applied to a better shop. What I don't know about little old New York +wouldn't make a sonnet to a sunbonnet. I'll put you right in the +middle of so much local colour that you won't know whether you are a +magazine cover or in the erysipelas ward. When do you want to begin?" + +Rivington is a young-man-about-town and a New Yorker by birth, +preference and incommutability. + +I told him that I would be glad to accept his escort and guardianship +so that I might take notes of Manhattan's grand, gloomy and peculiar +idiosyncrasies, and that the time of so doing would be at his own +convenience. + +"We'll begin this very evening," said Rivington, himself interested, +like a good fellow. "Dine with me at seven, and then I'll steer you +up against metropolitan phases so thick you'll have to have a +kinetoscope to record 'em." + +So I dined with Rivington pleasantly at his club, in Forty-eleventh +street, and then we set forth in pursuit of the elusive tincture of +affairs. + +As we came out of the club there stood two men on the sidewalk near +the steps in earnest conversation. + +"And by what process of ratiocination," said one of them, "do you +arrive at the conclusion that the division of society into producing +and non-possessing classes predicates failure when compared with +competitive systems that are monopolizing in tendency and result +inimically to industrial evolution?" + +"Oh, come off your perch!" said the other man, who wore glasses. +"Your premises won't come out in the wash. You wind-jammers who apply +bandy-legged theories to concrete categorical syllogisms send logical +conclusions skallybootin' into the infinitesimal ragbag. You can't +pull my leg with an old sophism with whiskers on it. You quote Marx +and Hyndman and Kautsky--what are they?--shines! Tolstoi?--his +garret is full of rats. I put it to you over the home-plate that the +idea of a cooperative commonwealth and an abolishment of competitive +systems simply takes the rag off the bush and gives me hyperesthesia +of the roopteetoop! The skookum house for yours!" + +I stopped a few yards away and took out my little notebook. + +"Oh, come ahead," said Rivington, somewhat nervously; "you don't +want to listen to that." + +"Why, man," I whispered, "this is just what I do want to hear. These +slang types are among your city's most distinguishing features. Is +this the Bowery variety? I really must hear more of it." + +"If I follow you," said the man who had spoken first, "you do not +believe it possible to reorganize society on the basis of common +interest?" + +"Shinny on your own side!" said the man with glasses. "You never +heard any such music from my foghorn. What I said was that I did not +believe it practicable just now. The guys with wads are not in the +frame of mind to slack up on the mazuma, and the man with the portable +tin banqueting canister isn't exactly ready to join the Bible class. +You can bet your variegated socks that the situation is all +spifflicated up from the Battery to breakfast! What the country needs +is for some bully old bloke like Cobden or some wise guy like old Ben +Franklin to sashay up to the front and biff the nigger's head with +the baseball. Do you catch my smoke? What?" + +Rivington pulled me by the arm impatiently. + +"Please come on," he said. "Let's go see something. This isn't what +you want." + +"Indeed, it is," I said resisting. "This tough talk is the very stuff +that counts. There is a picturesqueness about the speech of the lower +order of people that is quite unique. Did you say that this is the +Bowery variety of slang?" + +"Oh, well," said Rivington, giving it up, "I'll tell you straight. +That's one of our college professors talking. He ran down for a day or +two at the club. It's a sort of fad with him lately to use slang in +his conversation. He thinks it improves language. The man he is +talking to is one of New York's famous social economists. Now will +you come on. You can't use that, you know." + +"No," I agreed; "I can't use that. Would you call that typical of New +York?" + +"Of course not," said Rivington, with a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you +see the difference. But if you want to hear the real old tough Bowery +slang I'll take you down where you'll get your fill of it." + +"I would like it," I said; "that is, if it's the real thing. I've +often read it in books, but I never heard it. Do you think it will be +dangerous to go unprotected among those characters?" + +"Oh, no," said Rivington; "not at this time of night. To tell the +truth, I haven't been along the Bowery in a long time, but I know it +as well as I do Broadway. We'll look up some of the typical Bowery +boys and get them to talk. It'll be worth your while. They talk a +peculiar dialect that you won't hear anywhere else on earth." + +Rivington and I went east in a Forty-second street car and then south +on the Third avenue line. + +At Houston street we got off and walked. + +"We are now on the famous Bowery," said Rivington; "the Bowery +celebrated in song and story." + +We passed block after block of "gents'" furnishing stores--the +windows full of shirts with prices attached and cuffs inside. In +other windows were neckties and no shirts. People walked up and down +the sidewalks. + +"In some ways," said I, "this reminds me of Kokomono, Ind., during +the peach-crating season." + +Rivington was nettled. + +"Step into one of these saloons or vaudeville shows," said he, "with a +large roll of money, and see how quickly the Bowery will sustain its +reputation." + +"You make impossible conditions," said I, coldly. + +By and by Rivington stopped and said we were in the heart of the +Bowery. There was a policeman on the corner whom Rivington knew. + +"Hallo, Donahue!" said my guide. "How goes it? My friend and I are +down this way looking up a bit of local colour. He's anxious to meet +one of the Bowery types. Can't you put us on to something genuine in +that line--something that's got the colour, you know?" + +Policeman Donahue turned himself about ponderously, his florid face +full of good-nature. He pointed with his club down the street. + +"Sure!" he said huskily. "Here comes a lad now that was born on the +Bowery and knows every inch of it. If he's ever been above Bleecker +street he's kept it to himself." + +A man about twenty-eight or twenty-nine, with a smooth face, was +sauntering toward us with his hands in his coat pockets. Policeman +Donahue stopped him with a courteous wave of his club. + +"Evening, Kerry," he said. "Here's a couple of gents, friends of +mine, that want to hear you spiel something about the Bowery. Can you +reel 'em off a few yards?" + +"Certainly, Donahue," said the young man, pleasantly. "Good +evening, gentlemen," he said to us, with a pleasant smile. Donahue +walked off on his beat. + +"This is the goods," whispered Rivington, nudging me with his elbow. +"Look at his jaw!" + +"Say, cull," said Rivington, pushing back his hat, "wot's doin'? +Me and my friend's taking a look down de old line--see? De copper +tipped us off dat you was wise to de bowery. Is dat right?" + +I could not help admiring Rivington's power of adapting himself to +his surroundings. + +"Donahue was right," said the young man, frankly; "I was brought up +on the Bowery. I have been news-boy, teamster, pugilist, member of +an organized band of 'toughs,' bartender, and a 'sport' in various +meanings of the word. The experience certainly warrants the +supposition that I have at least a passing acquaintance with a few +phases of Bowery life. I will be pleased to place whatever knowledge +and experience I have at the service of my friend Donahue's friends." + +Rivington seemed ill at ease. + +"I say," he said--somewhat entreatingly, "I thought--you're not +stringing us, are you? It isn't just the kind of talk we expected. +You haven't even said 'Hully gee!' once. Do you really belong on the +Bowery?" + +"I am afraid," said the Bowery boy, smilingly, "that at some time you +have been enticed into one of the dives of literature and had the +counterfeit coin of the Bowery passed upon you. The 'argot' to which +you doubtless refer was the invention of certain of your literary +'discoverers' who invaded the unknown wilds below Third avenue and +put strange sounds into the mouths of the inhabitants. Safe in their +homes far to the north and west, the credulous readers who were +beguiled by this new 'dialect' perused and believed. Like Marco Polo +and Mungo Park--pioneers indeed, but ambitious souls who could not +draw the line of demarcation between discovery and invention--the +literary bones of these explorers are dotting the trackless wastes of +the subway. While it is true that after the publication of the +mythical language attributed to the dwellers along the Bowery certain +of its pat phrases and apt metaphors were adopted and, to a limited +extent, used in this locality, it was because our people are prompt in +assimilating whatever is to their commercial advantage. To the +tourists who visited our newly discovered clime, and who expected a +realization of their literary guide books, they supplied the demands +of the market. + +"But perhaps I am wandering from the question. In what way can I +assist you, gentlemen? I beg you will believe that the hospitality of +the street is extended to all. There are, I regret to say, many +catchpenny places of entertainment, but I cannot conceive that they +would entice you." + +I felt Rivington lean somewhat heavily against me. "Say!" he +remarked, with uncertain utterance; "come and have a drink with us." + +"Thank you, but I never drink. I find that alcohol, even in the +smallest quantities, alters the perspective. And I must preserve my +perspective, for I am studying the Bowery. I have lived in it nearly +thirty years, and I am just beginning to understand its heartbeats. +It is like a great river fed by a hundred alien streams. Each influx +brings strange seeds on its flood, strange silt and weeds, and now and +then a flower of rare promise. To construe this river requires a man +who can build dykes against the overflow, who is a naturalist, a +geologist, a humanitarian, a diver and a strong swimmer. I love my +Bowery. It was my cradle and is my inspiration. I have published one +book. The critics have been kind. I put my heart in it. I am writing +another, into which I hope to put both heart and brain. Consider me +your guide, gentlemen. Is there anything I can take you to see, any +place to which I can conduct you?" + +I was afraid to look at Rivington except with one eye. + +"Thanks," said Rivington. "We were looking up . . . that is . . . my +friend . . . confound it; it's against all precedent, you know . . . +awfully obliged . . . just the same." + +"In case," said our friend, "you would like to meet some of our Bowery +young men I would be pleased to have you visit the quarters of our +East Side Kappa Delta Phi Society, only two blocks east of here." + +"Awfully sorry," said Rivington, "but my friend's got me on the jump +to-night. He's a terror when he's out after local colour. Now, +there's nothing I would like better than to drop in at the Kappa Delta +Phi, but--some other time!" + +We said our farewells and boarded a home-bound car. We had a rabbit on +upper Broadway, and then I parted with Rivington on a street corner. + +"Well, anyhow," said he, braced and recovered, "it couldn't have +happened anywhere but in little old New York." + +Which to say the least, was typical of Rivington. + + + + +XXII + +GEORGIA'S RULING + + +If you should chance to visit the General Land Office, step into the +draughtsmen's room and ask to be shown the map of Salado County. A +leisurely German--possibly old Kampfer himself--will bring it to +you. It will be four feet square, on heavy drawing-cloth. The +lettering and the figures will be beautifully clear and distinct. The +title will be in splendid, undecipherable German text, ornamented with +classic Teutonic designs--very likely Ceres or Pomona leaning +against the initial letters with cornucopias venting grapes and +wieners. You must tell him that this is not the map you wish to see; +that he will kindly bring you its official predecessor. He will then +say, "Ach, so!" and bring out a map half the size of the first, dim, +old, tattered, and faded. + +By looking carefully near its northwest corner you will presently come +upon the worn contours of Chiquito River, and, maybe, if your eyes are +good, discern the silent witness to this story. + + +The Commissioner of the Land Office was of the old style; his +antique courtesy was too formal for his day. He dressed in fine +black, and there was a suggestion of Roman drapery in his long +coat-skirts. His collars were "undetached" (blame haberdashery +for the word); his tie was a narrow, funereal strip, tied in the +same knot as were his shoe-strings. His gray hair was a trifle +too long behind, but he kept it smooth and orderly. His face was +clean-shaven, like the old statesmen's. Most people thought it a +stern face, but when its official expression was off, a few had +seen altogether a different countenance. Especially tender and +gentle it had appeared to those who were about him during the last +illness of his only child. + +The Commissioner had been a widower for years, and his life, outside +his official duties, had been so devoted to little Georgia that people +spoke of it as a touching and admirable thing. He was a reserved man, +and dignified almost to austerity, but the child had come below it all +and rested upon his very heart, so that she scarcely missed the +mother's love that had been taken away. There was a wonderful +companionship between them, for she had many of his own ways, being +thoughtful and serious beyond her years. + +One day, while she was lying with the fever burning brightly in her +checks, she said suddenly: + +"Papa, I wish I could do something good for a whole lot of children!" + +"What would you like to do, dear?" asked the Commissioner. "Give +them a party?" + +"Oh, I don't mean those kind. I mean poor children who haven't homes, +and aren't loved and cared for as I am. I tell you what, papa!" + +"What, my own child?" + +"If I shouldn't get well, I'll leave them you--not _give_ you, but +just lend you, for you must come to mamma and me when you die too. If +you can find time, wouldn't you do something to help them, if I ask +you, papa?" + +"Hush, hush dear, dear child," said the Commissioner, holding her hot +little hand against his cheek; "you'll get well real soon, and you and +I will see what we can do for them together." + +But in whatsoever paths of benevolence, thus vaguely premeditated, the +Commissioner might tread, he was not to have the company of his +beloved. That night the little frail body grew suddenly too tired to +struggle further, and Georgia's exit was made from the great stage +when she had scarcely begun to speak her little piece before the +footlights. But there must be a stage manager who understands. She +had given the cue to the one who was to speak after her. + +A week after she was laid away, the Commissioner reappeared at the +office, a little more courteous, a little paler and sterner, with the +black frock-coat hanging a little more loosely from his tall figure. + +His desk was piled with work that had accumulated during the four +heartbreaking weeks of his absence. His chief clerk had done what he +could, but there were questions of law, of fine judicial decisions +to be made concerning the issue of patents, the marketing and +leasing of school lands, the classification into grazing, +agricultural, watered, and timbered, of new tracts to be opened to +settlers. + +The Commissioner went to work silently and obstinately, putting +back his grief as far as possible, forcing his mind to attack the +complicated and important business of his office. On the second day +after his return he called the porter, pointed to a leather-covered +chair that stood near his own, and ordered it removed to a lumber-room +at the top of the building. In that chair Georgia would always sit +when she came to the office for him of afternoons. + +As time passed, the Commissioner seemed to grow more silent, solitary, +and reserved. A new phase of mind developed in him. He could not +endure the presence of a child. Often when a clattering youngster +belonging to one of the clerks would come chattering into the big +business-room adjoining his little apartment, the Commissioner would +steal softly and close the door. He would always cross the street to +avoid meeting the school-children when they came dancing along in +happy groups upon the sidewalk, and his firm mouth would close into a +mere line. + +It was nearly three months after the rains had washed the last dead +flower-petals from the mound above little Georgia when the "land-shark" +firm of Hamlin and Avery filed papers upon what they considered the +"fattest" vacancy of the year. + +It should not be supposed that all who were termed "land-sharks" +deserved the name. Many of them were reputable men of good business +character. Some of them could walk into the most august councils of +the State and say: "Gentlemen, we would like to have this, and that, +and matters go thus." But, next to a three years' drought and the +boll-worm, the Actual Settler hated the Land-shark. The land-shark +haunted the Land Office, where all the land records were kept, and +hunted "vacancies"--that is, tracts of unappropriated public +domain, generally invisible upon the official maps, but actually +existing "upon the ground." The law entitled any one possessing +certain State scrip to file by virtue of same upon any land not +previously legally appropriated. Most of the scrip was now in the +hands of the land-sharks. Thus, at the cost of a few hundred dollars, +they often secured lands worth as many thousands. Naturally, the +search for "vacancies" was lively. + +But often--very often--the land they thus secured, though legally +"unappropriated," would be occupied by happy and contented settlers, +who had laboured for years to build up their homes, only to discover +that their titles were worthless, and to receive peremptory notice to +quit. Thus came about the bitter and not unjustifiable hatred felt by +the toiling settlers toward the shrewd and seldom merciful speculators +who so often turned them forth destitute and homeless from their +fruitless labours. The history of the state teems with their +antagonism. Mr. Land-shark seldom showed his face on "locations" from +which he should have to eject the unfortunate victims of a monstrously +tangled land system, but let his emissaries do the work. There was +lead in every cabin, moulded into balls for him; many of his brothers +had enriched the grass with their blood. The fault of it all lay far +back. + +When the state was young, she felt the need of attracting newcomers, +and of rewarding those pioneers already within her borders. Year +after year she issued land scrip--Headrights, Bounties, Veteran +Donations, Confederates; and to railroads, irrigation companies, +colonies, and tillers of the soil galore. All required of the grantee +was that he or it should have the scrip properly surveyed upon the +public domain by the county or district surveyor, and the land thus +appropriated became the property of him or it, or his or its heirs and +assigns, forever. + +In those days--and here is where the trouble began--the state's +domain was practically inexhaustible, and the old surveyors, with +princely--yea, even Western American--liberality, gave good +measure and over-flowing. Often the jovial man of metes and bounds +would dispense altogether with the tripod and chain. Mounted on a pony +that could cover something near a "vara" at a step, with a pocket +compass to direct his course, he would trot out a survey by counting +the beat of his pony's hoofs, mark his corners, and write out his +field notes with the complacency produced by an act of duty well +performed. Sometimes--and who could blame the surveyor?--when +the pony was "feeling his oats," he might step a little higher and +farther, and in that case the beneficiary of the scrip might get a +thousand or two more acres in his survey than the scrip called for. +But look at the boundless leagues the state had to spare! However, no +one ever had to complain of the pony under-stepping. Nearly every +old survey in the state contained an excess of land. + +In later years, when the state became more populous, and land values +increased, this careless work entailed incalculable trouble, endless +litigation, a period of riotous land-grabbing, and no little +bloodshed. The land-sharks voraciously attacked these excesses in +the old surveys, and filed upon such portions with new scrip as +unappropriated public domain. Wherever the identifications of the +old tracts were vague, and the corners were not to be clearly +established, the Land Office would recognize the newer locations as +valid, and issue title to the locators. Here was the greatest +hardship to be found. These old surveys, taken from the pick of the +land, were already nearly all occupied by unsuspecting and peaceful +settlers, and thus their titles were demolished, and the choice was +placed before them either to buy their land over at a double price or +to vacate it, with their families and personal belongings, +immediately. Land locators sprang up by hundreds. The country was +held up and searched for "vacancies" at the point of a compass. +Hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of splendid acres were wrested +from their innocent purchasers and holders. There began a vast hegira +of evicted settlers in tattered wagons; going nowhere, cursing +injustice, stunned, purposeless, homeless, hopeless. Their children +began to look up to them for bread, and cry. + + +It was in consequence of these conditions that Hamilton and Avery +had filed upon a strip of land about a mile wide and three miles long, +comprising about two thousand acres, it being the excess over +complement of the Elias Denny three-league survey on Chiquito River, +in one of the middle-western counties. This two-thousand-acre body +of land was asserted by them to be vacant land, and improperly +considered a part of the Denny survey. They based this assertion and +their claim upon the land upon the demonstrated facts that the +beginning corner of the Denny survey was plainly identified; that its +field notes called to run west 5,760 varas, and then called for +Chiquito River; thence it ran south, with the meanders--and so on-- +and that the Chiquito River was, on the ground, fully a mile farther +west from the point reached by course and distance. To sum up: there +were two thousand acres of vacant land between the Denny survey proper +and Chiquito River. + +One sweltering day in July the Commissioner called for the papers in +connection with this new location. They were brought, and heaped, a +foot deep, upon his desk--field notes, statements, sketches, +affidavits, connecting lines--documents of every description that +shrewdness and money could call to the aid of Hamlin and Avery. + +The firm was pressing the Commissioner to issue a patent upon their +location. They possesed inside information concerning a new +railroad that would probably pass somewhere near this land. + +The General Land Office was very still while the Commissioner was +delving into the heart of the mass of evidence. The pigeons could +be heard on the roof of the old, castle-like building, cooing and +fretting. The clerks were droning everywhere, scarcely pretending +to earn their salaries. Each little sound echoed hollow and loud +from the bare, stone-flagged floors, the plastered walls, and the +iron-joisted ceiling. The impalpable, perpetual limestone dust that +never settled, whitened a long streamer of sunlight that pierced the +tattered window-awning. + +It seemed that Hamlin and Avery had builded well. The Denny survey was +carelessly made, even for a careless period. Its beginning corner +was identical with that of a well-defined old Spanish grant, but its +other calls were sinfully vague. The field notes contained no other +object that survived--no tree, no natural object save Chiquito +River, and it was a mile wrong there. According to precedent, the +Office would be justified in giving it its complement by course and +distance, and considering the remainder vacant instead of a mere +excess. + +The Actual Settler was besieging the office with wild protests _in re_. +Having the nose of a pointer and the eye of a hawk for the land-shark, +he had observed his myrmidons running the lines upon his ground. +Making inquiries, he learned that the spoiler had attacked his home, +and he left the plough in the furrow and took his pen in hand. + +One of the protests the Commissioner read twice. It was from a woman, +a widow, the granddaughter of Elias Denny himself. She told how her +grandfather had sold most of the survey years before at a trivial +price--land that was now a principality in extent and value. Her +mother had also sold a part, and she herself had succeeded to this +western portion, along Chiquito River. Much of it she had been forced +to part with in order to live, and now she owned only about three +hundred acres, on which she had her home. Her letter wound up rather +pathetically: + +"I've got eight children, the oldest fifteen years. I work all day +and half the night to till what little land I can and keep us in +clothes and books. I teach my children too. My neighbours is all +poor and has big families. The drought kills the crops every two or +three years and then we has hard times to get enough to eat. There is +ten families on this land what the land-sharks is trying to rob us of, +and all of them got titles from me. I sold to them cheap, and they +aint paid out yet, but part of them is, and if their land should be +took from them I would die. My grandfather was an honest man, and he +helped to build up this state, and he taught his children to be +honest, and how could I make it up to them who bought from me? Mr. +Commissioner, if you let them land-sharks take the roof from over my +children and the little from them as they has to live on, whoever +again calls this state great or its government just will have a lie in +their mouths." + +The Commissioner laid this letter aside with a sigh. Many, many such +letters he had received. He had never been hurt by them, nor had he +ever felt that they appealed to him personally. He was but the +state's servant, and must follow its laws. And yet, somehow, this +reflection did not always eliminate a certain responsible feeling that +hung upon him. Of all the state's officers he was supremest in his +department, not even excepting the Governor. Broad, general land laws +he followed, it was true, but he had a wide latitude in particular +ramifications. Rather than law, what he followed was Rulings: +Office Rulings and precedents. In the complicated and new questions +that were being engendered by the state's development the +Commissioner's ruling was rarely appealed from. Even the courts +sustained it when its equity was apparent. + +The Commissioner stepped to the door and spoke to a clerk in the other +room--spoke as he always did, as if he were addressing a prince of +the blood: + +"Mr. Weldon, will you be kind enough to ask Mr. Ashe, the state +school-land appraiser, to please come to my office as soon as +convenient?" + +Ashe came quickly from the big table where he was arranging his +reports. + +"Mr. Ashe," said the Commissioner, "you worked along the Chiquito +River, in Salado County, during your last trip, I believe. Do you +remember anything of the Elias Denny three-league survey?" + +"Yes, sir, I do," the blunt, breezy, surveyor answered. "I crossed it +on my way to Block H, on the north side of it. The road runs with the +Chiquito River, along the valley. The Denny survey fronts three miles +on the Chiquito." + +"It is claimed," continued the commissioner, "that it fails to reach +the river by as much as a mile." + +The appraiser shrugged his shoulder. He was by birth and instinct an +Actual Settler, and the natural foe of the land-shark. + +"It has always been considered to extend to the river," he said, +dryly. + +"But that is not the point I desired to discuss," said the +Commissioner. "What kind of country is this valley portion of (let us +say, then) the Denny tract?" + +The spirit of the Actual Settler beamed in Ashe's face. + +"Beautiful," he said, with enthusiasm. "Valley as level as this +floor, with just a little swell on, like the sea, and rich as cream. +Just enough brakes to shelter the cattle in winter. Black loamy soil +for six feet, and then clay. Holds water. A dozen nice little houses +on it, with windmills and gardens. People pretty poor, I guess--too +far from market--but comfortable. Never saw so many kids in my +life." + +"They raise flocks?" inquired the Commissioner. + +"Ho, ho! I mean two-legged kids," laughed the surveyor; "two-legged, +and bare-legged, and tow-headed." + +"Children! oh, children!" mused the Commissioner, as though a new +view had opened to him; "they raise children! + +"It's a lonesome country, Commissioner," said the surveyor. "Can you +blame 'em?" + +"I suppose," continued the Commissioner, slowly, as one carefully +pursues deductions from a new, stupendous theory, "not all of them are +tow-headed. It would not be unreasonable, Mr. Ashe, I conjecture, to +believe that a portion of them have brown, or even black, hair." + +"Brown and black, sure," said Ashe; "also red." + +"No doubt," said the Commissioner. "Well, I thank you for your +courtesy in informing me, Mr. Ashe. I will not detain you any longer +from your duties." + +Later, in the afternoon, came Hamlin and Avery, big, handsome, genial, +sauntering men, clothed in white duck and low-cut shoes. They +permeated the whole office with an aura of debonair prosperity. They +passed among the clerks and left a wake of abbreviated given names and +fat brown cigars. + +These were the aristocracy of the land-sharks, who went in for big +things. Full of serene confidence in themselves, there was no +corporation, no syndicate, no railroad company or attorney general +too big for them to tackle. The peculiar smoke of their rare, fat +brown cigars was to be perceived in the sanctum of every department of +state, in every committee-room of the Legislature, in every bank +parlour and every private caucus-room in the state Capital. Always +pleasant, never in a hurry, in seeming to possess unlimited leisure, +people wondered when they gave their attention to the many audacious +enterprises in which they were known to be engaged. + +By and by the two dropped carelessly into the Commissioner's room +and reclined lazily in the big, leather-upholstered arm-chairs. They +drawled a good-natured complaint of the weather, and Hamlin told the +Commissioner an excellent story he had amassed that morning from +the Secretary of State. + +But the Commissioner knew why they were there. He had half promised +to render a decision that day upon their location. + +The chief clerk now brought in a batch of duplicate certificates for +the Commissioner to sign. As he traced his sprawling signature, +"Hollis Summerfield, Comr. Genl. Land Office," on each one, the chief +clerk stood, deftly removing them and applying the blotter. + +"I notice," said the chief clerk, "you've been going through that +Salado County location. Kampfer is making a new map of Salado, and +I believe is platting in that section of the county now." + +"I will see it," said the Commissioner. A few moments later he went to +the draughtsmen's room. + +As he entered he saw five or six of the draughtsmen grouped about +Kampfer's desk, gargling away at each other in pectoral German, and +gazing at something thereupon. At the Commissioner's approach they +scattered to their several places. Kampfer, a wizened little German, +with long, frizzled ringlets and a watery eye, began to stammer +forth some sort of an apology, the Commissioner thought, for the +congregation of his fellows about his desk. + +"Never mind," said the Commissioner, "I wish to see the map you are +making"; and, passing around the old German, seated himself upon the +high draughtsman's stool. Kampfer continued to break English in +trying to explain. + +"Herr Gommissioner, I assure you blenty sat I haf not it bremeditated +--sat it wass--sat it itself make. Look you! from se field notes +wass it blatted--blease to observe se calls: South, 10 degrees west +1,050 varas; south, 10 degrees east 300 varas; south, 100; south, 9 +west, 200; south, 40 degrees west 400--and so on. Herr Gommissioner, +nefer would I have--" + +The Commissioner raised one white hand, silently, Kampfer dropped his +pipe and fled. + +With a hand at each side of his face, and his elbows resting upon the +desk, the Commissioner sat staring at the map which was spread and +fastened there--staring at the sweet and living profile of little +Georgia drawn thereupon--at her face, pensive, delicate, and +infantile, outlined in a perfect likeness. + +When his mind at length came to inquire into the reason of it, he +saw that it must have been, as Kampfer had said, unpremeditated. The +old draughtsman had been platting in the Elias Denny survey, and +Georgia's likeness, striking though it was, was formed by nothing more +than the meanders of Chiquito River. Indeed, Kampfer's blotter, +whereon his preliminary work was done, showed the laborious tracings +of the calls and the countless pricks of the compasses. Then, over +his faint pencilling, Kampfer had drawn in India ink with a full, firm +pen the similitude of Chiquito River, and forth had blossomed +mysteriously the dainty, pathetic profile of the child. + +The Commissioner sat for half an hour with his face in his hands, +gazing downward, and none dared approach him. Then he arose and +walked out. In the business office he paused long enough to ask that +the Denny file be brought to his desk. + +He found Hamlin and Avery still reclining in their chairs, apparently +oblivious of business. They were lazily discussing summer opera, it +being, their habit--perhaps their pride also--to appear supernaturally +indifferent whenever they stood with large interests imperilled. And +they stood to win more on this stake than most people knew. They +possessed inside information to the effect that a new railroad would, +within a year, split this very Chiquito River valley and send land +values ballooning all along its route. A dollar under thirty thousand +profit on this location, if it should hold good, would be a loss to +their expectations. So, while they chatted lightly and waited for the +Commissioner to open the subject, there was a quick, sidelong sparkle +in their eyes, evincing a desire to read their title clear to those +fair acres on the Chiquito. + +A clerk brought in the file. The Commissioner seated himself and +wrote upon it in red ink. Then he rose to his feet and stood for a +while looking straight out of the window. The Land Office capped the +summit of a bold hill. The eyes of the Commissioner passed over the +roofs of many houses set in a packing of deep green, the whole +checkered by strips of blinding white streets. The horizon, where his +gaze was focussed, swelled to a fair wooded eminence flecked with +faint dots of shining white. There was the cemetery, where lay many +who were forgotten, and a few who had not lived in vain. And one +lay there, occupying very small space, whose childish heart had been +large enough to desire, while near its last beats, good to others. +The Commissioner's lips moved slightly as he whispered to himself: "It +was her last will and testament, and I have neglected it so long!" + +The big brown cigars of Hamlin and Avery were fireless, but they still +gripped them between their teeth and waited, while they marvelled at +the absent expression upon the Commissioner's face. + +By and by he spoke suddenly and promptly. + +"Gentlemen, I have just indorsed the Elias Denny survey for patenting. +This office will not regard your location upon a part of it as legal." +He paused a moment, and then, extending his hand as those dear old-time +ones used to do in debate, he enunciated the spirit of that Ruling that +subsequently drove the land-sharks to the wall, and placed the seal of +peace and security over the doors of ten thousand homes. + +"And, furthermore," he continued, with a clear, soft light upon his +face, "it may interest you to know that from this time on this office +will consider that when a survey of land made by virtue of a +certificate granted by this state to the men who wrested it from the +wilderness and the savage--made in good faith, settled in good faith, +and left in good faith to their children or innocent purchasers--when +such a survey, although overrunning its complement, shall call for +any natural object visible to the eye of man, to that object it shall +hold, and be good and valid. And the children of this state shall +lie down to sleep at night, and rumours of disturbers of title shall +not disquiet them. For," concluded the Commissioner, "of such is the +Kingdom of Heaven." + +In the silence that followed, a laugh floated up from the patent-room +below. The man who carried down the Denny file was exhibiting it +among the clerks. + +"Look here," he said, delightedly, "the old man has forgotten his +name. He's written 'Patent to original grantee,' and signed it +'Georgia Summerfield, Comr."' + +The speech of the Commissioner rebounded lightly from the impregnable +Hamlin and Avery. They smiled, rose gracefully, spoke of the baseball +team, and argued feelingly that quite a perceptible breeze had arisen +from the east. They lit fresh fat brown cigars, and drifted +courteously away. But later they made another tiger-spring for their +quarry in the courts. But the courts, according to reports in the +papers, "coolly roasted them" (a remarkable performance, suggestive of +liquid-air didoes), and sustained the Commissioner's Ruling. + +And this Ruling itself grew to be a Precedent, and the Actual Settler +framed it, and taught his children to spell from it, and there was +sound sleep o' nights from the pines to the sage-brush, and from the +chaparral to the great brown river of the north. + +But I think, and I am sure the Commissioner never thought otherwise, +that whether Kampfer was a snuffy old instrument of destiny, or +whether the meanders of the Chiquito accidentally platted themselves +into that memorable sweet profile or not, there was brought about +"something good for a whole lot of children," and the result ought +to be called "Georgia's Ruling." + + + + +XXIII + +BLIND MAN'S HOLIDAY + + +Alas for the man and for the artist with the shifting point of +perspective! Life shall be a confusion of ways to the one; the +landscape shall rise up and confound the other. Take the case of +Lorison. At one time he appeared to himself to be the feeblest of +fools; at another he conceived that he followed ideals so fine that +the world was not yet ready to accept them. During one mood he cursed +his folly; possessed by the other, he bore himself with a serene +grandeur akin to greatness: in neither did he attain the perspective. + +Generations before, the name had been "Larsen." His race had +bequeathed him its fine-strung, melancholy temperament, its saving +balance of thrift and industry. + +From his point of perspective he saw himself an outcast from society, +forever to be a shady skulker along the ragged edge of respectability; +a denizen _des trois-quartz de monde_, that pathetic spheroid lying +between the _haut_ and the _demi_, whose inhabitants envy each of their +neighbours, and are scorned by both. He was self-condemned to this +opinion, as he was self-exiled, through it, to this quaint Southern +city a thousand miles from his former home. Here he had dwelt for +longer than a year, knowing but few, keeping in a subjective world +of shadows which was invaded at times by the perplexing bulks of +jarring realities. Then he fell in love with a girl whom he met in a +cheap restaurant, and his story begins. + + +The Rue Chartres, in New Orleans, is a street of ghosts. It lies in +the quarter where the Frenchman, in his prime, set up his translated +pride and glory; where, also, the arrogant don had swaggered, and +dreamed of gold and grants and ladies' gloves. Every flagstone has +its grooves worn by footsteps going royally to the wooing and the +fighting. Every house has a princely heartbreak; each doorway its +untold tale of gallant promise and slow decay. + +By night the Rue Chartres is now but a murky fissure, from which the +groping wayfarer sees, flung against the sky, the tangled filigree of +Moorish iron balconies. The old houses of monsieur stand yet, +indomitable against the century, but their essence is gone. The +street is one of ghosts to whosoever can see them. + +A faint heartbeat of the street's ancient glory still survives in a +corner occupied by the Cafe Carabine d'Or. Once men gathered there to +plot against kings, and to warn presidents. They do so yet, but they +are not the same kind of men. A brass button will scatter these; +those would have set their faces against an army. Above the door +hangs the sign board, upon which has been depicted a vast animal of +unfamiliar species. In the act of firing upon this monster is +represented an unobtrusive human levelling an obtrusive gun, once the +colour of bright gold. Now the legend above the picture is faded +beyond conjecture; the gun's relation to the title is a matter of +faith; the menaced animal, wearied of the long aim of the hunter, has +resolved itself into a shapeless blot. + +The place is known as "Antonio's," as the name, white upon the red-lit +transparency, and gilt upon the windows, attests. There is a promise +in "Antonio"; a justifiable expectancy of savoury things in oil and +pepper and wine, and perhaps an angel's whisper of garlic. But the +rest of the name is "O'Riley." Antonio O'Riley! + +The Carabine d'Or is an ignominious ghost of the Rue Chartres. The +cafe where Bienville and Conti dined, where a prince has broken bread, +is become a "family ristaurant." + +Its customers are working men and women, almost to a unit. +Occasionally you will see chorus girls from the cheaper theatres, +and men who follow avocations subject to quick vicissitudes; but at +Antonio's--name rich in Bohemian promise, but tame in fulfillment-- +manners debonair and gay are toned down to the "family" standard. +Should you light a cigarette, mine host will touch you on the "arrum" +and remind you that the proprieties are menaced. "Antonio" entices +and beguiles from fiery legend without, but "O'Riley" teaches decorum +within. + +It was at this restaurant that Lorison first saw the girl. A flashy +fellow with a predatory eye had followed her in, and had advanced to +take the other chair at the little table where she stopped, but +Lorison slipped into the seat before him. Their acquaintance began, +and grew, and now for two months they had sat at the same table each +evening, not meeting by appointment, but as if by a series of +fortuitous and happy accidents. After dining, they would take a walk +together in one of the little city parks, or among the panoramic +markets where exhibits a continuous vaudeville of sights and sounds. +Always at eight o'clock their steps led them to a certain street +corner, where she prettily but firmly bade him good night and left +him. "I do not live far from here," she frequently said, "and you +must let me go the rest of the way alone." + +But now Lorison had discovered that he wanted to go the rest of the +way with her, or happiness would depart, leaving, him on a very lonely +corner of life. And at the same time that he made the discovery, the +secret of his banishment from the society of the good laid its finger +in his face and told him it must not be. + +Man is too thoroughly an egoist not to be also an egotist; if he love, +the object shall know it. During a lifetime he may conceal it through +stress of expediency and honour, but it shall bubble from his dying +lips, though it disrupt a neighbourhood. It is known, however, that +most men do not wait so long to disclose their passion. In the case +of Lorison, his particular ethics positively forbade him to declare +his sentiments, but he must needs dally with the subject, and woo by +innuendo at least. + +On this night, after the usual meal at the Carabine d'Or, he strolled +with his companion down the dim old street toward the river. + +The Rue Chartres perishes in the old Place d'Armes. The ancient +Cabildo, where Spanish justice fell like hail, faces it, and the +Cathedral, another provincial ghost, overlooks it. Its centre is a +little, iron-railed park of flowers and immaculate gravelled walks, +where citizens take the air of evenings. Pedestalled high above it, +the general sits his cavorting steed, with his face turned stonily +down the river toward English Turn, whence come no more Britons to +bombard his cotton bales. + +Often the two sat in this square, but to-night Lorison guided her past +the stone-stepped gate, and still riverward. As they walked, he smiled +to himself to think that all he knew of her--except that be loved +her--was her name, Norah Greenway, and that she lived with her +brother. They had talked about everything except themselves. Perhaps +her reticence had been caused by his. + +They came, at length, upon the levee, and sat upon a great, prostrate +beam. The air was pungent with the dust of commerce. The great river +slipped yellowly past. Across it Algiers lay, a longitudinous black +bulk against a vibrant electric haze sprinkled with exact stars. + +The girl was young and of the piquant order. A certain bright +melancholy pervaded her; she possessed an untarnished, pale prettiness +doomed to please. Her voice, when she spoke, dwarfed her theme. It +was the voice capable of investing little subjects with a large +interest. She sat at ease, bestowing her skirts with the little +womanly touch, serene as if the begrimed pier were a summer garden. +Lorison poked the rotting boards with his cane. + +He began by telling her that he was in love with some one to whom he +durst not speak of it. "And why not?" she asked, accepting swiftly +his fatuous presentation of a third person of straw. "My place in the +world," he answered, "is none to ask a woman to share. I am an +outcast from honest people; I am wrongly accused of one crime, and am, +I believe, guilty of another." + +Thence he plunged into the story of his abdication from society. The +story, pruned of his moral philosophy, deserves no more than the +slightest touch. It is no new tale, that of the gambler's declension. +During one night's sitting he lost, and then had imperilled a certain +amount of his employer's money, which, by accident, he carried with +him. He continued to lose, to the last wager, and then began to gain, +leaving the game winner to a somewhat formidable sum. The same night +his employer's safe was robbed. A search was had; the winnings of +Lorison were found in his room, their total forming an accusative +nearness to the sum purloined. He was taken, tried and, through +incomplete evidence, released, smutched with the sinister _devoirs_ +of a disagreeing jury. + +"It is not in the unjust accusation," he said to the girl, "that my +burden lies, but in the knowledge that from the moment I staked the +first dollar of the firm's money I was a criminal--no matter whether +I lost or won. You see why it is impossible for me to speak of love +to her." + +"It is a sad thing," said Norah, after a little pause, "to think what +very good people there are in the world." + +"Good?" said Lorison. + +"I was thinking of this superior person whom you say you love. She +must be a very poor sort of creature." + +"I do not understand." + +"Nearly," she continued, "as poor a sort of creature as yourself." + +"You do not understand," said Lorison, removing his hat and sweeping +back his fine, light hair. "Suppose she loved me in return, and +were willing to marry me. Think, if you can, what would follow. Never +a day would pass but she would be reminded of her sacrifice. I would +read a condescension in her smile, a pity even in her affection, that +would madden me. No. The thing would stand between us forever. Only +equals should mate. I could never ask her to come down upon my lower +plane." + +An arc light faintly shone upon Lorison's face. An illumination from +within also pervaded it. The girl saw the rapt, ascetic look; it was +the face either of Sir Galahad or Sir Fool. + +"Quite starlike," she said, "is this unapproachable angel. Really too +high to be grasped." + +"By me, yes." + +She faced him suddenly. "My dear friend, would you prefer your star +fallen?" Lorison made a wide gesture. + +"You push me to the bald fact," he declared; "you are not in sympathy +with my argument. But I will answer you so. If I could reach my +particular star, to drag it down, I would not do it; but if it were +fallen, I would pick it up, and thank Heaven for the privilege." + +They were silent for some minutes. Norah shivered, and thrust her +hands deep into the pockets of her jacket. Lorison uttered a +remorseful exclamation. + +"I'm not cold," she said. "I was just thinking. I ought to tell you +something. You have selected a strange confidante. But you cannot +expect a chance acquaintance, picked up in a doubtful restaurant, to +be an angel." + +"Norah!" cried Lorison. + +"Let me go on. You have told me about yourself. We have been such +good friends. I must tell you now what I never wanted you to know. +I am--worse than you are. I was on the stage . . . I sang in the +chorus . . . I was pretty bad, I guess . . . I stole diamonds from +the prima donna . . . they arrested me . . . I gave most of them up, +and they let me go . . . I drank wine every night . . . a great +deal . . . I was very wicked, but--" + +Lorison knelt quickly by her side and took her hands. + +"Dear Norah!" he said, exultantly. "It is you, it is you I love! +You never guessed it, did you? 'Tis you I meant all the time. Now I +can speak. Let me make you forget the past. We have both suffered; +let us shut out the world, and live for each other. Norah, do you +hear me say I love you?" + +"In spite of--" + +"Rather say because of it. You have come out of your past noble and +good. Your heart is an angel's. Give it to me." + +"A little while ago you feared the future too much to even speak." + +"But for you; not for myself. Can you love me?" + +She cast herself, wildly sobbing, upon his breast. + +"Better than life--than truth itself--than everything." + +"And my own past," said Lorison, with a note of solicitude--"can you +forgive and--" + +"I answered you that," she whispered, "when I told you I loved you." +She leaned away, and looked thoughtfully at him. "If I had not told +you about myself, would you have--would you--" + +"No," he interrupted; "I would never have let you know I loved you. I +would never have asked you this--Norah, will you be my wife?" + +She wept again. + +"Oh, believe me; I am good now--I am no longer wicked! I will be +the best wife in the world. Don't think I am--bad any more. If you +do I shall die, I shall die!" + +While he was consoling, her, she brightened up, eager and impetuous. +"Will you marry me to-night?" she said. "Will you prove it that way. +I have a reason for wishing it to be to-night. Will you?" + +Of one of two things was this exceeding frankness the outcome: either +of importunate brazenness or of utter innocence. The lover's +perspective contained only the one. + +"The sooner," said Lorison, "the happier I shall be." + +"What is there to do?" she asked. "What do you have to get? Come! +You should know." + +Her energy stirred the dreamer to action. + +"A city directory first," he cried, gayly, "to find where the man +lives who gives licenses to happiness. We will go together and rout +him out. Cabs, cars, policemen, telephones and ministers shall aid +us." + +"Father Rogan shall marry us," said the girl, with ardour. "I will +take you to him." + + +An hour later the two stood at the open doorway of an immense, gloomy +brick building in a narrow and lonely street. The license was tight +in Norah's hand. + +"Wait here a moment," she said, "till I find Father Rogan." + +She plunged into the black hallway, and the lover was left standing, +as it were, on one leg, outside. His impatience was not greatly +taxed. Gazing curiously into what seemed the hallway to Erebus, +he was presently reassured by a stream of light that bisected the +darkness, far down the passage. Then he heard her call, and +fluttered lampward, like the moth. She beckoned him through a +doorway into the room whence emanated the light. The room was +bare of nearly everything except books, which had subjugated all +its space. Here and there little spots of territory had been +reconquered. An elderly, bald man, with a superlatively calm, +remote eye, stood by a table with a book in his hand, his finger +still marking a page. His dress was sombre and appertained to a +religious order. His eye denoted an acquaintance with the +perspective. + +"Father Rogan," said Norah, "this is _he_." + +"The two of ye," said Father Rogan, "want to get married?" + +They did not deny it. He married them. The ceremony was quickly +done. One who could have witnessed it, and felt its scope, might have +trembled at the terrible inadequacy of it to rise to the dignity of +its endless chain of results. + +Afterward the priest spake briefly, as if by rote, of certain other +civil and legal addenda that either might or should, at a later time, +cap the ceremony. Lorison tendered a fee, which was declined, and +before the door closed after the departing couple Father Rogan's book +popped open again where his finger marked it. + +In the dark hall Norah whirled and clung to her companion, tearful. + +"Will you never, never be sorry?" + +At last she was reassured. + +At the first light they reached upon the street, she asked the time, +just as she had each night. Lorison looked at his watch. Half-past +eight. + +Lorison thought it was from habit that she guided their steps toward +the corner where they always parted. But, arrived there, she +hesitated, and then released his arm. A drug store stood on the +corner; its bright, soft light shone upon them. + +"Please leave me here as usual to-night," said Norah, sweetly. "I +must--I would rather you would. You will not object? At six +to-morrow evening I will meet you at Antonio's. I want to sit with +you there once more. And then--I will go where you say." She gave +him a bewildering, bright smile, and walked swiftly away. + +Surely it needed all the strength of her charm to carry off this +astounding behaviour. It was no discredit to Lorison's strength of +mind that his head began to whirl. Pocketing his hands, he rambled +vacuously over to the druggist's windows, and began assiduously to +spell over the names of the patent medicines therein displayed. + +As soon as be had recovered his wits, he proceeded along the street in +an aimless fashion. After drifting for two or three squares, he +flowed into a somewhat more pretentious thoroughfare, a way much +frequented by him in his solitary ramblings. For here was a row of +shops devoted to traffic in goods of the widest range of choice-- +handiworks of art, skill and fancy, products of nature and labour from +every zone. + +Here, for a time, he loitered among the conspicuous windows, where was +set, emphasized by congested floods of light, the cunningest spoil of +the interiors. There were few passers, and of this Lorison was glad. +He was not of the world. For a long time he had touched his fellow +man only at the gear of a levelled cog-wheel--at right angles, and +upon a different axis. He had dropped into a distinctly new orbit. +The stroke of ill fortune had acted upon him, in effect, as a blow +delivered upon the apex of a certain ingenious toy, the musical top, +which, when thus buffeted while spinning, gives forth, with scarcely +retarded motion, a complete change of key and chord. + +Strolling along the pacific avenue, he experienced singular, +supernatural calm, accompanied by an unusual a activity of brain. +Reflecting upon recent affairs, he assured himself of his happiness in +having won for a bride the one he had so greatly desired, yet he +wondered mildly at his dearth of active emotion. Her strange +behaviour in abandoning him without valid excuse on his bridal eve +aroused in him only a vague and curious speculation. Again, he found +himself contemplating, with complaisant serenity, the incidents of her +somewhat lively career. His perspective seemed to have been queerly +shifted. + +As he stood before a window near a corner, his ears were assailed by a +waxing clamour and commotion. He stood close to the window to allow +passage to the cause of the hubbub--a procession of human beings, +which rounded the corner and headed in his direction. He perceived a +salient hue of blue and a glitter of brass about a central figure of +dazzling white and silver, and a ragged wake of black, bobbing +figures. + +Two ponderous policemen were conducting between them a woman dressed +as if for the stage, in a short, white, satiny skirt reaching to the +knees, pink stockings, and a sort of sleeveless bodice bright with +relucent, armour-like scales. Upon her curly, light hair was perched, +at a rollicking angle, a shining tin helmet. The costume was to be +instantly recognized as one of those amazing conceptions to which +competition has harried the inventors of the spectacular ballet. One +of the officers bore a long cloak upon his arm, which, doubtless, had +been intended to veil the I candid attractions of their effulgent +prisoner, but, for some reason, it had not been called into use, to +the vociferous delight of the tail of the procession. + +Compelled by a sudden and vigorous movement of the woman, the parade +halted before the window by which Lorison stood. He saw that she was +young, and, at the first glance, was deceived by a sophistical +prettiness of her face, which waned before a more judicious scrutiny. +Her look was bold and reckless, and upon her countenance, where yet +the contours of youth survived, were the finger-marks of old age's +credentialed courier, Late Hours. + +The young woman fixed her unshrinking gaze upon Lorison, and called to +him in the voice of the wronged heroine in straits: + +"Say! You look like a good fellow; come and put up the bail, won't +you? I've done nothing to get pinched for. It's all a mistake. See +how they're treating me! You won't be sorry, if you'll help me out of +this. Think of your sister or your girl being dragged along the +streets this way! I say, come along now, like a good fellow." + +It may be that Lorison, in spite of the unconvincing bathos of this +appeal, showed a sympathetic face, for one of the officers left the +woman's side, and went over to him. + +"It's all right, Sir," he said, in a husky, confidential tone; "she's +the right party. We took her after the first act at the Green Light +Theatre, on a wire from the chief of police of Chicago. It's only a +square or two to the station. Her rig's pretty bad, but she refused +to change clothes--or, rather," added the officer, with a smile, "to +put on some. I thought I'd explain matters to you so you wouldn't +think she was being imposed upon." + +"What is the charge?" asked Lorison. + +"Grand larceny. Diamonds. Her husband is a jeweller in Chicago. She +cleaned his show case of the sparklers, and skipped with a comic-opera +troupe." + +The policeman, perceiving that the interest of the entire group of +spectators was centred upon himself and Lorison--their conference +being regarded as a possible new complication--was fain to prolong +the situation--which reflected his own importance--by a little +afterpiece of philosophical comment. + +"A gentleman like you, Sir," he went on affably, "would never notice +it, but it comes in my line to observe what an immense amount of +trouble is made by that combination--I mean the stage, diamonds +and light-headed women who aren't satisfied with good homes. I tell +you, Sir, a man these days and nights wants to know what his women +folks are up to." + +The policeman smiled a good night, and returned to the side of his +charge, who had been intently watching Lorison's face during the +conversation, no doubt for some indication of his intention to render +succour. Now, at the failure of the sign, and at the movement made to +continue the ignominious progress, she abandoned hope, and addressed +him thus, pointedly: + +"You damn chalk-faced quitter! You was thinking of giving me a hand, +but you let the cop talk you out of it the first word. You're a dandy +to tie to. Say, if you ever get a girl, she'll have a picnic. Won't +she work you to the queen's taste! Oh, my!" She concluded with a +taunting, shrill laugh that rasped Lorison like a saw. The policemen +urged her forward; the delighted train of gaping followers closed up +the rear; and the captive Amazon, accepting her fate, extended the +scope of her maledictions so that none in hearing might seem to be +slighted. + +Then there came upon Lorison an overwhelming revulsion of his +perspective. It may be that he had been ripe for it, that the +abnormal condition of mind in which he had for so long existed was +already about to revert to its balance; however, it is certain that +the events of the last few minutes had furnished the channel, if not +the impetus, for the change. + +The initial determining influence had been so small a thing as the +fact and manner of his having been approached by the officer. That +agent had, by the style of his accost, restored the loiterer to his +former place in society. In an instant he had been transformed from a +somewhat rancid prowler along the fishy side streets of gentility into +an honest gentleman, with whom even so lordly a guardian of the peace +might agreeably exchange the compliments. + +This, then, first broke the spell, and set thrilling in him a +resurrected longing for the fellowship of his kind, and the rewards of +the virtuous. To what end, he vehemently asked himself, was this +fanciful self-accusation, this empty renunciation, this moral +squeamishness through which he had been led to abandon what was his +heritage in life, and not beyond his deserts? Technically, he was +uncondemned; his sole guilty spot was in thought rather than deed, and +cognizance of it unshared by others. For what good, moral or +sentimental, did he slink, retreating like the hedgehog from his own +shadow, to and fro in this musty Bohemia that lacked even the +picturesque? + +But the thing that struck home and set him raging was the part played +by the Amazonian prisoner. To the counterpart of that astounding +belligerent--identical at least, in the way of experience--to one, +by her own confession, thus far fallen, had he, not three hours since, +been united in marriage. How desirable and natural it had seemed to +him then, and how monstrous it seemed now! How the words of diamond +thief number two yet burned in his ears: "If you ever get a girl, +she'll have a picnic." What did that mean but that women instinctively +knew him for one they could hoodwink? Still again, there reverberated +the policeman's sapient contribution to his agony: "A man these days +and nights wants to know what his women folks are up to." Oh, yes, he +had been a fool; he had looked at things from the wrong standpoint. + +But the wildest note in all the clamour was struck by pain's +forefinger, jealousy. Now, at least, he felt that keenest sting--a +mounting love unworthily bestowed. Whatever she might be, he loved +her; he bore in his own breast his doom. A grating, comic flavour to +his predicament struck him suddenly, and he laughed creakingly as he +swung down the echoing pavement. An impetuous desire to act, to +battle with his fate, seized him. He stopped upon his heel, and smote +his palms together triumphantly. His wife was--where? But there +was a tangible link; an outlet more or less navigable, through which +his derelict ship of matrimony might yet be safely towed--the +priest! + +Like all imaginative men with pliable natures, Lorison was, when +thoroughly stirred, apt to become tempestuous. With a high and +stubborn indignation upon him, be retraced his steps to the +intersecting street by which he had come. Down this he hurried to the +corner where he had parted with--an astringent grimace tinctured the +thought--his wife. Thence still back he harked, following through +an unfamiliar district his stimulated recollections of the way they +had come from that preposterous wedding. Many times he went abroad, +and nosed his way back to the trail, furious. + +At last, when he reached the dark, calamitous building in which his +madness had culminated, and found the black hallway, he dashed down +it, perceiving no light or sound. But he raised his voice, hailing +loudly; reckless of everything but that he should find the old +mischief-maker with the eyes that looked too far away to see the +disaster he had wrought. The door opened, and in the stream of light +Father Rogan stood, his book in hand, with his finger marking the +place. + +"Ah!" cried Lorison. "You are the man I want. I had a wife of you a +few hours ago. I would not trouble you, but I neglected to note how +it was done. Will you oblige me with the information whether the +business is beyond remedy?" + +"Come inside," said the priest; "there are other lodgers in the +house, who might prefer sleep to even a gratified curiosity." + +Lorison entered the room and took the chair offered him. The priest's +eyes looked a courteous interrogation. + +"I must apologize again," said the young man, "for so soon intruding +upon you with my marital infelicities, but, as my wife has neglected +to furnish me with her address, I am deprived of the legitimate +recourse of a family row." + +"I am quite a plain man," said Father Rogan, pleasantly; "but I do +not see how I am to ask you questions." + +"Pardon my indirectness," said Lorison; "I will ask one. In this room +to-night you pronounced me to be a husband. You afterward spoke of +additional rites or performances that either should or could be +effected. I paid little attention to your words then, but I am hungry +to hear them repeated now. As matters stand, am I married past all +help?" + +"You are as legally and as firmly bound," said the priest, "as though +it had been done in a cathedral, in the presence of thousands. The +additional observances I referred to are not necessary to the +strictest legality of the act, but were advised as a precaution for +the future--for convenience of proof in such contingencies as wills, +inheritances and the like." + +Lorison laughed harshly. + +"Many thanks," he said. "Then there is no mistake, and I am the happy +benedict. I suppose I should go stand upon the bridal corner, and +when my wife gets through walking the streets she will look me up." + +Father Rogan regarded him calmly. + +"My son," he said, "when a man and woman come to me to be married I +always marry them. I do this for the sake of other people whom they +might go away and marry if they did not marry each other. As you see, +I do not seek your confidence; but your case seems to me to be one not +altogether devoid of interest. Very few marriages that have come to +my notice have brought such well-expressed regret within so short a +time. I will hazard one question: were you not under the impression +that you loved the lady you married, at the time you did so?" + +"Loved her!" cried Lorison, wildly. "Never so well as now, though +she told me she deceived and sinned and stole. Never more than now, +when, perhaps, she is laughing at the fool she cajoled and left, with +scarcely a word, to return to God only knows what particular line of +her former folly." + +Father Rogan answered nothing. During the silence that succeeded, he +sat with a quiet expectation beaming in his full, lambent eye. + +"If you would listen--" began Lorison. The priest held up his hand. + +"As I hoped," he said. "I thought you would trust me. Wait but a +moment." He brought a long clay pipe, filled and lighted it. + +"Now, my son," he said. + +Lorison poured a twelve month's accumulated confidence into Father +Rogan's ear. He told all; not sparing himself or omitting the facts +of his past, the events of the night, or his disturbing conjectures +and fears. + +"The main point," said the priest, when he had concluded, "seems to +me to be this--are you reasonably sure that you love this woman whom +you have married?" + +"Why," exclaimed Lorison, rising impulsively to his feet--"why +should I deny it? But look at me--am fish, flesh or fowl? That is +the main point to me, I assure you." + +"I understand you," said the priest, also rising, and laying down his +pipe. "The situation is one that has taxed the endurance of much +older men than you--in fact, especially much older men than you. I +will try to relieve you from it, and this night. You shall see for +yourself into exactly what predicament you have fallen, and how you +shall, possibly, be extricated. There is no evidence so credible as +that of the eyesight." + +Father Rogan moved about the room, and donned a soft black hat. +Buttoning his coat to his throat, he laid his hand on the doorknob. +"Let us walk," he said. + +The two went out upon the street. The priest turned his face down it, +and Lorison walked with him through a squalid district, where the +houses loomed, awry and desolate-looking, high above them. Presently +they turned into a less dismal side street, where the houses were +smaller, and, though hinting of the most meagre comfort, lacked the +concentrated wretchedness of the more populous byways. + +At a segregated, two-story house Father Rogan halted, and mounted the +steps with the confidence of a familiar visitor. He ushered Lorison +into a narrow hallway, faintly lighted by a cobwebbed hanging lamp. +Almost immediately a door to the right opened and a dingy Irishwoman +protruded her head. + +"Good evening to ye, Mistress Geehan," said the priest, unconsciously, +it seemed, falling into a delicately flavoured brogue. "And is it +yourself can tell me if Norah has gone out again, the night, maybe?" + +"Oh, it's yer blissid riverence! Sure and I can tell ye the same. +The purty darlin' wint out, as usual, but a bit later. And she says: +'Mother Geehan,' says she, 'it's me last noight out, praise the +saints, this noight is!' And, oh, yer riverence, the swate, beautiful +drame of a dress she had this toime! White satin and silk and +ribbons, and lace about the neck and arrums--'twas a sin, yer +reverence, the gold was spint upon it." + +The priest heard Lorison catch his breath painfully, and a faint smile +flickered across his own clean-cut mouth. + +"Well, then, Mistress Geehan," said he, "I'll just step upstairs and +see the bit boy for a minute, and I'll take this gentleman up with +me." + +"He's awake, thin," said the woman. "I've just come down from sitting +wid him the last hour, tilling him fine shtories of ould County +Tyrone. 'Tis a greedy gossoon, it is, yer riverence, for me +shtories." + +"Small the doubt," said Father Rogan. "There's no rocking would put +him to slape the quicker, I'm thinking." + +Amid the woman's shrill protest against the retort, the two men +ascended the steep stairway. The priest pushed open the door of a +room near its top. + +"Is that you already, sister?" drawled a sweet, childish voice from +the darkness. + +"It's only ould Father Denny come to see ye, darlin'; and a foine +gentleman I've brought to make ye a gr-r-and call. And ye resaves us +fast aslape in bed! Shame on yez manners!" + +"Oh, Father Denny, is that you? I'm glad. And will you light the +lamp, please? It's on the table by the door. And quit talking like +Mother Geehan, Father Denny." + +The priest lit the lamp, and Lorison saw a tiny, towsled-haired boy, +with a thin, delicate face, sitting up in a small bed in a corner. +Quickly, also, his rapid glance considered the room and its +contents. It was furnished with more than comfort, and its adornments +plainly indicated a woman's discerning taste. An open door beyond +revealed the blackness of an adjoining room's interior. + +The boy clutched both of Father Rogan's hands. "I'm so glad you +came," he said; "but why did you come in the night? Did sister send +you?" + +"Off wid ye! Am I to be sint about, at me age, as was Terence +McShane, of Ballymahone? I come on me own r-r-responsibility." + +Lorison had also advanced to the boy's bedside. He was fond of +children; and the wee fellow, laying himself down to sleep alone in +that dark room, stirred-his heart. + +"Aren't you afraid, little man?" he asked, stooping down beside him. + +"Sometimes," answered the boy, with a shy smile, "when the rats make +too much noise. But nearly every night, when sister goes out, Mother +Geehan stays a while with me, and tells me funny stories. I'm not +often afraid, sir." + +"This brave little gentleman," said Father Rogan, "is a scholar of +mine. Every day from half-past six to half-past eight--when sister +comes for him--he stops in my study, and we find out what's in the +inside of books. He knows multiplication, division and fractions; and +he's troubling me to begin wid the chronicles of Ciaran of +Clonmacnoise, Corurac McCullenan and Cuan O'Lochain, the gr-r-reat +Irish histhorians." The boy was evidently accustomed to the priest's +Celtic pleasantries. A little, appreciative grin was all the attention +the insinuation of pedantry received. + +Lorison, to have saved his life, could not have put to the child one +of those vital questions that were wildly beating about, unanswered, +in his own brain. The little fellow was very like Norah; he had the +same shining hair and candid eyes. + +"Oh, Father Denny," cried the boy, suddenly, "I forgot to tell you! +Sister is not going away at night any more! She told me so when she +kissed me good night as she was leaving. And she said she was so +happy, and then she cried. Wasn't that queer? But I'm glad; aren't +you?" + +"Yes, lad. And now, ye omadhaun, go to sleep, and say good night; we +must be going." + +"Which shall I do first, Father Denny?" + +"Faith, he's caught me again! Wait till I get the sassenach into the +annals of Tageruach, the hagiographer; I'll give him enough of the +Irish idiom to make him more respectful." + +The light was out, and the small, brave voice bidding them good night +from the dark room. They groped downstairs, and tore away from the +garrulity of Mother Geehan. + +Again the priest steered them through the dim ways, but this time in +another direction. His conductor was serenely silent, and Lorison +followed his example to the extent of seldom speaking. Serene he +could not be. His heart beat suffocatingly in his breast. The +following of this blind, menacing trail was pregnant with he knew not +what humiliating revelation to be delivered at its end. + +They came into a more pretentious street, where trade, it could be +surmised, flourished by day. And again the priest paused; this time +before a lofty building, whose great doors and windows in the lowest +floor were carefully shuttered and barred. Its higher apertures were +dark, save in the third story, the windows of which were brilliantly +lighted. Lorison's ear caught a distant, regular, pleasing thrumming, +as of music above. They stood at an angle of the building. Up, along +the side nearest them, mounted an iron stairway. At its top was an +upright, illuminated parallelogram. Father Rogan had stopped, and +stood, musing. + +"I will say this much," he remarked, thoughtfully: "I believe you to +be a better man than you think yourself to be, and a better man than I +thought some hours ago. But do not take this," he added, with a smile, +"as much praise. I promised you a possible deliverance from an +unhappy perplexity. I will have to modify that promise. I can only +remove the mystery that enhanced that perplexity. Your deliverance +depends upon yourself. Come." + +He led his companion up the stairway. Halfway up, Lorison caught him +by the sleeve. "Remember," he gasped, "I love that woman." + +"You desired to know. + +"I--Go on." + +The priest reached the landing at the top of the stairway. Lorison, +behind him, saw that the illuminated space was the glass upper half of +a door opening into the lighted room. The rhythmic music increased as +they neared it; the stairs shook with the mellow vibrations. + +Lorison stopped breathing when he set foot upon the highest step, for +the priest stood aside, and motioned him to look through the glass of +the door. + +His eye, accustomed to the darkness, met first a blinding glare, +and then he made out the faces and forms of many people, amid +an extravagant display of splendid robings--billowy laces, +brilliant-hued finery, ribbons, silks and misty drapery. And then +he caught the meaning of that jarring hum, and he saw the tired, +pale, happy face of his wife, bending, as were a score of others, +over her sewing machine--toiling, toiling. Here was the folly she +pursued, and the end of his quest. + +But not his deliverance, though even then remorse struck him. His +shamed soul fluttered once more before it retired to make room for the +other and better one. For, to temper his thrill of joy, the shine of +the satin and the glimmer of ornaments recalled the disturbing figure +of the bespangled Amazon, and the base duplicate histories lit by the +glare of footlights and stolen diamonds. It is past the wisdom of him +who only sets the scenes, either to praise or blame the man. But this +time his love overcame his scruples. He took a quick step, and +reached out his hand for the doorknob. Father Rogan was quicker to +arrest it and draw him back. + +"You use my trust in you queerly," said the priest sternly. "What are +you about to do?" + +"I am going to my wife," said Lorison. "Let me pass." + +"Listen," said the priest, holding him firmly by the arm. "I am about +to put you in possession of a piece of knowledge of which, thus far, +you have scarcely proved deserving. I do not think you ever will; but +I will not dwell upon that. You see in that room the woman you +married, working for a frugal living for herself, and a generous +comfort for an idolized brother. This building belongs to the chief +costumer of the city. For months the advance orders for the coming +Mardi Gras festivals have kept the work going day and night. I myself +secured employment here for Norah. She toils here each night from +nine o'clock until daylight, and, besides, carries home with her some +of the finer costumes, requiring more delicate needlework, and works +there part of the day. Somehow, you two have remained strangely +ignorant of each other's lives. Are you convinced now that your wife +is not walking the streets?" + +"Let me go to her," cried Lorison, again struggling, "and beg her +forgiveness!' + +"Sir," said the priest, "do you owe me nothing? Be quiet. It seems +so often that Heaven lets fall its choicest gifts into hands that must +be taught to hold them. Listen again. You forgot that repentant sin +must not compromise, but look up, for redemption, to the purest and +best. You went to her with the fine-spun sophistry that peace could be +found in a mutual guilt; and she, fearful of losing what her heart so +craved, thought it worth the price to buy it with a desperate, pure, +beautiful lie. I have known her since the day she was born; she is as +innocent and unsullied in life and deed as a holy saint. In that +lowly street where she dwells she first saw the light, and she has +lived there ever since, spending her days in generous self-sacrifice +for others. Och, ye spalpeen!" continued Father Rogan, raising his +finger in kindly anger at Lorison. "What for, I wonder, could she be +after making a fool of hersilf, and shamin' her swate soul with lies, +for the like of you!" + +"Sir," said Lorison, trembling, "say what you please of me. Doubt it +as you must, I will yet prove my gratitude to you, and my devotion to +her. But let me speak to her once now, let me kneel for just one +moment at her feet, and--" + +"Tut, tut!" said the priest. "How many acts of a love drama do you +think an old bookworm like me capable of witnessing? Besides, what +kind of figures do we cut, spying upon the mysteries of midnight +millinery! Go to meet your wife to-morrow, as she ordered you, and +obey her thereafter, and maybe some time I shall get forgiveness for +the part I have played in this night's work. Off wid yez down the +shtairs, now! 'Tis late, and an ould man like me should be takin' his +rest." + + + + +XXIV + +MADAME BO-PEEP, OF THE RANCHES + + +"Aunt Ellen," said Octavia, cheerfully, as she threw her black kid +gloves carefully at the dignified Persian cat on the window-seat, "I'm +a pauper." + +"You are so extreme in your statements, Octavia, dear," said Aunt +Ellen, mildly, looking up from her paper. "If you find yourself +temporarily in need of some small change for bonbons, you will find +my purse in the drawer of the writing desk." + +Octavia Beaupree removed her hat and seated herself on a footstool +near her aunt's chair, clasping her hands about her knees. Her slim +and flexible figure, clad in a modish mourning costume, accommodated +itself easily and gracefully to the trying position. Her bright and +youthful face, with its pair of sparkling, life-enamoured eyes, tried +to compose itself to the seriousness that the occasion seemed to +demand. + +"You good auntie, it isn't a case of bonbons; it is abject, staring, +unpicturesque poverty, with ready-made clothes, gasolined gloves, and +probably one o'clock dinners all waiting with the traditional wolf at +the door. I've just come from my lawyer, auntie, and, 'Please, ma'am, +I ain't got nothink 't all. Flowers, lady? Buttonhole, gentleman? +Pencils, sir, three for five, to help a poor widow?' Do I do it +nicely, auntie, or, as a bread-winner accomplishment, were my lessons +in elocution entirely wasted?" + +"Do be serious, my dear," said Aunt Ellen, letting her paper fall to +the floor, "long enough to tell me what you mean. Colonel Beaupree's +estate--" + +"Colonel Beaupree's estate," interrupted Octavia, emphasizing her +words with appropriate dramatic gestures, "is of Spanish castellar +architecture. Colonel Beaupree's resources are--wind. Colonel +Beaupree's stocks are--water. Colonel Beaupree's income is--all +in. The statement lacks the legal technicalities to which I have been +listening for an hour, but that is what it means when translated." + +"Octavia!" Aunt Ellen was now visibly possessed by consternation. "I +can hardly believe it. And it was the impression that he was worth a +million. And the De Peysters themselves introduced him!" + +Octavia rippled out a laugh, and then became properly grave. + +"_De mortuis nil_, auntie--not even the rest of it. The dear old +colonel--what a gold brick he was, after all! I paid for my bargain +fairly--I'm all here, am I not?--items: eyes, fingers, toes, +youth, old family, unquestionable position in society as called for +in the contract--no wild-cat stock here." Octavia picked up the morning +paper from the floor. "But I'm not going to 'squeal'--isn't that +what they call it when you rail at Fortune because you've, lost the +game?" She turned the pages of the paper calmly. "'Stock market'--no +use for that. 'Society's doings'--that's done. Here is my page--the +wish column. A Van Dresser could not be said to 'want' for anything, +of course. 'Chamber-maids, cooks, canvassers, stenographers--'" + +"Dear," said Aunt Ellen, with a little tremor in her voice, "please do +not talk in that way. Even if your affairs are in so unfortunate a +condition, there is my three thousand--" + +Octavia sprang up lithely, and deposited a smart kiss on the delicate +cheek of the prim little elderly maid. + +"Blessed auntie, your three thousand is just sufficient to insure your +Hyson to be free from willow leaves and keep the Persian in sterilized +cream. I know I'd be welcome, but I prefer to strike bottom like +Beelzebub rather than hang around like the Peri listening to the music +from the side entrance. I'm going to earn my own living. There's +nothing else to do. I'm a--Oh, oh, oh!--I had forgotten. There's +one thing saved from the wreck. It's a corral--no, a ranch in--let +me see--Texas: an asset, dear old Mr. Bannister called it. How +pleased he was to show me something he could describe as unencumbered! +I've a description of it among those stupid papers he made me bring +away with me from his office. I'll try to find it." + +Octavia found her shopping-bag, and drew from it a long envelope +filled with typewritten documents. + +"A ranch in Texas," sighed Aunt Ellen. "It sounds to me more like a +liability than an asset. Those are the places where the centipedes are +found, and cowboys, and fandangos." + +"'The Rancho de las Sombras,'" read Octavia from a sheet of violently +purple typewriting, "'is situated one hundred and ten miles southeast +of San Antonio, and thirty-eight miles from its nearest railroad +station, Nopal, on the I. and G. N. Ranch, consists of 7,680 acres +of well-watered land, with title conferred by State patents, and +twenty-two sections, or 14,080 acres, partly under yearly running +lease and partly bought under State's twenty-year-purchase act. Eight +thousand graded merino sheep, with the necessary equipment of horses, +vehicles and general ranch paraphernalia. Ranch-house built of brick, +with six rooms comfortably furnished according to the requirements of +the climate. All within a strong barbed-wire fence. + +"'The present ranch manager seems to be competent and reliable, and is +rapidly placing upon a paying basis a business that, in other hands, +had been allowed to suffer from neglect and misconduct. + +"'This property was secured by Colonel Beaupree in a deal with a +Western irrigation syndicate, and the title to it seems to be perfect. +With careful management and the natural increase of land values, it +ought to be made the foundation for a comfortable fortune for its +owner.'" + +When Octavia ceased reading, Aunt Ellen uttered something as near a +sniff as her breeding permitted. + +"The prospectus," she said, with uncompromising metropolitan +suspicion, "doesn't mention the centipedes, or the Indians. And you +never did like mutton, Octavia. I don't see what advantage you can +derive from this--desert." + +But Octavia was in a trance. Her eyes were steadily regarding +something quite beyond their focus. Her lips were parted, and her face +was lighted by the kindling furor of the explorer, the ardent, +stirring disquiet of the adventurer. Suddenly she clasped her hands +together exultantly. + +"The problem solves itself, auntie," she cried. "I'm going to that +ranch. I'm going to live on it. I'm going to learn to like mutton, +and even concede the good qualities of centipedes--at a respectful +distance. It's just what I need. It's a new life that comes when my +old one is just ending. It's a release, auntie; it isn't a narrowing. +Think of the gallops over those leagues of prairies, with the wind +tugging at the roots of your hair, the coming close to the earth +and learning over again the stories of the growing grass and the +little wild flowers without names! Glorious is what it will be. Shall +I be a shepherdess with a Watteau hat, and a crook to keep the bad +wolves from the lambs, or a typical Western ranch girl, with short +hair, like the pictures of her in the Sunday papers? I think the +latter. And they'll have my picture, too, with the wild-cats I've +slain, single-handed, hanging from my saddle horn. 'From the Four +Hundred to the Flocks' is the way they'll headline it, and they'll +print photographs of the old Van Dresser mansion and the church where +I was married. They won't have my picture, but they'll get an artist +to draw it. I'll be wild and woolly, and I'll grow my own wool." + +"Octavia!" Aunt Ellen condensed into the one word all the protests +she was unable to utter. + +"Don't say a word, auntie. I'm going. I'll see the sky at night fit +down on the world like a big butter-dish cover, and I'll make friends +again with the stars that I haven't had a chat with since I was a wee +child. I wish to go. I'm tired of all this. I'm glad I haven't any +money. I could bless Colonel Beaupree for that ranch, and forgive him +for all his bubbles. What if the life will be rough and lonely! I--I +deserve it. I shut my heart to everything except that miserable +ambition. I--oh, I wish to go away, and forget--forget!" + +Octavia swerved suddenly to her knees, laid her flushed face in her +aunt's lap, and shook with turbulent sobs. + +Aunt Ellen bent over her, and smoothed the coppery-brown hair. + +"I didn't know," she said, gently; "I didn't know--that. Who was it, +dear?" + + +When Mrs. Octavia Beaupree, nee Van Dresser, stepped from the train at +Nopal, her manner lost, for the moment, some of that easy certitude +which had always marked her movements. The town was of recent +establishment, and seemed to have been hastily constructed of undressed +lumber and flapping canvas. The element that had congregated about the +station, though not offensively demonstrative, was clearly composed of +citizens accustomed to and prepared for rude alarms. + +Octavia stood on the platform, against the telegraph office, and +attempted to choose by intuition from the swaggering, straggling +string, of loungers the manager of the Rancho de las Sombras, who +had been instructed by Mr. Bannister to meet her there. That tall, +serious, looking, elderly man in the blue flannel shirt and white tie +she thought must be he. But, no; he passed by, removing his gaze from +the lady as hers rested on him, according to the Southern custom. The +manager, she thought, with some impatience at being kept waiting, +should have no difficulty in selecting her. Young women wearing the +most recent thing in ash-coloured travelling suits were not so +plentiful in Nopal! + +Thus keeping a speculative watch on all persons of possible managerial +aspect, Octavia, with a catching breath and a start of surprise, +suddenly became aware of Teddy Westlake hurrying along the platform in +the direction of the train--of Teddy Westlake or his sun-browned +ghost in cheviot, boots and leather-girdled hat--Theodore Westlake, +Jr., amateur polo (almost) champion, all-round butterfly and cumberer +of the soil; but a broader, surer, more emphasized and determined +Teddy than the one she had known a year ago when last she saw him. + +He perceived Octavia at almost the same time, deflected his course, +and steered for her in his old, straightforward way. Something like +awe came upon her as the strangeness of his metamorphosis was +brought into closer range; the rich, red-brown of his complexion +brought out so vividly his straw-coloured mustache and steel-gray +eyes. He seemed more grown-up, and, somehow, farther away. But, when +he spoke, the old, boyish Teddy came back again. They had been friends +from childhood. + +"Why, 'Tave!" he exclaimed, unable to reduce his perplexity to +coherence. "How--what--when--where?" + +"Train," said Octavia; "necessity; ten minutes ago; home. Your +complexion's gone, Teddy. Now, how--what--when--where?" + +"I'm working down here," said Teddy. He cast side glances about the +station as one does who tries to combine politeness with duty. + +"You didn't notice on the train," he asked, "an old lady with gray +curls and a poodle, who occupied two seats with her bundles and +quarrelled with the conductor, did you?" + +"I think not," answered Octavia, reflecting. "And you haven't, by +any chance, noticed a big, gray-mustached man in a blue shirt and +six-shooters, with little flakes of merino wool sticking in his hair, +have you?" + +"Lots of 'em," said Teddy, with symptoms of mental delirium under the +strain. "Do you happen to know any such individual?" + +"No; the description is imaginary. Is your interest in the old lady +whom you describe a personal one?" + +"Never saw her in my life. She's painted entirely from fancy. She owns +the little piece of property where I earn my bread and butter--the +Rancho de las Sombras. I drove up to meet her according to arrangement +with her lawyer." + +Octavia leaned against the wall of the telegraph office. Was this +possible? And didn't he know? + +"Are you the manager of that ranch?" she asked weakly. + +"I am," said Teddy, with pride. + +"I am Mrs. Beaupree," said Octavia faintly; "but my hair never would +curl, and I was polite to the conductor." + +For a moment that strange, grown-up look came back, and removed Teddy +miles away from her. + +"I hope you'll excuse me," he said, rather awkwardly. "You see, I've +been down here in the chaparral a year. I hadn't heard. Give me your +checks, please, and I'll have your traps loaded into the wagon. Jose +will follow with them. We travel ahead in the buckboard." + +Seated by Teddy in a feather-weight buckboard, behind a pair of wild, +cream-coloured Spanish ponies, Octavia abandoned all thought for the +exhilaration of the present. They swept out of the little town and +down the level road toward the south. Soon the road dwindled and +disappeared, and they struck across a world carpeted with an endless +reach of curly mesquite grass. The wheels made no sound. The tireless +ponies bounded ahead at an unbroken gallop. The temperate wind, made +fragrant by thousands of acres of blue and yellow wild flowers, roared +gloriously in their ears. The motion was aerial, ecstatic, with a +thrilling sense of perpetuity in its effect. Octavia sat silent, +possessed by a feeling of elemental, sensual bliss. Teddy seemed to be +wrestling with some internal problem. + +"I'm going to call you madama," he announced as the result of his +labours. "That is what the Mexicans will call you--they're nearly +all Mexicans on the ranch, you know. That seems to me about the proper +thing." + +"Very well, Mr. Westlake," said Octavia, primly. + +"Oh, now," said Teddy, in some consternation, "that's carrying the +thing too far, isn't it?" + +"Don't worry me with your beastly etiquette. I'm just beginning to +live. Don't remind me of anything artificial. If only this air could +be bottled! This much alone is worth coming for. Oh, look I there goes +a deer!" + +"Jack-rabbit," said Teddy, without turning his head. + +"Could I--might I drive?" suggested Octavia, panting, with rose-tinted +cheeks and the eye of an eager child. + +"On one condition. Could I--might I smoke?" + +"Forever!" cried Octavia, taking the lines with solemn joy. "How shall +I know which way to drive?" + +"Keep her sou' by sou'east, and all sail set. You see that black speck +on the horizon under that lowermost Gulf cloud? That's a group of +live-oaks and a landmark. Steer halfway between that and the little +hill to the left. I'll recite you the whole code of driving rules for +the Texas prairies: keep the reins from under the horses' feet, and +swear at 'em frequent." + +"I'm too happy to swear, Ted. Oh, why do people buy yachts or travel +in palace-cars, when a buckboard and a pair of plugs and a spring +morning like this can satisfy all desire?" + +"Now, I'll ask you," protested Teddy, who was futilely striking match +after match on the dashboard, "not to call those denizens of the air +plugs. They can kick out a hundred miles between daylight and dark." +At last he succeeded in snatching a light for his cigar from the flame +held in the hollow of his hands. + +"Room!" said Octavia, intensely. "That's what produces the effect. I +know now what I've wanted--scope--range--room!" + +"Smoking-room," said Teddy, unsentimentally. "I love to smoke in a +buckboard. The wind blows the smoke into you and out again. It saves +exertion." + +The two fell so naturally into their old-time goodfellowship that it +was only by degrees that a sense of the strangeness of the new +relations between them came to be felt. + +"Madama," said Teddy, wonderingly, "however did you get it into your +bead to cut the crowd and come down here? Is it a fad now among the +upper classes to trot off to sheep ranches instead of to Newport?" + +"I was broke, Teddy," said Octavia, sweetly, with her interest centred +upon steering safely between a Spanish dagger plant and a clump of +chaparral; "I haven't a thing in the world but this ranch--not even +any other home to go to." + +"Come, now," said Teddy, anxiously but incredulously, "you don't +mean it?" + +"When my husband," said Octavia, with a shy slurring of the word, +"died three months ago I thought I had a reasonable amount of the +world's goods. His lawyer exploded that theory in a sixty-minute fully +illustrated lecture. I took to the sheep as a last resort. Do you +happen to know of any fashionable caprice among the gilded youth of +Manhattan that induces them to abandon polo and club windows to become +managers of sheep ranches?" + +"It's easily explained in my case," responded Teddy, promptly. "I +had to go to work. I couldn't have earned my board in New York, so I +chummed a while with old Sandford, one of the syndicate that owned the +ranch before Colonel Beaupree bought it, and got a place down here. I +wasn't manager at first. I jogged around on ponies and studied the +business in detail, until I got all the points in my head. I saw where +it was losing and what the remedies were, and then Sandford put me +in charge. I get a hundred dollars a month, and I earn it." + +"Poor Teddy!" said Octavia, with a smile. + +"You needn't. I like it. I save half my wages, and I'm as hard as a +water plug. It beats polo." + +"Will it furnish bread and tea and jam for another outcast from +civilization?" + +"The spring shearing," said the manager, "just cleaned up a deficit in +last year's business. Wastefulness and inattention have been the rule +heretofore. The autumn clip will leave a small profit over all +expenses. Next year there will be jam." + +When, about four o'clock in the afternoon, the ponies rounded a +gentle, brush-covered hill, and then swooped, like a double +cream-coloured cyclone, upon the Rancho de las Sombras, Octavia gave +a little cry of delight. A lordly grove of magnificent live-oaks cast +an area of grateful, cool shade, whence the ranch had drawn its name, +"de las Sombras"--of the shadows. The house, of red brick, one story, +ran low and long beneath the trees. Through its middle, dividing its +six rooms in half, extended a broad, arched passageway, picturesque +with flowering cactus and hanging red earthern jars. A "gallery," low +and broad, encircled the building. Vines climbed about it, and the +adjacent ground was, for a space, covered with transplanted grass and +shrubs. A little lake, long and narrow, glimmered in the sun at the +rear. Further away stood the shacks of the Mexican workers, the +corrals, wool sheds and shearing pens. To the right lay the low hills, +splattered with dark patches of chaparral; to the left the unbounded +green prairie blending against the blue heavens. + +"It's a home, Teddy," said Octavia, breathlessly; "that's what it +is--it's a home." + +"Not so bad for a sheep ranch," admitted Teddy, with excusable pride. +"I've been tinkering on it at odd times." + +A Mexican youth sprang from somewhere in the grass, and took charge of +the creams. The mistress and the manager entered the house. + +"Here's Mrs. MacIntyre," said Teddy, as a placid, neat, elderly lady +came out upon the gallery to meet them. "Mrs. Mac, here's the boss. +Very likely she will be wanting a hunk of ham and a dish of beans +after her drive." + +Mrs. MacIntyre, the housekeeper, as much a fixture on the place as the +lake or the live-oaks, received the imputation of the ranch's +resources of refreshment with mild indignation, and was about to give +it utterance when Octavia spoke. + +"Oh, Mrs. MacIntyre, don't apologize for Teddy. Yes, I call him Teddy. +So does every one whom he hasn't duped into taking him seriously. You +see, we used to cut paper dolls and play jackstraws together ages ago. +No one minds what he says." + +"No," said Teddy, "no one minds what he says, just so he doesn't do it +again." + +Octavia cast one of those subtle, sidelong glances toward him from +beneath her lowered eyelids--a glance that Teddy used to describe as +an upper-cut. But there was nothing in his ingenuous, weather-tanned +face to warrant a suspicion that he was making an allusion--nothing. +Beyond a doubt, thought Octavia, he had forgotten. + +"Mr. Westlake likes his fun," said Mrs. Maclntyre, as she conducted +Octavia to her rooms. "But," she added, loyally, "people around here +usually pay attention to what he says when he talks in earnest. I +don't know what would have become of this place without him." + +Two rooms at the east end of the house had been arranged for the +occupancy of the ranch's mistress. When she entered them a slight +dismay seized her at their bare appearance and the scantiness of +their furniture; but she quickly reflected that the climate was a +semi-tropical one, and was moved to appreciation of the well-conceived +efforts to conform to it. The sashes had already been removed from the +big windows, and white curtains waved in the Gulf breeze that streamed +through the wide jalousies. The bare floor was amply strewn with cool +rugs; the chairs were inviting, deep, dreamy willows; the walls were +papered with a light, cheerful olive. One whole side of her sitting +room was covered with books on smooth, unpainted pine shelves. She +flew to these at once. Before her was a well-selected library. She +caught glimpses of titles of volumes of fiction and travel not yet +seasoned from the dampness of the press. + +Presently, recollecting that she was now in a wilderness given over to +mutton, centipedes and privations, the incongruity of these luxuries +struck her, and, with intuitive feminine suspicion, she began turning +to the fly-leaves of volume after volume. Upon each one was inscribed +in fluent characters the name of Theodore Westlake, Jr. + +Octavia, fatigued by her long journey, retired early that night. Lying +upon her white, cool bed, she rested deliciously, but sleep coquetted +long with her. She listened to faint noises whose strangeness kept her +faculties on the alert--the fractious yelping of the coyotes, the +ceaseless, low symphony of the wind, the distant booming of the frogs +about the lake, the lamentation of a concertina in the Mexicans' +quarters. There were many conflicting feelings in her heart-- +thankfulness and rebellion, peace and disquietude, loneliness and a +sense of protecting care, happiness and an old, haunting pain. + +She did what any other woman would have done--sought relief in a +wholesome tide of unreasonable tears, and her last words, murmured to +herself before slumber, capitulating, came softly to woo her, were "He +has forgotten." + +The manager of the Rancho de las Sombras was no dilettante. He was a +"hustler." He was generally up, mounted, and away of mornings before +the rest of the household were awake, making the rounds of the flocks +and camps. This was the duty of the major-domo, a stately old Mexican +with a princely air and manner, but Teddy seemed to have a great deal +of confidence in his own eyesight. Except in the busy seasons, he +nearly always returned to the ranch to breakfast at eight o'clock, +with Octavia and Mrs. Maclntyre, at the little table set in the +central hallway, bringing with him a tonic and breezy cheerfulness +full of the health and flavour of the prairies. + +A few days after Octavia's arrival he made her get out one of her +riding skirts, and curtail it to a shortness demanded by the chaparral +brakes. + +With some misgivings she donned this and the pair of buckskin leggings +he prescribed in addition, and, mounted upon a dancing pony, rode with +him to view her possessions. He showed her everything--the flocks +of ewes, muttons and grazing lambs, the dipping vats, the shearing +pens, the uncouth merino rams in their little pasture, the water-tanks +prepared against the summer drought--giving account of his stewardship +with a boyish enthusiasm that never flagged. + +Where was the old Teddy that she knew so well? This side of him was +the same, and it was a side that pleased her; but this was all she +ever saw of him now. Where was his sentimentality--those old, +varying moods of impetuous love-making, of fanciful, quixotic +devotion, of heart-breaking gloom, of alternating, absurd tenderness +and haughty dignity? His nature had been a sensitive one, his +temperament bordering closely on the artistic. She knew that, besides +being a follower of fashion and its fads and sports, he had cultivated +tastes of a finer nature. He had written things, he had tampered with +colours, he was something of a student in certain branches of art, and +once she had been admitted to all his aspirations and thoughts. But +now--and she could not avoid the conclusion--Teddy had barricaded +against her every side of himself except one--the side that showed the +manager of the Rancho de las Sombras and a jolly chum who had forgiven +and forgotten. Queerly enough the words of Mr. Bannister's description +of her property came into her mind--"all inclosed within a strong +barbed-wire fence." + +"Teddy's fenced, too," said Octavia to herself. + +It was not difficult for her to reason out the cause of his +fortifications. It had originated one night at the Hammersmiths' ball. +It occurred at a time soon after she had decided to accept Colonel +Beaupree and his million, which was no more than her looks and the +entree she held to the inner circles were worth. Teddy had proposed +with all his impetuosity and fire, and she looked him straight in the +eyes, an said, coldly and finally: "Never let me hear any such silly +nonsense from you again." "You won't," said Teddy, with an expression +around his mouth, and--now Teddy was inclosed within a strong +barbed-wire fence. + +It was on this first ride of inspection that Teddy was seized by the +inspiration that suggested the name of Mother Goose's heroine, and he +at once bestowed it upon Octavia. The idea, supported by both a +similarity of names and identity of occupations, seemed to strike him +as a peculiarly happy one, and he never tired of using it. The +Mexicans on the ranch also took up the name, adding another syllable +to accommodate their lingual incapacity for the final "p," gravely +referring to her as "La Madama Bo-Peepy." Eventually it spread, and +"Madame Bo-Peep's ranch" was as often mentioned as the "Rancho de las +Sombras." + +Came the long, hot season from May to September, when work is scarce +on the ranches. Octavia passed the days in a kind of lotus-eater's +dream. Books, hammocks, correspondence with a few intimate friends, a +renewed interest in her old water-colour box and easel--these +disposed of the sultry hours of daylight. The evenings were always +sure to bring enjoyment. Best of all were the rapturous horseback +rides with Teddy, when the moon gave light over the wind-swept +leagues, chaperoned by the wheeling night-hawk and the startled owl. +Often the Mexicans would come up from their shacks with their guitars +and sing the weirdest of heart-breaking songs. There were long, cosy +chats on the breezy gallery, and an interminable warfare of wits +between Teddy and Mrs. MacIntyre, whose abundant Scotch shrewdness +often more than overmatched the lighter humour in which she was +lacking. + +And the nights came, one after another, and were filed away by weeks +and months--nights soft and languorous and fragrant, that should +have driven Strephon to Chloe over wires however barbed, that might +have drawn Cupid himself to hunt, lasso in hand, among those amorous +pastures--but Teddy kept his fences up. + +One July night Madame Bo-Peep and her ranch manager were sitting on +the east gallery. Teddy had been exhausting the science of +prognostication as to the probabilities of a price of twenty-four +cents for the autumn clip, and had then subsided into an anesthetic +cloud of Havana smoke. Only as incompetent a judge as a woman would +have failed to note long ago that at least a third of his salary must +have gone up in the fumes of those imported Regalias. + +"Teddy," said Octavia, suddenly, and rather sharply, "what are you +working down here on a ranch for?" + +"One hundred per," said Teddy, glibly, "and found." + +"I've a good mind to discharge you." + +"Can't do it," said Teddy, with a grin. + +"Why not?" demanded Octavia, with argumentative heat. + +"Under contract. Terms of sale respect all unexpired contracts. Mine +runs until 12 P. M., December thirty-first. You might get up at +midnight on that date and fire me. If you try it sooner I'll be in a +position to bring legal proceedings." + +Octavia seemed to be considering the prospects of litigation. + +"But," continued Teddy cheerfully, "I've been thinking of resigning +anyway." + +Octavia's rocking-chair ceased its motion. There were centipedes in +this country, she felt sure; and Indians, and vast, lonely, desolate, +empty wastes; all within strong barbed-wire fence. There was a Van +Dresser pride, but there was also a Van Dresser heart. She must know +for certain whether or not he had forgotten. + +"Ah, well, Teddy," she said, with a fine assumption of polite +interest, "it's lonely down here; you're longing to get back to the +old life--to polo and lobsters and theatres and balls." + +"Never cared much for balls," said Teddy virtuously. + +"You're getting old, Teddy. Your memory is failing. Nobody ever knew +you to miss a dance, unless it occurred on the same night with another +one which you attended. And you showed such shocking bad taste, too, +in dancing too often with the same partner. Let me see, what was that +Forbes girl's name--the one with wall eyes--Mabel, wasn't it?" + +"No; Adele. Mabel was the one with the bony elbows. That wasn't wall +in Adele's eyes. It was soul. We used to talk sonnets together, and +Verlaine. Just then I was trying to run a pipe from the Pierian +spring." + +"You were on the floor with her," said Octavia, undeflected, "five +times at the Hammersmiths'." + +"Hammersmiths' what?" questioned Teddy, vacuously. + +"Ball--ball," said Octavia, viciously. "What were we talking of?" + +"Eyes, I thought," said Teddy, after some reflection; "and elbows." + +"Those Hammersmiths," went on Octavia, in her sweetest society +prattle, after subduing an intense desire to yank a handful of +sunburnt, sandy hair from the head lying back contentedly against the +canvas of the steamer chair, "had too much money. Mines, wasn't it? It +was something that paid something to the ton. You couldn't get a glass +of plain water in their house. Everything at that ball was dreadfully +overdone." + +"It was," said Teddy. + +"Such a crowd there was!" Octavia continued, conscious that she was +talking the rapid drivel of a school-girl describing her first dance. +"The balconies were as warm as the rooms. I--lost--something at +that ball." The last sentence was uttered in a tone calculated to +remove the barbs from miles of wire. + +"So did I," confessed Teddy, in a lower voice. + +"A glove," said Octavia, falling back as the enemy approached her +ditches. + +"Caste," said Teddy, halting his firing line without loss. "I +hobnobbed, half the evening with one of Hammersmith's miners, a fellow +who kept his hands in his pockets, and talked like an archangel about +reduction plants and drifts and levels and sluice-boxes." + +"A pearl-gray glove, nearly new," sighed Octavia, mournfully. + +"A bang-up chap, that McArdle," maintained Teddy approvingly. "A +man who hated olives and elevators; a man who handled mountains as +croquettes, and built tunnels in the air; a man who never uttered a +word of silly nonsense in his life. Did you sign those lease-renewal +applications yet, madama? They've got to be on file in the land office +by the thirty-first." + +Teddy turned his head lazily. Octavia's chair was vacant. + + +A certain centipede, crawling along the lines marked out by fate, +expounded the situation. It was early one morning while Octavia and +Mrs. Maclntyre were trimming the honeysuckle on the west gallery. +Teddy had risen and departed hastily before daylight in response to +word that a flock of ewes had been scattered from their bedding ground +during the night by a thunder-storm. + +The centipede, driven by destiny, showed himself on the floor of the +gallery, and then, the screeches of the two women giving him his cue, +he scuttled with all his yellow legs through the open door into the +furthermost west room, which was Teddy's. Arming themselves with +domestic utensils selected with regard to their length, Octavia and +Mrs. Maclntyre, with much clutching of skirts and skirmishing for the +position of rear guard in the attacking force, followed. + +Once outside, the centipede seemed to have disappeared, and his +prospective murderers began a thorough but cautious search for their +victim. + +Even in the midst of such a dangerous and absorbing adventure Octavia +was conscious of an awed curiosity on finding herself in Teddy's +sanctum. In that room he sat alone, silently communing with those +secret thoughts that he now shared with no one, dreamed there whatever +dreams he now called on no one to interpret. + +It was the room of a Spartan or a soldier. In one corner stood a wide, +canvas-covered cot; in another, a small bookcase; in another, a grim +stand of Winchesters and shotguns. An immense table, strewn with +letters, papers and documents and surmounted by a set of pigeon-holes, +occupied one side. + +The centipede showed genius in concealing himself in such bare +quarters. Mrs. Maclntyre was poking a broom-handle behind the +bookcase. Octavia approached Teddy's cot. The room was just as the +manager had left it in his hurry. The Mexican maid had not yet given +it her attention. There was his big pillow with the imprint of his +head still in the centre. She thought the horrid beast might have +climbed the cot and hidden itself to bite Teddy. Centipedes were thus +cruel and vindictive toward managers. + +She cautiously overturned the pillow, and then parted her lips to give +the signal for reinforcements at sight of a long, slender, dark object +lying there. But, repressing it in time, she caught up a glove, a +pearl-gray glove, flattened--it might be conceived--by many, many +months of nightly pressure beneath the pillow of the man who had +forgotten the Hammersmiths' ball. Teddy must have left so hurriedly +that morning that he had, for once, forgotten to transfer it to its +resting-place by day. Even managers, who are notoriously wily and +cunning, are sometimes caught up with. + +Octavia slid the gray glove into the bosom of her summery morning gown. +It was hers. Men who put themselves within a strong barbed-wire fence, +and remember Hammersmith balls only by the talk of miners about +sluice-boxes, should not be allowed to possess such articles. + +After all, what a paradise this prairie country was! How it blossomed +like the rose when you found things that were thought to be lost! How +delicious was that morning breeze coming in the windows, fresh and +sweet with the breath of the yellow ratama blooms! Might one not +stand, for a minute, with shining, far-gazing eyes, and dream that +mistakes might be corrected? + +Why was Mrs. Maclntyre poking about so absurdly with a broom? + +"I've found it," said Mrs. MacIntyre, banging the door. "Here it is." + +"Did you lose something? asked Octavia, with sweetly polite +non-interest. + +"The little devil!" said Mrs. Maclntyre, driven to violence. "Ye've no +forgotten him alretty?" + +Between them they slew the centipede. Thus was he rewarded for his +agency toward the recovery of things lost at the Hammersmiths' ball. + +It seems that Teddy, in due course, remembered the glove, and when he +returned to the house at sunset made a secret but exhaustive search +for it. Not until evening, upon the moonlit eastern gallery, did he +find it. It was upon the hand that he had thought lost to him forever, +and so he was moved to repeat certain nonsense that he had been +commanded never, never to utter again. Teddy's fences were down. + +This time there was no ambition to stand in the way, and the wooing +was as natural and successful as should be between ardent shepherd and +gentle shepherdess. + +The prairies changed to a garden. The Rancho de las Sombras became the +Ranch of Light. + +A few days later Octavia received a letter from Mr. Bannister, in +reply to one she had written to him asking some questions about her +business. A portion of the letter ran as follows: + + + "I am at a loss to account for your references to the sheep ranch. + Two months after your departure to take up your residence upon it, + it was discovered that Colonel Beaupree's title was worthless. A + deed came to light showing that he disposed of the property before + his death. The matter was reported to your manager, Mr. Westlake, + who at once repurchased the property. It is entirely beyond my + powers of conjecture to imagine how you have remained in ignorance + of this fact. I beg that you that will at once confer with that + gentleman, who will, at least, corroborate my statement." + + +Octavia sought Teddy, with battle in her eye. + +"What are you working on this ranch for?" she asked once more. + +"One hundred--" he began to repeat, but saw in her face that she +knew. She held Mr. Bannister's letter in her hand. He knew that the +game was up. + +"It's my ranch," said Teddy, like a schoolboy detected in evil. "It's +a mighty poor manager that isn't able to absorb the boss's business if +you give him time." + +"Why were you working down here?" pursued Octavia still struggling +after the key to the riddle of Teddy. + +"To tell the truth, 'Tave," said Teddy, with quiet candour, "it wasn't +for the salary. That about kept me in cigars and sunburn lotions. I +was sent south by my doctor. 'Twas that right lung that was going to +the bad on account of over-exercise and strain at polo and gymnastics. +I needed climate and ozone and rest and things of that sort." + +In an instant Octavia was close against the vicinity of the affected +organ. Mr. Bannister's letter fluttered to the floor. + +"It's--it's well now, isn't it, Teddy?" + +"Sound as a mesquite chunk. I deceived you in one thing. I paid fifty +thousand for your ranch as soon as I found you had no title. I had +just about that much income accumulated at my banker's while I've been +herding sheep down here, so it was almost like picking the thing up on +a bargain-counter for a penny. There's another little surplus of +unearned increment piling up there, 'Tave. I've been thinking of a +wedding trip in a yacht with white ribbons tied to the mast, through +the Mediterranean, and then up among the Hebrides and down Norway to +the Zuyder Zee." + +"And I was thinking," said Octavia, softly, "of a wedding gallop with +my manager among the flocks of sheep and back to a wedding breakfast +with Mrs. MacIntyre on the gallery, with, maybe, a sprig of orange +blossom fastened to the red jar above the table." + +Teddy laughed, and began to chant: + + "Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep, + And doesn't know where to find 'em. + Let 'em alone, and they'll come home, + And--" + +Octavia drew his head down, and whispered in his ear, But that is one +of the tales they brought behind them. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHIRLIGIGS*** + + +******* This file should be named 1595.txt or 1595.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/9/1595 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + |