diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1646-8.txt | 11564 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1646-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 234085 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1646-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 305683 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1646-h/1646-h.htm | 12348 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1646-h/images/frontis.jpg | bin | 0 -> 66180 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1646.txt | 11564 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1646.zip | bin | 0 -> 233986 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/rdstn10.txt | 11128 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/rdstn10.zip | bin | 0 -> 230824 bytes |
12 files changed, 46620 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1646-8.txt b/1646-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..54e1e4a --- /dev/null +++ b/1646-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11564 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Roads of Destiny, 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: Roads of Destiny + Roads of Destiny -- The Guardian of the Accolade -- The Discounters of Money -- The Enchanted Profile -- "Next to Reading Matter" -- Art and the Bronco -- Phoebe -- A Double-dyed Deceiver -- The Passing of Black Eagle -- A Retrieved Reformation -- Cherchez la Femme -- Friends in San Rosario -- The Fourth in Salvador -- The Emancipation of Billy -- The Enchanted Kiss -- A Departmental Case -- The Renaissance at Charleroi -- On Behalf of the Management -- Whistling Dick's Christmas Stocking -- The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss -- Two Renegades -- The Lonesome Road + + +Author: O. Henry + + + +Release Date: February, 1997 [eBook #1646] +[Most recently updated: February 5, 2006] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROADS OF DESTINY*** + + +E-text prepared by John Bickers and Dagny and revised by Joseph E. +Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 1646-h.htm or 1646-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/4/1646/1646-h/1646-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/4/1646/1646-h.zip) + + + + + +ROADS OF DESTINY + +by + +O. HENRY + +Author of "The Voice of the City," "The Trimmed Lamp," +"Strictly Business," "Whirligigs," "Sixes and Sevens," Etc. + +1919 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "The old medical outrage . . . had a nigger along." +(Frontispiece)] + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. Roads of Destiny + II. The Guardian of the Accolade + III. The Discounters of Money + IV. The Enchanted Profile + V. "Next to Reading Matter" + VI. Art and the Bronco + VII. Phoebe + VIII. A Double-dyed Deceiver + IX. The Passing of Black Eagle + X. A Retrieved Reformation + XI. Cherchez la Femme + XII. Friends in San Rosario + XIII. The Fourth in Salvador + XIV. The Emancipation of Billy + XV. The Enchanted Kiss + XVI. A Departmental Case + XVII. The Renaissance at Charleroi + XVIII. On Behalf of the Management + XIX. Whistling Dick's Christmas Stocking + XX. The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss + XXI. Two Renegades + XXII. The Lonesome Road + + + + + +I + +ROADS OF DESTINY + + + I go to seek on many roads + What is to be. + True heart and strong, with love to light-- + Will they not bear me in the fight + To order, shun or wield or mould + My Destiny? + + Unpublished Poems of David Mignot. + + +The song was over. The words were David's; the air, one of the +countryside. The company about the inn table applauded heartily, +for the young poet paid for the wine. Only the notary, M. Papineau, +shook his head a little at the lines, for he was a man of books, and +he had not drunk with the rest. + +David went out into the village street, where the night air drove +the wine vapour from his head. And then he remembered that he and +Yvonne had quarrelled that day, and that he had resolved to leave +his home that night to seek fame and honour in the great world +outside. + +"When my poems are on every man's tongue," he told himself, in a +fine exhilaration, "she will, perhaps, think of the hard words she +spoke this day." + +Except the roisterers in the tavern, the village folk were abed. +David crept softly into his room in the shed of his father's cottage +and made a bundle of his small store of clothing. With this upon a +staff, he set his face outward upon the road that ran from Vernoy. + +He passed his father's herd of sheep, huddled in their nightly +pen--the sheep he herded daily, leaving them to scatter while he +wrote verses on scraps of paper. He saw a light yet shining in +Yvonne's window, and a weakness shook his purpose of a sudden. +Perhaps that light meant that she rued, sleepless, her anger, and +that morning might--But, no! His decision was made. Vernoy was no +place for him. Not one soul there could share his thoughts. Out +along that road lay his fate and his future. + +Three leagues across the dim, moonlit champaign ran the road, +straight as a ploughman's furrow. It was believed in the village +that the road ran to Paris, at least; and this name the poet +whispered often to himself as he walked. Never so far from Vernoy +had David travelled before. + + + +THE LEFT BRANCH + + _Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. + It joined with another and a larger road at right angles. David + stood, uncertain, for a while, and then took the road to the + left._ + +Upon this more important highway were, imprinted in the dust, wheel +tracks left by the recent passage of some vehicle. Some half an +hour later these traces were verified by the sight of a ponderous +carriage mired in a little brook at the bottom of a steep hill. +The driver and postilions were shouting and tugging at the horses' +bridles. On the road at one side stood a huge, black-clothed man and +a slender lady wrapped in a long, light cloak. + +David saw the lack of skill in the efforts of the servants. He +quietly assumed control of the work. He directed the outriders to +cease their clamour at the horses and to exercise their strength +upon the wheels. The driver alone urged the animals with his +familiar voice; David himself heaved a powerful shoulder at the +rear of the carriage, and with one harmonious tug the great vehicle +rolled up on solid ground. The outriders climbed to their places. + +David stood for a moment upon one foot. The huge gentleman waved a +hand. "You will enter the carriage," he said, in a voice large, like +himself, but smoothed by art and habit. Obedience belonged in the +path of such a voice. Brief as was the young poet's hesitation, it +was cut shorter still by a renewal of the command. David's foot went +to the step. In the darkness he perceived dimly the form of the lady +upon the rear seat. He was about to seat himself opposite, when the +voice again swayed him to its will. "You will sit at the lady's +side." + +The gentleman swung his great weight to the forward seat. The +carriage proceeded up the hill. The lady was shrunk, silent, into +her corner. David could not estimate whether she was old or young, +but a delicate, mild perfume from her clothes stirred his poet's +fancy to the belief that there was loveliness beneath the mystery. +Here was an adventure such as he had often imagined. But as yet he +held no key to it, for no word was spoken while he sat with his +impenetrable companions. + +In an hour's time David perceived through the window that the +vehicle traversed the street of some town. Then it stopped in front +of a closed and darkened house, and a postilion alighted to hammer +impatiently upon the door. A latticed window above flew wide and a +nightcapped head popped out. + +"Who are ye that disturb honest folk at this time of night? My house +is closed. 'Tis too late for profitable travellers to be abroad. +Cease knocking at my door, and be off." + +"Open!" spluttered the postilion, loudly; "open for Monsiegneur the +Marquis de Beaupertuys." + +"Ah!" cried the voice above. "Ten thousand pardons, my lord. I did +not know--the hour is so late--at once shall the door be opened, and +the house placed at my lord's disposal." + +Inside was heard the clink of chain and bar, and the door was flung +open. Shivering with chill and apprehension, the landlord of the +Silver Flagon stood, half clad, candle in hand, upon the threshold. + +David followed the Marquis out of the carriage. "Assist the lady," +he was ordered. The poet obeyed. He felt her small hand tremble as +he guided her descent. "Into the house," was the next command. + +The room was the long dining-hall of the tavern. A great oak table +ran down its length. The huge gentleman seated himself in a chair at +the nearer end. The lady sank into another against the wall, with an +air of great weariness. David stood, considering how best he might +now take his leave and continue upon his way. + +"My lord," said the landlord, bowing to the floor, "h-had I +ex-expected this honour, entertainment would have been ready. +T-t-there is wine and cold fowl and m-m-maybe--" + +"Candles," said the marquis, spreading the fingers of one plump +white hand in a gesture he had. + +"Y-yes, my lord." He fetched half a dozen candles, lighted them, and +set them upon the table. + +"If monsieur would, perhaps, deign to taste a certain +Burgundy--there is a cask--" + +"Candles," said monsieur, spreading his fingers. + +"Assuredly--quickly--I fly, my lord." + +A dozen more lighted candles shone in the hall. The great bulk of +the marquis overflowed his chair. He was dressed in fine black from +head to foot save for the snowy ruffles at his wrist and throat. +Even the hilt and scabbard of his sword were black. His expression +was one of sneering pride. The ends of an upturned moustache reached +nearly to his mocking eyes. + +The lady sat motionless, and now David perceived that she was young, +and possessed of pathetic and appealing beauty. He was startled from +the contemplation of her forlorn loveliness by the booming voice of +the marquis. + +"What is your name and pursuit?" + +"David Mignot. I am a poet." + +The moustache of the marquis curled nearer to his eyes. + +"How do you live?" + +"I am also a shepherd; I guarded my father's flock," David answered, +with his head high, but a flush upon his cheek. + +"Then listen, master shepherd and poet, to the fortune you have +blundered upon to-night. This lady is my niece, Mademoiselle Lucie +de Varennes. She is of noble descent and is possessed of ten +thousand francs a year in her own right. As to her charms, you +have but to observe for yourself. If the inventory pleases your +shepherd's heart, she becomes your wife at a word. Do not interrupt +me. To-night I conveyed her to the _château_ of the Comte de +Villemaur, to whom her hand had been promised. Guests were present; +the priest was waiting; her marriage to one eligible in rank and +fortune was ready to be accomplished. At the alter this demoiselle, +so meek and dutiful, turned upon me like a leopardess, charged +me with cruelty and crimes, and broke, before the gaping priest, +the troth I had plighted for her. I swore there and then, by ten +thousand devils, that she should marry the first man we met after +leaving the _château_, be he prince, charcoal-burner, or thief. You, +shepherd, are the first. Mademoiselle must be wed this night. If +not you, then another. You have ten minutes in which to make your +decision. Do not vex me with words or questions. Ten minutes, +shepherd; and they are speeding." + +The marquis drummed loudly with his white fingers upon the table. +He sank into a veiled attitude of waiting. It was as if some great +house had shut its doors and windows against approach. David would +have spoken, but the huge man's bearing stopped his tongue. Instead, +he stood by the lady's chair and bowed. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, and he marvelled to find his words flowing +easily before so much elegance and beauty. "You have heard me say +I was a shepherd. I have also had the fancy, at times, that I +am a poet. If it be the test of a poet to adore and cherish the +beautiful, that fancy is now strengthened. Can I serve you in any +way, mademoiselle?" + +The young woman looked up at him with eyes dry and mournful. His +frank, glowing face, made serious by the gravity of the adventure, +his strong, straight figure and the liquid sympathy in his blue +eyes, perhaps, also, her imminent need of long-denied help and +kindness, thawed her to sudden tears. + +"Monsieur," she said, in low tones, "you look to be true and kind. +He is my uncle, the brother of my father, and my only relative. He +loved my mother, and he hates me because I am like her. He has made +my life one long terror. I am afraid of his very looks, and never +before dared to disobey him. But to-night he would have married me +to a man three times my age. You will forgive me for bringing this +vexation upon you, monsieur. You will, of course, decline this +mad act he tries to force upon you. But let me thank you for your +generous words, at least. I have had none spoken to me in so long." + +There was now something more than generosity in the poet's eyes. +Poet he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this fine, new +loveliness held him with its freshness and grace. The subtle perfume +from her filled him with strange emotions. His tender look fell +warmly upon her. She leaned to it, thirstily. + +"Ten minutes," said David, "is given me in which to do what I would +devote years to achieve. I will not say I pity you, mademoiselle; it +would not be true--I love you. I cannot ask love from you yet, but +let me rescue you from this cruel man, and, in time, love may come. +I think I have a future; I will not always be a shepherd. For the +present I will cherish you with all my heart and make your life less +sad. Will you trust your fate to me, mademoiselle?" + +"Ah, you would sacrifice yourself from pity!" + +"From love. The time is almost up, mademoiselle." + +"You will regret it, and despise me." + +"I will live only to make you happy, and myself worthy of you." + +Her fine small hand crept into his from beneath her cloak. + +"I will trust you," she breathed, "with my life. And--and love--may +not be so far off as you think. Tell him. Once away from the power +of his eyes I may forget." + +David went and stood before the marquis. The black figure stirred, +and the mocking eyes glanced at the great hall clock. + +"Two minutes to spare. A shepherd requires eight minutes to decide +whether he will accept a bride of beauty and income! Speak up, +shepherd, do you consent to become mademoiselle's husband?" + +"Mademoiselle," said David, standing proudly, "has done me the +honour to yield to my request that she become my wife." + +"Well said!" said the marquis. "You have yet the making of a +courtier in you, master shepherd. Mademoiselle could have drawn a +worse prize, after all. And now to be done with the affair as quick +as the Church and the devil will allow!" + +He struck the table soundly with his sword hilt. The landlord came, +knee-shaking, bringing more candles in the hope of anticipating the +great lord's whims. "Fetch a priest," said the marquis, "a priest; +do you understand? In ten minutes have a priest here, or--" + +The landlord dropped his candles and flew. + +The priest came, heavy-eyed and ruffled. He made David Mignot and +Lucie de Verennes man and wife, pocketed a gold piece that the +marquis tossed him, and shuffled out again into the night. + +"Wine," ordered the marquis, spreading his ominous fingers at the +host. + +"Fill glasses," he said, when it was brought. He stood up at the +head of the table in the candlelight, a black mountain of venom and +conceit, with something like the memory of an old love turned to +poison in his eyes, as it fell upon his niece. + +"Monsieur Mignot," he said, raising his wineglass, "drink after +I say this to you: You have taken to be your wife one who will +make your life a foul and wretched thing. The blood in her is an +inheritance running black lies and red ruin. She will bring you +shame and anxiety. The devil that descended to her is there in her +eyes and skin and mouth that stoop even to beguile a peasant. There +is your promise, monsieur poet, for a happy life. Drink your wine. +At last, mademoiselle, I am rid of you." + +The marquis drank. A little grievous cry, as if from a sudden wound, +came from the girl's lips. David, with his glass in his hand, +stepped forward three paces and faced the marquis. There was little +of a shepherd in his bearing. + +"Just now," he said, calmly, "you did me the honor to call me +'monsieur.' May I hope, therefore that my marriage to mademoiselle +has placed me somewhat nearer to you in--let us say, reflected +rank--has given me the right to stand more as an equal to +monseigneur in a certain little piece of business I have in my +mind?" + +"You may hope, shepherd," sneered the marquis. + +"Then," said David, dashing his glass of wine into the contemptuous +eyes that mocked him, "perhaps you will condescend to fight me." + +The fury of the great lord outbroke in one sudden curse like a blast +from a horn. He tore his sword from its black sheath; he called to +the hovering landlord: "A sword there, for this lout!" He turned to +the lady, with a laugh that chilled her heart, and said: "You put +much labour upon me, madame. It seems I must find you a husband and +make you a widow in the same night." + +"I know not sword-play," said David. He flushed to make the +confession before his lady. + +"'I know not sword-play,'" mimicked the marquis. "Shall we fight +like peasants with oaken cudgels? _Hola!_ François, my pistols!" + +A postilion brought two shining great pistols ornamented with carven +silver, from the carriage holsters. The marquis tossed one upon the +table near David's hand. "To the other end of the table," he cried; +"even a shepherd may pull a trigger. Few of them attain the honour +to die by the weapon of a De Beaupertuys." + +The shepherd and the marquis faced each other from the ends of the +long table. The landlord, in an ague of terror, clutched the air +and stammered: "M-M-Monseigneur, for the love of Christ! not in my +house!--do not spill blood--it will ruin my custom--" The look of +the marquis, threatening him, paralyzed his tongue. + +"Coward," cried the lord of Beaupertuys, "cease chattering your +teeth long enough to give the word for us, if you can." + +Mine host's knees smote the floor. He was without a vocabulary. Even +sounds were beyond him. Still, by gestures he seemed to beseech +peace in the name of his house and custom. + +"I will give the word," said the lady, in a clear voice. She went up +to David and kissed him sweetly. Her eyes were sparkling bright, and +colour had come to her cheek. She stood against the wall, and the +two men levelled their pistols for her count. + +"_Un--deux--trois!_" + +The two reports came so nearly together that the candles flickered +but once. The marquis stood, smiling, the fingers of his left hand +resting, outspread, upon the end of the table. David remained erect, +and turned his head very slowly, searching for his wife with his +eyes. Then, as a garment falls from where it is hung, he sank, +crumpled, upon the floor. + +With a little cry of terror and despair, the widowed maid ran and +stooped above him. She found his wound, and then looked up with her +old look of pale melancholy. "Through his heart," she whispered. +"Oh, his heart!" + +"Come," boomed the great voice of the marquis, "out with you to the +carriage! Daybreak shall not find you on my hands. Wed you shall be +again, and to a living husband, this night. The next we come upon, +my lady, highwayman or peasant. If the road yields no other, then +the churl that opens my gates. Out with you into the carriage!" + +The marquis, implacable and huge, the lady wrapped again in the +mystery of her cloak, the postilion bearing the weapons--all moved +out to the waiting carriage. The sound of its ponderous wheels +rolling away echoed through the slumbering village. In the hall of +the Silver Flagon the distracted landlord wrung his hands above the +slain poet's body, while the flames of the four and twenty candles +danced and flickered on the table. + + + +THE RIGHT BRANCH + + _Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. + It joined with another and a larger road at right angles. David + stood, uncertain, for a while, and then took the road to the + right._ + +Whither it led he knew not, but he was resolved to leave Vernoy far +behind that night. He travelled a league and then passed a large +_château_ which showed testimony of recent entertainment. Lights +shone from every window; from the great stone gateway ran a tracery +of wheel tracks drawn in the dust by the vehicles of the guests. + +Three leagues farther and David was weary. He rested and slept for a +while on a bed of pine boughs at the roadside. Then up and on again +along the unknown way. + +Thus for five days he travelled the great road, sleeping upon +Nature's balsamic beds or in peasants' ricks, eating of their black, +hospitable bread, drinking from streams or the willing cup of the +goatherd. + +At length he crossed a great bridge and set his foot within the +smiling city that has crushed or crowned more poets than all the +rest of the world. His breath came quickly as Paris sang to him in a +little undertone her vital chant of greeting--the hum of voice and +foot and wheel. + +High up under the eaves of an old house in the Rue Conti, David paid +for lodging, and set himself, in a wooden chair, to his poems. The +street, once sheltering citizens of import and consequence, was now +given over to those who ever follow in the wake of decline. + +The houses were tall and still possessed of a ruined dignity, but +many of them were empty save for dust and the spider. By night there +was the clash of steel and the cries of brawlers straying restlessly +from inn to inn. Where once gentility abode was now but a rancid and +rude incontinence. But here David found housing commensurate to his +scant purse. Daylight and candlelight found him at pen and paper. + +One afternoon he was returning from a foraging trip to the lower +world, with bread and curds and a bottle of thin wine. Halfway up +his dark stairway he met--or rather came upon, for she rested on the +stair--a young woman of a beauty that should balk even the justice +of a poet's imagination. A loose, dark cloak, flung open, showed a +rich gown beneath. Her eyes changed swiftly with every little shade +of thought. Within one moment they would be round and artless like +a child's, and long and cozening like a gypsy's. One hand raised +her gown, undraping a little shoe, high-heeled, with its ribbons +dangling, untied. So heavenly she was, so unfitted to stoop, so +qualified to charm and command! Perhaps she had seen David coming, +and had waited for his help there. + +Ah, would monsieur pardon that she occupied the stairway, but the +shoe!--the naughty shoe! Alas! it would not remain tied. Ah! if +monsieur _would_ be so gracious! + +The poet's fingers trembled as he tied the contrary ribbons. Then he +would have fled from the danger of her presence, but the eyes grew +long and cozening, like a gypsy's, and held him. He leaned against +the balustrade, clutching his bottle of sour wine. + +"You have been so good," she said, smiling. "Does monsieur, perhaps, +live in the house?" + +"Yes, madame. I--I think so, madame." + +"Perhaps in the third story, then?" + +"No, madame; higher up." + +The lady fluttered her fingers with the least possible gesture of +impatience. + +"Pardon. Certainly I am not discreet in asking. Monsieur will +forgive me? It is surely not becoming that I should inquire where he +lodges." + +"Madame, do not say so. I live in the--" + +"No, no, no; do not tell me. Now I see that I erred. But I cannot +lose the interest I feel in this house and all that is in it. Once +it was my home. Often I come here but to dream of those happy days +again. Will you let that be my excuse?" + +"Let me tell you, then, for you need no excuse," stammered the poet. +"I live in the top floor--the small room where the stairs turn." + +"In the front room?" asked the lady, turning her head sidewise. + +"The rear, madame." + +The lady sighed, as if with relief. + +"I will detain you no longer then, monsieur," she said, employing +the round and artless eye. "Take good care of my house. Alas! only +the memories of it are mine now. Adieu, and accept my thanks for +your courtesy." + +She was gone, leaving but a smile and a trace of sweet perfume. +David climbed the stairs as one in slumber. But he awoke from it, +and the smile and the perfume lingered with him and never afterward +did either seem quite to leave him. This lady of whom he knew +nothing drove him to lyrics of eyes, chansons of swiftly conceived +love, odes to curling hair, and sonnets to slippers on slender feet. + +Poet he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this fine, new +loveliness held him with its freshness and grace. The subtle perfume +about her filled him with strange emotions. + + + +On a certain night three persons were gathered about a table in a +room on the third floor of the same house. Three chairs and the +table and a lighted candle upon it was all the furniture. One of the +persons was a huge man, dressed in black. His expression was one of +sneering pride. The ends of his upturned moustache reached nearly to +his mocking eyes. Another was a lady, young and beautiful, with eyes +that could be round and artless, as a child's, or long and cozening, +like a gypsy's, but were now keen and ambitious, like any other +conspirator's. The third was a man of action, a combatant, a bold +and impatient executive, breathing fire and steel. He was addressed +by the others as Captain Desrolles. + +This man struck the table with his fist, and said, with controlled +violence: + +"To-night. To-night as he goes to midnight mass. I am tired of the +plotting that gets nowhere. I am sick of signals and ciphers and +secret meetings and such _baragouin_. Let us be honest traitors. If +France is to be rid of him, let us kill in the open, and not hunt +with snares and traps. To-night, I say. I back my words. My hand +will do the deed. To-night, as he goes to mass." + +The lady turned upon him a cordial look. Woman, however wedded to +plots, must ever thus bow to rash courage. The big man stroked his +upturned moustache. + +"Dear captain," he said, in a great voice, softened by habit, "this +time I agree with you. Nothing is to be gained by waiting. Enough of +the palace guards belong to us to make the endeavour a safe one." + +"To-night," repeated Captain Desrolles, again striking the table. +"You have heard me, marquis; my hand will do the deed." + +"But now," said the huge man, softly, "comes a question. Word must +be sent to our partisans in the palace, and a signal agreed upon. +Our stanchest men must accompany the royal carriage. At this hour +what messenger can penetrate so far as the south doorway? Ribouet is +stationed there; once a message is placed in his hands, all will go +well." + +"I will send the message," said the lady. + +"You, countess?" said the marquis, raising his eyebrows. "Your +devotion is great, we know, but--" + +"Listen!" exclaimed the lady, rising and resting her hands upon the +table; "in a garret of this house lives a youth from the provinces +as guileless and tender as the lambs he tended there. I have met him +twice or thrice upon the stairs. I questioned him, fearing that he +might dwell too near the room in which we are accustomed to meet. He +is mine, if I will. He writes poems in his garret, and I think he +dreams of me. He will do what I say. He shall take the message to +the palace." + +The marquis rose from his chair and bowed. "You did not permit me to +finish my sentence, countess," he said. "I would have said: 'Your +devotion is great, but your wit and charm are infinitely greater.'" + +While the conspirators were thus engaged, David was polishing some +lines addressed to his _amorette d'escalier_. He heard a timorous +knock at his door, and opened it, with a great throb, to behold her +there, panting as one in straits, with eyes wide open and artless, +like a child's. + +"Monsieur," she breathed, "I come to you in distress. I believe you +to be good and true, and I know of no other help. How I flew through +the streets among the swaggering men! Monsieur, my mother is dying. +My uncle is a captain of guards in the palace of the king. Some one +must fly to bring him. May I hope--" + +"Mademoiselle," interrupted David, his eyes shining with the desire +to do her service, "your hopes shall be my wings. Tell me how I may +reach him." + +The lady thrust a sealed paper into his hand. + +"Go to the south gate--the south gate, mind--and say to the guards +there, 'The falcon has left his nest.' They will pass you, and you +will go to the south entrance to the palace. Repeat the words, and +give this letter to the man who will reply 'Let him strike when he +will.' This is the password, monsieur, entrusted to me by my uncle, +for now when the country is disturbed and men plot against the +king's life, no one without it can gain entrance to the palace +grounds after nightfall. If you will, monsieur, take him this letter +so that my mother may see him before she closes her eyes." + +"Give it me," said David, eagerly. "But shall I let you return home +through the streets alone so late? I--" + +"No, no--fly. Each moment is like a precious jewel. Some time," said +the lady, with eyes long and cozening, like a gypsy's, "I will try +to thank you for your goodness." + +The poet thrust the letter into his breast, and bounded down the +stairway. The lady, when he was gone, returned to the room below. + +The eloquent eyebrows of the marquis interrogated her. + +"He is gone," she said, "as fleet and stupid as one of his own +sheep, to deliver it." + +The table shook again from the batter of Captain Desrolles's fist. + +"Sacred name!" he cried; "I have left my pistols behind! I can trust +no others." + +"Take this," said the marquis, drawing from beneath his cloak a +shining, great weapon, ornamented with carven silver. "There are +none truer. But guard it closely, for it bears my arms and crest, +and already I am suspected. Me, I must put many leagues between +myself and Paris this night. To-morrow must find me in my _château_. +After you, dear countess." + +The marquis puffed out the candle. The lady, well cloaked, and the +two gentlemen softly descended the stairway and flowed into the +crowd that roamed along the narrow pavements of the Rue Conti. + +David sped. At the south gate of the king's residence a halberd was +laid to his breast, but he turned its point with the words; "The +falcon has left his nest." + +"Pass, brother," said the guard, "and go quickly." + +On the south steps of the palace they moved to seize him, but again +the _mot de passe_ charmed the watchers. One among them stepped +forward and began: "Let him strike--" but a flurry among the guards +told of a surprise. A man of keen look and soldierly stride suddenly +pressed through them and seized the letter which David held in his +hand. "Come with me," he said, and led him inside the great hall. +Then he tore open the letter and read it. He beckoned to a man +uniformed as an officer of musketeers, who was passing. "Captain +Tetreau, you will have the guards at the south entrance and the +south gate arrested and confined. Place men known to be loyal in +their places." To David he said: "Come with me." + +He conducted him through a corridor and an anteroom into a spacious +chamber, where a melancholy man, sombrely dressed, sat brooding in a +great, leather-covered chair. To that man he said: + +"Sire, I have told you that the palace is as full of traitors and +spies as a sewer is of rats. You have thought, sire, that it was my +fancy. This man penetrated to your very door by their connivance. He +bore a letter which I have intercepted. I have brought him here that +your majesty may no longer think my zeal excessive." + +"I will question him," said the king, stirring in his chair. He +looked at David with heavy eyes dulled by an opaque film. The poet +bent his knee. + +"From where do you come?" asked the king. + +"From the village of Vernoy, in the province of Eure-et-Loir, sire." + +"What do you follow in Paris?" + +"I--I would be a poet, sire." + +"What did you in Vernoy?" + +"I minded my father's flock of sheep." + +The king stirred again, and the film lifted from his eyes. + +"Ah! in the fields!" + +"Yes, sire." + +"You lived in the fields; you went out in the cool of the morning +and lay among the hedges in the grass. The flock distributed itself +upon the hillside; you drank of the living stream; you ate your +sweet, brown bread in the shade, and you listened, doubtless, to +blackbirds piping in the grove. Is not that so, shepherd?" + +"It is, sire," answered David, with a sigh; "and to the bees at the +flowers, and, maybe, to the grape gatherers singing on the hill." + +"Yes, yes," said the king, impatiently; "maybe to them; but surely +to the blackbirds. They whistled often, in the grove, did they not?" + +"Nowhere, sire, so sweetly as in Eure-et-Loir. I have endeavored to +express their song in some verses that I have written." + +"Can you repeat those verses?" asked the king, eagerly. "A long time +ago I listened to the blackbirds. It would be something better than +a kingdom if one could rightly construe their song. And at night you +drove the sheep to the fold and then sat, in peace and tranquillity, +to your pleasant bread. Can you repeat those verses, shepherd?" + +"They run this way, sire," said David, with respectful ardour: + + + "'Lazy shepherd, see your lambkins + Skip, ecstatic, on the mead; + See the firs dance in the breezes, + Hear Pan blowing at his reed. + + "Hear us calling from the tree-tops, + See us swoop upon your flock; + Yield us wool to make our nests warm + In the branches of the--'" + + +"If it please your majesty," interrupted a harsh voice, "I will ask +a question or two of this rhymester. There is little time to spare. +I crave pardon, sire, if my anxiety for your safety offends." + +"The loyalty," said the king, "of the Duke d'Aumale is too well +proven to give offence." He sank into his chair, and the film came +again over his eyes. + +"First," said the duke, "I will read you the letter he brought: + + + "'To-night is the anniversary of the dauphin's death. If he + goes, as is his custom, to midnight mass to pray for the soul + of his son, the falcon will strike, at the corner of the Rue + Esplanade. If this be his intention, set a red light in the + upper room at the southwest corner of the palace, that the + falcon may take heed.' + + +"Peasant," said the duke, sternly, "you have heard these words. Who +gave you this message to bring?" + +"My lord duke," said David, sincerely, "I will tell you. A lady gave +it me. She said her mother was ill, and that this writing would +fetch her uncle to her bedside. I do not know the meaning of the +letter, but I will swear that she is beautiful and good." + +"Describe the woman," commanded the duke, "and how you came to be +her dupe." + +"Describe her!" said David with a tender smile. "You would command +words to perform miracles. Well, she is made of sunshine and deep +shade. She is slender, like the alders, and moves with their grace. +Her eyes change while you gaze into them; now round, and then half +shut as the sun peeps between two clouds. When she comes, heaven +is all about her; when she leaves, there is chaos and a scent of +hawthorn blossoms. She came to see me in the Rue Conti, number +twenty-nine." + +"It is the house," said the duke, turning to the king, "that we have +been watching. Thanks to the poet's tongue, we have a picture of the +infamous Countess Quebedaux." + +"Sire and my lord duke," said David, earnestly, "I hope my poor +words have done no injustice. I have looked into that lady's eyes. +I will stake my life that she is an angel, letter or no letter." + +The duke looked at him steadily. "I will put you to the proof," he +said, slowly. "Dressed as the king, you shall, yourself, attend mass +in his carriage at midnight. Do you accept the test?" + +David smiled. "I have looked into her eyes," he said. "I had my +proof there. Take yours how you will." + +Half an hour before twelve the Duke d'Aumale, with his own hands, +set a red lamp in a southwest window of the palace. At ten minutes +to the hour, David, leaning on his arm, dressed as the king, from +top to toe, with his head bowed in his cloak, walked slowly from +the royal apartments to the waiting carriage. The duke assisted him +inside and closed the door. The carriage whirled away along its +route to the cathedral. + +On the _qui vive_ in a house at the corner of the Rue Esplanade was +Captain Tetreau with twenty men, ready to pounce upon the +conspirators when they should appear. + +But it seemed that, for some reason, the plotters had slightly +altered their plans. When the royal carriage had reached the Rue +Christopher, one square nearer than the Rue Esplanade, forth from +it burst Captain Desrolles, with his band of would-be regicides, +and assailed the equipage. The guards upon the carriage, though +surprised at the premature attack, descended and fought valiantly. +The noise of conflict attracted the force of Captain Tetreau, +and they came pelting down the street to the rescue. But, in the +meantime, the desperate Desrolles had torn open the door of the +king's carriage, thrust his weapon against the body of the dark +figure inside, and fired. + +Now, with loyal reinforcements at hand, the street rang with cries +and the rasp of steel, but the frightened horses had dashed away. +Upon the cushions lay the dead body of the poor mock king and poet, +slain by a ball from the pistol of Monseigneur, the Marquis de +Beaupertuys. + + + +THE MAIN ROAD + + _Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. + It joined with another and a larger road at right angles. David + stood, uncertain, for a while, and then sat himself to rest upon + its side._ + +Whither these roads led he knew not. Either way there seemed to lie +a great world full of chance and peril. And then, sitting there, his +eye fell upon a bright star, one that he and Yvonne had named for +theirs. That set him thinking of Yvonne, and he wondered if he had +not been too hasty. Why should he leave her and his home because a +few hot words had come between them? Was love so brittle a thing +that jealousy, the very proof of it, could break it? Mornings always +brought a cure for the little heartaches of evening. There was yet +time for him to return home without any one in the sweetly sleeping +village of Vernoy being the wiser. His heart was Yvonne's; there +where he had lived always he could write his poems and find his +happiness. + +David rose, and shook off his unrest and the wild mood that had +tempted him. He set his face steadfastly back along the road he had +come. By the time he had retravelled the road to Vernoy, his desire +to rove was gone. He passed the sheepfold, and the sheep scurried, +with a drumming flutter, at his late footsteps, warming his heart by +the homely sound. He crept without noise into his little room and +lay there, thankful that his feet had escaped the distress of new +roads that night. + +How well he knew woman's heart! The next evening Yvonne was at the +well in the road where the young congregated in order that the +_curé_ might have business. The corner of her eye was engaged in a +search for David, albeit her set mouth seemed unrelenting. He saw +the look; braved the mouth, drew from it a recantation and, later, +a kiss as they walked homeward together. + +Three months afterwards they were married. David's father was shrewd +and prosperous. He gave them a wedding that was heard of three +leagues away. Both the young people were favourites in the village. +There was a procession in the streets, a dance on the green; they +had the marionettes and a tumbler out from Dreux to delight the +guests. + +Then a year, and David's father died. The sheep and the cottage +descended to him. He already had the seemliest wife in the village. +Yvonne's milk pails and her brass kettles were bright--_ouf!_ they +blinded you in the sun when you passed that way. But you must keep +your eyes upon her yard, for her flower beds were so neat and gay +they restored to you your sight. And you might hear her sing, aye, +as far as the double chestnut tree above Père Gruneau's blacksmith +forge. + +But a day came when David drew out paper from a long-shut drawer, +and began to bite the end of a pencil. Spring had come again and +touched his heart. Poet he must have been, for now Yvonne was +well-nigh forgotten. This fine new loveliness of earth held him +with its witchery and grace. The perfume from her woods and meadows +stirred him strangely. Daily had he gone forth with his flock, and +brought it safe at night. But now he stretched himself under the +hedge and pieced words together on his bits of paper. The sheep +strayed, and the wolves, perceiving that difficult poems make easy +mutton, ventured from the woods and stole his lambs. + +David's stock of poems grew larger and his flock smaller. Yvonne's +nose and temper waxed sharp and her talk blunt. Her pans and kettles +grew dull, but her eyes had caught their flash. She pointed out to +the poet that his neglect was reducing the flock and bringing woe +upon the household. David hired a boy to guard the sheep, locked +himself in the little room at the top of the cottage, and wrote more +poems. The boy, being a poet by nature, but not furnished with an +outlet in the way of writing, spent his time in slumber. The wolves +lost no time in discovering that poetry and sleep are practically +the same; so the flock steadily grew smaller. Yvonne's ill temper +increased at an equal rate. Sometimes she would stand in the yard +and rail at David through his high window. Then you could hear her +as far as the double chestnut tree above Père Gruneau's blacksmith +forge. + +M. Papineau, the kind, wise, meddling old notary, saw this, as +he saw everything at which his nose pointed. He went to David, +fortified himself with a great pinch of snuff, and said: + +"Friend Mignot, I affixed the seal upon the marriage certificate of +your father. It would distress me to be obliged to attest a paper +signifying the bankruptcy of his son. But that is what you are +coming to. I speak as an old friend. Now, listen to what I have to +say. You have your heart set, I perceive, upon poetry. At Dreux, I +have a friend, one Monsieur Bril--Georges Bril. He lives in a little +cleared space in a houseful of books. He is a learned man; he visits +Paris each year; he himself has written books. He will tell you when +the catacombs were made, how they found out the names of the stars, +and why the plover has a long bill. The meaning and the form of +poetry is to him as intelligent as the baa of a sheep is to you. I +will give you a letter to him, and you shall take him your poems and +let him read them. Then you will know if you shall write more, or +give your attention to your wife and business." + +"Write the letter," said David, "I am sorry you did not speak of +this sooner." + +At sunrise the next morning he was on the road to Dreux with the +precious roll of poems under his arm. At noon he wiped the dust from +his feet at the door of Monsieur Bril. That learned man broke the +seal of M. Papineau's letter, and sucked up its contents through his +gleaming spectacles as the sun draws water. He took David inside to +his study and sat him down upon a little island beat upon by a sea +of books. + +Monsieur Bril had a conscience. He flinched not even at a mass +of manuscript the thickness of a finger length and rolled to an +incorrigible curve. He broke the back of the roll against his knee +and began to read. He slighted nothing; he bored into the lump as a +worm into a nut, seeking for a kernel. + +Meanwhile, David sat, marooned, trembling in the spray of so much +literature. It roared in his ears. He held no chart or compass for +voyaging in that sea. Half the world, he thought, must be writing +books. + +Monsieur Bril bored to the last page of the poems. Then he took off +his spectacles, and wiped them with his handkerchief. + +"My old friend, Papineau, is well?" he asked. + +"In the best of health," said David. + +"How many sheep have you, Monsieur Mignot?" + +"Three hundred and nine, when I counted them yesterday. The flock +has had ill fortune. To that number it has decreased from eight +hundred and fifty." + +"You have a wife and home, and lived in comfort. The sheep brought +you plenty. You went into the fields with them and lived in the +keen air and ate the sweet bread of contentment. You had but to be +vigilant and recline there upon nature's breast, listening to the +whistle of the blackbirds in the grove. Am I right thus far?" + +"It was so," said David. + +"I have read all your verses," continued Monsieur Bril, his eyes +wandering about his sea of books as if he conned the horizon for a +sail. "Look yonder, through that window, Monsieur Mignot; tell me +what you see in that tree." + +"I see a crow," said David, looking. + +"There is a bird," said Monsieur Bril, "that shall assist me where I +am disposed to shirk a duty. You know that bird, Monsieur Mignot; he +is the philosopher of the air. He is happy through submission to his +lot. None so merry or full-crawed as he with his whimsical eye and +rollicking step. The fields yield him what he desires. He never +grieves that his plumage is not gay, like the oriole's. And you have +heard, Monsieur Mignot, the notes that nature has given him? Is the +nightingale any happier, do you think?" + +David rose to his feet. The crow cawed harshly from his tree. + +"I thank you, Monsieur Bril," he said, slowly. "There was not, then, +one nightingale among all those croaks?" + +"I could not have missed it," said Monsieur Bril, with a sigh. "I +read every word. Live your poetry, man; do not try to write it any +more." + +"I thank you," said David, again. "And now I will be going back to +my sheep." + +"If you would dine with me," said the man of books, "and overlook +the smart of it, I will give you reasons at length." + +"No," said the poet, "I must be back in the fields cawing at my +sheep." + +Back along the road to Vernoy he trudged with his poems under his +arm. When he reached his village he turned into the shop of one +Zeigler, a Jew out of Armenia, who sold anything that came to his +hand. + +"Friend," said David, "wolves from the forest harass my sheep on the +hills. I must purchase firearms to protect them. What have you?" + +"A bad day, this, for me, friend Mignot," said Zeigler, spreading +his hands, "for I perceive that I must sell you a weapon that will +not fetch a tenth of its value. Only last I week I bought from +a peddlar a wagon full of goods that he procured at a sale by a +_commissionaire_ of the crown. The sale was of the _château_ and +belongings of a great lord--I know not his title--who has been +banished for conspiracy against the king. There are some choice +firearms in the lot. This pistol--oh, a weapon fit for a prince!--it +shall be only forty francs to you, friend Mignot--if I lose ten by +the sale. But perhaps an arquebuse--" + +"This will do," said David, throwing the money on the counter. "Is +it charged?" + +"I will charge it," said Zeigler. "And, for ten francs more, add a +store of powder and ball." + +David laid his pistol under his coat and walked to his cottage. +Yvonne was not there. Of late she had taken to gadding much among +the neighbours. But a fire was glowing in the kitchen stove. David +opened the door of it and thrust his poems in upon the coals. As +they blazed up they made a singing, harsh sound in the flue. + +"The song of the crow!" said the poet. + +He went up to his attic room and closed the door. So quiet was the +village that a score of people heard the roar of the great pistol. +They flocked thither, and up the stairs where the smoke, issuing, +drew their notice. + +The men laid the body of the poet upon his bed, awkwardly arranging +it to conceal the torn plumage of the poor black crow. The women +chattered in a luxury of zealous pity. Some of them ran to tell +Yvonne. + +M. Papineau, whose nose had brought him there among the first, +picked up the weapon and ran his eye over its silver mountings with +a mingled air of connoisseurship and grief. + +"The arms," he explained, aside, to the _curé_, "and crest of +Monseigneur, the Marquis de Beaupertuys." + + + + +II + +THE GUARDIAN OF THE ACCOLADE + + +Not the least important of the force of the Weymouth Bank was Uncle +Bushrod. Sixty years had Uncle Bushrod given of faithful service +to the house of Weymouth as chattel, servitor, and friend. Of the +colour of the mahogany bank furniture was Uncle Bushrod--thus dark +was he externally; white as the uninked pages of the bank ledgers +was his soul. Eminently pleasing to Uncle Bushrod would the +comparison have been; for to him the only institution in existence +worth considering was the Weymouth Bank, of which he was something +between porter and generalissimo-in-charge. + +Weymouth lay, dreamy and umbrageous, among the low foothills +along the brow of a Southern valley. Three banks there were in +Weymouthville. Two were hopeless, misguided enterprises, lacking the +presence and prestige of a Weymouth to give them glory. The third +was The Bank, managed by the Weymouths--and Uncle Bushrod. In the +old Weymouth homestead--the red brick, white-porticoed mansion, +the first to your right as you crossed Elder Creek, coming into +town--lived Mr. Robert Weymouth (the president of the bank), his +widowed daughter, Mrs. Vesey--called "Miss Letty" by every one--and +her two children, Nan and Guy. There, also in a cottage on the +grounds, resided Uncle Bushrod and Aunt Malindy, his wife. Mr. +William Weymouth (the cashier of the bank) lived in a modern, fine +house on the principal avenue. + +Mr. Robert was a large, stout man, sixty-two years of age, with +a smooth, plump face, long iron-gray hair and fiery blue eyes. +He was high-tempered, kind, and generous, with a youthful smile +and a formidable, stern voice that did not always mean what it +sounded like. Mr. William was a milder man, correct in deportment +and absorbed in business. The Weymouths formed The Family of +Weymouthville, and were looked up to, as was their right of +heritage. + +Uncle Bushrod was the bank's trusted porter, messenger, vassal, and +guardian. He carried a key to the vault, just as Mr. Robert and Mr. +William did. Sometimes there was ten, fifteen, or twenty thousand +dollars in sacked silver stacked on the vault floor. It was safe +with Uncle Bushrod. He was a Weymouth in heart, honesty, and pride. + +Of late Uncle Bushrod had not been without worry. It was on account +of Marse Robert. For nearly a year Mr. Robert had been known to +indulge in too much drink. Not enough, understand, to become tipsy, +but the habit was getting a hold upon him, and every one was +beginning to notice it. Half a dozen times a day he would leave the +bank and step around to the Merchants and Planters' Hotel to take a +drink. Mr. Robert's usual keen judgment and business capacity became +a little impaired. Mr. William, a Weymouth, but not so rich in +experience, tried to dam the inevitable backflow of the tide, but +with incomplete success. The deposits in the Weymouth Bank dropped +from six figures to five. Past-due paper began to accumulate, owing +to injudicious loans. No one cared to address Mr. Robert on the +subject of temperance. Many of his friends said that the cause of +it had been the death of his wife some two years before. Others +hesitated on account of Mr. Robert's quick temper, which was +extremely apt to resent personal interference of such a nature. Miss +Letty and the children noticed the change and grieved about it. +Uncle Bushrod also worried, but he was one of those who would not +have dared to remonstrate, although he and Marse Robert had been +raised almost as companions. But there was a heavier shock coming to +Uncle Bushrod than that caused by the bank president's toddies and +juleps. + +Mr. Robert had a passion for fishing, which he usually indulged +whenever the season and business permitted. One day, when reports +had been coming in relating to the bass and perch, he announced his +intention of making a two or three days' visit to the lakes. He was +going down, he said, to Reedy Lake with Judge Archinard, an old +friend. + +Now, Uncle Bushrod was treasurer of the Sons and Daughters of the +Burning Bush. Every association he belonged to made him treasurer +without hesitation. He stood AA1 in coloured circles. He was +understood among them to be Mr. Bushrod Weymouth, of the Weymouth +Bank. + +The night following the day on which Mr. Robert mentioned his +intended fishing-trip the old man woke up and rose from his bed at +twelve o'clock, declaring he must go down to the bank and fetch the +pass-book of the Sons and Daughters, which he had forgotten to bring +home. The bookkeeper had balanced it for him that day, put the +cancelled checks in it, and snapped two elastic bands around it. He +put but one band around other pass-books. + +Aunt Malindy objected to the mission at so late an hour, denouncing +it as foolish and unnecessary, but Uncle Bushrod was not to be +deflected from duty. + +"I done told Sister Adaline Hoskins," he said, "to come by here for +dat book to-morrer mawnin' at sebin o'clock, for to kyar' it to de +meetin' of de bo'd of 'rangements, and dat book gwine to be here +when she come." + +So, Uncle Bushrod put on his old brown suit, got his thick hickory +stick, and meandered through the almost deserted streets of +Weymouthville. He entered the bank, unlocking the side door, and +found the pass-book where he had left it, in the little back room +used for consultations, where he always hung his coat. Looking about +casually, he saw that everything was as he had left it, and was +about to start for home when he was brought to a standstill by the +sudden rattle of a key in the front door. Some one came quickly in, +closed the door softly, and entered the counting-room through the +door in the iron railing. + +That division of the bank's space was connected with the back room +by a narrow passageway, now in deep darkness. + +Uncle Bushrod, firmly gripping his hickory stick, tiptoed gently +up this passage until he could see the midnight intruder into the +sacred precincts of the Weymouth Bank. One dim gas-jet burned there, +but even in its nebulous light he perceived at once that the prowler +was the bank's president. + +Wondering, fearful, undecided what to do, the old coloured man stood +motionless in the gloomy strip of hallway, and waited developments. + +The vault, with its big iron door, was opposite him. Inside that +was the safe, holding the papers of value, the gold and currency of +the bank. On the floor of the vault was, perhaps, eighteen thousand +dollars in silver. + +The president took his key from his pocket, opened the vault and +went inside, nearly closing the door behind him. Uncle Bushrod saw, +through the narrow aperture, the flicker of a candle. In a minute or +two--it seemed an hour to the watcher--Mr. Robert came out, bringing +with him a large hand-satchel, handling it in a careful but hurried +manner, as if fearful that he might be observed. With one hand he +closed and locked the vault door. + +With a reluctant theory forming itself beneath his wool, Uncle +Bushrod waited and watched, shaking in his concealing shadow. + +Mr. Robert set the satchel softly upon a desk, and turned his coat +collar up about his neck and ears. He was dressed in a rough suit +of gray, as if for travelling. He glanced with frowning intentness +at the big office clock above the burning gas-jet, and then looked +lingeringly about the bank--lingeringly and fondly, Uncle Bushrod +thought, as one who bids farewell to dear and familiar scenes. + +Now he caught up his burden again and moved promptly and softly out +of the bank by the way he had come locking the front door behind +him. + +For a minute or longer Uncle Bushrod was as stone in his tracks. Had +that midnight rifler of safes and vaults been any other on earth +than the man he was, the old retainer would have rushed upon him and +struck to save the Weymouth property. But now the watcher's soul was +tortured by the poignant dread of something worse than mere robbery. +He was seized by an accusing terror that said the Weymouth name and +the Weymouth honour were about to be lost. Marse Robert robbing the +bank! What else could it mean? The hour of the night, the stealthy +visit to the vault, the satchel brought forth full and with +expedition and silence, the prowler's rough dress, his solicitous +reading of the clock, and noiseless departure--what else could it +mean? + +And then to the turmoil of Uncle Bushrod's thoughts came the +corroborating recollection of preceding events--Mr. Robert's +increasing intemperance and consequent many moods of royal high +spirits and stern tempers; the casual talk he had heard in the bank +of the decrease in business and difficulty in collecting loans. +What else could it all mean but that Mr. Robert Weymouth was an +absconder--was about to fly with the bank's remaining funds, leaving +Mr. William, Miss Letty, little Nan, Guy, and Uncle Bushrod to bear +the disgrace? + +During one minute Uncle Bushrod considered these things, and then he +awoke to sudden determination and action. + +"Lawd! Lawd!" he moaned aloud, as he hobbled hastily toward the side +door. "Sech a come-off after all dese here years of big doin's and +fine doin's. Scan'lous sights upon de yearth when de Weymouth fambly +done turn out robbers and 'bezzlers! Time for Uncle Bushrod to clean +out somebody's chicken-coop and eben matters up. Oh, Lawd! Marse +Robert, you ain't gwine do dat. 'N Miss Letty an' dem chillun so +proud and talkin' 'Weymouth, Weymouth,' all de time! I'm gwine to +stop you ef I can. 'Spec you shoot Mr. Nigger's head off ef he fool +wid you, but I'm gwine stop you ef I can." + +Uncle Bushrod, aided by his hickory stick, impeded by his +rheumatism, hurried down the street toward the railroad station, +where the two lines touching Weymouthville met. As he had expected +and feared, he saw there Mr. Robert, standing in the shadow of the +building, waiting for the train. He held the satchel in his hand. + +When Uncle Bushrod came within twenty yards of the bank president, +standing like a huge, gray ghost by the station wall, sudden +perturbation seized him. The rashness and audacity of the thing he +had come to do struck him fully. He would have been happy could he +have turned and fled from the possibilities of the famous Weymouth +wrath. But again he saw, in his fancy, the white reproachful face of +Miss Letty, and the distressed looks of Nan and Guy, should he fail +in his duty and they question him as to his stewardship. + +Braced by the thought, he approached in a straight line, clearing +his throat and pounding with his stick so that he might be early +recognized. Thus he might avoid the likely danger of too suddenly +surprising the sometimes hasty Mr. Robert. + +"Is that you, Bushrod?" called the clamant, clear voice of the gray +ghost. + +"Yes, suh, Marse Robert." + +"What the devil are you doing out at this time of night?" + +For the first time in his life, Uncle Bushrod told Marse Robert a +falsehood. He could not repress it. He would have to circumlocute a +little. His nerve was not equal to a direct attack. + +"I done been down, suh, to see ol' Aunt M'ria Patterson. She taken +sick in de night, and I kyar'ed her a bottle of M'lindy's medercine. +Yes, suh." + +"Humph!" said Robert. "You better get home out of the night air. +It's damp. You'll hardly be worth killing to-morrow on account of +your rheumatism. Think it'll be a clear day, Bushrod?" + +"I 'low it will, suh. De sun sot red las' night." + +Mr. Robert lit a cigar in the shadow, and the smoke looked like his +gray ghost expanding and escaping into the night air. Somehow, Uncle +Bushrod could barely force his reluctant tongue to the dreadful +subject. He stood, awkward, shambling, with his feet upon the gravel +and fumbling with his stick. But then, afar off--three miles away, +at the Jimtown switch--he heard the faint whistle of the coming +train, the one that was to transport the Weymouth name into the +regions of dishonour and shame. All fear left him. He took off his +hat and faced the chief of the clan he served, the great, royal, +kind, lofty, terrible Weymouth--he bearded him there at the brink of +the awful thing that was about to happen. + +"Marse Robert," he began, his voice quivering a little with the +stress of his feelings, "you 'member de day dey-all rode de +tunnament at Oak Lawn? De day, suh, dat you win in de ridin', and +you crown Miss Lucy de queen?" + +"Tournament?" said Mr. Robert, taking his cigar from his mouth. +"Yes, I remember very well the--but what the deuce are you talking +about tournaments here at midnight for? Go 'long home, Bushrod. I +believe you're sleep-walking." + +"Miss Lucy tetch you on de shoulder," continued the old man, +never heeding, "wid a s'ord, and say: 'I mek you a knight, Suh +Robert--rise up, pure and fearless and widout reproach.' Dat what +Miss Lucy say. Dat's been a long time ago, but me nor you ain't +forgot it. And den dar's another time we ain't forgot--de time when +Miss Lucy lay on her las' bed. She sent for Uncle Bushrod, and she +say: 'Uncle Bushrod, when I die, I want you to take good care of Mr. +Robert. Seem like'--so Miss Lucy say--'he listen to you mo' dan to +anybody else. He apt to be mighty fractious sometimes, and maybe +he cuss you when you try to 'suade him but he need somebody what +understand him to be 'round wid him. He am like a little child +sometimes'--so Miss Lucy say, wid her eyes shinin' in her po', thin +face--'but he always been'--dem was her words--'my knight, pure and +fearless and widout reproach.'" + +Mr. Robert began to mask, as was his habit, a tendency to +soft-heartedness with a spurious anger. + +"You--you old windbag!" he growled through a cloud of swirling cigar +smoke. "I believe you are crazy. I told you to go home, Bushrod. +Miss Lucy said that, did she? Well, we haven't kept the scutcheon +very clear. Two years ago last week, wasn't it, Bushrod, when she +died? Confound it! Are you going to stand there all night gabbing +like a coffee-coloured gander?" + +The train whistled again. Now it was at the water tank, a mile away. + +"Marse Robert," said Uncle Bushrod, laying his hand on the satchel +that the banker held. "For Gawd's sake, don' take dis wid you. I +knows what's in it. I knows where you got it in de bank. Don' kyar' +it wid you. Dey's big trouble in dat valise for Miss Lucy and Miss +Lucy's child's chillun. Hit's bound to destroy de name of Weymouth +and bow down dem dat own it wid shame and triberlation. Marse +Robert, you can kill dis ole nigger ef you will, but don't take away +dis 'er' valise. If I ever crosses over de Jordan, what I gwine to +say to Miss Lucy when she ax me: 'Uncle Bushrod, wharfo' didn' you +take good care of Mr. Robert?'" + +Mr. Robert Weymouth threw away his cigar and shook free one arm +with that peculiar gesture that always preceded his outbursts of +irascibility. Uncle Bushrod bowed his head to the expected storm, +but he did not flinch. If the house of Weymouth was to fall, he +would fall with it. The banker spoke, and Uncle Bushrod blinked with +surprise. The storm was there, but it was suppressed to the +quietness of a summer breeze. + +"Bushrod," said Mr. Robert, in a lower voice than he usually +employed, "you have overstepped all bounds. You have presumed +upon the leniency with which you have been treated to meddle +unpardonably. So you know what is in this satchel! Your long and +faithful service is some excuse, but--go home, Bushrod--not another +word!" + +But Bushrod grasped the satchel with a firmer hand. The headlight of +the train was now lightening the shadows about the station. The roar +was increasing, and folks were stirring about at the track side. + +"Marse Robert, gimme dis 'er' valise. I got a right, suh, to talk to +you dis 'er' way. I slaved for you and 'tended to you from a child +up. I went th'ough de war as yo' body-servant tell we whipped de +Yankees and sent 'em back to de No'th. I was at yo' weddin', and +I was n' fur away when yo' Miss Letty was bawn. And Miss Letty's +chillun, dey watches to-day for Uncle Bushrod when he come +home ever' evenin'. I been a Weymouth, all 'cept in colour and +entitlements. Both of us is old, Marse Robert. 'Tain't goin' to be +long till we gwine to see Miss Lucy and has to give an account of +our doin's. De ole nigger man won't be 'spected to say much mo' dan +he done all he could by de fambly dat owned him. But de Weymouths, +dey must say dey been livin' pure and fearless and widout reproach. +Gimme dis valise, Marse Robert--I'm gwine to hab it. I'm gwine to +take it back to the bank and lock it up in de vault. I'm gwine to do +Miss Lucy's biddin'. Turn 'er loose, Marse Robert." + +The train was standing at the station. Some men were pushing trucks +along the side. Two or three sleepy passengers got off and wandered +away into the night. The conductor stepped to the gravel, swung his +lantern and called: "Hello, Frank!" at some one invisible. The bell +clanged, the brakes hissed, the conductor drawled: "All aboard!" + +Mr. Robert released his hold on the satchel. Uncle Bushrod hugged it +to his breast with both arms, as a lover clasps his first beloved. + +"Take it back with you, Bushrod," said Mr. Robert, thrusting his +hands into his pockets. "And let the subject drop--now mind! You've +said quite enough. I'm going to take the train. Tell Mr. William I +will be back on Saturday. Good night." + +The banker climbed the steps of the moving train and disappeared +in a coach. Uncle Bushrod stood motionless, still embracing the +precious satchel. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving in +thanks to the Master above for the salvation of the Weymouth honour. +He knew Mr. Robert would return when he said he would. The Weymouths +never lied. Nor now, thank the Lord! could it be said that they +embezzled the money in banks. + +Then awake to the necessity for further guardianship of Weymouth +trust funds, the old man started for the bank with the redeemed +satchel. + + + +Three hours from Weymouthville, in the gray dawn, Mr. Robert +alighted from the train at a lonely flag-station. Dimly he could +see the figure of a man waiting on the platform, and the shape +of a spring-waggon, team and driver. Half a dozen lengthy bamboo +fishing-poles projected from the waggon's rear. + +"You're here, Bob," said Judge Archinard, Mr. Robert's old friend +and schoolmate. "It's going to be a royal day for fishing. I thought +you said--why, didn't you bring along the stuff?" + +The president of the Weymouth Bank took off his hat and rumpled his +gray locks. + +"Well, Ben, to tell you the truth, there's an infernally +presumptuous old nigger belonging in my family that broke up +the arrangement. He came down to the depot and vetoed the whole +proceeding. He means all right, and--well, I reckon he _is_ right. +Somehow, he had found out what I had along--though I hid it in the +bank vault and sneaked it out at midnight. I reckon he has noticed +that I've been indulging a little more than a gentleman should, and +he laid for me with some reaching arguments. + +"I'm going to quit drinking," Mr. Robert concluded. "I've come to +the conclusion that a man can't keep it up and be quite what he'd +like to be--'pure and fearless and without reproach'--that's the way +old Bushrod quoted it." + +"Well, I'll have to admit," said the judge, thoughtfully, as they +climbed into the waggon, "that the old darkey's argument can't +conscientiously be overruled." + +"Still," said Mr. Robert, with a ghost of a sigh, "there was two +quarts of the finest old silk-velvet Bourbon in that satchel you +ever wet your lips with." + + + + +III + +THE DISCOUNTERS OF MONEY + + +The spectacle of the money-caliphs of the present day going about +Bagdad-on-the-Subway trying to relieve the wants of the people is +enough to make the great Al Raschid turn Haroun in his grave. If not +so, then the assertion should do so, the real caliph having been a +wit and a scholar and therefore a hater of puns. + +How properly to alleviate the troubles of the poor is one of the +greatest troubles of the rich. But one thing agreed upon by all +professional philanthropists is that you must never hand over any +cash to your subject. The poor are notoriously temperamental; and +when they get money they exhibit a strong tendency to spend it for +stuffed olives and enlarged crayon portraits instead of giving it to +the instalment man. + +And still, old Haroun had some advantages as an eleemosynarian. +He took around with him on his rambles his vizier, Giafar (a +vizier is a composite of a chauffeur, a secretary of state, and a +night-and-day bank), and old Uncle Mesrour, his executioner, who +toted a snickersnee. With this entourage a caliphing tour could +hardly fail to be successful. Have you noticed lately any newspaper +articles headed, "What Shall We Do With Our Ex-Presidents?" Well, +now, suppose that Mr. Carnegie could engage _him_ and Joe Gans to +go about assisting in the distribution of free libraries? Do you +suppose any town would have had the hardihood to refuse one? That +caliphalous combination would cause two libraries to grow where +there had been only one set of E. P. Roe's works before. + +But, as I said, the money-caliphs are handicapped. They have the +idea that earth has no sorrow that dough cannot heal; and they rely +upon it solely. Al Raschid administered justice, rewarding the +deserving, and punished whomsoever he disliked on the spot. He was +the originator of the short-story contest. Whenever he succoured any +chance pick-up in the bazaars he always made the succouree tell the +sad story of his life. If the narrative lacked construction, style, +and _esprit_ he commanded his vizier to dole him out a couple +of thousand ten-dollar notes of the First National Bank of the +Bosphorus, or else gave him a soft job as Keeper of the Bird +Seed for the Bulbuls in the Imperial Gardens. If the story was a +cracker-jack, he had Mesrour, the executioner, whack off his head. +The report that Haroun Al Raschid is yet alive and is editing +the magazine that your grandmother used to subscribe for lacks +confirmation. + +And now follows the Story of the Millionaire, the Inefficacious +Increment, and the Babes Drawn from the Wood. + +Young Howard Pilkins, the millionaire, got his money +ornithologically. He was a shrewd judge of storks, and got in on +the ground floor at the residence of his immediate ancestors, +the Pilkins Brewing Company. For his mother was a partner in +the business. Finally old man Pilkins died from a torpid liver, +and then Mrs. Pilkins died from worry on account of torpid +delivery-waggons--and there you have young Howard Pilkins with +4,000,000; and a good fellow at that. He was an agreeable, modestly +arrogant young man, who implicitly believed that money could buy +anything that the world had to offer. And Bagdad-on-the-Subway for +a long time did everything possible to encourage his belief. + +But the Rat-trap caught him at last; he heard the spring snap, and +found his heart in a wire cage regarding a piece of cheese whose +other name was Alice von der Ruysling. + +The Von der Ruyslings still live in that little square about which +so much has been said, and in which so little has been done. To-day +you hear of Mr. Tilden's underground passage, and you hear Mr. +Gould's elevated passage, and that about ends the noise in the world +made by Gramercy Square. But once it was different. The Von der +Ruyslings live there yet, and they received _the first key ever made +to Gramercy Park_. + +You shall have no description of Alice v. d. R. Just call up in your +mind the picture of your own Maggie or Vera or Beatrice, straighten +her nose, soften her voice, tone her down and then tone her up, +make her beautiful and unattainable--and you have a faint dry-point +etching of Alice. The family owned a crumbly brick house and a +coachman named Joseph in a coat of many colours, and a horse so old +that he claimed to belong to the order of the Perissodactyla, and +had toes instead of hoofs. In the year 1898 the family had to buy +a new set of harness for the Perissodactyl. Before using it they +made Joseph smear it over with a mixture of ashes and soot. It +was the Von der Ruysling family that bought the territory between +the Bowery and East River and Rivington Street and the Statue of +Liberty, in the year 1649, from an Indian chief for a quart of +passementerie and a pair of Turkey-red portières designed for a +Harlem flat. I have always admired that Indian's perspicacity and +good taste. All this is merely to convince you that the Von der +Ruyslings were exactly the kind of poor aristocrats that turn down +their noses at people who have money. Oh, well, I don't mean that; I +mean people who have _just_ money. + +One evening Pilkins went down to the red brick house in Gramercy +Square, and made what he thought was a proposal to Alice v. d. R. +Alice, with her nose turned down, and thinking of his money, +considered it a proposition, and refused it and him. Pilkins, +summoning all his resources as any good general would have done, +made an indiscreet references to the advantages that his money +would provide. That settled it. The lady turned so cold that Walter +Wellman himself would have waited until spring to make a dash for +her in a dog-sled. + +But Pilkins was something of a sport himself. You can't fool all the +millionaires every time the ball drops on the Western Union +Building. + +"If, at any time," he said to A. v. d. R., "you feel that you would +like to reconsider your answer, send me a rose like that." + +Pilkins audaciously touched a Jacque rose that she wore loosely in +her hair. + +"Very well," said she. "And when I do, you will understand by it +that either you or I have learned something new about the purchasing +power of money. You've been spoiled, my friend. No, I don't think +I could marry you. To-morrow I will send you back the presents you +have given me." + +"Presents!" said Pilkins in surprise. "I never gave you a present in +my life. I would like to see a full-length portrait of the man that +you would take a present from. Why, you never would let me send you +flowers or candy or even art calendars." + +"You've forgotten," said Alice v. d. R., with a little smile. "It +was a long time ago when our families were neighbours. You were +seven, and I was trundling my doll on the sidewalk. You have me a +little gray, hairy kitten, with shoe-buttony eyes. Its head came +off and it was full of candy. You paid five cents for it--you told +me so. I haven't the candy to return to you--I hadn't developed a +conscience at three, so I ate it. But I have the kitten yet, and I +will wrap it up neatly to-night and send it to you to-morrow." + +Beneath the lightness of Alice v. d. R.'s talk the steadfastness of +her rejection showed firm and plain. So there was nothing left for +him but to leave the crumbly red brick house, and be off with his +abhorred millions. + +On his way back, Pilkins walked through Madison Square. The hour +hand of the clock hung about eight; the air was stingingly cool, +but not at the freezing point. The dim little square seemed like a +great, cold, unroofed room, with its four walls of houses, spangled +with thousands of insufficient lights. Only a few loiterers were +huddled here and there on the benches. + +But suddenly Pilkins came upon a youth sitting brave and, as +if conflicting with summer sultriness, coatless, his white +shirt-sleeves conspicuous in the light from the globe of an +electric. Close to his side was a girl, smiling, dreamy, happy. +Around her shoulders was, palpably, the missing coat of the +cold-defying youth. It appeared to be a modern panorama of the Babes +in the Wood, revised and brought up to date, with the exception that +the robins hadn't turned up yet with the protecting leaves. + +With delight the money-caliphs view a situation that they think is +relievable while you wait. + +Pilkins sat on the bench, one seat removed from the youth. He +glanced cautiously and saw (as men do see; and women--oh! never can) +that they were of the same order. + +Pilkins leaned over after a short time and spoke to the youth, +who answered smilingly, and courteously. From general topics the +conversation concentrated to the bed-rock of grim personalities. +But Pilkins did it as delicately and heartily as any caliph could +have done. And when it came to the point, the youth turned to him, +soft-voiced and with his undiminished smile. + +"I don't want to seem unappreciative, old man," he said, with a +youth's somewhat too-early spontaneity of address, "but, you see, I +can't accept anything from a stranger. I know you're all right, and +I'm tremendously obliged, but I couldn't think of borrowing from +anybody. You see, I'm Marcus Clayton--the Claytons of Roanoke +County, Virginia, you know. The young lady is Miss Eva Bedford--I +reckon you've heard of the Bedfords. She's seventeen and one of the +Bedfords of Bedford County. We've eloped from home to get married, +and we wanted to see New York. We got in this afternoon. Somebody +got my pocketbook on the ferry-boat, and I had only three cents in +change outside of it. I'll get some work somewhere to-morrow, and +we'll get married." + +"But, I say, old man," said Pilkins, in confidential low tones, +"you can't keep the lady out here in the cold all night. Now, as for +hotels--" + +"I told you," said the youth, with a broader smile, "that I didn't +have but three cents. Besides, if I had a thousand, we'd have to +wait here until morning. You can understand that, of course. I'm +much obliged, but I can't take any of your money. Miss Bedford and +I have lived an outdoor life, and we don't mind a little cold. I'll +get work of some kind to-morrow. We've got a paper bag of cakes and +chocolates, and we'll get along all right." + +"Listen," said the millionaire, impressively. "My name is Pilkins, +and I'm worth several million dollars. I happen to have in my +pockets about $800 or $900 in cash. Don't you think you are drawing +it rather fine when you decline to accept as much of it as will make +you and the young lady comfortable at least for the night?" + +"I can't say, sir, that I do think so," said Clayton of Roanoke +County. "I've been raised to look at such things differently. But +I'm mightily obliged to you, just the same." + +"Then you force me to say good night," said the millionaire. + +Twice that day had his money been scorned by simple ones to whom his +dollars had appeared as but tin tobacco-tags. He was no worshipper +of the actual minted coin or stamped paper, but he had always +believed in its almost unlimited power to purchase. + +Pilkins walked away rapidly, and then turned abruptly and returned +to the bench where the young couple sat. He took off his hat and +began to speak. The girl looked at him with the same sprightly, +glowing interest that she had been giving to the lights and statuary +and sky-reaching buildings that made the old square seem so far away +from Bedford County. + +"Mr.--er--Roanoke," said Pilkins, "I admire your--your indepen--your +idiocy so much that I'm going to appeal to your chivalry. I believe +that's what you Southerners call it when you keep a lady sitting +outdoors on a bench on a cold night just to keep your old, +out-of-date pride going. Now, I've a friend--a lady--whom I have +known all my life--who lives a few blocks from here--with her +parents and sisters and aunts, and all that kind of endorsement, +of course. I am sure this lady would be happy and pleased to put +up--that is, to have Miss--er--Bedford give her the pleasure of +having her as a guest for the night. Don't you think, Mr. Roanoke, +of--er--Virginia, that you could unbend your prejudices that far?" + +Clayton of Roanoke rose and held out his hand. + +"Old man," he said, "Miss Bedford will be much pleased to accept the +hospitality of the lady you refer to." + +He formally introduced Mr. Pilkins to Miss Bedford. The girl +looked at him sweetly and comfortably. "It's a lovely evening, Mr. +Pilkins--don't you think so?" she said slowly. + +Pilkins conducted them to the crumbly red brick house of the Von der +Ruyslings. His card brought Alice downstairs wondering. The runaways +were sent into the drawing-room, while Pilkins told Alice all about +it in the hall. + +"Of course, I will take her in," said Alice. "Haven't those Southern +girls a thoroughbred air? Of course, she will stay here. You will +look after Mr. Clayton, of course." + +"Will I?" said Pilkins, delightedly. "Oh yes, I'll look after him! +As a citizen of New York, and therefore a part owner of its public +parks, I'm going to extend to him the hospitality of Madison Square +to-night. He's going to sit there on a bench till morning. There's +no use arguing with him. Isn't he wonderful? I'm glad you'll look +after the little lady, Alice. I tell you those Babes in the Wood +made my--that is, er--made Wall Street and the Bank of England look +like penny arcades." + +Miss Von der Ruysling whisked Miss Bedford of Bedford County up to +restful regions upstairs. When she came down, she put an oblong +small pasteboard box into Pilkins' hands. + +"Your present," she said, "that I am returning to you." + +"Oh, yes, I remember," said Pilkins, with a sigh, "the woolly +kitten." + +He left Clayton on a park bench, and shook hands with him heartily. + +"After I get work," said the youth, "I'll look you up. Your address +is on your card, isn't it? Thanks. Well, good night. I'm awfully +obliged to you for your kindness. No, thanks, I don't smoke. Good +night." + +In his room, Pilkins opened the box and took out the staring, funny +kitten, long ago ravaged of his candy and minus one shoe-button eye. +Pilkins looked at it sorrowfully. + +"After all," he said, "I don't believe that just money alone will--" + +And then he gave a shout and dug into the bottom of the box for +something else that had been the kitten's resting-place--a crushed +but red, red, fragrant, glorious, promising Jacqueminot rose. + + + + +IV + +THE ENCHANTED PROFILE + + +There are few Caliphesses. Women are Scheherazades by birth, +predilection, instinct, and arrangement of the vocal cords. The +thousand and one stories are being told every day by hundreds of +thousands of viziers' daughters to their respective sultans. But +the bowstring will get some of 'em yet if they don't watch out. + +I heard a story, though, of one lady Caliph. It isn't precisely +an Arabian Nights story, because it brings in Cinderella, who +flourished her dishrag in another epoch and country. So, if you +don't mind the mixed dates (which seem to give it an Eastern +flavour, after all), we'll get along. + +In New York there is an old, old hotel. You have seen woodcuts of +it in the magazines. It was built--let's see--at a time when there +was nothing above Fourteenth Street except the old Indian trail +to Boston and Hammerstein's office. Soon the old hostelry will be +torn down. And, as the stout walls are riven apart and the bricks +go roaring down the chutes, crowds of citizens will gather at +the nearest corners and weep over the destruction of a dear old +landmark. Civic pride is strongest in New Bagdad; and the wettest +weeper and the loudest howler against the iconoclasts will be the +man (originally from Terre Haute) whose fond memories of the old +hotel are limited to his having been kicked out from its free-lunch +counter in 1873. + +At this hotel always stopped Mrs. Maggie Brown. Mrs. Brown was a +bony woman of sixty, dressed in the rustiest black, and carrying a +handbag made, apparently, from the hide of the original animal that +Adam decided to call an alligator. She always occupied a small +parlour and bedroom at the top of the hotel at a rental of two +dollars per day. And always, while she was there, each day came +hurrying to see her many men, sharp-faced, anxious-looking, with +only seconds to spare. For Maggie Brown was said to be the third +richest woman in the world; and these solicitous gentlemen were only +the city's wealthiest brokers and business men seeking trifling +loans of half a dozen millions or so from the dingy old lady with +the prehistoric handbag. + +The stenographer and typewriter of the Acropolis Hotel (there! I've +let the name of it out!) was Miss Ida Bates. She was a hold-over +from the Greek classics. There wasn't a flaw in her looks. Some +old-timer paying his regards to a lady said: "To have loved her was +a liberal education." Well, even to have looked over the black hair +and neat white shirtwaist of Miss Bates was equal to a full course +in any correspondence school in the country. She sometimes did a +little typewriting for me, and, as she refused to take the money +in advance, she came to look upon me as something of a friend and +protégé. She had unfailing kindliness and a good nature; and not +even a white-lead drummer or a fur importer had ever dared to cross +the dead line of good behaviour in her presence. The entire force of +the Acropolis, from the owner, who lived in Vienna, down to the head +porter, who had been bedridden for sixteen years, would have sprung +to her defence in a moment. + +One day I walked past Miss Bates's little sanctum Remingtorium, +and saw in her place a black-haired unit--unmistakably a +person--pounding with each of her forefingers upon the keys. Musing +on the mutability of temporal affairs, I passed on. The next day I +went on a two weeks' vacation. Returning, I strolled through the +lobby of the Acropolis, and saw, with a little warm glow of auld +lang syne, Miss Bates, as Grecian and kind and flawless as ever, +just putting the cover on her machine. The hour for closing had +come; but she asked me in to sit for a few minutes in the dictation +chair. Miss Bates explained her absence from and return to the +Acropolis Hotel in words identical with or similar to these +following: + +"Well, Man, how are the stories coming?" + +"Pretty regularly," said I. "About equal to their going." + +"I'm sorry," said she. "Good typewriting is the main thing in a +story. You've missed me, haven't you?" + +"No one," said I, "whom I have ever known knows as well as you do +how to space properly belt buckles, semi-colons, hotel guests, +and hairpins. But you've been away, too. I saw a package of +peppermint-pepsin in your place the other day." + +"I was going to tell you all about it," said Miss Bates, "if you +hadn't interrupted me. + +"Of course, you know about Maggie Brown, who stops here. Well, she's +worth $40,000,000. She lives in Jersey in a ten-dollar flat. She's +always got more cash on hand than half a dozen business candidates +for vice-president. I don't know whether she carries it in her +stocking or not, but I know she's mighty popular down in the part of +town where they worship the golden calf. + +"Well, about two weeks ago, Mrs. Brown stops at the door and rubbers +at me for ten minutes. I'm sitting with my side to her, striking off +some manifold copies of a copper-mine proposition for a nice old man +from Tonopah. But I always see everything all around me. When I'm +hard at work I can see things through my side-combs; and I can leave +one button unbuttoned in the back of my shirtwaist and see who's +behind me. I didn't look around, because I make from eighteen to +twenty dollars a week, and I didn't have to. + +"That evening at knocking-off time she sends for me to come up to +her apartment. I expected to have to typewrite about two thousand +words of notes-of-hand, liens, and contracts, with a ten-cent tip in +sight; but I went. Well, Man, I was certainly surprised. Old Maggie +Brown had turned human. + +"'Child,' says she, 'you're the most beautiful creature I ever saw +in my life. I want you to quit your work and come and live with me. +I've no kith or kin,' says she, 'except a husband and a son or two, +and I hold no communication with any of 'em. They're extravagant +burdens on a hard-working woman. I want you to be a daughter to me. +They say I'm stingy and mean, and the papers print lies about my +doing my own cooking and washing. It's a lie,' she goes on. 'I +put my washing out, except the handkerchiefs and stockings and +petticoats and collars, and light stuff like that. I've got forty +million dollars in cash and stocks and bonds that are as negotiable +as Standard Oil, preferred, at a church fair. I'm a lonely old woman +and I need companionship. You're the most beautiful human being I +ever saw,' says she. 'Will you come and live with me? I'll show 'em +whether I can spend money or not,' she says. + +"Well, Man, what would you have done? Of course, I fell to it. And, +to tell you the truth, I began to like old Maggie. It wasn't all on +account of the forty millions and what she could do for me. I was +kind of lonesome in the world too. Everybody's got to have somebody +they can explain to about the pain in their left shoulder and how +fast patent-leather shoes wear out when they begin to crack. And +you can't talk about such things to men you meet in hotels--they're +looking for just such openings. + +"So I gave up my job in the hotel and went with Mrs. Brown. I +certainly seemed to have a mash on her. She'd look at me for half +an hour at a time when I was sitting, reading, or looking at the +magazines. + +"One time I says to her: 'Do I remind you of some deceased relative +or friend of your childhood, Mrs. Brown? I've noticed you give me a +pretty good optical inspection from time to time.' + +"'You have a face,' she says, 'exactly like a dear friend of +mine--the best friend I ever had. But I like you for yourself, +child, too,' she says. + +"And say, Man, what do you suppose she did? Loosened up like a +Marcel wave in the surf at Coney. She took me to a swell dressmaker +and gave her _a la carte_ to fit me out--money no object. They were +rush orders, and madame locked the front door and put the whole +force to work. + +"Then we moved to--where do you think?--no; guess again--that's +right--the Hotel Bonton. We had a six-room apartment; and it cost +$100 a day. I saw the bill. I began to love that old lady. + +"And then, Man, when my dresses began to come in--oh, I won't tell +you about 'em! you couldn't understand. And I began to call her +Aunt Maggie. You've read about Cinderella, of course. Well, what +Cinderella said when the prince fitted that 3½ A on her foot was a +hard-luck story compared to the things I told myself. + +"Then Aunt Maggie says she is going to give me a coming-out banquet +in the Bonton that'll make moving Vans of all the old Dutch families +on Fifth Avenue. + +"'I've been out before, Aunt Maggie,' says I. 'But I'll come out +again. But you know,' says I, 'that this is one of the swellest +hotels in the city. And you know--pardon me--that it's hard to get +a bunch of notables together unless you've trained for it.' + +"'Don't fret about that, child,' says Aunt Maggie. 'I don't send +out invitations--I issue orders. I'll have fifty guests here that +couldn't be brought together again at any reception unless it were +given by King Edward or William Travers Jerome. They are men, of +course, and all of 'em either owe me money or intend to. Some of +their wives won't come, but a good many will.' + +"Well, I wish you could have been at that banquet. The dinner +service was all gold and cut glass. There were about forty men and +eight ladies present besides Aunt Maggie and I. You'd never have +known the third richest woman in the world. She had on a new black +silk dress with so much passementerie on it that it sounded exactly +like a hailstorm I heard once when I was staying all night with a +girl that lived in a top-floor studio. + +"And my dress!--say, Man, I can't waste the words on you. It was all +hand-made lace--where there was any of it at all--and it cost $300. +I saw the bill. The men were all bald-headed or white-whiskered, and +they kept up a running fire of light repartee about 3-per cents. and +Bryan and the cotton crop. + +"On the left of me was something that talked like a banker, and on +my right was a young fellow who said he was a newspaper artist. He +was the only--well, I was going to tell you. + +"After the dinner was over Mrs. Brown and I went up to the +apartment. We had to squeeze our way through a mob of reporters all +the way through the halls. That's one of the things money does for +you. Say, do you happen to know a newspaper artist named Lathrop--a +tall man with nice eyes and an easy way of talking? No, I don't +remember what paper he works on. Well, all right. + +"When we got upstairs Mrs. Brown telephones for the bill right away. +It came, and it was $600. I saw the bill. Aunt Maggie fainted. I got +her on a lounge and opened the bead-work. + +"'Child,' says she, when she got back to the world, 'what was it? A +raise of rent or an income-tax?' + +"'Just a little dinner,' says I. 'Nothing to worry about--hardly a +drop in the bucket-shop. Sit up and take notice--a dispossess +notice, if there's no other kind.' + +"But say, Man, do you know what Aunt Maggie did? She got cold feet! +She hustled me out of that Hotel Bonton at nine the next morning. We +went to a rooming-house on the lower West Side. She rented one room +that had water on the floor below and light on the floor above. +After we got moved all you could see in the room was about $1,500 +worth of new swell dresses and a one-burner gas-stove. + +"Aunt Maggie had had a sudden attack of the hedges. I guess +everybody has got to go on a spree once in their life. A man spends +his on highballs, and a woman gets woozy on clothes. But with forty +million dollars--say, I'd like to have a picture of--but, speaking +of pictures, did you ever run across a newspaper artist named +Lathrop--a tall--oh, I asked you that before, didn't I? He was +mighty nice to me at the dinner. His voice just suited me. I guess +he must have thought I was to inherit some of Aunt Maggie's money. + +"Well, Mr. Man, three days of that light-housekeeping was plenty +for me. Aunt Maggie was affectionate as ever. She'd hardly let me +get out of her sight. But let me tell you. She was a hedger from +Hedgersville, Hedger County. Seventy-five cents a day was the limit +she set. We cooked our own meals in the room. There I was, with +a thousand dollars' worth of the latest things in clothes, doing +stunts over a one-burner gas-stove. + +"As I say, on the third day I flew the coop. I couldn't stand for +throwing together a fifteen-cent kidney stew while wearing, at the +same time, a $150 house-dress, with Valenciennes lace insertion. So +I goes into the closet and puts on the cheapest dress Mrs. Brown had +bought for me--it's the one I've got on now--not so bad for $75, is +it? I'd left all my own clothes in my sister's flat in Brooklyn. + +"'Mrs. Brown, formerly "Aunt Maggie,"' says I to her, 'I'm going to +extend my feet alternately, one after the other, in such a manner +and direction that this tenement will recede from me in the quickest +possible time. I am no worshipper of money,' says I, 'but there are +some things I can't stand. I can stand the fabulous monster that +I've read about that blows hot birds and cold bottles with the same +breath. But I can't stand a quitter,' says I. 'They say you've got +forty million dollars--well, you'll never have any less. And I was +beginning to like you, too,' says I. + +"Well, the late Aunt Maggie kicks till the tears flow. She offers to +move into a swell room with a two-burner stove and running water. + +"'I've spent an awful lot of money, child,' says she. 'We'll have +to economize for a while. You're the most beautiful creature I ever +laid eyes on,' she says, 'and I don't want you to leave me.' + +"Well, you see me, don't you? I walked straight to the Acropolis and +asked for my job back, and I got it. How did you say your writings +were getting along? I know you've lost out some by not having me to +type 'em. Do you ever have 'em illustrated? And, by the way, did you +ever happen to know a newspaper artist--oh, shut up! I know I asked +you before. I wonder what paper he works on? It's funny, but I +couldn't help thinking that he wasn't thinking about the money he +might have been thinking I was thinking I'd get from old Maggie +Brown. If I only knew some of the newspaper editors I'd--" + +The sound of an easy footstep came from the doorway. Ida Bates saw +who it was with her back-hair comb. I saw her turn pink, perfect +statue that she was--a miracle that I share with Pygmalion only. + +"Am I excusable?" she said to me--adorable petitioner that she +became. "It's--it's Mr. Lathrop. I wonder if it really wasn't the +money--I wonder, if after all, he--" + +Of course, I was invited to the wedding. After the ceremony I +dragged Lathrop aside. + +"You are an artist," said I, "and haven't figured out why Maggie +Brown conceived such a strong liking for Miss Bates--that was? Let +me show you." + +The bride wore a simple white dress as beautifully draped as the +costumes of the ancient Greeks. I took some leaves from one of the +decorative wreaths in the little parlour, and made a chaplet of +them, and placed them on née Bates' shining chestnut hair, and made +her turn her profile to her husband. + +"By jingo!" said he. "Isn't Ida's a dead ringer for the lady's head +on the silver dollar?" + + + + +V + +"NEXT TO READING MATTER" + + +He compelled my interest as he stepped from the ferry at Desbrosses +Street. He had the air of being familiar with hemispheres and +worlds, and of entering New York as the lord of a demesne who +revisited it in after years of absence. But I thought that, with all +his air, he had never before set foot on the slippery cobblestones +of the City of Too Many Caliphs. + +He wore loose clothes of a strange bluish drab colour, and a +conservative, round Panama hat without the cock-a-loop indentations +and cants with which Northern fanciers disfigure the tropic +head-gear. Moreover, he was the homeliest man I have ever seen. His +ugliness was less repellent than startling--arising from a sort of +Lincolnian ruggedness and irregularity of feature that spellbound +you with wonder and dismay. So may have looked afrites or the +shapes metamorphosed from the vapour of the fisherman's vase. As he +afterward told me, his name was Judson Tate; and he may as well be +called so at once. He wore his green silk tie through a topaz ring; +and he carried a cane made of the vertebræ of a shark. + +Judson Tate accosted me with some large and casual inquiries about +the city's streets and hotels, in the manner of one who had but +for the moment forgotten the trifling details. I could think of no +reason for disparaging my own quiet hotel in the downtown district; +so the mid-morning of the night found us already victualed and +drinked (at my expense), and ready to be chaired and tobaccoed in a +quiet corner of the lobby. + +There was something on Judson Tate's mind, and, such as it was, he +tried to convey it to me. Already he had accepted me as his friend; +and when I looked at his great, snuff-brown first-mate's hand, with +which he brought emphasis to his periods, within six inches of my +nose, I wondered if, by any chance, he was as sudden in conceiving +enmity against strangers. + +When this man began to talk I perceived in him a certain power. +His voice was a persuasive instrument, upon which he played with +a somewhat specious but effective art. He did not try to make you +forget his ugliness; he flaunted it in your face and made it part of +the charm of his speech. Shutting your eyes, you would have trailed +after this rat-catcher's pipes at least to the walls of Hamelin. +Beyond that you would have had to be more childish to follow. But +let him play his own tune to the words set down, so that if all is +too dull, the art of music may bear the blame. + +"Women," said Judson Tate, "are mysterious creatures." + +My spirits sank. I was not there to listen to such a world-old +hypothesis--to such a time-worn, long-ago-refuted, bald, feeble, +illogical, vicious, patent sophistry--to an ancient, baseless, +wearisome, ragged, unfounded, insidious, falsehood originated by +women themselves, and by them insinuated, foisted, thrust, spread, +and ingeniously promulgated into the ears of mankind by underhanded, +secret and deceptive methods, for the purpose of augmenting, +furthering, and reinforcing their own charms and designs. + +"Oh, I don't know!" said I, vernacularly. + +"Have you ever heard of Oratama?" he asked. + +"Possibly," I answered. "I seem to recall a toe dancer--or a +suburban addition--or was it a perfume?--of some such name." + +"It is a town," said Judson Tate, "on the coast of a foreign +country of which you know nothing and could understand less. It is +a country governed by a dictator and controlled by revolutions and +insubordination. It was there that a great life-drama was played, +with Judson Tate, the homeliest man in America, and Fergus McMahan, +the handsomest adventurer in history or fiction, and Señorita +Anabela Zamora, the beautiful daughter of the alcalde of Oratama, as +chief actors. And, another thing--nowhere else on the globe except +in the department of Trienta y tres in Uruguay does the _chuchula_ +plant grow. The products of the country I speak of are valuable +woods, dyestuffs, gold, rubber, ivory, and cocoa." + +"I was not aware," said I, "that South America produced any ivory." + +"There you are twice mistaken," said Judson Tate, distributing the +words over at least an octave of his wonderful voice. "I did not say +that the country I spoke of was in South America--I must be careful, +my dear man; I have been in politics there, you know. But, even +so--I have played chess against its president with a set carved +from the nasal bones of the tapir--one of our native specimens +of the order of _perissodactyle ungulates_ inhabiting the +Cordilleras--which was as pretty ivory as you would care to see. + +"But is was of romance and adventure and the ways of women that was +I going to tell you, and not of zoölogical animals. + +"For fifteen years I was the ruling power behind old Sancho +Benavides, the Royal High Thumbscrew of the republic. You've seen +his picture in the papers--a mushy black man with whiskers like the +notes on a Swiss music-box cylinder, and a scroll in his right hand +like the ones they write births on in the family Bible. Well, that +chocolate potentate used to be the biggest item of interest anywhere +between the colour line and the parallels of latitude. It was three +throws, horses, whether he was to wind up in the Hall of Fame or the +Bureau of Combustibles. He'd have been sure called the Roosevelt of +the Southern Continent if it hadn't been that Grover Cleveland was +President at the time. He'd hold office a couple of terms, then he'd +sit out for a hand--always after appointing his own successor for +the interims. + +"But it was not Benavides, the Liberator, who was making all this +fame for himself. Not him. It was Judson Tate. Benavides was only +the chip over the bug. I gave him the tip when to declare war and +increase import duties and wear his state trousers. But that wasn't +what I wanted to tell you. How did I get to be It? I'll tell you. +Because I'm the most gifted talker that ever made vocal sounds since +Adam first opened his eyes, pushed aside the smelling-salts, and +asked: 'Where am I?' + +"As you observe, I am about the ugliest man you ever saw outside +the gallery of photographs of the New England early Christian +Scientists. So, at an early age, I perceived that what I lacked +in looks I must make up in eloquence. That I've done. I get what I +go after. As the back-stop and still small voice of old Benavides +I made all the great historical powers-behind-the-throne, such +as Talleyrand, Mrs. de Pompadour, and Loeb, look as small as the +minority report of a Duma. I could talk nations into or out of debt, +harangue armies to sleep on the battlefield, reduce insurrections, +inflammations, taxes, appropriations or surpluses with a few words, +and call up the dogs of war or the dove of peace with the same +bird-like whistle. Beauty and epaulettes and curly moustaches and +Grecian profiles in other men were never in my way. When people +first look at me they shudder. Unless they are in the last stages +of _angina pectoris_ they are mine in ten minutes after I begin to +talk. Women and men--I win 'em as they come. Now, you wouldn't think +women would fancy a man with a face like mine, would you?" + +"Oh, yes, Mr. Tate," said I. "History is bright and fiction dull +with homely men who have charmed women. There seems--" + +"Pardon me," interrupted Judson Tate, "but you don't quite +understand. You have yet to hear my story. + +"Fergus McMahan was a friend of mine in the capital. For a handsome +man I'll admit he was the duty-free merchandise. He had blond curls +and laughing blue eyes and was featured regular. They said he was a +ringer for the statue they call Herr Mees, the god of speech and +eloquence resting in some museum at Rome. Some German anarchist, I +suppose. They are always resting and talking. + +"But Fergus was no talker. He was brought up with the idea that +to be beautiful was to make good. His conversation was about as +edifying as listening to a leak dropping in a tin dish-pan at the +head of the bed when you want to go to sleep. But he and me got +to be friends--maybe because we was so opposite, don't you think? +Looking at the Hallowe'en mask that I call my face when I'm shaving +seemed to give Fergus pleasure; and I'm sure that whenever I heard +the feeble output of throat noises that he called conversation I +felt contented to be a gargoyle with a silver tongue. + +"One time I found it necessary to go down to this coast town of +Oratama to straighten out a lot of political unrest and chop off a +few heads in the customs and military departments. Fergus, who owned +the ice and sulphur-match concessions of the republic, says he'll +keep me company. + +"So, in a jangle of mule-train bells, we gallops into Oratama, and +the town belonged to us as much as Long Island Sound doesn't belong +to Japan when T. R. is at Oyster Bay. I say us; but I mean me. +Everybody for four nations, two oceans, one bay and isthmus, and +five archipelagoes around had heard of Judson Tate. Gentleman +adventurer, they called me. I had been written up in five columns of +the yellow journals, 40,000 words (with marginal decorations) in a +monthly magazine, and a stickful on the twelfth page of the New York +_Times_. If the beauty of Fergus McMahan gained any part of our +reception in Oratama, I'll eat the price-tag in my Panama. It was me +that they hung out paper flowers and palm branches for. I am not a +jealous man; I am stating facts. The people were Nebuchadnezzars; +they bit the grass before me; there was no dust in the town for them +to bite. They bowed down to Judson Tate. They knew that I was the +power behind Sancho Benavides. A word from me was more to them than +a whole deckle-edged library from East Aurora in sectional bookcases +was from anybody else. And yet there are people who spend hours +fixing their faces--rubbing in cold cream and massaging the muscles +(always toward the eyes) and taking in the slack with tincture of +benzoin and electrolyzing moles--to what end? Looking handsome. +Oh, what a mistake! It's the larynx that the beauty doctors ought +to work on. It's words more than warts, talk more than talcum, +palaver more than powder, blarney more than bloom that counts--the +phonograph instead of the photograph. But I was going to tell you. + +"The local Astors put me and Fergus up at the Centipede Club, a +frame building built on posts sunk in the surf. The tide's only nine +inches. The Little Big High Low Jack-in-the-game of the town came +around and kowtowed. Oh, it wasn't to Herr Mees. They had heard +about Judson Tate. + +"One afternoon me and Fergus McMahan was sitting on the seaward +gallery of the Centipede, drinking iced rum and talking. + +"'Judson,' says Fergus, 'there's an angel in Oratama.' + +"'So long,' says I, 'as it ain't Gabriel, why talk as if you had +heard a trump blow?' + +"'It's the Señorita Anabela Zamora,' says Fergus. +'She's--she's--she's as lovely as--as hell!' + +"'Bravo!' says I, laughing heartily. 'You have a true lover's +eloquence to paint the beauties of your inamorata. You remind me,' +says I, 'of Faust's wooing of Marguerite--that is, if he wooed her +after he went down the trap-door of the stage.' + +"'Judson,' says Fergus, 'you know you are as beautiless as a +rhinoceros. You can't have any interest in women. I'm awfully gone +in Miss Anabela. And that's why I'm telling you.' + +"'Oh, _seguramente_,' says I. 'I know I have a front elevation like +an Aztec god that guards a buried treasure that never did exist +in Jefferson County, Yucatan. But there are compensations. For +instance, I am It in this country as far as the eye can reach, and +then a few perches and poles. And again,' says I, 'when I engage +people in a set-to of oral, vocal, and laryngeal utterances, I do +not usually confine my side of the argument to what may be likened +to a cheap phonographic reproduction of the ravings of a jellyfish.' + +"'Oh, I know,' says Fergus, amiable, 'that I'm not handy at small +talk. Or large, either. That's why I'm telling you. I want you to +help me.' + +"'How can I do it?' I asked. + +"'I have subsidized,' says Fergus, 'the services of Señorita +Anabela's duenna, whose name is Francesca. You have a reputation +in this country, Judson,' says Fergus, 'of being a great man and a +hero.' + +"'I have,' says I. 'And I deserve it.' + +"'And I,' says Fergus, 'am the best-looking man between the arctic +circle and antarctic ice pack.' + +"'With limitations,' says I, 'as to physiognomy and geography, I +freely concede you to be.' + +"'Between the two of us,' says Fergus, 'we ought to land the +Señorita Anabela Zamora. The lady, as you know, is of an old Spanish +family, and further than looking at her driving in the family +_carruaje_ of afternoons around the plaza, or catching a glimpse of +her through a barred window of evenings, she is as unapproachable as +a star.' + +"'Land her for which one of us?' says I. + +"'For me, of course,' says Fergus. 'You've never seen her. Now, I've +had Francesca point me out to her as being you on several occasions. +When she sees me on the plaza, she thinks she's looking at Don +Judson Tate, the greatest hero, statesman, and romantic figure in +the country. With your reputation and my looks combined in one +man, how can she resist him? She's heard all about your thrilling +history, of course. And she's seen me. Can any woman want more?' +asks Fergus McMahan. + +"'Can she do with less?' I ask. 'How can we separate our mutual +attractions, and how shall we apportion the proceeds?' + +"Then Fergus tells me his scheme. + +"The house of the alcalde, Don Luis Zamora, he says, has a _patio_, +of course--a kind of inner courtyard opening from the street. In an +angle of it is his daughter's window--as dark a place as you could +find. And what do you think he wants me to do? Why, knowing my +freedom, charm, and skilfulness of tongue, he proposes that I go +into the _patio_ at midnight, when the hobgoblin face of me cannot +be seen, and make love to her for him--for the pretty man that she +has seen on the plaza, thinking him to be Don Judson Tate. + +"Why shouldn't I do it for him--for my friend, Fergus McMahan? +For him to ask me was a compliment--an acknowledgment of his own +shortcomings. + +"'You little, lily white, fine-haired, highly polished piece of dumb +sculpture,' says I, 'I'll help you. Make your arrangements and get +me in the dark outside her window and my stream of conversation +opened up with the moonlight tremolo stop turned on, and she's +yours.' + +"'Keep your face hid, Jud,' says Fergus. 'For heaven's sake, keep +your face hid. I'm a friend of yours in all kinds of sentiment, but +this is a business deal. If I could talk I wouldn't ask you. But +seeing me and listening to you I don't see why she can't be landed.' + +"'By you?' says I. + +"'By me,' says Fergus. + +"Well, Fergus and the duenna, Francesca, attended to the details. +And one night they fetched me a long black cloak with a high collar, +and led me to the house at midnight. I stood by the window in the +_patio_ until I heard a voice as soft and sweet as an angel's +whisper on the other side of the bars. I could see only a faint, +white clad shape inside; and, true to Fergus, I pulled the collar of +my cloak high up, for it was July in the wet seasons, and the nights +were chilly. And, smothering a laugh as I thought of the tongue-tied +Fergus, I began to talk. + +"Well, sir, I talked an hour at the Señorita Anabela. I say 'at' +because it was not 'with.' Now and then she would say: 'Oh, Señor,' +or 'Now, ain't you foolin'?' or 'I know you don't mean that,' and +such things as women will when they are being rightly courted. Both +of us knew English and Spanish; so in two languages I tried to win +the heart of the lady for my friend Fergus. But for the bars to +the window I could have done it in one. At the end of the hour she +dismissed me and gave me a big, red rose. I handed it over to Fergus +when I got home. + +"For three weeks every third or fourth night I impersonated my +friend in the _patio_ at the window of Señorita Anabela. At last she +admitted that her heart was mine, and spoke of having seen me every +afternoon when she drove in the plaza. It was Fergus she had seen, +of course. But it was my talk that won her. Suppose Fergus had gone +there, and tried to make a hit in the dark with his beauty all +invisible, and not a word to say for himself! + +"On the last night she promised to be mine--that is, Fergus's. And +she put her hand between the bars for me to kiss. I bestowed the +kiss and took the news to Fergus. + +"'You might have left that for me to do,' says he. + +"'That'll be your job hereafter,' says I. 'Keep on doing that and +don't try to talk. Maybe after she thinks she's in love she won't +notice the difference between real conversation and the inarticulate +sort of droning that you give forth.' + +"Now, I had never seen Señorita Anabela. So, the next day Fergus +asks me to walk with him through the plaza and view the daily +promenade and exhibition of Oratama society, a sight that had no +interest for me. But I went; and children and dogs took to the +banana groves and mangrove swamps as soon as they had a look at my +face. + +"'Here she comes,' said Fergus, twirling his moustache--'the one +in white, in the open carriage with the black horse.' + +"I looked and felt the ground rock under my feet. For Señorita +Anabela Zamora was the most beautiful woman in the world, and the +only one from that moment on, so far as Judson Tate was concerned. I +saw at a glance that I must be hers and she mine forever. I thought +of my face and nearly fainted; and then I thought of my other +talents and stood upright again. And I had been wooing her for three +weeks for another man! + +"As Señorita Anabela's carriage rolled slowly past, she gave Fergus +a long, soft glance from the corners of her night-black eyes, +a glance that would have sent Judson Tate up into heaven in a +rubber-tired chariot. But she never looked at me. And that handsome +man only ruffles his curls and smirks and prances like a lady-killer +at my side. + +"'What do you think of her, Judson?' asks Fergus, with an air. + +"'This much,' says I. 'She is to be Mrs. Judson Tate. I am no man to +play tricks on a friend. So take your warning.' + +"I thought Fergus would die laughing. + +"'Well, well, well,' said he, 'you old doughface! Struck too, are +you? That's great! But you're too late. Francesca tells me that +Anabela talks of nothing but me, day and night. Of course, I'm +awfully obliged to you for making that chin-music to her of +evenings. But, do you know, I've an idea that I could have done it +as well myself.' + +"'Mrs. Judson Tate,' says I. 'Don't forget the name. You've had the +use of my tongue to go with your good looks, my boy. You can't lend +me your looks; but hereafter my tongue is my own. Keep your mind on +the name that's to be on the visiting cards two inches by three and +a half--"Mrs. Judson Tate." That's all.' + +"'All right,' says Fergus, laughing again. 'I've talked with her +father, the alcalde, and he's willing. He's to give a _baile_ +to-morrow evening in his new warehouse. If you were a dancing man, +Jud, I'd expect you around to meet the future Mrs. McMahan.' + +"But on the next evening, when the music was playing loudest at +the Alcade Zamora's _baile_, into the room steps Judson Tate in +new white linen clothes as if he were the biggest man in the whole +nation, which he was. + +"Some of the musicians jumped off the key when they saw my face, and +one or two of the timidest señoritas let out a screech or two. But +up prances the alcalde and almost wipes the dust off my shoes with +his forehead. No mere good looks could have won me that sensational +entrance. + +"'I hear much, Señor Zamora,' says I, 'of the charm of your +daughter. It would give me great pleasure to be presented to her.' + +"There were about six dozen willow rocking-chairs, with pink tidies +tied on to them, arranged against the walls. In one of them sat +Señorita Anabela in white Swiss and red slippers, with pearls and +fireflies in her hair. Fergus was at the other end of the room +trying to break away from two maroons and a claybank girl. + +"The alcalde leads me up to Anabela and presents me. When she took +the first look at my face she dropped her fan and nearly turned her +chair over from the shock. But I'm used to that. + +"I sat down by her, and began to talk. When she heard me speak she +jumped, and her eyes got as big as alligator pears. She couldn't +strike a balance between the tones of my voice and face I carried. +But I kept on talking in the key of C, which is the ladies' key; and +presently she sat still in her chair and a dreamy look came into her +eyes. She was coming my way. She knew of Judson Tate, and what a +big man he was, and the big things he had done; and that was in my +favour. But, of course, it was some shock to her to find out that I +was not the pretty man that had been pointed out to her as the great +Judson. And then I took the Spanish language, which is better than +English for certain purposes, and played on it like a harp of a +thousand strings. I ranged from the second G below the staff up to +F-sharp above it. I set my voice to poetry, art, romance, flowers, +and moonlight. I repeated some of the verses that I had murmured to +her in the dark at her window; and I knew from a sudden soft sparkle +in her eye that she recognized in my voice the tones of her midnight +mysterious wooer. + +"Anyhow, I had Fergus McMahan going. Oh, the vocal is the true +art--no doubt about that. Handsome is as handsome palavers. That's +the renovated proverb. + +"I took Señorita Anabela for a walk in the lemon grove while Fergus, +disfiguring himself with an ugly frown, was waltzing with the +claybank girl. Before we returned I had permission to come to her +window in the _patio_ the next evening at midnight and talk some +more. + +"Oh, it was easy enough. In two weeks Anabela was engaged to me, and +Fergus was out. He took it calm, for a handsome man, and told me he +wasn't going to give in. + +"'Talk may be all right in its place, Judson,' he says to me, +'although I've never thought it worth cultivating. But,' says he, +'to expect mere words to back up successfully a face like yours in a +lady's good graces is like expecting a man to make a square meal on +the ringing of a dinner-bell.' + +"But I haven't begun on the story I was going to tell you yet. + +"One day I took a long ride in the hot sunshine, and then took a +bath in the cold waters of a lagoon on the edge of the town before +I'd cooled off. + +"That evening after dark I called at the alcalde's to see Anabela. I +was calling regular every evening then, and we were to be married in +a month. She was looking like a bulbul, a gazelle, and a tea-rose, +and her eyes were as soft and bright as two quarts of cream skimmed +off from the Milky Way. She looked at my rugged features without +any expression of fear or repugnance. Indeed, I fancied that I saw +a look of deep admiration and affection, such as she had cast at +Fergus on the plaza. + +"I sat down, and opened my mouth to tell Anabela what she loved +to hear--that she was a trust, monopolizing all the loveliness of +earth. I opened my mouth, and instead of the usual vibrating words +of love and compliment, there came forth a faint wheeze such as +a baby with croup might emit. Not a word--not a syllable--not an +intelligible sound. I had caught cold in my laryngeal regions when +I took my injudicious bath. + +"For two hours I sat trying to entertain Anabela. She talked a +certain amount, but it was perfunctory and diluted. The nearest +approach I made to speech was to formulate a sound like a clam +trying to sing 'A Life on the Ocean Wave' at low tide. It seemed +that Anabela's eyes did not rest upon me as often as usual. I had +nothing with which to charm her ears. We looked at pictures and she +played the guitar occasionally, very badly. When I left, her parting +manner seemed cool--or at least thoughtful. + +"This happened for five evenings consecutively. + +"On the sixth day she ran away with Fergus McMahan. + +"It was known that they fled in a sailing yacht bound for Belize. I +was only eight hours behind them in a small steam launch belonging +to the Revenue Department. + +"Before I sailed, I rushed into the _botica_ of old Manuel Iquito, a +half-breed Indian druggist. I could not speak, but I pointed to my +throat and made a sound like escaping steam. He began to yawn. In +an hour, according to the customs of the country, I would have been +waited on. I reached across the counter, seized him by the throat, +and pointed again to my own. He yawned once more, and thrust into my +hand a small bottle containing a black liquid. + +"'Take one small spoonful every two hours,' says he. + +"I threw him a dollar and skinned for the steamer. + +"I steamed into the harbour at Belize thirteen seconds behind the +yacht that Anabela and Fergus were on. They started for the shore in +a dory just as my skiff was lowered over the side. I tried to order +my sailormen to row faster, but the sounds died in my larynx before +they came to the light. Then I thought of old Iquito's medicine, and +I got out his bottle and took a swallow of it. + +"The two boats landed at the same moment. I walked straight up to +Anabela and Fergus. Her eyes rested upon me for an instant; then she +turned them, full of feeling and confidence, upon Fergus. I knew I +could not speak, but I was desperate. In speech lay my only hope. I +could not stand beside Fergus and challenge comparison in the way of +beauty. Purely involuntarily, my larynx and epiglottis attempted to +reproduce the sounds that my mind was calling upon my vocal organs +to send forth. + +"To my intense surprise and delight the words rolled forth +beautifully clear, resonant, exquisitely modulated, full of power, +expression, and long-repressed emotion. + +"'Señorita Anabela,' says I, 'may I speak with you aside for a +moment?' + +"You don't want details about that, do you? Thanks. The old +eloquence had come back all right. I led her under a cocoanut palm +and put my old verbal spell on her again. + +"'Judson,' says she, 'when you are talking to me I can hear nothing +else--I can see nothing else--there is nothing and nobody else in +the world for me.' + +"Well, that's about all of the story. Anabela went back to Oratama +in the steamer with me. I never heard what became of Fergus. I never +saw him any more. Anabela is now Mrs. Judson Tate. Has my story +bored you much?" + +"No," said I. "I am always interested in psychological studies. +A human heart--and especially a woman's--is a wonderful thing to +contemplate." + +"It is," said Judson Tate. "And so are the trachea and bronchial +tubes of man. And the larynx too. Did you ever make a study of the +windpipe?" + +"Never," said I. "But I have taken much pleasure in your story. +May I ask after Mrs. Tate, and inquire of her present health and +whereabouts?" + +"Oh, sure," said Judson Tate. "We are living in Bergen Avenue, +Jersey City. The climate down in Oratama didn't suit Mrs. T. I +don't suppose you ever dissected the arytenoid cartilages of the +epiglottis, did you?" + +"Why, no," said I, "I am no surgeon." + +"Pardon me," said Judson Tate, "but every man should know enough of +anatomy and therapeutics to safeguard his own health. A sudden cold +may set up capillary bronchitis or inflammation of the pulmonary +vesicles, which may result in a serious affection of the vocal +organs." + +"Perhaps so," said I, with some impatience; "but that is neither +here nor there. Speaking of the strange manifestations of the +affection of women, I--" + +"Yes, yes," interrupted Judson Tate; "they have peculiar ways. But, +as I was going to tell you: when I went back to Oratama I found out +from Manuel Iquito what was in that mixture he gave me for my lost +voice. I told you how quick it cured me. He made that stuff from the +_chuchula_ plant. Now, look here." + +Judson Tate drew an oblong, white pasteboard box from his pocket. + +"For any cough," he said, "or cold, or hoarseness, or bronchial +affection whatsoever, I have here the greatest remedy in the world. +You see the formula, printed on the box. Each tablet contains +licorice, 2 grains; balsam tolu, 1/10 grain; oil of anise, 1/20 +minim; oil of tar, 1/60 minim; oleo-resin of cubebs, 1/60 minim; +fluid extract of _chuchula_, 1/10 minim. + +"I am in New York," went on Judson Tate, "for the purpose of +organizing a company to market the greatest remedy for throat +affections ever discovered. At present I am introducing the lozenges +in a small way. I have here a box containing four dozen, which I am +selling for the small sum of fifty cents. If you are suffering--" + + + +I got up and went away without a word. I walked slowly up to the +little park near my hotel, leaving Judson Tate alone with his +conscience. My feelings were lacerated. He had poured gently upon me +a story that I might have used. There was a little of the breath of +life in it, and some of the synthetic atmosphere that passes, when +cunningly tinkered, in the marts. And, at the last it had proven to +be a commercial pill, deftly coated with the sugar of fiction. The +worst of it was that I could not offer it for sale. Advertising +departments and counting-rooms look down upon me. And it would +never do for the literary. Therefore I sat upon a bench with other +disappointed ones until my eyelids drooped. + +I went to my room, and, as my custom is, read for an hour stories in +my favourite magazines. This was to get my mind back to art again. + +And as I read each story, I threw the magazines sadly and +hopelessly, one by one, upon the floor. Each author, without one +exception to bring balm to my heart, wrote liltingly and sprightly +a story of some particular make of motor-car that seemed to control +the sparking plug of his genius. + +And when the last one was hurled from me I took heart. + +"If readers can swallow so many proprietary automobiles," I said to +myself, "they ought not to strain at one of Tate's Compound Magic +Chuchula Bronchial Lozenges." + +And so if you see this story in print you will understand that +business is business, and that if Art gets very far ahead of +Commerce, she will have to get up and hustle. + +I may as well add, to make a clean job of it, that you can't buy the +_chuchula_ plant in the drug stores. + + + + +VI + +ART AND THE BRONCO + + +Out of the wilderness had come a painter. Genius, whose coronations +alone are democratic, had woven a chaplet of chaparral for the brow +of Lonny Briscoe. Art, whose divine expression flows impartially +from the fingertips of a cowboy or a dilettante emperor, had chosen +for a medium the Boy Artist of the San Saba. The outcome, seven feet +by twelve of besmeared canvas, stood, gilt-framed, in the lobby of +the Capitol. + +The legislature was in session; the capital city of that great +Western state was enjoying the season of activity and profit that +the congregation of the solons bestowed. The boarding-houses were +corralling the easy dollars of the gamesome lawmakers. The greatest +state in the West, an empire in area and resources, had arisen and +repudiated the old libel or barbarism, lawbreaking, and bloodshed. +Order reigned within her borders. Life and property were as safe +there, sir, as anywhere among the corrupt cities of the effete +East. Pillow-shams, churches, strawberry feasts and _habeas corpus_ +flourished. With impunity might the tenderfoot ventilate his +"stovepipe" or his theories of culture. The arts and sciences +received nurture and subsidy. And, therefore, it behooved the +legislature of this great state to make appropriation for the +purchase of Lonny Briscoe's immortal painting. + +Rarely has the San Saba country contributed to the spread of the +fine arts. Its sons have excelled in the solider graces, in the +throw of the lariat, the manipulation of the esteemed .45, the +intrepidity of the one-card draw, and the nocturnal stimulation of +towns from undue lethargy; but, hitherto, it had not been famed as +a stronghold of æsthetics. Lonny Briscoe's brush had removed that +disability. Here, among the limestone rocks, the succulent cactus, +and the drought-parched grass of that arid valley, had been born the +Boy Artist. Why he came to woo art is beyond postulation. Beyond +doubt, some spore of the afflatus must have sprung up within him in +spite of the desert soil of San Saba. The tricksy spirit of creation +must have incited him to attempted expression and then have sat +hilarious among the white-hot sands of the valley, watching its +mischievous work. For Lonny's picture, viewed as a thing of art, +was something to have driven away dull care from the bosoms of the +critics. + +The painting--one might almost say panorama--was designed to portray +a typical Western scene, interest culminating in a central animal +figure, that of a stampeding steer, life-size, wild-eyed, fiery, +breaking away in a mad rush from the herd that, close-ridden by +a typical cowpuncher, occupied a position somewhat in the right +background of the picture. The landscape presented fitting and +faithful accessories. Chaparral, mesquit, and pear were distributed +in just proportions. A Spanish dagger-plant, with its waxen blossoms +in a creamy aggregation as large as a water-bucket, contributed +floral beauty and variety. The distance was undulating prairie, +bisected by stretches of the intermittent streams peculiar to the +region lined with the rich green of live-oak and water-elm. A richly +mottled rattlesnake lay coiled beneath a pale green clump of prickly +pear in the foreground. A third of the canvas was ultramarine and +lake white--the typical Western sky and the flying clouds, rainless +and feathery. + +Between two plastered pillars in the commodious hallway near the +door of the chamber of representatives stood the painting. Citizens +and lawmakers passed there by twos and groups and sometimes crowds +to gaze upon it. Many--perhaps a majority of them--had lived the +prairie life and recalled easily the familiar scene. Old cattlemen +stood, reminiscent and candidly pleased, chatting with brothers of +former camps and trails of the days it brought back to mind. Art +critics were few in the town, and there was heard none of that +jargon of colour, perspective, and feeling such as the East loves to +use as a curb and a rod to the pretensions of the artist. 'Twas a +great picture, most of them agreed, admiring the gilt frame--larger +than any they had ever seen. + +Senator Kinney was the picture's champion and sponsor. It was +he who so often stepped forward and asserted, with the voice of +a bronco-buster, that it would be a lasting blot, sir, upon the +name of this great state if it should decline to recognize in a +proper manner the genius that had so brilliantly transferred to +imperishable canvas a scene so typical of the great sources of our +state's wealth and prosperity, land--and--er--live-stock. + +Senator Kinney represented a section of the state in the extreme +West--400 miles from the San Saba country--but the true lover of +art is not limited by metes and bounds. Nor was Senator Mullens, +representing the San Saba country, lukewarm in his belief that +the state should purchase the painting of his constituent. He was +advised that the San Saba country was unanimous in its admiration +of the great painting by one of its own denizens. Hundreds of +connoisseurs had straddled their broncos and ridden miles to view +it before its removal to the capital. Senator Mullens desired +reëlection, and he knew the importance of the San Saba vote. He also +knew that with the help of Senator Kinney--who was a power in the +legislature--the thing could be put through. Now, Senator Kinney had +an irrigation bill that he wanted passed for the benefit of his own +section, and he knew Senator Mullens could render him valuable aid +and information, the San Saba country already enjoying the benefits +of similar legislation. With these interests happily dovetailed, +wonder at the sudden interest in art at the state capital must, +necessarily, be small. Few artists have uncovered their first +picture to the world under happier auspices than did Lonny Briscoe. + +Senators Kinney and Mullens came to an understanding in the matter +of irrigation and art while partaking of long drinks in the café of +the Empire Hotel. + +"H'm!" said Senator Kinney, "I don't know. I'm no art critic, but it +seems to me the thing won't work. It looks like the worst kind of a +chromo to me. I don't want to cast any reflections upon the artistic +talent of your constituent, Senator, but I, myself, wouldn't give +six bits for the picture--without the frame. How are you going +to cram a thing like that down the throat of a legislature that +kicks about a little item in the expense bill of six hundred and +eighty-one dollars for rubber erasers for only one term? It's +wasting time. I'd like to help you, Mullens, but they'd laugh us out +of the Senate chamber if we were to try it." + +"But you don't get the point," said Senator Mullens, in his +deliberate tones, tapping Kinney's glass with his long forefinger. +"I have my own doubts as to what the picture is intended to +represent, a bullfight or a Japanese allegory, but I want this +legislature to make an appropriation to purchase. Of course, the +subject of the picture should have been in the state historical +line, but it's too late to have the paint scraped off and changed. +The state won't miss the money and the picture can be stowed away in +a lumber-room where it won't annoy any one. Now, here's the point to +work on, leaving art to look after itself--the chap that painted the +picture is the grandson of Lucien Briscoe." + +"Say it again," said Kinney, leaning his head thoughtfully. "Of the +old, original Lucien Briscoe?" + +"Of him. 'The man who,' you know. The man who carved the state out +of the wilderness. The man who settled the Indians. The man who +cleaned out the horse thieves. The man who refused the crown. The +state's favourite son. Do you see the point now?" + +"Wrap up the picture," said Kinney. "It's as good as sold. Why +didn't you say that at first, instead of philandering along about +art. I'll resign my seat in the Senate and go back to chain-carrying +for the county surveyor the day I can't make this state buy a +picture calcimined by a grandson of Lucien Briscoe. Did you ever +hear of a special appropriation for the purchase of a home for the +daughter of One-Eyed Smothers? Well, that went through like a motion +to adjourn, and old One-Eyed never killed half as many Indians as +Briscoe did. About what figure had you and the calciminer agreed +upon to sandbag the treasury for?" + +"I thought," said Mullens, "that maybe five hundred--" + +"Five hundred!" interrupted Kinney, as he hammered on his glass for +a lead pencil and looked around for a waiter. "Only five hundred for +a red steer on the hoof delivered by a grandson of Lucien Briscoe! +Where's your state pride, man? Two thousand is what it'll be. You'll +introduce the bill and I'll get up on the floor of the Senate and +wave the scalp of every Indian old Lucien ever murdered. Let's see, +there was something else proud and foolish he did, wasn't there? Oh, +yes; he declined all emoluments and benefits he was entitled to. +Refused his head-right and veteran donation certificates. Could have +been governor, but wouldn't. Declined a pension. Now's the state's +chance to pay up. It'll have to take the picture, but then it +deserves some punishment for keeping the Briscoe family waiting so +long. We'll bring this thing up about the middle of the month, after +the tax bill is settled. Now, Mullens, you send over, as soon as you +can, and get me the figures on the cost of those irrigation ditches +and the statistics about the increased production per acre. I'm +going to need you when that bill of mine comes up. I reckon we'll +be able to pull along pretty well together this session and maybe +others to come, eh, Senator?" + +Thus did fortune elect to smile upon the Boy Artist of the San Saba. +Fate had already done her share when she arranged his atoms in the +cosmogony of creation as the grandson of Lucien Briscoe. + +The original Briscoe had been a pioneer both as to territorial +occupation and in certain acts prompted by a great and simple heart. +He had been one of the first settlers and crusaders against the wild +forces of nature, the savage and the shallow politician. His name +and memory were revered, equally with any upon the list comprising +Houston, Boone, Crockett, Clark, and Green. He had lived simply, +independently, and unvexed by ambition. Even a less shrewd man than +Senator Kinney could have prophesied that his state would hasten to +honour and reward his grandson, come out of the chaparral at even so +late a day. + +And so, before the great picture by the door of the chamber of +representatives at frequent times for many days could be found the +breezy, robust form of Senator Kinney and be heard his clarion voice +reciting the past deeds of Lucien Briscoe in connection with the +handiwork of his grandson. Senator Mullens's work was more subdued +in sight and sound, but directed along identical lines. + +Then, as the day for the introduction of the bill for appropriation +draws nigh, up from the San Saba country rides Lonny Briscoe and a +loyal lobby of cowpunchers, bronco-back, to boost the cause of art +and glorify the name of friendship, for Lonny is one of them, a +knight of stirrup and chaparreras, as handy with the lariat and .45 +as he is with brush and palette. + +On a March afternoon the lobby dashed, with a whoop, into town. The +cowpunchers had adjusted their garb suitably from that prescribed +for the range to the more conventional requirements of town. They +had conceded their leather chaparreras and transferred their +six-shooters and belts from their persons to the horns of their +saddles. Among them rode Lonny, a youth of twenty-three, brown, +solemn-faced, ingenuous, bowlegged, reticent, bestriding Hot +Tamales, the most sagacious cow pony west of the Mississippi. +Senator Mullens had informed him of the bright prospects of the +situation; had even mentioned--so great was his confidence in the +capable Kinney--the price that the state would, in all likelihood, +pay. It seemed to Lonny that fame and fortune were in his hands. +Certainly, a spark of the divine fire was in the little brown +centaur's breast, for he was counting the two thousand dollars as +but a means to future development of his talent. Some day he would +paint a picture even greater than this--one, say, twelve feet by +twenty, full of scope and atmosphere and action. + +During the three days that yet intervened before the coming of the +date fixed for the introduction of the bill, the centaur lobby +did valiant service. Coatless, spurred, weather-tanned, full of +enthusiasm expressed in bizarre terms, they loafed in front of +the painting with tireless zeal. Reasoning not unshrewdly, they +estimated that their comments upon its fidelity to nature would be +received as expert evidence. Loudly they praised the skill of the +painter whenever there were ears near to which such evidence might +be profitably addressed. Lem Perry, the leader of the claque, had a +somewhat set speech, being uninventive in the construction of new +phrases. + +"Look at that two-year-old, now," he would say, waving a +cinnamon-brown hand toward the salient point of the picture. +"Why, dang my hide, the critter's alive. I can jest hear him, +'lumpety-lump,' a-cuttin' away from the herd, pretendin' he's +skeered. He's a mean scamp, that there steer. Look at his eyes +a-wallin' and his tail a-wavin'. He's true and nat'ral to life. He's +jest hankerin' fur a cow pony to round him up and send him scootin' +back to the bunch. Dang my hide! jest look at that tail of his'n +a-wavin'. Never knowed a steer to wave his tail any other way, dang +my hide ef I did." + +Jud Shelby, while admitting the excellence of the steer, resolutely +confined himself to open admiration of the landscape, to the end +that the entire picture receive its meed of praise. + +"That piece of range," he declared, "is a dead ringer for Dead Hoss +Valley. Same grass, same lay of land, same old Whipperwill Creek +skallyhootin' in and out of them motts of timber. Them buzzards on +the left is circlin' 'round over Sam Kildrake's old paint hoss that +killed hisself over-drinkin' on a hot day. You can't see the hoss +for that mott of ellums on the creek, but he's thar. Anybody that +was goin' to look for Dead Hoss Valley and come across this picture, +why, he'd just light off'n his bronco and hunt a place to camp." + +Skinny Rogers, wedded to comedy, conceived a complimentary little +piece of acting that never failed to make an impression. Edging +quite near to the picture, he would suddenly, at favourable moments +emit a piercing and awful "Yi-yi!" leap high and away, coming +down with a great stamp of heels and whirring of rowels upon the +stone-flagged floor. + +"Jeeming Cristopher!"--so ran his lines--"thought that rattler was a +gin-u-ine one. Ding baste my skin if I didn't. Seemed to me I heard +him rattle. Look at the blamed, unconverted insect a-layin' under +that pear. Little more, and somebody would a-been snake-bit." + +With these artful dodges, contributed by Lonney's faithful coterie, +with the sonorous Kinney perpetually sounding the picture's merits, +and with the solvent prestige of the pioneer Briscoe covering it +like a precious varnish, it seemed that the San Saba country could +not fail to add a reputation as an art centre to its well-known +superiority in steer-roping contests and achievements with the +precarious busted flush. Thus was created for the picture an +atmosphere, due rather to externals than to the artist's brush, but +through it the people seemed to gaze with more of admiration. There +was a magic in the name of Briscoe that counted high against faulty +technique and crude colouring. The old Indian fighter and wolf +slayer would have smiled grimly in his happy hunting grounds had he +known that his dilettante ghost was thus figuring as an art patron +two generations after his uninspired existence. + +Came the day when the Senate was expected to pass the bill of +Senator Mullens appropriating two thousand dollars for the purchase +of the picture. The gallery of the Senate chamber was early +preempted by Lonny and the San Saba lobby. In the front row of +chairs they sat, wild-haired, self-conscious, jingling, creaking, +and rattling, subdued by the majesty of the council hall. + +The bill was introduced, went to the second reading, and then +Senator Mullens spoke for it dryly, tediously, and at length. +Senator Kinney then arose, and the welkin seized the bellrope +preparatory to ringing. Oratory was at that time a living thing; the +world had not quite come to measure its questions by geometry and +the multiplication table. It was the day of the silver tongue, the +sweeping gesture, the decorative apostrophe, the moving peroration. + +The Senator spoke. The San Saba contingent sat, breathing hard, +in the gallery, its disordered hair hanging down to its eyes, its +sixteen-ounce hats shifted restlessly from knee to knee. Below, +the distinguished Senators either lounged at their desks with the +abandon of proven statesmanship or maintained correct attitudes +indicative of a first term. + +Senator Kinney spoke for an hour. History was his theme--history +mitigated by patriotism and sentiment. He referred casually to the +picture in the outer hall--it was unnecessary, he said, to dilate +upon its merits--the Senators had seen for themselves. The painter +of the picture was the grandson of Lucien Briscoe. Then came the +word-pictures of Briscoe's life set forth in thrilling colours. +His rude and venturesome life, his simple-minded love for the +commonwealth he helped to upbuild, his contempt for rewards and +praise, his extreme and sturdy independence, and the great services +he had rendered the state. The subject of the oration was Lucien +Briscoe; the painting stood in the background serving simply as a +means, now happily brought forward, through which the state might +bestow a tardy recompense upon the descendent of its favourite son. +Frequent enthusiastic applause from the Senators testified to the +well reception of the sentiment. + +The bill passed without an opening vote. To-morrow it would be taken +up by the House. Already was it fixed to glide through that body on +rubber tires. Blandford, Grayson, and Plummer, all wheel-horses and +orators, and provided with plentiful memoranda concerning the deeds +of pioneer Briscoe, had agreed to furnish the motive power. + +The San Saba lobby and its _protégé_ stumbled awkwardly down the +stairs and out into the Capitol yard. Then they herded closely and +gave one yell of triumph. But one of them--Buck-Kneed Summers it +was--hit the key with the thoughtful remark: + +"She cut the mustard," he said, "all right. I reckon they're goin' +to buy Lon's steer. I ain't right much on the parlyment'ry, but I +gather that's what the signs added up. But she seems to me, Lonny, +the argyment ran principal to grandfather, instead of paint. It's +reasonable calculatin' that you want to be glad you got the Briscoe +brand on you, my son." + +That remarked clinched in Lonny's mind an unpleasant, vague +suspicion to the same effect. His reticence increased, and he +gathered grass from the ground, chewing it pensively. The picture +as a picture had been humiliatingly absent from the Senator's +arguments. The painter had been held up as a grandson, pure and +simple. While this was gratifying on certain lines, it made art +look little and slab-sided. The Boy Artist was thinking. + +The hotel Lonny stopped at was near the Capitol. It was near to the +one o'clock dinner hour when the appropriation had been passed by +the Senate. The hotel clerk told Lonny that a famous artist from New +York had arrived in town that day and was in the hotel. He was on +his way westward to New Mexico to study the effect of sunlight upon +the ancient walls of the Zuñis. Modern stones reflect light. Those +ancient building materials absorb it. The artist wanted this effect +in a picture he was painting, and was traveling two thousand miles +to get it. + +Lonny sought this man out after dinner and told his story. The +artist was an unhealthy man, kept alive by genius and indifference +to life. He went with Lonny to the Capitol and stood there before +the picture. The artist pulled his beard and looked unhappy. + +"Should like to have your sentiments," said Lonny, "just as they run +out of the pen." + +"It's the way they'll come," said the painter man. "I took three +different kinds of medicine before dinner--by the tablespoonful. The +taste still lingers. I am primed for telling the truth. You want to +know if the picture is, or if it isn't?" + +"Right," said Lonny. "Is it wool or cotton? Should I paint some more +or cut it out and ride herd a-plenty?" + +"I heard a rumour during pie," said the artist, "that the state is +about to pay you two thousand dollars for this picture." + +"It's passed the Senate," said Lonny, "and the House rounds it up +to-morrow." + +"That's lucky," said the pale man. "Do you carry a rabbit's foot?" + +"No," said Lonny, "but it seems I had a grandfather. He's +considerable mixed up in the colour scheme. It took me a year +to paint that picture. Is she entirely awful or not? Some says, +now, that the steer's tail ain't badly drawed. They think it's +proportioned nice. Tell me." + +The artist glanced at Lonny's wiry figure and nut-brown skin. +Something stirred him to a passing irritation. + +"For Art's sake, son," he said, fractiously, "don't spend any more +money for paint. It isn't a picture at all. It's a gun. You hold up +the state with it, if you like, and get your two thousand, but don't +get in front of any more canvas. Live under it. Buy a couple of +hundred ponies with the money--I'm told they're that cheap--and +ride, ride, ride. Fill your lungs and eat and sleep and be happy. No +more pictures. You look healthy. That's genius. Cultivate it." He +looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes to three. Four capsules and one +tablet at three. That's all you wanted to know, isn't it?" + +At three o'clock the cowpunchers rode up for Lonny, bringing Hot +Tamales, saddled. Traditions must be observed. To celebrate the +passage of the bill by the Senate the gang must ride wildly through +the town, creating uproar and excitement. Liquor must be partaken +of, the suburbs shot up, and the glory of the San Saba country +vociferously proclaimed. A part of the programme had been carried +out in the saloons on the way up. + +Lonny mounted Hot Tamales, the accomplished little beast prancing +with fire and intelligence. He was glad to feel Lonny's bowlegged +grip against his ribs again. Lonny was his friend, and he was +willing to do things for him. + +"Come on, boys," said Lonny, urging Hot Tomales into a gallop with +his knees. With a whoop, the inspired lobby tore after him through +the dust. Lonny led his cohorts straight for the Capitol. With a +wild yell, the gang endorsed his now evident intention of riding +into it. Hooray for San Saba! + +Up the six broad, limestone steps clattered the broncos of the +cowpunchers. Into the resounding hallway they pattered, scattering +in dismay those passing on foot. Lonny, in the lead, shoved Hot +Tamales direct for the great picture. At that hour a downpouring, +soft light from the second-story windows bathed the big canvas. +Against the darker background of the hall the painting stood out +with valuable effect. In spite of the defects of the art you could +almost fancy that you gazed out upon a landscape. You might well +flinch a step from the convincing figure of the life-size steer +stampeding across the grass. Perhaps it seemed thus to Hot Tamales. +The scene was in his line. Perhaps he only obeyed the will of his +rider. His ears pricked up; he snorted. Lonny leaned forward in +the saddle and elevated his elbows, wing-like. Thus signals the +cowpuncher to his steed to launch himself full speed ahead. Did Hot +Tamales fancy he saw a steer, red and cavorting, that should be +headed off and driven back to the herd? There was a fierce clatter +of hoofs, a rush, a gathering of steely flank muscles, a leap to the +jerk of the bridle rein, and Hot Tamales, with Lonny bending low in +the saddle to dodge the top of the frame, ripped through the great +canvas like a shell from a mortar, leaving the cloth hanging in +ragged shreds about a monstrous hole. + +Quickly Lonny pulled up his pony, and rounded the pillars. +Spectators came running, too astounded to add speech to the +commotion. The sergeant-at-arms of the House came forth, frowned, +looked ominous, and then grinned. Many of the legislators crowded +out to observe the tumult. Lonny's cowpunchers were stricken to +silent horror by his mad deed. + +Senator Kinney happened to be among the earliest to emerge. Before +he could speak Lonny leaned in his saddle as Hot Tamales pranced, +pointed his quirt at the Senator, and said, calmly: + +"That was a fine speech you made to-day, mister, but you might as +well let up on that 'propriation business. I ain't askin' the state +to give me nothin'. I thought I had a picture to sell to it, but it +wasn't one. You said a heap of things about Grandfather Briscoe that +makes me kind of proud I'm his grandson. Well, the Briscoes ain't +takin' presents from the state yet. Anybody can have the frame that +wants it. Hit her up, boys." + +Away scuttled the San Saba delegation out of the hall, down the +steps, along the dusty street. + +Halfway to the San Saba country they camped that night. At bedtime +Lonny stole away from the campfire and sought Hot Tamales, placidly +eating grass at the end of his stake rope. Lonny hung upon his neck, +and his art aspirations went forth forever in one long, regretful +sigh. But as he thus made renunciation his breath formed a word or +two. + +"You was the only one, Tamales, what seen anything in it. It _did_ +look like a steer, didn't it, old hoss?" + + + + +VII + +PHOEBE + + +"You are a man of many novel adventures and varied enterprises," I +said to Captain Patricio Maloné. "Do you believe that the possible +element of good luck or bad luck--if there is such a thing as +luck--has influenced your career or persisted for or against you +to such an extent that you were forced to attribute results to the +operation of the aforesaid good luck or bad luck?" + +This question (of almost the dull insolence of legal phraseology) +was put while we sat in Rousselin's little red-tiled café near Congo +Square in New Orleans. + +Brown-faced, white-hatted, finger-ringed captains of adventure came +often to Rousselin's for the cognac. They came from sea and land, +and were chary of relating the things they had seen--not because +they were more wonderful than the fantasies of the Ananiases of +print, but because they were so different. And I was a perpetual +wedding-guest, always striving to cast my buttonhole over the finger +of one of these mariners of fortune. This Captain Maloné was a +Hiberno-Iberian creole who had gone to and fro in the earth and +walked up and down in it. He looked like any other well-dressed man +of thirty-five whom you might meet, except that he was hopelessly +weather-tanned, and wore on his chain an ancient ivory-and-gold +Peruvian charm against evil, which has nothing at all to do with +this story. + +"My answer to your question," said the captain, smiling, "will be to +tell you the story of Bad-Luck Kearny. That is, if you don't mind +hearing it." + +My reply was to pound on the table for Rousselin. + +"Strolling along Tchoupitoulas Street one night," began Captain +Maloné, "I noticed, without especially taxing my interest, a small +man walking rapidly toward me. He stepped upon a wooden cellar door, +crashed through it, and disappeared. I rescued him from a heap of +soft coal below. He dusted himself briskly, swearing fluently in a +mechanical tone, as an underpaid actor recites the gypsy's curse. +Gratitude and the dust in his throat seemed to call for fluids +to clear them away. His desire for liquidation was expressed so +heartily that I went with him to a café down the street where we had +some vile vermouth and bitters. + +"Looking across that little table I had my first clear sight of +Francis Kearny. He was about five feet seven, but as tough as a +cypress knee. His hair was darkest red, his mouth such a mere slit +that you wondered how the flood of his words came rushing from it. +His eyes were the brightest and lightest blue and the hopefulest +that I ever saw. He gave the double impression that he was at bay +and that you had better not crowd him further. + +"'Just in from a gold-hunting expedition on the coast of Costa +Rica,' he explained. 'Second mate of a banana steamer told me the +natives were panning out enough from the beach sands to buy all +the rum, red calico, and parlour melodeons in the world. The day I +got there a syndicate named Incorporated Jones gets a government +concession to all minerals from a given point. For a next choice I +take coast fever and count green and blue lizards for six weeks in +a grass hut. I had to be notified when I was well, for the reptiles +were actually there. Then I shipped back as third cook on a +Norwegian tramp that blew up her boiler two miles below Quarantine. +I was due to bust through that cellar door here to-night, so I +hurried the rest of the way up the river, roustabouting on a lower +coast packet that made up a landing for every fisherman that wanted +a plug of tobacco. And now I'm here for what comes next. And it'll +be along, it'll be along,' said this queer Mr. Kearny; 'it'll be +along on the beams of my bright but not very particular star.' + +"From the first the personality of Kearny charmed me. I saw in him +the bold heart, the restless nature, and the valiant front against +the buffets of fate that make his countrymen such valuable comrades +in risk and adventure. And just then I was wanting such men. Moored +at a fruit company's pier I had a 500-ton steamer ready to sail the +next day with a cargo of sugar, lumber, and corrugated iron for a +port in--well, let us call the country Esperando--it has not been +long ago, and the name of Patricio Maloné is still spoken there +when its unsettled politics are discussed. Beneath the sugar and +iron were packed a thousand Winchester rifles. In Aguas Frias, +the capital, Don Rafael Valdevia, Minister of War, Esperando's +greatest-hearted and most able patriot, awaited my coming. No +doubt you have heard, with a smile, of the insignificant wars and +uprisings in those little tropic republics. They make but a faint +clamour against the din of great nations' battles; but down there, +under all the ridiculous uniforms and petty diplomacy and senseless +countermarching and intrigue, are to be found statesmen and +patriots. Don Rafael Valdevia was one. His great ambition was to +raise Esperando into peace and honest prosperity and the respect of +the serious nations. So he waited for my rifles in Aguas Frias. But +one would think I am trying to win a recruit in you! No; it was +Francis Kearny I wanted. And so I told him, speaking long over our +execrable vermouth, breathing the stifling odour from garlic and +tarpaulins, which, as you know, is the distinctive flavour of cafés +in the lower slant of our city. I spoke of the tyrant President +Cruz and the burdens that his greed and insolent cruelty laid upon +the people. And at that Kearny's tears flowed. And then I dried +them with a picture of the fat rewards that would be ours when the +oppressor should be overthrown and the wise and generous Valdevia +in his seat. Then Kearny leaped to his feet and wrung my hand with +the strength of a roustabout. He was mine, he said, till the last +minion of the hated despot was hurled from the highest peaks of the +Cordilleras into the sea. + +"I paid the score, and we went out. Near the door Kearny's elbow +overturned an upright glass showcase, smashing it into little bits. +I paid the storekeeper the price he asked. + +"'Come to my hotel for the night,' I said to Kearny. 'We sail +to-morrow at noon.' + +"He agreed; but on the sidewalk he fell to cursing again in the dull +monotonous way that he had done when I pulled him out of the coal +cellar. + +"'Captain,' said he, 'before we go any further, it's no more than +fair to tell you that I'm known from Baffin's Bay to Terra del Fuego +as "Bad-Luck" Kearny. And I'm It. Everything I get into goes up in +the air except a balloon. Every bet I ever made I lost except when I +coppered it. Every boat I ever sailed on sank except the submarines. +Everything I was ever interested in went to pieces except a patent +bombshell that I invented. Everything I ever took hold of and tried +to run I ran into the ground except when I tried to plough. And +that's why they call me Bad-Luck Kearny. I thought I'd tell you.' + +"'Bad luck,' said I, 'or what goes by that name, may now and then +tangle the affairs of any man. But if it persists beyond the +estimate of what we may call the "averages" there must be a cause +for it.' + +"'There is,' said Kearny emphatically, 'and when we walk another +square I will show it to you.' + +"Surprised, I kept by his side until we came to Canal Street and out +into the middle of its great width. + +"Kearny seized me by an arm and pointed a tragic forefinger at a +rather brilliant star that shone steadily about thirty degrees above +the horizon. + +"'That's Saturn,' said he, 'the star that presides over bad luck and +evil and disappointment and nothing doing and trouble. I was born +under that star. Every move I make, up bobs Saturn and blocks it. +He's the hoodoo planet of the heavens. They say he's 73,000 miles in +diameter and no solider of body than split-pea soup, and he's got as +many disreputable and malignant rings as Chicago. Now, what kind of +a star is that to be born under?' + +"I asked Kearny where he had obtained all this astonishing +knowledge. + +"'From Azrath, the great astrologer of Cleveland, Ohio,' said he. +'That man looked at a glass ball and told me my name before I'd +taken a chair. He prophesied the date of my birth and death before +I'd said a word. And then he cast my horoscope, and the sidereal +system socked me in the solar plexus. It was bad luck for Francis +Kearny from A to Izard and for his friends that were implicated with +him. For that I gave up ten dollars. This Azrath was sorry, but he +respected his profession too much to read the heavens wrong for any +man. It was night time, and he took me out on a balcony and gave me +a free view of the sky. And he showed me which Saturn was, and how +to find it in different balconies and longitudes. + +"'But Saturn wasn't all. He was only the man higher up. He furnishes +so much bad luck that they allow him a gang of deputy sparklers to +help hand it out. They're circulating and revolving and hanging +around the main supply all the time, each one throwing the hoodoo on +his own particular district. + +"'You see that ugly little red star about eight inches above and to +the right of Saturn?' Kearny asked me. 'Well, that's her. That's +Phoebe. She's got me in charge. "By the day of your birth," says +Azrath to me, "your life is subjected to the influence of Saturn. By +the hour and minute of it you must dwell under the sway and direct +authority of Phoebe, the ninth satellite." So said this Azrath.' +Kearny shook his fist violently skyward. 'Curse her, she's done +her work well,' said he. 'Ever since I was astrologized, bad luck +has followed me like my shadow, as I told you. And for many years +before. Now, Captain, I've told you my handicap as a man should. If +you're afraid this evil star of mine might cripple your scheme, +leave me out of it.' + +"I reassured Kearny as well as I could. I told him that for the time +we would banish both astrology and astronomy from our heads. The +manifest valour and enthusiasm of the man drew me. 'Let us see what +a little courage and diligence will do against bad luck,' I said. +'We will sail to-morrow for Esperando.' + +"Fifty miles down the Mississippi our steamer broke her rudder. We +sent for a tug to tow us back and lost three days. When we struck +the blue waters of the Gulf, all the storm clouds of the Atlantic +seemed to have concentrated above us. We thought surely to sweeten +those leaping waves with our sugar, and to stack our arms and lumber +on the floor of the Mexican Gulf. + +"Kearny did not seek to cast off one iota of the burden of our +danger from the shoulders of his fatal horoscope. He weathered every +storm on deck, smoking a black pipe, to keep which alight rain and +sea-water seemed but as oil. And he shook his fist at the black +clouds behind which his baleful star winked its unseen eye. When the +skies cleared one evening, he reviled his malignant guardian with +grim humour. + +"'On watch, aren't you, you red-headed vixen? Out making it hot for +little Francis Kearny and his friends, according to Hoyle. Twinkle, +twinkle, little devil! You're a lady, aren't you?--dogging a man +with your bad luck just because he happened to be born while your +boss was floorwalker. Get busy and sink the ship, you one-eyed +banshee. Phoebe! H'm! Sounds as mild as a milkmaid. You can't judge +a woman by her name. Why couldn't I have had a man star? I can't +make the remarks to Phoebe that I could to a man. Oh, Phoebe, you +be--blasted!' + +"For eight days gales and squalls and waterspouts beat us from our +course. Five days only should have landed us in Esperando. Our Jonah +swallowed the bad credit of it with appealing frankness; but that +scarcely lessened the hardships our cause was made to suffer. + +"At last one afternoon we steamed into the calm estuary of the +little Rio Escondido. Three miles up this we crept, feeling for the +shallow channel between the low banks that were crowded to the edge +with gigantic trees and riotous vegetation. Then our whistle gave a +little toot, and in five minutes we heard a shout, and Carlos--my +brave Carlos Quintana--crashed through the tangled vines waving his +cap madly for joy. + +"A hundred yards away was his camp, where three hundred chosen +patriots of Esperando were awaiting our coming. For a month Carlos +had been drilling them there in the tactics of war, and filling them +with the spirit of revolution and liberty. + +"'My Captain--_compadre mio!_' shouted Carlos, while yet my boat was +being lowered. 'You should see them in the drill by _companies_--in +the column wheel--in the march by fours--they are superb! Also in +the manual of arms--but, alas! performed only with sticks of bamboo. +The guns, _capitan_--say that you have brought the guns!' + +"'A thousand Winchesters, Carlos,' I called to him. 'And two +Gatlings.' + +"'_Valgame Dios!_' he cried, throwing his cap in the air. 'We shall +sweep the world!' + +"At that moment Kearny tumbled from the steamer's side into the +river. He could not swim, so the crew threw him a rope and drew him +back aboard. I caught his eye and his look of pathetic but still +bright and undaunted consciousness of his guilty luck. I told myself +that although he might be a man to shun, he was also one to be +admired. + +"I gave orders to the sailing-master that the arms, ammunition, and +provisions were to be landed at once. That was easy in the steamer's +boats, except for the two Gatling guns. For their transportation +ashore we carried a stout flatboat, brought for the purpose in the +steamer's hold. + +"In the meantime I walked with Carlos to the camp and made the +soldiers a little speech in Spanish, which they received with +enthusiasm; and then I had some wine and a cigarette in Carlos's +tent. Later we walked back to the river to see how the unloading +was being conducted. + +"The small arms and provisions were already ashore, and the petty +officers and squads of men conveying them to camp. One Gatling had +been safely landed; the other was just being hoisted over the side +of the vessel as we arrived. I noticed Kearny darting about on +board, seeming to have the ambition of ten men, and doing the work +of five. I think his zeal bubbled over when he saw Carlos and me. A +rope's end was swinging loose from some part of the tackle. Kearny +leaped impetuously and caught it. There was a crackle and a hiss +and a smoke of scorching hemp, and the Gatling dropped straight as +a plummet through the bottom of the flatboat and buried itself in +twenty feet of water and five feet of river mud. + +"I turned my back on the scene. I heard Carlos's loud cries as +if from some extreme grief too poignant for words. I heard the +complaining murmur of the crew and the maledictions of Torres, the +sailing master--I could not bear to look. + +"By night some degree of order had been restored in camp. Military +rules were not drawn strictly, and the men were grouped about the +fires of their several messes, playing games of chance, singing +their native songs, or discussing with voluble animation the +contingencies of our march upon the capital. + +"To my tent, which had been pitched for me close to that of my chief +lieutenant, came Kearny, indomitable, smiling, bright-eyed, bearing +no traces of the buffets of his evil star. Rather was his aspect +that of a heroic martyr whose tribulations were so high-sourced and +glorious that he even took a splendour and a prestige from them. + +"'Well, Captain,' said he, 'I guess you realize that Bad-Luck Kearny +is still on deck. It was a shame, now, about that gun. She only +needed to be slewed two inches to clear the rail; and that's why I +grabbed that rope's end. Who'd have thought that a sailor--even a +Sicilian lubber on a banana coaster--would have fastened a line in a +bow-knot? Don't think I'm trying to dodge the responsibility, +Captain. It's my luck.' + +"'There are men, Kearny,' said I gravely, 'who pass through life +blaming upon luck and chance the mistakes that result from their own +faults and incompetency. I do not say that you are such a man. But +if all your mishaps are traceable to that tiny star, the sooner we +endow our colleges with chairs of moral astronomy, the better.' + +"'It isn't the size of the star that counts,' said Kearny; 'it's +the quality. Just the way it is with women. That's why they give +the biggest planets masculine names, and the little stars feminine +ones--to even things up when it comes to getting their work in. +Suppose they had called my star Agamemnon or Bill McCarty or +something like that instead of Phoebe. Every time one of those old +boys touched their calamity button and sent me down one of their +wireless pieces of bad luck, I could talk back and tell 'em what I +thought of 'em in suitable terms. But you can't address such remarks +to a Phoebe.' + +"'It pleases you to make a joke of it, Kearny,' said I, without +smiling. 'But it is no joke to me to think of my Gatling mired in +the river ooze.' + +"'As to that,' said Kearny, abandoning his light mood at once, +'I have already done what I could. I have had some experience in +hoisting stone in quarries. Torres and I have already spliced three +hawsers and stretched them from the steamer's stern to a tree on +shore. We will rig a tackle and have the gun on terra firma before +noon to-morrow.' + +"One could not remain long at outs with Bad-Luck Kearny. + +"'Once more,' said I to him, 'we will waive this question of luck. +Have you ever had experience in drilling raw troops?' + +"'I was first sergeant and drill-master,' said Kearny, 'in the +Chilean army for one year. And captain of artillery for another.' + +"'What became of your command?' I asked. + +"'Shot down to a man,' said Kearny, 'during the revolutions against +Balmaceda.' + +"Somehow the misfortunes of the evil-starred one seemed to turn to +me their comedy side. I lay back upon my goat's-hide cot and laughed +until the woods echoed. Kearny grinned. 'I told you how it was,' he +said. + +"'To-morrow,' I said, 'I shall detail one hundred men under your +command for manual-of-arms drill and company evolutions. You will +rank as lieutenant. Now, for God's sake, Kearny,' I urged him, 'try +to combat this superstition if it is one. Bad luck may be like any +other visitor--preferring to stop where it is expected. Get your +mind off stars. Look upon Esperando as your planet of good fortune.' + +"'I thank you, Captain,' said Kearny quietly. 'I will try to make it +the best handicap I ever ran.' + +"By noon the next day the submerged Gatling was rescued, as +Kearny had promised. Then Carlos and Manuel Ortiz and Kearny (my +lieutenants) distributed Winchesters among the troops and put them +through an incessant rifle drill. We fired no shots, blank or solid, +for of all coasts Esperando is the stillest; and we had no desire to +sound any warnings in the ear of that corrupt government until they +should carry with them the message of Liberty and the downfall of +Oppression. + +"In the afternoon came a mule-rider bearing a written message to me +from Don Rafael Valdevia in the capital, Aguas Frias. + +"Whenever that man's name comes to my lips, words of tribute to +his greatness, his noble simplicity, and his conspicuous genius +follow irrepressibly. He was a traveller, a student of peoples and +governments, a master of sciences, a poet, an orator, a leader, +a soldier, a critic of the world's campaigns and the idol of the +people in Esperando. I had been honoured by his friendship for +years. It was I who first turned his mind to the thought that he +should leave for his monument a new Esperando--a country freed +from the rule of unscrupulous tyrants, and a people made happy and +prosperous by wise and impartial legislation. When he had consented +he threw himself into the cause with the undivided zeal with which +he endowed all of his acts. The coffers of his great fortune were +opened to those of us to whom were entrusted the secret moves of the +game. His popularity was already so great that he had practically +forced President Cruz to offer him the portfolio of Minister of War. + +"The time, Don Rafael said in his letter, was ripe. Success, he +prophesied, was certain. The people were beginning to clamour +publicly against Cruz's misrule. Bands of citizens in the capital +were even going about of nights hurling stones at public buildings +and expressing their dissatisfaction. A bronze statue of President +Cruz in the Botanical Gardens had been lassoed about the neck and +overthrown. It only remained for me to arrive with my force and +my thousand rifles, and for himself to come forward and proclaim +himself the people's saviour, to overthrow Cruz in a single day. +There would be but a half-hearted resistance from the six hundred +government troops stationed in the capital. The country was ours. +He presumed that by this time my steamer had arrived at Quintana's +camp. He proposed the eighteenth of July for the attack. That would +give us six days in which to strike camp and march to Aguas Frias. +In the meantime Don Rafael remained my good friend and _compadre en +la causa de la libertad_. + +"On the morning of the 14th we began our march toward the +sea-following range of mountains, over the sixty-mile trail to the +capital. Our small arms and provisions were laden on pack mules. +Twenty men harnessed to each Gatling gun rolled them smoothly along +the flat, alluvial lowlands. Our troops, well-shod and well-fed, +moved with alacrity and heartiness. I and my three lieutenants were +mounted on the tough mountain ponies of the country. + +"A mile out of camp one of the pack mules, becoming stubborn, broke +away from the train and plunged from the path into the thicket. The +alert Kearny spurred quickly after it and intercepted its flight. +Rising in his stirrups, he released one foot and bestowed upon the +mutinous animal a hearty kick. The mule tottered and fell with a +crash broadside upon the ground. As we gathered around it, it walled +its great eyes almost humanly towards Kearny and expired. That was +bad; but worse, to our minds, was the concomitant disaster. Part of +the mule's burden had been one hundred pounds of the finest coffee +to be had in the tropics. The bag burst and spilled the priceless +brown mass of the ground berries among the dense vines and weeds +of the swampy land. _Mala suerte!_ When you take away from an +Esperandan his coffee, you abstract his patriotism and 50 per cent. +of his value as a soldier. The men began to rake up the precious +stuff; but I beckoned Kearny back along the trail where they would +not hear. The limit had been reached. + +"I took from my pocket a wallet of money and drew out some bills. + +"'Mr. Kearny,' said I, 'here are some funds belonging to Don Rafael +Valdevia, which I am expending in his cause. I know of no better +service it can buy for him than this. Here is one hundred dollars. +Luck or no luck, we part company here. Star or no star, calamity +seems to travel by your side. You will return to the steamer. She +touches at Amotapa to discharge her lumber and iron, and then puts +back to New Orleans. Hand this note to the sailing-master, who will +give you passage.' I wrote on a leaf torn from my book, and placed +it and the money in Kearny's hand. + +"'Good-bye,' I said, extending my own. 'It is not that I am +displeased with you; but there is no place in this expedition +for--let us say, the Señorita Phoebe.' I said this with a smile, +trying to smooth the thing for him. 'May you have better luck, +_companero_.' + +"Kearny took the money and the paper. + +"'It was just a little touch,' said he, 'just a little lift with the +toe of my boot--but what's the odds?--that blamed mule would have +died if I had only dusted his ribs with a powder puff. It was my +luck. Well, Captain, I would have liked to be in that little fight +with you over in Aguas Frias. Success to the cause. _Adios!_' + +"He turned around and set off down the trail without looking back. +The unfortunate mule's pack-saddle was transferred to Kearny's pony, +and we again took up the march. + +"Four days we journeyed over the foot-hills and mountains, fording +icy torrents, winding around the crumbling brows of ragged peaks, +creeping along the rocky flanges that overlooked awful precipices, +crawling breathlessly over tottering bridges that crossed bottomless +chasms. + +"On the evening of the seventeenth we camped by a little stream on +the bare hills five miles from Aguas Frias. At daybreak we were to +take up the march again. + +"At midnight I was standing outside my tent inhaling the fresh cold +air. The stars were shining bright in the cloudless sky, giving the +heavens their proper aspect of illimitable depth and distance when +viewed from the vague darkness of the blotted earth. Almost at its +zenith was the planet Saturn; and with a half-smile I observed the +sinister red sparkle of his malignant attendant--the demon star of +Kearny's ill luck. And then my thoughts strayed across the hills +to the scene of our coming triumph where the heroic and noble Don +Rafael awaited our coming to set a new and shining star in the +firmament of nations. + +"I heard a slight rustling in the deep grass to my right. I turned +and saw Kearny coming toward me. He was ragged and dew-drenched and +limping. His hat and one boot were gone. About one foot he had tied +some makeshift of cloth and grass. But his manner as he approached +was that of a man who knows his own virtues well enough to be +superior to rebuffs. + +"'Well, sir,' I said, staring at him coldly, 'if there is anything +in persistence, I see no reason why you should not succeed in +wrecking and ruining us yet.' + +"'I kept half a day's journey behind,' said Kearny, fishing out a +stone from the covering of his lame foot, 'so the bad luck wouldn't +touch you. I couldn't help it, Captain; I wanted to be in on this +game. It was a pretty tough trip, especially in the department of +the commissary. In the low grounds there were always bananas and +oranges. Higher up it was worse; but your men left a good deal of +goat meat hanging on the bushes in the camps. Here's your hundred +dollars. You're nearly there now, captain. Let me in on the +scrapping to-morrow.' + +"'Not for a hundred times a hundred would I have the tiniest thing +go wrong with my plans now,' I said, 'whether caused by evil planets +or the blunders of mere man. But yonder is Aguas Frias, five miles +away, and a clear road. I am of the mind to defy Saturn and all his +satellites to spoil our success now. At any rate, I will not turn +away to-night as weary a traveller and as good a soldier as you are, +Lieutenant Kearny. Manuel Ortiz's tent is there by the brightest +fire. Rout him out and tell him to supply you with food and blankets +and clothes. We march again at daybreak.' + +"Kearny thanked me briefly but feelingly and moved away. + +"He had gone scarcely a dozen steps when a sudden flash of bright +light illumined the surrounding hills; a sinister, growing, hissing +sound like escaping steam filled my ears. Then followed a roar as of +distant thunder, which grew louder every instant. This terrifying +noise culminated in a tremendous explosion, which seemed to rock +the hills as an earthquake would; the illumination waxed to a glare +so fierce that I clapped my hands over my eyes to save them. I +thought the end of the world had come. I could think of no natural +phenomenon that would explain it. My wits were staggering. The +deafening explosion trailed off into the rumbling roar that had +preceded it; and through this I heard the frightened shouts of my +troops as they stumbled from their resting-places and rushed wildly +about. Also I heard the harsh tones of Kearny's voice crying: +'They'll blame it on me, of course, and what the devil it is, it's +not Francis Kearny that can give you an answer.' + +"I opened my eyes. The hills were still there, dark and solid. It +had not been, then, a volcano or an earthquake. I looked up at the +sky and saw a comet-like trail crossing the zenith and extending +westward--a fiery trail waning fainter and narrower each moment. + +"'A meteor!' I called aloud. 'A meteor has fallen. There is no +danger.' + +"And then all other sounds were drowned by a great shout from +Kearny's throat. He had raised both hands above his head and was +standing tiptoe. + +"'PHOEBE'S GONE!' he cried, with all his lungs. 'She's busted and +gone to hell. Look, Captain, the little red-headed hoodoo has blown +herself to smithereens. She found Kearny too tough to handle, and +she puffed up with spite and meanness till her boiler blew up. It's +be Bad-Luck Kearny no more. Oh, let us be joyful! + + + "'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall; + Humpty busted, and that'll be all!' + + +"I looked up, wondering, and picked out Saturn in his place. But +the small red twinkling luminary in his vicinity, which Kearny +had pointed out to me as his evil star, had vanished. I had seen +it there but half an hour before; there was no doubt that one of +those awful and mysterious spasms of nature had hurled it from the +heavens. + +"I clapped Kearny on the shoulder. + +"'Little man,' said I, 'let this clear the way for you. It appears +that astrology has failed to subdue you. Your horoscope must be cast +anew with pluck and loyalty for controlling stars. I play you to +win. Now, get to your tent, and sleep. Daybreak is the word.' + +"At nine o'clock on the morning of the eighteenth of July I rode +into Aguas Frias with Kearny at my side. In his clean linen suit and +with his military poise and keen eye he was a model of a fighting +adventurer. I had visions of him riding as commander of President +Valdevia's body-guard when the plums of the new republic should +begin to fall. + +"Carlos followed with the troops and supplies. He was to halt in a +wood outside the town and remain concealed there until he received +the word to advance. + +"Kearny and I rode down the Calle Ancha toward the _residencia_ of +Don Rafael at the other side of the town. As we passed the superb +white buildings of the University of Esperando, I saw at an open +window the gleaming spectacles and bald head of Herr Bergowitz, +professor of the natural sciences and friend of Don Rafael and of +me and of the cause. He waved his hand to me, with his broad, bland +smile. + +"There was no excitement apparent in Aguas Frias. The people went +about leisurely as at all times; the market was thronged with +bare-headed women buying fruit and _carne_; we heard the twang and +tinkle of string bands in the patios of the _cantinas_. We could see +that it was a waiting game that Don Rafael was playing. + +"His _residencia_ was a large but low building around a great +courtyard in grounds crowed with ornamental trees and tropic shrubs. +At his door an old woman who came informed us that Don Rafael had +not yet arisen. + +"'Tell him,' said I, 'that Captain Maloné and a friend wish to see +him at once. Perhaps he has overslept.' + +"She came back looking frightened. + +"'I have called,' she said, 'and rung his bell many times, but he +does not answer.' + +"I knew where his sleeping-room was. Kearny and I pushed by her and +went to it. I put my shoulder against the thin door and forced it +open. + +"In an armchair by a great table covered with maps and books sat Don +Rafael with his eyes closed. I touched his hand. He had been dead +many hours. On his head above one ear was a wound caused by a heavy +blow. It had ceased to bleed long before. + +"I made the old woman call a _mozo_, and dispatched him in haste to +fetch Herr Bergowitz. + +"He came, and we stood about as if we were half stunned by the awful +shock. Thus can the letting of a few drops of blood from one man's +veins drain the life of a nation. + +"Presently Herr Bergowitz stooped and picked up a darkish stone the +size of an orange which he saw under the table. He examined it +closely through his great glasses with the eye of science. + +"'A fragment,' said he, 'of a detonating meteor. The most remarkable +one in twenty years exploded above this city a little after midnight +this morning.' + +"The professor looked quickly up at the ceiling. We saw the blue sky +through a hole the size of an orange nearly above Don Rafael's +chair. + +"I heard a familiar sound, and turned. Kearny had thrown himself on +the floor and was babbling his compendium of bitter, blood-freezing +curses against the star of his evil luck. + +"Undoubtedly Phoebe had been feminine. Even when hurtling on her way +to fiery dissolution and everlasting doom, the last word had been +hers." + + + +Captain Maloné was not unskilled in narrative. He knew the point +where a story should end. I sat reveling in his effective conclusion +when he aroused me by continuing: + +"Of course," said he, "our schemes were at an end. There was no one +to take Don Rafael's place. Our little army melted away like dew +before the sun. + +"One day after I had returned to New Orleans I related this story to +a friend who holds a professorship in Tulane University. + +"When I had finished he laughed and asked whether I had any +knowledge of Kearny's luck afterward. I told him no, that I had seen +him no more; but that when he left me, he had expressed confidence +that his future would be successful now that his unlucky star had +been overthrown. + +"'No doubt,' said the professor, 'he is happier not to know one +fact. If he derives his bad luck from Phoebe, the ninth satellite +of Saturn, that malicious lady is still engaged in overlooking his +career. The star close to Saturn that he imagined to be her was near +that planet simply by the chance of its orbit--probably at different +times he has regarded many other stars that happened to be in +Saturn's neighbourhood as his evil one. The real Phoebe is visible +only through a very good telescope.' + +"About a year afterward," continued Captain Maloné, "I was walking +down a street that crossed the Poydras Market. An immensely stout, +pink-faced lacy in black satin crowded me from the narrow sidewalk +with a frown. Behind her trailed a little man laden to the gunwales +with bundles and bags of goods and vegetables. + +"It was Kearny--but changed. I stopped and shook one of his hands, +which still clung to a bag of garlic and red peppers. + +"'How is the luck, old _companero_?' I asked him. I had not the +heart to tell him the truth about his star. + +"'Well,' said he, 'I am married, as you may guess.' + +"'Francis!' called the big lady, in deep tones, 'are you going to +stop in the street talking all day?' + +"'I am coming, Phoebe dear,' said Kearny, hastening after her." + +Captain Maloné ceased again. + +"After all, do you believe in luck?" I asked. + +"Do you?" answered the captain, with his ambiguous smile shaded by +the brim of his soft straw hat. + + + + +VIII + +A DOUBLE-DYED DECEIVER + + +The trouble began in Laredo. It was the Llano Kid's fault, for he +should have confined his habit of manslaughter to Mexicans. But the +Kid was past twenty; and to have only Mexicans to one's credit at +twenty is to blush unseen on the Rio Grande border. + +It happened in old Justo Valdos's gambling house. There was a poker +game at which sat players who were not all friends, as happens often +where men ride in from afar to shoot Folly as she gallops. There +was a row over so small a matter as a pair of queens; and when the +smoke had cleared away it was found that the Kid had committed +an indiscretion, and his adversary had been guilty of a blunder. +For, the unfortunate combatant, instead of being a Greaser, was a +high-blooded youth from the cow ranches, of about the Kid's own age +and possessed of friends and champions. His blunder in missing the +Kid's right ear only a sixteenth of an inch when he pulled his gun +did not lessen the indiscretion of the better marksman. + +The Kid, not being equipped with a retinue, nor bountifully supplied +with personal admirers and supporters--on account of a rather +umbrageous reputation, even for the border--considered it not +incompatible with his indisputable gameness to perform that +judicious tractional act known as "pulling his freight." + +Quickly the avengers gathered and sought him. Three of them overtook +him within a rod of the station. The Kid turned and showed his teeth +in that brilliant but mirthless smile that usually preceded his +deeds of insolence and violence, and his pursuers fell back without +making it necessary for him even to reach for his weapon. + +But in this affair the Kid had not felt the grim thirst for +encounter that usually urged him on to battle. It had been a purely +chance row, born of the cards and certain epithets impossible for +a gentleman to brook that had passed between the two. The Kid had +rather liked the slim, haughty, brown-faced young chap whom his +bullet had cut off in the first pride of manhood. And now he wanted +no more blood. He wanted to get away and have a good long sleep +somewhere in the sun on the mesquit grass with his handkerchief over +his face. Even a Mexican might have crossed his path in safety while +he was in this mood. + +The Kid openly boarded the north-bound passenger train that departed +five minutes later. But at Webb, a few miles out, where it was +flagged to take on a traveller, he abandoned that manner of escape. +There were telegraph stations ahead; and the Kid looked askance at +electricity and steam. Saddle and spur were his rocks of safety. + +The man whom he had shot was a stranger to him. But the Kid knew +that he was of the Coralitos outfit from Hidalgo; and that the +punchers from that ranch were more relentless and vengeful than +Kentucky feudists when wrong or harm was done to one of them. So, +with the wisdom that has characterized many great fighters, the Kid +decided to pile up as many leagues as possible of chaparral and pear +between himself and the retaliation of the Coralitos bunch. + +Near the station was a store; and near the store, scattered among +the mesquits and elms, stood the saddled horses of the customers. +Most of them waited, half asleep, with sagging limbs and drooping +heads. But one, a long-legged roan with a curved neck, snorted and +pawed the turf. Him the Kid mounted, gripped with his knees, and +slapped gently with the owner's own quirt. + +If the slaying of the temerarious card-player had cast a cloud over +the Kid's standing as a good and true citizen, this last act of his +veiled his figure in the darkest shadows of disrepute. On the Rio +Grande border if you take a man's life you sometimes take trash; but +if you take his horse, you take a thing the loss of which renders +him poor, indeed, and which enriches you not--if you are caught. For +the Kid there was no turning back now. + +With the springing roan under him he felt little care or uneasiness. +After a five-mile gallop he drew in to the plainsman's jogging trot, +and rode northeastward toward the Nueces River bottoms. He knew the +country well--its most tortuous and obscure trails through the great +wilderness of brush and pear, and its camps and lonesome ranches +where one might find safe entertainment. Always he bore to the east; +for the Kid had never seen the ocean, and he had a fancy to lay +his hand upon the mane of the great Gulf, the gamesome colt of the +greater waters. + +So after three days he stood on the shore at Corpus Christi, and +looked out across the gentle ripples of a quiet sea. + +Captain Boone, of the schooner _Flyaway_, stood near his skiff, +which one of his crew was guarding in the surf. When ready to sail +he had discovered that one of the necessaries of life, in the +parallelogrammatic shape of plug tobacco, had been forgotten. A +sailor had been dispatched for the missing cargo. Meanwhile the +captain paced the sands, chewing profanely at his pocket store. + +A slim, wiry youth in high-heeled boots came down to the water's +edge. His face was boyish, but with a premature severity that hinted +at a man's experience. His complexion was naturally dark; and the +sun and wind of an outdoor life had burned it to a coffee brown. His +hair was as black and straight as an Indian's; his face had not yet +been upturned to the humiliation of a razor; his eyes were a cold +and steady blue. He carried his left arm somewhat away from his +body, for pearl-handled .45s are frowned upon by town marshals, and +are a little bulky when placed in the left armhole of one's vest. +He looked beyond Captain Boone at the gulf with the impersonal and +expressionless dignity of a Chinese emperor. + +"Thinkin' of buyin' that'ar gulf, buddy?" asked the captain, made +sarcastic by his narrow escape from a tobaccoless voyage. + +"Why, no," said the Kid gently, "I reckon not. I never saw it +before. I was just looking at it. Not thinking of selling it, are +you?" + +"Not this trip," said the captain. "I'll send it to you C.O.D. when +I get back to Buenas Tierras. Here comes that capstanfooted lubber +with the chewin'. I ought to've weighed anchor an hour ago." + +"Is that your ship out there?" asked the Kid. + +"Why, yes," answered the captain, "if you want to call a schooner +a ship, and I don't mind lyin'. But you better say Miller and +Gonzales, owners, and ordinary plain, Billy-be-damned old Samuel K. +Boone, skipper." + +"Where are you going to?" asked the refugee. + +"Buenas Tierras, coast of South America--I forgot what they called +the country the last time I was there. Cargo--lumber, corrugated +iron, and machetes." + +"What kind of a country is it?" asked the Kid--"hot or cold?" + +"Warmish, buddy," said the captain. "But a regular Paradise Lost +for elegance of scenery and be-yooty of geography. Ye're wakened +every morning by the sweet singin' of red birds with seven purple +tails, and the sighin' of breezes in the posies and roses. And the +inhabitants never work, for they can reach out and pick steamer +baskets of the choicest hothouse fruit without gettin' out of bed. +And there's no Sunday and no ice and no rent and no troubles and no +use and no nothin'. It's a great country for a man to go to sleep +with, and wait for somethin' to turn up. The bananys and oranges and +hurricanes and pineapples that ye eat comes from there." + +"That sounds to me!" said the Kid, at last betraying interest. +"What'll the expressage be to take me out there with you?" + +"Twenty-four dollars," said Captain Boone; "grub and transportation. +Second cabin. I haven't got a first cabin." + +"You've got my company," said the Kid, pulling out a buckskin bag. + +With three hundred dollars he had gone to Laredo for his regular +"blowout." The duel in Valdos's had cut short his season of +hilarity, but it had left him with nearly $200 for aid in the flight +that it had made necessary. + +"All right, buddy," said the captain. "I hope your ma won't blame me +for this little childish escapade of yours." He beckoned to one of +the boat's crew. "Let Sanchez lift you out to the skiff so you won't +get your feet wet." + + + +Thacker, the United States consul at Buenas Tierras, was not yet +drunk. It was only eleven o'clock; and he never arrived at his +desired state of beatitude--a state wherein he sang ancient maudlin +vaudeville songs and pelted his screaming parrot with banana +peels--until the middle of the afternoon. So, when he looked up from +his hammock at the sound of a slight cough, and saw the Kid standing +in the door of the consulate, he was still in a condition to extend +the hospitality and courtesy due from the representative of a great +nation. "Don't disturb yourself," said the Kid, easily. "I just +dropped in. They told me it was customary to light at your camp +before starting in to round up the town. I just came in on a ship +from Texas." + +"Glad to see you, Mr.--" said the consul. + +The Kid laughed. + +"Sprague Dalton," he said. "It sounds funny to me to hear it. I'm +called the Llano Kid in the Rio Grande country." + +"I'm Thacker," said the consul. "Take that cane-bottom chair. Now +if you've come to invest, you want somebody to advise you. These +dingies will cheat you out of the gold in your teeth if you don't +understand their ways. Try a cigar?" + +"Much obliged," said the Kid, "but if it wasn't for my corn shucks +and the little bag in my back pocket I couldn't live a minute." He +took out his "makings," and rolled a cigarette. + +"They speak Spanish here," said the consul. "You'll need an +interpreter. If there's anything I can do, why, I'd be delighted. If +you're buying fruit lands or looking for a concession of any sort, +you'll want somebody who knows the ropes to look out for you." + +"I speak Spanish," said the Kid, "about nine times better than I do +English. Everybody speaks it on the range where I come from. And I'm +not in the market for anything." + +"You speak Spanish?" said Thacker thoughtfully. He regarded the kid +absorbedly. + +"You look like a Spaniard, too," he continued. "And you're from +Texas. And you can't be more than twenty or twenty-one. I wonder if +you've got any nerve." + +"You got a deal of some kind to put through?" asked the Texan, with +unexpected shrewdness. + +"Are you open to a proposition?" said Thacker. + +"What's the use to deny it?" said the Kid. "I got into a little gun +frolic down in Laredo and plugged a white man. There wasn't any +Mexican handy. And I come down to your parrot-and-monkey range just +for to smell the morning-glories and marigolds. Now, do you _sabe_?" + +Thacker got up and closed the door. + +"Let me see your hand," he said. + +He took the Kid's left hand, and examined the back of it closely. + +"I can do it," he said excitedly. "Your flesh is as hard as wood and +as healthy as a baby's. It will heal in a week." + +"If it's a fist fight you want to back me for," said the Kid, "don't +put your money up yet. Make it gun work, and I'll keep you company. +But no barehanded scrapping, like ladies at a tea-party, for me." + +"It's easier than that," said Thacker. "Just step here, will you?" + +Through the window he pointed to a two-story white-stuccoed house +with wide galleries rising amid the deep-green tropical foliage on a +wooded hill that sloped gently from the sea. + +"In that house," said Thacker, "a fine old Castilian gentleman and +his wife are yearning to gather you into their arms and fill your +pockets with money. Old Santos Urique lives there. He owns half the +gold-mines in the country." + +"You haven't been eating loco weed, have you?" asked the Kid. + +"Sit down again," said Thacker, "and I'll tell you. Twelve years ago +they lost a kid. No, he didn't die--although most of 'em here do +from drinking the surface water. He was a wild little devil, even +if he wasn't but eight years old. Everybody knows about it. Some +Americans who were through here prospecting for gold had letters to +Señor Urique, and the boy was a favorite with them. They filled his +head with big stories about the States; and about a month after +they left, the kid disappeared, too. He was supposed to have stowed +himself away among the banana bunches on a fruit steamer, and gone +to New Orleans. He was seen once afterward in Texas, it was thought, +but they never heard anything more of him. Old Urique has spent +thousands of dollars having him looked for. The madam was broken up +worst of all. The kid was her life. She wears mourning yet. But they +say she believes he'll come back to her some day, and never gives up +hope. On the back of the boy's left hand was tattooed a flying eagle +carrying a spear in his claws. That's old Urique's coat of arms or +something that he inherited in Spain." + +The Kid raised his left hand slowly and gazed at it curiously. + +"That's it," said Thacker, reaching behind the official desk for his +bottle of smuggled brandy. "You're not so slow. I can do it. What +was I consul at Sandakan for? I never knew till now. In a week I'll +have the eagle bird with the frog-sticker blended in so you'd think +you were born with it. I brought a set of the needles and ink just +because I was sure you'd drop in some day, Mr. Dalton." + +"Oh, hell," said the Kid. "I thought I told you my name!" + +"All right, 'Kid,' then. It won't be that long. How does Señorito +Urique sound, for a change?" + +"I never played son any that I remember of," said the Kid. "If I had +any parents to mention they went over the divide about the time I +gave my first bleat. What is the plan of your round-up?" + +Thacker leaned back against the wall and held his glass up to the +light. + +"We've come now," said he, "to the question of how far you're +willing to go in a little matter of the sort." + +"I told you why I came down here," said the Kid simply. + +"A good answer," said the consul. "But you won't have to go that +far. Here's the scheme. After I get the trademark tattooed on your +hand I'll notify old Urique. In the meantime I'll furnish you with +all of the family history I can find out, so you can be studying up +points to talk about. You've got the looks, you speak the Spanish, +you know the facts, you can tell about Texas, you've got the tattoo +mark. When I notify them that the rightful heir has returned and is +waiting to know whether he will be received and pardoned, what will +happen? They'll simply rush down here and fall on your neck, and the +curtain goes down for refreshments and a stroll in the lobby." + +"I'm waiting," said the Kid. "I haven't had my saddle off in your +camp long, pardner, and I never met you before; but if you intend to +let it go at a parental blessing, why, I'm mistaken in my man, +that's all." + +"Thanks," said the consul. "I haven't met anybody in a long time +that keeps up with an argument as well as you do. The rest of it is +simple. If they take you in only for a while it's long enough. Don't +give 'em time to hunt up the strawberry mark on your left shoulder. +Old Urique keeps anywhere from $50,000 to $100,000 in his house all +the time in a little safe that you could open with a shoe buttoner. +Get it. My skill as a tattooer is worth half the boddle. We go +halves and catch a tramp steamer for Rio Janeiro. Let the United +States go to pieces if it can't get along without my services. _Que +dice, señor?_" + +"It sounds to me!" said the Kid, nodding his head. "I'm out for the +dust." + +"All right, then," said Thacker. "You'll have to keep close until +we get the bird on you. You can live in the back room here. I do +my own cooking, and I'll make you as comfortable as a parsimonious +Government will allow me." + +Thacker had set the time at a week, but it was two weeks before the +design that he patiently tattooed upon the Kid's hand was to his +notion. And then Thacker called a _muchacho_, and dispatched this +note to the intended victim: + + + EL SEÑOR DON SANTOS URIQUE, + La Casa Blanca, + + MY DEAR SIR: + + I beg permission to inform you that there is in my house as + a temporary guest a young man who arrived in Buenas Tierras + from the United States some days ago. Without wishing to + excite any hopes that may not be realized, I think there is + a possibility of his being your long-absent son. It might be + well for you to call and see him. If he is, it is my opinion + that his intention was to return to his home, but upon + arriving here, his courage failed him from doubts as to how + he would be received. Your true servant, + + THOMPSON THACKER. + + +Half an hour afterward--quick time for Buenas Tierras--Señor +Urique's ancient landau drove to the consul's door, with the +barefooted coachman beating and shouting at the team of fat, awkward +horses. + +A tall man with a white moustache alighted, and assisted to the +ground a lady who was dressed and veiled in unrelieved black. + +The two hastened inside, and were met by Thacker with his best +diplomatic bow. By his desk stood a slender young man with +clear-cut, sun-browned features and smoothly brushed black hair. + +Señora Urique threw back her black veil with a quick gesture. She +was past middle age, and her hair was beginning to silver, but her +full, proud figure and clear olive skin retained traces of the +beauty peculiar to the Basque province. But, once you had seen her +eyes, and comprehended the great sadness that was revealed in their +deep shadows and hopeless expression, you saw that the woman lived +only in some memory. + +She bent upon the young man a long look of the most agonized +questioning. Then her great black eyes turned, and her gaze rested +upon his left hand. And then with a sob, not loud, but seeming to +shake the room, she cried "_Hijo mio!_" and caught the Llano Kid to +her heart. + +A month afterward the Kid came to the consulate in response to a +message sent by Thacker. + +He looked the young Spanish _caballero_. His clothes were imported, +and the wiles of the jewellers had not been spent upon him in vain. +A more than respectable diamond shone on his finger as he rolled a +shuck cigarette. + +"What's doing?" asked Thacker. + +"Nothing much," said the Kid calmly. "I eat my first iguana steak +to-day. They're them big lizards, you _sabe_? I reckon, though, that +frijoles and side bacon would do me about as well. Do you care for +iguanas, Thacker?" + +"No, nor for some other kinds of reptiles," said Thacker. + +It was three in the afternoon, and in another hour he would be in +his state of beatitude. + +"It's time you were making good, sonny," he went on, with an ugly +look on his reddened face. "You're not playing up to me square. +You've been the prodigal son for four weeks now, and you could have +had veal for every meal on a gold dish if you'd wanted it. Now, Mr. +Kid, do you think it's right to leave me out so long on a husk diet? +What's the trouble? Don't you get your filial eyes on anything +that looks like cash in the Casa Blanca? Don't tell me you don't. +Everybody knows where old Urique keeps his stuff. It's U.S. +currency, too; he don't accept anything else. What's doing? Don't +say 'nothing' this time." + +"Why, sure," said the Kid, admiring his diamond, "there's plenty of +money up there. I'm no judge of collateral in bunches, but I will +undertake for to say that I've seen the rise of $50,000 at a time in +that tin grub box that my adopted father calls his safe. And he lets +me carry the key sometimes just to show me that he knows I'm the +real little Francisco that strayed from the herd a long time ago." + +"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Thacker, angrily. "Don't you +forget that I can upset your apple-cart any day I want to. If old +Urique knew you were an imposter, what sort of things would happen +to you? Oh, you don't know this country, Mr. Texas Kid. The laws +here have got mustard spread between 'em. These people here'd +stretch you out like a frog that had been stepped on, and give you +about fifty sticks at every corner of the plaza. And they'd wear +every stick out, too. What was left of you they'd feed to +alligators." + +"I might just as well tell you now, pardner," said the Kid, sliding +down low on his steamer chair, "that things are going to stay just +as they are. They're about right now." + +"What do you mean?" asked Thacker, rattling the bottom of his glass +on his desk. + +"The scheme's off," said the Kid. "And whenever you have the +pleasure of speaking to me address me as Don Francisco Urique. I'll +guarantee I'll answer to it. We'll let Colonel Urique keep his +money. His little tin safe is as good as the time-locker in the +First National Bank of Laredo as far as you and me are concerned." + +"You're going to throw me down, then, are you?" said the consul. + +"Sure," said the Kid cheerfully. "Throw you down. That's it. And now +I'll tell you why. The first night I was up at the colonel's house +they introduced me to a bedroom. No blankets on the floor--a real +room, with a bed and things in it. And before I was asleep, in comes +this artificial mother of mine and tucks in the covers. 'Panchito,' +she says, 'my little lost one, God has brought you back to me. I +bless His name forever.' It was that, or some truck like that, she +said. And down comes a drop or two of rain and hits me on the nose. +And all that stuck by me, Mr. Thacker. And it's been that way ever +since. And it's got to stay that way. Don't you think that it's for +what's in it for me, either, that I say so. If you have any such +ideas, keep 'em to yourself. I haven't had much truck with women in +my life, and no mothers to speak of, but here's a lady that we've +got to keep fooled. Once she stood it; twice she won't. I'm a +low-down wolf, and the devil may have sent me on this trail instead +of God, but I'll travel it to the end. And now, don't forget that +I'm Don Francisco Urique whenever you happen to mention my name." + +"I'll expose you to-day, you--you double-dyed traitor," stammered +Thacker. + +The Kid arose and, without violence, took Thacker by the throat with +a hand of steel, and shoved him slowly into a corner. Then he drew +from under his left arm his pearl-handled .45 and poked the cold +muzzle of it against the consul's mouth. + +"I told you why I come here," he said, with his old freezing smile. +"If I leave here, you'll be the reason. Never forget it, pardner. +Now, what is my name?" + +"Er--Don Francisco Urique," gasped Thacker. + +From outside came a sound of wheels, and the shouting of some one, +and the sharp thwacks of a wooden whipstock upon the backs of fat +horses. + +The Kid put up his gun, and walked toward the door. But he turned +again and came back to the trembling Thacker, and held up his left +hand with its back toward the consul. + +"There's one more reason," he said slowly, "why things have got to +stand as they are. The fellow I killed in Laredo had one of them +same pictures on his left hand." + +Outside, the ancient landau of Don Santos Urique rattled to the +door. The coachman ceased his bellowing. Señora Urique, in a +voluminous gay gown of white lace and flying ribbons, leaned forward +with a happy look in her great soft eyes. + +"Are you within, dear son?" she called, in the rippling Castilian. + +"_Madre mia, yo vengo_ [mother, I come]," answered the young Don +Francisco Urique. + + + + +IX + +THE PASSING OF BLACK EAGLE + + +For some months of a certain year a grim bandit infested the Texas +border along the Rio Grande. Peculiarly striking to the optic nerve +was this notorious marauder. His personality secured him the title +of "Black Eagle, the Terror of the Border." Many fearsome tales are +on record concerning the doings of him and his followers. Suddenly, +in the space of a single minute, Black Eagle vanished from earth. +He was never heard of again. His own band never even guessed the +mystery of his disappearance. The border ranches and settlements +feared he would come again to ride and ravage the mesquite flats. +He never will. It is to disclose the fate of Black Eagle that this +narrative is written. + +The initial movement of the story is furnished by the foot of a +bartender in St. Louis. His discerning eye fell upon the form +of Chicken Ruggles as he pecked with avidity at the free lunch. +Chicken was a "hobo." He had a long nose like the bill of a fowl, +an inordinate appetite for poultry, and a habit of gratifying it +without expense, which accounts for the name given him by his fellow +vagrants. + +Physicians agree that the partaking of liquids at meal times is +not a healthy practice. The hygiene of the saloon promulgates the +opposite. Chicken had neglected to purchase a drink to accompany +his meal. The bartender rounded the counter, caught the injudicious +diner by the ear with a lemon squeezer, led him to the door and +kicked him into the street. + +Thus the mind of Chicken was brought to realize the signs of +coming winter. The night was cold; the stars shone with unkindly +brilliancy; people were hurrying along the streets in two egotistic, +jostling streams. Men had donned their overcoats, and Chicken knew +to an exact percentage the increased difficulty of coaxing dimes +from those buttoned-in vest pockets. The time had come for his +annual exodus to the south. + +A little boy, five or six years old, stood looking with covetous +eyes in a confectioner's window. In one small hand he held an empty +two-ounce vial; in the other he grasped tightly something flat and +round, with a shining milled edge. The scene presented a field of +operations commensurate to Chicken's talents and daring. After +sweeping the horizon to make sure that no official tug was cruising +near, he insidiously accosted his prey. The boy, having been early +taught by his household to regard altruistic advances with extreme +suspicion, received the overtures coldly. + +Then Chicken knew that he must make one of those desperate, +nerve-shattering plunges into speculation that fortune sometimes +requires of those who would win her favour. Five cents was his +capital, and this he must risk against the chance of winning what +lay within the close grasp of the youngster's chubby hand. It was +a fearful lottery, Chicken knew. But he must accomplish his end by +strategy, since he had a wholesome terror of plundering infants +by force. Once, in a park, driven by hunger, he had committed +an onslaught upon a bottle of peptonized infant's food in the +possession of an occupant of a baby carriage. The outraged infant +had so promptly opened its mouth and pressed the button that +communicated with the welkin that help arrived, and Chicken did his +thirty days in a snug coop. Wherefore he was, as he said, "leary of +kids." + +Beginning artfully to question the boy concerning his choice of +sweets, he gradually drew out the information he wanted. Mamma said +he was to ask the drug store man for ten cents' worth of paregoric +in the bottle; he was to keep his hand shut tight over the dollar; +he must not stop to talk to anyone in the street; he must ask the +drug-store man to wrap up the change and put it in the pocket of +his trousers. Indeed, they had pockets--two of them! And he liked +chocolate creams best. + +Chicken went into the store and turned plunger. He invested his +entire capital in C.A.N.D.Y. stocks, simply to pave the way to the +greater risk following. + +He gave the sweets to the youngster, and had the satisfaction of +perceiving that confidence was established. After that it was easy +to obtain leadership of the expedition; to take the investment by +the hand and lead it to a nice drug store he knew of in the same +block. There Chicken, with a parental air, passed over the dollar +and called for the medicine, while the boy crunched his candy, glad +to be relieved of the responsibility of the purchase. And then +the successful investor, searching his pockets, found an overcoat +button--the extent of his winter trousseau--and, wrapping it +carefully, placed the ostensible change in the pocket of confiding +juvenility. Setting the youngster's face homeward, and patting him +benevolently on the back--for Chicken's heart was as soft as those +of his feathered namesakes--the speculator quit the market with a +profit of 1,700 per cent. on his invested capital. + +Two hours later an Iron Mountain freight engine pulled out of the +railroad yards, Texas bound, with a string of empties. In one of the +cattle cars, half buried in excelsior, Chicken lay at ease. Beside +him in his nest was a quart bottle of very poor whisky and a paper +bag of bread and cheese. Mr. Ruggles, in his private car, was on his +trip south for the winter season. + +For a week that car was trundled southward, shifted, laid over, and +manipulated after the manner of rolling stock, but Chicken stuck +to it, leaving it only at necessary times to satisfy his hunger +and thirst. He knew it must go down to the cattle country, and +San Antonio, in the heart of it, was his goal. There the air was +salubrious and mild; the people indulgent and long-suffering. The +bartenders there would not kick him. If he should eat too long or +too often at one place they would swear at him as if by rote and +without heat. They swore so drawlingly, and they rarely paused short +of their full vocabulary, which was copious, so that Chicken had +often gulped a good meal during the process of the vituperative +prohibition. The season there was always spring-like; the plazas +were pleasant at night, with music and gaiety; except during the +slight and infrequent cold snaps one could sleep comfortably out of +doors in case the interiors should develop inhospitability. + +At Texarkana his car was switched to the I. and G. N. Then still +southward it trailed until, at length, it crawled across the +Colorado bridge at Austin, and lined out, straight as an arrow, for +the run to San Antonio. + +When the freight halted at that town Chicken was fast asleep. In ten +minutes the train was off again for Laredo, the end of the road. +Those empty cattle cars were for distribution along the line at +points from which the ranches shipped their stock. + +When Chicken awoke his car was stationary. Looking out between the +slats he saw it was a bright, moonlit night. Scrambling out, he saw +his car with three others abandoned on a little siding in a wild +and lonesome country. A cattle pen and chute stood on one side of +the track. The railroad bisected a vast, dim ocean of prairie, in +the midst of which Chicken, with his futile rolling stock, was as +completely stranded as was Robinson with his land-locked boat. + +A white post stood near the rails. Going up to it, Chicken read the +letters at the top, S. A. 90. Laredo was nearly as far to the south. +He was almost a hundred miles from any town. Coyotes began to yelp +in the mysterious sea around him. Chicken felt lonesome. He had +lived in Boston without an education, in Chicago without nerve, in +Philadelphia without a sleeping place, in New York without a pull, +and in Pittsburg sober, and yet he had never felt so lonely as now. + +Suddenly through the intense silence, he heard the whicker of a +horse. The sound came from the side of the track toward the east, +and Chicken began to explore timorously in that direction. He +stepped high along the mat of curly mesquit grass, for he was afraid +of everything there might be in this wilderness--snakes, rats, +brigands, centipedes, mirages, cowboys, fandangoes, tarantulas, +tamales--he had read of them in the story papers. Rounding a clump +of prickly pear that reared high its fantastic and menacing array of +rounded heads, he was struck to shivering terror by a snort and a +thunderous plunge, as the horse, himself startled, bounded away some +fifty yards, and then resumed his grazing. But here was the one +thing in the desert that Chicken did not fear. He had been reared on +a farm; he had handled horses, understood them, and could ride. + +Approaching slowly and speaking soothingly, he followed the animal, +which, after its first flight, seemed gentle enough, and secured the +end of the twenty-foot lariat that dragged after him in the grass. +It required him but a few moments to contrive the rope into an +ingenious nose-bridle, after the style of the Mexican _borsal_. In +another he was upon the horse's back and off at a splendid lope, +giving the animal free choice of direction. "He will take me +somewhere," said Chicken to himself. + +It would have been a thing of joy, that untrammelled gallop over the +moonlit prairie, even to Chicken, who loathed exertion, but that his +mood was not for it. His head ached; a growing thirst was upon him; +the "somewhere" whither his lucky mount might convey him was full of +dismal peradventure. + +And now he noted that the horse moved to a definite goal. Where the +prairie lay smooth he kept his course straight as an arrow's toward +the east. Deflected by hill or arroyo or impractical spinous brakes, +he quickly flowed again into the current, charted by his unerring +instinct. At last, upon the side of a gentle rise, he suddenly +subsided to a complacent walk. A stone's cast away stood a little +mott of coma trees; beneath it a _jacal_ such as the Mexicans +erect--a one-room house of upright poles daubed with clay and roofed +with grass or tule reeds. An experienced eye would have estimated +the spot as the headquarters of a small sheep ranch. In the +moonlight the ground in the nearby corral showed pulverized to +a level smoothness by the hoofs of the sheep. Everywhere was +carelessly distributed the paraphernalia of the place--ropes, +bridles, saddles, sheep pelts, wool sacks, feed troughs, and camp +litter. The barrel of drinking water stood in the end of the +two-horse wagon near the door. The harness was piled, promiscuous, +upon the wagon tongue, soaking up the dew. + +Chicken slipped to earth, and tied the horse to a tree. He halloed +again and again, but the house remained quiet. The door stood open, +and he entered cautiously. The light was sufficient for him to see +that no one was at home. The room was that of a bachelor ranchman +who was content with the necessaries of life. Chicken rummaged +intelligently until he found what he had hardly dared hope for--a +small, brown jug that still contained something near a quart of his +desire. + +Half an hour later, Chicken--now a gamecock of hostile +aspect--emerged from the house with unsteady steps. He had drawn +upon the absent ranchman's equipment to replace his own ragged +attire. He wore a suit of coarse brown ducking, the coat being a +sort of rakish bolero, jaunty to a degree. Boots he had donned, and +spurs that whirred with every lurching step. Buckled around him was +a belt full of cartridges with a big six-shooter in each of its two +holsters. + +Prowling about, he found blankets, a saddle and bridle with which he +caparisoned his steed. Again mounting, he rode swiftly away, singing +a loud and tuneless song. + + + +Bud King's band of desperadoes, outlaws and horse and cattle thieves +were in camp at a secluded spot on the bank of the Frio. Their +depredations in the Rio Grande country, while no bolder than usual, +had been advertised more extensively, and Captain Kinney's company +of rangers had been ordered down to look after them. Consequently, +Bud King, who was a wise general, instead of cutting out a hot trail +for the upholders of the law, as his men wished to do, retired for +the time to the prickly fastnesses of the Frio valley. + +Though the move was a prudent one, and not incompatible with Bud's +well-known courage, it raised dissension among the members of the +band. In fact, while they thus lay ingloriously _perdu_ in the +brush, the question of Bud King's fitness for the leadership was +argued, with closed doors, as it were, by his followers. Never +before had Bud's skill or efficiency been brought to criticism; but +his glory was waning (and such is glory's fate) in the light of a +newer star. The sentiment of the band was crystallizing into the +opinion that Black Eagle could lead them with more lustre, profit, +and distinction. + +This Black Eagle--sub-titled the "Terror of the Border"--had been a +member of the gang about three months. + +One night while they were in camp on the San Miguel water-hole a +solitary horseman on the regulation fiery steed dashed in among +them. The newcomer was of a portentous and devastating aspect. A +beak-like nose with a predatory curve projected above a mass of +bristling, blue-black whiskers. His eye was cavernous and fierce. +He was spurred, sombreroed, booted, garnished with revolvers, +abundantly drunk, and very much unafraid. Few people in the country +drained by the Rio Bravo would have cared thus to invade alone the +camp of Bud King. But this fell bird swooped fearlessly upon them +and demanded to be fed. + +Hospitality in the prairie country is not limited. Even if your +enemy pass your way you must feed him before you shoot him. You +must empty your larder into him before you empty your lead. So the +stranger of undeclared intentions was set down to a mighty feast. + +A talkative bird he was, full of most marvellous loud tales and +exploits, and speaking a language at times obscure but never +colourless. He was a new sensation to Bud King's men, who rarely +encountered new types. They hung, delighted, upon his vainglorious +boasting, the spicy strangeness of his lingo, his contemptuous +familiarity with life, the world, and remote places, and the +extravagant frankness with which he conveyed his sentiments. + +To their guest the band of outlaws seemed to be nothing more than a +congregation of country bumpkins whom he was "stringing for grub" +just as he would have told his stories at the back door of a +farmhouse to wheedle a meal. And, indeed, his ignorance was not +without excuse, for the "bad man" of the Southwest does not run to +extremes. Those brigands might justly have been taken for a little +party of peaceable rustics assembled for a fish-fry or pecan +gathering. Gentle of manner, slouching of gait, soft-voiced, +unpicturesquely clothed; not one of them presented to the eye any +witness of the desperate records they had earned. + +For two days the glittering stranger within the camp was feasted. +Then, by common consent, he was invited to become a member of the +band. He consented, presenting for enrollment the prodigious name +of "Captain Montressor." This name was immediately overruled by the +band, and "Piggy" substituted as a compliment to the awful and +insatiate appetite of its owner. + +Thus did the Texas border receive the most spectacular brigand that +ever rode its chaparral. + +For the next three months Bud King conducted business as usual, +escaping encounters with law officers and being content with +reasonable profits. The band ran off some very good companies of +horses from the ranges, and a few bunches of fine cattle which they +got safely across the Rio Grande and disposed of to fair advantage. +Often the band would ride into the little villages and Mexican +settlements, terrorizing the inhabitants and plundering for the +provisions and ammunition they needed. It was during these bloodless +raids that Piggy's ferocious aspect and frightful voice gained him a +renown more widespread and glorious than those other gentle-voiced +and sad-faced desperadoes could have acquired in a lifetime. + +The Mexicans, most apt in nomenclature, first called him The Black +Eagle, and used to frighten the babes by threatening them with tales +of the dreadful robber who carried off little children in his great +beak. Soon the name extended, and Black Eagle, the Terror of the +Border, became a recognized factor in exaggerated newspaper reports +and ranch gossip. + +The country from the Nueces to the Rio Grande was a wild but fertile +stretch, given over to the sheep and cattle ranches. Range was free; +the inhabitants were few; the law was mainly a letter, and the +pirates met with little opposition until the flaunting and garish +Piggy gave the band undue advertisement. Then Kinney's ranger +company headed for those precincts, and Bud King knew that it meant +grim and sudden war or else temporary retirement. Regarding the risk +to be unnecessary, he drew off his band to an almost inaccessible +spot on the bank of the Frio. Wherefore, as has been said, +dissatisfaction arose among the members, and impeachment proceedings +against Bud were premeditated, with Black Eagle in high favour for +the succession. Bud King was not unaware of the sentiment, and he +called aside Cactus Taylor, his trusted lieutenant, to discuss it. + +"If the boys," said Bud, "ain't satisfied with me, I'm willing +to step out. They're buckin' against my way of handlin' 'em. And +'specially because I concludes to hit the brush while Sam Kinney is +ridin' the line. I saves 'em from bein' shot or sent up on a state +contract, and they up and says I'm no good." + +"It ain't so much that," explained Cactus, "as it is they're plum +locoed about Piggy. They want them whiskers and that nose of his to +split the wind at the head of the column." + +"There's somethin' mighty seldom about Piggy," declared Bud, +musingly. "I never yet see anything on the hoof that he exactly +grades up with. He can shore holler a plenty, and he straddles a +hoss from where you laid the chunk. But he ain't never been smoked +yet. You know, Cactus, we ain't had a row since he's been with us. +Piggy's all right for skearin' the greaser kids and layin' waste a +cross-roads store. I reckon he's the finest canned oyster buccaneer +and cheese pirate that ever was, but how's his appetite for +fightin'? I've knowed some citizens you'd think was starvin' for +trouble get a bad case of dyspepsy the first dose of lead they had +to take." + +"He talks all spraddled out," said Cactus, "'bout the rookuses he's +been in. He claims to have saw the elephant and hearn the owl." + +"I know," replied Bud, using the cowpuncher's expressive phrase of +skepticism, "but it sounds to me!" + +This conversation was held one night in camp while the other members +of the band--eight in number--were sprawling around the fire, +lingering over their supper. When Bud and Cactus ceased talking they +heard Piggy's formidable voice holding forth to the others as usual +while he was engaged in checking, though never satisfying, his +ravening appetite. + +"Wat's de use," he was saying, "of chasin' little red cowses and +hosses 'round for t'ousands of miles? Dere ain't nuttin' in it. +Gallopin' t'rough dese bushes and briers, and gettin' a t'irst dat a +brewery couldn't put out, and missin' meals! Say! You know what I'd +do if I was main finger of dis bunch? I'd stick up a train. I'd blow +de express car and make hard dollars where you guys get wind. Youse +makes me tired. Dis sook-cow kind of cheap sport gives me a pain." + +Later on, a deputation waited on Bud. They stood on one leg, +chewed mesquit twigs and circumlocuted, for they hated to hurt his +feelings. Bud foresaw their business, and made it easy for them. +Bigger risks and larger profits was what they wanted. + +The suggestion of Piggy's about holding up a train had fired their +imagination and increased their admiration for the dash and boldness +of the instigator. They were such simple, artless, and custom-bound +bush-rangers that they had never before thought of extending their +habits beyond the running off of live-stock and the shooting of such +of their acquaintances as ventured to interfere. + +Bud acted "on the level," agreeing to take a subordinate place in +the gang until Black Eagle should have been given a trial as leader. + +After a great deal of consultation, studying of time-tables, and +discussion of the country's topography, the time and place for +carrying out their new enterprise was decided upon. At that +time there was a feedstuff famine in Mexico and a cattle famine +in certain parts of the United States, and there was a brisk +international trade. Much money was being shipped along the +railroads that connected the two republics. It was agreed that the +most promising place for the contemplated robbery was at Espina, +a little station on the I. and G. N., about forty miles north of +Laredo. The train stopped there one minute; the country around was +wild and unsettled; the station consisted of but one house in which +the agent lived. + +Black Eagle's band set out, riding by night. Arriving in the +vicinity of Espina they rested their horses all day in a thicket a +few miles distant. + +The train was due at Espina at 10.30 P.M. They could rob the train +and be well over the Mexican border with their booty by daylight the +next morning. + +To do Black Eagle justice, he exhibited no signs of flinching from +the responsible honours that had been conferred upon him. + +He assigned his men to their respective posts with discretion, and +coached them carefully as to their duties. On each side of the track +four of the band were to lie concealed in the chaparral. Gotch-Ear +Rodgers was to stick up the station agent. Bronco Charlie was to +remain with the horses, holding them in readiness. At a spot where +it was calculated the engine would be when the train stopped, Bud +King was to lie hidden on one side, and Black Eagle himself on the +other. The two would get the drop on the engineer and fireman, force +them to descend and proceed to the rear. Then the express car would +be looted, and the escape made. No one was to move until Black Eagle +gave the signal by firing his revolver. The plan was perfect. + +At ten minutes to train time every man was at his post, effectually +concealed by the thick chaparral that grew almost to the rails. +The night was dark and lowering, with a fine drizzle falling from +the flying gulf clouds. Black Eagle crouched behind a bush within +five yards of the track. Two six-shooters were belted around him. +Occasionally he drew a large black bottle from his pocket and raised +it to his mouth. + +A star appeared far down the track which soon waxed into the +headlight of the approaching train. It came on with an increasing +roar; the engine bore down upon the ambushing desperadoes with a +glare and a shriek like some avenging monster come to deliver them +to justice. Black Eagle flattened himself upon the ground. The +engine, contrary to their calculations, instead of stopping between +him and Bud King's place of concealment, passed fully forty yards +farther before it came to a stand. + +The bandit leader rose to his feet and peered through the bush. His +men all lay quiet, awaiting the signal. Immediately opposite Black +Eagle was a thing that drew his attention. Instead of being a +regular passenger train it was a mixed one. Before him stood a box +car, the door of which, by some means, had been left slightly open. +Black Eagle went up to it and pushed the door farther open. An odour +came forth--a damp, rancid, familiar, musty, intoxicating, beloved +odour stirring strongly at old memories of happy days and travels. +Black Eagle sniffed at the witching smell as the returned wanderer +smells of the rose that twines his boyhood's cottage home. Nostalgia +seized him. He put his hand inside. Excelsior--dry, springy, curly, +soft, enticing, covered the floor. Outside the drizzle had turned to +a chilling rain. + +The train bell clanged. The bandit chief unbuckled his belt and cast +it, with its revolvers, upon the ground. His spurs followed quickly, +and his broad sombrero. Black Eagle was moulting. The train started +with a rattling jerk. The ex-Terror of the Border scrambled into +the box car and closed the door. Stretched luxuriously upon the +excelsior, with the black bottle clasped closely to his breast, his +eyes closed, and a foolish, happy smile upon his terrible features +Chicken Ruggles started upon his return trip. + +Undisturbed, with the band of desperate bandits lying motionless, +awaiting the signal to attack, the train pulled out from Espina. As +its speed increased, and the black masses of chaparral went whizzing +past on either side, the express messenger, lighting his pipe, +looked through his window and remarked, feelingly: + +"What a jim-dandy place for a hold-up!" + + + + +X + +A RETRIEVED REFORMATION + + +A guard came to the prison shoe-shop, where Jimmy Valentine was +assiduously stitching uppers, and escorted him to the front office. +There the warden handed Jimmy his pardon, which had been signed +that morning by the governor. Jimmy took it in a tired kind of way. +He had served nearly ten months of a four year sentence. He had +expected to stay only about three months, at the longest. When a +man with as many friends on the outside as Jimmy Valentine had is +received in the "stir" it is hardly worth while to cut his hair. + +"Now, Valentine," said the warden, "you'll go out in the morning. +Brace up, and make a man of yourself. You're not a bad fellow at +heart. Stop cracking safes, and live straight." + +"Me?" said Jimmy, in surprise. "Why, I never cracked a safe in my +life." + +"Oh, no," laughed the warden. "Of course not. Let's see, now. How +was it you happened to get sent up on that Springfield job? Was +it because you wouldn't prove an alibi for fear of compromising +somebody in extremely high-toned society? Or was it simply a case of +a mean old jury that had it in for you? It's always one or the other +with you innocent victims." + +"Me?" said Jimmy, still blankly virtuous. "Why, warden, I never was +in Springfield in my life!" + +"Take him back, Cronin!" said the warden, "and fix him up with +outgoing clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning, and let him +come to the bull-pen. Better think over my advice, Valentine." + +At a quarter past seven on the next morning Jimmy stood in the +warden's outer office. He had on a suit of the villainously fitting, +ready-made clothes and a pair of the stiff, squeaky shoes that the +state furnishes to its discharged compulsory guests. + +The clerk handed him a railroad ticket and the five-dollar bill +with which the law expected him to rehabilitate himself into good +citizenship and prosperity. The warden gave him a cigar, and shook +hands. Valentine, 9762, was chronicled on the books, "Pardoned by +Governor," and Mr. James Valentine walked out into the sunshine. + +Disregarding the song of the birds, the waving green trees, and +the smell of the flowers, Jimmy headed straight for a restaurant. +There he tasted the first sweet joys of liberty in the shape of a +broiled chicken and a bottle of white wine--followed by a cigar a +grade better than the one the warden had given him. From there he +proceeded leisurely to the depot. He tossed a quarter into the hat +of a blind man sitting by the door, and boarded his train. Three +hours set him down in a little town near the state line. He went to +the café of one Mike Dolan and shook hands with Mike, who was alone +behind the bar. + +"Sorry we couldn't make it sooner, Jimmy, me boy," said Mike. "But +we had that protest from Springfield to buck against, and the +governor nearly balked. Feeling all right?" + +"Fine," said Jimmy. "Got my key?" + +He got his key and went upstairs, unlocking the door of a room at +the rear. Everything was just as he had left it. There on the floor +was still Ben Price's collar-button that had been torn from that +eminent detective's shirt-band when they had overpowered Jimmy to +arrest him. + +Pulling out from the wall a folding-bed, Jimmy slid back a panel in +the wall and dragged out a dust-covered suit-case. He opened this +and gazed fondly at the finest set of burglar's tools in the East. +It was a complete set, made of specially tempered steel, the latest +designs in drills, punches, braces and bits, jimmies, clamps, and +augers, with two or three novelties, invented by Jimmy himself, in +which he took pride. Over nine hundred dollars they had cost him +to have made at ----, a place where they make such things for the +profession. + +In half an hour Jimmy went down stairs and through the café. He was +now dressed in tasteful and well-fitting clothes, and carried his +dusted and cleaned suit-case in his hand. + +"Got anything on?" asked Mike Dolan, genially. + +"Me?" said Jimmy, in a puzzled tone. "I don't understand. I'm +representing the New York Amalgamated Short Snap Biscuit Cracker and +Frazzled Wheat Company." + +This statement delighted Mike to such an extent that Jimmy had to +take a seltzer-and-milk on the spot. He never touched "hard" drinks. + +A week after the release of Valentine, 9762, there was a neat job of +safe-burglary done in Richmond, Indiana, with no clue to the author. +A scant eight hundred dollars was all that was secured. Two weeks +after that a patented, improved, burglar-proof safe in Logansport +was opened like a cheese to the tune of fifteen hundred dollars, +currency; securities and silver untouched. That began to interest +the rogue-catchers. Then an old-fashioned bank-safe in Jefferson +City became active and threw out of its crater an eruption of +bank-notes amounting to five thousand dollars. The losses were now +high enough to bring the matter up into Ben Price's class of work. +By comparing notes, a remarkable similarity in the methods of the +burglaries was noticed. Ben Price investigated the scenes of the +robberies, and was heard to remark: + +"That's Dandy Jim Valentine's autograph. He's resumed business. Look +at that combination knob--jerked out as easy as pulling up a radish +in wet weather. He's got the only clamps that can do it. And look +how clean those tumblers were punched out! Jimmy never has to drill +but one hole. Yes, I guess I want Mr. Valentine. He'll do his bit +next time without any short-time or clemency foolishness." + +Ben Price knew Jimmy's habits. He had learned them while working up +the Springfield case. Long jumps, quick get-aways, no confederates, +and a taste for good society--these ways had helped Mr. Valentine to +become noted as a successful dodger of retribution. It was given out +that Ben Price had taken up the trail of the elusive cracksman, and +other people with burglar-proof safes felt more at ease. + +One afternoon Jimmy Valentine and his suit-case climbed out of the +mail-hack in Elmore, a little town five miles off the railroad +down in the black-jack country of Arkansas. Jimmy, looking like an +athletic young senior just home from college, went down the board +side-walk toward the hotel. + +A young lady crossed the street, passed him at the corner and +entered a door over which was the sign, "The Elmore Bank." Jimmy +Valentine looked into her eyes, forgot what he was, and became +another man. She lowered her eyes and coloured slightly. Young men +of Jimmy's style and looks were scarce in Elmore. + +Jimmy collared a boy that was loafing on the steps of the bank as +if he were one of the stockholders, and began to ask him questions +about the town, feeding him dimes at intervals. By and by the young +lady came out, looking royally unconscious of the young man with the +suit-case, and went her way. + +"Isn't that young lady Polly Simpson?" asked Jimmy, with specious +guile. + +"Naw," said the boy. "She's Annabel Adams. Her pa owns this bank. +What'd you come to Elmore for? Is that a gold watch-chain? I'm going +to get a bulldog. Got any more dimes?" + +Jimmy went to the Planters' Hotel, registered as Ralph D. Spencer, +and engaged a room. He leaned on the desk and declared his platform +to the clerk. He said he had come to Elmore to look for a location +to go into business. How was the shoe business, now, in the town? He +had thought of the shoe business. Was there an opening? + +The clerk was impressed by the clothes and manner of Jimmy. He, +himself, was something of a pattern of fashion to the thinly gilded +youth of Elmore, but he now perceived his shortcomings. While trying +to figure out Jimmy's manner of tying his four-in-hand he cordially +gave information. + +Yes, there ought to be a good opening in the shoe line. There wasn't +an exclusive shoe-store in the place. The dry-goods and general +stores handled them. Business in all lines was fairly good. Hoped +Mr. Spencer would decide to locate in Elmore. He would find it a +pleasant town to live in, and the people very sociable. + +Mr. Spencer thought he would stop over in the town a few days and +look over the situation. No, the clerk needn't call the boy. He +would carry up his suit-case, himself; it was rather heavy. + +Mr. Ralph Spencer, the phoenix that arose from Jimmy Valentine's +ashes--ashes left by the flame of a sudden and alterative attack of +love--remained in Elmore, and prospered. He opened a shoe-store and +secured a good run of trade. + +Socially he was also a success, and made many friends. And he +accomplished the wish of his heart. He met Miss Annabel Adams, and +became more and more captivated by her charms. + +At the end of a year the situation of Mr. Ralph Spencer was this: +he had won the respect of the community, his shoe-store was +flourishing, and he and Annabel were engaged to be married in two +weeks. Mr. Adams, the typical, plodding, country banker, approved of +Spencer. Annabel's pride in him almost equalled her affection. He +was as much at home in the family of Mr. Adams and that of Annabel's +married sister as if he were already a member. + +One day Jimmy sat down in his room and wrote this letter, which he +mailed to the safe address of one of his old friends in St. Louis: + + + DEAR OLD PAL: + + I want you to be at Sullivan's place, in Little Rock, next + Wednesday night, at nine o'clock. I want you to wind up + some little matters for me. And, also, I want to make you + a present of my kit of tools. I know you'll be glad to get + them--you couldn't duplicate the lot for a thousand dollars. + Say, Billy, I've quit the old business--a year ago. I've got + a nice store. I'm making an honest living, and I'm going + to marry the finest girl on earth two weeks from now. It's + the only life, Billy--the straight one. I wouldn't touch a + dollar of another man's money now for a million. After I get + married I'm going to sell out and go West, where there won't + be so much danger of having old scores brought up against + me. I tell you, Billy, she's an angel. She believes in me; + and I wouldn't do another crooked thing for the whole world. + Be sure to be at Sully's, for I must see you. I'll bring + along the tools with me. + + Your old friend, + + JIMMY. + + +On the Monday night after Jimmy wrote this letter, Ben Price jogged +unobtrusively into Elmore in a livery buggy. He lounged about town +in his quiet way until he found out what he wanted to know. From the +drug-store across the street from Spencer's shoe-store he got a good +look at Ralph D. Spencer. + +"Going to marry the banker's daughter are you, Jimmy?" said Ben to +himself, softly. "Well, I don't know!" + +The next morning Jimmy took breakfast at the Adamses. He was going +to Little Rock that day to order his wedding-suit and buy something +nice for Annabel. That would be the first time he had left town +since he came to Elmore. It had been more than a year now since +those last professional "jobs," and he thought he could safely +venture out. + +After breakfast quite a family party went downtown together--Mr. +Adams, Annabel, Jimmy, and Annabel's married sister with her two +little girls, aged five and nine. They came by the hotel where Jimmy +still boarded, and he ran up to his room and brought along his +suit-case. Then they went on to the bank. There stood Jimmy's horse +and buggy and Dolph Gibson, who was going to drive him over to the +railroad station. + +All went inside the high, carved oak railings into the +banking-room--Jimmy included, for Mr. Adams's future son-in-law +was welcome anywhere. The clerks were pleased to be greeted by +the good-looking, agreeable young man who was going to marry Miss +Annabel. Jimmy set his suit-case down. Annabel, whose heart was +bubbling with happiness and lively youth, put on Jimmy's hat, and +picked up the suit-case. "Wouldn't I make a nice drummer?" said +Annabel. "My! Ralph, how heavy it is? Feels like it was full of gold +bricks." + +"Lot of nickel-plated shoe-horns in there," said Jimmy, coolly, +"that I'm going to return. Thought I'd save express charges by +taking them up. I'm getting awfully economical." + +The Elmore Bank had just put in a new safe and vault. Mr. Adams was +very proud of it, and insisted on an inspection by every one. The +vault was a small one, but it had a new, patented door. It fastened +with three solid steel bolts thrown simultaneously with a single +handle, and had a time-lock. Mr. Adams beamingly explained its +workings to Mr. Spencer, who showed a courteous but not too +intelligent interest. The two children, May and Agatha, were +delighted by the shining metal and funny clock and knobs. + +While they were thus engaged Ben Price sauntered in and leaned on +his elbow, looking casually inside between the railings. He told the +teller that he didn't want anything; he was just waiting for a man +he knew. + +Suddenly there was a scream or two from the women, and a commotion. +Unperceived by the elders, May, the nine-year-old girl, in a spirit +of play, had shut Agatha in the vault. She had then shot the bolts +and turned the knob of the combination as she had seen Mr. Adams do. + +The old banker sprang to the handle and tugged at it for a moment. +"The door can't be opened," he groaned. "The clock hasn't been wound +nor the combination set." + +Agatha's mother screamed again, hysterically. + +"Hush!" said Mr. Adams, raising his trembling hand. "All be quite +for a moment. Agatha!" he called as loudly as he could. "Listen to +me." During the following silence they could just hear the faint +sound of the child wildly shrieking in the dark vault in a panic of +terror. + +"My precious darling!" wailed the mother. "She will die of fright! +Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can't you men do something?" + +"There isn't a man nearer than Little Rock who can open that door," +said Mr. Adams, in a shaky voice. "My God! Spencer, what shall we +do? That child--she can't stand it long in there. There isn't enough +air, and, besides, she'll go into convulsions from fright." + +Agatha's mother, frantic now, beat the door of the vault with her +hands. Somebody wildly suggested dynamite. Annabel turned to Jimmy, +her large eyes full of anguish, but not yet despairing. To a +woman nothing seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she +worships. + +"Can't you do something, Ralph--_try_, won't you?" + +He looked at her with a queer, soft smile on his lips and in his +keen eyes. + +"Annabel," he said, "give me that rose you are wearing, will you?" + +Hardly believing that she heard him aright, she unpinned the bud +from the bosom of her dress, and placed it in his hand. Jimmy +stuffed it into his vest-pocket, threw off his coat and pulled up +his shirt-sleeves. With that act Ralph D. Spencer passed away and +Jimmy Valentine took his place. + +"Get away from the door, all of you," he commanded, shortly. + +He set his suit-case on the table, and opened it out flat. From that +time on he seemed to be unconscious of the presence of any one else. +He laid out the shining, queer implements swiftly and orderly, +whistling softly to himself as he always did when at work. In a deep +silence and immovable, the others watched him as if under a spell. + +In a minute Jimmy's pet drill was biting smoothly into the steel +door. In ten minutes--breaking his own burglarious record--he threw +back the bolts and opened the door. + +Agatha, almost collapsed, but safe, was gathered into her mother's +arms. + +Jimmy Valentine put on his coat, and walked outside the railings +towards the front door. As he went he thought he heard a far-away +voice that he once knew call "Ralph!" But he never hesitated. + +At the door a big man stood somewhat in his way. + +"Hello, Ben!" said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. "Got around +at last, have you? Well, let's go. I don't know that it makes much +difference, now." + +And then Ben Price acted rather strangely. + +"Guess you're mistaken, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Don't believe I +recognize you. Your buggy's waiting for you, ain't it?" + +And Ben Price turned and strolled down the street. + + + + +XI + +CHERCHEZ LA FEMME + + +Robbins, reporter for the _Picayune_, and Dumars, of +_L'Abeille_--the old French newspaper that has buzzed for nearly a +century--were good friends, well proven by years of ups and downs +together. They were seated where they had a habit of meeting--in the +little, Creole-haunted café of Madame Tibault, in Dumaine Street. +If you know the place, you will experience a thrill of pleasure in +recalling it to mind. It is small and dark, with six little polished +tables, at which you may sit and drink the best coffee in New +Orleans, and concoctions of absinthe equal to Sazerac's best. Madame +Tibault, fat and indulgent, presides at the desk, and takes your +money. Nicolette and Mémé, madame's nieces, in charming bib aprons, +bring the desirable beverages. + +Dumars, with true Creole luxury, was sipping his absinthe, with +half-closed eyes, in a swirl of cigarette smoke. Robbins was looking +over the morning _Pic._, detecting, as young reporters will, the +gross blunders in the make-up, and the envious blue-pencilling his +own stuff had received. This item, in the advertising columns, +caught his eye, and with an exclamation of sudden interest he read +it aloud to his friend. + + + Public Auction.--At three o'clock this afternoon there will + be sold to the highest bidder all the common property of the + Little Sisters of Samaria, at the home of the Sisterhood, + in Bonhomme Street. The sale will dispose of the building, + ground, and the complete furnishings of the house and chapel, + without reserve. + + +This notice stirred the two friends to a reminiscent talk concerning +an episode in their journalistic career that had occurred about +two years before. They recalled the incidents, went over the old +theories, and discussed it anew from the different perspective time +had brought. + +There were no other customers in the café. Madame's fine ear had +caught the line of their talk, and she came over to their table--for +had it not been her lost money--her vanished twenty thousand +dollars--that had set the whole matter going? + +The three took up the long-abandoned mystery, threshing over the +old, dry chaff of it. It was in the chapel of this house of the +Little Sisters of Samaria that Robbins and Dumars had stood during +that eager, fruitless news search of theirs, and looked upon the +gilded statue of the Virgin. + +"Thass so, boys," said madame, summing up. "Thass ver' wicked man, +M'sieur Morin. Everybody shall be cert' he steal those money I +plaze in his hand for keep safe. Yes. He's boun' spend that money, +somehow." Madame turned a broad and contemplative smile upon Dumars. +"I ond'stand you, M'sieur Dumars, those day you come ask fo' tell +ev'ything I know 'bout M'sieur Morin. Ah! yes, I know most time +when those men lose money you say '_Cherchez la femme_'--there is +somewhere the woman. But not for M'sieur Morin. No, boys. Before he +shall die, he is like one saint. You might's well, M'sieur Dumars, +go try find those money in those statue of Virgin Mary that M'sieur +Morin present at those _p'tite soeurs_, as try find one _femme_." + +At Madame Tibault's last words, Robbins started slightly and cast a +keen, sidelong glance at Dumars. The Creole sat, unmoved, dreamily +watching the spirals of his cigarette smoke. + +It was then nine o'clock in the morning and, a few minutes later, +the two friends separated, going different ways to their day's +duties. And now follows the brief story of Madame Tibault's vanished +thousands: + + + +New Orleans will readily recall to mind the circumstances attendant +upon the death of Mr. Gaspard Morin, in that city. Mr. Morin was an +artistic goldsmith and jeweller in the old French Quarter, and a man +held in the highest esteem. He belonged to one of the oldest French +families, and was of some distinction as an antiquary and historian. +He was a bachelor, about fifty years of age. He lived in quiet +comfort, at one of those rare old hostelries in Royal Street. He was +found in his rooms, one morning, dead from unknown causes. + +When his affairs came to be looked into, it was found that he was +practically insolvent, his stock of goods and personal property +barely--but nearly enough to free him from censure--covering +his liabilities. Following came the disclosure that he had been +entrusted with the sum of twenty thousand dollars by a former upper +servant in the Morin family, one Madame Tibault, which she had +received as a legacy from relatives in France. + +The most searching scrutiny by friends and the legal authorities +failed to reveal the disposition of the money. It had vanished, and +left no trace. Some weeks before his death, Mr. Morin had drawn +the entire amount, in gold coin, from the bank where it had been +placed while he looked about (he told Madame Tibault) for a safe +investment. Therefore, Mr. Morin's memory seemed doomed to bear the +cloud of dishonesty, while madame was, of course, disconsolate. + +Then it was that Robbins and Dumars, representing their respective +journals, began one of those pertinacious private investigations +which, of late years, the press has adopted as a means to glory and +the satisfaction of public curiosity. + +"_Cherchez la femme_," said Dumars. + +"That's the ticket!" agreed Robbins. "All roads lead to the eternal +feminine. We will find the woman." + +They exhausted the knowledge of the staff of Mr. Morin's hotel, from +the bell-boy down to the proprietor. They gently, but inflexibly, +pumped the family of the deceased as far as his cousins twice +removed. They artfully sounded the employees of the late jeweller, +and dogged his customers for information concerning his habits. Like +bloodhounds they traced every step of the supposed defaulter, as +nearly as might be, for years along the limited and monotonous paths +he had trodden. + +At the end of their labours, Mr. Morin stood, an immaculate man. +Not one weakness that might be served up as a criminal tendency, +not one deviation from the path of rectitude, not even a hint of a +predilection for the opposite sex, was found to be placed in his +debit. His life had been as regular and austere as a monk's; his +habits, simple and unconcealed. Generous, charitable, and a model in +propriety, was the verdict of all who knew him. + +"What, now?" asked Robbins, fingering his empty notebook. + +"_Cherchez la femme_," said Dumars, lighting a cigarette. "Try Lady +Bellairs." + +This piece of femininity was the race-track favourite of the season. +Being feminine, she was erratic in her gaits, and there were a few +heavy losers about town who had believed she could be true. The +reporters applied for information. + +Mr. Morin? Certainly not. He was never even a spectator at the +races. Not that kind of a man. Surprised the gentlemen should ask. + +"Shall we throw it up?" suggested Robbins, "and let the puzzle +department have a try?" + +"_Cherchez la femme_," hummed Dumars, reaching for a match. "Try the +Little Sisters of What-d'-you-call-'em." + +It had developed, during the investigation, that Mr. Morin had held +this benevolent order in particular favour. He had contributed +liberally toward its support and had chosen its chapel as his +favourite place of private worship. It was said that he went there +daily to make his devotions at the altar. Indeed, toward the last of +his life his whole mind seemed to have fixed itself upon religious +matters, perhaps to the detriment of his worldly affairs. + +Thither went Robbins and Dumars, and were admitted through the +narrow doorway in the blank stone wall that frowned upon Bonhomme +Street. An old woman was sweeping the chapel. She told them that +Sister Félicité, the head of the order, was then at prayer at the +altar in the alcove. In a few moments she would emerge. Heavy, black +curtains screened the alcove. They waited. + +Soon the curtains were disturbed, and Sister Félicité came forth. +She was tall, tragic, bony, and plain-featured, dressed in the black +gown and severe bonnet of the sisterhood. + +Robbins, a good rough-and-tumble reporter, but lacking the delicate +touch, began to speak. + +They represented the press. The lady had, no doubt, heard of the +Morin affair. It was necessary, in justice to that gentleman's +memory, to probe the mystery of the lost money. It was known that he +had come often to this chapel. Any information, now, concerning Mr. +Morin's habits, tastes, the friends he had, and so on, would be of +value in doing him posthumous justice. + +Sister Félicité had heard. Whatever she knew would be willingly +told, but it was very little. Monsieur Morin had been a good friend +to the order, sometimes contributing as much as a hundred dollars. +The sisterhood was an independent one, depending entirely upon +private contributions for the means to carry on its charitable work. +Mr. Morin had presented the chapel with silver candlesticks and an +altar cloth. He came every day to worship in the chapel, sometimes +remaining for an hour. He was a devout Catholic, consecrated to +holiness. Yes, and also in the alcove was a statue of the Virgin +that he had himself modeled, cast, and presented to the order. Oh, +it was cruel to cast a doubt upon so good a man! + +Robbins was also profoundly grieved at the imputation. But, until it +was found what Mr. Morin had done with Madame Tibault's money, he +feared the tongue of slander would not be stilled. Sometimes--in +fact, very often--in affairs of the kind there was--er--as the +saying goes--er--a lady in the case. In absolute confidence, +now--if--perhaps-- + +Sister Félicité's large eyes regarded him solemnly. + +"There was one woman," she said, slowly, "to whom he bowed--to whom +he gave his heart." + +Robbins fumbled rapturously for his pencil. + +"Behold the woman!" said Sister Félicité, suddenly, in deep tones. + +She reached a long arm and swept aside the curtain of the alcove. +In there was a shrine, lit to a glow of soft colour by the light +pouring through a stained-glass window. Within a deep niche in the +bare stone wall stood an image of the Virgin Mary, the colour of +pure gold. + +Dumars, a conventional Catholic, succumbed to the dramatic in the +act. He bowed his head for an instant and made the sign of the +cross. The somewhat abashed Robbins, murmuring an indistinct +apology, backed awkwardly away. Sister Félicité drew back the +curtain, and the reporters departed. + +On the narrow stone sidewalk of Bonhomme Street, Robbins turned to +Dumars, with unworthy sarcasm. + +"Well, what next? Churchy law fem?" + +"Absinthe," said Dumars. + + + +With the history of the missing money thus partially related, some +conjecture may be formed of the sudden idea that Madame Tibault's +words seemed to have suggested to Robbins's brain. + +Was it so wild a surmise--that the religious fanatic had offered up +his wealth--or, rather, Madame Tibault's--in the shape of a material +symbol of his consuming devotion? Stranger things have been done in +the name of worship. Was it not possible that the lost thousands +were molded into that lustrous image? That the goldsmith had formed +it of the pure and precious metal, and set it there, through some +hope of a perhaps disordered brain to propitiate the saints and pave +the way to his own selfish glory? + +That afternoon, at five minutes to three, Robbins entered the chapel +door of the Little Sisters of Samaria. He saw, in the dim light, +a crowd of perhaps a hundred people gathered to attend the sale. +Most of them were members of various religious orders, priests and +churchmen, come to purchase the paraphernalia of the chapel, lest +they fall into desecrating hands. Others were business men and +agents come to bid upon the realty. A clerical-looking brother +had volunteered to wield the hammer, bringing to the office of +auctioneer the anomaly of choice diction and dignity of manner. + +A few of the minor articles were sold, and then two assistants +brought forward the image of the Virgin. + +Robbins started the bidding at ten dollars. A stout man, in an +ecclesiastical garb, went to fifteen. A voice from another part of +the crowd raised to twenty. The three bid alternately, raising by +bids of five, until the offer was fifty dollars. Then the stout man +dropped out, and Robbins, as a sort of _coup de main_, went to a +hundred. + +"One hundred and fifty," said the other voice. + +"Two hundred," bid Robbins, boldly. + +"Two-fifty," called his competitor, promptly. + +The reporter hesitated for the space of a lightning flash, +estimating how much he could borrow from the boys in the office, +and screw from the business manager from his next month's salary. + +"Three hundred," he offered. + +"Three-fifty," spoke up the other, in a louder voice--a voice that +sent Robbins diving suddenly through the crowd in its direction, to +catch Dumars, its owner, ferociously by the collar. + +"You unconverted idiot!" hissed Robbins, close to his ear--"pool!" + +"Agreed!" said Dumars, coolly. "I couldn't raise three hundred and +fifty dollars with a search-warrant, but I can stand half. What you +come bidding against me for?" + +"I thought I was the only fool in the crowd," explained Robbins. + +No one else bidding, the statue was knocked down to the syndicate +at their last offer. Dumars remained with the prize, while Robbins +hurried forth to wring from the resources and credit of both the +price. He soon returned with the money, and the two musketeers +loaded their precious package into a carriage and drove with it +to Dumars's room, in old Chartres Street, nearby. They lugged it, +covered with a cloth, up the stairs, and deposited it on a table. +A hundred pounds it weighed, if an ounce, and at that estimate, +according to their calculation, if their daring theory were correct, +it stood there, worth twenty thousand golden dollars. + +Robbins removed the covering, and opened his pocket-knife. + +"_Sacré!_" muttered Dumars, shuddering. "It is the Mother of Christ. +What would you do?" + +"Shut up, Judas!" said Robbins, coldly. "It's too late for you to be +saved now." + +With a firm hand, he chipped a slice from the shoulder of the image. +The cut showed a dull, grayish metal, with a thin coating of gold +leaf. + +"Lead!" announced Robbins, hurling his knife to the floor--"gilded!" + +"To the devil with it!" said Dumars, forgetting his scruples. "I +must have a drink." + +Together they walked moodily to the café of Madame Tribault, two +squares away. + +It seemed that madame's mind had been stirred that day to fresh +recollections of the past services of the two young men in her +behalf. + +"You mustn't sit by those table," she interposed, as they were about +to drop into their accustomed seats. "Thass so, boys. But no. I mek +you come at this room, like my _trés bon amis_. Yes. I goin' mek for +you myself one _anisette_ and one _café royale_ ver' fine. Ah! I lak +treat my fren' nize. Yes. Plis come in this way." + +Madame led them into the little back room, into which she sometimes +invited the especially favoured of her customers. In two comfortable +armchairs, by a big window that opened upon the courtyard, she +placed them, with a low table between. Bustling hospitably about, +she began to prepare the promised refreshments. + +It was the first time the reporters had been honoured with admission +to the sacred precincts. The room was in dusky twilight, flecked +with gleams of the polished, fine woods and burnished glass and +metal that the Creoles love. From the little courtyard a tiny +fountain sent in an insinuating sound of trickling waters, to which +a banana plant by the window kept time with its tremulous leaves. + +Robbins, an investigator by nature, sent a curious glance roving +about the room. From some barbaric ancestor, madame had inherited a +_penchant_ for the crude in decoration. + +The walls were adorned with cheap lithographs--florid libels upon +nature, addressed to the taste of the _bourgeoisie_--birthday cards, +garish newspaper supplements, and specimens of art-advertising +calculated to reduce the optic nerve to stunned submission. A patch +of something unintelligible in the midst of the more candid display +puzzled Robbins, and he rose and took a step nearer, to interrogate +it at closer range. Then he leaned weakly against the wall, and +called out: + +"Madame Tibault! Oh, madame! Since when--oh! since when have you +been in the habit of papering your walls with five thousand dollar +United States four per cent. gold bonds? Tell me--is this a Grimm's +fairy tale, or should I consult an oculist?" + +At his words, Madame Tibault and Dumars approached. + +"H'what you say?" said madame, cheerily. "H'what you say, M'sieur +Robbin? _Bon!_ Ah! those nize li'l peezes papier! One tam I think +those w'at you call calendair, wiz ze li'l day of mont' below. But, +no. Those wall is broke in those plaze, M'sieur Robbin', and I +plaze those li'l peezes papier to conceal ze crack. I did think the +couleur harm'nize so well with the wall papier. Where I get them +from? Ah, yes, I remem' ver' well. One day M'sieur Morin, he come +at my houze--thass 'bout one mont' before he shall die--thass 'long +'bout tam he promise fo' inves' those money fo' me. M'sieur Morin, +he leave thoze li'l peezes papier in those table, and say ver' much +'bout money thass hard for me to ond'stan. _Mais_ I never see those +money again. Thass ver' wicked man, M'sieur Morin. H'what you call +those peezes papier, M'sieur Robbin'--_bon!_" + +Robbins explained. + +"There's your twenty thousand dollars, with coupons attached," he +said, running his thumb around the edge of the four bonds. "Better +get an expert to peel them off for you. Mister Morin was all right. +I'm going out to get my ears trimmed." + +He dragged Dumars by the arm into the outer room. Madame was +screaming for Nicolette and Mémé to come and observe the fortune +returned to her by M'sieur Morin, that best of men, that saint in +glory. + +"Marsy," said Robbins, "I'm going on a jamboree. For three days the +esteemed _Pic._ will have to get along without my valuable services. +I advise you to join me. Now, that green stuff you drink is no good. +It stimulates thought. What we want to do is to forget to remember. +I'll introduce you to the only lady in this case that is guaranteed +to produce the desired results. Her name is Belle of Kentucky, +twelve-year-old Bourbon. In quarts. How does the idea strike you?" + +"_Allons!_" said Dumars. "_Cherchez la femme_." + + + + +XII + +FRIENDS IN SAN ROSARIO + + +The west-bound train stopped at San Rosario on time at 8.20 A.M. A +man with a thick black-leather wallet under his arm left the train +and walked rapidly up the main street of the town. There were other +passengers who also got off at San Rosario, but they either slouched +limberly over to the railroad eating-house or the Silver Dollar +saloon, or joined the groups of idlers about the station. + +Indecision had no part in the movements of the man with the wallet. +He was short in stature, but strongly built, with very light, +closely-trimmed hair, smooth, determined face, and aggressive, +gold-rimmed nose glasses. He was well dressed in the prevailing +Eastern style. His air denoted a quiet but conscious reserve force, +if not actual authority. + +After walking a distance of three squares he came to the centre of +the town's business area. Here another street of importance crossed +the main one, forming the hub of San Rosario's life and commerce. +Upon one corner stood the post-office. Upon another Rubensky's +Clothing Emporium. The other two diagonally opposing corners were +occupied by the town's two banks, the First National and the +Stockmen's National. Into the First National Bank of San Rosario +the newcomer walked, never slowing his brisk step until he stood +at the cashier's window. The bank opened for business at nine, and +the working force was already assembled, each member preparing his +department for the day's business. The cashier was examining the +mail when he noticed the stranger standing at his window. + +"Bank doesn't open 'til nine," he remarked curtly, but without +feeling. He had had to make that statement so often to early birds +since San Rosario adopted city banking hours. + +"I am well aware of that," said the other man, in cool, brittle +tones. "Will you kindly receive my card?" + +The cashier drew the small, spotless parallelogram inside the bars +of his wicket, and read: + + + J. F. C. Nettlewick + National Bank Examiner + + +"Oh--er--will you walk around inside, Mr.--er--Nettlewick. Your +first visit--didn't know your business, of course. Walk right +around, please." + +The examiner was quickly inside the sacred precincts of the bank, +where he was ponderously introduced to each employee in turn by Mr. +Edlinger, the cashier--a middle-aged gentleman of deliberation, +discretion, and method. + +"I was kind of expecting Sam Turner round again, pretty soon," said +Mr. Edlinger. "Sam's been examining us now, for about four years. I +guess you'll find us all right, though, considering the tightness +in business. Not overly much money on hand, but able to stand the +storms, sir, stand the storms." + +"Mr. Turner and I have been ordered by the Comptroller to exchange +districts," said the examiner, in his decisive, formal tones. "He is +covering my old territory in Southern Illinois and Indiana. I will +take the cash first, please." + +Perry Dorsey, the teller, was already arranging his cash on the +counter for the examiner's inspection. He knew it was right to a +cent, and he had nothing to fear, but he was nervous and flustered. +So was every man in the bank. There was something so icy and swift, +so impersonal and uncompromising about this man that his very +presence seemed an accusation. He looked to be a man who would never +make nor overlook an error. + +Mr. Nettlewick first seized the currency, and with a rapid, almost +juggling motion, counted it by packages. Then he spun the sponge cup +toward him and verified the count by bills. His thin, white fingers +flew like some expert musician's upon the keys of a piano. He dumped +the gold upon the counter with a crash, and the coins whined and +sang as they skimmed across the marble slab from the tips of his +nimble digits. The air was full of fractional currency when he came +to the halves and quarters. He counted the last nickle and dime. +He had the scales brought, and he weighed every sack of silver +in the vault. He questioned Dorsey concerning each of the cash +memoranda--certain checks, charge slips, etc., carried over from the +previous day's work--with unimpeachable courtesy, yet with something +so mysteriously momentous in his frigid manner, that the teller was +reduced to pink cheeks and a stammering tongue. + +This newly-imported examiner was so different from Sam Turner. It +had been Sam's way to enter the bank with a shout, pass the cigars, +and tell the latest stories he had picked up on his rounds. His +customary greeting to Dorsey had been, "Hello, Perry! Haven't +skipped out with the boodle yet, I see." Turner's way of counting +the cash had been different, too. He would finger the packages of +bills in a tired kind of way, and then go into the vault and kick +over a few sacks of silver, and the thing was done. Halves and +quarters and dimes? Not for Sam Turner. "No chicken feed for +me," he would say when they were set before him. "I'm not in the +agricultural department." But, then, Turner was a Texan, an old +friend of the bank's president, and had known Dorsey since he was +a baby. + +While the examiner was counting the cash, Major Thomas B. +Kingman--known to every one as "Major Tom"--the president of the +First National, drove up to the side door with his old dun horse and +buggy, and came inside. He saw the examiner busy with the money, +and, going into the little "pony corral," as he called it, in which +his desk was railed off, he began to look over his letters. + +Earlier, a little incident had occurred that even the sharp eyes of +the examiner had failed to notice. When he had begun his work at the +cash counter, Mr. Edlinger had winked significantly at Roy Wilson, +the youthful bank messenger, and nodded his head slightly toward the +front door. Roy understood, got his hat, and walked leisurely out, +with his collector's book under his arm. Once outside, he made a +bee-line for the Stockmen's National. That bank was also getting +ready to open. No customers had, as yet, presented themselves. + +"Say, you people!" cried Roy, with the familiarity of youth and long +acquaintance, "you want to get a move on you. There's a new bank +examiner over at the First, and he's a stem-winder. He's counting +nickles on Perry, and he's got the whole outfit bluffed. Mr. +Edlinger gave me the tip to let you know." + +Mr. Buckley, president of the Stockmen's National--a stout, elderly +man, looking like a farmer dressed for Sunday--heard Roy from his +private office at the rear and called him. + +"Has Major Kingman come down to the bank yet?" he asked of the boy. + +"Yes, sir, he was just driving up as I left," said Roy. + +"I want you to take him a note. Put it into his own hands as soon as +you get back." + +Mr. Buckley sat down and began to write. + +Roy returned and handed to Major Kingman the envelope containing the +note. The major read it, folded it, and slipped it into his vest +pocket. He leaned back in his chair for a few moments as if he were +meditating deeply, and then rose and went into the vault. He came +out with the bulky, old-fashioned leather note case stamped on the +back in gilt letters, "Bills Discounted." In this were the notes due +the bank with their attached securities, and the major, in his rough +way, dumped the lot upon his desk and began to sort them over. + +By this time Nettlewick had finished his count of the cash. His +pencil fluttered like a swallow over the sheet of paper on which he +had set his figures. He opened his black wallet, which seemed to be +also a kind of secret memorandum book, made a few rapid figures in +it, wheeled and transfixed Dorsey with the glare of his spectacles. +That look seemed to say: "You're safe this time, but--" + +"Cash all correct," snapped the examiner. He made a dash for the +individual bookkeeper, and, for a few minutes there was a fluttering +of ledger leaves and a sailing of balance sheets through the air. + +"How often do you balance your pass-books?" he demanded, suddenly. + +"Er--once a month," faltered the individual bookkeeper, wondering +how many years they would give him. + +"All right," said the examiner, turning and charging upon the +general bookkeeper, who had the statements of his foreign banks and +their reconcilement memoranda ready. Everything there was found to +be all right. Then the stub book of the certificates of deposit. +Flutter--flutter--zip--zip--check! All right. List of over-drafts, +please. Thanks. H'm-m. Unsigned bills of the bank, next. All right. + +Then came the cashier's turn, and easy-going Mr. Edlinger rubbed his +nose and polished his glasses nervously under the quick fire of +questions concerning the circulation, undivided profits, bank real +estate, and stock ownership. + +Presently Nettlewick was aware of a big man towering above him at +his elbow--a man sixty years of age, rugged and hale, with a rough, +grizzled beard, a mass of gray hair, and a pair of penetrating blue +eyes that confronted the formidable glasses of the examiner without +a flicker. + +"Er--Major Kingman, our president--er--Mr. Nettlewick," said the +cashier. + +Two men of very different types shook hands. One was a finished +product of the world of straight lines, conventional methods, and +formal affairs. The other was something freer, wider, and nearer to +nature. Tom Kingman had not been cut to any pattern. He had been +mule-driver, cowboy, ranger, soldier, sheriff, prospector, and +cattleman. Now, when he was bank president, his old comrades from +the prairies, of the saddle, tent, and trail found no change in him. +He had made his fortune when Texas cattle were at the high tide of +value, and had organized the First National Bank of San Rosario. +In spite of his largeness of heart and sometimes unwise generosity +toward his old friends, the bank had prospered, for Major Tom +Kingman knew men as well as he knew cattle. Of late years the cattle +business had known a depression, and the major's bank was one of the +few whose losses had not been great. + +"And now," said the examiner, briskly, pulling out his watch, "the +last thing is the loans. We will take them up now, if you please." + +He had gone through the First National at almost record-breaking +speed--but thoroughly, as he did everything. The running order of +the bank was smooth and clean, and that had facilitated his work. +There was but one other bank in the town. He received from the +Government a fee of twenty-five dollars for each bank that he +examined. He should be able to go over those loans and discounts in +half an hour. If so, he could examine the other bank immediately +afterward, and catch the 11.45, the only other train that day in +the direction he was working. Otherwise, he would have to spend the +night and Sunday in this uninteresting Western town. That was why +Mr. Nettlewick was rushing matters. + +"Come with me, sir," said Major Kingman, in his deep voice, that +united the Southern drawl with the rhythmic twang of the West; "We +will go over them together. Nobody in the bank knows those notes as +I do. Some of 'em are a little wobbly on their legs, and some are +mavericks without extra many brands on their backs, but they'll most +all pay out at the round-up." + +The two sat down at the president's desk. First, the examiner went +through the notes at lightning speed, and added up their total, +finding it to agree with the amount of loans carried on the book +of daily balances. Next, he took up the larger loans, inquiring +scrupulously into the condition of their endorsers or securities. +The new examiner's mind seemed to course and turn and make +unexpected dashes hither and thither like a bloodhound seeking a +trail. Finally he pushed aside all the notes except a few, which he +arranged in a neat pile before him, and began a dry, formal little +speech. + +"I find, sir, the condition of your bank to be very good, +considering the poor crops and the depression in the cattle +interests of your state. The clerical work seems to be done +accurately and punctually. Your past-due paper is moderate in +amount, and promises only a small loss. I would recommend the +calling in of your large loans, and the making of only sixty and +ninety day or call loans until general business revives. And now, +there is one thing more, and I will have finished with the bank. +Here are six notes aggregating something like $40,000. They are +secured, according to their faces, by various stocks, bonds, shares, +etc. to the value of $70,000. Those securities are missing from the +notes to which they should be attached. I suppose you have them in +the safe or vault. You will permit me to examine them." + +Major Tom's light-blue eyes turned unflinchingly toward the +examiner. + +"No, sir," he said, in a low but steady tone; "those securities are +neither in the safe nor in the vault. I have taken them. You may +hold me personally responsible for their absence." + +Nettlewick felt a slight thrill. He had not expected this. He had +struck a momentous trail when the hunt was drawing to a close. + +"Ah!" said the examiner. He waited a moment, and then continued: +"May I ask you to explain more definitely?" + +"The securities were taken by me," repeated the major. "It was not +for my own use, but to save an old friend in trouble. Come in here, +sir, and we'll talk it over." + +He led the examiner into the bank's private office at the rear, and +closed the door. There was a desk, and a table, and half-a-dozen +leather-covered chairs. On the wall was the mounted head of a Texas +steer with horns five feet from tip to tip. Opposite hung the +major's old cavalry saber that he had carried at Shiloh and Fort +Pillow. + +Placing a chair for Nettlewick, the major seated himself by the +window, from which he could see the post-office and the carved +limestone front of the Stockmen's National. He did not speak at +once, and Nettlewick felt, perhaps, that the ice could be broken +by something so near its own temperature as the voice of official +warning. + +"Your statement," he began, "since you have failed to modify it, +amounts, as you must know, to a very serious thing. You are aware, +also, of what my duty must compel me to do. I shall have to go +before the United States Commissioner and make--" + +"I know, I know," said Major Tom, with a wave of his hand. "You +don't suppose I'd run a bank without being posted on national +banking laws and the revised statutes! Do your duty. I'm not asking +any favours. But, I spoke of my friend. I did want you to hear me +tell you about Bob." + +Nettlewick settled himself in his chair. There would be no leaving +San Rosario for him that day. He would have to telegraph to the +Comptroller of the Currency; he would have to swear out a warrant +before the United States Commissioner for the arrest of Major +Kingman; perhaps he would be ordered to close the bank on account of +the loss of the securities. It was not the first crime the examiner +had unearthed. Once or twice the terrible upheaval of human emotions +that his investigations had loosed had almost caused a ripple in his +official calm. He had seen bank men kneel and plead and cry like +women for a chance--an hour's time--the overlooking of a single +error. One cashier had shot himself at his desk before him. None of +them had taken it with the dignity and coolness of this stern old +Westerner. Nettlewick felt that he owed it to him at least to listen +if he wished to talk. With his elbow on the arm of his chair, and +his square chin resting upon the fingers of his right hand, the bank +examiner waited to hear the confession of the president of the First +National Bank of San Rosario. + +"When a man's your friend," began Major Tom, somewhat didactically, +"for forty years, and tried by water, fire, earth, and cyclones, +when you can do him a little favour you feel like doing it." + +("Embezzle for him $70,000 worth of securities," thought the +examiner.) + +"We were cowboys together, Bob and I," continued the major, speaking +slowly, and deliberately, and musingly, as if his thoughts were +rather with the past than the critical present, "and we prospected +together for gold and silver over Arizona, New Mexico, and a good +part of California. We were both in the war of 'sixty-one, but in +different commands. We've fought Indians and horse thieves side by +side; we've starved for weeks in a cabin in the Arizona mountains, +buried twenty feet deep in snow; we've ridden herd together when the +wind blew so hard the lightning couldn't strike--well, Bob and I +have been through some rough spells since the first time we met in +the branding camp of the old Anchor-Bar ranch. And during that time +we've found it necessary more than once to help each other out of +tight places. In those days it was expected of a man to stick to his +friend, and he didn't ask any credit for it. Probably next day you'd +need him to get at your back and help stand off a band of Apaches, +or put a tourniquet on your leg above a rattlesnake bite and ride +for whisky. So, after all, it was give and take, and if you didn't +stand square with your pardner, why, you might be shy one when you +needed him. But Bob was a man who was willing to go further than +that. He never played a limit. + +"Twenty years ago I was sheriff of this county, and I made Bob my +chief deputy. That was before the boom in cattle when we both made +our stake. I was sheriff and collector, and it was a big thing for +me then. I was married, and we had a boy and a girl--a four and a +six year old. There was a comfortable house next to the courthouse, +furnished by the county, rent free, and I was saving some money. Bob +did most of the office work. Both of us had seen rough times and +plenty of rustling and danger, and I tell you it was great to hear +the rain and the sleet dashing against the windows of nights, and +be warm and safe and comfortable, and know you could get up in the +morning and be shaved and have folks call you 'mister.' And then, I +had the finest wife and kids that ever struck the range, and my old +friend with me enjoying the first fruits of prosperity and white +shirts, and I guess I was happy. Yes, I was happy about that time." + +The major sighed and glanced casually out of the window. The bank +examiner changed his position, and leaned his chin upon his other +hand. + +"One winter," continued the major, "the money for the county taxes +came pouring in so fast that I didn't have time to take the stuff to +the bank for a week. I just shoved the checks into a cigar box and +the money into a sack, and locked them in the big safe that belonged +to the sheriff's office. + +"I had been overworked that week, and was about sick, anyway. My +nerves were out of order, and my sleep at night didn't seem to rest +me. The doctor had some scientific name for it, and I was taking +medicine. And so, added to the rest, I went to bed at night with +that money on my mind. Not that there was much need of being +worried, for the safe was a good one, and nobody but Bob and I knew +the combination. On Friday night there was about $6,500 in cash in +the bag. On Saturday morning I went to the office as usual. The safe +was locked, and Bob was writing at his desk. I opened the safe, +and the money was gone. I called Bob, and roused everybody in the +court-house to announce the robbery. It struck me that Bob took it +pretty quiet, considering how much it reflected upon both him and +me. + +"Two days went by and we never got a clew. It couldn't have been +burglars, for the safe had been opened by the combination in the +proper way. People must have begun to talk, for one afternoon in +comes Alice--that's my wife--and the boy and girl, and Alice +stamps her foot, and her eyes flash, and she cries out, 'The lying +wretches--Tom, Tom!' and I catch her in a faint, and bring her +'round little by little, and she lays her head down and cries and +cries for the first time since she took Tom Kingman's name and +fortunes. And Jack and Zilla--the youngsters--they were always wild +as tiger cubs to rush at Bob and climb all over him whenever they +were allowed to come to the court-house--they stood and kicked their +little shoes, and herded together like scared partridges. They were +having their first trip down into the shadows of life. Bob was +working at his desk, and he got up and went out without a word. The +grand jury was in session then, and the next morning Bob went before +them and confessed that he stole the money. He said he lost it in a +poker game. In fifteen minutes they had found a true bill and sent +me the warrant to arrest the man with whom I'd been closer than a +thousand brothers for many a year. + +"I did it, and then I said to Bob, pointing: 'There's my house, +and here's my office, and up there's Maine, and out that way is +California, and over there is Florida--and that's your range 'til +court meets. You're in my charge, and I take the responsibility. +You be here when you're wanted.' + +"'Thanks, Tom,' he said, kind of carelessly; 'I was sort of hoping +you wouldn't lock me up. Court meets next Monday, so, if you don't +object, I'll just loaf around the office until then. I've got one +favour to ask, if it isn't too much. If you'd let the kids come out +in the yard once in a while and have a romp I'd like it.' + +"'Why not?' I answered him. 'They're welcome, and so are you. And +come to my house, the same as ever.' You see, Mr. Nettlewick, you +can't make a friend of a thief, but neither can you make a thief of +a friend, all at once." + +The examiner made no answer. At that moment was heard the shrill +whistle of a locomotive pulling into the depot. That was the train +on the little, narrow-gauge road that struck into San Rosario from +the south. The major cocked his ear and listened for a moment, and +looked at his watch. The narrow-gauge was in on time--10.35. The +major continued: + +"So Bob hung around the office, reading the papers and smoking. I +put another deputy to work in his place, and after a while, the +first excitement of the case wore off. + +"One day when we were alone in the office Bob came over to where I +was sitting. He was looking sort of grim and blue--the same look +he used to get when he'd been up watching for Indians all night or +herd-riding. + +"'Tom,' says he, 'it's harder than standing off redskins; it's +harder than lying in the lava desert forty miles from water; but I'm +going to stick it out to the end. You know that's been my style. But +if you'd tip me the smallest kind of a sign--if you'd just say, "Bob +I understand," why, it would make it lots easier.' + +"I was surprised. 'I don't know what you mean, Bob,' I said. 'Of +course, you know that I'd do anything under the sun to help you that +I could. But you've got me guessing.' + +"'All right, Tom,' was all he said, and he went back to his +newspaper and lit another cigar. + +"It was the night before court met when I found out what he meant. +I went to bed that night with that same old, light-headed, nervous +feeling come back upon me. I dropped off to sleep about midnight. +When I awoke I was standing half dressed in one of the court-house +corridors. Bob was holding one of my arms, our family doctor the +other, and Alice was shaking me and half crying. She had sent for +the doctor without my knowing it, and when he came they had found me +out of bed and missing, and had begun a search. + +"'Sleep-walking,' said the doctor. + +"All of us went back to the house, and the doctor told us some +remarkable stories about the strange things people had done while in +that condition. I was feeling rather chilly after my trip out, and, +as my wife was out of the room at the time, I pulled open the door +of an old wardrobe that stood in the room and dragged out a big +quilt I had seen in there. With it tumbled out the bag of money for +stealing which Bob was to be tried--and convicted--in the morning. + +"'How the jumping rattlesnakes did that get there?' I yelled, and +all hands must have seen how surprised I was. Bob knew in a flash. + +"'You darned old snoozer,' he said, with the old-time look on his +face, 'I saw you put it there. I watched you open the safe and take +it out, and I followed you. I looked through the window and saw you +hide it in that wardrobe.' + +"'Then, you blankety-blank, flop-eared, sheep-headed coyote, what +did you say you took it, for?' + +"'Because,' said Bob, simply, 'I didn't know you were asleep.' + +"I saw him glance toward the door of the room where Jack and Zilla +were, and I knew then what it meant to be a man's friend from Bob's +point of view." + +Major Tom paused, and again directed his glance out of the window. +He saw some one in the Stockmen's National Bank reach and draw a +yellow shade down the whole length of its plate-glass, big front +window, although the position of the sun did not seem to warrant +such a defensive movement against its rays. + +Nettlewick sat up straight in his chair. He had listened patiently, +but without consuming interest, to the major's story. It had +impressed him as irrelevant to the situation, and it could certainly +have no effect upon the consequences. Those Western people, +he thought, had an exaggerated sentimentality. They were not +business-like. They needed to be protected from their friends. +Evidently the major had concluded. And what he had said amounted to +nothing. + +"May I ask," said the examiner, "if you have anything further to say +that bears directly upon the question of those abstracted +securities?" + +"Abstracted securities, sir!" Major Tom turned suddenly in his +chair, his blue eyes flashing upon the examiner. "What do you mean, +sir?" + +He drew from his coat pocket a batch of folded papers held together +by a rubber band, tossed them into Nettlewick's hands, and rose to +his feet. + +"You'll find those securities there, sir, every stock, bond, and +share of 'em. I took them from the notes while you were counting the +cash. Examine and compare them for yourself." + +The major led the way back into the banking room. The examiner, +astounded, perplexed, nettled, at sea, followed. He felt that he had +been made the victim of something that was not exactly a hoax, but +that left him in the shoes of one who had been played upon, used, +and then discarded, without even an inkling of the game. Perhaps, +also, his official position had been irreverently juggled with. But +there was nothing he could take hold of. An official report of the +matter would be an absurdity. And, somehow, he felt that he would +never know anything more about the matter than he did then. + +Frigidly, mechanically, Nettlewick examined the securities, found +them to tally with the notes, gathered his black wallet, and rose to +depart. + +"I will say," he protested, turning the indignant glare of his +glasses upon Major Kingman, "that your statements--your misleading +statements, which you have not condescended to explain--do not +appear to be quite the thing, regarded either as business or humour. +I do not understand such motives or actions." + +Major Tom looked down at him serenely and not unkindly. + +"Son," he said, "there are plenty of things in the chaparral, and +on the prairies, and up the canyons that you don't understand. But +I want to thank you for listening to a garrulous old man's prosy +story. We old Texans love to talk about our adventures and our old +comrades, and the home folks have long ago learned to run when we +begin with 'Once upon a time,' so we have to spin our yarns to the +stranger within our gates." + +The major smiled, but the examiner only bowed coldly, and abruptly +quitted the bank. They saw him travel diagonally across the street +in a straight line and enter the Stockmen's National Bank. + +Major Tom sat down at his desk, and drew from his vest pocket the +note Roy had given him. He had read it once, but hurriedly, and now, +with something like a twinkle in his eyes, he read it again. These +were the words he read: + + + DEAR TOM: + + I hear there's one of Uncle Sam's grayhounds going through + you, and that means that we'll catch him inside of a couple + of hours, maybe. Now, I want you to do something for me. + We've got just $2,200 in the bank, and the law requires + that we have $20,000. I let Ross and Fisher have $18,000 + late yesterday afternoon to buy up that Gibson bunch of + cattle. They'll realise $40,000 in less than thirty days on + the transaction, but that won't make my cash on hand look + any prettier to that bank examiner. Now, I can't show him + those notes, for they're just plain notes of hand without + any security in sight, but you know very well that Pink + Ross and Jim Fisher are two of the finest white men God + ever made, and they'll do the square thing. You remember + Jim Fisher--he was the one who shot that faro dealer in El + Paso. I wired Sam Bradshaw's bank to send me $20,000, and + it will get in on the narrow-gauge at 10.35. You can't let + a bank examiner in to count $2,200 and close your doors. + Tom, you hold that examiner. Hold him. Hold him if you have + to rope him and sit on his head. Watch our front window + after the narrow-gauge gets in, and when we've got the cash + inside we'll pull down the shade for a signal. Don't turn + him loose till then. I'm counting on you, Tom. + + Your Old Pard, + BOB BUCKLY, + _Prest. Stockmen's National_. + + +The major began to tear the note into small pieces and throw them +into his waste basket. He gave a satisfied little chuckle as he did +so. + +"Confounded old reckless cowpuncher!" he growled, contentedly, "that +pays him some on account for what he tried to do for me in the +sheriff's office twenty years ago." + + + + +XIII + +THE FOURTH IN SALVADOR + + +On a summer's day, while the city was rocking with the din and red +uproar of patriotism, Billy Casparis told me this story. + +In his way, Billy is Ulysses, Jr. Like Satan, he comes from going +to and fro upon the earth and walking up and down in it. To-morrow +morning while you are cracking your breakfast egg he may be off with +his little alligator grip to boom a town site in the middle of Lake +Okeechobee or to trade horses with the Patagonians. + +We sat at a little, round table, and between us were glasses holding +big lumps of ice, and above us leaned an artificial palm. And +because our scene was set with the properties of the one they +recalled to his mind, Billy was stirred to narrative. + +"It reminds me," said he, "of a Fourth I helped to celebrate down in +Salvador. 'Twas while I was running an ice factory down there, after +I unloaded that silver mine I had in Colorado. I had what they +called a 'conditional concession.' They made me put up a thousand +dollars cash forfeit that I would make ice continuously for six +months. If I did that I could draw down my ante. If I failed to do +so the government took the pot. So the inspectors kept dropping in, +trying to catch me without the goods. + +"One day when the thermometer was at 110, the clock at half-past +one, and the calendar at July third, two of the little, brown, oily +nosers in red trousers slid in to make an inspection. Now, the +factory hadn't turned out a pound of ice in three weeks, for a +couple of reasons. The Salvador heathen wouldn't buy it; they said +it made things cold they put it in. And I couldn't make any more, +because I was broke. All I was holding on for was to get down my +thousand so I could leave the country. The six months would be up +on the sixth of July. + +"Well, I showed 'em all the ice I had. I raised the lid of a darkish +vat, and there was an elegant 100-pound block of ice, beautiful and +convincing to the eye. I was about to close down the lid again when +one of those brunette sleuths flops down on his red knees and lays +a slanderous and violent hand on my guarantee of good faith. And in +two minutes more they had dragged out on the floor that fine chunk +of molded glass that had cost me fifty dollars to have shipped down +from Frisco. + +"'Ice-y?' says the fellow that played me the dishonourable trick; +'verree warm ice-y. Yes. The day is that hot, señor. Yes. Maybeso it +is of desirableness to leave him out to get the cool. Yes.' + +"'Yes,' says I, 'yes,' for I knew they had me. 'Touching's +believing, ain't it, boys? Yes. Now there's some might say the seats +of your trousers are sky blue, but 'tis my opinion they are red. +Let's apply the tests of the laying on of hands and feet.' And so I +hoisted both those inspectors out the door on the toe of my shoe, +and sat down to cool off on my block of disreputable glass. + +"And, as I live without oats, while I sat there, homesick for money +and without a cent to my ambition, there came on the breeze the most +beautiful smell my nose had entered for a year. God knows where it +came from in that backyard of a country--it was a bouquet of soaked +lemon peel, cigar stumps, and stale beer--exactly the smell of +Goldbrick Charley's place on Fourteenth Street where I used to play +pinochle of afternoons with the third-rate actors. And that smell +drove my troubles through me and clinched 'em at the back. I began +to long for my country and feel sentiments about it; and I said +words about Salvador that you wouldn't think could come legitimate +out of an ice factory. + +"And while I was sitting there, down through the blazing sunshine in +his clean, white clothes comes Maximilian Jones, an American +interested in rubber and rosewood. + +"'Great carrambos!' says I, when he stepped in, for I was in a bad +temper, 'didn't I have catastrophes enough? I know what you want. +You want to tell me that story again about Johnny Ammiger and the +widow on the train. You've told it nine times already this month.' + +"'It must be the heat,' says Jones, stopping in at the door, amazed. +'Poor Billy. He's got bugs. Sitting on ice, and calling his best +friends pseudonyms. Hi!--_muchacho!_' Jones called my force of +employees, who was sitting in the sun, playing with his toes, and +told him to put on his trousers and run for the doctor. + +"'Come back,' says I. 'Sit down, Maxy, and forget it. 'Tis not +ice you see, nor a lunatic upon it. 'Tis only an exile full of +homesickness sitting on a lump of glass that's just cost him a +thousand dollars. Now, what was it Johnny said to the widow first? +I'd like to hear it again, Maxy--honest. Don't mind what I said.' + +"Maximilian Jones and I sat down and talked. He was about as sick of +the country as I was, for the grafters were squeezing him for half +the profits of his rosewood and rubber. Down in the bottom of a tank +of water I had a dozen bottles of sticky Frisco beer; and I fished +these up, and we fell to talking about home and the flag and Hail +Columbia and home-fried potatoes; and the drivel we contributed +would have sickened any man enjoying those blessings. But at that +time we were out of 'em. You can't appreciate home till you've left +it, money till it's spent, your wife till she's joined a woman's +club, nor Old Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the +shanty of a consul in a foreign town. + +"And sitting there me and Maximilian Jones, scratching at our +prickly heat and kicking at the lizards on the floor, became +afflicted with a dose of patriotism and affection for our country. +There was me, Billy Casparis, reduced from a capitalist to a pauper +by over-addiction to my glass (in the lump), declares my troubles +off for the present and myself to be an uncrowned sovereign of the +greatest country on earth. And Maximilian Jones pours out whole drug +stores of his wrath on oligarchies and potentates in red trousers +and calico shoes. And we issues a declaration of interference in +which we guarantee that the fourth day of July shall be celebrated +in Salvador with all the kinds of salutes, explosions, honours +of war, oratory, and liquids known to tradition. Yes, neither me +nor Jones breathed with soul so dead. There shall be rucuses in +Salvador, we say, and the monkeys had better climb the tallest +cocoanut trees and the fire department get out its red sashes and +two tin buckets. + +"About this time into the factory steps a native man incriminated +by the name of General Mary Esperanza Dingo. He was some pumpkin +both in politics and colour, and the friend of me and Jones. He was +full of politeness and a kind of intelligence, having picked up +the latter and managed to preserve the former during a two years' +residence in Philadelphia studying medicine. For a Salvadorian he +was not such a calamitous little man, though he always would play +jack, queen, king, ace, deuce for a straight. + +"General Mary sits with us and has a bottle. While he was in the +States he had acquired a synopsis of the English language and the +art of admiring our institutions. By and by the General gets up +and tiptoes to the doors and windows and other stage entrances, +remarking 'Hist!' at each one. They all do that in Salvador before +they ask for a drink of water or the time of day, being conspirators +from the cradle and matinee idols by proclamation. + +"'Hist!' says General Dingo again, and then he lays his chest on +the table quite like Gaspard the Miser. 'Good friends, señores, +to-morrow will be the great day of Liberty and Independence. The +hearts of Americans and Salvadorians should beat together. Of your +history and your great Washington I know. Is it not so?' + +"Now, me and Jones thought that nice of the General to remember when +the Fourth came. It made us feel good. He must have heard the news +going round in Philadelphia about that disturbance we had with +England. + +"'Yes,' says me and Maxy together, 'we knew it. We were talking +about it when you came in. And you can bet your bottom concession +that there'll be fuss and feathers in the air to-morrow. We are few +in numbers, but the welkin may as well reach out to push the button, +for it's got to ring.' + +"'I, too, shall assist,' says the General, thumping his collar-bone. +'I, too, am on the side of Liberty. Noble Americans, we will make +the day one to be never forgotten.' + +"'For us American whisky,' says Jones--'none of your Scotch smoke or +anisada or Three Star Hennessey to-morrow. We'll borrow the consul's +flag; old man Billfinger shall make orations, and we'll have a +barbecue on the plaza.' + +"'Fireworks,' says I, 'will be scarce; but we'll have all the +cartridges in the shops for our guns. I've got two navy sixes I +brought from Denver.' + +"'There is one cannon,' said the General; 'one big cannon that will +go "BOOM!" And three hundred men with rifles to shoot.' + +"'Oh, say!' says Jones, 'Generalissimo, you're the real silk +elastic. We'll make it a joint international celebration. Please, +General, get a white horse and a blue sash and be grand marshal.' + +"'With my sword,' says the General, rolling his eyes. 'I shall ride +at the head of the brave men who gather in the name of Liberty.' + +"'And you might,' we suggest 'see the commandante and advise him +that we are going to prize things up a bit. We Americans, you know, +are accustomed to using municipal regulations for gun wadding when +we line up to help the eagle scream. He might suspend the rules for +one day. We don't want to get in the calaboose for spanking his +soldiers if they get in our way, do you see?' + +"'Hist!' says General Mary. 'The commandant is with us, heart and +soul. He will aid us. He is one of us.' + +"We made all the arrangements that afternoon. There was a buck coon +from Georgia in Salvador who had drifted down there from a busted-up +coloured colony that had been started on some possumless land in +Mexico. As soon as he heard us say 'barbecue' he wept for joy and +groveled on the ground. He dug his trench on the plaza, and got half +a beef on the coals for an all-night roast. Me and Maxy went to see +the rest of the Americans in the town and they all sizzled like a +seidlitz with joy at the idea of solemnizing an old-time Fourth. + +"There were six of us all together--Martin Dillard, a coffee +planter; Henry Barnes, a railroad man; old man Billfinger, an +educated tintype taker; me and Jonesy, and Jerry, the boss of the +barbecue. There was also an Englishman in town named Sterrett, who +was there to write a book on Domestic Architecture of the Insect +World. We felt some bashfulness about inviting a Britisher to help +crow over his own country, but we decided to risk it, out of our +personal regard for him. + +"We found Sterrett in pajamas working at his manuscript with a +bottle of brandy for a paper weight. + +"'Englishman,' says Jones, 'let us interrupt your disquisition +on bug houses for a moment. To-morrow is the Fourth of July. We +don't want to hurt your feelings, but we're going to commemorate +the day when we licked you by a little refined debauchery and +nonsense--something that can be heard above five miles off. If you +are broad-gauged enough to taste whisky at your own wake, we'd be +pleased to have you join us.' + +"'Do you know,' says Sterrett, setting his glasses on his nose, 'I +like your cheek in asking me if I'll join you; blast me if I don't. +You might have known I would, without asking. Not as a traitor to my +own country, but for the intrinsic joy of a blooming row.' + +"On the morning of the Fourth I woke up in that old shanty of an +ice factory feeling sore. I looked around at the wreck of all I +possessed, and my heart was full of bile. From where I lay on my +cot I could look through the window and see the consul's old ragged +Stars and Stripes hanging over his shack. 'You're all kinds of a +fool, Billy Casparis,' I says to myself; 'and of all your crimes +against sense it does look like this idea of celebrating the Fourth +should receive the award of demerit. Your business is busted up, +your thousand dollars is gone into the kitty of this corrupt country +on that last bluff you made, you've got just fifteen Chili dollars +left, worth forty-six cents each at bedtime last night and steadily +going down. To-day you'll blow in your last cent hurrahing for that +flag, and to-morrow you'll be living on bananas from the stalk and +screwing your drinks out of your friends. What's the flag done for +you? While you were under it you worked for what you got. You wore +your finger nails down skinning suckers, and salting mines, and +driving bears and alligators off your town lot additions. How much +does patriotism count for on deposit when the little man with the +green eye-shade in the savings-bank adds up your book? Suppose +you were to get pinched over here in this irreligious country +for some little crime or other, and appealed to your country for +protection--what would it do for you? Turn your appeal over to a +committee of one railroad man, an army officer, a member of each +labour union, and a coloured man to investigate whether any of your +ancestors were ever related to a cousin of Mark Hanna, and then +file the papers in the Smithsonian Institution until after the next +election. That's the kind of a sidetrack the Stars and Stripes would +switch you onto.' + +"You can see that I was feeling like an indigo plant; but after +I washed my face in some cool water, and got out my navys and +ammunition, and started up to the Saloon of the Immaculate Saints +where we were to meet, I felt better. And when I saw those other +American boys come swaggering into the trysting place--cool, easy, +conspicuous fellows, ready to risk any kind of a one-card draw, or +to fight grizzlies, fire, or extradition, I began to feel glad I was +one of 'em. So, I says to myself again: 'Billy, you've got fifteen +dollars and a country left this morning--blow in the dollars and +blow up the town as an American gentleman should on Independence +Day.' + +"It is my recollection that we began the day along conventional +lines. The six of us--for Sterrett was along--made progress among +the cantinas, divesting the bars as we went of all strong drink +bearing American labels. We kept informing the atmosphere as to +the glory and preeminence of the United States and its ability to +subdue, outjump, and eradicate the other nations of the earth. And, +as the findings of American labels grew more plentiful, we became +more contaminated with patriotism. Maximilian Jones hopes that our +late foe, Mr. Sterrett, will not take offense at our enthusiasm. He +sets down his bottle and shakes Sterrett's hand. 'As white man to +white man,' says he, 'denude our uproar of the slightest taint of +personality. Excuse us for Bunker Hill, Patrick Henry, and Waldorf +Astor, and such grievances as might lie between us as nations.' + +"'Fellow hoodlums,' says Sterrett, 'on behalf of the Queen I ask +you to cheese it. It is an honour to be a guest at disturbing the +peace under the American flag. Let us chant the passionate strains +of "Yankee Doodle" while the señor behind the bar mitigates the +occasion with another round of cochineal and aqua fortis.' + +"Old Man Billfinger, being charged with a kind of rhetoric, makes +speeches every time we stop. We explained to such citizens as we +happened to step on that we were celebrating the dawn of our own +private brand of liberty, and to please enter such inhumanities as +we might commit on the list of unavoidable casualties. + +"About eleven o'clock our bulletins read: 'A considerable rise in +temperature, accompanied by thirst and other alarming symptoms.' We +hooked arms and stretched our line across the narrow streets, all +of us armed with Winchesters and navys for purposes of noise and +without malice. We stopped on a street corner and fired a dozen or +so rounds, and began a serial assortment of United States whoops and +yells, probably the first ever heard in that town. + +"When we made that noise things began to liven up. We heard a +pattering up a side street, and here came General Mary Esperanza +Dingo on a white horse with a couple of hundred brown boys following +him in red undershirts and bare feet, dragging guns ten feet long. +Jones and me had forgot all about General Mary and his promise to +help us celebrate. We fired another salute and gave another yell, +while the General shook hands with us and waved his sword. + +"'Oh, General,' shouts Jones, 'this is great. This will be a real +pleasure to the eagle. Get down and have a drink.' + +"'Drink?' says the general. 'No. There is no time to drink. _Viva +la Libertad!_' + +"'Don't forget _E Pluribus Unum!_' says Henry Barnes. + +"'_Viva_ it good and strong,' says I. 'Likewise, _viva_ George +Washington. God save the Union, and,' I says, bowing to Sterrett, +'don't discard the Queen.' + +"'Thanks,' says Sterrett. 'The next round's mine. All in to the bar. +Army, too.' + +"But we were deprived of Sterrett's treat by a lot of gunshots +several squares sway, which General Dingo seemed to think he ought +to look after. He spurred his old white plug up that way, and the +soldiers scuttled along after him. + +"'Mary is a real tropical bird,' says Jones. 'He's turned out the +infantry to help us do honour to the Fourth. We'll get that cannon +he spoke of after a while and fire some window-breakers with it. +But just now I want some of that barbecued beef. Let us on to the +plaza.' + +"There we found the meat gloriously done, and Jerry waiting, +anxious. We sat around on the grass, and got hunks of it on our tin +plates. Maximilian Jones, always made tender-hearted by drink, cried +some because George Washington couldn't be there to enjoy the day. +'There was a man I love, Billy,' he says, weeping on my shoulder. +'Poor George! To think he's gone, and missed the fireworks. A little +more salt, please, Jerry.' + +"From what we could hear, General Dingo seemed to be kindly +contributing some noise while we feasted. There were guns going off +around town, and pretty soon we heard that cannon go 'BOOM!' just as +he said it would. And then men began to skim along the edge of the +plaza, dodging in among the orange trees and houses. We certainly +had things stirred up in Salvador. We felt proud of the occasion and +grateful to General Dingo. Sterrett was about to take a bite off a +juicy piece of rib when a bullet took it away from his mouth. + +"'Somebody's celebrating with ball cartridges,' says he, reaching +for another piece. 'Little over-zealous for a non-resident patriot, +isn't it?' + +"'Don't mind it,' I says to him. ''Twas an accident. They happen, +you know, on the Fourth. After one reading of the Declaration of +Independence in New York I've known the S. R. O. sign to be hung out +at all the hospitals and police stations.' + +"But then Jerry gives a howl and jumps up with one hand clapped to +the back of his leg where another bullet has acted over-zealous. And +then comes a quantity of yells, and round a corner and across the +plaza gallops General Mary Esperanza Dingo embracing the neck of his +horse, with his men running behind him, mostly dropping their guns +by way of discharging ballast. And chasing 'em all is a company of +feverish little warriors wearing blue trousers and caps. + +"'Assistance, amigos,' the General shouts, trying to stop his horse. +'Assistance, in the name of Liberty!' + +"'That's the Compañia Azul, the President's bodyguard,' says Jones. +'What a shame! They've jumped on poor old Mary just because he was +helping us to celebrate. Come on, boys, it's our Fourth;--do we let +that little squad of A.D.T's break it up?' + +"'I vote No,' says Martin Dillard, gathering his Winchester. 'It's +the privilege of an American citizen to drink, drill, dress up, and +be dreadful on the Fourth of July, no matter whose country he's in.' + +"'Fellow citizens!' says old man Billfinger, 'In the darkest hour +of Freedom's birth, when our brave forefathers promulgated the +principles of undying liberty, they never expected that a bunch of +blue jays like that should be allowed to bust up an anniversary. Let +us preserve and protect the Constitution.' + +"We made it unanimous, and then we gathered our guns and assaulted +the blue troops in force. We fired over their heads, and then +charged 'em with a yell, and they broke and ran. We were irritated +at having our barbecue disturbed, and we chased 'em a quarter of a +mile. Some of 'em we caught and kicked hard. The General rallied his +troops and joined in the chase. Finally they scattered in a thick +banana grove, and we couldn't flush a single one. So we sat down and +rested. + +"If I were to be put, severe, through the third degree, I wouldn't +be able to tell much about the rest of the day. I mind that we +pervaded the town considerable, calling upon the people to bring out +more armies for us to destroy. I remember seeing a crowd somewhere, +and a tall man that wasn't Billfinger making a Fourth of July speech +from a balcony. And that was about all. + +"Somebody must have hauled the old ice factory up to where I was, +and put it around me, for there's where I was when I woke up the +next morning. As soon as I could recollect by name and address I got +up and held an inquest. My last cent was gone. I was all in. + +"And then a neat black carriage drives to the door, and out steps +General Dingo and a bay man in a silk hat and tan shoes. + +"'Yes,' says I to myself, 'I see it now. You're the Chief de +Policeos and High Lord Chamberlain of the Calaboosum; and you want +Billy Casparis for excess of patriotism and assault with intent. All +right. Might as well be in jail, anyhow.' + +"But it seems that General Mary is smiling, and the bay man shakes +my hand, and speaks in the American dialect. + +"'General Dingo has informed me, Señor Casparis, of your gallant +service in our cause. I desire to thank you with my person. The +bravery of you and the other señores Americanos turned the struggle +for liberty in our favour. Our party triumphed. The terrible battle +will live forever in history. + +"'Battle?' says I; 'what battle?' and I ran my mind back along +history, trying to think. + +"'Señor Casparis is modest,' says General Dingo. 'He led his brave +compadres into the thickest of the fearful conflict. Yes. Without +their aid the revolution would have failed.' + +"'Why, now,' says I, 'don't tell me there was a revolution +yesterday. That was only a Fourth of--' + +"But right there I abbreviated. It seemed to me it might be best. + +"'After the terrible struggle,' says the bay man, 'President Bolano +was forced to fly. To-day Caballo is President by proclamation. Ah, +yes. Beneath the new administration I am the head of the Department +of Mercantile Concessions. On my file I find one report, Señor +Casparis, that you have not made ice in accord with your contract.' +And here the bay man smiles at me, 'cute. + +"'Oh, well,' says I, 'I guess the report's straight. I know they +caught me. That's all there is to it.' + +"'Do not say so,' says the bay man. He pulls off a glove and goes +over and lays his hand on that chunk of glass. + +"'Ice,' says he, nodding his head, solemn. + +"General Dingo also steps over and feels of it. + +"'Ice,' says the General; 'I'll swear to it.' + +"'If Señor Casparis,' says the bay man, 'will present himself to the +treasury on the sixth day of this month he will receive back the +thousand dollars he did deposit as a forfeit. Adios, señor.' + +"The General and the bay man bowed themselves out, and I bowed as +often as they did. + +"And when the carriage rolls away through the sand I bows once more, +deeper than ever, till my hat touches the ground. But this time +'twas not intended for them. For, over their heads, I saw the old +flag fluttering in the breeze above the consul's roof; and 'twas to +it I made my profoundest salute." + + + + +XIV + +THE EMANCIPATION OF BILLY + + +In the old, old, square-porticoed mansion, with the wry +window-shutters and the paint peeling off in discoloured flakes, +lived one of the last of the war governors. + +The South has forgotten the enmity of the great conflict, but it +refuses to abandon its old traditions and idols. In "Governor" +Pemberton, as he was still fondly called, the inhabitants of +Elmville saw the relic of their state's ancient greatness and glory. +In his day he had been a man large in the eye of his country. His +state had pressed upon him every honour within its gift. And now +when he was old, and enjoying a richly merited repose outside the +swift current of public affairs, his townsmen loved to do him +reverence for the sake of the past. + +The Governor's decaying "mansion" stood upon the main street of +Elmville within a few feet of its rickety paling-fence. Every +morning the Governor would descend the steps with extreme care and +deliberation--on account of his rheumatism--and then the click of +his gold-headed cane would be heard as he slowly proceeded up the +rugged brick sidewalk. He was now nearly seventy-eight, but he had +grown old gracefully and beautifully. His rather long, smooth hair +and flowing, parted whiskers were snow-white. His full-skirted +frock-croak was always buttoned snugly about his tall, spare +figure. He wore a high, well-kept silk hat--known as a "plug" in +Elmville--and nearly always gloves. His manners were punctilious, +and somewhat overcharged with courtesy. + +The Governor's walks up Lee Avenue, the principal street, developed +in their course into a sort of memorial, triumphant procession. +Everyone he met saluted him with profound respect. Many would remove +their hats. Those who were honoured with his personal friendship +would pause to shake hands, and then you would see exemplified the +genuine _beau ideal_ Southern courtesy. + +Upon reaching the corner of the second square from the mansion, the +Governor would pause. Another street crossed the venue there, and +traffic, to the extent of several farmers' wagons and a peddler's +cart or two, would rage about the junction. Then the falcon eye of +General Deffenbaugh would perceive the situation, and the General +would hasten, with ponderous solicitude, from his office in the +First National Bank building to the assistance of his old friend. + +When the two exchanged greetings the decay of modern manners would +become accusingly apparent. The General's bulky and commanding +figure would bend lissomely at a point where you would have regarded +its ability to do so with incredulity. The Governor would take the +General's arm and be piloted safely between the hay-wagons and the +sprinkling-cart to the other side of the street. Proceeding to the +post-office in the care of his friend, the esteemed statesmen would +there hold an informal levee among the citizens who were come for +their morning mail. Here, gathering two or three prominent in law, +politics, or family, the pageant would make a stately progress along +the Avenue, stopping at the Palace Hotel, where, perhaps, would be +found upon the register the name of some guest deemed worthy of an +introduction to the state's venerable and illustrious son. If any +such were found, an hour or two would be spent in recalling the +faded glories of the Governor's long-vanished administration. + +On the return march the General would invariably suggest that, His +Excellency being no doubt fatigued, it would be wise to recuperate +for a few minutes at the Drug Emporium of Mr. Appleby R. Fentress +(an elegant gentleman, sir--one of the Chatham County Fentresses--so +many of our best-blooded families have had to go into trade, sir, +since the war). + +Mr. Appleby R. Fentress was a _connoisseur_ in fatigue. Indeed, +if he had not been, his memory alone should have enabled him to +prescribe, for the majestic invasion of his pharmacy was a casual +happening that had surprised him almost daily for years. Mr. +Fentress knew the formula of, and possessed the skill to compound, +a certain potion antagonistic to fatigue, the salient ingredient of +which he described (no doubt in pharmaceutical terms) as "genuine +old hand-made Clover Leaf '59, Private Stock." + +Nor did the ceremony of administering the potion ever vary. Mr. +Fentress would first compound two of the celebrated mixtures--one +for the Governor, and the other for the General to "sample." Then +the Governor would make this little speech in his high, piping, +quavering voice: + +"No, sir--not one drop until you have prepared one for yourself and +join us, Mr. Fentress. Your father, sir, was one of my most valued +supporters and friends during My Administration, and any mark of +esteem I can confer upon his son is not only a pleasure but a duty, +sir." + +Blushing with delight at the royal condescension, the druggist would +obey, and all would drink to the General's toast: "The prosperity of +our grand old state, gentlemen--the memory of her glorious past--the +health of her Favourite Son." + +Some one of the Old Guard was always at hand to escort the Governor +home. Sometimes the General's business duties denied him the +privilege, and then Judge Broomfield or Colonel Titus, or one of the +Ashford County Slaughters would be on hand to perform the rite. + +Such were the observances attendant upon the Governor's morning +stroll to the post-office. How much more magnificent, impressive, +and spectacular, then, was the scene at public functions when +the General would lead forth the silver-haired relic of former +greatness, like some rare and fragile waxwork figure, and trumpet +his pristine eminence to his fellow citizens! + +General Deffenbaugh was the Voice of Elmville. Some said he was +Elmville. At any rate, he had no competitor as the Mouthpiece. He +owned enough stock in the _Daily Banner_ to dictate its utterance, +enough shares in the First National Bank to be the referee of its +loans, and a war record that left him without a rival for first +place at barbecues, school commencements, and Decoration Days. +Besides these acquirements he was possessed with endowments. His +personality was inspiring and triumphant. Undisputed sway had +moulded him to the likeness of a fatted Roman emperor. The tones of +his voice were not otherwise than clarion. To say that the General +was public-spirited would fall short of doing him justice. He +had spirit enough for a dozen publics. And as a sure foundation +for it all, he had a heart that was big and stanch. Yes; General +Deffenbaugh was Elmville. + +One little incident that usually occurred during the Governor's +morning walk has had its chronicling delayed by more important +matters. The procession was accustomed to halt before a small brick +office on the Avenue, fronted by a short flight of steep wooden +steps. A modest tin sign over the door bore the words: "Wm. B. +Pemberton: Attorney-at-Law." + +Looking inside, the General would roar: "Hello, Billy, my boy." The +less distinguished members of the escort would call: "Morning, +Billy." The Governor would pipe: "Good morning, William." + +Then a patient-looking little man with hair turning gray along the +temples would come down the steps and shake hands with each one of +the party. All Elmville shook hands when it met. + +The formalities concluded, the little man would go back to his +table, heaped with law books and papers, while the procession would +proceed. + +Billy Pemberton was, as his sign declared, a lawyer by profession. +By occupation and common consent he was the Son of his Father. +This was the shadow in which Billy lived, the pit out of which he +had unsuccessfully striven for years to climb and, he had come +to believe, the grave in which his ambitions were destined to be +buried. Filial respect and duty he paid beyond the habit of most +sons, but he aspired to be known and appraised by his own deeds and +worth. + +After many years of tireless labour he had become known in certain +quarters far from Elmville as a master of the principles of the law. +Twice he had gone to Washington and argued cases before the highest +tribunal with such acute logic and learning that the silken gowns +on the bench had rustled from the force of it. His income from his +practice had grown until he was able to support his father, in the +old family mansion (which neither of them would have thought of +abandoning, rickety as it was) in the comfort and almost the luxury +of the old extravagant days. Yet, he remained to Elmville as only +"Billy" Pemberton, the son of our distinguished and honoured +fellow-townsman, "ex-Governor Pemberton." Thus was he introduced at +public gatherings where he sometimes spoke, haltingly and prosily, +for his talents were too serious and deep for extempore brilliancy; +thus was he presented to strangers and to the lawyers who made the +circuit of the courts; and so the _Daily Banner_ referred to him +in print. To be "the son of" was his doom. What ever he should +accomplish would have to be sacrificed upon the altar of this +magnificent but fatal parental precedence. + +The peculiarity and the saddest thing about Billy's ambition was +that the only world he thirsted to conquer was Elmville. His nature +was diffident and unassuming. National or State honours might +have oppressed him. But, above all things, he hungered for the +appreciation of the friends among whom he had been born and raised. +He would not have plucked one leaf from the garlands that were so +lavishly bestowed upon his father, he merely rebelled against having +his own wreathes woven from those dried and self-same branches. But +Elmville "Billied" and "sonned" him to his concealed but lasting +chagrin, until at length he grew more reserved and formal and +studious than ever. + +There came a morning when Billy found among his mail a letter from +a very high source, tendering him the appointment to an important +judicial position in the new island possessions of our country. The +honour was a distinguished one, for the entire nation had discussed +the probable recipients of these positions, and had agreed that the +situation demanded only men of the highest character, ripe learning, +and evenly balanced mind. + +Billy could not subdue a certain exultation at this token of the +success of his long and arduous labours, but, at the same time, a +whimsical smile lingered around his mouth, for he foresaw in which +column Elmville would place the credit. "We congratulate Governor +Pemberton upon the mark of appreciation conferred upon his +son"--"Elmville rejoices with our honoured citizen, Governor +Pemberton, at his son's success"--"Put her there, Billy!"--"Judge +Billy Pemberton, sir; son of our State's war hero and the people's +pride!"--these were the phrases, printed and oral, conjured up by +Billy's prophetic fancy. Grandson of his State, and stepchild to +Elmville--thus had fate fixed his kinship to the body politic. + +Billy lived with his father in the old mansion. The two and an +elderly lady--a distant relative--comprised the family. Perhaps, +though, old Jeff, the Governor's ancient coloured body-servant, +should be included. Without doubt, he could have claimed the honour. +There were other servants, but Thomas Jefferson Pemberton, sah, was +a member of "de fambly." + +Jeff was the one Elmvillian who gave to Billy the gold of approval +unmixed with the alloy of paternalism. To him "Mars William" was +the greatest man in Talbot County. Beaten upon though he was by the +shining light that emanates from an ex-war governor, and loyal as he +remained to the old _régime_, his faith and admiration were Billy's. +As valet to a hero, and a member of the family, he may have had +superior opportunities for judging. + +Jeff was the first one to whom Bill revealed the news. When he +reached home for supper Jeff took his "plug" hat and smoothed it +before hanging it upon the hall-rack. + +"Dar now!" said the old man: "I knowed it was er comin'. I knowed it +was gwine ter happen. Er Judge, you says, Mars William? Dem Yankees +done made you er judge? It's high time, sah, dey was doin' somep'n +to make up for dey rascality endurin' de war. I boun' dey holds a +confab and says: 'Le's make Mars William Pemberton er judge, and +dat'll settle it.' Does you have to go way down to dem Fillypines, +Mars William, or kin you judge 'em from here?" + +"I'd have to live there most of the time, of course," said Billy. + +"I wonder what de Gubnor gwine say 'bout dat," speculated Jeff. + +Billy wondered too. + +After supper, when the two sat in the library, according to their +habit, the Governor smoking his clay pipe and Billy his cigar, the +son dutifully confessed to having been tendered the appointment. + +For a long time the Governor sat, smoking, without making any +comment. Billy reclined in his favourite rocker, waiting, perhaps +still flushed with satisfaction over the tender that had come to +him, unsolicited, in his dingy little office, above the heads of the +intriguing, time-serving, clamorous multitude. + +At last the Governor spoke; and, though his words were seemingly +irrelevant, they were to the point. His voice had a note of +martyrdom running through its senile quaver. + +"My rheumatism has been growing steadily worse these past months, +William." + +"I am sorry, father," said Billy, gently. + +"And I am nearly seventy-eight. I am getting to be an old man. I can +recall the names of but two or three who were in public life during +My Administration. What did you say is the nature of this position +that is offered you, William?" + +"A Federal Judgeship, father. I believe it is considered to be a +somewhat flattering tender. It is outside of politics and +wire-pulling, you know." + +"No doubt, no doubt. Few of the Pembertons have engaged in +professional life for nearly a century. None of them have ever held +Federal positions. They have been land-holders, slave-owners, and +planters on a large scale. One of two of the Derwents--your mother's +family--were in the law. Have you decided to accept this +appointment, William?" + +"I am thinking it over," said Billy, slowly, regarding the ash of +his cigar. + +"You have been a good son to me," continued the Governor, stirring +his pipe with the handle of a penholder. + +"I've been your son all my life," said Billy, darkly. + +"I am often gratified," piped the Governor, betraying a touch of +complacency, "by being congratulated upon having a son with such +sound and sterling qualities. Especially in this, our native town, +is your name linked with mine in the talk of our citizens." + +"I never knew anyone to forget the vindculum," murmured Billy, +unintelligibly. + +"Whatever prestige," pursued the parent, "I may be possessed of, +by virtue of my name and services to the state, has been yours to +draw upon freely. I have not hesitated to exert it in your behalf +whenever opportunity offered. And you have deserved it, William. +You've been the best of sons. And now this appointment comes to take +you away from me. I have but a few years left to live. I am almost +dependent upon others now, even in walking and dressing. What would +I do without you, my son?" + +The Governor's pipe dropped to the floor. A tear trickled from his +eye. His voice had risen, and crumbled to a weakling falsetto, and +ceased. He was an old, old man about to be bereft of a son that +cherished him. + +Billy rose, and laid his hand upon the Governor's shoulder. + +"Don't worry, father," he said, cheerfully. "I'm not going to +accept. Elmville is good enough for me. I'll write to-night and +decline it." + +At the next interchange of devoirs between the Governor and General +Deffenbaugh on Lee Avenue, His Excellency, with a comfortable air of +self-satisfaction, spoke of the appointment that had been tendered +to Billy. + +The General whistled. + +"That's a plum for Billy," he shouted. "Who'd have thought that +Billy--but, confound it, it's been in him all the time. It's a boost +for Elmville. It'll send real estate up. It's an honour to our +state. It's a compliment to the South. We've all been blind about +Billy. When does he leave? We must have a reception. Great Gatlings! +that job's eight thousand a year! There's been a car-load of +lead-pencils worn to stubs figuring on those appointments. Think of +it! Our little, wood-sawing, mealy-mouthed Billy! Angel unawares +doesn't begin to express it. Elmville is disgraced forever until she +lines up in a hurry for ratification and apology." + +The venerable Moloch smiled fatuously. He carried the fire with +which to consume all these tributes to Billy, the smoke of which +would ascend as an incense to himself. + +"William," said the Governor, with modest pride, "has declined the +appointment. He refuses to leave me in my old age. He is a good +son." + +The General swung round, and laid a large forefinger upon the bosom +of his friend. Much of the General's success had been due to his +dexterity in establishing swift lines of communication between cause +and effect. + +"Governor," he said, with a keen look in his big, ox-like eyes, +"you've been complaining to Billy about your rheumatism." + +"My dear General," replied the Governor, stiffly, "my son is +forty-two. He is quite capable of deciding such questions for +himself. And I, as his parent, feel it my duty to state that your +remark about--er--rheumatism is a mighty poor shot from a very small +bore, sir, aimed at a purely personal and private affliction." + +"If you will allow me," retorted the General, "you've afflicted the +public with it for some time; and 'twas no small bore, at that." + +This first tiff between the two old comrades might have grown into +something more serious, but for the fortunate interruption caused by +the ostentatious approach of Colonel Titus and another one of the +court retinue from the right county, to whom the General confided +the coddled statesman and went his way. + +After Billy had so effectually entombed his ambitions, and taken the +veil, so to speak, in a sonnery, he was surprised to discover how +much lighter of heart and happier he felt. He realized what a long, +restless struggle he had maintained, and how much he had lost by +failing to cull the simple but wholesome pleasures by the way. His +heart warmed now to Elmville and the friends who had refused to +set him upon a pedestal. It was better, he began to think, to be +"Billy" and his father's son, and to be hailed familiarly by cheery +neighbours and grown-up playmates, than to be "Your Honour," and sit +among strangers, hearing, maybe, through the arguments of learned +counsel, that old man's feeble voice crying: "What would I do +without you, my son?" + +Billy began to surprise his acquaintances by whistling as he walked +up the street; others he astounded by slapping them disrespectfully +upon their backs and raking up old anecdotes he had not had the time +to recollect for years. Though he hammered away at his law cases +as thoroughly as ever, he found more time for relaxation and the +company of his friends. Some of the younger set were actually after +him to join the golf club. A striking proof of his abandonment to +obscurity was his adoption of a most undignified, rakish, little +soft hat, reserving the "plug" for Sundays and state occasions. +Billy was beginning to enjoy Elmville, though that irreverent burgh +had neglected to crown him with bay and myrtle. + +All the while uneventful peace pervaded Elmville. The Governor +continued to make his triumphal parades to the post-office with the +General as chief marshal, for the slight squall that had rippled +their friendship had, to all indications, been forgotten by both. + +But one day Elmville woke to sudden excitement. The news had come +that a touring presidential party would honour Elmville by a +twenty-minute stop. The Executive had promised a five-minute address +from the balcony of the Palace Hotel. + +Elmville arose as one man--that man being, of course, General +Deffenbaugh--to receive becomingly the chieftain of all the clans. +The train with the tiny Stars and Stripes fluttering from the +engine pilot arrived. Elmville had done her best. There were bands, +flowers, carriages, uniforms, banners, and committees without end. +High-school girls in white frocks impeded the steps of the party +with roses strewn nervously in bunches. The chieftain had seen it +all before--scores of times. He could have pictured it exactly in +advance, from the Blue-and-Gray speech down to the smallest rosebud. +Yet his kindly smile of interest greeted Elmville's display as if it +had been the only and original. + +In the upper rotunda of the Palace Hotel the town's most +illustrious were assembled for the honour of being presented to the +distinguished guests previous to the expected address. Outside, +Elmville's inglorious but patriotic masses filled the streets. + +Here, in the hotel General Deffenbaugh was holding in reserve +Elmville's trump card. Elmville knew; for the trump was a fixed one, +and its lead consecrated by archaic custom. + +At the proper moment Governor Pemberton, beautifully venerable, +magnificently antique, tall, paramount, stepped forward upon the arm +of the General. + +Elmville watched and harked with bated breath. Never until now--when +a Northern President of the United States should clasp hands with +ex-war-Governor Pemberton would the breach be entirely closed--would +the country be made one and indivisible--no North, not much South, +very little East, and no West to speak of. So Elmville excitedly +scraped kalsomine from the walls of the Palace Hotel with its Sunday +best, and waited for the Voice to speak. + +And Billy! We had nearly forgotten Billy. He was cast for Son, and +he waited patiently for his cue. He carried his "plug" in his hand, +and felt serene. He admired his father's striking air and pose. +After all, it was a great deal to be a son of a man who could so +gallantly hold the position of a cynosure for three generations. + +General Deffenbaugh cleared his throat. Elmville opened its mouth, +and squirmed. The chieftain with the kindly, fateful face was +holding out his hand, smiling. Ex-war-Governor Pemberton extended +his own across the chasm. But what was this the General was saying? + +"Mr. President, allow me to present to you one who has the honour to +be the father of our foremost, distinguished citizen, learned and +honoured jurist, beloved townsman, and model Southern gentleman--the +Honourable William B. Pemberton." + + + + +XV + +THE ENCHANTED KISS + + +But a clerk in the Cut-rate Drug Store was Samuel Tansey, yet +his slender frame was a pad that enfolded the passion of Romeo, +the gloom of Laura, the romance of D'Artagnan, and the desperate +inspiration of Melnotte. Pity, then, that he had been denied +expression, that he was doomed to the burden of utter timidity and +diffidence, that Fate had set him tongue-tied and scarlet before +the muslin-clad angels whom he adored and vainly longed to rescue, +clasp, comfort, and subdue. + +The clock's hands were pointing close upon the hour of ten while +Tansey was playing billiards with a number of his friends. On +alternate evenings he was released from duty at the store after +seven o'clock. Even among his fellow-men Tansey was timorous and +constrained. In his imagination he had done valiant deeds and +performed acts of distinguished gallantry; but in fact he was a +sallow youth of twenty-three, with an over-modest demeanour and +scant vocabulary. + +When the clock struck ten, Tansey hastily laid down his cue and +struck sharply upon the show-case with a coin for the attendant to +come and receive the pay for his score. + +"What's your hurry, Tansey?" called one. "Got another engagement?" + +"Tansey got an engagement!" echoed another. "Not on your life. +Tansey's got to get home at Motten by her Peek's orders." + +"It's no such thing," chimed in a pale youth, taking a large cigar +from his mouth; "Tansey's afraid to be late because Miss Katie might +come down stairs to unlock the door, and kiss him in the hall." + +This delicate piece of raillery sent a fiery tingle into Tansey's +blood, for the indictment was true--barring the kiss. That was a +thing to dream of; to wildly hope for; but too remote and sacred a +thing to think of lightly. + +Casting a cold and contemptuous look at the speaker--a punishment +commensurate with his own diffident spirit--Tansey left the room, +descending the stairs into the street. + +For two years he had silently adored Miss Peek, worshipping her from +a spiritual distance through which her attractions took on stellar +brightness and mystery. Mrs. Peek kept a few choice boarders, among +whom was Tansey. The other young men romped with Katie, chased her +with crickets in their fingers, and "jollied" her with an irreverent +freedom that turned Tansey's heart into cold lead in his bosom. +The signs of his adoration were few--a tremulous "Good morning," +stealthy glances at her during meals, and occasionally (Oh, +rapture!) a blushing, delirious game of cribbage with her in the +parlour on some rare evening when a miraculous lack of engagement +kept her at home. Kiss him in the hall! Aye, he feared it, but it +was an ecstatic fear such as Elijah must have felt when the chariot +lifted him into the unknown. + +But to-night the gibes of his associates had stung him to a feeling +of forward, lawless mutiny; a defiant, challenging, atavistic +recklessness. Spirit of corsair, adventurer, lover, poet, +bohemian, possessed him. The stars he saw above him seemed no more +unattainable, no less high, than the favour of Miss Peek or the +fearsome sweetness of her delectable lips. His fate seemed to him +strangely dramatic and pathetic, and to call for a solace consonant +with its extremity. A saloon was near by, and to this he flitted, +calling for absinthe--beyond doubt the drink most adequate to his +mood--the tipple of the roué, the abandoned, the vainly sighing +lover. + +Once he drank of it, and again, and then again until he felt a +strange, exalted sense of non-participation in worldly affairs +pervade him. Tansey was no drinker; his consumption of three +absinthe anisettes within almost as few minutes proclaimed his +unproficiency in the art; Tansey was merely flooding with unproven +liquor his sorrows; which record and tradition alleged to be +drownable. + +Coming out upon the sidewalk, he snapped his fingers defiantly in +the direction of the Peek homestead, turned the other way, and +voyaged, Columbus-like into the wilds of an enchanted street. Nor is +the figure exorbitant, for, beyond his store the foot of Tansey had +scarcely been set for years--store and boarding-house; between these +ports he was chartered to run, and contrary currents had rarely +deflected his prow. + +Tansey aimlessly protracted his walk, and, whether it was his +unfamiliarity with the district, his recent accession of audacious +errantry, or the sophistical whisper of a certain green-eyed +fairy, he came at last to tread a shuttered, blank, and echoing +thoroughfare, dark and unpeopled. And, suddenly, this way came to an +end (as many streets do in the Spanish-built, archaic town of San +Antone), butting its head against an imminent, high, brick wall. +No--the street still lived! To the right and to the left it breathed +through slender tubes of exit--narrow, somnolent ravines, cobble +paved and unlighted. Accommodating a rise in the street to the right +was reared a phantom flight of five luminous steps of limestone, +flanked by a wall of the same height and of the same material. + +Upon one of these steps Tansey seated himself and bethought him of +his love, and how she might never know she was his love. And of +Mother Peek, fat, vigilant and kind; not unpleased, Tansey thought, +that he and Katie should play cribbage in the parlour together. +For the Cut-rate had not cut his salary, which, sordidly speaking, +ranked him star boarder at the Peek's. And he thought of Captain +Peek, Katie's father, a man he dreaded and abhorred; a genteel +loafer and spendthrift, battening upon the labour of his women-folk; +a very queer fish, and, according to repute, not of the freshest. + +The night had turned chill and foggy. The heart of the town, with +its noises, was left behind. Reflected from the high vapours, its +distant lights were manifest in quivering, cone-shaped streamers, in +questionable blushes of unnamed colours, in unstable, ghostly waves +of far, electric flashes. Now that the darkness was become more +friendly, the wall against which the street splintered developed a +stone coping topped with an armature of spikes. Beyond it loomed +what appeared to be the acute angles of mountain peaks, pierced here +and there by little lambent parallelograms. Considering this vista, +Tansey at length persuaded himself that the seeming mountains were, +in fact, the convent of Santa Mercedes, with which ancient and +bulky pile he was better familiar from different coigns of view. A +pleasant note of singing in his ears reinforced his opinion. High, +sweet, holy carolling, far and harmonious and uprising, as of +sanctified nuns at their responses. At what hour did the Sisters +sing? He tried to think--was it six, eight, twelve? Tansey leaned +his back against the limestone wall and wondered. Strange things +followed. The air was full of white, fluttering pigeons that circled +about, and settled upon the convent wall. The wall blossomed with a +quantity of shining green eyes that blinked and peered at him from +the solid masonry. A pink, classic nymph came from an excavation in +the cavernous road and danced, barefoot and airy, upon the ragged +flints. The sky was traversed by a company of beribboned cats, +marching in stupendous, aërial procession. The noise of singing grew +louder; an illumination of unseasonable fireflies danced past, and +strange whispers came out of the dark without meaning or excuse. + +Without amazement Tansey took note of these phenomena. He was on +some new plane of understanding, though his mind seemed to him clear +and, indeed, happily tranquil. + +A desire for movement and exploration seized him: he rose and turned +into the black gash of street to his right. For a time the high +wall formed one of its boundaries; but further on, two rows of +black-windowed houses closed it in. + +Here was the city's quarter once given over to the Spaniard. Here +were still his forbidding abodes of concrete and adobe, standing +cold and indomitable against the century. From the murky fissure, +the eye saw, flung against the sky, the tangled filigree of +his Moorish balconies. Through stone archways breaths of dead, +vault-chilled air coughed upon him; his feet struck jingling +iron rings in staples stone-buried for half a cycle. Along these +paltry avenues had swaggered the arrogant Don, had caracoled and +serenaded and blustered while the tomahawk and the pioneer's rifle +were already uplifted to expel him from a continent. And Tansey, +stumbling through this old-world dust, looked up, dark as it was, +and saw Andalusian beauties glimmering on the balconies. Some of +them were laughing and listening to the goblin music that still +followed; others harked fearfully through the night, trying to catch +the hoof beats of caballeros whose last echoes from those stones had +died away a century ago. Those women were silent, but Tansey heard +the jangle of horseless bridle-bits, the whirr of riderless rowels, +and, now and then, a muttered malediction in a foreign tongue. But +he was not frightened. Shadows, nor shadows of sounds could daunt +him. Afraid? No. Afraid of Mother Peek? Afraid to face the girl +of his heart? Afraid of tipsy Captain Peek? Nay! nor of these +apparitions, nor of that spectral singing that always pursued him. +Singing! He would show them! He lifted up a strong and untuneful +voice: + + + "When you hear them bells go tingalingling," + + +serving notice upon those mysterious agencies that if it should come +to a face-to-face encounter + + + "There'll be a hot time + In the old town + To-night!" + + +How long Tansey consumed in treading this haunted byway was not +clear to him, but in time he emerged into a more commodious avenue. +When within a few yards of the corner he perceived, through a +window, that a small confectionary of mean appearance was set in +the angle. His same glance that estimated its meagre equipment, its +cheap soda-water fountain and stock of tobacco and sweets, took +cognizance of Captain Peek within lighting a cigar at a swinging +gaslight. + +As Tansey rounded the corner Captain Peek came out, and they met +_vis-a-vis_. An exultant joy filled Tansey when he found himself +sustaining the encounter with implicit courage. Peek, indeed! He +raised his hand, and snapped his fingers loudly. + +It was Peek himself who quailed guiltily before the valiant mien of +the drug clerk. Sharp surprise and a palpable fear bourgeoned upon +the Captain's face. And, verily, that face was one to rather call up +such expressions on the faces of others. The face of a libidinous +heathen idol, small eyed, with carven folds in the heavy jowls, and +a consuming, pagan license in its expression. In the gutter just +beyond the store Tansey saw a closed carriage standing with its back +toward him and a motionless driver perched in his place. + +"Why, it's Tansey!" exclaimed Captain Peek. "How are you, Tansey? +H-have a cigar, Tansey?" + +"Why, it's Peek!" cried Tansey, jubilant at his own temerity. +"What deviltry are you up to now, Peek? Back streets and a closed +carriage! Fie! Peek!" + +"There's no one in the carriage," said the Captain, smoothly. + +"Everybody out of it is in luck," continued Tansey, aggressively. +"I'd love for you to know, Peek, that I'm not stuck on you. You're a +bottle-nosed scoundrel." + +"Why, the little rat's drunk!" cried the Captain, joyfully; "only +drunk, and I thought he was on! Go home, Tansey, and quit bothering +grown persons on the street." + +But just then a white-clad figure sprang out of the carriage, and a +shrill voice--Katie's voice--sliced the air: "Sam! Sam!--help me, +Sam!" + +Tansey sprung toward her, but Captain Peek interposed his bulky +form. Wonder of wonders! the whilom spiritless youth struck out +with his right, and the hulking Captain went over in a swearing +heap. Tansey flew to Katie, and took her in his arms like a +conquering knight. She raised her face, and he kissed her--violets! +electricity! caramels! champagne! Here was the attainment of a dream +that brought no disenchantment. + +"Oh, Sam," cried Katie, when she could, "I knew you would come to +rescue me. What do you suppose the mean things were going to do with +me?" + +"Have your picture taken," said Tansey, wondering at the foolishness +of his remark. + +"No, they were going to eat me. I heard them talking about it." + +"Eat you!" said Tansey, after pondering a moment. "That can't be; +there's no plates." + +But a sudden noise warned him to turn. Down upon him were bearing +the Captain and a monstrous long-bearded dwarf in a spangled cloak +and red trunk-hose. The dwarf leaped twenty feet and clutched them. +The Captain seized Katie and hurled her, shrieking, back into the +carriage, himself followed, and the vehicle dashed away. The dwarf +lifted Tansey high above his head and ran with him into the store. +Holding him with one hand, he raised the lid of an enormous chest +half filled with cakes of ice, flung Tansey inside, and closed down +the cover. + +The force of the fall must have been great, for Tansey lost +consciousness. When his faculties revived his first sensation was +one of severe cold along his back and limbs. Opening his eyes, he +found himself to be seated upon the limestone steps still facing the +wall and convent of Santa Mercedes. His first thought was of the +ecstatic kiss from Katie. The outrageous villainy of Captain Peek, +the unnatural mystery of the situation, his preposterous conflict +with the improbable dwarf--these things roused and angered him, but +left no impression of the unreal. + +"I'll go back there to-morrow," he grumbled aloud, "and knock the +head off that comic-opera squab. Running out and picking up perfect +strangers, and shoving them into cold storage!" + +But the kiss remained uppermost in his mind. "I might have done that +long ago," he mused. "She liked it, too. She called me 'Sam' four +times. I'll not go up that street again. Too much scrapping. Guess +I'll move down the other way. Wonder what she meant by saying they +were going to eat her!" + +Tansey began to feel sleepy, but after a while he decided to move +along again. This time he ventured into the street to his left. It +ran level for a distance, and then dipped gently downward, opening +into a vast, dim, barren space--the old Military Plaza. To his left, +some hundred yards distant, he saw a cluster of flickering lights +along the Plaza's border. He knew the locality at once. + +Huddled within narrow confines were the remnants of the once-famous +purveyors of the celebrated Mexican national cookery. A few years +before, their nightly encampments upon the historic Alamo Plaza, in +the heart of the city, had been a carnival, a saturnalia that was +renowned throughout the land. Then the caterers numbered hundreds; +the patrons thousands. Drawn by the coquettish _señoritas_, the +music of the weird Spanish minstrels, and the strange piquant +Mexican dishes served at a hundred competing tables, crowds thronged +the Alamo Plaza all night. Travellers, rancheros, family parties, +gay gasconading rounders, sightseers and prowlers of polyglot, +owlish San Antone mingled there at the centre of the city's fun and +frolic. The popping of corks, pistols, and questions; the glitter of +eyes, jewels and daggers; the ring of laughter and coin--these were +the order of the night. + +But now no longer. To some half-dozen tents, fires, and tables had +dwindled the picturesque festival, and these had been relegated to +an ancient disused plaza. + +Often had Tansey strolled down to these stands at night to partake +of the delectable _chili-con-carne_, a dish evolved by the genius of +Mexico, composed of delicate meats minced with aromatic herbs and +the poignant _chili colorado_--a compound full of singular flavour +and a fiery zest delightful to the Southron's palate. + +The titillating odour of this concoction came now, on the breeze, to +the nostrils of Tansey, awakening in him hunger for it. As he turned +in that direction he saw a carriage dash up to the Mexicans' tents +out of the gloom of the Plaza. Some figures moved back and forward +in the uncertain light of the lanterns, and then the carriage was +driven swiftly away. + +Tansey approached, and sat at one of the tables covered with gaudy +oil-cloth. Traffic was dull at the moment. A few half-grown boys +noisily fared at another table; the Mexicans hung listless and +phlegmatic about their wares. And it was still. The night hum of the +city crowded to the wall of dark buildings surrounding the Plaza, +and subsided to an indefinite buzz through which sharply perforated +the crackle of the languid fires and the rattle of fork and spoon. +A sedative wind blew from the southeast. The starless firmament +pressed down upon the earth like a leaden cover. + +In all that quiet Tansey turned his head suddenly, and saw, without +disquietude, a troop of spectral horsemen deploy into the Plaza and +charge a luminous line of infantry that advanced to sustain the +shock. He saw the fierce flame of cannon and small arms, but heard +no sound. The careless victuallers lounged vacantly, not deigning to +view the conflict. Tansey mildly wondered to what nations these mute +combatants might belong; turned his back to them and ordered his +chili and coffee from the Mexican woman who advanced to serve him. +This woman was old and careworn; her face was lined like the rind +of a cantaloupe. She fetched the viands from a vessel set by the +smouldering fire, and then retired to a tent, dark within, that +stood near by. + +Presently Tansey heard a turmoil in the tent; a wailing, +broken-hearted pleading in the harmonious Spanish tongue, and then +two figures tumbled out into the light of the lanterns. One was the +old woman; the other was a man clothed with a sumptuous and flashing +splendour. The woman seemed to clutch and beseech from him something +against his will. The man broke from her and struck her brutally +back into the tent, where she lay, whimpering and invisible. +Observing Tansey, he walked rapidly to the table where he sat. +Tansey recognized him to be Ramon Torres, a Mexican, the proprietor +of the stand he was patronizing. + +Torres was a handsome, nearly full-blooded descendant of the +Spanish, seemingly about thirty years of age, and of a haughty, but +extremely courteous demeanour. To-night he was dressed with signal +magnificence. His costume was that of a triumphant _matador_, made +of purple velvet almost hidden by jeweled embroidery. Diamonds of +enormous size flashed upon his garb and his hands. He reached for a +chair, and, seating himself at the opposite side of the table, began +to roll a finical cigarette. + +"Ah, Meester Tansee," he said, with a sultry fire in his silky, +black eyes, "I give myself pleasure to see you this evening. Meester +Tansee, you have many times come to eat at my table. I theenk you a +safe man--a verree good friend. How much would it please you to +leeve forever?" + +"Not come back any more?" inquired Tansey. + +"No; not leave--_leeve_; the not-to-die." + +"I would call that," said Tansey, "a snap." + +Torres leaned his elbows upon the table, swallowed a mouthful of +smoke, and spake--each word being projected in a little puff of +gray. + +"How old do you theenk I am, Meester Tansee?" + +"Oh, twenty-eight or thirty." + +"Thees day," said the Mexican, "ees my birthday. I am four hundred +and three years of old to-day." + +"Another proof," said Tansey, airily, "of the healthfulness of our +climate." + +"Eet is not the air. I am to relate to you a secret of verree fine +value. Listen me, Meester Tansee. At the age of twenty-three I +arrive in Mexico from Spain. When? In the year fifteen hundred +nineteen, with the _soldados_ of Hernando Cortez. I come to thees +country seventeen fifteen. I saw your Alamo reduced. It was like +yesterday to me. Three hundred ninety-six year ago I learn the +secret always to leeve. Look at these clothes I war--at these +_diamantes_. Do you theenk I buy them with the money I make with +selling the _chili-con-carne_, Meester Tansee?" + +"I should think not," said Tansey, promptly. Torres laughed loudly. + +"_Valgame Dios!_ but I do. But it not the kind you eating now. I +make a deeferent kind, the eating of which makes men to always +leeve. What do you think! One thousand people I supply--_diez pesos_ +each one pays me the month. You see! ten thousand _pesos_ everee +month! _Que diable!_ how not I wear the fine _ropa_! You see that +old woman try to hold me back a little while ago? That ees my wife. +When I marry her she is young--seventeen year--_bonita_. Like +the rest she ees become old and--what you say!--tough? I am the +same--young all the time. To-night I resolve to dress myself +and find another wife befitting my age. This old woman try to +scr-r-ratch my face. Ha! ha! Meester Tansee--same way they do +_entre los Americanos_." + +"And this health-food you spoke of?" said Tansey. + +"Hear me," said Torres, leaning over the table until he lay flat +upon it; "eet is the _chili-con-carne_ made not from the beef or the +chicken, but from the flesh of the _señorita_--young and tender. +That ees the secret. Everee month you must eat of it, having care to +do so before the moon is full, and you will not die any times. See +how I trust you, friend Tansee! To-night I have bought one young +ladee--verree pretty--so _fina, gorda, blandita!_ To-morrow the +_chili_ will be ready. _Ahora si!_ One thousand dollars I pay for +thees young ladee. From an _Americano_ I have bought--a verree +tip-top man--_el Capitan Peek_--_que es, Señor?_" + +For Tansey had sprung to his feet, upsetting the chair. The words +of Katie reverberated in his ears: "They're going to eat me, Sam." +This, then, was the monstrous fate to which she had been delivered +by her unnatural parent. The carriage he had seen drive up from the +Plaza was Captain Peek's. Where was Katie? Perhaps already-- + +Before he could decide what to do a loud scream came from the tent. +The old Mexican woman ran out, a flashing knife in her hand. "I have +released her," she cried. "You shall kill no more. They will hang +you--_ingrato_--_encatador!_" + +Torres, with a hissing exclamation, sprang at her. + +"Ramoncito!" she shrieked; "once you loved me." + +The Mexican's arm raised and descended. "You are old," he cried; and +she fell and lay motionless. + +Another scream; the flaps of the tent were flung aside, and there +stood Katie, white with fear, her wrists still bound with a cruel +cord. + +"Sam!" she cried, "save me again!" + +Tansey rounded the table, and flung himself, with superb nerve, upon +the Mexican. Just then a clangour began; the clocks of the city were +tolling the midnight hour. Tansey clutched at Torres, and, for a +moment, felt in his grasp the crunch of velvet and the cold facets +of the glittering gems. The next instant, the bedecked caballero +turned in his hands to a shrunken, leather-visaged, white-bearded, +old, old, screaming mummy, sandalled, ragged, and four hundred and +three. The Mexican woman was crawling to her feet, and laughing. She +shook her brown hand in the face of the whining _viejo_. + +"Go, now," she cried, "and seek your señorita. It was I, Ramoncito, +who brought you to this. Within each moon you eat of the life-giving +_chili_. It was I that kept the wrong time for you. You should have +eaten _yesterday_ instead of _to-morrow_. It is too late. Off with +you, _hombre_! You are too old for me!" + +"This," decided Tansey, releasing his hold of the gray-beard, "is a +private family matter concerning age, and no business of mine." + +With one of the table knives he hastened to saw asunder the fetters +of the fair captive; and then, for the second time that night he +kissed Katie Peek--tasted again the sweetness, the wonder, the +thrill of it, attained once more the maximum of his incessant +dreams. + +The next instant an icy blade was driven deep between his shoulders; +he felt his blood slowly congeal; heard the senile cackle of the +perennial Spaniard; saw the Plaza rise and reel till the zenith +crashed into the horizon--and knew no more. + +When Tansey opened his eyes again he was sitting upon those +self-same steps gazing upon the dark bulk of the sleeping convent. +In the middle of his back was still the acute, chilling pain. How +had he been conveyed back there again? He got stiffly to his feet +and stretched his cramped limbs. Supporting himself against the +stonework he revolved in his mind the extravagant adventures that +had befallen him each time he had strayed from the steps that night. +In reviewing them certain features strained his credulity. Had he +really met Captain Peek or Katie or the unparalleled Mexican in +his wanderings--had he really encountered them under commonplace +conditions and his over-stimulated brain had supplied the +incongruities? However that might be, a sudden, elating thought +caused him an intense joy. Nearly all of us have, at some point in +our lives--either to excuse our own stupidity or to placate our +consciences--promulgated some theory of fatalism. We have set up +an intelligent Fate that works by codes and signals. Tansey had +done likewise; and now he read, through the night's incidents, the +finger-prints of destiny. Each excursion that he had made had led +to the one paramount finale--to Katie and that kiss, which survived +and grew strong and intoxicating in his memory. Clearly, Fate was +holding up to him the mirror that night, calling him to observe +what awaited him at the end of whichever road he might take. He +immediately turned, and hurried homeward. + + + +Clothed in an elaborate, pale blue wrapper, cut to fit, Miss Katie +Peek reclined in an armchair before a waning fire in her room. Her +little, bare feet were thrust into house-shoes rimmed with swan's +down. By the light of a small lamp she was attacking the society +news of the latest Sunday paper. Some happy substance, seemingly +indestructible, was being rhythmically crushed between her small +white teeth. Miss Katie read of functions and furbelows, but she +kept a vigilant ear for outside sounds and a frequent eye upon the +clock over the mantel. At every footstep upon the asphalt sidewalk +her smooth, round chin would cease for a moment its regular rise and +fall, and a frown of listening would pucker her pretty brows. + +At last she heard the latch of the iron gate click. She sprang +up, tripped softly to the mirror, where she made a few of those +feminine, flickering passes at her front hair and throat which are +warranted to hypnotize the approaching guest. + +The door-bell rang. Miss Katie, in her haste, turned the blaze of +the lamp lower instead of higher, and hastened noiselessly down +stairs into the hall. She turned the key, the door opened, and Mr. +Tansey side-stepped in. + +"Why, the i-de-a!" exclaimed Miss Katie, "is this you, Mr. Tansey? +It's after midnight. Aren't you ashamed to wake me up at such an +hour to let you in? You're just _awful_!" + +"I was late," said Tansey, brilliantly. + +"I should think you were! Ma was awfully worried about you. When you +weren't in by ten, that hateful Tom McGill said you were out calling +on another--said you were out calling on some young lady. I just +despise Mr. McGill. Well, I'm not going to scold you any more, Mr. +Tansey, if it _is_ a little late--Oh! I turned it the wrong way!" + +Miss Katie gave a little scream. Absent-mindedly she had turned the +blaze of the lamp entirely out instead of higher. It was very dark. + +Tansey heard a musical, soft giggle, and breathed an entrancing +odour of heliotrope. A groping light hand touched his arm. + +"How awkward I was! Can you find your way--Sam?" + +"I--I think I have a match, Miss K-Katie." + +A scratching sound; a flame; a glow of light held at arm's length by +the recreant follower of Destiny illuminating a tableau which shall +end the ignominious chronicle--a maid with unkissed, curling, +contemptuous lips slowly lifting the lamp chimney and allowing the +wick to ignite; then waving a scornful and abjuring hand toward the +staircase--the unhappy Tansey, erstwhile champion in the prophetic +lists of fortune, ingloriously ascending to his just and certain +doom, while (let us imagine) half within the wings stands the +imminent figure of Fate jerking wildly at the wrong strings, and +mixing things up in her usual able manner. + + + + +XVI + +A DEPARTMENTAL CASE + + +In Texas you may travel a thousand miles in a straight line. If +your course is a crooked one, it is likely that both the distance +and your rate of speed may be vastly increased. Clouds there +sail serenely against the wind. The whip-poor-will delivers its +disconsolate cry with the notes exactly reversed from those of his +Northern brother. Given a drought and a subsequently lively rain, +and lo! from a glazed and stony soil will spring in a single night +blossomed lilies, miraculously fair. Tom Green County was once the +standard of measurement. I have forgotten how many New Jerseys and +Rhode Islands it was that could have been stowed away and lost in +its chaparral. But the legislative axe has slashed Tom Green into +a handful of counties hardly larger than European kingdoms. The +legislature convenes at Austin, near the centre of the state; and, +while the representative from the Rio Grande country is gathering +his palm-leaf fan and his linen duster to set out for the capital, +the Pan-handle solon winds his muffler above his well-buttoned +overcoat and kicks the snow from his well-greased boots ready for +the same journey. All this merely to hint that the big ex-republic +of the Southwest forms a sizable star on the flag, and to prepare +for the corollary that things sometimes happen there uncut to +pattern and unfettered by metes and bounds. + +The Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History of the State +of Texas was an official of no very great or very small importance. +The past tense is used, for now he is Commissioner of Insurance +alone. Statistics and history are no longer proper nouns in the +government records. + +In the year 188--, the governor appointed Luke Coonrod Standifer to +be the head of this department. Standifer was then fifty-five years +of age, and a Texan to the core. His father had been one of the +state's earliest settlers and pioneers. Standifer himself had served +the commonwealth as Indian fighter, soldier, ranger, and legislator. +Much learning he did not claim, but he had drank pretty deep of the +spring of experience. + +If other grounds were less abundant, Texas should be well up in the +lists of glory as the grateful republic. For both as republic and +state, it has busily heaped honours and solid rewards upon its sons +who rescued it from the wilderness. + +Wherefore and therefore, Luke Coonrod Standifer, son of Ezra +Standifer, ex-Terry ranger, simon-pure democrat, and lucky dweller +in an unrepresented portion of the politico-geographical map, was +appointed Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History. + +Standifer accepted the honour with some doubt as to the nature of +the office he was to fill and his capacity for filling it--but +he accepted, and by wire. He immediately set out from the little +country town where he maintained (and was scarcely maintained by) a +somnolent and unfruitful office of surveying and map-drawing. Before +departing, he had looked up under the I's, S's and H's in the +"Encyclopædia Britannica" what information and preparation toward +his official duties that those weighty volumes afforded. + +A few weeks of incumbency diminished the new commissioner's awe of +the great and important office he had been called upon to conduct. +An increasing familiarity with its workings soon restored him to +his accustomed placid course of life. In his office was an old, +spectacled clerk--a consecrated, informed, able machine, who +held his desk regardless of changes of administrative heads. Old +Kauffman instructed his new chief gradually in the knowledge of the +department without seeming to do so, and kept the wheels revolving +without the slip of a cog. + +Indeed, the Department of Insurance, Statistics, and History +carried no great heft of the burden of state. Its main work was +the regulating of the business done in the state by foreign +insurance companies, and the letter of the law was its guide. As +for statistics--well, you wrote letters to county officers, and +scissored other people's reports, and each year you got out a report +of your own about the corn crop and the cotton crop and pecans and +pigs and black and white population, and a great many columns of +figures headed "bushels" and "acres" and "square miles," etc.--and +there you were. History? The branch was purely a receptive one. Old +ladies interested in the science bothered you some with long reports +of proceedings of their historical societies. Some twenty or thirty +people would write you each year that they had secured Sam Houston's +pocket-knife or Santa Ana's whisky-flask or Davy Crockett's +rifle--all absolutely authenticated--and demanded legislative +appropriation to purchase. Most of the work in the history branch +went into pigeon-holes. + +One sizzling August afternoon the commissioner reclined in his +office chair, with his feet upon the long, official table covered +with green billiard cloth. The commissioner was smoking a cigar, and +dreamily regarding the quivering landscape framed by the window that +looked upon the treeless capitol grounds. Perhaps he was thinking of +the rough and ready life he had led, of the old days of breathless +adventure and movement, of the comrades who now trod other paths or +had ceased to tread any, of the changes civilization and peace had +brought, and, maybe, complacently, of the snug and comfortable camp +pitched for him under the dome of the capitol of the state that had +not forgotten his services. + +The business of the department was lax. Insurance was easy. +Statistics were not in demand. History was dead. Old Kauffman, +the efficient and perpetual clerk, had requested an infrequent +half-holiday, incited to the unusual dissipation by the joy of +having successfully twisted the tail of a Connecticut insurance +company that was trying to do business contrary to the edicts of the +great Lone Star State. + +The office was very still. A few subdued noises trickled in through +the open door from the other departments--a dull tinkling crash from +the treasurer's office adjoining, as a clerk tossed a bag of silver +to the floor of the vault--the vague, intermittent clatter of a +dilatory typewriter--a dull tapping from the state geologist's +quarters as if some woodpecker had flown in to bore for his prey in +the cool of the massive building--and then a faint rustle and the +light shuffling of the well-worn shoes along the hall, the sounds +ceasing at the door toward which the commissioner's lethargic back +was presented. Following this, the sound of a gentle voice speaking +words unintelligible to the commissioner's somewhat dormant +comprehension, but giving evidence of bewilderment and hesitation. + +The voice was feminine; the commissioner was of the race of +cavaliers who make salaam before the trail of a skirt without +considering the quality of its cloth. + +There stood in the door a faded woman, one of the numerous +sisterhood of the unhappy. She was dressed all in black--poverty's +perpetual mourning for lost joys. Her face had the contours of +twenty and the lines of forty. She may have lived that intervening +score of years in a twelve-month. There was about her yet an aurum +of indignant, unappeased, protesting youth that shone faintly +through the premature veil of unearned decline. + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said the commissioner, gaining his feet +to the accompaniment of a great creaking and sliding of his chair. + +"Are you the governor, sir?" asked the vision of melancholy. + +The commissioner hesitated at the end of his best bow, with his +hand in the bosom of his double-breasted "frock." Truth at last +conquered. + +"Well, no, ma'am. I am not the governor. I have the honour to be +Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History. Is there +anything, ma'am, I can do for you? Won't you have a chair, ma'am?" + +The lady subsided into the chair handed her, probably from purely +physical reasons. She wielded a cheap fan--last token of gentility +to be abandoned. Her clothing seemed to indicate a reduction almost +to extreme poverty. She looked at the man who was not the governor, +and saw kindliness and simplicity and a rugged, unadorned +courtliness emanating from a countenance tanned and toughened by +forty years of outdoor life. Also, she saw that his eyes were clear +and strong and blue. Just so they had been when he used them to skim +the horizon for raiding Kiowas and Sioux. His mouth was as set and +firm as it had been on that day when he bearded the old Lion Sam +Houston himself, and defied him during that season when secession +was the theme. Now, in bearing and dress, Luke Coonrod Sandifer +endeavoured to do credit to the important arts and sciences of +Insurance, Statistics, and History. He had abandoned the careless +dress of his country home. Now, his broad-brimmed black slouch hat, +and his long-tailed "frock" made him not the least imposing of the +official family, even if his office was reckoned to stand at the +tail of the list. + +"You wanted to see the governor, ma'am?" asked the commissioner, +with a deferential manner he always used toward the fair sex. + +"I hardly know," said the lady, hesitatingly. "I suppose so." And +then, suddenly drawn by the sympathetic look of the other, she +poured forth the story of her need. + +It was a story so common that the public has come to look at its +monotony instead of its pity. The old tale of an unhappy married +life--made so by a brutal, conscienceless husband, a robber, a +spendthrift, a moral coward and a bully, who failed to provide +even the means of the barest existence. Yes, he had come down +in the scale so low as to strike her. It happened only the day +before--there was the bruise on one temple--she had offended his +highness by asking for a little money to live on. And yet she must +needs, woman-like, append a plea for her tyrant--he was drinking; +he had rarely abused her thus when sober. + +"I thought," mourned this pale sister of sorrow, "that maybe the +state might be willing to give me some relief. I've heard of such +things being done for the families of old settlers. I've heard +tell that the state used to give land to the men who fought for it +against Mexico, and settled up the country, and helped drive out the +Indians. My father did all of that, and he never received anything. +He never would take it. I thought the governor would be the one to +see, and that's why I came. If father was entitled to anything, they +might let it come to me." + +"It's possible, ma'am," said Standifer, "that such might be the +case. But 'most all the veterans and settlers got their land +certificates issued, and located long ago. Still, we can look that +up in the land office, and be sure. Your father's name, now, was--" + +"Amos Colvin, sir." + +"Good Lord!" exclaimed Standifer, rising and unbuttoning his tight +coat, excitedly. "Are you Amos Colvin's daughter? Why, ma'am, Amos +Colvin and me were thicker than two hoss thieves for more than ten +years! We fought Kiowas, drove cattle, and rangered side by side +nearly all over Texas. I remember seeing you once before, now. You +were a kid, about seven, a-riding a little yellow pony up and down. +Amos and me stopped at your home for a little grub when we were +trailing that band of Mexican cattle thieves down through Karnes +and Bee. Great tarantulas! and you're Amos Colvin's little girl! +Did you ever hear your father mention Luke Standifer--just kind of +casually--as if he'd met me once or twice?" + +A little pale smile flitted across the lady's white face. + +"It seems to me," she said, "that I don't remember hearing him talk +about much else. Every day there was some story he had to tell +about what he and you had done. Mighty near the last thing I heard +him tell was about the time when the Indians wounded him, and you +crawled out to him through the grass, with a canteen of water, while +they--" + +"Yes, yes--well--oh, that wasn't anything," said Standifer, +"hemming" loudly and buttoning his coat again, briskly. "And now, +ma'am, who was the infernal skunk--I beg your pardon, ma'am--who was +the gentleman you married?" + +"Benton Sharp." + +The commissioner plumped down again into his chair, with a groan. +This gentle, sad little woman, in the rusty black gown, the daughter +of his oldest friend, the wife of Benton Sharp! Benton Sharp, one of +the most noted "bad" men in that part of the state--a man who had +been a cattle thief, an outlaw, a desperado, and was now a gambler, +a swaggering bully, who plied his trade in the larger frontier +towns, relying upon his record and the quickness of his gun play to +maintain his supremacy. Seldom did any one take the risk of going +"up against" Benton Sharp. Even the law officers were content to let +him make his own terms of peace. Sharp was a ready and an accurate +shot, and as lucky as a brand-new penny at coming clear from his +scrapes. Standifer wondered how this pillaging eagle ever came to be +mated with Amos Colvin's little dove, and expressed his wonder. + +Mrs. Sharp sighed. + +"You see, Mr. Standifer, we didn't know anything about him, and he +can be very pleasant and kind when he wants to. We lived down in the +little town of Goliad. Benton came riding down that way, and stopped +there a while. I reckon I was some better looking then than I am +now. He was good to me for a whole year after we were married. He +insured his life for me for five thousand dollars. But for the last +six months he has done everything but kill me. I often wish he had +done that, too. He got out of money for a while, and abused me +shamefully for not having anything he could spend. Then father died, +and left me the little home in Goliad. My husband made me sell that, +and turned me out into the world. I've barely been able to live, for +I'm not strong enough to work. Lately, I heard he was making money +in San Antonio, so I went there, and found him, and asked for a +little help. This," touching the livid bruise on her temple, "is +what he gave me. So I came on to Austin to see the governor. I once +heard father say that there was some land, or a pension, coming to +him from the state that he never would ask for." + +Luke Standifer rose to his feet, and pushed his chair back. He +looked rather perplexedly around the big office, with its handsome +furniture. + +"It's a long trail to follow," he said, slowly, "trying to get back +dues from the government. There's red tape and lawyers and rulings +and evidence and courts to keep you waiting. I'm not certain," +continued the commissioner, with a profoundly meditative frown, +"whether this department that I'm the boss of has any jurisdiction +or not. It's only Insurance, Statistics, and History, ma'am, and it +don't sound as if it would cover the case. But sometimes a saddle +blanket can be made to stretch. You keep your seat, just for a few +minutes, ma'am, till I step into the next room and see about it." + +The state treasurer was seated within his massive, complicated +railings, reading a newspaper. Business for the day was about over. +The clerks lolled at their desks, awaiting the closing hour. The +Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History entered, and +leaned in at the window. + +The treasurer, a little, brisk old man, with snow-white moustache +and beard, jumped up youthfully and came forward to greet Standifer. +They were friends of old. + +"Uncle Frank," said the commissioner, using the familiar name by +which the historic treasurer was addressed by every Texan, "how much +money have you got on hand?" + +The treasurer named the sum of the last balance down to the odd +cents--something more than a million dollars. + +The commissioner whistled lowly, and his eyes grew hopefully bright. + +"You know, or else you've heard of, Amos Colvin, Uncle Frank?" + +"Knew him well," said the treasurer, promptly. "A good man. A +valuable citizen. One of the first settlers in the Southwest." + +"His daughter," said Standifer, "is sitting in my office. She's +penniless. She's married to Benton Sharp, a coyote and a murderer. +He's reduced her to want, and broken her heart. Her father helped +build up this state, and it's the state's turn to help his child. A +couple of thousand dollars will buy back her home and let her live +in peace. The State of Texas can't afford to refuse it. Give me the +money, Uncle Frank, and I'll give it to her right away. We'll fix up +the red-tape business afterward." + +The treasurer looked a little bewildered. + +"Why, Standifer," he said, "you know I can't pay a cent out of the +treasury without a warrant from the comptroller. I can't disburse a +dollar without a voucher to show for it." + +The commissioner betrayed a slight impatience. + +"I'll give you a voucher," he declared. "What's this job they've +given me for? Am I just a knot on a mesquite stump? Can't my office +stand for it? Charge it up to Insurance and the other two sideshows. +Don't Statistics show that Amos Colvin came to this state when it +was in the hands of Greasers and rattlesnakes and Comanches, and +fought day and night to make a white man's country of it? Don't they +show that Amos Colvin's daughter is brought to ruin by a villain +who's trying to pull down what you and I and old Texans shed our +blood to build up? Don't History show that the Lone Star State never +yet failed to grant relief to the suffering and oppressed children +of the men who made her the grandest commonwealth in the Union? If +Statistics and History don't bear out the claim of Amos Colvin's +child I'll ask the next legislature to abolish my office. Come, +now, Uncle Frank, let her have the money. I'll sign the papers +officially, if you say so; and then if the governor or the +comptroller or the janitor or anybody else makes a kick, by the Lord +I'll refer the matter to the people, and see if they won't endorse +the act." + +The treasurer looked sympathetic but shocked. The commissioner's +voice had grown louder as he rounded off the sentences that, however +praiseworthy they might be in sentiment, reflected somewhat upon +the capacity of the head of a more or less important department of +state. The clerks were beginning to listen. + +"Now, Standifer," said the treasurer, soothingly, "you know I'd like +to help in this matter, but stop and think a moment, please. Every +cent in the treasury is expended only by appropriation made by the +legislature, and drawn out by checks issued by the comptroller. +I can't control the use of a cent of it. Neither can you. Your +department isn't disbursive--it isn't even administrative--it's +purely clerical. The only way for the lady to obtain relief is to +petition the legislature, and--" + +"To the devil with the legislature," said Standifer, turning away. + +The treasurer called him back. + +"I'd be glad, Standifer, to contribute a hundred dollars personally +toward the immediate expenses of Colvin's daughter." He reached for +his pocketbook. + +"Never mind, Uncle Frank," said the commissioner, in a softer tone. +"There's no need of that. She hasn't asked for anything of that sort +yet. Besides, her case is in my hands. I see now what a little, +rag-tag, bob-tail, gotch-eared department I've been put in charge +of. It seems to be about as important as an almanac or a hotel +register. But while I'm running it, it won't turn away any daughters +of Amos Colvin without stretching its jurisdiction to cover, if +possible. You want to keep your eye on the Department of Insurance, +Statistics, and History." + +The commissioner returned to his office, looking thoughtful. He +opened and closed an inkstand on his desk many times with extreme +and undue attention. "Why don't you get a divorce?" he asked, +suddenly. + +"I haven't the money to pay for it," answered the lady. + +"Just at present," announced the commissioner, in a formal +tone, "the powers of my department appear to be considerably +string-halted. Statistics seem to be overdrawn at the bank, and +History isn't good for a square meal. But you've come to the right +place, ma'am. The department will see you through. Where did you say +your husband is, ma'am?" + +"He was in San Antonio yesterday. He is living there now." + +Suddenly the commissioner abandoned his official air. He took the +faded little woman's hands in his, and spoke in the old voice he +used on the trail and around campfires. + +"Your name's Amanda, isn't it?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I thought so. I've heard your dad say it often enough. Well, +Amanda, here's your father's best friend, the head of a big office +in the state government, that's going to help you out of your +troubles. And here's the old bushwhacker and cowpuncher that your +father has helped out of scrapes time and time again wants to ask +you a question. Amanda, have you got money enough to run you for the +next two or three days?" + +Mrs. Sharp's white face flushed the least bit. + +"Plenty, sir--for a few days." + +"All right, then, ma'am. Now you go back where you are stopping +here, and you come to the office again the day after to-morrow at +four o'clock in the afternoon. Very likely by that time there will +be something definite to report to you." The commissioner hesitated, +and looked a trifle embarrassed. "You said your husband had insured +his life for $5,000. Do you know whether the premiums have been kept +paid upon it or not?" + +"He paid for a whole year in advance about five months ago," said +Mrs. Sharp. "I have the policy and receipts in my trunk." + +"Oh, that's all right, then," said Standifer. "It's best to look +after things of that sort. Some day they may come in handy." + +Mrs. Sharp departed, and soon afterward Luke Standifer went down +to the little hotel where he boarded and looked up the railroad +time-table in the daily paper. Half an hour later he removed his +coat and vest, and strapped a peculiarly constructed pistol holster +across his shoulders, leaving the receptacle close under his left +armpit. Into the holster he shoved a short-barrelled .44 calibre +revolver. Putting on his clothes again, he strolled to the station +and caught the five-twenty afternoon train for San Antonio. + +The San Antonio _Express_ of the following morning contained this +sensational piece of news: + + + BENTON SHARP MEETS HIS MATCH + + THE MOST NOTED DESPERADO IN SOUTHWEST TEXAS SHOT TO + DEATH IN THE GOLD FRONT RESTAURANT--PROMINENT STATE + OFFICIAL SUCCESSFULLY DEFENDS HIMSELF AGAINST THE + NOTED BULLY--MAGNIFICENT EXHIBITION OF QUICK GUN PLAY. + + Last night about eleven o'clock Benton Sharp, with two + other men, entered the Gold Front Restaurant and seated + themselves at a table. Sharp had been drinking, and was + loud and boisterous, as he always was when under the + influence of liquor. Five minutes after the party was + seated a tall, well-dressed, elderly gentleman entered + the restaurant. Few present recognized the Honourable + Luke Standifer, the recently appointed Commissioner of + Insurance, Statistics, and History. + + Going over to the same side where Sharp was, Mr. + Standifer prepared to take a seat at the next table. In + hanging his hat upon one of the hooks along the wall he + let it fall upon Sharp's head. Sharp turned, being in an + especially ugly humour, and cursed the other roundly. + Mr. Standifer apologized calmly for the accident, but + Sharp continued his vituperations. Mr. Standifer was + observed to draw near and speak a few sentences to the + desperado in so low a tone that no one else caught the + words. Sharp sprang up, wild with rage. In the meantime + Standifer had stepped some yards away, and was standing + quietly with his arms folded across the breast of his + loosely hanging coat. + + With that impetuous and deadly rapidity that made Sharp + so dreaded, he reached for the gun he always carried in + his hip pocket--a movement that has preceded the death + of at least a dozen men at his hands. Quick as the motion + was, the bystanders assert that it was met by the most + beautiful exhibition of lightning gun-pulling ever + witnessed in the Southwest. As Sharp's pistol was being + raised--and the act was really quicker than the eye could + follow--a glittering .44 appeared as if by some conjuring + trick in the right hand of Mr. Standifer, who, without + a perceptible movement of his arm, shot Benton Sharp + through the heart. It seems that the new Commissioner of + Insurance, Statistics, and History has been an old-time + Indian fighter and ranger for many years, which accounts + for the happy knack he has of handling a .44. + + It is not believed that Mr. Standifer will be put to any + inconvenience beyond a necessary formal hearing to-day, + as all the witnesses who were present unite in declaring + that the deed was done in self-defence. + + +When Mrs. Sharp appeared at the office of the commissioner, +according to appointment, she found that gentleman calmly eating +a golden russet apple. He greeted her without embarrassment and +without hesitation at approaching the subject that was the topic +of the day. + +"I had to do it, ma'am," he said, simply, "or get it myself. Mr. +Kauffman," he added, turning to the old clerk, "please look up the +records of the Security Life Insurance Company and see if they are +all right." + +"No need to look," grunted Kauffman, who had everything in his head. +"It's all O.K. They pay all losses within ten days." + +Mrs. Sharp soon rose to depart. She had arranged to remain in town +until the policy was paid. The commissioner did not detain her. She +was a woman, and he did not know just what to say to her at present. +Rest and time would bring her what she needed. + +But, as she was leaving, Luke Standifer indulged himself in an +official remark: + +"The Department of Insurance, Statistics, and History, ma'am, has +done the best it could with your case. 'Twas a case hard to cover +according to red tape. Statistics failed, and History missed fire, +but, if I may be permitted to say it, we came out particularly +strong on Insurance." + + + + +XVII + +THE RENAISSANCE AT CHARLEROI + + +Grandemont Charles was a little Creole gentleman, aged thirty-four, +with a bald spot on the top of his head and the manners of a prince. +By day he was a clerk in a cotton broker's office in one of those +cold, rancid mountains of oozy brick, down near the levee in New +Orleans. By night, in his three-story-high _chambre garnier_ in the +old French Quarter he was again the last male descendant of the +Charles family, that noble house that had lorded it in France, and +had pushed its way smiling, rapiered, and courtly into Louisiana's +early and brilliant days. Of late years the Charleses had subsided +into the more republican but scarcely less royally carried +magnificence and ease of plantation life along the Mississippi. +Perhaps Grandemont was even Marquis de Brassé. There was that title +in the family. But a Marquis on seventy-five dollars per month! +_Vraiment!_ Still, it has been done on less. + +Grandemont had saved out of his salary the sum of six hundred +dollars. Enough, you would say, for any man to marry on. So, after +a silence of two years on that subject, he reopened that most +hazardous question to Mlle. Adèle Fauquier, riding down to Meade +d'Or, her father's plantation. Her answer was the same that it had +been any time during the last ten years: "First find my brother, +Monsieur Charles." + +This time he had stood before her, perhaps discouraged by a love +so long and hopeless, being dependent upon a contingency so +unreasonable, and demanded to be told in simple words whether she +loved him or no. + +Adèle looked at him steadily out of her gray eyes that betrayed no +secrets and answered, a little more softly: + +"Grandemont, you have no right to ask that question unless you can +do what I ask of you. Either bring back brother Victor to us or the +proof that he died." + +Somehow, though five times thus rejected, his heart was not so heavy +when he left. She had not denied that she loved. Upon what shallow +waters can the bark of passion remain afloat! Or, shall we play +the doctrinaire, and hint that at thirty-four the tides of life +are calmer and cognizant of many sources instead of but one--as at +four-and-twenty? + +Victor Fauquier would never be found. In those early days of his +disappearance there was money to the Charles name, and Grandemont +had spent the dollars as if they were picayunes in trying to find +the lost youth. Even then he had had small hope of success, for the +Mississippi gives up a victim from its oily tangles only at the whim +of its malign will. + +A thousand times had Grandemont conned in his mind the scene of +Victor's disappearance. And, at each time that Adèle had set her +stubborn but pitiful alternative against his suit, still clearer it +repeated itself in his brain. + +The boy had been the family favourite; daring, winning, reckless. +His unwise fancy had been captured by a girl on the plantation--the +daughter of an overseer. Victor's family was in ignorance of the +intrigue, as far as it had gone. To save them the inevitable +pain that his course promised, Grandemont strove to prevent it. +Omnipotent money smoothed the way. The overseer and his daughter +left, between a sunset and dawn, for an undesignated bourne. +Grandemont was confident that this stroke would bring the boy +to reason. He rode over to Meade d'Or to talk with him. The two +strolled out of the house and grounds, crossed the road, and, +mounting the levee, walked its broad path while they conversed. +A thunder-cloud was hanging, imminent, above, but, as yet, no +rain fell. At Grandemont's disclosure of his interference in the +clandestine romance, Victor attacked him, in a wild and sudden fury. +Grandemont, though of slight frame, possessed muscles of iron. He +caught the wrists amid a shower of blows descending upon him, bent +the lad backward and stretched him upon the levee path. In a little +while the gust of passion was spent, and he was allowed to rise. +Calm now, but a powder mine where he had been but a whiff of the +tantrums, Victor extended his hand toward the dwelling house of +Meade d'Or. + +"You and they," he cried, "have conspired to destroy my happiness. +None of you shall ever look upon my face again." + +Turning, he ran swiftly down the levee, disappearing in the +darkness. Grandemont followed as well as he could, calling to +him, but in vain. For longer than an hour he pursued the search. +Descending the side of the levee, he penetrated the rank density of +weeds and willows that undergrew the trees until the river's edge, +shouting Victor's name. There was never an answer, though once he +thought he heard a bubbling scream from the dun waters sliding past. +Then the storm broke, and he returned to the house drenched and +dejected. + +There he explained the boy's absence sufficiently, he thought, not +speaking of the tangle that had led to it, for he hoped that Victor +would return as soon as his anger had cooled. Afterward, when the +threat was made good and they saw his face no more, he found it +difficult to alter his explanations of that night, and there clung a +certain mystery to the boy's reasons for vanishing as well as to the +manner of it. + +It was on that night that Grandemont first perceived a new and +singular expression in Adèle's eyes whenever she looked at him. And +through the years following that expression was always there. He +could not read it, for it was born of a thought she would never +otherwise reveal. + +Perhaps, if he had known that Adèle had stood at the gate on that +unlucky night, where she had followed, lingering, to await the +return of her brother and lover, wondering why they had chosen so +tempestuous an hour and so black a spot to hold converse--if he had +known that a sudden flash of lightning had revealed to her sight +that short, sharp struggle as Victor was sinking under his hands, +he might have explained everything, and she-- + +I know what she would have done. But one thing is clear--there was +something besides her brother's disappearance between Grandemont's +pleadings for her hand and Adèle's "yes." Ten years had passed, and +what she had seen during the space of that lightning flash remained +an indelible picture. She had loved her brother, but was she holding +out for the solution of that mystery or for the "Truth"? Women have +been known to reverence it, even as an abstract principle. It is +said there have been a few who, in the matter of their affections, +have considered a life to be a small thing as compared with a lie. +That I do not know. But, I wonder, had Grandemont cast himself at +her feet crying that his hand had sent Victor to the bottom of that +inscrutable river, and that he could no longer sully his love with a +lie, I wonder if--I wonder what she would have done! + +But, Grandemont Charles, Arcadian little gentleman, never guessed +the meaning of that look in Adèle's eyes; and from this last +bootless payment of his devoirs he rode away as rich as ever in +honour and love, but poor in hope. + +That was in September. It was during the first winter month that +Grandemont conceived his idea of the _renaissance_. Since Adèle +would never be his, and wealth without her were useless trumpery, +why need he add to that hoard of slowly harvested dollars? Why +should he even retain that hoard? + +Hundreds were the cigarettes he consumed over his claret, sitting at +the little polished tables in the Royal street cafés while thinking +over his plan. By and by he had it perfect. It would cost, beyond +doubt, all the money he had, but--_le jeu vaut la chandelle_--for +some hours he would be once more a Charles of Charleroi. Once again +should the nineteenth of January, that most significant day in the +fortunes of the house of Charles, be fittingly observed. On that +date the French king had seated a Charles by his side at table; +on that date Armand Charles, Marquis de Brassé, landed, like a +brilliant meteor, in New Orleans; it was the date of his mother's +wedding; of Grandemont's birth. Since Grandemont could remember +until the breaking up of the family that anniversary had been the +synonym for feasting, hospitality, and proud commemoration. + +Charleroi was the old family plantation, lying some twenty miles +down the river. Years ago the estate had been sold to discharge the +debts of its too-bountiful owners. Once again it had changed hands, +and now the must and mildew of litigation had settled upon it. +A question of heirship was in the courts, and the dwelling house +of Charleroi, unless the tales told of ghostly powdered and +laced Charleses haunting its unechoing chambers were true, stood +uninhabited. + +Grandemont found the solicitor in chancery who held the keys +pending the decision. He proved to be an old friend of the family. +Grandemont explained briefly that he desired to rent the house for +two or three days. He wanted to give a dinner at his old home to a +few friends. That was all. + +"Take it for a week--a month, if you will," said the solicitor; +"but do not speak to me of rental." With a sigh he concluded: "The +dinners I have eaten under that roof, _mon fils_!" + +There came to many of the old, established dealers in furniture, +china, silverware, decorations and household fittings at their +stores on Canal, Chartres, St. Charles, and Royal Streets, a +quiet young man with a little bald spot on the top of his head, +distinguished manners, and the eye of a _connoisseur_, who explained +what he wanted. To hire the complete and elegant equipment of a +dining-room, hall, reception-room, and cloak-rooms. The goods were +to be packed and sent, by boat, to the Charleroi landing, and would +be returned within three or four days. All damage or loss to be +promptly paid for. + +Many of those old merchants knew Grandemont by sight, and the +Charleses of old by association. Some of them were of Creole stock +and felt a thrill of responsive sympathy with the magnificently +indiscreet design of this impoverished clerk who would revive +but for a moment the ancient flame of glory with the fuel of his +savings. + +"Choose what you want," they said to him. "Handle everything +carefully. See that the damage bill is kept low, and the charges for +the loan will not oppress you." + +To the wine merchants next; and here a doleful slice was lopped from +the six hundred. It was an exquisite pleasure to Grandemont once +more to pick among the precious vintages. The champagne bins lured +him like the abodes of sirens, but these he was forced to pass. With +his six hundred he stood before them as a child with a penny stands +before a French doll. But he bought with taste and discretion of +other wines--Chablis, Moselle, Château d'Or, Hochheimer, and port of +right age and pedigree. + +The matter of the cuisine gave him some studious hours until he +suddenly recollected André--André, their old _chef_--the most +sublime master of French Creole cookery in the Mississippi Valley. +Perhaps he was yet somewhere about the plantation. The solicitor had +told him that the place was still being cultivated, in accordance +with a compromise agreement between the litigants. + +On the next Sunday after the thought Grandemont rode, horseback, +down to Charleroi. The big, square house with its two long ells +looked blank and cheerless with its closed shutters and doors. + +The shrubbery in the yard was ragged and riotous. Fallen leaves from +the grove littered the walks and porches. Turning down the lane at +the side of the house, Grandemont rode on to the quarters of the +plantation hands. He found the workers just streaming back from +church, careless, happy, and bedecked in gay yellows, reds, and +blues. + +Yes, André was still there; his wool a little grayer; his mouth as +wide; his laughter as ready as ever. Grandemont told him of his +plan, and the old _chef_ swayed with pride and delight. With a sigh +of relief, knowing that he need have no further concern until the +serving of that dinner was announced, he placed in André's hands +a liberal sum for the cost of it, giving _carte blanche_ for its +creation. + +Among the blacks were also a number of the old house servants. +Absalom, the former major domo, and a half-dozen of the younger men, +once waiters and attachés of the kitchen, pantry, and other domestic +departments crowded around to greet "M'shi Grande." Absalom +guaranteed to marshal, of these, a corps of assistants that would +perform with credit the serving of the dinner. + +After distributing a liberal largesse among the faithful, Grandemont +rode back to town well pleased. There were many other smaller +details to think of and provide for, but eventually the scheme +was complete, and now there remained only the issuance of the +invitations to his guests. + +Along the river within the scope of a score of miles dwelt some +half-dozen families with whose princely hospitality that of the +Charleses had been contemporaneous. They were the proudest and most +august of the old régime. Their small circle had been a brilliant +one; their social relations close and warm; their houses full +of rare welcome and discriminating bounty. Those friends, said +Grandemont, should once more, if never again, sit at Charleroi on +a nineteenth of January to celebrate the festal day of his house. + +Grandemont had his cards of invitation engraved. They were +expensive, but beautiful. In one particular their good taste might +have been disputed; but the Creole allowed himself that one feather +in the cap of his fugacious splendour. Might he not be allowed, for +the one day of the _renaissance_, to be "Grandemont du Puy Charles, +of Charleroi"? He sent the invitations out early in January so that +the guests might not fail to receive due notice. + +At eight o'clock in the morning of the nineteenth, the lower coast +steamboat _River Belle_ gingerly approached the long unused landing +at Charleroi. The bridge was lowered, and a swarm of the plantation +hands streamed along the rotting pier, bearing ashore a strange +assortment of freight. Great shapeless bundles and bales and packets +swathed in cloth and bound with ropes; tubs and urns of palms, +evergreens, and tropical flowers; tables, mirrors, chairs, couches, +carpets, and pictures--all carefully bound and padded against the +dangers of transit. + +Grandemont was among them, the busiest there. To the safe conveyance +of certain large hampers eloquent with printed cautions to delicate +handling he gave his superintendence, for they contained the fragile +china and glassware. The dropping of one of those hampers would have +cost him more than he could have saved in a year. + +The last article unloaded, the _River Belle_ backed off and +continued her course down stream. In less than an hour everything +had been conveyed to the house. And came then Absalom's task, +directing the placing of the furniture and wares. There was plenty +of help, for that day was always a holiday at Charleroi, and the +Negroes did not suffer the old traditions to lapse. Almost the +entire population of the quarters volunteered their aid. A score +of piccaninnies were sweeping at the leaves in the yard. In the +big kitchen at the rear André was lording it with his old-time +magnificence over his numerous sub-cooks and scullions. Shutters +were flung wide; dust spun in clouds; the house echoed to voices and +the tread of busy feet. The prince had come again, and Charleroi +woke from its long sleep. + +The full moon, as she rose across the river that night and peeped +above the levee saw a sight that had long been missing from her +orbit. The old plantation house shed a soft and alluring radiance +from every window. Of its two-score rooms only four had been +refurnished--the larger reception chamber, the dining hall, and +two smaller rooms for the convenience of the expected guests. But +lighted wax candles were set in the windows of every room. + +The dining-hall was the _chef d'oeuvre_. The long table, set with +twenty-five covers, sparkled like a winter landscape with its snowy +napery and china and the icy gleam of crystal. The chaste beauty of +the room had required small adornment. The polished floor burned +to a glowing ruby with the reflection of candle light. The rich +wainscoting reached half way to the ceiling. Along and above this +had been set the relieving lightness of a few water-colour sketches +of fruit and flower. + +The reception chamber was fitted in a simple but elegant style. +Its arrangement suggested nothing of the fact that on the morrow +the room would again be cleared and abandoned to the dust and the +spider. The entrance hall was imposing with palms and ferns and the +light of an immense candelabrum. + +At seven o'clock Grandemont, in evening dress, with pearls--a +family passion--in his spotless linen, emerged from somewhere. The +invitations had specified eight as the dining hour. He drew an +armchair upon the porch, and sat there, smoking cigarettes and half +dreaming. + +The moon was an hour high. Fifty years back from the gate stood the +house, under its noble grove. The road ran in front, and then came +the grass-grown levee and the insatiate river beyond. Just above the +levee top a tiny red light was creeping down and a tiny green one +was creeping up. Then the passing steamers saluted, and the hoarse +din startled the drowsy silence of the melancholy lowlands. The +stillness returned, save for the little voices of the night--the +owl's recitative, the capriccio of the crickets, the concerto of +the frogs in the grass. The piccaninnies and the dawdlers from the +quarters had been dismissed to their confines, and the melée of +the day was reduced to an orderly and intelligent silence. The six +coloured waiters, in their white jackets, paced, cat-footed, about +the table, pretending to arrange where all was beyond betterment. +Absalom, in black and shining pumps posed, superior, here and there +where the lights set off his grandeur. And Grandemont rested in his +chair, waiting for his guests. + +He must have drifted into a dream--and an extravagant one--for he +was master of Charleroi and Adèle was his wife. She was coming out +to him now; he could hear her steps; he could feel her hand upon his +shoulder-- + +"_Pardon moi, M'shi Grande_"--it was Absalom's hand touching him, it +was Absalom's voice, speaking the _patois_ of the blacks--"but it is +eight o'clock." + +Eight o'clock. Grandemont sprang up. In the moonlight he could see +the row of hitching-posts outside the gate. Long ago the horses of +the guests should have stood there. They were vacant. + +A chanted roar of indignation, a just, waxing bellow of affront and +dishonoured genius came from André's kitchen, filling the house with +rhythmic protest. The beautiful dinner, the pearl of a dinner, the +little excellent superb jewel of a dinner! But one moment more of +waiting and not even the thousand thunders of black pigs of the +quarter would touch it! + +"They are a little late," said Grandemont, calmly. "They will come +soon. Tell André to hold back dinner. And ask him if, by some +chance, a bull from the pastures has broken, roaring, into the +house." + +He seated himself again to his cigarettes. Though he had said it, +he scarcely believed Charleroi would entertain company that night. +For the first time in history the invitation of a Charles had been +ignored. So simple in courtesy and honour was Grandemont, and, +perhaps, so serenely confident in the prestige of his name, that the +most likely reasons for the vacant board did not occur to him. + +Charleroi stood by a road travelled daily by people from those +plantations whither his invitations had gone. No doubt even on the +day before the sudden reanimation of the old house they had driven +past and observed the evidences of long desertion and decay. They +had looked at the corpse of Charleroi and then at Grandemont's +invitations, and, though the puzzle or tasteless hoax or whatever +the thing meant left them perplexed, they would not seek its +solution by the folly of a visit to that deserted house. + +The moon was now above the grove, and the yard was pied with deep +shadows save where they lightened in the tender glow of outpouring +candle light. A crisp breeze from the river hinted at the +possibility of frost when the night should have become older. The +grass at one side of the steps was specked with the white stubs of +Grandemont's cigarettes. The cotton-broker's clerk sat in his chair +with the smoke spiralling above him. I doubt that he once thought of +the little fortune he had so impotently squandered. Perhaps it was +compensation enough for him to sit thus at Charleroi for a few +retrieved hours. Idly his mind wandered in and out many fanciful +paths of memory. He smiled to himself as a paraphrased line of +Scripture strayed into his mind: "A certain _poor_ man made a +feast." + +He heard the sound of Absalom coughing a note of summons. Grandemont +stirred. This time he had not been asleep--only drowsing. + +"Nine o'clock, _M'shi Grande_," said Absalom in the uninflected +voice of a good servant who states a fact unqualified by personal +opinion. + +Grandemont rose to his feet. In their time all the Charleses had +been proven, and they were gallant losers. + +"Serve dinner," he said calmly. And then he checked Absalom's +movement to obey, for something clicked the gate latch and was +coming down the walk toward the house. Something that shuffled its +feet and muttered to itself as it came. It stopped in the current of +light at the foot of the steps and spake, in the universal whine of +the gadding mendicant. + +"Kind sir, could you spare a poor, hungry man, out of luck, a little +to eat? And to sleep in the corner of a shed? For"--the thing +concluded, irrelevantly--"I can sleep now. There are no mountains +to dance reels in the night; and the copper kettles are all scoured +bright. The iron band is still around my ankle, and a link, if it is +your desire I should be chained." + +It set a foot upon the step and drew up the rags that hung upon the +limb. Above the distorted shoe, caked with the dust of a hundred +leagues, they saw the link and the iron band. The clothes of the +tramp were wreaked to piebald tatters by sun and rain and wear. A +mat of brown, tangled hair and beard covered his head and face, out +of which his eyes stared distractedly. Grandemont noticed that he +carried in one hand a white, square card. + +"What is that?" he asked. + +"I picked it up, sir, at the side of the road." The vagabond handed +the card to Grandemont. "Just a little to eat, sir. A little parched +corn, a _tartilla_, or a handful of beans. Goat's meat I cannot eat. +When I cut their throats they cry like children." + +Grandemont held up the card. It was one of his own invitations to +dinner. No doubt some one had cast it away from a passing carriage +after comparing it with the tenantless house of Charleroi. + +"From the hedges and highways bid them come," he said to himself, +softly smiling. And then to Absalom: "Send Louis to me." + +Louis, once his own body-servant, came promptly, in his white +jacket. + +"This gentleman," said Grandemont, "will dine with me. Furnish him +with bath and clothes. In twenty minutes have him ready and dinner +served." + +Louis approached the disreputable guest with the suavity due to a +visitor to Charleroi, and spirited him away to inner regions. + +Promptly, in twenty minutes, Absalom announced dinner, and, a moment +later, the guest was ushered into the dining hall where Grandemont +waited, standing, at the head of the table. The attentions of Louis +had transformed the stranger into something resembling the polite +animal. Clean linen and an old evening suit that had been sent down +from town to clothe a waiter had worked a miracle with his exterior. +Brush and comb had partially subdued the wild disorder of his hair. +Now he might have passed for no more extravagant a thing than one of +those _poseurs_ in art and music who affect such oddity of guise. +The man's countenance and demeanour, as he approached the table, +exhibited nothing of the awkwardness or confusion to be expected +from his Arabian Nights change. He allowed Absalom to seat him at +Grandemont's right hand with the manner of one thus accustomed to +be waited upon. + +"It grieves me," said Grandemont, "to be obliged to exchange names +with a guest. My own name is Charles." + +"In the mountains," said the wayfarer, "they call me Gringo. Along +the roads they call me Jack." + +"I prefer the latter," said Grandemont. "A glass of wine with you, +Mr. Jack." + +Course after course was served by the supernumerous waiters. +Grandemont, inspired by the results of André's exquisite skill in +cookery and his own in the selection of wines became the model host, +talkative, witty, and genial. The guest was fitful in conversation. +His mind seemed to be sustaining a succession of waves of dementia +followed by intervals of comparative lucidity. There was the glassy +brightness of recent fever in his eyes. A long course of it must +have been the cause of his emaciation and weakness, his distracted +mind, and the dull pallor that showed even through the tan of wind +and sun. + +"Charles," he said to Grandemont--for thus he seemed to interpret +his name--"you never saw the mountains dance, did you?" + +"No, Mr. Jack," answered Grandemont, gravely, "the spectacle has +been denied me. But, I assure you, I can understand it must be a +diverting sight. The big ones, you know, white with snow on the +tops, waltzing--_décolleté_, we may say." + +"You first scour the kettles," said Mr. Jack, leaning toward him +excitedly, "to cook the beans in the morning, and you lie down on a +blanket and keep quite still. Then they come out and dance for you. +You would go out and dance with them but you are chained every night +to the centre pole of the hut. You believe the mountains dance, +don't you, Charlie?" + +"I contradict no traveller's tales," said Grandemont, with a smile. + +Mr. Jack laughed loudly. He dropped his voice to a confidential +whisper. + +"You are a fool to believe it," he went on. "They don't really +dance. It's the fever in your head. It's the hard work and the +bad water that does it. You are sick for weeks and there is no +medicine. The fever comes on every evening, and then you are as +strong as two men. One night the _compania_ are lying drunk with +_mescal_. They have brought back sacks of silver dollars from a +ride, and they drink to celebrate. In the night you file the chain +in two and go down the mountain. You walk for miles--hundreds of +them. By and by the mountains are all gone, and you come to the +prairies. They do not dance at night; they are merciful, and you +sleep. Then you come to the river, and it says things to you. You +follow it down, down, but you can't find what you are looking for." + +Mr. Jack leaned back in his chair, and his eyes slowly closed. The +food and wine had steeped him in a deep calm. The tense strain had +been smoothed from his face. The languor of repletion was claiming +him. Drowsily he spoke again. + +"It's bad manners--I know--to go to sleep--at table--but--that +was--such a good dinner--Grande, old fellow." + +_Grande!_ The owner of the name started and set down his glass. +How should this wretched tatterdemalion whom he had invited, +Caliph-like, to sit at his feet know his name? + +Not at first, but soon, little by little, the suspicion, wild and +unreasonable as it was, stole into his brain. He drew out his watch +with hands that almost balked him by their trembling, and opened the +back case. There was a picture there--a photograph fixed to the +inner side. + +Rising, Grandemont shook Mr. Jack by the shoulder. The weary guest +opened his eyes. Grandemont held the watch. + +"Look at this picture, Mr. Jack. Have you ever--" + +"_My sister Adèle!_" + +The vagrant's voice rang loud and sudden through the room. He +started to his feet, but Grandemont's arms were about him, and +Grandemont was calling him "Victor!--Victor Fauquier! _Merci, merci, +mon Dieu!_" + +Too far overcome by sleep and fatigue was the lost one to talk that +night. Days afterward, when the tropic _calentura_ had cooled in +his veins, the disordered fragments he had spoken were completed in +shape and sequence. He told the story of his angry flight, of toils +and calamities on sea and shore, of his ebbing and flowing fortune +in southern lands, and of his latest peril when, held a captive, he +served menially in a stronghold of bandits in the Sonora Mountains +of Mexico. And of the fever that seized him there and his escape and +delirium, during which he strayed, perhaps led by some marvellous +instinct, back to the river on whose bank he had been born. And of +the proud and stubborn thing in his blood that had kept him silent +through all those years, clouding the honour of one, though he knew +it not, and keeping apart two loving hearts. "What a thing is love!" +you may say. And if I grant it, you shall say, with me: "What a +thing is pride!" + +On a couch in the reception chamber Victor lay, with a dawning +understanding in his heavy eyes and peace in his softened +countenance. Absalom was preparing a lounge for the transient +master of Charleroi, who, to-morrow, would be again the clerk of a +cotton-broker, but also-- + +"To-morrow," Grandemont was saying, as he stood by the couch of his +guest, speaking the words with his face shining as must have shone +the face of Elijah's charioteer when he announced the glories of +that heavenly journey--"To-morrow I will take you to Her." + + + + +XVIII + +ON BEHALF OF THE MANAGEMENT + + +This is the story of the man manager, and how he held his own until +the very last paragraph. + +I had it from Sully Magoon, _viva voce_. The words are indeed his; +and if they do not constitute truthful fiction my memory should be +taxed with the blame. + +It is not deemed amiss to point out, in the beginning, the stress +that is laid upon the masculinity of the manager. For, according +to Sully, the term when applied to the feminine division of +mankind has precisely an opposite meaning. The woman manager (he +says) economizes, saves, oppresses her household with bargains and +contrivances, and looks sourly upon any pence that are cast to the +fiddler for even a single jig-step on life's arid march. Wherefore +her men-folk call her blessed, and praise her; and then sneak out +the backdoor to see the Gilhooly Sisters do a buck-and-wing dance. + +Now, the man manager (I still quote Sully) is a Cæsar without +a Brutus. He is an autocrat without responsibility, a player +who imperils no stake of his own. His office is to enact, to +reverberate, to boom, to expand, to out-coruscate--profitably, if +he can. Bill-paying and growing gray hairs over results belong to +his principals. It is his to guide the risk, to be the Apotheosis +of Front, the three-tailed Bashaw of Bluff, the Essential Oil of +Razzle-Dazzle. + +We sat at luncheon, and Sully Magoon told me. I asked for +particulars. + +"My old friend Denver Galloway was a born manager," said Sully. He +first saw the light of day in New York at three years of age. He +was born in Pittsburg, but his parents moved East the third summer +afterward. + +"When Denver grew up, he went into the managing business. At the +age of eight he managed a news-stand for the Dago that owned it. +After that he was manager at different times of a skating-rink, a +livery-stable, a policy game, a restaurant, a dancing academy, a +walking match, a burlesque company, a dry-goods store, a dozen +hotels and summer resorts, an insurance company, and a district +leader's campaign. That campaign, when Coughlin was elected on +the East Side, gave Denver a boost. It got him a job as manager +of a Broadway hotel, and for a while he managed Senator O'Grady's +campaign in the nineteenth. + +"Denver was a New Yorker all over. I think he was out of the city +just twice before the time I'm going to tell you about. Once he went +rabbit-shooting in Yonkers. The other time I met him just landing +from a North River ferry. 'Been out West on a big trip, Sully, old +boy,' says he. 'Gad! Sully, I had no idea we had such a big country. +It's immense. Never conceived of the magnificence of the West +before. It's gorgeous and glorious and infinite. Makes the East +seemed cramped and little. It's a grand thing to travel and get an +idea of the extent and resources of our country.' + +"I'd made several little runs out to California and down to Mexico +and up through Alaska, so I sits down with Denver for a chat about +the things he saw. + +"'Took in the Yosemite, out there, of course?' I asks. + +"'Well--no,' says Denver, 'I don't think so. At least, I don't +recollect it. You see, I only had three days, and I didn't get any +farther west than Youngstown, Ohio.' + +"About two years ago I dropped into New York with a little fly-paper +proposition about a Tennessee mica mine that I wanted to spread +out in a nice, sunny window, in the hopes of catching a few. I was +coming out of a printing-shop one afternoon with a batch of fine, +sticky prospectuses when I ran against Denver coming round a corner. +I never saw him looking so much like a tiger-lily. He was as +beautiful and new as a trellis of sweet peas, and as rollicking as +a clarinet solo. We shook hands, and he asked me what I was doing, +and I gave him the outlines of the scandal I was trying to create in +mica. + +"'Pooh, pooh! for your mica,' says Denver. 'Don't you know better, +Sully, than to bump up against the coffers of little old New York +with anything as transparent as mica? Now, you come with me over to +the Hotel Brunswick. You're just the man I was hoping for. I've got +something there in sepia and curled hair that I want you to look +at.' + +"'You putting up at the Brunswick?' I asks. + +"'Not a cent,' says Denver, cheerful. 'The syndicate that owns the +hotel puts up. I'm manager.' + +"The Brunswick wasn't one of them Broadway pot-houses all full of +palms and hyphens and flowers and costumes--kind of a mixture of +lawns and laundries. It was on one of the East Side avenues; but it +was a solid, old-time caravansary such as the Mayor of Skaneateles +or the Governor of Missouri might stop at. Eight stories high it +stalked up, with new striped awnings, and the electrics had it as +light as day. + +"'I've been manager here for a year,' says Denver, as we drew nigh. +'When I took charge,' says he, 'nobody nor nothing ever stopped at +the Brunswick. The clock over the clerks' desk used to run for weeks +without winding. A man fell dead with heart-disease on the sidewalk +in front of it one day, and when they went to pick him up he was two +blocks away. I figured out a scheme to catch the West Indies and +South American trade. I persuaded the owners to invest a few more +thousands, and I put every cent of it in electric lights, cayenne +pepper, gold-leaf, and garlic. I got a Spanish-speaking force of +employees and a string band; and there was talk going round of a +cockfight in the basement every Sunday. Maybe I didn't catch the +nut-brown gang! From Havana to Patagonia the Don Señors knew about +the Brunswick. We get the highfliers from Cuba and Mexico and the +couple of Americas farther south; and they've simply got the boodle +to bombard every bulfinch in the bush with.' + +"When we got to the hotel, Denver stops me at the door. + +"'There's a little liver-coloured man,' says he, 'sitting in a big +leather chair to your right, inside. You sit down and watch him for +a few minutes, and then tell me what you think.' + +"I took a chair, while Denver circulates around in the big rotunda. +The room was about full of curly-headed Cubans and South American +brunettes of different shades; and the atmosphere was international +with cigarette smoke, lit up by diamond rings and edged off with a +whisper of garlic. + +"That Denver Galloway was sure a relief to the eye. Six feet two +he was, red-headed and pink-gilled as a sun-perch. And the air he +had! Court of Saint James, Chauncy Olcott, Kentucky colonels, Count +of Monte Cristo, grand opera--all these things he reminded you of +when he was doing the honours. When he raised his finger the hotel +porters and bell-boys skated across the floor like cockroaches, and +even the clerk behind the desk looked as meek and unimportant as +Andy Carnegie. + +"Denver passed around, shaking hands with his guests, and saying +over the two or three Spanish words he knew until it was like a +coronation rehearsal or a Bryan barbecue in Texas. + +"I watched the little man he told me to. 'Twas a little foreign +person in a double-breasted frock-coat, trying to touch the floor +with his toes. He was the colour of vici kid, and his whiskers was +like excelsior made out of mahogany wood. He breathed hard, and +he never once took his eyes off of Denver. There was a look of +admiration and respect on his face like you see on a boy that's +following a champion base-ball team, or the Kaiser William looking +at himself in a glass. + +"After Denver goes his rounds he takes me into his private office. + +"'What's your report on the dingy I told you to watch?' he asks. + +"'Well,' says I, 'if you was as big a man as he takes you to be, +nine rooms and bath in the Hall of Fame, rent free till October 1st, +would be about your size.' + +"'You've caught the idea,' says Denver. 'I've given him the wizard +grip and the cabalistic eye. The glamour that emanates from yours +truly has enveloped him like a North River fog. He seems to think +that Señor Galloway is the man who. I guess they don't raise 74-inch +sorrel-tops with romping ways down in his precinct. Now, Sully,' +goes on Denver, 'if you was asked, what would you take the little +man to be?' + +"'Why,' says I, 'the barber around the corner; or, if he's royal, +the king of the boot-blacks.' + +"'Never judge by looks,' says Denver; 'he's the dark-horse candidate +for president of a South American republic.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'he didn't look quite that bad to me.' + +"Then Denver draws his chair up close and gives out his scheme. + +"'Sully,' says he, with seriousness and levity, 'I've been a manager +of one thing and another for over twenty years. That's what I was +cut out for--to have somebody else to put up the money and look +after the repairs and the police and taxes while I run the business. +I never had a dollar of my own invested in my life. I wouldn't know +how it felt to have the dealer rake in a coin of mine. But I can +handle other people's stuff and manage other people's enterprises. +I've had an ambition to get hold of something big--something higher +than hotels and lumber-yards and local politics. I want to be +manager of something way up--like a railroad or a diamond trust +or an automobile factory. Now here comes this little man from the +tropics with just what I want, and he's offered me the job.' + +"'What job?' I asks. 'Is he going to revive the Georgia Minstrels or +open a cigar store?' + +"'He's no 'coon,' says Denver. 'He's General Rompiro--General Josey +Alfonso Sapolio Jew-Ann Rompiro--he has his cards printed by a +news-ticker. He's the real thing, Sully, and he wants me to manage +his campaign--he wants Denver C. Galloway for a president-maker. +Think of that, Sully! Old Denver romping down to the tropics, +plucking lotus-flowers and pineapples with one hand and making +presidents with the other! Won't it make Uncle Mark Hanna mad? And I +want you to go too, Sully. You can help me more than any man I know. +I've been herding that brown man for a month in the hotel so he +wouldn't stray down Fourteenth Street and get roped in by that crowd +of refugee tamale-eaters down there. And he's landed, and D. C. G. +is manager of General J. A. S. J. Rompiro's presidential campaign in +the great republic of--what's its name?' + +"Denver gets down an atlas from a shelf, and we have a look at the +afflicted country. 'Twas a dark blue one, on the west coast, about +the size of a special delivery stamp. + +"'From what the General tells me,' says Denver, 'and from what I +can gather from the encyclopædia and by conversing with the janitor +of the Astor Library, it'll be as easy to handle the vote of that +country as it would be for Tammany to get a man named Geoghan +appointed on the White Wings force.' + +"'Why don't General Rumptyro stay at home,' says I, 'and manage his +own canvass?' + +"'You don't understand South American politics,' says Denver, +getting out the cigars. 'It's this way. General Rompiro had the +misfortune of becoming a popular idol. He distinguished himself +by leading the army in pursuit of a couple of sailors who had +stolen the plaza--or the carramba, or something belonging to the +government. The people called him a hero and the government got +jealous. The president sends for the chief of the Department of +Public Edifices. "Find me a nice, clean adobe wall," says he, "and +send Señor Rompiro up against it. Then call out a file of soldiers +and--then let him be up against it." Something,' goes on Denver, +'like the way they've treated Hobson and Carrie Nation in our +country. So the General had to flee. But he was thoughtful enough +to bring along his roll. He's got sinews of war enough to buy a +battleship and float her off in the christening fluid.' + +"'What chance has he got to be president?' + +"'Wasn't I just giving you his rating?' says Denver. 'His country +is one of the few in South America where the presidents are elected +by popular ballot. The General can't go there just now. It hurts +to be shot against a wall. He needs a campaign manager to go down +and whoop things up for him--to get the boys in line and the new +two-dollar bills afloat and the babies kissed and the machine in +running order. Sully, I don't want to brag, but you remember how I +brought Coughlin under the wire for leader of the nineteenth? Ours +was the banner district. Don't you suppose I know how to manage a +little monkey-cage of a country like that? Why, with the dough the +General's willing to turn loose I could put two more coats of Japan +varnish on him and have him elected Governor of Georgia. New York +has got the finest lot of campaign managers in the world, Sully, and +you give me a feeling of hauteur when you cast doubts on my ability +to handle the political situation in a country so small that they +have to print the names of the towns in the appendix and footnotes.' + +"I argued with Denver some. I told him that politics down in that +tropical atmosphere was bound to be different from the nineteenth +district; but I might just as well have been a Congressman from +North Dakota trying to get an appropriation for a lighthouse and a +coast survey. Denver Galloway had ambitions in the manager line, and +what I said didn't amount to as much as a fig-leaf at the National +Dressmakers' Convention. 'I'll give you three days to cogitate about +going,' says Denver; 'and I'll introduce you to General Rompiro +to-morrow, so you can get his ideas drawn right from the rose wood.' + +"I put on my best reception-to-Booker-Washington manner the next +day and tapped the distinguished rubber-plant for what he knew. + +"General Rompiro wasn't so gloomy inside as he appeared on the +surface. He was polite enough; and he exuded a number of sounds that +made a fair stagger at arranging themselves into language. It was +English he aimed at, and when his system of syntax reached your +mind it wasn't past you to understand it. If you took a college +professor's magazine essay and a Chinese laundryman's explanation +of a lost shirt and jumbled 'em together, you'd have about what the +General handed you out for conversation. He told me all about his +bleeding country, and what they were trying to do for it before the +doctor came. But he mostly talked of Denver C. Galloway. + +"'Ah, señor,' says he, 'that is the most fine of mans. Never I have +seen one man so magnifico, so gr-r-rand, so conformable to make done +things so swiftly by other mans. He shall make other mans do the +acts and himself to order and regulate, until we arrive at seeing +accomplishments of a suddenly. Oh, yes, señor. In my countree there +is not such mans of so beegness, so good talk, so compliments, so +strongness of sense and such. Ah, that Señor Galloway!' + +"'Yes,' says I, 'old Denver is the boy you want. He's managed every +kind of business here except filibustering, and he might as well +complete the list.' + +"Before the three days was up I decided to join Denver in his +campaign. Denver got three months' vacation from his hotel owners. +For a week we lived in a room with the General, and got all the +pointers about his country that we could interpret from the noises +he made. When we got ready to start, Denver had a pocket full of +memorandums, and letters from the General to his friends, and a list +of names and addresses of loyal politicians who would help along +the boom of the exiled popular idol. Besides these liabilities we +carried assets to the amount of $20,000 in assorted United States +currency. General Rompiro looked like a burnt effigy, but he was +Br'er Fox himself when it came to the real science of politics. + +"'Here is moneys,' says the General, 'of a small amount. There is +more with me--moocho more. Plentee moneys shall you be supplied, +Señor Galloway. More I shall send you at all times that you need. +I shall desire to pay feefty--one hundred thousand pesos, if +necessario, to be elect. How no? Sacramento! If that I am president +and do not make one meelion dolla in the one year you shall keek me +on that side!--_valgame Dios!_' + +"Denver got a Cuban cigar-maker to fix up a little cipher code with +English and Spanish words, and gave the General a copy, so we could +cable him bulletins about the election, or for more money, and then +we were ready to start. General Rompiro escorted us to the steamer. +On the pier he hugged Denver around the waist and sobbed. 'Noble +mans,' says he, 'General Rompiro propels you into his confidence +and trust. Go, in the hands of the saints to do the work for your +friend. _Viva la libertad!_' + +"'Sure,' says Denver. 'And viva la liberality an' la soaperino and +hoch der land of the lotus and the vote us. Don't worry, General. +We'll have you elected as sure as bananas grow upside down.' + +"'Make pictures on me,' pleads the General--'make pictures on me for +money as it is needful.' + +"'Does he want to be tattooed, would you think?' asks Denver, +wrinkling up his eyes. + +"'Stupid!' says I. 'He wants you to draw on him for election +expenses. It'll be worse than tattooing. More like an autopsy.' + +"Me and Denver steamed down to Panama, and then hiked across the +Isthmus, and then by steamer again down to the town of Espiritu on +the coast of the General's country. + +"That was a town to send J. Howard Payne to the growler. I'll tell +you how you could make one like it. Take a lot of Filipino huts and +a couple of hundred brick-kilns and arrange 'em in squares in a +cemetery. Cart down all the conservatory plants in the Astor and +Vanderbilt greenhouses, and stick 'em about wherever there's room. +Turn all the Bellevue patients and the barbers' convention and the +Tuskegee school loose in the streets, and run the thermometer up to +120 in the shade. Set a fringe of the Rocky Mountains around the +rear, let it rain, and set the whole business on Rockaway Beach in +the middle of January--and you'd have a good imitation of Espiritu. + +"It took me and Denver about a week to get acclimated. Denver sent +out the letters the General had given him, and notified the rest of +the gang that there was something doing at the captain's office. We +set up headquarters in an old 'dobe house on a side street where +the grass was waist high. The election was only four weeks off; but +there wasn't any excitement. The home candidate for president was +named Roadrickeys. This town of Esperitu wasn't the capital any more +than Cleveland, Ohio, is the capital of the United States, but it +was the political centre where they cooked up revolutions, and made +up the slates. + +"At the end of the week Denver says the machine is started running. + +"'Sully,' says he, 'we've got a walkover. Just because General +Rompiro ain't Don Juan-on-the-spot the other crowd ain't at work. +They're as full of apathy as a territorial delegate during the +chaplain's prayer. Now, we want to introduce a little hot stuff in +the way of campaigning, and we'll surprise 'em at the polls.' + +"'How are you going to go about it?' I asks. + +"'Why, the usual way,' says Denver, surprised. 'We'll get the +orators on our side out every night to make speeches in the native +lingo, and have torch-light parades under the shade of the palms, +and free drinks, and buy up all the brass bands, of course, +and--well, I'll turn the baby-kissing over to you, Sully--I've seen +a lot of 'em.' + +"'What else?' says I. + +"'Why, you know,' says Denver. 'We get the heelers out with the +crackly two-spots, and coal-tickets, and orders for groceries, and +have a couple of picnics out under the banyan-trees, and dances in +the Firemen's Hall--and the usual things. But first of all, Sully, +I'm going to have the biggest clam-bake down on the beach that was +ever seen south of the tropic of Capricorn. I figured that out from +the start. We'll stuff the whole town and the jungle folk for miles +around with clams. That's the first thing on the programme. Suppose +you go out now, and make the arrangements for that. I want to look +over the estimates the General made of the vote in the coast +districts.' + +"I had learned some Spanish in Mexico, so I goes out, as Denver +says, and in fifteen minutes I come back to headquarters. + +"'If there ever was a clam in this country nobody ever saw it,' I +says. + +"'Great sky-rockets!' says Denver, with his mouth and eyes open. 'No +clams? How in the--who ever saw a country without clams? What kind +of a--how's an election to be pulled off without a clam-bake, I'd +like to know? Are you sure there's no clams, Sully?' + +"'Not even a can,' says I. + +"'Then for God's sake go out and try to find what the people here do +eat. We've got to fill 'em up with grub of some kind.' + +"I went out again. Denver was manager. In half an hour I gets back. + +"'They eat,' says I, 'tortillas, cassava, carne de chivo, arroz con +pollo, aquacates, zapates, yucca, and huevos fritos.' + +"'A man that would eat them things,' says Denver, getting a little +mad, 'ought to have his vote challenged.' + +"In a few more days the campaign managers from the other towns came +sliding into Esperitu. Our headquarters was a busy place. We had +an interpreter, and ice-water, and drinks, and cigars, and Denver +flashed the General's roll so often that it got so small you +couldn't have bought a Republican vote in Ohio with it. + +"And then Denver cabled to General Rompiro for ten thousand dollars +more and got it. + +"There were a number of Americans in Esperitu, but they were all +in business or grafts of some kind, and wouldn't take any hand in +politics, which was sensible enough. But they showed me and Denver a +fine time, and fixed us up so we could get decent things to eat and +drink. There was one American, named Hicks, used to come and loaf at +the headquarters. Hicks had had fourteen years of Esperitu. He was +six feet four and weighed in at 135. Cocoa was his line; and coast +fever and the climate had taken all the life out of him. They said +he hadn't smiled in eight years. His face was three feet long, and +it never moved except when he opened it to take quinine. He used to +sit in our headquarters and kill fleas and talk sarcastic. + +"'I don't take much interest in politics,' says Hicks, one day, 'but +I'd like you to tell me what you're trying to do down here, +Galloway?' + +"'We're boosting General Rompiro, of course,' says Denver. 'We're +going to put him in the presidential chair. I'm his manager.' + +"'Well,' says Hicks, 'if I was you I'd be a little slower about it. +You've got a long time ahead of you, you know.' + +"'Not any longer than I need,' says Denver. + +"Denver went ahead and worked things smooth. He dealt out money on +the quiet to his lieutenants, and they were always coming after it. +There was free drinks for everybody in town, and bands playing every +night, and fireworks, and there was a lot of heelers going around +buying up votes day and night for the new style of politics in +Espiritu, and everybody liked it. + +"The day set for the election was November 4th. On the night before +Denver and me were smoking our pipes in headquarters, and in comes +Hicks and unjoints himself, and sits in a chair, mournful. Denver +is cheerful and confident. 'Rompiro will win in a romp,' says he. +'We'll carry the country by 10,000. It's all over but the vivas. +To-morrow will tell the tale.' + +"'What's going to happen to-morrow?' asks Hicks. + +"'Why, the presidential election, of course,' says Denver. + +"'Say,' says Hicks, looking kind of funny, 'didn't anybody tell you +fellows that the election was held a week before you came? Congress +changed the date to July 27th. Roadrickeys was elected by 17,000. +I thought you was booming old Rompiro for next term, two years +from now. Wondered if you was going to keep up such a hot lick that +long.' + +"I dropped my pipe on the floor. Denver bit the stem off of his. +Neither of us said anything. + +"And then I heard a sound like somebody ripping a clapboard off of a +barn-roof. 'Twas Hicks laughing for the first time in eight years." + +Sully Magoon paused while the waiter poured us a black coffee. + +"Your friend was, indeed, something of a manager," I said. + +"Wait a minute," said Sully, "I haven't given you any idea of what +he could do yet. That's all to come. + +"When we got back to New York there was General Rompiro waiting for +us on the pier. He was dancing like a cinnamon bear, all impatient +for the news, for Denver had just cabled him when we would arrive +and nothing more. + +"'Am I elect?' he shouts. 'Am I elect, friend of mine? Is that mine +country have demand General Rompiro for the president? The last +dollar of mine have I sent you that last time. It is necessario that +I am elect. I have not more money. Am I elect, Señor Galloway?' + +"Denver turns to me. + +"'Leave me with old Rompey, Sully,' he says. 'I've got to break it +to him gently. 'Twould be indecent for other eyes to witness the +operation. This is the time, Sully,' says he, 'when old Denver has +got to make good as a jollier and a silver-tongued sorcerer, or else +give up all the medals he's earned.' + +"A couple of days later I went around to the hotel. There was Denver +in his old place, looking like the hero of two historical novels, +and telling 'em what a fine time he'd had down on his orange +plantation in Florida. + +"'Did you fix things up with the General?' I asks him. + +"'Did I?' says Denver. 'Come and see.' + +"He takes me by the arm and walks me to the dining-room door. There +was a little chocolate-brown fat man in a dress suit, with his face +shining with joy as he swelled himself and skipped about the floor. +Danged if Denver hadn't made General Rompiro head waiter of the +Hotel Brunswick!" + +"Is Mr. Galloway still in the managing business?" I asked, as Mr. +Magoon ceased. + +Sully shook his head. + +"Denver married an auburn-haired widow that owns a big hotel in +Harlem. He just helps around the place." + + + + +XIX + +WHISTLING DICK'S CHRISTMAS STOCKING + + +It was with much caution that Whistling Dick slid back the door of +the box-car, for Article 5716, City Ordinances, authorized (perhaps +unconstitutionally) arrest on suspicion, and he was familiar of old +with this ordinance. So, before climbing out, he surveyed the field +with all the care of a good general. + +He saw no change since his last visit to this big, alms-giving, +long-suffering city of the South, the cold weather paradise of the +tramps. The levee where his freight-car stood was pimpled with dark +bulks of merchandise. The breeze reeked with the well-remembered, +sickening smell of the old tarpaulins that covered bales and +barrels. The dun river slipped along among the shipping with an oily +gurgle. Far down toward Chalmette he could see the great bend in the +stream, outlined by the row of electric lights. Across the river +Algiers lay, a long, irregular blot, made darker by the dawn which +lightened the sky beyond. An industrious tug or two, coming for +some early sailing ship, gave a few appalling toots, that seemed to +be the signal for breaking day. The Italian luggers were creeping +nearer their landing, laden with early vegetables and shellfish. A +vague roar, subterranean in quality, from dray wheels and street +cars, began to make itself heard and felt; and the ferryboats, the +Mary Anns of water craft, stirred sullenly to their menial morning +tasks. + +Whistling Dick's red head popped suddenly back into the car. A sight +too imposing and magnificent for his gaze had been added to the +scene. A vast, incomparable policeman rounded a pile of rice sacks +and stood within twenty yards of the car. The daily miracle of the +dawn, now being performed above Algiers, received the flattering +attention of this specimen of municipal official splendour. He +gazed with unbiased dignity at the faintly glowing colours until, +at last, he turned to them his broad back, as if convinced that +legal interference was not needed, and the sunrise might proceed +unchecked. So he turned his face to the rice bags, and, drawing +a flat flask from an inside pocket, he placed it to his lips and +regarded the firmament. + +Whistling Dick, professional tramp, possessed a half-friendly +acquaintance with this officer. They had met several times before on +the levee at night, for the officer, himself a lover of music, had +been attracted by the exquisite whistling of the shiftless vagabond. +Still, he did not care, under the present circumstances, to renew +the acquaintance. There is a difference between meeting a policeman +on a lonely wharf and whistling a few operatic airs with him, and +being caught by him crawling out of a freight-car. So Dick waited, +as even a New Orleans policeman must move on some time--perhaps +it is a retributive law of nature--and before long "Big Fritz" +majestically disappeared between the trains of cars. + +Whistling Dick waited as long as his judgment advised, and then +slid swiftly to the ground. Assuming as far as possible the air of +an honest labourer who seeks his daily toil, he moved across the +network of railway lines, with the intention of making his way by +quiet Girod Street to a certain bench in Lafayette Square, where, +according to appointment, he hoped to rejoin a pal known as "Slick," +this adventurous pilgrim having preceded him by one day in a +cattle-car into which a loose slat had enticed him. + +As Whistling Dick picked his way where night still lingered among +the big, reeking, musty warehouses, he gave way to the habit that +had won for him his title. Subdued, yet clear, with each note as +true and liquid as a bobolink's, his whistle tinkled about the dim, +cold mountains of brick like drops of rain falling into a hidden +pool. He followed an air, but it swam mistily into a swirling +current of improvisation. You could cull out the trill of mountain +brooks, the staccato of green rushes shivering above chilly lagoons, +the pipe of sleepy birds. + +Rounding a corner, the whistler collided with a mountain of blue and +brass. + +"So," observed the mountain calmly, "You are already pack. Und dere +vill not pe frost before two veeks yet! Und you haf forgotten how to +vistle. Dere was a valse note in dot last bar." + +"Watcher know about it?" said Whistling Dick, with tentative +familiarity; "you wit yer little Gherman-band nixcumrous chunes. +Watcher know about music? Pick yer ears, and listen agin. Here's de +way I whistled it--see?" + +He puckered his lips, but the big policeman held up his hand. + +"Shtop," he said, "und learn der right way. Und learn also dot a +rolling shtone can't vistle for a cent." + +Big Fritz's heavy moustache rounded into a circle, and from its +depths came a sound deep and mellow as that from a flute. He +repeated a few bars of the air the tramp had been whistling. The +rendition was cold, but correct, and he emphasized the note he had +taken exception to. + +"Dot p is p natural, und not p vlat. Py der vay, you petter pe glad +I meet you. Von hour later, und I vould half to put you in a gage +to vistle mit der chail pirds. Der orders are to bull all der pums +after sunrise." + +"To which?" + +"To bull der pums--eferybody mitout fisible means. Dirty days is der +price, or fifteen tollars." + +"Is dat straight, or a game you givin' me?" + +"It's der pest tip you efer had. I gif it to you pecause I pelief +you are not so bad as der rest. Und pecause you gan visl 'Der +Freischütz' bezzer dan I myself gan. Don't run against any more +bolicemans aroundt der corners, but go away from town a few tays. +Good-pye." + +So Madame Orleans had at last grown weary of the strange and ruffled +brood that came yearly to nestle beneath her charitable pinions. + +After the big policeman had departed, Whistling Dick stood for +an irresolute minute, feeling all the outraged indignation of a +delinquent tenant who is ordered to vacate his premises. He had +pictured to himself a day of dreamful ease when he should have +joined his pal; a day of lounging on the wharf, munching the bananas +and cocoanuts scattered in unloading the fruit steamers; and then +a feast along the free-lunch counters from which the easy-going +owners were too good-natured or too generous to drive him away, and +afterward a pipe in one of the little flowery parks and a snooze +in some shady corner of the wharf. But here was a stern order to +exile, and one that he knew must be obeyed. So, with a wary eye +open for the gleam of brass buttons, he began his retreat toward a +rural refuge. A few days in the country need not necessarily prove +disastrous. Beyond the possibility of a slight nip of frost, there +was no formidable evil to be looked for. + +However, it was with a depressed spirit that Whistling Dick passed +the old French market on his chosen route down the river. For +safety's sake he still presented to the world his portrayal of the +part of the worthy artisan on his way to labour. A stall-keeper in +the market, undeceived, hailed him by the generic name of his ilk, +and "Jack" halted, taken by surprise. The vender, melted by this +proof of his own acuteness, bestowed a foot of Frankfurter and half +a loaf, and thus the problem of breakfast was solved. + +When the streets, from topographical reasons, began to shun the +river bank the exile mounted to the top of the levee, and on its +well-trodden path pursued his way. The suburban eye regarded him +with cold suspicion, individuals reflected the stern spirit of the +city's heartless edict. He missed the seclusion of the crowded town +and the safety he could always find in the multitude. + +At Chalmette, six miles upon his desultory way, there suddenly +menaced him a vast and bewildering industry. A new port was being +established; the dock was being built, compresses were going up; +picks and shovels and barrows struck at him like serpents from every +side. An arrogant foreman bore down upon him, estimating his muscles +with the eye of a recruiting-sergeant. Brown men and black men all +about him were toiling away. He fled in terror. + +By noon he had reached the country of the plantations, the great, +sad, silent levels bordering the mighty river. He overlooked fields +of sugar-cane so vast that their farthest limits melted into the +sky. The sugar-making season was well advanced, and the cutters +were at work; the waggons creaked drearily after them; the Negro +teamsters inspired the mules to greater speed with mellow and +sonorous imprecations. Dark-green groves, blurred by the blue +of distance, showed where the plantation-houses stood. The tall +chimneys of the sugar-mills caught the eye miles distant, like +lighthouses at sea. + +At a certain point Whistling Dick's unerring nose caught the scent +of frying fish. Like a pointer to a quail, he made his way down +the levee side straight to the camp of a credulous and ancient +fisherman, whom he charmed with song and story, so that he dined +like an admiral, and then like a philosopher annihilated the worst +three hours of the day by a nap under the trees. + +When he awoke and again continued his hegira, a frosty sparkle in +the air had succeeded the drowsy warmth of the day, and as this +portent of a chilly night translated itself to the brain of Sir +Peregrine, he lengthened his stride and bethought him of shelter. He +travelled a road that faithfully followed the convolutions of the +levee, running along its base, but whither he knew not. Bushes and +rank grass crowded it to the wheel ruts, and out of this ambuscade +the pests of the lowlands swarmed after him, humming a keen, vicious +soprano. And as the night grew nearer, although colder, the whine +of the mosquitoes became a greedy, petulant snarl that shut out all +other sounds. To his right, against the heavens, he saw a green +light moving, and, accompanying it, the masts and funnels of a big +incoming steamer, moving as upon a screen at a magic-lantern show. +And there were mysterious marshes at his left, out of which came +queer gurgling cries and a choked croaking. The whistling vagrant +struck up a merry warble to offset these melancholy influences, and +it is likely that never before, since Pan himself jigged it on his +reeds, had such sounds been heard in those depressing solitudes. + +A distant clatter in the rear quickly developed into the swift beat +of horses' hoofs, and Whistling Dick stepped aside into the dew-wet +grass to clear the track. Turning his head, he saw approaching a +fine team of stylish grays drawing a double surrey. A stout man +with a white moustache occupied the front seat, giving all his +attention to the rigid lines in his hands. Behind him sat a placid, +middle-aged lady and a brilliant-looking girl hardly arrived at +young ladyhood. The lap-robe had slipped partly from the knees of +the gentleman driving, and Whistling Dick saw two stout canvas bags +between his feet--bags such as, while loafing in cities, he had +seen warily transferred between express waggons and bank doors. The +remaining space in the vehicle was filled with parcels of various +sizes and shapes. + +As the surrey swept even with the sidetracked tramp, the bright-eyed +girl, seized by some merry, madcap impulse, leaned out toward him +with a sweet, dazzling smile, and cried, "Mer-ry Christ-mas!" in a +shrill, plaintive treble. + +Such a thing had not often happened to Whistling Dick, and he felt +handicapped in devising the correct response. But lacking time +for reflection, he let his instinct decide, and snatching off his +battered derby, he rapidly extended it at arm's length, and drew it +back with a continuous motion, and shouted a loud, but ceremonious, +"Ah, there!" after the flying surrey. + +The sudden movement of the girl had caused one of the parcels to +become unwrapped, and something limp and black fell from it into the +road. The tramp picked it up, and found it to be a new black silk +stocking, long and fine and slender. It crunched crisply, and yet +with a luxurious softness, between his fingers. + +"Ther bloomin' little skeezicks!" said Whistling Dick, with a broad +grin bisecting his freckled face. "W'ot d' yer think of dat, now! +Mer-ry Chris-mus! Sounded like a cuckoo clock, da'ts what she did. +Dem guys is swells, too, bet yer life, an' der old 'un stacks dem +sacks of dough down under his trotters like dey was common as dried +apples. Been shoppin' for Chrismus, and de kid's lost one of her new +socks w'ot she was goin' to hold up Santy wid. De bloomin' little +skeezicks! Wit' her 'Mer-ry Chris-mus!' W'ot d' yer t'ink! Same as +to say, 'Hello, Jack, how goes it?' and as swell as Fift' Av'noo, +and as easy as a blowout in Cincinnat." + +Whistling Dick folded the stocking carefully, and stuffed it into +his pocket. + +It was nearly two hours later when he came upon signs of habitation. +The buildings of an extensive plantation were brought into view by +a turn in the road. He easily selected the planter's residence in +a large square building with two wings, with numerous good-sized, +well-lighted windows, and broad verandas running around its full +extent. It was set upon a smooth lawn, which was faintly lit by the +far-reaching rays of the lamps within. A noble grove surrounded it, +and old-fashioned shrubbery grew thickly about the walks and fences. +The quarters of the hands and the mill buildings were situated at a +distance in the rear. + +The road was now enclosed on each side by a fence, and presently, +as Whistling Dick drew nearer the house, he suddenly stopped and +sniffed the air. + +"If dere ain't a hobo stew cookin' somewhere in dis immediate +precinct," he said to himself, "me nose has quit tellin' de trut'." + +Without hesitation he climbed the fence to windward. He found +himself in an apparently disused lot, where piles of old bricks were +stacked, and rejected, decaying lumber. In a corner he saw the faint +glow of a fire that had become little more than a bed of living +coals, and he thought he could see some dim human forms sitting or +lying about it. He drew nearer, and by the light of a little blaze +that suddenly flared up he saw plainly the fat figure of a ragged +man in an old brown sweater and cap. + +"Dat man," said Whistling Dick to himself softly, "is a dead ringer +for Boston Harry. I'll try him wit de high sign." + +He whistled one or two bars of a rag-time melody, and the air was +immediately taken up, and then quickly ended with a peculiar run. +The first whistler walked confidently up to the fire. The fat man +looked up, and spake in a loud, asthmatic wheeze: + +"Gents, the unexpected but welcome addition to our circle is Mr. +Whistling Dick, an old friend of mine for whom I fully vouches. The +waiter will lay another cover at once. Mr. W. D. will join us at +supper, during which function he will enlighten us in regard to the +circumstances that gave us the pleasure of his company." + +"Chewin' de stuffin' out 'n de dictionary, as usual, Boston," said +Whistling Dick; "but t'anks all de same for de invitashun. I guess I +finds meself here about de same way as yous guys. A cop gimme de tip +dis mornin'. Yous workin' on dis farm?" + +"A guest," said Boston, sternly, "shouldn't never insult his +entertainers until he's filled up wid grub. 'Tain't good business +sense. Workin'!--but I will restrain myself. We five--me, Deaf Pete, +Blinky, Goggles, and Indiana Tom--got put on to this scheme of Noo +Orleans to work visiting gentlemen upon her dirty streets, and we +hit the road last evening just as the tender hues of twilight had +flopped down upon the daisies and things. Blinky, pass the empty +oyster-can at your left to the empty gentleman at your right." + +For the next ten minutes the gang of roadsters paid their undivided +attention to the supper. In an old five-gallon kerosene can they had +cooked a stew of potatoes, meat, and onions, which they partook of +from smaller cans they had found scattered about the vacant lot. + +Whistling Dick had known Boston Harry of old, and knew him to be one +of the shrewdest and most successful of his brotherhood. He looked +like a prosperous stock-drover or solid merchant from some country +village. He was stout and hale, with a ruddy, always smoothly +shaven face. His clothes were strong and neat, and he gave special +attention to his decent-appearing shoes. During the past ten +years he had acquired a reputation for working a larger number of +successfully managed confidence games than any of his acquaintances, +and he had not a day's work to be counted against him. It was +rumoured among his associates that he had saved a considerable +amount of money. The four other men were fair specimens of the +slinking, ill-clad, noisome genus who carried their labels of +"suspicious" in plain view. + +After the bottom of the large can had been scraped, and pipes lit +at the coals, two of the men called Boston aside and spake with him +lowly and mysteriously. He nodded decisively, and then said aloud to +Whistling Dick: + +"Listen, sonny, to some plain talky-talk. We five are on a lay. I've +guaranteed you to be square, and you're to come in on the profits +equal with the boys, and you've got to help. Two hundred hands on +this plantation are expecting to be paid a week's wages to-morrow +morning. To-morrow's Christmas, and they want to lay off. Says the +boss: 'Work from five to nine in the morning to get a train load of +sugar off, and I'll pay every man cash down for the week and a day +extra.' They say: 'Hooray for the boss! It goes.' He drives to Noo +Orleans to-day, and fetches back the cold dollars. Two thousand and +seventy-four fifty is the amount. I got the figures from a man who +talks too much, who got 'em from the bookkeeper. The boss of this +plantation thinks he's going to pay this wealth to the hands. He's +got it down wrong; he's going to pay it to us. It's going to stay +in the leisure class, where it belongs. Now, half of this haul +goes to me, and the other half the rest of you may divide. Why the +difference? I represent the brains. It's my scheme. Here's the way +we're going to get it. There's some company at supper in the house, +but they'll leave about nine. They've just happened in for an hour +or so. If they don't go pretty soon, we'll work the scheme anyhow. +We want all night to get away good with the dollars. They're heavy. +About nine o'clock Deaf Pete and Blinky'll go down the road about a +quarter beyond the house, and set fire to a big cane-field there +that the cutters haven't touched yet. The wind's just right to have +it roaring in two minutes. The alarm'll be given, and every man Jack +about the place will be down there in ten minutes, fighting fire. +That'll leave the money sacks and the women alone in the house for +us to handle. You've heard cane burn? Well, there's mighty few women +can screech loud enough to be heard above its crackling. The thing's +dead safe. The only danger is in being caught before we can get far +enough away with the money. Now, if you--" + +"Boston," interrupted Whistling Dick, rising to his feet, "T'anks +for the grub yous fellers has given me, but I'll be movin' on now." + +"What do you mean?" asked Boston, also rising. + +"W'y, you can count me outer dis deal. You oughter know that. I'm +on de bum all right enough, but dat other t'ing don't go wit' me. +Burglary is no good. I'll say good night and many t'anks fer--" + +Whistling Dick had moved away a few steps as he spoke, but he +stopped very suddenly. Boston had covered him with a short revolver +of roomy calibre. + +"Take your seat," said the tramp leader. "I'd feel mighty proud of +myself if I let you go and spoil the game. You'll stick right in +this camp until we finish the job. The end of that brick pile is +your limit. You go two inches beyond that, and I'll have to shoot. +Better take it easy, now." + +"It's my way of doin'," said Whistling Dick. "Easy goes. You can +depress de muzzle of dat twelve-incher, and run 'er back on de +trucks. I remains, as de newspapers says, 'in yer midst.'" + +"All right," said Boston, lowering his piece, as the other returned +and took his seat again on a projecting plank in a pile of timber. +"Don't try to leave; that's all. I wouldn't miss this chance even if +I had to shoot an old acquaintance to make it go. I don't want to +hurt anybody specially, but this thousand dollars I'm going to get +will fix me for fair. I'm going to drop the road, and start a saloon +in a little town I know about. I'm tired of being kicked around." + +Boston Harry took from his pocket a cheap silver watch, and held it +near the fire. + +"It's a quarter to nine," he said. "Pete, you and Blinky start. Go +down the road past the house, and fire the cane in a dozen places. +Then strike for the levee, and come back on it, instead of the road, +so you won't meet anybody. By the time you get back the men will +all be striking out for the fire, and we'll break for the house and +collar the dollars. Everybody cough up what matches he's got." + +The two surly tramps made a collection of all the matches in the +party, Whistling Dick contributing his quota with propitiatory +alacrity, and then they departed in the dim starlight in the +direction of the road. + +Of the three remaining vagrants, two, Goggles and Indiana Tom, +reclined lazily upon convenient lumber and regarded Whistling Dick +with undisguised disfavour. Boston, observing that the dissenting +recruit was disposed to remain peaceably, relaxed a little of his +vigilance. Whistling Dick arose presently and strolled leisurely up +and down keeping carefully within the territory assigned him. + +"Dis planter chap," he said, pausing before Boston Harry, "w'ot +makes yer t'ink he's got de tin in de house wit' 'im?" + +"I'm advised of the facts in the case," said Boston. "He drove to +Noo Orleans and got it, I say, to-day. Want to change your mind now +and come in?" + +"Naw, I was just askin'. Wot kind o' team did de boss drive?" + +"Pair of grays." + +"Double surrey?" + +"Yep." + +"Women folks along?" + +"Wife and kid. Say, what morning paper are you trying to pump news +for?" + +"I was just conversin' to pass de time away. I guess dat team passed +me in de road dis evenin'. Dat's all." + +As Whistling Dick put his hands in his pockets and continued his +curtailed beat up and down by the fire, he felt the silk stocking he +had picked up in the road. + +"Ther bloomin' little skeezicks," he muttered, with a grin. + +As he walked up and down he could see, through a sort of natural +opening or lane among the trees, the planter's residence some +seventy-five yards distant. The side of the house toward him +exhibited spacious, well-lighted windows through which a soft +radiance streamed, illuminating the broad veranda and some extent +of the lawn beneath. + +"What's that you said?" asked Boston, sharply. + +"Oh, nuttin' 't all," said Whistling Dick, lounging carelessly, and +kicking meditatively at a little stone on the ground. + +"Just as easy," continued the warbling vagrant softly to himself, +"an' sociable an' swell an' sassy, wit' her 'Mer-ry Chris-mus,' Wot +d'yer t'ink, now!" + + + +Dinner, two hours late, was being served in the Bellemeade +plantation dining-room. + +The dining-room and all its appurtenances spoke of an old regime +that was here continued rather than suggested to the memory. The +plate was rich to the extent that its age and quaintness alone saved +it from being showy; there were interesting names signed in the +corners of the pictures on the walls; the viands were of the kind +that bring a shine into the eyes of gourmets. The service was swift, +silent, lavish, as in the days when the waiters were assets like the +plate. The names by which the planter's family and their visitors +addressed one another were historic in the annals of two nations. +Their manners and conversation had that most difficult kind of +ease--the kind that still preserves punctilio. The planter himself +seemed to be the dynamo that generated the larger portion of the +gaiety and wit. The younger ones at the board found it more than +difficult to turn back on him his guns of raillery and banter. It is +true, the young men attempted to storm his works repeatedly, incited +by the hope of gaining the approbation of their fair companions; but +even when they sped a well-aimed shaft, the planter forced them to +feel defeat by the tremendous discomfiting thunder of the laughter +with which he accompanied his retorts. At the head of the table, +serene, matronly, benevolent, reigned the mistress of the house, +placing here and there the right smile, the right word, the +encouraging glance. + +The talk of the party was too desultory, too evanescent to follow, +but at last they came to the subject of the tramp nuisance, one that +had of late vexed the plantations for many miles around. The planter +seized the occasion to direct his good-natured fire of raillery +at the mistress, accusing her of encouraging the plague. "They +swarm up and down the river every winter," he said. "They overrun +New Orleans, and we catch the surplus, which is generally the +worst part. And, a day or two ago, Madame New Orleans, suddenly +discovering that she can't go shopping without brushing her skirts +against great rows of the vagabonds sunning themselves on the +banquettes, says to the police: 'Catch 'em all,' and the police +catch a dozen or two, and the remaining three or four thousand +overflow up and down the levee, and madame there,"--pointing +tragically with the carving-knife at her--"feeds them. They won't +work; they defy my overseers, and they make friends with my dogs; +and you, madame, feed them before my eyes, and intimidate me when +I would interfere. Tell us, please, how many to-day did you thus +incite to future laziness and depredation?" + +"Six, I think," said madame, with a reflective smile; "but you know +two of them offered to work, for you heard them yourself." + +The planter's disconcerting laugh rang out again. + +"Yes, at their own trades. And one was an artificial-flower maker, +and the other a glass-blower. Oh, they were looking for work! Not a +hand would they consent to lift to labour of any other kind." + +"And another one," continued the soft-hearted mistress, "used quite +good language. It was really extraordinary for one of his class. +And he carried a watch. And had lived in Boston. I don't believe +they are all bad. They have always seemed to me to rather lack +development. I always look upon them as children with whom wisdom +has remained at a standstill while whiskers have continued to grow. +We passed one this evening as we were driving home who had a face +as good as it was incompetent. He was whistling the intermezzo from +'Cavalleria' and blowing the spirit of Mascagni himself into it." + +A bright eyed young girl who sat at the left of the mistress leaned +over, and said in a confidential undertone: + +"I wonder, mamma, if that tramp we passed on the road found my +stocking, and do you think he will hang it up to-night? Now I +can hang up but one. Do you know why I wanted a new pair of silk +stockings when I have plenty? Well, old Aunt Judy says, if you hang +up two that have never been worn, Santa Claus will fill one with +good things, and Monsieur Pambe will place in the other payment +for all the words you have spoken--good or bad--on the day before +Christmas. That's why I've been unusually nice and polite to +everyone to-day. Monsieur Pambe, you know, is a witch gentleman; +he--" + +The words of the young girl were interrupted by a startling thing. + +Like the wraith of some burned-out shooting star, a black streak +came crashing through the window-pane and upon the table, where it +shivered into fragments a dozen pieces of crystal and china ware, +and then glanced between the heads of the guests to the wall, +imprinting therein a deep, round indentation, at which, to-day, the +visitor to Bellemeade marvels as he gazes upon it and listens to +this tale as it is told. + +The women screamed in many keys, and the men sprang to their feet, +and would have laid their hands upon their swords had not the +verities of chronology forbidden. + +The planter was the first to act; he sprang to the intruding +missile, and held it up to view. + +"By Jupiter!" he cried. "A meteoric shower of hosiery! Has +communication at last been established with Mars?" + +"I should say--ahem--Venus," ventured a young-gentleman visitor, +looking hopefully for approbation toward the unresponsive young-lady +visitors. + +The planter held at arm's length the unceremonious visitor--a long +dangling black stocking. "It's loaded," he announced. + +As he spoke, he reversed the stocking, holding it by the toe, and +down from it dropped a roundish stone, wrapped about by a piece of +yellowish paper. "Now for the first interstellar message of the +century!" he cried; and nodding to the company, who had crowded +about him, he adjusted his glasses with provoking deliberation, and +examined it closely. When he finished, he had changed from the jolly +host to the practical, decisive man of business. He immediately +struck a bell, and said to the silent-footed mulatto man who +responded: "Go and tell Mr. Wesley to get Reeves and Maurice and +about ten stout hands they can rely upon, and come to the hall door +at once. Tell him to have the men arm themselves, and bring plenty +of ropes and plough lines. Tell him to hurry." And then he read +aloud from the paper these words: + + + TO THE GENT OF DE HOUS: + + Dere is five tuff hoboes xcept meself in the vaken lot near + de road war de old brick piles is. Dey got me stuck up wid + a gun see and I taken dis means of communication. 2 of der + lads is gone down to set fire to de cain field below de hous + and when yous fellers goes to turn de hoes on it de hole + gang is goin to rob de hous of de money yoo gotto pay off + wit say git a move on ye say de kid dropt dis sock in der + rode tel her mery crismus de same as she told me. Ketch de + bums down de rode first and den sen a relefe core to get me + out of soke youres truly, + + WHISTLEN DICK. + + +There was some quiet, but rapid, mavoeuvring at Bellemeade during +the ensuring half hour, which ended in five disgusted and sullen +tramps being captured, and locked securely in an outhouse pending +the coming of the morning and retribution. For another result, the +visiting young gentlemen had secured the unqualified worship of the +visiting young ladies by their distinguished and heroic conduct. +For still another, behold Whistling Dick, the hero, seated at the +planter's table, feasting upon viands his experience had never +before included, and waited upon by admiring femininity in shapes +of such beauty and "swellness" that even his ever-full mouth could +scarcely prevent him from whistling. He was made to disclose in +detail his adventure with the evil gang of Boston Harry, and how he +cunningly wrote the note and wrapped it around the stone and placed +it at the toe of the stocking, and, watching his chance, sent it +silently, with a wonderful centrifugal momentum, like a comet, at +one of the big lighted windows of the dining-room. + +The planter vowed that the wanderer should wander no more; that his +was a goodness and an honesty that should be rewarded, and that +a debt of gratitude had been made that must be paid; for had he +not saved them from a doubtless imminent loss, and maybe a greater +calamity? He assured Whistling Dick that he might consider himself a +charge upon the honour of Bellemeade; that a position suited to his +powers would be found for him at once, and hinted that the way would +be heartily smoothed for him to rise to as high places of emolument +and trust as the plantation afforded. + +But now, they said, he must be weary, and the immediate thing to +consider was rest and sleep. So the mistress spoke to a servant, +and Whistling Dick was conducted to a room in the wing of the house +occupied by the servants. To this room, in a few minutes, was +brought a portable tin bathtub filled with water, which was placed +on a piece of oiled cloth upon the floor. There the vagrant was left +to pass the night. + +By the light of a candle he examined the room. A bed, with the +covers neatly turned back, revealed snowy pillows and sheets. A +worn, but clean, red carpet covered the floor. There was a dresser +with a beveled mirror, a washstand with a flowered bowl and pitcher; +the two or three chairs were softly upholstered. A little table held +books, papers, and a day-old cluster of roses in a jar. There were +towels on a rack and soap in a white dish. + +Whistling Dick set his candle on a chair and placed his hat +carefully under the table. After satisfying what we must suppose to +have been his curiosity by a sober scrutiny, he removed his coat, +folded it, and laid it upon the floor, near the wall, as far as +possible from the unused bathtub. Taking his coat for a pillow, he +stretched himself luxuriously upon the carpet. + +When, on Christmas morning, the first streaks of dawn broke above +the marshes, Whistling Dick awoke, and reached instinctively for his +hat. Then he remembered that the skirts of Fortune had swept him +into their folds on the night previous, and he went to the window +and raised it, to let the fresh breath of the morning cool his brow +and fix the yet dream-like memory of his good luck within his brain. + +As he stood there, certain dread and ominous sounds pierced the +fearful hollow of his ear. + +The force of plantation workers, eager to complete the shortened +task allotted to them, were all astir. The mighty din of the ogre +Labour shook the earth, and the poor tattered and forever disguised +Prince in search of his fortune held tight to the window-sill even +in the enchanted castle, and trembled. + +Already from the bosom of the mill came the thunder of rolling +barrels of sugar, and (prison-like sounds) there was a great +rattling of chains as the mules were harried with stimulant +imprecations to their places by the waggon-tongues. A little vicious +"dummy" engine, with a train of flat cars in tow, stewed and fumed +on the plantation tap of the narrow-gauge railroad, and a toiling, +hurrying, hallooing stream of workers were dimly seen in the half +darkness loading the train with the weekly output of sugar. Here was +a poem; an epic--nay, a tragedy--with work, the curse of the world, +for its theme. + +The December air was frosty, but the sweat broke out upon Whistling +Dick's face. He thrust his head out of the window, and looked down. +Fifteen feet below him, against the wall of the house, he could make +out that a border of flowers grew, and by that token he overhung a +bed of soft earth. + +Softly as a burglar goes, he clambered out upon the sill, lowered +himself until he hung by his hands alone, and then dropped safely. +No one seemed to be about upon this side of the house. He dodged +low, and skimmed swiftly across the yard to the low fence. It was an +easy matter to vault this, for a terror urged him such as lifts the +gazelle over the thorn bush when the lion pursues. A crash through +the dew-drenched weeds on the roadside, a clutching, slippery rush +up the grassy side of the levee to the footpath at the summit, +and--he was free! + +The east was blushing and brightening. The wind, himself a vagrant +rover, saluted his brother upon the cheek. Some wild geese, high +above, gave cry. A rabbit skipped along the path before him, free +to turn to the right or to the left as his mood should send him. +The river slid past, and certainly no one could tell the ultimate +abiding place of its waters. + +A small, ruffled, brown-breasted bird, sitting upon a dog-wood +sapling, began a soft, throaty, tender little piping in praise of +the dew which entices foolish worms from their holes; but suddenly +he stopped, and sat with his head turned sidewise, listening. + +From the path along the levee there burst forth a jubilant, +stirring, buoyant, thrilling whistle, loud and keen and clear as the +cleanest notes of the piccolo. The soaring sound rippled and trilled +and arpeggioed as the songs of wild birds do not; but it had a +wild free grace that, in a way, reminded the small, brown bird of +something familiar, but exactly what he could not tell. There was +in it the bird call, or reveille, that all birds know; but a great +waste of lavish, unmeaning things that art had added and arranged, +besides, and that were quite puzzling and strange; and the little +brown bird sat with his head on one side until the sound died away +in the distance. + +The little bird did not know that the part of that strange warbling +that he understood was just what kept the warbler without his +breakfast; but he knew very well that the part he did not understand +did not concern him, so he gave a little flutter of his wings and +swooped down like a brown bullet upon a big fat worm that was +wriggling along the levee path. + + + + +XX + +THE HALBERDIER OF THE LITTLE RHEINSCHLOSS + + +I go sometimes into the _Bierhalle_ and restaurant called Old +Munich. Not long ago it was a resort of interesting Bohemians, +but now only artists and musicians and literary folk frequent it. +But the Pilsner is yet good, and I take some diversion from the +conversation of Waiter No. 18. + +For many years the customers of Old Munich have accepted the place +as a faithful copy from the ancient German town. The big hall with +its smoky rafters, rows of imported steins, portrait of Goethe, +and verses painted on the walls--translated into German from the +original of the Cincinnati poets--seems atmospherically correct when +viewed through the bottom of a glass. + +But not long ago the proprietors added the room above, called it +the Little Rheinschloss, and built in a stairway. Up there was an +imitation stone parapet, ivy-covered, and the walls were painted to +represent depth and distance, with the Rhine winding at the base of +the vineyarded slopes, and the castle of Ehrenbreitstein looming +directly opposite the entrance. Of course there were tables and +chairs; and you could have beer and food brought you, as you +naturally would on the top of a castle on the Rhine. + +I went into Old Munich one afternoon when there were few customers, +and sat at my usual table near the stairway. I was shocked and +almost displeased to perceive that the glass cigar-case by the +orchestra stand had been smashed to smithereens. I did not like +things to happen in Old Munich. Nothing had ever happened there +before. + +Waiter No. 18 came and breathed on my neck. I was his by right of +discovery. Eighteen's brain was built like a corral. It was full of +ideas which, when he opened the gate, came huddling out like a flock +of sheep that might get together afterward or might not. I did not +shine as a shepherd. As a type Eighteen fitted nowhere. I did not +find out if he had a nationality, family, creed, grievance, hobby, +soul, preference, home, or vote. He only came always to my table +and, as long as his leisure would permit, let words flutter from him +like swallows leaving a barn at daylight. + +"How did the cigar-case come to be broken, Eighteen?" I asked, with +a certain feeling of personal grievance. + +"I can tell you about that, sir," said he, resting his foot on the +chair next to mine. "Did you ever have anybody hand you a double +handful of good luck while both your hands was full of bad luck, and +stop to notice how your fingers behaved?" + +"No riddles, Eighteen," said I. "Leave out palmistry and +manicuring." + +"You remember," said Eighteen, "the guy in the hammered brass Prince +Albert and the oroide gold pants and the amalgamated copper hat, +that carried the combination meat-axe, ice-pick, and liberty-pole, +and used to stand on the first landing as you go up to the Little +Rindslosh." + +"Why, yes," said I. "The halberdier. I never noticed him +particularly. I remember he thought he was only a suit of armour. He +had a perfect poise." + +"He had more than that," said Eighteen. "He was me friend. He was an +advertisement. The boss hired him to stand on the stairs for a kind +of scenery to show there was something doing in the has-been line +upstairs. What did you call him--a what kind of a beer?" + +"A halberdier," said I. "That was an ancient man-at-arms of many +hundred years ago." + +"Some mistake," said Eighteen. "This one wasn't that old. He wasn't +over twenty-three or four. + +"It was the boss's idea, rigging a man up in an ante-bellum suit +of tinware and standing him on the landing of the slosh. He bought +the goods at a Fourth Avenue antique store, and hung a sign-out: +'Able-bodied hal--halberdier wanted. Costume furnished.' + +"The same morning a young man with wrecked good clothes and a hungry +look comes in, bringing the sign with him. I was filling the +mustard-pots at my station. + +"'I'm it,' says he, 'whatever it is. But I never halberdiered in a +restaurant. Put me on. Is it a masquerade?' + +"'I hear talk in the kitchen of a fishball,' says I. + +"'Bully for you, Eighteen,' says he. 'You and I'll get on. Show me +the boss's desk.' + +"Well, the boss tries the Harveyized pajamas on him, and they fitted +him like the scales on a baked redsnapper, and he gets the job. +You've seen what it is--he stood straight up in the corner of the +first landing with his halberd to his shoulder, looking right ahead +and guarding the Portugals of the castle. The boss is nutty about +having the true Old-World flavour to his joint. 'Halberdiers goes +with Rindsloshes,' says he, 'just as rats goes with rathskellers and +white cotton stockings with Tyrolean villages.' The boss is a kind +of a antiologist, and is all posted up on data and such information. + +"From 8 P.M. to two in the morning was the halberdier's hours. He +got two meals with us help and a dollar a night. I eat with him at +the table. He liked me. He never told his name. He was travelling +impromptu, like kings, I guess. The first time at supper I says to +him: 'Have some more of the spuds, Mr. Frelinghuysen.' 'Oh, don't be +so formal and offish, Eighteen,' says he. 'Call me Hal--that's short +for halberdier.' 'Oh, don't think I wanted to pry for names,' says +I. 'I know all about the dizzy fall from wealth and greatness. We've +got a count washing dishes in the kitchen; and the third bartender +used to be a Pullman conductor. And they _work_, Sir Percival,' says +I, sarcastic. + +"'Eighteen,' says he, 'as a friendly devil in a cabbage-scented +hell, would you mind cutting up this piece of steak for me? I don't +say that it's got more muscle than I have, but--' And then he shows +me the insides of his hands. They was blistered and cut and corned +and swelled up till they looked like a couple of flank steaks +criss-crossed with a knife--the kind the butchers hide and take +home, knowing what is the best. + +"'Shoveling coal,' says he, 'and piling bricks and loading drays. +But they gave out, and I had to resign. I was born for a halberdier, +and I've been educated for twenty-four years to fill the position. +Now, quit knocking my profession, and pass along a lot more of +that ham. I'm holding the closing exercises,' says he, 'of a +forty-eight-hour fast.' + +"The second night he was on the job he walks down from his corner to +the cigar-case and calls for cigarettes. The customers at the tables +all snicker out loud to show their acquaintance with history. The +boss is on. + +"'An'--let's see--oh, yes--'An anachronism,' says the boss. +'Cigarettes was not made at the time when halberdiers was invented.' + +"'The ones you sell was,' says Sir Percival. 'Caporal wins from +chronology by the length of a cork tip.' So he gets 'em and lights +one, and puts the box in his brass helmet, and goes back to +patrolling the Rindslosh. + +"He made a big hit, 'specially with the ladies. Some of 'em would +poke him with their fingers to see if he was real or only a kind of +a stuffed figure like they burn in elegy. And when he'd move they'd +squeak, and make eyes at him as they went up to the slosh. He looked +fine in his halberdashery. He slept at $2 a week in a hall-room on +Third Avenue. He invited me up there one night. He had a little book +on the washstand that he read instead of shopping in the saloons +after hours. 'I'm on to that,' says I, 'from reading about it in +novels. All the heroes on the bum carry the little book. It's either +Tantalus or Liver or Horace, and its printed in Latin, and you're a +college man. And I wouldn't be surprised,' says I, 'if you wasn't +educated, too.' But it was only the batting averages of the League +for the last ten years. + +"One night, about half past eleven, there comes in a party of these +high-rollers that are always hunting up new places to eat in and +poke fun at. There was a swell girl in a 40 H.-P. auto tan coat and +veil, and a fat old man with white side-whiskers, and a young chap +that couldn't keep his feet off the tail of the girl's coat, and an +oldish lady that looked upon life as immoral and unnecessary. 'How +perfectly delightful,' they says, 'to sup in a slosh.' Up the stairs +they go; and in half a minute back down comes the girl, her skirts +swishing like the waves on the beach. She stops on the landing and +looks our halberdier in the eye. + +"'You!' she says, with a smile that reminded me of lemon sherbet. I +was waiting up-stairs in the slosh, then, and I was right down here +by the door, putting some vinegar and cayenne into an empty bottle +of tabasco, and I heard all they said. + +"'It,' says Sir Percival, without moving. 'I'm only local colour. +Are my hauberk, helmet, and halberd on straight?' + +"'Is there an explanation to this?' says she. 'Is it a practical +joke such as men play in those Griddle-cake and Lamb Clubs? I'm +afraid I don't see the point. I heard, vaguely, that you were away. +For three months I--we have not seen you or heard from you.' + +"'I'm halberdiering for my living,' says the stature. 'I'm working,' +says he. 'I don't suppose you know what work means.' + +"'Have you--have you lost your money?' she asks. + +"Sir Percival studies a minute. + +"'I am poorer,' says he, 'than the poorest sandwich man on the +streets--if I don't earn my living.' + +"'You call this work?' says she. 'I thought a man worked with his +hands or his head instead of becoming a mountebank.' + +"'The calling of a halberdier,' says he, 'is an ancient and +honourable one. Sometimes,' says he, 'the man-at-arms at the door +has saved the castle while the plumed knights were cake-walking in +the banquet-halls above.' + +"'I see you're not ashamed,' says she, 'of your peculiar tastes. I +wonder, though, that the manhood I used to think I saw in you didn't +prompt you to draw water or hew wood instead of publicly flaunting +your ignominy in this disgraceful masquerade.' + +"Sir Percival kind of rattles his armour and says: 'Helen, will you +suspend sentence in this matter for just a little while? You don't +understand,' says he. 'I've got to hold this job down a little +longer.' + +"'You like being a harlequin--or halberdier, as you call it?' says +she. + +"'I wouldn't get thrown out of the job just now,' says he, with a +grin, 'to be appointed Minister to the Court of St. James's.' + +"And then the 40-H.P. girl's eyes sparkled as hard as diamonds. + +"'Very well,' says she. 'You shall have full run of your +serving-man's tastes this night.' And she swims over to the boss's +desk and gives him a smile that knocks the specks off his nose. + +"'I think your Rindslosh,' says she, 'is as beautiful as a dream. It +is a little slice of the Old World set down in New York. We shall +have a nice supper up there; but if you will grant us one favour the +illusion will be perfect--give us your halberdier to wait on our +table.' + +"That hits the boss's antiology hobby just right. 'Sure,' says he, +'dot vill be fine. Und der orchestra shall blay "Die Wacht am Rhein" +all der time.' And he goes over and tells the halberdier to go +upstairs and hustle the grub at the swells' table. + +"'I'm on the job,' says Sir Percival, taking off his helmet and +hanging it on his halberd and leaning 'em in the corner. The girl +goes up and takes her seat and I see her jaw squared tight under her +smile. 'We're going to be waited on by a real halberdier,' says she, +'one who is proud of his profession. Isn't it sweet?' + +"'Ripping,' says the swell young man. 'Much prefer a waiter,' says +the fat old gent. 'I hope he doesn't come from a cheap museum,' says +the old lady; 'he might have microbes in his costume.' + +"Before he goes to the table, Sir Percival takes me by the arm. +'Eighteen,' he says, 'I've got to pull off this job without a +blunder. You coach me straight or I'll take that halberd and make +hash out of you.' And then he goes up to the table with his coat of +mail on and a napkin over his arm and waits for the order. + +"'Why, it's Deering!' says the young swell. 'Hello, old man. What +the--' + +"'Beg pardon, sir,' interrupts the halberdier, 'I'm waiting on the +table.' + +"The old man looks at him grim, like a Boston bull. 'So, Deering,' +he says, 'you're at work yet.' + +"'Yes, sir,' says Sir Percival, quiet and gentlemanly as I could +have been myself, 'for almost three months, now.' 'You haven't been +discharged during the time?' asks the old man. 'Not once, sir,' says +he, 'though I've had to change my work several times.' + +"'Waiter,' orders the girl, short and sharp, 'another napkin.' He +brings her one, respectful. + +"I never saw more devil, if I may say it, stirred up in a lady. +There was two bright red spots on her cheeks, and her eyes looked +exactly like a wildcat's I'd seen in the zoo. Her foot kept slapping +the floor all the time. + +"'Waiter,' she orders, 'bring me filtered water without ice. Bring +me a footstool. Take away this empty salt-cellar.' She kept him on +the jump. She was sure giving the halberdier his. + +"There wasn't but a few customers up in the slosh at that time, so +I hung out near the door so I could help Sir Percival serve. + +"He got along fine with the olives and celery and the bluepoints. +They was easy. And then the consommé came up the dumb-waiter all in +one big silver tureen. Instead of serving it from the side-table he +picks it up between his hands and starts to the dining-table with +it. When nearly there he drops the tureen smash on the floor, and +the soup soaks all the lower part of that girl's swell silk dress. + +"'Stupid--incompetent,' says she, giving him a look. 'Standing in a +corner with a halberd seems to be your mission in life.' + +"'Pardon me, lady,' says he. 'It was just a little bit hotter than +blazes. I couldn't help it.' + +"The old man pulls out a memorandum book and hunts in it. 'The 25th +of April, Deering,' says he. 'I know it,' says Sir Percival. 'And +ten minutes to twelve o'clock,' says the old man. 'By Jupiter! you +haven't won yet.' And he pounds the table with his fist and yells +to me: 'Waiter, call the manager at once--tell him to hurry here as +fast as he can.' I go after the boss, and old Brockmann hikes up to +the slosh on the jump. + +"'I want this man discharged at once,' roars the old guy. 'Look +what he's done. Ruined my daughter's dress. It cost at least $600. +Discharge this awkward lout at once or I'll sue you for the price of +it.' + +"'Dis is bad pizness,' says the boss. 'Six hundred dollars is much. +I reckon I vill haf to--' + +"'Wait a minute, Herr Brockmann,' says Sir Percival, easy and +smiling. But he was worked up under his tin suitings; I could see +that. And then he made the finest, neatest little speech I ever +listened to. I can't give you the words, of course. He give the +millionaires a lovely roast in a sarcastic way, describing their +automobiles and opera-boxes and diamonds; and then he got around +to the working-classes and the kind of grub they eat and the long +hours they work--and all that sort of stuff--bunkum, of course. 'The +restless rich,' says he, 'never content with their luxuries, always +prowling among the haunts of the poor and humble, amusing themselves +with the imperfections and misfortunes of their fellow men and +women. And even here, Herr Brockmann,' he says, 'in this beautiful +Rindslosh, a grand and enlightening reproduction of Old World +history and architecture, they come to disturb its symmetry and +picturesqueness by demanding in their arrogance that the halberdier +of the castle wait upon their table! I have faithfuly and +conscientiously,' says he, 'performed my duties as a halberdier. I +know nothing of a waiter's duties. It was the insolent whim of these +transient, pampered aristocrats that I should be detailed to serve +them food. Must I be blamed--must I be deprived of the means of a +livelihood,' he goes on, 'on account of an accident that was the +result of their own presumption and haughtiness? But what hurts me +more than all,' says Sir Percival, 'is the desecration that has been +done to this splendid Rindslosh--the confiscation of its halberdier +to serve menially at the banquet board.' + +"Even I could see that this stuff was piffle; but it caught the +boss. + +"'Mein Gott,' says he, 'you vas right. Ein halberdier have not got +der right to dish up soup. Him I vill not discharge. Have anoder +waiter if you like, und let mein halberdier go back und stand mit +his halberd. But, gentlemen,' he says, pointing to the old man, 'you +go ahead and sue mit der dress. Sue me for $600 or $6,000. I stand +der suit.' And the boss puffs off down-stairs. Old Brockmann was an +all-right Dutchman. + +"Just then the clock strikes twelve, and the old guy laughs loud. +'You win, Deering,' says he. 'And let me explain to all,' he goes +on. 'Some time ago Mr. Deering asked me for something that I did +not want to give him.' (I looks at the girl, and she turns as red +as a pickled beet.) 'I told him,' says the old guy, 'if he would +earn his own living for three months without being discharged for +incompetence, I would give him what he wanted. It seems that the +time was up at twelve o'clock to-night. I came near fetching you, +though, Deering, on that soup question,' says the old boy, standing +up and grabbing Sir Percival's hand. + +"The halberdier lets out a yell and jumps three feet high. + +"'Look out for those hands,' says he, and he holds 'em up. You never +saw such hands except on a labourer in a limestone quarry. + +"'Heavens, boy!' says old side-whiskers, 'what have you been doing +to 'em?' + +"'Oh,' says Sir Percival, 'little chores like hauling coal and +excavating rock till they went back on me. And when I couldn't hold +a pick or a whip I took up halberdiering to give 'em a rest. Tureens +full of hot soup don't seem to be a particularly soothing +treatment.' + +"I would have bet on that girl. That high-tempered kind always go +as far the other way, according to my experience. She whizzes round +the table like a cyclone and catches both his hands in hers. 'Poor +hands--dear hands,' she sings out, and sheds tears on 'em and holds +'em close to her bosom. Well, sir, with all that Rindslosh scenery +it was just like a play. And the halberdier sits down at the table +at the girl's side, and I served the rest of the supper. And that +was about all, except that when they left he shed his hardware store +and went with 'em." + +I dislike to be side-tracked from an original proposition. + +"But you haven't told me, Eighteen," said I, "how the cigar-case +came to be broken." + +"Oh, that was last night," said Eighteen. "Sir Percival and the +girl drove up in a cream-coloured motor-car, and had dinner in the +Rindslosh. 'The same table, Billy,' I heard her say as they went up. +I waited on 'em. We've got a new halberdier now, a bow-legged guy +with a face like a sheep. As they came down-stairs Sir Percival +passes him a ten-case note. The new halberdier drops his halberd, +and it falls on the cigar-case. That's how that happened." + + + + +XXI + +TWO RENEGADES + + +In the Gate City of the South the Confederate Veterans were +reuniting; and I stood to see them march, beneath the tangled +flags of the great conflict, to the hall of their oratory and +commemoration. + +While the irregular and halting line was passing I made onslaught +upon it and dragged from the ranks my friend Barnard O'Keefe, who +had no right to be there. For he was a Northerner born and bred; and +what should he be doing hallooing for the Stars and Bars among those +gray and moribund veterans? And why should he be trudging, with his +shining, martial, humorous, broad face, among those warriors of a +previous and alien generation? + +I say I dragged him forth, and held him till the last hickory leg +and waving goatee had stumbled past. And then I hustled him out +of the crowd into a cool interior; for the Gate City was stirred +that day, and the hand-organs wisely eliminated "Marching Through +Georgia" from their repertories. + +"Now, what deviltry are you up to?" I asked of O'Keefe when there +were a table and things in glasses between us. + +O'Keefe wiped his heated face and instigated a commotion among the +floating ice in his glass before he chose to answer. + +"I am assisting at the wake," said he, "of the only nation on earth +that ever did me a good turn. As one gentleman to another, I am +ratifying and celebrating the foreign policy of the late Jefferson +Davis, as fine a statesman as ever settled the financial question of +a country. Equal ratio--that was his platform--a barrel of money for +a barrel of flour--a pair of $20 bills for a pair of boots--a hatful +of currency for a new hat--say, ain't that simple compared with W. +J. B.'s little old oxidized plank?" + +"What talk is this?" I asked. "Your financial digression is merely +a subterfuge. Why were you marching in the ranks of the Confederate +Veterans?" + +"Because, my lad," answered O'Keefe, "the Confederate Government in +its might and power interposed to protect and defend Barnard O'Keefe +against immediate and dangerous assassination at the hands of a +blood-thirsty foreign country after the Unites States of America +had overruled his appeal for protection, and had instructed Private +Secretary Cortelyou to reduce his estimate of the Republican +majority for 1905 by one vote." + +"Come, Barney," said I, "the Confederate States of America has been +out of existence nearly forty years. You do not look older yourself. +When was it that the deceased government exerted its foreign policy +in your behalf?" + +"Four months ago," said O'Keefe, promptly. "The infamous foreign +power I alluded to is still staggering from the official blow dealt +it by Mr. Davis's contraband aggregation of states. That's why you +see me cake-walking with the ex-rebs to the illegitimate tune about +'simmon-seeds and cotton. I vote for the Great Father in Washington, +but I am not going back on Mars' Jeff. You say the Confederacy has +been dead forty years? Well, if it hadn't been for it, I'd have +been breathing to-day with soul so dead I couldn't have whispered +a single cuss-word about my native land. The O'Keefes are not +overburdened with ingratitude." + +I must have looked bewildered. "The war was over," I said vacantly, +"in--" + +O'Keefe laughed loudly, scattering my thoughts. + +"Ask old Doc Millikin if the war is over!" he shouted, hugely +diverted. "Oh, no! Doc hasn't surrendered yet. And the Confederate +States! Well, I just told you they bucked officially and solidly and +nationally against a foreign government four months ago and kept me +from being shot. Old Jeff's country stepped in and brought me off +under its wing while Roosevelt was having a gunboat painted and +waiting for the National Campaign Committee to look up whether I had +ever scratched the ticket." + +"Isn't there a story in this, Barney?" I asked. + +"No," said O'Keefe; "but I'll give you the facts. You know I went +down to Panama when this irritation about a canal began. I thought +I'd get in on the ground floor. I did, and had to sleep on it, and +drink water with little zoos in it; so, of course, I got the Chagres +fever. That was in a little town called San Juan on the coast. + +"After I got the fever hard enough to kill a Port-au-Prince nigger, +I had a relapse in the shape of Doc Millikin. + +"There was a doctor to attend a sick man! If Doc Millikin had your +case, he made the terrors of death seem like an invitation to a +donkey-party. He had the bedside manners of a Piute medicine-man and +the soothing presence of a dray loaded with iron bridge-girders. +When he laid his hand on your fevered brow you felt like Cap John +Smith just before Pocahontas went his bail. + +"Well, this old medical outrage floated down to my shack when I sent +for him. He was build like a shad, and his eyebrows was black, and +his white whiskers trickled down from his chin like milk coming +out of a sprinkling-pot. He had a nigger boy along carrying an old +tomato-can full of calomel, and a saw. + +"Doc felt my pulse, and then he began to mess up some calomel with +an agricultural implement that belonged to the trowel class. + +"'I don't want any death-mask made yet, Doc,' I says, 'nor my liver +put in a plaster-of-Paris cast. I'm sick; and it's medicine I need, +not frescoing.' + +"'You're a blame Yankee, ain't you?' asked Doc, going on mixing up +his Portland cement. + +"'I'm from the North,' says I, 'but I'm a plain man, and don't care +for mural decorations. When you get the Isthmus all asphalted over +with that boll-weevil prescription, would you mind giving me a dose +of pain-killer, or a little strychnine on toast to ease up this +feeling of unhealthiness that I have got?" + +"'They was all sassy, just like you,' says old Doc, 'but we lowered +their temperature considerable. Yes, sir, I reckon we sent a good +many of ye over to old _mortuis nisi bonum_. Look at Antietam and +Bull Run and Seven Pines and around Nashville! There never was a +battle where we didn't lick ye unless you was ten to our one. I knew +you were a blame Yankee the minute I laid eyes on you.' + +"'Don't reopen the chasm, Doc,' I begs him. 'Any Yankeeness I may +have is geographical; and, as far as I am concerned, a Southerner is +as good as a Filipino any day. I'm feeling to bad too argue. Let's +have secession without misrepresentation, if you say so; but what I +need is more laudanum and less Lundy's Lane. If you're mixing that +compound gefloxide of gefloxicum for me, please fill my ears with it +before you get around to the battle of Gettysburg, for there is a +subject full of talk.' + +"By this time Doc Millikin had thrown up a line of fortifications on +square pieces of paper; and he says to me: 'Yank, take one of these +powders every two hours. They won't kill you. I'll be around again +about sundown to see if you're alive.' + +"Old Doc's powders knocked the chagres. I stayed in San Juan, +and got to knowing him better. He was from Mississippi, and the +red-hottest Southerner that ever smelled mint. He made Stonewall +Jackson and R. E. Lee look like Abolitionists. He had a family +somewhere down near Yazoo City; but he stayed away from the States +on account of an uncontrollable liking he had for the absence of +a Yankee government. Him and me got as thick personally as the +Emperor of Russia and the dove of peace, but sectionally we didn't +amalgamate. + +"'Twas a beautiful system of medical practice introduced by old Doc +into that isthmus of land. He'd take that bracket-saw and the mild +chloride and his hypodermic, and treat anything from yellow fever to +a personal friend. + +"Besides his other liabilities Doc could play a flute for a minute +or two. He was guilty of two tunes--'Dixie' and another one that +was mighty close to the 'Suwanee River'--you might say one of its +tributaries. He used to come down and sit with me while I was +getting well, and aggrieve his flute and say unreconstructed things +about the North. You'd have thought that the smoke from the first +gun at Fort Sumter was still floating around in the air. + +"You know that was about the time they staged them property +revolutions down there, that wound up in the fifth act with the +thrilling canal scene where Uncle Sam has nine curtain-calls holding +Miss Panama by the hand, while the bloodhounds keep Senator Morgan +treed up in a cocoanut-palm. + +"That's the way it wound up; but at first it seemed as if Colombia +was going to make Panama look like one of the $3.98 kind, with dents +made in it in the factory, like they wear at North Beach fish fries. +For mine, I played the straw-hat crowd to win; and they gave me a +colonel's commission over a brigade of twenty-seven men in the left +wing and second joint of the insurgent army. + +"The Colombian troops were awfully rude to us. One day when I had my +brigade in a sandy spot, with its shoes off doing a battalion drill +by squads, the Government army rushed from behind a bush at us, +acting as noisy and disagreeable as they could. + +"My troops enfiladed, left-faced, and left the spot. After enticing +the enemy for three miles or so we struck a brier-patch and had to +sit down. When we were ordered to throw up our toes and surrender +we obeyed. Five of my best staff-officers fell, suffering extremely +with stone-bruised heels. + +"Then and there those Colombians took your friend Barney, sir, +stripped him of the insignia of his rank, consisting of a pair +of brass knuckles and a canteen of rum, and dragged him before a +military court. The presiding general went through the usual legal +formalities that sometimes cause a case to hang on the calendar of a +South American military court as long as ten minutes. He asked me my +age, and then sentenced me to be shot. + +"They woke up the court interpreter, an American named Jenks, who +was in the rum business and vice versa, and told him to translate +the verdict. + +"Jenks stretched himself and took a morphine tablet. + +"'You've got to back up against th' 'dobe, old man,' says he to me. +'Three weeks, I believe, you get. Haven't got a chew of fine-cut on +you, have you?' + +"'Translate that again, with foot-notes and a glossary,' says I. 'I +don't know whether I'm discharged, condemned, or handed over to the +Gerry Society.' + +"'Oh,' says Jenks, 'don't you understand? You're to be stood up +against a 'dobe wall and shot in two or three weeks--three, I think, +they said.' + +"'Would you mind asking 'em which?' says I. 'A week don't amount to +much after you're dead, but it seems a real nice long spell while +you are alive.' + +"'It's two weeks,' says the interpreter, after inquiring in Spanish +of the court. 'Shall I ask 'em again?' + +"'Let be,' says I. 'Let's have a stationary verdict. If I keep on +appealing this way they'll have me shot about ten days before I was +captured. No, I haven't got any fine-cut.' + +"They sends me over to the _calaboza_ with a detachment of coloured +postal-telegraph boys carrying Enfield rifles, and I am locked up in +a kind of brick bakery. The temperature in there was just about the +kind mentioned in the cooking recipes that call for a quick oven. + +"Then I gives a silver dollar to one of the guards to send for the +United States consul. He comes around in pajamas, with a pair of +glasses on his nose and a dozen or two inside of him. + +"'I'm to be shot in two weeks,' says I. 'And although I've made a +memorandum of it, I don't seem to get it off my mind. You want to +call up Uncle Sam on the cable as quick as you can and get him all +worked up about it. Have 'em send the _Kentucky_ and the _Kearsarge_ +and the _Oregon_ down right away. That'll be about enough +battleships; but it wouldn't hurt to have a couple of cruisers and a +torpedo-boat destroyer, too. And--say, if Dewey isn't busy, better +have him come along on the fastest one of the fleet.' + +"'Now, see here, O'Keefe,' says the consul, getting the best of a +hiccup, 'what do you want to bother the State Department about this +matter for?' + +"'Didn't you hear me?' says I; 'I'm to be shot in two weeks. Did you +think I said I was going to a lawn-party? And it wouldn't hurt of +Roosevelt could get the Japs to send down the _Yellowyamtiskookum_ +or the _Ogotosingsing_ or some other first-class cruisers to help. +It would make me feel safer.' + +"'Now, what you want,' says the consul, 'is not to get excited. I'll +send you over some chewing tobacco and some banana fritters when I +go back. The United States can't interfere in this. You know you +were caught insurging against the government, and you're subject to +the laws of this country. To tell the truth, I've had an intimation +from the State Department--unofficially, of course--that whenever +a soldier of fortune demands a fleet of gunboats in a case of +revolutionary _katzenjammer_, I should cut the cable, give him all +the tobacco he wants, and after he's shot take his clothes, if they +fit me, for part payment of my salary.' + +"'Consul,' says I to him, 'this is a serious question. You are +representing Uncle Sam. This ain't any little international +tomfoolery, like a universal peace congress or the christening of +the _Shamrock IV_. I'm an American citizen and I demand protection. +I demand the Mosquito fleet, and Schley, and the Atlantic squadron, +and Bob Evans, and General E. Byrd Grubb, and two or three +protocols. What are you going to do about it?' + +"'Nothing doing,' says the consul. + +"'Be off with you, then,' says I, out of patience with him, 'and +send me Doc Millikin. Ask Doc to come and see me.' + +"Doc comes and looks through the bars at me, surrounded by dirty +soldiers, with even my shoes and canteen confiscated, and he looks +mightily pleased. + +"'Hello, Yank,' says he, 'getting a little taste of Johnson's +Island, now, ain't ye?' + +"'Doc,' says I, 'I've just had an interview with the U.S. consul. I +gather from his remarks that I might just as well have been caught +selling suspenders in Kishineff under the name of Rosenstein as to +be in my present condition. It seems that the only maritime aid I am +to receive from the United States is some navy-plug to chew. Doc,' +says I, 'can't you suspend hostility on the slavery question long +enough to do something for me?' + +"'It ain't been my habit,' Doc Millikin answers, 'to do any painless +dentistry when I find a Yank cutting an eye-tooth. So the Stars and +Stripes ain't lending any marines to shell the huts of the Colombian +cannibals, hey? Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light the +star-spangled banner has fluked in the fight? What's the matter with +the War Department, hey? It's a great thing to be a citizen of a +gold-standard nation, ain't it?' + +"'Rub it in, Doc, all you want,' says I. 'I guess we're weak on +foreign policy.' + +"'For a Yank,' says Doc, putting on his specs and talking more mild, +'you ain't so bad. If you had come from below the line I reckon I +would have liked you right smart. Now since your country has gone +back on you, you have to come to the old doctor whose cotton you +burned and whose mules who stole and whose niggers you freed to help +you. Ain't that so, Yank?' + +"'It is,' says I heartily, 'and let's have a diagnosis of the case +right away, for in two weeks' time all you can do is to hold an +autopsy and I don't want to be amputated if I can help it.' + +"'Now,' says Doc, business-like, 'it's easy enough for you to get +out of this scrape. Money'll do it. You've got to pay a long string +of 'em from General Pomposo down to this anthropoid ape guarding +your door. About $10,000 will do the trick. Have you got the money?' + +"'Me?' says I. 'I've got one Chili dollar, two _real_ pieces, and a +_medio_.' + +"'Then if you've any last words, utter 'em,' says that old reb. 'The +roster of your financial budget sounds quite much to me like the +noise of a requiem.' + +"'Change the treatment,' says I. 'I admit that I'm short. Call a +consultation or use radium or smuggle me in some saws or something.' + +"'Yank,' says Doc Millikin, 'I've a good notion to help you. There's +only one government in the world that can get you out of this +difficulty; and that's the Confederate States of America, the +grandest nation that ever existed.' + +"Just as you said to me I says to Doc; 'Why, the Confederacy ain't a +nation. It's been absolved forty years ago.' + +"'That's a campaign lie,' says Doc. 'She's running along as solid as +the Roman Empire. She's the only hope you've got. Now, you, being a +Yank, have got to go through with some preliminary obsequies before +you can get official aid. You've got to take the oath of allegiance +to the Confederate Government. Then I'll guarantee she does all she +can for you. What do you say, Yank?--it's your last chance.' + +"'If you're fooling with me, Doc,' I answers, 'you're no better +than the United States. But as you say it's the last chance, hurry +up and swear me. I always did like corn whisky and 'possum anyhow. +I believe I'm half Southerner by nature. I'm willing to try the +Klu-klux in place of the khaki. Get brisk.' + +"Doc Millikin thinks awhile, and then he offers me this oath of +allegiance to take without any kind of a chaser: + +"'I, Barnard O'Keefe, Yank, being of sound body but a Republican +mind, hereby swear to transfer my fealty, respect, and allegiance +to the Confederate States of America, and the government thereof +in consideration of said government, through its official acts +and powers, obtaining my freedom and release from confinement and +sentence of death brought about by the exuberance of my Irish +proclivities and my general pizenness as a Yank.' + +"I repeated these words after Doc, but they seemed to me a kind of +hocus-pocus; and I don't believe any life-insurance company in the +world would have issued me a policy on the strength of 'em. + +"Doc went away saying he would communicate with his government +immediately. + +"Say--you can imagine how I felt--me to be shot in two weeks and my +only hope for help being in a government that's been dead so long +that it isn't even remembered except on Decoration Day and when Joe +Wheeler signs the voucher for his pay-check. But it was all there +was in sight; and somehow I thought Doc Millikin had something up +his old alpaca sleeve that wasn't all foolishness. + +"Around to the jail comes old Doc again in about a week. I was +flea-bitten, a mite sarcastic, and fundamentally hungry. + +"'Any Confederate ironclads in the offing?' I asks. 'Do you notice +any sounds resembling the approach of Jeb Stewart's cavalry overland +or Stonewall Jackson sneaking up in the rear? If you do, I wish +you'd say so.' + +"'It's too soon yet for help to come,' says Doc. + +"'The sooner the better,' says I. 'I don't care if it gets in fully +fifteen minutes before I am shot; and if you happen to lay eyes on +Beauregard or Albert Sidney Johnston or any of the relief corps, +wig-wag 'em to hike along.' + +"'There's been no answer received yet,' says Doc. + +"'Don't forget,' says I, 'that there's only four days more. I don't +know how you propose to work this thing, Doc,' I says to him; 'but +it seems to me I'd sleep better if you had got a government that +was alive and on the map--like Afghanistan or Great Britain, or +old man Kruger's kingdom, to take this matter up. I don't mean any +disrespect to your Confederate States, but I can't help feeling that +my chances of being pulled out of this scrape was decidedly weakened +when General Lee surrendered.' + +"'It's your only chance,' said Doc; 'don't quarrel with it. What did +your own country do for you?' + +"It was only two days before the morning I was to be shot, when Doc +Millikin came around again. + +"'All right, Yank,' says he. 'Help's come. The Confederate States of +America is going to apply for your release. The representatives of +the government arrived on a fruit-steamer last night.' + +"'Bully!' says I--'bully for you, Doc! I suppose it's marines with a +Gatling. I'm going to love your country all I can for this.' + +"'Negotiations,' says old Doc, 'will be opened between the two +governments at once. You will know later to-day if they are +successful.' + +"About four in the afternoon a soldier in red trousers brings a +paper round to the jail, and they unlocks the door and I walks out. +The guard at the door bows and I bows, and I steps into the grass +and wades around to Doc Millikin's shack. + +"Doc was sitting in his hammock playing 'Dixie,' soft and low and +out of tune, on his flute. I interrupted him at 'Look away! look +away!' and shook his hand for five minutes. + +"'I never thought,' says Doc, taking a chew fretfully, 'that I'd +ever try to save any blame Yank's life. But, Mr. O'Keefe, I don't +see but what you are entitled to be considered part human, anyhow. +I never thought Yanks had any of the rudiments of decorum and +laudability about them. I reckon I might have been too aggregative +in my tabulation. But it ain't me you want to thank--it's the +Confederate States of America.' + +"'And I'm much obliged to 'em,' says I. 'It's a poor man that +wouldn't be patriotic with a country that's saved his life. I'll +drink to the Stars and Bars whenever there's a flagstaff and a glass +convenient. But where,' says I, 'are the rescuing troops? If there +was a gun fired or a shell burst, I didn't hear it.' + +"Doc Millikin raises up and points out the window with his flute at +the banana-steamer loading with fruit. + +"'Yank,' says he, 'there's a steamer that's going to sail in the +morning. If I was you, I'd sail on it. The Confederate Government's +done all it can for you. There wasn't a gun fired. The negotiations +were carried on secretly between the two nations by the purser of +that steamer. I got him to do it because I didn't want to appear in +it. Twelve thousand dollars was paid to the officials in bribes to +let you go.' + +"'Man!' says I, sitting down hard--'twelve thousand--how will I +ever--who could have--where did the money come from?' + +"'Yazoo City,' says Doc Millikin: 'I've got a little saved up +there. Two barrels full. It looks good to these Colombians. 'Twas +Confederate money, every dollar of it. Now do you see why you'd +better leave before they try to pass some of it on an expert?' + +"'I do,' says I. + +"'Now let's hear you give the password,' says Doc Millikin. + +"'Hurrah for Jeff Davis!' says I. + +"'Correct,' says Doc. 'And let me tell you something: The next tune +I learn on my flute is going to be "Yankee Doodle." I reckon there's +some Yanks that are not so pizen. Or, if you was me, would you try +"The Red, White, and Blue"?'" + + + + +XXII + +THE LONESOME ROAD + + +Brown as a coffee-berry, rugged, pistoled, spurred, wary, +indefeasible, I saw my old friend, Deputy-Marshal Buck Caperton, +stumble, with jingling rowels, into a chair in the marshal's outer +office. + +And because the court-house was almost deserted at that hour, and +because Buck would sometimes relate to me things that were out of +print, I followed him in and tricked him into talk through knowledge +of a weakness he had. For, cigarettes rolled with sweet corn husk +were as honey to Buck's palate; and though he could finger the +trigger of a forty-five with skill and suddenness, he never could +learn to roll a cigarette. + +It was through no fault of mine (for I rolled the cigarettes tight +and smooth), but the upshot of some whim of his own, that instead +of to an Odyssey of the chaparral, I listened to--a dissertation +upon matrimony! This from Buck Caperton! But I maintain that the +cigarettes were impeccable, and crave absolution for myself. + +"We just brought in Jim and Bud Granberry," said Buck. "Train +robbing, you know. Held up the Aransas Pass last month. We caught +'em in the Twenty-Mile pear flat, south of the Nueces." + +"Have much trouble corralling them?" I asked, for here was the meat +that my hunger for epics craved. + +"Some," said Buck; and then, during a little pause, his thoughts +stampeded off the trail. "It's kind of queer about women," he went +on, "and the place they're supposed to occupy in botany. If I was +asked to classify them I'd say they was a human loco weed. Ever see +a bronc that had been chewing loco? Ride him up to a puddle of water +two feet wide, and he'll give a snort and fall back on you. It looks +as big as the Mississippi River to him. Next trip he'd walk into a +cañon a thousand feet deep thinking it was a prairie-dog hole. Same +way with a married man. + +"I was thinking of Perry Rountree, that used to be my sidekicker +before he committed matrimony. In them days me and Perry hated +indisturbances of any kind. We roamed around considerable, stirring +up the echoes and making 'em attend to business. Why, when me and +Perry wanted to have some fun in a town it was a picnic for the +census takers. They just counted the marshal's posse that it took to +subdue us, and there was your population. But then there came along +this Mariana Goodnight girl and looked at Perry sideways, and he was +all bridle-wise and saddle-broke before you could skin a yearling. + +"I wasn't even asked to the wedding. I reckon the bride had my +pedigree and the front elevation of my habits all mapped out, and +she decided that Perry would trot better in double harness without +any unconverted mustang like Buck Caperton whickering around on the +matrimonial range. So it was six months before I saw Perry again. + +"One day I was passing on the edge of town, and I see something +like a man in a little yard by a little house with a sprinkling-pot +squirting water on a rose-bush. Seemed to me, I'd seen something +like it before, and I stopped at the gate, trying to figure out its +brands. 'Twas not Perry Rountree, but 'twas the kind of a curdled +jellyfish matrimony had made out of him. + +"Homicide was what that Mariana had perpetrated. He was looking +well enough, but he had on a white collar and shoes, and you could +tell in a minute that he'd speak polite and pay taxes and stick +his little finger out while drinking, just like a sheep man or a +citizen. Great skyrockets! but I hated to see Perry all corrupted +and Willie-ized like that. + +"He came out to the gate, and shook hands; and I says, with scorn, +and speaking like a paroquet with the pip: 'Beg pardon--Mr. +Rountree, I believe. Seems to me I sagatiated in your associations +once, if I am not mistaken.' + +"'Oh, go to the devil, Buck,' says Perry, polite, as I was afraid +he'd be. + +"'Well, then,' says I, 'you poor, contaminated adjunct of a +sprinkling-pot and degraded household pet, what did you go and do +it for? Look at you, all decent and unriotous, and only fit to sit +on juries and mend the wood-house door. You was a man once. I have +hostility for all such acts. Why don't you go in the house and +count the tidies or set the clock, and not stand out here in the +atmosphere? A jack-rabbit might come along and bite you.' + +"'Now, Buck,' says Perry, speaking mild, and some sorrowful, 'you +don't understand. A married man has got to be different. He feels +different from a tough old cloudburst like you. It's sinful to waste +time pulling up towns just to look at their roots, and playing faro +and looking upon red liquor, and such restless policies as them.' + +"'There was a time,' I says, and I expect I sighed when I mentioned +it, 'when a certain domesticated little Mary's lamb I could name was +some instructed himself in the line of pernicious sprightliness. I +never expected, Perry, to see you reduced down from a full-grown +pestilence to such a frivolous fraction of a man. Why,' says I, +'you've got a necktie on; and you speak a senseless kind of indoor +drivel that reminds me of a storekeeper or a lady. You look to me +like you might tote an umbrella and wear suspenders, and go home of +nights.' + +"'The little woman,' says Perry, 'has made some improvements, I +believe. You can't understand, Buck. I haven't been away from the +house at night since we was married.' + +"We talked on a while, me and Perry, and, as sure as I live, that +man interrupted me in the middle of my talk to tell me about six +tomato plants he had growing in his garden. Shoved his agricultural +degradation right up under my nose while I was telling him about the +fun we had tarring and feathering that faro dealer at California +Pete's layout! But by and by Perry shows a flicker of sense. + +"'Buck,' says he, 'I'll have to admit that it is a little dull at +times. Not that I'm not perfectly happy with the little woman, but +a man seems to require some excitement now and then. Now, I'll tell +you: Mariana's gone visiting this afternoon, and she won't be home +till seven o'clock. That's the limit for both of us--seven o'clock. +Neither of us ever stays out a minute after that time unless we are +together. Now, I'm glad you came along, Buck,' says Perry, 'for I'm +feeling just like having one more rip-roaring razoo with you for +the sake of old times. What you say to us putting in the afternoon +having fun--I'd like it fine,' says Perry. + +"I slapped that old captive range-rider half across his little +garden. + +"'Get your hat, you old dried-up alligator,' I shouts, 'you ain't +dead yet. You're part human, anyhow, if you did get all bogged up +in matrimony. We'll take this town to pieces and see what makes it +tick. We'll make all kinds of profligate demands upon the science +of cork pulling. You'll grow horns yet, old muley cow,' says I, +punching Perry in the ribs, 'if you trot around on the trail of vice +with your Uncle Buck.' + +"'I'll have to be home by seven, you know,' says Perry again. + +"'Oh, yes,' says I, winking to myself, for I knew the kind of seven +o'clocks Perry Rountree got back by after he once got to passing +repartee with the bartenders. + +"We goes down to the Gray Mule saloon--that old 'dobe building by +the depot. + +"'Give it a name,' says I, as soon as we got one hoof on the +foot-rest. + +"'Sarsaparilla,' says Perry. + +"You could have knocked me down with a lemon peeling. + +"'Insult me as much as you want to,' I says to Perry, 'but don't +startle the bartender. He may have heart-disease. Come on, now; your +tongue got twisted. The tall glasses,' I orders, 'and the bottle in +the left-hand corner of the ice-chest.' + +"'Sarsaparilla,' repeats Perry, and then his eyes get animated, and +I see he's got some great scheme in his mind he wants to emit. + +"'Buck,' says he, all interested, 'I'll tell you what! I want to +make this a red-letter day. I've been keeping close at home, and I +want to turn myself a-loose. We'll have the highest old time you +ever saw. We'll go in the back room here and play checkers till +half-past six.' + +"I leaned against the bar, and I says to Gotch-eared Mike, who was +on watch: + +"'For God's sake don't mention this. You know what Perry used to be. +He's had the fever, and the doctor says we must humour him.' + +"'Give us the checker-board and the men, Mike,' says Perry. 'Come +on, Buck, I'm just wild to have some excitement.' + +"I went in the back room with Perry. Before we closed the door, I +says to Mike: + +"'Don't ever let it straggle out from under your hat that you seen +Buck Caperton fraternal with sarsaparilla or _persona grata_ with a +checker-board, or I'll make a swallow-fork in your other ear.' + +"I locked the door and me and Perry played checkers. To see that +poor old humiliated piece of household bric-a-brac sitting there and +sniggering out loud whenever he jumped a man, and all obnoxious with +animation when he got into my king row, would have made a sheep-dog +sick with mortification. Him that was once satisfied only when he +was pegging six boards at keno or giving the faro dealers nervous +prostration--to see him pushing them checkers about like Sally +Louisa at a school-children's party--why, I was all smothered up +with mortification. + +"And I sits there playing the black men, all sweating for fear +somebody I knew would find it out. And I thinks to myself some about +this marrying business, and how it seems to be the same kind of a +game as that Mrs. Delilah played. She give her old man a hair cut, +and everybody knows what a man's head looks like after a woman cuts +his hair. And then when the Pharisees came around to guy him he was +so 'shamed that he went to work and kicked the whole house down on +top of the whole outfit. 'Them married men,' thinks I, 'lose all +their spirit and instinct for riot and foolishness. They won't +drink, they won't buck the tiger, they won't even fight. What do +they want to go and stay married for?' I asks myself. + +"But Perry seems to be having hilarity in considerable quantities. + +"'Buck old hoss,' says he, 'isn't this just the hell-roaringest time +we ever had in our lives? I don't know when I've been stirred up so. +You see, I've been sticking pretty close to home since I married, +and I haven't been on a spree in a long time.' + +"'Spree!' Yes, that's what he called it. Playing checkers in the +back room of the Gray Mule! I suppose it did seem to him a little +immoral and nearer to a prolonged debauch than standing over six +tomato plants with a sprinkling-pot. + +"Every little bit Perry looks at his watch and says: + +"'I got to be home, you know, Buck, at seven.' + +"'All right,' I'd say. 'Romp along and move. This here excitement's +killing me. If I don't reform some, and loosen up the strain of this +checkered dissipation I won't have a nerve left.' + +"It might have been half-past six when commotions began to go on +outside in the street. We heard a yelling and a six-shootering, and +a lot of galloping and manoeuvres. + +"'What's that?' I wonders. + +"'Oh, some nonsense outside,' says Perry. 'It's your move. We just +got time to play this game.' + +"'I'll just take a peep through the window,' says I, 'and see. You +can't expect a mere mortal to stand the excitement of having a king +jumped and listen to an unidentified conflict going on at the same +time.' + +"The Gray Mule saloon was one of them old Spanish 'dobe buildings, +and the back room only had two little windows a foot wide, with iron +bars in 'em. I looked out one, and I see the cause of the rucus. + +"There was the Trimble gang--ten of 'em--the worst outfit of +desperadoes and horse-thieves in Texas, coming up the street +shooting right and left. They was coming right straight for the Gray +Mule. Then they got past the range of my sight, but we heard 'em +ride up to the front door, and then they socked the place full of +lead. We heard the big looking-glass behind the bar knocked all to +pieces and the bottles crashing. We could see Gotch-eared Mike in +his apron running across the plaza like a coyote, with the bullets +puffing up dust all around him. Then the gang went to work in the +saloon, drinking what they wanted and smashing what they didn't. + +"Me and Petty both knew that gang, and they knew us. The year before +Perry married, him and me was in the same ranger company--and we +fought that outfit down on the San Miguel, and brought back Ben +Trimble and two others for murder. + +"'We can't get out,' says I. 'We'll have to stay in here till they +leave.' + +"Perry looked at his watch. + +"'Twenty-five to seven,' says he. 'We can finish that game. I got +two men on you. It's your move, Buck. I got to be home at seven, you +know.' + +"We sat down and went on playing. The Trimble gang had a roughhouse +for sure. They were getting good and drunk. They'd drink a while and +holler a while, and then they'd shoot up a few bottles and glasses. +Two or three times they came and tried to open our door. Then there +was some more shooting outside, and I looked out the window again. +Ham Gossett, the town marshal, had a posse in the houses and stores +across the street, and was trying to bag a Trimble or two through +the windows. + +"I lost that game of checkers. I'm free in saying that I lost three +kings that I might have saved if I had been corralled in a more +peaceful pasture. But that drivelling married man sat there and +cackled when he won a man like an unintelligent hen picking up a +grain of corn. + +"When the game was over Perry gets up and looks at his watch. + +"'I've had a glorious time, Buck,' says he, 'but I'll have to be +going now. It's a quarter to seven, and I got to be home by seven, +you know.' + +"I thought he was joking. + +"'They'll clear out or be dead drunk in half an hour or an hour,' +says I. 'You ain't that tired of being married that you want to +commit any more sudden suicide, are you?' says I, giving him the +laugh. + +"'One time,' says Perry, 'I was half an hour late getting home. I +met Mariana on the street looking for me. If you could have seen +her, Buck--but you don't understand. She knows what a wild kind of +a snoozer I've been, and she's afraid something will happen. I'll +never be late getting home again. I'll say good-bye to you now, +Buck.' + +"I got between him and the door. + +"'Married man,' says I, 'I know you was christened a fool the minute +the preacher tangled you up, but don't you never sometimes think one +little think on a human basis? There's ten of that gang in there, +and they're pizen with whisky and desire for murder. They'll drink +you up like a bottle of booze before you get half-way to the door. +Be intelligent, now, and use at least wild-hog sense. Sit down and +wait till we have some chance to get out without being carried in +baskets.' + +"'I got to be home by seven, Buck,' repeats this hen-pecked thing of +little wisdom, like an unthinking poll parrot. 'Mariana,' says he, +'will be out looking for me.' And he reaches down and pulls a leg +out of the checker table. 'I'll go through this Trimble outfit,' +says he, 'like a cottontail through a brush corral. I'm not pestered +any more with a desire to engage in rucuses, but I got to be home by +seven. You lock the door after me, Buck. And don't you forget--I won +three out of them five games. I'd play longer, but Mariana--' + +"'Hush up, you old locoed road runner,' I interrupts. 'Did you +ever notice your Uncle Buck locking doors against trouble? I'm not +married,' says I, 'but I'm as big a d----n fool as any Mormon. +One from four leaves three,' says I, and I gathers out another +leg of the table. 'We'll get home by seven,' says I, 'whether +it's the heavenly one or the other. May I see you home?' says I, +'you sarsaparilla-drinking, checker-playing glutton for death and +destruction.' + +"We opened the door easy, and then stampeded for the front. Part of +the gang was lined up at the bar; part of 'em was passing over the +drinks, and two or three was peeping out the door and window and +taking shots at the marshal's crowd. The room was so full of smoke +we got half-way to the front door before they noticed us. Then I +heard Berry Trimble's voice somewhere yell out: + +"'How'd that Buck Caperton get in here?' and he skinned the side +of my neck with a bullet. I reckon he felt bad over that miss, for +Berry's the best shot south of the Southern Pacific Railroad. But +the smoke in the saloon was some too thick for good shooting. + +"Me and Perry smashed over two of the gang with our table legs, +which didn't miss like the guns did, and as we run out the door I +grabbed a Winchester from a fellow who was watching the outside, and +I turned and regulated the account of Mr. Berry. + +"Me and Perry got out and around the corner all right. I never much +expected to get out, but I wasn't going to be intimidated by that +married man. According to Perry's idea, checkers was the event of +the day, but if I am any judge of gentle recreations that little +table-leg parade through the Gray Mule saloon deserved the +head-lines in the bill of particulars. + +"'Walk fast,' says Perry, 'it's two minutes to seven, and I got to +be home by--' + +"'Oh, shut up,' says I. 'I had an appointment as chief performer at +an inquest at seven, and I'm not kicking about not keeping it.' + +"I had to pass by Perry's little house. His Mariana was standing at +the gate. We got there at five minutes past seven. She had on a blue +wrapper, and her hair was pulled back smooth like little girls do +when they want to look grown-folksy. She didn't see us till we +got close, for she was gazing up the other way. Then she backed +around, and saw Perry, and a kind of a look scooted around over her +face--danged if I can describe it. I heard her breathe long, just +like a cow when you turn her calf in the lot, and she says: 'You're +late, Perry.' + +"'Five minutes,' says Perry, cheerful. 'Me and old Buck was having a +game of checkers.' + +"Perry introduces me to Mariana, and they ask me to come in. No, +sir-ee. I'd had enough truck with married folks for that day. I says +I'll be going along, and that I've spent a very pleasant afternoon +with my old partner--'especially,' says I, just to jostle Perry, +'during that game when the table legs came all loose.' But I'd +promised him not to let her know anything. + +"I've been worrying over that business ever since it happened," +continued Buck. "There's one thing about it that's got me all +twisted up, and I can't figure it out." + +"What was that?" I asked, as I rolled and handed Buck the last +cigarette. + +"Why, I'll tell you: When I saw the look that little woman gave +Perry when she turned round and saw him coming back to the ranch +safe--why was it I got the idea all in a minute that that look of +hers was worth more than the whole caboodle of us--sarsaparilla, +checkers, and all, and that the d----n fool in the game wasn't named +Perry Rountree at all?" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROADS OF DESTINY*** + + +******* This file should be named 1646-8.txt or 1646-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/4/1646 + + + +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 +https://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 F3. 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, is 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 https://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 https://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 https://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: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was 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: + + https://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. + diff --git a/1646-8.zip b/1646-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c51992 --- /dev/null +++ b/1646-8.zip diff --git a/1646-h.zip b/1646-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9545628 --- /dev/null +++ b/1646-h.zip diff --git a/1646-h/1646-h.htm b/1646-h/1646-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fdb3743 --- /dev/null +++ b/1646-h/1646-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12348 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Roads of Destiny, by O. Henry</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + font-size: large; + margin-top:100px; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + text-align:justify; } + h1, h2, h3, h4 {text-align: center; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; } + hr { width: 100%; } + blockquote { font-size: large; } + blockquote.med { font-size: medium; } + table {font-size: large; + text-align: left; } + p {text-indent: 4%; } + p.noindent {text-indent: 0%; } + img { border: 0; } + .arial { font-family: "Arial", non-serif; } + .caption { font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; } + .center { text-align: center; } + .ind2 {margin-left: 2em; } + .ind5 {margin-left: 5em; } + .ind10 {margin-left: 10em; } + .ind12 {margin-left: 12em; } + .ind15 {margin-left: 15em; } + .small {font-size: small; } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red; + text-decoration: underline; } + pre {font-size: 65%; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Roads of Destiny, by O. Henry</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: Roads of Destiny</p> +<p class="noindent"> Roads of Destiny -- The Guardian of the Accolade -- The Discounters of Money -- The Enchanted Profile -- "Next to Reading Matter" -- Art and the Bronco -- Phoebe -- A Double-dyed Deceiver -- The Passing of Black Eagle -- A Retrieved Reformation -- Cherchez la Femme -- Friends in San Rosario -- The Fourth in Salvador -- The Emancipation of Billy -- The Enchanted Kiss -- A Departmental Case -- The Renaissance at Charleroi -- On Behalf of the Management -- Whistling Dick's Christmas Stocking -- The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss -- Two Renegades -- The Lonesome Road</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: O. Henry</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: February, 1997 [eBook #1646]<br /> +[Most recently updated: February 5, 2006]</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROADS OF DESTINY***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by John Bickers and Dagny<br /> + and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.<br /> + <br /> + HTML version prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="300px" +alt="Frontispiece" /></a><br /> +<span class="caption">"The old medical outrage … +had a nigger along."</span> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1>ROADS OF DESTINY</h1> + +<h4>by</h4> + +<h2>O. Henry</h2> + +<p> </p> +<h3><i>Author of "The Voice of the City,"<br /> + "The Trimmed Lamp," "Strictly Business,"<br /> + "Whirligigs," "Sixes and Sevens," Etc.</i></h3> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>1919</h4> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table cellpadding="1"> +<tr><td align="right">I. </td> <td><a href="#1" ><span class="smallcaps">Roads of Destiny</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II. </td> <td><a href="#2" ><span class="smallcaps">The Guardian of the Accolade</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III. </td> <td><a href="#3" ><span class="smallcaps">The Discounters of Money</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV. </td> <td><a href="#4" ><span class="smallcaps">The Enchanted Profile</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V. </td> <td><a href="#5" ><span class="smallcaps">"Next to Reading Matter"</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI. </td> <td><a href="#6" ><span class="smallcaps">Art and the Bronco</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII. </td> <td><a href="#7" ><span class="smallcaps">Phœbe</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII. </td> <td><a href="#8" ><span class="smallcaps">A Double-dyed Deceiver</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX. </td> <td><a href="#9" ><span class="smallcaps">The Passing of Black Eagle</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X. </td> <td><a href="#10" ><span class="smallcaps">A Retrieved Reformation</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI. </td> <td><a href="#11" ><span class="smallcaps">Cherchez la Femme</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII. </td> <td><a href="#12" ><span class="smallcaps">Friends in San Rosario</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII. </td> <td><a href="#13" ><span class="smallcaps">The Fourth in Salvador</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV. </td> <td><a href="#14" ><span class="smallcaps">The Emancipation of Billy</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV. </td> <td><a href="#15" ><span class="smallcaps">The Enchanted Kiss</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI. </td> <td><a href="#16" ><span class="smallcaps">A Departmental Case</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII. </td> <td><a href="#17" ><span class="smallcaps">The Renaissance at Charleroi</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII. </td><td><a href="#18" ><span class="smallcaps">On Behalf of the Management</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX. </td> <td><a href="#19" ><span class="smallcaps">Whistling Dick's Christmas Stocking</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XX. </td> <td><a href="#20" ><span class="smallcaps">The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXI. </td> <td><a href="#21" ><span class="smallcaps">Two Renegades</span></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXII. </td> <td><a href="#22" ><span class="smallcaps">The Lonesome Road</span></a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> + +<p><a name="1"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>I</h3> +<h3>ROADS OF DESTINY<br /> </h3> + + +<blockquote><blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent">I go to seek on many roads<br /> +<span class="ind2">What is to be.</span><br /> + True heart and strong, with love to light—<br /> + Will they not bear me in the fight<br /> + To order, shun or wield or mould<br /> +<span class="ind2">My Destiny?</span></p> + +<p class="ind5"><i>Unpublished Poems of +David Mignot</i>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>The song was over. The words were David's; the air, one of the +countryside. The company about the inn table applauded +heartily, for the young poet paid for the wine. Only the +notary, M. Papineau, shook his head a little at the lines, for +he was a man of books, and he had not drunk with the rest.</p> + +<p>David went out into the village street, where the night air +drove the wine vapour from his head. And then he remembered +that he and Yvonne had quarrelled that day, and that he had +resolved to leave his home that night to seek fame and honour +in the great world outside.</p> + +<p>"When my poems are on every man's tongue," he told himself, in +a fine exhilaration, "she will, perhaps, think of the hard +words she spoke this day."</p> + +<p>Except the roisterers in the tavern, the village folk were +abed. David crept softly into his room in the shed of his +father's cottage and made a bundle of his small store of +clothing. With this upon a staff, he set his face outward upon +the road that ran from Vernoy.</p> + +<p>He passed his father's herd of sheep, huddled in their nightly +pen—the sheep he herded daily, leaving them to scatter while +he wrote verses on scraps of paper. He saw a light yet shining +in Yvonne's window, and a weakness shook his purpose of a +sudden. Perhaps that light meant that she rued, sleepless, her +anger, and that morning might—But, no! His decision was made. +Vernoy was no place for him. Not one soul there could share his +thoughts. Out along that road lay his fate and his future.</p> + +<p>Three leagues across the dim, moonlit champaign ran the road, +straight as a ploughman's furrow. It was believed in the +village that the road ran to Paris, at least; and this name the +poet whispered often to himself as he walked. Never so far from +Vernoy had David travelled before.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<h4>THE LEFT BRANCH<br /> </h4> + + +<blockquote> +<p><i>Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. +It joined with another and a larger road at right angles. +David stood, uncertain, for a while, and then took the road +to the left.</i><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Upon this more important highway were, imprinted in the dust, +wheel tracks left by the recent passage of some vehicle. Some +half an hour later these traces were verified by the sight of a +ponderous carriage mired in a little brook at the bottom of a +steep hill. The driver and postilions were shouting and tugging +at the horses' bridles. On the road at one side stood a huge, +black-clothed man and a slender lady wrapped in a long, light +cloak.</p> + +<p>David saw the lack of skill in the efforts of the servants. He +quietly assumed control of the work. He directed the outriders +to cease their clamour at the horses and to exercise their +strength upon the wheels. The driver alone urged the animals +with his familiar voice; David himself heaved a powerful +shoulder at the rear of the carriage, and with one harmonious +tug the great vehicle rolled up on solid ground. The outriders +climbed to their places.</p> + +<p>David stood for a moment upon one foot. The huge gentleman +waved a hand. "You will enter the carriage," he said, in a +voice large, like himself, but smoothed by art and habit. +Obedience belonged in the path of such a voice. Brief as was +the young poet's hesitation, it was cut shorter still by a +renewal of the command. David's foot went to the step. In the +darkness he perceived dimly the form of the lady upon the rear +seat. He was about to seat himself opposite, when the voice +again swayed him to its will. "You will sit at the lady's +side."</p> + +<p>The gentleman swung his great weight to the forward seat. The +carriage proceeded up the hill. The lady was shrunk, silent, +into her corner. David could not estimate whether she was old +or young, but a delicate, mild perfume from her clothes stirred +his poet's fancy to the belief that there was loveliness +beneath the mystery. Here was an adventure such as he had often +imagined. But as yet he held no key to it, for no word was +spoken while he sat with his impenetrable companions.</p> + +<p>In an hour's time David perceived through the window that the +vehicle traversed the street of some town. Then it stopped in +front of a closed and darkened house, and a postilion alighted +to hammer impatiently upon the door. A latticed window above +flew wide and a nightcapped head popped out.</p> + +<p>"Who are ye that disturb honest folk at this time of night? My +house is closed. 'Tis too late for profitable travellers to be +abroad. Cease knocking at my door, and be off."</p> + +<p>"Open!" spluttered the postilion, loudly; "open for Monsiegneur +the Marquis de Beaupertuys."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried the voice above. "Ten thousand pardons, my lord. I +did not know—the hour is so late—at once shall the door be +opened, and the house placed at my lord's disposal."</p> + +<p>Inside was heard the clink of chain and bar, and the door was +flung open. Shivering with chill and apprehension, the landlord +of the Silver Flagon stood, half clad, candle in hand, upon the +threshold.</p> + +<p>David followed the Marquis out of the carriage. "Assist the +lady," he was ordered. The poet obeyed. He felt her small hand +tremble as he guided her descent. "Into the house," was the +next command.</p> + +<p>The room was the long dining-hall of the tavern. A great oak +table ran down its length. The huge gentleman seated himself in +a chair at the nearer end. The lady sank into another against +the wall, with an air of great weariness. David stood, +considering how best he might now take his leave and continue +upon his way.</p> + +<p>"My lord," said the landlord, bowing to the floor, "h-had I +ex-expected this honour, entertainment would have been ready. +T-t-there is wine and cold fowl and m-m-maybe—"</p> + +<p>"Candles," said the marquis, spreading the fingers of one plump +white hand in a gesture he had.</p> + +<p>"Y-yes, my lord." He fetched half a dozen candles, lighted +them, and set them upon the table.</p> + +<p>"If monsieur would, perhaps, deign to taste a certain +Burgundy—there is a cask—"</p> + +<p>"Candles," said monsieur, spreading his fingers.</p> + +<p>"Assuredly—quickly—I fly, my lord."</p> + +<p>A dozen more lighted candles shone in the hall. The great bulk +of the marquis overflowed his chair. He was dressed in fine +black from head to foot save for the snowy ruffles at his wrist +and throat. Even the hilt and scabbard of his sword were black. +His expression was one of sneering pride. The ends of an +upturned moustache reached nearly to his mocking eyes.</p> + +<p>The lady sat motionless, and now David perceived that she was +young, and possessed of pathetic and appealing beauty. He was +startled from the contemplation of her forlorn loveliness by +the booming voice of the marquis.</p> + +<p>"What is your name and pursuit?"</p> + +<p>"David Mignot. I am a poet."</p> + +<p>The moustache of the marquis curled nearer to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"How do you live?"</p> + +<p>"I am also a shepherd; I guarded my father's flock," David +answered, with his head high, but a flush upon his cheek.</p> + +<p>"Then listen, master shepherd and poet, to the fortune you have +blundered upon to-night. This lady is my niece, Mademoiselle +Lucie de Varennes. She is of noble descent and is possessed of +ten thousand francs a year in her own right. As to her charms, +you have but to observe for yourself. If the inventory pleases +your shepherd's heart, she becomes your wife at a word. Do not +interrupt me. To-night I conveyed her to the <i>château</i> of the +Comte de Villemaur, to whom her hand had been promised. Guests +were present; the priest was waiting; her marriage to one +eligible in rank and fortune was ready to be accomplished. At +the alter this demoiselle, so meek and dutiful, turned upon me +like a leopardess, charged me with cruelty and crimes, and +broke, before the gaping priest, the troth I had plighted for +her. I swore there and then, by ten thousand devils, that she +should marry the first man we met after leaving the <i>château</i>, +be he prince, charcoal-burner, or thief. You, shepherd, are the +first. Mademoiselle must be wed this night. If not you, then +another. You have ten minutes in which to make your decision. +Do not vex me with words or questions. Ten minutes, shepherd; +and they are speeding."</p> + +<p>The marquis drummed loudly with his white fingers upon the +table. He sank into a veiled attitude of waiting. It was as if +some great house had shut its doors and windows against +approach. David would have spoken, but the huge man's bearing +stopped his tongue. Instead, he stood by the lady's chair and +bowed.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," he said, and he marvelled to find his words +flowing easily before so much elegance and beauty. "You have +heard me say I was a shepherd. I have also had the fancy, at +times, that I am a poet. If it be the test of a poet to adore +and cherish the beautiful, that fancy is now strengthened. Can +I serve you in any way, mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>The young woman looked up at him with eyes dry and mournful. +His frank, glowing face, made serious by the gravity of the +adventure, his strong, straight figure and the liquid sympathy +in his blue eyes, perhaps, also, her imminent need of +long-denied help and kindness, thawed her to sudden tears.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," she said, in low tones, "you look to be true and +kind. He is my uncle, the brother of my father, and my only +relative. He loved my mother, and he hates me because I am like +her. He has made my life one long terror. I am afraid of his +very looks, and never before dared to disobey him. But to-night +he would have married me to a man three times my age. You will +forgive me for bringing this vexation upon you, monsieur. You +will, of course, decline this mad act he tries to force upon +you. But let me thank you for your generous words, at least. I +have had none spoken to me in so long."</p> + +<p>There was now something more than generosity in the poet's +eyes. Poet he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this +fine, new loveliness held him with its freshness and grace. The +subtle perfume from her filled him with strange emotions. His +tender look fell warmly upon her. She leaned to it, thirstily.</p> + +<p>"Ten minutes," said David, "is given me in which to do what I +would devote years to achieve. I will not say I pity you, +mademoiselle; it would not be true—I love you. I cannot ask +love from you yet, but let me rescue you from this cruel man, +and, in time, love may come. I think I have a future; I will +not always be a shepherd. For the present I will cherish you +with all my heart and make your life less sad. Will you trust +your fate to me, mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you would sacrifice yourself from pity!"</p> + +<p>"From love. The time is almost up, mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"You will regret it, and despise me."</p> + +<p>"I will live only to make you happy, and myself worthy of you."</p> + +<p>Her fine small hand crept into his from beneath her cloak.</p> + +<p>"I will trust you," she breathed, "with my life. And—and +love—may not be so far off as you think. Tell him. Once away +from the power of his eyes I may forget."</p> + +<p>David went and stood before the marquis. The black figure +stirred, and the mocking eyes glanced at the great hall clock.</p> + +<p>"Two minutes to spare. A shepherd requires eight minutes to +decide whether he will accept a bride of beauty and income! +Speak up, shepherd, do you consent to become mademoiselle's +husband?"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," said David, standing proudly, "has done me the +honour to yield to my request that she become my wife."</p> + +<p>"Well said!" said the marquis. "You have yet the making of a +courtier in you, master shepherd. Mademoiselle could have drawn +a worse prize, after all. And now to be done with the affair as +quick as the Church and the devil will allow!"</p> + +<p>He struck the table soundly with his sword hilt. The landlord +came, knee-shaking, bringing more candles in the hope of +anticipating the great lord's whims. "Fetch a priest," said the +marquis, "a priest; do you understand? In ten minutes have a +priest here, or—"</p> + +<p>The landlord dropped his candles and flew.</p> + +<p>The priest came, heavy-eyed and ruffled. He made David Mignot +and Lucie de Verennes man and wife, pocketed a gold piece that +the marquis tossed him, and shuffled out again into the night.</p> + +<p>"Wine," ordered the marquis, spreading his ominous fingers at +the host.</p> + +<p>"Fill glasses," he said, when it was brought. He stood up at +the head of the table in the candlelight, a black mountain of +venom and conceit, with something like the memory of an old +love turned to poison in his eyes, as it fell upon his niece.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Mignot," he said, raising his wineglass, "drink after +I say this to you: You have taken to be your wife one who will +make your life a foul and wretched thing. The blood in her is +an inheritance running black lies and red ruin. She will bring +you shame and anxiety. The devil that descended to her is there +in her eyes and skin and mouth that stoop even to beguile a +peasant. There is your promise, monsieur poet, for a happy +life. Drink your wine. At last, mademoiselle, I am rid of you."</p> + +<p>The marquis drank. A little grievous cry, as if from a sudden +wound, came from the girl's lips. David, with his glass in his +hand, stepped forward three paces and faced the marquis. There +was little of a shepherd in his bearing.</p> + +<p>"Just now," he said, calmly, "you did me the honor to call me +'monsieur.' May I hope, therefore that my marriage to +mademoiselle has placed me somewhat nearer to you in—let us +say, reflected rank—has given me the right to stand more as an +equal to monseigneur in a certain little piece of business I +have in my mind?"</p> + +<p>"You may hope, shepherd," sneered the marquis.</p> + +<p>"Then," said David, dashing his glass of wine into the +contemptuous eyes that mocked him, "perhaps you will condescend +to fight me."</p> + +<p>The fury of the great lord outbroke in one sudden curse like a +blast from a horn. He tore his sword from its black sheath; he +called to the hovering landlord: "A sword there, for this +lout!" He turned to the lady, with a laugh that chilled her +heart, and said: "You put much labour upon me, madame. It seems +I must find you a husband and make you a widow in the same +night."</p> + +<p>"I know not sword-play," said David. He flushed to make the +confession before his lady.</p> + +<p>"'I know not sword-play,'" mimicked the marquis. "Shall we +fight like peasants with oaken cudgels? <i>Hola!</i> François, my +pistols!"</p> + +<p>A postilion brought two shining great pistols ornamented with +carven silver, from the carriage holsters. The marquis tossed +one upon the table near David's hand. "To the other end of the +table," he cried; "even a shepherd may pull a trigger. Few of +them attain the honour to die by the weapon of a De +Beaupertuys."</p> + +<p>The shepherd and the marquis faced each other from the ends of +the long table. The landlord, in an ague of terror, clutched +the air and stammered: "M-M-Monseigneur, for the love of +Christ! not in my house!—do not spill blood—it will ruin my +custom—" The look of the marquis, threatening him, paralyzed +his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Coward," cried the lord of Beaupertuys, "cease chattering your +teeth long enough to give the word for us, if you can."</p> + +<p>Mine host's knees smote the floor. He was without a vocabulary. +Even sounds were beyond him. Still, by gestures he seemed to +beseech peace in the name of his house and custom.</p> + +<p>"I will give the word," said the lady, in a clear voice. She +went up to David and kissed him sweetly. Her eyes were +sparkling bright, and colour had come to her cheek. She stood +against the wall, and the two men levelled their pistols for +her count.</p> + +<p>"<i>Un</i>—<i>deux</i>—<i>trois!</i>"</p> + +<p>The two reports came so nearly together that the candles +flickered but once. The marquis stood, smiling, the fingers of +his left hand resting, outspread, upon the end of the table. +David remained erect, and turned his head very slowly, +searching for his wife with his eyes. Then, as a garment falls +from where it is hung, he sank, crumpled, upon the floor.</p> + +<p>With a little cry of terror and despair, the widowed maid ran +and stooped above him. She found his wound, and then looked up +with her old look of pale melancholy. "Through his heart," she +whispered. "Oh, his heart!"</p> + +<p>"Come," boomed the great voice of the marquis, "out with you to +the carriage! Daybreak shall not find you on my hands. Wed you +shall be again, and to a living husband, this night. The next +we come upon, my lady, highwayman or peasant. If the road +yields no other, then the churl that opens my gates. Out with +you into the carriage!"</p> + +<p>The marquis, implacable and huge, the lady wrapped again in the +mystery of her cloak, the postilion bearing the weapons—all +moved out to the waiting carriage. The sound of its ponderous +wheels rolling away echoed through the slumbering village. In +the hall of the Silver Flagon the distracted landlord wrung his +hands above the slain poet's body, while the flames of the four +and twenty candles danced and flickered on the table.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<h4>THE RIGHT BRANCH<br /> </h4> + + +<blockquote> +<p><i>Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. +It joined with another and a larger road at right angles. +David stood, uncertain, for a while, and then took the road +to the right.</i><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Whither it led he knew not, but he was resolved to leave Vernoy +far behind that night. He travelled a league and then passed a +large <i>château</i> which showed testimony of recent entertainment. +Lights shone from every window; from the great stone gateway +ran a tracery of wheel tracks drawn in the dust by the vehicles +of the guests.</p> + +<p>Three leagues farther and David was weary. He rested and slept +for a while on a bed of pine boughs at the roadside. Then up +and on again along the unknown way.</p> + +<p>Thus for five days he travelled the great road, sleeping upon +Nature's balsamic beds or in peasants' ricks, eating of their +black, hospitable bread, drinking from streams or the willing +cup of the goatherd.</p> + +<p>At length he crossed a great bridge and set his foot within the +smiling city that has crushed or crowned more poets than all +the rest of the world. His breath came quickly as Paris sang to +him in a little undertone her vital chant of greeting—the hum +of voice and foot and wheel.</p> + +<p>High up under the eaves of an old house in the Rue Conti, David +paid for lodging, and set himself, in a wooden chair, to his +poems. The street, once sheltering citizens of import and +consequence, was now given over to those who ever follow in the +wake of decline.</p> + +<p>The houses were tall and still possessed of a ruined dignity, +but many of them were empty save for dust and the spider. By +night there was the clash of steel and the cries of brawlers +straying restlessly from inn to inn. Where once gentility abode +was now but a rancid and rude incontinence. But here David +found housing commensurate to his scant purse. Daylight and +candlelight found him at pen and paper.</p> + +<p>One afternoon he was returning from a foraging trip to the +lower world, with bread and curds and a bottle of thin wine. +Halfway up his dark stairway he met—or rather came upon, for +she rested on the stair—a young woman of a beauty that should +balk even the justice of a poet's imagination. A loose, dark +cloak, flung open, showed a rich gown beneath. Her eyes changed +swiftly with every little shade of thought. Within one moment +they would be round and artless like a child's, and long and +cozening like a gypsy's. One hand raised her gown, undraping a +little shoe, high-heeled, with its ribbons dangling, untied. So +heavenly she was, so unfitted to stoop, so qualified to charm +and command! Perhaps she had seen David coming, and had waited +for his help there.</p> + +<p>Ah, would monsieur pardon that she occupied the stairway, but +the shoe!—the naughty shoe! Alas! it would not remain tied. +Ah! if monsieur <i>would</i> be so gracious!</p> + +<p>The poet's fingers trembled as he tied the contrary ribbons. +Then he would have fled from the danger of her presence, but +the eyes grew long and cozening, like a gypsy's, and held him. +He leaned against the balustrade, clutching his bottle of sour +wine.</p> + +<p>"You have been so good," she said, smiling. "Does monsieur, +perhaps, live in the house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame. I—I think so, madame."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps in the third story, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, madame; higher up."</p> + +<p>The lady fluttered her fingers with the least possible gesture +of impatience.</p> + +<p>"Pardon. Certainly I am not discreet in asking. Monsieur will +forgive me? It is surely not becoming that I should inquire +where he lodges."</p> + +<p>"Madame, do not say so. I live in the—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no; do not tell me. Now I see that I erred. But I +cannot lose the interest I feel in this house and all that is +in it. Once it was my home. Often I come here but to dream of +those happy days again. Will you let that be my excuse?"</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you, then, for you need no excuse," stammered the +poet. "I live in the top floor—the small room where the stairs +turn."</p> + +<p>"In the front room?" asked the lady, turning her head sidewise.</p> + +<p>"The rear, madame."</p> + +<p>The lady sighed, as if with relief.</p> + +<p>"I will detain you no longer then, monsieur," she said, +employing the round and artless eye. "Take good care of my +house. Alas! only the memories of it are mine now. Adieu, and +accept my thanks for your courtesy."</p> + +<p>She was gone, leaving but a smile and a trace of sweet perfume. +David climbed the stairs as one in slumber. But he awoke from +it, and the smile and the perfume lingered with him and never +afterward did either seem quite to leave him. This lady of whom +he knew nothing drove him to lyrics of eyes, chansons of +swiftly conceived love, odes to curling hair, and sonnets to +slippers on slender feet.</p> + +<p>Poet he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this fine, +new loveliness held him with its freshness and grace. The +subtle perfume about her filled him with strange emotions.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>On a certain night three persons were gathered about a table in +a room on the third floor of the same house. Three chairs and +the table and a lighted candle upon it was all the furniture. +One of the persons was a huge man, dressed in black. His +expression was one of sneering pride. The ends of his upturned +moustache reached nearly to his mocking eyes. Another was a +lady, young and beautiful, with eyes that could be round and +artless, as a child's, or long and cozening, like a gypsy's, +but were now keen and ambitious, like any other conspirator's. +The third was a man of action, a combatant, a bold and +impatient executive, breathing fire and steel. He was addressed +by the others as Captain Desrolles.</p> + +<p>This man struck the table with his fist, and said, with +controlled violence:</p> + +<p>"To-night. To-night as he goes to midnight mass. I am tired of +the plotting that gets nowhere. I am sick of signals and +ciphers and secret meetings and such <i>baragouin</i>. Let us be +honest traitors. If France is to be rid of him, let us kill in +the open, and not hunt with snares and traps. To-night, I say. +I back my words. My hand will do the deed. To-night, as he goes +to mass."</p> + +<p>The lady turned upon him a cordial look. Woman, however wedded +to plots, must ever thus bow to rash courage. The big man +stroked his upturned moustache.</p> + +<p>"Dear captain," he said, in a great voice, softened by habit, +"this time I agree with you. Nothing is to be gained by +waiting. Enough of the palace guards belong to us to make the +endeavour a safe one."</p> + +<p>"To-night," repeated Captain Desrolles, again striking the +table. "You have heard me, marquis; my hand will do the deed."</p> + +<p>"But now," said the huge man, softly, "comes a question. Word +must be sent to our partisans in the palace, and a signal +agreed upon. Our stanchest men must accompany the royal +carriage. At this hour what messenger can penetrate so far as +the south doorway? Ribouet is stationed there; once a message +is placed in his hands, all will go well."</p> + +<p>"I will send the message," said the lady.</p> + +<p>"You, countess?" said the marquis, raising his eyebrows. "Your +devotion is great, we know, but—"</p> + +<p>"Listen!" exclaimed the lady, rising and resting her hands upon +the table; "in a garret of this house lives a youth from the +provinces as guileless and tender as the lambs he tended there. +I have met him twice or thrice upon the stairs. I questioned +him, fearing that he might dwell too near the room in which we +are accustomed to meet. He is mine, if I will. He writes poems +in his garret, and I think he dreams of me. He will do what I +say. He shall take the message to the palace."</p> + +<p>The marquis rose from his chair and bowed. "You did not permit +me to finish my sentence, countess," he said. "I would have +said: 'Your devotion is great, but your wit and charm are +infinitely greater.'"</p> + +<p>While the conspirators were thus engaged, David was polishing +some lines addressed to his <i>amorette d'escalier</i>. He heard a +timorous knock at his door, and opened it, with a great throb, +to behold her there, panting as one in straits, with eyes wide +open and artless, like a child's.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," she breathed, "I come to you in distress. I believe +you to be good and true, and I know of no other help. How I +flew through the streets among the swaggering men! Monsieur, my +mother is dying. My uncle is a captain of guards in the palace +of the king. Some one must fly to bring him. May I hope—"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," interrupted David, his eyes shining with the +desire to do her service, "your hopes shall be my wings. Tell +me how I may reach him."</p> + +<p>The lady thrust a sealed paper into his hand.</p> + +<p>"Go to the south gate—the south gate, mind—and say to the +guards there, 'The falcon has left his nest.' They will pass +you, and you will go to the south entrance to the palace. +Repeat the words, and give this letter to the man who will +reply 'Let him strike when he will.' This is the password, +monsieur, entrusted to me by my uncle, for now when the country +is disturbed and men plot against the king's life, no one +without it can gain entrance to the palace grounds after +nightfall. If you will, monsieur, take him this letter so that +my mother may see him before she closes her eyes."</p> + +<p>"Give it me," said David, eagerly. "But shall I let you return +home through the streets alone so late? I—"</p> + +<p>"No, no—fly. Each moment is like a precious jewel. Some time," +said the lady, with eyes long and cozening, like a gypsy's, "I +will try to thank you for your goodness."</p> + +<p>The poet thrust the letter into his breast, and bounded down +the stairway. The lady, when he was gone, returned to the room +below.</p> + +<p>The eloquent eyebrows of the marquis interrogated her.</p> + +<p>"He is gone," she said, "as fleet and stupid as one of his own +sheep, to deliver it."</p> + +<p>The table shook again from the batter of Captain Desrolles's +fist.</p> + +<p>"Sacred name!" he cried; "I have left my pistols behind! I can +trust no others."</p> + +<p>"Take this," said the marquis, drawing from beneath his cloak a +shining, great weapon, ornamented with carven silver. "There +are none truer. But guard it closely, for it bears my arms and +crest, and already I am suspected. Me, I must put many leagues +between myself and Paris this night. To-morrow must find me in +my <i>château</i>. After you, dear countess."</p> + +<p>The marquis puffed out the candle. The lady, well cloaked, and +the two gentlemen softly descended the stairway and flowed into +the crowd that roamed along the narrow pavements of the Rue +Conti.</p> + +<p>David sped. At the south gate of the king's residence a halberd +was laid to his breast, but he turned its point with the words; +"The falcon has left his nest."</p> + +<p>"Pass, brother," said the guard, "and go quickly."</p> + +<p>On the south steps of the palace they moved to seize him, but +again the <i>mot de passe</i> charmed the watchers. One among them +stepped forward and began: "Let him strike—" but a flurry +among the guards told of a surprise. A man of keen look and +soldierly stride suddenly pressed through them and seized the +letter which David held in his hand. "Come with me," he said, +and led him inside the great hall. Then he tore open the letter +and read it. He beckoned to a man uniformed as an officer of +musketeers, who was passing. "Captain Tetreau, you will have +the guards at the south entrance and the south gate arrested +and confined. Place men known to be loyal in their places." To +David he said: "Come with me."</p> + +<p>He conducted him through a corridor and an anteroom into a +spacious chamber, where a melancholy man, sombrely dressed, sat +brooding in a great, leather-covered chair. To that man he +said:</p> + +<p>"Sire, I have told you that the palace is as full of traitors +and spies as a sewer is of rats. You have thought, sire, that +it was my fancy. This man penetrated to your very door by their +connivance. He bore a letter which I have intercepted. I have +brought him here that your majesty may no longer think my zeal +excessive."</p> + +<p>"I will question him," said the king, stirring in his chair. He +looked at David with heavy eyes dulled by an opaque film. The +poet bent his knee.</p> + +<p>"From where do you come?" asked the king.</p> + +<p>"From the village of Vernoy, in the province of Eure-et-Loir, +sire."</p> + +<p>"What do you follow in Paris?"</p> + +<p>"I—I would be a poet, sire."</p> + +<p>"What did you in Vernoy?"</p> + +<p>"I minded my father's flock of sheep."</p> + +<p>The king stirred again, and the film lifted from his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah! in the fields!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sire."</p> + +<p>"You lived in the fields; you went out in the cool of the +morning and lay among the hedges in the grass. The flock +distributed itself upon the hillside; you drank of the living +stream; you ate your sweet, brown bread in the shade, and you +listened, doubtless, to blackbirds piping in the grove. Is not +that so, shepherd?"</p> + +<p>"It is, sire," answered David, with a sigh; "and to the bees at +the flowers, and, maybe, to the grape gatherers singing on the +hill."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said the king, impatiently; "maybe to them; but +surely to the blackbirds. They whistled often, in the grove, +did they not?"</p> + +<p>"Nowhere, sire, so sweetly as in Eure-et-Loir. I have +endeavored to express their song in some verses that I have +written."</p> + +<p>"Can you repeat those verses?" asked the king, eagerly. "A long +time ago I listened to the blackbirds. It would be something +better than a kingdom if one could rightly construe their song. +And at night you drove the sheep to the fold and then sat, in +peace and tranquillity, to your pleasant bread. Can you repeat +those verses, shepherd?"</p> + +<p>"They run this way, sire," said David, with respectful +ardour:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"'Lazy shepherd, see your lambkins<br /> +<span class="ind2">Skip, ecstatic, on the mead;</span><br /> + See the firs dance in the breezes,<br /> +<span class="ind2">Hear Pan blowing at his reed.</span><br /> +<br /> + "Hear us calling from the tree-tops,<br /> +<span class="ind2">See us swoop upon your flock;</span><br /> + Yield us wool to make our nests warm<br /> +<span class="ind2">In the branches of the—'"</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"If it please your majesty," interrupted a harsh voice, "I will +ask a question or two of this rhymester. There is little time +to spare. I crave pardon, sire, if my anxiety for your safety +offends."</p> + +<p>"The loyalty," said the king, "of the Duke d'Aumale is too well +proven to give offence." He sank into his chair, and the film +came again over his eyes.</p> + +<p>"First," said the duke, "I will read you the letter he +brought:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote class="med"> +<p>"'To-night is the anniversary of the dauphin's death. If he +goes, as is his custom, to midnight mass to pray for the soul +of his son, the falcon will strike, at the corner of the Rue +Esplanade. If this be his intention, set a red light in the +upper room at the southwest corner of the palace, that the +falcon may take heed.'<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Peasant," said the duke, sternly, "you have heard these words. +Who gave you this message to bring?"</p> + +<p>"My lord duke," said David, sincerely, "I will tell you. A lady +gave it me. She said her mother was ill, and that this writing +would fetch her uncle to her bedside. I do not know the meaning +of the letter, but I will swear that she is beautiful and +good."</p> + +<p>"Describe the woman," commanded the duke, "and how you came to +be her dupe."</p> + +<p>"Describe her!" said David with a tender smile. "You would +command words to perform miracles. Well, she is made of +sunshine and deep shade. She is slender, like the alders, and +moves with their grace. Her eyes change while you gaze into +them; now round, and then half shut as the sun peeps between +two clouds. When she comes, heaven is all about her; when she +leaves, there is chaos and a scent of hawthorn blossoms. She +came to see me in the Rue Conti, number twenty-nine."</p> + +<p>"It is the house," said the duke, turning to the king, "that we +have been watching. Thanks to the poet's tongue, we have a +picture of the infamous Countess Quebedaux."</p> + +<p>"Sire and my lord duke," said David, earnestly, "I hope my poor +words have done no injustice. I have looked into that lady's +eyes. I will stake my life that she is an angel, letter or no +letter."</p> + +<p>The duke looked at him steadily. "I will put you to the proof," +he said, slowly. "Dressed as the king, you shall, yourself, +attend mass in his carriage at midnight. Do you accept the +test?"</p> + +<p>David smiled. "I have looked into her eyes," he said. "I had my +proof there. Take yours how you will."</p> + +<p>Half an hour before twelve the Duke d'Aumale, with his own +hands, set a red lamp in a southwest window of the palace. At +ten minutes to the hour, David, leaning on his arm, dressed as +the king, from top to toe, with his head bowed in his cloak, +walked slowly from the royal apartments to the waiting +carriage. The duke assisted him inside and closed the door. The +carriage whirled away along its route to the cathedral.</p> + +<p>On the <i>qui vive</i> in a house at the corner of the Rue Esplanade +was Captain Tetreau with twenty men, ready to pounce upon the +conspirators when they should appear.</p> + +<p>But it seemed that, for some reason, the plotters had slightly +altered their plans. When the royal carriage had reached the +Rue Christopher, one square nearer than the Rue Esplanade, +forth from it burst Captain Desrolles, with his band of +would-be regicides, and assailed the equipage. The guards upon +the carriage, though surprised at the premature attack, +descended and fought valiantly. The noise of conflict attracted +the force of Captain Tetreau, and they came pelting down the +street to the rescue. But, in the meantime, the desperate +Desrolles had torn open the door of the king's carriage, thrust +his weapon against the body of the dark figure inside, and +fired.</p> + +<p>Now, with loyal reinforcements at hand, the street rang with +cries and the rasp of steel, but the frightened horses had +dashed away. Upon the cushions lay the dead body of the poor +mock king and poet, slain by a ball from the pistol of +Monseigneur, the Marquis de Beaupertuys.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<h4>THE MAIN ROAD<br /> </h4> + + +<blockquote> +<p><i>Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. +It joined with another and a larger road at right angles. +David stood, uncertain, for a while, and then sat himself to +rest upon its side.</i><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Whither these roads led he knew not. Either way there seemed to +lie a great world full of chance and peril. And then, sitting +there, his eye fell upon a bright star, one that he and Yvonne +had named for theirs. That set him thinking of Yvonne, and he +wondered if he had not been too hasty. Why should he leave her +and his home because a few hot words had come between them? Was +love so brittle a thing that jealousy, the very proof of it, +could break it? Mornings always brought a cure for the little +heartaches of evening. There was yet time for him to return +home without any one in the sweetly sleeping village of Vernoy +being the wiser. His heart was Yvonne's; there where he had +lived always he could write his poems and find his happiness.</p> + +<p>David rose, and shook off his unrest and the wild mood that had +tempted him. He set his face steadfastly back along the road he +had come. By the time he had retravelled the road to Vernoy, +his desire to rove was gone. He passed the sheepfold, and the +sheep scurried, with a drumming flutter, at his late footsteps, +warming his heart by the homely sound. He crept without noise +into his little room and lay there, thankful that his feet had +escaped the distress of new roads that night.</p> + +<p>How well he knew woman's heart! The next evening Yvonne was at +the well in the road where the young congregated in order that +the <i>curé</i> might have business. The corner of her eye +was engaged in a search for David, albeit her set mouth seemed +unrelenting. He saw the look; braved the mouth, drew from it a +recantation and, later, a kiss as they walked homeward +together.</p> + +<p>Three months afterwards they were married. David's father was +shrewd and prosperous. He gave them a wedding that was heard of +three leagues away. Both the young people were favourites in +the village. There was a procession in the streets, a dance on +the green; they had the marionettes and a tumbler out from +Dreux to delight the guests.</p> + +<p>Then a year, and David's father died. The sheep and the cottage +descended to him. He already had the seemliest wife in the +village. Yvonne's milk pails and her brass kettles were +bright—<i>ouf!</i> they blinded you in the sun when you passed that +way. But you must keep your eyes upon her yard, for her flower +beds were so neat and gay they restored to you your sight. And +you might hear her sing, aye, as far as the double chestnut +tree above Père Gruneau's blacksmith forge.</p> + +<p>But a day came when David drew out paper from a long-shut +drawer, and began to bite the end of a pencil. Spring had come +again and touched his heart. Poet he must have been, for now +Yvonne was well-nigh forgotten. This fine new loveliness of +earth held him with its witchery and grace. The perfume from +her woods and meadows stirred him strangely. Daily had he gone +forth with his flock, and brought it safe at night. But now he +stretched himself under the hedge and pieced words together on +his bits of paper. The sheep strayed, and the wolves, +perceiving that difficult poems make easy mutton, ventured from +the woods and stole his lambs.</p> + +<p>David's stock of poems grew larger and his flock smaller. +Yvonne's nose and temper waxed sharp and her talk blunt. Her +pans and kettles grew dull, but her eyes had caught their +flash. She pointed out to the poet that his neglect was +reducing the flock and bringing woe upon the household. David +hired a boy to guard the sheep, locked himself in the little +room at the top of the cottage, and wrote more poems. The boy, +being a poet by nature, but not furnished with an outlet in the +way of writing, spent his time in slumber. The wolves lost no +time in discovering that poetry and sleep are practically the +same; so the flock steadily grew smaller. Yvonne's ill temper +increased at an equal rate. Sometimes she would stand in the +yard and rail at David through his high window. Then you could +hear her as far as the double chestnut tree above Père +Gruneau's blacksmith forge.</p> + +<p>M. Papineau, the kind, wise, meddling old notary, saw this, as +he saw everything at which his nose pointed. He went to David, +fortified himself with a great pinch of snuff, and said:</p> + +<p>"Friend Mignot, I affixed the seal upon the marriage +certificate of your father. It would distress me to be obliged +to attest a paper signifying the bankruptcy of his son. But +that is what you are coming to. I speak as an old friend. Now, +listen to what I have to say. You have your heart set, I +perceive, upon poetry. At Dreux, I have a friend, one Monsieur +Bril—Georges Bril. He lives in a little cleared space in a +houseful of books. He is a learned man; he visits Paris each +year; he himself has written books. He will tell you when the +catacombs were made, how they found out the names of the stars, +and why the plover has a long bill. The meaning and the form of +poetry is to him as intelligent as the baa of a sheep is to +you. I will give you a letter to him, and you shall take him +your poems and let him read them. Then you will know if you +shall write more, or give your attention to your wife and +business."</p> + +<p>"Write the letter," said David, "I am sorry you did not speak +of this sooner."</p> + +<p>At sunrise the next morning he was on the road to Dreux with +the precious roll of poems under his arm. At noon he wiped the +dust from his feet at the door of Monsieur Bril. That learned +man broke the seal of M. Papineau's letter, and sucked up its +contents through his gleaming spectacles as the sun draws +water. He took David inside to his study and sat him down upon +a little island beat upon by a sea of books.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Bril had a conscience. He flinched not even at a mass +of manuscript the thickness of a finger length and rolled to an +incorrigible curve. He broke the back of the roll against his +knee and began to read. He slighted nothing; he bored into the +lump as a worm into a nut, seeking for a kernel.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, David sat, marooned, trembling in the spray of so +much literature. It roared in his ears. He held no chart or +compass for voyaging in that sea. Half the world, he thought, +must be writing books.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Bril bored to the last page of the poems. Then he took +off his spectacles, and wiped them with his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"My old friend, Papineau, is well?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"In the best of health," said David.</p> + +<p>"How many sheep have you, Monsieur Mignot?"</p> + +<p>"Three hundred and nine, when I counted them yesterday. The +flock has had ill fortune. To that number it has decreased from +eight hundred and fifty."</p> + +<p>"You have a wife and home, and lived in comfort. The sheep +brought you plenty. You went into the fields with them and +lived in the keen air and ate the sweet bread of contentment. +You had but to be vigilant and recline there upon nature's +breast, listening to the whistle of the blackbirds in the +grove. Am I right thus far?"</p> + +<p>"It was so," said David.</p> + +<p>"I have read all your verses," continued Monsieur Bril, his +eyes wandering about his sea of books as if he conned the +horizon for a sail. "Look yonder, through that window, Monsieur +Mignot; tell me what you see in that tree."</p> + +<p>"I see a crow," said David, looking.</p> + +<p>"There is a bird," said Monsieur Bril, "that shall assist me +where I am disposed to shirk a duty. You know that bird, +Monsieur Mignot; he is the philosopher of the air. He is happy +through submission to his lot. None so merry or full-crawed as +he with his whimsical eye and rollicking step. The fields yield +him what he desires. He never grieves that his plumage is not +gay, like the oriole's. And you have heard, Monsieur Mignot, +the notes that nature has given him? Is the nightingale any +happier, do you think?"</p> + +<p>David rose to his feet. The crow cawed harshly from his tree.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Monsieur Bril," he said, slowly. "There was not, +then, one nightingale among all those croaks?"</p> + +<p>"I could not have missed it," said Monsieur Bril, with a sigh. +"I read every word. Live your poetry, man; do not try to write +it any more."</p> + +<p>"I thank you," said David, again. "And now I will be going back +to my sheep."</p> + +<p>"If you would dine with me," said the man of books, "and +overlook the smart of it, I will give you reasons at length."</p> + +<p>"No," said the poet, "I must be back in the fields cawing at my +sheep."</p> + +<p>Back along the road to Vernoy he trudged with his poems under +his arm. When he reached his village he turned into the shop of +one Zeigler, a Jew out of Armenia, who sold anything that came +to his hand.</p> + +<p>"Friend," said David, "wolves from the forest harass my sheep +on the hills. I must purchase firearms to protect them. What +have you?"</p> + +<p>"A bad day, this, for me, friend Mignot," said Zeigler, +spreading his hands, "for I perceive that I must sell you a +weapon that will not fetch a tenth of its value. Only last I +week I bought from a peddlar a wagon full of goods that he +procured at a sale by a <i>commissionaire</i> of the crown. The sale +was of the <i>château</i> and belongings of a great lord—I know not +his title—who has been banished for conspiracy against the +king. There are some choice firearms in the lot. This +pistol—oh, a weapon fit for a prince!—it shall be only forty +francs to you, friend Mignot—if I lose ten by the sale. But +perhaps an arquebuse—"</p> + +<p>"This will do," said David, throwing the money on the counter. +"Is it charged?"</p> + +<p>"I will charge it," said Zeigler. "And, for ten francs more, +add a store of powder and ball."</p> + +<p>David laid his pistol under his coat and walked to his cottage. +Yvonne was not there. Of late she had taken to gadding much +among the neighbours. But a fire was glowing in the kitchen +stove. David opened the door of it and thrust his poems in upon +the coals. As they blazed up they made a singing, harsh sound +in the flue.</p> + +<p>"The song of the crow!" said the poet.</p> + +<p>He went up to his attic room and closed the door. So quiet was +the village that a score of people heard the roar of the great +pistol. They flocked thither, and up the stairs where the +smoke, issuing, drew their notice.</p> + +<p>The men laid the body of the poet upon his bed, awkwardly +arranging it to conceal the torn plumage of the poor black +crow. The women chattered in a luxury of zealous pity. Some of +them ran to tell Yvonne.</p> + +<p>M. Papineau, whose nose had brought him there among the first, +picked up the weapon and ran his eye over its silver mountings +with a mingled air of connoisseurship and grief.</p> + +<p>"The arms," he explained, aside, to the <i>curé</i>, +"and crest of Monseigneur, the Marquis de Beaupertuys."</p> + + +<p><a name="2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II</h3> +<h3>THE GUARDIAN OF THE ACCOLADE<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Not the least important of the force of the Weymouth Bank was +Uncle Bushrod. Sixty years had Uncle Bushrod given of faithful +service to the house of Weymouth as chattel, servitor, and +friend. Of the colour of the mahogany bank furniture was Uncle +Bushrod—thus dark was he externally; white as the uninked +pages of the bank ledgers was his soul. Eminently pleasing to +Uncle Bushrod would the comparison have been; for to him the +only institution in existence worth considering was the +Weymouth Bank, of which he was something between porter and +generalissimo-in-charge.</p> + +<p>Weymouth lay, dreamy and umbrageous, among the low foothills +along the brow of a Southern valley. Three banks there were in +Weymouthville. Two were hopeless, misguided enterprises, +lacking the presence and prestige of a Weymouth to give them +glory. The third was The Bank, managed by the Weymouths—and +Uncle Bushrod. In the old Weymouth homestead—the red brick, +white-porticoed mansion, the first to your right as you crossed +Elder Creek, coming into town—lived Mr. Robert Weymouth (the +president of the bank), his widowed daughter, Mrs. +Vesey—called "Miss Letty" by every one—and her two children, +Nan and Guy. There, also in a cottage on the grounds, resided +Uncle Bushrod and Aunt Malindy, his wife. Mr. William Weymouth +(the cashier of the bank) lived in a modern, fine house on the +principal avenue.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert was a large, stout man, sixty-two years of age, with +a smooth, plump face, long iron-gray hair and fiery blue eyes. +He was high-tempered, kind, and generous, with a youthful smile +and a formidable, stern voice that did not always mean what it +sounded like. Mr. William was a milder man, correct in +deportment and absorbed in business. The Weymouths formed The +Family of Weymouthville, and were looked up to, as was their +right of heritage.</p> + +<p>Uncle Bushrod was the bank's trusted porter, messenger, vassal, +and guardian. He carried a key to the vault, just as Mr. Robert +and Mr. William did. Sometimes there was ten, fifteen, or +twenty thousand dollars in sacked silver stacked on the vault +floor. It was safe with Uncle Bushrod. He was a Weymouth in +heart, honesty, and pride.</p> + +<p>Of late Uncle Bushrod had not been without worry. It was on +account of Marse Robert. For nearly a year Mr. Robert had been +known to indulge in too much drink. Not enough, understand, to +become tipsy, but the habit was getting a hold upon him, and +every one was beginning to notice it. Half a dozen times a day +he would leave the bank and step around to the Merchants and +Planters' Hotel to take a drink. Mr. Robert's usual keen +judgment and business capacity became a little impaired. Mr. +William, a Weymouth, but not so rich in experience, tried to +dam the inevitable backflow of the tide, but with incomplete +success. The deposits in the Weymouth Bank dropped from six +figures to five. Past-due paper began to accumulate, owing to +injudicious loans. No one cared to address Mr. Robert on the +subject of temperance. Many of his friends said that the cause +of it had been the death of his wife some two years before. +Others hesitated on account of Mr. Robert's quick temper, which +was extremely apt to resent personal interference of such a +nature. Miss Letty and the children noticed the change and +grieved about it. Uncle Bushrod also worried, but he was one of +those who would not have dared to remonstrate, although he and +Marse Robert had been raised almost as companions. But there +was a heavier shock coming to Uncle Bushrod than that caused by +the bank president's toddies and juleps.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert had a passion for fishing, which he usually indulged +whenever the season and business permitted. One day, when +reports had been coming in relating to the bass and perch, he +announced his intention of making a two or three days' visit to +the lakes. He was going down, he said, to Reedy Lake with Judge +Archinard, an old friend.</p> + +<p>Now, Uncle Bushrod was treasurer of the Sons and Daughters of +the Burning Bush. Every association he belonged to made him +treasurer without hesitation. He stood AA1 in coloured circles. +He was understood among them to be Mr. Bushrod Weymouth, of the +Weymouth Bank.</p> + +<p>The night following the day on which Mr. Robert mentioned his +intended fishing-trip the old man woke up and rose from his bed +at twelve o'clock, declaring he must go down to the bank and +fetch the pass-book of the Sons and Daughters, which he had +forgotten to bring home. The bookkeeper had balanced it for him +that day, put the cancelled checks in it, and snapped two +elastic bands around it. He put but one band around other +pass-books.</p> + +<p>Aunt Malindy objected to the mission at so late an hour, +denouncing it as foolish and unnecessary, but Uncle Bushrod was +not to be deflected from duty.</p> + +<p>"I done told Sister Adaline Hoskins," he said, "to come by here +for dat book to-morrer mawnin' at sebin o'clock, for to kyar' +it to de meetin' of de bo'd of 'rangements, and dat book gwine +to be here when she come."</p> + +<p>So, Uncle Bushrod put on his old brown suit, got his thick +hickory stick, and meandered through the almost deserted +streets of Weymouthville. He entered the bank, unlocking the +side door, and found the pass-book where he had left it, in the +little back room used for consultations, where he always hung +his coat. Looking about casually, he saw that everything was as +he had left it, and was about to start for home when he was +brought to a standstill by the sudden rattle of a key in the +front door. Some one came quickly in, closed the door softly, +and entered the counting-room through the door in the iron +railing.</p> + +<p>That division of the bank's space was connected with the back +room by a narrow passageway, now in deep darkness.</p> + +<p>Uncle Bushrod, firmly gripping his hickory stick, tiptoed +gently up this passage until he could see the midnight intruder +into the sacred precincts of the Weymouth Bank. One dim gas-jet +burned there, but even in its nebulous light he perceived at +once that the prowler was the bank's president.</p> + +<p>Wondering, fearful, undecided what to do, the old coloured man +stood motionless in the gloomy strip of hallway, and waited +developments.</p> + +<p>The vault, with its big iron door, was opposite him. Inside +that was the safe, holding the papers of value, the gold and +currency of the bank. On the floor of the vault was, perhaps, +eighteen thousand dollars in silver.</p> + +<p>The president took his key from his pocket, opened the vault +and went inside, nearly closing the door behind him. Uncle +Bushrod saw, through the narrow aperture, the flicker of a +candle. In a minute or two—it seemed an hour to the +watcher—Mr. Robert came out, bringing with him a large +hand-satchel, handling it in a careful but hurried manner, as +if fearful that he might be observed. With one hand he closed +and locked the vault door.</p> + +<p>With a reluctant theory forming itself beneath his wool, Uncle +Bushrod waited and watched, shaking in his concealing shadow.</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert set the satchel softly upon a desk, and turned his +coat collar up about his neck and ears. He was dressed in a +rough suit of gray, as if for travelling. He glanced with +frowning intentness at the big office clock above the burning +gas-jet, and then looked lingeringly about the +bank—lingeringly and fondly, Uncle Bushrod thought, as one who +bids farewell to dear and familiar scenes.</p> + +<p>Now he caught up his burden again and moved promptly and softly +out of the bank by the way he had come locking the front door +behind him.</p> + +<p>For a minute or longer Uncle Bushrod was as stone in his +tracks. Had that midnight rifler of safes and vaults been any +other on earth than the man he was, the old retainer would have +rushed upon him and struck to save the Weymouth property. But +now the watcher's soul was tortured by the poignant dread of +something worse than mere robbery. He was seized by an accusing +terror that said the Weymouth name and the Weymouth honour were +about to be lost. Marse Robert robbing the bank! What else +could it mean? The hour of the night, the stealthy visit to the +vault, the satchel brought forth full and with expedition and +silence, the prowler's rough dress, his solicitous reading of +the clock, and noiseless departure—what else could it mean?</p> + +<p>And then to the turmoil of Uncle Bushrod's thoughts came the +corroborating recollection of preceding events—Mr. Robert's +increasing intemperance and consequent many moods of royal high +spirits and stern tempers; the casual talk he had heard in the +bank of the decrease in business and difficulty in collecting +loans. What else could it all mean but that Mr. Robert Weymouth +was an absconder—was about to fly with the bank's remaining +funds, leaving Mr. William, Miss Letty, little Nan, Guy, and +Uncle Bushrod to bear the disgrace?</p> + +<p>During one minute Uncle Bushrod considered these things, and +then he awoke to sudden determination and action.</p> + +<p>"Lawd! Lawd!" he moaned aloud, as he hobbled hastily toward the +side door. "Sech a come-off after all dese here years of big +doin's and fine doin's. Scan'lous sights upon de yearth when de +Weymouth fambly done turn out robbers and 'bezzlers! Time for +Uncle Bushrod to clean out somebody's chicken-coop and eben +matters up. Oh, Lawd! Marse Robert, you ain't gwine do dat. 'N +Miss Letty an' dem chillun so proud and talkin' 'Weymouth, +Weymouth,' all de time! I'm gwine to stop you ef I can. 'Spec +you shoot Mr. Nigger's head off ef he fool wid you, but I'm +gwine stop you ef I can."</p> + +<p>Uncle Bushrod, aided by his hickory stick, impeded by his +rheumatism, hurried down the street toward the railroad +station, where the two lines touching Weymouthville met. As he +had expected and feared, he saw there Mr. Robert, standing in +the shadow of the building, waiting for the train. He held the +satchel in his hand.</p> + +<p>When Uncle Bushrod came within twenty yards of the bank +president, standing like a huge, gray ghost by the station +wall, sudden perturbation seized him. The rashness and audacity +of the thing he had come to do struck him fully. He would have +been happy could he have turned and fled from the possibilities +of the famous Weymouth wrath. But again he saw, in his fancy, +the white reproachful face of Miss Letty, and the distressed +looks of Nan and Guy, should he fail in his duty and they +question him as to his stewardship.</p> + +<p>Braced by the thought, he approached in a straight line, +clearing his throat and pounding with his stick so that he +might be early recognized. Thus he might avoid the likely +danger of too suddenly surprising the sometimes hasty Mr. +Robert.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Bushrod?" called the clamant, clear voice of the +gray ghost.</p> + +<p>"Yes, suh, Marse Robert."</p> + +<p>"What the devil are you doing out at this time of night?"</p> + +<p>For the first time in his life, Uncle Bushrod told Marse Robert +a falsehood. He could not repress it. He would have to +circumlocute a little. His nerve was not equal to a direct +attack.</p> + +<p>"I done been down, suh, to see ol' Aunt M'ria Patterson. She +taken sick in de night, and I kyar'ed her a bottle of M'lindy's +medercine. Yes, suh."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Robert. "You better get home out of the night +air. It's damp. You'll hardly be worth killing to-morrow on +account of your rheumatism. Think it'll be a clear day, +Bushrod?"</p> + +<p>"I 'low it will, suh. De sun sot red las' night."</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert lit a cigar in the shadow, and the smoke looked like +his gray ghost expanding and escaping into the night air. +Somehow, Uncle Bushrod could barely force his reluctant tongue +to the dreadful subject. He stood, awkward, shambling, with his +feet upon the gravel and fumbling with his stick. But then, +afar off—three miles away, at the Jimtown switch—he heard the +faint whistle of the coming train, the one that was to +transport the Weymouth name into the regions of dishonour and +shame. All fear left him. He took off his hat and faced the +chief of the clan he served, the great, royal, kind, lofty, +terrible Weymouth—he bearded him there at the brink of the +awful thing that was about to happen.</p> + +<p>"Marse Robert," he began, his voice quivering a little with the +stress of his feelings, "you 'member de day dey-all rode de +tunnament at Oak Lawn? De day, suh, dat you win in de ridin', +and you crown Miss Lucy de queen?"</p> + +<p>"Tournament?" said Mr. Robert, taking his cigar from his mouth. +"Yes, I remember very well the—but what the deuce are you +talking about tournaments here at midnight for? Go 'long home, +Bushrod. I believe you're sleep-walking."</p> + +<p>"Miss Lucy tetch you on de shoulder," continued the old man, +never heeding, "wid a s'ord, and say: 'I mek you a knight, Suh +Robert—rise up, pure and fearless and widout reproach.' Dat +what Miss Lucy say. Dat's been a long time ago, but me nor you +ain't forgot it. And den dar's another time we ain't forgot—de +time when Miss Lucy lay on her las' bed. She sent for Uncle +Bushrod, and she say: 'Uncle Bushrod, when I die, I want you to +take good care of Mr. Robert. Seem like'—so Miss Lucy say—'he +listen to you mo' dan to anybody else. He apt to be mighty +fractious sometimes, and maybe he cuss you when you try to +'suade him but he need somebody what understand him to be +'round wid him. He am like a little child sometimes'—so Miss +Lucy say, wid her eyes shinin' in her po', thin face—'but he +always been'—dem was her words—'my knight, pure and fearless +and widout reproach.'"</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert began to mask, as was his habit, a tendency to +soft-heartedness with a spurious anger.</p> + +<p>"You—you old windbag!" he growled through a cloud of swirling +cigar smoke. "I believe you are crazy. I told you to go home, +Bushrod. Miss Lucy said that, did she? Well, we haven't kept +the scutcheon very clear. Two years ago last week, wasn't it, +Bushrod, when she died? Confound it! Are you going to stand +there all night gabbing like a coffee-coloured gander?"</p> + +<p>The train whistled again. Now it was at the water tank, a mile +away.</p> + +<p>"Marse Robert," said Uncle Bushrod, laying his hand on the +satchel that the banker held. "For Gawd's sake, don' take dis +wid you. I knows what's in it. I knows where you got it in de +bank. Don' kyar' it wid you. Dey's big trouble in dat valise +for Miss Lucy and Miss Lucy's child's chillun. Hit's bound to +destroy de name of Weymouth and bow down dem dat own it wid +shame and triberlation. Marse Robert, you can kill dis ole +nigger ef you will, but don't take away dis 'er' valise. If I +ever crosses over de Jordan, what I gwine to say to Miss Lucy +when she ax me: 'Uncle Bushrod, wharfo' didn' you take good +care of Mr. Robert?'"</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert Weymouth threw away his cigar and shook free one arm +with that peculiar gesture that always preceded his outbursts +of irascibility. Uncle Bushrod bowed his head to the expected +storm, but he did not flinch. If the house of Weymouth was to +fall, he would fall with it. The banker spoke, and Uncle +Bushrod blinked with surprise. The storm was there, but it was +suppressed to the quietness of a summer breeze.</p> + +<p>"Bushrod," said Mr. Robert, in a lower voice than he usually +employed, "you have overstepped all bounds. You have presumed +upon the leniency with which you have been treated to meddle +unpardonably. So you know what is in this satchel! Your long +and faithful service is some excuse, but—go home, Bushrod—not +another word!"</p> + +<p>But Bushrod grasped the satchel with a firmer hand. The +headlight of the train was now lightening the shadows about the +station. The roar was increasing, and folks were stirring about +at the track side.</p> + +<p>"Marse Robert, gimme dis 'er' valise. I got a right, suh, to +talk to you dis 'er' way. I slaved for you and 'tended to you +from a child up. I went th'ough de war as yo' body-servant tell +we whipped de Yankees and sent 'em back to de No'th. I was at +yo' weddin', and I was n' fur away when yo' Miss Letty was +bawn. And Miss Letty's chillun, dey watches to-day for Uncle +Bushrod when he come home ever' evenin'. I been a Weymouth, all +'cept in colour and entitlements. Both of us is old, Marse +Robert. 'Tain't goin' to be long till we gwine to see Miss Lucy +and has to give an account of our doin's. De ole nigger man +won't be 'spected to say much mo' dan he done all he could by +de fambly dat owned him. But de Weymouths, dey must say dey +been livin' pure and fearless and widout reproach. Gimme dis +valise, Marse Robert—I'm gwine to hab it. I'm gwine to take it +back to the bank and lock it up in de vault. I'm gwine to do +Miss Lucy's biddin'. Turn 'er loose, Marse Robert."</p> + +<p>The train was standing at the station. Some men were pushing +trucks along the side. Two or three sleepy passengers got off +and wandered away into the night. The conductor stepped to the +gravel, swung his lantern and called: "Hello, Frank!" at some +one invisible. The bell clanged, the brakes hissed, the +conductor drawled: "All aboard!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Robert released his hold on the satchel. Uncle Bushrod +hugged it to his breast with both arms, as a lover clasps his +first beloved.</p> + +<p>"Take it back with you, Bushrod," said Mr. Robert, thrusting +his hands into his pockets. "And let the subject drop—now +mind! You've said quite enough. I'm going to take the train. +Tell Mr. William I will be back on Saturday. Good night."</p> + +<p>The banker climbed the steps of the moving train and +disappeared in a coach. Uncle Bushrod stood motionless, still +embracing the precious satchel. His eyes were closed and his +lips were moving in thanks to the Master above for the +salvation of the Weymouth honour. He knew Mr. Robert would +return when he said he would. The Weymouths never lied. Nor +now, thank the Lord! could it be said that they embezzled the +money in banks.</p> + +<p>Then awake to the necessity for further guardianship of +Weymouth trust funds, the old man started for the bank with the +redeemed satchel.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Three hours from Weymouthville, in the gray dawn, Mr. Robert +alighted from the train at a lonely flag-station. Dimly he +could see the figure of a man waiting on the platform, and the +shape of a spring-waggon, team and driver. Half a dozen lengthy +bamboo fishing-poles projected from the waggon's rear.</p> + +<p>"You're here, Bob," said Judge Archinard, Mr. Robert's old +friend and schoolmate. "It's going to be a royal day for +fishing. I thought you said—why, didn't you bring along the +stuff?"</p> + +<p>The president of the Weymouth Bank took off his hat and rumpled +his gray locks.</p> + +<p>"Well, Ben, to tell you the truth, there's an infernally +presumptuous old nigger belonging in my family that broke up +the arrangement. He came down to the depot and vetoed the whole +proceeding. He means all right, and—well, I reckon he <i>is</i> +right. Somehow, he had found out what I had along—though I hid +it in the bank vault and sneaked it out at midnight. I reckon +he has noticed that I've been indulging a little more than a +gentleman should, and he laid for me with some reaching +arguments.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to quit drinking," Mr. Robert concluded. "I've come +to the conclusion that a man can't keep it up and be quite what +he'd like to be—'pure and fearless and without +reproach'—that's the way old Bushrod quoted it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll have to admit," said the judge, thoughtfully, as +they climbed into the waggon, "that the old darkey's argument +can't conscientiously be overruled."</p> + +<p>"Still," said Mr. Robert, with a ghost of a sigh, "there was +two quarts of the finest old silk-velvet Bourbon in that +satchel you ever wet your lips with."</p> + + +<p><a name="3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II</h3> +<h3>THE DISCOUNTERS OF MONEY<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The spectacle of the money-caliphs of the present day going +about Bagdad-on-the-Subway trying to relieve the wants of the +people is enough to make the great Al Raschid turn Haroun in +his grave. If not so, then the assertion should do so, the real +caliph having been a wit and a scholar and therefore a hater of +puns.</p> + +<p>How properly to alleviate the troubles of the poor is one of +the greatest troubles of the rich. But one thing agreed upon by +all professional philanthropists is that you must never hand +over any cash to your subject. The poor are notoriously +temperamental; and when they get money they exhibit a strong +tendency to spend it for stuffed olives and enlarged crayon +portraits instead of giving it to the instalment man.</p> + +<p>And still, old Haroun had some advantages as an eleemosynarian. +He took around with him on his rambles his vizier, Giafar (a +vizier is a composite of a chauffeur, a secretary of state, and +a night-and-day bank), and old Uncle Mesrour, his executioner, +who toted a snickersnee. With this entourage a caliphing tour +could hardly fail to be successful. Have you noticed lately any +newspaper articles headed, "What Shall We Do With Our +Ex-Presidents?" Well, now, suppose that Mr. Carnegie could +engage <i>him</i> and Joe Gans to go about assisting in the +distribution of free libraries? Do you suppose any town would +have had the hardihood to refuse one? That caliphalous +combination would cause two libraries to grow where there had +been only one set of E. P. Roe's works before.</p> + +<p>But, as I said, the money-caliphs are handicapped. They have +the idea that earth has no sorrow that dough cannot heal; and +they rely upon it solely. Al Raschid administered justice, +rewarding the deserving, and punished whomsoever he disliked on +the spot. He was the originator of the short-story contest. +Whenever he succoured any chance pick-up in the bazaars he +always made the succouree tell the sad story of his life. If +the narrative lacked construction, style, and <i>esprit</i> he +commanded his vizier to dole him out a couple of thousand +ten-dollar notes of the First National Bank of the Bosphorus, +or else gave him a soft job as Keeper of the Bird Seed for the +Bulbuls in the Imperial Gardens. If the story was a +cracker-jack, he had Mesrour, the executioner, whack off his +head. The report that Haroun Al Raschid is yet alive and is +editing the magazine that your grandmother used to subscribe +for lacks confirmation.</p> + +<p>And now follows the Story of the Millionaire, the Inefficacious +Increment, and the Babes Drawn from the Wood.</p> + +<p>Young Howard Pilkins, the millionaire, got his money +ornithologically. He was a shrewd judge of storks, and got in +on the ground floor at the residence of his immediate +ancestors, the Pilkins Brewing Company. For his mother was a +partner in the business. Finally old man Pilkins died from a +torpid liver, and then Mrs. Pilkins died from worry on account +of torpid delivery-waggons—and there you have young Howard +Pilkins with 4,000,000; and a good fellow at that. He was an +agreeable, modestly arrogant young man, who implicitly believed +that money could buy anything that the world had to offer. And +Bagdad-on-the-Subway for a long time did everything possible to +encourage his belief.</p> + +<p>But the Rat-trap caught him at last; he heard the spring snap, +and found his heart in a wire cage regarding a piece of cheese +whose other name was Alice von der Ruysling.</p> + +<p>The Von der Ruyslings still live in that little square about +which so much has been said, and in which so little has been +done. To-day you hear of Mr. Tilden's underground passage, and +you hear Mr. Gould's elevated passage, and that about ends the +noise in the world made by Gramercy Square. But once it was +different. The Von der Ruyslings live there yet, and they +received <i>the first key ever made to Gramercy Park</i>.</p> + +<p>You shall have no description of Alice v. d. R. Just call up in +your mind the picture of your own Maggie or Vera or Beatrice, +straighten her nose, soften her voice, tone her down and then +tone her up, make her beautiful and unattainable—and you have +a faint dry-point etching of Alice. The family owned a crumbly +brick house and a coachman named Joseph in a coat of many +colours, and a horse so old that he claimed to belong to the +order of the Perissodactyla, and had toes instead of hoofs. In +the year 1898 the family had to buy a new set of harness for +the Perissodactyl. Before using it they made Joseph smear it +over with a mixture of ashes and soot. It was the Von der +Ruysling family that bought the territory between the Bowery +and East River and Rivington Street and the Statue of Liberty, +in the year 1649, from an Indian chief for a quart of +passementerie and a pair of Turkey-red portières designed +for a Harlem flat. I have always admired that Indian's perspicacity +and good taste. All this is merely to convince you that the Von +der Ruyslings were exactly the kind of poor aristocrats that +turn down their noses at people who have money. Oh, well, I +don't mean that; I mean people who have <i>just</i> money.</p> + +<p>One evening Pilkins went down to the red brick house in +Gramercy Square, and made what he thought was a proposal to +Alice v. d. R. Alice, with her nose turned down, and thinking +of his money, considered it a proposition, and refused it and +him. Pilkins, summoning all his resources as any good general +would have done, made an indiscreet references to the +advantages that his money would provide. That settled it. The +lady turned so cold that Walter Wellman himself would have +waited until spring to make a dash for her in a dog-sled.</p> + +<p>But Pilkins was something of a sport himself. You can't fool +all the millionaires every time the ball drops on the Western +Union Building.</p> + +<p>"If, at any time," he said to A. v. d. R., "you feel that you +would like to reconsider your answer, send me a rose like +that."</p> + +<p>Pilkins audaciously touched a Jacque rose that she wore loosely +in her hair.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said she. "And when I do, you will understand by +it that either you or I have learned something new about the +purchasing power of money. You've been spoiled, my friend. No, +I don't think I could marry you. To-morrow I will send you back +the presents you have given me."</p> + +<p>"Presents!" said Pilkins in surprise. "I never gave you a +present in my life. I would like to see a full-length portrait +of the man that you would take a present from. Why, you never +would let me send you flowers or candy or even art calendars."</p> + +<p>"You've forgotten," said Alice v. d. R., with a little smile. +"It was a long time ago when our families were neighbours. You +were seven, and I was trundling my doll on the sidewalk. You +have me a little gray, hairy kitten, with shoe-buttony eyes. +Its head came off and it was full of candy. You paid five cents +for it—you told me so. I haven't the candy to return to you—I +hadn't developed a conscience at three, so I ate it. But I have +the kitten yet, and I will wrap it up neatly to-night and send +it to you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Beneath the lightness of Alice v. d. R.'s talk the +steadfastness of her rejection showed firm and plain. So there +was nothing left for him but to leave the crumbly red brick +house, and be off with his abhorred millions.</p> + +<p>On his way back, Pilkins walked through Madison Square. The +hour hand of the clock hung about eight; the air was stingingly +cool, but not at the freezing point. The dim little square +seemed like a great, cold, unroofed room, with its four walls +of houses, spangled with thousands of insufficient lights. Only +a few loiterers were huddled here and there on the benches.</p> + +<p>But suddenly Pilkins came upon a youth sitting brave and, as if +conflicting with summer sultriness, coatless, his white +shirt-sleeves conspicuous in the light from the globe of an +electric. Close to his side was a girl, smiling, dreamy, happy. +Around her shoulders was, palpably, the missing coat of the +cold-defying youth. It appeared to be a modern panorama of the +Babes in the Wood, revised and brought up to date, with the +exception that the robins hadn't turned up yet with the +protecting leaves.</p> + +<p>With delight the money-caliphs view a situation that they think +is relievable while you wait.</p> + +<p>Pilkins sat on the bench, one seat removed from the youth. He +glanced cautiously and saw (as men do see; and women—oh! never +can) that they were of the same order.</p> + +<p>Pilkins leaned over after a short time and spoke to the youth, +who answered smilingly, and courteously. From general topics +the conversation concentrated to the bed-rock of grim +personalities. But Pilkins did it as delicately and heartily as +any caliph could have done. And when it came to the point, the +youth turned to him, soft-voiced and with his undiminished +smile.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to seem unappreciative, old man," he said, with a +youth's somewhat too-early spontaneity of address, "but, you +see, I can't accept anything from a stranger. I know you're all +right, and I'm tremendously obliged, but I couldn't think of +borrowing from anybody. You see, I'm Marcus Clayton—the +Claytons of Roanoke County, Virginia, you know. The young lady +is Miss Eva Bedford—I reckon you've heard of the Bedfords. +She's seventeen and one of the Bedfords of Bedford County. +We've eloped from home to get married, and we wanted to see New +York. We got in this afternoon. Somebody got my pocketbook on +the ferry-boat, and I had only three cents in change outside of +it. I'll get some work somewhere to-morrow, and we'll get +married."</p> + +<p>"But, I say, old man," said Pilkins, in confidential low tones, +"you can't keep the lady out here in the cold all night. Now, +as for hotels—"</p> + +<p>"I told you," said the youth, with a broader smile, "that I +didn't have but three cents. Besides, if I had a thousand, we'd +have to wait here until morning. You can understand that, of +course. I'm much obliged, but I can't take any of your money. +Miss Bedford and I have lived an outdoor life, and we don't +mind a little cold. I'll get work of some kind to-morrow. We've +got a paper bag of cakes and chocolates, and we'll get along +all right."</p> + +<p>"Listen," said the millionaire, impressively. "My name is +Pilkins, and I'm worth several million dollars. I happen to +have in my pockets about $800 or $900 in cash. Don't you think +you are drawing it rather fine when you decline to accept as +much of it as will make you and the young lady comfortable at +least for the night?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say, sir, that I do think so," said Clayton of Roanoke +County. "I've been raised to look at such things differently. +But I'm mightily obliged to you, just the same."</p> + +<p>"Then you force me to say good night," said the millionaire.</p> + +<p>Twice that day had his money been scorned by simple ones to +whom his dollars had appeared as but tin tobacco-tags. He was +no worshipper of the actual minted coin or stamped paper, but +he had always believed in its almost unlimited power to +purchase.</p> + +<p>Pilkins walked away rapidly, and then turned abruptly and +returned to the bench where the young couple sat. He took off +his hat and began to speak. The girl looked at him with the +same sprightly, glowing interest that she had been giving to +the lights and statuary and sky-reaching buildings that made +the old square seem so far away from Bedford County.</p> + +<p>"Mr.—er—Roanoke," said Pilkins, "I admire your—your +indepen—your idiocy so much that I'm going to appeal to your +chivalry. I believe that's what you Southerners call it when +you keep a lady sitting outdoors on a bench on a cold night +just to keep your old, out-of-date pride going. Now, I've a +friend—a lady—whom I have known all my life—who lives a few +blocks from here—with her parents and sisters and aunts, and +all that kind of endorsement, of course. I am sure this lady +would be happy and pleased to put up—that is, to have +Miss—er—Bedford give her the pleasure of having her as a +guest for the night. Don't you think, Mr. Roanoke, +of—er—Virginia, that you could unbend your prejudices that +far?"</p> + +<p>Clayton of Roanoke rose and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Old man," he said, "Miss Bedford will be much pleased to +accept the hospitality of the lady you refer to."</p> + +<p>He formally introduced Mr. Pilkins to Miss Bedford. The girl +looked at him sweetly and comfortably. "It's a lovely evening, +Mr. Pilkins—don't you think so?" she said slowly.</p> + +<p>Pilkins conducted them to the crumbly red brick house of the +Von der Ruyslings. His card brought Alice downstairs wondering. +The runaways were sent into the drawing-room, while Pilkins +told Alice all about it in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I will take her in," said Alice. "Haven't those +Southern girls a thoroughbred air? Of course, she will stay +here. You will look after Mr. Clayton, of course."</p> + +<p>"Will I?" said Pilkins, delightedly. "Oh yes, I'll look after +him! As a citizen of New York, and therefore a part owner of +its public parks, I'm going to extend to him the hospitality of +Madison Square to-night. He's going to sit there on a bench +till morning. There's no use arguing with him. Isn't he +wonderful? I'm glad you'll look after the little lady, Alice. I +tell you those Babes in the Wood made my—that is, er—made +Wall Street and the Bank of England look like penny arcades."</p> + +<p>Miss Von der Ruysling whisked Miss Bedford of Bedford County up +to restful regions upstairs. When she came down, she put an +oblong small pasteboard box into Pilkins' hands.</p> + +<p>"Your present," she said, "that I am returning to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I remember," said Pilkins, with a sigh, "the woolly +kitten."</p> + +<p>He left Clayton on a park bench, and shook hands with him +heartily.</p> + +<p>"After I get work," said the youth, "I'll look you up. Your +address is on your card, isn't it? Thanks. Well, good night. +I'm awfully obliged to you for your kindness. No, thanks, I +don't smoke. Good night."</p> + +<p>In his room, Pilkins opened the box and took out the staring, +funny kitten, long ago ravaged of his candy and minus one +shoe-button eye. Pilkins looked at it sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"After all," he said, "I don't believe that just money alone +will—"</p> + +<p>And then he gave a shout and dug into the bottom of the box for +something else that had been the kitten's resting-place—a +crushed but red, red, fragrant, glorious, promising Jacqueminot +rose.</p> + + +<p><a name="4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV</h3> +<h3>THE ENCHANTED PROFILE<br /> </h3> + + +<p>There are few Caliphesses. Women are Scheherazades by birth, +predilection, instinct, and arrangement of the vocal cords. The +thousand and one stories are being told every day by hundreds +of thousands of viziers' daughters to their respective sultans. +But the bowstring will get some of 'em yet if they don't watch +out.</p> + +<p>I heard a story, though, of one lady Caliph. It isn't precisely +an Arabian Nights story, because it brings in Cinderella, who +flourished her dishrag in another epoch and country. So, if you +don't mind the mixed dates (which seem to give it an Eastern +flavour, after all), we'll get along.</p> + +<p>In New York there is an old, old hotel. You have seen woodcuts +of it in the magazines. It was built—let's see—at a time when +there was nothing above Fourteenth Street except the old Indian +trail to Boston and Hammerstein's office. Soon the old hostelry +will be torn down. And, as the stout walls are riven apart and +the bricks go roaring down the chutes, crowds of citizens will +gather at the nearest corners and weep over the destruction of +a dear old landmark. Civic pride is strongest in New Bagdad; +and the wettest weeper and the loudest howler against the +iconoclasts will be the man (originally from Terre Haute) whose +fond memories of the old hotel are limited to his having been +kicked out from its free-lunch counter in 1873.</p> + +<p>At this hotel always stopped Mrs. Maggie Brown. Mrs. Brown was +a bony woman of sixty, dressed in the rustiest black, and +carrying a handbag made, apparently, from the hide of the +original animal that Adam decided to call an alligator. She +always occupied a small parlour and bedroom at the top of the +hotel at a rental of two dollars per day. And always, while she +was there, each day came hurrying to see her many men, +sharp-faced, anxious-looking, with only seconds to spare. For +Maggie Brown was said to be the third richest woman in the +world; and these solicitous gentlemen were only the city's +wealthiest brokers and business men seeking trifling loans of +half a dozen millions or so from the dingy old lady with the +prehistoric handbag.</p> + +<p>The stenographer and typewriter of the Acropolis Hotel (there! +I've let the name of it out!) was Miss Ida Bates. She was a +hold-over from the Greek classics. There wasn't a flaw in her +looks. Some old-timer paying his regards to a lady said: "To +have loved her was a liberal education." Well, even to have +looked over the black hair and neat white shirtwaist of Miss +Bates was equal to a full course in any correspondence school +in the country. She sometimes did a little typewriting for me, +and, as she refused to take the money in advance, she came to +look upon me as something of a friend and protégé. +She had unfailing kindliness and a good nature; and not even a +white-lead drummer or a fur importer had ever dared to cross +the dead line of good behaviour in her presence. The entire +force of the Acropolis, from the owner, who lived in Vienna, +down to the head porter, who had been bedridden for sixteen +years, would have sprung to her defence in a moment.</p> + +<p>One day I walked past Miss Bates's little sanctum Remingtorium, +and saw in her place a black-haired unit—unmistakably a +person—pounding with each of her forefingers upon the keys. +Musing on the mutability of temporal affairs, I passed on. The +next day I went on a two weeks' vacation. Returning, I strolled +through the lobby of the Acropolis, and saw, with a little warm +glow of auld lang syne, Miss Bates, as Grecian and kind and +flawless as ever, just putting the cover on her machine. The +hour for closing had come; but she asked me in to sit for a few +minutes in the dictation chair. Miss Bates explained her +absence from and return to the Acropolis Hotel in words +identical with or similar to these following:</p> + +<p>"Well, Man, how are the stories coming?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty regularly," said I. "About equal to their going."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said she. "Good typewriting is the main thing in a +story. You've missed me, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"No one," said I, "whom I have ever known knows as well as you +do how to space properly belt buckles, semi-colons, hotel +guests, and hairpins. But you've been away, too. I saw a +package of peppermint-pepsin in your place the other day."</p> + +<p>"I was going to tell you all about it," said Miss Bates, "if +you hadn't interrupted me.</p> + +<p>"Of course, you know about Maggie Brown, who stops here. Well, +she's worth $40,000,000. She lives in Jersey in a ten-dollar +flat. She's always got more cash on hand than half a dozen +business candidates for vice-president. I don't know whether +she carries it in her stocking or not, but I know she's mighty +popular down in the part of town where they worship the golden +calf.</p> + +<p>"Well, about two weeks ago, Mrs. Brown stops at the door and +rubbers at me for ten minutes. I'm sitting with my side to her, +striking off some manifold copies of a copper-mine proposition +for a nice old man from Tonopah. But I always see everything +all around me. When I'm hard at work I can see things through +my side-combs; and I can leave one button unbuttoned in the +back of my shirtwaist and see who's behind me. I didn't look +around, because I make from eighteen to twenty dollars a week, +and I didn't have to.</p> + +<p>"That evening at knocking-off time she sends for me to come up +to her apartment. I expected to have to typewrite about two +thousand words of notes-of-hand, liens, and contracts, with a +ten-cent tip in sight; but I went. Well, Man, I was certainly +surprised. Old Maggie Brown had turned human.</p> + +<p>"'Child,' says she, 'you're the most beautiful creature I ever +saw in my life. I want you to quit your work and come and live +with me. I've no kith or kin,' says she, 'except a husband and +a son or two, and I hold no communication with any of 'em. +They're extravagant burdens on a hard-working woman. I want you +to be a daughter to me. They say I'm stingy and mean, and the +papers print lies about my doing my own cooking and washing. +It's a lie,' she goes on. 'I put my washing out, except the +handkerchiefs and stockings and petticoats and collars, and +light stuff like that. I've got forty million dollars in cash +and stocks and bonds that are as negotiable as Standard Oil, +preferred, at a church fair. I'm a lonely old woman and I need +companionship. You're the most beautiful human being I ever +saw,' says she. 'Will you come and live with me? I'll show 'em +whether I can spend money or not,' she says.</p> + +<p>"Well, Man, what would you have done? Of course, I fell to it. +And, to tell you the truth, I began to like old Maggie. It +wasn't all on account of the forty millions and what she could +do for me. I was kind of lonesome in the world too. Everybody's +got to have somebody they can explain to about the pain in +their left shoulder and how fast patent-leather shoes wear out +when they begin to crack. And you can't talk about such things +to men you meet in hotels—they're looking for just such +openings.</p> + +<p>"So I gave up my job in the hotel and went with Mrs. Brown. I +certainly seemed to have a mash on her. She'd look at me for +half an hour at a time when I was sitting, reading, or looking +at the magazines.</p> + +<p>"One time I says to her: 'Do I remind you of some deceased +relative or friend of your childhood, Mrs. Brown? I've noticed +you give me a pretty good optical inspection from time to +time.'</p> + +<p>"'You have a face,' she says, 'exactly like a dear friend of +mine—the best friend I ever had. But I like you for yourself, +child, too,' she says.</p> + +<p>"And say, Man, what do you suppose she did? Loosened up like a +Marcel wave in the surf at Coney. She took me to a swell +dressmaker and gave her <i>a la carte</i> to fit me out—money no +object. They were rush orders, and madame locked the front door +and put the whole force to work.</p> + +<p>"Then we moved to—where do you think?—no; guess again—that's +right—the Hotel Bonton. We had a six-room apartment; and it +cost $100 a day. I saw the bill. I began to love that old lady.</p> + +<p>"And then, Man, when my dresses began to come in—oh, I won't +tell you about 'em! you couldn't understand. And I began to +call her Aunt Maggie. You've read about Cinderella, of course. +Well, what Cinderella said when the prince fitted that 3½ A on +her foot was a hard-luck story compared to the things I told +myself.</p> + +<p>"Then Aunt Maggie says she is going to give me a coming-out +banquet in the Bonton that'll make moving Vans of all the old +Dutch families on Fifth Avenue.</p> + +<p>"'I've been out before, Aunt Maggie,' says I. 'But I'll come +out again. But you know,' says I, 'that this is one of the +swellest hotels in the city. And you know—pardon me—that it's +hard to get a bunch of notables together unless you've trained +for it.'</p> + +<p>"'Don't fret about that, child,' says Aunt Maggie. 'I don't +send out invitations—I issue orders. I'll have fifty guests +here that couldn't be brought together again at any reception +unless it were given by King Edward or William Travers Jerome. +They are men, of course, and all of 'em either owe me money or +intend to. Some of their wives won't come, but a good many +will.'</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish you could have been at that banquet. The dinner +service was all gold and cut glass. There were about forty men +and eight ladies present besides Aunt Maggie and I. You'd never +have known the third richest woman in the world. She had on a +new black silk dress with so much passementerie on it that it +sounded exactly like a hailstorm I heard once when I was +staying all night with a girl that lived in a top-floor studio.</p> + +<p>"And my dress!—say, Man, I can't waste the words on you. It +was all hand-made lace—where there was any of it at all—and +it cost $300. I saw the bill. The men were all bald-headed or +white-whiskered, and they kept up a running fire of light +repartee about 3-per cents. and Bryan and the cotton crop.</p> + +<p>"On the left of me was something that talked like a banker, and +on my right was a young fellow who said he was a newspaper +artist. He was the only—well, I was going to tell you.</p> + +<p>"After the dinner was over Mrs. Brown and I went up to the +apartment. We had to squeeze our way through a mob of reporters +all the way through the halls. That's one of the things money +does for you. Say, do you happen to know a newspaper artist +named Lathrop—a tall man with nice eyes and an easy way of +talking? No, I don't remember what paper he works on. Well, all +right.</p> + +<p>"When we got upstairs Mrs. Brown telephones for the bill right +away. It came, and it was $600. I saw the bill. Aunt Maggie +fainted. I got her on a lounge and opened the bead-work.</p> + +<p>"'Child,' says she, when she got back to the world, 'what was +it? A raise of rent or an income-tax?'</p> + +<p>"'Just a little dinner,' says I. 'Nothing to worry +about—hardly a drop in the bucket-shop. Sit up and take +notice—a dispossess notice, if there's no other kind.'</p> + +<p>"But say, Man, do you know what Aunt Maggie did? She got cold +feet! She hustled me out of that Hotel Bonton at nine the next +morning. We went to a rooming-house on the lower West Side. She +rented one room that had water on the floor below and light on +the floor above. After we got moved all you could see in the +room was about $1,500 worth of new swell dresses and a +one-burner gas-stove.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Maggie had had a sudden attack of the hedges. I guess +everybody has got to go on a spree once in their life. A man +spends his on highballs, and a woman gets woozy on clothes. But +with forty million dollars—say, I'd like to have a picture +of—but, speaking of pictures, did you ever run across a +newspaper artist named Lathrop—a tall—oh, I asked you that +before, didn't I? He was mighty nice to me at the dinner. His +voice just suited me. I guess he must have thought I was to +inherit some of Aunt Maggie's money.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Man, three days of that light-housekeeping was +plenty for me. Aunt Maggie was affectionate as ever. She'd +hardly let me get out of her sight. But let me tell you. She +was a hedger from Hedgersville, Hedger County. Seventy-five +cents a day was the limit she set. We cooked our own meals in +the room. There I was, with a thousand dollars' worth of the +latest things in clothes, doing stunts over a one-burner +gas-stove.</p> + +<p>"As I say, on the third day I flew the coop. I couldn't stand +for throwing together a fifteen-cent kidney stew while wearing, +at the same time, a $150 house-dress, with Valenciennes lace +insertion. So I goes into the closet and puts on the cheapest +dress Mrs. Brown had bought for me—it's the one I've got on +now—not so bad for $75, is it? I'd left all my own clothes in +my sister's flat in Brooklyn.</p> + +<p>"'Mrs. Brown, formerly "Aunt Maggie,"' says I to her, 'I'm +going to extend my feet alternately, one after the other, in +such a manner and direction that this tenement will recede from +me in the quickest possible time. I am no worshipper of money,' +says I, 'but there are some things I can't stand. I can stand +the fabulous monster that I've read about that blows hot birds +and cold bottles with the same breath. But I can't stand a +quitter,' says I. 'They say you've got forty million +dollars—well, you'll never have any less. And I was beginning +to like you, too,' says I.</p> + +<p>"Well, the late Aunt Maggie kicks till the tears flow. She +offers to move into a swell room with a two-burner stove and +running water.</p> + +<p>"'I've spent an awful lot of money, child,' says she. 'We'll +have to economize for a while. You're the most beautiful +creature I ever laid eyes on,' she says, 'and I don't want you +to leave me.'</p> + +<p>"Well, you see me, don't you? I walked straight to the +Acropolis and asked for my job back, and I got it. How did you +say your writings were getting along? I know you've lost out +some by not having me to type 'em. Do you ever have 'em +illustrated? And, by the way, did you ever happen to know a +newspaper artist—oh, shut up! I know I asked you before. I +wonder what paper he works on? It's funny, but I couldn't help +thinking that he wasn't thinking about the money he might have +been thinking I was thinking I'd get from old Maggie Brown. If +I only knew some of the newspaper editors I'd—"</p> + +<p>The sound of an easy footstep came from the doorway. Ida Bates +saw who it was with her back-hair comb. I saw her turn pink, +perfect statue that she was—a miracle that I share with +Pygmalion only.</p> + +<p>"Am I excusable?" she said to me—adorable petitioner that she +became. "It's—it's Mr. Lathrop. I wonder if it really wasn't +the money—I wonder, if after all, he—"</p> + +<p>Of course, I was invited to the wedding. After the ceremony I +dragged Lathrop aside.</p> + +<p>"You are an artist," said I, "and haven't figured out why +Maggie Brown conceived such a strong liking for Miss +Bates—that was? Let me show you."</p> + +<p>The bride wore a simple white dress as beautifully draped as +the costumes of the ancient Greeks. I took some leaves from one +of the decorative wreaths in the little parlour, and made a +chaplet of them, and placed them on née Bates' shining +chestnut hair, and made her turn her profile to her husband.</p> + +<p>"By jingo!" said he. "Isn't Ida's a dead ringer for the lady's +head on the silver dollar?"</p> + + +<p><a name="5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>V</h3> +<h3>"NEXT TO READING MATTER"<br /> </h3> + + +<p>He compelled my interest as he stepped from the ferry at +Desbrosses Street. He had the air of being familiar with +hemispheres and worlds, and of entering New York as the lord of +a demesne who revisited it in after years of absence. But I +thought that, with all his air, he had never before set foot on +the slippery cobblestones of the City of Too Many Caliphs.</p> + +<p>He wore loose clothes of a strange bluish drab colour, and a +conservative, round Panama hat without the cock-a-loop +indentations and cants with which Northern fanciers disfigure +the tropic head-gear. Moreover, he was the homeliest man I have +ever seen. His ugliness was less repellent than +startling—arising from a sort of Lincolnian ruggedness and +irregularity of feature that spellbound you with wonder and +dismay. So may have looked afrites or the shapes metamorphosed +from the vapour of the fisherman's vase. As he afterward told +me, his name was Judson Tate; and he may as well be called so +at once. He wore his green silk tie through a topaz ring; and +he carried a cane made of the vertebræ of a shark.</p> + +<p>Judson Tate accosted me with some large and casual inquiries +about the city's streets and hotels, in the manner of one who +had but for the moment forgotten the trifling details. I could +think of no reason for disparaging my own quiet hotel in the +downtown district; so the mid-morning of the night found us +already victualed and drinked (at my expense), and ready to be +chaired and tobaccoed in a quiet corner of the lobby.</p> + +<p>There was something on Judson Tate's mind, and, such as it was, +he tried to convey it to me. Already he had accepted me as his +friend; and when I looked at his great, snuff-brown +first-mate's hand, with which he brought emphasis to his +periods, within six inches of my nose, I wondered if, by any +chance, he was as sudden in conceiving enmity against +strangers.</p> + +<p>When this man began to talk I perceived in him a certain power. +His voice was a persuasive instrument, upon which he played +with a somewhat specious but effective art. He did not try to +make you forget his ugliness; he flaunted it in your face and +made it part of the charm of his speech. Shutting your eyes, +you would have trailed after this rat-catcher's pipes at least +to the walls of Hamelin. Beyond that you would have had to be +more childish to follow. But let him play his own tune to the +words set down, so that if all is too dull, the art of music +may bear the blame.</p> + +<p>"Women," said Judson Tate, "are mysterious creatures."</p> + +<p>My spirits sank. I was not there to listen to such a world-old +hypothesis—to such a time-worn, long-ago-refuted, bald, +feeble, illogical, vicious, patent sophistry—to an ancient, +baseless, wearisome, ragged, unfounded, insidious, falsehood +originated by women themselves, and by them insinuated, +foisted, thrust, spread, and ingeniously promulgated into the +ears of mankind by underhanded, secret and deceptive methods, +for the purpose of augmenting, furthering, and reinforcing +their own charms and designs.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know!" said I, vernacularly.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever heard of Oratama?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Possibly," I answered. "I seem to recall a toe dancer—or a +suburban addition—or was it a perfume?—of some such name."</p> + +<p>"It is a town," said Judson Tate, "on the coast of a foreign +country of which you know nothing and could understand less. It +is a country governed by a dictator and controlled by +revolutions and insubordination. It was there that a great +life-drama was played, with Judson Tate, the homeliest man in +America, and Fergus McMahan, the handsomest adventurer in +history or fiction, and Señorita Anabela Zamora, the +beautiful daughter of the alcalde of Oratama, as chief actors. +And, another thing—nowhere else on the globe except in the +department of Trienta y tres in Uruguay does the <i>chuchula</i> +plant grow. The products of the country I speak of are valuable +woods, dyestuffs, gold, rubber, ivory, and cocoa."</p> + +<p>"I was not aware," said I, "that South America produced any +ivory."</p> + +<p>"There you are twice mistaken," said Judson Tate, distributing +the words over at least an octave of his wonderful voice. "I +did not say that the country I spoke of was in South America—I +must be careful, my dear man; I have been in politics there, +you know. But, even so—I have played chess against its +president with a set carved from the nasal bones of the +tapir—one of our native specimens of the order of +<i>perissodactyle ungulates</i> inhabiting the Cordilleras—which +was as pretty ivory as you would care to see.</p> + +<p>"But is was of romance and adventure and the ways of women that +was I going to tell you, and not of zoölogical animals.</p> + +<p>"For fifteen years I was the ruling power behind old Sancho +Benavides, the Royal High Thumbscrew of the republic. You've +seen his picture in the papers—a mushy black man with whiskers +like the notes on a Swiss music-box cylinder, and a scroll in +his right hand like the ones they write births on in the family +Bible. Well, that chocolate potentate used to be the biggest +item of interest anywhere between the colour line and the +parallels of latitude. It was three throws, horses, whether he +was to wind up in the Hall of Fame or the Bureau of +Combustibles. He'd have been sure called the Roosevelt of the +Southern Continent if it hadn't been that Grover Cleveland was +President at the time. He'd hold office a couple of terms, then +he'd sit out for a hand—always after appointing his own +successor for the interims.</p> + +<p>"But it was not Benavides, the Liberator, who was making all +this fame for himself. Not him. It was Judson Tate. Benavides +was only the chip over the bug. I gave him the tip when to +declare war and increase import duties and wear his state +trousers. But that wasn't what I wanted to tell you. How did I +get to be It? I'll tell you. Because I'm the most gifted talker +that ever made vocal sounds since Adam first opened his eyes, +pushed aside the smelling-salts, and asked: 'Where am I?'</p> + +<p>"As you observe, I am about the ugliest man you ever saw +outside the gallery of photographs of the New England early +Christian Scientists. So, at an early age, I perceived that +what I lacked in looks I must make up in eloquence. That I've +done. I get what I go after. As the back-stop and still small +voice of old Benavides I made all the great historical +powers-behind-the-throne, such as Talleyrand, Mrs. de +Pompadour, and Loeb, look as small as the minority report of a +Duma. I could talk nations into or out of debt, harangue armies +to sleep on the battlefield, reduce insurrections, +inflammations, taxes, appropriations or surpluses with a few +words, and call up the dogs of war or the dove of peace with +the same bird-like whistle. Beauty and epaulettes and curly +moustaches and Grecian profiles in other men were never in my +way. When people first look at me they shudder. Unless they are +in the last stages of <i>angina pectoris</i> they are mine in ten +minutes after I begin to talk. Women and men—I win 'em as they +come. Now, you wouldn't think women would fancy a man with a +face like mine, would you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Mr. Tate," said I. "History is bright and fiction +dull with homely men who have charmed women. There seems—"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," interrupted Judson Tate, "but you don't quite +understand. You have yet to hear my story.</p> + +<p>"Fergus McMahan was a friend of mine in the capital. For a +handsome man I'll admit he was the duty-free merchandise. He +had blond curls and laughing blue eyes and was featured +regular. They said he was a ringer for the statue they call +Herr Mees, the god of speech and eloquence resting in some +museum at Rome. Some German anarchist, I suppose. They are +always resting and talking.</p> + +<p>"But Fergus was no talker. He was brought up with the idea that +to be beautiful was to make good. His conversation was about as +edifying as listening to a leak dropping in a tin dish-pan at +the head of the bed when you want to go to sleep. But he and me +got to be friends—maybe because we was so opposite, don't you +think? Looking at the Hallowe'en mask that I call my face when +I'm shaving seemed to give Fergus pleasure; and I'm sure that +whenever I heard the feeble output of throat noises that he +called conversation I felt contented to be a gargoyle with a +silver tongue.</p> + +<p>"One time I found it necessary to go down to this coast town of +Oratama to straighten out a lot of political unrest and chop +off a few heads in the customs and military departments. +Fergus, who owned the ice and sulphur-match concessions of the +republic, says he'll keep me company.</p> + +<p>"So, in a jangle of mule-train bells, we gallops into Oratama, +and the town belonged to us as much as Long Island Sound +doesn't belong to Japan when T. R. is at Oyster Bay. I say us; +but I mean me. Everybody for four nations, two oceans, one bay +and isthmus, and five archipelagoes around had heard of Judson +Tate. Gentleman adventurer, they called me. I had been written +up in five columns of the yellow journals, 40,000 words (with +marginal decorations) in a monthly magazine, and a stickful on +the twelfth page of the New York <i>Times</i>. If the beauty of +Fergus McMahan gained any part of our reception in Oratama, +I'll eat the price-tag in my Panama. It was me that they hung +out paper flowers and palm branches for. I am not a jealous +man; I am stating facts. The people were Nebuchadnezzars; they +bit the grass before me; there was no dust in the town for them +to bite. They bowed down to Judson Tate. They knew that I was +the power behind Sancho Benavides. A word from me was more to +them than a whole deckle-edged library from East Aurora in +sectional bookcases was from anybody else. And yet there are +people who spend hours fixing their faces—rubbing in cold +cream and massaging the muscles (always toward the eyes) and +taking in the slack with tincture of benzoin and electrolyzing +moles—to what end? Looking handsome. Oh, what a mistake! It's +the larynx that the beauty doctors ought to work on. It's words +more than warts, talk more than talcum, palaver more than +powder, blarney more than bloom that counts—the phonograph +instead of the photograph. But I was going to tell you.</p> + +<p>"The local Astors put me and Fergus up at the Centipede Club, a +frame building built on posts sunk in the surf. The tide's only +nine inches. The Little Big High Low Jack-in-the-game of the +town came around and kowtowed. Oh, it wasn't to Herr Mees. They +had heard about Judson Tate.</p> + +<p>"One afternoon me and Fergus McMahan was sitting on the seaward +gallery of the Centipede, drinking iced rum and talking.</p> + +<p>"'Judson,' says Fergus, 'there's an angel in Oratama.'</p> + +<p>"'So long,' says I, 'as it ain't Gabriel, why talk as if you +had heard a trump blow?'</p> + +<p>"'It's the Señorita Anabela Zamora,' says Fergus. +'She's—she's—she's as lovely as—as hell!'</p> + +<p>"'Bravo!' says I, laughing heartily. 'You have a true lover's +eloquence to paint the beauties of your inamorata. You remind +me,' says I, 'of Faust's wooing of Marguerite—that is, if he +wooed her after he went down the trap-door of the stage.'</p> + +<p>"'Judson,' says Fergus, 'you know you are as beautiless as a +rhinoceros. You can't have any interest in women. I'm awfully +gone in Miss Anabela. And that's why I'm telling you.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, <i>seguramente</i>,' says I. 'I know I have a front elevation +like an Aztec god that guards a buried treasure that never did +exist in Jefferson County, Yucatan. But there are +compensations. For instance, I am It in this country as far as +the eye can reach, and then a few perches and poles. And +again,' says I, 'when I engage people in a set-to of oral, +vocal, and laryngeal utterances, I do not usually confine my +side of the argument to what may be likened to a cheap +phonographic reproduction of the ravings of a jellyfish.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, I know,' says Fergus, amiable, 'that I'm not handy at +small talk. Or large, either. That's why I'm telling you. I +want you to help me.'</p> + +<p>"'How can I do it?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'I have subsidized,' says Fergus, 'the services of +Señorita Anabela's duenna, whose name is Francesca. +You have a reputation in this country, Judson,' says +Fergus, 'of being a great man and a hero.'</p> + +<p>"'I have,' says I. 'And I deserve it.'</p> + +<p>"'And I,' says Fergus, 'am the best-looking man between the +arctic circle and antarctic ice pack.'</p> + +<p>"'With limitations,' says I, 'as to physiognomy and geography, +I freely concede you to be.'</p> + +<p>"'Between the two of us,' says Fergus, 'we ought to land the +Señorita Anabela Zamora. The lady, as you know, is of an +old Spanish family, and further than looking at her driving in the +family <i>carruaje</i> of afternoons around the plaza, or catching a +glimpse of her through a barred window of evenings, she is as +unapproachable as a star.'</p> + +<p>"'Land her for which one of us?' says I.</p> + +<p>"'For me, of course,' says Fergus. 'You've never seen her. Now, +I've had Francesca point me out to her as being you on several +occasions. When she sees me on the plaza, she thinks she's +looking at Don Judson Tate, the greatest hero, statesman, and +romantic figure in the country. With your reputation and my +looks combined in one man, how can she resist him? She's heard +all about your thrilling history, of course. And she's seen me. +Can any woman want more?' asks Fergus McMahan.</p> + +<p>"'Can she do with less?' I ask. 'How can we separate our mutual +attractions, and how shall we apportion the proceeds?'</p> + +<p>"Then Fergus tells me his scheme.</p> + +<p>"The house of the alcalde, Don Luis Zamora, he says, has a +<i>patio</i>, of course—a kind of inner courtyard opening from the +street. In an angle of it is his daughter's window—as dark a +place as you could find. And what do you think he wants me to +do? Why, knowing my freedom, charm, and skilfulness of tongue, +he proposes that I go into the <i>patio</i> at midnight, when the +hobgoblin face of me cannot be seen, and make love to her for +him—for the pretty man that she has seen on the plaza, +thinking him to be Don Judson Tate.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I do it for him—for my friend, Fergus McMahan? +For him to ask me was a compliment—an acknowledgment of his +own shortcomings.</p> + +<p>"'You little, lily white, fine-haired, highly polished piece of +dumb sculpture,' says I, 'I'll help you. Make your arrangements +and get me in the dark outside her window and my stream of +conversation opened up with the moonlight tremolo stop turned +on, and she's yours.'</p> + +<p>"'Keep your face hid, Jud,' says Fergus. 'For heaven's sake, +keep your face hid. I'm a friend of yours in all kinds of +sentiment, but this is a business deal. If I could talk I +wouldn't ask you. But seeing me and listening to you I don't +see why she can't be landed.'</p> + +<p>"'By you?' says I.</p> + +<p>"'By me,' says Fergus.</p> + +<p>"Well, Fergus and the duenna, Francesca, attended to the +details. And one night they fetched me a long black cloak with +a high collar, and led me to the house at midnight. I stood by +the window in the <i>patio</i> until I heard a voice as soft and +sweet as an angel's whisper on the other side of the bars. I +could see only a faint, white clad shape inside; and, true to +Fergus, I pulled the collar of my cloak high up, for it was +July in the wet seasons, and the nights were chilly. And, +smothering a laugh as I thought of the tongue-tied Fergus, I +began to talk.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I talked an hour at the Señorita Anabela. +I say 'at' because it was not 'with.' Now and then she would say: +'Oh, Señor,' or 'Now, ain't you foolin'?' or 'I know you +don't mean that,' and such things as women will when they are being +rightly courted. Both of us knew English and Spanish; so in two +languages I tried to win the heart of the lady for my friend +Fergus. But for the bars to the window I could have done it in +one. At the end of the hour she dismissed me and gave me a big, +red rose. I handed it over to Fergus when I got home.</p> + +<p>"For three weeks every third or fourth night I impersonated my +friend in the <i>patio</i> at the window of Señorita Anabela. +At last she admitted that her heart was mine, and spoke of having +seen me every afternoon when she drove in the plaza. It was +Fergus she had seen, of course. But it was my talk that won +her. Suppose Fergus had gone there, and tried to make a hit in +the dark with his beauty all invisible, and not a word to say +for himself!</p> + +<p>"On the last night she promised to be mine—that is, Fergus's. +And she put her hand between the bars for me to kiss. I +bestowed the kiss and took the news to Fergus.</p> + +<p>"'You might have left that for me to do,' says he.</p> + +<p>"'That'll be your job hereafter,' says I. 'Keep on doing that +and don't try to talk. Maybe after she thinks she's in love she +won't notice the difference between real conversation and the +inarticulate sort of droning that you give forth.'</p> + +<p>"Now, I had never seen Señorita Anabela. So, the next +day Fergus asks me to walk with him through the plaza and view the +daily promenade and exhibition of Oratama society, a sight that +had no interest for me. But I went; and children and dogs took +to the banana groves and mangrove swamps as soon as they had a +look at my face.</p> + +<p>"'Here she comes,' said Fergus, twirling his moustache—'the +one in white, in the open carriage with the black horse.'</p> + +<p>"I looked and felt the ground rock under my feet. For +Señorita Anabela Zamora was the most beautiful woman +in the world, and the only one from that moment on, so far +as Judson Tate was concerned. I saw at a glance that I +must be hers and she mine forever. I thought of my face +and nearly fainted; and then I thought of my other talents +and stood upright again. And I had been wooing her for +three weeks for another man!</p> + +<p>"As Señorita Anabela's carriage rolled slowly past, she +gave Fergus a long, soft glance from the corners of her night-black +eyes, a glance that would have sent Judson Tate up into heaven +in a rubber-tired chariot. But she never looked at me. And that +handsome man only ruffles his curls and smirks and prances like +a lady-killer at my side.</p> + +<p>"'What do you think of her, Judson?' asks Fergus, with an air.</p> + +<p>"'This much,' says I. 'She is to be Mrs. Judson Tate. I am no +man to play tricks on a friend. So take your warning.'</p> + +<p>"I thought Fergus would die laughing.</p> + +<p>"'Well, well, well,' said he, 'you old doughface! Struck too, +are you? That's great! But you're too late. Francesca tells me +that Anabela talks of nothing but me, day and night. Of course, +I'm awfully obliged to you for making that chin-music to her of +evenings. But, do you know, I've an idea that I could have done +it as well myself.'</p> + +<p>"'Mrs. Judson Tate,' says I. 'Don't forget the name. You've had +the use of my tongue to go with your good looks, my boy. You +can't lend me your looks; but hereafter my tongue is my own. +Keep your mind on the name that's to be on the visiting cards +two inches by three and a half—"Mrs. Judson Tate." That's +all.'</p> + +<p>"'All right,' says Fergus, laughing again. 'I've talked with +her father, the alcalde, and he's willing. He's to give a +<i>baile</i> to-morrow evening in his new warehouse. If you were a +dancing man, Jud, I'd expect you around to meet the future Mrs. +McMahan.'</p> + +<p>"But on the next evening, when the music was playing loudest at +the Alcade Zamora's <i>baile</i>, into the room steps Judson Tate in +new white linen clothes as if he were the biggest man in the +whole nation, which he was.</p> + +<p>"Some of the musicians jumped off the key when they saw my +face, and one or two of the timidest señoritas let out a +screech or two. But up prances the alcalde and almost wipes the +dust off my shoes with his forehead. No mere good looks could +have won me that sensational entrance.</p> + +<p>"'I hear much, Señor Zamora,' says I, 'of the charm of +your daughter. It would give me great pleasure to be presented to +her.'</p> + +<p>"There were about six dozen willow rocking-chairs, with pink +tidies tied on to them, arranged against the walls. In one of +them sat Señorita Anabela in white Swiss and red slippers, +with pearls and fireflies in her hair. Fergus was at the other end +of the room trying to break away from two maroons and a +claybank girl.</p> + +<p>"The alcalde leads me up to Anabela and presents me. When she +took the first look at my face she dropped her fan and nearly +turned her chair over from the shock. But I'm used to that.</p> + +<p>"I sat down by her, and began to talk. When she heard me speak +she jumped, and her eyes got as big as alligator pears. She +couldn't strike a balance between the tones of my voice and +face I carried. But I kept on talking in the key of C, which is +the ladies' key; and presently she sat still in her chair and a +dreamy look came into her eyes. She was coming my way. She knew +of Judson Tate, and what a big man he was, and the big things +he had done; and that was in my favour. But, of course, it was +some shock to her to find out that I was not the pretty man +that had been pointed out to her as the great Judson. And then +I took the Spanish language, which is better than English for +certain purposes, and played on it like a harp of a thousand +strings. I ranged from the second G below the staff up to +F-sharp above it. I set my voice to poetry, art, romance, +flowers, and moonlight. I repeated some of the verses that I +had murmured to her in the dark at her window; and I knew from +a sudden soft sparkle in her eye that she recognized in my +voice the tones of her midnight mysterious wooer.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, I had Fergus McMahan going. Oh, the vocal is the true +art—no doubt about that. Handsome is as handsome palavers. +That's the renovated proverb.</p> + +<p>"I took Señorita Anabela for a walk in the lemon grove +while Fergus, disfiguring himself with an ugly frown, was waltzing +with the claybank girl. Before we returned I had permission to +come to her window in the <i>patio</i> the next evening at midnight +and talk some more.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was easy enough. In two weeks Anabela was engaged to +me, and Fergus was out. He took it calm, for a handsome man, +and told me he wasn't going to give in.</p> + +<p>"'Talk may be all right in its place, Judson,' he says to me, +'although I've never thought it worth cultivating. But,' says +he, 'to expect mere words to back up successfully a face like +yours in a lady's good graces is like expecting a man to make a +square meal on the ringing of a dinner-bell.'</p> + +<p>"But I haven't begun on the story I was going to tell you yet.</p> + +<p>"One day I took a long ride in the hot sunshine, and then took +a bath in the cold waters of a lagoon on the edge of the town +before I'd cooled off.</p> + +<p>"That evening after dark I called at the alcalde's to see +Anabela. I was calling regular every evening then, and we were +to be married in a month. She was looking like a bulbul, a +gazelle, and a tea-rose, and her eyes were as soft and bright +as two quarts of cream skimmed off from the Milky Way. She +looked at my rugged features without any expression of fear or +repugnance. Indeed, I fancied that I saw a look of deep +admiration and affection, such as she had cast at Fergus on the +plaza.</p> + +<p>"I sat down, and opened my mouth to tell Anabela what she loved +to hear—that she was a trust, monopolizing all the loveliness +of earth. I opened my mouth, and instead of the usual vibrating +words of love and compliment, there came forth a faint wheeze +such as a baby with croup might emit. Not a word—not a +syllable—not an intelligible sound. I had caught cold in my +laryngeal regions when I took my injudicious bath.</p> + +<p>"For two hours I sat trying to entertain Anabela. She talked a +certain amount, but it was perfunctory and diluted. The nearest +approach I made to speech was to formulate a sound like a clam +trying to sing 'A Life on the Ocean Wave' at low tide. It +seemed that Anabela's eyes did not rest upon me as often as +usual. I had nothing with which to charm her ears. We looked at +pictures and she played the guitar occasionally, very badly. +When I left, her parting manner seemed cool—or at least +thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"This happened for five evenings consecutively.</p> + +<p>"On the sixth day she ran away with Fergus McMahan.</p> + +<p>"It was known that they fled in a sailing yacht bound for +Belize. I was only eight hours behind them in a small steam +launch belonging to the Revenue Department.</p> + +<p>"Before I sailed, I rushed into the <i>botica</i> of old Manuel +Iquito, a half-breed Indian druggist. I could not speak, but I +pointed to my throat and made a sound like escaping steam. He +began to yawn. In an hour, according to the customs of the +country, I would have been waited on. I reached across the +counter, seized him by the throat, and pointed again to my own. +He yawned once more, and thrust into my hand a small bottle +containing a black liquid.</p> + +<p>"'Take one small spoonful every two hours,' says he.</p> + +<p>"I threw him a dollar and skinned for the steamer.</p> + +<p>"I steamed into the harbour at Belize thirteen seconds behind +the yacht that Anabela and Fergus were on. They started for the +shore in a dory just as my skiff was lowered over the side. I +tried to order my sailormen to row faster, but the sounds died +in my larynx before they came to the light. Then I thought of +old Iquito's medicine, and I got out his bottle and took a +swallow of it.</p> + +<p>"The two boats landed at the same moment. I walked straight up +to Anabela and Fergus. Her eyes rested upon me for an instant; +then she turned them, full of feeling and confidence, upon +Fergus. I knew I could not speak, but I was desperate. In +speech lay my only hope. I could not stand beside Fergus and +challenge comparison in the way of beauty. Purely +involuntarily, my larynx and epiglottis attempted to reproduce +the sounds that my mind was calling upon my vocal organs to +send forth.</p> + +<p>"To my intense surprise and delight the words rolled forth +beautifully clear, resonant, exquisitely modulated, full of +power, expression, and long-repressed emotion.</p> + +<p>"'Señorita Anabela,' says I, 'may I speak with you +aside for a moment?'</p> + +<p>"You don't want details about that, do you? Thanks. The old +eloquence had come back all right. I led her under a cocoanut +palm and put my old verbal spell on her again.</p> + +<p>"'Judson,' says she, 'when you are talking to me I can hear +nothing else—I can see nothing else—there is nothing and +nobody else in the world for me.'</p> + +<p>"Well, that's about all of the story. Anabela went back to +Oratama in the steamer with me. I never heard what became of +Fergus. I never saw him any more. Anabela is now Mrs. Judson +Tate. Has my story bored you much?"</p> + +<p>"No," said I. "I am always interested in psychological studies. +A human heart—and especially a woman's—is a wonderful thing +to contemplate."</p> + +<p>"It is," said Judson Tate. "And so are the trachea and +bronchial tubes of man. And the larynx too. Did you ever make a +study of the windpipe?"</p> + +<p>"Never," said I. "But I have taken much pleasure in your story. +May I ask after Mrs. Tate, and inquire of her present health +and whereabouts?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure," said Judson Tate. "We are living in Bergen Avenue, +Jersey City. The climate down in Oratama didn't suit Mrs. T. I +don't suppose you ever dissected the arytenoid cartilages of +the epiglottis, did you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," said I, "I am no surgeon."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," said Judson Tate, "but every man should know +enough of anatomy and therapeutics to safeguard his own health. +A sudden cold may set up capillary bronchitis or inflammation +of the pulmonary vesicles, which may result in a serious +affection of the vocal organs."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," said I, with some impatience; "but that is +neither here nor there. Speaking of the strange manifestations +of the affection of women, I—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," interrupted Judson Tate; "they have peculiar ways. +But, as I was going to tell you: when I went back to Oratama I +found out from Manuel Iquito what was in that mixture he gave +me for my lost voice. I told you how quick it cured me. He made +that stuff from the <i>chuchula</i> plant. Now, look here."</p> + +<p>Judson Tate drew an oblong, white pasteboard box from his +pocket.</p> + +<p>"For any cough," he said, "or cold, or hoarseness, or bronchial +affection whatsoever, I have here the greatest remedy in the +world. You see the formula, printed on the box. Each tablet +contains licorice, 2 grains; balsam tolu, 1/10 grain; oil of +anise, 1/20 minim; oil of tar, 1/60 minim; oleo-resin of +cubebs, 1/60 minim; fluid extract of <i>chuchula</i>, 1/10 minim.</p> + +<p>"I am in New York," went on Judson Tate, "for the purpose of +organizing a company to market the greatest remedy for throat +affections ever discovered. At present I am introducing the +lozenges in a small way. I have here a box containing four +dozen, which I am selling for the small sum of fifty cents. If +you are suffering—"</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>I got up and went away without a word. I walked slowly up to +the little park near my hotel, leaving Judson Tate alone with +his conscience. My feelings were lacerated. He had poured +gently upon me a story that I might have used. There was a +little of the breath of life in it, and some of the synthetic +atmosphere that passes, when cunningly tinkered, in the marts. +And, at the last it had proven to be a commercial pill, deftly +coated with the sugar of fiction. The worst of it was that I +could not offer it for sale. Advertising departments and +counting-rooms look down upon me. And it would never do for the +literary. Therefore I sat upon a bench with other disappointed +ones until my eyelids drooped.</p> + +<p>I went to my room, and, as my custom is, read for an hour +stories in my favourite magazines. This was to get my mind back +to art again.</p> + +<p>And as I read each story, I threw the magazines sadly and +hopelessly, one by one, upon the floor. Each author, without +one exception to bring balm to my heart, wrote liltingly and +sprightly a story of some particular make of motor-car that +seemed to control the sparking plug of his genius.</p> + +<p>And when the last one was hurled from me I took heart.</p> + +<p>"If readers can swallow so many proprietary automobiles," I +said to myself, "they ought not to strain at one of Tate's +Compound Magic Chuchula Bronchial Lozenges."</p> + +<p>And so if you see this story in print you will understand that +business is business, and that if Art gets very far ahead of +Commerce, she will have to get up and hustle.</p> + +<p>I may as well add, to make a clean job of it, that you can't +buy the <i>chuchula</i> plant in the drug stores.</p> + + +<p><a name="6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VI</h3> +<h3>ART AND THE BRONCO<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Out of the wilderness had come a painter. Genius, whose +coronations alone are democratic, had woven a chaplet of +chaparral for the brow of Lonny Briscoe. Art, whose divine +expression flows impartially from the fingertips of a cowboy or +a dilettante emperor, had chosen for a medium the Boy Artist of +the San Saba. The outcome, seven feet by twelve of besmeared +canvas, stood, gilt-framed, in the lobby of the Capitol.</p> + +<p>The legislature was in session; the capital city of that great +Western state was enjoying the season of activity and profit +that the congregation of the solons bestowed. The +boarding-houses were corralling the easy dollars of the +gamesome lawmakers. The greatest state in the West, an empire +in area and resources, had arisen and repudiated the old libel +or barbarism, lawbreaking, and bloodshed. Order reigned within +her borders. Life and property were as safe there, sir, as +anywhere among the corrupt cities of the effete East. +Pillow-shams, churches, strawberry feasts and <i>habeas corpus</i> +flourished. With impunity might the tenderfoot ventilate his +"stovepipe" or his theories of culture. The arts and sciences +received nurture and subsidy. And, therefore, it behooved the +legislature of this great state to make appropriation for the +purchase of Lonny Briscoe's immortal painting.</p> + +<p>Rarely has the San Saba country contributed to the spread of +the fine arts. Its sons have excelled in the solider graces, in +the throw of the lariat, the manipulation of the esteemed .45, +the intrepidity of the one-card draw, and the nocturnal +stimulation of towns from undue lethargy; but, hitherto, it had +not been famed as a stronghold of æsthetics. Lonny Briscoe's +brush had removed that disability. Here, among the limestone +rocks, the succulent cactus, and the drought-parched grass of +that arid valley, had been born the Boy Artist. Why he came to +woo art is beyond postulation. Beyond doubt, some spore of the +afflatus must have sprung up within him in spite of the desert +soil of San Saba. The tricksy spirit of creation must have +incited him to attempted expression and then have sat hilarious +among the white-hot sands of the valley, watching its +mischievous work. For Lonny's picture, viewed as a thing of +art, was something to have driven away dull care from the +bosoms of the critics.</p> + +<p>The painting—one might almost say panorama—was designed to +portray a typical Western scene, interest culminating in a +central animal figure, that of a stampeding steer, life-size, +wild-eyed, fiery, breaking away in a mad rush from the herd +that, close-ridden by a typical cowpuncher, occupied a position +somewhat in the right background of the picture. The landscape +presented fitting and faithful accessories. Chaparral, mesquit, +and pear were distributed in just proportions. A Spanish +dagger-plant, with its waxen blossoms in a creamy aggregation +as large as a water-bucket, contributed floral beauty and +variety. The distance was undulating prairie, bisected by +stretches of the intermittent streams peculiar to the region +lined with the rich green of live-oak and water-elm. A richly +mottled rattlesnake lay coiled beneath a pale green clump of +prickly pear in the foreground. A third of the canvas was +ultramarine and lake white—the typical Western sky and the +flying clouds, rainless and feathery.</p> + +<p>Between two plastered pillars in the commodious hallway near +the door of the chamber of representatives stood the painting. +Citizens and lawmakers passed there by twos and groups and +sometimes crowds to gaze upon it. Many—perhaps a majority of +them—had lived the prairie life and recalled easily the +familiar scene. Old cattlemen stood, reminiscent and candidly +pleased, chatting with brothers of former camps and trails of +the days it brought back to mind. Art critics were few in the +town, and there was heard none of that jargon of colour, +perspective, and feeling such as the East loves to use as a +curb and a rod to the pretensions of the artist. 'Twas a great +picture, most of them agreed, admiring the gilt frame—larger +than any they had ever seen.</p> + +<p>Senator Kinney was the picture's champion and sponsor. It was +he who so often stepped forward and asserted, with the voice of +a bronco-buster, that it would be a lasting blot, sir, upon the +name of this great state if it should decline to recognize in a +proper manner the genius that had so brilliantly transferred to +imperishable canvas a scene so typical of the great sources of +our state's wealth and prosperity, land—and—er—live-stock.</p> + +<p>Senator Kinney represented a section of the state in the +extreme West—400 miles from the San Saba country—but the true +lover of art is not limited by metes and bounds. Nor was +Senator Mullens, representing the San Saba country, lukewarm in +his belief that the state should purchase the painting of his +constituent. He was advised that the San Saba country was +unanimous in its admiration of the great painting by one of its +own denizens. Hundreds of connoisseurs had straddled their +broncos and ridden miles to view it before its removal to the +capital. Senator Mullens desired reëlection, and he knew the +importance of the San Saba vote. He also knew that with the +help of Senator Kinney—who was a power in the legislature—the +thing could be put through. Now, Senator Kinney had an +irrigation bill that he wanted passed for the benefit of his +own section, and he knew Senator Mullens could render him +valuable aid and information, the San Saba country already +enjoying the benefits of similar legislation. With these +interests happily dovetailed, wonder at the sudden interest in +art at the state capital must, necessarily, be small. Few +artists have uncovered their first picture to the world under +happier auspices than did Lonny Briscoe.</p> + +<p>Senators Kinney and Mullens came to an understanding in the +matter of irrigation and art while partaking of long drinks in +the café of the Empire Hotel.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said Senator Kinney, "I don't know. I'm no art critic, +but it seems to me the thing won't work. It looks like the +worst kind of a chromo to me. I don't want to cast any +reflections upon the artistic talent of your constituent, +Senator, but I, myself, wouldn't give six bits for the +picture—without the frame. How are you going to cram a thing +like that down the throat of a legislature that kicks about a +little item in the expense bill of six hundred and eighty-one +dollars for rubber erasers for only one term? It's wasting +time. I'd like to help you, Mullens, but they'd laugh us out of +the Senate chamber if we were to try it."</p> + +<p>"But you don't get the point," said Senator Mullens, in his +deliberate tones, tapping Kinney's glass with his long +forefinger. "I have my own doubts as to what the picture is +intended to represent, a bullfight or a Japanese allegory, but +I want this legislature to make an appropriation to purchase. +Of course, the subject of the picture should have been in the +state historical line, but it's too late to have the paint +scraped off and changed. The state won't miss the money and the +picture can be stowed away in a lumber-room where it won't +annoy any one. Now, here's the point to work on, leaving art to +look after itself—the chap that painted the picture is the +grandson of Lucien Briscoe."</p> + +<p>"Say it again," said Kinney, leaning his head thoughtfully. "Of +the old, original Lucien Briscoe?"</p> + +<p>"Of him. 'The man who,' you know. The man who carved the state +out of the wilderness. The man who settled the Indians. The man +who cleaned out the horse thieves. The man who refused the +crown. The state's favourite son. Do you see the point now?"</p> + +<p>"Wrap up the picture," said Kinney. "It's as good as sold. Why +didn't you say that at first, instead of philandering along +about art. I'll resign my seat in the Senate and go back to +chain-carrying for the county surveyor the day I can't make +this state buy a picture calcimined by a grandson of Lucien +Briscoe. Did you ever hear of a special appropriation for the +purchase of a home for the daughter of One-Eyed Smothers? Well, +that went through like a motion to adjourn, and old One-Eyed +never killed half as many Indians as Briscoe did. About what +figure had you and the calciminer agreed upon to sandbag the +treasury for?"</p> + +<p>"I thought," said Mullens, "that maybe five hundred—"</p> + +<p>"Five hundred!" interrupted Kinney, as he hammered on his glass +for a lead pencil and looked around for a waiter. "Only five +hundred for a red steer on the hoof delivered by a grandson of +Lucien Briscoe! Where's your state pride, man? Two thousand is +what it'll be. You'll introduce the bill and I'll get up on the +floor of the Senate and wave the scalp of every Indian old +Lucien ever murdered. Let's see, there was something else proud +and foolish he did, wasn't there? Oh, yes; he declined all +emoluments and benefits he was entitled to. Refused his +head-right and veteran donation certificates. Could have been +governor, but wouldn't. Declined a pension. Now's the state's +chance to pay up. It'll have to take the picture, but then it +deserves some punishment for keeping the Briscoe family waiting +so long. We'll bring this thing up about the middle of the +month, after the tax bill is settled. Now, Mullens, you send +over, as soon as you can, and get me the figures on the cost of +those irrigation ditches and the statistics about the increased +production per acre. I'm going to need you when that bill of +mine comes up. I reckon we'll be able to pull along pretty well +together this session and maybe others to come, eh, Senator?"</p> + +<p>Thus did fortune elect to smile upon the Boy Artist of the San +Saba. Fate had already done her share when she arranged his +atoms in the cosmogony of creation as the grandson of Lucien +Briscoe.</p> + +<p>The original Briscoe had been a pioneer both as to territorial +occupation and in certain acts prompted by a great and simple +heart. He had been one of the first settlers and crusaders +against the wild forces of nature, the savage and the shallow +politician. His name and memory were revered, equally with any +upon the list comprising Houston, Boone, Crockett, Clark, and +Green. He had lived simply, independently, and unvexed by +ambition. Even a less shrewd man than Senator Kinney could have +prophesied that his state would hasten to honour and reward his +grandson, come out of the chaparral at even so late a day.</p> + +<p>And so, before the great picture by the door of the chamber of +representatives at frequent times for many days could be found +the breezy, robust form of Senator Kinney and be heard his +clarion voice reciting the past deeds of Lucien Briscoe in +connection with the handiwork of his grandson. Senator +Mullens's work was more subdued in sight and sound, but +directed along identical lines.</p> + +<p>Then, as the day for the introduction of the bill for +appropriation draws nigh, up from the San Saba country rides +Lonny Briscoe and a loyal lobby of cowpunchers, bronco-back, to +boost the cause of art and glorify the name of friendship, for +Lonny is one of them, a knight of stirrup and chaparreras, as +handy with the lariat and .45 as he is with brush and palette.</p> + +<p>On a March afternoon the lobby dashed, with a whoop, into town. +The cowpunchers had adjusted their garb suitably from that +prescribed for the range to the more conventional requirements +of town. They had conceded their leather chaparreras and +transferred their six-shooters and belts from their persons to +the horns of their saddles. Among them rode Lonny, a youth of +twenty-three, brown, solemn-faced, ingenuous, bowlegged, +reticent, bestriding Hot Tamales, the most sagacious cow pony +west of the Mississippi. Senator Mullens had informed him of +the bright prospects of the situation; had even mentioned—so +great was his confidence in the capable Kinney—the price that +the state would, in all likelihood, pay. It seemed to Lonny +that fame and fortune were in his hands. Certainly, a spark of +the divine fire was in the little brown centaur's breast, for +he was counting the two thousand dollars as but a means to +future development of his talent. Some day he would paint a +picture even greater than this—one, say, twelve feet by +twenty, full of scope and atmosphere and action.</p> + +<p>During the three days that yet intervened before the coming of +the date fixed for the introduction of the bill, the centaur +lobby did valiant service. Coatless, spurred, weather-tanned, +full of enthusiasm expressed in bizarre terms, they loafed in +front of the painting with tireless zeal. Reasoning not +unshrewdly, they estimated that their comments upon its +fidelity to nature would be received as expert evidence. Loudly +they praised the skill of the painter whenever there were ears +near to which such evidence might be profitably addressed. Lem +Perry, the leader of the claque, had a somewhat set speech, +being uninventive in the construction of new phrases.</p> + +<p>"Look at that two-year-old, now," he would say, waving a +cinnamon-brown hand toward the salient point of the picture. +"Why, dang my hide, the critter's alive. I can jest hear him, +'lumpety-lump,' a-cuttin' away from the herd, pretendin' he's +skeered. He's a mean scamp, that there steer. Look at his eyes +a-wallin' and his tail a-wavin'. He's true and nat'ral to life. +He's jest hankerin' fur a cow pony to round him up and send him +scootin' back to the bunch. Dang my hide! jest look at that +tail of his'n a-wavin'. Never knowed a steer to wave his tail +any other way, dang my hide ef I did."</p> + +<p>Jud Shelby, while admitting the excellence of the steer, +resolutely confined himself to open admiration of the +landscape, to the end that the entire picture receive its meed +of praise.</p> + +<p>"That piece of range," he declared, "is a dead ringer for Dead +Hoss Valley. Same grass, same lay of land, same old Whipperwill +Creek skallyhootin' in and out of them motts of timber. Them +buzzards on the left is circlin' 'round over Sam Kildrake's old +paint hoss that killed hisself over-drinkin' on a hot day. You +can't see the hoss for that mott of ellums on the creek, but +he's thar. Anybody that was goin' to look for Dead Hoss Valley +and come across this picture, why, he'd just light off'n his +bronco and hunt a place to camp."</p> + +<p>Skinny Rogers, wedded to comedy, conceived a complimentary +little piece of acting that never failed to make an impression. +Edging quite near to the picture, he would suddenly, at +favourable moments emit a piercing and awful "Yi-yi!" leap high +and away, coming down with a great stamp of heels and whirring +of rowels upon the stone-flagged floor.</p> + +<p>"Jeeming Cristopher!"—so ran his lines—"thought that rattler +was a gin-u-ine one. Ding baste my skin if I didn't. Seemed to +me I heard him rattle. Look at the blamed, unconverted insect +a-layin' under that pear. Little more, and somebody would +a-been snake-bit."</p> + +<p>With these artful dodges, contributed by Lonney's faithful +coterie, with the sonorous Kinney perpetually sounding the +picture's merits, and with the solvent prestige of the pioneer +Briscoe covering it like a precious varnish, it seemed that the +San Saba country could not fail to add a reputation as an art +centre to its well-known superiority in steer-roping contests +and achievements with the precarious busted flush. Thus was +created for the picture an atmosphere, due rather to externals +than to the artist's brush, but through it the people seemed to +gaze with more of admiration. There was a magic in the name of +Briscoe that counted high against faulty technique and crude +colouring. The old Indian fighter and wolf slayer would have +smiled grimly in his happy hunting grounds had he known that +his dilettante ghost was thus figuring as an art patron two +generations after his uninspired existence.</p> + +<p>Came the day when the Senate was expected to pass the bill of +Senator Mullens appropriating two thousand dollars for the +purchase of the picture. The gallery of the Senate chamber was +early preempted by Lonny and the San Saba lobby. In the front +row of chairs they sat, wild-haired, self-conscious, jingling, +creaking, and rattling, subdued by the majesty of the council +hall.</p> + +<p>The bill was introduced, went to the second reading, and then +Senator Mullens spoke for it dryly, tediously, and at length. +Senator Kinney then arose, and the welkin seized the bellrope +preparatory to ringing. Oratory was at that time a living +thing; the world had not quite come to measure its questions by +geometry and the multiplication table. It was the day of the +silver tongue, the sweeping gesture, the decorative apostrophe, +the moving peroration.</p> + +<p>The Senator spoke. The San Saba contingent sat, breathing hard, +in the gallery, its disordered hair hanging down to its eyes, +its sixteen-ounce hats shifted restlessly from knee to knee. +Below, the distinguished Senators either lounged at their desks +with the abandon of proven statesmanship or maintained correct +attitudes indicative of a first term.</p> + +<p>Senator Kinney spoke for an hour. History was his +theme—history mitigated by patriotism and sentiment. He +referred casually to the picture in the outer hall—it was +unnecessary, he said, to dilate upon its merits—the Senators +had seen for themselves. The painter of the picture was the +grandson of Lucien Briscoe. Then came the word-pictures of +Briscoe's life set forth in thrilling colours. His rude and +venturesome life, his simple-minded love for the commonwealth +he helped to upbuild, his contempt for rewards and praise, his +extreme and sturdy independence, and the great services he had +rendered the state. The subject of the oration was Lucien +Briscoe; the painting stood in the background serving simply as +a means, now happily brought forward, through which the state +might bestow a tardy recompense upon the descendent of its +favourite son. Frequent enthusiastic applause from the Senators +testified to the well reception of the sentiment.</p> + +<p>The bill passed without an opening vote. To-morrow it would be +taken up by the House. Already was it fixed to glide through +that body on rubber tires. Blandford, Grayson, and Plummer, all +wheel-horses and orators, and provided with plentiful memoranda +concerning the deeds of pioneer Briscoe, had agreed to furnish +the motive power.</p> + +<p>The San Saba lobby and its <i>protégé</i> +stumbled awkwardly down the stairs and out into the Capitol +yard. Then they herded closely and gave one yell of triumph. +But one of them—Buck-Kneed Summers it was—hit the key with +the thoughtful remark:</p> + +<p>"She cut the mustard," he said, "all right. I reckon they're +goin' to buy Lon's steer. I ain't right much on the +parlyment'ry, but I gather that's what the signs added up. But +she seems to me, Lonny, the argyment ran principal to +grandfather, instead of paint. It's reasonable calculatin' that +you want to be glad you got the Briscoe brand on you, my son."</p> + +<p>That remarked clinched in Lonny's mind an unpleasant, vague +suspicion to the same effect. His reticence increased, and he +gathered grass from the ground, chewing it pensively. The +picture as a picture had been humiliatingly absent from the +Senator's arguments. The painter had been held up as a +grandson, pure and simple. While this was gratifying on certain +lines, it made art look little and slab-sided. The Boy Artist +was thinking.</p> + +<p>The hotel Lonny stopped at was near the Capitol. It was near to +the one o'clock dinner hour when the appropriation had been +passed by the Senate. The hotel clerk told Lonny that a famous +artist from New York had arrived in town that day and was in +the hotel. He was on his way westward to New Mexico to study +the effect of sunlight upon the ancient walls of the Zuñis. +Modern stones reflect light. Those ancient building materials +absorb it. The artist wanted this effect in a picture he was +painting, and was traveling two thousand miles to get it.</p> + +<p>Lonny sought this man out after dinner and told his story. The +artist was an unhealthy man, kept alive by genius and +indifference to life. He went with Lonny to the Capitol and +stood there before the picture. The artist pulled his beard and +looked unhappy.</p> + +<p>"Should like to have your sentiments," said Lonny, "just as +they run out of the pen."</p> + +<p>"It's the way they'll come," said the painter man. "I took +three different kinds of medicine before dinner—by the +tablespoonful. The taste still lingers. I am primed for telling +the truth. You want to know if the picture is, or if it isn't?"</p> + +<p>"Right," said Lonny. "Is it wool or cotton? Should I paint some +more or cut it out and ride herd a-plenty?"</p> + +<p>"I heard a rumour during pie," said the artist, "that the state +is about to pay you two thousand dollars for this picture."</p> + +<p>"It's passed the Senate," said Lonny, "and the House rounds it +up to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"That's lucky," said the pale man. "Do you carry a rabbit's +foot?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Lonny, "but it seems I had a grandfather. He's +considerable mixed up in the colour scheme. It took me a year +to paint that picture. Is she entirely awful or not? Some says, +now, that the steer's tail ain't badly drawed. They think it's +proportioned nice. Tell me."</p> + +<p>The artist glanced at Lonny's wiry figure and nut-brown skin. +Something stirred him to a passing irritation.</p> + +<p>"For Art's sake, son," he said, fractiously, "don't spend any +more money for paint. It isn't a picture at all. It's a gun. +You hold up the state with it, if you like, and get your two +thousand, but don't get in front of any more canvas. Live under +it. Buy a couple of hundred ponies with the money—I'm told +they're that cheap—and ride, ride, ride. Fill your lungs and +eat and sleep and be happy. No more pictures. You look healthy. +That's genius. Cultivate it." He looked at his watch. "Twenty +minutes to three. Four capsules and one tablet at three. That's +all you wanted to know, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>At three o'clock the cowpunchers rode up for Lonny, bringing +Hot Tamales, saddled. Traditions must be observed. To celebrate +the passage of the bill by the Senate the gang must ride wildly +through the town, creating uproar and excitement. Liquor must +be partaken of, the suburbs shot up, and the glory of the San +Saba country vociferously proclaimed. A part of the programme +had been carried out in the saloons on the way up.</p> + +<p>Lonny mounted Hot Tamales, the accomplished little beast +prancing with fire and intelligence. He was glad to feel +Lonny's bowlegged grip against his ribs again. Lonny was his +friend, and he was willing to do things for him.</p> + +<p>"Come on, boys," said Lonny, urging Hot Tomales into a gallop +with his knees. With a whoop, the inspired lobby tore after him +through the dust. Lonny led his cohorts straight for the +Capitol. With a wild yell, the gang endorsed his now evident +intention of riding into it. Hooray for San Saba!</p> + +<p>Up the six broad, limestone steps clattered the broncos of the +cowpunchers. Into the resounding hallway they pattered, +scattering in dismay those passing on foot. Lonny, in the lead, +shoved Hot Tamales direct for the great picture. At that hour a +downpouring, soft light from the second-story windows bathed +the big canvas. Against the darker background of the hall the +painting stood out with valuable effect. In spite of the +defects of the art you could almost fancy that you gazed out +upon a landscape. You might well flinch a step from the +convincing figure of the life-size steer stampeding across the +grass. Perhaps it seemed thus to Hot Tamales. The scene was in +his line. Perhaps he only obeyed the will of his rider. His +ears pricked up; he snorted. Lonny leaned forward in the saddle +and elevated his elbows, wing-like. Thus signals the cowpuncher +to his steed to launch himself full speed ahead. Did Hot +Tamales fancy he saw a steer, red and cavorting, that should be +headed off and driven back to the herd? There was a fierce +clatter of hoofs, a rush, a gathering of steely flank muscles, +a leap to the jerk of the bridle rein, and Hot Tamales, with +Lonny bending low in the saddle to dodge the top of the frame, +ripped through the great canvas like a shell from a mortar, +leaving the cloth hanging in ragged shreds about a monstrous +hole.</p> + +<p>Quickly Lonny pulled up his pony, and rounded the pillars. +Spectators came running, too astounded to add speech to the +commotion. The sergeant-at-arms of the House came forth, +frowned, looked ominous, and then grinned. Many of the +legislators crowded out to observe the tumult. Lonny's +cowpunchers were stricken to silent horror by his mad deed.</p> + +<p>Senator Kinney happened to be among the earliest to emerge. +Before he could speak Lonny leaned in his saddle as Hot Tamales +pranced, pointed his quirt at the Senator, and said, calmly:</p> + +<p>"That was a fine speech you made to-day, mister, but you might +as well let up on that 'propriation business. I ain't askin' +the state to give me nothin'. I thought I had a picture to sell +to it, but it wasn't one. You said a heap of things about +Grandfather Briscoe that makes me kind of proud I'm his +grandson. Well, the Briscoes ain't takin' presents from the +state yet. Anybody can have the frame that wants it. Hit her +up, boys."</p> + +<p>Away scuttled the San Saba delegation out of the hall, down the +steps, along the dusty street.</p> + +<p>Halfway to the San Saba country they camped that night. At +bedtime Lonny stole away from the campfire and sought Hot +Tamales, placidly eating grass at the end of his stake rope. +Lonny hung upon his neck, and his art aspirations went forth +forever in one long, regretful sigh. But as he thus made +renunciation his breath formed a word or two.</p> + +<p>"You was the only one, Tamales, what seen anything in it. It +<i>did</i> look like a steer, didn't it, old hoss?"</p> + + +<p><a name="7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VII</h3> +<h3>PHŒBE<br /> </h3> + + +<p>"You are a man of many novel adventures and varied +enterprises," I said to Captain Patricio Maloné. "Do you +believe that the possible element of good luck or bad luck—if +there is such a thing as luck—has influenced your career or +persisted for or against you to such an extent that you were +forced to attribute results to the operation of the aforesaid +good luck or bad luck?"</p> + +<p>This question (of almost the dull insolence of legal +phraseology) was put while we sat in Rousselin's little +red-tiled café near Congo Square in New Orleans.</p> + +<p>Brown-faced, white-hatted, finger-ringed captains of adventure +came often to Rousselin's for the cognac. They came from sea +and land, and were chary of relating the things they had +seen—not because they were more wonderful than the fantasies +of the Ananiases of print, but because they were so different. +And I was a perpetual wedding-guest, always striving to cast my +buttonhole over the finger of one of these mariners of fortune. +This Captain Maloné was a Hiberno-Iberian creole who had gone +to and fro in the earth and walked up and down in it. He looked +like any other well-dressed man of thirty-five whom you might +meet, except that he was hopelessly weather-tanned, and wore on +his chain an ancient ivory-and-gold Peruvian charm against +evil, which has nothing at all to do with this story.</p> + +<p>"My answer to your question," said the captain, smiling, "will +be to tell you the story of Bad-Luck Kearny. That is, if you +don't mind hearing it."</p> + +<p>My reply was to pound on the table for Rousselin.</p> + +<p>"Strolling along Tchoupitoulas Street one night," began Captain +Maloné, "I noticed, without especially taxing my interest, +a small man walking rapidly toward me. He stepped upon a wooden +cellar door, crashed through it, and disappeared. I rescued him +from a heap of soft coal below. He dusted himself briskly, +swearing fluently in a mechanical tone, as an underpaid actor +recites the gypsy's curse. Gratitude and the dust in his throat +seemed to call for fluids to clear them away. His desire for +liquidation was expressed so heartily that I went with him to a +café down the street where we had some vile vermouth and +bitters.</p> + +<p>"Looking across that little table I had my first clear sight of +Francis Kearny. He was about five feet seven, but as tough as a +cypress knee. His hair was darkest red, his mouth such a mere +slit that you wondered how the flood of his words came rushing +from it. His eyes were the brightest and lightest blue and the +hopefulest that I ever saw. He gave the double impression that +he was at bay and that you had better not crowd him further.</p> + +<p>"'Just in from a gold-hunting expedition on the coast of Costa +Rica,' he explained. 'Second mate of a banana steamer told me +the natives were panning out enough from the beach sands to buy +all the rum, red calico, and parlour melodeons in the world. +The day I got there a syndicate named Incorporated Jones gets a +government concession to all minerals from a given point. For a +next choice I take coast fever and count green and blue lizards +for six weeks in a grass hut. I had to be notified when I was +well, for the reptiles were actually there. Then I shipped back +as third cook on a Norwegian tramp that blew up her boiler two +miles below Quarantine. I was due to bust through that cellar +door here to-night, so I hurried the rest of the way up the +river, roustabouting on a lower coast packet that made up a +landing for every fisherman that wanted a plug of tobacco. And +now I'm here for what comes next. And it'll be along, it'll be +along,' said this queer Mr. Kearny; 'it'll be along on the +beams of my bright but not very particular star.'</p> + +<p>"From the first the personality of Kearny charmed me. I saw in +him the bold heart, the restless nature, and the valiant front +against the buffets of fate that make his countrymen such +valuable comrades in risk and adventure. And just then I was +wanting such men. Moored at a fruit company's pier I had a +500-ton steamer ready to sail the next day with a cargo of +sugar, lumber, and corrugated iron for a port in—well, let us +call the country Esperando—it has not been long ago, and the +name of Patricio Maloné is still spoken there when its +unsettled politics are discussed. Beneath the sugar and iron +were packed a thousand Winchester rifles. In Aguas Frias, the +capital, Don Rafael Valdevia, Minister of War, Esperando's +greatest-hearted and most able patriot, awaited my coming. No +doubt you have heard, with a smile, of the insignificant wars +and uprisings in those little tropic republics. They make but a +faint clamour against the din of great nations' battles; but +down there, under all the ridiculous uniforms and petty +diplomacy and senseless countermarching and intrigue, are to be +found statesmen and patriots. Don Rafael Valdevia was one. His +great ambition was to raise Esperando into peace and honest +prosperity and the respect of the serious nations. So he waited +for my rifles in Aguas Frias. But one would think I am trying +to win a recruit in you! No; it was Francis Kearny I wanted. +And so I told him, speaking long over our execrable vermouth, +breathing the stifling odour from garlic and tarpaulins, which, +as you know, is the distinctive flavour of cafés in the lower +slant of our city. I spoke of the tyrant President Cruz and the +burdens that his greed and insolent cruelty laid upon the +people. And at that Kearny's tears flowed. And then I dried +them with a picture of the fat rewards that would be ours when +the oppressor should be overthrown and the wise and generous +Valdevia in his seat. Then Kearny leaped to his feet and wrung +my hand with the strength of a roustabout. He was mine, he +said, till the last minion of the hated despot was hurled from +the highest peaks of the Cordilleras into the sea.</p> + +<p>"I paid the score, and we went out. Near the door Kearny's +elbow overturned an upright glass showcase, smashing it into +little bits. I paid the storekeeper the price he asked.</p> + +<p>"'Come to my hotel for the night,' I said to Kearny. 'We sail +to-morrow at noon.'</p> + +<p>"He agreed; but on the sidewalk he fell to cursing again in the +dull monotonous way that he had done when I pulled him out of +the coal cellar.</p> + +<p>"'Captain,' said he, 'before we go any further, it's no more +than fair to tell you that I'm known from Baffin's Bay to Terra +del Fuego as "Bad-Luck" Kearny. And I'm It. Everything I get +into goes up in the air except a balloon. Every bet I ever made +I lost except when I coppered it. Every boat I ever sailed on +sank except the submarines. Everything I was ever interested in +went to pieces except a patent bombshell that I invented. +Everything I ever took hold of and tried to run I ran into the +ground except when I tried to plough. And that's why they call +me Bad-Luck Kearny. I thought I'd tell you.'</p> + +<p>"'Bad luck,' said I, 'or what goes by that name, may now and +then tangle the affairs of any man. But if it persists beyond +the estimate of what we may call the "averages" there must be a +cause for it.'</p> + +<p>"'There is,' said Kearny emphatically, 'and when we walk +another square I will show it to you.'</p> + +<p>"Surprised, I kept by his side until we came to Canal Street +and out into the middle of its great width.</p> + +<p>"Kearny seized me by an arm and pointed a tragic forefinger at +a rather brilliant star that shone steadily about thirty +degrees above the horizon.</p> + +<p>"'That's Saturn,' said he, 'the star that presides over bad +luck and evil and disappointment and nothing doing and trouble. +I was born under that star. Every move I make, up bobs Saturn +and blocks it. He's the hoodoo planet of the heavens. They say +he's 73,000 miles in diameter and no solider of body than +split-pea soup, and he's got as many disreputable and malignant +rings as Chicago. Now, what kind of a star is that to be born +under?'</p> + +<p>"I asked Kearny where he had obtained all this astonishing +knowledge.</p> + +<p>"'From Azrath, the great astrologer of Cleveland, Ohio,' said +he. 'That man looked at a glass ball and told me my name before +I'd taken a chair. He prophesied the date of my birth and death +before I'd said a word. And then he cast my horoscope, and the +sidereal system socked me in the solar plexus. It was bad luck +for Francis Kearny from A to Izard and for his friends that +were implicated with him. For that I gave up ten dollars. This +Azrath was sorry, but he respected his profession too much to +read the heavens wrong for any man. It was night time, and he +took me out on a balcony and gave me a free view of the sky. +And he showed me which Saturn was, and how to find it in +different balconies and longitudes.</p> + +<p>"'But Saturn wasn't all. He was only the man higher up. He +furnishes so much bad luck that they allow him a gang of deputy +sparklers to help hand it out. They're circulating and +revolving and hanging around the main supply all the time, each +one throwing the hoodoo on his own particular district.</p> + +<p>"'You see that ugly little red star about eight inches above +and to the right of Saturn?' Kearny asked me. 'Well, that's +her. That's Phœbe. She's got me in charge. "By the day of +your birth," says Azrath to me, "your life is subjected to the +influence of Saturn. By the hour and minute of it you must +dwell under the sway and direct authority of Phœbe, the +ninth satellite." So said this Azrath.' Kearny shook his fist +violently skyward. 'Curse her, she's done her work well,' said +he. 'Ever since I was astrologized, bad luck has followed me +like my shadow, as I told you. And for many years before. Now, +Captain, I've told you my handicap as a man should. If you're +afraid this evil star of mine might cripple your scheme, leave +me out of it.'</p> + +<p>"I reassured Kearny as well as I could. I told him that for the +time we would banish both astrology and astronomy from our +heads. The manifest valour and enthusiasm of the man drew me. +'Let us see what a little courage and diligence will do against +bad luck,' I said. 'We will sail to-morrow for Esperando.'</p> + +<p>"Fifty miles down the Mississippi our steamer broke her rudder. +We sent for a tug to tow us back and lost three days. When we +struck the blue waters of the Gulf, all the storm clouds of the +Atlantic seemed to have concentrated above us. We thought +surely to sweeten those leaping waves with our sugar, and to +stack our arms and lumber on the floor of the Mexican Gulf.</p> + +<p>"Kearny did not seek to cast off one iota of the burden of our +danger from the shoulders of his fatal horoscope. He weathered +every storm on deck, smoking a black pipe, to keep which alight +rain and sea-water seemed but as oil. And he shook his fist at +the black clouds behind which his baleful star winked its +unseen eye. When the skies cleared one evening, he reviled his +malignant guardian with grim humour.</p> + +<p>"'On watch, aren't you, you red-headed vixen? Out making it hot +for little Francis Kearny and his friends, according to Hoyle. +Twinkle, twinkle, little devil! You're a lady, aren't +you?—dogging a man with your bad luck just because he happened +to be born while your boss was floorwalker. Get busy and sink +the ship, you one-eyed banshee. Phœbe! H'm! Sounds as mild +as a milkmaid. You can't judge a woman by her name. Why couldn't I +have had a man star? I can't make the remarks to Phœbe that I +could to a man. Oh, Phœbe, you be—blasted!'</p> + +<p>"For eight days gales and squalls and waterspouts beat us from +our course. Five days only should have landed us in Esperando. +Our Jonah swallowed the bad credit of it with appealing +frankness; but that scarcely lessened the hardships our cause +was made to suffer.</p> + +<p>"At last one afternoon we steamed into the calm estuary of the +little Rio Escondido. Three miles up this we crept, feeling for +the shallow channel between the low banks that were crowded to +the edge with gigantic trees and riotous vegetation. Then our +whistle gave a little toot, and in five minutes we heard a +shout, and Carlos—my brave Carlos Quintana—crashed through +the tangled vines waving his cap madly for joy.</p> + +<p>"A hundred yards away was his camp, where three hundred chosen +patriots of Esperando were awaiting our coming. For a month +Carlos had been drilling them there in the tactics of war, and +filling them with the spirit of revolution and liberty.</p> + +<p>"'My Captain—<i>compadre mio!</i>' shouted Carlos, while yet my +boat was being lowered. 'You should see them in the drill by +<i>companies</i>—in the column wheel—in the march by fours—they +are superb! Also in the manual of arms—but, alas! performed +only with sticks of bamboo. The guns, <i>capitan</i>—say that you +have brought the guns!'</p> + +<p>"'A thousand Winchesters, Carlos,' I called to him. 'And two +Gatlings.'</p> + +<p>"'<i>Valgame Dios!</i>' he cried, throwing his cap in the air. 'We +shall sweep the world!'</p> + +<p>"At that moment Kearny tumbled from the steamer's side into the +river. He could not swim, so the crew threw him a rope and drew +him back aboard. I caught his eye and his look of pathetic but +still bright and undaunted consciousness of his guilty luck. I +told myself that although he might be a man to shun, he was +also one to be admired.</p> + +<p>"I gave orders to the sailing-master that the arms, ammunition, +and provisions were to be landed at once. That was easy in the +steamer's boats, except for the two Gatling guns. For their +transportation ashore we carried a stout flatboat, brought for +the purpose in the steamer's hold.</p> + +<p>"In the meantime I walked with Carlos to the camp and made the +soldiers a little speech in Spanish, which they received with +enthusiasm; and then I had some wine and a cigarette in +Carlos's tent. Later we walked back to the river to see how the +unloading was being conducted.</p> + +<p>"The small arms and provisions were already ashore, and the +petty officers and squads of men conveying them to camp. One +Gatling had been safely landed; the other was just being +hoisted over the side of the vessel as we arrived. I noticed +Kearny darting about on board, seeming to have the ambition of +ten men, and doing the work of five. I think his zeal bubbled +over when he saw Carlos and me. A rope's end was swinging loose +from some part of the tackle. Kearny leaped impetuously and +caught it. There was a crackle and a hiss and a smoke of +scorching hemp, and the Gatling dropped straight as a plummet +through the bottom of the flatboat and buried itself in twenty +feet of water and five feet of river mud.</p> + +<p>"I turned my back on the scene. I heard Carlos's loud cries as +if from some extreme grief too poignant for words. I heard the +complaining murmur of the crew and the maledictions of Torres, +the sailing master—I could not bear to look.</p> + +<p>"By night some degree of order had been restored in camp. +Military rules were not drawn strictly, and the men were +grouped about the fires of their several messes, playing games +of chance, singing their native songs, or discussing with +voluble animation the contingencies of our march upon the +capital.</p> + +<p>"To my tent, which had been pitched for me close to that of my +chief lieutenant, came Kearny, indomitable, smiling, +bright-eyed, bearing no traces of the buffets of his evil star. +Rather was his aspect that of a heroic martyr whose +tribulations were so high-sourced and glorious that he even +took a splendour and a prestige from them.</p> + +<p>"'Well, Captain,' said he, 'I guess you realize that Bad-Luck +Kearny is still on deck. It was a shame, now, about that gun. +She only needed to be slewed two inches to clear the rail; and +that's why I grabbed that rope's end. Who'd have thought that a +sailor—even a Sicilian lubber on a banana coaster—would have +fastened a line in a bow-knot? Don't think I'm trying to dodge +the responsibility, Captain. It's my luck.'</p> + +<p>"'There are men, Kearny,' said I gravely, 'who pass through +life blaming upon luck and chance the mistakes that result from +their own faults and incompetency. I do not say that you are +such a man. But if all your mishaps are traceable to that tiny +star, the sooner we endow our colleges with chairs of moral +astronomy, the better.'</p> + +<p>"'It isn't the size of the star that counts,' said Kearny; +'it's the quality. Just the way it is with women. That's why +they give the biggest planets masculine names, and the little +stars feminine ones—to even things up when it comes to getting +their work in. Suppose they had called my star Agamemnon or +Bill McCarty or something like that instead of Phœbe. Every +time one of those old boys touched their calamity button and +sent me down one of their wireless pieces of bad luck, I could +talk back and tell 'em what I thought of 'em in suitable terms. +But you can't address such remarks to a Phœbe.'</p> + +<p>"'It pleases you to make a joke of it, Kearny,' said I, without +smiling. 'But it is no joke to me to think of my Gatling mired +in the river ooze.'</p> + +<p>"'As to that,' said Kearny, abandoning his light mood at once, +'I have already done what I could. I have had some experience +in hoisting stone in quarries. Torres and I have already +spliced three hawsers and stretched them from the steamer's +stern to a tree on shore. We will rig a tackle and have the gun +on terra firma before noon to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>"One could not remain long at outs with Bad-Luck Kearny.</p> + +<p>"'Once more,' said I to him, 'we will waive this question of +luck. Have you ever had experience in drilling raw troops?'</p> + +<p>"'I was first sergeant and drill-master,' said Kearny, 'in the +Chilean army for one year. And captain of artillery for +another.'</p> + +<p>"'What became of your command?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'Shot down to a man,' said Kearny, 'during the revolutions +against Balmaceda.'</p> + +<p>"Somehow the misfortunes of the evil-starred one seemed to turn +to me their comedy side. I lay back upon my goat's-hide cot and +laughed until the woods echoed. Kearny grinned. 'I told you how +it was,' he said.</p> + +<p>"'To-morrow,' I said, 'I shall detail one hundred men under +your command for manual-of-arms drill and company evolutions. +You will rank as lieutenant. Now, for God's sake, Kearny,' I urged +him, 'try to combat this superstition if it is one. Bad luck +may be like any other visitor—preferring to stop where it is +expected. Get your mind off stars. Look upon Esperando as your +planet of good fortune.'</p> + +<p>"'I thank you, Captain,' said Kearny quietly. 'I will try to +make it the best handicap I ever ran.'</p> + +<p>"By noon the next day the submerged Gatling was rescued, as +Kearny had promised. Then Carlos and Manuel Ortiz and Kearny +(my lieutenants) distributed Winchesters among the troops and +put them through an incessant rifle drill. We fired no shots, +blank or solid, for of all coasts Esperando is the stillest; +and we had no desire to sound any warnings in the ear of that +corrupt government until they should carry with them the +message of Liberty and the downfall of Oppression.</p> + +<p>"In the afternoon came a mule-rider bearing a written message +to me from Don Rafael Valdevia in the capital, Aguas Frias.</p> + +<p>"Whenever that man's name comes to my lips, words of tribute to +his greatness, his noble simplicity, and his conspicuous genius +follow irrepressibly. He was a traveller, a student of peoples +and governments, a master of sciences, a poet, an orator, a +leader, a soldier, a critic of the world's campaigns and the +idol of the people in Esperando. I had been honoured by his +friendship for years. It was I who first turned his mind to the +thought that he should leave for his monument a new +Esperando—a country freed from the rule of unscrupulous +tyrants, and a people made happy and prosperous by wise and +impartial legislation. When he had consented he threw himself +into the cause with the undivided zeal with which he endowed +all of his acts. The coffers of his great fortune were opened +to those of us to whom were entrusted the secret moves of the +game. His popularity was already so great that he had +practically forced President Cruz to offer him the portfolio of +Minister of War.</p> + +<p>"The time, Don Rafael said in his letter, was ripe. Success, he +prophesied, was certain. The people were beginning to clamour +publicly against Cruz's misrule. Bands of citizens in the +capital were even going about of nights hurling stones at +public buildings and expressing their dissatisfaction. A bronze +statue of President Cruz in the Botanical Gardens had been +lassoed about the neck and overthrown. It only remained for me +to arrive with my force and my thousand rifles, and for himself +to come forward and proclaim himself the people's saviour, to +overthrow Cruz in a single day. There would be but a +half-hearted resistance from the six hundred government troops +stationed in the capital. The country was ours. He presumed +that by this time my steamer had arrived at Quintana's camp. He +proposed the eighteenth of July for the attack. That would give +us six days in which to strike camp and march to Aguas Frias. +In the meantime Don Rafael remained my good friend and +<i>compadre en la causa de la libertad</i>.</p> + +<p>"On the morning of the 14th we began our march toward the +sea-following range of mountains, over the sixty-mile trail to +the capital. Our small arms and provisions were laden on pack +mules. Twenty men harnessed to each Gatling gun rolled them +smoothly along the flat, alluvial lowlands. Our troops, +well-shod and well-fed, moved with alacrity and heartiness. I +and my three lieutenants were mounted on the tough mountain +ponies of the country.</p> + +<p>"A mile out of camp one of the pack mules, becoming stubborn, +broke away from the train and plunged from the path into the +thicket. The alert Kearny spurred quickly after it and +intercepted its flight. Rising in his stirrups, he released one +foot and bestowed upon the mutinous animal a hearty kick. The +mule tottered and fell with a crash broadside upon the ground. +As we gathered around it, it walled its great eyes almost +humanly towards Kearny and expired. That was bad; but worse, to +our minds, was the concomitant disaster. Part of the mule's +burden had been one hundred pounds of the finest coffee to be +had in the tropics. The bag burst and spilled the priceless +brown mass of the ground berries among the dense vines and +weeds of the swampy land. <i>Mala suerte!</i> When you take away +from an Esperandan his coffee, you abstract his patriotism and +50 per cent. of his value as a soldier. The men began to rake +up the precious stuff; but I beckoned Kearny back along the +trail where they would not hear. The limit had been reached.</p> + +<p>"I took from my pocket a wallet of money and drew out some +bills.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Kearny,' said I, 'here are some funds belonging to Don +Rafael Valdevia, which I am expending in his cause. I know of +no better service it can buy for him than this. Here is one +hundred dollars. Luck or no luck, we part company here. Star or +no star, calamity seems to travel by your side. You will return +to the steamer. She touches at Amotapa to discharge her lumber +and iron, and then puts back to New Orleans. Hand this note to +the sailing-master, who will give you passage.' I wrote on a +leaf torn from my book, and placed it and the money in Kearny's +hand.</p> + +<p>"'Good-bye,' I said, extending my own. 'It is not that I am +displeased with you; but there is no place in this expedition +for—let us say, the Señorita Phœbe.' I said this with +a smile, trying to smooth the thing for him. 'May you have better +luck, <i>companero</i>.'</p> + +<p>"Kearny took the money and the paper.</p> + +<p>"'It was just a little touch,' said he, 'just a little lift +with the toe of my boot—but what's the odds?—that blamed mule +would have died if I had only dusted his ribs with a powder +puff. It was my luck. Well, Captain, I would have liked to be +in that little fight with you over in Aguas Frias. Success to +the cause. <i>Adios!</i>'</p> + +<p>"He turned around and set off down the trail without looking +back. The unfortunate mule's pack-saddle was transferred to +Kearny's pony, and we again took up the march.</p> + +<p>"Four days we journeyed over the foot-hills and mountains, +fording icy torrents, winding around the crumbling brows of +ragged peaks, creeping along the rocky flanges that overlooked +awful precipices, crawling breathlessly over tottering bridges +that crossed bottomless chasms.</p> + +<p>"On the evening of the seventeenth we camped by a little stream +on the bare hills five miles from Aguas Frias. At daybreak we +were to take up the march again.</p> + +<p>"At midnight I was standing outside my tent inhaling the fresh +cold air. The stars were shining bright in the cloudless sky, +giving the heavens their proper aspect of illimitable depth and +distance when viewed from the vague darkness of the blotted +earth. Almost at its zenith was the planet Saturn; and with a +half-smile I observed the sinister red sparkle of his malignant +attendant—the demon star of Kearny's ill luck. And then my +thoughts strayed across the hills to the scene of our coming +triumph where the heroic and noble Don Rafael awaited our +coming to set a new and shining star in the firmament of +nations.</p> + +<p>"I heard a slight rustling in the deep grass to my right. I +turned and saw Kearny coming toward me. He was ragged and +dew-drenched and limping. His hat and one boot were gone. About +one foot he had tied some makeshift of cloth and grass. But his +manner as he approached was that of a man who knows his own +virtues well enough to be superior to rebuffs.</p> + +<p>"'Well, sir,' I said, staring at him coldly, 'if there is +anything in persistence, I see no reason why you should not +succeed in wrecking and ruining us yet.'</p> + +<p>"'I kept half a day's journey behind,' said Kearny, fishing out +a stone from the covering of his lame foot, 'so the bad luck +wouldn't touch you. I couldn't help it, Captain; I wanted to be +in on this game. It was a pretty tough trip, especially in the +department of the commissary. In the low grounds there were +always bananas and oranges. Higher up it was worse; but your +men left a good deal of goat meat hanging on the bushes in the +camps. Here's your hundred dollars. You're nearly there now, +captain. Let me in on the scrapping to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>"'Not for a hundred times a hundred would I have the tiniest +thing go wrong with my plans now,' I said, 'whether caused by +evil planets or the blunders of mere man. But yonder is Aguas +Frias, five miles away, and a clear road. I am of the mind to +defy Saturn and all his satellites to spoil our success now. At +any rate, I will not turn away to-night as weary a traveller +and as good a soldier as you are, Lieutenant Kearny. Manuel +Ortiz's tent is there by the brightest fire. Rout him out and +tell him to supply you with food and blankets and clothes. We +march again at daybreak.'</p> + +<p>"Kearny thanked me briefly but feelingly and moved away.</p> + +<p>"He had gone scarcely a dozen steps when a sudden flash of +bright light illumined the surrounding hills; a sinister, +growing, hissing sound like escaping steam filled my ears. Then +followed a roar as of distant thunder, which grew louder every +instant. This terrifying noise culminated in a tremendous +explosion, which seemed to rock the hills as an earthquake +would; the illumination waxed to a glare so fierce that I +clapped my hands over my eyes to save them. I thought the end +of the world had come. I could think of no natural phenomenon +that would explain it. My wits were staggering. The deafening +explosion trailed off into the rumbling roar that had preceded +it; and through this I heard the frightened shouts of my troops +as they stumbled from their resting-places and rushed wildly +about. Also I heard the harsh tones of Kearny's voice crying: +'They'll blame it on me, of course, and what the devil it is, +it's not Francis Kearny that can give you an answer.'</p> + +<p>"I opened my eyes. The hills were still there, dark and solid. +It had not been, then, a volcano or an earthquake. I looked up +at the sky and saw a comet-like trail crossing the zenith and +extending westward—a fiery trail waning fainter and narrower +each moment.</p> + +<p>"'A meteor!' I called aloud. 'A meteor has fallen. There is no +danger.'</p> + +<p>"And then all other sounds were drowned by a great shout from +Kearny's throat. He had raised both hands above his head and +was standing tiptoe.</p> + +<p>"'PHŒBE'S GONE!' he cried, with all his lungs. 'She's busted +and gone to hell. Look, Captain, the little red-headed hoodoo +has blown herself to smithereens. She found Kearny too tough to +handle, and she puffed up with spite and meanness till her +boiler blew up. It's be Bad-Luck Kearny no more. Oh, let us be +joyful!<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall;<br /> + Humpty busted, and that'll be all!'<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"I looked up, wondering, and picked out Saturn in his place. +But the small red twinkling luminary in his vicinity, which +Kearny had pointed out to me as his evil star, had vanished. I +had seen it there but half an hour before; there was no doubt +that one of those awful and mysterious spasms of nature had +hurled it from the heavens.</p> + +<p>"I clapped Kearny on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"'Little man,' said I, 'let this clear the way for you. It +appears that astrology has failed to subdue you. Your horoscope +must be cast anew with pluck and loyalty for controlling stars. +I play you to win. Now, get to your tent, and sleep. Daybreak +is the word.'</p> + +<p>"At nine o'clock on the morning of the eighteenth of July I +rode into Aguas Frias with Kearny at my side. In his clean +linen suit and with his military poise and keen eye he was a +model of a fighting adventurer. I had visions of him riding as +commander of President Valdevia's body-guard when the plums of +the new republic should begin to fall.</p> + +<p>"Carlos followed with the troops and supplies. He was to halt +in a wood outside the town and remain concealed there until he +received the word to advance.</p> + +<p>"Kearny and I rode down the Calle Ancha toward the <i>residencia</i> +of Don Rafael at the other side of the town. As we passed the +superb white buildings of the University of Esperando, I saw at +an open window the gleaming spectacles and bald head of Herr +Bergowitz, professor of the natural sciences and friend of Don +Rafael and of me and of the cause. He waved his hand to me, +with his broad, bland smile.</p> + +<p>"There was no excitement apparent in Aguas Frias. The people +went about leisurely as at all times; the market was thronged +with bare-headed women buying fruit and <i>carne</i>; we heard the +twang and tinkle of string bands in the patios of the +<i>cantinas</i>. We could see that it was a waiting game that Don +Rafael was playing.</p> + +<p>"His <i>residencia</i> was a large but low building around a great +courtyard in grounds crowed with ornamental trees and tropic +shrubs. At his door an old woman who came informed us that Don +Rafael had not yet arisen.</p> + +<p>"'Tell him,' said I, 'that Captain Maloné and a friend +wish to see him at once. Perhaps he has overslept.'</p> + +<p>"She came back looking frightened.</p> + +<p>"'I have called,' she said, 'and rung his bell many times, but +he does not answer.'</p> + +<p>"I knew where his sleeping-room was. Kearny and I pushed by her +and went to it. I put my shoulder against the thin door and +forced it open.</p> + +<p>"In an armchair by a great table covered with maps and books +sat Don Rafael with his eyes closed. I touched his hand. He had +been dead many hours. On his head above one ear was a wound +caused by a heavy blow. It had ceased to bleed long before.</p> + +<p>"I made the old woman call a <i>mozo</i>, and dispatched him in +haste to fetch Herr Bergowitz.</p> + +<p>"He came, and we stood about as if we were half stunned by the +awful shock. Thus can the letting of a few drops of blood from +one man's veins drain the life of a nation.</p> + +<p>"Presently Herr Bergowitz stooped and picked up a darkish stone +the size of an orange which he saw under the table. He examined +it closely through his great glasses with the eye of science.</p> + +<p>"'A fragment,' said he, 'of a detonating meteor. The most +remarkable one in twenty years exploded above this city a +little after midnight this morning.'</p> + +<p>"The professor looked quickly up at the ceiling. We saw the +blue sky through a hole the size of an orange nearly above Don +Rafael's chair.</p> + +<p>"I heard a familiar sound, and turned. Kearny had thrown +himself on the floor and was babbling his compendium of bitter, +blood-freezing curses against the star of his evil luck.</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly Phœbe had been feminine. Even when +hurtling on her way to fiery dissolution and everlasting +doom, the last word had been hers."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Captain Maloné was not unskilled in narrative. He knew +the point where a story should end. I sat reveling in his effective +conclusion when he aroused me by continuing:</p> + +<p>"Of course," said he, "our schemes were at an end. There was no +one to take Don Rafael's place. Our little army melted away +like dew before the sun.</p> + +<p>"One day after I had returned to New Orleans I related this +story to a friend who holds a professorship in Tulane +University.</p> + +<p>"When I had finished he laughed and asked whether I had any +knowledge of Kearny's luck afterward. I told him no, that I had +seen him no more; but that when he left me, he had expressed +confidence that his future would be successful now that his +unlucky star had been overthrown.</p> + +<p>"'No doubt,' said the professor, 'he is happier not to know one +fact. If he derives his bad luck from Phœbe, the ninth +satellite of Saturn, that malicious lady is still engaged in +overlooking his career. The star close to Saturn that he +imagined to be her was near that planet simply by the chance of +its orbit—probably at different times he has regarded many +other stars that happened to be in Saturn's neighbourhood as +his evil one. The real Phœbe is visible only through a very +good telescope.'</p> + +<p>"About a year afterward," continued Captain Maloné, +"I was walking down a street that crossed the Poydras Market. An +immensely stout, pink-faced lacy in black satin crowded me from +the narrow sidewalk with a frown. Behind her trailed a little +man laden to the gunwales with bundles and bags of goods and +vegetables.</p> + +<p>"It was Kearny—but changed. I stopped and shook one of his +hands, which still clung to a bag of garlic and red peppers.</p> + +<p>"'How is the luck, old <i>companero</i>?' I asked him. I had not the +heart to tell him the truth about his star.</p> + +<p>"'Well,' said he, 'I am married, as you may guess.'</p> + +<p>"'Francis!' called the big lady, in deep tones, 'are you going +to stop in the street talking all day?'</p> + +<p>"'I am coming, Phœbe dear,' said Kearny, hastening after +her."</p> + +<p>Captain Maloné ceased again.</p> + +<p>"After all, do you believe in luck?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" answered the captain, with his ambiguous smile shaded +by the brim of his soft straw hat.</p> + + +<p><a name="8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VIII</h3> +<h3>A DOUBLE-DYED DECEIVER<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The trouble began in Laredo. It was the Llano Kid's fault, for +he should have confined his habit of manslaughter to Mexicans. +But the Kid was past twenty; and to have only Mexicans to one's +credit at twenty is to blush unseen on the Rio Grande border.</p> + +<p>It happened in old Justo Valdos's gambling house. There was a +poker game at which sat players who were not all friends, as +happens often where men ride in from afar to shoot Folly as she +gallops. There was a row over so small a matter as a pair of +queens; and when the smoke had cleared away it was found that +the Kid had committed an indiscretion, and his adversary had +been guilty of a blunder. For, the unfortunate combatant, +instead of being a Greaser, was a high-blooded youth from the +cow ranches, of about the Kid's own age and possessed of +friends and champions. His blunder in missing the Kid's right +ear only a sixteenth of an inch when he pulled his gun did not +lessen the indiscretion of the better marksman.</p> + +<p>The Kid, not being equipped with a retinue, nor bountifully +supplied with personal admirers and supporters—on account of a +rather umbrageous reputation, even for the border—considered +it not incompatible with his indisputable gameness to perform +that judicious tractional act known as "pulling his freight."</p> + +<p>Quickly the avengers gathered and sought him. Three of them +overtook him within a rod of the station. The Kid turned and +showed his teeth in that brilliant but mirthless smile that +usually preceded his deeds of insolence and violence, and his +pursuers fell back without making it necessary for him even to +reach for his weapon.</p> + +<p>But in this affair the Kid had not felt the grim thirst for +encounter that usually urged him on to battle. It had been a +purely chance row, born of the cards and certain epithets +impossible for a gentleman to brook that had passed between the +two. The Kid had rather liked the slim, haughty, brown-faced +young chap whom his bullet had cut off in the first pride of +manhood. And now he wanted no more blood. He wanted to get away +and have a good long sleep somewhere in the sun on the mesquit +grass with his handkerchief over his face. Even a Mexican might +have crossed his path in safety while he was in this mood.</p> + +<p>The Kid openly boarded the north-bound passenger train that +departed five minutes later. But at Webb, a few miles out, +where it was flagged to take on a traveller, he abandoned that +manner of escape. There were telegraph stations ahead; and the +Kid looked askance at electricity and steam. Saddle and spur +were his rocks of safety.</p> + +<p>The man whom he had shot was a stranger to him. But the Kid +knew that he was of the Coralitos outfit from Hidalgo; and that +the punchers from that ranch were more relentless and vengeful +than Kentucky feudists when wrong or harm was done to one of +them. So, with the wisdom that has characterized many great +fighters, the Kid decided to pile up as many leagues as possible +of chaparral and pear between himself and the retaliation of +the Coralitos bunch.</p> + +<p>Near the station was a store; and near the store, scattered +among the mesquits and elms, stood the saddled horses of the +customers. Most of them waited, half asleep, with sagging limbs +and drooping heads. But one, a long-legged roan with a curved +neck, snorted and pawed the turf. Him the Kid mounted, gripped +with his knees, and slapped gently with the owner's own quirt.</p> + +<p>If the slaying of the temerarious card-player had cast a cloud +over the Kid's standing as a good and true citizen, this last +act of his veiled his figure in the darkest shadows of +disrepute. On the Rio Grande border if you take a man's life +you sometimes take trash; but if you take his horse, you take a +thing the loss of which renders him poor, indeed, and which +enriches you not—if you are caught. For the Kid there was no +turning back now.</p> + +<p>With the springing roan under him he felt little care or +uneasiness. After a five-mile gallop he drew in to the +plainsman's jogging trot, and rode northeastward toward the +Nueces River bottoms. He knew the country well—its most +tortuous and obscure trails through the great wilderness of +brush and pear, and its camps and lonesome ranches where one +might find safe entertainment. Always he bore to the east; for +the Kid had never seen the ocean, and he had a fancy to lay his +hand upon the mane of the great Gulf, the gamesome colt of the +greater waters.</p> + +<p>So after three days he stood on the shore at Corpus Christi, +and looked out across the gentle ripples of a quiet sea.</p> + +<p>Captain Boone, of the schooner <i>Flyaway</i>, stood near his skiff, +which one of his crew was guarding in the surf. When ready to +sail he had discovered that one of the necessaries of life, in +the parallelogrammatic shape of plug tobacco, had been +forgotten. A sailor had been dispatched for the missing cargo. +Meanwhile the captain paced the sands, chewing profanely at his +pocket store.</p> + +<p>A slim, wiry youth in high-heeled boots came down to the +water's edge. His face was boyish, but with a premature +severity that hinted at a man's experience. His complexion was +naturally dark; and the sun and wind of an outdoor life had +burned it to a coffee brown. His hair was as black and straight +as an Indian's; his face had not yet been upturned to the +humiliation of a razor; his eyes were a cold and steady blue. +He carried his left arm somewhat away from his body, for +pearl-handled .45s are frowned upon by town marshals, and are a +little bulky when placed in the left armhole of one's vest. He +looked beyond Captain Boone at the gulf with the impersonal and +expressionless dignity of a Chinese emperor.</p> + +<p>"Thinkin' of buyin' that'ar gulf, buddy?" asked the captain, +made sarcastic by his narrow escape from a tobaccoless voyage.</p> + +<p>"Why, no," said the Kid gently, "I reckon not. I never saw it +before. I was just looking at it. Not thinking of selling it, +are you?"</p> + +<p>"Not this trip," said the captain. "I'll send it to you C.O.D. +when I get back to Buenas Tierras. Here comes that +capstanfooted lubber with the chewin'. I ought to've weighed +anchor an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"Is that your ship out there?" asked the Kid.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," answered the captain, "if you want to call a +schooner a ship, and I don't mind lyin'. But you better say +Miller and Gonzales, owners, and ordinary plain, +Billy-be-damned old Samuel K. Boone, skipper."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going to?" asked the refugee.</p> + +<p>"Buenas Tierras, coast of South America—I forgot what they +called the country the last time I was there. Cargo—lumber, +corrugated iron, and machetes."</p> + +<p>"What kind of a country is it?" asked the Kid—"hot or cold?"</p> + +<p>"Warmish, buddy," said the captain. "But a regular Paradise +Lost for elegance of scenery and be-yooty of geography. Ye're +wakened every morning by the sweet singin' of red birds with +seven purple tails, and the sighin' of breezes in the posies +and roses. And the inhabitants never work, for they can reach +out and pick steamer baskets of the choicest hothouse fruit +without gettin' out of bed. And there's no Sunday and no ice +and no rent and no troubles and no use and no nothin'. It's a +great country for a man to go to sleep with, and wait for +somethin' to turn up. The bananys and oranges and hurricanes +and pineapples that ye eat comes from there."</p> + +<p>"That sounds to me!" said the Kid, at last betraying interest. +"What'll the expressage be to take me out there with you?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-four dollars," said Captain Boone; "grub and +transportation. Second cabin. I haven't got a first cabin."</p> + +<p>"You've got my company," said the Kid, pulling out a buckskin +bag.</p> + +<p>With three hundred dollars he had gone to Laredo for his +regular "blowout." The duel in Valdos's had cut short his +season of hilarity, but it had left him with nearly $200 for +aid in the flight that it had made necessary.</p> + +<p>"All right, buddy," said the captain. "I hope your ma won't +blame me for this little childish escapade of yours." He +beckoned to one of the boat's crew. "Let Sanchez lift you out +to the skiff so you won't get your feet wet."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Thacker, the United States consul at Buenas Tierras, was not +yet drunk. It was only eleven o'clock; and he never arrived at +his desired state of beatitude—a state wherein he sang ancient +maudlin vaudeville songs and pelted his screaming parrot with +banana peels—until the middle of the afternoon. So, when he +looked up from his hammock at the sound of a slight cough, and +saw the Kid standing in the door of the consulate, he was still +in a condition to extend the hospitality and courtesy due from +the representative of a great nation. "Don't disturb yourself," +said the Kid, easily. "I just dropped in. They told me it was +customary to light at your camp before starting in to round up +the town. I just came in on a ship from Texas."</p> + +<p>"Glad to see you, Mr.—" said the consul.</p> + +<p>The Kid laughed.</p> + +<p>"Sprague Dalton," he said. "It sounds funny to me to hear it. +I'm called the Llano Kid in the Rio Grande country."</p> + +<p>"I'm Thacker," said the consul. "Take that cane-bottom chair. +Now if you've come to invest, you want somebody to advise you. +These dingies will cheat you out of the gold in your teeth if +you don't understand their ways. Try a cigar?"</p> + +<p>"Much obliged," said the Kid, "but if it wasn't for my corn +shucks and the little bag in my back pocket I couldn't live a +minute." He took out his "makings," and rolled a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"They speak Spanish here," said the consul. "You'll need an +interpreter. If there's anything I can do, why, I'd be +delighted. If you're buying fruit lands or looking for a +concession of any sort, you'll want somebody who knows the +ropes to look out for you."</p> + +<p>"I speak Spanish," said the Kid, "about nine times better than +I do English. Everybody speaks it on the range where I come +from. And I'm not in the market for anything."</p> + +<p>"You speak Spanish?" said Thacker thoughtfully. He regarded the +kid absorbedly.</p> + +<p>"You look like a Spaniard, too," he continued. "And you're from +Texas. And you can't be more than twenty or twenty-one. I +wonder if you've got any nerve."</p> + +<p>"You got a deal of some kind to put through?" asked the Texan, +with unexpected shrewdness.</p> + +<p>"Are you open to a proposition?" said Thacker.</p> + +<p>"What's the use to deny it?" said the Kid. "I got into a little +gun frolic down in Laredo and plugged a white man. There wasn't +any Mexican handy. And I come down to your parrot-and-monkey +range just for to smell the morning-glories and marigolds. Now, +do you <i>sabe</i>?"</p> + +<p>Thacker got up and closed the door.</p> + +<p>"Let me see your hand," he said.</p> + +<p>He took the Kid's left hand, and examined the back of it +closely.</p> + +<p>"I can do it," he said excitedly. "Your flesh is as hard as +wood and as healthy as a baby's. It will heal in a week."</p> + +<p>"If it's a fist fight you want to back me for," said the Kid, +"don't put your money up yet. Make it gun work, and I'll keep +you company. But no barehanded scrapping, like ladies at a +tea-party, for me."</p> + +<p>"It's easier than that," said Thacker. "Just step here, will +you?"</p> + +<p>Through the window he pointed to a two-story white-stuccoed +house with wide galleries rising amid the deep-green tropical +foliage on a wooded hill that sloped gently from the sea.</p> + +<p>"In that house," said Thacker, "a fine old Castilian gentleman +and his wife are yearning to gather you into their arms and +fill your pockets with money. Old Santos Urique lives there. He +owns half the gold-mines in the country."</p> + +<p>"You haven't been eating loco weed, have you?" asked the Kid.</p> + +<p>"Sit down again," said Thacker, "and I'll tell you. Twelve +years ago they lost a kid. No, he didn't die—although most of +'em here do from drinking the surface water. He was a wild +little devil, even if he wasn't but eight years old. Everybody +knows about it. Some Americans who were through here +prospecting for gold had letters to Señor Urique, and the +boy was a favorite with them. They filled his head with big stories +about the States; and about a month after they left, the kid +disappeared, too. He was supposed to have stowed himself away +among the banana bunches on a fruit steamer, and gone to New +Orleans. He was seen once afterward in Texas, it was thought, +but they never heard anything more of him. Old Urique has spent +thousands of dollars having him looked for. The madam was +broken up worst of all. The kid was her life. She wears +mourning yet. But they say she believes he'll come back to her +some day, and never gives up hope. On the back of the boy's +left hand was tattooed a flying eagle carrying a spear in his +claws. That's old Urique's coat of arms or something that he +inherited in Spain."</p> + +<p>The Kid raised his left hand slowly and gazed at it curiously.</p> + +<p>"That's it," said Thacker, reaching behind the official desk +for his bottle of smuggled brandy. "You're not so slow. I can +do it. What was I consul at Sandakan for? I never knew till +now. In a week I'll have the eagle bird with the frog-sticker +blended in so you'd think you were born with it. I brought a +set of the needles and ink just because I was sure you'd drop +in some day, Mr. Dalton."</p> + +<p>"Oh, hell," said the Kid. "I thought I told you my name!"</p> + +<p>"All right, 'Kid,' then. It won't be that long. How does +Señorito Urique sound, for a change?"</p> + +<p>"I never played son any that I remember of," said the Kid. "If +I had any parents to mention they went over the divide about +the time I gave my first bleat. What is the plan of your +round-up?"</p> + +<p>Thacker leaned back against the wall and held his glass up to +the light.</p> + +<p>"We've come now," said he, "to the question of how far you're +willing to go in a little matter of the sort."</p> + +<p>"I told you why I came down here," said the Kid simply.</p> + +<p>"A good answer," said the consul. "But you won't have to go +that far. Here's the scheme. After I get the trademark tattooed +on your hand I'll notify old Urique. In the meantime I'll +furnish you with all of the family history I can find out, so +you can be studying up points to talk about. You've got the +looks, you speak the Spanish, you know the facts, you can tell +about Texas, you've got the tattoo mark. When I notify them +that the rightful heir has returned and is waiting to know +whether he will be received and pardoned, what will happen? +They'll simply rush down here and fall on your neck, and the +curtain goes down for refreshments and a stroll in the lobby."</p> + +<p>"I'm waiting," said the Kid. "I haven't had my saddle off in +your camp long, pardner, and I never met you before; but if you +intend to let it go at a parental blessing, why, I'm mistaken +in my man, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said the consul. "I haven't met anybody in a long +time that keeps up with an argument as well as you do. The rest +of it is simple. If they take you in only for a while it's long +enough. Don't give 'em time to hunt up the strawberry mark on +your left shoulder. Old Urique keeps anywhere from $50,000 to +$100,000 in his house all the time in a little safe that you +could open with a shoe buttoner. Get it. My skill as a tattooer +is worth half the boddle. We go halves and catch a tramp +steamer for Rio Janeiro. Let the United States go to pieces if +it can't get along without my services. <i>Que dice, +señor?</i>"</p> + +<p>"It sounds to me!" said the Kid, nodding his head. "I'm out for +the dust."</p> + +<p>"All right, then," said Thacker. "You'll have to keep close +until we get the bird on you. You can live in the back room +here. I do my own cooking, and I'll make you as comfortable as +a parsimonious Government will allow me."</p> + +<p>Thacker had set the time at a week, but it was two weeks before +the design that he patiently tattooed upon the Kid's hand was +to his notion. And then Thacker called a <i>muchacho</i>, and +dispatched this note to the intended victim:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">El Señor Don +Santos Urique,</span><br /> +<span class="ind2">La Casa Blanca,</span></p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My +Dear Sir:</span></p> + +<p>I beg permission to inform you that there is in my house as +a temporary guest a young man who arrived in Buenas Tierras +from the United States some days ago. Without wishing to +excite any hopes that may not be realized, I think there is +a possibility of his being your long-absent son. It might be +well for you to call and see him. If he is, it is my opinion +that his intention was to return to his home, but upon +arriving here, his courage failed him from doubts as to how +he would be received. Your true servant,</p> + +<p class="ind10"><span class="smallcaps">Thompson +Thacker.</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>Half an hour afterward—quick time for Buenas +Tierras—Señor Urique's ancient landau +drove to the consul's door, with the +barefooted coachman beating and shouting at the team of fat, +awkward horses.</p> + +<p>A tall man with a white moustache alighted, and assisted to the +ground a lady who was dressed and veiled in unrelieved black.</p> + +<p>The two hastened inside, and were met by Thacker with his best +diplomatic bow. By his desk stood a slender young man with +clear-cut, sun-browned features and smoothly brushed black +hair.</p> + +<p>Señora Urique threw back her black veil with a quick +gesture. She was past middle age, and her hair was beginning +to silver, but her full, proud figure and clear olive +skin retained traces of the beauty peculiar to +the Basque province. But, once you had seen her +eyes, and comprehended the great sadness that was +revealed in their deep shadows and hopeless expression, you saw +that the woman lived only in some memory.</p> + +<p>She bent upon the young man a long look of the most agonized +questioning. Then her great black eyes turned, and her gaze +rested upon his left hand. And then with a sob, not loud, but +seeming to shake the room, she cried "<i>Hijo mio!</i>" and caught +the Llano Kid to her heart.</p> + +<p>A month afterward the Kid came to the consulate in response to +a message sent by Thacker.</p> + +<p>He looked the young Spanish <i>caballero</i>. His clothes were +imported, and the wiles of the jewellers had not been spent +upon him in vain. A more than respectable diamond shone on his +finger as he rolled a shuck cigarette.</p> + +<p>"What's doing?" asked Thacker.</p> + +<p>"Nothing much," said the Kid calmly. "I eat my first iguana +steak to-day. They're them big lizards, you <i>sabe</i>? I reckon, +though, that frijoles and side bacon would do me about as well. +Do you care for iguanas, Thacker?"</p> + +<p>"No, nor for some other kinds of reptiles," said Thacker.</p> + +<p>It was three in the afternoon, and in another hour he would be +in his state of beatitude.</p> + +<p>"It's time you were making good, sonny," he went on, with an +ugly look on his reddened face. "You're not playing up to me +square. You've been the prodigal son for four weeks now, and +you could have had veal for every meal on a gold dish if you'd +wanted it. Now, Mr. Kid, do you think it's right to leave me +out so long on a husk diet? What's the trouble? Don't you get +your filial eyes on anything that looks like cash in the Casa +Blanca? Don't tell me you don't. Everybody knows where old +Urique keeps his stuff. It's U.S. currency, too; he don't +accept anything else. What's doing? Don't say 'nothing' this +time."</p> + +<p>"Why, sure," said the Kid, admiring his diamond, "there's +plenty of money up there. I'm no judge of collateral in +bunches, but I will undertake for to say that I've seen the +rise of $50,000 at a time in that tin grub box that my adopted +father calls his safe. And he lets me carry the key sometimes +just to show me that he knows I'm the real little Francisco that +strayed from the herd a long time ago."</p> + +<p>"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Thacker, angrily. +"Don't you forget that I can upset your apple-cart any day I +want to. If old Urique knew you were an imposter, what sort of +things would happen to you? Oh, you don't know this country, +Mr. Texas Kid. The laws here have got mustard spread between +'em. These people here'd stretch you out like a frog that had +been stepped on, and give you about fifty sticks at every +corner of the plaza. And they'd wear every stick out, too. What +was left of you they'd feed to alligators."</p> + +<p>"I might just as well tell you now, pardner," said the Kid, +sliding down low on his steamer chair, "that things are going +to stay just as they are. They're about right now."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Thacker, rattling the bottom of his +glass on his desk.</p> + +<p>"The scheme's off," said the Kid. "And whenever you have the +pleasure of speaking to me address me as Don Francisco Urique. +I'll guarantee I'll answer to it. We'll let Colonel Urique keep +his money. His little tin safe is as good as the time-locker in +the First National Bank of Laredo as far as you and me are +concerned."</p> + +<p>"You're going to throw me down, then, are you?" said the +consul.</p> + +<p>"Sure," said the Kid cheerfully. "Throw you down. That's it. +And now I'll tell you why. The first night I was up at the +colonel's house they introduced me to a bedroom. No blankets on +the floor—a real room, with a bed and things in it. And before +I was asleep, in comes this artificial mother of mine and tucks +in the covers. 'Panchito,' she says, 'my little lost one, God has +brought you back to me. I bless His name forever.' It was that, +or some truck like that, she said. And down comes a drop or two +of rain and hits me on the nose. And all that stuck by me, Mr. +Thacker. And it's been that way ever since. And it's got to +stay that way. Don't you think that it's for what's in it for +me, either, that I say so. If you have any such ideas, keep 'em +to yourself. I haven't had much truck with women in my life, +and no mothers to speak of, but here's a lady that we've got to +keep fooled. Once she stood it; twice she won't. I'm a low-down +wolf, and the devil may have sent me on this trail instead of +God, but I'll travel it to the end. And now, don't forget that +I'm Don Francisco Urique whenever you happen to mention my +name."</p> + +<p>"I'll expose you to-day, you—you double-dyed traitor," +stammered Thacker.</p> + +<p>The Kid arose and, without violence, took Thacker by the throat +with a hand of steel, and shoved him slowly into a corner. Then +he drew from under his left arm his pearl-handled .45 and poked +the cold muzzle of it against the consul's mouth.</p> + +<p>"I told you why I come here," he said, with his old freezing +smile. "If I leave here, you'll be the reason. Never forget it, +pardner. Now, what is my name?"</p> + +<p>"Er—Don Francisco Urique," gasped Thacker.</p> + +<p>From outside came a sound of wheels, and the shouting of some +one, and the sharp thwacks of a wooden whipstock upon the backs +of fat horses.</p> + +<p>The Kid put up his gun, and walked toward the door. But he +turned again and came back to the trembling Thacker, and held +up his left hand with its back toward the consul.</p> + +<p>"There's one more reason," he said slowly, "why things have got +to stand as they are. The fellow I killed in Laredo had one of +them same pictures on his left hand."</p> + +<p>Outside, the ancient landau of Don Santos Urique rattled to the +door. The coachman ceased his bellowing. Señora Urique, +in a voluminous gay gown of white lace and flying ribbons, leaned +forward with a happy look in her great soft eyes.</p> + +<p>"Are you within, dear son?" she called, in the rippling +Castilian.</p> + +<p>"<i>Madre mia, yo vengo</i> [mother, I come]," answered the young +Don Francisco Urique.</p> + + +<p><a name="9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IX</h3> +<h3>THE PASSING OF BLACK EAGLE<br /> </h3> + + +<p>For some months of a certain year a grim bandit infested the +Texas border along the Rio Grande. Peculiarly striking to the +optic nerve was this notorious marauder. His personality +secured him the title of "Black Eagle, the Terror of the +Border." Many fearsome tales are on record concerning the +doings of him and his followers. Suddenly, in the space of a +single minute, Black Eagle vanished from earth. He was never +heard of again. His own band never even guessed the mystery of +his disappearance. The border ranches and settlements feared he +would come again to ride and ravage the mesquite flats. He +never will. It is to disclose the fate of Black Eagle that this +narrative is written.</p> + +<p>The initial movement of the story is furnished by the foot of a +bartender in St. Louis. His discerning eye fell upon the form +of Chicken Ruggles as he pecked with avidity at the free lunch. +Chicken was a "hobo." He had a long nose like the bill of a +fowl, an inordinate appetite for poultry, and a habit of +gratifying it without expense, which accounts for the name +given him by his fellow vagrants.</p> + +<p>Physicians agree that the partaking of liquids at meal times is +not a healthy practice. The hygiene of the saloon promulgates +the opposite. Chicken had neglected to purchase a drink to +accompany his meal. The bartender rounded the counter, caught +the injudicious diner by the ear with a lemon squeezer, led him +to the door and kicked him into the street.</p> + +<p>Thus the mind of Chicken was brought to realize the signs of +coming winter. The night was cold; the stars shone with +unkindly brilliancy; people were hurrying along the streets in +two egotistic, jostling streams. Men had donned their +overcoats, and Chicken knew to an exact percentage the +increased difficulty of coaxing dimes from those buttoned-in +vest pockets. The time had come for his annual exodus to the +south.</p> + +<p>A little boy, five or six years old, stood looking with +covetous eyes in a confectioner's window. In one small hand he +held an empty two-ounce vial; in the other he grasped tightly +something flat and round, with a shining milled edge. The scene +presented a field of operations commensurate to Chicken's +talents and daring. After sweeping the horizon to make sure +that no official tug was cruising near, he insidiously accosted +his prey. The boy, having been early taught by his household to +regard altruistic advances with extreme suspicion, received the +overtures coldly.</p> + +<p>Then Chicken knew that he must make one of those desperate, +nerve-shattering plunges into speculation that fortune +sometimes requires of those who would win her favour. Five +cents was his capital, and this he must risk against the chance +of winning what lay within the close grasp of the youngster's +chubby hand. It was a fearful lottery, Chicken knew. But he +must accomplish his end by strategy, since he had a wholesome +terror of plundering infants by force. Once, in a park, driven +by hunger, he had committed an onslaught upon a bottle of +peptonized infant's food in the possession of an occupant of a +baby carriage. The outraged infant had so promptly opened its +mouth and pressed the button that communicated with the welkin +that help arrived, and Chicken did his thirty days in a snug +coop. Wherefore he was, as he said, "leary of kids."</p> + +<p>Beginning artfully to question the boy concerning his choice of +sweets, he gradually drew out the information he wanted. Mamma +said he was to ask the drug store man for ten cents' worth of +paregoric in the bottle; he was to keep his hand shut tight +over the dollar; he must not stop to talk to anyone in the +street; he must ask the drug-store man to wrap up the change +and put it in the pocket of his trousers. Indeed, they had +pockets—two of them! And he liked chocolate creams best.</p> + +<p>Chicken went into the store and turned plunger. He invested his +entire capital in C.A.N.D.Y. stocks, simply to pave the way to +the greater risk following.</p> + +<p>He gave the sweets to the youngster, and had the satisfaction +of perceiving that confidence was established. After that it +was easy to obtain leadership of the expedition; to take the +investment by the hand and lead it to a nice drug store he knew +of in the same block. There Chicken, with a parental air, +passed over the dollar and called for the medicine, while the +boy crunched his candy, glad to be relieved of the +responsibility of the purchase. And then the successful +investor, searching his pockets, found an overcoat button—the +extent of his winter trousseau—and, wrapping it carefully, +placed the ostensible change in the pocket of confiding +juvenility. Setting the youngster's face homeward, and patting +him benevolently on the back—for Chicken's heart was as soft +as those of his feathered namesakes—the speculator quit the +market with a profit of 1,700 per cent. on his invested +capital.</p> + +<p>Two hours later an Iron Mountain freight engine pulled out of +the railroad yards, Texas bound, with a string of empties. In +one of the cattle cars, half buried in excelsior, Chicken lay +at ease. Beside him in his nest was a quart bottle of very poor +whisky and a paper bag of bread and cheese. Mr. Ruggles, in his +private car, was on his trip south for the winter season.</p> + +<p>For a week that car was trundled southward, shifted, laid over, +and manipulated after the manner of rolling stock, but Chicken +stuck to it, leaving it only at necessary times to satisfy his +hunger and thirst. He knew it must go down to the cattle +country, and San Antonio, in the heart of it, was his goal. +There the air was salubrious and mild; the people indulgent and +long-suffering. The bartenders there would not kick him. If he +should eat too long or too often at one place they would swear +at him as if by rote and without heat. They swore so +drawlingly, and they rarely paused short of their full +vocabulary, which was copious, so that Chicken had often gulped +a good meal during the process of the vituperative prohibition. +The season there was always spring-like; the plazas were +pleasant at night, with music and gaiety; except during the +slight and infrequent cold snaps one could sleep comfortably +out of doors in case the interiors should develop +inhospitability.</p> + +<p>At Texarkana his car was switched to the I. and G. N. Then +still southward it trailed until, at length, it crawled across the +Colorado bridge at Austin, and lined out, straight as an arrow, +for the run to San Antonio.</p> + +<p>When the freight halted at that town Chicken was fast asleep. +In ten minutes the train was off again for Laredo, the end of +the road. Those empty cattle cars were for distribution along +the line at points from which the ranches shipped their stock.</p> + +<p>When Chicken awoke his car was stationary. Looking out between +the slats he saw it was a bright, moonlit night. Scrambling +out, he saw his car with three others abandoned on a little +siding in a wild and lonesome country. A cattle pen and chute +stood on one side of the track. The railroad bisected a vast, +dim ocean of prairie, in the midst of which Chicken, with his +futile rolling stock, was as completely stranded as was +Robinson with his land-locked boat.</p> + +<p>A white post stood near the rails. Going up to it, Chicken read +the letters at the top, S. A. 90. Laredo was nearly as far to +the south. He was almost a hundred miles from any town. Coyotes +began to yelp in the mysterious sea around him. Chicken felt +lonesome. He had lived in Boston without an education, in +Chicago without nerve, in Philadelphia without a sleeping +place, in New York without a pull, and in Pittsburg sober, and +yet he had never felt so lonely as now.</p> + +<p>Suddenly through the intense silence, he heard the whicker of a +horse. The sound came from the side of the track toward the +east, and Chicken began to explore timorously in that +direction. He stepped high along the mat of curly mesquit +grass, for he was afraid of everything there might be in this +wilderness—snakes, rats, brigands, centipedes, mirages, +cowboys, fandangoes, tarantulas, tamales—he had read of them +in the story papers. Rounding a clump of prickly pear that +reared high its fantastic and menacing array of rounded heads, +he was struck to shivering terror by a snort and a thunderous +plunge, as the horse, himself startled, bounded away some fifty +yards, and then resumed his grazing. But here was the one thing +in the desert that Chicken did not fear. He had been reared on +a farm; he had handled horses, understood them, and could ride.</p> + +<p>Approaching slowly and speaking soothingly, he followed the +animal, which, after its first flight, seemed gentle enough, +and secured the end of the twenty-foot lariat that dragged +after him in the grass. It required him but a few moments to +contrive the rope into an ingenious nose-bridle, after the +style of the Mexican <i>borsal</i>. In another he was upon the +horse's back and off at a splendid lope, giving the animal free +choice of direction. "He will take me somewhere," said Chicken +to himself.</p> + +<p>It would have been a thing of joy, that untrammelled gallop +over the moonlit prairie, even to Chicken, who loathed +exertion, but that his mood was not for it. His head ached; a +growing thirst was upon him; the "somewhere" whither his lucky +mount might convey him was full of dismal peradventure.</p> + +<p>And now he noted that the horse moved to a definite goal. Where +the prairie lay smooth he kept his course straight as an +arrow's toward the east. Deflected by hill or arroyo or +impractical spinous brakes, he quickly flowed again into the +current, charted by his unerring instinct. At last, upon the +side of a gentle rise, he suddenly subsided to a complacent +walk. A stone's cast away stood a little mott of coma trees; +beneath it a <i>jacal</i> such as the Mexicans erect—a one-room +house of upright poles daubed with clay and roofed with grass +or tule reeds. An experienced eye would have estimated the spot +as the headquarters of a small sheep ranch. In the moonlight +the ground in the nearby corral showed pulverized to a level +smoothness by the hoofs of the sheep. Everywhere was carelessly +distributed the paraphernalia of the place—ropes, bridles, +saddles, sheep pelts, wool sacks, feed troughs, and camp +litter. The barrel of drinking water stood in the end of the +two-horse wagon near the door. The harness was piled, +promiscuous, upon the wagon tongue, soaking up the dew.</p> + +<p>Chicken slipped to earth, and tied the horse to a tree. He +halloed again and again, but the house remained quiet. The door +stood open, and he entered cautiously. The light was sufficient +for him to see that no one was at home. The room was that of a +bachelor ranchman who was content with the necessaries of life. +Chicken rummaged intelligently until he found what he had +hardly dared hope for—a small, brown jug that still contained +something near a quart of his desire.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, Chicken—now a gamecock of hostile +aspect—emerged from the house with unsteady steps. He had +drawn upon the absent ranchman's equipment to replace his own +ragged attire. He wore a suit of coarse brown ducking, the coat +being a sort of rakish bolero, jaunty to a degree. Boots he had +donned, and spurs that whirred with every lurching step. +Buckled around him was a belt full of cartridges with a big +six-shooter in each of its two holsters.</p> + +<p>Prowling about, he found blankets, a saddle and bridle with +which he caparisoned his steed. Again mounting, he rode swiftly +away, singing a loud and tuneless song.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Bud King's band of desperadoes, outlaws and horse and cattle +thieves were in camp at a secluded spot on the bank of the +Frio. Their depredations in the Rio Grande country, while no +bolder than usual, had been advertised more extensively, and +Captain Kinney's company of rangers had been ordered down to +look after them. Consequently, Bud King, who was a wise +general, instead of cutting out a hot trail for the upholders +of the law, as his men wished to do, retired for the time to +the prickly fastnesses of the Frio valley.</p> + +<p>Though the move was a prudent one, and not incompatible with +Bud's well-known courage, it raised dissension among the +members of the band. In fact, while they thus lay ingloriously +<i>perdu</i> in the brush, the question of Bud King's fitness for +the leadership was argued, with closed doors, as it were, by +his followers. Never before had Bud's skill or efficiency been +brought to criticism; but his glory was waning (and such is +glory's fate) in the light of a newer star. The sentiment of +the band was crystallizing into the opinion that Black Eagle +could lead them with more lustre, profit, and distinction.</p> + +<p>This Black Eagle—sub-titled the "Terror of the Border"—had +been a member of the gang about three months.</p> + +<p>One night while they were in camp on the San Miguel water-hole +a solitary horseman on the regulation fiery steed dashed in +among them. The newcomer was of a portentous and devastating +aspect. A beak-like nose with a predatory curve projected above +a mass of bristling, blue-black whiskers. His eye was cavernous +and fierce. He was spurred, sombreroed, booted, garnished with +revolvers, abundantly drunk, and very much unafraid. Few people +in the country drained by the Rio Bravo would have cared thus +to invade alone the camp of Bud King. But this fell bird +swooped fearlessly upon them and demanded to be fed.</p> + +<p>Hospitality in the prairie country is not limited. Even if your +enemy pass your way you must feed him before you shoot him. You +must empty your larder into him before you empty your lead. So +the stranger of undeclared intentions was set down to a mighty +feast.</p> + +<p>A talkative bird he was, full of most marvellous loud tales and +exploits, and speaking a language at times obscure but never +colourless. He was a new sensation to Bud King's men, who +rarely encountered new types. They hung, delighted, upon his +vainglorious boasting, the spicy strangeness of his lingo, his +contemptuous familiarity with life, the world, and remote +places, and the extravagant frankness with which he conveyed +his sentiments.</p> + +<p>To their guest the band of outlaws seemed to be nothing more +than a congregation of country bumpkins whom he was "stringing +for grub" just as he would have told his stories at the back +door of a farmhouse to wheedle a meal. And, indeed, his +ignorance was not without excuse, for the "bad man" of the +Southwest does not run to extremes. Those brigands might justly +have been taken for a little party of peaceable rustics +assembled for a fish-fry or pecan gathering. Gentle of manner, +slouching of gait, soft-voiced, unpicturesquely clothed; not +one of them presented to the eye any witness of the desperate +records they had earned.</p> + +<p>For two days the glittering stranger within the camp was +feasted. Then, by common consent, he was invited to become a +member of the band. He consented, presenting for enrollment the +prodigious name of "Captain Montressor." This name was +immediately overruled by the band, and "Piggy" substituted as a +compliment to the awful and insatiate appetite of its owner.</p> + +<p>Thus did the Texas border receive the most spectacular brigand +that ever rode its chaparral.</p> + +<p>For the next three months Bud King conducted business as usual, +escaping encounters with law officers and being content with +reasonable profits. The band ran off some very good companies +of horses from the ranges, and a few bunches of fine cattle +which they got safely across the Rio Grande and disposed of to +fair advantage. Often the band would ride into the little +villages and Mexican settlements, terrorizing the inhabitants +and plundering for the provisions and ammunition they needed. +It was during these bloodless raids that Piggy's ferocious +aspect and frightful voice gained him a renown more widespread +and glorious than those other gentle-voiced and sad-faced +desperadoes could have acquired in a lifetime.</p> + +<p>The Mexicans, most apt in nomenclature, first called him The +Black Eagle, and used to frighten the babes by threatening them +with tales of the dreadful robber who carried off little +children in his great beak. Soon the name extended, and Black +Eagle, the Terror of the Border, became a recognized factor in +exaggerated newspaper reports and ranch gossip.</p> + +<p>The country from the Nueces to the Rio Grande was a wild but +fertile stretch, given over to the sheep and cattle ranches. +Range was free; the inhabitants were few; the law was mainly a +letter, and the pirates met with little opposition until the +flaunting and garish Piggy gave the band undue advertisement. +Then Kinney's ranger company headed for those precincts, and +Bud King knew that it meant grim and sudden war or else +temporary retirement. Regarding the risk to be unnecessary, he +drew off his band to an almost inaccessible spot on the bank of +the Frio. Wherefore, as has been said, dissatisfaction arose +among the members, and impeachment proceedings against Bud were +premeditated, with Black Eagle in high favour for the +succession. Bud King was not unaware of the sentiment, and he +called aside Cactus Taylor, his trusted lieutenant, to discuss +it.</p> + +<p>"If the boys," said Bud, "ain't satisfied with me, I'm willing +to step out. They're buckin' against my way of handlin' 'em. +And 'specially because I concludes to hit the brush while Sam +Kinney is ridin' the line. I saves 'em from bein' shot or sent +up on a state contract, and they up and says I'm no good."</p> + +<p>"It ain't so much that," explained Cactus, "as it is they're +plum locoed about Piggy. They want them whiskers and that nose +of his to split the wind at the head of the column."</p> + +<p>"There's somethin' mighty seldom about Piggy," declared Bud, +musingly. "I never yet see anything on the hoof that he exactly +grades up with. He can shore holler a plenty, and he straddles a +hoss from where you laid the chunk. But he ain't never been +smoked yet. You know, Cactus, we ain't had a row since he's +been with us. Piggy's all right for skearin' the greaser kids +and layin' waste a cross-roads store. I reckon he's the finest +canned oyster buccaneer and cheese pirate that ever was, but +how's his appetite for fightin'? I've knowed some citizens +you'd think was starvin' for trouble get a bad case of dyspepsy +the first dose of lead they had to take."</p> + +<p>"He talks all spraddled out," said Cactus, "'bout the rookuses +he's been in. He claims to have saw the elephant and hearn the +owl."</p> + +<p>"I know," replied Bud, using the cowpuncher's expressive phrase +of skepticism, "but it sounds to me!"</p> + +<p>This conversation was held one night in camp while the other +members of the band—eight in number—were sprawling around the +fire, lingering over their supper. When Bud and Cactus ceased +talking they heard Piggy's formidable voice holding forth to +the others as usual while he was engaged in checking, though +never satisfying, his ravening appetite.</p> + +<p>"Wat's de use," he was saying, "of chasin' little red cowses +and hosses 'round for t'ousands of miles? Dere ain't nuttin' in +it. Gallopin' t'rough dese bushes and briers, and gettin' a +t'irst dat a brewery couldn't put out, and missin' meals! Say! +You know what I'd do if I was main finger of dis bunch? I'd +stick up a train. I'd blow de express car and make hard dollars +where you guys get wind. Youse makes me tired. Dis sook-cow +kind of cheap sport gives me a pain."</p> + +<p>Later on, a deputation waited on Bud. They stood on one leg, +chewed mesquit twigs and circumlocuted, for they hated to hurt +his feelings. Bud foresaw their business, and made it easy for +them. Bigger risks and larger profits was what they wanted.</p> + +<p>The suggestion of Piggy's about holding up a train had fired +their imagination and increased their admiration for the dash +and boldness of the instigator. They were such simple, artless, +and custom-bound bush-rangers that they had never before +thought of extending their habits beyond the running off of +live-stock and the shooting of such of their acquaintances as +ventured to interfere.</p> + +<p>Bud acted "on the level," agreeing to take a subordinate place +in the gang until Black Eagle should have been given a trial as +leader.</p> + +<p>After a great deal of consultation, studying of time-tables, +and discussion of the country's topography, the time and place +for carrying out their new enterprise was decided upon. At that +time there was a feedstuff famine in Mexico and a cattle famine +in certain parts of the United States, and there was a brisk +international trade. Much money was being shipped along the +railroads that connected the two republics. It was agreed that +the most promising place for the contemplated robbery was at +Espina, a little station on the I. and G. N., about forty miles +north of Laredo. The train stopped there one minute; the +country around was wild and unsettled; the station consisted of +but one house in which the agent lived.</p> + +<p>Black Eagle's band set out, riding by night. Arriving in the +vicinity of Espina they rested their horses all day in a +thicket a few miles distant.</p> + +<p>The train was due at Espina at 10.30 +<span class="smallcaps">p.m.</span> They could rob the +train and be well over the Mexican border with their booty by +daylight the next morning.</p> + +<p>To do Black Eagle justice, he exhibited no signs of flinching +from the responsible honours that had been conferred upon him.</p> + +<p>He assigned his men to their respective posts with discretion, +and coached them carefully as to their duties. On each side of +the track four of the band were to lie concealed in the +chaparral. Gotch-Ear Rodgers was to stick up the station agent. +Bronco Charlie was to remain with the horses, holding them in +readiness. At a spot where it was calculated the engine would +be when the train stopped, Bud King was to lie hidden on one +side, and Black Eagle himself on the other. The two would get +the drop on the engineer and fireman, force them to descend and +proceed to the rear. Then the express car would be looted, and +the escape made. No one was to move until Black Eagle gave the +signal by firing his revolver. The plan was perfect.</p> + +<p>At ten minutes to train time every man was at his post, +effectually concealed by the thick chaparral that grew almost +to the rails. The night was dark and lowering, with a fine +drizzle falling from the flying gulf clouds. Black Eagle +crouched behind a bush within five yards of the track. Two +six-shooters were belted around him. Occasionally he drew a +large black bottle from his pocket and raised it to his mouth.</p> + +<p>A star appeared far down the track which soon waxed into the +headlight of the approaching train. It came on with an +increasing roar; the engine bore down upon the ambushing +desperadoes with a glare and a shriek like some avenging +monster come to deliver them to justice. Black Eagle flattened +himself upon the ground. The engine, contrary to their +calculations, instead of stopping between him and Bud King's +place of concealment, passed fully forty yards farther before +it came to a stand.</p> + +<p>The bandit leader rose to his feet and peered through the bush. +His men all lay quiet, awaiting the signal. Immediately +opposite Black Eagle was a thing that drew his attention. +Instead of being a regular passenger train it was a mixed one. +Before him stood a box car, the door of which, by some means, +had been left slightly open. Black Eagle went up to it and +pushed the door farther open. An odour came forth—a damp, +rancid, familiar, musty, intoxicating, beloved odour stirring +strongly at old memories of happy days and travels. Black Eagle +sniffed at the witching smell as the returned wanderer smells +of the rose that twines his boyhood's cottage home. Nostalgia +seized him. He put his hand inside. Excelsior—dry, springy, +curly, soft, enticing, covered the floor. Outside the drizzle +had turned to a chilling rain.</p> + +<p>The train bell clanged. The bandit chief unbuckled his belt and +cast it, with its revolvers, upon the ground. His spurs +followed quickly, and his broad sombrero. Black Eagle was +moulting. The train started with a rattling jerk. The ex-Terror +of the Border scrambled into the box car and closed the door. +Stretched luxuriously upon the excelsior, with the black bottle +clasped closely to his breast, his eyes closed, and a foolish, +happy smile upon his terrible features Chicken Ruggles started +upon his return trip.</p> + +<p>Undisturbed, with the band of desperate bandits lying +motionless, awaiting the signal to attack, the train pulled out +from Espina. As its speed increased, and the black masses of +chaparral went whizzing past on either side, the express +messenger, lighting his pipe, looked through his window and +remarked, feelingly:</p> + +<p>"What a jim-dandy place for a hold-up!"</p> + + +<p><a name="10"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>X</h3> +<h3>A RETRIEVED REFORMATION<br /> </h3> + + +<p>A guard came to the prison shoe-shop, where Jimmy Valentine was +assiduously stitching uppers, and escorted him to the front +office. There the warden handed Jimmy his pardon, which had +been signed that morning by the governor. Jimmy took it in a +tired kind of way. He had served nearly ten months of a four +year sentence. He had expected to stay only about three months, +at the longest. When a man with as many friends on the outside +as Jimmy Valentine had is received in the "stir" it is hardly +worth while to cut his hair.</p> + +<p>"Now, Valentine," said the warden, "you'll go out in the +morning. Brace up, and make a man of yourself. You're not a bad +fellow at heart. Stop cracking safes, and live straight."</p> + +<p>"Me?" said Jimmy, in surprise. "Why, I never cracked a safe in +my life."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," laughed the warden. "Of course not. Let's see, now. +How was it you happened to get sent up on that Springfield job? +Was it because you wouldn't prove an alibi for fear of +compromising somebody in extremely high-toned society? Or was +it simply a case of a mean old jury that had it in for you? +It's always one or the other with you innocent victims."</p> + +<p>"Me?" said Jimmy, still blankly virtuous. "Why, warden, I never +was in Springfield in my life!"</p> + +<p>"Take him back, Cronin!" said the warden, "and fix him up with +outgoing clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning, and let +him come to the bull-pen. Better think over my advice, +Valentine."</p> + +<p>At a quarter past seven on the next morning Jimmy stood in the +warden's outer office. He had on a suit of the villainously +fitting, ready-made clothes and a pair of the stiff, squeaky +shoes that the state furnishes to its discharged compulsory +guests.</p> + +<p>The clerk handed him a railroad ticket and the five-dollar bill +with which the law expected him to rehabilitate himself into +good citizenship and prosperity. The warden gave him a cigar, +and shook hands. Valentine, 9762, was chronicled on the books, +"Pardoned by Governor," and Mr. James Valentine walked out into +the sunshine.</p> + +<p>Disregarding the song of the birds, the waving green trees, and +the smell of the flowers, Jimmy headed straight for a +restaurant. There he tasted the first sweet joys of liberty in +the shape of a broiled chicken and a bottle of white +wine—followed by a cigar a grade better than the one the +warden had given him. From there he proceeded leisurely to the +depot. He tossed a quarter into the hat of a blind man sitting +by the door, and boarded his train. Three hours set him down in +a little town near the state line. He went to the café of +one Mike Dolan and shook hands with Mike, who was alone behind the +bar.</p> + +<p>"Sorry we couldn't make it sooner, Jimmy, me boy," said Mike. +"But we had that protest from Springfield to buck against, and +the governor nearly balked. Feeling all right?"</p> + +<p>"Fine," said Jimmy. "Got my key?"</p> + +<p>He got his key and went upstairs, unlocking the door of a room +at the rear. Everything was just as he had left it. There on +the floor was still Ben Price's collar-button that had been +torn from that eminent detective's shirt-band when they had +overpowered Jimmy to arrest him.</p> + +<p>Pulling out from the wall a folding-bed, Jimmy slid back a +panel in the wall and dragged out a dust-covered suit-case. He +opened this and gazed fondly at the finest set of burglar's +tools in the East. It was a complete set, made of specially +tempered steel, the latest designs in drills, punches, braces +and bits, jimmies, clamps, and augers, with two or three +novelties, invented by Jimmy himself, in which he took pride. +Over nine hundred dollars they had cost him to have made at +––––, a place where they make such +things for the profession.</p> + +<p>In half an hour Jimmy went down stairs and through the +café. He was now dressed in tasteful +and well-fitting clothes, and +carried his dusted and cleaned suit-case in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Got anything on?" asked Mike Dolan, genially.</p> + +<p>"Me?" said Jimmy, in a puzzled tone. "I don't understand. I'm +representing the New York Amalgamated Short Snap Biscuit +Cracker and Frazzled Wheat Company."</p> + +<p>This statement delighted Mike to such an extent that Jimmy had +to take a seltzer-and-milk on the spot. He never touched "hard" +drinks.</p> + +<p>A week after the release of Valentine, 9762, there was a neat +job of safe-burglary done in Richmond, Indiana, with no clue to +the author. A scant eight hundred dollars was all that was +secured. Two weeks after that a patented, improved, +burglar-proof safe in Logansport was opened like a cheese to +the tune of fifteen hundred dollars, currency; securities and +silver untouched. That began to interest the rogue-catchers. +Then an old-fashioned bank-safe in Jefferson City became active +and threw out of its crater an eruption of bank-notes amounting +to five thousand dollars. The losses were now high enough to +bring the matter up into Ben Price's class of work. By +comparing notes, a remarkable similarity in the methods of the +burglaries was noticed. Ben Price investigated the scenes of +the robberies, and was heard to remark:</p> + +<p>"That's Dandy Jim Valentine's autograph. He's resumed business. +Look at that combination knob—jerked out as easy as pulling up +a radish in wet weather. He's got the only clamps that can do +it. And look how clean those tumblers were punched out! Jimmy +never has to drill but one hole. Yes, I guess I want Mr. +Valentine. He'll do his bit next time without any short-time or +clemency foolishness."</p> + +<p>Ben Price knew Jimmy's habits. He had learned them while +working up the Springfield case. Long jumps, quick get-aways, +no confederates, and a taste for good society—these ways had +helped Mr. Valentine to become noted as a successful dodger of +retribution. It was given out that Ben Price had taken up the +trail of the elusive cracksman, and other people with +burglar-proof safes felt more at ease.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Jimmy Valentine and his suit-case climbed out of +the mail-hack in Elmore, a little town five miles off the +railroad down in the black-jack country of Arkansas. Jimmy, +looking like an athletic young senior just home from college, +went down the board side-walk toward the hotel.</p> + +<p>A young lady crossed the street, passed him at the corner and +entered a door over which was the sign, "The Elmore Bank." +Jimmy Valentine looked into her eyes, forgot what he was, and +became another man. She lowered her eyes and coloured slightly. +Young men of Jimmy's style and looks were scarce in Elmore.</p> + +<p>Jimmy collared a boy that was loafing on the steps of the bank +as if he were one of the stockholders, and began to ask him +questions about the town, feeding him dimes at intervals. By +and by the young lady came out, looking royally unconscious of +the young man with the suit-case, and went her way.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that young lady Polly Simpson?" asked Jimmy, with +specious guile.</p> + +<p>"Naw," said the boy. "She's Annabel Adams. Her pa owns this +bank. What'd you come to Elmore for? Is that a gold watch-chain? +I'm going to get a bulldog. Got any more dimes?"</p> + +<p>Jimmy went to the Planters' Hotel, registered as Ralph D. +Spencer, and engaged a room. He leaned on the desk and declared +his platform to the clerk. He said he had come to Elmore to +look for a location to go into business. How was the shoe +business, now, in the town? He had thought of the shoe +business. Was there an opening?</p> + +<p>The clerk was impressed by the clothes and manner of Jimmy. He, +himself, was something of a pattern of fashion to the thinly +gilded youth of Elmore, but he now perceived his shortcomings. +While trying to figure out Jimmy's manner of tying his +four-in-hand he cordially gave information.</p> + +<p>Yes, there ought to be a good opening in the shoe line. There +wasn't an exclusive shoe-store in the place. The dry-goods and +general stores handled them. Business in all lines was fairly +good. Hoped Mr. Spencer would decide to locate in Elmore. He +would find it a pleasant town to live in, and the people very +sociable.</p> + +<p>Mr. Spencer thought he would stop over in the town a few days +and look over the situation. No, the clerk needn't call the +boy. He would carry up his suit-case, himself; it was rather +heavy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ralph Spencer, the phœnix that arose from Jimmy +Valentine's ashes—ashes left by the flame of a sudden and +alterative attack of love—remained in Elmore, and prospered. +He opened a shoe-store and secured a good run of trade.</p> + +<p>Socially he was also a success, and made many friends. And he +accomplished the wish of his heart. He met Miss Annabel Adams, +and became more and more captivated by her charms.</p> + +<p>At the end of a year the situation of Mr. Ralph Spencer was +this: he had won the respect of the community, his shoe-store +was flourishing, and he and Annabel were engaged to be married +in two weeks. Mr. Adams, the typical, plodding, country banker, +approved of Spencer. Annabel's pride in him almost equalled her +affection. He was as much at home in the family of Mr. Adams +and that of Annabel's married sister as if he were already a +member.</p> + +<p>One day Jimmy sat down in his room and wrote this letter, which +he mailed to the safe address of one of his old friends in St. +Louis:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Old Pal:</span></p> + +<p>I want you to be at Sullivan's place, in Little Rock, next +Wednesday night, at nine o'clock. I want you to wind up some +little matters for me. And, also, I want to make you a present +of my kit of tools. I know you'll be glad to get them—you +couldn't duplicate the lot for a thousand dollars. Say, +Billy, I've quit the old business—a year ago. I've got a +nice store. I'm making an honest living, and I'm going to +marry the finest girl on earth two weeks from now. It's the +only life, Billy—the straight one. I wouldn't touch a dollar +of another man's money now for a million. After I get married +I'm going to sell out and go West, where there won't be so +much danger of having old scores brought up against me. I +tell you, Billy, she's an angel. She believes in me; and I +wouldn't do another crooked thing for the whole world. Be sure +to be at Sully's, for I must see you. I'll bring along the +tools with me.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your old friend,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Jimmy</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>On the Monday night after Jimmy wrote this letter, Ben Price +jogged unobtrusively into Elmore in a livery buggy. He lounged +about town in his quiet way until he found out what he wanted +to know. From the drug-store across the street from Spencer's +shoe-store he got a good look at Ralph D. Spencer.</p> + +<p>"Going to marry the banker's daughter are you, Jimmy?" said Ben +to himself, softly. "Well, I don't know!"</p> + +<p>The next morning Jimmy took breakfast at the Adamses. He was +going to Little Rock that day to order his wedding-suit and buy +something nice for Annabel. That would be the first time he had +left town since he came to Elmore. It had been more than a year +now since those last professional "jobs," and he thought he +could safely venture out.</p> + +<p>After breakfast quite a family party went downtown +together—Mr. Adams, Annabel, Jimmy, and Annabel's married +sister with her two little girls, aged five and nine. They came +by the hotel where Jimmy still boarded, and he ran up to his +room and brought along his suit-case. Then they went on to the +bank. There stood Jimmy's horse and buggy and Dolph Gibson, who +was going to drive him over to the railroad station.</p> + +<p>All went inside the high, carved oak railings into the +banking-room—Jimmy included, for Mr. Adams's future son-in-law +was welcome anywhere. The clerks were pleased to be greeted by +the good-looking, agreeable young man who was going to marry +Miss Annabel. Jimmy set his suit-case down. Annabel, whose +heart was bubbling with happiness and lively youth, put on +Jimmy's hat, and picked up the suit-case. "Wouldn't I make a +nice drummer?" said Annabel. "My! Ralph, how heavy it is? Feels +like it was full of gold bricks."</p> + +<p>"Lot of nickel-plated shoe-horns in there," said Jimmy, coolly, +"that I'm going to return. Thought I'd save express charges by +taking them up. I'm getting awfully economical."</p> + +<p>The Elmore Bank had just put in a new safe and vault. Mr. Adams +was very proud of it, and insisted on an inspection by every +one. The vault was a small one, but it had a new, patented +door. It fastened with three solid steel bolts thrown +simultaneously with a single handle, and had a time-lock. Mr. +Adams beamingly explained its workings to Mr. Spencer, who +showed a courteous but not too intelligent interest. The two +children, May and Agatha, were delighted by the shining metal +and funny clock and knobs.</p> + +<p>While they were thus engaged Ben Price sauntered in and leaned +on his elbow, looking casually inside between the railings. He +told the teller that he didn't want anything; he was just +waiting for a man he knew.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a scream or two from the women, and a +commotion. Unperceived by the elders, May, the nine-year-old +girl, in a spirit of play, had shut Agatha in the vault. She +had then shot the bolts and turned the knob of the combination +as she had seen Mr. Adams do.</p> + +<p>The old banker sprang to the handle and tugged at it for a +moment. "The door can't be opened," he groaned. "The clock +hasn't been wound nor the combination set."</p> + +<p>Agatha's mother screamed again, hysterically.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Mr. Adams, raising his trembling hand. "All be +quite for a moment. Agatha!" he called as loudly as he could. +"Listen to me." During the following silence they could just +hear the faint sound of the child wildly shrieking in the dark +vault in a panic of terror.</p> + +<p>"My precious darling!" wailed the mother. "She will die of +fright! Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can't you men do +something?"</p> + +<p>"There isn't a man nearer than Little Rock who can open that +door," said Mr. Adams, in a shaky voice. "My God! Spencer, what +shall we do? That child—she can't stand it long in there. +There isn't enough air, and, besides, she'll go into +convulsions from fright."</p> + +<p>Agatha's mother, frantic now, beat the door of the vault with +her hands. Somebody wildly suggested dynamite. Annabel turned +to Jimmy, her large eyes full of anguish, but not yet +despairing. To a woman nothing seems quite impossible to the +powers of the man she worships.</p> + +<p>"Can't you do something, Ralph—<i>try</i>, won't you?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her with a queer, soft smile on his lips and in +his keen eyes.</p> + +<p>"Annabel," he said, "give me that rose you are wearing, will +you?"</p> + +<p>Hardly believing that she heard him aright, she unpinned the +bud from the bosom of her dress, and placed it in his hand. +Jimmy stuffed it into his vest-pocket, threw off his coat and +pulled up his shirt-sleeves. With that act Ralph D. Spencer +passed away and Jimmy Valentine took his place.</p> + +<p>"Get away from the door, all of you," he commanded, shortly.</p> + +<p>He set his suit-case on the table, and opened it out flat. From +that time on he seemed to be unconscious of the presence of any +one else. He laid out the shining, queer implements swiftly and +orderly, whistling softly to himself as he always did when at +work. In a deep silence and immovable, the others watched him +as if under a spell.</p> + +<p>In a minute Jimmy's pet drill was biting smoothly into the +steel door. In ten minutes—breaking his own burglarious +record—he threw back the bolts and opened the door.</p> + +<p>Agatha, almost collapsed, but safe, was gathered into her +mother's arms.</p> + +<p>Jimmy Valentine put on his coat, and walked outside the +railings towards the front door. As he went he thought he heard +a far-away voice that he once knew call "Ralph!" But he never +hesitated.</p> + +<p>At the door a big man stood somewhat in his way.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Ben!" said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. "Got +around at last, have you? Well, let's go. I don't know that it +makes much difference, now."</p> + +<p>And then Ben Price acted rather strangely.</p> + +<p>"Guess you're mistaken, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Don't believe I +recognize you. Your buggy's waiting for you, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>And Ben Price turned and strolled down the street.</p> + + +<p><a name="11"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XI</h3> +<h3>CHERCHEZ LA FEMME<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Robbins, reporter for the <i>Picayune</i>, and Dumars, of +<i>L'Abeille</i>—the old French newspaper that has buzzed for +nearly a century—were good friends, well proven by years of +ups and downs together. They were seated where they had a habit +of meeting—in the little, Creole-haunted café of Madame +Tibault, in Dumaine Street. If you know the place, you will +experience a thrill of pleasure in recalling it to mind. It is +small and dark, with six little polished tables, at which you +may sit and drink the best coffee in New Orleans, and +concoctions of absinthe equal to Sazerac's best. Madame +Tibault, fat and indulgent, presides at the desk, and takes +your money. Nicolette and Mémé, madame's nieces, +in charming bib aprons, bring the desirable beverages.</p> + +<p>Dumars, with true Creole luxury, was sipping his absinthe, with +half-closed eyes, in a swirl of cigarette smoke. Robbins was +looking over the morning <i>Pic.</i>, detecting, as young reporters +will, the gross blunders in the make-up, and the envious +blue-pencilling his own stuff had received. This item, in the +advertising columns, caught his eye, and with an exclamation of +sudden interest he read it aloud to his friend.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Public +Auction</span>.—At three o'clock this afternoon there will +be sold to the highest bidder all the common property of the +Little Sisters of Samaria, at the home of the Sisterhood, in +Bonhomme Street. The sale will dispose of the building, +ground, and the complete furnishings of the house and chapel, +without reserve.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>This notice stirred the two friends to a reminiscent talk +concerning an episode in their journalistic career that had +occurred about two years before. They recalled the incidents, +went over the old theories, and discussed it anew from the +different perspective time had brought.</p> + +<p>There were no other customers in the café. Madame's fine +ear had caught the line of their talk, and she came over to their +table—for had it not been her lost money—her vanished twenty +thousand dollars—that had set the whole matter going?</p> + +<p>The three took up the long-abandoned mystery, threshing over +the old, dry chaff of it. It was in the chapel of this house of +the Little Sisters of Samaria that Robbins and Dumars had stood +during that eager, fruitless news search of theirs, and looked +upon the gilded statue of the Virgin.</p> + +<p>"Thass so, boys," said madame, summing up. "Thass ver' wicked +man, M'sieur Morin. Everybody shall be cert' he steal those +money I plaze in his hand for keep safe. Yes. He's boun' spend +that money, somehow." Madame turned a broad and contemplative +smile upon Dumars. "I ond'stand you, M'sieur Dumars, those day +you come ask fo' tell ev'ything I know 'bout M'sieur Morin. Ah! +yes, I know most time when those men lose money you say +'<i>Cherchez la femme</i>'—there is somewhere the woman. But not +for M'sieur Morin. No, boys. Before he shall die, he is like +one saint. You might's well, M'sieur Dumars, go try find those +money in those statue of Virgin Mary that M'sieur Morin present +at those <i>p'tite sœurs</i>, as try find one <i>femme</i>."</p> + +<p>At Madame Tibault's last words, Robbins started slightly and +cast a keen, sidelong glance at Dumars. The Creole sat, +unmoved, dreamily watching the spirals of his cigarette smoke.</p> + +<p>It was then nine o'clock in the morning and, a few minutes +later, the two friends separated, going different ways to their +day's duties. And now follows the brief story of Madame +Tibault's vanished thousands:</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>New Orleans will readily recall to mind the circumstances +attendant upon the death of Mr. Gaspard Morin, in that city. +Mr. Morin was an artistic goldsmith and jeweller in the old +French Quarter, and a man held in the highest esteem. He +belonged to one of the oldest French families, and was of some +distinction as an antiquary and historian. He was a bachelor, +about fifty years of age. He lived in quiet comfort, at one of +those rare old hostelries in Royal Street. He was found in his +rooms, one morning, dead from unknown causes.</p> + +<p>When his affairs came to be looked into, it was found that he +was practically insolvent, his stock of goods and personal +property barely—but nearly enough to free him from +censure—covering his liabilities. Following came the +disclosure that he had been entrusted with the sum of twenty +thousand dollars by a former upper servant in the Morin family, +one Madame Tibault, which she had received as a legacy from +relatives in France.</p> + +<p>The most searching scrutiny by friends and the legal +authorities failed to reveal the disposition of the money. It +had vanished, and left no trace. Some weeks before his death, +Mr. Morin had drawn the entire amount, in gold coin, from the +bank where it had been placed while he looked about (he told +Madame Tibault) for a safe investment. Therefore, Mr. Morin's +memory seemed doomed to bear the cloud of dishonesty, while +madame was, of course, disconsolate.</p> + +<p>Then it was that Robbins and Dumars, representing their +respective journals, began one of those pertinacious private +investigations which, of late years, the press has adopted as a +means to glory and the satisfaction of public curiosity.</p> + +<p>"<i>Cherchez la femme</i>," said Dumars.</p> + +<p>"That's the ticket!" agreed Robbins. "All roads lead to the +eternal feminine. We will find the woman."</p> + +<p>They exhausted the knowledge of the staff of Mr. Morin's hotel, +from the bell-boy down to the proprietor. They gently, but +inflexibly, pumped the family of the deceased as far as his +cousins twice removed. They artfully sounded the employees of +the late jeweller, and dogged his customers for information +concerning his habits. Like bloodhounds they traced every step +of the supposed defaulter, as nearly as might be, for years +along the limited and monotonous paths he had trodden.</p> + +<p>At the end of their labours, Mr. Morin stood, an immaculate +man. Not one weakness that might be served up as a criminal +tendency, not one deviation from the path of rectitude, not +even a hint of a predilection for the opposite sex, was found +to be placed in his debit. His life had been as regular and +austere as a monk's; his habits, simple and unconcealed. +Generous, charitable, and a model in propriety, was the verdict +of all who knew him.</p> + +<p>"What, now?" asked Robbins, fingering his empty notebook.</p> + +<p>"<i>Cherchez la femme</i>," said Dumars, lighting a cigarette. "Try +Lady Bellairs."</p> + +<p>This piece of femininity was the race-track favourite of the +season. Being feminine, she was erratic in her gaits, and there +were a few heavy losers about town who had believed she could +be true. The reporters applied for information.</p> + +<p>Mr. Morin? Certainly not. He was never even a spectator at the +races. Not that kind of a man. Surprised the gentlemen should +ask.</p> + +<p>"Shall we throw it up?" suggested Robbins, "and let the puzzle +department have a try?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Cherchez la femme</i>," hummed Dumars, reaching for a match. +"Try the Little Sisters of What-d'-you-call-'em."</p> + +<p>It had developed, during the investigation, that Mr. Morin had +held this benevolent order in particular favour. He had +contributed liberally toward its support and had chosen its +chapel as his favourite place of private worship. It was said +that he went there daily to make his devotions at the altar. +Indeed, toward the last of his life his whole mind seemed to +have fixed itself upon religious matters, perhaps to the +detriment of his worldly affairs.</p> + +<p>Thither went Robbins and Dumars, and were admitted through the +narrow doorway in the blank stone wall that frowned upon +Bonhomme Street. An old woman was sweeping the chapel. She told +them that Sister Félicité, the head of the +order, was then at prayer at the altar in the alcove. +In a few moments she would emerge. Heavy, black curtains +screened the alcove. They waited.</p> + +<p>Soon the curtains were disturbed, and Sister +Félicité came forth. She was tall, tragic, +bony, and plain-featured, dressed in the black gown and +severe bonnet of the sisterhood.</p> + +<p>Robbins, a good rough-and-tumble reporter, but lacking the +delicate touch, began to speak.</p> + +<p>They represented the press. The lady had, no doubt, heard of +the Morin affair. It was necessary, in justice to that +gentleman's memory, to probe the mystery of the lost money. It +was known that he had come often to this chapel. Any +information, now, concerning Mr. Morin's habits, tastes, the +friends he had, and so on, would be of value in doing him +posthumous justice.</p> + +<p>Sister Félicité had heard. Whatever she +knew would be willingly told, but it was very little. +Monsieur Morin had been a good friend to the order, +sometimes contributing as much as a hundred dollars. +The sisterhood was an independent one, depending +entirely upon private contributions for the means to +carry on its charitable work. Mr. Morin had presented the +chapel with silver candlesticks and an altar cloth. He came +every day to worship in the chapel, sometimes remaining for an +hour. He was a devout Catholic, consecrated to holiness. Yes, +and also in the alcove was a statue of the Virgin that he had +himself modeled, cast, and presented to the order. Oh, it was +cruel to cast a doubt upon so good a man!</p> + +<p>Robbins was also profoundly grieved at the imputation. But, +until it was found what Mr. Morin had done with Madame +Tibault's money, he feared the tongue of slander would not be +stilled. Sometimes—in fact, very often—in affairs of the kind +there was—er—as the saying goes—er—a lady in the case. In +absolute confidence, now—if—perhaps—</p> + +<p>Sister Félicité's large eyes regarded him +solemnly.</p> + +<p>"There was one woman," she said, slowly, "to whom he bowed—to +whom he gave his heart."</p> + +<p>Robbins fumbled rapturously for his pencil.</p> + +<p>"Behold the woman!" said Sister Félicité, +suddenly, in deep tones.</p> + +<p>She reached a long arm and swept aside the curtain of the +alcove. In there was a shrine, lit to a glow of soft colour by +the light pouring through a stained-glass window. Within a deep +niche in the bare stone wall stood an image of the Virgin Mary, +the colour of pure gold.</p> + +<p>Dumars, a conventional Catholic, succumbed to the dramatic in +the act. He bowed his head for an instant and made the sign of +the cross. The somewhat abashed Robbins, murmuring an +indistinct apology, backed awkwardly away. Sister +Félicité drew back the curtain, and the +reporters departed.</p> + +<p>On the narrow stone sidewalk of Bonhomme Street, +Robbins turned to Dumars, with unworthy sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"Well, what next? Churchy law fem?"</p> + +<p>"Absinthe," said Dumars.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>With the history of the missing money thus partially related, +some conjecture may be formed of the sudden idea that Madame +Tibault's words seemed to have suggested to Robbins's brain.</p> + +<p>Was it so wild a surmise—that the religious fanatic had +offered up his wealth—or, rather, Madame Tibault's—in the +shape of a material symbol of his consuming devotion? Stranger +things have been done in the name of worship. Was it not +possible that the lost thousands were molded into that lustrous +image? That the goldsmith had formed it of the pure and +precious metal, and set it there, through some hope of a +perhaps disordered brain to propitiate the saints and pave the +way to his own selfish glory?</p> + +<p>That afternoon, at five minutes to three, Robbins entered the +chapel door of the Little Sisters of Samaria. He saw, in the +dim light, a crowd of perhaps a hundred people gathered to +attend the sale. Most of them were members of various religious +orders, priests and churchmen, come to purchase the +paraphernalia of the chapel, lest they fall into desecrating +hands. Others were business men and agents come to bid upon the +realty. A clerical-looking brother had volunteered to wield the +hammer, bringing to the office of auctioneer the anomaly of +choice diction and dignity of manner.</p> + +<p>A few of the minor articles were sold, and then two assistants +brought forward the image of the Virgin.</p> + +<p>Robbins started the bidding at ten dollars. A stout man, in an +ecclesiastical garb, went to fifteen. A voice from another part +of the crowd raised to twenty. The three bid alternately, +raising by bids of five, until the offer was fifty dollars. +Then the stout man dropped out, and Robbins, as a sort of <i>coup +de main</i>, went to a hundred.</p> + +<p>"One hundred and fifty," said the other voice.</p> + +<p>"Two hundred," bid Robbins, boldly.</p> + +<p>"Two-fifty," called his competitor, promptly.</p> + +<p>The reporter hesitated for the space of a lightning flash, +estimating how much he could borrow from the boys in the +office, and screw from the business manager from his next +month's salary.</p> + +<p>"Three hundred," he offered.</p> + +<p>"Three-fifty," spoke up the other, in a louder voice—a voice +that sent Robbins diving suddenly through the crowd in its +direction, to catch Dumars, its owner, ferociously by the +collar.</p> + +<p>"You unconverted idiot!" hissed Robbins, close to his +ear—"pool!"</p> + +<p>"Agreed!" said Dumars, coolly. "I couldn't raise three hundred +and fifty dollars with a search-warrant, but I can stand half. +What you come bidding against me for?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I was the only fool in the crowd," explained +Robbins.</p> + +<p>No one else bidding, the statue was knocked down to the +syndicate at their last offer. Dumars remained with the prize, +while Robbins hurried forth to wring from the resources and +credit of both the price. He soon returned with the money, and +the two musketeers loaded their precious package into a +carriage and drove with it to Dumars's room, in old Chartres +Street, nearby. They lugged it, covered with a cloth, up the +stairs, and deposited it on a table. A hundred pounds it +weighed, if an ounce, and at that estimate, according to their +calculation, if their daring theory were correct, it stood +there, worth twenty thousand golden dollars.</p> + +<p>Robbins removed the covering, and opened his pocket-knife.</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacré!</i>" muttered Dumars, shuddering. "It is +the Mother of Christ. What would you do?"</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Judas!" said Robbins, coldly. "It's too late for you +to be saved now."</p> + +<p>With a firm hand, he chipped a slice from the shoulder of the +image. The cut showed a dull, grayish metal, with a thin +coating of gold leaf.</p> + +<p>"Lead!" announced Robbins, hurling his knife to the +floor—"gilded!"</p> + +<p>"To the devil with it!" said Dumars, forgetting his scruples. +"I must have a drink."</p> + +<p>Together they walked moodily to the café of Madame +Tribault, two squares away.</p> + +<p>It seemed that madame's mind had been stirred that day to fresh +recollections of the past services of the two young men in her +behalf.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't sit by those table," she interposed, as they were +about to drop into their accustomed seats. "Thass so, boys. But +no. I mek you come at this room, like my <i>trés bon +amis</i>. Yes. I goin' mek for you myself one <i>anisette</i> +and one <i>café royale</i> +ver' fine. Ah! I lak treat my fren' nize. Yes. Plis come in +this way."</p> + +<p>Madame led them into the little back room, into which she +sometimes invited the especially favoured of her customers. In +two comfortable armchairs, by a big window that opened upon the +courtyard, she placed them, with a low table between. Bustling +hospitably about, she began to prepare the promised +refreshments.</p> + +<p>It was the first time the reporters had been honoured with +admission to the sacred precincts. The room was in dusky +twilight, flecked with gleams of the polished, fine woods and +burnished glass and metal that the Creoles love. From the +little courtyard a tiny fountain sent in an insinuating sound +of trickling waters, to which a banana plant by the window kept +time with its tremulous leaves.</p> + +<p>Robbins, an investigator by nature, sent a curious glance +roving about the room. From some barbaric ancestor, madame had +inherited a <i>penchant</i> for the crude in decoration.</p> + +<p>The walls were adorned with cheap lithographs—florid libels +upon nature, addressed to the taste of the +<i>bourgeoisie</i>—birthday cards, garish newspaper supplements, +and specimens of art-advertising calculated to reduce the optic +nerve to stunned submission. A patch of something +unintelligible in the midst of the more candid display puzzled +Robbins, and he rose and took a step nearer, to interrogate it +at closer range. Then he leaned weakly against the wall, and +called out:</p> + +<p>"Madame Tibault! Oh, madame! Since when—oh! since when have +you been in the habit of papering your walls with five thousand +dollar United States four per cent. gold bonds? Tell me—is +this a Grimm's fairy tale, or should I consult an oculist?"</p> + +<p>At his words, Madame Tibault and Dumars approached.</p> + +<p>"H'what you say?" said madame, cheerily. "H'what you say, +M'sieur Robbin? <i>Bon!</i> Ah! those nize li'l peezes papier! One +tam I think those w'at you call calendair, wiz ze li'l day of +mont' below. But, no. Those wall is broke in those plaze, +M'sieur Robbin', and I plaze those li'l peezes papier to +conceal ze crack. I did think the couleur harm'nize so well +with the wall papier. Where I get them from? Ah, yes, I remem' +ver' well. One day M'sieur Morin, he come at my houze—thass +'bout one mont' before he shall die—thass 'long 'bout tam he +promise fo' inves' those money fo' me. M'sieur Morin, he leave +thoze li'l peezes papier in those table, and say ver' much +'bout money thass hard for me to ond'stan. <i>Mais</i> I never see +those money again. Thass ver' wicked man, M'sieur Morin. H'what +you call those peezes papier, M'sieur Robbin'—<i>bon!</i>"</p> + +<p>Robbins explained.</p> + +<p>"There's your twenty thousand dollars, with coupons attached," +he said, running his thumb around the edge of the four bonds. +"Better get an expert to peel them off for you. Mister Morin +was all right. I'm going out to get my ears trimmed."</p> + +<p>He dragged Dumars by the arm into the outer room. Madame was +screaming for Nicolette and Mémé to come and +observe the fortune returned to her by M'sieur Morin, that +best of men, that saint in glory.</p> + +<p>"Marsy," said Robbins, "I'm going on a jamboree. For three days +the esteemed <i>Pic.</i> will have to get along without my valuable +services. I advise you to join me. Now, that green stuff you +drink is no good. It stimulates thought. What we want to do is +to forget to remember. I'll introduce you to the only lady in +this case that is guaranteed to produce the desired results. +Her name is Belle of Kentucky, twelve-year-old Bourbon. In +quarts. How does the idea strike you?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Allons!</i>" said Dumars. "<i>Cherchez la femme</i>."</p> + + +<p><a name="12"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XII</h3> +<h3>FRIENDS IN SAN ROSARIO<br /> </h3> + + +<p>The west-bound train stopped at San Rosario on time at 8.20 +<span class="smallcaps">a.m.</span> A man with a thick +black-leather wallet under his arm left +the train and walked rapidly up the main street of the town. +There were other passengers who also got off at San Rosario, +but they either slouched limberly over to the railroad +eating-house or the Silver Dollar saloon, or joined the groups +of idlers about the station.</p> + +<p>Indecision had no part in the movements of the man with the +wallet. He was short in stature, but strongly built, with very +light, closely-trimmed hair, smooth, determined face, and +aggressive, gold-rimmed nose glasses. He was well dressed in +the prevailing Eastern style. His air denoted a quiet but +conscious reserve force, if not actual authority.</p> + +<p>After walking a distance of three squares he came to the centre +of the town's business area. Here another street of importance +crossed the main one, forming the hub of San Rosario's life and +commerce. Upon one corner stood the post-office. Upon another +Rubensky's Clothing Emporium. The other two diagonally opposing +corners were occupied by the town's two banks, the First +National and the Stockmen's National. Into the First National +Bank of San Rosario the newcomer walked, never slowing his +brisk step until he stood at the cashier's window. The bank +opened for business at nine, and the working force was already +assembled, each member preparing his department for the day's +business. The cashier was examining the mail when he noticed +the stranger standing at his window.</p> + +<p>"Bank doesn't open 'til nine," he remarked curtly, but without +feeling. He had had to make that statement so often to early +birds since San Rosario adopted city banking hours.</p> + +<p>"I am well aware of that," said the other man, in cool, brittle +tones. "Will you kindly receive my card?"</p> + +<p>The cashier drew the small, spotless parallelogram inside the +bars of his wicket, and read:<br /> </p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table style="border: 1px; border: solid black" cellpadding="35px"> +<tr align="center"><td><span class="arial">J. F. C. Nettlewick<br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">National Bank Examiner</span></span> +</td></tr></table><br /> +</div> + + +<p>"Oh—er—will you walk around inside, Mr.—er—Nettlewick. Your +first visit—didn't know your business, of course. Walk right +around, please."</p> + +<p>The examiner was quickly inside the sacred precincts of the +bank, where he was ponderously introduced to each employee in +turn by Mr. Edlinger, the cashier—a middle-aged gentleman of +deliberation, discretion, and method.</p> + +<p>"I was kind of expecting Sam Turner round again, pretty soon," +said Mr. Edlinger. "Sam's been examining us now, for about four +years. I guess you'll find us all right, though, considering +the tightness in business. Not overly much money on hand, but +able to stand the storms, sir, stand the storms."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Turner and I have been ordered by the Comptroller to +exchange districts," said the examiner, in his decisive, formal +tones. "He is covering my old territory in Southern Illinois +and Indiana. I will take the cash first, please."</p> + +<p>Perry Dorsey, the teller, was already arranging his cash on the +counter for the examiner's inspection. He knew it was right to +a cent, and he had nothing to fear, but he was nervous and +flustered. So was every man in the bank. There was something so +icy and swift, so impersonal and uncompromising about this man +that his very presence seemed an accusation. He looked to be a +man who would never make nor overlook an error.</p> + +<p>Mr. Nettlewick first seized the currency, and with a rapid, +almost juggling motion, counted it by packages. Then he spun +the sponge cup toward him and verified the count by bills. His +thin, white fingers flew like some expert musician's upon the +keys of a piano. He dumped the gold upon the counter with a +crash, and the coins whined and sang as they skimmed across the +marble slab from the tips of his nimble digits. The air was +full of fractional currency when he came to the halves and +quarters. He counted the last nickle and dime. He had the +scales brought, and he weighed every sack of silver in the +vault. He questioned Dorsey concerning each of the cash +memoranda—certain checks, charge slips, etc., carried over +from the previous day's work—with unimpeachable courtesy, yet +with something so mysteriously momentous in his frigid manner, +that the teller was reduced to pink cheeks and a stammering +tongue.</p> + +<p>This newly-imported examiner was so different from Sam Turner. +It had been Sam's way to enter the bank with a shout, pass the +cigars, and tell the latest stories he had picked up on his +rounds. His customary greeting to Dorsey had been, "Hello, +Perry! Haven't skipped out with the boodle yet, I see." +Turner's way of counting the cash had been different, too. He +would finger the packages of bills in a tired kind of way, and +then go into the vault and kick over a few sacks of silver, and +the thing was done. Halves and quarters and dimes? Not for Sam +Turner. "No chicken feed for me," he would say when they were +set before him. "I'm not in the agricultural department." But, +then, Turner was a Texan, an old friend of the bank's +president, and had known Dorsey since he was a baby.</p> + +<p>While the examiner was counting the cash, Major Thomas B. +Kingman—known to every one as "Major Tom"—the president of +the First National, drove up to the side door with his old dun +horse and buggy, and came inside. He saw the examiner busy with +the money, and, going into the little "pony corral," as he +called it, in which his desk was railed off, he began to look +over his letters.</p> + +<p>Earlier, a little incident had occurred that even the sharp +eyes of the examiner had failed to notice. When he had begun +his work at the cash counter, Mr. Edlinger had winked +significantly at Roy Wilson, the youthful bank messenger, and +nodded his head slightly toward the front door. Roy understood, +got his hat, and walked leisurely out, with his collector's +book under his arm. Once outside, he made a bee-line for the +Stockmen's National. That bank was also getting ready to open. +No customers had, as yet, presented themselves.</p> + +<p>"Say, you people!" cried Roy, with the familiarity of youth and +long acquaintance, "you want to get a move on you. There's a +new bank examiner over at the First, and he's a stem-winder. +He's counting nickles on Perry, and he's got the whole outfit +bluffed. Mr. Edlinger gave me the tip to let you know."</p> + +<p>Mr. Buckley, president of the Stockmen's National—a stout, +elderly man, looking like a farmer dressed for Sunday—heard +Roy from his private office at the rear and called him.</p> + +<p>"Has Major Kingman come down to the bank yet?" he asked of the +boy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, he was just driving up as I left," said Roy.</p> + +<p>"I want you to take him a note. Put it into his own hands as +soon as you get back."</p> + +<p>Mr. Buckley sat down and began to write.</p> + +<p>Roy returned and handed to Major Kingman the envelope +containing the note. The major read it, folded it, and slipped +it into his vest pocket. He leaned back in his chair for a few +moments as if he were meditating deeply, and then rose and went +into the vault. He came out with the bulky, old-fashioned +leather note case stamped on the back in gilt letters, "Bills +Discounted." In this were the notes due the bank with their +attached securities, and the major, in his rough way, dumped +the lot upon his desk and began to sort them over.</p> + +<p>By this time Nettlewick had finished his count of the cash. His +pencil fluttered like a swallow over the sheet of paper on +which he had set his figures. He opened his black wallet, which +seemed to be also a kind of secret memorandum book, made a few +rapid figures in it, wheeled and transfixed Dorsey with the +glare of his spectacles. That look seemed to say: "You're safe +this time, but—"</p> + +<p>"Cash all correct," snapped the examiner. He made a dash for +the individual bookkeeper, and, for a few minutes there was a +fluttering of ledger leaves and a sailing of balance sheets +through the air.</p> + +<p>"How often do you balance your pass-books?" he demanded, +suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Er—once a month," faltered the individual bookkeeper, +wondering how many years they would give him.</p> + +<p>"All right," said the examiner, turning and charging upon the +general bookkeeper, who had the statements of his foreign banks +and their reconcilement memoranda ready. Everything there was +found to be all right. Then the stub book of the certificates +of deposit. Flutter—flutter—zip—zip—check! All right. List +of over-drafts, please. Thanks. H'm-m. Unsigned bills of the +bank, next. All right.</p> + +<p>Then came the cashier's turn, and easy-going Mr. Edlinger +rubbed his nose and polished his glasses nervously under the +quick fire of questions concerning the circulation, undivided +profits, bank real estate, and stock ownership.</p> + +<p>Presently Nettlewick was aware of a big man towering above him +at his elbow—a man sixty years of age, rugged and hale, with a +rough, grizzled beard, a mass of gray hair, and a pair of +penetrating blue eyes that confronted the formidable glasses of +the examiner without a flicker.</p> + +<p>"Er—Major Kingman, our president—er—Mr. Nettlewick," said +the cashier.</p> + +<p>Two men of very different types shook hands. One was a finished +product of the world of straight lines, conventional methods, +and formal affairs. The other was something freer, wider, and +nearer to nature. Tom Kingman had not been cut to any pattern. +He had been mule-driver, cowboy, ranger, soldier, sheriff, +prospector, and cattleman. Now, when he was bank president, his +old comrades from the prairies, of the saddle, tent, and trail +found no change in him. He had made his fortune when Texas +cattle were at the high tide of value, and had organized the +First National Bank of San Rosario. In spite of his largeness +of heart and sometimes unwise generosity toward his old +friends, the bank had prospered, for Major Tom Kingman knew men +as well as he knew cattle. Of late years the cattle business +had known a depression, and the major's bank was one of the few +whose losses had not been great.</p> + +<p>"And now," said the examiner, briskly, pulling out his watch, +"the last thing is the loans. We will take them up now, if you +please."</p> + +<p>He had gone through the First National at almost +record-breaking speed—but thoroughly, as he did everything. +The running order of the bank was smooth and clean, and that +had facilitated his work. There was but one other bank in the +town. He received from the Government a fee of twenty-five +dollars for each bank that he examined. He should be able to go +over those loans and discounts in half an hour. If so, he could +examine the other bank immediately afterward, and catch the +11.45, the only other train that day in the direction he was +working. Otherwise, he would have to spend the night and Sunday +in this uninteresting Western town. That was why Mr. Nettlewick +was rushing matters.</p> + +<p>"Come with me, sir," said Major Kingman, in his deep voice, +that united the Southern drawl with the rhythmic twang of the +West; "We will go over them together. Nobody in the bank knows +those notes as I do. Some of 'em are a little wobbly on their +legs, and some are mavericks without extra many brands on their +backs, but they'll most all pay out at the round-up."</p> + +<p>The two sat down at the president's desk. First, the examiner +went through the notes at lightning speed, and added up their +total, finding it to agree with the amount of loans carried on +the book of daily balances. Next, he took up the larger loans, +inquiring scrupulously into the condition of their endorsers or +securities. The new examiner's mind seemed to course and turn +and make unexpected dashes hither and thither like a bloodhound +seeking a trail. Finally he pushed aside all the notes except a +few, which he arranged in a neat pile before him, and began a +dry, formal little speech.</p> + +<p>"I find, sir, the condition of your bank to be very good, +considering the poor crops and the depression in the cattle +interests of your state. The clerical work seems to be done +accurately and punctually. Your past-due paper is moderate in +amount, and promises only a small loss. I would recommend the +calling in of your large loans, and the making of only sixty +and ninety day or call loans until general business revives. +And now, there is one thing more, and I will have finished with +the bank. Here are six notes aggregating something like +$40,000. They are secured, according to their faces, by various +stocks, bonds, shares, etc. to the value of $70,000. Those +securities are missing from the notes to which they should be +attached. I suppose you have them in the safe or vault. You +will permit me to examine them."</p> + +<p>Major Tom's light-blue eyes turned unflinchingly toward the +examiner.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," he said, in a low but steady tone; "those securities +are neither in the safe nor in the vault. I have taken them. +You may hold me personally responsible for their absence."</p> + +<p>Nettlewick felt a slight thrill. He had not expected this. He +had struck a momentous trail when the hunt was drawing to a +close.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the examiner. He waited a moment, and then +continued: "May I ask you to explain more definitely?"</p> + +<p>"The securities were taken by me," repeated the major. "It was +not for my own use, but to save an old friend in trouble. Come +in here, sir, and we'll talk it over."</p> + +<p>He led the examiner into the bank's private office at the rear, +and closed the door. There was a desk, and a table, and +half-a-dozen leather-covered chairs. On the wall was the +mounted head of a Texas steer with horns five feet from tip to +tip. Opposite hung the major's old cavalry saber that he had +carried at Shiloh and Fort Pillow.</p> + +<p>Placing a chair for Nettlewick, the major seated himself by the +window, from which he could see the post-office and the carved +limestone front of the Stockmen's National. He did not speak at +once, and Nettlewick felt, perhaps, that the ice could be +broken by something so near its own temperature as the voice of +official warning.</p> + +<p>"Your statement," he began, "since you have failed to modify +it, amounts, as you must know, to a very serious thing. You are +aware, also, of what my duty must compel me to do. I shall have +to go before the United States Commissioner and make—"</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," said Major Tom, with a wave of his hand. "You +don't suppose I'd run a bank without being posted on national +banking laws and the revised statutes! Do your duty. I'm not +asking any favours. But, I spoke of my friend. I did want you +to hear me tell you about Bob."</p> + +<p>Nettlewick settled himself in his chair. There would be no +leaving San Rosario for him that day. He would have to +telegraph to the Comptroller of the Currency; he would have to +swear out a warrant before the United States Commissioner for +the arrest of Major Kingman; perhaps he would be ordered to +close the bank on account of the loss of the securities. It was +not the first crime the examiner had unearthed. Once or twice +the terrible upheaval of human emotions that his investigations +had loosed had almost caused a ripple in his official calm. He +had seen bank men kneel and plead and cry like women for a +chance—an hour's time—the overlooking of a single error. One +cashier had shot himself at his desk before him. None of them +had taken it with the dignity and coolness of this stern old +Westerner. Nettlewick felt that he owed it to him at least to +listen if he wished to talk. With his elbow on the arm of his +chair, and his square chin resting upon the fingers of his +right hand, the bank examiner waited to hear the confession of +the president of the First National Bank of San Rosario.</p> + +<p>"When a man's your friend," began Major Tom, somewhat +didactically, "for forty years, and tried by water, fire, +earth, and cyclones, when you can do him a little favour you +feel like doing it."</p> + +<p>("Embezzle for him $70,000 worth of securities," thought the +examiner.)</p> + +<p>"We were cowboys together, Bob and I," continued the major, +speaking slowly, and deliberately, and musingly, as if his +thoughts were rather with the past than the critical present, +"and we prospected together for gold and silver over Arizona, +New Mexico, and a good part of California. We were both in the +war of 'sixty-one, but in different commands. We've fought +Indians and horse thieves side by side; we've starved for weeks +in a cabin in the Arizona mountains, buried twenty feet deep in +snow; we've ridden herd together when the wind blew so hard the +lightning couldn't strike—well, Bob and I have been through +some rough spells since the first time we met in the branding +camp of the old Anchor-Bar ranch. And during that time we've +found it necessary more than once to help each other out of +tight places. In those days it was expected of a man to stick +to his friend, and he didn't ask any credit for it. Probably +next day you'd need him to get at your back and help stand off +a band of Apaches, or put a tourniquet on your leg above a +rattlesnake bite and ride for whisky. So, after all, it was +give and take, and if you didn't stand square with your +pardner, why, you might be shy one when you needed him. But Bob +was a man who was willing to go further than that. He never +played a limit.</p> + +<p>"Twenty years ago I was sheriff of this county, and I made Bob +my chief deputy. That was before the boom in cattle when we +both made our stake. I was sheriff and collector, and it was a +big thing for me then. I was married, and we had a boy and a +girl—a four and a six year old. There was a comfortable house +next to the courthouse, furnished by the county, rent free, and +I was saving some money. Bob did most of the office work. Both +of us had seen rough times and plenty of rustling and danger, +and I tell you it was great to hear the rain and the sleet +dashing against the windows of nights, and be warm and safe and +comfortable, and know you could get up in the morning and be +shaved and have folks call you 'mister.' And then, I had the +finest wife and kids that ever struck the range, and my old +friend with me enjoying the first fruits of prosperity and +white shirts, and I guess I was happy. Yes, I was happy about +that time."</p> + +<p>The major sighed and glanced casually out of the window. The +bank examiner changed his position, and leaned his chin upon +his other hand.</p> + +<p>"One winter," continued the major, "the money for the county +taxes came pouring in so fast that I didn't have time to take +the stuff to the bank for a week. I just shoved the checks into +a cigar box and the money into a sack, and locked them in the +big safe that belonged to the sheriff's office.</p> + +<p>"I had been overworked that week, and was about sick, anyway. +My nerves were out of order, and my sleep at night didn't seem +to rest me. The doctor had some scientific name for it, and I +was taking medicine. And so, added to the rest, I went to bed +at night with that money on my mind. Not that there was much +need of being worried, for the safe was a good one, and nobody +but Bob and I knew the combination. On Friday night there was +about $6,500 in cash in the bag. On Saturday morning I went to +the office as usual. The safe was locked, and Bob was writing +at his desk. I opened the safe, and the money was gone. I +called Bob, and roused everybody in the court-house to announce +the robbery. It struck me that Bob took it pretty quiet, +considering how much it reflected upon both him and me.</p> + +<p>"Two days went by and we never got a clew. It couldn't have +been burglars, for the safe had been opened by the combination +in the proper way. People must have begun to talk, for one +afternoon in comes Alice—that's my wife—and the boy and girl, +and Alice stamps her foot, and her eyes flash, and she cries +out, 'The lying wretches—Tom, Tom!' and I catch her in a +faint, and bring her 'round little by little, and she lays her +head down and cries and cries for the first time since she took +Tom Kingman's name and fortunes. And Jack and Zilla—the +youngsters—they were always wild as tiger cubs to rush at +Bob and climb all over him whenever they were allowed to come +to the court-house—they stood and kicked their little shoes, +and herded together like scared partridges. They were having +their first trip down into the shadows of life. Bob was working +at his desk, and he got up and went out without a word. The +grand jury was in session then, and the next morning Bob went +before them and confessed that he stole the money. He said he +lost it in a poker game. In fifteen minutes they had found a +true bill and sent me the warrant to arrest the man with whom +I'd been closer than a thousand brothers for many a year.</p> + +<p>"I did it, and then I said to Bob, pointing: 'There's my house, +and here's my office, and up there's Maine, and out that way is +California, and over there is Florida—and that's your range +'til court meets. You're in my charge, and I take the +responsibility. You be here when you're wanted.'</p> + +<p>"'Thanks, Tom,' he said, kind of carelessly; 'I was sort of +hoping you wouldn't lock me up. Court meets next Monday, so, if +you don't object, I'll just loaf around the office until then. +I've got one favour to ask, if it isn't too much. If you'd let +the kids come out in the yard once in a while and have a romp +I'd like it.'</p> + +<p>"'Why not?' I answered him. 'They're welcome, and so are you. +And come to my house, the same as ever.' You see, Mr. +Nettlewick, you can't make a friend of a thief, but neither can +you make a thief of a friend, all at once."</p> + +<p>The examiner made no answer. At that moment was heard the +shrill whistle of a locomotive pulling into the depot. That was +the train on the little, narrow-gauge road that struck into San +Rosario from the south. The major cocked his ear and listened +for a moment, and looked at his watch. The narrow-gauge was in +on time—10.35. The major continued:</p> + +<p>"So Bob hung around the office, reading the papers and smoking. +I put another deputy to work in his place, and after a while, +the first excitement of the case wore off.</p> + +<p>"One day when we were alone in the office Bob came over to +where I was sitting. He was looking sort of grim and blue—the +same look he used to get when he'd been up watching for +Indians all night or herd-riding.</p> + +<p>"'Tom,' says he, 'it's harder than standing off redskins; it's +harder than lying in the lava desert forty miles from water; +but I'm going to stick it out to the end. You know that's been +my style. But if you'd tip me the smallest kind of a sign—if +you'd just say, "Bob I understand," why, it would make it lots +easier.'</p> + +<p>"I was surprised. 'I don't know what you mean, Bob,' I said. +'Of course, you know that I'd do anything under the sun to help +you that I could. But you've got me guessing.'</p> + +<p>"'All right, Tom,' was all he said, and he went back to his +newspaper and lit another cigar.</p> + +<p>"It was the night before court met when I found out what he +meant. I went to bed that night with that same old, +light-headed, nervous feeling come back upon me. I dropped off +to sleep about midnight. When I awoke I was standing half +dressed in one of the court-house corridors. Bob was holding +one of my arms, our family doctor the other, and Alice was +shaking me and half crying. She had sent for the doctor without +my knowing it, and when he came they had found me out of bed +and missing, and had begun a search.</p> + +<p>"'Sleep-walking,' said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"All of us went back to the house, and the doctor told us some +remarkable stories about the strange things people had done +while in that condition. I was feeling rather chilly after my +trip out, and, as my wife was out of the room at the time, I +pulled open the door of an old wardrobe that stood in the room +and dragged out a big quilt I had seen in there. With it +tumbled out the bag of money for stealing which Bob was to be +tried—and convicted—in the morning.</p> + +<p>"'How the jumping rattlesnakes did that get there?' I yelled, +and all hands must have seen how surprised I was. Bob knew in a +flash.</p> + +<p>"'You darned old snoozer,' he said, with the old-time look on +his face, 'I saw you put it there. I watched you open the safe +and take it out, and I followed you. I looked through the +window and saw you hide it in that wardrobe.'</p> + +<p>"'Then, you blankety-blank, flop-eared, sheep-headed coyote, +what did you say you took it, for?'</p> + +<p>"'Because,' said Bob, simply, 'I didn't know you were asleep.'</p> + +<p>"I saw him glance toward the door of the room where Jack and +Zilla were, and I knew then what it meant to be a man's friend +from Bob's point of view."</p> + +<p>Major Tom paused, and again directed his glance out of the +window. He saw some one in the Stockmen's National Bank reach +and draw a yellow shade down the whole length of its +plate-glass, big front window, although the position of the sun +did not seem to warrant such a defensive movement against its +rays.</p> + +<p>Nettlewick sat up straight in his chair. He had listened +patiently, but without consuming interest, to the major's +story. It had impressed him as irrelevant to the situation, and +it could certainly have no effect upon the consequences. Those +Western people, he thought, had an exaggerated sentimentality. +They were not business-like. They needed to be protected from +their friends. Evidently the major had concluded. And what he +had said amounted to nothing.</p> + +<p>"May I ask," said the examiner, "if you have anything further +to say that bears directly upon the question of those +abstracted securities?"</p> + +<p>"Abstracted securities, sir!" Major Tom turned suddenly in his +chair, his blue eyes flashing upon the examiner. "What do you +mean, sir?"</p> + +<p>He drew from his coat pocket a batch of folded papers held +together by a rubber band, tossed them into Nettlewick's hands, +and rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"You'll find those securities there, sir, every stock, bond, +and share of 'em. I took them from the notes while you were +counting the cash. Examine and compare them for yourself."</p> + +<p>The major led the way back into the banking room. The examiner, +astounded, perplexed, nettled, at sea, followed. He felt that +he had been made the victim of something that was not exactly a +hoax, but that left him in the shoes of one who had been played +upon, used, and then discarded, without even an inkling of the +game. Perhaps, also, his official position had been +irreverently juggled with. But there was nothing he could take +hold of. An official report of the matter would be an +absurdity. And, somehow, he felt that he would never know +anything more about the matter than he did then.</p> + +<p>Frigidly, mechanically, Nettlewick examined the securities, +found them to tally with the notes, gathered his black wallet, +and rose to depart.</p> + +<p>"I will say," he protested, turning the indignant glare of his +glasses upon Major Kingman, "that your statements—your +misleading statements, which you have not condescended to +explain—do not appear to be quite the thing, regarded either +as business or humour. I do not understand such motives or +actions."</p> + +<p>Major Tom looked down at him serenely and not unkindly.</p> + +<p>"Son," he said, "there are plenty of things in the chaparral, +and on the prairies, and up the canyons that you don't +understand. But I want to thank you for listening to a +garrulous old man's prosy story. We old Texans love to talk +about our adventures and our old comrades, and the home folks +have long ago learned to run when we begin with 'Once upon a +time,' so we have to spin our yarns to the stranger within our +gates."</p> + +<p>The major smiled, but the examiner only bowed coldly, and +abruptly quitted the bank. They saw him travel diagonally +across the street in a straight line and enter the Stockmen's +National Bank.</p> + +<p>Major Tom sat down at his desk, and drew from his vest pocket +the note Roy had given him. He had read it once, but hurriedly, +and now, with something like a twinkle in his eyes, he read it +again. These were the words he read:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Tom</span>:</p> + +<p>I hear there's one of Uncle Sam's grayhounds going through +you, and that means that we'll catch him inside of a couple +of hours, maybe. Now, I want you to do something for me. +We've got just $2,200 in the bank, and the law requires that +we have $20,000. I let Ross and Fisher have $18,000 late +yesterday afternoon to buy up that Gibson bunch of cattle. +They'll realise $40,000 in less than thirty days on the +transaction, but that won't make my cash on hand look any +prettier to that bank examiner. Now, I can't show him those +notes, for they're just plain notes of hand without any +security in sight, but you know very well that Pink Ross and +Jim Fisher are two of the finest white men God ever made, and +they'll do the square thing. You remember Jim Fisher—he was +the one who shot that faro dealer in El Paso. I wired Sam +Bradshaw's bank to send me $20,000, and it will get in on the +narrow-gauge at 10.35. You can't let a bank examiner in to +count $2,200 and close your doors. Tom, you hold that +examiner. Hold him. Hold him if you have to rope him and sit +on his head. Watch our front window after the narrow-gauge +gets in, and when we've got the cash inside we'll pull down +the shade for a signal. Don't turn him loose till then. I'm +counting on you, Tom.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind10">Your Old Pard,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Bob +Buckly</span>,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12"><i>Prest. Stockmen's +National</i>.</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>The major began to tear the note into small pieces and throw +them into his waste basket. He gave a satisfied little chuckle +as he did so.</p> + +<p>"Confounded old reckless cowpuncher!" he growled, contentedly, +"that pays him some on account for what he tried to do for me +in the sheriff's office twenty years ago."</p> + + +<p><a name="13"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XIII</h3> +<h3>THE FOURTH IN SALVADOR<br /> </h3> + + +<p>On a summer's day, while the city was rocking with the din and +red uproar of patriotism, Billy Casparis told me this story.</p> + +<p>In his way, Billy is Ulysses, Jr. Like Satan, he comes from +going to and fro upon the earth and walking up and down in it. +To-morrow morning while you are cracking your breakfast egg he +may be off with his little alligator grip to boom a town site +in the middle of Lake Okeechobee or to trade horses with the +Patagonians.</p> + +<p>We sat at a little, round table, and between us were glasses +holding big lumps of ice, and above us leaned an artificial +palm. And because our scene was set with the properties of the +one they recalled to his mind, Billy was stirred to narrative.</p> + +<p>"It reminds me," said he, "of a Fourth I helped to celebrate +down in Salvador. 'Twas while I was running an ice factory down +there, after I unloaded that silver mine I had in Colorado. I +had what they called a 'conditional concession.' They made me +put up a thousand dollars cash forfeit that I would make ice +continuously for six months. If I did that I could draw down my +ante. If I failed to do so the government took the pot. So the +inspectors kept dropping in, trying to catch me without the +goods.</p> + +<p>"One day when the thermometer was at 110, the clock at +half-past one, and the calendar at July third, two of the +little, brown, oily nosers in red trousers slid in to make an +inspection. Now, the factory hadn't turned out a pound of ice +in three weeks, for a couple of reasons. The Salvador heathen +wouldn't buy it; they said it made things cold they put it in. +And I couldn't make any more, because I was broke. All I was +holding on for was to get down my thousand so I could leave the +country. The six months would be up on the sixth of July.</p> + +<p>"Well, I showed 'em all the ice I had. I raised the lid of a +darkish vat, and there was an elegant 100-pound block of ice, +beautiful and convincing to the eye. I was about to close down +the lid again when one of those brunette sleuths flops down on +his red knees and lays a slanderous and violent hand on my +guarantee of good faith. And in two minutes more they had +dragged out on the floor that fine chunk of molded glass that +had cost me fifty dollars to have shipped down from Frisco.</p> + +<p>"'Ice-y?' says the fellow that played me the dishonourable +trick; 'verree warm ice-y. Yes. The day is that hot, señor. +Yes. Maybeso it is of desirableness to leave him out to get the +cool. Yes.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' says I, 'yes,' for I knew they had me. 'Touching's +believing, ain't it, boys? Yes. Now there's some might say the +seats of your trousers are sky blue, but 'tis my opinion they +are red. Let's apply the tests of the laying on of hands and +feet.' And so I hoisted both those inspectors out the door on +the toe of my shoe, and sat down to cool off on my block of +disreputable glass.</p> + +<p>"And, as I live without oats, while I sat there, homesick for +money and without a cent to my ambition, there came on the +breeze the most beautiful smell my nose had entered for a year. +God knows where it came from in that backyard of a country—it +was a bouquet of soaked lemon peel, cigar stumps, and stale +beer—exactly the smell of Goldbrick Charley's place on +Fourteenth Street where I used to play pinochle of afternoons +with the third-rate actors. And that smell drove my troubles +through me and clinched 'em at the back. I began to long for my +country and feel sentiments about it; and I said words about +Salvador that you wouldn't think could come legitimate out of +an ice factory.</p> + +<p>"And while I was sitting there, down through the blazing +sunshine in his clean, white clothes comes Maximilian Jones, an +American interested in rubber and rosewood.</p> + +<p>"'Great carrambos!' says I, when he stepped in, for I was in a +bad temper, 'didn't I have catastrophes enough? I know what you +want. You want to tell me that story again about Johnny Ammiger +and the widow on the train. You've told it nine times already +this month.'</p> + +<p>"'It must be the heat,' says Jones, stopping in at the door, +amazed. 'Poor Billy. He's got bugs. Sitting on ice, and calling +his best friends pseudonyms. Hi!—<i>muchacho!</i>' Jones called my +force of employees, who was sitting in the sun, playing with +his toes, and told him to put on his trousers and run for the +doctor.</p> + +<p>"'Come back,' says I. 'Sit down, Maxy, and forget it. 'Tis not +ice you see, nor a lunatic upon it. 'Tis only an exile full of +homesickness sitting on a lump of glass that's just cost him a +thousand dollars. Now, what was it Johnny said to the widow +first? I'd like to hear it again, Maxy—honest. Don't mind what +I said.'</p> + +<p>"Maximilian Jones and I sat down and talked. He was about as +sick of the country as I was, for the grafters were squeezing +him for half the profits of his rosewood and rubber. Down in +the bottom of a tank of water I had a dozen bottles of sticky +Frisco beer; and I fished these up, and we fell to talking +about home and the flag and Hail Columbia and home-fried +potatoes; and the drivel we contributed would have sickened any +man enjoying those blessings. But at that time we were out of +'em. You can't appreciate home till you've left it, money till +it's spent, your wife till she's joined a woman's club, nor Old +Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of +a consul in a foreign town.</p> + +<p>"And sitting there me and Maximilian Jones, scratching at our +prickly heat and kicking at the lizards on the floor, became +afflicted with a dose of patriotism and affection for our +country. There was me, Billy Casparis, reduced from a +capitalist to a pauper by over-addiction to my glass (in the +lump), declares my troubles off for the present and myself to +be an uncrowned sovereign of the greatest country on earth. And +Maximilian Jones pours out whole drug stores of his wrath on +oligarchies and potentates in red trousers and calico shoes. +And we issues a declaration of interference in which we +guarantee that the fourth day of July shall be celebrated in +Salvador with all the kinds of salutes, explosions, honours of +war, oratory, and liquids known to tradition. Yes, neither me +nor Jones breathed with soul so dead. There shall be rucuses in +Salvador, we say, and the monkeys had better climb the tallest +cocoanut trees and the fire department get out its red sashes +and two tin buckets.</p> + +<p>"About this time into the factory steps a native man +incriminated by the name of General Mary Esperanza Dingo. He +was some pumpkin both in politics and colour, and the friend of +me and Jones. He was full of politeness and a kind of +intelligence, having picked up the latter and managed to +preserve the former during a two years' residence in +Philadelphia studying medicine. For a Salvadorian he was not +such a calamitous little man, though he always would play jack, +queen, king, ace, deuce for a straight.</p> + +<p>"General Mary sits with us and has a bottle. While he was in +the States he had acquired a synopsis of the English language +and the art of admiring our institutions. By and by the General +gets up and tiptoes to the doors and windows and other stage +entrances, remarking 'Hist!' at each one. They all do that in +Salvador before they ask for a drink of water or the time of +day, being conspirators from the cradle and matinee idols by +proclamation.</p> + +<p>"'Hist!' says General Dingo again, and then he lays his chest +on the table quite like Gaspard the Miser. 'Good friends, +señores, to-morrow will be the great day of Liberty and +Independence. The hearts of Americans and Salvadorians should +beat together. Of your history and your great Washington I +know. Is it not so?'</p> + +<p>"Now, me and Jones thought that nice of the General to remember +when the Fourth came. It made us feel good. He must have heard +the news going round in Philadelphia about that disturbance we +had with England.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' says me and Maxy together, 'we knew it. We were talking +about it when you came in. And you can bet your bottom +concession that there'll be fuss and feathers in the air +to-morrow. We are few in numbers, but the welkin may as well +reach out to push the button, for it's got to ring.'</p> + +<p>"'I, too, shall assist,' says the General, thumping his +collar-bone. 'I, too, am on the side of Liberty. Noble +Americans, we will make the day one to be never forgotten.'</p> + +<p>"'For us American whisky,' says Jones—'none of your Scotch +smoke or anisada or Three Star Hennessey to-morrow. We'll +borrow the consul's flag; old man Billfinger shall make +orations, and we'll have a barbecue on the plaza.'</p> + +<p>"'Fireworks,' says I, 'will be scarce; but we'll have all the +cartridges in the shops for our guns. I've got two navy sixes I +brought from Denver.'</p> + +<p>"'There is one cannon,' said the General; 'one big cannon that +will go "BOOM!" And three hundred men with rifles to shoot.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, say!' says Jones, 'Generalissimo, you're the real silk +elastic. We'll make it a joint international celebration. +Please, General, get a white horse and a blue sash and be grand +marshal.'</p> + +<p>"'With my sword,' says the General, rolling his eyes. 'I shall +ride at the head of the brave men who gather in the name of +Liberty.'</p> + +<p>"'And you might,' we suggest 'see the commandante and advise +him that we are going to prize things up a bit. We Americans, +you know, are accustomed to using municipal regulations for gun +wadding when we line up to help the eagle scream. He might +suspend the rules for one day. We don't want to get in the +calaboose for spanking his soldiers if they get in our way, do +you see?'</p> + +<p>"'Hist!' says General Mary. 'The commandant is with us, heart +and soul. He will aid us. He is one of us.'</p> + +<p>"We made all the arrangements that afternoon. There was a buck +coon from Georgia in Salvador who had drifted down there from a +busted-up coloured colony that had been started on some +possumless land in Mexico. As soon as he heard us say +'barbecue' he wept for joy and groveled on the ground. He dug +his trench on the plaza, and got half a beef on the coals for +an all-night roast. Me and Maxy went to see the rest of the +Americans in the town and they all sizzled like a seidlitz with +joy at the idea of solemnizing an old-time Fourth.</p> + +<p>"There were six of us all together—Martin Dillard, a coffee +planter; Henry Barnes, a railroad man; old man Billfinger, an +educated tintype taker; me and Jonesy, and Jerry, the boss of +the barbecue. There was also an Englishman in town named +Sterrett, who was there to write a book on Domestic +Architecture of the Insect World. We felt some bashfulness +about inviting a Britisher to help crow over his own country, +but we decided to risk it, out of our personal regard for him.</p> + +<p>"We found Sterrett in pajamas working at his manuscript with a +bottle of brandy for a paper weight.</p> + +<p>"'Englishman,' says Jones, 'let us interrupt your disquisition +on bug houses for a moment. To-morrow is the Fourth of July. We +don't want to hurt your feelings, but we're going to +commemorate the day when we licked you by a little refined +debauchery and nonsense—something that can be heard above five +miles off. If you are broad-gauged enough to taste whisky at +your own wake, we'd be pleased to have you join us.'</p> + +<p>"'Do you know,' says Sterrett, setting his glasses on his nose, +'I like your cheek in asking me if I'll join you; blast me if I +don't. You might have known I would, without asking. Not as a +traitor to my own country, but for the intrinsic joy of a +blooming row.'</p> + +<p>"On the morning of the Fourth I woke up in that old shanty of +an ice factory feeling sore. I looked around at the wreck of +all I possessed, and my heart was full of bile. From where I +lay on my cot I could look through the window and see the +consul's old ragged Stars and Stripes hanging over his shack. +'You're all kinds of a fool, Billy Casparis,' I says to myself; +'and of all your crimes against sense it does look like this +idea of celebrating the Fourth should receive the award of +demerit. Your business is busted up, your thousand dollars is +gone into the kitty of this corrupt country on that last bluff +you made, you've got just fifteen Chili dollars left, worth +forty-six cents each at bedtime last night and steadily going +down. To-day you'll blow in your last cent hurrahing for that +flag, and to-morrow you'll be living on bananas from the stalk +and screwing your drinks out of your friends. What's the flag +done for you? While you were under it you worked for what you +got. You wore your finger nails down skinning suckers, and +salting mines, and driving bears and alligators off your town +lot additions. How much does patriotism count for on deposit +when the little man with the green eye-shade in the +savings-bank adds up your book? Suppose you were to get pinched +over here in this irreligious country for some little crime or +other, and appealed to your country for protection—what would +it do for you? Turn your appeal over to a committee of one +railroad man, an army officer, a member of each labour union, +and a coloured man to investigate whether any of your ancestors +were ever related to a cousin of Mark Hanna, and then file the +papers in the Smithsonian Institution until after the next +election. That's the kind of a sidetrack the Stars and Stripes +would switch you onto.'</p> + +<p>"You can see that I was feeling like an indigo plant; but after +I washed my face in some cool water, and got out my navys and +ammunition, and started up to the Saloon of the Immaculate +Saints where we were to meet, I felt better. And when I saw +those other American boys come swaggering into the trysting +place—cool, easy, conspicuous fellows, ready to risk any kind +of a one-card draw, or to fight grizzlies, fire, or +extradition, I began to feel glad I was one of 'em. So, I says +to myself again: 'Billy, you've got fifteen dollars and a +country left this morning—blow in the dollars and blow up the +town as an American gentleman should on Independence Day.'</p> + +<p>"It is my recollection that we began the day along conventional +lines. The six of us—for Sterrett was along—made progress +among the cantinas, divesting the bars as we went of all strong +drink bearing American labels. We kept informing the atmosphere +as to the glory and preeminence of the United States and its +ability to subdue, outjump, and eradicate the other nations of +the earth. And, as the findings of American labels grew more +plentiful, we became more contaminated with patriotism. +Maximilian Jones hopes that our late foe, Mr. Sterrett, will +not take offense at our enthusiasm. He sets down his bottle and +shakes Sterrett's hand. 'As white man to white man,' says he, +'denude our uproar of the slightest taint of personality. +Excuse us for Bunker Hill, Patrick Henry, and Waldorf Astor, +and such grievances as might lie between us as nations.'</p> + +<p>"'Fellow hoodlums,' says Sterrett, 'on behalf of the Queen I +ask you to cheese it. It is an honour to be a guest at +disturbing the peace under the American flag. Let us chant the +passionate strains of "Yankee Doodle" while the señor +behind the bar mitigates the occasion with another round of +cochineal and aqua fortis.'</p> + +<p>"Old Man Billfinger, being charged with a kind of rhetoric, +makes speeches every time we stop. We explained to such +citizens as we happened to step on that we were celebrating the +dawn of our own private brand of liberty, and to please enter +such inhumanities as we might commit on the list of unavoidable +casualties.</p> + +<p>"About eleven o'clock our bulletins read: 'A considerable rise +in temperature, accompanied by thirst and other alarming +symptoms.' We hooked arms and stretched our line across the +narrow streets, all of us armed with Winchesters and navys for +purposes of noise and without malice. We stopped on a street +corner and fired a dozen or so rounds, and began a serial +assortment of United States whoops and yells, probably the +first ever heard in that town.</p> + +<p>"When we made that noise things began to liven up. We heard a +pattering up a side street, and here came General Mary +Esperanza Dingo on a white horse with a couple of hundred brown +boys following him in red undershirts and bare feet, dragging +guns ten feet long. Jones and me had forgot all about General +Mary and his promise to help us celebrate. We fired another +salute and gave another yell, while the General shook hands +with us and waved his sword.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, General,' shouts Jones, 'this is great. This will be a +real pleasure to the eagle. Get down and have a drink.'</p> + +<p>"'Drink?' says the general. 'No. There is no time to drink. +<i>Viva la Libertad!</i>'</p> + +<p>"'Don't forget <i>E Pluribus Unum!</i>' says Henry Barnes.</p> + +<p>"'<i>Viva</i> it good and strong,' says I. 'Likewise, <i>viva</i> George +Washington. God save the Union, and,' I says, bowing to +Sterrett, 'don't discard the Queen.'</p> + +<p>"'Thanks,' says Sterrett. 'The next round's mine. All in to the +bar. Army, too.'</p> + +<p>"But we were deprived of Sterrett's treat by a lot of gunshots +several squares sway, which General Dingo seemed to think he +ought to look after. He spurred his old white plug up that way, +and the soldiers scuttled along after him.</p> + +<p>"'Mary is a real tropical bird,' says Jones. 'He's turned out +the infantry to help us do honour to the Fourth. We'll get that +cannon he spoke of after a while and fire some window-breakers +with it. But just now I want some of that barbecued beef. Let +us on to the plaza.'</p> + +<p>"There we found the meat gloriously done, and Jerry waiting, +anxious. We sat around on the grass, and got hunks of it on our +tin plates. Maximilian Jones, always made tender-hearted by +drink, cried some because George Washington couldn't be there +to enjoy the day. 'There was a man I love, Billy,' he says, +weeping on my shoulder. 'Poor George! To think he's gone, and +missed the fireworks. A little more salt, please, Jerry.'</p> + +<p>"From what we could hear, General Dingo seemed to be kindly +contributing some noise while we feasted. There were guns going +off around town, and pretty soon we heard that cannon go +'BOOM!' just as he said it would. And then men began to skim +along the edge of the plaza, dodging in among the orange trees +and houses. We certainly had things stirred up in Salvador. We +felt proud of the occasion and grateful to General Dingo. +Sterrett was about to take a bite off a juicy piece of rib when +a bullet took it away from his mouth.</p> + +<p>"'Somebody's celebrating with ball cartridges,' says he, +reaching for another piece. 'Little over-zealous for a +non-resident patriot, isn't it?'</p> + +<p>"'Don't mind it,' I says to him. ''Twas an accident. They +happen, you know, on the Fourth. After one reading of the +Declaration of Independence in New York I've known the S. R. O. +sign to be hung out at all the hospitals and police stations.'</p> + +<p>"But then Jerry gives a howl and jumps up with one hand clapped +to the back of his leg where another bullet has acted +over-zealous. And then comes a quantity of yells, and round a +corner and across the plaza gallops General Mary Esperanza +Dingo embracing the neck of his horse, with his men running +behind him, mostly dropping their guns by way of discharging +ballast. And chasing 'em all is a company of feverish little +warriors wearing blue trousers and caps.</p> + +<p>"'Assistance, amigos,' the General shouts, trying to stop his +horse. 'Assistance, in the name of Liberty!'</p> + +<p>"'That's the Compañia Azul, the President's bodyguard,' +says Jones. 'What a shame! They've jumped on poor old Mary just +because he was helping us to celebrate. Come on, boys, it's our +Fourth;—do we let that little squad of A.D.T's break it up?'</p> + +<p>"'I vote No,' says Martin Dillard, gathering his Winchester. +'It's the privilege of an American citizen to drink, drill, +dress up, and be dreadful on the Fourth of July, no matter +whose country he's in.'</p> + +<p>"'Fellow citizens!' says old man Billfinger, 'In the darkest +hour of Freedom's birth, when our brave forefathers promulgated +the principles of undying liberty, they never expected that a +bunch of blue jays like that should be allowed to bust up an +anniversary. Let us preserve and protect the Constitution.'</p> + +<p>"We made it unanimous, and then we gathered our guns and +assaulted the blue troops in force. We fired over their heads, +and then charged 'em with a yell, and they broke and ran. We +were irritated at having our barbecue disturbed, and we chased +'em a quarter of a mile. Some of 'em we caught and kicked hard. +The General rallied his troops and joined in the chase. Finally +they scattered in a thick banana grove, and we couldn't flush a +single one. So we sat down and rested.</p> + +<p>"If I were to be put, severe, through the third degree, I +wouldn't be able to tell much about the rest of the day. I mind +that we pervaded the town considerable, calling upon the people +to bring out more armies for us to destroy. I remember seeing a +crowd somewhere, and a tall man that wasn't Billfinger making a +Fourth of July speech from a balcony. And that was about all.</p> + +<p>"Somebody must have hauled the old ice factory up to where I +was, and put it around me, for there's where I was when I woke +up the next morning. As soon as I could recollect by name and +address I got up and held an inquest. My last cent was gone. I +was all in.</p> + +<p>"And then a neat black carriage drives to the door, and out +steps General Dingo and a bay man in a silk hat and tan shoes.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' says I to myself, 'I see it now. You're the Chief de +Policeos and High Lord Chamberlain of the Calaboosum; and you +want Billy Casparis for excess of patriotism and assault with +intent. All right. Might as well be in jail, anyhow.'</p> + +<p>"But it seems that General Mary is smiling, and the bay man +shakes my hand, and speaks in the American dialect.</p> + +<p>"'General Dingo has informed me, Señor Casparis, of +your gallant service in our cause. I desire to thank you with my +person. The bravery of you and the other señores Americanos +turned the struggle for liberty in our favour. Our party +triumphed. The terrible battle will live forever in history.</p> + +<p>"'Battle?' says I; 'what battle?' and I ran my mind back along +history, trying to think.</p> + +<p>"'Señor Casparis is modest,' says General Dingo. 'He +led his brave compadres into the thickest of the fearful +conflict. Yes. Without their aid the revolution would have +failed.'</p> + +<p>"'Why, now,' says I, 'don't tell me there was a revolution +yesterday. That was only a Fourth of—'</p> + +<p>"But right there I abbreviated. It seemed to me it might be +best.</p> + +<p>"'After the terrible struggle,' says the bay man, 'President +Bolano was forced to fly. To-day Caballo is President by +proclamation. Ah, yes. Beneath the new administration I am the +head of the Department of Mercantile Concessions. On my file I +find one report, Señor Casparis, that you have not made +ice in accord with your contract.' And here the bay man smiles +at me, 'cute.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, well,' says I, 'I guess the report's straight. I know +they caught me. That's all there is to it.'</p> + +<p>"'Do not say so,' says the bay man. He pulls off a glove and +goes over and lays his hand on that chunk of glass.</p> + +<p>"'Ice,' says he, nodding his head, solemn.</p> + +<p>"General Dingo also steps over and feels of it.</p> + +<p>"'Ice,' says the General; 'I'll swear to it.'</p> + +<p>"'If Señor Casparis,' says the bay man, 'will present +himself to the treasury on the sixth day of this month he will +receive back the thousand dollars he did deposit as a forfeit. +Adios, señor.'</p> + +<p>"The General and the bay man bowed themselves out, and I bowed +as often as they did.</p> + +<p>"And when the carriage rolls away through the sand I bows once +more, deeper than ever, till my hat touches the ground. But +this time 'twas not intended for them. For, over their heads, I +saw the old flag fluttering in the breeze above the consul's +roof; and 'twas to it I made my profoundest salute."</p> + + +<p><a name="14"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XIV</h3> +<h3>THE EMANCIPATION OF BILLY<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In the old, old, square-porticoed mansion, with the wry +window-shutters and the paint peeling off in discoloured +flakes, lived one of the last of the war governors.</p> + +<p>The South has forgotten the enmity of the great conflict, but +it refuses to abandon its old traditions and idols. In +"Governor" Pemberton, as he was still fondly called, the +inhabitants of Elmville saw the relic of their state's ancient +greatness and glory. In his day he had been a man large in the +eye of his country. His state had pressed upon him every honour +within its gift. And now when he was old, and enjoying a richly +merited repose outside the swift current of public affairs, his +townsmen loved to do him reverence for the sake of the past.</p> + +<p>The Governor's decaying "mansion" stood upon the main street of +Elmville within a few feet of its rickety paling-fence. Every +morning the Governor would descend the steps with extreme care +and deliberation—on account of his rheumatism—and then the +click of his gold-headed cane would be heard as he slowly +proceeded up the rugged brick sidewalk. He was now nearly +seventy-eight, but he had grown old gracefully and beautifully. +His rather long, smooth hair and flowing, parted whiskers were +snow-white. His full-skirted frock-croak was always buttoned +snugly about his tall, spare figure. He wore a high, well-kept +silk hat—known as a "plug" in Elmville—and nearly always +gloves. His manners were punctilious, and somewhat overcharged +with courtesy.</p> + +<p>The Governor's walks up Lee Avenue, the principal street, +developed in their course into a sort of memorial, triumphant +procession. Everyone he met saluted him with profound respect. +Many would remove their hats. Those who were honoured with his +personal friendship would pause to shake hands, and then you +would see exemplified the genuine <i>beau ideal</i> Southern +courtesy.</p> + +<p>Upon reaching the corner of the second square from the mansion, +the Governor would pause. Another street crossed the venue +there, and traffic, to the extent of several farmers' wagons +and a peddler's cart or two, would rage about the junction. +Then the falcon eye of General Deffenbaugh would perceive the +situation, and the General would hasten, with ponderous +solicitude, from his office in the First National Bank building +to the assistance of his old friend.</p> + +<p>When the two exchanged greetings the decay of modern manners +would become accusingly apparent. The General's bulky and +commanding figure would bend lissomely at a point where you +would have regarded its ability to do so with incredulity. The +Governor would take the General's arm and be piloted safely +between the hay-wagons and the sprinkling-cart to the other +side of the street. Proceeding to the post-office in the care +of his friend, the esteemed statesmen would there hold an +informal levee among the citizens who were come for their +morning mail. Here, gathering two or three prominent in law, +politics, or family, the pageant would make a stately progress +along the Avenue, stopping at the Palace Hotel, where, perhaps, +would be found upon the register the name of some guest deemed +worthy of an introduction to the state's venerable and +illustrious son. If any such were found, an hour or two would +be spent in recalling the faded glories of the Governor's +long-vanished administration.</p> + +<p>On the return march the General would invariably suggest that, +His Excellency being no doubt fatigued, it would be wise to +recuperate for a few minutes at the Drug Emporium of Mr. +Appleby R. Fentress (an elegant gentleman, sir—one of the +Chatham County Fentresses—so many of our best-blooded families +have had to go into trade, sir, since the war).</p> + +<p>Mr. Appleby R. Fentress was a <i>connoisseur</i> in fatigue. Indeed, +if he had not been, his memory alone should have enabled him to +prescribe, for the majestic invasion of his pharmacy was a +casual happening that had surprised him almost daily for years. +Mr. Fentress knew the formula of, and possessed the skill to +compound, a certain potion antagonistic to fatigue, the salient +ingredient of which he described (no doubt in pharmaceutical +terms) as "genuine old hand-made Clover Leaf '59, Private +Stock."</p> + +<p>Nor did the ceremony of administering the potion ever vary. Mr. +Fentress would first compound two of the celebrated +mixtures—one for the Governor, and the other for the General +to "sample." Then the Governor would make this little speech in +his high, piping, quavering voice:</p> + +<p>"No, sir—not one drop until you have prepared one for yourself +and join us, Mr. Fentress. Your father, sir, was one of my most +valued supporters and friends during My Administration, and any +mark of esteem I can confer upon his son is not only a pleasure +but a duty, sir."</p> + +<p>Blushing with delight at the royal condescension, the druggist +would obey, and all would drink to the General's toast: "The +prosperity of our grand old state, gentlemen—the memory of her +glorious past—the health of her Favourite Son."</p> + +<p>Some one of the Old Guard was always at hand to escort the +Governor home. Sometimes the General's business duties denied +him the privilege, and then Judge Broomfield or Colonel Titus, +or one of the Ashford County Slaughters would be on hand to +perform the rite.</p> + +<p>Such were the observances attendant upon the Governor's morning +stroll to the post-office. How much more magnificent, +impressive, and spectacular, then, was the scene at public +functions when the General would lead forth the silver-haired +relic of former greatness, like some rare and fragile waxwork +figure, and trumpet his pristine eminence to his fellow +citizens!</p> + +<p>General Deffenbaugh was the Voice of Elmville. Some said he was +Elmville. At any rate, he had no competitor as the Mouthpiece. +He owned enough stock in the <i>Daily Banner</i> to dictate its +utterance, enough shares in the First National Bank to be the +referee of its loans, and a war record that left him without a +rival for first place at barbecues, school commencements, and +Decoration Days. Besides these acquirements he was possessed +with endowments. His personality was inspiring and triumphant. +Undisputed sway had moulded him to the likeness of a fatted +Roman emperor. The tones of his voice were not otherwise than +clarion. To say that the General was public-spirited would fall +short of doing him justice. He had spirit enough for a dozen +publics. And as a sure foundation for it all, he had a heart +that was big and stanch. Yes; General Deffenbaugh was Elmville.</p> + +<p>One little incident that usually occurred during the Governor's +morning walk has had its chronicling delayed by more important +matters. The procession was accustomed to halt before a small +brick office on the Avenue, fronted by a short flight of steep +wooden steps. A modest tin sign over the door bore the words: +"Wm. B. Pemberton: Attorney-at-Law."</p> + +<p>Looking inside, the General would roar: "Hello, Billy, my boy." +The less distinguished members of the escort would call: +"Morning, Billy." The Governor would pipe: "Good morning, +William."</p> + +<p>Then a patient-looking little man with hair turning gray along +the temples would come down the steps and shake hands with each +one of the party. All Elmville shook hands when it met.</p> + +<p>The formalities concluded, the little man would go back to his +table, heaped with law books and papers, while the procession +would proceed.</p> + +<p>Billy Pemberton was, as his sign declared, a lawyer by +profession. By occupation and common consent he was the Son of +his Father. This was the shadow in which Billy lived, the pit +out of which he had unsuccessfully striven for years to climb +and, he had come to believe, the grave in which his ambitions +were destined to be buried. Filial respect and duty he paid +beyond the habit of most sons, but he aspired to be known and +appraised by his own deeds and worth.</p> + +<p>After many years of tireless labour he had become known in +certain quarters far from Elmville as a master of the +principles of the law. Twice he had gone to Washington and +argued cases before the highest tribunal with such acute logic +and learning that the silken gowns on the bench had rustled +from the force of it. His income from his practice had grown +until he was able to support his father, in the old family +mansion (which neither of them would have thought of +abandoning, rickety as it was) in the comfort and almost the +luxury of the old extravagant days. Yet, he remained to +Elmville as only "Billy" Pemberton, the son of our +distinguished and honoured fellow-townsman, "ex-Governor +Pemberton." Thus was he introduced at public gatherings where +he sometimes spoke, haltingly and prosily, for his talents were +too serious and deep for extempore brilliancy; thus was he +presented to strangers and to the lawyers who made the circuit +of the courts; and so the <i>Daily Banner</i> referred to him in +print. To be "the son of" was his doom. What ever he should +accomplish would have to be sacrificed upon the altar of this +magnificent but fatal parental precedence.</p> + +<p>The peculiarity and the saddest thing about Billy's ambition +was that the only world he thirsted to conquer was Elmville. +His nature was diffident and unassuming. National or State +honours might have oppressed him. But, above all things, he +hungered for the appreciation of the friends among whom he had +been born and raised. He would not have plucked one leaf from +the garlands that were so lavishly bestowed upon his father, he +merely rebelled against having his own wreathes woven from +those dried and self-same branches. But Elmville "Billied" and +"sonned" him to his concealed but lasting chagrin, until at +length he grew more reserved and formal and studious than ever.</p> + +<p>There came a morning when Billy found among his mail a letter +from a very high source, tendering him the appointment to an +important judicial position in the new island possessions of +our country. The honour was a distinguished one, for the entire +nation had discussed the probable recipients of these +positions, and had agreed that the situation demanded only men +of the highest character, ripe learning, and evenly balanced +mind.</p> + +<p>Billy could not subdue a certain exultation at this token of +the success of his long and arduous labours, but, at the same +time, a whimsical smile lingered around his mouth, for he +foresaw in which column Elmville would place the credit. "We +congratulate Governor Pemberton upon the mark of appreciation +conferred upon his son"—"Elmville rejoices with our honoured +citizen, Governor Pemberton, at his son's success"—"Put her +there, Billy!"—"Judge Billy Pemberton, sir; son of our State's +war hero and the people's pride!"—these were the phrases, +printed and oral, conjured up by Billy's prophetic fancy. +Grandson of his State, and stepchild to Elmville—thus had fate +fixed his kinship to the body politic.</p> + +<p>Billy lived with his father in the old mansion. The two and an +elderly lady—a distant relative—comprised the family. +Perhaps, though, old Jeff, the Governor's ancient coloured +body-servant, should be included. Without doubt, he could have +claimed the honour. There were other servants, but Thomas +Jefferson Pemberton, sah, was a member of "de fambly."</p> + +<p>Jeff was the one Elmvillian who gave to Billy the gold of +approval unmixed with the alloy of paternalism. To him "Mars +William" was the greatest man in Talbot County. Beaten upon +though he was by the shining light that emanates from an ex-war +governor, and loyal as he remained to the old +<i>régime</i>, his faith and admiration were +Billy's. As valet to a hero, and a member of the family, +he may have had superior opportunities for judging.</p> + +<p>Jeff was the first one to whom Bill revealed the news. When he +reached home for supper Jeff took his "plug" hat and smoothed +it before hanging it upon the hall-rack.</p> + +<p>"Dar now!" said the old man: "I knowed it was er comin'. I +knowed it was gwine ter happen. Er Judge, you says, Mars +William? Dem Yankees done made you er judge? It's high time, +sah, dey was doin' somep'n to make up for dey rascality +endurin' de war. I boun' dey holds a confab and says: 'Le's +make Mars William Pemberton er judge, and dat'll settle it.' +Does you have to go way down to dem Fillypines, Mars William, +or kin you judge 'em from here?"</p> + +<p>"I'd have to live there most of the time, of course," said +Billy.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what de Gubnor gwine say 'bout dat," speculated Jeff.</p> + +<p>Billy wondered too.</p> + +<p>After supper, when the two sat in the library, according to +their habit, the Governor smoking his clay pipe and Billy his +cigar, the son dutifully confessed to having been tendered the +appointment.</p> + +<p>For a long time the Governor sat, smoking, without making any +comment. Billy reclined in his favourite rocker, waiting, +perhaps still flushed with satisfaction over the tender that +had come to him, unsolicited, in his dingy little office, above +the heads of the intriguing, time-serving, clamorous multitude.</p> + +<p>At last the Governor spoke; and, though his words were +seemingly irrelevant, they were to the point. His voice had a +note of martyrdom running through its senile quaver.</p> + +<p>"My rheumatism has been growing steadily worse these past +months, William."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, father," said Billy, gently.</p> + +<p>"And I am nearly seventy-eight. I am getting to be an old man. +I can recall the names of but two or three who were in public +life during My Administration. What did you say is the nature +of this position that is offered you, William?"</p> + +<p>"A Federal Judgeship, father. I believe it is considered to be +a somewhat flattering tender. It is outside of politics and +wire-pulling, you know."</p> + +<p>"No doubt, no doubt. Few of the Pembertons have engaged in +professional life for nearly a century. None of them have ever +held Federal positions. They have been land-holders, +slave-owners, and planters on a large scale. One of two of the +Derwents—your mother's family—were in the law. Have you +decided to accept this appointment, William?"</p> + +<p>"I am thinking it over," said Billy, slowly, regarding the ash +of his cigar.</p> + +<p>"You have been a good son to me," continued the Governor, +stirring his pipe with the handle of a penholder.</p> + +<p>"I've been your son all my life," said Billy, darkly.</p> + +<p>"I am often gratified," piped the Governor, betraying a touch +of complacency, "by being congratulated upon having a son with +such sound and sterling qualities. Especially in this, our +native town, is your name linked with mine in the talk of our +citizens."</p> + +<p>"I never knew anyone to forget the vindculum," murmured Billy, +unintelligibly.</p> + +<p>"Whatever prestige," pursued the parent, "I may be possessed +of, by virtue of my name and services to the state, has been +yours to draw upon freely. I have not hesitated to exert it in +your behalf whenever opportunity offered. And you have deserved +it, William. You've been the best of sons. And now this +appointment comes to take you away from me. I have but a few +years left to live. I am almost dependent upon others now, even +in walking and dressing. What would I do without you, my son?"</p> + +<p>The Governor's pipe dropped to the floor. A tear trickled from +his eye. His voice had risen, and crumbled to a weakling +falsetto, and ceased. He was an old, old man about to be bereft +of a son that cherished him.</p> + +<p>Billy rose, and laid his hand upon the Governor's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, father," he said, cheerfully. "I'm not going to +accept. Elmville is good enough for me. I'll write to-night and +decline it."</p> + +<p>At the next interchange of devoirs between the Governor and +General Deffenbaugh on Lee Avenue, His Excellency, with a +comfortable air of self-satisfaction, spoke of the appointment +that had been tendered to Billy.</p> + +<p>The General whistled.</p> + +<p>"That's a plum for Billy," he shouted. "Who'd have thought that +Billy—but, confound it, it's been in him all the time. It's a +boost for Elmville. It'll send real estate up. It's an honour +to our state. It's a compliment to the South. We've all been +blind about Billy. When does he leave? We must have a +reception. Great Gatlings! that job's eight thousand a year! +There's been a car-load of lead-pencils worn to stubs figuring +on those appointments. Think of it! Our little, wood-sawing, +mealy-mouthed Billy! Angel unawares doesn't begin to express +it. Elmville is disgraced forever until she lines up in a hurry +for ratification and apology."</p> + +<p>The venerable Moloch smiled fatuously. He carried the fire with +which to consume all these tributes to Billy, the smoke of +which would ascend as an incense to himself.</p> + +<p>"William," said the Governor, with modest pride, "has declined +the appointment. He refuses to leave me in my old age. He is a +good son."</p> + +<p>The General swung round, and laid a large forefinger upon the +bosom of his friend. Much of the General's success had been due +to his dexterity in establishing swift lines of communication +between cause and effect.</p> + +<p>"Governor," he said, with a keen look in his big, ox-like eyes, +"you've been complaining to Billy about your rheumatism."</p> + +<p>"My dear General," replied the Governor, stiffly, "my son is +forty-two. He is quite capable of deciding such questions for +himself. And I, as his parent, feel it my duty to state that +your remark about—er—rheumatism is a mighty poor shot from a +very small bore, sir, aimed at a purely personal and private +affliction."</p> + +<p>"If you will allow me," retorted the General, "you've afflicted +the public with it for some time; and 'twas no small bore, at +that."</p> + +<p>This first tiff between the two old comrades might have grown +into something more serious, but for the fortunate interruption +caused by the ostentatious approach of Colonel Titus and +another one of the court retinue from the right county, to whom +the General confided the coddled statesman and went his way.</p> + +<p>After Billy had so effectually entombed his ambitions, and +taken the veil, so to speak, in a sonnery, he was surprised to +discover how much lighter of heart and happier he felt. He +realized what a long, restless struggle he had maintained, and +how much he had lost by failing to cull the simple but +wholesome pleasures by the way. His heart warmed now to +Elmville and the friends who had refused to set him upon a +pedestal. It was better, he began to think, to be "Billy" and +his father's son, and to be hailed familiarly by cheery +neighbours and grown-up playmates, than to be "Your Honour," +and sit among strangers, hearing, maybe, through the arguments +of learned counsel, that old man's feeble voice crying: "What +would I do without you, my son?"</p> + +<p>Billy began to surprise his acquaintances by whistling as he +walked up the street; others he astounded by slapping them +disrespectfully upon their backs and raking up old anecdotes he +had not had the time to recollect for years. Though he hammered +away at his law cases as thoroughly as ever, he found more time +for relaxation and the company of his friends. Some of the +younger set were actually after him to join the golf club. A +striking proof of his abandonment to obscurity was his adoption +of a most undignified, rakish, little soft hat, reserving the +"plug" for Sundays and state occasions. Billy was beginning to +enjoy Elmville, though that irreverent burgh had neglected to +crown him with bay and myrtle.</p> + +<p>All the while uneventful peace pervaded Elmville. The Governor +continued to make his triumphal parades to the post-office with +the General as chief marshal, for the slight squall that had +rippled their friendship had, to all indications, been +forgotten by both.</p> + +<p>But one day Elmville woke to sudden excitement. The news had +come that a touring presidential party would honour Elmville by +a twenty-minute stop. The Executive had promised a five-minute +address from the balcony of the Palace Hotel.</p> + +<p>Elmville arose as one man—that man being, of course, General +Deffenbaugh—to receive becomingly the chieftain of all the +clans. The train with the tiny Stars and Stripes fluttering +from the engine pilot arrived. Elmville had done her best. +There were bands, flowers, carriages, uniforms, banners, and +committees without end. High-school girls in white frocks +impeded the steps of the party with roses strewn nervously in +bunches. The chieftain had seen it all before—scores of times. +He could have pictured it exactly in advance, from the +Blue-and-Gray speech down to the smallest rosebud. Yet his +kindly smile of interest greeted Elmville's display as if it +had been the only and original.</p> + +<p>In the upper rotunda of the Palace Hotel the town's most +illustrious were assembled for the honour of being presented to +the distinguished guests previous to the expected address. +Outside, Elmville's inglorious but patriotic masses filled the +streets.</p> + +<p>Here, in the hotel General Deffenbaugh was holding in reserve +Elmville's trump card. Elmville knew; for the trump was a fixed +one, and its lead consecrated by archaic custom.</p> + +<p>At the proper moment Governor Pemberton, beautifully venerable, +magnificently antique, tall, paramount, stepped forward upon +the arm of the General.</p> + +<p>Elmville watched and harked with bated breath. Never until +now—when a Northern President of the United States should +clasp hands with ex-war-Governor Pemberton would the breach be +entirely closed—would the country be made one and +indivisible—no North, not much South, very little East, and no +West to speak of. So Elmville excitedly scraped kalsomine from +the walls of the Palace Hotel with its Sunday best, and waited +for the Voice to speak.</p> + +<p>And Billy! We had nearly forgotten Billy. He was cast for Son, +and he waited patiently for his cue. He carried his "plug" in +his hand, and felt serene. He admired his father's striking air +and pose. After all, it was a great deal to be a son of a man +who could so gallantly hold the position of a cynosure for +three generations.</p> + +<p>General Deffenbaugh cleared his throat. Elmville opened its +mouth, and squirmed. The chieftain with the kindly, fateful +face was holding out his hand, smiling. Ex-war-Governor +Pemberton extended his own across the chasm. But what was this +the General was saying?</p> + +<p>"Mr. President, allow me to present to you one who has the +honour to be the father of our foremost, distinguished citizen, +learned and honoured jurist, beloved townsman, and model +Southern gentleman—the Honourable William B. Pemberton."</p> + + +<p><a name="15"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XV</h3> +<h3>THE ENCHANTED KISS<br /> </h3> + + +<p>But a clerk in the Cut-rate Drug Store was Samuel Tansey, yet +his slender frame was a pad that enfolded the passion of Romeo, +the gloom of Laura, the romance of D'Artagnan, and the +desperate inspiration of Melnotte. Pity, then, that he had been +denied expression, that he was doomed to the burden of utter +timidity and diffidence, that Fate had set him tongue-tied and +scarlet before the muslin-clad angels whom he adored and vainly +longed to rescue, clasp, comfort, and subdue.</p> + +<p>The clock's hands were pointing close upon the hour of ten +while Tansey was playing billiards with a number of his +friends. On alternate evenings he was released from duty at the +store after seven o'clock. Even among his fellow-men Tansey was +timorous and constrained. In his imagination he had done +valiant deeds and performed acts of distinguished gallantry; +but in fact he was a sallow youth of twenty-three, with an +over-modest demeanour and scant vocabulary.</p> + +<p>When the clock struck ten, Tansey hastily laid down his cue and +struck sharply upon the show-case with a coin for the attendant +to come and receive the pay for his score.</p> + +<p>"What's your hurry, Tansey?" called one. "Got another +engagement?"</p> + +<p>"Tansey got an engagement!" echoed another. "Not on your life. +Tansey's got to get home at Motten by her Peek's orders."</p> + +<p>"It's no such thing," chimed in a pale youth, taking a large +cigar from his mouth; "Tansey's afraid to be late because Miss +Katie might come down stairs to unlock the door, and kiss him +in the hall."</p> + +<p>This delicate piece of raillery sent a fiery tingle into +Tansey's blood, for the indictment was true—barring the kiss. +That was a thing to dream of; to wildly hope for; but too +remote and sacred a thing to think of lightly.</p> + +<p>Casting a cold and contemptuous look at the speaker—a +punishment commensurate with his own diffident spirit—Tansey +left the room, descending the stairs into the street.</p> + +<p>For two years he had silently adored Miss Peek, worshipping her +from a spiritual distance through which her attractions took on +stellar brightness and mystery. Mrs. Peek kept a few choice +boarders, among whom was Tansey. The other young men romped +with Katie, chased her with crickets in their fingers, and +"jollied" her with an irreverent freedom that turned Tansey's +heart into cold lead in his bosom. The signs of his adoration +were few—a tremulous "Good morning," stealthy glances at her +during meals, and occasionally (Oh, rapture!) a blushing, +delirious game of cribbage with her in the parlour on some rare +evening when a miraculous lack of engagement kept her at home. +Kiss him in the hall! Aye, he feared it, but it was an ecstatic +fear such as Elijah must have felt when the chariot lifted him +into the unknown.</p> + +<p>But to-night the gibes of his associates had stung him to a +feeling of forward, lawless mutiny; a defiant, challenging, +atavistic recklessness. Spirit of corsair, adventurer, lover, +poet, bohemian, possessed him. The stars he saw above him +seemed no more unattainable, no less high, than the favour of +Miss Peek or the fearsome sweetness of her delectable lips. His +fate seemed to him strangely dramatic and pathetic, and to call +for a solace consonant with its extremity. A saloon was near +by, and to this he flitted, calling for absinthe—beyond doubt +the drink most adequate to his mood—the tipple of the +roué, the abandoned, the vainly sighing lover.</p> + +<p>Once he drank of it, and again, and then again until he felt a +strange, exalted sense of non-participation in worldly affairs +pervade him. Tansey was no drinker; his consumption of three +absinthe anisettes within almost as few minutes proclaimed his +unproficiency in the art; Tansey was merely flooding with +unproven liquor his sorrows; which record and tradition alleged +to be drownable.</p> + +<p>Coming out upon the sidewalk, he snapped his fingers defiantly +in the direction of the Peek homestead, turned the other way, +and voyaged, Columbus-like into the wilds of an enchanted +street. Nor is the figure exorbitant, for, beyond his store the +foot of Tansey had scarcely been set for years—store and +boarding-house; between these ports he was chartered to run, and +contrary currents had rarely deflected his prow.</p> + +<p>Tansey aimlessly protracted his walk, and, whether it was his +unfamiliarity with the district, his recent accession of +audacious errantry, or the sophistical whisper of a certain +green-eyed fairy, he came at last to tread a shuttered, blank, +and echoing thoroughfare, dark and unpeopled. And, suddenly, +this way came to an end (as many streets do in the +Spanish-built, archaic town of San Antone), butting its head +against an imminent, high, brick wall. No—the street still +lived! To the right and to the left it breathed through slender +tubes of exit—narrow, somnolent ravines, cobble paved and +unlighted. Accommodating a rise in the street to the right was +reared a phantom flight of five luminous steps of limestone, +flanked by a wall of the same height and of the same material.</p> + +<p>Upon one of these steps Tansey seated himself and bethought him +of his love, and how she might never know she was his love. And +of Mother Peek, fat, vigilant and kind; not unpleased, Tansey +thought, that he and Katie should play cribbage in the parlour +together. For the Cut-rate had not cut his salary, which, +sordidly speaking, ranked him star boarder at the Peek's. And +he thought of Captain Peek, Katie's father, a man he dreaded +and abhorred; a genteel loafer and spendthrift, battening upon +the labour of his women-folk; a very queer fish, and, according +to repute, not of the freshest.</p> + +<p>The night had turned chill and foggy. The heart of the town, +with its noises, was left behind. Reflected from the high +vapours, its distant lights were manifest in quivering, +cone-shaped streamers, in questionable blushes of unnamed +colours, in unstable, ghostly waves of far, electric flashes. +Now that the darkness was become more friendly, the wall +against which the street splintered developed a stone coping +topped with an armature of spikes. Beyond it loomed what +appeared to be the acute angles of mountain peaks, pierced here +and there by little lambent parallelograms. Considering this +vista, Tansey at length persuaded himself that the seeming +mountains were, in fact, the convent of Santa Mercedes, with +which ancient and bulky pile he was better familiar from +different coigns of view. A pleasant note of singing in his +ears reinforced his opinion. High, sweet, holy carolling, far +and harmonious and uprising, as of sanctified nuns at their +responses. At what hour did the Sisters sing? He tried to +think—was it six, eight, twelve? Tansey leaned his back +against the limestone wall and wondered. Strange things +followed. The air was full of white, fluttering pigeons that +circled about, and settled upon the convent wall. The wall +blossomed with a quantity of shining green eyes that blinked +and peered at him from the solid masonry. A pink, classic nymph +came from an excavation in the cavernous road and danced, +barefoot and airy, upon the ragged flints. The sky was +traversed by a company of beribboned cats, marching in +stupendous, aërial procession. The noise of singing grew +louder; an illumination of unseasonable fireflies danced past, +and strange whispers came out of the dark without meaning or +excuse.</p> + +<p>Without amazement Tansey took note of these phenomena. He was +on some new plane of understanding, though his mind seemed to +him clear and, indeed, happily tranquil.</p> + +<p>A desire for movement and exploration seized him: he rose and +turned into the black gash of street to his right. For a time +the high wall formed one of its boundaries; but further on, two +rows of black-windowed houses closed it in.</p> + +<p>Here was the city's quarter once given over to the Spaniard. +Here were still his forbidding abodes of concrete and adobe, +standing cold and indomitable against the century. From the +murky fissure, the eye saw, flung against the sky, the tangled +filigree of his Moorish balconies. Through stone archways +breaths of dead, vault-chilled air coughed upon him; his feet +struck jingling iron rings in staples stone-buried for half a +cycle. Along these paltry avenues had swaggered the arrogant +Don, had caracoled and serenaded and blustered while the +tomahawk and the pioneer's rifle were already uplifted to expel +him from a continent. And Tansey, stumbling through this +old-world dust, looked up, dark as it was, and saw Andalusian +beauties glimmering on the balconies. Some of them were +laughing and listening to the goblin music that still followed; +others harked fearfully through the night, trying to catch the +hoof beats of caballeros whose last echoes from those stones +had died away a century ago. Those women were silent, but +Tansey heard the jangle of horseless bridle-bits, the whirr of +riderless rowels, and, now and then, a muttered malediction in +a foreign tongue. But he was not frightened. Shadows, nor +shadows of sounds could daunt him. Afraid? No. Afraid of Mother +Peek? Afraid to face the girl of his heart? Afraid of tipsy +Captain Peek? Nay! nor of these apparitions, nor of that +spectral singing that always pursued him. Singing! He would +show them! He lifted up a strong and untuneful +voice:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"When you hear them bells go +tingalingling,"<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p class="noindent">serving notice upon those mysterious +agencies that if it should come to a face-to-face +encounter<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"There'll be a hot time<br /> + In the old town<br /> + To-night!"<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>How long Tansey consumed in treading this haunted byway was not +clear to him, but in time he emerged into a more commodious +avenue. When within a few yards of the corner he perceived, +through a window, that a small confectionary of mean appearance +was set in the angle. His same glance that estimated its meagre +equipment, its cheap soda-water fountain and stock of tobacco +and sweets, took cognizance of Captain Peek within lighting a +cigar at a swinging gaslight.</p> + +<p>As Tansey rounded the corner Captain Peek came out, and they +met <i>vis-a-vis</i>. An exultant joy filled Tansey when he found +himself sustaining the encounter with implicit courage. Peek, +indeed! He raised his hand, and snapped his fingers loudly.</p> + +<p>It was Peek himself who quailed guiltily before the valiant +mien of the drug clerk. Sharp surprise and a palpable fear +bourgeoned upon the Captain's face. And, verily, that face was +one to rather call up such expressions on the faces of others. +The face of a libidinous heathen idol, small eyed, with carven +folds in the heavy jowls, and a consuming, pagan license in its +expression. In the gutter just beyond the store Tansey saw a +closed carriage standing with its back toward him and a +motionless driver perched in his place.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Tansey!" exclaimed Captain Peek. "How are you, +Tansey? H-have a cigar, Tansey?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Peek!" cried Tansey, jubilant at his own temerity. +"What deviltry are you up to now, Peek? Back streets and a +closed carriage! Fie! Peek!"</p> + +<p>"There's no one in the carriage," said the Captain, smoothly.</p> + +<p>"Everybody out of it is in luck," continued Tansey, +aggressively. "I'd love for you to know, Peek, that I'm not +stuck on you. You're a bottle-nosed scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"Why, the little rat's drunk!" cried the Captain, joyfully; +"only drunk, and I thought he was on! Go home, Tansey, and quit +bothering grown persons on the street."</p> + +<p>But just then a white-clad figure sprang out of the carriage, +and a shrill voice—Katie's voice—sliced the air: "Sam! +Sam!—help me, Sam!"</p> + +<p>Tansey sprung toward her, but Captain Peek interposed his bulky +form. Wonder of wonders! the whilom spiritless youth struck out +with his right, and the hulking Captain went over in a swearing +heap. Tansey flew to Katie, and took her in his arms like a +conquering knight. She raised her face, and he kissed +her—violets! electricity! caramels! champagne! Here was the +attainment of a dream that brought no disenchantment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sam," cried Katie, when she could, "I knew you would come +to rescue me. What do you suppose the mean things were going to +do with me?"</p> + +<p>"Have your picture taken," said Tansey, wondering at the +foolishness of his remark.</p> + +<p>"No, they were going to eat me. I heard them talking about it."</p> + +<p>"Eat you!" said Tansey, after pondering a moment. "That can't +be; there's no plates."</p> + +<p>But a sudden noise warned him to turn. Down upon him were +bearing the Captain and a monstrous long-bearded dwarf in a +spangled cloak and red trunk-hose. The dwarf leaped twenty feet +and clutched them. The Captain seized Katie and hurled her, +shrieking, back into the carriage, himself followed, and the +vehicle dashed away. The dwarf lifted Tansey high above his +head and ran with him into the store. Holding him with one +hand, he raised the lid of an enormous chest half filled with +cakes of ice, flung Tansey inside, and closed down the cover.</p> + +<p>The force of the fall must have been great, for Tansey lost +consciousness. When his faculties revived his first sensation +was one of severe cold along his back and limbs. Opening his +eyes, he found himself to be seated upon the limestone steps +still facing the wall and convent of Santa Mercedes. His first +thought was of the ecstatic kiss from Katie. The outrageous +villainy of Captain Peek, the unnatural mystery of the +situation, his preposterous conflict with the improbable +dwarf—these things roused and angered him, but left no +impression of the unreal.</p> + +<p>"I'll go back there to-morrow," he grumbled aloud, "and knock +the head off that comic-opera squab. Running out and picking up +perfect strangers, and shoving them into cold storage!"</p> + +<p>But the kiss remained uppermost in his mind. "I might have done +that long ago," he mused. "She liked it, too. She called me +'Sam' four times. I'll not go up that street again. Too much +scrapping. Guess I'll move down the other way. Wonder what she +meant by saying they were going to eat her!"</p> + +<p>Tansey began to feel sleepy, but after a while he decided to +move along again. This time he ventured into the street to his +left. It ran level for a distance, and then dipped gently +downward, opening into a vast, dim, barren space—the old +Military Plaza. To his left, some hundred yards distant, he saw +a cluster of flickering lights along the Plaza's border. He +knew the locality at once.</p> + +<p>Huddled within narrow confines were the remnants of the +once-famous purveyors of the celebrated Mexican national +cookery. A few years before, their nightly encampments upon the +historic Alamo Plaza, in the heart of the city, had been a +carnival, a saturnalia that was renowned throughout the land. +Then the caterers numbered hundreds; the patrons thousands. +Drawn by the coquettish <i>señoritas</i>, the music of the +weird Spanish minstrels, and the strange piquant Mexican dishes +served at a hundred competing tables, crowds thronged the Alamo +Plaza all night. Travellers, rancheros, family parties, gay +gasconading rounders, sightseers and prowlers of polyglot, +owlish San Antone mingled there at the centre of the city's fun +and frolic. The popping of corks, pistols, and questions; the +glitter of eyes, jewels and daggers; the ring of laughter and +coin—these were the order of the night.</p> + +<p>But now no longer. To some half-dozen tents, fires, and tables +had dwindled the picturesque festival, and these had been +relegated to an ancient disused plaza.</p> + +<p>Often had Tansey strolled down to these stands at night to +partake of the delectable <i>chili-con-carne</i>, a dish evolved by +the genius of Mexico, composed of delicate meats minced with +aromatic herbs and the poignant <i>chili colorado</i>—a compound +full of singular flavour and a fiery zest delightful to the +Southron's palate.</p> + +<p>The titillating odour of this concoction came now, on the +breeze, to the nostrils of Tansey, awakening in him hunger for +it. As he turned in that direction he saw a carriage dash up to +the Mexicans' tents out of the gloom of the Plaza. Some figures +moved back and forward in the uncertain light of the lanterns, +and then the carriage was driven swiftly away.</p> + +<p>Tansey approached, and sat at one of the tables covered with +gaudy oil-cloth. Traffic was dull at the moment. A few +half-grown boys noisily fared at another table; the Mexicans +hung listless and phlegmatic about their wares. And it was +still. The night hum of the city crowded to the wall of dark +buildings surrounding the Plaza, and subsided to an indefinite +buzz through which sharply perforated the crackle of the +languid fires and the rattle of fork and spoon. A sedative wind +blew from the southeast. The starless firmament pressed down +upon the earth like a leaden cover.</p> + +<p>In all that quiet Tansey turned his head suddenly, and saw, +without disquietude, a troop of spectral horsemen deploy into +the Plaza and charge a luminous line of infantry that advanced +to sustain the shock. He saw the fierce flame of cannon and +small arms, but heard no sound. The careless victuallers +lounged vacantly, not deigning to view the conflict. Tansey +mildly wondered to what nations these mute combatants might +belong; turned his back to them and ordered his chili and +coffee from the Mexican woman who advanced to serve him. This +woman was old and careworn; her face was lined like the rind of +a cantaloupe. She fetched the viands from a vessel set by the +smouldering fire, and then retired to a tent, dark within, that +stood near by.</p> + +<p>Presently Tansey heard a turmoil in the tent; a wailing, +broken-hearted pleading in the harmonious Spanish tongue, and +then two figures tumbled out into the light of the lanterns. +One was the old woman; the other was a man clothed with a +sumptuous and flashing splendour. The woman seemed to clutch +and beseech from him something against his will. The man broke +from her and struck her brutally back into the tent, where she +lay, whimpering and invisible. Observing Tansey, he walked +rapidly to the table where he sat. Tansey recognized him to be +Ramon Torres, a Mexican, the proprietor of the stand he was +patronizing.</p> + +<p>Torres was a handsome, nearly full-blooded descendant of the +Spanish, seemingly about thirty years of age, and of a haughty, +but extremely courteous demeanour. To-night he was dressed with +signal magnificence. His costume was that of a triumphant +<i>matador</i>, made of purple velvet almost hidden by jeweled +embroidery. Diamonds of enormous size flashed upon his garb and +his hands. He reached for a chair, and, seating himself at the +opposite side of the table, began to roll a finical cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Meester Tansee," he said, with a sultry fire in his silky, +black eyes, "I give myself pleasure to see you this evening. +Meester Tansee, you have many times come to eat at my table. I +theenk you a safe man—a verree good friend. How much would it +please you to leeve forever?"</p> + +<p>"Not come back any more?" inquired Tansey.</p> + +<p>"No; not leave—<i>leeve</i>; the not-to-die."</p> + +<p>"I would call that," said Tansey, "a snap."</p> + +<p>Torres leaned his elbows upon the table, swallowed a mouthful +of smoke, and spake—each word being projected in a little puff +of gray.</p> + +<p>"How old do you theenk I am, Meester Tansee?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, twenty-eight or thirty."</p> + +<p>"Thees day," said the Mexican, "ees my birthday. I am four +hundred and three years of old to-day."</p> + +<p>"Another proof," said Tansey, airily, "of the healthfulness of +our climate."</p> + +<p>"Eet is not the air. I am to relate to you a secret of verree +fine value. Listen me, Meester Tansee. At the age of +twenty-three I arrive in Mexico from Spain. When? In the year +fifteen hundred nineteen, with the <i>soldados</i> of Hernando +Cortez. I come to thees country seventeen fifteen. I saw your +Alamo reduced. It was like yesterday to me. Three hundred +ninety-six year ago I learn the secret always to leeve. Look at +these clothes I war—at these <i>diamantes</i>. Do you theenk I buy +them with the money I make with selling the <i>chili-con-carne</i>, +Meester Tansee?"</p> + +<p>"I should think not," said Tansey, promptly. Torres laughed +loudly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Valgame Dios!</i> but I do. But it not the kind you eating now. +I make a deeferent kind, the eating of which makes men to +always leeve. What do you think! One thousand people I +supply—<i>diez pesos</i> each one pays me the month. You see! ten +thousand <i>pesos</i> everee month! <i>Que diable!</i> how not I wear the +fine <i>ropa</i>! You see that old woman try to hold me back a +little while ago? That ees my wife. When I marry her she is +young—seventeen year—<i>bonita</i>. Like the rest she ees become +old and—what you say!—tough? I am the same—young all the +time. To-night I resolve to dress myself and find another wife +befitting my age. This old woman try to scr-r-ratch my face. +Ha! ha! Meester Tansee—same way they do <i>entre los +Americanos</i>."</p> + +<p>"And this health-food you spoke of?" said Tansey.</p> + +<p>"Hear me," said Torres, leaning over the table until he lay +flat upon it; "eet is the <i>chili-con-carne</i> made not from the +beef or the chicken, but from the flesh of the +<i>señorita</i>—young and tender. That ees the secret. +Everee month you must eat of it, having care to do so +before the moon is full, and you will not die any times. +See how I trust you, friend Tansee! To-night I have bought +one young ladee—verree pretty—so <i>fina, gorda, +blandita!</i> To-morrow the <i>chili</i> will be ready. +<i>Ahora si!</i> One thousand dollars I pay for thees +young ladee. From an <i>Americano</i> I have bought—a verree +tip-top man—<i>el Capitan Peek</i>—<i>que es, +Señor?</i>"</p> + +<p>For Tansey had sprung to his feet, upsetting the chair. The +words of Katie reverberated in his ears: "They're going to eat +me, Sam." This, then, was the monstrous fate to which she had +been delivered by her unnatural parent. The carriage he had +seen drive up from the Plaza was Captain Peek's. Where was +Katie? Perhaps already—</p> + +<p>Before he could decide what to do a loud scream came from the +tent. The old Mexican woman ran out, a flashing knife in her +hand. "I have released her," she cried. "You shall kill no +more. They will hang you—<i>ingrato</i>—<i>encatador!</i>"</p> + +<p>Torres, with a hissing exclamation, sprang at her.</p> + +<p>"Ramoncito!" she shrieked; "once you loved me."</p> + +<p>The Mexican's arm raised and descended. "You are old," he +cried; and she fell and lay motionless.</p> + +<p>Another scream; the flaps of the tent were flung aside, and +there stood Katie, white with fear, her wrists still bound with +a cruel cord.</p> + +<p>"Sam!" she cried, "save me again!"</p> + +<p>Tansey rounded the table, and flung himself, with superb nerve, +upon the Mexican. Just then a clangour began; the clocks of the +city were tolling the midnight hour. Tansey clutched at Torres, +and, for a moment, felt in his grasp the crunch of velvet and +the cold facets of the glittering gems. The next instant, the +bedecked caballero turned in his hands to a shrunken, +leather-visaged, white-bearded, old, old, screaming mummy, +sandalled, ragged, and four hundred and three. The Mexican +woman was crawling to her feet, and laughing. She shook her +brown hand in the face of the whining <i>viejo</i>.</p> + +<p>"Go, now," she cried, "and seek your señorita. It was I, +Ramoncito, who brought you to this. Within each moon you eat of +the life-giving <i>chili</i>. It was I that kept the wrong time for +you. You should have eaten <i>yesterday</i> instead of <i>to-morrow</i>. +It is too late. Off with you, <i>hombre</i>! You are too old for +me!"</p> + +<p>"This," decided Tansey, releasing his hold of the gray-beard, +"is a private family matter concerning age, and no business of +mine."</p> + +<p>With one of the table knives he hastened to saw asunder the +fetters of the fair captive; and then, for the second time that +night he kissed Katie Peek—tasted again the sweetness, the +wonder, the thrill of it, attained once more the maximum of his +incessant dreams.</p> + +<p>The next instant an icy blade was driven deep between his +shoulders; he felt his blood slowly congeal; heard the senile +cackle of the perennial Spaniard; saw the Plaza rise and reel +till the zenith crashed into the horizon—and knew no more.</p> + +<p>When Tansey opened his eyes again he was sitting upon those +self-same steps gazing upon the dark bulk of the sleeping +convent. In the middle of his back was still the acute, +chilling pain. How had he been conveyed back there again? He +got stiffly to his feet and stretched his cramped limbs. +Supporting himself against the stonework he revolved in his +mind the extravagant adventures that had befallen him each time +he had strayed from the steps that night. In reviewing them +certain features strained his credulity. Had he really met +Captain Peek or Katie or the unparalleled Mexican in his +wanderings—had he really encountered them under commonplace +conditions and his over-stimulated brain had supplied the +incongruities? However that might be, a sudden, elating thought +caused him an intense joy. Nearly all of us have, at some point +in our lives—either to excuse our own stupidity or to placate +our consciences—promulgated some theory of fatalism. We have +set up an intelligent Fate that works by codes and signals. +Tansey had done likewise; and now he read, through the night's +incidents, the finger-prints of destiny. Each excursion that he +had made had led to the one paramount finale—to Katie and that +kiss, which survived and grew strong and intoxicating in his +memory. Clearly, Fate was holding up to him the mirror that +night, calling him to observe what awaited him at the end of +whichever road he might take. He immediately turned, and +hurried homeward.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Clothed in an elaborate, pale blue wrapper, cut to fit, Miss +Katie Peek reclined in an armchair before a waning fire in her +room. Her little, bare feet were thrust into house-shoes rimmed +with swan's down. By the light of a small lamp she was +attacking the society news of the latest Sunday paper. Some +happy substance, seemingly indestructible, was being +rhythmically crushed between her small white teeth. Miss Katie +read of functions and furbelows, but she kept a vigilant ear +for outside sounds and a frequent eye upon the clock over the +mantel. At every footstep upon the asphalt sidewalk her smooth, +round chin would cease for a moment its regular rise and fall, +and a frown of listening would pucker her pretty brows.</p> + +<p>At last she heard the latch of the iron gate click. She sprang +up, tripped softly to the mirror, where she made a few of those +feminine, flickering passes at her front hair and throat which +are warranted to hypnotize the approaching guest.</p> + +<p>The door-bell rang. Miss Katie, in her haste, turned the blaze +of the lamp lower instead of higher, and hastened noiselessly +down stairs into the hall. She turned the key, the door opened, +and Mr. Tansey side-stepped in.</p> + +<p>"Why, the i-de-a!" exclaimed Miss Katie, "is this you, Mr. +Tansey? It's after midnight. Aren't you ashamed to wake me up +at such an hour to let you in? You're just <i>awful</i>!"</p> + +<p>"I was late," said Tansey, brilliantly.</p> + +<p>"I should think you were! Ma was awfully worried about you. +When you weren't in by ten, that hateful Tom McGill said you +were out calling on another—said you were out calling on some +young lady. I just despise Mr. McGill. Well, I'm not going to +scold you any more, Mr. Tansey, if it <i>is</i> a little late—Oh! I +turned it the wrong way!"</p> + +<p>Miss Katie gave a little scream. Absent-mindedly she had turned +the blaze of the lamp entirely out instead of higher. It was +very dark.</p> + +<p>Tansey heard a musical, soft giggle, and breathed an entrancing +odour of heliotrope. A groping light hand touched his arm.</p> + +<p>"How awkward I was! Can you find your way—Sam?"</p> + +<p>"I—I think I have a match, Miss K-Katie."</p> + +<p>A scratching sound; a flame; a glow of light held at arm's +length by the recreant follower of Destiny illuminating a +tableau which shall end the ignominious chronicle—a maid with +unkissed, curling, contemptuous lips slowly lifting the lamp +chimney and allowing the wick to ignite; then waving a scornful +and abjuring hand toward the staircase—the unhappy Tansey, +erstwhile champion in the prophetic lists of fortune, +ingloriously ascending to his just and certain doom, while (let +us imagine) half within the wings stands the imminent figure of +Fate jerking wildly at the wrong strings, and mixing things up +in her usual able manner.</p> + + +<p><a name="16"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XVI</h3> +<h3>A DEPARTMENTAL CASE<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In Texas you may travel a thousand miles in a straight line. If +your course is a crooked one, it is likely that both the +distance and your rate of speed may be vastly increased. Clouds +there sail serenely against the wind. The whip-poor-will +delivers its disconsolate cry with the notes exactly reversed +from those of his Northern brother. Given a drought and a +subsequently lively rain, and lo! from a glazed and stony soil +will spring in a single night blossomed lilies, miraculously +fair. Tom Green County was once the standard of measurement. I +have forgotten how many New Jerseys and Rhode Islands it was +that could have been stowed away and lost in its chaparral. But +the legislative axe has slashed Tom Green into a handful of +counties hardly larger than European kingdoms. The legislature +convenes at Austin, near the centre of the state; and, while +the representative from the Rio Grande country is gathering his +palm-leaf fan and his linen duster to set out for the capital, +the Pan-handle solon winds his muffler above his well-buttoned +overcoat and kicks the snow from his well-greased boots ready +for the same journey. All this merely to hint that the big +ex-republic of the Southwest forms a sizable star on the flag, +and to prepare for the corollary that things sometimes happen +there uncut to pattern and unfettered by metes and bounds.</p> + +<p>The Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History of the +State of Texas was an official of no very great or very small +importance. The past tense is used, for now he is Commissioner +of Insurance alone. Statistics and history are no longer proper +nouns in the government records.</p> + +<p>In the year 188––, the governor +appointed Luke Coonrod Standifer +to be the head of this department. Standifer was then +fifty-five years of age, and a Texan to the core. His father +had been one of the state's earliest settlers and pioneers. +Standifer himself had served the commonwealth as Indian +fighter, soldier, ranger, and legislator. Much learning he did +not claim, but he had drank pretty deep of the spring of +experience.</p> + +<p>If other grounds were less abundant, Texas should be well up in +the lists of glory as the grateful republic. For both as +republic and state, it has busily heaped honours and solid +rewards upon its sons who rescued it from the wilderness.</p> + +<p>Wherefore and therefore, Luke Coonrod Standifer, son of Ezra +Standifer, ex-Terry ranger, simon-pure democrat, and lucky +dweller in an unrepresented portion of the +politico-geographical map, was appointed Commissioner of +Insurance, Statistics, and History.</p> + +<p>Standifer accepted the honour with some doubt as to the nature +of the office he was to fill and his capacity for filling +it—but he accepted, and by wire. He immediately set out from +the little country town where he maintained (and was scarcely +maintained by) a somnolent and unfruitful office of surveying +and map-drawing. Before departing, he had looked up under the +I's, S's and H's in the "Encyclopædia Britannica" what +information and preparation toward his official duties that +those weighty volumes afforded.</p> + +<p>A few weeks of incumbency diminished the new commissioner's awe +of the great and important office he had been called upon to +conduct. An increasing familiarity with its workings soon +restored him to his accustomed placid course of life. In his +office was an old, spectacled clerk—a consecrated, informed, +able machine, who held his desk regardless of changes of +administrative heads. Old Kauffman instructed his new chief +gradually in the knowledge of the department without seeming to +do so, and kept the wheels revolving without the slip of a cog.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the Department of Insurance, Statistics, and History +carried no great heft of the burden of state. Its main work was +the regulating of the business done in the state by foreign +insurance companies, and the letter of the law was its guide. +As for statistics—well, you wrote letters to county officers, +and scissored other people's reports, and each year you got out +a report of your own about the corn crop and the cotton crop +and pecans and pigs and black and white population, and a great +many columns of figures headed "bushels" and "acres" and +"square miles," etc.—and there you were. History? The branch +was purely a receptive one. Old ladies interested in the +science bothered you some with long reports of proceedings of +their historical societies. Some twenty or thirty people would +write you each year that they had secured Sam Houston's +pocket-knife or Santa Ana's whisky-flask or Davy Crockett's +rifle—all absolutely authenticated—and demanded legislative +appropriation to purchase. Most of the work in the history +branch went into pigeon-holes.</p> + +<p>One sizzling August afternoon the commissioner reclined in his +office chair, with his feet upon the long, official table +covered with green billiard cloth. The commissioner was smoking +a cigar, and dreamily regarding the quivering landscape framed +by the window that looked upon the treeless capitol grounds. +Perhaps he was thinking of the rough and ready life he had led, +of the old days of breathless adventure and movement, of the +comrades who now trod other paths or had ceased to tread any, +of the changes civilization and peace had brought, and, maybe, +complacently, of the snug and comfortable camp pitched for him +under the dome of the capitol of the state that had not +forgotten his services.</p> + +<p>The business of the department was lax. Insurance was easy. +Statistics were not in demand. History was dead. Old Kauffman, +the efficient and perpetual clerk, had requested an infrequent +half-holiday, incited to the unusual dissipation by the joy of +having successfully twisted the tail of a Connecticut insurance +company that was trying to do business contrary to the edicts +of the great Lone Star State.</p> + +<p>The office was very still. A few subdued noises trickled in +through the open door from the other departments—a dull +tinkling crash from the treasurer's office adjoining, as a +clerk tossed a bag of silver to the floor of the vault—the +vague, intermittent clatter of a dilatory typewriter—a dull +tapping from the state geologist's quarters as if some +woodpecker had flown in to bore for his prey in the cool of the +massive building—and then a faint rustle and the light +shuffling of the well-worn shoes along the hall, the sounds +ceasing at the door toward which the commissioner's lethargic +back was presented. Following this, the sound of a gentle voice +speaking words unintelligible to the commissioner's somewhat +dormant comprehension, but giving evidence of bewilderment and +hesitation.</p> + +<p>The voice was feminine; the commissioner was of the race of +cavaliers who make salaam before the trail of a skirt without +considering the quality of its cloth.</p> + +<p>There stood in the door a faded woman, one of the numerous +sisterhood of the unhappy. She was dressed all in +black—poverty's perpetual mourning for lost joys. Her face had +the contours of twenty and the lines of forty. She may have +lived that intervening score of years in a twelve-month. There +was about her yet an aurum of indignant, unappeased, protesting +youth that shone faintly through the premature veil of unearned +decline.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said the commissioner, gaining his +feet to the accompaniment of a great creaking and sliding of +his chair.</p> + +<p>"Are you the governor, sir?" asked the vision of melancholy.</p> + +<p>The commissioner hesitated at the end of his best bow, with his +hand in the bosom of his double-breasted "frock." Truth at last +conquered.</p> + +<p>"Well, no, ma'am. I am not the governor. I have the honour to +be Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History. Is there +anything, ma'am, I can do for you? Won't you have a chair, +ma'am?"</p> + +<p>The lady subsided into the chair handed her, probably from +purely physical reasons. She wielded a cheap fan—last token of +gentility to be abandoned. Her clothing seemed to indicate a +reduction almost to extreme poverty. She looked at the man who +was not the governor, and saw kindliness and simplicity and a +rugged, unadorned courtliness emanating from a countenance +tanned and toughened by forty years of outdoor life. Also, she +saw that his eyes were clear and strong and blue. Just so they +had been when he used them to skim the horizon for raiding +Kiowas and Sioux. His mouth was as set and firm as it had been +on that day when he bearded the old Lion Sam Houston himself, +and defied him during that season when secession was the theme. +Now, in bearing and dress, Luke Coonrod Sandifer endeavoured to +do credit to the important arts and sciences of Insurance, +Statistics, and History. He had abandoned the careless dress of +his country home. Now, his broad-brimmed black slouch hat, and +his long-tailed "frock" made him not the least imposing of the +official family, even if his office was reckoned to stand at +the tail of the list.</p> + +<p>"You wanted to see the governor, ma'am?" asked the +commissioner, with a deferential manner he always used toward +the fair sex.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know," said the lady, hesitatingly. "I suppose so." +And then, suddenly drawn by the sympathetic look of the other, +she poured forth the story of her need.</p> + +<p>It was a story so common that the public has come to look at +its monotony instead of its pity. The old tale of an unhappy +married life—made so by a brutal, conscienceless husband, a +robber, a spendthrift, a moral coward and a bully, who failed +to provide even the means of the barest existence. Yes, he had +come down in the scale so low as to strike her. It happened +only the day before—there was the bruise on one temple—she +had offended his highness by asking for a little money to live +on. And yet she must needs, woman-like, append a plea for her +tyrant—he was drinking; he had rarely abused her thus when +sober.</p> + +<p>"I thought," mourned this pale sister of sorrow, "that maybe +the state might be willing to give me some relief. I've heard +of such things being done for the families of old settlers. +I've heard tell that the state used to give land to the men who +fought for it against Mexico, and settled up the country, and +helped drive out the Indians. My father did all of that, and he +never received anything. He never would take it. I thought the +governor would be the one to see, and that's why I came. If +father was entitled to anything, they might let it come to me."</p> + +<p>"It's possible, ma'am," said Standifer, "that such might be the +case. But 'most all the veterans and settlers got their land +certificates issued, and located long ago. Still, we can look +that up in the land office, and be sure. Your father's name, +now, was—"</p> + +<p>"Amos Colvin, sir."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" exclaimed Standifer, rising and unbuttoning his +tight coat, excitedly. "Are you Amos Colvin's daughter? Why, +ma'am, Amos Colvin and me were thicker than two hoss thieves +for more than ten years! We fought Kiowas, drove cattle, and +rangered side by side nearly all over Texas. I remember seeing +you once before, now. You were a kid, about seven, a-riding a +little yellow pony up and down. Amos and me stopped at your +home for a little grub when we were trailing that band of +Mexican cattle thieves down through Karnes and Bee. Great +tarantulas! and you're Amos Colvin's little girl! Did you ever +hear your father mention Luke Standifer—just kind of +casually—as if he'd met me once or twice?"</p> + +<p>A little pale smile flitted across the lady's white face.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," she said, "that I don't remember hearing him +talk about much else. Every day there was some story he had to +tell about what he and you had done. Mighty near the last thing +I heard him tell was about the time when the Indians wounded +him, and you crawled out to him through the grass, with a +canteen of water, while they—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—well—oh, that wasn't anything," said Standifer, +"hemming" loudly and buttoning his coat again, briskly. "And +now, ma'am, who was the infernal skunk—I beg your pardon, +ma'am—who was the gentleman you married?"</p> + +<p>"Benton Sharp."</p> + +<p>The commissioner plumped down again into his chair, with a +groan. This gentle, sad little woman, in the rusty black gown, +the daughter of his oldest friend, the wife of Benton Sharp! +Benton Sharp, one of the most noted "bad" men in that part of +the state—a man who had been a cattle thief, an outlaw, a +desperado, and was now a gambler, a swaggering bully, who plied +his trade in the larger frontier towns, relying upon his record +and the quickness of his gun play to maintain his supremacy. +Seldom did any one take the risk of going "up against" Benton +Sharp. Even the law officers were content to let him make his +own terms of peace. Sharp was a ready and an accurate shot, and +as lucky as a brand-new penny at coming clear from his scrapes. +Standifer wondered how this pillaging eagle ever came to be +mated with Amos Colvin's little dove, and expressed his wonder.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sharp sighed.</p> + +<p>"You see, Mr. Standifer, we didn't know anything about him, and +he can be very pleasant and kind when he wants to. We lived +down in the little town of Goliad. Benton came riding down that +way, and stopped there a while. I reckon I was some better +looking then than I am now. He was good to me for a whole year +after we were married. He insured his life for me for five +thousand dollars. But for the last six months he has done +everything but kill me. I often wish he had done that, too. He +got out of money for a while, and abused me shamefully for not +having anything he could spend. Then father died, and left me +the little home in Goliad. My husband made me sell that, and +turned me out into the world. I've barely been able to live, +for I'm not strong enough to work. Lately, I heard he was +making money in San Antonio, so I went there, and found him, +and asked for a little help. This," touching the livid bruise +on her temple, "is what he gave me. So I came on to Austin to +see the governor. I once heard father say that there was some +land, or a pension, coming to him from the state that he never +would ask for."</p> + +<p>Luke Standifer rose to his feet, and pushed his chair back. He +looked rather perplexedly around the big office, with its +handsome furniture.</p> + +<p>"It's a long trail to follow," he said, slowly, "trying to get +back dues from the government. There's red tape and lawyers and +rulings and evidence and courts to keep you waiting. I'm not +certain," continued the commissioner, with a profoundly +meditative frown, "whether this department that I'm the boss of +has any jurisdiction or not. It's only Insurance, Statistics, +and History, ma'am, and it don't sound as if it would cover the +case. But sometimes a saddle blanket can be made to stretch. +You keep your seat, just for a few minutes, ma'am, till I step +into the next room and see about it."</p> + +<p>The state treasurer was seated within his massive, complicated +railings, reading a newspaper. Business for the day was about +over. The clerks lolled at their desks, awaiting the closing +hour. The Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History +entered, and leaned in at the window.</p> + +<p>The treasurer, a little, brisk old man, with snow-white +moustache and beard, jumped up youthfully and came forward to +greet Standifer. They were friends of old.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Frank," said the commissioner, using the familiar name +by which the historic treasurer was addressed by every Texan, +"how much money have you got on hand?"</p> + +<p>The treasurer named the sum of the last balance down to the odd +cents—something more than a million dollars.</p> + +<p>The commissioner whistled lowly, and his eyes grew hopefully +bright.</p> + +<p>"You know, or else you've heard of, Amos Colvin, Uncle Frank?"</p> + +<p>"Knew him well," said the treasurer, promptly. "A good man. A +valuable citizen. One of the first settlers in the Southwest."</p> + +<p>"His daughter," said Standifer, "is sitting in my office. She's +penniless. She's married to Benton Sharp, a coyote and a +murderer. He's reduced her to want, and broken her heart. Her +father helped build up this state, and it's the state's turn to +help his child. A couple of thousand dollars will buy back her +home and let her live in peace. The State of Texas can't afford +to refuse it. Give me the money, Uncle Frank, and I'll give it +to her right away. We'll fix up the red-tape business +afterward."</p> + +<p>The treasurer looked a little bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Why, Standifer," he said, "you know I can't pay a cent out of +the treasury without a warrant from the comptroller. I can't +disburse a dollar without a voucher to show for it."</p> + +<p>The commissioner betrayed a slight impatience.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you a voucher," he declared. "What's this job +they've given me for? Am I just a knot on a mesquite stump? +Can't my office stand for it? Charge it up to Insurance and the +other two sideshows. Don't Statistics show that Amos Colvin +came to this state when it was in the hands of Greasers and +rattlesnakes and Comanches, and fought day and night to make a +white man's country of it? Don't they show that Amos Colvin's +daughter is brought to ruin by a villain who's trying to pull +down what you and I and old Texans shed our blood to build up? +Don't History show that the Lone Star State never yet failed to +grant relief to the suffering and oppressed children of the men +who made her the grandest commonwealth in the Union? If +Statistics and History don't bear out the claim of Amos +Colvin's child I'll ask the next legislature to abolish my +office. Come, now, Uncle Frank, let her have the money. I'll +sign the papers officially, if you say so; and then if the +governor or the comptroller or the janitor or anybody else +makes a kick, by the Lord I'll refer the matter to the people, +and see if they won't endorse the act."</p> + +<p>The treasurer looked sympathetic but shocked. The +commissioner's voice had grown louder as he rounded off the +sentences that, however praiseworthy they might be in +sentiment, reflected somewhat upon the capacity of the head of +a more or less important department of state. The clerks were +beginning to listen.</p> + +<p>"Now, Standifer," said the treasurer, soothingly, "you know I'd +like to help in this matter, but stop and think a moment, +please. Every cent in the treasury is expended only by +appropriation made by the legislature, and drawn out by checks +issued by the comptroller. I can't control the use of a cent of +it. Neither can you. Your department isn't disbursive—it isn't +even administrative—it's purely clerical. The only way for the +lady to obtain relief is to petition the legislature, and—"</p> + +<p>"To the devil with the legislature," said Standifer, turning +away.</p> + +<p>The treasurer called him back.</p> + +<p>"I'd be glad, Standifer, to contribute a hundred dollars +personally toward the immediate expenses of Colvin's daughter." +He reached for his pocketbook.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Uncle Frank," said the commissioner, in a softer +tone. "There's no need of that. She hasn't asked for anything +of that sort yet. Besides, her case is in my hands. I see now +what a little, rag-tag, bob-tail, gotch-eared department I've +been put in charge of. It seems to be about as important as an +almanac or a hotel register. But while I'm running it, it won't +turn away any daughters of Amos Colvin without stretching its +jurisdiction to cover, if possible. You want to keep your eye +on the Department of Insurance, Statistics, and History."</p> + +<p>The commissioner returned to his office, looking thoughtful. He +opened and closed an inkstand on his desk many times with +extreme and undue attention. "Why don't you get a divorce?" he +asked, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I haven't the money to pay for it," answered the lady.</p> + +<p>"Just at present," announced the commissioner, in a formal +tone, "the powers of my department appear to be considerably +string-halted. Statistics seem to be overdrawn at the bank, and +History isn't good for a square meal. But you've come to the +right place, ma'am. The department will see you through. Where +did you say your husband is, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"He was in San Antonio yesterday. He is living there now."</p> + +<p>Suddenly the commissioner abandoned his official air. He took +the faded little woman's hands in his, and spoke in the old +voice he used on the trail and around campfires.</p> + +<p>"Your name's Amanda, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I thought so. I've heard your dad say it often enough. Well, +Amanda, here's your father's best friend, the head of a big +office in the state government, that's going to help you out of +your troubles. And here's the old bushwhacker and cowpuncher +that your father has helped out of scrapes time and time again +wants to ask you a question. Amanda, have you got money enough +to run you for the next two or three days?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sharp's white face flushed the least bit.</p> + +<p>"Plenty, sir—for a few days."</p> + +<p>"All right, then, ma'am. Now you go back where you are stopping +here, and you come to the office again the day after to-morrow +at four o'clock in the afternoon. Very likely by that time +there will be something definite to report to you." The +commissioner hesitated, and looked a trifle embarrassed. "You +said your husband had insured his life for $5,000. Do you know +whether the premiums have been kept paid upon it or not?"</p> + +<p>"He paid for a whole year in advance about five months ago," +said Mrs. Sharp. "I have the policy and receipts in my trunk."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right, then," said Standifer. "It's best to +look after things of that sort. Some day they may come in +handy."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sharp departed, and soon afterward Luke Standifer went +down to the little hotel where he boarded and looked up the +railroad time-table in the daily paper. Half an hour later he +removed his coat and vest, and strapped a peculiarly +constructed pistol holster across his shoulders, leaving the +receptacle close under his left armpit. Into the holster he +shoved a short-barrelled .44 calibre revolver. Putting on his +clothes again, he strolled to the station and caught the +five-twenty afternoon train for San Antonio.</p> + +<p>The San Antonio <i>Express</i> of the following morning contained +this sensational piece of news:<br /> </p> + + +<h4>BENTON SHARP MEETS HIS MATCH</h4> +<blockquote><blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">The Most Noted +Desperado in Southwest Texas Shot to Death in the Gold Front +Restaurant—Prominent State Official Successfully Defends +Himself Against the Noted Bully—Magnificent Exhibition of +Quick Gun Play.</span></p> + +<p>Last night about eleven o'clock Benton Sharp, with two other +men, entered the Gold Front Restaurant and seated themselves +at a table. Sharp had been drinking, and was loud and +boisterous, as he always was when under the influence of +liquor. Five minutes after the party was seated a tall, +well-dressed, elderly gentleman entered the restaurant. Few +present recognized the Honourable Luke Standifer, the +recently appointed Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and +History.</p> + +<p>Going over to the same side where Sharp was, Mr. Standifer +prepared to take a seat at the next table. In hanging his hat +upon one of the hooks along the wall he let it fall upon +Sharp's head. Sharp turned, being in an especially ugly +humour, and cursed the other roundly. Mr. Standifer +apologized calmly for the accident, but Sharp continued his +vituperations. Mr. Standifer was observed to draw near and +speak a few sentences to the desperado in so low a tone that +no one else caught the words. Sharp sprang up, wild with +rage. In the meantime Standifer had stepped some yards away, +and was standing quietly with his arms folded across the breast +of his loosely hanging coat.</p> + +<p>With that impetuous and deadly rapidity that made Sharp so +dreaded, he reached for the gun he always carried in his hip +pocket—a movement that has preceded the death of at least a +dozen men at his hands. Quick as the motion was, the +bystanders assert that it was met by the most beautiful +exhibition of lightning gun-pulling ever witnessed in the +Southwest. As Sharp's pistol was being raised—and the act +was really quicker than the eye could follow—a glittering +.44 appeared as if by some conjuring trick in the right hand +of Mr. Standifer, who, without a perceptible movement of his +arm, shot Benton Sharp through the heart. It seems that the +new Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History has +been an old-time Indian fighter and ranger for many years, +which accounts for the happy knack he has of handling a .44.</p> + +<p>It is not believed that Mr. Standifer will be put to any +inconvenience beyond a necessary formal hearing to-day, as all +the witnesses who were present unite in declaring that the +deed was done in self-defence.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>When Mrs. Sharp appeared at the office of the commissioner, +according to appointment, she found that gentleman calmly +eating a golden russet apple. He greeted her without +embarrassment and without hesitation at approaching the subject +that was the topic of the day.</p> + +<p>"I had to do it, ma'am," he said, simply, "or get it myself. +Mr. Kauffman," he added, turning to the old clerk, "please look +up the records of the Security Life Insurance Company and see +if they are all right."</p> + +<p>"No need to look," grunted Kauffman, who had everything in his +head. "It's all O.K. They pay all losses within ten days."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sharp soon rose to depart. She had arranged to remain in +town until the policy was paid. The commissioner did not detain +her. She was a woman, and he did not know just what to say to +her at present. Rest and time would bring her what she needed.</p> + +<p>But, as she was leaving, Luke Standifer indulged himself in an +official remark:</p> + +<p>"The Department of Insurance, Statistics, and History, ma'am, +has done the best it could with your case. 'Twas a case hard to +cover according to red tape. Statistics failed, and History +missed fire, but, if I may be permitted to say it, we came out +particularly strong on Insurance."</p> + + +<p><a name="17"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XVII</h3> +<h3>THE RENAISSANCE AT CHARLEROI<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Grandemont Charles was a little Creole gentleman, aged +thirty-four, with a bald spot on the top of his head and the +manners of a prince. By day he was a clerk in a cotton broker's +office in one of those cold, rancid mountains of oozy brick, +down near the levee in New Orleans. By night, in his +three-story-high <i>chambre garnier</i> in the old French Quarter he +was again the last male descendant of the Charles family, that +noble house that had lorded it in France, and had pushed its +way smiling, rapiered, and courtly into Louisiana's early and +brilliant days. Of late years the Charleses had subsided into +the more republican but scarcely less royally carried +magnificence and ease of plantation life along the Mississippi. +Perhaps Grandemont was even Marquis de Brassé. There +was that title in the family. But a Marquis on seventy-five +dollars per month! <i>Vraiment!</i> Still, it has been done +on less.</p> + +<p>Grandemont had saved out of his salary the sum of six hundred +dollars. Enough, you would say, for any man to marry on. So, +after a silence of two years on that subject, he reopened that +most hazardous question to Mlle. Adèle Fauquier, riding +down to Meade d'Or, her father's plantation. Her answer was +the same that it had been any time during the last ten years: +"First find my brother, Monsieur Charles."</p> + +<p>This time he had stood before her, perhaps discouraged by a +love so long and hopeless, being dependent upon a contingency +so unreasonable, and demanded to be told in simple words +whether she loved him or no.</p> + +<p>Adèle looked at him steadily out of her gray eyes +that betrayed no secrets and answered, a little more softly:</p> + +<p>"Grandemont, you have no right to ask that question unless you +can do what I ask of you. Either bring back brother Victor to +us or the proof that he died."</p> + +<p>Somehow, though five times thus rejected, his heart was not so +heavy when he left. She had not denied that she loved. Upon +what shallow waters can the bark of passion remain afloat! Or, +shall we play the doctrinaire, and hint that at thirty-four the +tides of life are calmer and cognizant of many sources instead +of but one—as at four-and-twenty?</p> + +<p>Victor Fauquier would never be found. In those early days of +his disappearance there was money to the Charles name, and +Grandemont had spent the dollars as if they were picayunes in +trying to find the lost youth. Even then he had had small hope +of success, for the Mississippi gives up a victim from its oily +tangles only at the whim of its malign will.</p> + +<p>A thousand times had Grandemont conned in his mind the scene of +Victor's disappearance. And, at each time that Adèle had +set her stubborn but pitiful alternative against his suit, still +clearer it repeated itself in his brain.</p> + +<p>The boy had been the family favourite; daring, winning, +reckless. His unwise fancy had been captured by a girl on the +plantation—the daughter of an overseer. Victor's family was in +ignorance of the intrigue, as far as it had gone. To save them +the inevitable pain that his course promised, Grandemont strove +to prevent it. Omnipotent money smoothed the way. The overseer +and his daughter left, between a sunset and dawn, for an +undesignated bourne. Grandemont was confident that this stroke +would bring the boy to reason. He rode over to Meade d'Or to +talk with him. The two strolled out of the house and grounds, +crossed the road, and, mounting the levee, walked its broad +path while they conversed. A thunder-cloud was hanging, +imminent, above, but, as yet, no rain fell. At Grandemont's +disclosure of his interference in the clandestine romance, +Victor attacked him, in a wild and sudden fury. Grandemont, +though of slight frame, possessed muscles of iron. He caught +the wrists amid a shower of blows descending upon him, bent the +lad backward and stretched him upon the levee path. In a little +while the gust of passion was spent, and he was allowed to +rise. Calm now, but a powder mine where he had been but a whiff +of the tantrums, Victor extended his hand toward the dwelling +house of Meade d'Or.</p> + +<p>"You and they," he cried, "have conspired to destroy my +happiness. None of you shall ever look upon my face again."</p> + +<p>Turning, he ran swiftly down the levee, disappearing in the +darkness. Grandemont followed as well as he could, calling to +him, but in vain. For longer than an hour he pursued the +search. Descending the side of the levee, he penetrated the +rank density of weeds and willows that undergrew the trees +until the river's edge, shouting Victor's name. There was never +an answer, though once he thought he heard a bubbling scream +from the dun waters sliding past. Then the storm broke, and he +returned to the house drenched and dejected.</p> + +<p>There he explained the boy's absence sufficiently, he thought, +not speaking of the tangle that had led to it, for he hoped +that Victor would return as soon as his anger had cooled. +Afterward, when the threat was made good and they saw his face +no more, he found it difficult to alter his explanations of +that night, and there clung a certain mystery to the boy's +reasons for vanishing as well as to the manner of it.</p> + +<p>It was on that night that Grandemont first perceived a new and +singular expression in Adèle's eyes whenever she looked +at him. And through the years following that expression was always +there. He could not read it, for it was born of a thought she +would never otherwise reveal.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, if he had known that Adèle had stood at the +gate on that unlucky night, where she had followed, lingering, +to await the return of her brother and lover, wondering why they +had chosen so tempestuous an hour and so black a spot to hold +converse—if he had known that a sudden flash of lightning had +revealed to her sight that short, sharp struggle as Victor was +sinking under his hands, he might have explained everything, +and she—</p> + +<p>I know what she would have done. But one thing is clear—there +was something besides her brother's disappearance between +Grandemont's pleadings for her hand and Adèle's "yes." +Ten years had passed, and what she had seen during the space of +that lightning flash remained an indelible picture. She had +loved her brother, but was she holding out for the solution of +that mystery or for the "Truth"? Women have been known to +reverence it, even as an abstract principle. It is said there +have been a few who, in the matter of their affections, have +considered a life to be a small thing as compared with a lie. +That I do not know. But, I wonder, had Grandemont cast himself +at her feet crying that his hand had sent Victor to the bottom +of that inscrutable river, and that he could no longer sully +his love with a lie, I wonder if—I wonder what she would have +done!</p> + +<p>But, Grandemont Charles, Arcadian little gentleman, never +guessed the meaning of that look in Adèle's eyes; and from +this last bootless payment of his devoirs he rode away as rich as +ever in honour and love, but poor in hope.</p> + +<p>That was in September. It was during the first winter month +that Grandemont conceived his idea of the <i>renaissance</i>. +Since Adèle would never be his, and wealth without her +were useless trumpery, why need he add to that hoard of slowly +harvested dollars? Why should he even retain that hoard?</p> + +<p>Hundreds were the cigarettes he consumed over his claret, +sitting at the little polished tables in the Royal street +cafés while thinking over his plan. By and by +he had it perfect. It would cost, beyond doubt, +all the money he had, but—<i>le jeu +vaut la chandelle</i>—for some hours he would be once more a +Charles of Charleroi. Once again should the nineteenth of +January, that most significant day in the fortunes of the house +of Charles, be fittingly observed. On that date the French king +had seated a Charles by his side at table; on that date Armand +Charles, Marquis de Brassé, landed, like a brilliant +meteor, in New Orleans; it was the date of his mother's wedding; +of Grandemont's birth. Since Grandemont could remember until the +breaking up of the family that anniversary had been the synonym +for feasting, hospitality, and proud commemoration.</p> + +<p>Charleroi was the old family plantation, lying some twenty +miles down the river. Years ago the estate had been sold to +discharge the debts of its too-bountiful owners. Once again it +had changed hands, and now the must and mildew of litigation +had settled upon it. A question of heirship was in the courts, +and the dwelling house of Charleroi, unless the tales told of +ghostly powdered and laced Charleses haunting its unechoing +chambers were true, stood uninhabited.</p> + +<p>Grandemont found the solicitor in chancery who held the keys +pending the decision. He proved to be an old friend of the +family. Grandemont explained briefly that he desired to rent +the house for two or three days. He wanted to give a dinner at +his old home to a few friends. That was all.</p> + +<p>"Take it for a week—a month, if you will," said the solicitor; +"but do not speak to me of rental." With a sigh he concluded: +"The dinners I have eaten under that roof, <i>mon fils</i>!"</p> + +<p>There came to many of the old, established dealers in +furniture, china, silverware, decorations and household +fittings at their stores on Canal, Chartres, St. Charles, and +Royal Streets, a quiet young man with a little bald spot on the +top of his head, distinguished manners, and the eye of a +<i>connoisseur</i>, who explained what he wanted. To hire the +complete and elegant equipment of a dining-room, hall, +reception-room, and cloak-rooms. The goods were to be packed +and sent, by boat, to the Charleroi landing, and would be +returned within three or four days. All damage or loss to be +promptly paid for.</p> + +<p>Many of those old merchants knew Grandemont by sight, and the +Charleses of old by association. Some of them were of Creole +stock and felt a thrill of responsive sympathy with the +magnificently indiscreet design of this impoverished clerk who +would revive but for a moment the ancient flame of glory with +the fuel of his savings.</p> + +<p>"Choose what you want," they said to him. "Handle everything +carefully. See that the damage bill is kept low, and the +charges for the loan will not oppress you."</p> + +<p>To the wine merchants next; and here a doleful slice was lopped +from the six hundred. It was an exquisite pleasure to +Grandemont once more to pick among the precious vintages. The +champagne bins lured him like the abodes of sirens, but these +he was forced to pass. With his six hundred he stood before +them as a child with a penny stands before a French doll. But +he bought with taste and discretion of other wines—Chablis, +Moselle, Château d'Or, Hochheimer, and port of right age and +pedigree.</p> + +<p>The matter of the cuisine gave him some studious hours until he +suddenly recollected André—André, their old +<i>chef</i>—the most sublime master of French Creole cookery +in the Mississippi Valley. Perhaps he was yet somewhere about +the plantation. The solicitor had told him that the place was +still being cultivated, in accordance with a compromise agreement +between the litigants.</p> + +<p>On the next Sunday after the thought Grandemont rode, +horseback, down to Charleroi. The big, square house with its +two long ells looked blank and cheerless with its closed +shutters and doors.</p> + +<p>The shrubbery in the yard was ragged and riotous. Fallen leaves +from the grove littered the walks and porches. Turning down the +lane at the side of the house, Grandemont rode on to the +quarters of the plantation hands. He found the workers just +streaming back from church, careless, happy, and bedecked in +gay yellows, reds, and blues.</p> + +<p>Yes, André was still there; his wool a little grayer; +his mouth as wide; his laughter as ready as ever. Grandemont told +him of his plan, and the old <i>chef</i> swayed with pride and +delight. With a sigh of relief, knowing that he need have no +further concern until the serving of that dinner was announced, +he placed in André's hands a liberal sum for the cost of +it, giving <i>carte blanche</i> for its creation.</p> + +<p>Among the blacks were also a number of the old house servants. +Absalom, the former major domo, and a half-dozen of the younger +men, once waiters and attachés of the kitchen, pantry, +and other domestic departments crowded around to greet "M'shi +Grande." Absalom guaranteed to marshal, of these, a corps of +assistants that would perform with credit the serving of the +dinner.</p> + +<p>After distributing a liberal largesse among the faithful, +Grandemont rode back to town well pleased. There were many +other smaller details to think of and provide for, but +eventually the scheme was complete, and now there remained only +the issuance of the invitations to his guests.</p> + +<p>Along the river within the scope of a score of miles dwelt some +half-dozen families with whose princely hospitality that of the +Charleses had been contemporaneous. They were the proudest and +most august of the old régime. Their small circle had been +a brilliant one; their social relations close and warm; their +houses full of rare welcome and discriminating bounty. Those +friends, said Grandemont, should once more, if never again, sit +at Charleroi on a nineteenth of January to celebrate the festal +day of his house.</p> + +<p>Grandemont had his cards of invitation engraved. They were +expensive, but beautiful. In one particular their good taste +might have been disputed; but the Creole allowed himself that +one feather in the cap of his fugacious splendour. Might he not +be allowed, for the one day of the <i>renaissance</i>, to be +"Grandemont du Puy Charles, of Charleroi"? He sent the +invitations out early in January so that the guests might not +fail to receive due notice.</p> + +<p>At eight o'clock in the morning of the nineteenth, the lower +coast steamboat <i>River Belle</i> gingerly approached the long +unused landing at Charleroi. The bridge was lowered, and a +swarm of the plantation hands streamed along the rotting pier, +bearing ashore a strange assortment of freight. Great shapeless +bundles and bales and packets swathed in cloth and bound with +ropes; tubs and urns of palms, evergreens, and tropical +flowers; tables, mirrors, chairs, couches, carpets, and +pictures—all carefully bound and padded against the dangers of +transit.</p> + +<p>Grandemont was among them, the busiest there. To the safe +conveyance of certain large hampers eloquent with printed +cautions to delicate handling he gave his superintendence, for +they contained the fragile china and glassware. The dropping of +one of those hampers would have cost him more than he could +have saved in a year.</p> + +<p>The last article unloaded, the <i>River Belle</i> backed off and +continued her course down stream. In less than an hour +everything had been conveyed to the house. And came then +Absalom's task, directing the placing of the furniture and +wares. There was plenty of help, for that day was always a +holiday at Charleroi, and the Negroes did not suffer the old +traditions to lapse. Almost the entire population of the +quarters volunteered their aid. A score of piccaninnies were +sweeping at the leaves in the yard. In the big kitchen at the +rear André was lording it with his old-time magnificence +over his numerous sub-cooks and scullions. Shutters were flung +wide; dust spun in clouds; the house echoed to voices and the +tread of busy feet. The prince had come again, and Charleroi +woke from its long sleep.</p> + +<p>The full moon, as she rose across the river that night and +peeped above the levee saw a sight that had long been missing +from her orbit. The old plantation house shed a soft and +alluring radiance from every window. Of its two-score rooms +only four had been refurnished—the larger reception chamber, +the dining hall, and two smaller rooms for the convenience of +the expected guests. But lighted wax candles were set in the +windows of every room.</p> + +<p>The dining-hall was the <i>chef d'œuvre</i>. The long +table, set with twenty-five covers, sparkled like a winter +landscape with its snowy napery and china and the icy gleam +of crystal. The chaste beauty of the room had required small +adornment. The polished floor burned to a glowing ruby with +the reflection of candle light. The rich wainscoting reached +half way to the ceiling. Along and above this had been set +the relieving lightness of a few water-colour sketches of +fruit and flower.</p> + +<p>The reception chamber was fitted in a simple but elegant style. +Its arrangement suggested nothing of the fact that on the +morrow the room would again be cleared and abandoned to the +dust and the spider. The entrance hall was imposing with palms +and ferns and the light of an immense candelabrum.</p> + +<p>At seven o'clock Grandemont, in evening dress, with pearls—a +family passion—in his spotless linen, emerged from somewhere. +The invitations had specified eight as the dining hour. He drew +an armchair upon the porch, and sat there, smoking cigarettes +and half dreaming.</p> + +<p>The moon was an hour high. Fifty years back from the gate stood +the house, under its noble grove. The road ran in front, and +then came the grass-grown levee and the insatiate river beyond. +Just above the levee top a tiny red light was creeping down and +a tiny green one was creeping up. Then the passing steamers +saluted, and the hoarse din startled the drowsy silence of the +melancholy lowlands. The stillness returned, save for the +little voices of the night—the owl's recitative, the capriccio +of the crickets, the concerto of the frogs in the grass. The +piccaninnies and the dawdlers from the quarters had been +dismissed to their confines, and the melée of the day was +reduced to an orderly and intelligent silence. The six coloured +waiters, in their white jackets, paced, cat-footed, about the +table, pretending to arrange where all was beyond betterment. +Absalom, in black and shining pumps posed, superior, here and +there where the lights set off his grandeur. And Grandemont +rested in his chair, waiting for his guests.</p> + +<p>He must have drifted into a dream—and an extravagant one—for +he was master of Charleroi and Adèle was his wife. She was +coming out to him now; he could hear her steps; he could feel +her hand upon his shoulder—</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardon moi, M'shi Grande</i>"—it was Absalom's hand touching +him, it was Absalom's voice, speaking the <i>patois</i> of the +blacks—"but it is eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>Eight o'clock. Grandemont sprang up. In the moonlight he could +see the row of hitching-posts outside the gate. Long ago the +horses of the guests should have stood there. They were vacant.</p> + +<p>A chanted roar of indignation, a just, waxing bellow of affront +and dishonoured genius came from André's kitchen, filling +the house with rhythmic protest. The beautiful dinner, the pearl +of a dinner, the little excellent superb jewel of a dinner! But +one moment more of waiting and not even the thousand thunders +of black pigs of the quarter would touch it!</p> + +<p>"They are a little late," said Grandemont, calmly. "They will +come soon. Tell André to hold back dinner. And ask him if, +by some chance, a bull from the pastures has broken, roaring, into +the house."</p> + +<p>He seated himself again to his cigarettes. Though he had said +it, he scarcely believed Charleroi would entertain company that +night. For the first time in history the invitation of a +Charles had been ignored. So simple in courtesy and honour was +Grandemont, and, perhaps, so serenely confident in the prestige +of his name, that the most likely reasons for the vacant board +did not occur to him.</p> + +<p>Charleroi stood by a road travelled daily by people from those +plantations whither his invitations had gone. No doubt even on +the day before the sudden reanimation of the old house they had +driven past and observed the evidences of long desertion and +decay. They had looked at the corpse of Charleroi and then at +Grandemont's invitations, and, though the puzzle or tasteless +hoax or whatever the thing meant left them perplexed, they +would not seek its solution by the folly of a visit to that +deserted house.</p> + +<p>The moon was now above the grove, and the yard was pied with +deep shadows save where they lightened in the tender glow of +outpouring candle light. A crisp breeze from the river hinted +at the possibility of frost when the night should have become +older. The grass at one side of the steps was specked with the +white stubs of Grandemont's cigarettes. The cotton-broker's +clerk sat in his chair with the smoke spiralling above him. I +doubt that he once thought of the little fortune he had so +impotently squandered. Perhaps it was compensation enough for +him to sit thus at Charleroi for a few retrieved hours. Idly +his mind wandered in and out many fanciful paths of memory. He +smiled to himself as a paraphrased line of Scripture strayed +into his mind: "A certain <i>poor</i> man made a feast."</p> + +<p>He heard the sound of Absalom coughing a note of summons. +Grandemont stirred. This time he had not been asleep—only +drowsing.</p> + +<p>"Nine o'clock, <i>M'shi Grande</i>," said Absalom in the uninflected +voice of a good servant who states a fact unqualified by +personal opinion.</p> + +<p>Grandemont rose to his feet. In their time all the Charleses +had been proven, and they were gallant losers.</p> + +<p>"Serve dinner," he said calmly. And then he checked Absalom's +movement to obey, for something clicked the gate latch and was +coming down the walk toward the house. Something that shuffled +its feet and muttered to itself as it came. It stopped in the +current of light at the foot of the steps and spake, in the +universal whine of the gadding mendicant.</p> + +<p>"Kind sir, could you spare a poor, hungry man, out of luck, a +little to eat? And to sleep in the corner of a shed? For"—the +thing concluded, irrelevantly—"I can sleep now. There are no +mountains to dance reels in the night; and the copper kettles +are all scoured bright. The iron band is still around my ankle, +and a link, if it is your desire I should be chained."</p> + +<p>It set a foot upon the step and drew up the rags that hung upon +the limb. Above the distorted shoe, caked with the dust of a +hundred leagues, they saw the link and the iron band. The +clothes of the tramp were wreaked to piebald tatters by sun and +rain and wear. A mat of brown, tangled hair and beard covered +his head and face, out of which his eyes stared distractedly. +Grandemont noticed that he carried in one hand a white, square +card.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I picked it up, sir, at the side of the road." The vagabond +handed the card to Grandemont. "Just a little to eat, sir. A +little parched corn, a <i>tartilla</i>, or a handful of beans. +Goat's meat I cannot eat. When I cut their throats they cry +like children."</p> + +<p>Grandemont held up the card. It was one of his own invitations +to dinner. No doubt some one had cast it away from a passing +carriage after comparing it with the tenantless house of +Charleroi.</p> + +<p>"From the hedges and highways bid them come," he said to +himself, softly smiling. And then to Absalom: "Send Louis to +me."</p> + +<p>Louis, once his own body-servant, came promptly, in his white +jacket.</p> + +<p>"This gentleman," said Grandemont, "will dine with me. Furnish +him with bath and clothes. In twenty minutes have him ready and +dinner served."</p> + +<p>Louis approached the disreputable guest with the suavity due to +a visitor to Charleroi, and spirited him away to inner regions.</p> + +<p>Promptly, in twenty minutes, Absalom announced dinner, and, a +moment later, the guest was ushered into the dining hall where +Grandemont waited, standing, at the head of the table. The +attentions of Louis had transformed the stranger into something +resembling the polite animal. Clean linen and an old evening +suit that had been sent down from town to clothe a waiter had +worked a miracle with his exterior. Brush and comb had +partially subdued the wild disorder of his hair. Now he might +have passed for no more extravagant a thing than one of those +<i>poseurs</i> in art and music who affect such oddity of guise. The +man's countenance and demeanour, as he approached the table, +exhibited nothing of the awkwardness or confusion to be +expected from his Arabian Nights change. He allowed Absalom to +seat him at Grandemont's right hand with the manner of one thus +accustomed to be waited upon.</p> + +<p>"It grieves me," said Grandemont, "to be obliged to exchange +names with a guest. My own name is Charles."</p> + +<p>"In the mountains," said the wayfarer, "they call me Gringo. +Along the roads they call me Jack."</p> + +<p>"I prefer the latter," said Grandemont. "A glass of wine with +you, Mr. Jack."</p> + +<p>Course after course was served by the supernumerous waiters. +Grandemont, inspired by the results of André's exquisite +skill in cookery and his own in the selection of wines became the +model host, talkative, witty, and genial. The guest was fitful +in conversation. His mind seemed to be sustaining a succession +of waves of dementia followed by intervals of comparative +lucidity. There was the glassy brightness of recent fever in +his eyes. A long course of it must have been the cause of his +emaciation and weakness, his distracted mind, and the dull +pallor that showed even through the tan of wind and sun.</p> + +<p>"Charles," he said to Grandemont—for thus he seemed to +interpret his name—"you never saw the mountains dance, did +you?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Jack," answered Grandemont, gravely, "the spectacle +has been denied me. But, I assure you, I can understand it must +be a diverting sight. The big ones, you know, white with snow +on the tops, waltzing—<i>décolleté</i>, we may +say."</p> + +<p>"You first scour the kettles," said Mr. Jack, leaning toward +him excitedly, "to cook the beans in the morning, and you lie +down on a blanket and keep quite still. Then they come out and +dance for you. You would go out and dance with them but you are +chained every night to the centre pole of the hut. You believe +the mountains dance, don't you, Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"I contradict no traveller's tales," said Grandemont, with a +smile.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jack laughed loudly. He dropped his voice to a confidential +whisper.</p> + +<p>"You are a fool to believe it," he went on. "They don't really +dance. It's the fever in your head. It's the hard work and +the bad water that does it. You are sick for weeks and there +is no medicine. The fever comes on every evening, and then you +are as strong as two men. One night the <i>compania</i> are lying +drunk with <i>mescal</i>. They have brought back sacks of silver +dollars from a ride, and they drink to celebrate. In the night +you file the chain in two and go down the mountain. You walk +for miles—hundreds of them. By and by the mountains are all +gone, and you come to the prairies. They do not dance at night; +they are merciful, and you sleep. Then you come to the river, +and it says things to you. You follow it down, down, but you +can't find what you are looking for."</p> + +<p>Mr. Jack leaned back in his chair, and his eyes slowly closed. +The food and wine had steeped him in a deep calm. The tense +strain had been smoothed from his face. The languor of +repletion was claiming him. Drowsily he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"It's bad manners—I know—to go to sleep—at table—but—that +was—such a good dinner—Grande, old fellow."</p> + +<p><i>Grande!</i> The owner of the name started and set down his glass. +How should this wretched tatterdemalion whom he had invited, +Caliph-like, to sit at his feet know his name?</p> + +<p>Not at first, but soon, little by little, the suspicion, wild +and unreasonable as it was, stole into his brain. He drew out +his watch with hands that almost balked him by their trembling, +and opened the back case. There was a picture there—a +photograph fixed to the inner side.</p> + +<p>Rising, Grandemont shook Mr. Jack by the shoulder. The weary +guest opened his eyes. Grandemont held the watch.</p> + +<p>"Look at this picture, Mr. Jack. Have you ever—"</p> + +<p>"<i>My sister Adèle</i>!"</p> + +<p>The vagrant's voice rang loud and sudden through the room. He +started to his feet, but Grandemont's arms were about him, and +Grandemont was calling him "Victor!—Victor Fauquier! <i>Merci, +merci, mon Dieu!</i>"</p> + +<p>Too far overcome by sleep and fatigue was the lost one to talk +that night. Days afterward, when the tropic <i>calentura</i> had +cooled in his veins, the disordered fragments he had spoken +were completed in shape and sequence. He told the story of his +angry flight, of toils and calamities on sea and shore, of his +ebbing and flowing fortune in southern lands, and of his latest +peril when, held a captive, he served menially in a stronghold +of bandits in the Sonora Mountains of Mexico. And of the fever +that seized him there and his escape and delirium, during which +he strayed, perhaps led by some marvellous instinct, back to +the river on whose bank he had been born. And of the proud and +stubborn thing in his blood that had kept him silent through +all those years, clouding the honour of one, though he knew it +not, and keeping apart two loving hearts. "What a thing is +love!" you may say. And if I grant it, you shall say, with me: +"What a thing is pride!"</p> + +<p>On a couch in the reception chamber Victor lay, with a dawning +understanding in his heavy eyes and peace in his softened +countenance. Absalom was preparing a lounge for the transient +master of Charleroi, who, to-morrow, would be again the clerk +of a cotton-broker, but also—</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," Grandemont was saying, as he stood by the couch of +his guest, speaking the words with his face shining as must +have shone the face of Elijah's charioteer when he announced +the glories of that heavenly journey—"To-morrow I will take +you to Her."</p> + + +<p><a name="18"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XVIII</h3> +<h3>ON BEHALF OF THE MANAGEMENT<br /> </h3> + + +<p>This is the story of the man manager, and how he held his own +until the very last paragraph.</p> + +<p>I had it from Sully Magoon, <i>viva voce</i>. The words are indeed +his; and if they do not constitute truthful fiction my memory +should be taxed with the blame.</p> + +<p>It is not deemed amiss to point out, in the beginning, the +stress that is laid upon the masculinity of the manager. For, +according to Sully, the term when applied to the feminine +division of mankind has precisely an opposite meaning. The +woman manager (he says) economizes, saves, oppresses her +household with bargains and contrivances, and looks sourly upon +any pence that are cast to the fiddler for even a single +jig-step on life's arid march. Wherefore her men-folk call her +blessed, and praise her; and then sneak out the backdoor to see +the Gilhooly Sisters do a buck-and-wing dance.</p> + +<p>Now, the man manager (I still quote Sully) is a Cæsar +without a Brutus. He is an autocrat without responsibility, a +player who imperils no stake of his own. His office is to enact, +to reverberate, to boom, to expand, to out-coruscate—profitably, +if he can. Bill-paying and growing gray hairs over results +belong to his principals. It is his to guide the risk, to be +the Apotheosis of Front, the three-tailed Bashaw of Bluff, the +Essential Oil of Razzle-Dazzle.</p> + +<p>We sat at luncheon, and Sully Magoon told me. I asked for +particulars.</p> + +<p>"My old friend Denver Galloway was a born manager," said Sully. +He first saw the light of day in New York at three years of +age. He was born in Pittsburg, but his parents moved East the +third summer afterward.</p> + +<p>"When Denver grew up, he went into the managing business. At +the age of eight he managed a news-stand for the Dago that +owned it. After that he was manager at different times of a +skating-rink, a livery-stable, a policy game, a restaurant, a +dancing academy, a walking match, a burlesque company, a +dry-goods store, a dozen hotels and summer resorts, an +insurance company, and a district leader's campaign. That +campaign, when Coughlin was elected on the East Side, gave +Denver a boost. It got him a job as manager of a Broadway +hotel, and for a while he managed Senator O'Grady's campaign in +the nineteenth.</p> + +<p>"Denver was a New Yorker all over. I think he was out of the +city just twice before the time I'm going to tell you about. +Once he went rabbit-shooting in Yonkers. The other time I met +him just landing from a North River ferry. 'Been out West on a +big trip, Sully, old boy,' says he. 'Gad! Sully, I had no idea +we had such a big country. It's immense. Never conceived of the +magnificence of the West before. It's gorgeous and glorious and +infinite. Makes the East seemed cramped and little. It's a +grand thing to travel and get an idea of the extent and +resources of our country.'</p> + +<p>"I'd made several little runs out to California and down to +Mexico and up through Alaska, so I sits down with Denver for a +chat about the things he saw.</p> + +<p>"'Took in the Yosemite, out there, of course?' I asks.</p> + +<p>"'Well—no,' says Denver, 'I don't think so. At least, I don't +recollect it. You see, I only had three days, and I didn't get +any farther west than Youngstown, Ohio.'</p> + +<p>"About two years ago I dropped into New York with a little +fly-paper proposition about a Tennessee mica mine that I wanted +to spread out in a nice, sunny window, in the hopes of catching +a few. I was coming out of a printing-shop one afternoon with a +batch of fine, sticky prospectuses when I ran against Denver +coming round a corner. I never saw him looking so much like a +tiger-lily. He was as beautiful and new as a trellis of sweet +peas, and as rollicking as a clarinet solo. We shook hands, and +he asked me what I was doing, and I gave him the outlines of +the scandal I was trying to create in mica.</p> + +<p>"'Pooh, pooh! for your mica,' says Denver. 'Don't you know +better, Sully, than to bump up against the coffers of little +old New York with anything as transparent as mica? Now, you +come with me over to the Hotel Brunswick. You're just the man I +was hoping for. I've got something there in sepia and curled +hair that I want you to look at.'</p> + +<p>"'You putting up at the Brunswick?' I asks.</p> + +<p>"'Not a cent,' says Denver, cheerful. 'The syndicate that owns +the hotel puts up. I'm manager.'</p> + +<p>"The Brunswick wasn't one of them Broadway pot-houses all full +of palms and hyphens and flowers and costumes—kind of a +mixture of lawns and laundries. It was on one of the East Side +avenues; but it was a solid, old-time caravansary such as the +Mayor of Skaneateles or the Governor of Missouri might stop +at. Eight stories high it stalked up, with new striped awnings, +and the electrics had it as light as day.</p> + +<p>"'I've been manager here for a year,' says Denver, as we drew +nigh. 'When I took charge,' says he, 'nobody nor nothing ever +stopped at the Brunswick. The clock over the clerks' desk used +to run for weeks without winding. A man fell dead with +heart-disease on the sidewalk in front of it one day, and when +they went to pick him up he was two blocks away. I figured out +a scheme to catch the West Indies and South American trade. I +persuaded the owners to invest a few more thousands, and I put +every cent of it in electric lights, cayenne pepper, gold-leaf, +and garlic. I got a Spanish-speaking force of employees and a +string band; and there was talk going round of a cockfight in +the basement every Sunday. Maybe I didn't catch the nut-brown +gang! From Havana to Patagonia the Don Señors knew about +the Brunswick. We get the highfliers from Cuba and Mexico and the +couple of Americas farther south; and they've simply got the +boodle to bombard every bulfinch in the bush with.'</p> + +<p>"When we got to the hotel, Denver stops me at the door.</p> + +<p>"'There's a little liver-coloured man,' says he, 'sitting in a +big leather chair to your right, inside. You sit down and watch +him for a few minutes, and then tell me what you think.'</p> + +<p>"I took a chair, while Denver circulates around in the big +rotunda. The room was about full of curly-headed Cubans and +South American brunettes of different shades; and the +atmosphere was international with cigarette smoke, lit up by +diamond rings and edged off with a whisper of garlic.</p> + +<p>"That Denver Galloway was sure a relief to the eye. Six feet +two he was, red-headed and pink-gilled as a sun-perch. And the +air he had! Court of Saint James, Chauncy Olcott, Kentucky +colonels, Count of Monte Cristo, grand opera—all these things +he reminded you of when he was doing the honours. When he +raised his finger the hotel porters and bell-boys skated across +the floor like cockroaches, and even the clerk behind the desk +looked as meek and unimportant as Andy Carnegie.</p> + +<p>"Denver passed around, shaking hands with his guests, and +saying over the two or three Spanish words he knew until it was +like a coronation rehearsal or a Bryan barbecue in Texas.</p> + +<p>"I watched the little man he told me to. 'Twas a little foreign +person in a double-breasted frock-coat, trying to touch the +floor with his toes. He was the colour of vici kid, and his +whiskers was like excelsior made out of mahogany wood. He +breathed hard, and he never once took his eyes off of Denver. +There was a look of admiration and respect on his face like you +see on a boy that's following a champion base-ball team, or the +Kaiser William looking at himself in a glass.</p> + +<p>"After Denver goes his rounds he takes me into his private +office.</p> + +<p>"'What's your report on the dingy I told you to watch?' he +asks.</p> + +<p>"'Well,' says I, 'if you was as big a man as he takes you to +be, nine rooms and bath in the Hall of Fame, rent free till +October 1st, would be about your size.'</p> + +<p>"'You've caught the idea,' says Denver. 'I've given him the +wizard grip and the cabalistic eye. The glamour that emanates +from yours truly has enveloped him like a North River fog. He +seems to think that Señor Galloway is the man who. +I guess they don't raise 74-inch sorrel-tops with romping +ways down in his precinct. Now, Sully,' goes on Denver, +'if you was asked, what would you take the little man to be?'</p> + +<p>"'Why,' says I, 'the barber around the corner; or, if he's +royal, the king of the boot-blacks.'</p> + +<p>"'Never judge by looks,' says Denver; 'he's the dark-horse +candidate for president of a South American republic.'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' says I, 'he didn't look quite that bad to me.'</p> + +<p>"Then Denver draws his chair up close and gives out his scheme.</p> + +<p>"'Sully,' says he, with seriousness and levity, 'I've been a +manager of one thing and another for over twenty years. That's +what I was cut out for—to have somebody else to put up the +money and look after the repairs and the police and taxes while +I run the business. I never had a dollar of my own invested in +my life. I wouldn't know how it felt to have the dealer rake in +a coin of mine. But I can handle other people's stuff and +manage other people's enterprises. I've had an ambition to get +hold of something big—something higher than hotels and +lumber-yards and local politics. I want to be manager of +something way up—like a railroad or a diamond trust or an +automobile factory. Now here comes this little man from the +tropics with just what I want, and he's offered me the job.'</p> + +<p>"'What job?' I asks. 'Is he going to revive the Georgia +Minstrels or open a cigar store?'</p> + +<p>"'He's no 'coon,' says Denver. 'He's General Rompiro—General +Josey Alfonso Sapolio Jew-Ann Rompiro—he has his cards printed +by a news-ticker. He's the real thing, Sully, and he wants me +to manage his campaign—he wants Denver C. Galloway for a +president-maker. Think of that, Sully! Old Denver romping down +to the tropics, plucking lotus-flowers and pineapples with one +hand and making presidents with the other! Won't it make Uncle +Mark Hanna mad? And I want you to go too, Sully. You can help +me more than any man I know. I've been herding that brown man +for a month in the hotel so he wouldn't stray down Fourteenth +Street and get roped in by that crowd of refugee tamale-eaters +down there. And he's landed, and D. C. G. is manager of General +J. A. S. J. Rompiro's presidential campaign in the great +republic of—what's its name?'</p> + +<p>"Denver gets down an atlas from a shelf, and we have a look at +the afflicted country. 'Twas a dark blue one, on the west +coast, about the size of a special delivery stamp.</p> + +<p>"'From what the General tells me,' says Denver, 'and from what +I can gather from the encyclopædia and by conversing with +the janitor of the Astor Library, it'll be as easy to handle the +vote of that country as it would be for Tammany to get a man +named Geoghan appointed on the White Wings force.'</p> + +<p>"'Why don't General Rumptyro stay at home,' says I, 'and manage +his own canvass?'</p> + +<p>"'You don't understand South American politics,' says Denver, +getting out the cigars. 'It's this way. General Rompiro had the +misfortune of becoming a popular idol. He distinguished himself +by leading the army in pursuit of a couple of sailors who had +stolen the plaza—or the carramba, or something belonging to +the government. The people called him a hero and the government +got jealous. The president sends for the chief of the +Department of Public Edifices. "Find me a nice, clean adobe +wall," says he, "and send Señor Rompiro up against it. +Then call out a file of soldiers and—then let him be up against +it." Something,' goes on Denver, 'like the way they've treated +Hobson and Carrie Nation in our country. So the General had to +flee. But he was thoughtful enough to bring along his roll. +He's got sinews of war enough to buy a battleship and float her +off in the christening fluid.'</p> + +<p>"'What chance has he got to be president?'</p> + +<p>"'Wasn't I just giving you his rating?' says Denver. 'His +country is one of the few in South America where the presidents +are elected by popular ballot. The General can't go there just +now. It hurts to be shot against a wall. He needs a campaign +manager to go down and whoop things up for him—to get the boys +in line and the new two-dollar bills afloat and the babies +kissed and the machine in running order. Sully, I don't want to +brag, but you remember how I brought Coughlin under the wire +for leader of the nineteenth? Ours was the banner district. +Don't you suppose I know how to manage a little monkey-cage of +a country like that? Why, with the dough the General's willing +to turn loose I could put two more coats of Japan varnish on +him and have him elected Governor of Georgia. New York has got +the finest lot of campaign managers in the world, Sully, and +you give me a feeling of hauteur when you cast doubts on my +ability to handle the political situation in a country so small +that they have to print the names of the towns in the appendix +and footnotes.'</p> + +<p>"I argued with Denver some. I told him that politics down in +that tropical atmosphere was bound to be different from the +nineteenth district; but I might just as well have been a +Congressman from North Dakota trying to get an appropriation +for a lighthouse and a coast survey. Denver Galloway had +ambitions in the manager line, and what I said didn't amount to +as much as a fig-leaf at the National Dressmakers' Convention. +'I'll give you three days to cogitate about going,' says +Denver; 'and I'll introduce you to General Rompiro to-morrow, +so you can get his ideas drawn right from the rose wood.'</p> + +<p>"I put on my best reception-to-Booker-Washington manner the +next day and tapped the distinguished rubber-plant for what he +knew.</p> + +<p>"General Rompiro wasn't so gloomy inside as he appeared on the +surface. He was polite enough; and he exuded a number of sounds +that made a fair stagger at arranging themselves into language. +It was English he aimed at, and when his system of syntax +reached your mind it wasn't past you to understand it. If you +took a college professor's magazine essay and a Chinese +laundryman's explanation of a lost shirt and jumbled 'em +together, you'd have about what the General handed you out for +conversation. He told me all about his bleeding country, and +what they were trying to do for it before the doctor came. But +he mostly talked of Denver C. Galloway.</p> + +<p>"'Ah, señor,' says he, 'that is the most fine +of mans. Never I have seen one man so magnifico, so +gr-r-rand, so conformable to make done things so +swiftly by other mans. He shall make other +mans do the acts and himself to order and regulate, until we +arrive at seeing accomplishments of a suddenly. Oh, yes, +señor. In my countree there is not such mans of +so beegness, so good talk, so compliments, so strongness +of sense and such. Ah, that Señor Galloway!'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' says I, 'old Denver is the boy you want. He's managed +every kind of business here except filibustering, and he might +as well complete the list.'</p> + +<p>"Before the three days was up I decided to join Denver in his +campaign. Denver got three months' vacation from his hotel +owners. For a week we lived in a room with the General, and got +all the pointers about his country that we could interpret from +the noises he made. When we got ready to start, Denver had a +pocket full of memorandums, and letters from the General to his +friends, and a list of names and addresses of loyal politicians +who would help along the boom of the exiled popular idol. +Besides these liabilities we carried assets to the amount of +$20,000 in assorted United States currency. General Rompiro +looked like a burnt effigy, but he was Br'er Fox himself when +it came to the real science of politics.</p> + +<p>"'Here is moneys,' says the General, 'of a small amount. There +is more with me—moocho more. Plentee moneys shall you be +supplied, Señor Galloway. More I shall send you at all +times that you need. I shall desire to pay feefty—one hundred +thousand pesos, if necessario, to be elect. How no? Sacramento! +If that I am president and do not make one meelion dolla in the +one year you shall keek me on that side!—<i>valgame Dios!</i>'</p> + +<p>"Denver got a Cuban cigar-maker to fix up a little cipher code +with English and Spanish words, and gave the General a copy, so +we could cable him bulletins about the election, or for more +money, and then we were ready to start. General Rompiro +escorted us to the steamer. On the pier he hugged Denver around +the waist and sobbed. 'Noble mans,' says he, 'General Rompiro +propels you into his confidence and trust. Go, in the hands of +the saints to do the work for your friend. <i>Viva la libertad!</i>'</p> + +<p>"'Sure,' says Denver. 'And viva la liberality an' la soaperino +and hoch der land of the lotus and the vote us. Don't worry, +General. We'll have you elected as sure as bananas grow upside +down.'</p> + +<p>"'Make pictures on me,' pleads the General—'make pictures on +me for money as it is needful.'</p> + +<p>"'Does he want to be tattooed, would you think?' asks Denver, +wrinkling up his eyes.</p> + +<p>"'Stupid!' says I. 'He wants you to draw on him for election +expenses. It'll be worse than tattooing. More like an autopsy.'</p> + +<p>"Me and Denver steamed down to Panama, and then hiked across +the Isthmus, and then by steamer again down to the town of +Espiritu on the coast of the General's country.</p> + +<p>"That was a town to send J. Howard Payne to the growler. I'll +tell you how you could make one like it. Take a lot of Filipino +huts and a couple of hundred brick-kilns and arrange 'em in +squares in a cemetery. Cart down all the conservatory plants in +the Astor and Vanderbilt greenhouses, and stick 'em about +wherever there's room. Turn all the Bellevue patients and the +barbers' convention and the Tuskegee school loose in the +streets, and run the thermometer up to 120 in the shade. Set a +fringe of the Rocky Mountains around the rear, let it rain, and +set the whole business on Rockaway Beach in the middle of +January—and you'd have a good imitation of Espiritu.</p> + +<p>"It took me and Denver about a week to get acclimated. Denver +sent out the letters the General had given him, and notified +the rest of the gang that there was something doing at the +captain's office. We set up headquarters in an old 'dobe house +on a side street where the grass was waist high. The election +was only four weeks off; but there wasn't any excitement. The +home candidate for president was named Roadrickeys. This town +of Esperitu wasn't the capital any more than Cleveland, Ohio, +is the capital of the United States, but it was the political +centre where they cooked up revolutions, and made up the +slates.</p> + +<p>"At the end of the week Denver says the machine is started +running.</p> + +<p>"'Sully,' says he, 'we've got a walkover. Just because General +Rompiro ain't Don Juan-on-the-spot the other crowd ain't at +work. They're as full of apathy as a territorial delegate +during the chaplain's prayer. Now, we want to introduce a +little hot stuff in the way of campaigning, and we'll surprise +'em at the polls.'</p> + +<p>"'How are you going to go about it?' I asks.</p> + +<p>"'Why, the usual way,' says Denver, surprised. 'We'll get the +orators on our side out every night to make speeches in the +native lingo, and have torch-light parades under the shade of +the palms, and free drinks, and buy up all the brass bands, of +course, and—well, I'll turn the baby-kissing over to you, +Sully—I've seen a lot of 'em.'</p> + +<p>"'What else?' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Why, you know,' says Denver. 'We get the heelers out with the +crackly two-spots, and coal-tickets, and orders for groceries, +and have a couple of picnics out under the banyan-trees, and +dances in the Firemen's Hall—and the usual things. But first +of all, Sully, I'm going to have the biggest clam-bake down on +the beach that was ever seen south of the tropic of Capricorn. +I figured that out from the start. We'll stuff the whole town +and the jungle folk for miles around with clams. That's the +first thing on the programme. Suppose you go out now, and make +the arrangements for that. I want to look over the estimates +the General made of the vote in the coast districts.'</p> + +<p>"I had learned some Spanish in Mexico, so I goes out, as Denver +says, and in fifteen minutes I come back to headquarters.</p> + +<p>"'If there ever was a clam in this country nobody ever saw it,' +I says.</p> + +<p>"'Great sky-rockets!' says Denver, with his mouth and eyes +open. 'No clams? How in the—who ever saw a country without +clams? What kind of a—how's an election to be pulled off +without a clam-bake, I'd like to know? Are you sure there's no +clams, Sully?'</p> + +<p>"'Not even a can,' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Then for God's sake go out and try to find what the people +here do eat. We've got to fill 'em up with grub of some kind.'</p> + +<p>"I went out again. Denver was manager. In half an hour I gets +back.</p> + +<p>"'They eat,' says I, 'tortillas, cassava, carne de chivo, arroz +con pollo, aquacates, zapates, yucca, and huevos fritos.'</p> + +<p>"'A man that would eat them things,' says Denver, getting a +little mad, 'ought to have his vote challenged.'</p> + +<p>"In a few more days the campaign managers from the other towns +came sliding into Esperitu. Our headquarters was a busy place. +We had an interpreter, and ice-water, and drinks, and cigars, +and Denver flashed the General's roll so often that it got so +small you couldn't have bought a Republican vote in Ohio with +it.</p> + +<p>"And then Denver cabled to General Rompiro for ten thousand +dollars more and got it.</p> + +<p>"There were a number of Americans in Esperitu, but they were +all in business or grafts of some kind, and wouldn't take any +hand in politics, which was sensible enough. But they showed me +and Denver a fine time, and fixed us up so we could get decent +things to eat and drink. There was one American, named Hicks, +used to come and loaf at the headquarters. Hicks had had +fourteen years of Esperitu. He was six feet four and weighed in +at 135. Cocoa was his line; and coast fever and the climate had +taken all the life out of him. They said he hadn't smiled in +eight years. His face was three feet long, and it never moved +except when he opened it to take quinine. He used to sit in our +headquarters and kill fleas and talk sarcastic.</p> + +<p>"'I don't take much interest in politics,' says Hicks, one day, +'but I'd like you to tell me what you're trying to do down +here, Galloway?'</p> + +<p>"'We're boosting General Rompiro, of course,' says Denver. +'We're going to put him in the presidential chair. I'm his +manager.'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' says Hicks, 'if I was you I'd be a little slower about +it. You've got a long time ahead of you, you know.'</p> + +<p>"'Not any longer than I need,' says Denver.</p> + +<p>"Denver went ahead and worked things smooth. He dealt out money +on the quiet to his lieutenants, and they were always coming +after it. There was free drinks for everybody in town, and +bands playing every night, and fireworks, and there was a lot +of heelers going around buying up votes day and night for the +new style of politics in Espiritu, and everybody liked it.</p> + +<p>"The day set for the election was November 4th. On the night +before Denver and me were smoking our pipes in headquarters, +and in comes Hicks and unjoints himself, and sits in a chair, +mournful. Denver is cheerful and confident. 'Rompiro will win +in a romp,' says he. 'We'll carry the country by 10,000. It's +all over but the vivas. To-morrow will tell the tale.'</p> + +<p>"'What's going to happen to-morrow?' asks Hicks.</p> + +<p>"'Why, the presidential election, of course,' says Denver.</p> + +<p>"'Say,' says Hicks, looking kind of funny, 'didn't anybody tell +you fellows that the election was held a week before you came? +Congress changed the date to July 27th. Roadrickeys was elected +by 17,000. I thought you was booming old Rompiro for next term, +two years from now. Wondered if you was going to keep up such a +hot lick that long.'</p> + +<p>"I dropped my pipe on the floor. Denver bit the stem off of +his. Neither of us said anything.</p> + +<p>"And then I heard a sound like somebody ripping a clapboard +off of a barn-roof. 'Twas Hicks laughing for the first time in +eight years."</p> + +<p>Sully Magoon paused while the waiter poured us a black coffee.</p> + +<p>"Your friend was, indeed, something of a manager," I said.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," said Sully, "I haven't given you any idea of +what he could do yet. That's all to come.</p> + +<p>"When we got back to New York there was General Rompiro waiting +for us on the pier. He was dancing like a cinnamon bear, all +impatient for the news, for Denver had just cabled him when we +would arrive and nothing more.</p> + +<p>"'Am I elect?' he shouts. 'Am I elect, friend of mine? Is that +mine country have demand General Rompiro for the president? +The last dollar of mine have I sent you that last time. It is +necessario that I am elect. I have not more money. Am I elect, +Señor Galloway?'</p> + +<p>"Denver turns to me.</p> + +<p>"'Leave me with old Rompey, Sully,' he says. 'I've got to break +it to him gently. 'Twould be indecent for other eyes to witness +the operation. This is the time, Sully,' says he, 'when old +Denver has got to make good as a jollier and a silver-tongued +sorcerer, or else give up all the medals he's earned.'</p> + +<p>"A couple of days later I went around to the hotel. There was +Denver in his old place, looking like the hero of two +historical novels, and telling 'em what a fine time he'd had +down on his orange plantation in Florida.</p> + +<p>"'Did you fix things up with the General?' I asks him.</p> + +<p>"'Did I?' says Denver. 'Come and see.'</p> + +<p>"He takes me by the arm and walks me to the dining-room door. +There was a little chocolate-brown fat man in a dress suit, +with his face shining with joy as he swelled himself and +skipped about the floor. Danged if Denver hadn't made General +Rompiro head waiter of the Hotel Brunswick!"</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Galloway still in the managing business?" I asked, as +Mr. Magoon ceased.</p> + +<p>Sully shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Denver married an auburn-haired widow that owns a big hotel in +Harlem. He just helps around the place."</p> + + +<p><a name="19"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XIX</h3> +<h3>WHISTLING DICK'S CHRISTMAS STOCKING<br /> </h3> + + +<p>It was with much caution that Whistling Dick slid back the door +of the box-car, for Article 5716, City Ordinances, authorized +(perhaps unconstitutionally) arrest on suspicion, and he was +familiar of old with this ordinance. So, before climbing out, +he surveyed the field with all the care of a good general.</p> + +<p>He saw no change since his last visit to this big, alms-giving, +long-suffering city of the South, the cold weather paradise of +the tramps. The levee where his freight-car stood was pimpled +with dark bulks of merchandise. The breeze reeked with the +well-remembered, sickening smell of the old tarpaulins that +covered bales and barrels. The dun river slipped along among +the shipping with an oily gurgle. Far down toward Chalmette he +could see the great bend in the stream, outlined by the row of +electric lights. Across the river Algiers lay, a long, +irregular blot, made darker by the dawn which lightened the sky +beyond. An industrious tug or two, coming for some early +sailing ship, gave a few appalling toots, that seemed to be the +signal for breaking day. The Italian luggers were creeping +nearer their landing, laden with early vegetables and +shellfish. A vague roar, subterranean in quality, from dray +wheels and street cars, began to make itself heard and felt; +and the ferryboats, the Mary Anns of water craft, stirred +sullenly to their menial morning tasks.</p> + +<p>Whistling Dick's red head popped suddenly back into the car. A +sight too imposing and magnificent for his gaze had been added +to the scene. A vast, incomparable policeman rounded a pile of +rice sacks and stood within twenty yards of the car. The daily +miracle of the dawn, now being performed above Algiers, +received the flattering attention of this specimen of municipal +official splendour. He gazed with unbiased dignity at the +faintly glowing colours until, at last, he turned to them his +broad back, as if convinced that legal interference was not +needed, and the sunrise might proceed unchecked. So he turned +his face to the rice bags, and, drawing a flat flask from an +inside pocket, he placed it to his lips and regarded the +firmament.</p> + +<p>Whistling Dick, professional tramp, possessed a half-friendly +acquaintance with this officer. They had met several times +before on the levee at night, for the officer, himself a lover +of music, had been attracted by the exquisite whistling of the +shiftless vagabond. Still, he did not care, under the present +circumstances, to renew the acquaintance. There is a difference +between meeting a policeman on a lonely wharf and whistling a +few operatic airs with him, and being caught by him crawling +out of a freight-car. So Dick waited, as even a New Orleans +policeman must move on some time—perhaps it is a retributive +law of nature—and before long "Big Fritz" majestically +disappeared between the trains of cars.</p> + +<p>Whistling Dick waited as long as his judgment advised, and then +slid swiftly to the ground. Assuming as far as possible the air +of an honest labourer who seeks his daily toil, he moved across +the network of railway lines, with the intention of making his +way by quiet Girod Street to a certain bench in Lafayette +Square, where, according to appointment, he hoped to rejoin a +pal known as "Slick," this adventurous pilgrim having preceded +him by one day in a cattle-car into which a loose slat had +enticed him.</p> + +<p>As Whistling Dick picked his way where night still lingered +among the big, reeking, musty warehouses, he gave way to the +habit that had won for him his title. Subdued, yet clear, with +each note as true and liquid as a bobolink's, his whistle +tinkled about the dim, cold mountains of brick like drops of +rain falling into a hidden pool. He followed an air, but it +swam mistily into a swirling current of improvisation. You +could cull out the trill of mountain brooks, the staccato of +green rushes shivering above chilly lagoons, the pipe of sleepy +birds.</p> + +<p>Rounding a corner, the whistler collided with a mountain of +blue and brass.</p> + +<p>"So," observed the mountain calmly, "You are already pack. Und +dere vill not pe frost before two veeks yet! Und you haf +forgotten how to vistle. Dere was a valse note in dot last +bar."</p> + +<p>"Watcher know about it?" said Whistling Dick, with tentative +familiarity; "you wit yer little Gherman-band nixcumrous +chunes. Watcher know about music? Pick yer ears, and listen +agin. Here's de way I whistled it—see?"</p> + +<p>He puckered his lips, but the big policeman held up his hand.</p> + +<p>"Shtop," he said, "und learn der right way. Und learn also dot +a rolling shtone can't vistle for a cent."</p> + +<p>Big Fritz's heavy moustache rounded into a circle, and from its +depths came a sound deep and mellow as that from a flute. He +repeated a few bars of the air the tramp had been whistling. +The rendition was cold, but correct, and he emphasized the note +he had taken exception to.</p> + +<p>"Dot p is p natural, und not p vlat. Py der vay, you petter pe +glad I meet you. Von hour later, und I vould half to put you in +a gage to vistle mit der chail pirds. Der orders are to bull +all der pums after sunrise."</p> + +<p>"To which?"</p> + +<p>"To bull der pums—eferybody mitout fisible means. Dirty days +is der price, or fifteen tollars."</p> + +<p>"Is dat straight, or a game you givin' me?"</p> + +<p>"It's der pest tip you efer had. I gif it to you pecause I +pelief you are not so bad as der rest. Und pecause you gan visl +'Der Freischütz' bezzer dan I myself gan. Don't run against +any more bolicemans aroundt der corners, but go away from town +a few tays. Good-pye."</p> + +<p>So Madame Orleans had at last grown weary of the strange and +ruffled brood that came yearly to nestle beneath her charitable +pinions.</p> + +<p>After the big policeman had departed, Whistling Dick stood for +an irresolute minute, feeling all the outraged indignation of a +delinquent tenant who is ordered to vacate his premises. He had +pictured to himself a day of dreamful ease when he should have +joined his pal; a day of lounging on the wharf, munching the +bananas and cocoanuts scattered in unloading the fruit +steamers; and then a feast along the free-lunch counters from +which the easy-going owners were too good-natured or too +generous to drive him away, and afterward a pipe in one of the +little flowery parks and a snooze in some shady corner of the +wharf. But here was a stern order to exile, and one that he +knew must be obeyed. So, with a wary eye open for the gleam of +brass buttons, he began his retreat toward a rural refuge. A +few days in the country need not necessarily prove disastrous. +Beyond the possibility of a slight nip of frost, there was no +formidable evil to be looked for.</p> + +<p>However, it was with a depressed spirit that Whistling Dick +passed the old French market on his chosen route down the +river. For safety's sake he still presented to the world his +portrayal of the part of the worthy artisan on his way to +labour. A stall-keeper in the market, undeceived, hailed him by +the generic name of his ilk, and "Jack" halted, taken by +surprise. The vender, melted by this proof of his own +acuteness, bestowed a foot of Frankfurter and half a loaf, and +thus the problem of breakfast was solved.</p> + +<p>When the streets, from topographical reasons, began to shun the +river bank the exile mounted to the top of the levee, and on +its well-trodden path pursued his way. The suburban eye +regarded him with cold suspicion, individuals reflected the +stern spirit of the city's heartless edict. He missed the +seclusion of the crowded town and the safety he could always +find in the multitude.</p> + +<p>At Chalmette, six miles upon his desultory way, there suddenly +menaced him a vast and bewildering industry. A new port was +being established; the dock was being built, compresses were +going up; picks and shovels and barrows struck at him like +serpents from every side. An arrogant foreman bore down upon +him, estimating his muscles with the eye of a +recruiting-sergeant. Brown men and black men all about him were +toiling away. He fled in terror.</p> + +<p>By noon he had reached the country of the plantations, the +great, sad, silent levels bordering the mighty river. He +overlooked fields of sugar-cane so vast that their farthest +limits melted into the sky. The sugar-making season was well +advanced, and the cutters were at work; the waggons creaked +drearily after them; the Negro teamsters inspired the mules to +greater speed with mellow and sonorous imprecations. Dark-green +groves, blurred by the blue of distance, showed where the +plantation-houses stood. The tall chimneys of the sugar-mills +caught the eye miles distant, like lighthouses at sea.</p> + +<p>At a certain point Whistling Dick's unerring nose caught the +scent of frying fish. Like a pointer to a quail, he made his +way down the levee side straight to the camp of a credulous and +ancient fisherman, whom he charmed with song and story, so that +he dined like an admiral, and then like a philosopher +annihilated the worst three hours of the day by a nap under the +trees.</p> + +<p>When he awoke and again continued his hegira, a frosty sparkle +in the air had succeeded the drowsy warmth of the day, and as +this portent of a chilly night translated itself to the brain +of Sir Peregrine, he lengthened his stride and bethought him of +shelter. He travelled a road that faithfully followed the +convolutions of the levee, running along its base, but whither +he knew not. Bushes and rank grass crowded it to the wheel +ruts, and out of this ambuscade the pests of the lowlands +swarmed after him, humming a keen, vicious soprano. And as the +night grew nearer, although colder, the whine of the mosquitoes +became a greedy, petulant snarl that shut out all other sounds. +To his right, against the heavens, he saw a green light moving, +and, accompanying it, the masts and funnels of a big incoming +steamer, moving as upon a screen at a magic-lantern show. And +there were mysterious marshes at his left, out of which came +queer gurgling cries and a choked croaking. The whistling +vagrant struck up a merry warble to offset these melancholy +influences, and it is likely that never before, since Pan +himself jigged it on his reeds, had such sounds been heard in +those depressing solitudes.</p> + +<p>A distant clatter in the rear quickly developed into the swift +beat of horses' hoofs, and Whistling Dick stepped aside into +the dew-wet grass to clear the track. Turning his head, he saw +approaching a fine team of stylish grays drawing a double +surrey. A stout man with a white moustache occupied the front +seat, giving all his attention to the rigid lines in his hands. +Behind him sat a placid, middle-aged lady and a +brilliant-looking girl hardly arrived at young ladyhood. The +lap-robe had slipped partly from the knees of the gentleman +driving, and Whistling Dick saw two stout canvas bags between +his feet—bags such as, while loafing in cities, he had seen +warily transferred between express waggons and bank doors. The +remaining space in the vehicle was filled with parcels of +various sizes and shapes.</p> + +<p>As the surrey swept even with the sidetracked tramp, the +bright-eyed girl, seized by some merry, madcap impulse, leaned +out toward him with a sweet, dazzling smile, and cried, "Mer-ry +Christ-mas!" in a shrill, plaintive treble.</p> + +<p>Such a thing had not often happened to Whistling Dick, and he +felt handicapped in devising the correct response. But lacking +time for reflection, he let his instinct decide, and snatching +off his battered derby, he rapidly extended it at arm's length, +and drew it back with a continuous motion, and shouted a loud, +but ceremonious, "Ah, there!" after the flying surrey.</p> + +<p>The sudden movement of the girl had caused one of the parcels +to become unwrapped, and something limp and black fell from it +into the road. The tramp picked it up, and found it to be a new +black silk stocking, long and fine and slender. It crunched +crisply, and yet with a luxurious softness, between his +fingers.</p> + +<p>"Ther bloomin' little skeezicks!" said Whistling Dick, with a +broad grin bisecting his freckled face. "W'ot d' yer think of +dat, now! Mer-ry Chris-mus! Sounded like a cuckoo clock, da'ts +what she did. Dem guys is swells, too, bet yer life, an' der +old 'un stacks dem sacks of dough down under his trotters like +dey was common as dried apples. Been shoppin' for Chrismus, and +de kid's lost one of her new socks w'ot she was goin' to hold +up Santy wid. De bloomin' little skeezicks! Wit' her 'Mer-ry +Chris-mus!' W'ot d' yer t'ink! Same as to say, 'Hello, Jack, +how goes it?' and as swell as Fift' Av'noo, and as easy as a +blowout in Cincinnat."</p> + +<p>Whistling Dick folded the stocking carefully, and stuffed it +into his pocket.</p> + +<p>It was nearly two hours later when he came upon signs of +habitation. The buildings of an extensive plantation were +brought into view by a turn in the road. He easily selected the +planter's residence in a large square building with two wings, +with numerous good-sized, well-lighted windows, and broad +verandas running around its full extent. It was set upon a +smooth lawn, which was faintly lit by the far-reaching rays of +the lamps within. A noble grove surrounded it, and +old-fashioned shrubbery grew thickly about the walks and +fences. The quarters of the hands and the mill buildings were +situated at a distance in the rear.</p> + +<p>The road was now enclosed on each side by a fence, and +presently, as Whistling Dick drew nearer the house, he suddenly +stopped and sniffed the air.</p> + +<p>"If dere ain't a hobo stew cookin' somewhere in dis immediate +precinct," he said to himself, "me nose has quit tellin' de +trut'."</p> + +<p>Without hesitation he climbed the fence to windward. He found +himself in an apparently disused lot, where piles of old bricks +were stacked, and rejected, decaying lumber. In a corner he saw +the faint glow of a fire that had become little more than a bed +of living coals, and he thought he could see some dim human +forms sitting or lying about it. He drew nearer, and by the +light of a little blaze that suddenly flared up he saw plainly +the fat figure of a ragged man in an old brown sweater and cap.</p> + +<p>"Dat man," said Whistling Dick to himself softly, "is a dead +ringer for Boston Harry. I'll try him wit de high sign."</p> + +<p>He whistled one or two bars of a rag-time melody, and the air +was immediately taken up, and then quickly ended with a +peculiar run. The first whistler walked confidently up to the +fire. The fat man looked up, and spake in a loud, asthmatic +wheeze:</p> + +<p>"Gents, the unexpected but welcome addition to our circle is +Mr. Whistling Dick, an old friend of mine for whom I fully +vouches. The waiter will lay another cover at once. Mr. W. D. +will join us at supper, during which function he will enlighten +us in regard to the circumstances that gave us the pleasure of +his company."</p> + +<p>"Chewin' de stuffin' out 'n de dictionary, as usual, Boston," +said Whistling Dick; "but t'anks all de same for de invitashun. +I guess I finds meself here about de same way as yous guys. A +cop gimme de tip dis mornin'. Yous workin' on dis farm?"</p> + +<p>"A guest," said Boston, sternly, "shouldn't never insult his +entertainers until he's filled up wid grub. 'Tain't good +business sense. Workin'!—but I will restrain myself. We +five—me, Deaf Pete, Blinky, Goggles, and Indiana Tom—got put +on to this scheme of Noo Orleans to work visiting gentlemen +upon her dirty streets, and we hit the road last evening just +as the tender hues of twilight had flopped down upon the +daisies and things. Blinky, pass the empty oyster-can at your +left to the empty gentleman at your right."</p> + +<p>For the next ten minutes the gang of roadsters paid their +undivided attention to the supper. In an old five-gallon +kerosene can they had cooked a stew of potatoes, meat, and +onions, which they partook of from smaller cans they had found +scattered about the vacant lot.</p> + +<p>Whistling Dick had known Boston Harry of old, and knew him to +be one of the shrewdest and most successful of his brotherhood. +He looked like a prosperous stock-drover or solid merchant from +some country village. He was stout and hale, with a ruddy, +always smoothly shaven face. His clothes were strong and neat, +and he gave special attention to his decent-appearing shoes. +During the past ten years he had acquired a reputation for +working a larger number of successfully managed confidence +games than any of his acquaintances, and he had not a day's +work to be counted against him. It was rumoured among his +associates that he had saved a considerable amount of money. +The four other men were fair specimens of the slinking, +ill-clad, noisome genus who carried their labels of +"suspicious" in plain view.</p> + +<p>After the bottom of the large can had been scraped, and pipes +lit at the coals, two of the men called Boston aside and spake +with him lowly and mysteriously. He nodded decisively, and then +said aloud to Whistling Dick:</p> + +<p>"Listen, sonny, to some plain talky-talk. We five are on a lay. +I've guaranteed you to be square, and you're to come in on the +profits equal with the boys, and you've got to help. Two +hundred hands on this plantation are expecting to be paid a +week's wages to-morrow morning. To-morrow's Christmas, and they +want to lay off. Says the boss: 'Work from five to nine in the +morning to get a train load of sugar off, and I'll pay every +man cash down for the week and a day extra.' They say: 'Hooray +for the boss! It goes.' He drives to Noo Orleans to-day, and +fetches back the cold dollars. Two thousand and seventy-four +fifty is the amount. I got the figures from a man who talks too +much, who got 'em from the bookkeeper. The boss of this +plantation thinks he's going to pay this wealth to the hands. +He's got it down wrong; he's going to pay it to us. It's going +to stay in the leisure class, where it belongs. Now, half of +this haul goes to me, and the other half the rest of you may +divide. Why the difference? I represent the brains. It's my +scheme. Here's the way we're going to get it. There's some +company at supper in the house, but they'll leave about nine. +They've just happened in for an hour or so. If they don't go +pretty soon, we'll work the scheme anyhow. We want all night to +get away good with the dollars. They're heavy. About nine +o'clock Deaf Pete and Blinky'll go down the road about a +quarter beyond the house, and set fire to a big cane-field +there that the cutters haven't touched yet. The wind's just +right to have it roaring in two minutes. The alarm'll be given, +and every man Jack about the place will be down there in ten +minutes, fighting fire. That'll leave the money sacks and the +women alone in the house for us to handle. You've heard cane +burn? Well, there's mighty few women can screech loud enough to +be heard above its crackling. The thing's dead safe. The only +danger is in being caught before we can get far enough away +with the money. Now, if you—"</p> + +<p>"Boston," interrupted Whistling Dick, rising to his feet, +"T'anks for the grub yous fellers has given me, but I'll be +movin' on now."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Boston, also rising.</p> + +<p>"W'y, you can count me outer dis deal. You oughter know that. +I'm on de bum all right enough, but dat other t'ing don't go +wit' me. Burglary is no good. I'll say good night and many +t'anks fer—"</p> + +<p>Whistling Dick had moved away a few steps as he spoke, but he +stopped very suddenly. Boston had covered him with a short +revolver of roomy calibre.</p> + +<p>"Take your seat," said the tramp leader. "I'd feel mighty proud +of myself if I let you go and spoil the game. You'll stick +right in this camp until we finish the job. The end of that +brick pile is your limit. You go two inches beyond that, and +I'll have to shoot. Better take it easy, now."</p> + +<p>"It's my way of doin'," said Whistling Dick. "Easy goes. You +can depress de muzzle of dat twelve-incher, and run 'er back on +de trucks. I remains, as de newspapers says, 'in yer midst.'"</p> + +<p>"All right," said Boston, lowering his piece, as the other +returned and took his seat again on a projecting plank in a +pile of timber. "Don't try to leave; that's all. I wouldn't +miss this chance even if I had to shoot an old acquaintance to +make it go. I don't want to hurt anybody specially, but this +thousand dollars I'm going to get will fix me for fair. I'm +going to drop the road, and start a saloon in a little town I +know about. I'm tired of being kicked around."</p> + +<p>Boston Harry took from his pocket a cheap silver watch, and +held it near the fire.</p> + +<p>"It's a quarter to nine," he said. "Pete, you and Blinky start. +Go down the road past the house, and fire the cane in a dozen +places. Then strike for the levee, and come back on it, instead +of the road, so you won't meet anybody. By the time you get +back the men will all be striking out for the fire, and we'll +break for the house and collar the dollars. Everybody cough up +what matches he's got."</p> + +<p>The two surly tramps made a collection of all the matches in +the party, Whistling Dick contributing his quota with +propitiatory alacrity, and then they departed in the dim +starlight in the direction of the road.</p> + +<p>Of the three remaining vagrants, two, Goggles and Indiana Tom, +reclined lazily upon convenient lumber and regarded Whistling +Dick with undisguised disfavour. Boston, observing that the +dissenting recruit was disposed to remain peaceably, relaxed a +little of his vigilance. Whistling Dick arose presently and +strolled leisurely up and down keeping carefully within the +territory assigned him.</p> + +<p>"Dis planter chap," he said, pausing before Boston Harry, "w'ot +makes yer t'ink he's got de tin in de house wit' 'im?"</p> + +<p>"I'm advised of the facts in the case," said Boston. "He drove +to Noo Orleans and got it, I say, to-day. Want to change your +mind now and come in?"</p> + +<p>"Naw, I was just askin'. Wot kind o' team did de boss drive?"</p> + +<p>"Pair of grays."</p> + +<p>"Double surrey?"</p> + +<p>"Yep."</p> + +<p>"Women folks along?"</p> + +<p>"Wife and kid. Say, what morning paper are you trying to pump +news for?"</p> + +<p>"I was just conversin' to pass de time away. I guess dat team +passed me in de road dis evenin'. Dat's all."</p> + +<p>As Whistling Dick put his hands in his pockets and continued +his curtailed beat up and down by the fire, he felt the silk +stocking he had picked up in the road.</p> + +<p>"Ther bloomin' little skeezicks," he muttered, with a grin.</p> + +<p>As he walked up and down he could see, through a sort of +natural opening or lane among the trees, the planter's +residence some seventy-five yards distant. The side of the +house toward him exhibited spacious, well-lighted windows +through which a soft radiance streamed, illuminating the broad +veranda and some extent of the lawn beneath.</p> + +<p>"What's that you said?" asked Boston, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nuttin' 't all," said Whistling Dick, lounging carelessly, +and kicking meditatively at a little stone on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Just as easy," continued the warbling vagrant softly to +himself, "an' sociable an' swell an' sassy, wit' her 'Mer-ry +Chris-mus,' Wot d'yer t'ink, now!"</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>Dinner, two hours late, was being served in the Bellemeade +plantation dining-room.</p> + +<p>The dining-room and all its appurtenances spoke of an old +regime that was here continued rather than suggested to +the memory. The plate was rich to the extent that its age and +quaintness alone saved it from being showy; there were +interesting names signed in the corners of the pictures on the +walls; the viands were of the kind that bring a shine into the +eyes of gourmets. The service was swift, silent, lavish, as in +the days when the waiters were assets like the plate. The names +by which the planter's family and their visitors addressed one +another were historic in the annals of two nations. Their +manners and conversation had that most difficult kind of +ease—the kind that still preserves punctilio. The planter +himself seemed to be the dynamo that generated the larger +portion of the gaiety and wit. The younger ones at the board +found it more than difficult to turn back on him his guns of +raillery and banter. It is true, the young men attempted to +storm his works repeatedly, incited by the hope of gaining the +approbation of their fair companions; but even when they sped a +well-aimed shaft, the planter forced them to feel defeat by the +tremendous discomfiting thunder of the laughter with which he +accompanied his retorts. At the head of the table, serene, +matronly, benevolent, reigned the mistress of the house, +placing here and there the right smile, the right word, the +encouraging glance.</p> + +<p>The talk of the party was too desultory, too evanescent to +follow, but at last they came to the subject of the tramp +nuisance, one that had of late vexed the plantations for many +miles around. The planter seized the occasion to direct his +good-natured fire of raillery at the mistress, accusing her of +encouraging the plague. "They swarm up and down the river every +winter," he said. "They overrun New Orleans, and we catch the +surplus, which is generally the worst part. And, a day or two +ago, Madame New Orleans, suddenly discovering that she can't go +shopping without brushing her skirts against great rows of the +vagabonds sunning themselves on the banquettes, says to the +police: 'Catch 'em all,' and the police catch a dozen or two, +and the remaining three or four thousand overflow up and down +the levee, and madame there,"—pointing tragically with the +carving-knife at her—"feeds them. They won't work; they defy +my overseers, and they make friends with my dogs; and you, +madame, feed them before my eyes, and intimidate me when I +would interfere. Tell us, please, how many to-day did you thus +incite to future laziness and depredation?"</p> + +<p>"Six, I think," said madame, with a reflective smile; "but you +know two of them offered to work, for you heard them yourself."</p> + +<p>The planter's disconcerting laugh rang out again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, at their own trades. And one was an artificial-flower +maker, and the other a glass-blower. Oh, they were looking for +work! Not a hand would they consent to lift to labour of any +other kind."</p> + +<p>"And another one," continued the soft-hearted mistress, "used +quite good language. It was really extraordinary for one of his +class. And he carried a watch. And had lived in Boston. I don't +believe they are all bad. They have always seemed to me to +rather lack development. I always look upon them as children +with whom wisdom has remained at a standstill while whiskers +have continued to grow. We passed one this evening as we were +driving home who had a face as good as it was incompetent. He +was whistling the intermezzo from 'Cavalleria' and blowing the +spirit of Mascagni himself into it."</p> + +<p>A bright eyed young girl who sat at the left of the mistress +leaned over, and said in a confidential undertone:</p> + +<p>"I wonder, mamma, if that tramp we passed on the road found my +stocking, and do you think he will hang it up to-night? Now I +can hang up but one. Do you know why I wanted a new pair of +silk stockings when I have plenty? Well, old Aunt Judy says, if +you hang up two that have never been worn, Santa Claus will +fill one with good things, and Monsieur Pambe will place in the +other payment for all the words you have spoken—good or +bad—on the day before Christmas. That's why I've been +unusually nice and polite to everyone to-day. Monsieur Pambe, +you know, is a witch gentleman; he—"</p> + +<p>The words of the young girl were interrupted by a startling +thing.</p> + +<p>Like the wraith of some burned-out shooting star, a black +streak came crashing through the window-pane and upon the +table, where it shivered into fragments a dozen pieces of +crystal and china ware, and then glanced between the heads of +the guests to the wall, imprinting therein a deep, round +indentation, at which, to-day, the visitor to Bellemeade +marvels as he gazes upon it and listens to this tale as it is +told.</p> + +<p>The women screamed in many keys, and the men sprang to their +feet, and would have laid their hands upon their swords had not +the verities of chronology forbidden.</p> + +<p>The planter was the first to act; he sprang to the intruding +missile, and held it up to view.</p> + +<p>"By Jupiter!" he cried. "A meteoric shower of hosiery! Has +communication at last been established with Mars?"</p> + +<p>"I should say—ahem—Venus," ventured a young-gentleman +visitor, looking hopefully for approbation toward the +unresponsive young-lady visitors.</p> + +<p>The planter held at arm's length the unceremonious visitor—a +long dangling black stocking. "It's loaded," he announced.</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he reversed the stocking, holding it by the toe, +and down from it dropped a roundish stone, wrapped about by a +piece of yellowish paper. "Now for the first interstellar +message of the century!" he cried; and nodding to the company, +who had crowded about him, he adjusted his glasses with +provoking deliberation, and examined it closely. When he +finished, he had changed from the jolly host to the practical, +decisive man of business. He immediately struck a bell, and +said to the silent-footed mulatto man who responded: "Go and +tell Mr. Wesley to get Reeves and Maurice and about ten stout +hands they can rely upon, and come to the hall door at once. +Tell him to have the men arm themselves, and bring plenty of +ropes and plough lines. Tell him to hurry." And then he read +aloud from the paper these words:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote class="med"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">To +the Gent of de Hous</span>:</p> + +<p>Dere is five tuff hoboes xcept meself in the vaken lot near +de road war de old brick piles is. Dey got me stuck up wid a +gun see and I taken dis means of communication. 2 of der lads +is gone down to set fire to de cain field below de hous and +when yous fellers goes to turn de hoes on it de hole gang is +goin to rob de hous of de money yoo gotto pay off wit say git +a move on ye say de kid dropt dis sock in der rode tel her +mery crismus de same as she told me. Ketch de bums down de +rode first and den sen a relefe core to get me out of soke +youres truly,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Whistlen +Dick</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>There was some quiet, but rapid, mavœuvring at Bellemeade +during the ensuring half hour, which ended in five disgusted +and sullen tramps being captured, and locked securely in an +outhouse pending the coming of the morning and retribution. For +another result, the visiting young gentlemen had secured the +unqualified worship of the visiting young ladies by their +distinguished and heroic conduct. For still another, behold +Whistling Dick, the hero, seated at the planter's table, +feasting upon viands his experience had never before included, +and waited upon by admiring femininity in shapes of such beauty +and "swellness" that even his ever-full mouth could scarcely +prevent him from whistling. He was made to disclose in detail +his adventure with the evil gang of Boston Harry, and how he +cunningly wrote the note and wrapped it around the stone and +placed it at the toe of the stocking, and, watching his chance, +sent it silently, with a wonderful centrifugal momentum, like a +comet, at one of the big lighted windows of the dining-room.</p> + +<p>The planter vowed that the wanderer should wander no more; that +his was a goodness and an honesty that should be rewarded, and +that a debt of gratitude had been made that must be paid; for +had he not saved them from a doubtless imminent loss, and maybe +a greater calamity? He assured Whistling Dick that he might +consider himself a charge upon the honour of Bellemeade; that a +position suited to his powers would be found for him at once, +and hinted that the way would be heartily smoothed for him to +rise to as high places of emolument and trust as the plantation +afforded.</p> + +<p>But now, they said, he must be weary, and the immediate thing +to consider was rest and sleep. So the mistress spoke to a +servant, and Whistling Dick was conducted to a room in the wing +of the house occupied by the servants. To this room, in a few +minutes, was brought a portable tin bathtub filled with water, +which was placed on a piece of oiled cloth upon the floor. +There the vagrant was left to pass the night.</p> + +<p>By the light of a candle he examined the room. A bed, with the +covers neatly turned back, revealed snowy pillows and sheets. A +worn, but clean, red carpet covered the floor. There was a +dresser with a beveled mirror, a washstand with a flowered bowl +and pitcher; the two or three chairs were softly upholstered. A +little table held books, papers, and a day-old cluster of roses +in a jar. There were towels on a rack and soap in a white dish.</p> + +<p>Whistling Dick set his candle on a chair and placed his hat +carefully under the table. After satisfying what we must +suppose to have been his curiosity by a sober scrutiny, he +removed his coat, folded it, and laid it upon the floor, near +the wall, as far as possible from the unused bathtub. Taking +his coat for a pillow, he stretched himself luxuriously upon +the carpet.</p> + +<p>When, on Christmas morning, the first streaks of dawn broke +above the marshes, Whistling Dick awoke, and reached +instinctively for his hat. Then he remembered that the skirts +of Fortune had swept him into their folds on the night +previous, and he went to the window and raised it, to let the +fresh breath of the morning cool his brow and fix the yet +dream-like memory of his good luck within his brain.</p> + +<p>As he stood there, certain dread and ominous sounds pierced the +fearful hollow of his ear.</p> + +<p>The force of plantation workers, eager to complete the +shortened task allotted to them, were all astir. The mighty din +of the ogre Labour shook the earth, and the poor tattered and +forever disguised Prince in search of his fortune held tight to +the window-sill even in the enchanted castle, and trembled.</p> + +<p>Already from the bosom of the mill came the thunder of rolling +barrels of sugar, and (prison-like sounds) there was a great +rattling of chains as the mules were harried with stimulant +imprecations to their places by the waggon-tongues. A little +vicious "dummy" engine, with a train of flat cars in tow, +stewed and fumed on the plantation tap of the narrow-gauge +railroad, and a toiling, hurrying, hallooing stream of workers +were dimly seen in the half darkness loading the train with the +weekly output of sugar. Here was a poem; an epic—nay, a +tragedy—with work, the curse of the world, for its theme.</p> + +<p>The December air was frosty, but the sweat broke out upon +Whistling Dick's face. He thrust his head out of the window, +and looked down. Fifteen feet below him, against the wall of +the house, he could make out that a border of flowers grew, and +by that token he overhung a bed of soft earth.</p> + +<p>Softly as a burglar goes, he clambered out upon the sill, +lowered himself until he hung by his hands alone, and then +dropped safely. No one seemed to be about upon this side of the +house. He dodged low, and skimmed swiftly across the yard to +the low fence. It was an easy matter to vault this, for a +terror urged him such as lifts the gazelle over the thorn bush +when the lion pursues. A crash through the dew-drenched weeds +on the roadside, a clutching, slippery rush up the grassy side +of the levee to the footpath at the summit, and—he was free!</p> + +<p>The east was blushing and brightening. The wind, himself a +vagrant rover, saluted his brother upon the cheek. Some wild +geese, high above, gave cry. A rabbit skipped along the path +before him, free to turn to the right or to the left as his +mood should send him. The river slid past, and certainly no one +could tell the ultimate abiding place of its waters.</p> + +<p>A small, ruffled, brown-breasted bird, sitting upon a dog-wood +sapling, began a soft, throaty, tender little piping in praise +of the dew which entices foolish worms from their holes; but +suddenly he stopped, and sat with his head turned sidewise, +listening.</p> + +<p>From the path along the levee there burst forth a jubilant, +stirring, buoyant, thrilling whistle, loud and keen and clear +as the cleanest notes of the piccolo. The soaring sound rippled +and trilled and arpeggioed as the songs of wild birds do not; +but it had a wild free grace that, in a way, reminded the +small, brown bird of something familiar, but exactly what he +could not tell. There was in it the bird call, or reveille, +that all birds know; but a great waste of lavish, unmeaning +things that art had added and arranged, besides, and that were +quite puzzling and strange; and the little brown bird sat with +his head on one side until the sound died away in the distance.</p> + +<p>The little bird did not know that the part of that strange +warbling that he understood was just what kept the warbler +without his breakfast; but he knew very well that the part he +did not understand did not concern him, so he gave a little +flutter of his wings and swooped down like a brown bullet upon +a big fat worm that was wriggling along the levee path.</p> + + +<p><a name="20"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XX</h3> +<h3>THE HALBERDIER OF THE LITTLE RHEINSCHLOSS<br /> </h3> + + +<p>I go sometimes into the <i>Bierhalle</i> and restaurant called Old +Munich. Not long ago it was a resort of interesting Bohemians, +but now only artists and musicians and literary folk frequent +it. But the Pilsner is yet good, and I take some diversion from +the conversation of Waiter No. 18.</p> + +<p>For many years the customers of Old Munich have accepted the +place as a faithful copy from the ancient German town. The big +hall with its smoky rafters, rows of imported steins, portrait +of Goethe, and verses painted on the walls—translated into +German from the original of the Cincinnati poets—seems +atmospherically correct when viewed through the bottom of a +glass.</p> + +<p>But not long ago the proprietors added the room above, called +it the Little Rheinschloss, and built in a stairway. Up there +was an imitation stone parapet, ivy-covered, and the walls were +painted to represent depth and distance, with the Rhine winding +at the base of the vineyarded slopes, and the castle of +Ehrenbreitstein looming directly opposite the entrance. Of +course there were tables and chairs; and you could have beer +and food brought you, as you naturally would on the top of a +castle on the Rhine.</p> + +<p>I went into Old Munich one afternoon when there were few +customers, and sat at my usual table near the stairway. I was +shocked and almost displeased to perceive that the glass +cigar-case by the orchestra stand had been smashed to +smithereens. I did not like things to happen in Old Munich. +Nothing had ever happened there before.</p> + +<p>Waiter No. 18 came and breathed on my neck. I was his by right +of discovery. Eighteen's brain was built like a corral. It was +full of ideas which, when he opened the gate, came huddling out +like a flock of sheep that might get together afterward or +might not. I did not shine as a shepherd. As a type Eighteen +fitted nowhere. I did not find out if he had a nationality, +family, creed, grievance, hobby, soul, preference, home, or +vote. He only came always to my table and, as long as his +leisure would permit, let words flutter from him like swallows +leaving a barn at daylight.</p> + +<p>"How did the cigar-case come to be broken, Eighteen?" I asked, +with a certain feeling of personal grievance.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you about that, sir," said he, resting his foot on +the chair next to mine. "Did you ever have anybody hand you a +double handful of good luck while both your hands was full of +bad luck, and stop to notice how your fingers behaved?"</p> + +<p>"No riddles, Eighteen," said I. "Leave out palmistry and +manicuring."</p> + +<p>"You remember," said Eighteen, "the guy in the hammered brass +Prince Albert and the oroide gold pants and the amalgamated +copper hat, that carried the combination meat-axe, ice-pick, +and liberty-pole, and used to stand on the first landing as you +go up to the Little Rindslosh."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," said I. "The halberdier. I never noticed him +particularly. I remember he thought he was only a suit of +armour. He had a perfect poise."</p> + +<p>"He had more than that," said Eighteen. "He was me friend. He +was an advertisement. The boss hired him to stand on the stairs +for a kind of scenery to show there was something doing in the +has-been line upstairs. What did you call him—a what kind of a +beer?"</p> + +<p>"A halberdier," said I. "That was an ancient man-at-arms of +many hundred years ago."</p> + +<p>"Some mistake," said Eighteen. "This one wasn't that old. He +wasn't over twenty-three or four.</p> + +<p>"It was the boss's idea, rigging a man up in an ante-bellum +suit of tinware and standing him on the landing of the slosh. +He bought the goods at a Fourth Avenue antique store, and hung +a sign-out: 'Able-bodied hal—halberdier wanted. Costume +furnished.'</p> + +<p>"The same morning a young man with wrecked good clothes and a +hungry look comes in, bringing the sign with him. I was filling +the mustard-pots at my station.</p> + +<p>"'I'm it,' says he, 'whatever it is. But I never halberdiered +in a restaurant. Put me on. Is it a masquerade?'</p> + +<p>"'I hear talk in the kitchen of a fishball,' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Bully for you, Eighteen,' says he. 'You and I'll get on. Show +me the boss's desk.'</p> + +<p>"Well, the boss tries the Harveyized pajamas on him, and they +fitted him like the scales on a baked redsnapper, and he gets +the job. You've seen what it is—he stood straight up in the +corner of the first landing with his halberd to his shoulder, +looking right ahead and guarding the Portugals of the castle. +The boss is nutty about having the true Old-World flavour to +his joint. 'Halberdiers goes with Rindsloshes,' says he, 'just +as rats goes with rathskellers and white cotton stockings with +Tyrolean villages.' The boss is a kind of a antiologist, and is +all posted up on data and such information.</p> + +<p>"From 8 <span class="smallcaps">p.m.</span> to two in the +morning was the halberdier's hours. +He got two meals with us help and a dollar a night. I eat with +him at the table. He liked me. He never told his name. He was +travelling impromptu, like kings, I guess. The first time at +supper I says to him: 'Have some more of the spuds, Mr. +Frelinghuysen.' 'Oh, don't be so formal and offish, Eighteen,' +says he. 'Call me Hal—that's short for halberdier.' 'Oh, don't +think I wanted to pry for names,' says I. 'I know all about the +dizzy fall from wealth and greatness. We've got a count washing +dishes in the kitchen; and the third bartender used to be a +Pullman conductor. And they <i>work</i>, Sir Percival,' says I, +sarcastic.</p> + +<p>"'Eighteen,' says he, 'as a friendly devil in a cabbage-scented +hell, would you mind cutting up this piece of steak for me? I +don't say that it's got more muscle than I have, but—' And +then he shows me the insides of his hands. They was blistered +and cut and corned and swelled up till they looked like a +couple of flank steaks criss-crossed with a knife—the kind the +butchers hide and take home, knowing what is the best.</p> + +<p>"'Shoveling coal,' says he, 'and piling bricks and loading +drays. But they gave out, and I had to resign. I was born for a +halberdier, and I've been educated for twenty-four years to +fill the position. Now, quit knocking my profession, and pass +along a lot more of that ham. I'm holding the closing +exercises,' says he, 'of a forty-eight-hour fast.'</p> + +<p>"The second night he was on the job he walks down from his +corner to the cigar-case and calls for cigarettes. The +customers at the tables all snicker out loud to show their +acquaintance with history. The boss is on.</p> + +<p>"'An'—let's see—oh, yes—'An anachronism,' says the boss. +'Cigarettes was not made at the time when halberdiers was +invented.'</p> + +<p>"'The ones you sell was,' says Sir Percival. 'Caporal wins from +chronology by the length of a cork tip.' So he gets 'em and +lights one, and puts the box in his brass helmet, and goes back +to patrolling the Rindslosh.</p> + +<p>"He made a big hit, 'specially with the ladies. Some of 'em +would poke him with their fingers to see if he was real or only +a kind of a stuffed figure like they burn in elegy. And when +he'd move they'd squeak, and make eyes at him as they went up +to the slosh. He looked fine in his halberdashery. He slept at +$2 a week in a hall-room on Third Avenue. He invited me up +there one night. He had a little book on the washstand that he +read instead of shopping in the saloons after hours. 'I'm on to +that,' says I, 'from reading about it in novels. All the heroes +on the bum carry the little book. It's either Tantalus or Liver +or Horace, and its printed in Latin, and you're a college man. +And I wouldn't be surprised,' says I, 'if you wasn't educated, +too.' But it was only the batting averages of the League for +the last ten years.</p> + +<p>"One night, about half past eleven, there comes in a party of +these high-rollers that are always hunting up new places to eat +in and poke fun at. There was a swell girl in a 40 H.-P. auto +tan coat and veil, and a fat old man with white side-whiskers, +and a young chap that couldn't keep his feet off the tail of +the girl's coat, and an oldish lady that looked upon life as +immoral and unnecessary. 'How perfectly delightful,' they says, +'to sup in a slosh.' Up the stairs they go; and in half a +minute back down comes the girl, her skirts swishing like the +waves on the beach. She stops on the landing and looks our +halberdier in the eye.</p> + +<p>"'You!' she says, with a smile that reminded me of lemon +sherbet. I was waiting up-stairs in the slosh, then, and I was +right down here by the door, putting some vinegar and cayenne +into an empty bottle of tabasco, and I heard all they said.</p> + +<p>"'It,' says Sir Percival, without moving. 'I'm only local +colour. Are my hauberk, helmet, and halberd on straight?'</p> + +<p>"'Is there an explanation to this?' says she. 'Is it a +practical joke such as men play in those Griddle-cake and Lamb +Clubs? I'm afraid I don't see the point. I heard, vaguely, that +you were away. For three months I—we have not seen you or +heard from you.'</p> + +<p>"'I'm halberdiering for my living,' says the stature. 'I'm +working,' says he. 'I don't suppose you know what work means.'</p> + +<p>"'Have you—have you lost your money?' she asks.</p> + +<p>"Sir Percival studies a minute.</p> + +<p>"'I am poorer,' says he, 'than the poorest sandwich man on the +streets—if I don't earn my living.'</p> + +<p>"'You call this work?' says she. 'I thought a man worked with +his hands or his head instead of becoming a mountebank.'</p> + +<p>"'The calling of a halberdier,' says he, 'is an ancient and +honourable one. Sometimes,' says he, 'the man-at-arms at the +door has saved the castle while the plumed knights were +cake-walking in the banquet-halls above.'</p> + +<p>"'I see you're not ashamed,' says she, 'of your peculiar +tastes. I wonder, though, that the manhood I used to think I +saw in you didn't prompt you to draw water or hew wood instead +of publicly flaunting your ignominy in this disgraceful +masquerade.'</p> + +<p>"Sir Percival kind of rattles his armour and says: 'Helen, will +you suspend sentence in this matter for just a little while? +You don't understand,' says he. 'I've got to hold this job down +a little longer.'</p> + +<p>"'You like being a harlequin—or halberdier, as you call it?' +says she.</p> + +<p>"'I wouldn't get thrown out of the job just now,' says he, with +a grin, 'to be appointed Minister to the Court of St. James's.'</p> + +<p>"And then the 40-H.P. girl's eyes sparkled as hard as diamonds.</p> + +<p>"'Very well,' says she. 'You shall have full run of your +serving-man's tastes this night.' And she swims over to the +boss's desk and gives him a smile that knocks the specks off +his nose.</p> + +<p>"'I think your Rindslosh,' says she, 'is as beautiful as a +dream. It is a little slice of the Old World set down in New +York. We shall have a nice supper up there; but if you will +grant us one favour the illusion will be perfect—give us your +halberdier to wait on our table.'</p> + +<p>"That hits the boss's antiology hobby just right. 'Sure,' says +he, 'dot vill be fine. Und der orchestra shall blay "Die Wacht +am Rhein" all der time.' And he goes over and tells the +halberdier to go upstairs and hustle the grub at the swells' +table.</p> + +<p>"'I'm on the job,' says Sir Percival, taking off his helmet and +hanging it on his halberd and leaning 'em in the corner. The +girl goes up and takes her seat and I see her jaw squared tight +under her smile. 'We're going to be waited on by a real +halberdier,' says she, 'one who is proud of his profession. +Isn't it sweet?'</p> + +<p>"'Ripping,' says the swell young man. 'Much prefer a waiter,' +says the fat old gent. 'I hope he doesn't come from a cheap +museum,' says the old lady; 'he might have microbes in his +costume.'</p> + +<p>"Before he goes to the table, Sir Percival takes me by the arm. +'Eighteen,' he says, 'I've got to pull off this job without a +blunder. You coach me straight or I'll take that halberd and +make hash out of you.' And then he goes up to the table with +his coat of mail on and a napkin over his arm and waits for the +order.</p> + +<p>"'Why, it's Deering!' says the young swell. 'Hello, old man. +What the—'</p> + +<p>"'Beg pardon, sir,' interrupts the halberdier, 'I'm waiting on +the table.'</p> + +<p>"The old man looks at him grim, like a Boston bull. 'So, +Deering,' he says, 'you're at work yet.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, sir,' says Sir Percival, quiet and gentlemanly as I +could have been myself, 'for almost three months, now.' 'You +haven't been discharged during the time?' asks the old man. +'Not once, sir,' says he, 'though I've had to change my work +several times.'</p> + +<p>"'Waiter,' orders the girl, short and sharp, 'another napkin.' +He brings her one, respectful.</p> + +<p>"I never saw more devil, if I may say it, stirred up in a lady. +There was two bright red spots on her cheeks, and her eyes +looked exactly like a wildcat's I'd seen in the zoo. Her foot +kept slapping the floor all the time.</p> + +<p>"'Waiter,' she orders, 'bring me filtered water without ice. +Bring me a footstool. Take away this empty salt-cellar.' She +kept him on the jump. She was sure giving the halberdier his.</p> + +<p>"There wasn't but a few customers up in the slosh at that time, +so I hung out near the door so I could help Sir Percival serve.</p> + +<p>"He got along fine with the olives and celery and the +bluepoints. They was easy. And then the consommé came up +the dumb-waiter all in one big silver tureen. Instead of serving +it from the side-table he picks it up between his hands and starts +to the dining-table with it. When nearly there he drops the +tureen smash on the floor, and the soup soaks all the lower +part of that girl's swell silk dress.</p> + +<p>"'Stupid—incompetent,' says she, giving him a look. 'Standing +in a corner with a halberd seems to be your mission in life.'</p> + +<p>"'Pardon me, lady,' says he. 'It was just a little bit hotter +than blazes. I couldn't help it.'</p> + +<p>"The old man pulls out a memorandum book and hunts in it. 'The +25th of April, Deering,' says he. 'I know it,' says Sir +Percival. 'And ten minutes to twelve o'clock,' says the old +man. 'By Jupiter! you haven't won yet.' And he pounds the table +with his fist and yells to me: 'Waiter, call the manager at +once—tell him to hurry here as fast as he can.' I go after the +boss, and old Brockmann hikes up to the slosh on the jump.</p> + +<p>"'I want this man discharged at once,' roars the old guy. 'Look +what he's done. Ruined my daughter's dress. It cost at least +$600. Discharge this awkward lout at once or I'll sue you for +the price of it.'</p> + +<p>"'Dis is bad pizness,' says the boss. 'Six hundred dollars is +much. I reckon I vill haf to—'</p> + +<p>"'Wait a minute, Herr Brockmann,' says Sir Percival, easy and +smiling. But he was worked up under his tin suitings; I could +see that. And then he made the finest, neatest little speech I +ever listened to. I can't give you the words, of course. He +give the millionaires a lovely roast in a sarcastic way, +describing their automobiles and opera-boxes and diamonds; and +then he got around to the working-classes and the kind of grub +they eat and the long hours they work—and all that sort of +stuff—bunkum, of course. 'The restless rich,' says he, 'never +content with their luxuries, always prowling among the haunts +of the poor and humble, amusing themselves with the +imperfections and misfortunes of their fellow men and women. +And even here, Herr Brockmann,' he says, 'in this beautiful +Rindslosh, a grand and enlightening reproduction of Old World +history and architecture, they come to disturb its symmetry and +picturesqueness by demanding in their arrogance that the +halberdier of the castle wait upon their table! I have +faithfuly and conscientiously,' says he, 'performed my duties +as a halberdier. I know nothing of a waiter's duties. It was +the insolent whim of these transient, pampered aristocrats that +I should be detailed to serve them food. Must I be blamed—must +I be deprived of the means of a livelihood,' he goes on, 'on +account of an accident that was the result of their own +presumption and haughtiness? But what hurts me more than all,' +says Sir Percival, 'is the desecration that has been done to +this splendid Rindslosh—the confiscation of its halberdier to +serve menially at the banquet board.'</p> + +<p>"Even I could see that this stuff was piffle; but it caught the +boss.</p> + +<p>"'Mein Gott,' says he, 'you vas right. Ein halberdier have not +got der right to dish up soup. Him I vill not discharge. Have +anoder waiter if you like, und let mein halberdier go back und +stand mit his halberd. But, gentlemen,' he says, pointing to +the old man, 'you go ahead and sue mit der dress. Sue me for +$600 or $6,000. I stand der suit.' And the boss puffs off +down-stairs. Old Brockmann was an all-right Dutchman.</p> + +<p>"Just then the clock strikes twelve, and the old guy laughs +loud. 'You win, Deering,' says he. 'And let me explain to all,' +he goes on. 'Some time ago Mr. Deering asked me for something +that I did not want to give him.' (I looks at the girl, and she +turns as red as a pickled beet.) 'I told him,' says the old +guy, 'if he would earn his own living for three months without +being discharged for incompetence, I would give him what he +wanted. It seems that the time was up at twelve o'clock +to-night. I came near fetching you, though, Deering, on that +soup question,' says the old boy, standing up and grabbing Sir +Percival's hand.</p> + +<p>"The halberdier lets out a yell and jumps three feet high.</p> + +<p>"'Look out for those hands,' says he, and he holds 'em up. You +never saw such hands except on a labourer in a limestone +quarry.</p> + +<p>"'Heavens, boy!' says old side-whiskers, 'what have you been +doing to 'em?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh,' says Sir Percival, 'little chores like hauling coal and +excavating rock till they went back on me. And when I couldn't +hold a pick or a whip I took up halberdiering to give 'em a +rest. Tureens full of hot soup don't seem to be a particularly +soothing treatment.'</p> + +<p>"I would have bet on that girl. That high-tempered kind always +go as far the other way, according to my experience. She +whizzes round the table like a cyclone and catches both his +hands in hers. 'Poor hands—dear hands,' she sings out, and +sheds tears on 'em and holds 'em close to her bosom. Well, sir, +with all that Rindslosh scenery it was just like a play. And +the halberdier sits down at the table at the girl's side, and I +served the rest of the supper. And that was about all, except +that when they left he shed his hardware store and went with +'em."</p> + +<p>I dislike to be side-tracked from an original proposition.</p> + +<p>"But you haven't told me, Eighteen," said I, "how the +cigar-case came to be broken."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that was last night," said Eighteen. "Sir Percival and the +girl drove up in a cream-coloured motor-car, and had dinner in +the Rindslosh. 'The same table, Billy,' I heard her say as they +went up. I waited on 'em. We've got a new halberdier now, a +bow-legged guy with a face like a sheep. As they came +down-stairs Sir Percival passes him a ten-case note. The new +halberdier drops his halberd, and it falls on the cigar-case. +That's how that happened."</p> + + +<p><a name="21"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XXI</h3> +<h3>TWO RENEGADES<br /> </h3> + + +<p>In the Gate City of the South the Confederate Veterans were +reuniting; and I stood to see them march, beneath the tangled +flags of the great conflict, to the hall of their oratory and +commemoration.</p> + +<p>While the irregular and halting line was passing I made +onslaught upon it and dragged from the ranks my friend Barnard +O'Keefe, who had no right to be there. For he was a Northerner +born and bred; and what should he be doing hallooing for the +Stars and Bars among those gray and moribund veterans? And why +should he be trudging, with his shining, martial, humorous, +broad face, among those warriors of a previous and alien +generation?</p> + +<p>I say I dragged him forth, and held him till the last hickory +leg and waving goatee had stumbled past. And then I hustled him +out of the crowd into a cool interior; for the Gate City was +stirred that day, and the hand-organs wisely eliminated +"Marching Through Georgia" from their repertories.</p> + +<p>"Now, what deviltry are you up to?" I asked of O'Keefe when +there were a table and things in glasses between us.</p> + +<p>O'Keefe wiped his heated face and instigated a commotion among +the floating ice in his glass before he chose to answer.</p> + +<p>"I am assisting at the wake," said he, "of the only nation on +earth that ever did me a good turn. As one gentleman to +another, I am ratifying and celebrating the foreign policy of +the late Jefferson Davis, as fine a statesman as ever settled +the financial question of a country. Equal ratio—that was his +platform—a barrel of money for a barrel of flour—a pair of +$20 bills for a pair of boots—a hatful of currency for a new +hat—say, ain't that simple compared with W. J. B.'s little old +oxidized plank?"</p> + +<p>"What talk is this?" I asked. "Your financial digression is +merely a subterfuge. Why were you marching in the ranks of the +Confederate Veterans?"</p> + +<p>"Because, my lad," answered O'Keefe, "the Confederate +Government in its might and power interposed to protect and +defend Barnard O'Keefe against immediate and dangerous +assassination at the hands of a blood-thirsty foreign country +after the Unites States of America had overruled his appeal for +protection, and had instructed Private Secretary Cortelyou to +reduce his estimate of the Republican majority for 1905 by one +vote."</p> + +<p>"Come, Barney," said I, "the Confederate States of America has +been out of existence nearly forty years. You do not look older +yourself. When was it that the deceased government exerted its +foreign policy in your behalf?"</p> + +<p>"Four months ago," said O'Keefe, promptly. "The infamous +foreign power I alluded to is still staggering from the +official blow dealt it by Mr. Davis's contraband aggregation of +states. That's why you see me cake-walking with the ex-rebs to +the illegitimate tune about 'simmon-seeds and cotton. I vote +for the Great Father in Washington, but I am not going back on +Mars' Jeff. You say the Confederacy has been dead forty years? +Well, if it hadn't been for it, I'd have been breathing to-day +with soul so dead I couldn't have whispered a single cuss-word +about my native land. The O'Keefes are not overburdened with +ingratitude."</p> + +<p>I must have looked bewildered. "The war was over," I said +vacantly, "in—"</p> + +<p>O'Keefe laughed loudly, scattering my thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Ask old Doc Millikin if the war is over!" he shouted, hugely +diverted. "Oh, no! Doc hasn't surrendered yet. And the +Confederate States! Well, I just told you they bucked +officially and solidly and nationally against a foreign +government four months ago and kept me from being shot. Old +Jeff's country stepped in and brought me off under its wing +while Roosevelt was having a gunboat painted and waiting for +the National Campaign Committee to look up whether I had ever +scratched the ticket."</p> + +<p>"Isn't there a story in this, Barney?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No," said O'Keefe; "but I'll give you the facts. You know I +went down to Panama when this irritation about a canal began. I +thought I'd get in on the ground floor. I did, and had to sleep +on it, and drink water with little zoos in it; so, of course, I +got the Chagres fever. That was in a little town called San +Juan on the coast.</p> + +<p>"After I got the fever hard enough to kill a Port-au-Prince +nigger, I had a relapse in the shape of Doc Millikin.</p> + +<p>"There was a doctor to attend a sick man! If Doc Millikin had +your case, he made the terrors of death seem like an invitation +to a donkey-party. He had the bedside manners of a Piute +medicine-man and the soothing presence of a dray loaded with +iron bridge-girders. When he laid his hand on your fevered brow +you felt like Cap John Smith just before Pocahontas went his +bail.</p> + +<p>"Well, this old medical outrage floated down to my shack when I +sent for him. He was build like a shad, and his eyebrows was +black, and his white whiskers trickled down from his chin like +milk coming out of a sprinkling-pot. He had a nigger boy along +carrying an old tomato-can full of calomel, and a saw.</p> + +<p>"Doc felt my pulse, and then he began to mess up some calomel +with an agricultural implement that belonged to the trowel +class.</p> + +<p>"'I don't want any death-mask made yet, Doc,' I says, 'nor my +liver put in a plaster-of-Paris cast. I'm sick; and it's +medicine I need, not frescoing.'</p> + +<p>"'You're a blame Yankee, ain't you?' asked Doc, going on mixing +up his Portland cement.</p> + +<p>"'I'm from the North,' says I, 'but I'm a plain man, and don't +care for mural decorations. When you get the Isthmus all +asphalted over with that boll-weevil prescription, would you +mind giving me a dose of pain-killer, or a little strychnine on +toast to ease up this feeling of unhealthiness that I have +got?"</p> + +<p>"'They was all sassy, just like you,' says old Doc, 'but we +lowered their temperature considerable. Yes, sir, I reckon we +sent a good many of ye over to old <i>mortuis nisi bonum</i>. Look +at Antietam and Bull Run and Seven Pines and around Nashville! +There never was a battle where we didn't lick ye unless you was +ten to our one. I knew you were a blame Yankee the minute I +laid eyes on you.'</p> + +<p>"'Don't reopen the chasm, Doc,' I begs him. 'Any Yankeeness I +may have is geographical; and, as far as I am concerned, a +Southerner is as good as a Filipino any day. I'm feeling to bad +too argue. Let's have secession without misrepresentation, if +you say so; but what I need is more laudanum and less Lundy's +Lane. If you're mixing that compound gefloxide of gefloxicum +for me, please fill my ears with it before you get around to +the battle of Gettysburg, for there is a subject full of talk.'</p> + +<p>"By this time Doc Millikin had thrown up a line of +fortifications on square pieces of paper; and he says to me: +'Yank, take one of these powders every two hours. They won't +kill you. I'll be around again about sundown to see if you're +alive.'</p> + +<p>"Old Doc's powders knocked the chagres. I stayed in San Juan, +and got to knowing him better. He was from Mississippi, and the +red-hottest Southerner that ever smelled mint. He made +Stonewall Jackson and R. E. Lee look like Abolitionists. He had +a family somewhere down near Yazoo City; but he stayed away +from the States on account of an uncontrollable liking he had +for the absence of a Yankee government. Him and me got as thick +personally as the Emperor of Russia and the dove of peace, but +sectionally we didn't amalgamate.</p> + +<p>"'Twas a beautiful system of medical practice introduced by old +Doc into that isthmus of land. He'd take that bracket-saw and +the mild chloride and his hypodermic, and treat anything from +yellow fever to a personal friend.</p> + +<p>"Besides his other liabilities Doc could play a flute for a +minute or two. He was guilty of two tunes—'Dixie' and another +one that was mighty close to the 'Suwanee River'—you might say +one of its tributaries. He used to come down and sit with me +while I was getting well, and aggrieve his flute and say +unreconstructed things about the North. You'd have thought that +the smoke from the first gun at Fort Sumter was still floating +around in the air.</p> + +<p>"You know that was about the time they staged them property +revolutions down there, that wound up in the fifth act with the +thrilling canal scene where Uncle Sam has nine curtain-calls +holding Miss Panama by the hand, while the bloodhounds keep +Senator Morgan treed up in a cocoanut-palm.</p> + +<p>"That's the way it wound up; but at first it seemed as if +Colombia was going to make Panama look like one of the $3.98 +kind, with dents made in it in the factory, like they wear at +North Beach fish fries. For mine, I played the straw-hat crowd +to win; and they gave me a colonel's commission over a brigade +of twenty-seven men in the left wing and second joint of the +insurgent army.</p> + +<p>"The Colombian troops were awfully rude to us. One day when I +had my brigade in a sandy spot, with its shoes off doing a +battalion drill by squads, the Government army rushed from +behind a bush at us, acting as noisy and disagreeable as they +could.</p> + +<p>"My troops enfiladed, left-faced, and left the spot. After +enticing the enemy for three miles or so we struck a +brier-patch and had to sit down. When we were ordered to throw +up our toes and surrender we obeyed. Five of my best +staff-officers fell, suffering extremely with stone-bruised +heels.</p> + +<p>"Then and there those Colombians took your friend Barney, sir, +stripped him of the insignia of his rank, consisting of a pair +of brass knuckles and a canteen of rum, and dragged him before +a military court. The presiding general went through the usual +legal formalities that sometimes cause a case to hang on the +calendar of a South American military court as long as ten +minutes. He asked me my age, and then sentenced me to be shot.</p> + +<p>"They woke up the court interpreter, an American named Jenks, +who was in the rum business and vice versa, and told him to +translate the verdict.</p> + +<p>"Jenks stretched himself and took a morphine tablet.</p> + +<p>"'You've got to back up against th' 'dobe, old man,' says he to +me. 'Three weeks, I believe, you get. Haven't got a chew of +fine-cut on you, have you?'</p> + +<p>"'Translate that again, with foot-notes and a glossary,' says +I. 'I don't know whether I'm discharged, condemned, or handed +over to the Gerry Society.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh,' says Jenks, 'don't you understand? You're to be stood up +against a 'dobe wall and shot in two or three weeks—three, I +think, they said.'</p> + +<p>"'Would you mind asking 'em which?' says I. 'A week don't +amount to much after you're dead, but it seems a real nice long +spell while you are alive.'</p> + +<p>"'It's two weeks,' says the interpreter, after inquiring in +Spanish of the court. 'Shall I ask 'em again?'</p> + +<p>"'Let be,' says I. 'Let's have a stationary verdict. If I keep +on appealing this way they'll have me shot about ten days +before I was captured. No, I haven't got any fine-cut.'</p> + +<p>"They sends me over to the <i>calaboza</i> with a detachment of +coloured postal-telegraph boys carrying Enfield rifles, and I +am locked up in a kind of brick bakery. The temperature in +there was just about the kind mentioned in the cooking recipes +that call for a quick oven.</p> + +<p>"Then I gives a silver dollar to one of the guards to send for +the United States consul. He comes around in pajamas, with a +pair of glasses on his nose and a dozen or two inside of him.</p> + +<p>"'I'm to be shot in two weeks,' says I. 'And although I've made +a memorandum of it, I don't seem to get it off my mind. You +want to call up Uncle Sam on the cable as quick as you can and +get him all worked up about it. Have 'em send the <i>Kentucky</i> +and the <i>Kearsarge</i> and the <i>Oregon</i> down right away. That'll be +about enough battleships; but it wouldn't hurt to have a couple +of cruisers and a torpedo-boat destroyer, too. And—say, if +Dewey isn't busy, better have him come along on the fastest one +of the fleet.'</p> + +<p>"'Now, see here, O'Keefe,' says the consul, getting the best of +a hiccup, 'what do you want to bother the State Department +about this matter for?'</p> + +<p>"'Didn't you hear me?' says I; 'I'm to be shot in two weeks. +Did you think I said I was going to a lawn-party? And it +wouldn't hurt of Roosevelt could get the Japs to send down the +<i>Yellowyamtiskookum</i> or the <i>Ogotosingsing</i> or some other +first-class cruisers to help. It would make me feel safer.'</p> + +<p>"'Now, what you want,' says the consul, 'is not to get excited. +I'll send you over some chewing tobacco and some banana +fritters when I go back. The United States can't interfere in +this. You know you were caught insurging against the +government, and you're subject to the laws of this country. To +tell the truth, I've had an intimation from the State +Department—unofficially, of course—that whenever a soldier of +fortune demands a fleet of gunboats in a case of revolutionary +<i>katzenjammer</i>, I should cut the cable, give him all the +tobacco he wants, and after he's shot take his clothes, if they +fit me, for part payment of my salary.'</p> + +<p>"'Consul,' says I to him, 'this is a serious question. You are +representing Uncle Sam. This ain't any little international +tomfoolery, like a universal peace congress or the christening +of the <i>Shamrock IV</i>. I'm an American citizen and I demand +protection. I demand the Mosquito fleet, and Schley, and the +Atlantic squadron, and Bob Evans, and General E. Byrd Grubb, +and two or three protocols. What are you going to do about it?'</p> + +<p>"'Nothing doing,' says the consul.</p> + +<p>"'Be off with you, then,' says I, out of patience with him, +'and send me Doc Millikin. Ask Doc to come and see me.'</p> + +<p>"Doc comes and looks through the bars at me, surrounded by +dirty soldiers, with even my shoes and canteen confiscated, and +he looks mightily pleased.</p> + +<p>"'Hello, Yank,' says he, 'getting a little taste of Johnson's +Island, now, ain't ye?'</p> + +<p>"'Doc,' says I, 'I've just had an interview with the U.S. +consul. I gather from his remarks that I might just as well +have been caught selling suspenders in Kishineff under the name +of Rosenstein as to be in my present condition. It seems that +the only maritime aid I am to receive from the United States is +some navy-plug to chew. Doc,' says I, 'can't you suspend +hostility on the slavery question long enough to do something +for me?'</p> + +<p>"'It ain't been my habit,' Doc Millikin answers, 'to do any +painless dentistry when I find a Yank cutting an eye-tooth. So +the Stars and Stripes ain't lending any marines to shell the +huts of the Colombian cannibals, hey? Oh, say, can you see by +the dawn's early light the star-spangled banner has fluked in +the fight? What's the matter with the War Department, hey? It's +a great thing to be a citizen of a gold-standard nation, ain't +it?'</p> + +<p>"'Rub it in, Doc, all you want,' says I. 'I guess we're weak on +foreign policy.'</p> + +<p>"'For a Yank,' says Doc, putting on his specs and talking more +mild, 'you ain't so bad. If you had come from below the line I +reckon I would have liked you right smart. Now since your +country has gone back on you, you have to come to the old +doctor whose cotton you burned and whose mules who stole and +whose niggers you freed to help you. Ain't that so, Yank?'</p> + +<p>"'It is,' says I heartily, 'and let's have a diagnosis of the +case right away, for in two weeks' time all you can do is to +hold an autopsy and I don't want to be amputated if I can help +it.'</p> + +<p>"'Now,' says Doc, business-like, 'it's easy enough for you to +get out of this scrape. Money'll do it. You've got to pay a +long string of 'em from General Pomposo down to this anthropoid +ape guarding your door. About $10,000 will do the trick. Have +you got the money?'</p> + +<p>"'Me?' says I. 'I've got one Chili dollar, two <i>real</i> pieces, +and a <i>medio</i>.'</p> + +<p>"'Then if you've any last words, utter 'em,' says that old reb. +'The roster of your financial budget sounds quite much to me +like the noise of a requiem.'</p> + +<p>"'Change the treatment,' says I. 'I admit that I'm short. Call +a consultation or use radium or smuggle me in some saws or +something.'</p> + +<p>"'Yank,' says Doc Millikin, 'I've a good notion to help you. +There's only one government in the world that can get you out +of this difficulty; and that's the Confederate States of +America, the grandest nation that ever existed.'</p> + +<p>"Just as you said to me I says to Doc; 'Why, the Confederacy +ain't a nation. It's been absolved forty years ago.'</p> + +<p>"'That's a campaign lie,' says Doc. 'She's running along as +solid as the Roman Empire. She's the only hope you've got. Now, +you, being a Yank, have got to go through with some preliminary +obsequies before you can get official aid. You've got to take +the oath of allegiance to the Confederate Government. Then I'll +guarantee she does all she can for you. What do you say, +Yank?—it's your last chance.'</p> + +<p>"'If you're fooling with me, Doc,' I answers, 'you're no better +than the United States. But as you say it's the last chance, +hurry up and swear me. I always did like corn whisky and +'possum anyhow. I believe I'm half Southerner by nature. I'm +willing to try the Klu-klux in place of the khaki. Get brisk.'</p> + +<p>"Doc Millikin thinks awhile, and then he offers me this oath of +allegiance to take without any kind of a chaser:</p> + +<p>"'I, Barnard O'Keefe, Yank, being of sound body but a +Republican mind, hereby swear to transfer my fealty, respect, +and allegiance to the Confederate States of America, and the +government thereof in consideration of said government, through +its official acts and powers, obtaining my freedom and release +from confinement and sentence of death brought about by the +exuberance of my Irish proclivities and my general pizenness as +a Yank.'</p> + +<p>"I repeated these words after Doc, but they seemed to me a kind +of hocus-pocus; and I don't believe any life-insurance company +in the world would have issued me a policy on the strength of +'em.</p> + +<p>"Doc went away saying he would communicate with his government +immediately.</p> + +<p>"Say—you can imagine how I felt—me to be shot in two weeks +and my only hope for help being in a government that's been +dead so long that it isn't even remembered except on Decoration +Day and when Joe Wheeler signs the voucher for his pay-check. +But it was all there was in sight; and somehow I thought Doc +Millikin had something up his old alpaca sleeve that wasn't all +foolishness.</p> + +<p>"Around to the jail comes old Doc again in about a week. I was +flea-bitten, a mite sarcastic, and fundamentally hungry.</p> + +<p>"'Any Confederate ironclads in the offing?' I asks. 'Do you +notice any sounds resembling the approach of Jeb Stewart's +cavalry overland or Stonewall Jackson sneaking up in the rear? +If you do, I wish you'd say so.'</p> + +<p>"'It's too soon yet for help to come,' says Doc.</p> + +<p>"'The sooner the better,' says I. 'I don't care if it gets in +fully fifteen minutes before I am shot; and if you happen to +lay eyes on Beauregard or Albert Sidney Johnston or any of the +relief corps, wig-wag 'em to hike along.'</p> + +<p>"'There's been no answer received yet,' says Doc.</p> + +<p>"'Don't forget,' says I, 'that there's only four days more. I +don't know how you propose to work this thing, Doc,' I says to +him; 'but it seems to me I'd sleep better if you had got a +government that was alive and on the map—like Afghanistan or +Great Britain, or old man Kruger's kingdom, to take this matter +up. I don't mean any disrespect to your Confederate States, but +I can't help feeling that my chances of being pulled out of +this scrape was decidedly weakened when General Lee +surrendered.'</p> + +<p>"'It's your only chance,' said Doc; 'don't quarrel with it. +What did your own country do for you?'</p> + +<p>"It was only two days before the morning I was to be shot, when +Doc Millikin came around again.</p> + +<p>"'All right, Yank,' says he. 'Help's come. The Confederate +States of America is going to apply for your release. The +representatives of the government arrived on a fruit-steamer +last night.'</p> + +<p>"'Bully!' says I—'bully for you, Doc! I suppose it's marines +with a Gatling. I'm going to love your country all I can for +this.'</p> + +<p>"'Negotiations,' says old Doc, 'will be opened between the two +governments at once. You will know later to-day if they are +successful.'</p> + +<p>"About four in the afternoon a soldier in red trousers brings a +paper round to the jail, and they unlocks the door and I walks +out. The guard at the door bows and I bows, and I steps into +the grass and wades around to Doc Millikin's shack.</p> + +<p>"Doc was sitting in his hammock playing 'Dixie,' soft and low +and out of tune, on his flute. I interrupted him at 'Look away! +look away!' and shook his hand for five minutes.</p> + +<p>"'I never thought,' says Doc, taking a chew fretfully, 'that +I'd ever try to save any blame Yank's life. But, Mr. O'Keefe, I +don't see but what you are entitled to be considered part +human, anyhow. I never thought Yanks had any of the rudiments +of decorum and laudability about them. I reckon I might have +been too aggregative in my tabulation. But it ain't me you want +to thank—it's the Confederate States of America.'</p> + +<p>"'And I'm much obliged to 'em,' says I. 'It's a poor man that +wouldn't be patriotic with a country that's saved his life. +I'll drink to the Stars and Bars whenever there's a flagstaff +and a glass convenient. But where,' says I, 'are the rescuing +troops? If there was a gun fired or a shell burst, I didn't +hear it.'</p> + +<p>"Doc Millikin raises up and points out the window with his +flute at the banana-steamer loading with fruit.</p> + +<p>"'Yank,' says he, 'there's a steamer that's going to sail in +the morning. If I was you, I'd sail on it. The Confederate +Government's done all it can for you. There wasn't a gun fired. +The negotiations were carried on secretly between the two +nations by the purser of that steamer. I got him to do it +because I didn't want to appear in it. Twelve thousand dollars +was paid to the officials in bribes to let you go.'</p> + +<p>"'Man!' says I, sitting down hard—'twelve thousand—how will I +ever—who could have—where did the money come from?'</p> + +<p>"'Yazoo City,' says Doc Millikin: 'I've got a little saved up +there. Two barrels full. It looks good to these Colombians. +'Twas Confederate money, every dollar of it. Now do you see why +you'd better leave before they try to pass some of it on an +expert?'</p> + +<p>"'I do,' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Now let's hear you give the password,' says Doc Millikin.</p> + +<p>"'Hurrah for Jeff Davis!' says I.</p> + +<p>"'Correct,' says Doc. 'And let me tell you something: The next +tune I learn on my flute is going to be "Yankee Doodle." I +reckon there's some Yanks that are not so pizen. Or, if you was +me, would you try "The Red, White, and Blue"?'"</p> + + +<p><a name="22"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>XXII</h3> +<h3>THE LONESOME ROAD<br /> </h3> + + +<p>Brown as a coffee-berry, rugged, pistoled, spurred, wary, +indefeasible, I saw my old friend, Deputy-Marshal Buck +Caperton, stumble, with jingling rowels, into a chair in the +marshal's outer office.</p> + +<p>And because the court-house was almost deserted at that hour, +and because Buck would sometimes relate to me things that were +out of print, I followed him in and tricked him into talk +through knowledge of a weakness he had. For, cigarettes rolled +with sweet corn husk were as honey to Buck's palate; and though +he could finger the trigger of a forty-five with skill and +suddenness, he never could learn to roll a cigarette.</p> + +<p>It was through no fault of mine (for I rolled the cigarettes +tight and smooth), but the upshot of some whim of his own, that +instead of to an Odyssey of the chaparral, I listened to—a +dissertation upon matrimony! This from Buck Caperton! But I +maintain that the cigarettes were impeccable, and crave +absolution for myself.</p> + +<p>"We just brought in Jim and Bud Granberry," said Buck. "Train +robbing, you know. Held up the Aransas Pass last month. We +caught 'em in the Twenty-Mile pear flat, south of the Nueces."</p> + +<p>"Have much trouble corralling them?" I asked, for here was the +meat that my hunger for epics craved.</p> + +<p>"Some," said Buck; and then, during a little pause, his +thoughts stampeded off the trail. "It's kind of queer about +women," he went on, "and the place they're supposed to occupy +in botany. If I was asked to classify them I'd say they was a +human loco weed. Ever see a bronc that had been chewing loco? +Ride him up to a puddle of water two feet wide, and he'll give +a snort and fall back on you. It looks as big as the +Mississippi River to him. Next trip he'd walk into a cañon +a thousand feet deep thinking it was a prairie-dog hole. Same way +with a married man.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of Perry Rountree, that used to be my +sidekicker before he committed matrimony. In them days me and +Perry hated indisturbances of any kind. We roamed around +considerable, stirring up the echoes and making 'em attend to +business. Why, when me and Perry wanted to have some fun in a +town it was a picnic for the census takers. They just counted +the marshal's posse that it took to subdue us, and there was +your population. But then there came along this Mariana +Goodnight girl and looked at Perry sideways, and he was all +bridle-wise and saddle-broke before you could skin a yearling.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't even asked to the wedding. I reckon the bride had my +pedigree and the front elevation of my habits all mapped out, +and she decided that Perry would trot better in double harness +without any unconverted mustang like Buck Caperton whickering +around on the matrimonial range. So it was six months before I +saw Perry again.</p> + +<p>"One day I was passing on the edge of town, and I see something +like a man in a little yard by a little house with a +sprinkling-pot squirting water on a rose-bush. Seemed to me, +I'd seen something like it before, and I stopped at the gate, +trying to figure out its brands. 'Twas not Perry Rountree, but +'twas the kind of a curdled jellyfish matrimony had made out of +him.</p> + +<p>"Homicide was what that Mariana had perpetrated. He was looking +well enough, but he had on a white collar and shoes, and you +could tell in a minute that he'd speak polite and pay taxes and +stick his little finger out while drinking, just like a sheep +man or a citizen. Great skyrockets! but I hated to see Perry +all corrupted and Willie-ized like that.</p> + +<p>"He came out to the gate, and shook hands; and I says, with +scorn, and speaking like a paroquet with the pip: 'Beg +pardon—Mr. Rountree, I believe. Seems to me I sagatiated in +your associations once, if I am not mistaken.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, go to the devil, Buck,' says Perry, polite, as I was +afraid he'd be.</p> + +<p>"'Well, then,' says I, 'you poor, contaminated adjunct of a +sprinkling-pot and degraded household pet, what did you go and +do it for? Look at you, all decent and unriotous, and only fit +to sit on juries and mend the wood-house door. You was a man +once. I have hostility for all such acts. Why don't you go in +the house and count the tidies or set the clock, and not stand +out here in the atmosphere? A jack-rabbit might come along and +bite you.'</p> + +<p>"'Now, Buck,' says Perry, speaking mild, and some sorrowful, +'you don't understand. A married man has got to be different. +He feels different from a tough old cloudburst like you. It's +sinful to waste time pulling up towns just to look at their +roots, and playing faro and looking upon red liquor, and such +restless policies as them.'</p> + +<p>"'There was a time,' I says, and I expect I sighed when I +mentioned it, 'when a certain domesticated little Mary's lamb I +could name was some instructed himself in the line of +pernicious sprightliness. I never expected, Perry, to see you +reduced down from a full-grown pestilence to such a frivolous +fraction of a man. Why,' says I, 'you've got a necktie on; and +you speak a senseless kind of indoor drivel that reminds me of +a storekeeper or a lady. You look to me like you might tote an +umbrella and wear suspenders, and go home of nights.'</p> + +<p>"'The little woman,' says Perry, 'has made some improvements, I +believe. You can't understand, Buck. I haven't been away from +the house at night since we was married.'</p> + +<p>"We talked on a while, me and Perry, and, as sure as I live, +that man interrupted me in the middle of my talk to tell me +about six tomato plants he had growing in his garden. Shoved +his agricultural degradation right up under my nose while I was +telling him about the fun we had tarring and feathering that +faro dealer at California Pete's layout! But by and by Perry +shows a flicker of sense.</p> + +<p>"'Buck,' says he, 'I'll have to admit that it is a little dull +at times. Not that I'm not perfectly happy with the little +woman, but a man seems to require some excitement now and then. +Now, I'll tell you: Mariana's gone visiting this afternoon, and +she won't be home till seven o'clock. That's the limit for both +of us—seven o'clock. Neither of us ever stays +out a minute after that time unless we are together. Now, I'm +glad you came along, Buck,' says Perry, 'for I'm feeling just +like having one more rip-roaring razoo with you for the sake of +old times. What you say to us putting in the afternoon having +fun—I'd like it fine,' says Perry.</p> + +<p>"I slapped that old captive range-rider half across his little +garden.</p> + +<p>"'Get your hat, you old dried-up alligator,' I shouts, 'you +ain't dead yet. You're part human, anyhow, if you did get all +bogged up in matrimony. We'll take this town to pieces and see +what makes it tick. We'll make all kinds of profligate demands +upon the science of cork pulling. You'll grow horns yet, old +muley cow,' says I, punching Perry in the ribs, 'if you trot +around on the trail of vice with your Uncle Buck.'</p> + +<p>"'I'll have to be home by seven, you know,' says Perry again.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, yes,' says I, winking to myself, for I knew the kind of +seven o'clocks Perry Rountree got back by after he once got to +passing repartee with the bartenders.</p> + +<p>"We goes down to the Gray Mule saloon—that old 'dobe building +by the depot.</p> + +<p>"'Give it a name,' says I, as soon as we got one hoof on the +foot-rest.</p> + +<p>"'Sarsaparilla,' says Perry.</p> + +<p>"You could have knocked me down with a lemon peeling.</p> + +<p>"'Insult me as much as you want to,' I says to Perry, 'but +don't startle the bartender. He may have heart-disease. Come +on, now; your tongue got twisted. The tall glasses,' I orders, +'and the bottle in the left-hand corner of the ice-chest.'</p> + +<p>"'Sarsaparilla,' repeats Perry, and then his eyes get animated, +and I see he's got some great scheme in his mind he wants to +emit.</p> + +<p>"'Buck,' says he, all interested, 'I'll tell you what! I want +to make this a red-letter day. I've been keeping close at home, +and I want to turn myself a-loose. We'll have the highest old +time you ever saw. We'll go in the back room here and play +checkers till half-past six.'</p> + +<p>"I leaned against the bar, and I says to Gotch-eared Mike, who +was on watch:</p> + +<p>"'For God's sake don't mention this. You know what Perry used +to be. He's had the fever, and the doctor says we must humour +him.'</p> + +<p>"'Give us the checker-board and the men, Mike,' says Perry. +'Come on, Buck, I'm just wild to have some excitement.'</p> + +<p>"I went in the back room with Perry. Before we closed the door, +I says to Mike:</p> + +<p>"'Don't ever let it straggle out from under your hat that you +seen Buck Caperton fraternal with sarsaparilla or <i>persona +grata</i> with a checker-board, or I'll make a swallow-fork in +your other ear.'</p> + +<p>"I locked the door and me and Perry played checkers. To see +that poor old humiliated piece of household bric-a-brac sitting +there and sniggering out loud whenever he jumped a man, and all +obnoxious with animation when he got into my king row, would +have made a sheep-dog sick with mortification. Him that was +once satisfied only when he was pegging six boards at keno or +giving the faro dealers nervous prostration—to see him pushing +them checkers about like Sally Louisa at a school-children's +party—why, I was all smothered up with mortification.</p> + +<p>"And I sits there playing the black men, all sweating for fear +somebody I knew would find it out. And I thinks to myself some +about this marrying business, and how it seems to be the same +kind of a game as that Mrs. Delilah played. She give her old +man a hair cut, and everybody knows what a man's head looks +like after a woman cuts his hair. And then when the Pharisees +came around to guy him he was so 'shamed that he went to work +and kicked the whole house down on top of the whole outfit. +'Them married men,' thinks I, 'lose all their spirit and +instinct for riot and foolishness. They won't drink, they won't +buck the tiger, they won't even fight. What do they want to go +and stay married for?' I asks myself.</p> + +<p>"But Perry seems to be having hilarity in considerable +quantities.</p> + +<p>"'Buck old hoss,' says he, 'isn't this just the hell-roaringest +time we ever had in our lives? I don't know when I've been +stirred up so. You see, I've been sticking pretty close to home +since I married, and I haven't been on a spree in a long time.'</p> + +<p>"'Spree!' Yes, that's what he called it. Playing checkers in +the back room of the Gray Mule! I suppose it did seem to him a +little immoral and nearer to a prolonged debauch than +standing over six tomato plants with a sprinkling-pot.</p> + +<p>"Every little bit Perry looks at his watch and says:</p> + +<p>"'I got to be home, you know, Buck, at seven.'</p> + +<p>"'All right,' I'd say. 'Romp along and move. This here +excitement's killing me. If I don't reform some, and loosen up +the strain of this checkered dissipation I won't have a nerve +left.'</p> + +<p>"It might have been half-past six when commotions began to go +on outside in the street. We heard a yelling and a +six-shootering, and a lot of galloping and manœuvres.</p> + +<p>"'What's that?' I wonders.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, some nonsense outside,' says Perry. 'It's your move. We +just got time to play this game.'</p> + +<p>"'I'll just take a peep through the window,' says I, 'and see. +You can't expect a mere mortal to stand the excitement of +having a king jumped and listen to an unidentified conflict +going on at the same time.'</p> + +<p>"The Gray Mule saloon was one of them old Spanish 'dobe +buildings, and the back room only had two little windows a foot +wide, with iron bars in 'em. I looked out one, and I see the +cause of the rucus.</p> + +<p>"There was the Trimble gang—ten of 'em—the worst outfit of +desperadoes and horse-thieves in Texas, coming up the street +shooting right and left. They was coming right straight for the +Gray Mule. Then they got past the range of my sight, but we +heard 'em ride up to the front door, and then they socked the +place full of lead. We heard the big looking-glass behind the +bar knocked all to pieces and the bottles crashing. We could +see Gotch-eared Mike in his apron running across the plaza like +a coyote, with the bullets puffing up dust all around him. Then +the gang went to work in the saloon, drinking what they wanted +and smashing what they didn't.</p> + +<p>"Me and Petty both knew that gang, and they knew us. The year +before Perry married, him and me was in the same ranger +company—and we fought that outfit down on the San Miguel, and +brought back Ben Trimble and two others for murder.</p> + +<p>"'We can't get out,' says I. 'We'll have to stay in here till +they leave.'</p> + +<p>"Perry looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"'Twenty-five to seven,' says he. 'We can finish that game. I +got two men on you. It's your move, Buck. I got to be home at +seven, you know.'</p> + +<p>"We sat down and went on playing. The Trimble gang had a +roughhouse for sure. They were getting good and drunk. They'd +drink a while and holler a while, and then they'd shoot up a +few bottles and glasses. Two or three times they came and tried +to open our door. Then there was some more shooting outside, +and I looked out the window again. Ham Gossett, the town +marshal, had a posse in the houses and stores across the +street, and was trying to bag a Trimble or two through the +windows.</p> + +<p>"I lost that game of checkers. I'm free in saying that I lost +three kings that I might have saved if I had been corralled in +a more peaceful pasture. But that drivelling married man sat +there and cackled when he won a man like an unintelligent hen +picking up a grain of corn.</p> + +<p>"When the game was over Perry gets up and looks at his watch.</p> + +<p>"'I've had a glorious time, Buck,' says he, 'but I'll have to +be going now. It's a quarter to seven, and I got to be home by +seven, you know.'</p> + +<p>"I thought he was joking.</p> + +<p>"'They'll clear out or be dead drunk in half an hour or an +hour,' says I. 'You ain't that tired of being married that you +want to commit any more sudden suicide, are you?' says I, +giving him the laugh.</p> + +<p>"'One time,' says Perry, 'I was half an hour late getting home. +I met Mariana on the street looking for me. If you could have +seen her, Buck—but you don't understand. She knows what a wild +kind of a snoozer I've been, and she's afraid something will +happen. I'll never be late getting home again. I'll say +good-bye to you now, Buck.'</p> + +<p>"I got between him and the door.</p> + +<p>"'Married man,' says I, 'I know you was christened a fool the +minute the preacher tangled you up, but don't you never +sometimes think one little think on a human basis? There's ten +of that gang in there, and they're pizen with whisky and desire +for murder. They'll drink you up like a bottle of booze before +you get half-way to the door. Be intelligent, now, and use at +least wild-hog sense. Sit down and wait till we have some +chance to get out without being carried in baskets.'</p> + +<p>"'I got to be home by seven, Buck,' repeats this hen-pecked +thing of little wisdom, like an unthinking poll parrot. +'Mariana,' says he, 'will be out looking for me.' And he +reaches down and pulls a leg out of the checker table. 'I'll go +through this Trimble outfit,' says he, 'like a cottontail +through a brush corral. I'm not pestered any more with a desire +to engage in rucuses, but I got to be home by seven. You lock +the door after me, Buck. And don't you forget—I won three out +of them five games. I'd play longer, but Mariana—'</p> + +<p>"'Hush up, you old locoed road runner,' I interrupts. 'Did you +ever notice your Uncle Buck locking doors against trouble? I'm +not married,' says I, 'but I'm as big a +d––––n fool as any +Mormon. One from four leaves three,' says I, and I gathers out +another leg of the table. 'We'll get home by seven,' says I, +'whether it's the heavenly one or the other. May I see you +home?' says I, 'you sarsaparilla-drinking, checker-playing +glutton for death and destruction.'</p> + +<p>"We opened the door easy, and then stampeded for the front. +Part of the gang was lined up at the bar; part of 'em was +passing over the drinks, and two or three was peeping out the +door and window and taking shots at the marshal's crowd. The +room was so full of smoke we got half-way to the front door +before they noticed us. Then I heard Berry Trimble's voice +somewhere yell out:</p> + +<p>"'How'd that Buck Caperton get in here?' and he skinned the +side of my neck with a bullet. I reckon he felt bad over that +miss, for Berry's the best shot south of the Southern Pacific +Railroad. But the smoke in the saloon was some too thick for +good shooting.</p> + +<p>"Me and Perry smashed over two of the gang with our table legs, +which didn't miss like the guns did, and as we run out the door +I grabbed a Winchester from a fellow who was watching the +outside, and I turned and regulated the account of Mr. Berry.</p> + +<p>"Me and Perry got out and around the corner all right. I never +much expected to get out, but I wasn't going to be intimidated +by that married man. According to Perry's idea, checkers was +the event of the day, but if I am any judge of gentle +recreations that little table-leg parade through the Gray Mule +saloon deserved the head-lines in the bill of particulars.</p> + +<p>"'Walk fast,' says Perry, 'it's two minutes to seven, and I got +to be home by—'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, shut up,' says I. 'I had an appointment as chief +performer at an inquest at seven, and I'm not kicking about not +keeping it.'</p> + +<p>"I had to pass by Perry's little house. His Mariana was +standing at the gate. We got there at five minutes past seven. +She had on a blue wrapper, and her hair was pulled back smooth +like little girls do when they want to look grown-folksy. She +didn't see us till we got close, for she was gazing up the +other way. Then she backed around, and saw Perry, and a kind of +a look scooted around over her face—danged if I can describe +it. I heard her breathe long, just like a cow when you turn her +calf in the lot, and she says: 'You're late, Perry.'</p> + +<p>"'Five minutes,' says Perry, cheerful. 'Me and old Buck was +having a game of checkers.'</p> + +<p>"Perry introduces me to Mariana, and they ask me to come in. +No, sir-ee. I'd had enough truck with married folks for that +day. I says I'll be going along, and that I've spent a very +pleasant afternoon with my old partner—'especially,' says I, +just to jostle Perry, 'during that game when the table legs +came all loose.' But I'd promised him not to let her know +anything.</p> + +<p>"I've been worrying over that business ever since it happened," +continued Buck. "There's one thing about it that's got me all +twisted up, and I can't figure it out."</p> + +<p>"What was that?" I asked, as I rolled and handed Buck the last +cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Why, I'll tell you: When I saw the look that little woman gave +Perry when she turned round and saw him coming back to the +ranch safe—why was it I got the idea all in a minute that that +look of hers was worth more than the whole caboodle of +us—sarsaparilla, checkers, and all, and that the +d––––n fool +in the game wasn't named Perry Rountree at all?"</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROADS OF DESTINY***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 1646-h.txt or 1646-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/4/1646">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/4/1646</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** 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 +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +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 F3. 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, is 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/pglaf + +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. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +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. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/1646-h/images/frontis.jpg b/1646-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ca504b --- /dev/null +++ b/1646-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/1646.txt b/1646.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e32f32 --- /dev/null +++ b/1646.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11564 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Roads of Destiny, 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: Roads of Destiny + Roads of Destiny -- The Guardian of the Accolade -- The Discounters of Money -- The Enchanted Profile -- "Next to Reading Matter" -- Art and the Bronco -- Phoebe -- A Double-dyed Deceiver -- The Passing of Black Eagle -- A Retrieved Reformation -- Cherchez la Femme -- Friends in San Rosario -- The Fourth in Salvador -- The Emancipation of Billy -- The Enchanted Kiss -- A Departmental Case -- The Renaissance at Charleroi -- On Behalf of the Management -- Whistling Dick's Christmas Stocking -- The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss -- Two Renegades -- The Lonesome Road + + +Author: O. Henry + + + +Release Date: February, 1997 [eBook #1646] +[Most recently updated: February 5, 2006] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROADS OF DESTINY*** + + +E-text prepared by John Bickers and Dagny +and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 1646-h.htm or 1646-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/4/1646/1646-h/1646-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/4/1646/1646-h.zip) + + + + + +ROADS OF DESTINY + +by + +O. HENRY + +Author of "The Voice of the City," "The Trimmed Lamp," +"Strictly Business," "Whirligigs," "Sixes and Sevens," Etc. + +1919 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "The old medical outrage . . . had a nigger along." +(Frontispiece)] + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. Roads of Destiny + II. The Guardian of the Accolade + III. The Discounters of Money + IV. The Enchanted Profile + V. "Next to Reading Matter" + VI. Art and the Bronco + VII. Phoebe + VIII. A Double-dyed Deceiver + IX. The Passing of Black Eagle + X. A Retrieved Reformation + XI. Cherchez la Femme + XII. Friends in San Rosario + XIII. The Fourth in Salvador + XIV. The Emancipation of Billy + XV. The Enchanted Kiss + XVI. A Departmental Case + XVII. The Renaissance at Charleroi + XVIII. On Behalf of the Management + XIX. Whistling Dick's Christmas Stocking + XX. The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss + XXI. Two Renegades + XXII. The Lonesome Road + + + + + +I + +ROADS OF DESTINY + + + I go to seek on many roads + What is to be. + True heart and strong, with love to light-- + Will they not bear me in the fight + To order, shun or wield or mould + My Destiny? + + Unpublished Poems of David Mignot. + + +The song was over. The words were David's; the air, one of the +countryside. The company about the inn table applauded heartily, +for the young poet paid for the wine. Only the notary, M. Papineau, +shook his head a little at the lines, for he was a man of books, and +he had not drunk with the rest. + +David went out into the village street, where the night air drove +the wine vapour from his head. And then he remembered that he and +Yvonne had quarrelled that day, and that he had resolved to leave +his home that night to seek fame and honour in the great world +outside. + +"When my poems are on every man's tongue," he told himself, in a +fine exhilaration, "she will, perhaps, think of the hard words she +spoke this day." + +Except the roisterers in the tavern, the village folk were abed. +David crept softly into his room in the shed of his father's cottage +and made a bundle of his small store of clothing. With this upon a +staff, he set his face outward upon the road that ran from Vernoy. + +He passed his father's herd of sheep, huddled in their nightly +pen--the sheep he herded daily, leaving them to scatter while he +wrote verses on scraps of paper. He saw a light yet shining in +Yvonne's window, and a weakness shook his purpose of a sudden. +Perhaps that light meant that she rued, sleepless, her anger, and +that morning might--But, no! His decision was made. Vernoy was no +place for him. Not one soul there could share his thoughts. Out +along that road lay his fate and his future. + +Three leagues across the dim, moonlit champaign ran the road, +straight as a ploughman's furrow. It was believed in the village +that the road ran to Paris, at least; and this name the poet +whispered often to himself as he walked. Never so far from Vernoy +had David travelled before. + + + +THE LEFT BRANCH + + _Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. + It joined with another and a larger road at right angles. David + stood, uncertain, for a while, and then took the road to the + left._ + +Upon this more important highway were, imprinted in the dust, wheel +tracks left by the recent passage of some vehicle. Some half an +hour later these traces were verified by the sight of a ponderous +carriage mired in a little brook at the bottom of a steep hill. +The driver and postilions were shouting and tugging at the horses' +bridles. On the road at one side stood a huge, black-clothed man and +a slender lady wrapped in a long, light cloak. + +David saw the lack of skill in the efforts of the servants. He +quietly assumed control of the work. He directed the outriders to +cease their clamour at the horses and to exercise their strength +upon the wheels. The driver alone urged the animals with his +familiar voice; David himself heaved a powerful shoulder at the +rear of the carriage, and with one harmonious tug the great vehicle +rolled up on solid ground. The outriders climbed to their places. + +David stood for a moment upon one foot. The huge gentleman waved a +hand. "You will enter the carriage," he said, in a voice large, like +himself, but smoothed by art and habit. Obedience belonged in the +path of such a voice. Brief as was the young poet's hesitation, it +was cut shorter still by a renewal of the command. David's foot went +to the step. In the darkness he perceived dimly the form of the lady +upon the rear seat. He was about to seat himself opposite, when the +voice again swayed him to its will. "You will sit at the lady's +side." + +The gentleman swung his great weight to the forward seat. The +carriage proceeded up the hill. The lady was shrunk, silent, into +her corner. David could not estimate whether she was old or young, +but a delicate, mild perfume from her clothes stirred his poet's +fancy to the belief that there was loveliness beneath the mystery. +Here was an adventure such as he had often imagined. But as yet he +held no key to it, for no word was spoken while he sat with his +impenetrable companions. + +In an hour's time David perceived through the window that the +vehicle traversed the street of some town. Then it stopped in front +of a closed and darkened house, and a postilion alighted to hammer +impatiently upon the door. A latticed window above flew wide and a +nightcapped head popped out. + +"Who are ye that disturb honest folk at this time of night? My house +is closed. 'Tis too late for profitable travellers to be abroad. +Cease knocking at my door, and be off." + +"Open!" spluttered the postilion, loudly; "open for Monsiegneur the +Marquis de Beaupertuys." + +"Ah!" cried the voice above. "Ten thousand pardons, my lord. I did +not know--the hour is so late--at once shall the door be opened, and +the house placed at my lord's disposal." + +Inside was heard the clink of chain and bar, and the door was flung +open. Shivering with chill and apprehension, the landlord of the +Silver Flagon stood, half clad, candle in hand, upon the threshold. + +David followed the Marquis out of the carriage. "Assist the lady," +he was ordered. The poet obeyed. He felt her small hand tremble as +he guided her descent. "Into the house," was the next command. + +The room was the long dining-hall of the tavern. A great oak table +ran down its length. The huge gentleman seated himself in a chair at +the nearer end. The lady sank into another against the wall, with an +air of great weariness. David stood, considering how best he might +now take his leave and continue upon his way. + +"My lord," said the landlord, bowing to the floor, "h-had I +ex-expected this honour, entertainment would have been ready. +T-t-there is wine and cold fowl and m-m-maybe--" + +"Candles," said the marquis, spreading the fingers of one plump +white hand in a gesture he had. + +"Y-yes, my lord." He fetched half a dozen candles, lighted them, and +set them upon the table. + +"If monsieur would, perhaps, deign to taste a certain +Burgundy--there is a cask--" + +"Candles," said monsieur, spreading his fingers. + +"Assuredly--quickly--I fly, my lord." + +A dozen more lighted candles shone in the hall. The great bulk of +the marquis overflowed his chair. He was dressed in fine black from +head to foot save for the snowy ruffles at his wrist and throat. +Even the hilt and scabbard of his sword were black. His expression +was one of sneering pride. The ends of an upturned moustache reached +nearly to his mocking eyes. + +The lady sat motionless, and now David perceived that she was young, +and possessed of pathetic and appealing beauty. He was startled from +the contemplation of her forlorn loveliness by the booming voice of +the marquis. + +"What is your name and pursuit?" + +"David Mignot. I am a poet." + +The moustache of the marquis curled nearer to his eyes. + +"How do you live?" + +"I am also a shepherd; I guarded my father's flock," David answered, +with his head high, but a flush upon his cheek. + +"Then listen, master shepherd and poet, to the fortune you have +blundered upon to-night. This lady is my niece, Mademoiselle Lucie +de Varennes. She is of noble descent and is possessed of ten +thousand francs a year in her own right. As to her charms, you +have but to observe for yourself. If the inventory pleases your +shepherd's heart, she becomes your wife at a word. Do not interrupt +me. To-night I conveyed her to the _chateau_ of the Comte de +Villemaur, to whom her hand had been promised. Guests were present; +the priest was waiting; her marriage to one eligible in rank and +fortune was ready to be accomplished. At the alter this demoiselle, +so meek and dutiful, turned upon me like a leopardess, charged +me with cruelty and crimes, and broke, before the gaping priest, +the troth I had plighted for her. I swore there and then, by ten +thousand devils, that she should marry the first man we met after +leaving the _chateau_, be he prince, charcoal-burner, or thief. You, +shepherd, are the first. Mademoiselle must be wed this night. If +not you, then another. You have ten minutes in which to make your +decision. Do not vex me with words or questions. Ten minutes, +shepherd; and they are speeding." + +The marquis drummed loudly with his white fingers upon the table. +He sank into a veiled attitude of waiting. It was as if some great +house had shut its doors and windows against approach. David would +have spoken, but the huge man's bearing stopped his tongue. Instead, +he stood by the lady's chair and bowed. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, and he marvelled to find his words flowing +easily before so much elegance and beauty. "You have heard me say +I was a shepherd. I have also had the fancy, at times, that I +am a poet. If it be the test of a poet to adore and cherish the +beautiful, that fancy is now strengthened. Can I serve you in any +way, mademoiselle?" + +The young woman looked up at him with eyes dry and mournful. His +frank, glowing face, made serious by the gravity of the adventure, +his strong, straight figure and the liquid sympathy in his blue +eyes, perhaps, also, her imminent need of long-denied help and +kindness, thawed her to sudden tears. + +"Monsieur," she said, in low tones, "you look to be true and kind. +He is my uncle, the brother of my father, and my only relative. He +loved my mother, and he hates me because I am like her. He has made +my life one long terror. I am afraid of his very looks, and never +before dared to disobey him. But to-night he would have married me +to a man three times my age. You will forgive me for bringing this +vexation upon you, monsieur. You will, of course, decline this +mad act he tries to force upon you. But let me thank you for your +generous words, at least. I have had none spoken to me in so long." + +There was now something more than generosity in the poet's eyes. +Poet he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this fine, new +loveliness held him with its freshness and grace. The subtle perfume +from her filled him with strange emotions. His tender look fell +warmly upon her. She leaned to it, thirstily. + +"Ten minutes," said David, "is given me in which to do what I would +devote years to achieve. I will not say I pity you, mademoiselle; it +would not be true--I love you. I cannot ask love from you yet, but +let me rescue you from this cruel man, and, in time, love may come. +I think I have a future; I will not always be a shepherd. For the +present I will cherish you with all my heart and make your life less +sad. Will you trust your fate to me, mademoiselle?" + +"Ah, you would sacrifice yourself from pity!" + +"From love. The time is almost up, mademoiselle." + +"You will regret it, and despise me." + +"I will live only to make you happy, and myself worthy of you." + +Her fine small hand crept into his from beneath her cloak. + +"I will trust you," she breathed, "with my life. And--and love--may +not be so far off as you think. Tell him. Once away from the power +of his eyes I may forget." + +David went and stood before the marquis. The black figure stirred, +and the mocking eyes glanced at the great hall clock. + +"Two minutes to spare. A shepherd requires eight minutes to decide +whether he will accept a bride of beauty and income! Speak up, +shepherd, do you consent to become mademoiselle's husband?" + +"Mademoiselle," said David, standing proudly, "has done me the +honour to yield to my request that she become my wife." + +"Well said!" said the marquis. "You have yet the making of a +courtier in you, master shepherd. Mademoiselle could have drawn a +worse prize, after all. And now to be done with the affair as quick +as the Church and the devil will allow!" + +He struck the table soundly with his sword hilt. The landlord came, +knee-shaking, bringing more candles in the hope of anticipating the +great lord's whims. "Fetch a priest," said the marquis, "a priest; +do you understand? In ten minutes have a priest here, or--" + +The landlord dropped his candles and flew. + +The priest came, heavy-eyed and ruffled. He made David Mignot and +Lucie de Verennes man and wife, pocketed a gold piece that the +marquis tossed him, and shuffled out again into the night. + +"Wine," ordered the marquis, spreading his ominous fingers at the +host. + +"Fill glasses," he said, when it was brought. He stood up at the +head of the table in the candlelight, a black mountain of venom and +conceit, with something like the memory of an old love turned to +poison in his eyes, as it fell upon his niece. + +"Monsieur Mignot," he said, raising his wineglass, "drink after +I say this to you: You have taken to be your wife one who will +make your life a foul and wretched thing. The blood in her is an +inheritance running black lies and red ruin. She will bring you +shame and anxiety. The devil that descended to her is there in her +eyes and skin and mouth that stoop even to beguile a peasant. There +is your promise, monsieur poet, for a happy life. Drink your wine. +At last, mademoiselle, I am rid of you." + +The marquis drank. A little grievous cry, as if from a sudden wound, +came from the girl's lips. David, with his glass in his hand, +stepped forward three paces and faced the marquis. There was little +of a shepherd in his bearing. + +"Just now," he said, calmly, "you did me the honor to call me +'monsieur.' May I hope, therefore that my marriage to mademoiselle +has placed me somewhat nearer to you in--let us say, reflected +rank--has given me the right to stand more as an equal to +monseigneur in a certain little piece of business I have in my +mind?" + +"You may hope, shepherd," sneered the marquis. + +"Then," said David, dashing his glass of wine into the contemptuous +eyes that mocked him, "perhaps you will condescend to fight me." + +The fury of the great lord outbroke in one sudden curse like a blast +from a horn. He tore his sword from its black sheath; he called to +the hovering landlord: "A sword there, for this lout!" He turned to +the lady, with a laugh that chilled her heart, and said: "You put +much labour upon me, madame. It seems I must find you a husband and +make you a widow in the same night." + +"I know not sword-play," said David. He flushed to make the +confession before his lady. + +"'I know not sword-play,'" mimicked the marquis. "Shall we fight +like peasants with oaken cudgels? _Hola!_ Francois, my pistols!" + +A postilion brought two shining great pistols ornamented with carven +silver, from the carriage holsters. The marquis tossed one upon the +table near David's hand. "To the other end of the table," he cried; +"even a shepherd may pull a trigger. Few of them attain the honour +to die by the weapon of a De Beaupertuys." + +The shepherd and the marquis faced each other from the ends of the +long table. The landlord, in an ague of terror, clutched the air +and stammered: "M-M-Monseigneur, for the love of Christ! not in my +house!--do not spill blood--it will ruin my custom--" The look of +the marquis, threatening him, paralyzed his tongue. + +"Coward," cried the lord of Beaupertuys, "cease chattering your +teeth long enough to give the word for us, if you can." + +Mine host's knees smote the floor. He was without a vocabulary. Even +sounds were beyond him. Still, by gestures he seemed to beseech +peace in the name of his house and custom. + +"I will give the word," said the lady, in a clear voice. She went up +to David and kissed him sweetly. Her eyes were sparkling bright, and +colour had come to her cheek. She stood against the wall, and the +two men levelled their pistols for her count. + +"_Un--deux--trois!_" + +The two reports came so nearly together that the candles flickered +but once. The marquis stood, smiling, the fingers of his left hand +resting, outspread, upon the end of the table. David remained erect, +and turned his head very slowly, searching for his wife with his +eyes. Then, as a garment falls from where it is hung, he sank, +crumpled, upon the floor. + +With a little cry of terror and despair, the widowed maid ran and +stooped above him. She found his wound, and then looked up with her +old look of pale melancholy. "Through his heart," she whispered. +"Oh, his heart!" + +"Come," boomed the great voice of the marquis, "out with you to the +carriage! Daybreak shall not find you on my hands. Wed you shall be +again, and to a living husband, this night. The next we come upon, +my lady, highwayman or peasant. If the road yields no other, then +the churl that opens my gates. Out with you into the carriage!" + +The marquis, implacable and huge, the lady wrapped again in the +mystery of her cloak, the postilion bearing the weapons--all moved +out to the waiting carriage. The sound of its ponderous wheels +rolling away echoed through the slumbering village. In the hall of +the Silver Flagon the distracted landlord wrung his hands above the +slain poet's body, while the flames of the four and twenty candles +danced and flickered on the table. + + + +THE RIGHT BRANCH + + _Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. + It joined with another and a larger road at right angles. David + stood, uncertain, for a while, and then took the road to the + right._ + +Whither it led he knew not, but he was resolved to leave Vernoy far +behind that night. He travelled a league and then passed a large +_chateau_ which showed testimony of recent entertainment. Lights +shone from every window; from the great stone gateway ran a tracery +of wheel tracks drawn in the dust by the vehicles of the guests. + +Three leagues farther and David was weary. He rested and slept for a +while on a bed of pine boughs at the roadside. Then up and on again +along the unknown way. + +Thus for five days he travelled the great road, sleeping upon +Nature's balsamic beds or in peasants' ricks, eating of their black, +hospitable bread, drinking from streams or the willing cup of the +goatherd. + +At length he crossed a great bridge and set his foot within the +smiling city that has crushed or crowned more poets than all the +rest of the world. His breath came quickly as Paris sang to him in a +little undertone her vital chant of greeting--the hum of voice and +foot and wheel. + +High up under the eaves of an old house in the Rue Conti, David paid +for lodging, and set himself, in a wooden chair, to his poems. The +street, once sheltering citizens of import and consequence, was now +given over to those who ever follow in the wake of decline. + +The houses were tall and still possessed of a ruined dignity, but +many of them were empty save for dust and the spider. By night there +was the clash of steel and the cries of brawlers straying restlessly +from inn to inn. Where once gentility abode was now but a rancid and +rude incontinence. But here David found housing commensurate to his +scant purse. Daylight and candlelight found him at pen and paper. + +One afternoon he was returning from a foraging trip to the lower +world, with bread and curds and a bottle of thin wine. Halfway up +his dark stairway he met--or rather came upon, for she rested on the +stair--a young woman of a beauty that should balk even the justice +of a poet's imagination. A loose, dark cloak, flung open, showed a +rich gown beneath. Her eyes changed swiftly with every little shade +of thought. Within one moment they would be round and artless like +a child's, and long and cozening like a gypsy's. One hand raised +her gown, undraping a little shoe, high-heeled, with its ribbons +dangling, untied. So heavenly she was, so unfitted to stoop, so +qualified to charm and command! Perhaps she had seen David coming, +and had waited for his help there. + +Ah, would monsieur pardon that she occupied the stairway, but the +shoe!--the naughty shoe! Alas! it would not remain tied. Ah! if +monsieur _would_ be so gracious! + +The poet's fingers trembled as he tied the contrary ribbons. Then he +would have fled from the danger of her presence, but the eyes grew +long and cozening, like a gypsy's, and held him. He leaned against +the balustrade, clutching his bottle of sour wine. + +"You have been so good," she said, smiling. "Does monsieur, perhaps, +live in the house?" + +"Yes, madame. I--I think so, madame." + +"Perhaps in the third story, then?" + +"No, madame; higher up." + +The lady fluttered her fingers with the least possible gesture of +impatience. + +"Pardon. Certainly I am not discreet in asking. Monsieur will +forgive me? It is surely not becoming that I should inquire where he +lodges." + +"Madame, do not say so. I live in the--" + +"No, no, no; do not tell me. Now I see that I erred. But I cannot +lose the interest I feel in this house and all that is in it. Once +it was my home. Often I come here but to dream of those happy days +again. Will you let that be my excuse?" + +"Let me tell you, then, for you need no excuse," stammered the poet. +"I live in the top floor--the small room where the stairs turn." + +"In the front room?" asked the lady, turning her head sidewise. + +"The rear, madame." + +The lady sighed, as if with relief. + +"I will detain you no longer then, monsieur," she said, employing +the round and artless eye. "Take good care of my house. Alas! only +the memories of it are mine now. Adieu, and accept my thanks for +your courtesy." + +She was gone, leaving but a smile and a trace of sweet perfume. +David climbed the stairs as one in slumber. But he awoke from it, +and the smile and the perfume lingered with him and never afterward +did either seem quite to leave him. This lady of whom he knew +nothing drove him to lyrics of eyes, chansons of swiftly conceived +love, odes to curling hair, and sonnets to slippers on slender feet. + +Poet he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this fine, new +loveliness held him with its freshness and grace. The subtle perfume +about her filled him with strange emotions. + + + +On a certain night three persons were gathered about a table in a +room on the third floor of the same house. Three chairs and the +table and a lighted candle upon it was all the furniture. One of the +persons was a huge man, dressed in black. His expression was one of +sneering pride. The ends of his upturned moustache reached nearly to +his mocking eyes. Another was a lady, young and beautiful, with eyes +that could be round and artless, as a child's, or long and cozening, +like a gypsy's, but were now keen and ambitious, like any other +conspirator's. The third was a man of action, a combatant, a bold +and impatient executive, breathing fire and steel. He was addressed +by the others as Captain Desrolles. + +This man struck the table with his fist, and said, with controlled +violence: + +"To-night. To-night as he goes to midnight mass. I am tired of the +plotting that gets nowhere. I am sick of signals and ciphers and +secret meetings and such _baragouin_. Let us be honest traitors. If +France is to be rid of him, let us kill in the open, and not hunt +with snares and traps. To-night, I say. I back my words. My hand +will do the deed. To-night, as he goes to mass." + +The lady turned upon him a cordial look. Woman, however wedded to +plots, must ever thus bow to rash courage. The big man stroked his +upturned moustache. + +"Dear captain," he said, in a great voice, softened by habit, "this +time I agree with you. Nothing is to be gained by waiting. Enough of +the palace guards belong to us to make the endeavour a safe one." + +"To-night," repeated Captain Desrolles, again striking the table. +"You have heard me, marquis; my hand will do the deed." + +"But now," said the huge man, softly, "comes a question. Word must +be sent to our partisans in the palace, and a signal agreed upon. +Our stanchest men must accompany the royal carriage. At this hour +what messenger can penetrate so far as the south doorway? Ribouet is +stationed there; once a message is placed in his hands, all will go +well." + +"I will send the message," said the lady. + +"You, countess?" said the marquis, raising his eyebrows. "Your +devotion is great, we know, but--" + +"Listen!" exclaimed the lady, rising and resting her hands upon the +table; "in a garret of this house lives a youth from the provinces +as guileless and tender as the lambs he tended there. I have met him +twice or thrice upon the stairs. I questioned him, fearing that he +might dwell too near the room in which we are accustomed to meet. He +is mine, if I will. He writes poems in his garret, and I think he +dreams of me. He will do what I say. He shall take the message to +the palace." + +The marquis rose from his chair and bowed. "You did not permit me to +finish my sentence, countess," he said. "I would have said: 'Your +devotion is great, but your wit and charm are infinitely greater.'" + +While the conspirators were thus engaged, David was polishing some +lines addressed to his _amorette d'escalier_. He heard a timorous +knock at his door, and opened it, with a great throb, to behold her +there, panting as one in straits, with eyes wide open and artless, +like a child's. + +"Monsieur," she breathed, "I come to you in distress. I believe you +to be good and true, and I know of no other help. How I flew through +the streets among the swaggering men! Monsieur, my mother is dying. +My uncle is a captain of guards in the palace of the king. Some one +must fly to bring him. May I hope--" + +"Mademoiselle," interrupted David, his eyes shining with the desire +to do her service, "your hopes shall be my wings. Tell me how I may +reach him." + +The lady thrust a sealed paper into his hand. + +"Go to the south gate--the south gate, mind--and say to the guards +there, 'The falcon has left his nest.' They will pass you, and you +will go to the south entrance to the palace. Repeat the words, and +give this letter to the man who will reply 'Let him strike when he +will.' This is the password, monsieur, entrusted to me by my uncle, +for now when the country is disturbed and men plot against the +king's life, no one without it can gain entrance to the palace +grounds after nightfall. If you will, monsieur, take him this letter +so that my mother may see him before she closes her eyes." + +"Give it me," said David, eagerly. "But shall I let you return home +through the streets alone so late? I--" + +"No, no--fly. Each moment is like a precious jewel. Some time," said +the lady, with eyes long and cozening, like a gypsy's, "I will try +to thank you for your goodness." + +The poet thrust the letter into his breast, and bounded down the +stairway. The lady, when he was gone, returned to the room below. + +The eloquent eyebrows of the marquis interrogated her. + +"He is gone," she said, "as fleet and stupid as one of his own +sheep, to deliver it." + +The table shook again from the batter of Captain Desrolles's fist. + +"Sacred name!" he cried; "I have left my pistols behind! I can trust +no others." + +"Take this," said the marquis, drawing from beneath his cloak a +shining, great weapon, ornamented with carven silver. "There are +none truer. But guard it closely, for it bears my arms and crest, +and already I am suspected. Me, I must put many leagues between +myself and Paris this night. To-morrow must find me in my _chateau_. +After you, dear countess." + +The marquis puffed out the candle. The lady, well cloaked, and the +two gentlemen softly descended the stairway and flowed into the +crowd that roamed along the narrow pavements of the Rue Conti. + +David sped. At the south gate of the king's residence a halberd was +laid to his breast, but he turned its point with the words; "The +falcon has left his nest." + +"Pass, brother," said the guard, "and go quickly." + +On the south steps of the palace they moved to seize him, but again +the _mot de passe_ charmed the watchers. One among them stepped +forward and began: "Let him strike--" but a flurry among the guards +told of a surprise. A man of keen look and soldierly stride suddenly +pressed through them and seized the letter which David held in his +hand. "Come with me," he said, and led him inside the great hall. +Then he tore open the letter and read it. He beckoned to a man +uniformed as an officer of musketeers, who was passing. "Captain +Tetreau, you will have the guards at the south entrance and the +south gate arrested and confined. Place men known to be loyal in +their places." To David he said: "Come with me." + +He conducted him through a corridor and an anteroom into a spacious +chamber, where a melancholy man, sombrely dressed, sat brooding in a +great, leather-covered chair. To that man he said: + +"Sire, I have told you that the palace is as full of traitors and +spies as a sewer is of rats. You have thought, sire, that it was my +fancy. This man penetrated to your very door by their connivance. He +bore a letter which I have intercepted. I have brought him here that +your majesty may no longer think my zeal excessive." + +"I will question him," said the king, stirring in his chair. He +looked at David with heavy eyes dulled by an opaque film. The poet +bent his knee. + +"From where do you come?" asked the king. + +"From the village of Vernoy, in the province of Eure-et-Loir, sire." + +"What do you follow in Paris?" + +"I--I would be a poet, sire." + +"What did you in Vernoy?" + +"I minded my father's flock of sheep." + +The king stirred again, and the film lifted from his eyes. + +"Ah! in the fields!" + +"Yes, sire." + +"You lived in the fields; you went out in the cool of the morning +and lay among the hedges in the grass. The flock distributed itself +upon the hillside; you drank of the living stream; you ate your +sweet, brown bread in the shade, and you listened, doubtless, to +blackbirds piping in the grove. Is not that so, shepherd?" + +"It is, sire," answered David, with a sigh; "and to the bees at the +flowers, and, maybe, to the grape gatherers singing on the hill." + +"Yes, yes," said the king, impatiently; "maybe to them; but surely +to the blackbirds. They whistled often, in the grove, did they not?" + +"Nowhere, sire, so sweetly as in Eure-et-Loir. I have endeavored to +express their song in some verses that I have written." + +"Can you repeat those verses?" asked the king, eagerly. "A long time +ago I listened to the blackbirds. It would be something better than +a kingdom if one could rightly construe their song. And at night you +drove the sheep to the fold and then sat, in peace and tranquillity, +to your pleasant bread. Can you repeat those verses, shepherd?" + +"They run this way, sire," said David, with respectful ardour: + + + "'Lazy shepherd, see your lambkins + Skip, ecstatic, on the mead; + See the firs dance in the breezes, + Hear Pan blowing at his reed. + + "Hear us calling from the tree-tops, + See us swoop upon your flock; + Yield us wool to make our nests warm + In the branches of the--'" + + +"If it please your majesty," interrupted a harsh voice, "I will ask +a question or two of this rhymester. There is little time to spare. +I crave pardon, sire, if my anxiety for your safety offends." + +"The loyalty," said the king, "of the Duke d'Aumale is too well +proven to give offence." He sank into his chair, and the film came +again over his eyes. + +"First," said the duke, "I will read you the letter he brought: + + + "'To-night is the anniversary of the dauphin's death. If he + goes, as is his custom, to midnight mass to pray for the soul + of his son, the falcon will strike, at the corner of the Rue + Esplanade. If this be his intention, set a red light in the + upper room at the southwest corner of the palace, that the + falcon may take heed.' + + +"Peasant," said the duke, sternly, "you have heard these words. Who +gave you this message to bring?" + +"My lord duke," said David, sincerely, "I will tell you. A lady gave +it me. She said her mother was ill, and that this writing would +fetch her uncle to her bedside. I do not know the meaning of the +letter, but I will swear that she is beautiful and good." + +"Describe the woman," commanded the duke, "and how you came to be +her dupe." + +"Describe her!" said David with a tender smile. "You would command +words to perform miracles. Well, she is made of sunshine and deep +shade. She is slender, like the alders, and moves with their grace. +Her eyes change while you gaze into them; now round, and then half +shut as the sun peeps between two clouds. When she comes, heaven +is all about her; when she leaves, there is chaos and a scent of +hawthorn blossoms. She came to see me in the Rue Conti, number +twenty-nine." + +"It is the house," said the duke, turning to the king, "that we have +been watching. Thanks to the poet's tongue, we have a picture of the +infamous Countess Quebedaux." + +"Sire and my lord duke," said David, earnestly, "I hope my poor +words have done no injustice. I have looked into that lady's eyes. +I will stake my life that she is an angel, letter or no letter." + +The duke looked at him steadily. "I will put you to the proof," he +said, slowly. "Dressed as the king, you shall, yourself, attend mass +in his carriage at midnight. Do you accept the test?" + +David smiled. "I have looked into her eyes," he said. "I had my +proof there. Take yours how you will." + +Half an hour before twelve the Duke d'Aumale, with his own hands, +set a red lamp in a southwest window of the palace. At ten minutes +to the hour, David, leaning on his arm, dressed as the king, from +top to toe, with his head bowed in his cloak, walked slowly from +the royal apartments to the waiting carriage. The duke assisted him +inside and closed the door. The carriage whirled away along its +route to the cathedral. + +On the _qui vive_ in a house at the corner of the Rue Esplanade was +Captain Tetreau with twenty men, ready to pounce upon the +conspirators when they should appear. + +But it seemed that, for some reason, the plotters had slightly +altered their plans. When the royal carriage had reached the Rue +Christopher, one square nearer than the Rue Esplanade, forth from +it burst Captain Desrolles, with his band of would-be regicides, +and assailed the equipage. The guards upon the carriage, though +surprised at the premature attack, descended and fought valiantly. +The noise of conflict attracted the force of Captain Tetreau, +and they came pelting down the street to the rescue. But, in the +meantime, the desperate Desrolles had torn open the door of the +king's carriage, thrust his weapon against the body of the dark +figure inside, and fired. + +Now, with loyal reinforcements at hand, the street rang with cries +and the rasp of steel, but the frightened horses had dashed away. +Upon the cushions lay the dead body of the poor mock king and poet, +slain by a ball from the pistol of Monseigneur, the Marquis de +Beaupertuys. + + + +THE MAIN ROAD + + _Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. + It joined with another and a larger road at right angles. David + stood, uncertain, for a while, and then sat himself to rest upon + its side._ + +Whither these roads led he knew not. Either way there seemed to lie +a great world full of chance and peril. And then, sitting there, his +eye fell upon a bright star, one that he and Yvonne had named for +theirs. That set him thinking of Yvonne, and he wondered if he had +not been too hasty. Why should he leave her and his home because a +few hot words had come between them? Was love so brittle a thing +that jealousy, the very proof of it, could break it? Mornings always +brought a cure for the little heartaches of evening. There was yet +time for him to return home without any one in the sweetly sleeping +village of Vernoy being the wiser. His heart was Yvonne's; there +where he had lived always he could write his poems and find his +happiness. + +David rose, and shook off his unrest and the wild mood that had +tempted him. He set his face steadfastly back along the road he had +come. By the time he had retravelled the road to Vernoy, his desire +to rove was gone. He passed the sheepfold, and the sheep scurried, +with a drumming flutter, at his late footsteps, warming his heart by +the homely sound. He crept without noise into his little room and +lay there, thankful that his feet had escaped the distress of new +roads that night. + +How well he knew woman's heart! The next evening Yvonne was at the +well in the road where the young congregated in order that the +_cure_ might have business. The corner of her eye was engaged in a +search for David, albeit her set mouth seemed unrelenting. He saw +the look; braved the mouth, drew from it a recantation and, later, +a kiss as they walked homeward together. + +Three months afterwards they were married. David's father was shrewd +and prosperous. He gave them a wedding that was heard of three +leagues away. Both the young people were favourites in the village. +There was a procession in the streets, a dance on the green; they +had the marionettes and a tumbler out from Dreux to delight the +guests. + +Then a year, and David's father died. The sheep and the cottage +descended to him. He already had the seemliest wife in the village. +Yvonne's milk pails and her brass kettles were bright--_ouf!_ they +blinded you in the sun when you passed that way. But you must keep +your eyes upon her yard, for her flower beds were so neat and gay +they restored to you your sight. And you might hear her sing, aye, +as far as the double chestnut tree above Pere Gruneau's blacksmith +forge. + +But a day came when David drew out paper from a long-shut drawer, +and began to bite the end of a pencil. Spring had come again and +touched his heart. Poet he must have been, for now Yvonne was +well-nigh forgotten. This fine new loveliness of earth held him +with its witchery and grace. The perfume from her woods and meadows +stirred him strangely. Daily had he gone forth with his flock, and +brought it safe at night. But now he stretched himself under the +hedge and pieced words together on his bits of paper. The sheep +strayed, and the wolves, perceiving that difficult poems make easy +mutton, ventured from the woods and stole his lambs. + +David's stock of poems grew larger and his flock smaller. Yvonne's +nose and temper waxed sharp and her talk blunt. Her pans and kettles +grew dull, but her eyes had caught their flash. She pointed out to +the poet that his neglect was reducing the flock and bringing woe +upon the household. David hired a boy to guard the sheep, locked +himself in the little room at the top of the cottage, and wrote more +poems. The boy, being a poet by nature, but not furnished with an +outlet in the way of writing, spent his time in slumber. The wolves +lost no time in discovering that poetry and sleep are practically +the same; so the flock steadily grew smaller. Yvonne's ill temper +increased at an equal rate. Sometimes she would stand in the yard +and rail at David through his high window. Then you could hear her +as far as the double chestnut tree above Pere Gruneau's blacksmith +forge. + +M. Papineau, the kind, wise, meddling old notary, saw this, as +he saw everything at which his nose pointed. He went to David, +fortified himself with a great pinch of snuff, and said: + +"Friend Mignot, I affixed the seal upon the marriage certificate of +your father. It would distress me to be obliged to attest a paper +signifying the bankruptcy of his son. But that is what you are +coming to. I speak as an old friend. Now, listen to what I have to +say. You have your heart set, I perceive, upon poetry. At Dreux, I +have a friend, one Monsieur Bril--Georges Bril. He lives in a little +cleared space in a houseful of books. He is a learned man; he visits +Paris each year; he himself has written books. He will tell you when +the catacombs were made, how they found out the names of the stars, +and why the plover has a long bill. The meaning and the form of +poetry is to him as intelligent as the baa of a sheep is to you. I +will give you a letter to him, and you shall take him your poems and +let him read them. Then you will know if you shall write more, or +give your attention to your wife and business." + +"Write the letter," said David, "I am sorry you did not speak of +this sooner." + +At sunrise the next morning he was on the road to Dreux with the +precious roll of poems under his arm. At noon he wiped the dust from +his feet at the door of Monsieur Bril. That learned man broke the +seal of M. Papineau's letter, and sucked up its contents through his +gleaming spectacles as the sun draws water. He took David inside to +his study and sat him down upon a little island beat upon by a sea +of books. + +Monsieur Bril had a conscience. He flinched not even at a mass +of manuscript the thickness of a finger length and rolled to an +incorrigible curve. He broke the back of the roll against his knee +and began to read. He slighted nothing; he bored into the lump as a +worm into a nut, seeking for a kernel. + +Meanwhile, David sat, marooned, trembling in the spray of so much +literature. It roared in his ears. He held no chart or compass for +voyaging in that sea. Half the world, he thought, must be writing +books. + +Monsieur Bril bored to the last page of the poems. Then he took off +his spectacles, and wiped them with his handkerchief. + +"My old friend, Papineau, is well?" he asked. + +"In the best of health," said David. + +"How many sheep have you, Monsieur Mignot?" + +"Three hundred and nine, when I counted them yesterday. The flock +has had ill fortune. To that number it has decreased from eight +hundred and fifty." + +"You have a wife and home, and lived in comfort. The sheep brought +you plenty. You went into the fields with them and lived in the +keen air and ate the sweet bread of contentment. You had but to be +vigilant and recline there upon nature's breast, listening to the +whistle of the blackbirds in the grove. Am I right thus far?" + +"It was so," said David. + +"I have read all your verses," continued Monsieur Bril, his eyes +wandering about his sea of books as if he conned the horizon for a +sail. "Look yonder, through that window, Monsieur Mignot; tell me +what you see in that tree." + +"I see a crow," said David, looking. + +"There is a bird," said Monsieur Bril, "that shall assist me where I +am disposed to shirk a duty. You know that bird, Monsieur Mignot; he +is the philosopher of the air. He is happy through submission to his +lot. None so merry or full-crawed as he with his whimsical eye and +rollicking step. The fields yield him what he desires. He never +grieves that his plumage is not gay, like the oriole's. And you have +heard, Monsieur Mignot, the notes that nature has given him? Is the +nightingale any happier, do you think?" + +David rose to his feet. The crow cawed harshly from his tree. + +"I thank you, Monsieur Bril," he said, slowly. "There was not, then, +one nightingale among all those croaks?" + +"I could not have missed it," said Monsieur Bril, with a sigh. "I +read every word. Live your poetry, man; do not try to write it any +more." + +"I thank you," said David, again. "And now I will be going back to +my sheep." + +"If you would dine with me," said the man of books, "and overlook +the smart of it, I will give you reasons at length." + +"No," said the poet, "I must be back in the fields cawing at my +sheep." + +Back along the road to Vernoy he trudged with his poems under his +arm. When he reached his village he turned into the shop of one +Zeigler, a Jew out of Armenia, who sold anything that came to his +hand. + +"Friend," said David, "wolves from the forest harass my sheep on the +hills. I must purchase firearms to protect them. What have you?" + +"A bad day, this, for me, friend Mignot," said Zeigler, spreading +his hands, "for I perceive that I must sell you a weapon that will +not fetch a tenth of its value. Only last I week I bought from +a peddlar a wagon full of goods that he procured at a sale by a +_commissionaire_ of the crown. The sale was of the _chateau_ and +belongings of a great lord--I know not his title--who has been +banished for conspiracy against the king. There are some choice +firearms in the lot. This pistol--oh, a weapon fit for a prince!--it +shall be only forty francs to you, friend Mignot--if I lose ten by +the sale. But perhaps an arquebuse--" + +"This will do," said David, throwing the money on the counter. "Is +it charged?" + +"I will charge it," said Zeigler. "And, for ten francs more, add a +store of powder and ball." + +David laid his pistol under his coat and walked to his cottage. +Yvonne was not there. Of late she had taken to gadding much among +the neighbours. But a fire was glowing in the kitchen stove. David +opened the door of it and thrust his poems in upon the coals. As +they blazed up they made a singing, harsh sound in the flue. + +"The song of the crow!" said the poet. + +He went up to his attic room and closed the door. So quiet was the +village that a score of people heard the roar of the great pistol. +They flocked thither, and up the stairs where the smoke, issuing, +drew their notice. + +The men laid the body of the poet upon his bed, awkwardly arranging +it to conceal the torn plumage of the poor black crow. The women +chattered in a luxury of zealous pity. Some of them ran to tell +Yvonne. + +M. Papineau, whose nose had brought him there among the first, +picked up the weapon and ran his eye over its silver mountings with +a mingled air of connoisseurship and grief. + +"The arms," he explained, aside, to the _cure_, "and crest of +Monseigneur, the Marquis de Beaupertuys." + + + + +II + +THE GUARDIAN OF THE ACCOLADE + + +Not the least important of the force of the Weymouth Bank was Uncle +Bushrod. Sixty years had Uncle Bushrod given of faithful service +to the house of Weymouth as chattel, servitor, and friend. Of the +colour of the mahogany bank furniture was Uncle Bushrod--thus dark +was he externally; white as the uninked pages of the bank ledgers +was his soul. Eminently pleasing to Uncle Bushrod would the +comparison have been; for to him the only institution in existence +worth considering was the Weymouth Bank, of which he was something +between porter and generalissimo-in-charge. + +Weymouth lay, dreamy and umbrageous, among the low foothills +along the brow of a Southern valley. Three banks there were in +Weymouthville. Two were hopeless, misguided enterprises, lacking the +presence and prestige of a Weymouth to give them glory. The third +was The Bank, managed by the Weymouths--and Uncle Bushrod. In the +old Weymouth homestead--the red brick, white-porticoed mansion, +the first to your right as you crossed Elder Creek, coming into +town--lived Mr. Robert Weymouth (the president of the bank), his +widowed daughter, Mrs. Vesey--called "Miss Letty" by every one--and +her two children, Nan and Guy. There, also in a cottage on the +grounds, resided Uncle Bushrod and Aunt Malindy, his wife. Mr. +William Weymouth (the cashier of the bank) lived in a modern, fine +house on the principal avenue. + +Mr. Robert was a large, stout man, sixty-two years of age, with +a smooth, plump face, long iron-gray hair and fiery blue eyes. +He was high-tempered, kind, and generous, with a youthful smile +and a formidable, stern voice that did not always mean what it +sounded like. Mr. William was a milder man, correct in deportment +and absorbed in business. The Weymouths formed The Family of +Weymouthville, and were looked up to, as was their right of +heritage. + +Uncle Bushrod was the bank's trusted porter, messenger, vassal, and +guardian. He carried a key to the vault, just as Mr. Robert and Mr. +William did. Sometimes there was ten, fifteen, or twenty thousand +dollars in sacked silver stacked on the vault floor. It was safe +with Uncle Bushrod. He was a Weymouth in heart, honesty, and pride. + +Of late Uncle Bushrod had not been without worry. It was on account +of Marse Robert. For nearly a year Mr. Robert had been known to +indulge in too much drink. Not enough, understand, to become tipsy, +but the habit was getting a hold upon him, and every one was +beginning to notice it. Half a dozen times a day he would leave the +bank and step around to the Merchants and Planters' Hotel to take a +drink. Mr. Robert's usual keen judgment and business capacity became +a little impaired. Mr. William, a Weymouth, but not so rich in +experience, tried to dam the inevitable backflow of the tide, but +with incomplete success. The deposits in the Weymouth Bank dropped +from six figures to five. Past-due paper began to accumulate, owing +to injudicious loans. No one cared to address Mr. Robert on the +subject of temperance. Many of his friends said that the cause of +it had been the death of his wife some two years before. Others +hesitated on account of Mr. Robert's quick temper, which was +extremely apt to resent personal interference of such a nature. Miss +Letty and the children noticed the change and grieved about it. +Uncle Bushrod also worried, but he was one of those who would not +have dared to remonstrate, although he and Marse Robert had been +raised almost as companions. But there was a heavier shock coming to +Uncle Bushrod than that caused by the bank president's toddies and +juleps. + +Mr. Robert had a passion for fishing, which he usually indulged +whenever the season and business permitted. One day, when reports +had been coming in relating to the bass and perch, he announced his +intention of making a two or three days' visit to the lakes. He was +going down, he said, to Reedy Lake with Judge Archinard, an old +friend. + +Now, Uncle Bushrod was treasurer of the Sons and Daughters of the +Burning Bush. Every association he belonged to made him treasurer +without hesitation. He stood AA1 in coloured circles. He was +understood among them to be Mr. Bushrod Weymouth, of the Weymouth +Bank. + +The night following the day on which Mr. Robert mentioned his +intended fishing-trip the old man woke up and rose from his bed at +twelve o'clock, declaring he must go down to the bank and fetch the +pass-book of the Sons and Daughters, which he had forgotten to bring +home. The bookkeeper had balanced it for him that day, put the +cancelled checks in it, and snapped two elastic bands around it. He +put but one band around other pass-books. + +Aunt Malindy objected to the mission at so late an hour, denouncing +it as foolish and unnecessary, but Uncle Bushrod was not to be +deflected from duty. + +"I done told Sister Adaline Hoskins," he said, "to come by here for +dat book to-morrer mawnin' at sebin o'clock, for to kyar' it to de +meetin' of de bo'd of 'rangements, and dat book gwine to be here +when she come." + +So, Uncle Bushrod put on his old brown suit, got his thick hickory +stick, and meandered through the almost deserted streets of +Weymouthville. He entered the bank, unlocking the side door, and +found the pass-book where he had left it, in the little back room +used for consultations, where he always hung his coat. Looking about +casually, he saw that everything was as he had left it, and was +about to start for home when he was brought to a standstill by the +sudden rattle of a key in the front door. Some one came quickly in, +closed the door softly, and entered the counting-room through the +door in the iron railing. + +That division of the bank's space was connected with the back room +by a narrow passageway, now in deep darkness. + +Uncle Bushrod, firmly gripping his hickory stick, tiptoed gently +up this passage until he could see the midnight intruder into the +sacred precincts of the Weymouth Bank. One dim gas-jet burned there, +but even in its nebulous light he perceived at once that the prowler +was the bank's president. + +Wondering, fearful, undecided what to do, the old coloured man stood +motionless in the gloomy strip of hallway, and waited developments. + +The vault, with its big iron door, was opposite him. Inside that +was the safe, holding the papers of value, the gold and currency of +the bank. On the floor of the vault was, perhaps, eighteen thousand +dollars in silver. + +The president took his key from his pocket, opened the vault and +went inside, nearly closing the door behind him. Uncle Bushrod saw, +through the narrow aperture, the flicker of a candle. In a minute or +two--it seemed an hour to the watcher--Mr. Robert came out, bringing +with him a large hand-satchel, handling it in a careful but hurried +manner, as if fearful that he might be observed. With one hand he +closed and locked the vault door. + +With a reluctant theory forming itself beneath his wool, Uncle +Bushrod waited and watched, shaking in his concealing shadow. + +Mr. Robert set the satchel softly upon a desk, and turned his coat +collar up about his neck and ears. He was dressed in a rough suit +of gray, as if for travelling. He glanced with frowning intentness +at the big office clock above the burning gas-jet, and then looked +lingeringly about the bank--lingeringly and fondly, Uncle Bushrod +thought, as one who bids farewell to dear and familiar scenes. + +Now he caught up his burden again and moved promptly and softly out +of the bank by the way he had come locking the front door behind +him. + +For a minute or longer Uncle Bushrod was as stone in his tracks. Had +that midnight rifler of safes and vaults been any other on earth +than the man he was, the old retainer would have rushed upon him and +struck to save the Weymouth property. But now the watcher's soul was +tortured by the poignant dread of something worse than mere robbery. +He was seized by an accusing terror that said the Weymouth name and +the Weymouth honour were about to be lost. Marse Robert robbing the +bank! What else could it mean? The hour of the night, the stealthy +visit to the vault, the satchel brought forth full and with +expedition and silence, the prowler's rough dress, his solicitous +reading of the clock, and noiseless departure--what else could it +mean? + +And then to the turmoil of Uncle Bushrod's thoughts came the +corroborating recollection of preceding events--Mr. Robert's +increasing intemperance and consequent many moods of royal high +spirits and stern tempers; the casual talk he had heard in the bank +of the decrease in business and difficulty in collecting loans. +What else could it all mean but that Mr. Robert Weymouth was an +absconder--was about to fly with the bank's remaining funds, leaving +Mr. William, Miss Letty, little Nan, Guy, and Uncle Bushrod to bear +the disgrace? + +During one minute Uncle Bushrod considered these things, and then he +awoke to sudden determination and action. + +"Lawd! Lawd!" he moaned aloud, as he hobbled hastily toward the side +door. "Sech a come-off after all dese here years of big doin's and +fine doin's. Scan'lous sights upon de yearth when de Weymouth fambly +done turn out robbers and 'bezzlers! Time for Uncle Bushrod to clean +out somebody's chicken-coop and eben matters up. Oh, Lawd! Marse +Robert, you ain't gwine do dat. 'N Miss Letty an' dem chillun so +proud and talkin' 'Weymouth, Weymouth,' all de time! I'm gwine to +stop you ef I can. 'Spec you shoot Mr. Nigger's head off ef he fool +wid you, but I'm gwine stop you ef I can." + +Uncle Bushrod, aided by his hickory stick, impeded by his +rheumatism, hurried down the street toward the railroad station, +where the two lines touching Weymouthville met. As he had expected +and feared, he saw there Mr. Robert, standing in the shadow of the +building, waiting for the train. He held the satchel in his hand. + +When Uncle Bushrod came within twenty yards of the bank president, +standing like a huge, gray ghost by the station wall, sudden +perturbation seized him. The rashness and audacity of the thing he +had come to do struck him fully. He would have been happy could he +have turned and fled from the possibilities of the famous Weymouth +wrath. But again he saw, in his fancy, the white reproachful face of +Miss Letty, and the distressed looks of Nan and Guy, should he fail +in his duty and they question him as to his stewardship. + +Braced by the thought, he approached in a straight line, clearing +his throat and pounding with his stick so that he might be early +recognized. Thus he might avoid the likely danger of too suddenly +surprising the sometimes hasty Mr. Robert. + +"Is that you, Bushrod?" called the clamant, clear voice of the gray +ghost. + +"Yes, suh, Marse Robert." + +"What the devil are you doing out at this time of night?" + +For the first time in his life, Uncle Bushrod told Marse Robert a +falsehood. He could not repress it. He would have to circumlocute a +little. His nerve was not equal to a direct attack. + +"I done been down, suh, to see ol' Aunt M'ria Patterson. She taken +sick in de night, and I kyar'ed her a bottle of M'lindy's medercine. +Yes, suh." + +"Humph!" said Robert. "You better get home out of the night air. +It's damp. You'll hardly be worth killing to-morrow on account of +your rheumatism. Think it'll be a clear day, Bushrod?" + +"I 'low it will, suh. De sun sot red las' night." + +Mr. Robert lit a cigar in the shadow, and the smoke looked like his +gray ghost expanding and escaping into the night air. Somehow, Uncle +Bushrod could barely force his reluctant tongue to the dreadful +subject. He stood, awkward, shambling, with his feet upon the gravel +and fumbling with his stick. But then, afar off--three miles away, +at the Jimtown switch--he heard the faint whistle of the coming +train, the one that was to transport the Weymouth name into the +regions of dishonour and shame. All fear left him. He took off his +hat and faced the chief of the clan he served, the great, royal, +kind, lofty, terrible Weymouth--he bearded him there at the brink of +the awful thing that was about to happen. + +"Marse Robert," he began, his voice quivering a little with the +stress of his feelings, "you 'member de day dey-all rode de +tunnament at Oak Lawn? De day, suh, dat you win in de ridin', and +you crown Miss Lucy de queen?" + +"Tournament?" said Mr. Robert, taking his cigar from his mouth. +"Yes, I remember very well the--but what the deuce are you talking +about tournaments here at midnight for? Go 'long home, Bushrod. I +believe you're sleep-walking." + +"Miss Lucy tetch you on de shoulder," continued the old man, +never heeding, "wid a s'ord, and say: 'I mek you a knight, Suh +Robert--rise up, pure and fearless and widout reproach.' Dat what +Miss Lucy say. Dat's been a long time ago, but me nor you ain't +forgot it. And den dar's another time we ain't forgot--de time when +Miss Lucy lay on her las' bed. She sent for Uncle Bushrod, and she +say: 'Uncle Bushrod, when I die, I want you to take good care of Mr. +Robert. Seem like'--so Miss Lucy say--'he listen to you mo' dan to +anybody else. He apt to be mighty fractious sometimes, and maybe +he cuss you when you try to 'suade him but he need somebody what +understand him to be 'round wid him. He am like a little child +sometimes'--so Miss Lucy say, wid her eyes shinin' in her po', thin +face--'but he always been'--dem was her words--'my knight, pure and +fearless and widout reproach.'" + +Mr. Robert began to mask, as was his habit, a tendency to +soft-heartedness with a spurious anger. + +"You--you old windbag!" he growled through a cloud of swirling cigar +smoke. "I believe you are crazy. I told you to go home, Bushrod. +Miss Lucy said that, did she? Well, we haven't kept the scutcheon +very clear. Two years ago last week, wasn't it, Bushrod, when she +died? Confound it! Are you going to stand there all night gabbing +like a coffee-coloured gander?" + +The train whistled again. Now it was at the water tank, a mile away. + +"Marse Robert," said Uncle Bushrod, laying his hand on the satchel +that the banker held. "For Gawd's sake, don' take dis wid you. I +knows what's in it. I knows where you got it in de bank. Don' kyar' +it wid you. Dey's big trouble in dat valise for Miss Lucy and Miss +Lucy's child's chillun. Hit's bound to destroy de name of Weymouth +and bow down dem dat own it wid shame and triberlation. Marse +Robert, you can kill dis ole nigger ef you will, but don't take away +dis 'er' valise. If I ever crosses over de Jordan, what I gwine to +say to Miss Lucy when she ax me: 'Uncle Bushrod, wharfo' didn' you +take good care of Mr. Robert?'" + +Mr. Robert Weymouth threw away his cigar and shook free one arm +with that peculiar gesture that always preceded his outbursts of +irascibility. Uncle Bushrod bowed his head to the expected storm, +but he did not flinch. If the house of Weymouth was to fall, he +would fall with it. The banker spoke, and Uncle Bushrod blinked with +surprise. The storm was there, but it was suppressed to the +quietness of a summer breeze. + +"Bushrod," said Mr. Robert, in a lower voice than he usually +employed, "you have overstepped all bounds. You have presumed +upon the leniency with which you have been treated to meddle +unpardonably. So you know what is in this satchel! Your long and +faithful service is some excuse, but--go home, Bushrod--not another +word!" + +But Bushrod grasped the satchel with a firmer hand. The headlight of +the train was now lightening the shadows about the station. The roar +was increasing, and folks were stirring about at the track side. + +"Marse Robert, gimme dis 'er' valise. I got a right, suh, to talk to +you dis 'er' way. I slaved for you and 'tended to you from a child +up. I went th'ough de war as yo' body-servant tell we whipped de +Yankees and sent 'em back to de No'th. I was at yo' weddin', and +I was n' fur away when yo' Miss Letty was bawn. And Miss Letty's +chillun, dey watches to-day for Uncle Bushrod when he come +home ever' evenin'. I been a Weymouth, all 'cept in colour and +entitlements. Both of us is old, Marse Robert. 'Tain't goin' to be +long till we gwine to see Miss Lucy and has to give an account of +our doin's. De ole nigger man won't be 'spected to say much mo' dan +he done all he could by de fambly dat owned him. But de Weymouths, +dey must say dey been livin' pure and fearless and widout reproach. +Gimme dis valise, Marse Robert--I'm gwine to hab it. I'm gwine to +take it back to the bank and lock it up in de vault. I'm gwine to do +Miss Lucy's biddin'. Turn 'er loose, Marse Robert." + +The train was standing at the station. Some men were pushing trucks +along the side. Two or three sleepy passengers got off and wandered +away into the night. The conductor stepped to the gravel, swung his +lantern and called: "Hello, Frank!" at some one invisible. The bell +clanged, the brakes hissed, the conductor drawled: "All aboard!" + +Mr. Robert released his hold on the satchel. Uncle Bushrod hugged it +to his breast with both arms, as a lover clasps his first beloved. + +"Take it back with you, Bushrod," said Mr. Robert, thrusting his +hands into his pockets. "And let the subject drop--now mind! You've +said quite enough. I'm going to take the train. Tell Mr. William I +will be back on Saturday. Good night." + +The banker climbed the steps of the moving train and disappeared +in a coach. Uncle Bushrod stood motionless, still embracing the +precious satchel. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving in +thanks to the Master above for the salvation of the Weymouth honour. +He knew Mr. Robert would return when he said he would. The Weymouths +never lied. Nor now, thank the Lord! could it be said that they +embezzled the money in banks. + +Then awake to the necessity for further guardianship of Weymouth +trust funds, the old man started for the bank with the redeemed +satchel. + + + +Three hours from Weymouthville, in the gray dawn, Mr. Robert +alighted from the train at a lonely flag-station. Dimly he could +see the figure of a man waiting on the platform, and the shape +of a spring-waggon, team and driver. Half a dozen lengthy bamboo +fishing-poles projected from the waggon's rear. + +"You're here, Bob," said Judge Archinard, Mr. Robert's old friend +and schoolmate. "It's going to be a royal day for fishing. I thought +you said--why, didn't you bring along the stuff?" + +The president of the Weymouth Bank took off his hat and rumpled his +gray locks. + +"Well, Ben, to tell you the truth, there's an infernally +presumptuous old nigger belonging in my family that broke up +the arrangement. He came down to the depot and vetoed the whole +proceeding. He means all right, and--well, I reckon he _is_ right. +Somehow, he had found out what I had along--though I hid it in the +bank vault and sneaked it out at midnight. I reckon he has noticed +that I've been indulging a little more than a gentleman should, and +he laid for me with some reaching arguments. + +"I'm going to quit drinking," Mr. Robert concluded. "I've come to +the conclusion that a man can't keep it up and be quite what he'd +like to be--'pure and fearless and without reproach'--that's the way +old Bushrod quoted it." + +"Well, I'll have to admit," said the judge, thoughtfully, as they +climbed into the waggon, "that the old darkey's argument can't +conscientiously be overruled." + +"Still," said Mr. Robert, with a ghost of a sigh, "there was two +quarts of the finest old silk-velvet Bourbon in that satchel you +ever wet your lips with." + + + + +III + +THE DISCOUNTERS OF MONEY + + +The spectacle of the money-caliphs of the present day going about +Bagdad-on-the-Subway trying to relieve the wants of the people is +enough to make the great Al Raschid turn Haroun in his grave. If not +so, then the assertion should do so, the real caliph having been a +wit and a scholar and therefore a hater of puns. + +How properly to alleviate the troubles of the poor is one of the +greatest troubles of the rich. But one thing agreed upon by all +professional philanthropists is that you must never hand over any +cash to your subject. The poor are notoriously temperamental; and +when they get money they exhibit a strong tendency to spend it for +stuffed olives and enlarged crayon portraits instead of giving it to +the instalment man. + +And still, old Haroun had some advantages as an eleemosynarian. +He took around with him on his rambles his vizier, Giafar (a +vizier is a composite of a chauffeur, a secretary of state, and a +night-and-day bank), and old Uncle Mesrour, his executioner, who +toted a snickersnee. With this entourage a caliphing tour could +hardly fail to be successful. Have you noticed lately any newspaper +articles headed, "What Shall We Do With Our Ex-Presidents?" Well, +now, suppose that Mr. Carnegie could engage _him_ and Joe Gans to +go about assisting in the distribution of free libraries? Do you +suppose any town would have had the hardihood to refuse one? That +caliphalous combination would cause two libraries to grow where +there had been only one set of E. P. Roe's works before. + +But, as I said, the money-caliphs are handicapped. They have the +idea that earth has no sorrow that dough cannot heal; and they rely +upon it solely. Al Raschid administered justice, rewarding the +deserving, and punished whomsoever he disliked on the spot. He was +the originator of the short-story contest. Whenever he succoured any +chance pick-up in the bazaars he always made the succouree tell the +sad story of his life. If the narrative lacked construction, style, +and _esprit_ he commanded his vizier to dole him out a couple +of thousand ten-dollar notes of the First National Bank of the +Bosphorus, or else gave him a soft job as Keeper of the Bird +Seed for the Bulbuls in the Imperial Gardens. If the story was a +cracker-jack, he had Mesrour, the executioner, whack off his head. +The report that Haroun Al Raschid is yet alive and is editing +the magazine that your grandmother used to subscribe for lacks +confirmation. + +And now follows the Story of the Millionaire, the Inefficacious +Increment, and the Babes Drawn from the Wood. + +Young Howard Pilkins, the millionaire, got his money +ornithologically. He was a shrewd judge of storks, and got in on +the ground floor at the residence of his immediate ancestors, +the Pilkins Brewing Company. For his mother was a partner in +the business. Finally old man Pilkins died from a torpid liver, +and then Mrs. Pilkins died from worry on account of torpid +delivery-waggons--and there you have young Howard Pilkins with +4,000,000; and a good fellow at that. He was an agreeable, modestly +arrogant young man, who implicitly believed that money could buy +anything that the world had to offer. And Bagdad-on-the-Subway for +a long time did everything possible to encourage his belief. + +But the Rat-trap caught him at last; he heard the spring snap, and +found his heart in a wire cage regarding a piece of cheese whose +other name was Alice von der Ruysling. + +The Von der Ruyslings still live in that little square about which +so much has been said, and in which so little has been done. To-day +you hear of Mr. Tilden's underground passage, and you hear Mr. +Gould's elevated passage, and that about ends the noise in the world +made by Gramercy Square. But once it was different. The Von der +Ruyslings live there yet, and they received _the first key ever made +to Gramercy Park_. + +You shall have no description of Alice v. d. R. Just call up in your +mind the picture of your own Maggie or Vera or Beatrice, straighten +her nose, soften her voice, tone her down and then tone her up, +make her beautiful and unattainable--and you have a faint dry-point +etching of Alice. The family owned a crumbly brick house and a +coachman named Joseph in a coat of many colours, and a horse so old +that he claimed to belong to the order of the Perissodactyla, and +had toes instead of hoofs. In the year 1898 the family had to buy +a new set of harness for the Perissodactyl. Before using it they +made Joseph smear it over with a mixture of ashes and soot. It +was the Von der Ruysling family that bought the territory between +the Bowery and East River and Rivington Street and the Statue of +Liberty, in the year 1649, from an Indian chief for a quart of +passementerie and a pair of Turkey-red portieres designed for a +Harlem flat. I have always admired that Indian's perspicacity and +good taste. All this is merely to convince you that the Von der +Ruyslings were exactly the kind of poor aristocrats that turn down +their noses at people who have money. Oh, well, I don't mean that; I +mean people who have _just_ money. + +One evening Pilkins went down to the red brick house in Gramercy +Square, and made what he thought was a proposal to Alice v. d. R. +Alice, with her nose turned down, and thinking of his money, +considered it a proposition, and refused it and him. Pilkins, +summoning all his resources as any good general would have done, +made an indiscreet references to the advantages that his money +would provide. That settled it. The lady turned so cold that Walter +Wellman himself would have waited until spring to make a dash for +her in a dog-sled. + +But Pilkins was something of a sport himself. You can't fool all the +millionaires every time the ball drops on the Western Union +Building. + +"If, at any time," he said to A. v. d. R., "you feel that you would +like to reconsider your answer, send me a rose like that." + +Pilkins audaciously touched a Jacque rose that she wore loosely in +her hair. + +"Very well," said she. "And when I do, you will understand by it +that either you or I have learned something new about the purchasing +power of money. You've been spoiled, my friend. No, I don't think +I could marry you. To-morrow I will send you back the presents you +have given me." + +"Presents!" said Pilkins in surprise. "I never gave you a present in +my life. I would like to see a full-length portrait of the man that +you would take a present from. Why, you never would let me send you +flowers or candy or even art calendars." + +"You've forgotten," said Alice v. d. R., with a little smile. "It +was a long time ago when our families were neighbours. You were +seven, and I was trundling my doll on the sidewalk. You have me a +little gray, hairy kitten, with shoe-buttony eyes. Its head came +off and it was full of candy. You paid five cents for it--you told +me so. I haven't the candy to return to you--I hadn't developed a +conscience at three, so I ate it. But I have the kitten yet, and I +will wrap it up neatly to-night and send it to you to-morrow." + +Beneath the lightness of Alice v. d. R.'s talk the steadfastness of +her rejection showed firm and plain. So there was nothing left for +him but to leave the crumbly red brick house, and be off with his +abhorred millions. + +On his way back, Pilkins walked through Madison Square. The hour +hand of the clock hung about eight; the air was stingingly cool, +but not at the freezing point. The dim little square seemed like a +great, cold, unroofed room, with its four walls of houses, spangled +with thousands of insufficient lights. Only a few loiterers were +huddled here and there on the benches. + +But suddenly Pilkins came upon a youth sitting brave and, as +if conflicting with summer sultriness, coatless, his white +shirt-sleeves conspicuous in the light from the globe of an +electric. Close to his side was a girl, smiling, dreamy, happy. +Around her shoulders was, palpably, the missing coat of the +cold-defying youth. It appeared to be a modern panorama of the Babes +in the Wood, revised and brought up to date, with the exception that +the robins hadn't turned up yet with the protecting leaves. + +With delight the money-caliphs view a situation that they think is +relievable while you wait. + +Pilkins sat on the bench, one seat removed from the youth. He +glanced cautiously and saw (as men do see; and women--oh! never can) +that they were of the same order. + +Pilkins leaned over after a short time and spoke to the youth, +who answered smilingly, and courteously. From general topics the +conversation concentrated to the bed-rock of grim personalities. +But Pilkins did it as delicately and heartily as any caliph could +have done. And when it came to the point, the youth turned to him, +soft-voiced and with his undiminished smile. + +"I don't want to seem unappreciative, old man," he said, with a +youth's somewhat too-early spontaneity of address, "but, you see, I +can't accept anything from a stranger. I know you're all right, and +I'm tremendously obliged, but I couldn't think of borrowing from +anybody. You see, I'm Marcus Clayton--the Claytons of Roanoke +County, Virginia, you know. The young lady is Miss Eva Bedford--I +reckon you've heard of the Bedfords. She's seventeen and one of the +Bedfords of Bedford County. We've eloped from home to get married, +and we wanted to see New York. We got in this afternoon. Somebody +got my pocketbook on the ferry-boat, and I had only three cents in +change outside of it. I'll get some work somewhere to-morrow, and +we'll get married." + +"But, I say, old man," said Pilkins, in confidential low tones, +"you can't keep the lady out here in the cold all night. Now, as for +hotels--" + +"I told you," said the youth, with a broader smile, "that I didn't +have but three cents. Besides, if I had a thousand, we'd have to +wait here until morning. You can understand that, of course. I'm +much obliged, but I can't take any of your money. Miss Bedford and +I have lived an outdoor life, and we don't mind a little cold. I'll +get work of some kind to-morrow. We've got a paper bag of cakes and +chocolates, and we'll get along all right." + +"Listen," said the millionaire, impressively. "My name is Pilkins, +and I'm worth several million dollars. I happen to have in my +pockets about $800 or $900 in cash. Don't you think you are drawing +it rather fine when you decline to accept as much of it as will make +you and the young lady comfortable at least for the night?" + +"I can't say, sir, that I do think so," said Clayton of Roanoke +County. "I've been raised to look at such things differently. But +I'm mightily obliged to you, just the same." + +"Then you force me to say good night," said the millionaire. + +Twice that day had his money been scorned by simple ones to whom his +dollars had appeared as but tin tobacco-tags. He was no worshipper +of the actual minted coin or stamped paper, but he had always +believed in its almost unlimited power to purchase. + +Pilkins walked away rapidly, and then turned abruptly and returned +to the bench where the young couple sat. He took off his hat and +began to speak. The girl looked at him with the same sprightly, +glowing interest that she had been giving to the lights and statuary +and sky-reaching buildings that made the old square seem so far away +from Bedford County. + +"Mr.--er--Roanoke," said Pilkins, "I admire your--your indepen--your +idiocy so much that I'm going to appeal to your chivalry. I believe +that's what you Southerners call it when you keep a lady sitting +outdoors on a bench on a cold night just to keep your old, +out-of-date pride going. Now, I've a friend--a lady--whom I have +known all my life--who lives a few blocks from here--with her +parents and sisters and aunts, and all that kind of endorsement, +of course. I am sure this lady would be happy and pleased to put +up--that is, to have Miss--er--Bedford give her the pleasure of +having her as a guest for the night. Don't you think, Mr. Roanoke, +of--er--Virginia, that you could unbend your prejudices that far?" + +Clayton of Roanoke rose and held out his hand. + +"Old man," he said, "Miss Bedford will be much pleased to accept the +hospitality of the lady you refer to." + +He formally introduced Mr. Pilkins to Miss Bedford. The girl +looked at him sweetly and comfortably. "It's a lovely evening, Mr. +Pilkins--don't you think so?" she said slowly. + +Pilkins conducted them to the crumbly red brick house of the Von der +Ruyslings. His card brought Alice downstairs wondering. The runaways +were sent into the drawing-room, while Pilkins told Alice all about +it in the hall. + +"Of course, I will take her in," said Alice. "Haven't those Southern +girls a thoroughbred air? Of course, she will stay here. You will +look after Mr. Clayton, of course." + +"Will I?" said Pilkins, delightedly. "Oh yes, I'll look after him! +As a citizen of New York, and therefore a part owner of its public +parks, I'm going to extend to him the hospitality of Madison Square +to-night. He's going to sit there on a bench till morning. There's +no use arguing with him. Isn't he wonderful? I'm glad you'll look +after the little lady, Alice. I tell you those Babes in the Wood +made my--that is, er--made Wall Street and the Bank of England look +like penny arcades." + +Miss Von der Ruysling whisked Miss Bedford of Bedford County up to +restful regions upstairs. When she came down, she put an oblong +small pasteboard box into Pilkins' hands. + +"Your present," she said, "that I am returning to you." + +"Oh, yes, I remember," said Pilkins, with a sigh, "the woolly +kitten." + +He left Clayton on a park bench, and shook hands with him heartily. + +"After I get work," said the youth, "I'll look you up. Your address +is on your card, isn't it? Thanks. Well, good night. I'm awfully +obliged to you for your kindness. No, thanks, I don't smoke. Good +night." + +In his room, Pilkins opened the box and took out the staring, funny +kitten, long ago ravaged of his candy and minus one shoe-button eye. +Pilkins looked at it sorrowfully. + +"After all," he said, "I don't believe that just money alone will--" + +And then he gave a shout and dug into the bottom of the box for +something else that had been the kitten's resting-place--a crushed +but red, red, fragrant, glorious, promising Jacqueminot rose. + + + + +IV + +THE ENCHANTED PROFILE + + +There are few Caliphesses. Women are Scheherazades by birth, +predilection, instinct, and arrangement of the vocal cords. The +thousand and one stories are being told every day by hundreds of +thousands of viziers' daughters to their respective sultans. But +the bowstring will get some of 'em yet if they don't watch out. + +I heard a story, though, of one lady Caliph. It isn't precisely +an Arabian Nights story, because it brings in Cinderella, who +flourished her dishrag in another epoch and country. So, if you +don't mind the mixed dates (which seem to give it an Eastern +flavour, after all), we'll get along. + +In New York there is an old, old hotel. You have seen woodcuts of +it in the magazines. It was built--let's see--at a time when there +was nothing above Fourteenth Street except the old Indian trail +to Boston and Hammerstein's office. Soon the old hostelry will be +torn down. And, as the stout walls are riven apart and the bricks +go roaring down the chutes, crowds of citizens will gather at +the nearest corners and weep over the destruction of a dear old +landmark. Civic pride is strongest in New Bagdad; and the wettest +weeper and the loudest howler against the iconoclasts will be the +man (originally from Terre Haute) whose fond memories of the old +hotel are limited to his having been kicked out from its free-lunch +counter in 1873. + +At this hotel always stopped Mrs. Maggie Brown. Mrs. Brown was a +bony woman of sixty, dressed in the rustiest black, and carrying a +handbag made, apparently, from the hide of the original animal that +Adam decided to call an alligator. She always occupied a small +parlour and bedroom at the top of the hotel at a rental of two +dollars per day. And always, while she was there, each day came +hurrying to see her many men, sharp-faced, anxious-looking, with +only seconds to spare. For Maggie Brown was said to be the third +richest woman in the world; and these solicitous gentlemen were only +the city's wealthiest brokers and business men seeking trifling +loans of half a dozen millions or so from the dingy old lady with +the prehistoric handbag. + +The stenographer and typewriter of the Acropolis Hotel (there! I've +let the name of it out!) was Miss Ida Bates. She was a hold-over +from the Greek classics. There wasn't a flaw in her looks. Some +old-timer paying his regards to a lady said: "To have loved her was +a liberal education." Well, even to have looked over the black hair +and neat white shirtwaist of Miss Bates was equal to a full course +in any correspondence school in the country. She sometimes did a +little typewriting for me, and, as she refused to take the money +in advance, she came to look upon me as something of a friend and +protege. She had unfailing kindliness and a good nature; and not +even a white-lead drummer or a fur importer had ever dared to cross +the dead line of good behaviour in her presence. The entire force of +the Acropolis, from the owner, who lived in Vienna, down to the head +porter, who had been bedridden for sixteen years, would have sprung +to her defence in a moment. + +One day I walked past Miss Bates's little sanctum Remingtorium, +and saw in her place a black-haired unit--unmistakably a +person--pounding with each of her forefingers upon the keys. Musing +on the mutability of temporal affairs, I passed on. The next day I +went on a two weeks' vacation. Returning, I strolled through the +lobby of the Acropolis, and saw, with a little warm glow of auld +lang syne, Miss Bates, as Grecian and kind and flawless as ever, +just putting the cover on her machine. The hour for closing had +come; but she asked me in to sit for a few minutes in the dictation +chair. Miss Bates explained her absence from and return to the +Acropolis Hotel in words identical with or similar to these +following: + +"Well, Man, how are the stories coming?" + +"Pretty regularly," said I. "About equal to their going." + +"I'm sorry," said she. "Good typewriting is the main thing in a +story. You've missed me, haven't you?" + +"No one," said I, "whom I have ever known knows as well as you do +how to space properly belt buckles, semi-colons, hotel guests, +and hairpins. But you've been away, too. I saw a package of +peppermint-pepsin in your place the other day." + +"I was going to tell you all about it," said Miss Bates, "if you +hadn't interrupted me. + +"Of course, you know about Maggie Brown, who stops here. Well, she's +worth $40,000,000. She lives in Jersey in a ten-dollar flat. She's +always got more cash on hand than half a dozen business candidates +for vice-president. I don't know whether she carries it in her +stocking or not, but I know she's mighty popular down in the part of +town where they worship the golden calf. + +"Well, about two weeks ago, Mrs. Brown stops at the door and rubbers +at me for ten minutes. I'm sitting with my side to her, striking off +some manifold copies of a copper-mine proposition for a nice old man +from Tonopah. But I always see everything all around me. When I'm +hard at work I can see things through my side-combs; and I can leave +one button unbuttoned in the back of my shirtwaist and see who's +behind me. I didn't look around, because I make from eighteen to +twenty dollars a week, and I didn't have to. + +"That evening at knocking-off time she sends for me to come up to +her apartment. I expected to have to typewrite about two thousand +words of notes-of-hand, liens, and contracts, with a ten-cent tip in +sight; but I went. Well, Man, I was certainly surprised. Old Maggie +Brown had turned human. + +"'Child,' says she, 'you're the most beautiful creature I ever saw +in my life. I want you to quit your work and come and live with me. +I've no kith or kin,' says she, 'except a husband and a son or two, +and I hold no communication with any of 'em. They're extravagant +burdens on a hard-working woman. I want you to be a daughter to me. +They say I'm stingy and mean, and the papers print lies about my +doing my own cooking and washing. It's a lie,' she goes on. 'I +put my washing out, except the handkerchiefs and stockings and +petticoats and collars, and light stuff like that. I've got forty +million dollars in cash and stocks and bonds that are as negotiable +as Standard Oil, preferred, at a church fair. I'm a lonely old woman +and I need companionship. You're the most beautiful human being I +ever saw,' says she. 'Will you come and live with me? I'll show 'em +whether I can spend money or not,' she says. + +"Well, Man, what would you have done? Of course, I fell to it. And, +to tell you the truth, I began to like old Maggie. It wasn't all on +account of the forty millions and what she could do for me. I was +kind of lonesome in the world too. Everybody's got to have somebody +they can explain to about the pain in their left shoulder and how +fast patent-leather shoes wear out when they begin to crack. And +you can't talk about such things to men you meet in hotels--they're +looking for just such openings. + +"So I gave up my job in the hotel and went with Mrs. Brown. I +certainly seemed to have a mash on her. She'd look at me for half +an hour at a time when I was sitting, reading, or looking at the +magazines. + +"One time I says to her: 'Do I remind you of some deceased relative +or friend of your childhood, Mrs. Brown? I've noticed you give me a +pretty good optical inspection from time to time.' + +"'You have a face,' she says, 'exactly like a dear friend of +mine--the best friend I ever had. But I like you for yourself, +child, too,' she says. + +"And say, Man, what do you suppose she did? Loosened up like a +Marcel wave in the surf at Coney. She took me to a swell dressmaker +and gave her _a la carte_ to fit me out--money no object. They were +rush orders, and madame locked the front door and put the whole +force to work. + +"Then we moved to--where do you think?--no; guess again--that's +right--the Hotel Bonton. We had a six-room apartment; and it cost +$100 a day. I saw the bill. I began to love that old lady. + +"And then, Man, when my dresses began to come in--oh, I won't tell +you about 'em! you couldn't understand. And I began to call her +Aunt Maggie. You've read about Cinderella, of course. Well, what +Cinderella said when the prince fitted that 3-1/2 A on her foot was +a hard-luck story compared to the things I told myself. + +"Then Aunt Maggie says she is going to give me a coming-out banquet +in the Bonton that'll make moving Vans of all the old Dutch families +on Fifth Avenue. + +"'I've been out before, Aunt Maggie,' says I. 'But I'll come out +again. But you know,' says I, 'that this is one of the swellest +hotels in the city. And you know--pardon me--that it's hard to get +a bunch of notables together unless you've trained for it.' + +"'Don't fret about that, child,' says Aunt Maggie. 'I don't send +out invitations--I issue orders. I'll have fifty guests here that +couldn't be brought together again at any reception unless it were +given by King Edward or William Travers Jerome. They are men, of +course, and all of 'em either owe me money or intend to. Some of +their wives won't come, but a good many will.' + +"Well, I wish you could have been at that banquet. The dinner +service was all gold and cut glass. There were about forty men and +eight ladies present besides Aunt Maggie and I. You'd never have +known the third richest woman in the world. She had on a new black +silk dress with so much passementerie on it that it sounded exactly +like a hailstorm I heard once when I was staying all night with a +girl that lived in a top-floor studio. + +"And my dress!--say, Man, I can't waste the words on you. It was all +hand-made lace--where there was any of it at all--and it cost $300. +I saw the bill. The men were all bald-headed or white-whiskered, and +they kept up a running fire of light repartee about 3-per cents. and +Bryan and the cotton crop. + +"On the left of me was something that talked like a banker, and on +my right was a young fellow who said he was a newspaper artist. He +was the only--well, I was going to tell you. + +"After the dinner was over Mrs. Brown and I went up to the +apartment. We had to squeeze our way through a mob of reporters all +the way through the halls. That's one of the things money does for +you. Say, do you happen to know a newspaper artist named Lathrop--a +tall man with nice eyes and an easy way of talking? No, I don't +remember what paper he works on. Well, all right. + +"When we got upstairs Mrs. Brown telephones for the bill right away. +It came, and it was $600. I saw the bill. Aunt Maggie fainted. I got +her on a lounge and opened the bead-work. + +"'Child,' says she, when she got back to the world, 'what was it? A +raise of rent or an income-tax?' + +"'Just a little dinner,' says I. 'Nothing to worry about--hardly a +drop in the bucket-shop. Sit up and take notice--a dispossess +notice, if there's no other kind.' + +"But say, Man, do you know what Aunt Maggie did? She got cold feet! +She hustled me out of that Hotel Bonton at nine the next morning. We +went to a rooming-house on the lower West Side. She rented one room +that had water on the floor below and light on the floor above. +After we got moved all you could see in the room was about $1,500 +worth of new swell dresses and a one-burner gas-stove. + +"Aunt Maggie had had a sudden attack of the hedges. I guess +everybody has got to go on a spree once in their life. A man spends +his on highballs, and a woman gets woozy on clothes. But with forty +million dollars--say, I'd like to have a picture of--but, speaking +of pictures, did you ever run across a newspaper artist named +Lathrop--a tall--oh, I asked you that before, didn't I? He was +mighty nice to me at the dinner. His voice just suited me. I guess +he must have thought I was to inherit some of Aunt Maggie's money. + +"Well, Mr. Man, three days of that light-housekeeping was plenty +for me. Aunt Maggie was affectionate as ever. She'd hardly let me +get out of her sight. But let me tell you. She was a hedger from +Hedgersville, Hedger County. Seventy-five cents a day was the limit +she set. We cooked our own meals in the room. There I was, with +a thousand dollars' worth of the latest things in clothes, doing +stunts over a one-burner gas-stove. + +"As I say, on the third day I flew the coop. I couldn't stand for +throwing together a fifteen-cent kidney stew while wearing, at the +same time, a $150 house-dress, with Valenciennes lace insertion. So +I goes into the closet and puts on the cheapest dress Mrs. Brown had +bought for me--it's the one I've got on now--not so bad for $75, is +it? I'd left all my own clothes in my sister's flat in Brooklyn. + +"'Mrs. Brown, formerly "Aunt Maggie,"' says I to her, 'I'm going to +extend my feet alternately, one after the other, in such a manner +and direction that this tenement will recede from me in the quickest +possible time. I am no worshipper of money,' says I, 'but there are +some things I can't stand. I can stand the fabulous monster that +I've read about that blows hot birds and cold bottles with the same +breath. But I can't stand a quitter,' says I. 'They say you've got +forty million dollars--well, you'll never have any less. And I was +beginning to like you, too,' says I. + +"Well, the late Aunt Maggie kicks till the tears flow. She offers to +move into a swell room with a two-burner stove and running water. + +"'I've spent an awful lot of money, child,' says she. 'We'll have +to economize for a while. You're the most beautiful creature I ever +laid eyes on,' she says, 'and I don't want you to leave me.' + +"Well, you see me, don't you? I walked straight to the Acropolis and +asked for my job back, and I got it. How did you say your writings +were getting along? I know you've lost out some by not having me to +type 'em. Do you ever have 'em illustrated? And, by the way, did you +ever happen to know a newspaper artist--oh, shut up! I know I asked +you before. I wonder what paper he works on? It's funny, but I +couldn't help thinking that he wasn't thinking about the money he +might have been thinking I was thinking I'd get from old Maggie +Brown. If I only knew some of the newspaper editors I'd--" + +The sound of an easy footstep came from the doorway. Ida Bates saw +who it was with her back-hair comb. I saw her turn pink, perfect +statue that she was--a miracle that I share with Pygmalion only. + +"Am I excusable?" she said to me--adorable petitioner that she +became. "It's--it's Mr. Lathrop. I wonder if it really wasn't the +money--I wonder, if after all, he--" + +Of course, I was invited to the wedding. After the ceremony I +dragged Lathrop aside. + +"You are an artist," said I, "and haven't figured out why Maggie +Brown conceived such a strong liking for Miss Bates--that was? Let +me show you." + +The bride wore a simple white dress as beautifully draped as the +costumes of the ancient Greeks. I took some leaves from one of the +decorative wreaths in the little parlour, and made a chaplet of +them, and placed them on nee Bates' shining chestnut hair, and made +her turn her profile to her husband. + +"By jingo!" said he. "Isn't Ida's a dead ringer for the lady's head +on the silver dollar?" + + + + +V + +"NEXT TO READING MATTER" + + +He compelled my interest as he stepped from the ferry at Desbrosses +Street. He had the air of being familiar with hemispheres and +worlds, and of entering New York as the lord of a demesne who +revisited it in after years of absence. But I thought that, with all +his air, he had never before set foot on the slippery cobblestones +of the City of Too Many Caliphs. + +He wore loose clothes of a strange bluish drab colour, and a +conservative, round Panama hat without the cock-a-loop indentations +and cants with which Northern fanciers disfigure the tropic +head-gear. Moreover, he was the homeliest man I have ever seen. His +ugliness was less repellent than startling--arising from a sort of +Lincolnian ruggedness and irregularity of feature that spellbound +you with wonder and dismay. So may have looked afrites or the +shapes metamorphosed from the vapour of the fisherman's vase. As he +afterward told me, his name was Judson Tate; and he may as well be +called so at once. He wore his green silk tie through a topaz ring; +and he carried a cane made of the vertebrae of a shark. + +Judson Tate accosted me with some large and casual inquiries about +the city's streets and hotels, in the manner of one who had but +for the moment forgotten the trifling details. I could think of no +reason for disparaging my own quiet hotel in the downtown district; +so the mid-morning of the night found us already victualed and +drinked (at my expense), and ready to be chaired and tobaccoed in a +quiet corner of the lobby. + +There was something on Judson Tate's mind, and, such as it was, he +tried to convey it to me. Already he had accepted me as his friend; +and when I looked at his great, snuff-brown first-mate's hand, with +which he brought emphasis to his periods, within six inches of my +nose, I wondered if, by any chance, he was as sudden in conceiving +enmity against strangers. + +When this man began to talk I perceived in him a certain power. +His voice was a persuasive instrument, upon which he played with +a somewhat specious but effective art. He did not try to make you +forget his ugliness; he flaunted it in your face and made it part of +the charm of his speech. Shutting your eyes, you would have trailed +after this rat-catcher's pipes at least to the walls of Hamelin. +Beyond that you would have had to be more childish to follow. But +let him play his own tune to the words set down, so that if all is +too dull, the art of music may bear the blame. + +"Women," said Judson Tate, "are mysterious creatures." + +My spirits sank. I was not there to listen to such a world-old +hypothesis--to such a time-worn, long-ago-refuted, bald, feeble, +illogical, vicious, patent sophistry--to an ancient, baseless, +wearisome, ragged, unfounded, insidious, falsehood originated by +women themselves, and by them insinuated, foisted, thrust, spread, +and ingeniously promulgated into the ears of mankind by underhanded, +secret and deceptive methods, for the purpose of augmenting, +furthering, and reinforcing their own charms and designs. + +"Oh, I don't know!" said I, vernacularly. + +"Have you ever heard of Oratama?" he asked. + +"Possibly," I answered. "I seem to recall a toe dancer--or a +suburban addition--or was it a perfume?--of some such name." + +"It is a town," said Judson Tate, "on the coast of a foreign +country of which you know nothing and could understand less. It is +a country governed by a dictator and controlled by revolutions and +insubordination. It was there that a great life-drama was played, +with Judson Tate, the homeliest man in America, and Fergus McMahan, +the handsomest adventurer in history or fiction, and Senorita +Anabela Zamora, the beautiful daughter of the alcalde of Oratama, as +chief actors. And, another thing--nowhere else on the globe except +in the department of Trienta y tres in Uruguay does the _chuchula_ +plant grow. The products of the country I speak of are valuable +woods, dyestuffs, gold, rubber, ivory, and cocoa." + +"I was not aware," said I, "that South America produced any ivory." + +"There you are twice mistaken," said Judson Tate, distributing the +words over at least an octave of his wonderful voice. "I did not say +that the country I spoke of was in South America--I must be careful, +my dear man; I have been in politics there, you know. But, even +so--I have played chess against its president with a set carved +from the nasal bones of the tapir--one of our native specimens +of the order of _perissodactyle ungulates_ inhabiting the +Cordilleras--which was as pretty ivory as you would care to see. + +"But is was of romance and adventure and the ways of women that was +I going to tell you, and not of zoological animals. + +"For fifteen years I was the ruling power behind old Sancho +Benavides, the Royal High Thumbscrew of the republic. You've seen +his picture in the papers--a mushy black man with whiskers like the +notes on a Swiss music-box cylinder, and a scroll in his right hand +like the ones they write births on in the family Bible. Well, that +chocolate potentate used to be the biggest item of interest anywhere +between the colour line and the parallels of latitude. It was three +throws, horses, whether he was to wind up in the Hall of Fame or the +Bureau of Combustibles. He'd have been sure called the Roosevelt of +the Southern Continent if it hadn't been that Grover Cleveland was +President at the time. He'd hold office a couple of terms, then he'd +sit out for a hand--always after appointing his own successor for +the interims. + +"But it was not Benavides, the Liberator, who was making all this +fame for himself. Not him. It was Judson Tate. Benavides was only +the chip over the bug. I gave him the tip when to declare war and +increase import duties and wear his state trousers. But that wasn't +what I wanted to tell you. How did I get to be It? I'll tell you. +Because I'm the most gifted talker that ever made vocal sounds since +Adam first opened his eyes, pushed aside the smelling-salts, and +asked: 'Where am I?' + +"As you observe, I am about the ugliest man you ever saw outside +the gallery of photographs of the New England early Christian +Scientists. So, at an early age, I perceived that what I lacked +in looks I must make up in eloquence. That I've done. I get what I +go after. As the back-stop and still small voice of old Benavides +I made all the great historical powers-behind-the-throne, such +as Talleyrand, Mrs. de Pompadour, and Loeb, look as small as the +minority report of a Duma. I could talk nations into or out of debt, +harangue armies to sleep on the battlefield, reduce insurrections, +inflammations, taxes, appropriations or surpluses with a few words, +and call up the dogs of war or the dove of peace with the same +bird-like whistle. Beauty and epaulettes and curly moustaches and +Grecian profiles in other men were never in my way. When people +first look at me they shudder. Unless they are in the last stages +of _angina pectoris_ they are mine in ten minutes after I begin to +talk. Women and men--I win 'em as they come. Now, you wouldn't think +women would fancy a man with a face like mine, would you?" + +"Oh, yes, Mr. Tate," said I. "History is bright and fiction dull +with homely men who have charmed women. There seems--" + +"Pardon me," interrupted Judson Tate, "but you don't quite +understand. You have yet to hear my story. + +"Fergus McMahan was a friend of mine in the capital. For a handsome +man I'll admit he was the duty-free merchandise. He had blond curls +and laughing blue eyes and was featured regular. They said he was a +ringer for the statue they call Herr Mees, the god of speech and +eloquence resting in some museum at Rome. Some German anarchist, I +suppose. They are always resting and talking. + +"But Fergus was no talker. He was brought up with the idea that +to be beautiful was to make good. His conversation was about as +edifying as listening to a leak dropping in a tin dish-pan at the +head of the bed when you want to go to sleep. But he and me got +to be friends--maybe because we was so opposite, don't you think? +Looking at the Hallowe'en mask that I call my face when I'm shaving +seemed to give Fergus pleasure; and I'm sure that whenever I heard +the feeble output of throat noises that he called conversation I +felt contented to be a gargoyle with a silver tongue. + +"One time I found it necessary to go down to this coast town of +Oratama to straighten out a lot of political unrest and chop off a +few heads in the customs and military departments. Fergus, who owned +the ice and sulphur-match concessions of the republic, says he'll +keep me company. + +"So, in a jangle of mule-train bells, we gallops into Oratama, and +the town belonged to us as much as Long Island Sound doesn't belong +to Japan when T. R. is at Oyster Bay. I say us; but I mean me. +Everybody for four nations, two oceans, one bay and isthmus, and +five archipelagoes around had heard of Judson Tate. Gentleman +adventurer, they called me. I had been written up in five columns of +the yellow journals, 40,000 words (with marginal decorations) in a +monthly magazine, and a stickful on the twelfth page of the New York +_Times_. If the beauty of Fergus McMahan gained any part of our +reception in Oratama, I'll eat the price-tag in my Panama. It was me +that they hung out paper flowers and palm branches for. I am not a +jealous man; I am stating facts. The people were Nebuchadnezzars; +they bit the grass before me; there was no dust in the town for them +to bite. They bowed down to Judson Tate. They knew that I was the +power behind Sancho Benavides. A word from me was more to them than +a whole deckle-edged library from East Aurora in sectional bookcases +was from anybody else. And yet there are people who spend hours +fixing their faces--rubbing in cold cream and massaging the muscles +(always toward the eyes) and taking in the slack with tincture of +benzoin and electrolyzing moles--to what end? Looking handsome. +Oh, what a mistake! It's the larynx that the beauty doctors ought +to work on. It's words more than warts, talk more than talcum, +palaver more than powder, blarney more than bloom that counts--the +phonograph instead of the photograph. But I was going to tell you. + +"The local Astors put me and Fergus up at the Centipede Club, a +frame building built on posts sunk in the surf. The tide's only nine +inches. The Little Big High Low Jack-in-the-game of the town came +around and kowtowed. Oh, it wasn't to Herr Mees. They had heard +about Judson Tate. + +"One afternoon me and Fergus McMahan was sitting on the seaward +gallery of the Centipede, drinking iced rum and talking. + +"'Judson,' says Fergus, 'there's an angel in Oratama.' + +"'So long,' says I, 'as it ain't Gabriel, why talk as if you had +heard a trump blow?' + +"'It's the Senorita Anabela Zamora,' says Fergus. +'She's--she's--she's as lovely as--as hell!' + +"'Bravo!' says I, laughing heartily. 'You have a true lover's +eloquence to paint the beauties of your inamorata. You remind me,' +says I, 'of Faust's wooing of Marguerite--that is, if he wooed her +after he went down the trap-door of the stage.' + +"'Judson,' says Fergus, 'you know you are as beautiless as a +rhinoceros. You can't have any interest in women. I'm awfully gone +in Miss Anabela. And that's why I'm telling you.' + +"'Oh, _seguramente_,' says I. 'I know I have a front elevation like +an Aztec god that guards a buried treasure that never did exist +in Jefferson County, Yucatan. But there are compensations. For +instance, I am It in this country as far as the eye can reach, and +then a few perches and poles. And again,' says I, 'when I engage +people in a set-to of oral, vocal, and laryngeal utterances, I do +not usually confine my side of the argument to what may be likened +to a cheap phonographic reproduction of the ravings of a jellyfish.' + +"'Oh, I know,' says Fergus, amiable, 'that I'm not handy at small +talk. Or large, either. That's why I'm telling you. I want you to +help me.' + +"'How can I do it?' I asked. + +"'I have subsidized,' says Fergus, 'the services of Senorita +Anabela's duenna, whose name is Francesca. You have a reputation +in this country, Judson,' says Fergus, 'of being a great man and a +hero.' + +"'I have,' says I. 'And I deserve it.' + +"'And I,' says Fergus, 'am the best-looking man between the arctic +circle and antarctic ice pack.' + +"'With limitations,' says I, 'as to physiognomy and geography, I +freely concede you to be.' + +"'Between the two of us,' says Fergus, 'we ought to land the +Senorita Anabela Zamora. The lady, as you know, is of an old Spanish +family, and further than looking at her driving in the family +_carruaje_ of afternoons around the plaza, or catching a glimpse of +her through a barred window of evenings, she is as unapproachable as +a star.' + +"'Land her for which one of us?' says I. + +"'For me, of course,' says Fergus. 'You've never seen her. Now, I've +had Francesca point me out to her as being you on several occasions. +When she sees me on the plaza, she thinks she's looking at Don +Judson Tate, the greatest hero, statesman, and romantic figure in +the country. With your reputation and my looks combined in one +man, how can she resist him? She's heard all about your thrilling +history, of course. And she's seen me. Can any woman want more?' +asks Fergus McMahan. + +"'Can she do with less?' I ask. 'How can we separate our mutual +attractions, and how shall we apportion the proceeds?' + +"Then Fergus tells me his scheme. + +"The house of the alcalde, Don Luis Zamora, he says, has a _patio_, +of course--a kind of inner courtyard opening from the street. In an +angle of it is his daughter's window--as dark a place as you could +find. And what do you think he wants me to do? Why, knowing my +freedom, charm, and skilfulness of tongue, he proposes that I go +into the _patio_ at midnight, when the hobgoblin face of me cannot +be seen, and make love to her for him--for the pretty man that she +has seen on the plaza, thinking him to be Don Judson Tate. + +"Why shouldn't I do it for him--for my friend, Fergus McMahan? +For him to ask me was a compliment--an acknowledgment of his own +shortcomings. + +"'You little, lily white, fine-haired, highly polished piece of dumb +sculpture,' says I, 'I'll help you. Make your arrangements and get +me in the dark outside her window and my stream of conversation +opened up with the moonlight tremolo stop turned on, and she's +yours.' + +"'Keep your face hid, Jud,' says Fergus. 'For heaven's sake, keep +your face hid. I'm a friend of yours in all kinds of sentiment, but +this is a business deal. If I could talk I wouldn't ask you. But +seeing me and listening to you I don't see why she can't be landed.' + +"'By you?' says I. + +"'By me,' says Fergus. + +"Well, Fergus and the duenna, Francesca, attended to the details. +And one night they fetched me a long black cloak with a high collar, +and led me to the house at midnight. I stood by the window in the +_patio_ until I heard a voice as soft and sweet as an angel's +whisper on the other side of the bars. I could see only a faint, +white clad shape inside; and, true to Fergus, I pulled the collar of +my cloak high up, for it was July in the wet seasons, and the nights +were chilly. And, smothering a laugh as I thought of the tongue-tied +Fergus, I began to talk. + +"Well, sir, I talked an hour at the Senorita Anabela. I say 'at' +because it was not 'with.' Now and then she would say: 'Oh, Senor,' +or 'Now, ain't you foolin'?' or 'I know you don't mean that,' and +such things as women will when they are being rightly courted. Both +of us knew English and Spanish; so in two languages I tried to win +the heart of the lady for my friend Fergus. But for the bars to +the window I could have done it in one. At the end of the hour she +dismissed me and gave me a big, red rose. I handed it over to Fergus +when I got home. + +"For three weeks every third or fourth night I impersonated my +friend in the _patio_ at the window of Senorita Anabela. At last she +admitted that her heart was mine, and spoke of having seen me every +afternoon when she drove in the plaza. It was Fergus she had seen, +of course. But it was my talk that won her. Suppose Fergus had gone +there, and tried to make a hit in the dark with his beauty all +invisible, and not a word to say for himself! + +"On the last night she promised to be mine--that is, Fergus's. And +she put her hand between the bars for me to kiss. I bestowed the +kiss and took the news to Fergus. + +"'You might have left that for me to do,' says he. + +"'That'll be your job hereafter,' says I. 'Keep on doing that and +don't try to talk. Maybe after she thinks she's in love she won't +notice the difference between real conversation and the inarticulate +sort of droning that you give forth.' + +"Now, I had never seen Senorita Anabela. So, the next day Fergus +asks me to walk with him through the plaza and view the daily +promenade and exhibition of Oratama society, a sight that had no +interest for me. But I went; and children and dogs took to the +banana groves and mangrove swamps as soon as they had a look at my +face. + +"'Here she comes,' said Fergus, twirling his moustache--'the one +in white, in the open carriage with the black horse.' + +"I looked and felt the ground rock under my feet. For Senorita +Anabela Zamora was the most beautiful woman in the world, and the +only one from that moment on, so far as Judson Tate was concerned. I +saw at a glance that I must be hers and she mine forever. I thought +of my face and nearly fainted; and then I thought of my other +talents and stood upright again. And I had been wooing her for three +weeks for another man! + +"As Senorita Anabela's carriage rolled slowly past, she gave Fergus +a long, soft glance from the corners of her night-black eyes, +a glance that would have sent Judson Tate up into heaven in a +rubber-tired chariot. But she never looked at me. And that handsome +man only ruffles his curls and smirks and prances like a lady-killer +at my side. + +"'What do you think of her, Judson?' asks Fergus, with an air. + +"'This much,' says I. 'She is to be Mrs. Judson Tate. I am no man to +play tricks on a friend. So take your warning.' + +"I thought Fergus would die laughing. + +"'Well, well, well,' said he, 'you old doughface! Struck too, are +you? That's great! But you're too late. Francesca tells me that +Anabela talks of nothing but me, day and night. Of course, I'm +awfully obliged to you for making that chin-music to her of +evenings. But, do you know, I've an idea that I could have done it +as well myself.' + +"'Mrs. Judson Tate,' says I. 'Don't forget the name. You've had the +use of my tongue to go with your good looks, my boy. You can't lend +me your looks; but hereafter my tongue is my own. Keep your mind on +the name that's to be on the visiting cards two inches by three and +a half--"Mrs. Judson Tate." That's all.' + +"'All right,' says Fergus, laughing again. 'I've talked with her +father, the alcalde, and he's willing. He's to give a _baile_ +to-morrow evening in his new warehouse. If you were a dancing man, +Jud, I'd expect you around to meet the future Mrs. McMahan.' + +"But on the next evening, when the music was playing loudest at +the Alcade Zamora's _baile_, into the room steps Judson Tate in +new white linen clothes as if he were the biggest man in the whole +nation, which he was. + +"Some of the musicians jumped off the key when they saw my face, and +one or two of the timidest senoritas let out a screech or two. But +up prances the alcalde and almost wipes the dust off my shoes with +his forehead. No mere good looks could have won me that sensational +entrance. + +"'I hear much, Senor Zamora,' says I, 'of the charm of your +daughter. It would give me great pleasure to be presented to her.' + +"There were about six dozen willow rocking-chairs, with pink tidies +tied on to them, arranged against the walls. In one of them sat +Senorita Anabela in white Swiss and red slippers, with pearls and +fireflies in her hair. Fergus was at the other end of the room +trying to break away from two maroons and a claybank girl. + +"The alcalde leads me up to Anabela and presents me. When she took +the first look at my face she dropped her fan and nearly turned her +chair over from the shock. But I'm used to that. + +"I sat down by her, and began to talk. When she heard me speak she +jumped, and her eyes got as big as alligator pears. She couldn't +strike a balance between the tones of my voice and face I carried. +But I kept on talking in the key of C, which is the ladies' key; and +presently she sat still in her chair and a dreamy look came into her +eyes. She was coming my way. She knew of Judson Tate, and what a +big man he was, and the big things he had done; and that was in my +favour. But, of course, it was some shock to her to find out that I +was not the pretty man that had been pointed out to her as the great +Judson. And then I took the Spanish language, which is better than +English for certain purposes, and played on it like a harp of a +thousand strings. I ranged from the second G below the staff up to +F-sharp above it. I set my voice to poetry, art, romance, flowers, +and moonlight. I repeated some of the verses that I had murmured to +her in the dark at her window; and I knew from a sudden soft sparkle +in her eye that she recognized in my voice the tones of her midnight +mysterious wooer. + +"Anyhow, I had Fergus McMahan going. Oh, the vocal is the true +art--no doubt about that. Handsome is as handsome palavers. That's +the renovated proverb. + +"I took Senorita Anabela for a walk in the lemon grove while Fergus, +disfiguring himself with an ugly frown, was waltzing with the +claybank girl. Before we returned I had permission to come to her +window in the _patio_ the next evening at midnight and talk some +more. + +"Oh, it was easy enough. In two weeks Anabela was engaged to me, and +Fergus was out. He took it calm, for a handsome man, and told me he +wasn't going to give in. + +"'Talk may be all right in its place, Judson,' he says to me, +'although I've never thought it worth cultivating. But,' says he, +'to expect mere words to back up successfully a face like yours in a +lady's good graces is like expecting a man to make a square meal on +the ringing of a dinner-bell.' + +"But I haven't begun on the story I was going to tell you yet. + +"One day I took a long ride in the hot sunshine, and then took a +bath in the cold waters of a lagoon on the edge of the town before +I'd cooled off. + +"That evening after dark I called at the alcalde's to see Anabela. I +was calling regular every evening then, and we were to be married in +a month. She was looking like a bulbul, a gazelle, and a tea-rose, +and her eyes were as soft and bright as two quarts of cream skimmed +off from the Milky Way. She looked at my rugged features without +any expression of fear or repugnance. Indeed, I fancied that I saw +a look of deep admiration and affection, such as she had cast at +Fergus on the plaza. + +"I sat down, and opened my mouth to tell Anabela what she loved +to hear--that she was a trust, monopolizing all the loveliness of +earth. I opened my mouth, and instead of the usual vibrating words +of love and compliment, there came forth a faint wheeze such as +a baby with croup might emit. Not a word--not a syllable--not an +intelligible sound. I had caught cold in my laryngeal regions when +I took my injudicious bath. + +"For two hours I sat trying to entertain Anabela. She talked a +certain amount, but it was perfunctory and diluted. The nearest +approach I made to speech was to formulate a sound like a clam +trying to sing 'A Life on the Ocean Wave' at low tide. It seemed +that Anabela's eyes did not rest upon me as often as usual. I had +nothing with which to charm her ears. We looked at pictures and she +played the guitar occasionally, very badly. When I left, her parting +manner seemed cool--or at least thoughtful. + +"This happened for five evenings consecutively. + +"On the sixth day she ran away with Fergus McMahan. + +"It was known that they fled in a sailing yacht bound for Belize. I +was only eight hours behind them in a small steam launch belonging +to the Revenue Department. + +"Before I sailed, I rushed into the _botica_ of old Manuel Iquito, a +half-breed Indian druggist. I could not speak, but I pointed to my +throat and made a sound like escaping steam. He began to yawn. In +an hour, according to the customs of the country, I would have been +waited on. I reached across the counter, seized him by the throat, +and pointed again to my own. He yawned once more, and thrust into my +hand a small bottle containing a black liquid. + +"'Take one small spoonful every two hours,' says he. + +"I threw him a dollar and skinned for the steamer. + +"I steamed into the harbour at Belize thirteen seconds behind the +yacht that Anabela and Fergus were on. They started for the shore in +a dory just as my skiff was lowered over the side. I tried to order +my sailormen to row faster, but the sounds died in my larynx before +they came to the light. Then I thought of old Iquito's medicine, and +I got out his bottle and took a swallow of it. + +"The two boats landed at the same moment. I walked straight up to +Anabela and Fergus. Her eyes rested upon me for an instant; then she +turned them, full of feeling and confidence, upon Fergus. I knew I +could not speak, but I was desperate. In speech lay my only hope. I +could not stand beside Fergus and challenge comparison in the way of +beauty. Purely involuntarily, my larynx and epiglottis attempted to +reproduce the sounds that my mind was calling upon my vocal organs +to send forth. + +"To my intense surprise and delight the words rolled forth +beautifully clear, resonant, exquisitely modulated, full of power, +expression, and long-repressed emotion. + +"'Senorita Anabela,' says I, 'may I speak with you aside for a +moment?' + +"You don't want details about that, do you? Thanks. The old +eloquence had come back all right. I led her under a cocoanut palm +and put my old verbal spell on her again. + +"'Judson,' says she, 'when you are talking to me I can hear nothing +else--I can see nothing else--there is nothing and nobody else in +the world for me.' + +"Well, that's about all of the story. Anabela went back to Oratama +in the steamer with me. I never heard what became of Fergus. I never +saw him any more. Anabela is now Mrs. Judson Tate. Has my story +bored you much?" + +"No," said I. "I am always interested in psychological studies. +A human heart--and especially a woman's--is a wonderful thing to +contemplate." + +"It is," said Judson Tate. "And so are the trachea and bronchial +tubes of man. And the larynx too. Did you ever make a study of the +windpipe?" + +"Never," said I. "But I have taken much pleasure in your story. +May I ask after Mrs. Tate, and inquire of her present health and +whereabouts?" + +"Oh, sure," said Judson Tate. "We are living in Bergen Avenue, +Jersey City. The climate down in Oratama didn't suit Mrs. T. I +don't suppose you ever dissected the arytenoid cartilages of the +epiglottis, did you?" + +"Why, no," said I, "I am no surgeon." + +"Pardon me," said Judson Tate, "but every man should know enough of +anatomy and therapeutics to safeguard his own health. A sudden cold +may set up capillary bronchitis or inflammation of the pulmonary +vesicles, which may result in a serious affection of the vocal +organs." + +"Perhaps so," said I, with some impatience; "but that is neither +here nor there. Speaking of the strange manifestations of the +affection of women, I--" + +"Yes, yes," interrupted Judson Tate; "they have peculiar ways. But, +as I was going to tell you: when I went back to Oratama I found out +from Manuel Iquito what was in that mixture he gave me for my lost +voice. I told you how quick it cured me. He made that stuff from the +_chuchula_ plant. Now, look here." + +Judson Tate drew an oblong, white pasteboard box from his pocket. + +"For any cough," he said, "or cold, or hoarseness, or bronchial +affection whatsoever, I have here the greatest remedy in the world. +You see the formula, printed on the box. Each tablet contains +licorice, 2 grains; balsam tolu, 1/10 grain; oil of anise, 1/20 +minim; oil of tar, 1/60 minim; oleo-resin of cubebs, 1/60 minim; +fluid extract of _chuchula_, 1/10 minim. + +"I am in New York," went on Judson Tate, "for the purpose of +organizing a company to market the greatest remedy for throat +affections ever discovered. At present I am introducing the lozenges +in a small way. I have here a box containing four dozen, which I am +selling for the small sum of fifty cents. If you are suffering--" + + + +I got up and went away without a word. I walked slowly up to the +little park near my hotel, leaving Judson Tate alone with his +conscience. My feelings were lacerated. He had poured gently upon me +a story that I might have used. There was a little of the breath of +life in it, and some of the synthetic atmosphere that passes, when +cunningly tinkered, in the marts. And, at the last it had proven to +be a commercial pill, deftly coated with the sugar of fiction. The +worst of it was that I could not offer it for sale. Advertising +departments and counting-rooms look down upon me. And it would +never do for the literary. Therefore I sat upon a bench with other +disappointed ones until my eyelids drooped. + +I went to my room, and, as my custom is, read for an hour stories in +my favourite magazines. This was to get my mind back to art again. + +And as I read each story, I threw the magazines sadly and +hopelessly, one by one, upon the floor. Each author, without one +exception to bring balm to my heart, wrote liltingly and sprightly +a story of some particular make of motor-car that seemed to control +the sparking plug of his genius. + +And when the last one was hurled from me I took heart. + +"If readers can swallow so many proprietary automobiles," I said to +myself, "they ought not to strain at one of Tate's Compound Magic +Chuchula Bronchial Lozenges." + +And so if you see this story in print you will understand that +business is business, and that if Art gets very far ahead of +Commerce, she will have to get up and hustle. + +I may as well add, to make a clean job of it, that you can't buy the +_chuchula_ plant in the drug stores. + + + + +VI + +ART AND THE BRONCO + + +Out of the wilderness had come a painter. Genius, whose coronations +alone are democratic, had woven a chaplet of chaparral for the brow +of Lonny Briscoe. Art, whose divine expression flows impartially +from the fingertips of a cowboy or a dilettante emperor, had chosen +for a medium the Boy Artist of the San Saba. The outcome, seven feet +by twelve of besmeared canvas, stood, gilt-framed, in the lobby of +the Capitol. + +The legislature was in session; the capital city of that great +Western state was enjoying the season of activity and profit that +the congregation of the solons bestowed. The boarding-houses were +corralling the easy dollars of the gamesome lawmakers. The greatest +state in the West, an empire in area and resources, had arisen and +repudiated the old libel or barbarism, lawbreaking, and bloodshed. +Order reigned within her borders. Life and property were as safe +there, sir, as anywhere among the corrupt cities of the effete +East. Pillow-shams, churches, strawberry feasts and _habeas corpus_ +flourished. With impunity might the tenderfoot ventilate his +"stovepipe" or his theories of culture. The arts and sciences +received nurture and subsidy. And, therefore, it behooved the +legislature of this great state to make appropriation for the +purchase of Lonny Briscoe's immortal painting. + +Rarely has the San Saba country contributed to the spread of the +fine arts. Its sons have excelled in the solider graces, in the +throw of the lariat, the manipulation of the esteemed .45, the +intrepidity of the one-card draw, and the nocturnal stimulation of +towns from undue lethargy; but, hitherto, it had not been famed as +a stronghold of aesthetics. Lonny Briscoe's brush had removed that +disability. Here, among the limestone rocks, the succulent cactus, +and the drought-parched grass of that arid valley, had been born the +Boy Artist. Why he came to woo art is beyond postulation. Beyond +doubt, some spore of the afflatus must have sprung up within him in +spite of the desert soil of San Saba. The tricksy spirit of creation +must have incited him to attempted expression and then have sat +hilarious among the white-hot sands of the valley, watching its +mischievous work. For Lonny's picture, viewed as a thing of art, +was something to have driven away dull care from the bosoms of the +critics. + +The painting--one might almost say panorama--was designed to portray +a typical Western scene, interest culminating in a central animal +figure, that of a stampeding steer, life-size, wild-eyed, fiery, +breaking away in a mad rush from the herd that, close-ridden by +a typical cowpuncher, occupied a position somewhat in the right +background of the picture. The landscape presented fitting and +faithful accessories. Chaparral, mesquit, and pear were distributed +in just proportions. A Spanish dagger-plant, with its waxen blossoms +in a creamy aggregation as large as a water-bucket, contributed +floral beauty and variety. The distance was undulating prairie, +bisected by stretches of the intermittent streams peculiar to the +region lined with the rich green of live-oak and water-elm. A richly +mottled rattlesnake lay coiled beneath a pale green clump of prickly +pear in the foreground. A third of the canvas was ultramarine and +lake white--the typical Western sky and the flying clouds, rainless +and feathery. + +Between two plastered pillars in the commodious hallway near the +door of the chamber of representatives stood the painting. Citizens +and lawmakers passed there by twos and groups and sometimes crowds +to gaze upon it. Many--perhaps a majority of them--had lived the +prairie life and recalled easily the familiar scene. Old cattlemen +stood, reminiscent and candidly pleased, chatting with brothers of +former camps and trails of the days it brought back to mind. Art +critics were few in the town, and there was heard none of that +jargon of colour, perspective, and feeling such as the East loves to +use as a curb and a rod to the pretensions of the artist. 'Twas a +great picture, most of them agreed, admiring the gilt frame--larger +than any they had ever seen. + +Senator Kinney was the picture's champion and sponsor. It was +he who so often stepped forward and asserted, with the voice of +a bronco-buster, that it would be a lasting blot, sir, upon the +name of this great state if it should decline to recognize in a +proper manner the genius that had so brilliantly transferred to +imperishable canvas a scene so typical of the great sources of our +state's wealth and prosperity, land--and--er--live-stock. + +Senator Kinney represented a section of the state in the extreme +West--400 miles from the San Saba country--but the true lover of +art is not limited by metes and bounds. Nor was Senator Mullens, +representing the San Saba country, lukewarm in his belief that +the state should purchase the painting of his constituent. He was +advised that the San Saba country was unanimous in its admiration +of the great painting by one of its own denizens. Hundreds of +connoisseurs had straddled their broncos and ridden miles to view +it before its removal to the capital. Senator Mullens desired +reelection, and he knew the importance of the San Saba vote. He also +knew that with the help of Senator Kinney--who was a power in the +legislature--the thing could be put through. Now, Senator Kinney had +an irrigation bill that he wanted passed for the benefit of his own +section, and he knew Senator Mullens could render him valuable aid +and information, the San Saba country already enjoying the benefits +of similar legislation. With these interests happily dovetailed, +wonder at the sudden interest in art at the state capital must, +necessarily, be small. Few artists have uncovered their first +picture to the world under happier auspices than did Lonny Briscoe. + +Senators Kinney and Mullens came to an understanding in the matter +of irrigation and art while partaking of long drinks in the cafe of +the Empire Hotel. + +"H'm!" said Senator Kinney, "I don't know. I'm no art critic, but it +seems to me the thing won't work. It looks like the worst kind of a +chromo to me. I don't want to cast any reflections upon the artistic +talent of your constituent, Senator, but I, myself, wouldn't give +six bits for the picture--without the frame. How are you going +to cram a thing like that down the throat of a legislature that +kicks about a little item in the expense bill of six hundred and +eighty-one dollars for rubber erasers for only one term? It's +wasting time. I'd like to help you, Mullens, but they'd laugh us out +of the Senate chamber if we were to try it." + +"But you don't get the point," said Senator Mullens, in his +deliberate tones, tapping Kinney's glass with his long forefinger. +"I have my own doubts as to what the picture is intended to +represent, a bullfight or a Japanese allegory, but I want this +legislature to make an appropriation to purchase. Of course, the +subject of the picture should have been in the state historical +line, but it's too late to have the paint scraped off and changed. +The state won't miss the money and the picture can be stowed away in +a lumber-room where it won't annoy any one. Now, here's the point to +work on, leaving art to look after itself--the chap that painted the +picture is the grandson of Lucien Briscoe." + +"Say it again," said Kinney, leaning his head thoughtfully. "Of the +old, original Lucien Briscoe?" + +"Of him. 'The man who,' you know. The man who carved the state out +of the wilderness. The man who settled the Indians. The man who +cleaned out the horse thieves. The man who refused the crown. The +state's favourite son. Do you see the point now?" + +"Wrap up the picture," said Kinney. "It's as good as sold. Why +didn't you say that at first, instead of philandering along about +art. I'll resign my seat in the Senate and go back to chain-carrying +for the county surveyor the day I can't make this state buy a +picture calcimined by a grandson of Lucien Briscoe. Did you ever +hear of a special appropriation for the purchase of a home for the +daughter of One-Eyed Smothers? Well, that went through like a motion +to adjourn, and old One-Eyed never killed half as many Indians as +Briscoe did. About what figure had you and the calciminer agreed +upon to sandbag the treasury for?" + +"I thought," said Mullens, "that maybe five hundred--" + +"Five hundred!" interrupted Kinney, as he hammered on his glass for +a lead pencil and looked around for a waiter. "Only five hundred for +a red steer on the hoof delivered by a grandson of Lucien Briscoe! +Where's your state pride, man? Two thousand is what it'll be. You'll +introduce the bill and I'll get up on the floor of the Senate and +wave the scalp of every Indian old Lucien ever murdered. Let's see, +there was something else proud and foolish he did, wasn't there? Oh, +yes; he declined all emoluments and benefits he was entitled to. +Refused his head-right and veteran donation certificates. Could have +been governor, but wouldn't. Declined a pension. Now's the state's +chance to pay up. It'll have to take the picture, but then it +deserves some punishment for keeping the Briscoe family waiting so +long. We'll bring this thing up about the middle of the month, after +the tax bill is settled. Now, Mullens, you send over, as soon as you +can, and get me the figures on the cost of those irrigation ditches +and the statistics about the increased production per acre. I'm +going to need you when that bill of mine comes up. I reckon we'll +be able to pull along pretty well together this session and maybe +others to come, eh, Senator?" + +Thus did fortune elect to smile upon the Boy Artist of the San Saba. +Fate had already done her share when she arranged his atoms in the +cosmogony of creation as the grandson of Lucien Briscoe. + +The original Briscoe had been a pioneer both as to territorial +occupation and in certain acts prompted by a great and simple heart. +He had been one of the first settlers and crusaders against the wild +forces of nature, the savage and the shallow politician. His name +and memory were revered, equally with any upon the list comprising +Houston, Boone, Crockett, Clark, and Green. He had lived simply, +independently, and unvexed by ambition. Even a less shrewd man than +Senator Kinney could have prophesied that his state would hasten to +honour and reward his grandson, come out of the chaparral at even so +late a day. + +And so, before the great picture by the door of the chamber of +representatives at frequent times for many days could be found the +breezy, robust form of Senator Kinney and be heard his clarion voice +reciting the past deeds of Lucien Briscoe in connection with the +handiwork of his grandson. Senator Mullens's work was more subdued +in sight and sound, but directed along identical lines. + +Then, as the day for the introduction of the bill for appropriation +draws nigh, up from the San Saba country rides Lonny Briscoe and a +loyal lobby of cowpunchers, bronco-back, to boost the cause of art +and glorify the name of friendship, for Lonny is one of them, a +knight of stirrup and chaparreras, as handy with the lariat and .45 +as he is with brush and palette. + +On a March afternoon the lobby dashed, with a whoop, into town. The +cowpunchers had adjusted their garb suitably from that prescribed +for the range to the more conventional requirements of town. They +had conceded their leather chaparreras and transferred their +six-shooters and belts from their persons to the horns of their +saddles. Among them rode Lonny, a youth of twenty-three, brown, +solemn-faced, ingenuous, bowlegged, reticent, bestriding Hot +Tamales, the most sagacious cow pony west of the Mississippi. +Senator Mullens had informed him of the bright prospects of the +situation; had even mentioned--so great was his confidence in the +capable Kinney--the price that the state would, in all likelihood, +pay. It seemed to Lonny that fame and fortune were in his hands. +Certainly, a spark of the divine fire was in the little brown +centaur's breast, for he was counting the two thousand dollars as +but a means to future development of his talent. Some day he would +paint a picture even greater than this--one, say, twelve feet by +twenty, full of scope and atmosphere and action. + +During the three days that yet intervened before the coming of the +date fixed for the introduction of the bill, the centaur lobby +did valiant service. Coatless, spurred, weather-tanned, full of +enthusiasm expressed in bizarre terms, they loafed in front of +the painting with tireless zeal. Reasoning not unshrewdly, they +estimated that their comments upon its fidelity to nature would be +received as expert evidence. Loudly they praised the skill of the +painter whenever there were ears near to which such evidence might +be profitably addressed. Lem Perry, the leader of the claque, had a +somewhat set speech, being uninventive in the construction of new +phrases. + +"Look at that two-year-old, now," he would say, waving a +cinnamon-brown hand toward the salient point of the picture. +"Why, dang my hide, the critter's alive. I can jest hear him, +'lumpety-lump,' a-cuttin' away from the herd, pretendin' he's +skeered. He's a mean scamp, that there steer. Look at his eyes +a-wallin' and his tail a-wavin'. He's true and nat'ral to life. He's +jest hankerin' fur a cow pony to round him up and send him scootin' +back to the bunch. Dang my hide! jest look at that tail of his'n +a-wavin'. Never knowed a steer to wave his tail any other way, dang +my hide ef I did." + +Jud Shelby, while admitting the excellence of the steer, resolutely +confined himself to open admiration of the landscape, to the end +that the entire picture receive its meed of praise. + +"That piece of range," he declared, "is a dead ringer for Dead Hoss +Valley. Same grass, same lay of land, same old Whipperwill Creek +skallyhootin' in and out of them motts of timber. Them buzzards on +the left is circlin' 'round over Sam Kildrake's old paint hoss that +killed hisself over-drinkin' on a hot day. You can't see the hoss +for that mott of ellums on the creek, but he's thar. Anybody that +was goin' to look for Dead Hoss Valley and come across this picture, +why, he'd just light off'n his bronco and hunt a place to camp." + +Skinny Rogers, wedded to comedy, conceived a complimentary little +piece of acting that never failed to make an impression. Edging +quite near to the picture, he would suddenly, at favourable moments +emit a piercing and awful "Yi-yi!" leap high and away, coming +down with a great stamp of heels and whirring of rowels upon the +stone-flagged floor. + +"Jeeming Cristopher!"--so ran his lines--"thought that rattler was a +gin-u-ine one. Ding baste my skin if I didn't. Seemed to me I heard +him rattle. Look at the blamed, unconverted insect a-layin' under +that pear. Little more, and somebody would a-been snake-bit." + +With these artful dodges, contributed by Lonney's faithful coterie, +with the sonorous Kinney perpetually sounding the picture's merits, +and with the solvent prestige of the pioneer Briscoe covering it +like a precious varnish, it seemed that the San Saba country could +not fail to add a reputation as an art centre to its well-known +superiority in steer-roping contests and achievements with the +precarious busted flush. Thus was created for the picture an +atmosphere, due rather to externals than to the artist's brush, but +through it the people seemed to gaze with more of admiration. There +was a magic in the name of Briscoe that counted high against faulty +technique and crude colouring. The old Indian fighter and wolf +slayer would have smiled grimly in his happy hunting grounds had he +known that his dilettante ghost was thus figuring as an art patron +two generations after his uninspired existence. + +Came the day when the Senate was expected to pass the bill of +Senator Mullens appropriating two thousand dollars for the purchase +of the picture. The gallery of the Senate chamber was early +preempted by Lonny and the San Saba lobby. In the front row of +chairs they sat, wild-haired, self-conscious, jingling, creaking, +and rattling, subdued by the majesty of the council hall. + +The bill was introduced, went to the second reading, and then +Senator Mullens spoke for it dryly, tediously, and at length. +Senator Kinney then arose, and the welkin seized the bellrope +preparatory to ringing. Oratory was at that time a living thing; the +world had not quite come to measure its questions by geometry and +the multiplication table. It was the day of the silver tongue, the +sweeping gesture, the decorative apostrophe, the moving peroration. + +The Senator spoke. The San Saba contingent sat, breathing hard, +in the gallery, its disordered hair hanging down to its eyes, its +sixteen-ounce hats shifted restlessly from knee to knee. Below, +the distinguished Senators either lounged at their desks with the +abandon of proven statesmanship or maintained correct attitudes +indicative of a first term. + +Senator Kinney spoke for an hour. History was his theme--history +mitigated by patriotism and sentiment. He referred casually to the +picture in the outer hall--it was unnecessary, he said, to dilate +upon its merits--the Senators had seen for themselves. The painter +of the picture was the grandson of Lucien Briscoe. Then came the +word-pictures of Briscoe's life set forth in thrilling colours. +His rude and venturesome life, his simple-minded love for the +commonwealth he helped to upbuild, his contempt for rewards and +praise, his extreme and sturdy independence, and the great services +he had rendered the state. The subject of the oration was Lucien +Briscoe; the painting stood in the background serving simply as a +means, now happily brought forward, through which the state might +bestow a tardy recompense upon the descendent of its favourite son. +Frequent enthusiastic applause from the Senators testified to the +well reception of the sentiment. + +The bill passed without an opening vote. To-morrow it would be taken +up by the House. Already was it fixed to glide through that body on +rubber tires. Blandford, Grayson, and Plummer, all wheel-horses and +orators, and provided with plentiful memoranda concerning the deeds +of pioneer Briscoe, had agreed to furnish the motive power. + +The San Saba lobby and its _protege_ stumbled awkwardly down the +stairs and out into the Capitol yard. Then they herded closely and +gave one yell of triumph. But one of them--Buck-Kneed Summers it +was--hit the key with the thoughtful remark: + +"She cut the mustard," he said, "all right. I reckon they're goin' +to buy Lon's steer. I ain't right much on the parlyment'ry, but I +gather that's what the signs added up. But she seems to me, Lonny, +the argyment ran principal to grandfather, instead of paint. It's +reasonable calculatin' that you want to be glad you got the Briscoe +brand on you, my son." + +That remarked clinched in Lonny's mind an unpleasant, vague +suspicion to the same effect. His reticence increased, and he +gathered grass from the ground, chewing it pensively. The picture +as a picture had been humiliatingly absent from the Senator's +arguments. The painter had been held up as a grandson, pure and +simple. While this was gratifying on certain lines, it made art +look little and slab-sided. The Boy Artist was thinking. + +The hotel Lonny stopped at was near the Capitol. It was near to the +one o'clock dinner hour when the appropriation had been passed by +the Senate. The hotel clerk told Lonny that a famous artist from New +York had arrived in town that day and was in the hotel. He was on +his way westward to New Mexico to study the effect of sunlight upon +the ancient walls of the Zunis. Modern stones reflect light. Those +ancient building materials absorb it. The artist wanted this effect +in a picture he was painting, and was traveling two thousand miles +to get it. + +Lonny sought this man out after dinner and told his story. The +artist was an unhealthy man, kept alive by genius and indifference +to life. He went with Lonny to the Capitol and stood there before +the picture. The artist pulled his beard and looked unhappy. + +"Should like to have your sentiments," said Lonny, "just as they run +out of the pen." + +"It's the way they'll come," said the painter man. "I took three +different kinds of medicine before dinner--by the tablespoonful. The +taste still lingers. I am primed for telling the truth. You want to +know if the picture is, or if it isn't?" + +"Right," said Lonny. "Is it wool or cotton? Should I paint some more +or cut it out and ride herd a-plenty?" + +"I heard a rumour during pie," said the artist, "that the state is +about to pay you two thousand dollars for this picture." + +"It's passed the Senate," said Lonny, "and the House rounds it up +to-morrow." + +"That's lucky," said the pale man. "Do you carry a rabbit's foot?" + +"No," said Lonny, "but it seems I had a grandfather. He's +considerable mixed up in the colour scheme. It took me a year +to paint that picture. Is she entirely awful or not? Some says, +now, that the steer's tail ain't badly drawed. They think it's +proportioned nice. Tell me." + +The artist glanced at Lonny's wiry figure and nut-brown skin. +Something stirred him to a passing irritation. + +"For Art's sake, son," he said, fractiously, "don't spend any more +money for paint. It isn't a picture at all. It's a gun. You hold up +the state with it, if you like, and get your two thousand, but don't +get in front of any more canvas. Live under it. Buy a couple of +hundred ponies with the money--I'm told they're that cheap--and +ride, ride, ride. Fill your lungs and eat and sleep and be happy. No +more pictures. You look healthy. That's genius. Cultivate it." He +looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes to three. Four capsules and one +tablet at three. That's all you wanted to know, isn't it?" + +At three o'clock the cowpunchers rode up for Lonny, bringing Hot +Tamales, saddled. Traditions must be observed. To celebrate the +passage of the bill by the Senate the gang must ride wildly through +the town, creating uproar and excitement. Liquor must be partaken +of, the suburbs shot up, and the glory of the San Saba country +vociferously proclaimed. A part of the programme had been carried +out in the saloons on the way up. + +Lonny mounted Hot Tamales, the accomplished little beast prancing +with fire and intelligence. He was glad to feel Lonny's bowlegged +grip against his ribs again. Lonny was his friend, and he was +willing to do things for him. + +"Come on, boys," said Lonny, urging Hot Tomales into a gallop with +his knees. With a whoop, the inspired lobby tore after him through +the dust. Lonny led his cohorts straight for the Capitol. With a +wild yell, the gang endorsed his now evident intention of riding +into it. Hooray for San Saba! + +Up the six broad, limestone steps clattered the broncos of the +cowpunchers. Into the resounding hallway they pattered, scattering +in dismay those passing on foot. Lonny, in the lead, shoved Hot +Tamales direct for the great picture. At that hour a downpouring, +soft light from the second-story windows bathed the big canvas. +Against the darker background of the hall the painting stood out +with valuable effect. In spite of the defects of the art you could +almost fancy that you gazed out upon a landscape. You might well +flinch a step from the convincing figure of the life-size steer +stampeding across the grass. Perhaps it seemed thus to Hot Tamales. +The scene was in his line. Perhaps he only obeyed the will of his +rider. His ears pricked up; he snorted. Lonny leaned forward in +the saddle and elevated his elbows, wing-like. Thus signals the +cowpuncher to his steed to launch himself full speed ahead. Did Hot +Tamales fancy he saw a steer, red and cavorting, that should be +headed off and driven back to the herd? There was a fierce clatter +of hoofs, a rush, a gathering of steely flank muscles, a leap to the +jerk of the bridle rein, and Hot Tamales, with Lonny bending low in +the saddle to dodge the top of the frame, ripped through the great +canvas like a shell from a mortar, leaving the cloth hanging in +ragged shreds about a monstrous hole. + +Quickly Lonny pulled up his pony, and rounded the pillars. +Spectators came running, too astounded to add speech to the +commotion. The sergeant-at-arms of the House came forth, frowned, +looked ominous, and then grinned. Many of the legislators crowded +out to observe the tumult. Lonny's cowpunchers were stricken to +silent horror by his mad deed. + +Senator Kinney happened to be among the earliest to emerge. Before +he could speak Lonny leaned in his saddle as Hot Tamales pranced, +pointed his quirt at the Senator, and said, calmly: + +"That was a fine speech you made to-day, mister, but you might as +well let up on that 'propriation business. I ain't askin' the state +to give me nothin'. I thought I had a picture to sell to it, but it +wasn't one. You said a heap of things about Grandfather Briscoe that +makes me kind of proud I'm his grandson. Well, the Briscoes ain't +takin' presents from the state yet. Anybody can have the frame that +wants it. Hit her up, boys." + +Away scuttled the San Saba delegation out of the hall, down the +steps, along the dusty street. + +Halfway to the San Saba country they camped that night. At bedtime +Lonny stole away from the campfire and sought Hot Tamales, placidly +eating grass at the end of his stake rope. Lonny hung upon his neck, +and his art aspirations went forth forever in one long, regretful +sigh. But as he thus made renunciation his breath formed a word or +two. + +"You was the only one, Tamales, what seen anything in it. It _did_ +look like a steer, didn't it, old hoss?" + + + + +VII + +PHOEBE + + +"You are a man of many novel adventures and varied enterprises," I +said to Captain Patricio Malone. "Do you believe that the possible +element of good luck or bad luck--if there is such a thing as +luck--has influenced your career or persisted for or against you +to such an extent that you were forced to attribute results to the +operation of the aforesaid good luck or bad luck?" + +This question (of almost the dull insolence of legal phraseology) +was put while we sat in Rousselin's little red-tiled cafe near Congo +Square in New Orleans. + +Brown-faced, white-hatted, finger-ringed captains of adventure came +often to Rousselin's for the cognac. They came from sea and land, +and were chary of relating the things they had seen--not because +they were more wonderful than the fantasies of the Ananiases of +print, but because they were so different. And I was a perpetual +wedding-guest, always striving to cast my buttonhole over the finger +of one of these mariners of fortune. This Captain Malone was a +Hiberno-Iberian creole who had gone to and fro in the earth and +walked up and down in it. He looked like any other well-dressed man +of thirty-five whom you might meet, except that he was hopelessly +weather-tanned, and wore on his chain an ancient ivory-and-gold +Peruvian charm against evil, which has nothing at all to do with +this story. + +"My answer to your question," said the captain, smiling, "will be to +tell you the story of Bad-Luck Kearny. That is, if you don't mind +hearing it." + +My reply was to pound on the table for Rousselin. + +"Strolling along Tchoupitoulas Street one night," began Captain +Malone, "I noticed, without especially taxing my interest, a small +man walking rapidly toward me. He stepped upon a wooden cellar door, +crashed through it, and disappeared. I rescued him from a heap of +soft coal below. He dusted himself briskly, swearing fluently in a +mechanical tone, as an underpaid actor recites the gypsy's curse. +Gratitude and the dust in his throat seemed to call for fluids +to clear them away. His desire for liquidation was expressed so +heartily that I went with him to a cafe down the street where we had +some vile vermouth and bitters. + +"Looking across that little table I had my first clear sight of +Francis Kearny. He was about five feet seven, but as tough as a +cypress knee. His hair was darkest red, his mouth such a mere slit +that you wondered how the flood of his words came rushing from it. +His eyes were the brightest and lightest blue and the hopefulest +that I ever saw. He gave the double impression that he was at bay +and that you had better not crowd him further. + +"'Just in from a gold-hunting expedition on the coast of Costa +Rica,' he explained. 'Second mate of a banana steamer told me the +natives were panning out enough from the beach sands to buy all +the rum, red calico, and parlour melodeons in the world. The day I +got there a syndicate named Incorporated Jones gets a government +concession to all minerals from a given point. For a next choice I +take coast fever and count green and blue lizards for six weeks in +a grass hut. I had to be notified when I was well, for the reptiles +were actually there. Then I shipped back as third cook on a +Norwegian tramp that blew up her boiler two miles below Quarantine. +I was due to bust through that cellar door here to-night, so I +hurried the rest of the way up the river, roustabouting on a lower +coast packet that made up a landing for every fisherman that wanted +a plug of tobacco. And now I'm here for what comes next. And it'll +be along, it'll be along,' said this queer Mr. Kearny; 'it'll be +along on the beams of my bright but not very particular star.' + +"From the first the personality of Kearny charmed me. I saw in him +the bold heart, the restless nature, and the valiant front against +the buffets of fate that make his countrymen such valuable comrades +in risk and adventure. And just then I was wanting such men. Moored +at a fruit company's pier I had a 500-ton steamer ready to sail the +next day with a cargo of sugar, lumber, and corrugated iron for a +port in--well, let us call the country Esperando--it has not been +long ago, and the name of Patricio Malone is still spoken there +when its unsettled politics are discussed. Beneath the sugar and +iron were packed a thousand Winchester rifles. In Aguas Frias, +the capital, Don Rafael Valdevia, Minister of War, Esperando's +greatest-hearted and most able patriot, awaited my coming. No +doubt you have heard, with a smile, of the insignificant wars and +uprisings in those little tropic republics. They make but a faint +clamour against the din of great nations' battles; but down there, +under all the ridiculous uniforms and petty diplomacy and senseless +countermarching and intrigue, are to be found statesmen and +patriots. Don Rafael Valdevia was one. His great ambition was to +raise Esperando into peace and honest prosperity and the respect of +the serious nations. So he waited for my rifles in Aguas Frias. But +one would think I am trying to win a recruit in you! No; it was +Francis Kearny I wanted. And so I told him, speaking long over our +execrable vermouth, breathing the stifling odour from garlic and +tarpaulins, which, as you know, is the distinctive flavour of cafes +in the lower slant of our city. I spoke of the tyrant President +Cruz and the burdens that his greed and insolent cruelty laid upon +the people. And at that Kearny's tears flowed. And then I dried +them with a picture of the fat rewards that would be ours when the +oppressor should be overthrown and the wise and generous Valdevia +in his seat. Then Kearny leaped to his feet and wrung my hand with +the strength of a roustabout. He was mine, he said, till the last +minion of the hated despot was hurled from the highest peaks of the +Cordilleras into the sea. + +"I paid the score, and we went out. Near the door Kearny's elbow +overturned an upright glass showcase, smashing it into little bits. +I paid the storekeeper the price he asked. + +"'Come to my hotel for the night,' I said to Kearny. 'We sail +to-morrow at noon.' + +"He agreed; but on the sidewalk he fell to cursing again in the dull +monotonous way that he had done when I pulled him out of the coal +cellar. + +"'Captain,' said he, 'before we go any further, it's no more than +fair to tell you that I'm known from Baffin's Bay to Terra del Fuego +as "Bad-Luck" Kearny. And I'm It. Everything I get into goes up in +the air except a balloon. Every bet I ever made I lost except when I +coppered it. Every boat I ever sailed on sank except the submarines. +Everything I was ever interested in went to pieces except a patent +bombshell that I invented. Everything I ever took hold of and tried +to run I ran into the ground except when I tried to plough. And +that's why they call me Bad-Luck Kearny. I thought I'd tell you.' + +"'Bad luck,' said I, 'or what goes by that name, may now and then +tangle the affairs of any man. But if it persists beyond the +estimate of what we may call the "averages" there must be a cause +for it.' + +"'There is,' said Kearny emphatically, 'and when we walk another +square I will show it to you.' + +"Surprised, I kept by his side until we came to Canal Street and out +into the middle of its great width. + +"Kearny seized me by an arm and pointed a tragic forefinger at a +rather brilliant star that shone steadily about thirty degrees above +the horizon. + +"'That's Saturn,' said he, 'the star that presides over bad luck and +evil and disappointment and nothing doing and trouble. I was born +under that star. Every move I make, up bobs Saturn and blocks it. +He's the hoodoo planet of the heavens. They say he's 73,000 miles in +diameter and no solider of body than split-pea soup, and he's got as +many disreputable and malignant rings as Chicago. Now, what kind of +a star is that to be born under?' + +"I asked Kearny where he had obtained all this astonishing +knowledge. + +"'From Azrath, the great astrologer of Cleveland, Ohio,' said he. +'That man looked at a glass ball and told me my name before I'd +taken a chair. He prophesied the date of my birth and death before +I'd said a word. And then he cast my horoscope, and the sidereal +system socked me in the solar plexus. It was bad luck for Francis +Kearny from A to Izard and for his friends that were implicated with +him. For that I gave up ten dollars. This Azrath was sorry, but he +respected his profession too much to read the heavens wrong for any +man. It was night time, and he took me out on a balcony and gave me +a free view of the sky. And he showed me which Saturn was, and how +to find it in different balconies and longitudes. + +"'But Saturn wasn't all. He was only the man higher up. He furnishes +so much bad luck that they allow him a gang of deputy sparklers to +help hand it out. They're circulating and revolving and hanging +around the main supply all the time, each one throwing the hoodoo on +his own particular district. + +"'You see that ugly little red star about eight inches above and to +the right of Saturn?' Kearny asked me. 'Well, that's her. That's +Phoebe. She's got me in charge. "By the day of your birth," says +Azrath to me, "your life is subjected to the influence of Saturn. By +the hour and minute of it you must dwell under the sway and direct +authority of Phoebe, the ninth satellite." So said this Azrath.' +Kearny shook his fist violently skyward. 'Curse her, she's done +her work well,' said he. 'Ever since I was astrologized, bad luck +has followed me like my shadow, as I told you. And for many years +before. Now, Captain, I've told you my handicap as a man should. If +you're afraid this evil star of mine might cripple your scheme, +leave me out of it.' + +"I reassured Kearny as well as I could. I told him that for the time +we would banish both astrology and astronomy from our heads. The +manifest valour and enthusiasm of the man drew me. 'Let us see what +a little courage and diligence will do against bad luck,' I said. +'We will sail to-morrow for Esperando.' + +"Fifty miles down the Mississippi our steamer broke her rudder. We +sent for a tug to tow us back and lost three days. When we struck +the blue waters of the Gulf, all the storm clouds of the Atlantic +seemed to have concentrated above us. We thought surely to sweeten +those leaping waves with our sugar, and to stack our arms and lumber +on the floor of the Mexican Gulf. + +"Kearny did not seek to cast off one iota of the burden of our +danger from the shoulders of his fatal horoscope. He weathered every +storm on deck, smoking a black pipe, to keep which alight rain and +sea-water seemed but as oil. And he shook his fist at the black +clouds behind which his baleful star winked its unseen eye. When the +skies cleared one evening, he reviled his malignant guardian with +grim humour. + +"'On watch, aren't you, you red-headed vixen? Out making it hot for +little Francis Kearny and his friends, according to Hoyle. Twinkle, +twinkle, little devil! You're a lady, aren't you?--dogging a man +with your bad luck just because he happened to be born while your +boss was floorwalker. Get busy and sink the ship, you one-eyed +banshee. Phoebe! H'm! Sounds as mild as a milkmaid. You can't judge +a woman by her name. Why couldn't I have had a man star? I can't +make the remarks to Phoebe that I could to a man. Oh, Phoebe, you +be--blasted!' + +"For eight days gales and squalls and waterspouts beat us from our +course. Five days only should have landed us in Esperando. Our Jonah +swallowed the bad credit of it with appealing frankness; but that +scarcely lessened the hardships our cause was made to suffer. + +"At last one afternoon we steamed into the calm estuary of the +little Rio Escondido. Three miles up this we crept, feeling for the +shallow channel between the low banks that were crowded to the edge +with gigantic trees and riotous vegetation. Then our whistle gave a +little toot, and in five minutes we heard a shout, and Carlos--my +brave Carlos Quintana--crashed through the tangled vines waving his +cap madly for joy. + +"A hundred yards away was his camp, where three hundred chosen +patriots of Esperando were awaiting our coming. For a month Carlos +had been drilling them there in the tactics of war, and filling them +with the spirit of revolution and liberty. + +"'My Captain--_compadre mio!_' shouted Carlos, while yet my boat was +being lowered. 'You should see them in the drill by _companies_--in +the column wheel--in the march by fours--they are superb! Also in +the manual of arms--but, alas! performed only with sticks of bamboo. +The guns, _capitan_--say that you have brought the guns!' + +"'A thousand Winchesters, Carlos,' I called to him. 'And two +Gatlings.' + +"'_Valgame Dios!_' he cried, throwing his cap in the air. 'We shall +sweep the world!' + +"At that moment Kearny tumbled from the steamer's side into the +river. He could not swim, so the crew threw him a rope and drew him +back aboard. I caught his eye and his look of pathetic but still +bright and undaunted consciousness of his guilty luck. I told myself +that although he might be a man to shun, he was also one to be +admired. + +"I gave orders to the sailing-master that the arms, ammunition, and +provisions were to be landed at once. That was easy in the steamer's +boats, except for the two Gatling guns. For their transportation +ashore we carried a stout flatboat, brought for the purpose in the +steamer's hold. + +"In the meantime I walked with Carlos to the camp and made the +soldiers a little speech in Spanish, which they received with +enthusiasm; and then I had some wine and a cigarette in Carlos's +tent. Later we walked back to the river to see how the unloading +was being conducted. + +"The small arms and provisions were already ashore, and the petty +officers and squads of men conveying them to camp. One Gatling had +been safely landed; the other was just being hoisted over the side +of the vessel as we arrived. I noticed Kearny darting about on +board, seeming to have the ambition of ten men, and doing the work +of five. I think his zeal bubbled over when he saw Carlos and me. A +rope's end was swinging loose from some part of the tackle. Kearny +leaped impetuously and caught it. There was a crackle and a hiss +and a smoke of scorching hemp, and the Gatling dropped straight as +a plummet through the bottom of the flatboat and buried itself in +twenty feet of water and five feet of river mud. + +"I turned my back on the scene. I heard Carlos's loud cries as +if from some extreme grief too poignant for words. I heard the +complaining murmur of the crew and the maledictions of Torres, the +sailing master--I could not bear to look. + +"By night some degree of order had been restored in camp. Military +rules were not drawn strictly, and the men were grouped about the +fires of their several messes, playing games of chance, singing +their native songs, or discussing with voluble animation the +contingencies of our march upon the capital. + +"To my tent, which had been pitched for me close to that of my chief +lieutenant, came Kearny, indomitable, smiling, bright-eyed, bearing +no traces of the buffets of his evil star. Rather was his aspect +that of a heroic martyr whose tribulations were so high-sourced and +glorious that he even took a splendour and a prestige from them. + +"'Well, Captain,' said he, 'I guess you realize that Bad-Luck Kearny +is still on deck. It was a shame, now, about that gun. She only +needed to be slewed two inches to clear the rail; and that's why I +grabbed that rope's end. Who'd have thought that a sailor--even a +Sicilian lubber on a banana coaster--would have fastened a line in a +bow-knot? Don't think I'm trying to dodge the responsibility, +Captain. It's my luck.' + +"'There are men, Kearny,' said I gravely, 'who pass through life +blaming upon luck and chance the mistakes that result from their own +faults and incompetency. I do not say that you are such a man. But +if all your mishaps are traceable to that tiny star, the sooner we +endow our colleges with chairs of moral astronomy, the better.' + +"'It isn't the size of the star that counts,' said Kearny; 'it's +the quality. Just the way it is with women. That's why they give +the biggest planets masculine names, and the little stars feminine +ones--to even things up when it comes to getting their work in. +Suppose they had called my star Agamemnon or Bill McCarty or +something like that instead of Phoebe. Every time one of those old +boys touched their calamity button and sent me down one of their +wireless pieces of bad luck, I could talk back and tell 'em what I +thought of 'em in suitable terms. But you can't address such remarks +to a Phoebe.' + +"'It pleases you to make a joke of it, Kearny,' said I, without +smiling. 'But it is no joke to me to think of my Gatling mired in +the river ooze.' + +"'As to that,' said Kearny, abandoning his light mood at once, +'I have already done what I could. I have had some experience in +hoisting stone in quarries. Torres and I have already spliced three +hawsers and stretched them from the steamer's stern to a tree on +shore. We will rig a tackle and have the gun on terra firma before +noon to-morrow.' + +"One could not remain long at outs with Bad-Luck Kearny. + +"'Once more,' said I to him, 'we will waive this question of luck. +Have you ever had experience in drilling raw troops?' + +"'I was first sergeant and drill-master,' said Kearny, 'in the +Chilean army for one year. And captain of artillery for another.' + +"'What became of your command?' I asked. + +"'Shot down to a man,' said Kearny, 'during the revolutions against +Balmaceda.' + +"Somehow the misfortunes of the evil-starred one seemed to turn to +me their comedy side. I lay back upon my goat's-hide cot and laughed +until the woods echoed. Kearny grinned. 'I told you how it was,' he +said. + +"'To-morrow,' I said, 'I shall detail one hundred men under your +command for manual-of-arms drill and company evolutions. You will +rank as lieutenant. Now, for God's sake, Kearny,' I urged him, 'try +to combat this superstition if it is one. Bad luck may be like any +other visitor--preferring to stop where it is expected. Get your +mind off stars. Look upon Esperando as your planet of good fortune.' + +"'I thank you, Captain,' said Kearny quietly. 'I will try to make it +the best handicap I ever ran.' + +"By noon the next day the submerged Gatling was rescued, as +Kearny had promised. Then Carlos and Manuel Ortiz and Kearny (my +lieutenants) distributed Winchesters among the troops and put them +through an incessant rifle drill. We fired no shots, blank or solid, +for of all coasts Esperando is the stillest; and we had no desire to +sound any warnings in the ear of that corrupt government until they +should carry with them the message of Liberty and the downfall of +Oppression. + +"In the afternoon came a mule-rider bearing a written message to me +from Don Rafael Valdevia in the capital, Aguas Frias. + +"Whenever that man's name comes to my lips, words of tribute to +his greatness, his noble simplicity, and his conspicuous genius +follow irrepressibly. He was a traveller, a student of peoples and +governments, a master of sciences, a poet, an orator, a leader, +a soldier, a critic of the world's campaigns and the idol of the +people in Esperando. I had been honoured by his friendship for +years. It was I who first turned his mind to the thought that he +should leave for his monument a new Esperando--a country freed +from the rule of unscrupulous tyrants, and a people made happy and +prosperous by wise and impartial legislation. When he had consented +he threw himself into the cause with the undivided zeal with which +he endowed all of his acts. The coffers of his great fortune were +opened to those of us to whom were entrusted the secret moves of the +game. His popularity was already so great that he had practically +forced President Cruz to offer him the portfolio of Minister of War. + +"The time, Don Rafael said in his letter, was ripe. Success, he +prophesied, was certain. The people were beginning to clamour +publicly against Cruz's misrule. Bands of citizens in the capital +were even going about of nights hurling stones at public buildings +and expressing their dissatisfaction. A bronze statue of President +Cruz in the Botanical Gardens had been lassoed about the neck and +overthrown. It only remained for me to arrive with my force and +my thousand rifles, and for himself to come forward and proclaim +himself the people's saviour, to overthrow Cruz in a single day. +There would be but a half-hearted resistance from the six hundred +government troops stationed in the capital. The country was ours. +He presumed that by this time my steamer had arrived at Quintana's +camp. He proposed the eighteenth of July for the attack. That would +give us six days in which to strike camp and march to Aguas Frias. +In the meantime Don Rafael remained my good friend and _compadre en +la causa de la libertad_. + +"On the morning of the 14th we began our march toward the +sea-following range of mountains, over the sixty-mile trail to the +capital. Our small arms and provisions were laden on pack mules. +Twenty men harnessed to each Gatling gun rolled them smoothly along +the flat, alluvial lowlands. Our troops, well-shod and well-fed, +moved with alacrity and heartiness. I and my three lieutenants were +mounted on the tough mountain ponies of the country. + +"A mile out of camp one of the pack mules, becoming stubborn, broke +away from the train and plunged from the path into the thicket. The +alert Kearny spurred quickly after it and intercepted its flight. +Rising in his stirrups, he released one foot and bestowed upon the +mutinous animal a hearty kick. The mule tottered and fell with a +crash broadside upon the ground. As we gathered around it, it walled +its great eyes almost humanly towards Kearny and expired. That was +bad; but worse, to our minds, was the concomitant disaster. Part of +the mule's burden had been one hundred pounds of the finest coffee +to be had in the tropics. The bag burst and spilled the priceless +brown mass of the ground berries among the dense vines and weeds +of the swampy land. _Mala suerte!_ When you take away from an +Esperandan his coffee, you abstract his patriotism and 50 per cent. +of his value as a soldier. The men began to rake up the precious +stuff; but I beckoned Kearny back along the trail where they would +not hear. The limit had been reached. + +"I took from my pocket a wallet of money and drew out some bills. + +"'Mr. Kearny,' said I, 'here are some funds belonging to Don Rafael +Valdevia, which I am expending in his cause. I know of no better +service it can buy for him than this. Here is one hundred dollars. +Luck or no luck, we part company here. Star or no star, calamity +seems to travel by your side. You will return to the steamer. She +touches at Amotapa to discharge her lumber and iron, and then puts +back to New Orleans. Hand this note to the sailing-master, who will +give you passage.' I wrote on a leaf torn from my book, and placed +it and the money in Kearny's hand. + +"'Good-bye,' I said, extending my own. 'It is not that I am +displeased with you; but there is no place in this expedition +for--let us say, the Senorita Phoebe.' I said this with a smile, +trying to smooth the thing for him. 'May you have better luck, +_companero_.' + +"Kearny took the money and the paper. + +"'It was just a little touch,' said he, 'just a little lift with the +toe of my boot--but what's the odds?--that blamed mule would have +died if I had only dusted his ribs with a powder puff. It was my +luck. Well, Captain, I would have liked to be in that little fight +with you over in Aguas Frias. Success to the cause. _Adios!_' + +"He turned around and set off down the trail without looking back. +The unfortunate mule's pack-saddle was transferred to Kearny's pony, +and we again took up the march. + +"Four days we journeyed over the foot-hills and mountains, fording +icy torrents, winding around the crumbling brows of ragged peaks, +creeping along the rocky flanges that overlooked awful precipices, +crawling breathlessly over tottering bridges that crossed bottomless +chasms. + +"On the evening of the seventeenth we camped by a little stream on +the bare hills five miles from Aguas Frias. At daybreak we were to +take up the march again. + +"At midnight I was standing outside my tent inhaling the fresh cold +air. The stars were shining bright in the cloudless sky, giving the +heavens their proper aspect of illimitable depth and distance when +viewed from the vague darkness of the blotted earth. Almost at its +zenith was the planet Saturn; and with a half-smile I observed the +sinister red sparkle of his malignant attendant--the demon star of +Kearny's ill luck. And then my thoughts strayed across the hills +to the scene of our coming triumph where the heroic and noble Don +Rafael awaited our coming to set a new and shining star in the +firmament of nations. + +"I heard a slight rustling in the deep grass to my right. I turned +and saw Kearny coming toward me. He was ragged and dew-drenched and +limping. His hat and one boot were gone. About one foot he had tied +some makeshift of cloth and grass. But his manner as he approached +was that of a man who knows his own virtues well enough to be +superior to rebuffs. + +"'Well, sir,' I said, staring at him coldly, 'if there is anything +in persistence, I see no reason why you should not succeed in +wrecking and ruining us yet.' + +"'I kept half a day's journey behind,' said Kearny, fishing out a +stone from the covering of his lame foot, 'so the bad luck wouldn't +touch you. I couldn't help it, Captain; I wanted to be in on this +game. It was a pretty tough trip, especially in the department of +the commissary. In the low grounds there were always bananas and +oranges. Higher up it was worse; but your men left a good deal of +goat meat hanging on the bushes in the camps. Here's your hundred +dollars. You're nearly there now, captain. Let me in on the +scrapping to-morrow.' + +"'Not for a hundred times a hundred would I have the tiniest thing +go wrong with my plans now,' I said, 'whether caused by evil planets +or the blunders of mere man. But yonder is Aguas Frias, five miles +away, and a clear road. I am of the mind to defy Saturn and all his +satellites to spoil our success now. At any rate, I will not turn +away to-night as weary a traveller and as good a soldier as you are, +Lieutenant Kearny. Manuel Ortiz's tent is there by the brightest +fire. Rout him out and tell him to supply you with food and blankets +and clothes. We march again at daybreak.' + +"Kearny thanked me briefly but feelingly and moved away. + +"He had gone scarcely a dozen steps when a sudden flash of bright +light illumined the surrounding hills; a sinister, growing, hissing +sound like escaping steam filled my ears. Then followed a roar as of +distant thunder, which grew louder every instant. This terrifying +noise culminated in a tremendous explosion, which seemed to rock +the hills as an earthquake would; the illumination waxed to a glare +so fierce that I clapped my hands over my eyes to save them. I +thought the end of the world had come. I could think of no natural +phenomenon that would explain it. My wits were staggering. The +deafening explosion trailed off into the rumbling roar that had +preceded it; and through this I heard the frightened shouts of my +troops as they stumbled from their resting-places and rushed wildly +about. Also I heard the harsh tones of Kearny's voice crying: +'They'll blame it on me, of course, and what the devil it is, it's +not Francis Kearny that can give you an answer.' + +"I opened my eyes. The hills were still there, dark and solid. It +had not been, then, a volcano or an earthquake. I looked up at the +sky and saw a comet-like trail crossing the zenith and extending +westward--a fiery trail waning fainter and narrower each moment. + +"'A meteor!' I called aloud. 'A meteor has fallen. There is no +danger.' + +"And then all other sounds were drowned by a great shout from +Kearny's throat. He had raised both hands above his head and was +standing tiptoe. + +"'PHOEBE'S GONE!' he cried, with all his lungs. 'She's busted and +gone to hell. Look, Captain, the little red-headed hoodoo has blown +herself to smithereens. She found Kearny too tough to handle, and +she puffed up with spite and meanness till her boiler blew up. It's +be Bad-Luck Kearny no more. Oh, let us be joyful! + + + "'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall; + Humpty busted, and that'll be all!' + + +"I looked up, wondering, and picked out Saturn in his place. But +the small red twinkling luminary in his vicinity, which Kearny +had pointed out to me as his evil star, had vanished. I had seen +it there but half an hour before; there was no doubt that one of +those awful and mysterious spasms of nature had hurled it from the +heavens. + +"I clapped Kearny on the shoulder. + +"'Little man,' said I, 'let this clear the way for you. It appears +that astrology has failed to subdue you. Your horoscope must be cast +anew with pluck and loyalty for controlling stars. I play you to +win. Now, get to your tent, and sleep. Daybreak is the word.' + +"At nine o'clock on the morning of the eighteenth of July I rode +into Aguas Frias with Kearny at my side. In his clean linen suit and +with his military poise and keen eye he was a model of a fighting +adventurer. I had visions of him riding as commander of President +Valdevia's body-guard when the plums of the new republic should +begin to fall. + +"Carlos followed with the troops and supplies. He was to halt in a +wood outside the town and remain concealed there until he received +the word to advance. + +"Kearny and I rode down the Calle Ancha toward the _residencia_ of +Don Rafael at the other side of the town. As we passed the superb +white buildings of the University of Esperando, I saw at an open +window the gleaming spectacles and bald head of Herr Bergowitz, +professor of the natural sciences and friend of Don Rafael and of +me and of the cause. He waved his hand to me, with his broad, bland +smile. + +"There was no excitement apparent in Aguas Frias. The people went +about leisurely as at all times; the market was thronged with +bare-headed women buying fruit and _carne_; we heard the twang and +tinkle of string bands in the patios of the _cantinas_. We could see +that it was a waiting game that Don Rafael was playing. + +"His _residencia_ was a large but low building around a great +courtyard in grounds crowed with ornamental trees and tropic shrubs. +At his door an old woman who came informed us that Don Rafael had +not yet arisen. + +"'Tell him,' said I, 'that Captain Malone and a friend wish to see +him at once. Perhaps he has overslept.' + +"She came back looking frightened. + +"'I have called,' she said, 'and rung his bell many times, but he +does not answer.' + +"I knew where his sleeping-room was. Kearny and I pushed by her and +went to it. I put my shoulder against the thin door and forced it +open. + +"In an armchair by a great table covered with maps and books sat Don +Rafael with his eyes closed. I touched his hand. He had been dead +many hours. On his head above one ear was a wound caused by a heavy +blow. It had ceased to bleed long before. + +"I made the old woman call a _mozo_, and dispatched him in haste to +fetch Herr Bergowitz. + +"He came, and we stood about as if we were half stunned by the awful +shock. Thus can the letting of a few drops of blood from one man's +veins drain the life of a nation. + +"Presently Herr Bergowitz stooped and picked up a darkish stone the +size of an orange which he saw under the table. He examined it +closely through his great glasses with the eye of science. + +"'A fragment,' said he, 'of a detonating meteor. The most remarkable +one in twenty years exploded above this city a little after midnight +this morning.' + +"The professor looked quickly up at the ceiling. We saw the blue sky +through a hole the size of an orange nearly above Don Rafael's +chair. + +"I heard a familiar sound, and turned. Kearny had thrown himself on +the floor and was babbling his compendium of bitter, blood-freezing +curses against the star of his evil luck. + +"Undoubtedly Phoebe had been feminine. Even when hurtling on her way +to fiery dissolution and everlasting doom, the last word had been +hers." + + + +Captain Malone was not unskilled in narrative. He knew the point +where a story should end. I sat reveling in his effective conclusion +when he aroused me by continuing: + +"Of course," said he, "our schemes were at an end. There was no one +to take Don Rafael's place. Our little army melted away like dew +before the sun. + +"One day after I had returned to New Orleans I related this story to +a friend who holds a professorship in Tulane University. + +"When I had finished he laughed and asked whether I had any +knowledge of Kearny's luck afterward. I told him no, that I had seen +him no more; but that when he left me, he had expressed confidence +that his future would be successful now that his unlucky star had +been overthrown. + +"'No doubt,' said the professor, 'he is happier not to know one +fact. If he derives his bad luck from Phoebe, the ninth satellite +of Saturn, that malicious lady is still engaged in overlooking his +career. The star close to Saturn that he imagined to be her was near +that planet simply by the chance of its orbit--probably at different +times he has regarded many other stars that happened to be in +Saturn's neighbourhood as his evil one. The real Phoebe is visible +only through a very good telescope.' + +"About a year afterward," continued Captain Malone, "I was walking +down a street that crossed the Poydras Market. An immensely stout, +pink-faced lacy in black satin crowded me from the narrow sidewalk +with a frown. Behind her trailed a little man laden to the gunwales +with bundles and bags of goods and vegetables. + +"It was Kearny--but changed. I stopped and shook one of his hands, +which still clung to a bag of garlic and red peppers. + +"'How is the luck, old _companero_?' I asked him. I had not the +heart to tell him the truth about his star. + +"'Well,' said he, 'I am married, as you may guess.' + +"'Francis!' called the big lady, in deep tones, 'are you going to +stop in the street talking all day?' + +"'I am coming, Phoebe dear,' said Kearny, hastening after her." + +Captain Malone ceased again. + +"After all, do you believe in luck?" I asked. + +"Do you?" answered the captain, with his ambiguous smile shaded by +the brim of his soft straw hat. + + + + +VIII + +A DOUBLE-DYED DECEIVER + + +The trouble began in Laredo. It was the Llano Kid's fault, for he +should have confined his habit of manslaughter to Mexicans. But the +Kid was past twenty; and to have only Mexicans to one's credit at +twenty is to blush unseen on the Rio Grande border. + +It happened in old Justo Valdos's gambling house. There was a poker +game at which sat players who were not all friends, as happens often +where men ride in from afar to shoot Folly as she gallops. There +was a row over so small a matter as a pair of queens; and when the +smoke had cleared away it was found that the Kid had committed +an indiscretion, and his adversary had been guilty of a blunder. +For, the unfortunate combatant, instead of being a Greaser, was a +high-blooded youth from the cow ranches, of about the Kid's own age +and possessed of friends and champions. His blunder in missing the +Kid's right ear only a sixteenth of an inch when he pulled his gun +did not lessen the indiscretion of the better marksman. + +The Kid, not being equipped with a retinue, nor bountifully supplied +with personal admirers and supporters--on account of a rather +umbrageous reputation, even for the border--considered it not +incompatible with his indisputable gameness to perform that +judicious tractional act known as "pulling his freight." + +Quickly the avengers gathered and sought him. Three of them overtook +him within a rod of the station. The Kid turned and showed his teeth +in that brilliant but mirthless smile that usually preceded his +deeds of insolence and violence, and his pursuers fell back without +making it necessary for him even to reach for his weapon. + +But in this affair the Kid had not felt the grim thirst for +encounter that usually urged him on to battle. It had been a purely +chance row, born of the cards and certain epithets impossible for +a gentleman to brook that had passed between the two. The Kid had +rather liked the slim, haughty, brown-faced young chap whom his +bullet had cut off in the first pride of manhood. And now he wanted +no more blood. He wanted to get away and have a good long sleep +somewhere in the sun on the mesquit grass with his handkerchief over +his face. Even a Mexican might have crossed his path in safety while +he was in this mood. + +The Kid openly boarded the north-bound passenger train that departed +five minutes later. But at Webb, a few miles out, where it was +flagged to take on a traveller, he abandoned that manner of escape. +There were telegraph stations ahead; and the Kid looked askance at +electricity and steam. Saddle and spur were his rocks of safety. + +The man whom he had shot was a stranger to him. But the Kid knew +that he was of the Coralitos outfit from Hidalgo; and that the +punchers from that ranch were more relentless and vengeful than +Kentucky feudists when wrong or harm was done to one of them. So, +with the wisdom that has characterized many great fighters, the Kid +decided to pile up as many leagues as possible of chaparral and pear +between himself and the retaliation of the Coralitos bunch. + +Near the station was a store; and near the store, scattered among +the mesquits and elms, stood the saddled horses of the customers. +Most of them waited, half asleep, with sagging limbs and drooping +heads. But one, a long-legged roan with a curved neck, snorted and +pawed the turf. Him the Kid mounted, gripped with his knees, and +slapped gently with the owner's own quirt. + +If the slaying of the temerarious card-player had cast a cloud over +the Kid's standing as a good and true citizen, this last act of his +veiled his figure in the darkest shadows of disrepute. On the Rio +Grande border if you take a man's life you sometimes take trash; but +if you take his horse, you take a thing the loss of which renders +him poor, indeed, and which enriches you not--if you are caught. For +the Kid there was no turning back now. + +With the springing roan under him he felt little care or uneasiness. +After a five-mile gallop he drew in to the plainsman's jogging trot, +and rode northeastward toward the Nueces River bottoms. He knew the +country well--its most tortuous and obscure trails through the great +wilderness of brush and pear, and its camps and lonesome ranches +where one might find safe entertainment. Always he bore to the east; +for the Kid had never seen the ocean, and he had a fancy to lay +his hand upon the mane of the great Gulf, the gamesome colt of the +greater waters. + +So after three days he stood on the shore at Corpus Christi, and +looked out across the gentle ripples of a quiet sea. + +Captain Boone, of the schooner _Flyaway_, stood near his skiff, +which one of his crew was guarding in the surf. When ready to sail +he had discovered that one of the necessaries of life, in the +parallelogrammatic shape of plug tobacco, had been forgotten. A +sailor had been dispatched for the missing cargo. Meanwhile the +captain paced the sands, chewing profanely at his pocket store. + +A slim, wiry youth in high-heeled boots came down to the water's +edge. His face was boyish, but with a premature severity that hinted +at a man's experience. His complexion was naturally dark; and the +sun and wind of an outdoor life had burned it to a coffee brown. His +hair was as black and straight as an Indian's; his face had not yet +been upturned to the humiliation of a razor; his eyes were a cold +and steady blue. He carried his left arm somewhat away from his +body, for pearl-handled .45s are frowned upon by town marshals, and +are a little bulky when placed in the left armhole of one's vest. +He looked beyond Captain Boone at the gulf with the impersonal and +expressionless dignity of a Chinese emperor. + +"Thinkin' of buyin' that'ar gulf, buddy?" asked the captain, made +sarcastic by his narrow escape from a tobaccoless voyage. + +"Why, no," said the Kid gently, "I reckon not. I never saw it +before. I was just looking at it. Not thinking of selling it, are +you?" + +"Not this trip," said the captain. "I'll send it to you C.O.D. when +I get back to Buenas Tierras. Here comes that capstanfooted lubber +with the chewin'. I ought to've weighed anchor an hour ago." + +"Is that your ship out there?" asked the Kid. + +"Why, yes," answered the captain, "if you want to call a schooner +a ship, and I don't mind lyin'. But you better say Miller and +Gonzales, owners, and ordinary plain, Billy-be-damned old Samuel K. +Boone, skipper." + +"Where are you going to?" asked the refugee. + +"Buenas Tierras, coast of South America--I forgot what they called +the country the last time I was there. Cargo--lumber, corrugated +iron, and machetes." + +"What kind of a country is it?" asked the Kid--"hot or cold?" + +"Warmish, buddy," said the captain. "But a regular Paradise Lost +for elegance of scenery and be-yooty of geography. Ye're wakened +every morning by the sweet singin' of red birds with seven purple +tails, and the sighin' of breezes in the posies and roses. And the +inhabitants never work, for they can reach out and pick steamer +baskets of the choicest hothouse fruit without gettin' out of bed. +And there's no Sunday and no ice and no rent and no troubles and no +use and no nothin'. It's a great country for a man to go to sleep +with, and wait for somethin' to turn up. The bananys and oranges and +hurricanes and pineapples that ye eat comes from there." + +"That sounds to me!" said the Kid, at last betraying interest. +"What'll the expressage be to take me out there with you?" + +"Twenty-four dollars," said Captain Boone; "grub and transportation. +Second cabin. I haven't got a first cabin." + +"You've got my company," said the Kid, pulling out a buckskin bag. + +With three hundred dollars he had gone to Laredo for his regular +"blowout." The duel in Valdos's had cut short his season of +hilarity, but it had left him with nearly $200 for aid in the flight +that it had made necessary. + +"All right, buddy," said the captain. "I hope your ma won't blame me +for this little childish escapade of yours." He beckoned to one of +the boat's crew. "Let Sanchez lift you out to the skiff so you won't +get your feet wet." + + + +Thacker, the United States consul at Buenas Tierras, was not yet +drunk. It was only eleven o'clock; and he never arrived at his +desired state of beatitude--a state wherein he sang ancient maudlin +vaudeville songs and pelted his screaming parrot with banana +peels--until the middle of the afternoon. So, when he looked up from +his hammock at the sound of a slight cough, and saw the Kid standing +in the door of the consulate, he was still in a condition to extend +the hospitality and courtesy due from the representative of a great +nation. "Don't disturb yourself," said the Kid, easily. "I just +dropped in. They told me it was customary to light at your camp +before starting in to round up the town. I just came in on a ship +from Texas." + +"Glad to see you, Mr.--" said the consul. + +The Kid laughed. + +"Sprague Dalton," he said. "It sounds funny to me to hear it. I'm +called the Llano Kid in the Rio Grande country." + +"I'm Thacker," said the consul. "Take that cane-bottom chair. Now +if you've come to invest, you want somebody to advise you. These +dingies will cheat you out of the gold in your teeth if you don't +understand their ways. Try a cigar?" + +"Much obliged," said the Kid, "but if it wasn't for my corn shucks +and the little bag in my back pocket I couldn't live a minute." He +took out his "makings," and rolled a cigarette. + +"They speak Spanish here," said the consul. "You'll need an +interpreter. If there's anything I can do, why, I'd be delighted. If +you're buying fruit lands or looking for a concession of any sort, +you'll want somebody who knows the ropes to look out for you." + +"I speak Spanish," said the Kid, "about nine times better than I do +English. Everybody speaks it on the range where I come from. And I'm +not in the market for anything." + +"You speak Spanish?" said Thacker thoughtfully. He regarded the kid +absorbedly. + +"You look like a Spaniard, too," he continued. "And you're from +Texas. And you can't be more than twenty or twenty-one. I wonder if +you've got any nerve." + +"You got a deal of some kind to put through?" asked the Texan, with +unexpected shrewdness. + +"Are you open to a proposition?" said Thacker. + +"What's the use to deny it?" said the Kid. "I got into a little gun +frolic down in Laredo and plugged a white man. There wasn't any +Mexican handy. And I come down to your parrot-and-monkey range just +for to smell the morning-glories and marigolds. Now, do you _sabe_?" + +Thacker got up and closed the door. + +"Let me see your hand," he said. + +He took the Kid's left hand, and examined the back of it closely. + +"I can do it," he said excitedly. "Your flesh is as hard as wood and +as healthy as a baby's. It will heal in a week." + +"If it's a fist fight you want to back me for," said the Kid, "don't +put your money up yet. Make it gun work, and I'll keep you company. +But no barehanded scrapping, like ladies at a tea-party, for me." + +"It's easier than that," said Thacker. "Just step here, will you?" + +Through the window he pointed to a two-story white-stuccoed house +with wide galleries rising amid the deep-green tropical foliage on a +wooded hill that sloped gently from the sea. + +"In that house," said Thacker, "a fine old Castilian gentleman and +his wife are yearning to gather you into their arms and fill your +pockets with money. Old Santos Urique lives there. He owns half the +gold-mines in the country." + +"You haven't been eating loco weed, have you?" asked the Kid. + +"Sit down again," said Thacker, "and I'll tell you. Twelve years ago +they lost a kid. No, he didn't die--although most of 'em here do +from drinking the surface water. He was a wild little devil, even +if he wasn't but eight years old. Everybody knows about it. Some +Americans who were through here prospecting for gold had letters to +Senor Urique, and the boy was a favorite with them. They filled his +head with big stories about the States; and about a month after +they left, the kid disappeared, too. He was supposed to have stowed +himself away among the banana bunches on a fruit steamer, and gone +to New Orleans. He was seen once afterward in Texas, it was thought, +but they never heard anything more of him. Old Urique has spent +thousands of dollars having him looked for. The madam was broken up +worst of all. The kid was her life. She wears mourning yet. But they +say she believes he'll come back to her some day, and never gives up +hope. On the back of the boy's left hand was tattooed a flying eagle +carrying a spear in his claws. That's old Urique's coat of arms or +something that he inherited in Spain." + +The Kid raised his left hand slowly and gazed at it curiously. + +"That's it," said Thacker, reaching behind the official desk for his +bottle of smuggled brandy. "You're not so slow. I can do it. What +was I consul at Sandakan for? I never knew till now. In a week I'll +have the eagle bird with the frog-sticker blended in so you'd think +you were born with it. I brought a set of the needles and ink just +because I was sure you'd drop in some day, Mr. Dalton." + +"Oh, hell," said the Kid. "I thought I told you my name!" + +"All right, 'Kid,' then. It won't be that long. How does Senorito +Urique sound, for a change?" + +"I never played son any that I remember of," said the Kid. "If I had +any parents to mention they went over the divide about the time I +gave my first bleat. What is the plan of your round-up?" + +Thacker leaned back against the wall and held his glass up to the +light. + +"We've come now," said he, "to the question of how far you're +willing to go in a little matter of the sort." + +"I told you why I came down here," said the Kid simply. + +"A good answer," said the consul. "But you won't have to go that +far. Here's the scheme. After I get the trademark tattooed on your +hand I'll notify old Urique. In the meantime I'll furnish you with +all of the family history I can find out, so you can be studying up +points to talk about. You've got the looks, you speak the Spanish, +you know the facts, you can tell about Texas, you've got the tattoo +mark. When I notify them that the rightful heir has returned and is +waiting to know whether he will be received and pardoned, what will +happen? They'll simply rush down here and fall on your neck, and the +curtain goes down for refreshments and a stroll in the lobby." + +"I'm waiting," said the Kid. "I haven't had my saddle off in your +camp long, pardner, and I never met you before; but if you intend to +let it go at a parental blessing, why, I'm mistaken in my man, +that's all." + +"Thanks," said the consul. "I haven't met anybody in a long time +that keeps up with an argument as well as you do. The rest of it is +simple. If they take you in only for a while it's long enough. Don't +give 'em time to hunt up the strawberry mark on your left shoulder. +Old Urique keeps anywhere from $50,000 to $100,000 in his house all +the time in a little safe that you could open with a shoe buttoner. +Get it. My skill as a tattooer is worth half the boddle. We go +halves and catch a tramp steamer for Rio Janeiro. Let the United +States go to pieces if it can't get along without my services. _Que +dice, senor?_" + +"It sounds to me!" said the Kid, nodding his head. "I'm out for the +dust." + +"All right, then," said Thacker. "You'll have to keep close until +we get the bird on you. You can live in the back room here. I do +my own cooking, and I'll make you as comfortable as a parsimonious +Government will allow me." + +Thacker had set the time at a week, but it was two weeks before the +design that he patiently tattooed upon the Kid's hand was to his +notion. And then Thacker called a _muchacho_, and dispatched this +note to the intended victim: + + + EL SENOR DON SANTOS URIQUE, + La Casa Blanca, + + MY DEAR SIR: + + I beg permission to inform you that there is in my house as + a temporary guest a young man who arrived in Buenas Tierras + from the United States some days ago. Without wishing to + excite any hopes that may not be realized, I think there is + a possibility of his being your long-absent son. It might be + well for you to call and see him. If he is, it is my opinion + that his intention was to return to his home, but upon + arriving here, his courage failed him from doubts as to how + he would be received. Your true servant, + + THOMPSON THACKER. + + +Half an hour afterward--quick time for Buenas Tierras--Senor +Urique's ancient landau drove to the consul's door, with the +barefooted coachman beating and shouting at the team of fat, awkward +horses. + +A tall man with a white moustache alighted, and assisted to the +ground a lady who was dressed and veiled in unrelieved black. + +The two hastened inside, and were met by Thacker with his best +diplomatic bow. By his desk stood a slender young man with +clear-cut, sun-browned features and smoothly brushed black hair. + +Senora Urique threw back her black veil with a quick gesture. She +was past middle age, and her hair was beginning to silver, but her +full, proud figure and clear olive skin retained traces of the +beauty peculiar to the Basque province. But, once you had seen her +eyes, and comprehended the great sadness that was revealed in their +deep shadows and hopeless expression, you saw that the woman lived +only in some memory. + +She bent upon the young man a long look of the most agonized +questioning. Then her great black eyes turned, and her gaze rested +upon his left hand. And then with a sob, not loud, but seeming to +shake the room, she cried "_Hijo mio!_" and caught the Llano Kid to +her heart. + +A month afterward the Kid came to the consulate in response to a +message sent by Thacker. + +He looked the young Spanish _caballero_. His clothes were imported, +and the wiles of the jewellers had not been spent upon him in vain. +A more than respectable diamond shone on his finger as he rolled a +shuck cigarette. + +"What's doing?" asked Thacker. + +"Nothing much," said the Kid calmly. "I eat my first iguana steak +to-day. They're them big lizards, you _sabe_? I reckon, though, that +frijoles and side bacon would do me about as well. Do you care for +iguanas, Thacker?" + +"No, nor for some other kinds of reptiles," said Thacker. + +It was three in the afternoon, and in another hour he would be in +his state of beatitude. + +"It's time you were making good, sonny," he went on, with an ugly +look on his reddened face. "You're not playing up to me square. +You've been the prodigal son for four weeks now, and you could have +had veal for every meal on a gold dish if you'd wanted it. Now, Mr. +Kid, do you think it's right to leave me out so long on a husk diet? +What's the trouble? Don't you get your filial eyes on anything +that looks like cash in the Casa Blanca? Don't tell me you don't. +Everybody knows where old Urique keeps his stuff. It's U.S. +currency, too; he don't accept anything else. What's doing? Don't +say 'nothing' this time." + +"Why, sure," said the Kid, admiring his diamond, "there's plenty of +money up there. I'm no judge of collateral in bunches, but I will +undertake for to say that I've seen the rise of $50,000 at a time in +that tin grub box that my adopted father calls his safe. And he lets +me carry the key sometimes just to show me that he knows I'm the +real little Francisco that strayed from the herd a long time ago." + +"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Thacker, angrily. "Don't you +forget that I can upset your apple-cart any day I want to. If old +Urique knew you were an imposter, what sort of things would happen +to you? Oh, you don't know this country, Mr. Texas Kid. The laws +here have got mustard spread between 'em. These people here'd +stretch you out like a frog that had been stepped on, and give you +about fifty sticks at every corner of the plaza. And they'd wear +every stick out, too. What was left of you they'd feed to +alligators." + +"I might just as well tell you now, pardner," said the Kid, sliding +down low on his steamer chair, "that things are going to stay just +as they are. They're about right now." + +"What do you mean?" asked Thacker, rattling the bottom of his glass +on his desk. + +"The scheme's off," said the Kid. "And whenever you have the +pleasure of speaking to me address me as Don Francisco Urique. I'll +guarantee I'll answer to it. We'll let Colonel Urique keep his +money. His little tin safe is as good as the time-locker in the +First National Bank of Laredo as far as you and me are concerned." + +"You're going to throw me down, then, are you?" said the consul. + +"Sure," said the Kid cheerfully. "Throw you down. That's it. And now +I'll tell you why. The first night I was up at the colonel's house +they introduced me to a bedroom. No blankets on the floor--a real +room, with a bed and things in it. And before I was asleep, in comes +this artificial mother of mine and tucks in the covers. 'Panchito,' +she says, 'my little lost one, God has brought you back to me. I +bless His name forever.' It was that, or some truck like that, she +said. And down comes a drop or two of rain and hits me on the nose. +And all that stuck by me, Mr. Thacker. And it's been that way ever +since. And it's got to stay that way. Don't you think that it's for +what's in it for me, either, that I say so. If you have any such +ideas, keep 'em to yourself. I haven't had much truck with women in +my life, and no mothers to speak of, but here's a lady that we've +got to keep fooled. Once she stood it; twice she won't. I'm a +low-down wolf, and the devil may have sent me on this trail instead +of God, but I'll travel it to the end. And now, don't forget that +I'm Don Francisco Urique whenever you happen to mention my name." + +"I'll expose you to-day, you--you double-dyed traitor," stammered +Thacker. + +The Kid arose and, without violence, took Thacker by the throat with +a hand of steel, and shoved him slowly into a corner. Then he drew +from under his left arm his pearl-handled .45 and poked the cold +muzzle of it against the consul's mouth. + +"I told you why I come here," he said, with his old freezing smile. +"If I leave here, you'll be the reason. Never forget it, pardner. +Now, what is my name?" + +"Er--Don Francisco Urique," gasped Thacker. + +From outside came a sound of wheels, and the shouting of some one, +and the sharp thwacks of a wooden whipstock upon the backs of fat +horses. + +The Kid put up his gun, and walked toward the door. But he turned +again and came back to the trembling Thacker, and held up his left +hand with its back toward the consul. + +"There's one more reason," he said slowly, "why things have got to +stand as they are. The fellow I killed in Laredo had one of them +same pictures on his left hand." + +Outside, the ancient landau of Don Santos Urique rattled to the +door. The coachman ceased his bellowing. Senora Urique, in a +voluminous gay gown of white lace and flying ribbons, leaned forward +with a happy look in her great soft eyes. + +"Are you within, dear son?" she called, in the rippling Castilian. + +"_Madre mia, yo vengo_ [mother, I come]," answered the young Don +Francisco Urique. + + + + +IX + +THE PASSING OF BLACK EAGLE + + +For some months of a certain year a grim bandit infested the Texas +border along the Rio Grande. Peculiarly striking to the optic nerve +was this notorious marauder. His personality secured him the title +of "Black Eagle, the Terror of the Border." Many fearsome tales are +on record concerning the doings of him and his followers. Suddenly, +in the space of a single minute, Black Eagle vanished from earth. +He was never heard of again. His own band never even guessed the +mystery of his disappearance. The border ranches and settlements +feared he would come again to ride and ravage the mesquite flats. +He never will. It is to disclose the fate of Black Eagle that this +narrative is written. + +The initial movement of the story is furnished by the foot of a +bartender in St. Louis. His discerning eye fell upon the form +of Chicken Ruggles as he pecked with avidity at the free lunch. +Chicken was a "hobo." He had a long nose like the bill of a fowl, +an inordinate appetite for poultry, and a habit of gratifying it +without expense, which accounts for the name given him by his fellow +vagrants. + +Physicians agree that the partaking of liquids at meal times is +not a healthy practice. The hygiene of the saloon promulgates the +opposite. Chicken had neglected to purchase a drink to accompany +his meal. The bartender rounded the counter, caught the injudicious +diner by the ear with a lemon squeezer, led him to the door and +kicked him into the street. + +Thus the mind of Chicken was brought to realize the signs of +coming winter. The night was cold; the stars shone with unkindly +brilliancy; people were hurrying along the streets in two egotistic, +jostling streams. Men had donned their overcoats, and Chicken knew +to an exact percentage the increased difficulty of coaxing dimes +from those buttoned-in vest pockets. The time had come for his +annual exodus to the south. + +A little boy, five or six years old, stood looking with covetous +eyes in a confectioner's window. In one small hand he held an empty +two-ounce vial; in the other he grasped tightly something flat and +round, with a shining milled edge. The scene presented a field of +operations commensurate to Chicken's talents and daring. After +sweeping the horizon to make sure that no official tug was cruising +near, he insidiously accosted his prey. The boy, having been early +taught by his household to regard altruistic advances with extreme +suspicion, received the overtures coldly. + +Then Chicken knew that he must make one of those desperate, +nerve-shattering plunges into speculation that fortune sometimes +requires of those who would win her favour. Five cents was his +capital, and this he must risk against the chance of winning what +lay within the close grasp of the youngster's chubby hand. It was +a fearful lottery, Chicken knew. But he must accomplish his end by +strategy, since he had a wholesome terror of plundering infants +by force. Once, in a park, driven by hunger, he had committed +an onslaught upon a bottle of peptonized infant's food in the +possession of an occupant of a baby carriage. The outraged infant +had so promptly opened its mouth and pressed the button that +communicated with the welkin that help arrived, and Chicken did his +thirty days in a snug coop. Wherefore he was, as he said, "leary of +kids." + +Beginning artfully to question the boy concerning his choice of +sweets, he gradually drew out the information he wanted. Mamma said +he was to ask the drug store man for ten cents' worth of paregoric +in the bottle; he was to keep his hand shut tight over the dollar; +he must not stop to talk to anyone in the street; he must ask the +drug-store man to wrap up the change and put it in the pocket of +his trousers. Indeed, they had pockets--two of them! And he liked +chocolate creams best. + +Chicken went into the store and turned plunger. He invested his +entire capital in C.A.N.D.Y. stocks, simply to pave the way to the +greater risk following. + +He gave the sweets to the youngster, and had the satisfaction of +perceiving that confidence was established. After that it was easy +to obtain leadership of the expedition; to take the investment by +the hand and lead it to a nice drug store he knew of in the same +block. There Chicken, with a parental air, passed over the dollar +and called for the medicine, while the boy crunched his candy, glad +to be relieved of the responsibility of the purchase. And then +the successful investor, searching his pockets, found an overcoat +button--the extent of his winter trousseau--and, wrapping it +carefully, placed the ostensible change in the pocket of confiding +juvenility. Setting the youngster's face homeward, and patting him +benevolently on the back--for Chicken's heart was as soft as those +of his feathered namesakes--the speculator quit the market with a +profit of 1,700 per cent. on his invested capital. + +Two hours later an Iron Mountain freight engine pulled out of the +railroad yards, Texas bound, with a string of empties. In one of the +cattle cars, half buried in excelsior, Chicken lay at ease. Beside +him in his nest was a quart bottle of very poor whisky and a paper +bag of bread and cheese. Mr. Ruggles, in his private car, was on his +trip south for the winter season. + +For a week that car was trundled southward, shifted, laid over, and +manipulated after the manner of rolling stock, but Chicken stuck +to it, leaving it only at necessary times to satisfy his hunger +and thirst. He knew it must go down to the cattle country, and +San Antonio, in the heart of it, was his goal. There the air was +salubrious and mild; the people indulgent and long-suffering. The +bartenders there would not kick him. If he should eat too long or +too often at one place they would swear at him as if by rote and +without heat. They swore so drawlingly, and they rarely paused short +of their full vocabulary, which was copious, so that Chicken had +often gulped a good meal during the process of the vituperative +prohibition. The season there was always spring-like; the plazas +were pleasant at night, with music and gaiety; except during the +slight and infrequent cold snaps one could sleep comfortably out of +doors in case the interiors should develop inhospitability. + +At Texarkana his car was switched to the I. and G. N. Then still +southward it trailed until, at length, it crawled across the +Colorado bridge at Austin, and lined out, straight as an arrow, for +the run to San Antonio. + +When the freight halted at that town Chicken was fast asleep. In ten +minutes the train was off again for Laredo, the end of the road. +Those empty cattle cars were for distribution along the line at +points from which the ranches shipped their stock. + +When Chicken awoke his car was stationary. Looking out between the +slats he saw it was a bright, moonlit night. Scrambling out, he saw +his car with three others abandoned on a little siding in a wild +and lonesome country. A cattle pen and chute stood on one side of +the track. The railroad bisected a vast, dim ocean of prairie, in +the midst of which Chicken, with his futile rolling stock, was as +completely stranded as was Robinson with his land-locked boat. + +A white post stood near the rails. Going up to it, Chicken read the +letters at the top, S. A. 90. Laredo was nearly as far to the south. +He was almost a hundred miles from any town. Coyotes began to yelp +in the mysterious sea around him. Chicken felt lonesome. He had +lived in Boston without an education, in Chicago without nerve, in +Philadelphia without a sleeping place, in New York without a pull, +and in Pittsburg sober, and yet he had never felt so lonely as now. + +Suddenly through the intense silence, he heard the whicker of a +horse. The sound came from the side of the track toward the east, +and Chicken began to explore timorously in that direction. He +stepped high along the mat of curly mesquit grass, for he was afraid +of everything there might be in this wilderness--snakes, rats, +brigands, centipedes, mirages, cowboys, fandangoes, tarantulas, +tamales--he had read of them in the story papers. Rounding a clump +of prickly pear that reared high its fantastic and menacing array of +rounded heads, he was struck to shivering terror by a snort and a +thunderous plunge, as the horse, himself startled, bounded away some +fifty yards, and then resumed his grazing. But here was the one +thing in the desert that Chicken did not fear. He had been reared on +a farm; he had handled horses, understood them, and could ride. + +Approaching slowly and speaking soothingly, he followed the animal, +which, after its first flight, seemed gentle enough, and secured the +end of the twenty-foot lariat that dragged after him in the grass. +It required him but a few moments to contrive the rope into an +ingenious nose-bridle, after the style of the Mexican _borsal_. In +another he was upon the horse's back and off at a splendid lope, +giving the animal free choice of direction. "He will take me +somewhere," said Chicken to himself. + +It would have been a thing of joy, that untrammelled gallop over the +moonlit prairie, even to Chicken, who loathed exertion, but that his +mood was not for it. His head ached; a growing thirst was upon him; +the "somewhere" whither his lucky mount might convey him was full of +dismal peradventure. + +And now he noted that the horse moved to a definite goal. Where the +prairie lay smooth he kept his course straight as an arrow's toward +the east. Deflected by hill or arroyo or impractical spinous brakes, +he quickly flowed again into the current, charted by his unerring +instinct. At last, upon the side of a gentle rise, he suddenly +subsided to a complacent walk. A stone's cast away stood a little +mott of coma trees; beneath it a _jacal_ such as the Mexicans +erect--a one-room house of upright poles daubed with clay and roofed +with grass or tule reeds. An experienced eye would have estimated +the spot as the headquarters of a small sheep ranch. In the +moonlight the ground in the nearby corral showed pulverized to +a level smoothness by the hoofs of the sheep. Everywhere was +carelessly distributed the paraphernalia of the place--ropes, +bridles, saddles, sheep pelts, wool sacks, feed troughs, and camp +litter. The barrel of drinking water stood in the end of the +two-horse wagon near the door. The harness was piled, promiscuous, +upon the wagon tongue, soaking up the dew. + +Chicken slipped to earth, and tied the horse to a tree. He halloed +again and again, but the house remained quiet. The door stood open, +and he entered cautiously. The light was sufficient for him to see +that no one was at home. The room was that of a bachelor ranchman +who was content with the necessaries of life. Chicken rummaged +intelligently until he found what he had hardly dared hope for--a +small, brown jug that still contained something near a quart of his +desire. + +Half an hour later, Chicken--now a gamecock of hostile +aspect--emerged from the house with unsteady steps. He had drawn +upon the absent ranchman's equipment to replace his own ragged +attire. He wore a suit of coarse brown ducking, the coat being a +sort of rakish bolero, jaunty to a degree. Boots he had donned, and +spurs that whirred with every lurching step. Buckled around him was +a belt full of cartridges with a big six-shooter in each of its two +holsters. + +Prowling about, he found blankets, a saddle and bridle with which he +caparisoned his steed. Again mounting, he rode swiftly away, singing +a loud and tuneless song. + + + +Bud King's band of desperadoes, outlaws and horse and cattle thieves +were in camp at a secluded spot on the bank of the Frio. Their +depredations in the Rio Grande country, while no bolder than usual, +had been advertised more extensively, and Captain Kinney's company +of rangers had been ordered down to look after them. Consequently, +Bud King, who was a wise general, instead of cutting out a hot trail +for the upholders of the law, as his men wished to do, retired for +the time to the prickly fastnesses of the Frio valley. + +Though the move was a prudent one, and not incompatible with Bud's +well-known courage, it raised dissension among the members of the +band. In fact, while they thus lay ingloriously _perdu_ in the +brush, the question of Bud King's fitness for the leadership was +argued, with closed doors, as it were, by his followers. Never +before had Bud's skill or efficiency been brought to criticism; but +his glory was waning (and such is glory's fate) in the light of a +newer star. The sentiment of the band was crystallizing into the +opinion that Black Eagle could lead them with more lustre, profit, +and distinction. + +This Black Eagle--sub-titled the "Terror of the Border"--had been a +member of the gang about three months. + +One night while they were in camp on the San Miguel water-hole a +solitary horseman on the regulation fiery steed dashed in among +them. The newcomer was of a portentous and devastating aspect. A +beak-like nose with a predatory curve projected above a mass of +bristling, blue-black whiskers. His eye was cavernous and fierce. +He was spurred, sombreroed, booted, garnished with revolvers, +abundantly drunk, and very much unafraid. Few people in the country +drained by the Rio Bravo would have cared thus to invade alone the +camp of Bud King. But this fell bird swooped fearlessly upon them +and demanded to be fed. + +Hospitality in the prairie country is not limited. Even if your +enemy pass your way you must feed him before you shoot him. You +must empty your larder into him before you empty your lead. So the +stranger of undeclared intentions was set down to a mighty feast. + +A talkative bird he was, full of most marvellous loud tales and +exploits, and speaking a language at times obscure but never +colourless. He was a new sensation to Bud King's men, who rarely +encountered new types. They hung, delighted, upon his vainglorious +boasting, the spicy strangeness of his lingo, his contemptuous +familiarity with life, the world, and remote places, and the +extravagant frankness with which he conveyed his sentiments. + +To their guest the band of outlaws seemed to be nothing more than a +congregation of country bumpkins whom he was "stringing for grub" +just as he would have told his stories at the back door of a +farmhouse to wheedle a meal. And, indeed, his ignorance was not +without excuse, for the "bad man" of the Southwest does not run to +extremes. Those brigands might justly have been taken for a little +party of peaceable rustics assembled for a fish-fry or pecan +gathering. Gentle of manner, slouching of gait, soft-voiced, +unpicturesquely clothed; not one of them presented to the eye any +witness of the desperate records they had earned. + +For two days the glittering stranger within the camp was feasted. +Then, by common consent, he was invited to become a member of the +band. He consented, presenting for enrollment the prodigious name +of "Captain Montressor." This name was immediately overruled by the +band, and "Piggy" substituted as a compliment to the awful and +insatiate appetite of its owner. + +Thus did the Texas border receive the most spectacular brigand that +ever rode its chaparral. + +For the next three months Bud King conducted business as usual, +escaping encounters with law officers and being content with +reasonable profits. The band ran off some very good companies of +horses from the ranges, and a few bunches of fine cattle which they +got safely across the Rio Grande and disposed of to fair advantage. +Often the band would ride into the little villages and Mexican +settlements, terrorizing the inhabitants and plundering for the +provisions and ammunition they needed. It was during these bloodless +raids that Piggy's ferocious aspect and frightful voice gained him a +renown more widespread and glorious than those other gentle-voiced +and sad-faced desperadoes could have acquired in a lifetime. + +The Mexicans, most apt in nomenclature, first called him The Black +Eagle, and used to frighten the babes by threatening them with tales +of the dreadful robber who carried off little children in his great +beak. Soon the name extended, and Black Eagle, the Terror of the +Border, became a recognized factor in exaggerated newspaper reports +and ranch gossip. + +The country from the Nueces to the Rio Grande was a wild but fertile +stretch, given over to the sheep and cattle ranches. Range was free; +the inhabitants were few; the law was mainly a letter, and the +pirates met with little opposition until the flaunting and garish +Piggy gave the band undue advertisement. Then Kinney's ranger +company headed for those precincts, and Bud King knew that it meant +grim and sudden war or else temporary retirement. Regarding the risk +to be unnecessary, he drew off his band to an almost inaccessible +spot on the bank of the Frio. Wherefore, as has been said, +dissatisfaction arose among the members, and impeachment proceedings +against Bud were premeditated, with Black Eagle in high favour for +the succession. Bud King was not unaware of the sentiment, and he +called aside Cactus Taylor, his trusted lieutenant, to discuss it. + +"If the boys," said Bud, "ain't satisfied with me, I'm willing +to step out. They're buckin' against my way of handlin' 'em. And +'specially because I concludes to hit the brush while Sam Kinney is +ridin' the line. I saves 'em from bein' shot or sent up on a state +contract, and they up and says I'm no good." + +"It ain't so much that," explained Cactus, "as it is they're plum +locoed about Piggy. They want them whiskers and that nose of his to +split the wind at the head of the column." + +"There's somethin' mighty seldom about Piggy," declared Bud, +musingly. "I never yet see anything on the hoof that he exactly +grades up with. He can shore holler a plenty, and he straddles a +hoss from where you laid the chunk. But he ain't never been smoked +yet. You know, Cactus, we ain't had a row since he's been with us. +Piggy's all right for skearin' the greaser kids and layin' waste a +cross-roads store. I reckon he's the finest canned oyster buccaneer +and cheese pirate that ever was, but how's his appetite for +fightin'? I've knowed some citizens you'd think was starvin' for +trouble get a bad case of dyspepsy the first dose of lead they had +to take." + +"He talks all spraddled out," said Cactus, "'bout the rookuses he's +been in. He claims to have saw the elephant and hearn the owl." + +"I know," replied Bud, using the cowpuncher's expressive phrase of +skepticism, "but it sounds to me!" + +This conversation was held one night in camp while the other members +of the band--eight in number--were sprawling around the fire, +lingering over their supper. When Bud and Cactus ceased talking they +heard Piggy's formidable voice holding forth to the others as usual +while he was engaged in checking, though never satisfying, his +ravening appetite. + +"Wat's de use," he was saying, "of chasin' little red cowses and +hosses 'round for t'ousands of miles? Dere ain't nuttin' in it. +Gallopin' t'rough dese bushes and briers, and gettin' a t'irst dat a +brewery couldn't put out, and missin' meals! Say! You know what I'd +do if I was main finger of dis bunch? I'd stick up a train. I'd blow +de express car and make hard dollars where you guys get wind. Youse +makes me tired. Dis sook-cow kind of cheap sport gives me a pain." + +Later on, a deputation waited on Bud. They stood on one leg, +chewed mesquit twigs and circumlocuted, for they hated to hurt his +feelings. Bud foresaw their business, and made it easy for them. +Bigger risks and larger profits was what they wanted. + +The suggestion of Piggy's about holding up a train had fired their +imagination and increased their admiration for the dash and boldness +of the instigator. They were such simple, artless, and custom-bound +bush-rangers that they had never before thought of extending their +habits beyond the running off of live-stock and the shooting of such +of their acquaintances as ventured to interfere. + +Bud acted "on the level," agreeing to take a subordinate place in +the gang until Black Eagle should have been given a trial as leader. + +After a great deal of consultation, studying of time-tables, and +discussion of the country's topography, the time and place for +carrying out their new enterprise was decided upon. At that +time there was a feedstuff famine in Mexico and a cattle famine +in certain parts of the United States, and there was a brisk +international trade. Much money was being shipped along the +railroads that connected the two republics. It was agreed that the +most promising place for the contemplated robbery was at Espina, +a little station on the I. and G. N., about forty miles north of +Laredo. The train stopped there one minute; the country around was +wild and unsettled; the station consisted of but one house in which +the agent lived. + +Black Eagle's band set out, riding by night. Arriving in the +vicinity of Espina they rested their horses all day in a thicket a +few miles distant. + +The train was due at Espina at 10.30 P.M. They could rob the train +and be well over the Mexican border with their booty by daylight the +next morning. + +To do Black Eagle justice, he exhibited no signs of flinching from +the responsible honours that had been conferred upon him. + +He assigned his men to their respective posts with discretion, and +coached them carefully as to their duties. On each side of the track +four of the band were to lie concealed in the chaparral. Gotch-Ear +Rodgers was to stick up the station agent. Bronco Charlie was to +remain with the horses, holding them in readiness. At a spot where +it was calculated the engine would be when the train stopped, Bud +King was to lie hidden on one side, and Black Eagle himself on the +other. The two would get the drop on the engineer and fireman, force +them to descend and proceed to the rear. Then the express car would +be looted, and the escape made. No one was to move until Black Eagle +gave the signal by firing his revolver. The plan was perfect. + +At ten minutes to train time every man was at his post, effectually +concealed by the thick chaparral that grew almost to the rails. +The night was dark and lowering, with a fine drizzle falling from +the flying gulf clouds. Black Eagle crouched behind a bush within +five yards of the track. Two six-shooters were belted around him. +Occasionally he drew a large black bottle from his pocket and raised +it to his mouth. + +A star appeared far down the track which soon waxed into the +headlight of the approaching train. It came on with an increasing +roar; the engine bore down upon the ambushing desperadoes with a +glare and a shriek like some avenging monster come to deliver them +to justice. Black Eagle flattened himself upon the ground. The +engine, contrary to their calculations, instead of stopping between +him and Bud King's place of concealment, passed fully forty yards +farther before it came to a stand. + +The bandit leader rose to his feet and peered through the bush. His +men all lay quiet, awaiting the signal. Immediately opposite Black +Eagle was a thing that drew his attention. Instead of being a +regular passenger train it was a mixed one. Before him stood a box +car, the door of which, by some means, had been left slightly open. +Black Eagle went up to it and pushed the door farther open. An odour +came forth--a damp, rancid, familiar, musty, intoxicating, beloved +odour stirring strongly at old memories of happy days and travels. +Black Eagle sniffed at the witching smell as the returned wanderer +smells of the rose that twines his boyhood's cottage home. Nostalgia +seized him. He put his hand inside. Excelsior--dry, springy, curly, +soft, enticing, covered the floor. Outside the drizzle had turned to +a chilling rain. + +The train bell clanged. The bandit chief unbuckled his belt and cast +it, with its revolvers, upon the ground. His spurs followed quickly, +and his broad sombrero. Black Eagle was moulting. The train started +with a rattling jerk. The ex-Terror of the Border scrambled into +the box car and closed the door. Stretched luxuriously upon the +excelsior, with the black bottle clasped closely to his breast, his +eyes closed, and a foolish, happy smile upon his terrible features +Chicken Ruggles started upon his return trip. + +Undisturbed, with the band of desperate bandits lying motionless, +awaiting the signal to attack, the train pulled out from Espina. As +its speed increased, and the black masses of chaparral went whizzing +past on either side, the express messenger, lighting his pipe, +looked through his window and remarked, feelingly: + +"What a jim-dandy place for a hold-up!" + + + + +X + +A RETRIEVED REFORMATION + + +A guard came to the prison shoe-shop, where Jimmy Valentine was +assiduously stitching uppers, and escorted him to the front office. +There the warden handed Jimmy his pardon, which had been signed +that morning by the governor. Jimmy took it in a tired kind of way. +He had served nearly ten months of a four year sentence. He had +expected to stay only about three months, at the longest. When a +man with as many friends on the outside as Jimmy Valentine had is +received in the "stir" it is hardly worth while to cut his hair. + +"Now, Valentine," said the warden, "you'll go out in the morning. +Brace up, and make a man of yourself. You're not a bad fellow at +heart. Stop cracking safes, and live straight." + +"Me?" said Jimmy, in surprise. "Why, I never cracked a safe in my +life." + +"Oh, no," laughed the warden. "Of course not. Let's see, now. How +was it you happened to get sent up on that Springfield job? Was +it because you wouldn't prove an alibi for fear of compromising +somebody in extremely high-toned society? Or was it simply a case of +a mean old jury that had it in for you? It's always one or the other +with you innocent victims." + +"Me?" said Jimmy, still blankly virtuous. "Why, warden, I never was +in Springfield in my life!" + +"Take him back, Cronin!" said the warden, "and fix him up with +outgoing clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning, and let him +come to the bull-pen. Better think over my advice, Valentine." + +At a quarter past seven on the next morning Jimmy stood in the +warden's outer office. He had on a suit of the villainously fitting, +ready-made clothes and a pair of the stiff, squeaky shoes that the +state furnishes to its discharged compulsory guests. + +The clerk handed him a railroad ticket and the five-dollar bill +with which the law expected him to rehabilitate himself into good +citizenship and prosperity. The warden gave him a cigar, and shook +hands. Valentine, 9762, was chronicled on the books, "Pardoned by +Governor," and Mr. James Valentine walked out into the sunshine. + +Disregarding the song of the birds, the waving green trees, and +the smell of the flowers, Jimmy headed straight for a restaurant. +There he tasted the first sweet joys of liberty in the shape of a +broiled chicken and a bottle of white wine--followed by a cigar a +grade better than the one the warden had given him. From there he +proceeded leisurely to the depot. He tossed a quarter into the hat +of a blind man sitting by the door, and boarded his train. Three +hours set him down in a little town near the state line. He went to +the cafe of one Mike Dolan and shook hands with Mike, who was alone +behind the bar. + +"Sorry we couldn't make it sooner, Jimmy, me boy," said Mike. "But +we had that protest from Springfield to buck against, and the +governor nearly balked. Feeling all right?" + +"Fine," said Jimmy. "Got my key?" + +He got his key and went upstairs, unlocking the door of a room at +the rear. Everything was just as he had left it. There on the floor +was still Ben Price's collar-button that had been torn from that +eminent detective's shirt-band when they had overpowered Jimmy to +arrest him. + +Pulling out from the wall a folding-bed, Jimmy slid back a panel in +the wall and dragged out a dust-covered suit-case. He opened this +and gazed fondly at the finest set of burglar's tools in the East. +It was a complete set, made of specially tempered steel, the latest +designs in drills, punches, braces and bits, jimmies, clamps, and +augers, with two or three novelties, invented by Jimmy himself, in +which he took pride. Over nine hundred dollars they had cost him +to have made at ----, a place where they make such things for the +profession. + +In half an hour Jimmy went down stairs and through the cafe. He was +now dressed in tasteful and well-fitting clothes, and carried his +dusted and cleaned suit-case in his hand. + +"Got anything on?" asked Mike Dolan, genially. + +"Me?" said Jimmy, in a puzzled tone. "I don't understand. I'm +representing the New York Amalgamated Short Snap Biscuit Cracker and +Frazzled Wheat Company." + +This statement delighted Mike to such an extent that Jimmy had to +take a seltzer-and-milk on the spot. He never touched "hard" drinks. + +A week after the release of Valentine, 9762, there was a neat job of +safe-burglary done in Richmond, Indiana, with no clue to the author. +A scant eight hundred dollars was all that was secured. Two weeks +after that a patented, improved, burglar-proof safe in Logansport +was opened like a cheese to the tune of fifteen hundred dollars, +currency; securities and silver untouched. That began to interest +the rogue-catchers. Then an old-fashioned bank-safe in Jefferson +City became active and threw out of its crater an eruption of +bank-notes amounting to five thousand dollars. The losses were now +high enough to bring the matter up into Ben Price's class of work. +By comparing notes, a remarkable similarity in the methods of the +burglaries was noticed. Ben Price investigated the scenes of the +robberies, and was heard to remark: + +"That's Dandy Jim Valentine's autograph. He's resumed business. Look +at that combination knob--jerked out as easy as pulling up a radish +in wet weather. He's got the only clamps that can do it. And look +how clean those tumblers were punched out! Jimmy never has to drill +but one hole. Yes, I guess I want Mr. Valentine. He'll do his bit +next time without any short-time or clemency foolishness." + +Ben Price knew Jimmy's habits. He had learned them while working up +the Springfield case. Long jumps, quick get-aways, no confederates, +and a taste for good society--these ways had helped Mr. Valentine to +become noted as a successful dodger of retribution. It was given out +that Ben Price had taken up the trail of the elusive cracksman, and +other people with burglar-proof safes felt more at ease. + +One afternoon Jimmy Valentine and his suit-case climbed out of the +mail-hack in Elmore, a little town five miles off the railroad +down in the black-jack country of Arkansas. Jimmy, looking like an +athletic young senior just home from college, went down the board +side-walk toward the hotel. + +A young lady crossed the street, passed him at the corner and +entered a door over which was the sign, "The Elmore Bank." Jimmy +Valentine looked into her eyes, forgot what he was, and became +another man. She lowered her eyes and coloured slightly. Young men +of Jimmy's style and looks were scarce in Elmore. + +Jimmy collared a boy that was loafing on the steps of the bank as +if he were one of the stockholders, and began to ask him questions +about the town, feeding him dimes at intervals. By and by the young +lady came out, looking royally unconscious of the young man with the +suit-case, and went her way. + +"Isn't that young lady Polly Simpson?" asked Jimmy, with specious +guile. + +"Naw," said the boy. "She's Annabel Adams. Her pa owns this bank. +What'd you come to Elmore for? Is that a gold watch-chain? I'm going +to get a bulldog. Got any more dimes?" + +Jimmy went to the Planters' Hotel, registered as Ralph D. Spencer, +and engaged a room. He leaned on the desk and declared his platform +to the clerk. He said he had come to Elmore to look for a location +to go into business. How was the shoe business, now, in the town? He +had thought of the shoe business. Was there an opening? + +The clerk was impressed by the clothes and manner of Jimmy. He, +himself, was something of a pattern of fashion to the thinly gilded +youth of Elmore, but he now perceived his shortcomings. While trying +to figure out Jimmy's manner of tying his four-in-hand he cordially +gave information. + +Yes, there ought to be a good opening in the shoe line. There wasn't +an exclusive shoe-store in the place. The dry-goods and general +stores handled them. Business in all lines was fairly good. Hoped +Mr. Spencer would decide to locate in Elmore. He would find it a +pleasant town to live in, and the people very sociable. + +Mr. Spencer thought he would stop over in the town a few days and +look over the situation. No, the clerk needn't call the boy. He +would carry up his suit-case, himself; it was rather heavy. + +Mr. Ralph Spencer, the phoenix that arose from Jimmy Valentine's +ashes--ashes left by the flame of a sudden and alterative attack of +love--remained in Elmore, and prospered. He opened a shoe-store and +secured a good run of trade. + +Socially he was also a success, and made many friends. And he +accomplished the wish of his heart. He met Miss Annabel Adams, and +became more and more captivated by her charms. + +At the end of a year the situation of Mr. Ralph Spencer was this: +he had won the respect of the community, his shoe-store was +flourishing, and he and Annabel were engaged to be married in two +weeks. Mr. Adams, the typical, plodding, country banker, approved of +Spencer. Annabel's pride in him almost equalled her affection. He +was as much at home in the family of Mr. Adams and that of Annabel's +married sister as if he were already a member. + +One day Jimmy sat down in his room and wrote this letter, which he +mailed to the safe address of one of his old friends in St. Louis: + + + DEAR OLD PAL: + + I want you to be at Sullivan's place, in Little Rock, next + Wednesday night, at nine o'clock. I want you to wind up + some little matters for me. And, also, I want to make you + a present of my kit of tools. I know you'll be glad to get + them--you couldn't duplicate the lot for a thousand dollars. + Say, Billy, I've quit the old business--a year ago. I've got + a nice store. I'm making an honest living, and I'm going + to marry the finest girl on earth two weeks from now. It's + the only life, Billy--the straight one. I wouldn't touch a + dollar of another man's money now for a million. After I get + married I'm going to sell out and go West, where there won't + be so much danger of having old scores brought up against + me. I tell you, Billy, she's an angel. She believes in me; + and I wouldn't do another crooked thing for the whole world. + Be sure to be at Sully's, for I must see you. I'll bring + along the tools with me. + + Your old friend, + + JIMMY. + + +On the Monday night after Jimmy wrote this letter, Ben Price jogged +unobtrusively into Elmore in a livery buggy. He lounged about town +in his quiet way until he found out what he wanted to know. From the +drug-store across the street from Spencer's shoe-store he got a good +look at Ralph D. Spencer. + +"Going to marry the banker's daughter are you, Jimmy?" said Ben to +himself, softly. "Well, I don't know!" + +The next morning Jimmy took breakfast at the Adamses. He was going +to Little Rock that day to order his wedding-suit and buy something +nice for Annabel. That would be the first time he had left town +since he came to Elmore. It had been more than a year now since +those last professional "jobs," and he thought he could safely +venture out. + +After breakfast quite a family party went downtown together--Mr. +Adams, Annabel, Jimmy, and Annabel's married sister with her two +little girls, aged five and nine. They came by the hotel where Jimmy +still boarded, and he ran up to his room and brought along his +suit-case. Then they went on to the bank. There stood Jimmy's horse +and buggy and Dolph Gibson, who was going to drive him over to the +railroad station. + +All went inside the high, carved oak railings into the +banking-room--Jimmy included, for Mr. Adams's future son-in-law +was welcome anywhere. The clerks were pleased to be greeted by +the good-looking, agreeable young man who was going to marry Miss +Annabel. Jimmy set his suit-case down. Annabel, whose heart was +bubbling with happiness and lively youth, put on Jimmy's hat, and +picked up the suit-case. "Wouldn't I make a nice drummer?" said +Annabel. "My! Ralph, how heavy it is? Feels like it was full of gold +bricks." + +"Lot of nickel-plated shoe-horns in there," said Jimmy, coolly, +"that I'm going to return. Thought I'd save express charges by +taking them up. I'm getting awfully economical." + +The Elmore Bank had just put in a new safe and vault. Mr. Adams was +very proud of it, and insisted on an inspection by every one. The +vault was a small one, but it had a new, patented door. It fastened +with three solid steel bolts thrown simultaneously with a single +handle, and had a time-lock. Mr. Adams beamingly explained its +workings to Mr. Spencer, who showed a courteous but not too +intelligent interest. The two children, May and Agatha, were +delighted by the shining metal and funny clock and knobs. + +While they were thus engaged Ben Price sauntered in and leaned on +his elbow, looking casually inside between the railings. He told the +teller that he didn't want anything; he was just waiting for a man +he knew. + +Suddenly there was a scream or two from the women, and a commotion. +Unperceived by the elders, May, the nine-year-old girl, in a spirit +of play, had shut Agatha in the vault. She had then shot the bolts +and turned the knob of the combination as she had seen Mr. Adams do. + +The old banker sprang to the handle and tugged at it for a moment. +"The door can't be opened," he groaned. "The clock hasn't been wound +nor the combination set." + +Agatha's mother screamed again, hysterically. + +"Hush!" said Mr. Adams, raising his trembling hand. "All be quite +for a moment. Agatha!" he called as loudly as he could. "Listen to +me." During the following silence they could just hear the faint +sound of the child wildly shrieking in the dark vault in a panic of +terror. + +"My precious darling!" wailed the mother. "She will die of fright! +Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can't you men do something?" + +"There isn't a man nearer than Little Rock who can open that door," +said Mr. Adams, in a shaky voice. "My God! Spencer, what shall we +do? That child--she can't stand it long in there. There isn't enough +air, and, besides, she'll go into convulsions from fright." + +Agatha's mother, frantic now, beat the door of the vault with her +hands. Somebody wildly suggested dynamite. Annabel turned to Jimmy, +her large eyes full of anguish, but not yet despairing. To a +woman nothing seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she +worships. + +"Can't you do something, Ralph--_try_, won't you?" + +He looked at her with a queer, soft smile on his lips and in his +keen eyes. + +"Annabel," he said, "give me that rose you are wearing, will you?" + +Hardly believing that she heard him aright, she unpinned the bud +from the bosom of her dress, and placed it in his hand. Jimmy +stuffed it into his vest-pocket, threw off his coat and pulled up +his shirt-sleeves. With that act Ralph D. Spencer passed away and +Jimmy Valentine took his place. + +"Get away from the door, all of you," he commanded, shortly. + +He set his suit-case on the table, and opened it out flat. From that +time on he seemed to be unconscious of the presence of any one else. +He laid out the shining, queer implements swiftly and orderly, +whistling softly to himself as he always did when at work. In a deep +silence and immovable, the others watched him as if under a spell. + +In a minute Jimmy's pet drill was biting smoothly into the steel +door. In ten minutes--breaking his own burglarious record--he threw +back the bolts and opened the door. + +Agatha, almost collapsed, but safe, was gathered into her mother's +arms. + +Jimmy Valentine put on his coat, and walked outside the railings +towards the front door. As he went he thought he heard a far-away +voice that he once knew call "Ralph!" But he never hesitated. + +At the door a big man stood somewhat in his way. + +"Hello, Ben!" said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. "Got around +at last, have you? Well, let's go. I don't know that it makes much +difference, now." + +And then Ben Price acted rather strangely. + +"Guess you're mistaken, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Don't believe I +recognize you. Your buggy's waiting for you, ain't it?" + +And Ben Price turned and strolled down the street. + + + + +XI + +CHERCHEZ LA FEMME + + +Robbins, reporter for the _Picayune_, and Dumars, of +_L'Abeille_--the old French newspaper that has buzzed for nearly a +century--were good friends, well proven by years of ups and downs +together. They were seated where they had a habit of meeting--in the +little, Creole-haunted cafe of Madame Tibault, in Dumaine Street. +If you know the place, you will experience a thrill of pleasure in +recalling it to mind. It is small and dark, with six little polished +tables, at which you may sit and drink the best coffee in New +Orleans, and concoctions of absinthe equal to Sazerac's best. Madame +Tibault, fat and indulgent, presides at the desk, and takes your +money. Nicolette and Meme, madame's nieces, in charming bib aprons, +bring the desirable beverages. + +Dumars, with true Creole luxury, was sipping his absinthe, with +half-closed eyes, in a swirl of cigarette smoke. Robbins was looking +over the morning _Pic._, detecting, as young reporters will, the +gross blunders in the make-up, and the envious blue-pencilling his +own stuff had received. This item, in the advertising columns, +caught his eye, and with an exclamation of sudden interest he read +it aloud to his friend. + + + Public Auction.--At three o'clock this afternoon there will + be sold to the highest bidder all the common property of the + Little Sisters of Samaria, at the home of the Sisterhood, + in Bonhomme Street. The sale will dispose of the building, + ground, and the complete furnishings of the house and chapel, + without reserve. + + +This notice stirred the two friends to a reminiscent talk concerning +an episode in their journalistic career that had occurred about +two years before. They recalled the incidents, went over the old +theories, and discussed it anew from the different perspective time +had brought. + +There were no other customers in the cafe. Madame's fine ear had +caught the line of their talk, and she came over to their table--for +had it not been her lost money--her vanished twenty thousand +dollars--that had set the whole matter going? + +The three took up the long-abandoned mystery, threshing over the +old, dry chaff of it. It was in the chapel of this house of the +Little Sisters of Samaria that Robbins and Dumars had stood during +that eager, fruitless news search of theirs, and looked upon the +gilded statue of the Virgin. + +"Thass so, boys," said madame, summing up. "Thass ver' wicked man, +M'sieur Morin. Everybody shall be cert' he steal those money I +plaze in his hand for keep safe. Yes. He's boun' spend that money, +somehow." Madame turned a broad and contemplative smile upon Dumars. +"I ond'stand you, M'sieur Dumars, those day you come ask fo' tell +ev'ything I know 'bout M'sieur Morin. Ah! yes, I know most time +when those men lose money you say '_Cherchez la femme_'--there is +somewhere the woman. But not for M'sieur Morin. No, boys. Before he +shall die, he is like one saint. You might's well, M'sieur Dumars, +go try find those money in those statue of Virgin Mary that M'sieur +Morin present at those _p'tite soeurs_, as try find one _femme_." + +At Madame Tibault's last words, Robbins started slightly and cast a +keen, sidelong glance at Dumars. The Creole sat, unmoved, dreamily +watching the spirals of his cigarette smoke. + +It was then nine o'clock in the morning and, a few minutes later, +the two friends separated, going different ways to their day's +duties. And now follows the brief story of Madame Tibault's vanished +thousands: + + + +New Orleans will readily recall to mind the circumstances attendant +upon the death of Mr. Gaspard Morin, in that city. Mr. Morin was an +artistic goldsmith and jeweller in the old French Quarter, and a man +held in the highest esteem. He belonged to one of the oldest French +families, and was of some distinction as an antiquary and historian. +He was a bachelor, about fifty years of age. He lived in quiet +comfort, at one of those rare old hostelries in Royal Street. He was +found in his rooms, one morning, dead from unknown causes. + +When his affairs came to be looked into, it was found that he was +practically insolvent, his stock of goods and personal property +barely--but nearly enough to free him from censure--covering +his liabilities. Following came the disclosure that he had been +entrusted with the sum of twenty thousand dollars by a former upper +servant in the Morin family, one Madame Tibault, which she had +received as a legacy from relatives in France. + +The most searching scrutiny by friends and the legal authorities +failed to reveal the disposition of the money. It had vanished, and +left no trace. Some weeks before his death, Mr. Morin had drawn +the entire amount, in gold coin, from the bank where it had been +placed while he looked about (he told Madame Tibault) for a safe +investment. Therefore, Mr. Morin's memory seemed doomed to bear the +cloud of dishonesty, while madame was, of course, disconsolate. + +Then it was that Robbins and Dumars, representing their respective +journals, began one of those pertinacious private investigations +which, of late years, the press has adopted as a means to glory and +the satisfaction of public curiosity. + +"_Cherchez la femme_," said Dumars. + +"That's the ticket!" agreed Robbins. "All roads lead to the eternal +feminine. We will find the woman." + +They exhausted the knowledge of the staff of Mr. Morin's hotel, from +the bell-boy down to the proprietor. They gently, but inflexibly, +pumped the family of the deceased as far as his cousins twice +removed. They artfully sounded the employees of the late jeweller, +and dogged his customers for information concerning his habits. Like +bloodhounds they traced every step of the supposed defaulter, as +nearly as might be, for years along the limited and monotonous paths +he had trodden. + +At the end of their labours, Mr. Morin stood, an immaculate man. +Not one weakness that might be served up as a criminal tendency, +not one deviation from the path of rectitude, not even a hint of a +predilection for the opposite sex, was found to be placed in his +debit. His life had been as regular and austere as a monk's; his +habits, simple and unconcealed. Generous, charitable, and a model in +propriety, was the verdict of all who knew him. + +"What, now?" asked Robbins, fingering his empty notebook. + +"_Cherchez la femme_," said Dumars, lighting a cigarette. "Try Lady +Bellairs." + +This piece of femininity was the race-track favourite of the season. +Being feminine, she was erratic in her gaits, and there were a few +heavy losers about town who had believed she could be true. The +reporters applied for information. + +Mr. Morin? Certainly not. He was never even a spectator at the +races. Not that kind of a man. Surprised the gentlemen should ask. + +"Shall we throw it up?" suggested Robbins, "and let the puzzle +department have a try?" + +"_Cherchez la femme_," hummed Dumars, reaching for a match. "Try the +Little Sisters of What-d'-you-call-'em." + +It had developed, during the investigation, that Mr. Morin had held +this benevolent order in particular favour. He had contributed +liberally toward its support and had chosen its chapel as his +favourite place of private worship. It was said that he went there +daily to make his devotions at the altar. Indeed, toward the last of +his life his whole mind seemed to have fixed itself upon religious +matters, perhaps to the detriment of his worldly affairs. + +Thither went Robbins and Dumars, and were admitted through the +narrow doorway in the blank stone wall that frowned upon Bonhomme +Street. An old woman was sweeping the chapel. She told them that +Sister Felicite, the head of the order, was then at prayer at the +altar in the alcove. In a few moments she would emerge. Heavy, black +curtains screened the alcove. They waited. + +Soon the curtains were disturbed, and Sister Felicite came forth. +She was tall, tragic, bony, and plain-featured, dressed in the black +gown and severe bonnet of the sisterhood. + +Robbins, a good rough-and-tumble reporter, but lacking the delicate +touch, began to speak. + +They represented the press. The lady had, no doubt, heard of the +Morin affair. It was necessary, in justice to that gentleman's +memory, to probe the mystery of the lost money. It was known that he +had come often to this chapel. Any information, now, concerning Mr. +Morin's habits, tastes, the friends he had, and so on, would be of +value in doing him posthumous justice. + +Sister Felicite had heard. Whatever she knew would be willingly +told, but it was very little. Monsieur Morin had been a good friend +to the order, sometimes contributing as much as a hundred dollars. +The sisterhood was an independent one, depending entirely upon +private contributions for the means to carry on its charitable work. +Mr. Morin had presented the chapel with silver candlesticks and an +altar cloth. He came every day to worship in the chapel, sometimes +remaining for an hour. He was a devout Catholic, consecrated to +holiness. Yes, and also in the alcove was a statue of the Virgin +that he had himself modeled, cast, and presented to the order. Oh, +it was cruel to cast a doubt upon so good a man! + +Robbins was also profoundly grieved at the imputation. But, until it +was found what Mr. Morin had done with Madame Tibault's money, he +feared the tongue of slander would not be stilled. Sometimes--in +fact, very often--in affairs of the kind there was--er--as the +saying goes--er--a lady in the case. In absolute confidence, +now--if--perhaps-- + +Sister Felicite's large eyes regarded him solemnly. + +"There was one woman," she said, slowly, "to whom he bowed--to whom +he gave his heart." + +Robbins fumbled rapturously for his pencil. + +"Behold the woman!" said Sister Felicite, suddenly, in deep tones. + +She reached a long arm and swept aside the curtain of the alcove. +In there was a shrine, lit to a glow of soft colour by the light +pouring through a stained-glass window. Within a deep niche in the +bare stone wall stood an image of the Virgin Mary, the colour of +pure gold. + +Dumars, a conventional Catholic, succumbed to the dramatic in the +act. He bowed his head for an instant and made the sign of the +cross. The somewhat abashed Robbins, murmuring an indistinct +apology, backed awkwardly away. Sister Felicite drew back the +curtain, and the reporters departed. + +On the narrow stone sidewalk of Bonhomme Street, Robbins turned to +Dumars, with unworthy sarcasm. + +"Well, what next? Churchy law fem?" + +"Absinthe," said Dumars. + + + +With the history of the missing money thus partially related, some +conjecture may be formed of the sudden idea that Madame Tibault's +words seemed to have suggested to Robbins's brain. + +Was it so wild a surmise--that the religious fanatic had offered up +his wealth--or, rather, Madame Tibault's--in the shape of a material +symbol of his consuming devotion? Stranger things have been done in +the name of worship. Was it not possible that the lost thousands +were molded into that lustrous image? That the goldsmith had formed +it of the pure and precious metal, and set it there, through some +hope of a perhaps disordered brain to propitiate the saints and pave +the way to his own selfish glory? + +That afternoon, at five minutes to three, Robbins entered the chapel +door of the Little Sisters of Samaria. He saw, in the dim light, +a crowd of perhaps a hundred people gathered to attend the sale. +Most of them were members of various religious orders, priests and +churchmen, come to purchase the paraphernalia of the chapel, lest +they fall into desecrating hands. Others were business men and +agents come to bid upon the realty. A clerical-looking brother +had volunteered to wield the hammer, bringing to the office of +auctioneer the anomaly of choice diction and dignity of manner. + +A few of the minor articles were sold, and then two assistants +brought forward the image of the Virgin. + +Robbins started the bidding at ten dollars. A stout man, in an +ecclesiastical garb, went to fifteen. A voice from another part of +the crowd raised to twenty. The three bid alternately, raising by +bids of five, until the offer was fifty dollars. Then the stout man +dropped out, and Robbins, as a sort of _coup de main_, went to a +hundred. + +"One hundred and fifty," said the other voice. + +"Two hundred," bid Robbins, boldly. + +"Two-fifty," called his competitor, promptly. + +The reporter hesitated for the space of a lightning flash, +estimating how much he could borrow from the boys in the office, +and screw from the business manager from his next month's salary. + +"Three hundred," he offered. + +"Three-fifty," spoke up the other, in a louder voice--a voice that +sent Robbins diving suddenly through the crowd in its direction, to +catch Dumars, its owner, ferociously by the collar. + +"You unconverted idiot!" hissed Robbins, close to his ear--"pool!" + +"Agreed!" said Dumars, coolly. "I couldn't raise three hundred and +fifty dollars with a search-warrant, but I can stand half. What you +come bidding against me for?" + +"I thought I was the only fool in the crowd," explained Robbins. + +No one else bidding, the statue was knocked down to the syndicate +at their last offer. Dumars remained with the prize, while Robbins +hurried forth to wring from the resources and credit of both the +price. He soon returned with the money, and the two musketeers +loaded their precious package into a carriage and drove with it +to Dumars's room, in old Chartres Street, nearby. They lugged it, +covered with a cloth, up the stairs, and deposited it on a table. +A hundred pounds it weighed, if an ounce, and at that estimate, +according to their calculation, if their daring theory were correct, +it stood there, worth twenty thousand golden dollars. + +Robbins removed the covering, and opened his pocket-knife. + +"_Sacre!_" muttered Dumars, shuddering. "It is the Mother of Christ. +What would you do?" + +"Shut up, Judas!" said Robbins, coldly. "It's too late for you to be +saved now." + +With a firm hand, he chipped a slice from the shoulder of the image. +The cut showed a dull, grayish metal, with a thin coating of gold +leaf. + +"Lead!" announced Robbins, hurling his knife to the floor--"gilded!" + +"To the devil with it!" said Dumars, forgetting his scruples. "I +must have a drink." + +Together they walked moodily to the cafe of Madame Tribault, two +squares away. + +It seemed that madame's mind had been stirred that day to fresh +recollections of the past services of the two young men in her +behalf. + +"You mustn't sit by those table," she interposed, as they were about +to drop into their accustomed seats. "Thass so, boys. But no. I mek +you come at this room, like my _tres bon amis_. Yes. I goin' mek for +you myself one _anisette_ and one _cafe royale_ ver' fine. Ah! I lak +treat my fren' nize. Yes. Plis come in this way." + +Madame led them into the little back room, into which she sometimes +invited the especially favoured of her customers. In two comfortable +armchairs, by a big window that opened upon the courtyard, she +placed them, with a low table between. Bustling hospitably about, +she began to prepare the promised refreshments. + +It was the first time the reporters had been honoured with admission +to the sacred precincts. The room was in dusky twilight, flecked +with gleams of the polished, fine woods and burnished glass and +metal that the Creoles love. From the little courtyard a tiny +fountain sent in an insinuating sound of trickling waters, to which +a banana plant by the window kept time with its tremulous leaves. + +Robbins, an investigator by nature, sent a curious glance roving +about the room. From some barbaric ancestor, madame had inherited a +_penchant_ for the crude in decoration. + +The walls were adorned with cheap lithographs--florid libels upon +nature, addressed to the taste of the _bourgeoisie_--birthday cards, +garish newspaper supplements, and specimens of art-advertising +calculated to reduce the optic nerve to stunned submission. A patch +of something unintelligible in the midst of the more candid display +puzzled Robbins, and he rose and took a step nearer, to interrogate +it at closer range. Then he leaned weakly against the wall, and +called out: + +"Madame Tibault! Oh, madame! Since when--oh! since when have you +been in the habit of papering your walls with five thousand dollar +United States four per cent. gold bonds? Tell me--is this a Grimm's +fairy tale, or should I consult an oculist?" + +At his words, Madame Tibault and Dumars approached. + +"H'what you say?" said madame, cheerily. "H'what you say, M'sieur +Robbin? _Bon!_ Ah! those nize li'l peezes papier! One tam I think +those w'at you call calendair, wiz ze li'l day of mont' below. But, +no. Those wall is broke in those plaze, M'sieur Robbin', and I +plaze those li'l peezes papier to conceal ze crack. I did think the +couleur harm'nize so well with the wall papier. Where I get them +from? Ah, yes, I remem' ver' well. One day M'sieur Morin, he come +at my houze--thass 'bout one mont' before he shall die--thass 'long +'bout tam he promise fo' inves' those money fo' me. M'sieur Morin, +he leave thoze li'l peezes papier in those table, and say ver' much +'bout money thass hard for me to ond'stan. _Mais_ I never see those +money again. Thass ver' wicked man, M'sieur Morin. H'what you call +those peezes papier, M'sieur Robbin'--_bon!_" + +Robbins explained. + +"There's your twenty thousand dollars, with coupons attached," he +said, running his thumb around the edge of the four bonds. "Better +get an expert to peel them off for you. Mister Morin was all right. +I'm going out to get my ears trimmed." + +He dragged Dumars by the arm into the outer room. Madame was +screaming for Nicolette and Meme to come and observe the fortune +returned to her by M'sieur Morin, that best of men, that saint in +glory. + +"Marsy," said Robbins, "I'm going on a jamboree. For three days the +esteemed _Pic._ will have to get along without my valuable services. +I advise you to join me. Now, that green stuff you drink is no good. +It stimulates thought. What we want to do is to forget to remember. +I'll introduce you to the only lady in this case that is guaranteed +to produce the desired results. Her name is Belle of Kentucky, +twelve-year-old Bourbon. In quarts. How does the idea strike you?" + +"_Allons!_" said Dumars. "_Cherchez la femme_." + + + + +XII + +FRIENDS IN SAN ROSARIO + + +The west-bound train stopped at San Rosario on time at 8.20 A.M. A +man with a thick black-leather wallet under his arm left the train +and walked rapidly up the main street of the town. There were other +passengers who also got off at San Rosario, but they either slouched +limberly over to the railroad eating-house or the Silver Dollar +saloon, or joined the groups of idlers about the station. + +Indecision had no part in the movements of the man with the wallet. +He was short in stature, but strongly built, with very light, +closely-trimmed hair, smooth, determined face, and aggressive, +gold-rimmed nose glasses. He was well dressed in the prevailing +Eastern style. His air denoted a quiet but conscious reserve force, +if not actual authority. + +After walking a distance of three squares he came to the centre of +the town's business area. Here another street of importance crossed +the main one, forming the hub of San Rosario's life and commerce. +Upon one corner stood the post-office. Upon another Rubensky's +Clothing Emporium. The other two diagonally opposing corners were +occupied by the town's two banks, the First National and the +Stockmen's National. Into the First National Bank of San Rosario +the newcomer walked, never slowing his brisk step until he stood +at the cashier's window. The bank opened for business at nine, and +the working force was already assembled, each member preparing his +department for the day's business. The cashier was examining the +mail when he noticed the stranger standing at his window. + +"Bank doesn't open 'til nine," he remarked curtly, but without +feeling. He had had to make that statement so often to early birds +since San Rosario adopted city banking hours. + +"I am well aware of that," said the other man, in cool, brittle +tones. "Will you kindly receive my card?" + +The cashier drew the small, spotless parallelogram inside the bars +of his wicket, and read: + + + J. F. C. Nettlewick + National Bank Examiner + + +"Oh--er--will you walk around inside, Mr.--er--Nettlewick. Your +first visit--didn't know your business, of course. Walk right +around, please." + +The examiner was quickly inside the sacred precincts of the bank, +where he was ponderously introduced to each employee in turn by Mr. +Edlinger, the cashier--a middle-aged gentleman of deliberation, +discretion, and method. + +"I was kind of expecting Sam Turner round again, pretty soon," said +Mr. Edlinger. "Sam's been examining us now, for about four years. I +guess you'll find us all right, though, considering the tightness +in business. Not overly much money on hand, but able to stand the +storms, sir, stand the storms." + +"Mr. Turner and I have been ordered by the Comptroller to exchange +districts," said the examiner, in his decisive, formal tones. "He is +covering my old territory in Southern Illinois and Indiana. I will +take the cash first, please." + +Perry Dorsey, the teller, was already arranging his cash on the +counter for the examiner's inspection. He knew it was right to a +cent, and he had nothing to fear, but he was nervous and flustered. +So was every man in the bank. There was something so icy and swift, +so impersonal and uncompromising about this man that his very +presence seemed an accusation. He looked to be a man who would never +make nor overlook an error. + +Mr. Nettlewick first seized the currency, and with a rapid, almost +juggling motion, counted it by packages. Then he spun the sponge cup +toward him and verified the count by bills. His thin, white fingers +flew like some expert musician's upon the keys of a piano. He dumped +the gold upon the counter with a crash, and the coins whined and +sang as they skimmed across the marble slab from the tips of his +nimble digits. The air was full of fractional currency when he came +to the halves and quarters. He counted the last nickle and dime. +He had the scales brought, and he weighed every sack of silver +in the vault. He questioned Dorsey concerning each of the cash +memoranda--certain checks, charge slips, etc., carried over from the +previous day's work--with unimpeachable courtesy, yet with something +so mysteriously momentous in his frigid manner, that the teller was +reduced to pink cheeks and a stammering tongue. + +This newly-imported examiner was so different from Sam Turner. It +had been Sam's way to enter the bank with a shout, pass the cigars, +and tell the latest stories he had picked up on his rounds. His +customary greeting to Dorsey had been, "Hello, Perry! Haven't +skipped out with the boodle yet, I see." Turner's way of counting +the cash had been different, too. He would finger the packages of +bills in a tired kind of way, and then go into the vault and kick +over a few sacks of silver, and the thing was done. Halves and +quarters and dimes? Not for Sam Turner. "No chicken feed for +me," he would say when they were set before him. "I'm not in the +agricultural department." But, then, Turner was a Texan, an old +friend of the bank's president, and had known Dorsey since he was +a baby. + +While the examiner was counting the cash, Major Thomas B. +Kingman--known to every one as "Major Tom"--the president of the +First National, drove up to the side door with his old dun horse and +buggy, and came inside. He saw the examiner busy with the money, +and, going into the little "pony corral," as he called it, in which +his desk was railed off, he began to look over his letters. + +Earlier, a little incident had occurred that even the sharp eyes of +the examiner had failed to notice. When he had begun his work at the +cash counter, Mr. Edlinger had winked significantly at Roy Wilson, +the youthful bank messenger, and nodded his head slightly toward the +front door. Roy understood, got his hat, and walked leisurely out, +with his collector's book under his arm. Once outside, he made a +bee-line for the Stockmen's National. That bank was also getting +ready to open. No customers had, as yet, presented themselves. + +"Say, you people!" cried Roy, with the familiarity of youth and long +acquaintance, "you want to get a move on you. There's a new bank +examiner over at the First, and he's a stem-winder. He's counting +nickles on Perry, and he's got the whole outfit bluffed. Mr. +Edlinger gave me the tip to let you know." + +Mr. Buckley, president of the Stockmen's National--a stout, elderly +man, looking like a farmer dressed for Sunday--heard Roy from his +private office at the rear and called him. + +"Has Major Kingman come down to the bank yet?" he asked of the boy. + +"Yes, sir, he was just driving up as I left," said Roy. + +"I want you to take him a note. Put it into his own hands as soon as +you get back." + +Mr. Buckley sat down and began to write. + +Roy returned and handed to Major Kingman the envelope containing the +note. The major read it, folded it, and slipped it into his vest +pocket. He leaned back in his chair for a few moments as if he were +meditating deeply, and then rose and went into the vault. He came +out with the bulky, old-fashioned leather note case stamped on the +back in gilt letters, "Bills Discounted." In this were the notes due +the bank with their attached securities, and the major, in his rough +way, dumped the lot upon his desk and began to sort them over. + +By this time Nettlewick had finished his count of the cash. His +pencil fluttered like a swallow over the sheet of paper on which he +had set his figures. He opened his black wallet, which seemed to be +also a kind of secret memorandum book, made a few rapid figures in +it, wheeled and transfixed Dorsey with the glare of his spectacles. +That look seemed to say: "You're safe this time, but--" + +"Cash all correct," snapped the examiner. He made a dash for the +individual bookkeeper, and, for a few minutes there was a fluttering +of ledger leaves and a sailing of balance sheets through the air. + +"How often do you balance your pass-books?" he demanded, suddenly. + +"Er--once a month," faltered the individual bookkeeper, wondering +how many years they would give him. + +"All right," said the examiner, turning and charging upon the +general bookkeeper, who had the statements of his foreign banks and +their reconcilement memoranda ready. Everything there was found to +be all right. Then the stub book of the certificates of deposit. +Flutter--flutter--zip--zip--check! All right. List of over-drafts, +please. Thanks. H'm-m. Unsigned bills of the bank, next. All right. + +Then came the cashier's turn, and easy-going Mr. Edlinger rubbed his +nose and polished his glasses nervously under the quick fire of +questions concerning the circulation, undivided profits, bank real +estate, and stock ownership. + +Presently Nettlewick was aware of a big man towering above him at +his elbow--a man sixty years of age, rugged and hale, with a rough, +grizzled beard, a mass of gray hair, and a pair of penetrating blue +eyes that confronted the formidable glasses of the examiner without +a flicker. + +"Er--Major Kingman, our president--er--Mr. Nettlewick," said the +cashier. + +Two men of very different types shook hands. One was a finished +product of the world of straight lines, conventional methods, and +formal affairs. The other was something freer, wider, and nearer to +nature. Tom Kingman had not been cut to any pattern. He had been +mule-driver, cowboy, ranger, soldier, sheriff, prospector, and +cattleman. Now, when he was bank president, his old comrades from +the prairies, of the saddle, tent, and trail found no change in him. +He had made his fortune when Texas cattle were at the high tide of +value, and had organized the First National Bank of San Rosario. +In spite of his largeness of heart and sometimes unwise generosity +toward his old friends, the bank had prospered, for Major Tom +Kingman knew men as well as he knew cattle. Of late years the cattle +business had known a depression, and the major's bank was one of the +few whose losses had not been great. + +"And now," said the examiner, briskly, pulling out his watch, "the +last thing is the loans. We will take them up now, if you please." + +He had gone through the First National at almost record-breaking +speed--but thoroughly, as he did everything. The running order of +the bank was smooth and clean, and that had facilitated his work. +There was but one other bank in the town. He received from the +Government a fee of twenty-five dollars for each bank that he +examined. He should be able to go over those loans and discounts in +half an hour. If so, he could examine the other bank immediately +afterward, and catch the 11.45, the only other train that day in +the direction he was working. Otherwise, he would have to spend the +night and Sunday in this uninteresting Western town. That was why +Mr. Nettlewick was rushing matters. + +"Come with me, sir," said Major Kingman, in his deep voice, that +united the Southern drawl with the rhythmic twang of the West; "We +will go over them together. Nobody in the bank knows those notes as +I do. Some of 'em are a little wobbly on their legs, and some are +mavericks without extra many brands on their backs, but they'll most +all pay out at the round-up." + +The two sat down at the president's desk. First, the examiner went +through the notes at lightning speed, and added up their total, +finding it to agree with the amount of loans carried on the book +of daily balances. Next, he took up the larger loans, inquiring +scrupulously into the condition of their endorsers or securities. +The new examiner's mind seemed to course and turn and make +unexpected dashes hither and thither like a bloodhound seeking a +trail. Finally he pushed aside all the notes except a few, which he +arranged in a neat pile before him, and began a dry, formal little +speech. + +"I find, sir, the condition of your bank to be very good, +considering the poor crops and the depression in the cattle +interests of your state. The clerical work seems to be done +accurately and punctually. Your past-due paper is moderate in +amount, and promises only a small loss. I would recommend the +calling in of your large loans, and the making of only sixty and +ninety day or call loans until general business revives. And now, +there is one thing more, and I will have finished with the bank. +Here are six notes aggregating something like $40,000. They are +secured, according to their faces, by various stocks, bonds, shares, +etc. to the value of $70,000. Those securities are missing from the +notes to which they should be attached. I suppose you have them in +the safe or vault. You will permit me to examine them." + +Major Tom's light-blue eyes turned unflinchingly toward the +examiner. + +"No, sir," he said, in a low but steady tone; "those securities are +neither in the safe nor in the vault. I have taken them. You may +hold me personally responsible for their absence." + +Nettlewick felt a slight thrill. He had not expected this. He had +struck a momentous trail when the hunt was drawing to a close. + +"Ah!" said the examiner. He waited a moment, and then continued: +"May I ask you to explain more definitely?" + +"The securities were taken by me," repeated the major. "It was not +for my own use, but to save an old friend in trouble. Come in here, +sir, and we'll talk it over." + +He led the examiner into the bank's private office at the rear, and +closed the door. There was a desk, and a table, and half-a-dozen +leather-covered chairs. On the wall was the mounted head of a Texas +steer with horns five feet from tip to tip. Opposite hung the +major's old cavalry saber that he had carried at Shiloh and Fort +Pillow. + +Placing a chair for Nettlewick, the major seated himself by the +window, from which he could see the post-office and the carved +limestone front of the Stockmen's National. He did not speak at +once, and Nettlewick felt, perhaps, that the ice could be broken +by something so near its own temperature as the voice of official +warning. + +"Your statement," he began, "since you have failed to modify it, +amounts, as you must know, to a very serious thing. You are aware, +also, of what my duty must compel me to do. I shall have to go +before the United States Commissioner and make--" + +"I know, I know," said Major Tom, with a wave of his hand. "You +don't suppose I'd run a bank without being posted on national +banking laws and the revised statutes! Do your duty. I'm not asking +any favours. But, I spoke of my friend. I did want you to hear me +tell you about Bob." + +Nettlewick settled himself in his chair. There would be no leaving +San Rosario for him that day. He would have to telegraph to the +Comptroller of the Currency; he would have to swear out a warrant +before the United States Commissioner for the arrest of Major +Kingman; perhaps he would be ordered to close the bank on account of +the loss of the securities. It was not the first crime the examiner +had unearthed. Once or twice the terrible upheaval of human emotions +that his investigations had loosed had almost caused a ripple in his +official calm. He had seen bank men kneel and plead and cry like +women for a chance--an hour's time--the overlooking of a single +error. One cashier had shot himself at his desk before him. None of +them had taken it with the dignity and coolness of this stern old +Westerner. Nettlewick felt that he owed it to him at least to listen +if he wished to talk. With his elbow on the arm of his chair, and +his square chin resting upon the fingers of his right hand, the bank +examiner waited to hear the confession of the president of the First +National Bank of San Rosario. + +"When a man's your friend," began Major Tom, somewhat didactically, +"for forty years, and tried by water, fire, earth, and cyclones, +when you can do him a little favour you feel like doing it." + +("Embezzle for him $70,000 worth of securities," thought the +examiner.) + +"We were cowboys together, Bob and I," continued the major, speaking +slowly, and deliberately, and musingly, as if his thoughts were +rather with the past than the critical present, "and we prospected +together for gold and silver over Arizona, New Mexico, and a good +part of California. We were both in the war of 'sixty-one, but in +different commands. We've fought Indians and horse thieves side by +side; we've starved for weeks in a cabin in the Arizona mountains, +buried twenty feet deep in snow; we've ridden herd together when the +wind blew so hard the lightning couldn't strike--well, Bob and I +have been through some rough spells since the first time we met in +the branding camp of the old Anchor-Bar ranch. And during that time +we've found it necessary more than once to help each other out of +tight places. In those days it was expected of a man to stick to his +friend, and he didn't ask any credit for it. Probably next day you'd +need him to get at your back and help stand off a band of Apaches, +or put a tourniquet on your leg above a rattlesnake bite and ride +for whisky. So, after all, it was give and take, and if you didn't +stand square with your pardner, why, you might be shy one when you +needed him. But Bob was a man who was willing to go further than +that. He never played a limit. + +"Twenty years ago I was sheriff of this county, and I made Bob my +chief deputy. That was before the boom in cattle when we both made +our stake. I was sheriff and collector, and it was a big thing for +me then. I was married, and we had a boy and a girl--a four and a +six year old. There was a comfortable house next to the courthouse, +furnished by the county, rent free, and I was saving some money. Bob +did most of the office work. Both of us had seen rough times and +plenty of rustling and danger, and I tell you it was great to hear +the rain and the sleet dashing against the windows of nights, and +be warm and safe and comfortable, and know you could get up in the +morning and be shaved and have folks call you 'mister.' And then, I +had the finest wife and kids that ever struck the range, and my old +friend with me enjoying the first fruits of prosperity and white +shirts, and I guess I was happy. Yes, I was happy about that time." + +The major sighed and glanced casually out of the window. The bank +examiner changed his position, and leaned his chin upon his other +hand. + +"One winter," continued the major, "the money for the county taxes +came pouring in so fast that I didn't have time to take the stuff to +the bank for a week. I just shoved the checks into a cigar box and +the money into a sack, and locked them in the big safe that belonged +to the sheriff's office. + +"I had been overworked that week, and was about sick, anyway. My +nerves were out of order, and my sleep at night didn't seem to rest +me. The doctor had some scientific name for it, and I was taking +medicine. And so, added to the rest, I went to bed at night with +that money on my mind. Not that there was much need of being +worried, for the safe was a good one, and nobody but Bob and I knew +the combination. On Friday night there was about $6,500 in cash in +the bag. On Saturday morning I went to the office as usual. The safe +was locked, and Bob was writing at his desk. I opened the safe, +and the money was gone. I called Bob, and roused everybody in the +court-house to announce the robbery. It struck me that Bob took it +pretty quiet, considering how much it reflected upon both him and +me. + +"Two days went by and we never got a clew. It couldn't have been +burglars, for the safe had been opened by the combination in the +proper way. People must have begun to talk, for one afternoon in +comes Alice--that's my wife--and the boy and girl, and Alice +stamps her foot, and her eyes flash, and she cries out, 'The lying +wretches--Tom, Tom!' and I catch her in a faint, and bring her +'round little by little, and she lays her head down and cries and +cries for the first time since she took Tom Kingman's name and +fortunes. And Jack and Zilla--the youngsters--they were always wild +as tiger cubs to rush at Bob and climb all over him whenever they +were allowed to come to the court-house--they stood and kicked their +little shoes, and herded together like scared partridges. They were +having their first trip down into the shadows of life. Bob was +working at his desk, and he got up and went out without a word. The +grand jury was in session then, and the next morning Bob went before +them and confessed that he stole the money. He said he lost it in a +poker game. In fifteen minutes they had found a true bill and sent +me the warrant to arrest the man with whom I'd been closer than a +thousand brothers for many a year. + +"I did it, and then I said to Bob, pointing: 'There's my house, +and here's my office, and up there's Maine, and out that way is +California, and over there is Florida--and that's your range 'til +court meets. You're in my charge, and I take the responsibility. +You be here when you're wanted.' + +"'Thanks, Tom,' he said, kind of carelessly; 'I was sort of hoping +you wouldn't lock me up. Court meets next Monday, so, if you don't +object, I'll just loaf around the office until then. I've got one +favour to ask, if it isn't too much. If you'd let the kids come out +in the yard once in a while and have a romp I'd like it.' + +"'Why not?' I answered him. 'They're welcome, and so are you. And +come to my house, the same as ever.' You see, Mr. Nettlewick, you +can't make a friend of a thief, but neither can you make a thief of +a friend, all at once." + +The examiner made no answer. At that moment was heard the shrill +whistle of a locomotive pulling into the depot. That was the train +on the little, narrow-gauge road that struck into San Rosario from +the south. The major cocked his ear and listened for a moment, and +looked at his watch. The narrow-gauge was in on time--10.35. The +major continued: + +"So Bob hung around the office, reading the papers and smoking. I +put another deputy to work in his place, and after a while, the +first excitement of the case wore off. + +"One day when we were alone in the office Bob came over to where I +was sitting. He was looking sort of grim and blue--the same look +he used to get when he'd been up watching for Indians all night or +herd-riding. + +"'Tom,' says he, 'it's harder than standing off redskins; it's +harder than lying in the lava desert forty miles from water; but I'm +going to stick it out to the end. You know that's been my style. But +if you'd tip me the smallest kind of a sign--if you'd just say, "Bob +I understand," why, it would make it lots easier.' + +"I was surprised. 'I don't know what you mean, Bob,' I said. 'Of +course, you know that I'd do anything under the sun to help you that +I could. But you've got me guessing.' + +"'All right, Tom,' was all he said, and he went back to his +newspaper and lit another cigar. + +"It was the night before court met when I found out what he meant. +I went to bed that night with that same old, light-headed, nervous +feeling come back upon me. I dropped off to sleep about midnight. +When I awoke I was standing half dressed in one of the court-house +corridors. Bob was holding one of my arms, our family doctor the +other, and Alice was shaking me and half crying. She had sent for +the doctor without my knowing it, and when he came they had found me +out of bed and missing, and had begun a search. + +"'Sleep-walking,' said the doctor. + +"All of us went back to the house, and the doctor told us some +remarkable stories about the strange things people had done while in +that condition. I was feeling rather chilly after my trip out, and, +as my wife was out of the room at the time, I pulled open the door +of an old wardrobe that stood in the room and dragged out a big +quilt I had seen in there. With it tumbled out the bag of money for +stealing which Bob was to be tried--and convicted--in the morning. + +"'How the jumping rattlesnakes did that get there?' I yelled, and +all hands must have seen how surprised I was. Bob knew in a flash. + +"'You darned old snoozer,' he said, with the old-time look on his +face, 'I saw you put it there. I watched you open the safe and take +it out, and I followed you. I looked through the window and saw you +hide it in that wardrobe.' + +"'Then, you blankety-blank, flop-eared, sheep-headed coyote, what +did you say you took it, for?' + +"'Because,' said Bob, simply, 'I didn't know you were asleep.' + +"I saw him glance toward the door of the room where Jack and Zilla +were, and I knew then what it meant to be a man's friend from Bob's +point of view." + +Major Tom paused, and again directed his glance out of the window. +He saw some one in the Stockmen's National Bank reach and draw a +yellow shade down the whole length of its plate-glass, big front +window, although the position of the sun did not seem to warrant +such a defensive movement against its rays. + +Nettlewick sat up straight in his chair. He had listened patiently, +but without consuming interest, to the major's story. It had +impressed him as irrelevant to the situation, and it could certainly +have no effect upon the consequences. Those Western people, +he thought, had an exaggerated sentimentality. They were not +business-like. They needed to be protected from their friends. +Evidently the major had concluded. And what he had said amounted to +nothing. + +"May I ask," said the examiner, "if you have anything further to say +that bears directly upon the question of those abstracted +securities?" + +"Abstracted securities, sir!" Major Tom turned suddenly in his +chair, his blue eyes flashing upon the examiner. "What do you mean, +sir?" + +He drew from his coat pocket a batch of folded papers held together +by a rubber band, tossed them into Nettlewick's hands, and rose to +his feet. + +"You'll find those securities there, sir, every stock, bond, and +share of 'em. I took them from the notes while you were counting the +cash. Examine and compare them for yourself." + +The major led the way back into the banking room. The examiner, +astounded, perplexed, nettled, at sea, followed. He felt that he had +been made the victim of something that was not exactly a hoax, but +that left him in the shoes of one who had been played upon, used, +and then discarded, without even an inkling of the game. Perhaps, +also, his official position had been irreverently juggled with. But +there was nothing he could take hold of. An official report of the +matter would be an absurdity. And, somehow, he felt that he would +never know anything more about the matter than he did then. + +Frigidly, mechanically, Nettlewick examined the securities, found +them to tally with the notes, gathered his black wallet, and rose to +depart. + +"I will say," he protested, turning the indignant glare of his +glasses upon Major Kingman, "that your statements--your misleading +statements, which you have not condescended to explain--do not +appear to be quite the thing, regarded either as business or humour. +I do not understand such motives or actions." + +Major Tom looked down at him serenely and not unkindly. + +"Son," he said, "there are plenty of things in the chaparral, and +on the prairies, and up the canyons that you don't understand. But +I want to thank you for listening to a garrulous old man's prosy +story. We old Texans love to talk about our adventures and our old +comrades, and the home folks have long ago learned to run when we +begin with 'Once upon a time,' so we have to spin our yarns to the +stranger within our gates." + +The major smiled, but the examiner only bowed coldly, and abruptly +quitted the bank. They saw him travel diagonally across the street +in a straight line and enter the Stockmen's National Bank. + +Major Tom sat down at his desk, and drew from his vest pocket the +note Roy had given him. He had read it once, but hurriedly, and now, +with something like a twinkle in his eyes, he read it again. These +were the words he read: + + + DEAR TOM: + + I hear there's one of Uncle Sam's grayhounds going through + you, and that means that we'll catch him inside of a couple + of hours, maybe. Now, I want you to do something for me. + We've got just $2,200 in the bank, and the law requires + that we have $20,000. I let Ross and Fisher have $18,000 + late yesterday afternoon to buy up that Gibson bunch of + cattle. They'll realise $40,000 in less than thirty days on + the transaction, but that won't make my cash on hand look + any prettier to that bank examiner. Now, I can't show him + those notes, for they're just plain notes of hand without + any security in sight, but you know very well that Pink + Ross and Jim Fisher are two of the finest white men God + ever made, and they'll do the square thing. You remember + Jim Fisher--he was the one who shot that faro dealer in El + Paso. I wired Sam Bradshaw's bank to send me $20,000, and + it will get in on the narrow-gauge at 10.35. You can't let + a bank examiner in to count $2,200 and close your doors. + Tom, you hold that examiner. Hold him. Hold him if you have + to rope him and sit on his head. Watch our front window + after the narrow-gauge gets in, and when we've got the cash + inside we'll pull down the shade for a signal. Don't turn + him loose till then. I'm counting on you, Tom. + + Your Old Pard, + BOB BUCKLY, + _Prest. Stockmen's National_. + + +The major began to tear the note into small pieces and throw them +into his waste basket. He gave a satisfied little chuckle as he did +so. + +"Confounded old reckless cowpuncher!" he growled, contentedly, "that +pays him some on account for what he tried to do for me in the +sheriff's office twenty years ago." + + + + +XIII + +THE FOURTH IN SALVADOR + + +On a summer's day, while the city was rocking with the din and red +uproar of patriotism, Billy Casparis told me this story. + +In his way, Billy is Ulysses, Jr. Like Satan, he comes from going +to and fro upon the earth and walking up and down in it. To-morrow +morning while you are cracking your breakfast egg he may be off with +his little alligator grip to boom a town site in the middle of Lake +Okeechobee or to trade horses with the Patagonians. + +We sat at a little, round table, and between us were glasses holding +big lumps of ice, and above us leaned an artificial palm. And +because our scene was set with the properties of the one they +recalled to his mind, Billy was stirred to narrative. + +"It reminds me," said he, "of a Fourth I helped to celebrate down in +Salvador. 'Twas while I was running an ice factory down there, after +I unloaded that silver mine I had in Colorado. I had what they +called a 'conditional concession.' They made me put up a thousand +dollars cash forfeit that I would make ice continuously for six +months. If I did that I could draw down my ante. If I failed to do +so the government took the pot. So the inspectors kept dropping in, +trying to catch me without the goods. + +"One day when the thermometer was at 110, the clock at half-past +one, and the calendar at July third, two of the little, brown, oily +nosers in red trousers slid in to make an inspection. Now, the +factory hadn't turned out a pound of ice in three weeks, for a +couple of reasons. The Salvador heathen wouldn't buy it; they said +it made things cold they put it in. And I couldn't make any more, +because I was broke. All I was holding on for was to get down my +thousand so I could leave the country. The six months would be up +on the sixth of July. + +"Well, I showed 'em all the ice I had. I raised the lid of a darkish +vat, and there was an elegant 100-pound block of ice, beautiful and +convincing to the eye. I was about to close down the lid again when +one of those brunette sleuths flops down on his red knees and lays +a slanderous and violent hand on my guarantee of good faith. And in +two minutes more they had dragged out on the floor that fine chunk +of molded glass that had cost me fifty dollars to have shipped down +from Frisco. + +"'Ice-y?' says the fellow that played me the dishonourable trick; +'verree warm ice-y. Yes. The day is that hot, senor. Yes. Maybeso it +is of desirableness to leave him out to get the cool. Yes.' + +"'Yes,' says I, 'yes,' for I knew they had me. 'Touching's +believing, ain't it, boys? Yes. Now there's some might say the seats +of your trousers are sky blue, but 'tis my opinion they are red. +Let's apply the tests of the laying on of hands and feet.' And so I +hoisted both those inspectors out the door on the toe of my shoe, +and sat down to cool off on my block of disreputable glass. + +"And, as I live without oats, while I sat there, homesick for money +and without a cent to my ambition, there came on the breeze the most +beautiful smell my nose had entered for a year. God knows where it +came from in that backyard of a country--it was a bouquet of soaked +lemon peel, cigar stumps, and stale beer--exactly the smell of +Goldbrick Charley's place on Fourteenth Street where I used to play +pinochle of afternoons with the third-rate actors. And that smell +drove my troubles through me and clinched 'em at the back. I began +to long for my country and feel sentiments about it; and I said +words about Salvador that you wouldn't think could come legitimate +out of an ice factory. + +"And while I was sitting there, down through the blazing sunshine in +his clean, white clothes comes Maximilian Jones, an American +interested in rubber and rosewood. + +"'Great carrambos!' says I, when he stepped in, for I was in a bad +temper, 'didn't I have catastrophes enough? I know what you want. +You want to tell me that story again about Johnny Ammiger and the +widow on the train. You've told it nine times already this month.' + +"'It must be the heat,' says Jones, stopping in at the door, amazed. +'Poor Billy. He's got bugs. Sitting on ice, and calling his best +friends pseudonyms. Hi!--_muchacho!_' Jones called my force of +employees, who was sitting in the sun, playing with his toes, and +told him to put on his trousers and run for the doctor. + +"'Come back,' says I. 'Sit down, Maxy, and forget it. 'Tis not +ice you see, nor a lunatic upon it. 'Tis only an exile full of +homesickness sitting on a lump of glass that's just cost him a +thousand dollars. Now, what was it Johnny said to the widow first? +I'd like to hear it again, Maxy--honest. Don't mind what I said.' + +"Maximilian Jones and I sat down and talked. He was about as sick of +the country as I was, for the grafters were squeezing him for half +the profits of his rosewood and rubber. Down in the bottom of a tank +of water I had a dozen bottles of sticky Frisco beer; and I fished +these up, and we fell to talking about home and the flag and Hail +Columbia and home-fried potatoes; and the drivel we contributed +would have sickened any man enjoying those blessings. But at that +time we were out of 'em. You can't appreciate home till you've left +it, money till it's spent, your wife till she's joined a woman's +club, nor Old Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the +shanty of a consul in a foreign town. + +"And sitting there me and Maximilian Jones, scratching at our +prickly heat and kicking at the lizards on the floor, became +afflicted with a dose of patriotism and affection for our country. +There was me, Billy Casparis, reduced from a capitalist to a pauper +by over-addiction to my glass (in the lump), declares my troubles +off for the present and myself to be an uncrowned sovereign of the +greatest country on earth. And Maximilian Jones pours out whole drug +stores of his wrath on oligarchies and potentates in red trousers +and calico shoes. And we issues a declaration of interference in +which we guarantee that the fourth day of July shall be celebrated +in Salvador with all the kinds of salutes, explosions, honours +of war, oratory, and liquids known to tradition. Yes, neither me +nor Jones breathed with soul so dead. There shall be rucuses in +Salvador, we say, and the monkeys had better climb the tallest +cocoanut trees and the fire department get out its red sashes and +two tin buckets. + +"About this time into the factory steps a native man incriminated +by the name of General Mary Esperanza Dingo. He was some pumpkin +both in politics and colour, and the friend of me and Jones. He was +full of politeness and a kind of intelligence, having picked up +the latter and managed to preserve the former during a two years' +residence in Philadelphia studying medicine. For a Salvadorian he +was not such a calamitous little man, though he always would play +jack, queen, king, ace, deuce for a straight. + +"General Mary sits with us and has a bottle. While he was in the +States he had acquired a synopsis of the English language and the +art of admiring our institutions. By and by the General gets up +and tiptoes to the doors and windows and other stage entrances, +remarking 'Hist!' at each one. They all do that in Salvador before +they ask for a drink of water or the time of day, being conspirators +from the cradle and matinee idols by proclamation. + +"'Hist!' says General Dingo again, and then he lays his chest on +the table quite like Gaspard the Miser. 'Good friends, senores, +to-morrow will be the great day of Liberty and Independence. The +hearts of Americans and Salvadorians should beat together. Of your +history and your great Washington I know. Is it not so?' + +"Now, me and Jones thought that nice of the General to remember when +the Fourth came. It made us feel good. He must have heard the news +going round in Philadelphia about that disturbance we had with +England. + +"'Yes,' says me and Maxy together, 'we knew it. We were talking +about it when you came in. And you can bet your bottom concession +that there'll be fuss and feathers in the air to-morrow. We are few +in numbers, but the welkin may as well reach out to push the button, +for it's got to ring.' + +"'I, too, shall assist,' says the General, thumping his collar-bone. +'I, too, am on the side of Liberty. Noble Americans, we will make +the day one to be never forgotten.' + +"'For us American whisky,' says Jones--'none of your Scotch smoke or +anisada or Three Star Hennessey to-morrow. We'll borrow the consul's +flag; old man Billfinger shall make orations, and we'll have a +barbecue on the plaza.' + +"'Fireworks,' says I, 'will be scarce; but we'll have all the +cartridges in the shops for our guns. I've got two navy sixes I +brought from Denver.' + +"'There is one cannon,' said the General; 'one big cannon that will +go "BOOM!" And three hundred men with rifles to shoot.' + +"'Oh, say!' says Jones, 'Generalissimo, you're the real silk +elastic. We'll make it a joint international celebration. Please, +General, get a white horse and a blue sash and be grand marshal.' + +"'With my sword,' says the General, rolling his eyes. 'I shall ride +at the head of the brave men who gather in the name of Liberty.' + +"'And you might,' we suggest 'see the commandante and advise him +that we are going to prize things up a bit. We Americans, you know, +are accustomed to using municipal regulations for gun wadding when +we line up to help the eagle scream. He might suspend the rules for +one day. We don't want to get in the calaboose for spanking his +soldiers if they get in our way, do you see?' + +"'Hist!' says General Mary. 'The commandant is with us, heart and +soul. He will aid us. He is one of us.' + +"We made all the arrangements that afternoon. There was a buck coon +from Georgia in Salvador who had drifted down there from a busted-up +coloured colony that had been started on some possumless land in +Mexico. As soon as he heard us say 'barbecue' he wept for joy and +groveled on the ground. He dug his trench on the plaza, and got half +a beef on the coals for an all-night roast. Me and Maxy went to see +the rest of the Americans in the town and they all sizzled like a +seidlitz with joy at the idea of solemnizing an old-time Fourth. + +"There were six of us all together--Martin Dillard, a coffee +planter; Henry Barnes, a railroad man; old man Billfinger, an +educated tintype taker; me and Jonesy, and Jerry, the boss of the +barbecue. There was also an Englishman in town named Sterrett, who +was there to write a book on Domestic Architecture of the Insect +World. We felt some bashfulness about inviting a Britisher to help +crow over his own country, but we decided to risk it, out of our +personal regard for him. + +"We found Sterrett in pajamas working at his manuscript with a +bottle of brandy for a paper weight. + +"'Englishman,' says Jones, 'let us interrupt your disquisition +on bug houses for a moment. To-morrow is the Fourth of July. We +don't want to hurt your feelings, but we're going to commemorate +the day when we licked you by a little refined debauchery and +nonsense--something that can be heard above five miles off. If you +are broad-gauged enough to taste whisky at your own wake, we'd be +pleased to have you join us.' + +"'Do you know,' says Sterrett, setting his glasses on his nose, 'I +like your cheek in asking me if I'll join you; blast me if I don't. +You might have known I would, without asking. Not as a traitor to my +own country, but for the intrinsic joy of a blooming row.' + +"On the morning of the Fourth I woke up in that old shanty of an +ice factory feeling sore. I looked around at the wreck of all I +possessed, and my heart was full of bile. From where I lay on my +cot I could look through the window and see the consul's old ragged +Stars and Stripes hanging over his shack. 'You're all kinds of a +fool, Billy Casparis,' I says to myself; 'and of all your crimes +against sense it does look like this idea of celebrating the Fourth +should receive the award of demerit. Your business is busted up, +your thousand dollars is gone into the kitty of this corrupt country +on that last bluff you made, you've got just fifteen Chili dollars +left, worth forty-six cents each at bedtime last night and steadily +going down. To-day you'll blow in your last cent hurrahing for that +flag, and to-morrow you'll be living on bananas from the stalk and +screwing your drinks out of your friends. What's the flag done for +you? While you were under it you worked for what you got. You wore +your finger nails down skinning suckers, and salting mines, and +driving bears and alligators off your town lot additions. How much +does patriotism count for on deposit when the little man with the +green eye-shade in the savings-bank adds up your book? Suppose +you were to get pinched over here in this irreligious country +for some little crime or other, and appealed to your country for +protection--what would it do for you? Turn your appeal over to a +committee of one railroad man, an army officer, a member of each +labour union, and a coloured man to investigate whether any of your +ancestors were ever related to a cousin of Mark Hanna, and then +file the papers in the Smithsonian Institution until after the next +election. That's the kind of a sidetrack the Stars and Stripes would +switch you onto.' + +"You can see that I was feeling like an indigo plant; but after +I washed my face in some cool water, and got out my navys and +ammunition, and started up to the Saloon of the Immaculate Saints +where we were to meet, I felt better. And when I saw those other +American boys come swaggering into the trysting place--cool, easy, +conspicuous fellows, ready to risk any kind of a one-card draw, or +to fight grizzlies, fire, or extradition, I began to feel glad I was +one of 'em. So, I says to myself again: 'Billy, you've got fifteen +dollars and a country left this morning--blow in the dollars and +blow up the town as an American gentleman should on Independence +Day.' + +"It is my recollection that we began the day along conventional +lines. The six of us--for Sterrett was along--made progress among +the cantinas, divesting the bars as we went of all strong drink +bearing American labels. We kept informing the atmosphere as to +the glory and preeminence of the United States and its ability to +subdue, outjump, and eradicate the other nations of the earth. And, +as the findings of American labels grew more plentiful, we became +more contaminated with patriotism. Maximilian Jones hopes that our +late foe, Mr. Sterrett, will not take offense at our enthusiasm. He +sets down his bottle and shakes Sterrett's hand. 'As white man to +white man,' says he, 'denude our uproar of the slightest taint of +personality. Excuse us for Bunker Hill, Patrick Henry, and Waldorf +Astor, and such grievances as might lie between us as nations.' + +"'Fellow hoodlums,' says Sterrett, 'on behalf of the Queen I ask +you to cheese it. It is an honour to be a guest at disturbing the +peace under the American flag. Let us chant the passionate strains +of "Yankee Doodle" while the senor behind the bar mitigates the +occasion with another round of cochineal and aqua fortis.' + +"Old Man Billfinger, being charged with a kind of rhetoric, makes +speeches every time we stop. We explained to such citizens as we +happened to step on that we were celebrating the dawn of our own +private brand of liberty, and to please enter such inhumanities as +we might commit on the list of unavoidable casualties. + +"About eleven o'clock our bulletins read: 'A considerable rise in +temperature, accompanied by thirst and other alarming symptoms.' We +hooked arms and stretched our line across the narrow streets, all +of us armed with Winchesters and navys for purposes of noise and +without malice. We stopped on a street corner and fired a dozen or +so rounds, and began a serial assortment of United States whoops and +yells, probably the first ever heard in that town. + +"When we made that noise things began to liven up. We heard a +pattering up a side street, and here came General Mary Esperanza +Dingo on a white horse with a couple of hundred brown boys following +him in red undershirts and bare feet, dragging guns ten feet long. +Jones and me had forgot all about General Mary and his promise to +help us celebrate. We fired another salute and gave another yell, +while the General shook hands with us and waved his sword. + +"'Oh, General,' shouts Jones, 'this is great. This will be a real +pleasure to the eagle. Get down and have a drink.' + +"'Drink?' says the general. 'No. There is no time to drink. _Viva +la Libertad!_' + +"'Don't forget _E Pluribus Unum!_' says Henry Barnes. + +"'_Viva_ it good and strong,' says I. 'Likewise, _viva_ George +Washington. God save the Union, and,' I says, bowing to Sterrett, +'don't discard the Queen.' + +"'Thanks,' says Sterrett. 'The next round's mine. All in to the bar. +Army, too.' + +"But we were deprived of Sterrett's treat by a lot of gunshots +several squares sway, which General Dingo seemed to think he ought +to look after. He spurred his old white plug up that way, and the +soldiers scuttled along after him. + +"'Mary is a real tropical bird,' says Jones. 'He's turned out the +infantry to help us do honour to the Fourth. We'll get that cannon +he spoke of after a while and fire some window-breakers with it. +But just now I want some of that barbecued beef. Let us on to the +plaza.' + +"There we found the meat gloriously done, and Jerry waiting, +anxious. We sat around on the grass, and got hunks of it on our tin +plates. Maximilian Jones, always made tender-hearted by drink, cried +some because George Washington couldn't be there to enjoy the day. +'There was a man I love, Billy,' he says, weeping on my shoulder. +'Poor George! To think he's gone, and missed the fireworks. A little +more salt, please, Jerry.' + +"From what we could hear, General Dingo seemed to be kindly +contributing some noise while we feasted. There were guns going off +around town, and pretty soon we heard that cannon go 'BOOM!' just as +he said it would. And then men began to skim along the edge of the +plaza, dodging in among the orange trees and houses. We certainly +had things stirred up in Salvador. We felt proud of the occasion and +grateful to General Dingo. Sterrett was about to take a bite off a +juicy piece of rib when a bullet took it away from his mouth. + +"'Somebody's celebrating with ball cartridges,' says he, reaching +for another piece. 'Little over-zealous for a non-resident patriot, +isn't it?' + +"'Don't mind it,' I says to him. ''Twas an accident. They happen, +you know, on the Fourth. After one reading of the Declaration of +Independence in New York I've known the S. R. O. sign to be hung out +at all the hospitals and police stations.' + +"But then Jerry gives a howl and jumps up with one hand clapped to +the back of his leg where another bullet has acted over-zealous. And +then comes a quantity of yells, and round a corner and across the +plaza gallops General Mary Esperanza Dingo embracing the neck of his +horse, with his men running behind him, mostly dropping their guns +by way of discharging ballast. And chasing 'em all is a company of +feverish little warriors wearing blue trousers and caps. + +"'Assistance, amigos,' the General shouts, trying to stop his horse. +'Assistance, in the name of Liberty!' + +"'That's the Compania Azul, the President's bodyguard,' says Jones. +'What a shame! They've jumped on poor old Mary just because he was +helping us to celebrate. Come on, boys, it's our Fourth;--do we let +that little squad of A.D.T's break it up?' + +"'I vote No,' says Martin Dillard, gathering his Winchester. 'It's +the privilege of an American citizen to drink, drill, dress up, and +be dreadful on the Fourth of July, no matter whose country he's in.' + +"'Fellow citizens!' says old man Billfinger, 'In the darkest hour +of Freedom's birth, when our brave forefathers promulgated the +principles of undying liberty, they never expected that a bunch of +blue jays like that should be allowed to bust up an anniversary. Let +us preserve and protect the Constitution.' + +"We made it unanimous, and then we gathered our guns and assaulted +the blue troops in force. We fired over their heads, and then +charged 'em with a yell, and they broke and ran. We were irritated +at having our barbecue disturbed, and we chased 'em a quarter of a +mile. Some of 'em we caught and kicked hard. The General rallied his +troops and joined in the chase. Finally they scattered in a thick +banana grove, and we couldn't flush a single one. So we sat down and +rested. + +"If I were to be put, severe, through the third degree, I wouldn't +be able to tell much about the rest of the day. I mind that we +pervaded the town considerable, calling upon the people to bring out +more armies for us to destroy. I remember seeing a crowd somewhere, +and a tall man that wasn't Billfinger making a Fourth of July speech +from a balcony. And that was about all. + +"Somebody must have hauled the old ice factory up to where I was, +and put it around me, for there's where I was when I woke up the +next morning. As soon as I could recollect by name and address I got +up and held an inquest. My last cent was gone. I was all in. + +"And then a neat black carriage drives to the door, and out steps +General Dingo and a bay man in a silk hat and tan shoes. + +"'Yes,' says I to myself, 'I see it now. You're the Chief de +Policeos and High Lord Chamberlain of the Calaboosum; and you want +Billy Casparis for excess of patriotism and assault with intent. All +right. Might as well be in jail, anyhow.' + +"But it seems that General Mary is smiling, and the bay man shakes +my hand, and speaks in the American dialect. + +"'General Dingo has informed me, Senor Casparis, of your gallant +service in our cause. I desire to thank you with my person. The +bravery of you and the other senores Americanos turned the struggle +for liberty in our favour. Our party triumphed. The terrible battle +will live forever in history. + +"'Battle?' says I; 'what battle?' and I ran my mind back along +history, trying to think. + +"'Senor Casparis is modest,' says General Dingo. 'He led his brave +compadres into the thickest of the fearful conflict. Yes. Without +their aid the revolution would have failed.' + +"'Why, now,' says I, 'don't tell me there was a revolution +yesterday. That was only a Fourth of--' + +"But right there I abbreviated. It seemed to me it might be best. + +"'After the terrible struggle,' says the bay man, 'President Bolano +was forced to fly. To-day Caballo is President by proclamation. Ah, +yes. Beneath the new administration I am the head of the Department +of Mercantile Concessions. On my file I find one report, Senor +Casparis, that you have not made ice in accord with your contract.' +And here the bay man smiles at me, 'cute. + +"'Oh, well,' says I, 'I guess the report's straight. I know they +caught me. That's all there is to it.' + +"'Do not say so,' says the bay man. He pulls off a glove and goes +over and lays his hand on that chunk of glass. + +"'Ice,' says he, nodding his head, solemn. + +"General Dingo also steps over and feels of it. + +"'Ice,' says the General; 'I'll swear to it.' + +"'If Senor Casparis,' says the bay man, 'will present himself to the +treasury on the sixth day of this month he will receive back the +thousand dollars he did deposit as a forfeit. Adios, senor.' + +"The General and the bay man bowed themselves out, and I bowed as +often as they did. + +"And when the carriage rolls away through the sand I bows once more, +deeper than ever, till my hat touches the ground. But this time +'twas not intended for them. For, over their heads, I saw the old +flag fluttering in the breeze above the consul's roof; and 'twas to +it I made my profoundest salute." + + + + +XIV + +THE EMANCIPATION OF BILLY + + +In the old, old, square-porticoed mansion, with the wry +window-shutters and the paint peeling off in discoloured flakes, +lived one of the last of the war governors. + +The South has forgotten the enmity of the great conflict, but it +refuses to abandon its old traditions and idols. In "Governor" +Pemberton, as he was still fondly called, the inhabitants of +Elmville saw the relic of their state's ancient greatness and glory. +In his day he had been a man large in the eye of his country. His +state had pressed upon him every honour within its gift. And now +when he was old, and enjoying a richly merited repose outside the +swift current of public affairs, his townsmen loved to do him +reverence for the sake of the past. + +The Governor's decaying "mansion" stood upon the main street of +Elmville within a few feet of its rickety paling-fence. Every +morning the Governor would descend the steps with extreme care and +deliberation--on account of his rheumatism--and then the click of +his gold-headed cane would be heard as he slowly proceeded up the +rugged brick sidewalk. He was now nearly seventy-eight, but he had +grown old gracefully and beautifully. His rather long, smooth hair +and flowing, parted whiskers were snow-white. His full-skirted +frock-croak was always buttoned snugly about his tall, spare +figure. He wore a high, well-kept silk hat--known as a "plug" in +Elmville--and nearly always gloves. His manners were punctilious, +and somewhat overcharged with courtesy. + +The Governor's walks up Lee Avenue, the principal street, developed +in their course into a sort of memorial, triumphant procession. +Everyone he met saluted him with profound respect. Many would remove +their hats. Those who were honoured with his personal friendship +would pause to shake hands, and then you would see exemplified the +genuine _beau ideal_ Southern courtesy. + +Upon reaching the corner of the second square from the mansion, the +Governor would pause. Another street crossed the venue there, and +traffic, to the extent of several farmers' wagons and a peddler's +cart or two, would rage about the junction. Then the falcon eye of +General Deffenbaugh would perceive the situation, and the General +would hasten, with ponderous solicitude, from his office in the +First National Bank building to the assistance of his old friend. + +When the two exchanged greetings the decay of modern manners would +become accusingly apparent. The General's bulky and commanding +figure would bend lissomely at a point where you would have regarded +its ability to do so with incredulity. The Governor would take the +General's arm and be piloted safely between the hay-wagons and the +sprinkling-cart to the other side of the street. Proceeding to the +post-office in the care of his friend, the esteemed statesmen would +there hold an informal levee among the citizens who were come for +their morning mail. Here, gathering two or three prominent in law, +politics, or family, the pageant would make a stately progress along +the Avenue, stopping at the Palace Hotel, where, perhaps, would be +found upon the register the name of some guest deemed worthy of an +introduction to the state's venerable and illustrious son. If any +such were found, an hour or two would be spent in recalling the +faded glories of the Governor's long-vanished administration. + +On the return march the General would invariably suggest that, His +Excellency being no doubt fatigued, it would be wise to recuperate +for a few minutes at the Drug Emporium of Mr. Appleby R. Fentress +(an elegant gentleman, sir--one of the Chatham County Fentresses--so +many of our best-blooded families have had to go into trade, sir, +since the war). + +Mr. Appleby R. Fentress was a _connoisseur_ in fatigue. Indeed, +if he had not been, his memory alone should have enabled him to +prescribe, for the majestic invasion of his pharmacy was a casual +happening that had surprised him almost daily for years. Mr. +Fentress knew the formula of, and possessed the skill to compound, +a certain potion antagonistic to fatigue, the salient ingredient of +which he described (no doubt in pharmaceutical terms) as "genuine +old hand-made Clover Leaf '59, Private Stock." + +Nor did the ceremony of administering the potion ever vary. Mr. +Fentress would first compound two of the celebrated mixtures--one +for the Governor, and the other for the General to "sample." Then +the Governor would make this little speech in his high, piping, +quavering voice: + +"No, sir--not one drop until you have prepared one for yourself and +join us, Mr. Fentress. Your father, sir, was one of my most valued +supporters and friends during My Administration, and any mark of +esteem I can confer upon his son is not only a pleasure but a duty, +sir." + +Blushing with delight at the royal condescension, the druggist would +obey, and all would drink to the General's toast: "The prosperity of +our grand old state, gentlemen--the memory of her glorious past--the +health of her Favourite Son." + +Some one of the Old Guard was always at hand to escort the Governor +home. Sometimes the General's business duties denied him the +privilege, and then Judge Broomfield or Colonel Titus, or one of the +Ashford County Slaughters would be on hand to perform the rite. + +Such were the observances attendant upon the Governor's morning +stroll to the post-office. How much more magnificent, impressive, +and spectacular, then, was the scene at public functions when +the General would lead forth the silver-haired relic of former +greatness, like some rare and fragile waxwork figure, and trumpet +his pristine eminence to his fellow citizens! + +General Deffenbaugh was the Voice of Elmville. Some said he was +Elmville. At any rate, he had no competitor as the Mouthpiece. He +owned enough stock in the _Daily Banner_ to dictate its utterance, +enough shares in the First National Bank to be the referee of its +loans, and a war record that left him without a rival for first +place at barbecues, school commencements, and Decoration Days. +Besides these acquirements he was possessed with endowments. His +personality was inspiring and triumphant. Undisputed sway had +moulded him to the likeness of a fatted Roman emperor. The tones of +his voice were not otherwise than clarion. To say that the General +was public-spirited would fall short of doing him justice. He +had spirit enough for a dozen publics. And as a sure foundation +for it all, he had a heart that was big and stanch. Yes; General +Deffenbaugh was Elmville. + +One little incident that usually occurred during the Governor's +morning walk has had its chronicling delayed by more important +matters. The procession was accustomed to halt before a small brick +office on the Avenue, fronted by a short flight of steep wooden +steps. A modest tin sign over the door bore the words: "Wm. B. +Pemberton: Attorney-at-Law." + +Looking inside, the General would roar: "Hello, Billy, my boy." The +less distinguished members of the escort would call: "Morning, +Billy." The Governor would pipe: "Good morning, William." + +Then a patient-looking little man with hair turning gray along the +temples would come down the steps and shake hands with each one of +the party. All Elmville shook hands when it met. + +The formalities concluded, the little man would go back to his +table, heaped with law books and papers, while the procession would +proceed. + +Billy Pemberton was, as his sign declared, a lawyer by profession. +By occupation and common consent he was the Son of his Father. +This was the shadow in which Billy lived, the pit out of which he +had unsuccessfully striven for years to climb and, he had come +to believe, the grave in which his ambitions were destined to be +buried. Filial respect and duty he paid beyond the habit of most +sons, but he aspired to be known and appraised by his own deeds and +worth. + +After many years of tireless labour he had become known in certain +quarters far from Elmville as a master of the principles of the law. +Twice he had gone to Washington and argued cases before the highest +tribunal with such acute logic and learning that the silken gowns +on the bench had rustled from the force of it. His income from his +practice had grown until he was able to support his father, in the +old family mansion (which neither of them would have thought of +abandoning, rickety as it was) in the comfort and almost the luxury +of the old extravagant days. Yet, he remained to Elmville as only +"Billy" Pemberton, the son of our distinguished and honoured +fellow-townsman, "ex-Governor Pemberton." Thus was he introduced at +public gatherings where he sometimes spoke, haltingly and prosily, +for his talents were too serious and deep for extempore brilliancy; +thus was he presented to strangers and to the lawyers who made the +circuit of the courts; and so the _Daily Banner_ referred to him +in print. To be "the son of" was his doom. What ever he should +accomplish would have to be sacrificed upon the altar of this +magnificent but fatal parental precedence. + +The peculiarity and the saddest thing about Billy's ambition was +that the only world he thirsted to conquer was Elmville. His nature +was diffident and unassuming. National or State honours might +have oppressed him. But, above all things, he hungered for the +appreciation of the friends among whom he had been born and raised. +He would not have plucked one leaf from the garlands that were so +lavishly bestowed upon his father, he merely rebelled against having +his own wreathes woven from those dried and self-same branches. But +Elmville "Billied" and "sonned" him to his concealed but lasting +chagrin, until at length he grew more reserved and formal and +studious than ever. + +There came a morning when Billy found among his mail a letter from +a very high source, tendering him the appointment to an important +judicial position in the new island possessions of our country. The +honour was a distinguished one, for the entire nation had discussed +the probable recipients of these positions, and had agreed that the +situation demanded only men of the highest character, ripe learning, +and evenly balanced mind. + +Billy could not subdue a certain exultation at this token of the +success of his long and arduous labours, but, at the same time, a +whimsical smile lingered around his mouth, for he foresaw in which +column Elmville would place the credit. "We congratulate Governor +Pemberton upon the mark of appreciation conferred upon his +son"--"Elmville rejoices with our honoured citizen, Governor +Pemberton, at his son's success"--"Put her there, Billy!"--"Judge +Billy Pemberton, sir; son of our State's war hero and the people's +pride!"--these were the phrases, printed and oral, conjured up by +Billy's prophetic fancy. Grandson of his State, and stepchild to +Elmville--thus had fate fixed his kinship to the body politic. + +Billy lived with his father in the old mansion. The two and an +elderly lady--a distant relative--comprised the family. Perhaps, +though, old Jeff, the Governor's ancient coloured body-servant, +should be included. Without doubt, he could have claimed the honour. +There were other servants, but Thomas Jefferson Pemberton, sah, was +a member of "de fambly." + +Jeff was the one Elmvillian who gave to Billy the gold of approval +unmixed with the alloy of paternalism. To him "Mars William" was +the greatest man in Talbot County. Beaten upon though he was by the +shining light that emanates from an ex-war governor, and loyal as he +remained to the old _regime_, his faith and admiration were Billy's. +As valet to a hero, and a member of the family, he may have had +superior opportunities for judging. + +Jeff was the first one to whom Bill revealed the news. When he +reached home for supper Jeff took his "plug" hat and smoothed it +before hanging it upon the hall-rack. + +"Dar now!" said the old man: "I knowed it was er comin'. I knowed it +was gwine ter happen. Er Judge, you says, Mars William? Dem Yankees +done made you er judge? It's high time, sah, dey was doin' somep'n +to make up for dey rascality endurin' de war. I boun' dey holds a +confab and says: 'Le's make Mars William Pemberton er judge, and +dat'll settle it.' Does you have to go way down to dem Fillypines, +Mars William, or kin you judge 'em from here?" + +"I'd have to live there most of the time, of course," said Billy. + +"I wonder what de Gubnor gwine say 'bout dat," speculated Jeff. + +Billy wondered too. + +After supper, when the two sat in the library, according to their +habit, the Governor smoking his clay pipe and Billy his cigar, the +son dutifully confessed to having been tendered the appointment. + +For a long time the Governor sat, smoking, without making any +comment. Billy reclined in his favourite rocker, waiting, perhaps +still flushed with satisfaction over the tender that had come to +him, unsolicited, in his dingy little office, above the heads of the +intriguing, time-serving, clamorous multitude. + +At last the Governor spoke; and, though his words were seemingly +irrelevant, they were to the point. His voice had a note of +martyrdom running through its senile quaver. + +"My rheumatism has been growing steadily worse these past months, +William." + +"I am sorry, father," said Billy, gently. + +"And I am nearly seventy-eight. I am getting to be an old man. I can +recall the names of but two or three who were in public life during +My Administration. What did you say is the nature of this position +that is offered you, William?" + +"A Federal Judgeship, father. I believe it is considered to be a +somewhat flattering tender. It is outside of politics and +wire-pulling, you know." + +"No doubt, no doubt. Few of the Pembertons have engaged in +professional life for nearly a century. None of them have ever held +Federal positions. They have been land-holders, slave-owners, and +planters on a large scale. One of two of the Derwents--your mother's +family--were in the law. Have you decided to accept this +appointment, William?" + +"I am thinking it over," said Billy, slowly, regarding the ash of +his cigar. + +"You have been a good son to me," continued the Governor, stirring +his pipe with the handle of a penholder. + +"I've been your son all my life," said Billy, darkly. + +"I am often gratified," piped the Governor, betraying a touch of +complacency, "by being congratulated upon having a son with such +sound and sterling qualities. Especially in this, our native town, +is your name linked with mine in the talk of our citizens." + +"I never knew anyone to forget the vindculum," murmured Billy, +unintelligibly. + +"Whatever prestige," pursued the parent, "I may be possessed of, +by virtue of my name and services to the state, has been yours to +draw upon freely. I have not hesitated to exert it in your behalf +whenever opportunity offered. And you have deserved it, William. +You've been the best of sons. And now this appointment comes to take +you away from me. I have but a few years left to live. I am almost +dependent upon others now, even in walking and dressing. What would +I do without you, my son?" + +The Governor's pipe dropped to the floor. A tear trickled from his +eye. His voice had risen, and crumbled to a weakling falsetto, and +ceased. He was an old, old man about to be bereft of a son that +cherished him. + +Billy rose, and laid his hand upon the Governor's shoulder. + +"Don't worry, father," he said, cheerfully. "I'm not going to +accept. Elmville is good enough for me. I'll write to-night and +decline it." + +At the next interchange of devoirs between the Governor and General +Deffenbaugh on Lee Avenue, His Excellency, with a comfortable air of +self-satisfaction, spoke of the appointment that had been tendered +to Billy. + +The General whistled. + +"That's a plum for Billy," he shouted. "Who'd have thought that +Billy--but, confound it, it's been in him all the time. It's a boost +for Elmville. It'll send real estate up. It's an honour to our +state. It's a compliment to the South. We've all been blind about +Billy. When does he leave? We must have a reception. Great Gatlings! +that job's eight thousand a year! There's been a car-load of +lead-pencils worn to stubs figuring on those appointments. Think of +it! Our little, wood-sawing, mealy-mouthed Billy! Angel unawares +doesn't begin to express it. Elmville is disgraced forever until she +lines up in a hurry for ratification and apology." + +The venerable Moloch smiled fatuously. He carried the fire with +which to consume all these tributes to Billy, the smoke of which +would ascend as an incense to himself. + +"William," said the Governor, with modest pride, "has declined the +appointment. He refuses to leave me in my old age. He is a good +son." + +The General swung round, and laid a large forefinger upon the bosom +of his friend. Much of the General's success had been due to his +dexterity in establishing swift lines of communication between cause +and effect. + +"Governor," he said, with a keen look in his big, ox-like eyes, +"you've been complaining to Billy about your rheumatism." + +"My dear General," replied the Governor, stiffly, "my son is +forty-two. He is quite capable of deciding such questions for +himself. And I, as his parent, feel it my duty to state that your +remark about--er--rheumatism is a mighty poor shot from a very small +bore, sir, aimed at a purely personal and private affliction." + +"If you will allow me," retorted the General, "you've afflicted the +public with it for some time; and 'twas no small bore, at that." + +This first tiff between the two old comrades might have grown into +something more serious, but for the fortunate interruption caused by +the ostentatious approach of Colonel Titus and another one of the +court retinue from the right county, to whom the General confided +the coddled statesman and went his way. + +After Billy had so effectually entombed his ambitions, and taken the +veil, so to speak, in a sonnery, he was surprised to discover how +much lighter of heart and happier he felt. He realized what a long, +restless struggle he had maintained, and how much he had lost by +failing to cull the simple but wholesome pleasures by the way. His +heart warmed now to Elmville and the friends who had refused to +set him upon a pedestal. It was better, he began to think, to be +"Billy" and his father's son, and to be hailed familiarly by cheery +neighbours and grown-up playmates, than to be "Your Honour," and sit +among strangers, hearing, maybe, through the arguments of learned +counsel, that old man's feeble voice crying: "What would I do +without you, my son?" + +Billy began to surprise his acquaintances by whistling as he walked +up the street; others he astounded by slapping them disrespectfully +upon their backs and raking up old anecdotes he had not had the time +to recollect for years. Though he hammered away at his law cases +as thoroughly as ever, he found more time for relaxation and the +company of his friends. Some of the younger set were actually after +him to join the golf club. A striking proof of his abandonment to +obscurity was his adoption of a most undignified, rakish, little +soft hat, reserving the "plug" for Sundays and state occasions. +Billy was beginning to enjoy Elmville, though that irreverent burgh +had neglected to crown him with bay and myrtle. + +All the while uneventful peace pervaded Elmville. The Governor +continued to make his triumphal parades to the post-office with the +General as chief marshal, for the slight squall that had rippled +their friendship had, to all indications, been forgotten by both. + +But one day Elmville woke to sudden excitement. The news had come +that a touring presidential party would honour Elmville by a +twenty-minute stop. The Executive had promised a five-minute address +from the balcony of the Palace Hotel. + +Elmville arose as one man--that man being, of course, General +Deffenbaugh--to receive becomingly the chieftain of all the clans. +The train with the tiny Stars and Stripes fluttering from the +engine pilot arrived. Elmville had done her best. There were bands, +flowers, carriages, uniforms, banners, and committees without end. +High-school girls in white frocks impeded the steps of the party +with roses strewn nervously in bunches. The chieftain had seen it +all before--scores of times. He could have pictured it exactly in +advance, from the Blue-and-Gray speech down to the smallest rosebud. +Yet his kindly smile of interest greeted Elmville's display as if it +had been the only and original. + +In the upper rotunda of the Palace Hotel the town's most +illustrious were assembled for the honour of being presented to the +distinguished guests previous to the expected address. Outside, +Elmville's inglorious but patriotic masses filled the streets. + +Here, in the hotel General Deffenbaugh was holding in reserve +Elmville's trump card. Elmville knew; for the trump was a fixed one, +and its lead consecrated by archaic custom. + +At the proper moment Governor Pemberton, beautifully venerable, +magnificently antique, tall, paramount, stepped forward upon the arm +of the General. + +Elmville watched and harked with bated breath. Never until now--when +a Northern President of the United States should clasp hands with +ex-war-Governor Pemberton would the breach be entirely closed--would +the country be made one and indivisible--no North, not much South, +very little East, and no West to speak of. So Elmville excitedly +scraped kalsomine from the walls of the Palace Hotel with its Sunday +best, and waited for the Voice to speak. + +And Billy! We had nearly forgotten Billy. He was cast for Son, and +he waited patiently for his cue. He carried his "plug" in his hand, +and felt serene. He admired his father's striking air and pose. +After all, it was a great deal to be a son of a man who could so +gallantly hold the position of a cynosure for three generations. + +General Deffenbaugh cleared his throat. Elmville opened its mouth, +and squirmed. The chieftain with the kindly, fateful face was +holding out his hand, smiling. Ex-war-Governor Pemberton extended +his own across the chasm. But what was this the General was saying? + +"Mr. President, allow me to present to you one who has the honour to +be the father of our foremost, distinguished citizen, learned and +honoured jurist, beloved townsman, and model Southern gentleman--the +Honourable William B. Pemberton." + + + + +XV + +THE ENCHANTED KISS + + +But a clerk in the Cut-rate Drug Store was Samuel Tansey, yet +his slender frame was a pad that enfolded the passion of Romeo, +the gloom of Laura, the romance of D'Artagnan, and the desperate +inspiration of Melnotte. Pity, then, that he had been denied +expression, that he was doomed to the burden of utter timidity and +diffidence, that Fate had set him tongue-tied and scarlet before +the muslin-clad angels whom he adored and vainly longed to rescue, +clasp, comfort, and subdue. + +The clock's hands were pointing close upon the hour of ten while +Tansey was playing billiards with a number of his friends. On +alternate evenings he was released from duty at the store after +seven o'clock. Even among his fellow-men Tansey was timorous and +constrained. In his imagination he had done valiant deeds and +performed acts of distinguished gallantry; but in fact he was a +sallow youth of twenty-three, with an over-modest demeanour and +scant vocabulary. + +When the clock struck ten, Tansey hastily laid down his cue and +struck sharply upon the show-case with a coin for the attendant to +come and receive the pay for his score. + +"What's your hurry, Tansey?" called one. "Got another engagement?" + +"Tansey got an engagement!" echoed another. "Not on your life. +Tansey's got to get home at Motten by her Peek's orders." + +"It's no such thing," chimed in a pale youth, taking a large cigar +from his mouth; "Tansey's afraid to be late because Miss Katie might +come down stairs to unlock the door, and kiss him in the hall." + +This delicate piece of raillery sent a fiery tingle into Tansey's +blood, for the indictment was true--barring the kiss. That was a +thing to dream of; to wildly hope for; but too remote and sacred a +thing to think of lightly. + +Casting a cold and contemptuous look at the speaker--a punishment +commensurate with his own diffident spirit--Tansey left the room, +descending the stairs into the street. + +For two years he had silently adored Miss Peek, worshipping her from +a spiritual distance through which her attractions took on stellar +brightness and mystery. Mrs. Peek kept a few choice boarders, among +whom was Tansey. The other young men romped with Katie, chased her +with crickets in their fingers, and "jollied" her with an irreverent +freedom that turned Tansey's heart into cold lead in his bosom. +The signs of his adoration were few--a tremulous "Good morning," +stealthy glances at her during meals, and occasionally (Oh, +rapture!) a blushing, delirious game of cribbage with her in the +parlour on some rare evening when a miraculous lack of engagement +kept her at home. Kiss him in the hall! Aye, he feared it, but it +was an ecstatic fear such as Elijah must have felt when the chariot +lifted him into the unknown. + +But to-night the gibes of his associates had stung him to a feeling +of forward, lawless mutiny; a defiant, challenging, atavistic +recklessness. Spirit of corsair, adventurer, lover, poet, +bohemian, possessed him. The stars he saw above him seemed no more +unattainable, no less high, than the favour of Miss Peek or the +fearsome sweetness of her delectable lips. His fate seemed to him +strangely dramatic and pathetic, and to call for a solace consonant +with its extremity. A saloon was near by, and to this he flitted, +calling for absinthe--beyond doubt the drink most adequate to his +mood--the tipple of the roue, the abandoned, the vainly sighing +lover. + +Once he drank of it, and again, and then again until he felt a +strange, exalted sense of non-participation in worldly affairs +pervade him. Tansey was no drinker; his consumption of three +absinthe anisettes within almost as few minutes proclaimed his +unproficiency in the art; Tansey was merely flooding with unproven +liquor his sorrows; which record and tradition alleged to be +drownable. + +Coming out upon the sidewalk, he snapped his fingers defiantly in +the direction of the Peek homestead, turned the other way, and +voyaged, Columbus-like into the wilds of an enchanted street. Nor is +the figure exorbitant, for, beyond his store the foot of Tansey had +scarcely been set for years--store and boarding-house; between these +ports he was chartered to run, and contrary currents had rarely +deflected his prow. + +Tansey aimlessly protracted his walk, and, whether it was his +unfamiliarity with the district, his recent accession of audacious +errantry, or the sophistical whisper of a certain green-eyed +fairy, he came at last to tread a shuttered, blank, and echoing +thoroughfare, dark and unpeopled. And, suddenly, this way came to an +end (as many streets do in the Spanish-built, archaic town of San +Antone), butting its head against an imminent, high, brick wall. +No--the street still lived! To the right and to the left it breathed +through slender tubes of exit--narrow, somnolent ravines, cobble +paved and unlighted. Accommodating a rise in the street to the right +was reared a phantom flight of five luminous steps of limestone, +flanked by a wall of the same height and of the same material. + +Upon one of these steps Tansey seated himself and bethought him of +his love, and how she might never know she was his love. And of +Mother Peek, fat, vigilant and kind; not unpleased, Tansey thought, +that he and Katie should play cribbage in the parlour together. +For the Cut-rate had not cut his salary, which, sordidly speaking, +ranked him star boarder at the Peek's. And he thought of Captain +Peek, Katie's father, a man he dreaded and abhorred; a genteel +loafer and spendthrift, battening upon the labour of his women-folk; +a very queer fish, and, according to repute, not of the freshest. + +The night had turned chill and foggy. The heart of the town, with +its noises, was left behind. Reflected from the high vapours, its +distant lights were manifest in quivering, cone-shaped streamers, in +questionable blushes of unnamed colours, in unstable, ghostly waves +of far, electric flashes. Now that the darkness was become more +friendly, the wall against which the street splintered developed a +stone coping topped with an armature of spikes. Beyond it loomed +what appeared to be the acute angles of mountain peaks, pierced here +and there by little lambent parallelograms. Considering this vista, +Tansey at length persuaded himself that the seeming mountains were, +in fact, the convent of Santa Mercedes, with which ancient and +bulky pile he was better familiar from different coigns of view. A +pleasant note of singing in his ears reinforced his opinion. High, +sweet, holy carolling, far and harmonious and uprising, as of +sanctified nuns at their responses. At what hour did the Sisters +sing? He tried to think--was it six, eight, twelve? Tansey leaned +his back against the limestone wall and wondered. Strange things +followed. The air was full of white, fluttering pigeons that circled +about, and settled upon the convent wall. The wall blossomed with a +quantity of shining green eyes that blinked and peered at him from +the solid masonry. A pink, classic nymph came from an excavation in +the cavernous road and danced, barefoot and airy, upon the ragged +flints. The sky was traversed by a company of beribboned cats, +marching in stupendous, aerial procession. The noise of singing grew +louder; an illumination of unseasonable fireflies danced past, and +strange whispers came out of the dark without meaning or excuse. + +Without amazement Tansey took note of these phenomena. He was on +some new plane of understanding, though his mind seemed to him clear +and, indeed, happily tranquil. + +A desire for movement and exploration seized him: he rose and turned +into the black gash of street to his right. For a time the high +wall formed one of its boundaries; but further on, two rows of +black-windowed houses closed it in. + +Here was the city's quarter once given over to the Spaniard. Here +were still his forbidding abodes of concrete and adobe, standing +cold and indomitable against the century. From the murky fissure, +the eye saw, flung against the sky, the tangled filigree of +his Moorish balconies. Through stone archways breaths of dead, +vault-chilled air coughed upon him; his feet struck jingling +iron rings in staples stone-buried for half a cycle. Along these +paltry avenues had swaggered the arrogant Don, had caracoled and +serenaded and blustered while the tomahawk and the pioneer's rifle +were already uplifted to expel him from a continent. And Tansey, +stumbling through this old-world dust, looked up, dark as it was, +and saw Andalusian beauties glimmering on the balconies. Some of +them were laughing and listening to the goblin music that still +followed; others harked fearfully through the night, trying to catch +the hoof beats of caballeros whose last echoes from those stones had +died away a century ago. Those women were silent, but Tansey heard +the jangle of horseless bridle-bits, the whirr of riderless rowels, +and, now and then, a muttered malediction in a foreign tongue. But +he was not frightened. Shadows, nor shadows of sounds could daunt +him. Afraid? No. Afraid of Mother Peek? Afraid to face the girl +of his heart? Afraid of tipsy Captain Peek? Nay! nor of these +apparitions, nor of that spectral singing that always pursued him. +Singing! He would show them! He lifted up a strong and untuneful +voice: + + + "When you hear them bells go tingalingling," + + +serving notice upon those mysterious agencies that if it should come +to a face-to-face encounter + + + "There'll be a hot time + In the old town + To-night!" + + +How long Tansey consumed in treading this haunted byway was not +clear to him, but in time he emerged into a more commodious avenue. +When within a few yards of the corner he perceived, through a +window, that a small confectionary of mean appearance was set in +the angle. His same glance that estimated its meagre equipment, its +cheap soda-water fountain and stock of tobacco and sweets, took +cognizance of Captain Peek within lighting a cigar at a swinging +gaslight. + +As Tansey rounded the corner Captain Peek came out, and they met +_vis-a-vis_. An exultant joy filled Tansey when he found himself +sustaining the encounter with implicit courage. Peek, indeed! He +raised his hand, and snapped his fingers loudly. + +It was Peek himself who quailed guiltily before the valiant mien of +the drug clerk. Sharp surprise and a palpable fear bourgeoned upon +the Captain's face. And, verily, that face was one to rather call up +such expressions on the faces of others. The face of a libidinous +heathen idol, small eyed, with carven folds in the heavy jowls, and +a consuming, pagan license in its expression. In the gutter just +beyond the store Tansey saw a closed carriage standing with its back +toward him and a motionless driver perched in his place. + +"Why, it's Tansey!" exclaimed Captain Peek. "How are you, Tansey? +H-have a cigar, Tansey?" + +"Why, it's Peek!" cried Tansey, jubilant at his own temerity. +"What deviltry are you up to now, Peek? Back streets and a closed +carriage! Fie! Peek!" + +"There's no one in the carriage," said the Captain, smoothly. + +"Everybody out of it is in luck," continued Tansey, aggressively. +"I'd love for you to know, Peek, that I'm not stuck on you. You're a +bottle-nosed scoundrel." + +"Why, the little rat's drunk!" cried the Captain, joyfully; "only +drunk, and I thought he was on! Go home, Tansey, and quit bothering +grown persons on the street." + +But just then a white-clad figure sprang out of the carriage, and a +shrill voice--Katie's voice--sliced the air: "Sam! Sam!--help me, +Sam!" + +Tansey sprung toward her, but Captain Peek interposed his bulky +form. Wonder of wonders! the whilom spiritless youth struck out +with his right, and the hulking Captain went over in a swearing +heap. Tansey flew to Katie, and took her in his arms like a +conquering knight. She raised her face, and he kissed her--violets! +electricity! caramels! champagne! Here was the attainment of a dream +that brought no disenchantment. + +"Oh, Sam," cried Katie, when she could, "I knew you would come to +rescue me. What do you suppose the mean things were going to do with +me?" + +"Have your picture taken," said Tansey, wondering at the foolishness +of his remark. + +"No, they were going to eat me. I heard them talking about it." + +"Eat you!" said Tansey, after pondering a moment. "That can't be; +there's no plates." + +But a sudden noise warned him to turn. Down upon him were bearing +the Captain and a monstrous long-bearded dwarf in a spangled cloak +and red trunk-hose. The dwarf leaped twenty feet and clutched them. +The Captain seized Katie and hurled her, shrieking, back into the +carriage, himself followed, and the vehicle dashed away. The dwarf +lifted Tansey high above his head and ran with him into the store. +Holding him with one hand, he raised the lid of an enormous chest +half filled with cakes of ice, flung Tansey inside, and closed down +the cover. + +The force of the fall must have been great, for Tansey lost +consciousness. When his faculties revived his first sensation was +one of severe cold along his back and limbs. Opening his eyes, he +found himself to be seated upon the limestone steps still facing the +wall and convent of Santa Mercedes. His first thought was of the +ecstatic kiss from Katie. The outrageous villainy of Captain Peek, +the unnatural mystery of the situation, his preposterous conflict +with the improbable dwarf--these things roused and angered him, but +left no impression of the unreal. + +"I'll go back there to-morrow," he grumbled aloud, "and knock the +head off that comic-opera squab. Running out and picking up perfect +strangers, and shoving them into cold storage!" + +But the kiss remained uppermost in his mind. "I might have done that +long ago," he mused. "She liked it, too. She called me 'Sam' four +times. I'll not go up that street again. Too much scrapping. Guess +I'll move down the other way. Wonder what she meant by saying they +were going to eat her!" + +Tansey began to feel sleepy, but after a while he decided to move +along again. This time he ventured into the street to his left. It +ran level for a distance, and then dipped gently downward, opening +into a vast, dim, barren space--the old Military Plaza. To his left, +some hundred yards distant, he saw a cluster of flickering lights +along the Plaza's border. He knew the locality at once. + +Huddled within narrow confines were the remnants of the once-famous +purveyors of the celebrated Mexican national cookery. A few years +before, their nightly encampments upon the historic Alamo Plaza, in +the heart of the city, had been a carnival, a saturnalia that was +renowned throughout the land. Then the caterers numbered hundreds; +the patrons thousands. Drawn by the coquettish _senoritas_, the +music of the weird Spanish minstrels, and the strange piquant +Mexican dishes served at a hundred competing tables, crowds thronged +the Alamo Plaza all night. Travellers, rancheros, family parties, +gay gasconading rounders, sightseers and prowlers of polyglot, +owlish San Antone mingled there at the centre of the city's fun and +frolic. The popping of corks, pistols, and questions; the glitter of +eyes, jewels and daggers; the ring of laughter and coin--these were +the order of the night. + +But now no longer. To some half-dozen tents, fires, and tables had +dwindled the picturesque festival, and these had been relegated to +an ancient disused plaza. + +Often had Tansey strolled down to these stands at night to partake +of the delectable _chili-con-carne_, a dish evolved by the genius of +Mexico, composed of delicate meats minced with aromatic herbs and +the poignant _chili colorado_--a compound full of singular flavour +and a fiery zest delightful to the Southron's palate. + +The titillating odour of this concoction came now, on the breeze, to +the nostrils of Tansey, awakening in him hunger for it. As he turned +in that direction he saw a carriage dash up to the Mexicans' tents +out of the gloom of the Plaza. Some figures moved back and forward +in the uncertain light of the lanterns, and then the carriage was +driven swiftly away. + +Tansey approached, and sat at one of the tables covered with gaudy +oil-cloth. Traffic was dull at the moment. A few half-grown boys +noisily fared at another table; the Mexicans hung listless and +phlegmatic about their wares. And it was still. The night hum of the +city crowded to the wall of dark buildings surrounding the Plaza, +and subsided to an indefinite buzz through which sharply perforated +the crackle of the languid fires and the rattle of fork and spoon. +A sedative wind blew from the southeast. The starless firmament +pressed down upon the earth like a leaden cover. + +In all that quiet Tansey turned his head suddenly, and saw, without +disquietude, a troop of spectral horsemen deploy into the Plaza and +charge a luminous line of infantry that advanced to sustain the +shock. He saw the fierce flame of cannon and small arms, but heard +no sound. The careless victuallers lounged vacantly, not deigning to +view the conflict. Tansey mildly wondered to what nations these mute +combatants might belong; turned his back to them and ordered his +chili and coffee from the Mexican woman who advanced to serve him. +This woman was old and careworn; her face was lined like the rind +of a cantaloupe. She fetched the viands from a vessel set by the +smouldering fire, and then retired to a tent, dark within, that +stood near by. + +Presently Tansey heard a turmoil in the tent; a wailing, +broken-hearted pleading in the harmonious Spanish tongue, and then +two figures tumbled out into the light of the lanterns. One was the +old woman; the other was a man clothed with a sumptuous and flashing +splendour. The woman seemed to clutch and beseech from him something +against his will. The man broke from her and struck her brutally +back into the tent, where she lay, whimpering and invisible. +Observing Tansey, he walked rapidly to the table where he sat. +Tansey recognized him to be Ramon Torres, a Mexican, the proprietor +of the stand he was patronizing. + +Torres was a handsome, nearly full-blooded descendant of the +Spanish, seemingly about thirty years of age, and of a haughty, but +extremely courteous demeanour. To-night he was dressed with signal +magnificence. His costume was that of a triumphant _matador_, made +of purple velvet almost hidden by jeweled embroidery. Diamonds of +enormous size flashed upon his garb and his hands. He reached for a +chair, and, seating himself at the opposite side of the table, began +to roll a finical cigarette. + +"Ah, Meester Tansee," he said, with a sultry fire in his silky, +black eyes, "I give myself pleasure to see you this evening. Meester +Tansee, you have many times come to eat at my table. I theenk you a +safe man--a verree good friend. How much would it please you to +leeve forever?" + +"Not come back any more?" inquired Tansey. + +"No; not leave--_leeve_; the not-to-die." + +"I would call that," said Tansey, "a snap." + +Torres leaned his elbows upon the table, swallowed a mouthful of +smoke, and spake--each word being projected in a little puff of +gray. + +"How old do you theenk I am, Meester Tansee?" + +"Oh, twenty-eight or thirty." + +"Thees day," said the Mexican, "ees my birthday. I am four hundred +and three years of old to-day." + +"Another proof," said Tansey, airily, "of the healthfulness of our +climate." + +"Eet is not the air. I am to relate to you a secret of verree fine +value. Listen me, Meester Tansee. At the age of twenty-three I +arrive in Mexico from Spain. When? In the year fifteen hundred +nineteen, with the _soldados_ of Hernando Cortez. I come to thees +country seventeen fifteen. I saw your Alamo reduced. It was like +yesterday to me. Three hundred ninety-six year ago I learn the +secret always to leeve. Look at these clothes I war--at these +_diamantes_. Do you theenk I buy them with the money I make with +selling the _chili-con-carne_, Meester Tansee?" + +"I should think not," said Tansey, promptly. Torres laughed loudly. + +"_Valgame Dios!_ but I do. But it not the kind you eating now. I +make a deeferent kind, the eating of which makes men to always +leeve. What do you think! One thousand people I supply--_diez pesos_ +each one pays me the month. You see! ten thousand _pesos_ everee +month! _Que diable!_ how not I wear the fine _ropa_! You see that +old woman try to hold me back a little while ago? That ees my wife. +When I marry her she is young--seventeen year--_bonita_. Like +the rest she ees become old and--what you say!--tough? I am the +same--young all the time. To-night I resolve to dress myself +and find another wife befitting my age. This old woman try to +scr-r-ratch my face. Ha! ha! Meester Tansee--same way they do +_entre los Americanos_." + +"And this health-food you spoke of?" said Tansey. + +"Hear me," said Torres, leaning over the table until he lay flat +upon it; "eet is the _chili-con-carne_ made not from the beef or the +chicken, but from the flesh of the _senorita_--young and tender. +That ees the secret. Everee month you must eat of it, having care to +do so before the moon is full, and you will not die any times. See +how I trust you, friend Tansee! To-night I have bought one young +ladee--verree pretty--so _fina, gorda, blandita!_ To-morrow the +_chili_ will be ready. _Ahora si!_ One thousand dollars I pay for +thees young ladee. From an _Americano_ I have bought--a verree +tip-top man--_el Capitan Peek_--_que es, Senor?_" + +For Tansey had sprung to his feet, upsetting the chair. The words +of Katie reverberated in his ears: "They're going to eat me, Sam." +This, then, was the monstrous fate to which she had been delivered +by her unnatural parent. The carriage he had seen drive up from the +Plaza was Captain Peek's. Where was Katie? Perhaps already-- + +Before he could decide what to do a loud scream came from the tent. +The old Mexican woman ran out, a flashing knife in her hand. "I have +released her," she cried. "You shall kill no more. They will hang +you--_ingrato_--_encatador!_" + +Torres, with a hissing exclamation, sprang at her. + +"Ramoncito!" she shrieked; "once you loved me." + +The Mexican's arm raised and descended. "You are old," he cried; and +she fell and lay motionless. + +Another scream; the flaps of the tent were flung aside, and there +stood Katie, white with fear, her wrists still bound with a cruel +cord. + +"Sam!" she cried, "save me again!" + +Tansey rounded the table, and flung himself, with superb nerve, upon +the Mexican. Just then a clangour began; the clocks of the city were +tolling the midnight hour. Tansey clutched at Torres, and, for a +moment, felt in his grasp the crunch of velvet and the cold facets +of the glittering gems. The next instant, the bedecked caballero +turned in his hands to a shrunken, leather-visaged, white-bearded, +old, old, screaming mummy, sandalled, ragged, and four hundred and +three. The Mexican woman was crawling to her feet, and laughing. She +shook her brown hand in the face of the whining _viejo_. + +"Go, now," she cried, "and seek your senorita. It was I, Ramoncito, +who brought you to this. Within each moon you eat of the life-giving +_chili_. It was I that kept the wrong time for you. You should have +eaten _yesterday_ instead of _to-morrow_. It is too late. Off with +you, _hombre_! You are too old for me!" + +"This," decided Tansey, releasing his hold of the gray-beard, "is a +private family matter concerning age, and no business of mine." + +With one of the table knives he hastened to saw asunder the fetters +of the fair captive; and then, for the second time that night he +kissed Katie Peek--tasted again the sweetness, the wonder, the +thrill of it, attained once more the maximum of his incessant +dreams. + +The next instant an icy blade was driven deep between his shoulders; +he felt his blood slowly congeal; heard the senile cackle of the +perennial Spaniard; saw the Plaza rise and reel till the zenith +crashed into the horizon--and knew no more. + +When Tansey opened his eyes again he was sitting upon those +self-same steps gazing upon the dark bulk of the sleeping convent. +In the middle of his back was still the acute, chilling pain. How +had he been conveyed back there again? He got stiffly to his feet +and stretched his cramped limbs. Supporting himself against the +stonework he revolved in his mind the extravagant adventures that +had befallen him each time he had strayed from the steps that night. +In reviewing them certain features strained his credulity. Had he +really met Captain Peek or Katie or the unparalleled Mexican in +his wanderings--had he really encountered them under commonplace +conditions and his over-stimulated brain had supplied the +incongruities? However that might be, a sudden, elating thought +caused him an intense joy. Nearly all of us have, at some point in +our lives--either to excuse our own stupidity or to placate our +consciences--promulgated some theory of fatalism. We have set up +an intelligent Fate that works by codes and signals. Tansey had +done likewise; and now he read, through the night's incidents, the +finger-prints of destiny. Each excursion that he had made had led +to the one paramount finale--to Katie and that kiss, which survived +and grew strong and intoxicating in his memory. Clearly, Fate was +holding up to him the mirror that night, calling him to observe +what awaited him at the end of whichever road he might take. He +immediately turned, and hurried homeward. + + + +Clothed in an elaborate, pale blue wrapper, cut to fit, Miss Katie +Peek reclined in an armchair before a waning fire in her room. Her +little, bare feet were thrust into house-shoes rimmed with swan's +down. By the light of a small lamp she was attacking the society +news of the latest Sunday paper. Some happy substance, seemingly +indestructible, was being rhythmically crushed between her small +white teeth. Miss Katie read of functions and furbelows, but she +kept a vigilant ear for outside sounds and a frequent eye upon the +clock over the mantel. At every footstep upon the asphalt sidewalk +her smooth, round chin would cease for a moment its regular rise and +fall, and a frown of listening would pucker her pretty brows. + +At last she heard the latch of the iron gate click. She sprang +up, tripped softly to the mirror, where she made a few of those +feminine, flickering passes at her front hair and throat which are +warranted to hypnotize the approaching guest. + +The door-bell rang. Miss Katie, in her haste, turned the blaze of +the lamp lower instead of higher, and hastened noiselessly down +stairs into the hall. She turned the key, the door opened, and Mr. +Tansey side-stepped in. + +"Why, the i-de-a!" exclaimed Miss Katie, "is this you, Mr. Tansey? +It's after midnight. Aren't you ashamed to wake me up at such an +hour to let you in? You're just _awful_!" + +"I was late," said Tansey, brilliantly. + +"I should think you were! Ma was awfully worried about you. When you +weren't in by ten, that hateful Tom McGill said you were out calling +on another--said you were out calling on some young lady. I just +despise Mr. McGill. Well, I'm not going to scold you any more, Mr. +Tansey, if it _is_ a little late--Oh! I turned it the wrong way!" + +Miss Katie gave a little scream. Absent-mindedly she had turned the +blaze of the lamp entirely out instead of higher. It was very dark. + +Tansey heard a musical, soft giggle, and breathed an entrancing +odour of heliotrope. A groping light hand touched his arm. + +"How awkward I was! Can you find your way--Sam?" + +"I--I think I have a match, Miss K-Katie." + +A scratching sound; a flame; a glow of light held at arm's length by +the recreant follower of Destiny illuminating a tableau which shall +end the ignominious chronicle--a maid with unkissed, curling, +contemptuous lips slowly lifting the lamp chimney and allowing the +wick to ignite; then waving a scornful and abjuring hand toward the +staircase--the unhappy Tansey, erstwhile champion in the prophetic +lists of fortune, ingloriously ascending to his just and certain +doom, while (let us imagine) half within the wings stands the +imminent figure of Fate jerking wildly at the wrong strings, and +mixing things up in her usual able manner. + + + + +XVI + +A DEPARTMENTAL CASE + + +In Texas you may travel a thousand miles in a straight line. If +your course is a crooked one, it is likely that both the distance +and your rate of speed may be vastly increased. Clouds there +sail serenely against the wind. The whip-poor-will delivers its +disconsolate cry with the notes exactly reversed from those of his +Northern brother. Given a drought and a subsequently lively rain, +and lo! from a glazed and stony soil will spring in a single night +blossomed lilies, miraculously fair. Tom Green County was once the +standard of measurement. I have forgotten how many New Jerseys and +Rhode Islands it was that could have been stowed away and lost in +its chaparral. But the legislative axe has slashed Tom Green into +a handful of counties hardly larger than European kingdoms. The +legislature convenes at Austin, near the centre of the state; and, +while the representative from the Rio Grande country is gathering +his palm-leaf fan and his linen duster to set out for the capital, +the Pan-handle solon winds his muffler above his well-buttoned +overcoat and kicks the snow from his well-greased boots ready for +the same journey. All this merely to hint that the big ex-republic +of the Southwest forms a sizable star on the flag, and to prepare +for the corollary that things sometimes happen there uncut to +pattern and unfettered by metes and bounds. + +The Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History of the State +of Texas was an official of no very great or very small importance. +The past tense is used, for now he is Commissioner of Insurance +alone. Statistics and history are no longer proper nouns in the +government records. + +In the year 188--, the governor appointed Luke Coonrod Standifer to +be the head of this department. Standifer was then fifty-five years +of age, and a Texan to the core. His father had been one of the +state's earliest settlers and pioneers. Standifer himself had served +the commonwealth as Indian fighter, soldier, ranger, and legislator. +Much learning he did not claim, but he had drank pretty deep of the +spring of experience. + +If other grounds were less abundant, Texas should be well up in the +lists of glory as the grateful republic. For both as republic and +state, it has busily heaped honours and solid rewards upon its sons +who rescued it from the wilderness. + +Wherefore and therefore, Luke Coonrod Standifer, son of Ezra +Standifer, ex-Terry ranger, simon-pure democrat, and lucky dweller +in an unrepresented portion of the politico-geographical map, was +appointed Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History. + +Standifer accepted the honour with some doubt as to the nature of +the office he was to fill and his capacity for filling it--but +he accepted, and by wire. He immediately set out from the little +country town where he maintained (and was scarcely maintained by) a +somnolent and unfruitful office of surveying and map-drawing. Before +departing, he had looked up under the I's, S's and H's in the +"Encyclopaedia Britannica" what information and preparation toward +his official duties that those weighty volumes afforded. + +A few weeks of incumbency diminished the new commissioner's awe of +the great and important office he had been called upon to conduct. +An increasing familiarity with its workings soon restored him to +his accustomed placid course of life. In his office was an old, +spectacled clerk--a consecrated, informed, able machine, who +held his desk regardless of changes of administrative heads. Old +Kauffman instructed his new chief gradually in the knowledge of the +department without seeming to do so, and kept the wheels revolving +without the slip of a cog. + +Indeed, the Department of Insurance, Statistics, and History +carried no great heft of the burden of state. Its main work was +the regulating of the business done in the state by foreign +insurance companies, and the letter of the law was its guide. As +for statistics--well, you wrote letters to county officers, and +scissored other people's reports, and each year you got out a report +of your own about the corn crop and the cotton crop and pecans and +pigs and black and white population, and a great many columns of +figures headed "bushels" and "acres" and "square miles," etc.--and +there you were. History? The branch was purely a receptive one. Old +ladies interested in the science bothered you some with long reports +of proceedings of their historical societies. Some twenty or thirty +people would write you each year that they had secured Sam Houston's +pocket-knife or Santa Ana's whisky-flask or Davy Crockett's +rifle--all absolutely authenticated--and demanded legislative +appropriation to purchase. Most of the work in the history branch +went into pigeon-holes. + +One sizzling August afternoon the commissioner reclined in his +office chair, with his feet upon the long, official table covered +with green billiard cloth. The commissioner was smoking a cigar, and +dreamily regarding the quivering landscape framed by the window that +looked upon the treeless capitol grounds. Perhaps he was thinking of +the rough and ready life he had led, of the old days of breathless +adventure and movement, of the comrades who now trod other paths or +had ceased to tread any, of the changes civilization and peace had +brought, and, maybe, complacently, of the snug and comfortable camp +pitched for him under the dome of the capitol of the state that had +not forgotten his services. + +The business of the department was lax. Insurance was easy. +Statistics were not in demand. History was dead. Old Kauffman, +the efficient and perpetual clerk, had requested an infrequent +half-holiday, incited to the unusual dissipation by the joy of +having successfully twisted the tail of a Connecticut insurance +company that was trying to do business contrary to the edicts of the +great Lone Star State. + +The office was very still. A few subdued noises trickled in through +the open door from the other departments--a dull tinkling crash from +the treasurer's office adjoining, as a clerk tossed a bag of silver +to the floor of the vault--the vague, intermittent clatter of a +dilatory typewriter--a dull tapping from the state geologist's +quarters as if some woodpecker had flown in to bore for his prey in +the cool of the massive building--and then a faint rustle and the +light shuffling of the well-worn shoes along the hall, the sounds +ceasing at the door toward which the commissioner's lethargic back +was presented. Following this, the sound of a gentle voice speaking +words unintelligible to the commissioner's somewhat dormant +comprehension, but giving evidence of bewilderment and hesitation. + +The voice was feminine; the commissioner was of the race of +cavaliers who make salaam before the trail of a skirt without +considering the quality of its cloth. + +There stood in the door a faded woman, one of the numerous +sisterhood of the unhappy. She was dressed all in black--poverty's +perpetual mourning for lost joys. Her face had the contours of +twenty and the lines of forty. She may have lived that intervening +score of years in a twelve-month. There was about her yet an aurum +of indignant, unappeased, protesting youth that shone faintly +through the premature veil of unearned decline. + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said the commissioner, gaining his feet +to the accompaniment of a great creaking and sliding of his chair. + +"Are you the governor, sir?" asked the vision of melancholy. + +The commissioner hesitated at the end of his best bow, with his +hand in the bosom of his double-breasted "frock." Truth at last +conquered. + +"Well, no, ma'am. I am not the governor. I have the honour to be +Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History. Is there +anything, ma'am, I can do for you? Won't you have a chair, ma'am?" + +The lady subsided into the chair handed her, probably from purely +physical reasons. She wielded a cheap fan--last token of gentility +to be abandoned. Her clothing seemed to indicate a reduction almost +to extreme poverty. She looked at the man who was not the governor, +and saw kindliness and simplicity and a rugged, unadorned +courtliness emanating from a countenance tanned and toughened by +forty years of outdoor life. Also, she saw that his eyes were clear +and strong and blue. Just so they had been when he used them to skim +the horizon for raiding Kiowas and Sioux. His mouth was as set and +firm as it had been on that day when he bearded the old Lion Sam +Houston himself, and defied him during that season when secession +was the theme. Now, in bearing and dress, Luke Coonrod Sandifer +endeavoured to do credit to the important arts and sciences of +Insurance, Statistics, and History. He had abandoned the careless +dress of his country home. Now, his broad-brimmed black slouch hat, +and his long-tailed "frock" made him not the least imposing of the +official family, even if his office was reckoned to stand at the +tail of the list. + +"You wanted to see the governor, ma'am?" asked the commissioner, +with a deferential manner he always used toward the fair sex. + +"I hardly know," said the lady, hesitatingly. "I suppose so." And +then, suddenly drawn by the sympathetic look of the other, she +poured forth the story of her need. + +It was a story so common that the public has come to look at its +monotony instead of its pity. The old tale of an unhappy married +life--made so by a brutal, conscienceless husband, a robber, a +spendthrift, a moral coward and a bully, who failed to provide +even the means of the barest existence. Yes, he had come down +in the scale so low as to strike her. It happened only the day +before--there was the bruise on one temple--she had offended his +highness by asking for a little money to live on. And yet she must +needs, woman-like, append a plea for her tyrant--he was drinking; +he had rarely abused her thus when sober. + +"I thought," mourned this pale sister of sorrow, "that maybe the +state might be willing to give me some relief. I've heard of such +things being done for the families of old settlers. I've heard +tell that the state used to give land to the men who fought for it +against Mexico, and settled up the country, and helped drive out the +Indians. My father did all of that, and he never received anything. +He never would take it. I thought the governor would be the one to +see, and that's why I came. If father was entitled to anything, they +might let it come to me." + +"It's possible, ma'am," said Standifer, "that such might be the +case. But 'most all the veterans and settlers got their land +certificates issued, and located long ago. Still, we can look that +up in the land office, and be sure. Your father's name, now, was--" + +"Amos Colvin, sir." + +"Good Lord!" exclaimed Standifer, rising and unbuttoning his tight +coat, excitedly. "Are you Amos Colvin's daughter? Why, ma'am, Amos +Colvin and me were thicker than two hoss thieves for more than ten +years! We fought Kiowas, drove cattle, and rangered side by side +nearly all over Texas. I remember seeing you once before, now. You +were a kid, about seven, a-riding a little yellow pony up and down. +Amos and me stopped at your home for a little grub when we were +trailing that band of Mexican cattle thieves down through Karnes +and Bee. Great tarantulas! and you're Amos Colvin's little girl! +Did you ever hear your father mention Luke Standifer--just kind of +casually--as if he'd met me once or twice?" + +A little pale smile flitted across the lady's white face. + +"It seems to me," she said, "that I don't remember hearing him talk +about much else. Every day there was some story he had to tell +about what he and you had done. Mighty near the last thing I heard +him tell was about the time when the Indians wounded him, and you +crawled out to him through the grass, with a canteen of water, while +they--" + +"Yes, yes--well--oh, that wasn't anything," said Standifer, +"hemming" loudly and buttoning his coat again, briskly. "And now, +ma'am, who was the infernal skunk--I beg your pardon, ma'am--who was +the gentleman you married?" + +"Benton Sharp." + +The commissioner plumped down again into his chair, with a groan. +This gentle, sad little woman, in the rusty black gown, the daughter +of his oldest friend, the wife of Benton Sharp! Benton Sharp, one of +the most noted "bad" men in that part of the state--a man who had +been a cattle thief, an outlaw, a desperado, and was now a gambler, +a swaggering bully, who plied his trade in the larger frontier +towns, relying upon his record and the quickness of his gun play to +maintain his supremacy. Seldom did any one take the risk of going +"up against" Benton Sharp. Even the law officers were content to let +him make his own terms of peace. Sharp was a ready and an accurate +shot, and as lucky as a brand-new penny at coming clear from his +scrapes. Standifer wondered how this pillaging eagle ever came to be +mated with Amos Colvin's little dove, and expressed his wonder. + +Mrs. Sharp sighed. + +"You see, Mr. Standifer, we didn't know anything about him, and he +can be very pleasant and kind when he wants to. We lived down in the +little town of Goliad. Benton came riding down that way, and stopped +there a while. I reckon I was some better looking then than I am +now. He was good to me for a whole year after we were married. He +insured his life for me for five thousand dollars. But for the last +six months he has done everything but kill me. I often wish he had +done that, too. He got out of money for a while, and abused me +shamefully for not having anything he could spend. Then father died, +and left me the little home in Goliad. My husband made me sell that, +and turned me out into the world. I've barely been able to live, for +I'm not strong enough to work. Lately, I heard he was making money +in San Antonio, so I went there, and found him, and asked for a +little help. This," touching the livid bruise on her temple, "is +what he gave me. So I came on to Austin to see the governor. I once +heard father say that there was some land, or a pension, coming to +him from the state that he never would ask for." + +Luke Standifer rose to his feet, and pushed his chair back. He +looked rather perplexedly around the big office, with its handsome +furniture. + +"It's a long trail to follow," he said, slowly, "trying to get back +dues from the government. There's red tape and lawyers and rulings +and evidence and courts to keep you waiting. I'm not certain," +continued the commissioner, with a profoundly meditative frown, +"whether this department that I'm the boss of has any jurisdiction +or not. It's only Insurance, Statistics, and History, ma'am, and it +don't sound as if it would cover the case. But sometimes a saddle +blanket can be made to stretch. You keep your seat, just for a few +minutes, ma'am, till I step into the next room and see about it." + +The state treasurer was seated within his massive, complicated +railings, reading a newspaper. Business for the day was about over. +The clerks lolled at their desks, awaiting the closing hour. The +Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History entered, and +leaned in at the window. + +The treasurer, a little, brisk old man, with snow-white moustache +and beard, jumped up youthfully and came forward to greet Standifer. +They were friends of old. + +"Uncle Frank," said the commissioner, using the familiar name by +which the historic treasurer was addressed by every Texan, "how much +money have you got on hand?" + +The treasurer named the sum of the last balance down to the odd +cents--something more than a million dollars. + +The commissioner whistled lowly, and his eyes grew hopefully bright. + +"You know, or else you've heard of, Amos Colvin, Uncle Frank?" + +"Knew him well," said the treasurer, promptly. "A good man. A +valuable citizen. One of the first settlers in the Southwest." + +"His daughter," said Standifer, "is sitting in my office. She's +penniless. She's married to Benton Sharp, a coyote and a murderer. +He's reduced her to want, and broken her heart. Her father helped +build up this state, and it's the state's turn to help his child. A +couple of thousand dollars will buy back her home and let her live +in peace. The State of Texas can't afford to refuse it. Give me the +money, Uncle Frank, and I'll give it to her right away. We'll fix up +the red-tape business afterward." + +The treasurer looked a little bewildered. + +"Why, Standifer," he said, "you know I can't pay a cent out of the +treasury without a warrant from the comptroller. I can't disburse a +dollar without a voucher to show for it." + +The commissioner betrayed a slight impatience. + +"I'll give you a voucher," he declared. "What's this job they've +given me for? Am I just a knot on a mesquite stump? Can't my office +stand for it? Charge it up to Insurance and the other two sideshows. +Don't Statistics show that Amos Colvin came to this state when it +was in the hands of Greasers and rattlesnakes and Comanches, and +fought day and night to make a white man's country of it? Don't they +show that Amos Colvin's daughter is brought to ruin by a villain +who's trying to pull down what you and I and old Texans shed our +blood to build up? Don't History show that the Lone Star State never +yet failed to grant relief to the suffering and oppressed children +of the men who made her the grandest commonwealth in the Union? If +Statistics and History don't bear out the claim of Amos Colvin's +child I'll ask the next legislature to abolish my office. Come, +now, Uncle Frank, let her have the money. I'll sign the papers +officially, if you say so; and then if the governor or the +comptroller or the janitor or anybody else makes a kick, by the Lord +I'll refer the matter to the people, and see if they won't endorse +the act." + +The treasurer looked sympathetic but shocked. The commissioner's +voice had grown louder as he rounded off the sentences that, however +praiseworthy they might be in sentiment, reflected somewhat upon +the capacity of the head of a more or less important department of +state. The clerks were beginning to listen. + +"Now, Standifer," said the treasurer, soothingly, "you know I'd like +to help in this matter, but stop and think a moment, please. Every +cent in the treasury is expended only by appropriation made by the +legislature, and drawn out by checks issued by the comptroller. +I can't control the use of a cent of it. Neither can you. Your +department isn't disbursive--it isn't even administrative--it's +purely clerical. The only way for the lady to obtain relief is to +petition the legislature, and--" + +"To the devil with the legislature," said Standifer, turning away. + +The treasurer called him back. + +"I'd be glad, Standifer, to contribute a hundred dollars personally +toward the immediate expenses of Colvin's daughter." He reached for +his pocketbook. + +"Never mind, Uncle Frank," said the commissioner, in a softer tone. +"There's no need of that. She hasn't asked for anything of that sort +yet. Besides, her case is in my hands. I see now what a little, +rag-tag, bob-tail, gotch-eared department I've been put in charge +of. It seems to be about as important as an almanac or a hotel +register. But while I'm running it, it won't turn away any daughters +of Amos Colvin without stretching its jurisdiction to cover, if +possible. You want to keep your eye on the Department of Insurance, +Statistics, and History." + +The commissioner returned to his office, looking thoughtful. He +opened and closed an inkstand on his desk many times with extreme +and undue attention. "Why don't you get a divorce?" he asked, +suddenly. + +"I haven't the money to pay for it," answered the lady. + +"Just at present," announced the commissioner, in a formal +tone, "the powers of my department appear to be considerably +string-halted. Statistics seem to be overdrawn at the bank, and +History isn't good for a square meal. But you've come to the right +place, ma'am. The department will see you through. Where did you say +your husband is, ma'am?" + +"He was in San Antonio yesterday. He is living there now." + +Suddenly the commissioner abandoned his official air. He took the +faded little woman's hands in his, and spoke in the old voice he +used on the trail and around campfires. + +"Your name's Amanda, isn't it?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I thought so. I've heard your dad say it often enough. Well, +Amanda, here's your father's best friend, the head of a big office +in the state government, that's going to help you out of your +troubles. And here's the old bushwhacker and cowpuncher that your +father has helped out of scrapes time and time again wants to ask +you a question. Amanda, have you got money enough to run you for the +next two or three days?" + +Mrs. Sharp's white face flushed the least bit. + +"Plenty, sir--for a few days." + +"All right, then, ma'am. Now you go back where you are stopping +here, and you come to the office again the day after to-morrow at +four o'clock in the afternoon. Very likely by that time there will +be something definite to report to you." The commissioner hesitated, +and looked a trifle embarrassed. "You said your husband had insured +his life for $5,000. Do you know whether the premiums have been kept +paid upon it or not?" + +"He paid for a whole year in advance about five months ago," said +Mrs. Sharp. "I have the policy and receipts in my trunk." + +"Oh, that's all right, then," said Standifer. "It's best to look +after things of that sort. Some day they may come in handy." + +Mrs. Sharp departed, and soon afterward Luke Standifer went down +to the little hotel where he boarded and looked up the railroad +time-table in the daily paper. Half an hour later he removed his +coat and vest, and strapped a peculiarly constructed pistol holster +across his shoulders, leaving the receptacle close under his left +armpit. Into the holster he shoved a short-barrelled .44 calibre +revolver. Putting on his clothes again, he strolled to the station +and caught the five-twenty afternoon train for San Antonio. + +The San Antonio _Express_ of the following morning contained this +sensational piece of news: + + + BENTON SHARP MEETS HIS MATCH + + THE MOST NOTED DESPERADO IN SOUTHWEST TEXAS SHOT TO + DEATH IN THE GOLD FRONT RESTAURANT--PROMINENT STATE + OFFICIAL SUCCESSFULLY DEFENDS HIMSELF AGAINST THE + NOTED BULLY--MAGNIFICENT EXHIBITION OF QUICK GUN PLAY. + + Last night about eleven o'clock Benton Sharp, with two + other men, entered the Gold Front Restaurant and seated + themselves at a table. Sharp had been drinking, and was + loud and boisterous, as he always was when under the + influence of liquor. Five minutes after the party was + seated a tall, well-dressed, elderly gentleman entered + the restaurant. Few present recognized the Honourable + Luke Standifer, the recently appointed Commissioner of + Insurance, Statistics, and History. + + Going over to the same side where Sharp was, Mr. + Standifer prepared to take a seat at the next table. In + hanging his hat upon one of the hooks along the wall he + let it fall upon Sharp's head. Sharp turned, being in an + especially ugly humour, and cursed the other roundly. + Mr. Standifer apologized calmly for the accident, but + Sharp continued his vituperations. Mr. Standifer was + observed to draw near and speak a few sentences to the + desperado in so low a tone that no one else caught the + words. Sharp sprang up, wild with rage. In the meantime + Standifer had stepped some yards away, and was standing + quietly with his arms folded across the breast of his + loosely hanging coat. + + With that impetuous and deadly rapidity that made Sharp + so dreaded, he reached for the gun he always carried in + his hip pocket--a movement that has preceded the death + of at least a dozen men at his hands. Quick as the motion + was, the bystanders assert that it was met by the most + beautiful exhibition of lightning gun-pulling ever + witnessed in the Southwest. As Sharp's pistol was being + raised--and the act was really quicker than the eye could + follow--a glittering .44 appeared as if by some conjuring + trick in the right hand of Mr. Standifer, who, without + a perceptible movement of his arm, shot Benton Sharp + through the heart. It seems that the new Commissioner of + Insurance, Statistics, and History has been an old-time + Indian fighter and ranger for many years, which accounts + for the happy knack he has of handling a .44. + + It is not believed that Mr. Standifer will be put to any + inconvenience beyond a necessary formal hearing to-day, + as all the witnesses who were present unite in declaring + that the deed was done in self-defence. + + +When Mrs. Sharp appeared at the office of the commissioner, +according to appointment, she found that gentleman calmly eating +a golden russet apple. He greeted her without embarrassment and +without hesitation at approaching the subject that was the topic +of the day. + +"I had to do it, ma'am," he said, simply, "or get it myself. Mr. +Kauffman," he added, turning to the old clerk, "please look up the +records of the Security Life Insurance Company and see if they are +all right." + +"No need to look," grunted Kauffman, who had everything in his head. +"It's all O.K. They pay all losses within ten days." + +Mrs. Sharp soon rose to depart. She had arranged to remain in town +until the policy was paid. The commissioner did not detain her. She +was a woman, and he did not know just what to say to her at present. +Rest and time would bring her what she needed. + +But, as she was leaving, Luke Standifer indulged himself in an +official remark: + +"The Department of Insurance, Statistics, and History, ma'am, has +done the best it could with your case. 'Twas a case hard to cover +according to red tape. Statistics failed, and History missed fire, +but, if I may be permitted to say it, we came out particularly +strong on Insurance." + + + + +XVII + +THE RENAISSANCE AT CHARLEROI + + +Grandemont Charles was a little Creole gentleman, aged thirty-four, +with a bald spot on the top of his head and the manners of a prince. +By day he was a clerk in a cotton broker's office in one of those +cold, rancid mountains of oozy brick, down near the levee in New +Orleans. By night, in his three-story-high _chambre garnier_ in the +old French Quarter he was again the last male descendant of the +Charles family, that noble house that had lorded it in France, and +had pushed its way smiling, rapiered, and courtly into Louisiana's +early and brilliant days. Of late years the Charleses had subsided +into the more republican but scarcely less royally carried +magnificence and ease of plantation life along the Mississippi. +Perhaps Grandemont was even Marquis de Brasse. There was that title +in the family. But a Marquis on seventy-five dollars per month! +_Vraiment!_ Still, it has been done on less. + +Grandemont had saved out of his salary the sum of six hundred +dollars. Enough, you would say, for any man to marry on. So, after +a silence of two years on that subject, he reopened that most +hazardous question to Mlle. Adele Fauquier, riding down to Meade +d'Or, her father's plantation. Her answer was the same that it had +been any time during the last ten years: "First find my brother, +Monsieur Charles." + +This time he had stood before her, perhaps discouraged by a love +so long and hopeless, being dependent upon a contingency so +unreasonable, and demanded to be told in simple words whether she +loved him or no. + +Adele looked at him steadily out of her gray eyes that betrayed no +secrets and answered, a little more softly: + +"Grandemont, you have no right to ask that question unless you can +do what I ask of you. Either bring back brother Victor to us or the +proof that he died." + +Somehow, though five times thus rejected, his heart was not so heavy +when he left. She had not denied that she loved. Upon what shallow +waters can the bark of passion remain afloat! Or, shall we play +the doctrinaire, and hint that at thirty-four the tides of life +are calmer and cognizant of many sources instead of but one--as at +four-and-twenty? + +Victor Fauquier would never be found. In those early days of his +disappearance there was money to the Charles name, and Grandemont +had spent the dollars as if they were picayunes in trying to find +the lost youth. Even then he had had small hope of success, for the +Mississippi gives up a victim from its oily tangles only at the whim +of its malign will. + +A thousand times had Grandemont conned in his mind the scene of +Victor's disappearance. And, at each time that Adele had set her +stubborn but pitiful alternative against his suit, still clearer it +repeated itself in his brain. + +The boy had been the family favourite; daring, winning, reckless. +His unwise fancy had been captured by a girl on the plantation--the +daughter of an overseer. Victor's family was in ignorance of the +intrigue, as far as it had gone. To save them the inevitable +pain that his course promised, Grandemont strove to prevent it. +Omnipotent money smoothed the way. The overseer and his daughter +left, between a sunset and dawn, for an undesignated bourne. +Grandemont was confident that this stroke would bring the boy +to reason. He rode over to Meade d'Or to talk with him. The two +strolled out of the house and grounds, crossed the road, and, +mounting the levee, walked its broad path while they conversed. +A thunder-cloud was hanging, imminent, above, but, as yet, no +rain fell. At Grandemont's disclosure of his interference in the +clandestine romance, Victor attacked him, in a wild and sudden fury. +Grandemont, though of slight frame, possessed muscles of iron. He +caught the wrists amid a shower of blows descending upon him, bent +the lad backward and stretched him upon the levee path. In a little +while the gust of passion was spent, and he was allowed to rise. +Calm now, but a powder mine where he had been but a whiff of the +tantrums, Victor extended his hand toward the dwelling house of +Meade d'Or. + +"You and they," he cried, "have conspired to destroy my happiness. +None of you shall ever look upon my face again." + +Turning, he ran swiftly down the levee, disappearing in the +darkness. Grandemont followed as well as he could, calling to +him, but in vain. For longer than an hour he pursued the search. +Descending the side of the levee, he penetrated the rank density of +weeds and willows that undergrew the trees until the river's edge, +shouting Victor's name. There was never an answer, though once he +thought he heard a bubbling scream from the dun waters sliding past. +Then the storm broke, and he returned to the house drenched and +dejected. + +There he explained the boy's absence sufficiently, he thought, not +speaking of the tangle that had led to it, for he hoped that Victor +would return as soon as his anger had cooled. Afterward, when the +threat was made good and they saw his face no more, he found it +difficult to alter his explanations of that night, and there clung a +certain mystery to the boy's reasons for vanishing as well as to the +manner of it. + +It was on that night that Grandemont first perceived a new and +singular expression in Adele's eyes whenever she looked at him. And +through the years following that expression was always there. He +could not read it, for it was born of a thought she would never +otherwise reveal. + +Perhaps, if he had known that Adele had stood at the gate on that +unlucky night, where she had followed, lingering, to await the +return of her brother and lover, wondering why they had chosen so +tempestuous an hour and so black a spot to hold converse--if he had +known that a sudden flash of lightning had revealed to her sight +that short, sharp struggle as Victor was sinking under his hands, +he might have explained everything, and she-- + +I know what she would have done. But one thing is clear--there was +something besides her brother's disappearance between Grandemont's +pleadings for her hand and Adele's "yes." Ten years had passed, and +what she had seen during the space of that lightning flash remained +an indelible picture. She had loved her brother, but was she holding +out for the solution of that mystery or for the "Truth"? Women have +been known to reverence it, even as an abstract principle. It is +said there have been a few who, in the matter of their affections, +have considered a life to be a small thing as compared with a lie. +That I do not know. But, I wonder, had Grandemont cast himself at +her feet crying that his hand had sent Victor to the bottom of that +inscrutable river, and that he could no longer sully his love with a +lie, I wonder if--I wonder what she would have done! + +But, Grandemont Charles, Arcadian little gentleman, never guessed +the meaning of that look in Adele's eyes; and from this last +bootless payment of his devoirs he rode away as rich as ever in +honour and love, but poor in hope. + +That was in September. It was during the first winter month that +Grandemont conceived his idea of the _renaissance_. Since Adele +would never be his, and wealth without her were useless trumpery, +why need he add to that hoard of slowly harvested dollars? Why +should he even retain that hoard? + +Hundreds were the cigarettes he consumed over his claret, sitting at +the little polished tables in the Royal street cafes while thinking +over his plan. By and by he had it perfect. It would cost, beyond +doubt, all the money he had, but--_le jeu vaut la chandelle_--for +some hours he would be once more a Charles of Charleroi. Once again +should the nineteenth of January, that most significant day in the +fortunes of the house of Charles, be fittingly observed. On that +date the French king had seated a Charles by his side at table; +on that date Armand Charles, Marquis de Brasse, landed, like a +brilliant meteor, in New Orleans; it was the date of his mother's +wedding; of Grandemont's birth. Since Grandemont could remember +until the breaking up of the family that anniversary had been the +synonym for feasting, hospitality, and proud commemoration. + +Charleroi was the old family plantation, lying some twenty miles +down the river. Years ago the estate had been sold to discharge the +debts of its too-bountiful owners. Once again it had changed hands, +and now the must and mildew of litigation had settled upon it. +A question of heirship was in the courts, and the dwelling house +of Charleroi, unless the tales told of ghostly powdered and +laced Charleses haunting its unechoing chambers were true, stood +uninhabited. + +Grandemont found the solicitor in chancery who held the keys +pending the decision. He proved to be an old friend of the family. +Grandemont explained briefly that he desired to rent the house for +two or three days. He wanted to give a dinner at his old home to a +few friends. That was all. + +"Take it for a week--a month, if you will," said the solicitor; +"but do not speak to me of rental." With a sigh he concluded: "The +dinners I have eaten under that roof, _mon fils_!" + +There came to many of the old, established dealers in furniture, +china, silverware, decorations and household fittings at their +stores on Canal, Chartres, St. Charles, and Royal Streets, a +quiet young man with a little bald spot on the top of his head, +distinguished manners, and the eye of a _connoisseur_, who explained +what he wanted. To hire the complete and elegant equipment of a +dining-room, hall, reception-room, and cloak-rooms. The goods were +to be packed and sent, by boat, to the Charleroi landing, and would +be returned within three or four days. All damage or loss to be +promptly paid for. + +Many of those old merchants knew Grandemont by sight, and the +Charleses of old by association. Some of them were of Creole stock +and felt a thrill of responsive sympathy with the magnificently +indiscreet design of this impoverished clerk who would revive +but for a moment the ancient flame of glory with the fuel of his +savings. + +"Choose what you want," they said to him. "Handle everything +carefully. See that the damage bill is kept low, and the charges for +the loan will not oppress you." + +To the wine merchants next; and here a doleful slice was lopped from +the six hundred. It was an exquisite pleasure to Grandemont once +more to pick among the precious vintages. The champagne bins lured +him like the abodes of sirens, but these he was forced to pass. With +his six hundred he stood before them as a child with a penny stands +before a French doll. But he bought with taste and discretion of +other wines--Chablis, Moselle, Chateau d'Or, Hochheimer, and port of +right age and pedigree. + +The matter of the cuisine gave him some studious hours until he +suddenly recollected Andre--Andre, their old _chef_--the most +sublime master of French Creole cookery in the Mississippi Valley. +Perhaps he was yet somewhere about the plantation. The solicitor had +told him that the place was still being cultivated, in accordance +with a compromise agreement between the litigants. + +On the next Sunday after the thought Grandemont rode, horseback, +down to Charleroi. The big, square house with its two long ells +looked blank and cheerless with its closed shutters and doors. + +The shrubbery in the yard was ragged and riotous. Fallen leaves from +the grove littered the walks and porches. Turning down the lane at +the side of the house, Grandemont rode on to the quarters of the +plantation hands. He found the workers just streaming back from +church, careless, happy, and bedecked in gay yellows, reds, and +blues. + +Yes, Andre was still there; his wool a little grayer; his mouth as +wide; his laughter as ready as ever. Grandemont told him of his +plan, and the old _chef_ swayed with pride and delight. With a sigh +of relief, knowing that he need have no further concern until the +serving of that dinner was announced, he placed in Andre's hands +a liberal sum for the cost of it, giving _carte blanche_ for its +creation. + +Among the blacks were also a number of the old house servants. +Absalom, the former major domo, and a half-dozen of the younger men, +once waiters and attaches of the kitchen, pantry, and other domestic +departments crowded around to greet "M'shi Grande." Absalom +guaranteed to marshal, of these, a corps of assistants that would +perform with credit the serving of the dinner. + +After distributing a liberal largesse among the faithful, Grandemont +rode back to town well pleased. There were many other smaller +details to think of and provide for, but eventually the scheme +was complete, and now there remained only the issuance of the +invitations to his guests. + +Along the river within the scope of a score of miles dwelt some +half-dozen families with whose princely hospitality that of the +Charleses had been contemporaneous. They were the proudest and most +august of the old regime. Their small circle had been a brilliant +one; their social relations close and warm; their houses full +of rare welcome and discriminating bounty. Those friends, said +Grandemont, should once more, if never again, sit at Charleroi on +a nineteenth of January to celebrate the festal day of his house. + +Grandemont had his cards of invitation engraved. They were +expensive, but beautiful. In one particular their good taste might +have been disputed; but the Creole allowed himself that one feather +in the cap of his fugacious splendour. Might he not be allowed, for +the one day of the _renaissance_, to be "Grandemont du Puy Charles, +of Charleroi"? He sent the invitations out early in January so that +the guests might not fail to receive due notice. + +At eight o'clock in the morning of the nineteenth, the lower coast +steamboat _River Belle_ gingerly approached the long unused landing +at Charleroi. The bridge was lowered, and a swarm of the plantation +hands streamed along the rotting pier, bearing ashore a strange +assortment of freight. Great shapeless bundles and bales and packets +swathed in cloth and bound with ropes; tubs and urns of palms, +evergreens, and tropical flowers; tables, mirrors, chairs, couches, +carpets, and pictures--all carefully bound and padded against the +dangers of transit. + +Grandemont was among them, the busiest there. To the safe conveyance +of certain large hampers eloquent with printed cautions to delicate +handling he gave his superintendence, for they contained the fragile +china and glassware. The dropping of one of those hampers would have +cost him more than he could have saved in a year. + +The last article unloaded, the _River Belle_ backed off and +continued her course down stream. In less than an hour everything +had been conveyed to the house. And came then Absalom's task, +directing the placing of the furniture and wares. There was plenty +of help, for that day was always a holiday at Charleroi, and the +Negroes did not suffer the old traditions to lapse. Almost the +entire population of the quarters volunteered their aid. A score +of piccaninnies were sweeping at the leaves in the yard. In the +big kitchen at the rear Andre was lording it with his old-time +magnificence over his numerous sub-cooks and scullions. Shutters +were flung wide; dust spun in clouds; the house echoed to voices and +the tread of busy feet. The prince had come again, and Charleroi +woke from its long sleep. + +The full moon, as she rose across the river that night and peeped +above the levee saw a sight that had long been missing from her +orbit. The old plantation house shed a soft and alluring radiance +from every window. Of its two-score rooms only four had been +refurnished--the larger reception chamber, the dining hall, and +two smaller rooms for the convenience of the expected guests. But +lighted wax candles were set in the windows of every room. + +The dining-hall was the _chef d'oeuvre_. The long table, set with +twenty-five covers, sparkled like a winter landscape with its snowy +napery and china and the icy gleam of crystal. The chaste beauty of +the room had required small adornment. The polished floor burned +to a glowing ruby with the reflection of candle light. The rich +wainscoting reached half way to the ceiling. Along and above this +had been set the relieving lightness of a few water-colour sketches +of fruit and flower. + +The reception chamber was fitted in a simple but elegant style. +Its arrangement suggested nothing of the fact that on the morrow +the room would again be cleared and abandoned to the dust and the +spider. The entrance hall was imposing with palms and ferns and the +light of an immense candelabrum. + +At seven o'clock Grandemont, in evening dress, with pearls--a +family passion--in his spotless linen, emerged from somewhere. The +invitations had specified eight as the dining hour. He drew an +armchair upon the porch, and sat there, smoking cigarettes and half +dreaming. + +The moon was an hour high. Fifty years back from the gate stood the +house, under its noble grove. The road ran in front, and then came +the grass-grown levee and the insatiate river beyond. Just above the +levee top a tiny red light was creeping down and a tiny green one +was creeping up. Then the passing steamers saluted, and the hoarse +din startled the drowsy silence of the melancholy lowlands. The +stillness returned, save for the little voices of the night--the +owl's recitative, the capriccio of the crickets, the concerto of +the frogs in the grass. The piccaninnies and the dawdlers from the +quarters had been dismissed to their confines, and the melee of +the day was reduced to an orderly and intelligent silence. The six +coloured waiters, in their white jackets, paced, cat-footed, about +the table, pretending to arrange where all was beyond betterment. +Absalom, in black and shining pumps posed, superior, here and there +where the lights set off his grandeur. And Grandemont rested in his +chair, waiting for his guests. + +He must have drifted into a dream--and an extravagant one--for he +was master of Charleroi and Adele was his wife. She was coming out +to him now; he could hear her steps; he could feel her hand upon his +shoulder-- + +"_Pardon moi, M'shi Grande_"--it was Absalom's hand touching him, it +was Absalom's voice, speaking the _patois_ of the blacks--"but it is +eight o'clock." + +Eight o'clock. Grandemont sprang up. In the moonlight he could see +the row of hitching-posts outside the gate. Long ago the horses of +the guests should have stood there. They were vacant. + +A chanted roar of indignation, a just, waxing bellow of affront and +dishonoured genius came from Andre's kitchen, filling the house with +rhythmic protest. The beautiful dinner, the pearl of a dinner, the +little excellent superb jewel of a dinner! But one moment more of +waiting and not even the thousand thunders of black pigs of the +quarter would touch it! + +"They are a little late," said Grandemont, calmly. "They will come +soon. Tell Andre to hold back dinner. And ask him if, by some +chance, a bull from the pastures has broken, roaring, into the +house." + +He seated himself again to his cigarettes. Though he had said it, +he scarcely believed Charleroi would entertain company that night. +For the first time in history the invitation of a Charles had been +ignored. So simple in courtesy and honour was Grandemont, and, +perhaps, so serenely confident in the prestige of his name, that the +most likely reasons for the vacant board did not occur to him. + +Charleroi stood by a road travelled daily by people from those +plantations whither his invitations had gone. No doubt even on the +day before the sudden reanimation of the old house they had driven +past and observed the evidences of long desertion and decay. They +had looked at the corpse of Charleroi and then at Grandemont's +invitations, and, though the puzzle or tasteless hoax or whatever +the thing meant left them perplexed, they would not seek its +solution by the folly of a visit to that deserted house. + +The moon was now above the grove, and the yard was pied with deep +shadows save where they lightened in the tender glow of outpouring +candle light. A crisp breeze from the river hinted at the +possibility of frost when the night should have become older. The +grass at one side of the steps was specked with the white stubs of +Grandemont's cigarettes. The cotton-broker's clerk sat in his chair +with the smoke spiralling above him. I doubt that he once thought of +the little fortune he had so impotently squandered. Perhaps it was +compensation enough for him to sit thus at Charleroi for a few +retrieved hours. Idly his mind wandered in and out many fanciful +paths of memory. He smiled to himself as a paraphrased line of +Scripture strayed into his mind: "A certain _poor_ man made a +feast." + +He heard the sound of Absalom coughing a note of summons. Grandemont +stirred. This time he had not been asleep--only drowsing. + +"Nine o'clock, _M'shi Grande_," said Absalom in the uninflected +voice of a good servant who states a fact unqualified by personal +opinion. + +Grandemont rose to his feet. In their time all the Charleses had +been proven, and they were gallant losers. + +"Serve dinner," he said calmly. And then he checked Absalom's +movement to obey, for something clicked the gate latch and was +coming down the walk toward the house. Something that shuffled its +feet and muttered to itself as it came. It stopped in the current of +light at the foot of the steps and spake, in the universal whine of +the gadding mendicant. + +"Kind sir, could you spare a poor, hungry man, out of luck, a little +to eat? And to sleep in the corner of a shed? For"--the thing +concluded, irrelevantly--"I can sleep now. There are no mountains +to dance reels in the night; and the copper kettles are all scoured +bright. The iron band is still around my ankle, and a link, if it is +your desire I should be chained." + +It set a foot upon the step and drew up the rags that hung upon the +limb. Above the distorted shoe, caked with the dust of a hundred +leagues, they saw the link and the iron band. The clothes of the +tramp were wreaked to piebald tatters by sun and rain and wear. A +mat of brown, tangled hair and beard covered his head and face, out +of which his eyes stared distractedly. Grandemont noticed that he +carried in one hand a white, square card. + +"What is that?" he asked. + +"I picked it up, sir, at the side of the road." The vagabond handed +the card to Grandemont. "Just a little to eat, sir. A little parched +corn, a _tartilla_, or a handful of beans. Goat's meat I cannot eat. +When I cut their throats they cry like children." + +Grandemont held up the card. It was one of his own invitations to +dinner. No doubt some one had cast it away from a passing carriage +after comparing it with the tenantless house of Charleroi. + +"From the hedges and highways bid them come," he said to himself, +softly smiling. And then to Absalom: "Send Louis to me." + +Louis, once his own body-servant, came promptly, in his white +jacket. + +"This gentleman," said Grandemont, "will dine with me. Furnish him +with bath and clothes. In twenty minutes have him ready and dinner +served." + +Louis approached the disreputable guest with the suavity due to a +visitor to Charleroi, and spirited him away to inner regions. + +Promptly, in twenty minutes, Absalom announced dinner, and, a moment +later, the guest was ushered into the dining hall where Grandemont +waited, standing, at the head of the table. The attentions of Louis +had transformed the stranger into something resembling the polite +animal. Clean linen and an old evening suit that had been sent down +from town to clothe a waiter had worked a miracle with his exterior. +Brush and comb had partially subdued the wild disorder of his hair. +Now he might have passed for no more extravagant a thing than one of +those _poseurs_ in art and music who affect such oddity of guise. +The man's countenance and demeanour, as he approached the table, +exhibited nothing of the awkwardness or confusion to be expected +from his Arabian Nights change. He allowed Absalom to seat him at +Grandemont's right hand with the manner of one thus accustomed to +be waited upon. + +"It grieves me," said Grandemont, "to be obliged to exchange names +with a guest. My own name is Charles." + +"In the mountains," said the wayfarer, "they call me Gringo. Along +the roads they call me Jack." + +"I prefer the latter," said Grandemont. "A glass of wine with you, +Mr. Jack." + +Course after course was served by the supernumerous waiters. +Grandemont, inspired by the results of Andre's exquisite skill in +cookery and his own in the selection of wines became the model host, +talkative, witty, and genial. The guest was fitful in conversation. +His mind seemed to be sustaining a succession of waves of dementia +followed by intervals of comparative lucidity. There was the glassy +brightness of recent fever in his eyes. A long course of it must +have been the cause of his emaciation and weakness, his distracted +mind, and the dull pallor that showed even through the tan of wind +and sun. + +"Charles," he said to Grandemont--for thus he seemed to interpret +his name--"you never saw the mountains dance, did you?" + +"No, Mr. Jack," answered Grandemont, gravely, "the spectacle has +been denied me. But, I assure you, I can understand it must be a +diverting sight. The big ones, you know, white with snow on the +tops, waltzing--_decollete_, we may say." + +"You first scour the kettles," said Mr. Jack, leaning toward him +excitedly, "to cook the beans in the morning, and you lie down on a +blanket and keep quite still. Then they come out and dance for you. +You would go out and dance with them but you are chained every night +to the centre pole of the hut. You believe the mountains dance, +don't you, Charlie?" + +"I contradict no traveller's tales," said Grandemont, with a smile. + +Mr. Jack laughed loudly. He dropped his voice to a confidential +whisper. + +"You are a fool to believe it," he went on. "They don't really +dance. It's the fever in your head. It's the hard work and the +bad water that does it. You are sick for weeks and there is no +medicine. The fever comes on every evening, and then you are as +strong as two men. One night the _compania_ are lying drunk with +_mescal_. They have brought back sacks of silver dollars from a +ride, and they drink to celebrate. In the night you file the chain +in two and go down the mountain. You walk for miles--hundreds of +them. By and by the mountains are all gone, and you come to the +prairies. They do not dance at night; they are merciful, and you +sleep. Then you come to the river, and it says things to you. You +follow it down, down, but you can't find what you are looking for." + +Mr. Jack leaned back in his chair, and his eyes slowly closed. The +food and wine had steeped him in a deep calm. The tense strain had +been smoothed from his face. The languor of repletion was claiming +him. Drowsily he spoke again. + +"It's bad manners--I know--to go to sleep--at table--but--that +was--such a good dinner--Grande, old fellow." + +_Grande!_ The owner of the name started and set down his glass. +How should this wretched tatterdemalion whom he had invited, +Caliph-like, to sit at his feet know his name? + +Not at first, but soon, little by little, the suspicion, wild and +unreasonable as it was, stole into his brain. He drew out his watch +with hands that almost balked him by their trembling, and opened the +back case. There was a picture there--a photograph fixed to the +inner side. + +Rising, Grandemont shook Mr. Jack by the shoulder. The weary guest +opened his eyes. Grandemont held the watch. + +"Look at this picture, Mr. Jack. Have you ever--" + +"_My sister Adele!_" + +The vagrant's voice rang loud and sudden through the room. He +started to his feet, but Grandemont's arms were about him, and +Grandemont was calling him "Victor!--Victor Fauquier! _Merci, merci, +mon Dieu!_" + +Too far overcome by sleep and fatigue was the lost one to talk that +night. Days afterward, when the tropic _calentura_ had cooled in +his veins, the disordered fragments he had spoken were completed in +shape and sequence. He told the story of his angry flight, of toils +and calamities on sea and shore, of his ebbing and flowing fortune +in southern lands, and of his latest peril when, held a captive, he +served menially in a stronghold of bandits in the Sonora Mountains +of Mexico. And of the fever that seized him there and his escape and +delirium, during which he strayed, perhaps led by some marvellous +instinct, back to the river on whose bank he had been born. And of +the proud and stubborn thing in his blood that had kept him silent +through all those years, clouding the honour of one, though he knew +it not, and keeping apart two loving hearts. "What a thing is love!" +you may say. And if I grant it, you shall say, with me: "What a +thing is pride!" + +On a couch in the reception chamber Victor lay, with a dawning +understanding in his heavy eyes and peace in his softened +countenance. Absalom was preparing a lounge for the transient +master of Charleroi, who, to-morrow, would be again the clerk of a +cotton-broker, but also-- + +"To-morrow," Grandemont was saying, as he stood by the couch of his +guest, speaking the words with his face shining as must have shone +the face of Elijah's charioteer when he announced the glories of +that heavenly journey--"To-morrow I will take you to Her." + + + + +XVIII + +ON BEHALF OF THE MANAGEMENT + + +This is the story of the man manager, and how he held his own until +the very last paragraph. + +I had it from Sully Magoon, _viva voce_. The words are indeed his; +and if they do not constitute truthful fiction my memory should be +taxed with the blame. + +It is not deemed amiss to point out, in the beginning, the stress +that is laid upon the masculinity of the manager. For, according +to Sully, the term when applied to the feminine division of +mankind has precisely an opposite meaning. The woman manager (he +says) economizes, saves, oppresses her household with bargains and +contrivances, and looks sourly upon any pence that are cast to the +fiddler for even a single jig-step on life's arid march. Wherefore +her men-folk call her blessed, and praise her; and then sneak out +the backdoor to see the Gilhooly Sisters do a buck-and-wing dance. + +Now, the man manager (I still quote Sully) is a Caesar without +a Brutus. He is an autocrat without responsibility, a player +who imperils no stake of his own. His office is to enact, to +reverberate, to boom, to expand, to out-coruscate--profitably, if +he can. Bill-paying and growing gray hairs over results belong to +his principals. It is his to guide the risk, to be the Apotheosis +of Front, the three-tailed Bashaw of Bluff, the Essential Oil of +Razzle-Dazzle. + +We sat at luncheon, and Sully Magoon told me. I asked for +particulars. + +"My old friend Denver Galloway was a born manager," said Sully. He +first saw the light of day in New York at three years of age. He +was born in Pittsburg, but his parents moved East the third summer +afterward. + +"When Denver grew up, he went into the managing business. At the +age of eight he managed a news-stand for the Dago that owned it. +After that he was manager at different times of a skating-rink, a +livery-stable, a policy game, a restaurant, a dancing academy, a +walking match, a burlesque company, a dry-goods store, a dozen +hotels and summer resorts, an insurance company, and a district +leader's campaign. That campaign, when Coughlin was elected on +the East Side, gave Denver a boost. It got him a job as manager +of a Broadway hotel, and for a while he managed Senator O'Grady's +campaign in the nineteenth. + +"Denver was a New Yorker all over. I think he was out of the city +just twice before the time I'm going to tell you about. Once he went +rabbit-shooting in Yonkers. The other time I met him just landing +from a North River ferry. 'Been out West on a big trip, Sully, old +boy,' says he. 'Gad! Sully, I had no idea we had such a big country. +It's immense. Never conceived of the magnificence of the West +before. It's gorgeous and glorious and infinite. Makes the East +seemed cramped and little. It's a grand thing to travel and get an +idea of the extent and resources of our country.' + +"I'd made several little runs out to California and down to Mexico +and up through Alaska, so I sits down with Denver for a chat about +the things he saw. + +"'Took in the Yosemite, out there, of course?' I asks. + +"'Well--no,' says Denver, 'I don't think so. At least, I don't +recollect it. You see, I only had three days, and I didn't get any +farther west than Youngstown, Ohio.' + +"About two years ago I dropped into New York with a little fly-paper +proposition about a Tennessee mica mine that I wanted to spread +out in a nice, sunny window, in the hopes of catching a few. I was +coming out of a printing-shop one afternoon with a batch of fine, +sticky prospectuses when I ran against Denver coming round a corner. +I never saw him looking so much like a tiger-lily. He was as +beautiful and new as a trellis of sweet peas, and as rollicking as +a clarinet solo. We shook hands, and he asked me what I was doing, +and I gave him the outlines of the scandal I was trying to create in +mica. + +"'Pooh, pooh! for your mica,' says Denver. 'Don't you know better, +Sully, than to bump up against the coffers of little old New York +with anything as transparent as mica? Now, you come with me over to +the Hotel Brunswick. You're just the man I was hoping for. I've got +something there in sepia and curled hair that I want you to look +at.' + +"'You putting up at the Brunswick?' I asks. + +"'Not a cent,' says Denver, cheerful. 'The syndicate that owns the +hotel puts up. I'm manager.' + +"The Brunswick wasn't one of them Broadway pot-houses all full of +palms and hyphens and flowers and costumes--kind of a mixture of +lawns and laundries. It was on one of the East Side avenues; but it +was a solid, old-time caravansary such as the Mayor of Skaneateles +or the Governor of Missouri might stop at. Eight stories high it +stalked up, with new striped awnings, and the electrics had it as +light as day. + +"'I've been manager here for a year,' says Denver, as we drew nigh. +'When I took charge,' says he, 'nobody nor nothing ever stopped at +the Brunswick. The clock over the clerks' desk used to run for weeks +without winding. A man fell dead with heart-disease on the sidewalk +in front of it one day, and when they went to pick him up he was two +blocks away. I figured out a scheme to catch the West Indies and +South American trade. I persuaded the owners to invest a few more +thousands, and I put every cent of it in electric lights, cayenne +pepper, gold-leaf, and garlic. I got a Spanish-speaking force of +employees and a string band; and there was talk going round of a +cockfight in the basement every Sunday. Maybe I didn't catch the +nut-brown gang! From Havana to Patagonia the Don Senors knew about +the Brunswick. We get the highfliers from Cuba and Mexico and the +couple of Americas farther south; and they've simply got the boodle +to bombard every bulfinch in the bush with.' + +"When we got to the hotel, Denver stops me at the door. + +"'There's a little liver-coloured man,' says he, 'sitting in a big +leather chair to your right, inside. You sit down and watch him for +a few minutes, and then tell me what you think.' + +"I took a chair, while Denver circulates around in the big rotunda. +The room was about full of curly-headed Cubans and South American +brunettes of different shades; and the atmosphere was international +with cigarette smoke, lit up by diamond rings and edged off with a +whisper of garlic. + +"That Denver Galloway was sure a relief to the eye. Six feet two +he was, red-headed and pink-gilled as a sun-perch. And the air he +had! Court of Saint James, Chauncy Olcott, Kentucky colonels, Count +of Monte Cristo, grand opera--all these things he reminded you of +when he was doing the honours. When he raised his finger the hotel +porters and bell-boys skated across the floor like cockroaches, and +even the clerk behind the desk looked as meek and unimportant as +Andy Carnegie. + +"Denver passed around, shaking hands with his guests, and saying +over the two or three Spanish words he knew until it was like a +coronation rehearsal or a Bryan barbecue in Texas. + +"I watched the little man he told me to. 'Twas a little foreign +person in a double-breasted frock-coat, trying to touch the floor +with his toes. He was the colour of vici kid, and his whiskers was +like excelsior made out of mahogany wood. He breathed hard, and +he never once took his eyes off of Denver. There was a look of +admiration and respect on his face like you see on a boy that's +following a champion base-ball team, or the Kaiser William looking +at himself in a glass. + +"After Denver goes his rounds he takes me into his private office. + +"'What's your report on the dingy I told you to watch?' he asks. + +"'Well,' says I, 'if you was as big a man as he takes you to be, +nine rooms and bath in the Hall of Fame, rent free till October 1st, +would be about your size.' + +"'You've caught the idea,' says Denver. 'I've given him the wizard +grip and the cabalistic eye. The glamour that emanates from yours +truly has enveloped him like a North River fog. He seems to think +that Senor Galloway is the man who. I guess they don't raise 74-inch +sorrel-tops with romping ways down in his precinct. Now, Sully,' +goes on Denver, 'if you was asked, what would you take the little +man to be?' + +"'Why,' says I, 'the barber around the corner; or, if he's royal, +the king of the boot-blacks.' + +"'Never judge by looks,' says Denver; 'he's the dark-horse candidate +for president of a South American republic.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'he didn't look quite that bad to me.' + +"Then Denver draws his chair up close and gives out his scheme. + +"'Sully,' says he, with seriousness and levity, 'I've been a manager +of one thing and another for over twenty years. That's what I was +cut out for--to have somebody else to put up the money and look +after the repairs and the police and taxes while I run the business. +I never had a dollar of my own invested in my life. I wouldn't know +how it felt to have the dealer rake in a coin of mine. But I can +handle other people's stuff and manage other people's enterprises. +I've had an ambition to get hold of something big--something higher +than hotels and lumber-yards and local politics. I want to be +manager of something way up--like a railroad or a diamond trust +or an automobile factory. Now here comes this little man from the +tropics with just what I want, and he's offered me the job.' + +"'What job?' I asks. 'Is he going to revive the Georgia Minstrels or +open a cigar store?' + +"'He's no 'coon,' says Denver. 'He's General Rompiro--General Josey +Alfonso Sapolio Jew-Ann Rompiro--he has his cards printed by a +news-ticker. He's the real thing, Sully, and he wants me to manage +his campaign--he wants Denver C. Galloway for a president-maker. +Think of that, Sully! Old Denver romping down to the tropics, +plucking lotus-flowers and pineapples with one hand and making +presidents with the other! Won't it make Uncle Mark Hanna mad? And I +want you to go too, Sully. You can help me more than any man I know. +I've been herding that brown man for a month in the hotel so he +wouldn't stray down Fourteenth Street and get roped in by that crowd +of refugee tamale-eaters down there. And he's landed, and D. C. G. +is manager of General J. A. S. J. Rompiro's presidential campaign in +the great republic of--what's its name?' + +"Denver gets down an atlas from a shelf, and we have a look at the +afflicted country. 'Twas a dark blue one, on the west coast, about +the size of a special delivery stamp. + +"'From what the General tells me,' says Denver, 'and from what I +can gather from the encyclopaedia and by conversing with the janitor +of the Astor Library, it'll be as easy to handle the vote of that +country as it would be for Tammany to get a man named Geoghan +appointed on the White Wings force.' + +"'Why don't General Rumptyro stay at home,' says I, 'and manage his +own canvass?' + +"'You don't understand South American politics,' says Denver, +getting out the cigars. 'It's this way. General Rompiro had the +misfortune of becoming a popular idol. He distinguished himself +by leading the army in pursuit of a couple of sailors who had +stolen the plaza--or the carramba, or something belonging to the +government. The people called him a hero and the government got +jealous. The president sends for the chief of the Department of +Public Edifices. "Find me a nice, clean adobe wall," says he, "and +send Senor Rompiro up against it. Then call out a file of soldiers +and--then let him be up against it." Something,' goes on Denver, +'like the way they've treated Hobson and Carrie Nation in our +country. So the General had to flee. But he was thoughtful enough +to bring along his roll. He's got sinews of war enough to buy a +battleship and float her off in the christening fluid.' + +"'What chance has he got to be president?' + +"'Wasn't I just giving you his rating?' says Denver. 'His country +is one of the few in South America where the presidents are elected +by popular ballot. The General can't go there just now. It hurts +to be shot against a wall. He needs a campaign manager to go down +and whoop things up for him--to get the boys in line and the new +two-dollar bills afloat and the babies kissed and the machine in +running order. Sully, I don't want to brag, but you remember how I +brought Coughlin under the wire for leader of the nineteenth? Ours +was the banner district. Don't you suppose I know how to manage a +little monkey-cage of a country like that? Why, with the dough the +General's willing to turn loose I could put two more coats of Japan +varnish on him and have him elected Governor of Georgia. New York +has got the finest lot of campaign managers in the world, Sully, and +you give me a feeling of hauteur when you cast doubts on my ability +to handle the political situation in a country so small that they +have to print the names of the towns in the appendix and footnotes.' + +"I argued with Denver some. I told him that politics down in that +tropical atmosphere was bound to be different from the nineteenth +district; but I might just as well have been a Congressman from +North Dakota trying to get an appropriation for a lighthouse and a +coast survey. Denver Galloway had ambitions in the manager line, and +what I said didn't amount to as much as a fig-leaf at the National +Dressmakers' Convention. 'I'll give you three days to cogitate about +going,' says Denver; 'and I'll introduce you to General Rompiro +to-morrow, so you can get his ideas drawn right from the rose wood.' + +"I put on my best reception-to-Booker-Washington manner the next +day and tapped the distinguished rubber-plant for what he knew. + +"General Rompiro wasn't so gloomy inside as he appeared on the +surface. He was polite enough; and he exuded a number of sounds that +made a fair stagger at arranging themselves into language. It was +English he aimed at, and when his system of syntax reached your +mind it wasn't past you to understand it. If you took a college +professor's magazine essay and a Chinese laundryman's explanation +of a lost shirt and jumbled 'em together, you'd have about what the +General handed you out for conversation. He told me all about his +bleeding country, and what they were trying to do for it before the +doctor came. But he mostly talked of Denver C. Galloway. + +"'Ah, senor,' says he, 'that is the most fine of mans. Never I have +seen one man so magnifico, so gr-r-rand, so conformable to make done +things so swiftly by other mans. He shall make other mans do the +acts and himself to order and regulate, until we arrive at seeing +accomplishments of a suddenly. Oh, yes, senor. In my countree there +is not such mans of so beegness, so good talk, so compliments, so +strongness of sense and such. Ah, that Senor Galloway!' + +"'Yes,' says I, 'old Denver is the boy you want. He's managed every +kind of business here except filibustering, and he might as well +complete the list.' + +"Before the three days was up I decided to join Denver in his +campaign. Denver got three months' vacation from his hotel owners. +For a week we lived in a room with the General, and got all the +pointers about his country that we could interpret from the noises +he made. When we got ready to start, Denver had a pocket full of +memorandums, and letters from the General to his friends, and a list +of names and addresses of loyal politicians who would help along +the boom of the exiled popular idol. Besides these liabilities we +carried assets to the amount of $20,000 in assorted United States +currency. General Rompiro looked like a burnt effigy, but he was +Br'er Fox himself when it came to the real science of politics. + +"'Here is moneys,' says the General, 'of a small amount. There is +more with me--moocho more. Plentee moneys shall you be supplied, +Senor Galloway. More I shall send you at all times that you need. +I shall desire to pay feefty--one hundred thousand pesos, if +necessario, to be elect. How no? Sacramento! If that I am president +and do not make one meelion dolla in the one year you shall keek me +on that side!--_valgame Dios!_' + +"Denver got a Cuban cigar-maker to fix up a little cipher code with +English and Spanish words, and gave the General a copy, so we could +cable him bulletins about the election, or for more money, and then +we were ready to start. General Rompiro escorted us to the steamer. +On the pier he hugged Denver around the waist and sobbed. 'Noble +mans,' says he, 'General Rompiro propels you into his confidence +and trust. Go, in the hands of the saints to do the work for your +friend. _Viva la libertad!_' + +"'Sure,' says Denver. 'And viva la liberality an' la soaperino and +hoch der land of the lotus and the vote us. Don't worry, General. +We'll have you elected as sure as bananas grow upside down.' + +"'Make pictures on me,' pleads the General--'make pictures on me for +money as it is needful.' + +"'Does he want to be tattooed, would you think?' asks Denver, +wrinkling up his eyes. + +"'Stupid!' says I. 'He wants you to draw on him for election +expenses. It'll be worse than tattooing. More like an autopsy.' + +"Me and Denver steamed down to Panama, and then hiked across the +Isthmus, and then by steamer again down to the town of Espiritu on +the coast of the General's country. + +"That was a town to send J. Howard Payne to the growler. I'll tell +you how you could make one like it. Take a lot of Filipino huts and +a couple of hundred brick-kilns and arrange 'em in squares in a +cemetery. Cart down all the conservatory plants in the Astor and +Vanderbilt greenhouses, and stick 'em about wherever there's room. +Turn all the Bellevue patients and the barbers' convention and the +Tuskegee school loose in the streets, and run the thermometer up to +120 in the shade. Set a fringe of the Rocky Mountains around the +rear, let it rain, and set the whole business on Rockaway Beach in +the middle of January--and you'd have a good imitation of Espiritu. + +"It took me and Denver about a week to get acclimated. Denver sent +out the letters the General had given him, and notified the rest of +the gang that there was something doing at the captain's office. We +set up headquarters in an old 'dobe house on a side street where +the grass was waist high. The election was only four weeks off; but +there wasn't any excitement. The home candidate for president was +named Roadrickeys. This town of Esperitu wasn't the capital any more +than Cleveland, Ohio, is the capital of the United States, but it +was the political centre where they cooked up revolutions, and made +up the slates. + +"At the end of the week Denver says the machine is started running. + +"'Sully,' says he, 'we've got a walkover. Just because General +Rompiro ain't Don Juan-on-the-spot the other crowd ain't at work. +They're as full of apathy as a territorial delegate during the +chaplain's prayer. Now, we want to introduce a little hot stuff in +the way of campaigning, and we'll surprise 'em at the polls.' + +"'How are you going to go about it?' I asks. + +"'Why, the usual way,' says Denver, surprised. 'We'll get the +orators on our side out every night to make speeches in the native +lingo, and have torch-light parades under the shade of the palms, +and free drinks, and buy up all the brass bands, of course, +and--well, I'll turn the baby-kissing over to you, Sully--I've seen +a lot of 'em.' + +"'What else?' says I. + +"'Why, you know,' says Denver. 'We get the heelers out with the +crackly two-spots, and coal-tickets, and orders for groceries, and +have a couple of picnics out under the banyan-trees, and dances in +the Firemen's Hall--and the usual things. But first of all, Sully, +I'm going to have the biggest clam-bake down on the beach that was +ever seen south of the tropic of Capricorn. I figured that out from +the start. We'll stuff the whole town and the jungle folk for miles +around with clams. That's the first thing on the programme. Suppose +you go out now, and make the arrangements for that. I want to look +over the estimates the General made of the vote in the coast +districts.' + +"I had learned some Spanish in Mexico, so I goes out, as Denver +says, and in fifteen minutes I come back to headquarters. + +"'If there ever was a clam in this country nobody ever saw it,' I +says. + +"'Great sky-rockets!' says Denver, with his mouth and eyes open. 'No +clams? How in the--who ever saw a country without clams? What kind +of a--how's an election to be pulled off without a clam-bake, I'd +like to know? Are you sure there's no clams, Sully?' + +"'Not even a can,' says I. + +"'Then for God's sake go out and try to find what the people here do +eat. We've got to fill 'em up with grub of some kind.' + +"I went out again. Denver was manager. In half an hour I gets back. + +"'They eat,' says I, 'tortillas, cassava, carne de chivo, arroz con +pollo, aquacates, zapates, yucca, and huevos fritos.' + +"'A man that would eat them things,' says Denver, getting a little +mad, 'ought to have his vote challenged.' + +"In a few more days the campaign managers from the other towns came +sliding into Esperitu. Our headquarters was a busy place. We had +an interpreter, and ice-water, and drinks, and cigars, and Denver +flashed the General's roll so often that it got so small you +couldn't have bought a Republican vote in Ohio with it. + +"And then Denver cabled to General Rompiro for ten thousand dollars +more and got it. + +"There were a number of Americans in Esperitu, but they were all +in business or grafts of some kind, and wouldn't take any hand in +politics, which was sensible enough. But they showed me and Denver a +fine time, and fixed us up so we could get decent things to eat and +drink. There was one American, named Hicks, used to come and loaf at +the headquarters. Hicks had had fourteen years of Esperitu. He was +six feet four and weighed in at 135. Cocoa was his line; and coast +fever and the climate had taken all the life out of him. They said +he hadn't smiled in eight years. His face was three feet long, and +it never moved except when he opened it to take quinine. He used to +sit in our headquarters and kill fleas and talk sarcastic. + +"'I don't take much interest in politics,' says Hicks, one day, 'but +I'd like you to tell me what you're trying to do down here, +Galloway?' + +"'We're boosting General Rompiro, of course,' says Denver. 'We're +going to put him in the presidential chair. I'm his manager.' + +"'Well,' says Hicks, 'if I was you I'd be a little slower about it. +You've got a long time ahead of you, you know.' + +"'Not any longer than I need,' says Denver. + +"Denver went ahead and worked things smooth. He dealt out money on +the quiet to his lieutenants, and they were always coming after it. +There was free drinks for everybody in town, and bands playing every +night, and fireworks, and there was a lot of heelers going around +buying up votes day and night for the new style of politics in +Espiritu, and everybody liked it. + +"The day set for the election was November 4th. On the night before +Denver and me were smoking our pipes in headquarters, and in comes +Hicks and unjoints himself, and sits in a chair, mournful. Denver +is cheerful and confident. 'Rompiro will win in a romp,' says he. +'We'll carry the country by 10,000. It's all over but the vivas. +To-morrow will tell the tale.' + +"'What's going to happen to-morrow?' asks Hicks. + +"'Why, the presidential election, of course,' says Denver. + +"'Say,' says Hicks, looking kind of funny, 'didn't anybody tell you +fellows that the election was held a week before you came? Congress +changed the date to July 27th. Roadrickeys was elected by 17,000. +I thought you was booming old Rompiro for next term, two years +from now. Wondered if you was going to keep up such a hot lick that +long.' + +"I dropped my pipe on the floor. Denver bit the stem off of his. +Neither of us said anything. + +"And then I heard a sound like somebody ripping a clapboard off of a +barn-roof. 'Twas Hicks laughing for the first time in eight years." + +Sully Magoon paused while the waiter poured us a black coffee. + +"Your friend was, indeed, something of a manager," I said. + +"Wait a minute," said Sully, "I haven't given you any idea of what +he could do yet. That's all to come. + +"When we got back to New York there was General Rompiro waiting for +us on the pier. He was dancing like a cinnamon bear, all impatient +for the news, for Denver had just cabled him when we would arrive +and nothing more. + +"'Am I elect?' he shouts. 'Am I elect, friend of mine? Is that mine +country have demand General Rompiro for the president? The last +dollar of mine have I sent you that last time. It is necessario that +I am elect. I have not more money. Am I elect, Senor Galloway?' + +"Denver turns to me. + +"'Leave me with old Rompey, Sully,' he says. 'I've got to break it +to him gently. 'Twould be indecent for other eyes to witness the +operation. This is the time, Sully,' says he, 'when old Denver has +got to make good as a jollier and a silver-tongued sorcerer, or else +give up all the medals he's earned.' + +"A couple of days later I went around to the hotel. There was Denver +in his old place, looking like the hero of two historical novels, +and telling 'em what a fine time he'd had down on his orange +plantation in Florida. + +"'Did you fix things up with the General?' I asks him. + +"'Did I?' says Denver. 'Come and see.' + +"He takes me by the arm and walks me to the dining-room door. There +was a little chocolate-brown fat man in a dress suit, with his face +shining with joy as he swelled himself and skipped about the floor. +Danged if Denver hadn't made General Rompiro head waiter of the +Hotel Brunswick!" + +"Is Mr. Galloway still in the managing business?" I asked, as Mr. +Magoon ceased. + +Sully shook his head. + +"Denver married an auburn-haired widow that owns a big hotel in +Harlem. He just helps around the place." + + + + +XIX + +WHISTLING DICK'S CHRISTMAS STOCKING + + +It was with much caution that Whistling Dick slid back the door of +the box-car, for Article 5716, City Ordinances, authorized (perhaps +unconstitutionally) arrest on suspicion, and he was familiar of old +with this ordinance. So, before climbing out, he surveyed the field +with all the care of a good general. + +He saw no change since his last visit to this big, alms-giving, +long-suffering city of the South, the cold weather paradise of the +tramps. The levee where his freight-car stood was pimpled with dark +bulks of merchandise. The breeze reeked with the well-remembered, +sickening smell of the old tarpaulins that covered bales and +barrels. The dun river slipped along among the shipping with an oily +gurgle. Far down toward Chalmette he could see the great bend in the +stream, outlined by the row of electric lights. Across the river +Algiers lay, a long, irregular blot, made darker by the dawn which +lightened the sky beyond. An industrious tug or two, coming for +some early sailing ship, gave a few appalling toots, that seemed to +be the signal for breaking day. The Italian luggers were creeping +nearer their landing, laden with early vegetables and shellfish. A +vague roar, subterranean in quality, from dray wheels and street +cars, began to make itself heard and felt; and the ferryboats, the +Mary Anns of water craft, stirred sullenly to their menial morning +tasks. + +Whistling Dick's red head popped suddenly back into the car. A sight +too imposing and magnificent for his gaze had been added to the +scene. A vast, incomparable policeman rounded a pile of rice sacks +and stood within twenty yards of the car. The daily miracle of the +dawn, now being performed above Algiers, received the flattering +attention of this specimen of municipal official splendour. He +gazed with unbiased dignity at the faintly glowing colours until, +at last, he turned to them his broad back, as if convinced that +legal interference was not needed, and the sunrise might proceed +unchecked. So he turned his face to the rice bags, and, drawing +a flat flask from an inside pocket, he placed it to his lips and +regarded the firmament. + +Whistling Dick, professional tramp, possessed a half-friendly +acquaintance with this officer. They had met several times before on +the levee at night, for the officer, himself a lover of music, had +been attracted by the exquisite whistling of the shiftless vagabond. +Still, he did not care, under the present circumstances, to renew +the acquaintance. There is a difference between meeting a policeman +on a lonely wharf and whistling a few operatic airs with him, and +being caught by him crawling out of a freight-car. So Dick waited, +as even a New Orleans policeman must move on some time--perhaps +it is a retributive law of nature--and before long "Big Fritz" +majestically disappeared between the trains of cars. + +Whistling Dick waited as long as his judgment advised, and then +slid swiftly to the ground. Assuming as far as possible the air of +an honest labourer who seeks his daily toil, he moved across the +network of railway lines, with the intention of making his way by +quiet Girod Street to a certain bench in Lafayette Square, where, +according to appointment, he hoped to rejoin a pal known as "Slick," +this adventurous pilgrim having preceded him by one day in a +cattle-car into which a loose slat had enticed him. + +As Whistling Dick picked his way where night still lingered among +the big, reeking, musty warehouses, he gave way to the habit that +had won for him his title. Subdued, yet clear, with each note as +true and liquid as a bobolink's, his whistle tinkled about the dim, +cold mountains of brick like drops of rain falling into a hidden +pool. He followed an air, but it swam mistily into a swirling +current of improvisation. You could cull out the trill of mountain +brooks, the staccato of green rushes shivering above chilly lagoons, +the pipe of sleepy birds. + +Rounding a corner, the whistler collided with a mountain of blue and +brass. + +"So," observed the mountain calmly, "You are already pack. Und dere +vill not pe frost before two veeks yet! Und you haf forgotten how to +vistle. Dere was a valse note in dot last bar." + +"Watcher know about it?" said Whistling Dick, with tentative +familiarity; "you wit yer little Gherman-band nixcumrous chunes. +Watcher know about music? Pick yer ears, and listen agin. Here's de +way I whistled it--see?" + +He puckered his lips, but the big policeman held up his hand. + +"Shtop," he said, "und learn der right way. Und learn also dot a +rolling shtone can't vistle for a cent." + +Big Fritz's heavy moustache rounded into a circle, and from its +depths came a sound deep and mellow as that from a flute. He +repeated a few bars of the air the tramp had been whistling. The +rendition was cold, but correct, and he emphasized the note he had +taken exception to. + +"Dot p is p natural, und not p vlat. Py der vay, you petter pe glad +I meet you. Von hour later, und I vould half to put you in a gage +to vistle mit der chail pirds. Der orders are to bull all der pums +after sunrise." + +"To which?" + +"To bull der pums--eferybody mitout fisible means. Dirty days is der +price, or fifteen tollars." + +"Is dat straight, or a game you givin' me?" + +"It's der pest tip you efer had. I gif it to you pecause I pelief +you are not so bad as der rest. Und pecause you gan visl 'Der +Freischuetz' bezzer dan I myself gan. Don't run against any more +bolicemans aroundt der corners, but go away from town a few tays. +Good-pye." + +So Madame Orleans had at last grown weary of the strange and ruffled +brood that came yearly to nestle beneath her charitable pinions. + +After the big policeman had departed, Whistling Dick stood for +an irresolute minute, feeling all the outraged indignation of a +delinquent tenant who is ordered to vacate his premises. He had +pictured to himself a day of dreamful ease when he should have +joined his pal; a day of lounging on the wharf, munching the bananas +and cocoanuts scattered in unloading the fruit steamers; and then +a feast along the free-lunch counters from which the easy-going +owners were too good-natured or too generous to drive him away, and +afterward a pipe in one of the little flowery parks and a snooze +in some shady corner of the wharf. But here was a stern order to +exile, and one that he knew must be obeyed. So, with a wary eye +open for the gleam of brass buttons, he began his retreat toward a +rural refuge. A few days in the country need not necessarily prove +disastrous. Beyond the possibility of a slight nip of frost, there +was no formidable evil to be looked for. + +However, it was with a depressed spirit that Whistling Dick passed +the old French market on his chosen route down the river. For +safety's sake he still presented to the world his portrayal of the +part of the worthy artisan on his way to labour. A stall-keeper in +the market, undeceived, hailed him by the generic name of his ilk, +and "Jack" halted, taken by surprise. The vender, melted by this +proof of his own acuteness, bestowed a foot of Frankfurter and half +a loaf, and thus the problem of breakfast was solved. + +When the streets, from topographical reasons, began to shun the +river bank the exile mounted to the top of the levee, and on its +well-trodden path pursued his way. The suburban eye regarded him +with cold suspicion, individuals reflected the stern spirit of the +city's heartless edict. He missed the seclusion of the crowded town +and the safety he could always find in the multitude. + +At Chalmette, six miles upon his desultory way, there suddenly +menaced him a vast and bewildering industry. A new port was being +established; the dock was being built, compresses were going up; +picks and shovels and barrows struck at him like serpents from every +side. An arrogant foreman bore down upon him, estimating his muscles +with the eye of a recruiting-sergeant. Brown men and black men all +about him were toiling away. He fled in terror. + +By noon he had reached the country of the plantations, the great, +sad, silent levels bordering the mighty river. He overlooked fields +of sugar-cane so vast that their farthest limits melted into the +sky. The sugar-making season was well advanced, and the cutters +were at work; the waggons creaked drearily after them; the Negro +teamsters inspired the mules to greater speed with mellow and +sonorous imprecations. Dark-green groves, blurred by the blue +of distance, showed where the plantation-houses stood. The tall +chimneys of the sugar-mills caught the eye miles distant, like +lighthouses at sea. + +At a certain point Whistling Dick's unerring nose caught the scent +of frying fish. Like a pointer to a quail, he made his way down +the levee side straight to the camp of a credulous and ancient +fisherman, whom he charmed with song and story, so that he dined +like an admiral, and then like a philosopher annihilated the worst +three hours of the day by a nap under the trees. + +When he awoke and again continued his hegira, a frosty sparkle in +the air had succeeded the drowsy warmth of the day, and as this +portent of a chilly night translated itself to the brain of Sir +Peregrine, he lengthened his stride and bethought him of shelter. He +travelled a road that faithfully followed the convolutions of the +levee, running along its base, but whither he knew not. Bushes and +rank grass crowded it to the wheel ruts, and out of this ambuscade +the pests of the lowlands swarmed after him, humming a keen, vicious +soprano. And as the night grew nearer, although colder, the whine +of the mosquitoes became a greedy, petulant snarl that shut out all +other sounds. To his right, against the heavens, he saw a green +light moving, and, accompanying it, the masts and funnels of a big +incoming steamer, moving as upon a screen at a magic-lantern show. +And there were mysterious marshes at his left, out of which came +queer gurgling cries and a choked croaking. The whistling vagrant +struck up a merry warble to offset these melancholy influences, and +it is likely that never before, since Pan himself jigged it on his +reeds, had such sounds been heard in those depressing solitudes. + +A distant clatter in the rear quickly developed into the swift beat +of horses' hoofs, and Whistling Dick stepped aside into the dew-wet +grass to clear the track. Turning his head, he saw approaching a +fine team of stylish grays drawing a double surrey. A stout man +with a white moustache occupied the front seat, giving all his +attention to the rigid lines in his hands. Behind him sat a placid, +middle-aged lady and a brilliant-looking girl hardly arrived at +young ladyhood. The lap-robe had slipped partly from the knees of +the gentleman driving, and Whistling Dick saw two stout canvas bags +between his feet--bags such as, while loafing in cities, he had +seen warily transferred between express waggons and bank doors. The +remaining space in the vehicle was filled with parcels of various +sizes and shapes. + +As the surrey swept even with the sidetracked tramp, the bright-eyed +girl, seized by some merry, madcap impulse, leaned out toward him +with a sweet, dazzling smile, and cried, "Mer-ry Christ-mas!" in a +shrill, plaintive treble. + +Such a thing had not often happened to Whistling Dick, and he felt +handicapped in devising the correct response. But lacking time +for reflection, he let his instinct decide, and snatching off his +battered derby, he rapidly extended it at arm's length, and drew it +back with a continuous motion, and shouted a loud, but ceremonious, +"Ah, there!" after the flying surrey. + +The sudden movement of the girl had caused one of the parcels to +become unwrapped, and something limp and black fell from it into the +road. The tramp picked it up, and found it to be a new black silk +stocking, long and fine and slender. It crunched crisply, and yet +with a luxurious softness, between his fingers. + +"Ther bloomin' little skeezicks!" said Whistling Dick, with a broad +grin bisecting his freckled face. "W'ot d' yer think of dat, now! +Mer-ry Chris-mus! Sounded like a cuckoo clock, da'ts what she did. +Dem guys is swells, too, bet yer life, an' der old 'un stacks dem +sacks of dough down under his trotters like dey was common as dried +apples. Been shoppin' for Chrismus, and de kid's lost one of her new +socks w'ot she was goin' to hold up Santy wid. De bloomin' little +skeezicks! Wit' her 'Mer-ry Chris-mus!' W'ot d' yer t'ink! Same as +to say, 'Hello, Jack, how goes it?' and as swell as Fift' Av'noo, +and as easy as a blowout in Cincinnat." + +Whistling Dick folded the stocking carefully, and stuffed it into +his pocket. + +It was nearly two hours later when he came upon signs of habitation. +The buildings of an extensive plantation were brought into view by +a turn in the road. He easily selected the planter's residence in +a large square building with two wings, with numerous good-sized, +well-lighted windows, and broad verandas running around its full +extent. It was set upon a smooth lawn, which was faintly lit by the +far-reaching rays of the lamps within. A noble grove surrounded it, +and old-fashioned shrubbery grew thickly about the walks and fences. +The quarters of the hands and the mill buildings were situated at a +distance in the rear. + +The road was now enclosed on each side by a fence, and presently, +as Whistling Dick drew nearer the house, he suddenly stopped and +sniffed the air. + +"If dere ain't a hobo stew cookin' somewhere in dis immediate +precinct," he said to himself, "me nose has quit tellin' de trut'." + +Without hesitation he climbed the fence to windward. He found +himself in an apparently disused lot, where piles of old bricks were +stacked, and rejected, decaying lumber. In a corner he saw the faint +glow of a fire that had become little more than a bed of living +coals, and he thought he could see some dim human forms sitting or +lying about it. He drew nearer, and by the light of a little blaze +that suddenly flared up he saw plainly the fat figure of a ragged +man in an old brown sweater and cap. + +"Dat man," said Whistling Dick to himself softly, "is a dead ringer +for Boston Harry. I'll try him wit de high sign." + +He whistled one or two bars of a rag-time melody, and the air was +immediately taken up, and then quickly ended with a peculiar run. +The first whistler walked confidently up to the fire. The fat man +looked up, and spake in a loud, asthmatic wheeze: + +"Gents, the unexpected but welcome addition to our circle is Mr. +Whistling Dick, an old friend of mine for whom I fully vouches. The +waiter will lay another cover at once. Mr. W. D. will join us at +supper, during which function he will enlighten us in regard to the +circumstances that gave us the pleasure of his company." + +"Chewin' de stuffin' out 'n de dictionary, as usual, Boston," said +Whistling Dick; "but t'anks all de same for de invitashun. I guess I +finds meself here about de same way as yous guys. A cop gimme de tip +dis mornin'. Yous workin' on dis farm?" + +"A guest," said Boston, sternly, "shouldn't never insult his +entertainers until he's filled up wid grub. 'Tain't good business +sense. Workin'!--but I will restrain myself. We five--me, Deaf Pete, +Blinky, Goggles, and Indiana Tom--got put on to this scheme of Noo +Orleans to work visiting gentlemen upon her dirty streets, and we +hit the road last evening just as the tender hues of twilight had +flopped down upon the daisies and things. Blinky, pass the empty +oyster-can at your left to the empty gentleman at your right." + +For the next ten minutes the gang of roadsters paid their undivided +attention to the supper. In an old five-gallon kerosene can they had +cooked a stew of potatoes, meat, and onions, which they partook of +from smaller cans they had found scattered about the vacant lot. + +Whistling Dick had known Boston Harry of old, and knew him to be one +of the shrewdest and most successful of his brotherhood. He looked +like a prosperous stock-drover or solid merchant from some country +village. He was stout and hale, with a ruddy, always smoothly +shaven face. His clothes were strong and neat, and he gave special +attention to his decent-appearing shoes. During the past ten +years he had acquired a reputation for working a larger number of +successfully managed confidence games than any of his acquaintances, +and he had not a day's work to be counted against him. It was +rumoured among his associates that he had saved a considerable +amount of money. The four other men were fair specimens of the +slinking, ill-clad, noisome genus who carried their labels of +"suspicious" in plain view. + +After the bottom of the large can had been scraped, and pipes lit +at the coals, two of the men called Boston aside and spake with him +lowly and mysteriously. He nodded decisively, and then said aloud to +Whistling Dick: + +"Listen, sonny, to some plain talky-talk. We five are on a lay. I've +guaranteed you to be square, and you're to come in on the profits +equal with the boys, and you've got to help. Two hundred hands on +this plantation are expecting to be paid a week's wages to-morrow +morning. To-morrow's Christmas, and they want to lay off. Says the +boss: 'Work from five to nine in the morning to get a train load of +sugar off, and I'll pay every man cash down for the week and a day +extra.' They say: 'Hooray for the boss! It goes.' He drives to Noo +Orleans to-day, and fetches back the cold dollars. Two thousand and +seventy-four fifty is the amount. I got the figures from a man who +talks too much, who got 'em from the bookkeeper. The boss of this +plantation thinks he's going to pay this wealth to the hands. He's +got it down wrong; he's going to pay it to us. It's going to stay +in the leisure class, where it belongs. Now, half of this haul +goes to me, and the other half the rest of you may divide. Why the +difference? I represent the brains. It's my scheme. Here's the way +we're going to get it. There's some company at supper in the house, +but they'll leave about nine. They've just happened in for an hour +or so. If they don't go pretty soon, we'll work the scheme anyhow. +We want all night to get away good with the dollars. They're heavy. +About nine o'clock Deaf Pete and Blinky'll go down the road about a +quarter beyond the house, and set fire to a big cane-field there +that the cutters haven't touched yet. The wind's just right to have +it roaring in two minutes. The alarm'll be given, and every man Jack +about the place will be down there in ten minutes, fighting fire. +That'll leave the money sacks and the women alone in the house for +us to handle. You've heard cane burn? Well, there's mighty few women +can screech loud enough to be heard above its crackling. The thing's +dead safe. The only danger is in being caught before we can get far +enough away with the money. Now, if you--" + +"Boston," interrupted Whistling Dick, rising to his feet, "T'anks +for the grub yous fellers has given me, but I'll be movin' on now." + +"What do you mean?" asked Boston, also rising. + +"W'y, you can count me outer dis deal. You oughter know that. I'm +on de bum all right enough, but dat other t'ing don't go wit' me. +Burglary is no good. I'll say good night and many t'anks fer--" + +Whistling Dick had moved away a few steps as he spoke, but he +stopped very suddenly. Boston had covered him with a short revolver +of roomy calibre. + +"Take your seat," said the tramp leader. "I'd feel mighty proud of +myself if I let you go and spoil the game. You'll stick right in +this camp until we finish the job. The end of that brick pile is +your limit. You go two inches beyond that, and I'll have to shoot. +Better take it easy, now." + +"It's my way of doin'," said Whistling Dick. "Easy goes. You can +depress de muzzle of dat twelve-incher, and run 'er back on de +trucks. I remains, as de newspapers says, 'in yer midst.'" + +"All right," said Boston, lowering his piece, as the other returned +and took his seat again on a projecting plank in a pile of timber. +"Don't try to leave; that's all. I wouldn't miss this chance even if +I had to shoot an old acquaintance to make it go. I don't want to +hurt anybody specially, but this thousand dollars I'm going to get +will fix me for fair. I'm going to drop the road, and start a saloon +in a little town I know about. I'm tired of being kicked around." + +Boston Harry took from his pocket a cheap silver watch, and held it +near the fire. + +"It's a quarter to nine," he said. "Pete, you and Blinky start. Go +down the road past the house, and fire the cane in a dozen places. +Then strike for the levee, and come back on it, instead of the road, +so you won't meet anybody. By the time you get back the men will +all be striking out for the fire, and we'll break for the house and +collar the dollars. Everybody cough up what matches he's got." + +The two surly tramps made a collection of all the matches in the +party, Whistling Dick contributing his quota with propitiatory +alacrity, and then they departed in the dim starlight in the +direction of the road. + +Of the three remaining vagrants, two, Goggles and Indiana Tom, +reclined lazily upon convenient lumber and regarded Whistling Dick +with undisguised disfavour. Boston, observing that the dissenting +recruit was disposed to remain peaceably, relaxed a little of his +vigilance. Whistling Dick arose presently and strolled leisurely up +and down keeping carefully within the territory assigned him. + +"Dis planter chap," he said, pausing before Boston Harry, "w'ot +makes yer t'ink he's got de tin in de house wit' 'im?" + +"I'm advised of the facts in the case," said Boston. "He drove to +Noo Orleans and got it, I say, to-day. Want to change your mind now +and come in?" + +"Naw, I was just askin'. Wot kind o' team did de boss drive?" + +"Pair of grays." + +"Double surrey?" + +"Yep." + +"Women folks along?" + +"Wife and kid. Say, what morning paper are you trying to pump news +for?" + +"I was just conversin' to pass de time away. I guess dat team passed +me in de road dis evenin'. Dat's all." + +As Whistling Dick put his hands in his pockets and continued his +curtailed beat up and down by the fire, he felt the silk stocking he +had picked up in the road. + +"Ther bloomin' little skeezicks," he muttered, with a grin. + +As he walked up and down he could see, through a sort of natural +opening or lane among the trees, the planter's residence some +seventy-five yards distant. The side of the house toward him +exhibited spacious, well-lighted windows through which a soft +radiance streamed, illuminating the broad veranda and some extent +of the lawn beneath. + +"What's that you said?" asked Boston, sharply. + +"Oh, nuttin' 't all," said Whistling Dick, lounging carelessly, and +kicking meditatively at a little stone on the ground. + +"Just as easy," continued the warbling vagrant softly to himself, +"an' sociable an' swell an' sassy, wit' her 'Mer-ry Chris-mus,' Wot +d'yer t'ink, now!" + + + +Dinner, two hours late, was being served in the Bellemeade +plantation dining-room. + +The dining-room and all its appurtenances spoke of an old regime +that was here continued rather than suggested to the memory. The +plate was rich to the extent that its age and quaintness alone saved +it from being showy; there were interesting names signed in the +corners of the pictures on the walls; the viands were of the kind +that bring a shine into the eyes of gourmets. The service was swift, +silent, lavish, as in the days when the waiters were assets like the +plate. The names by which the planter's family and their visitors +addressed one another were historic in the annals of two nations. +Their manners and conversation had that most difficult kind of +ease--the kind that still preserves punctilio. The planter himself +seemed to be the dynamo that generated the larger portion of the +gaiety and wit. The younger ones at the board found it more than +difficult to turn back on him his guns of raillery and banter. It is +true, the young men attempted to storm his works repeatedly, incited +by the hope of gaining the approbation of their fair companions; but +even when they sped a well-aimed shaft, the planter forced them to +feel defeat by the tremendous discomfiting thunder of the laughter +with which he accompanied his retorts. At the head of the table, +serene, matronly, benevolent, reigned the mistress of the house, +placing here and there the right smile, the right word, the +encouraging glance. + +The talk of the party was too desultory, too evanescent to follow, +but at last they came to the subject of the tramp nuisance, one that +had of late vexed the plantations for many miles around. The planter +seized the occasion to direct his good-natured fire of raillery +at the mistress, accusing her of encouraging the plague. "They +swarm up and down the river every winter," he said. "They overrun +New Orleans, and we catch the surplus, which is generally the +worst part. And, a day or two ago, Madame New Orleans, suddenly +discovering that she can't go shopping without brushing her skirts +against great rows of the vagabonds sunning themselves on the +banquettes, says to the police: 'Catch 'em all,' and the police +catch a dozen or two, and the remaining three or four thousand +overflow up and down the levee, and madame there,"--pointing +tragically with the carving-knife at her--"feeds them. They won't +work; they defy my overseers, and they make friends with my dogs; +and you, madame, feed them before my eyes, and intimidate me when +I would interfere. Tell us, please, how many to-day did you thus +incite to future laziness and depredation?" + +"Six, I think," said madame, with a reflective smile; "but you know +two of them offered to work, for you heard them yourself." + +The planter's disconcerting laugh rang out again. + +"Yes, at their own trades. And one was an artificial-flower maker, +and the other a glass-blower. Oh, they were looking for work! Not a +hand would they consent to lift to labour of any other kind." + +"And another one," continued the soft-hearted mistress, "used quite +good language. It was really extraordinary for one of his class. +And he carried a watch. And had lived in Boston. I don't believe +they are all bad. They have always seemed to me to rather lack +development. I always look upon them as children with whom wisdom +has remained at a standstill while whiskers have continued to grow. +We passed one this evening as we were driving home who had a face +as good as it was incompetent. He was whistling the intermezzo from +'Cavalleria' and blowing the spirit of Mascagni himself into it." + +A bright eyed young girl who sat at the left of the mistress leaned +over, and said in a confidential undertone: + +"I wonder, mamma, if that tramp we passed on the road found my +stocking, and do you think he will hang it up to-night? Now I +can hang up but one. Do you know why I wanted a new pair of silk +stockings when I have plenty? Well, old Aunt Judy says, if you hang +up two that have never been worn, Santa Claus will fill one with +good things, and Monsieur Pambe will place in the other payment +for all the words you have spoken--good or bad--on the day before +Christmas. That's why I've been unusually nice and polite to +everyone to-day. Monsieur Pambe, you know, is a witch gentleman; +he--" + +The words of the young girl were interrupted by a startling thing. + +Like the wraith of some burned-out shooting star, a black streak +came crashing through the window-pane and upon the table, where it +shivered into fragments a dozen pieces of crystal and china ware, +and then glanced between the heads of the guests to the wall, +imprinting therein a deep, round indentation, at which, to-day, the +visitor to Bellemeade marvels as he gazes upon it and listens to +this tale as it is told. + +The women screamed in many keys, and the men sprang to their feet, +and would have laid their hands upon their swords had not the +verities of chronology forbidden. + +The planter was the first to act; he sprang to the intruding +missile, and held it up to view. + +"By Jupiter!" he cried. "A meteoric shower of hosiery! Has +communication at last been established with Mars?" + +"I should say--ahem--Venus," ventured a young-gentleman visitor, +looking hopefully for approbation toward the unresponsive young-lady +visitors. + +The planter held at arm's length the unceremonious visitor--a long +dangling black stocking. "It's loaded," he announced. + +As he spoke, he reversed the stocking, holding it by the toe, and +down from it dropped a roundish stone, wrapped about by a piece of +yellowish paper. "Now for the first interstellar message of the +century!" he cried; and nodding to the company, who had crowded +about him, he adjusted his glasses with provoking deliberation, and +examined it closely. When he finished, he had changed from the jolly +host to the practical, decisive man of business. He immediately +struck a bell, and said to the silent-footed mulatto man who +responded: "Go and tell Mr. Wesley to get Reeves and Maurice and +about ten stout hands they can rely upon, and come to the hall door +at once. Tell him to have the men arm themselves, and bring plenty +of ropes and plough lines. Tell him to hurry." And then he read +aloud from the paper these words: + + + TO THE GENT OF DE HOUS: + + Dere is five tuff hoboes xcept meself in the vaken lot near + de road war de old brick piles is. Dey got me stuck up wid + a gun see and I taken dis means of communication. 2 of der + lads is gone down to set fire to de cain field below de hous + and when yous fellers goes to turn de hoes on it de hole + gang is goin to rob de hous of de money yoo gotto pay off + wit say git a move on ye say de kid dropt dis sock in der + rode tel her mery crismus de same as she told me. Ketch de + bums down de rode first and den sen a relefe core to get me + out of soke youres truly, + + WHISTLEN DICK. + + +There was some quiet, but rapid, mavoeuvring at Bellemeade during +the ensuring half hour, which ended in five disgusted and sullen +tramps being captured, and locked securely in an outhouse pending +the coming of the morning and retribution. For another result, the +visiting young gentlemen had secured the unqualified worship of the +visiting young ladies by their distinguished and heroic conduct. +For still another, behold Whistling Dick, the hero, seated at the +planter's table, feasting upon viands his experience had never +before included, and waited upon by admiring femininity in shapes +of such beauty and "swellness" that even his ever-full mouth could +scarcely prevent him from whistling. He was made to disclose in +detail his adventure with the evil gang of Boston Harry, and how he +cunningly wrote the note and wrapped it around the stone and placed +it at the toe of the stocking, and, watching his chance, sent it +silently, with a wonderful centrifugal momentum, like a comet, at +one of the big lighted windows of the dining-room. + +The planter vowed that the wanderer should wander no more; that his +was a goodness and an honesty that should be rewarded, and that +a debt of gratitude had been made that must be paid; for had he +not saved them from a doubtless imminent loss, and maybe a greater +calamity? He assured Whistling Dick that he might consider himself a +charge upon the honour of Bellemeade; that a position suited to his +powers would be found for him at once, and hinted that the way would +be heartily smoothed for him to rise to as high places of emolument +and trust as the plantation afforded. + +But now, they said, he must be weary, and the immediate thing to +consider was rest and sleep. So the mistress spoke to a servant, +and Whistling Dick was conducted to a room in the wing of the house +occupied by the servants. To this room, in a few minutes, was +brought a portable tin bathtub filled with water, which was placed +on a piece of oiled cloth upon the floor. There the vagrant was left +to pass the night. + +By the light of a candle he examined the room. A bed, with the +covers neatly turned back, revealed snowy pillows and sheets. A +worn, but clean, red carpet covered the floor. There was a dresser +with a beveled mirror, a washstand with a flowered bowl and pitcher; +the two or three chairs were softly upholstered. A little table held +books, papers, and a day-old cluster of roses in a jar. There were +towels on a rack and soap in a white dish. + +Whistling Dick set his candle on a chair and placed his hat +carefully under the table. After satisfying what we must suppose to +have been his curiosity by a sober scrutiny, he removed his coat, +folded it, and laid it upon the floor, near the wall, as far as +possible from the unused bathtub. Taking his coat for a pillow, he +stretched himself luxuriously upon the carpet. + +When, on Christmas morning, the first streaks of dawn broke above +the marshes, Whistling Dick awoke, and reached instinctively for his +hat. Then he remembered that the skirts of Fortune had swept him +into their folds on the night previous, and he went to the window +and raised it, to let the fresh breath of the morning cool his brow +and fix the yet dream-like memory of his good luck within his brain. + +As he stood there, certain dread and ominous sounds pierced the +fearful hollow of his ear. + +The force of plantation workers, eager to complete the shortened +task allotted to them, were all astir. The mighty din of the ogre +Labour shook the earth, and the poor tattered and forever disguised +Prince in search of his fortune held tight to the window-sill even +in the enchanted castle, and trembled. + +Already from the bosom of the mill came the thunder of rolling +barrels of sugar, and (prison-like sounds) there was a great +rattling of chains as the mules were harried with stimulant +imprecations to their places by the waggon-tongues. A little vicious +"dummy" engine, with a train of flat cars in tow, stewed and fumed +on the plantation tap of the narrow-gauge railroad, and a toiling, +hurrying, hallooing stream of workers were dimly seen in the half +darkness loading the train with the weekly output of sugar. Here was +a poem; an epic--nay, a tragedy--with work, the curse of the world, +for its theme. + +The December air was frosty, but the sweat broke out upon Whistling +Dick's face. He thrust his head out of the window, and looked down. +Fifteen feet below him, against the wall of the house, he could make +out that a border of flowers grew, and by that token he overhung a +bed of soft earth. + +Softly as a burglar goes, he clambered out upon the sill, lowered +himself until he hung by his hands alone, and then dropped safely. +No one seemed to be about upon this side of the house. He dodged +low, and skimmed swiftly across the yard to the low fence. It was an +easy matter to vault this, for a terror urged him such as lifts the +gazelle over the thorn bush when the lion pursues. A crash through +the dew-drenched weeds on the roadside, a clutching, slippery rush +up the grassy side of the levee to the footpath at the summit, +and--he was free! + +The east was blushing and brightening. The wind, himself a vagrant +rover, saluted his brother upon the cheek. Some wild geese, high +above, gave cry. A rabbit skipped along the path before him, free +to turn to the right or to the left as his mood should send him. +The river slid past, and certainly no one could tell the ultimate +abiding place of its waters. + +A small, ruffled, brown-breasted bird, sitting upon a dog-wood +sapling, began a soft, throaty, tender little piping in praise of +the dew which entices foolish worms from their holes; but suddenly +he stopped, and sat with his head turned sidewise, listening. + +From the path along the levee there burst forth a jubilant, +stirring, buoyant, thrilling whistle, loud and keen and clear as the +cleanest notes of the piccolo. The soaring sound rippled and trilled +and arpeggioed as the songs of wild birds do not; but it had a +wild free grace that, in a way, reminded the small, brown bird of +something familiar, but exactly what he could not tell. There was +in it the bird call, or reveille, that all birds know; but a great +waste of lavish, unmeaning things that art had added and arranged, +besides, and that were quite puzzling and strange; and the little +brown bird sat with his head on one side until the sound died away +in the distance. + +The little bird did not know that the part of that strange warbling +that he understood was just what kept the warbler without his +breakfast; but he knew very well that the part he did not understand +did not concern him, so he gave a little flutter of his wings and +swooped down like a brown bullet upon a big fat worm that was +wriggling along the levee path. + + + + +XX + +THE HALBERDIER OF THE LITTLE RHEINSCHLOSS + + +I go sometimes into the _Bierhalle_ and restaurant called Old +Munich. Not long ago it was a resort of interesting Bohemians, +but now only artists and musicians and literary folk frequent it. +But the Pilsner is yet good, and I take some diversion from the +conversation of Waiter No. 18. + +For many years the customers of Old Munich have accepted the place +as a faithful copy from the ancient German town. The big hall with +its smoky rafters, rows of imported steins, portrait of Goethe, +and verses painted on the walls--translated into German from the +original of the Cincinnati poets--seems atmospherically correct when +viewed through the bottom of a glass. + +But not long ago the proprietors added the room above, called it +the Little Rheinschloss, and built in a stairway. Up there was an +imitation stone parapet, ivy-covered, and the walls were painted to +represent depth and distance, with the Rhine winding at the base of +the vineyarded slopes, and the castle of Ehrenbreitstein looming +directly opposite the entrance. Of course there were tables and +chairs; and you could have beer and food brought you, as you +naturally would on the top of a castle on the Rhine. + +I went into Old Munich one afternoon when there were few customers, +and sat at my usual table near the stairway. I was shocked and +almost displeased to perceive that the glass cigar-case by the +orchestra stand had been smashed to smithereens. I did not like +things to happen in Old Munich. Nothing had ever happened there +before. + +Waiter No. 18 came and breathed on my neck. I was his by right of +discovery. Eighteen's brain was built like a corral. It was full of +ideas which, when he opened the gate, came huddling out like a flock +of sheep that might get together afterward or might not. I did not +shine as a shepherd. As a type Eighteen fitted nowhere. I did not +find out if he had a nationality, family, creed, grievance, hobby, +soul, preference, home, or vote. He only came always to my table +and, as long as his leisure would permit, let words flutter from him +like swallows leaving a barn at daylight. + +"How did the cigar-case come to be broken, Eighteen?" I asked, with +a certain feeling of personal grievance. + +"I can tell you about that, sir," said he, resting his foot on the +chair next to mine. "Did you ever have anybody hand you a double +handful of good luck while both your hands was full of bad luck, and +stop to notice how your fingers behaved?" + +"No riddles, Eighteen," said I. "Leave out palmistry and +manicuring." + +"You remember," said Eighteen, "the guy in the hammered brass Prince +Albert and the oroide gold pants and the amalgamated copper hat, +that carried the combination meat-axe, ice-pick, and liberty-pole, +and used to stand on the first landing as you go up to the Little +Rindslosh." + +"Why, yes," said I. "The halberdier. I never noticed him +particularly. I remember he thought he was only a suit of armour. He +had a perfect poise." + +"He had more than that," said Eighteen. "He was me friend. He was an +advertisement. The boss hired him to stand on the stairs for a kind +of scenery to show there was something doing in the has-been line +upstairs. What did you call him--a what kind of a beer?" + +"A halberdier," said I. "That was an ancient man-at-arms of many +hundred years ago." + +"Some mistake," said Eighteen. "This one wasn't that old. He wasn't +over twenty-three or four. + +"It was the boss's idea, rigging a man up in an ante-bellum suit +of tinware and standing him on the landing of the slosh. He bought +the goods at a Fourth Avenue antique store, and hung a sign-out: +'Able-bodied hal--halberdier wanted. Costume furnished.' + +"The same morning a young man with wrecked good clothes and a hungry +look comes in, bringing the sign with him. I was filling the +mustard-pots at my station. + +"'I'm it,' says he, 'whatever it is. But I never halberdiered in a +restaurant. Put me on. Is it a masquerade?' + +"'I hear talk in the kitchen of a fishball,' says I. + +"'Bully for you, Eighteen,' says he. 'You and I'll get on. Show me +the boss's desk.' + +"Well, the boss tries the Harveyized pajamas on him, and they fitted +him like the scales on a baked redsnapper, and he gets the job. +You've seen what it is--he stood straight up in the corner of the +first landing with his halberd to his shoulder, looking right ahead +and guarding the Portugals of the castle. The boss is nutty about +having the true Old-World flavour to his joint. 'Halberdiers goes +with Rindsloshes,' says he, 'just as rats goes with rathskellers and +white cotton stockings with Tyrolean villages.' The boss is a kind +of a antiologist, and is all posted up on data and such information. + +"From 8 P.M. to two in the morning was the halberdier's hours. He +got two meals with us help and a dollar a night. I eat with him at +the table. He liked me. He never told his name. He was travelling +impromptu, like kings, I guess. The first time at supper I says to +him: 'Have some more of the spuds, Mr. Frelinghuysen.' 'Oh, don't be +so formal and offish, Eighteen,' says he. 'Call me Hal--that's short +for halberdier.' 'Oh, don't think I wanted to pry for names,' says +I. 'I know all about the dizzy fall from wealth and greatness. We've +got a count washing dishes in the kitchen; and the third bartender +used to be a Pullman conductor. And they _work_, Sir Percival,' says +I, sarcastic. + +"'Eighteen,' says he, 'as a friendly devil in a cabbage-scented +hell, would you mind cutting up this piece of steak for me? I don't +say that it's got more muscle than I have, but--' And then he shows +me the insides of his hands. They was blistered and cut and corned +and swelled up till they looked like a couple of flank steaks +criss-crossed with a knife--the kind the butchers hide and take +home, knowing what is the best. + +"'Shoveling coal,' says he, 'and piling bricks and loading drays. +But they gave out, and I had to resign. I was born for a halberdier, +and I've been educated for twenty-four years to fill the position. +Now, quit knocking my profession, and pass along a lot more of +that ham. I'm holding the closing exercises,' says he, 'of a +forty-eight-hour fast.' + +"The second night he was on the job he walks down from his corner to +the cigar-case and calls for cigarettes. The customers at the tables +all snicker out loud to show their acquaintance with history. The +boss is on. + +"'An'--let's see--oh, yes--'An anachronism,' says the boss. +'Cigarettes was not made at the time when halberdiers was invented.' + +"'The ones you sell was,' says Sir Percival. 'Caporal wins from +chronology by the length of a cork tip.' So he gets 'em and lights +one, and puts the box in his brass helmet, and goes back to +patrolling the Rindslosh. + +"He made a big hit, 'specially with the ladies. Some of 'em would +poke him with their fingers to see if he was real or only a kind of +a stuffed figure like they burn in elegy. And when he'd move they'd +squeak, and make eyes at him as they went up to the slosh. He looked +fine in his halberdashery. He slept at $2 a week in a hall-room on +Third Avenue. He invited me up there one night. He had a little book +on the washstand that he read instead of shopping in the saloons +after hours. 'I'm on to that,' says I, 'from reading about it in +novels. All the heroes on the bum carry the little book. It's either +Tantalus or Liver or Horace, and its printed in Latin, and you're a +college man. And I wouldn't be surprised,' says I, 'if you wasn't +educated, too.' But it was only the batting averages of the League +for the last ten years. + +"One night, about half past eleven, there comes in a party of these +high-rollers that are always hunting up new places to eat in and +poke fun at. There was a swell girl in a 40 H.-P. auto tan coat and +veil, and a fat old man with white side-whiskers, and a young chap +that couldn't keep his feet off the tail of the girl's coat, and an +oldish lady that looked upon life as immoral and unnecessary. 'How +perfectly delightful,' they says, 'to sup in a slosh.' Up the stairs +they go; and in half a minute back down comes the girl, her skirts +swishing like the waves on the beach. She stops on the landing and +looks our halberdier in the eye. + +"'You!' she says, with a smile that reminded me of lemon sherbet. I +was waiting up-stairs in the slosh, then, and I was right down here +by the door, putting some vinegar and cayenne into an empty bottle +of tabasco, and I heard all they said. + +"'It,' says Sir Percival, without moving. 'I'm only local colour. +Are my hauberk, helmet, and halberd on straight?' + +"'Is there an explanation to this?' says she. 'Is it a practical +joke such as men play in those Griddle-cake and Lamb Clubs? I'm +afraid I don't see the point. I heard, vaguely, that you were away. +For three months I--we have not seen you or heard from you.' + +"'I'm halberdiering for my living,' says the stature. 'I'm working,' +says he. 'I don't suppose you know what work means.' + +"'Have you--have you lost your money?' she asks. + +"Sir Percival studies a minute. + +"'I am poorer,' says he, 'than the poorest sandwich man on the +streets--if I don't earn my living.' + +"'You call this work?' says she. 'I thought a man worked with his +hands or his head instead of becoming a mountebank.' + +"'The calling of a halberdier,' says he, 'is an ancient and +honourable one. Sometimes,' says he, 'the man-at-arms at the door +has saved the castle while the plumed knights were cake-walking in +the banquet-halls above.' + +"'I see you're not ashamed,' says she, 'of your peculiar tastes. I +wonder, though, that the manhood I used to think I saw in you didn't +prompt you to draw water or hew wood instead of publicly flaunting +your ignominy in this disgraceful masquerade.' + +"Sir Percival kind of rattles his armour and says: 'Helen, will you +suspend sentence in this matter for just a little while? You don't +understand,' says he. 'I've got to hold this job down a little +longer.' + +"'You like being a harlequin--or halberdier, as you call it?' says +she. + +"'I wouldn't get thrown out of the job just now,' says he, with a +grin, 'to be appointed Minister to the Court of St. James's.' + +"And then the 40-H.P. girl's eyes sparkled as hard as diamonds. + +"'Very well,' says she. 'You shall have full run of your +serving-man's tastes this night.' And she swims over to the boss's +desk and gives him a smile that knocks the specks off his nose. + +"'I think your Rindslosh,' says she, 'is as beautiful as a dream. It +is a little slice of the Old World set down in New York. We shall +have a nice supper up there; but if you will grant us one favour the +illusion will be perfect--give us your halberdier to wait on our +table.' + +"That hits the boss's antiology hobby just right. 'Sure,' says he, +'dot vill be fine. Und der orchestra shall blay "Die Wacht am Rhein" +all der time.' And he goes over and tells the halberdier to go +upstairs and hustle the grub at the swells' table. + +"'I'm on the job,' says Sir Percival, taking off his helmet and +hanging it on his halberd and leaning 'em in the corner. The girl +goes up and takes her seat and I see her jaw squared tight under her +smile. 'We're going to be waited on by a real halberdier,' says she, +'one who is proud of his profession. Isn't it sweet?' + +"'Ripping,' says the swell young man. 'Much prefer a waiter,' says +the fat old gent. 'I hope he doesn't come from a cheap museum,' says +the old lady; 'he might have microbes in his costume.' + +"Before he goes to the table, Sir Percival takes me by the arm. +'Eighteen,' he says, 'I've got to pull off this job without a +blunder. You coach me straight or I'll take that halberd and make +hash out of you.' And then he goes up to the table with his coat of +mail on and a napkin over his arm and waits for the order. + +"'Why, it's Deering!' says the young swell. 'Hello, old man. What +the--' + +"'Beg pardon, sir,' interrupts the halberdier, 'I'm waiting on the +table.' + +"The old man looks at him grim, like a Boston bull. 'So, Deering,' +he says, 'you're at work yet.' + +"'Yes, sir,' says Sir Percival, quiet and gentlemanly as I could +have been myself, 'for almost three months, now.' 'You haven't been +discharged during the time?' asks the old man. 'Not once, sir,' says +he, 'though I've had to change my work several times.' + +"'Waiter,' orders the girl, short and sharp, 'another napkin.' He +brings her one, respectful. + +"I never saw more devil, if I may say it, stirred up in a lady. +There was two bright red spots on her cheeks, and her eyes looked +exactly like a wildcat's I'd seen in the zoo. Her foot kept slapping +the floor all the time. + +"'Waiter,' she orders, 'bring me filtered water without ice. Bring +me a footstool. Take away this empty salt-cellar.' She kept him on +the jump. She was sure giving the halberdier his. + +"There wasn't but a few customers up in the slosh at that time, so +I hung out near the door so I could help Sir Percival serve. + +"He got along fine with the olives and celery and the bluepoints. +They was easy. And then the consomme came up the dumb-waiter all in +one big silver tureen. Instead of serving it from the side-table he +picks it up between his hands and starts to the dining-table with +it. When nearly there he drops the tureen smash on the floor, and +the soup soaks all the lower part of that girl's swell silk dress. + +"'Stupid--incompetent,' says she, giving him a look. 'Standing in a +corner with a halberd seems to be your mission in life.' + +"'Pardon me, lady,' says he. 'It was just a little bit hotter than +blazes. I couldn't help it.' + +"The old man pulls out a memorandum book and hunts in it. 'The 25th +of April, Deering,' says he. 'I know it,' says Sir Percival. 'And +ten minutes to twelve o'clock,' says the old man. 'By Jupiter! you +haven't won yet.' And he pounds the table with his fist and yells +to me: 'Waiter, call the manager at once--tell him to hurry here as +fast as he can.' I go after the boss, and old Brockmann hikes up to +the slosh on the jump. + +"'I want this man discharged at once,' roars the old guy. 'Look +what he's done. Ruined my daughter's dress. It cost at least $600. +Discharge this awkward lout at once or I'll sue you for the price of +it.' + +"'Dis is bad pizness,' says the boss. 'Six hundred dollars is much. +I reckon I vill haf to--' + +"'Wait a minute, Herr Brockmann,' says Sir Percival, easy and +smiling. But he was worked up under his tin suitings; I could see +that. And then he made the finest, neatest little speech I ever +listened to. I can't give you the words, of course. He give the +millionaires a lovely roast in a sarcastic way, describing their +automobiles and opera-boxes and diamonds; and then he got around +to the working-classes and the kind of grub they eat and the long +hours they work--and all that sort of stuff--bunkum, of course. 'The +restless rich,' says he, 'never content with their luxuries, always +prowling among the haunts of the poor and humble, amusing themselves +with the imperfections and misfortunes of their fellow men and +women. And even here, Herr Brockmann,' he says, 'in this beautiful +Rindslosh, a grand and enlightening reproduction of Old World +history and architecture, they come to disturb its symmetry and +picturesqueness by demanding in their arrogance that the halberdier +of the castle wait upon their table! I have faithfuly and +conscientiously,' says he, 'performed my duties as a halberdier. I +know nothing of a waiter's duties. It was the insolent whim of these +transient, pampered aristocrats that I should be detailed to serve +them food. Must I be blamed--must I be deprived of the means of a +livelihood,' he goes on, 'on account of an accident that was the +result of their own presumption and haughtiness? But what hurts me +more than all,' says Sir Percival, 'is the desecration that has been +done to this splendid Rindslosh--the confiscation of its halberdier +to serve menially at the banquet board.' + +"Even I could see that this stuff was piffle; but it caught the +boss. + +"'Mein Gott,' says he, 'you vas right. Ein halberdier have not got +der right to dish up soup. Him I vill not discharge. Have anoder +waiter if you like, und let mein halberdier go back und stand mit +his halberd. But, gentlemen,' he says, pointing to the old man, 'you +go ahead and sue mit der dress. Sue me for $600 or $6,000. I stand +der suit.' And the boss puffs off down-stairs. Old Brockmann was an +all-right Dutchman. + +"Just then the clock strikes twelve, and the old guy laughs loud. +'You win, Deering,' says he. 'And let me explain to all,' he goes +on. 'Some time ago Mr. Deering asked me for something that I did +not want to give him.' (I looks at the girl, and she turns as red +as a pickled beet.) 'I told him,' says the old guy, 'if he would +earn his own living for three months without being discharged for +incompetence, I would give him what he wanted. It seems that the +time was up at twelve o'clock to-night. I came near fetching you, +though, Deering, on that soup question,' says the old boy, standing +up and grabbing Sir Percival's hand. + +"The halberdier lets out a yell and jumps three feet high. + +"'Look out for those hands,' says he, and he holds 'em up. You never +saw such hands except on a labourer in a limestone quarry. + +"'Heavens, boy!' says old side-whiskers, 'what have you been doing +to 'em?' + +"'Oh,' says Sir Percival, 'little chores like hauling coal and +excavating rock till they went back on me. And when I couldn't hold +a pick or a whip I took up halberdiering to give 'em a rest. Tureens +full of hot soup don't seem to be a particularly soothing +treatment.' + +"I would have bet on that girl. That high-tempered kind always go +as far the other way, according to my experience. She whizzes round +the table like a cyclone and catches both his hands in hers. 'Poor +hands--dear hands,' she sings out, and sheds tears on 'em and holds +'em close to her bosom. Well, sir, with all that Rindslosh scenery +it was just like a play. And the halberdier sits down at the table +at the girl's side, and I served the rest of the supper. And that +was about all, except that when they left he shed his hardware store +and went with 'em." + +I dislike to be side-tracked from an original proposition. + +"But you haven't told me, Eighteen," said I, "how the cigar-case +came to be broken." + +"Oh, that was last night," said Eighteen. "Sir Percival and the +girl drove up in a cream-coloured motor-car, and had dinner in the +Rindslosh. 'The same table, Billy,' I heard her say as they went up. +I waited on 'em. We've got a new halberdier now, a bow-legged guy +with a face like a sheep. As they came down-stairs Sir Percival +passes him a ten-case note. The new halberdier drops his halberd, +and it falls on the cigar-case. That's how that happened." + + + + +XXI + +TWO RENEGADES + + +In the Gate City of the South the Confederate Veterans were +reuniting; and I stood to see them march, beneath the tangled +flags of the great conflict, to the hall of their oratory and +commemoration. + +While the irregular and halting line was passing I made onslaught +upon it and dragged from the ranks my friend Barnard O'Keefe, who +had no right to be there. For he was a Northerner born and bred; and +what should he be doing hallooing for the Stars and Bars among those +gray and moribund veterans? And why should he be trudging, with his +shining, martial, humorous, broad face, among those warriors of a +previous and alien generation? + +I say I dragged him forth, and held him till the last hickory leg +and waving goatee had stumbled past. And then I hustled him out +of the crowd into a cool interior; for the Gate City was stirred +that day, and the hand-organs wisely eliminated "Marching Through +Georgia" from their repertories. + +"Now, what deviltry are you up to?" I asked of O'Keefe when there +were a table and things in glasses between us. + +O'Keefe wiped his heated face and instigated a commotion among the +floating ice in his glass before he chose to answer. + +"I am assisting at the wake," said he, "of the only nation on earth +that ever did me a good turn. As one gentleman to another, I am +ratifying and celebrating the foreign policy of the late Jefferson +Davis, as fine a statesman as ever settled the financial question of +a country. Equal ratio--that was his platform--a barrel of money for +a barrel of flour--a pair of $20 bills for a pair of boots--a hatful +of currency for a new hat--say, ain't that simple compared with W. +J. B.'s little old oxidized plank?" + +"What talk is this?" I asked. "Your financial digression is merely +a subterfuge. Why were you marching in the ranks of the Confederate +Veterans?" + +"Because, my lad," answered O'Keefe, "the Confederate Government in +its might and power interposed to protect and defend Barnard O'Keefe +against immediate and dangerous assassination at the hands of a +blood-thirsty foreign country after the Unites States of America +had overruled his appeal for protection, and had instructed Private +Secretary Cortelyou to reduce his estimate of the Republican +majority for 1905 by one vote." + +"Come, Barney," said I, "the Confederate States of America has been +out of existence nearly forty years. You do not look older yourself. +When was it that the deceased government exerted its foreign policy +in your behalf?" + +"Four months ago," said O'Keefe, promptly. "The infamous foreign +power I alluded to is still staggering from the official blow dealt +it by Mr. Davis's contraband aggregation of states. That's why you +see me cake-walking with the ex-rebs to the illegitimate tune about +'simmon-seeds and cotton. I vote for the Great Father in Washington, +but I am not going back on Mars' Jeff. You say the Confederacy has +been dead forty years? Well, if it hadn't been for it, I'd have +been breathing to-day with soul so dead I couldn't have whispered +a single cuss-word about my native land. The O'Keefes are not +overburdened with ingratitude." + +I must have looked bewildered. "The war was over," I said vacantly, +"in--" + +O'Keefe laughed loudly, scattering my thoughts. + +"Ask old Doc Millikin if the war is over!" he shouted, hugely +diverted. "Oh, no! Doc hasn't surrendered yet. And the Confederate +States! Well, I just told you they bucked officially and solidly and +nationally against a foreign government four months ago and kept me +from being shot. Old Jeff's country stepped in and brought me off +under its wing while Roosevelt was having a gunboat painted and +waiting for the National Campaign Committee to look up whether I had +ever scratched the ticket." + +"Isn't there a story in this, Barney?" I asked. + +"No," said O'Keefe; "but I'll give you the facts. You know I went +down to Panama when this irritation about a canal began. I thought +I'd get in on the ground floor. I did, and had to sleep on it, and +drink water with little zoos in it; so, of course, I got the Chagres +fever. That was in a little town called San Juan on the coast. + +"After I got the fever hard enough to kill a Port-au-Prince nigger, +I had a relapse in the shape of Doc Millikin. + +"There was a doctor to attend a sick man! If Doc Millikin had your +case, he made the terrors of death seem like an invitation to a +donkey-party. He had the bedside manners of a Piute medicine-man and +the soothing presence of a dray loaded with iron bridge-girders. +When he laid his hand on your fevered brow you felt like Cap John +Smith just before Pocahontas went his bail. + +"Well, this old medical outrage floated down to my shack when I sent +for him. He was build like a shad, and his eyebrows was black, and +his white whiskers trickled down from his chin like milk coming +out of a sprinkling-pot. He had a nigger boy along carrying an old +tomato-can full of calomel, and a saw. + +"Doc felt my pulse, and then he began to mess up some calomel with +an agricultural implement that belonged to the trowel class. + +"'I don't want any death-mask made yet, Doc,' I says, 'nor my liver +put in a plaster-of-Paris cast. I'm sick; and it's medicine I need, +not frescoing.' + +"'You're a blame Yankee, ain't you?' asked Doc, going on mixing up +his Portland cement. + +"'I'm from the North,' says I, 'but I'm a plain man, and don't care +for mural decorations. When you get the Isthmus all asphalted over +with that boll-weevil prescription, would you mind giving me a dose +of pain-killer, or a little strychnine on toast to ease up this +feeling of unhealthiness that I have got?" + +"'They was all sassy, just like you,' says old Doc, 'but we lowered +their temperature considerable. Yes, sir, I reckon we sent a good +many of ye over to old _mortuis nisi bonum_. Look at Antietam and +Bull Run and Seven Pines and around Nashville! There never was a +battle where we didn't lick ye unless you was ten to our one. I knew +you were a blame Yankee the minute I laid eyes on you.' + +"'Don't reopen the chasm, Doc,' I begs him. 'Any Yankeeness I may +have is geographical; and, as far as I am concerned, a Southerner is +as good as a Filipino any day. I'm feeling to bad too argue. Let's +have secession without misrepresentation, if you say so; but what I +need is more laudanum and less Lundy's Lane. If you're mixing that +compound gefloxide of gefloxicum for me, please fill my ears with it +before you get around to the battle of Gettysburg, for there is a +subject full of talk.' + +"By this time Doc Millikin had thrown up a line of fortifications on +square pieces of paper; and he says to me: 'Yank, take one of these +powders every two hours. They won't kill you. I'll be around again +about sundown to see if you're alive.' + +"Old Doc's powders knocked the chagres. I stayed in San Juan, +and got to knowing him better. He was from Mississippi, and the +red-hottest Southerner that ever smelled mint. He made Stonewall +Jackson and R. E. Lee look like Abolitionists. He had a family +somewhere down near Yazoo City; but he stayed away from the States +on account of an uncontrollable liking he had for the absence of +a Yankee government. Him and me got as thick personally as the +Emperor of Russia and the dove of peace, but sectionally we didn't +amalgamate. + +"'Twas a beautiful system of medical practice introduced by old Doc +into that isthmus of land. He'd take that bracket-saw and the mild +chloride and his hypodermic, and treat anything from yellow fever to +a personal friend. + +"Besides his other liabilities Doc could play a flute for a minute +or two. He was guilty of two tunes--'Dixie' and another one that +was mighty close to the 'Suwanee River'--you might say one of its +tributaries. He used to come down and sit with me while I was +getting well, and aggrieve his flute and say unreconstructed things +about the North. You'd have thought that the smoke from the first +gun at Fort Sumter was still floating around in the air. + +"You know that was about the time they staged them property +revolutions down there, that wound up in the fifth act with the +thrilling canal scene where Uncle Sam has nine curtain-calls holding +Miss Panama by the hand, while the bloodhounds keep Senator Morgan +treed up in a cocoanut-palm. + +"That's the way it wound up; but at first it seemed as if Colombia +was going to make Panama look like one of the $3.98 kind, with dents +made in it in the factory, like they wear at North Beach fish fries. +For mine, I played the straw-hat crowd to win; and they gave me a +colonel's commission over a brigade of twenty-seven men in the left +wing and second joint of the insurgent army. + +"The Colombian troops were awfully rude to us. One day when I had my +brigade in a sandy spot, with its shoes off doing a battalion drill +by squads, the Government army rushed from behind a bush at us, +acting as noisy and disagreeable as they could. + +"My troops enfiladed, left-faced, and left the spot. After enticing +the enemy for three miles or so we struck a brier-patch and had to +sit down. When we were ordered to throw up our toes and surrender +we obeyed. Five of my best staff-officers fell, suffering extremely +with stone-bruised heels. + +"Then and there those Colombians took your friend Barney, sir, +stripped him of the insignia of his rank, consisting of a pair +of brass knuckles and a canteen of rum, and dragged him before a +military court. The presiding general went through the usual legal +formalities that sometimes cause a case to hang on the calendar of a +South American military court as long as ten minutes. He asked me my +age, and then sentenced me to be shot. + +"They woke up the court interpreter, an American named Jenks, who +was in the rum business and vice versa, and told him to translate +the verdict. + +"Jenks stretched himself and took a morphine tablet. + +"'You've got to back up against th' 'dobe, old man,' says he to me. +'Three weeks, I believe, you get. Haven't got a chew of fine-cut on +you, have you?' + +"'Translate that again, with foot-notes and a glossary,' says I. 'I +don't know whether I'm discharged, condemned, or handed over to the +Gerry Society.' + +"'Oh,' says Jenks, 'don't you understand? You're to be stood up +against a 'dobe wall and shot in two or three weeks--three, I think, +they said.' + +"'Would you mind asking 'em which?' says I. 'A week don't amount to +much after you're dead, but it seems a real nice long spell while +you are alive.' + +"'It's two weeks,' says the interpreter, after inquiring in Spanish +of the court. 'Shall I ask 'em again?' + +"'Let be,' says I. 'Let's have a stationary verdict. If I keep on +appealing this way they'll have me shot about ten days before I was +captured. No, I haven't got any fine-cut.' + +"They sends me over to the _calaboza_ with a detachment of coloured +postal-telegraph boys carrying Enfield rifles, and I am locked up in +a kind of brick bakery. The temperature in there was just about the +kind mentioned in the cooking recipes that call for a quick oven. + +"Then I gives a silver dollar to one of the guards to send for the +United States consul. He comes around in pajamas, with a pair of +glasses on his nose and a dozen or two inside of him. + +"'I'm to be shot in two weeks,' says I. 'And although I've made a +memorandum of it, I don't seem to get it off my mind. You want to +call up Uncle Sam on the cable as quick as you can and get him all +worked up about it. Have 'em send the _Kentucky_ and the _Kearsarge_ +and the _Oregon_ down right away. That'll be about enough +battleships; but it wouldn't hurt to have a couple of cruisers and a +torpedo-boat destroyer, too. And--say, if Dewey isn't busy, better +have him come along on the fastest one of the fleet.' + +"'Now, see here, O'Keefe,' says the consul, getting the best of a +hiccup, 'what do you want to bother the State Department about this +matter for?' + +"'Didn't you hear me?' says I; 'I'm to be shot in two weeks. Did you +think I said I was going to a lawn-party? And it wouldn't hurt of +Roosevelt could get the Japs to send down the _Yellowyamtiskookum_ +or the _Ogotosingsing_ or some other first-class cruisers to help. +It would make me feel safer.' + +"'Now, what you want,' says the consul, 'is not to get excited. I'll +send you over some chewing tobacco and some banana fritters when I +go back. The United States can't interfere in this. You know you +were caught insurging against the government, and you're subject to +the laws of this country. To tell the truth, I've had an intimation +from the State Department--unofficially, of course--that whenever +a soldier of fortune demands a fleet of gunboats in a case of +revolutionary _katzenjammer_, I should cut the cable, give him all +the tobacco he wants, and after he's shot take his clothes, if they +fit me, for part payment of my salary.' + +"'Consul,' says I to him, 'this is a serious question. You are +representing Uncle Sam. This ain't any little international +tomfoolery, like a universal peace congress or the christening of +the _Shamrock IV_. I'm an American citizen and I demand protection. +I demand the Mosquito fleet, and Schley, and the Atlantic squadron, +and Bob Evans, and General E. Byrd Grubb, and two or three +protocols. What are you going to do about it?' + +"'Nothing doing,' says the consul. + +"'Be off with you, then,' says I, out of patience with him, 'and +send me Doc Millikin. Ask Doc to come and see me.' + +"Doc comes and looks through the bars at me, surrounded by dirty +soldiers, with even my shoes and canteen confiscated, and he looks +mightily pleased. + +"'Hello, Yank,' says he, 'getting a little taste of Johnson's +Island, now, ain't ye?' + +"'Doc,' says I, 'I've just had an interview with the U.S. consul. I +gather from his remarks that I might just as well have been caught +selling suspenders in Kishineff under the name of Rosenstein as to +be in my present condition. It seems that the only maritime aid I am +to receive from the United States is some navy-plug to chew. Doc,' +says I, 'can't you suspend hostility on the slavery question long +enough to do something for me?' + +"'It ain't been my habit,' Doc Millikin answers, 'to do any painless +dentistry when I find a Yank cutting an eye-tooth. So the Stars and +Stripes ain't lending any marines to shell the huts of the Colombian +cannibals, hey? Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light the +star-spangled banner has fluked in the fight? What's the matter with +the War Department, hey? It's a great thing to be a citizen of a +gold-standard nation, ain't it?' + +"'Rub it in, Doc, all you want,' says I. 'I guess we're weak on +foreign policy.' + +"'For a Yank,' says Doc, putting on his specs and talking more mild, +'you ain't so bad. If you had come from below the line I reckon I +would have liked you right smart. Now since your country has gone +back on you, you have to come to the old doctor whose cotton you +burned and whose mules who stole and whose niggers you freed to help +you. Ain't that so, Yank?' + +"'It is,' says I heartily, 'and let's have a diagnosis of the case +right away, for in two weeks' time all you can do is to hold an +autopsy and I don't want to be amputated if I can help it.' + +"'Now,' says Doc, business-like, 'it's easy enough for you to get +out of this scrape. Money'll do it. You've got to pay a long string +of 'em from General Pomposo down to this anthropoid ape guarding +your door. About $10,000 will do the trick. Have you got the money?' + +"'Me?' says I. 'I've got one Chili dollar, two _real_ pieces, and a +_medio_.' + +"'Then if you've any last words, utter 'em,' says that old reb. 'The +roster of your financial budget sounds quite much to me like the +noise of a requiem.' + +"'Change the treatment,' says I. 'I admit that I'm short. Call a +consultation or use radium or smuggle me in some saws or something.' + +"'Yank,' says Doc Millikin, 'I've a good notion to help you. There's +only one government in the world that can get you out of this +difficulty; and that's the Confederate States of America, the +grandest nation that ever existed.' + +"Just as you said to me I says to Doc; 'Why, the Confederacy ain't a +nation. It's been absolved forty years ago.' + +"'That's a campaign lie,' says Doc. 'She's running along as solid as +the Roman Empire. She's the only hope you've got. Now, you, being a +Yank, have got to go through with some preliminary obsequies before +you can get official aid. You've got to take the oath of allegiance +to the Confederate Government. Then I'll guarantee she does all she +can for you. What do you say, Yank?--it's your last chance.' + +"'If you're fooling with me, Doc,' I answers, 'you're no better +than the United States. But as you say it's the last chance, hurry +up and swear me. I always did like corn whisky and 'possum anyhow. +I believe I'm half Southerner by nature. I'm willing to try the +Klu-klux in place of the khaki. Get brisk.' + +"Doc Millikin thinks awhile, and then he offers me this oath of +allegiance to take without any kind of a chaser: + +"'I, Barnard O'Keefe, Yank, being of sound body but a Republican +mind, hereby swear to transfer my fealty, respect, and allegiance +to the Confederate States of America, and the government thereof +in consideration of said government, through its official acts +and powers, obtaining my freedom and release from confinement and +sentence of death brought about by the exuberance of my Irish +proclivities and my general pizenness as a Yank.' + +"I repeated these words after Doc, but they seemed to me a kind of +hocus-pocus; and I don't believe any life-insurance company in the +world would have issued me a policy on the strength of 'em. + +"Doc went away saying he would communicate with his government +immediately. + +"Say--you can imagine how I felt--me to be shot in two weeks and my +only hope for help being in a government that's been dead so long +that it isn't even remembered except on Decoration Day and when Joe +Wheeler signs the voucher for his pay-check. But it was all there +was in sight; and somehow I thought Doc Millikin had something up +his old alpaca sleeve that wasn't all foolishness. + +"Around to the jail comes old Doc again in about a week. I was +flea-bitten, a mite sarcastic, and fundamentally hungry. + +"'Any Confederate ironclads in the offing?' I asks. 'Do you notice +any sounds resembling the approach of Jeb Stewart's cavalry overland +or Stonewall Jackson sneaking up in the rear? If you do, I wish +you'd say so.' + +"'It's too soon yet for help to come,' says Doc. + +"'The sooner the better,' says I. 'I don't care if it gets in fully +fifteen minutes before I am shot; and if you happen to lay eyes on +Beauregard or Albert Sidney Johnston or any of the relief corps, +wig-wag 'em to hike along.' + +"'There's been no answer received yet,' says Doc. + +"'Don't forget,' says I, 'that there's only four days more. I don't +know how you propose to work this thing, Doc,' I says to him; 'but +it seems to me I'd sleep better if you had got a government that +was alive and on the map--like Afghanistan or Great Britain, or +old man Kruger's kingdom, to take this matter up. I don't mean any +disrespect to your Confederate States, but I can't help feeling that +my chances of being pulled out of this scrape was decidedly weakened +when General Lee surrendered.' + +"'It's your only chance,' said Doc; 'don't quarrel with it. What did +your own country do for you?' + +"It was only two days before the morning I was to be shot, when Doc +Millikin came around again. + +"'All right, Yank,' says he. 'Help's come. The Confederate States of +America is going to apply for your release. The representatives of +the government arrived on a fruit-steamer last night.' + +"'Bully!' says I--'bully for you, Doc! I suppose it's marines with a +Gatling. I'm going to love your country all I can for this.' + +"'Negotiations,' says old Doc, 'will be opened between the two +governments at once. You will know later to-day if they are +successful.' + +"About four in the afternoon a soldier in red trousers brings a +paper round to the jail, and they unlocks the door and I walks out. +The guard at the door bows and I bows, and I steps into the grass +and wades around to Doc Millikin's shack. + +"Doc was sitting in his hammock playing 'Dixie,' soft and low and +out of tune, on his flute. I interrupted him at 'Look away! look +away!' and shook his hand for five minutes. + +"'I never thought,' says Doc, taking a chew fretfully, 'that I'd +ever try to save any blame Yank's life. But, Mr. O'Keefe, I don't +see but what you are entitled to be considered part human, anyhow. +I never thought Yanks had any of the rudiments of decorum and +laudability about them. I reckon I might have been too aggregative +in my tabulation. But it ain't me you want to thank--it's the +Confederate States of America.' + +"'And I'm much obliged to 'em,' says I. 'It's a poor man that +wouldn't be patriotic with a country that's saved his life. I'll +drink to the Stars and Bars whenever there's a flagstaff and a glass +convenient. But where,' says I, 'are the rescuing troops? If there +was a gun fired or a shell burst, I didn't hear it.' + +"Doc Millikin raises up and points out the window with his flute at +the banana-steamer loading with fruit. + +"'Yank,' says he, 'there's a steamer that's going to sail in the +morning. If I was you, I'd sail on it. The Confederate Government's +done all it can for you. There wasn't a gun fired. The negotiations +were carried on secretly between the two nations by the purser of +that steamer. I got him to do it because I didn't want to appear in +it. Twelve thousand dollars was paid to the officials in bribes to +let you go.' + +"'Man!' says I, sitting down hard--'twelve thousand--how will I +ever--who could have--where did the money come from?' + +"'Yazoo City,' says Doc Millikin: 'I've got a little saved up +there. Two barrels full. It looks good to these Colombians. 'Twas +Confederate money, every dollar of it. Now do you see why you'd +better leave before they try to pass some of it on an expert?' + +"'I do,' says I. + +"'Now let's hear you give the password,' says Doc Millikin. + +"'Hurrah for Jeff Davis!' says I. + +"'Correct,' says Doc. 'And let me tell you something: The next tune +I learn on my flute is going to be "Yankee Doodle." I reckon there's +some Yanks that are not so pizen. Or, if you was me, would you try +"The Red, White, and Blue"?'" + + + + +XXII + +THE LONESOME ROAD + + +Brown as a coffee-berry, rugged, pistoled, spurred, wary, +indefeasible, I saw my old friend, Deputy-Marshal Buck Caperton, +stumble, with jingling rowels, into a chair in the marshal's outer +office. + +And because the court-house was almost deserted at that hour, and +because Buck would sometimes relate to me things that were out of +print, I followed him in and tricked him into talk through knowledge +of a weakness he had. For, cigarettes rolled with sweet corn husk +were as honey to Buck's palate; and though he could finger the +trigger of a forty-five with skill and suddenness, he never could +learn to roll a cigarette. + +It was through no fault of mine (for I rolled the cigarettes tight +and smooth), but the upshot of some whim of his own, that instead +of to an Odyssey of the chaparral, I listened to--a dissertation +upon matrimony! This from Buck Caperton! But I maintain that the +cigarettes were impeccable, and crave absolution for myself. + +"We just brought in Jim and Bud Granberry," said Buck. "Train +robbing, you know. Held up the Aransas Pass last month. We caught +'em in the Twenty-Mile pear flat, south of the Nueces." + +"Have much trouble corralling them?" I asked, for here was the meat +that my hunger for epics craved. + +"Some," said Buck; and then, during a little pause, his thoughts +stampeded off the trail. "It's kind of queer about women," he went +on, "and the place they're supposed to occupy in botany. If I was +asked to classify them I'd say they was a human loco weed. Ever see +a bronc that had been chewing loco? Ride him up to a puddle of water +two feet wide, and he'll give a snort and fall back on you. It looks +as big as the Mississippi River to him. Next trip he'd walk into a +canon a thousand feet deep thinking it was a prairie-dog hole. Same +way with a married man. + +"I was thinking of Perry Rountree, that used to be my sidekicker +before he committed matrimony. In them days me and Perry hated +indisturbances of any kind. We roamed around considerable, stirring +up the echoes and making 'em attend to business. Why, when me and +Perry wanted to have some fun in a town it was a picnic for the +census takers. They just counted the marshal's posse that it took to +subdue us, and there was your population. But then there came along +this Mariana Goodnight girl and looked at Perry sideways, and he was +all bridle-wise and saddle-broke before you could skin a yearling. + +"I wasn't even asked to the wedding. I reckon the bride had my +pedigree and the front elevation of my habits all mapped out, and +she decided that Perry would trot better in double harness without +any unconverted mustang like Buck Caperton whickering around on the +matrimonial range. So it was six months before I saw Perry again. + +"One day I was passing on the edge of town, and I see something +like a man in a little yard by a little house with a sprinkling-pot +squirting water on a rose-bush. Seemed to me, I'd seen something +like it before, and I stopped at the gate, trying to figure out its +brands. 'Twas not Perry Rountree, but 'twas the kind of a curdled +jellyfish matrimony had made out of him. + +"Homicide was what that Mariana had perpetrated. He was looking +well enough, but he had on a white collar and shoes, and you could +tell in a minute that he'd speak polite and pay taxes and stick +his little finger out while drinking, just like a sheep man or a +citizen. Great skyrockets! but I hated to see Perry all corrupted +and Willie-ized like that. + +"He came out to the gate, and shook hands; and I says, with scorn, +and speaking like a paroquet with the pip: 'Beg pardon--Mr. +Rountree, I believe. Seems to me I sagatiated in your associations +once, if I am not mistaken.' + +"'Oh, go to the devil, Buck,' says Perry, polite, as I was afraid +he'd be. + +"'Well, then,' says I, 'you poor, contaminated adjunct of a +sprinkling-pot and degraded household pet, what did you go and do +it for? Look at you, all decent and unriotous, and only fit to sit +on juries and mend the wood-house door. You was a man once. I have +hostility for all such acts. Why don't you go in the house and +count the tidies or set the clock, and not stand out here in the +atmosphere? A jack-rabbit might come along and bite you.' + +"'Now, Buck,' says Perry, speaking mild, and some sorrowful, 'you +don't understand. A married man has got to be different. He feels +different from a tough old cloudburst like you. It's sinful to waste +time pulling up towns just to look at their roots, and playing faro +and looking upon red liquor, and such restless policies as them.' + +"'There was a time,' I says, and I expect I sighed when I mentioned +it, 'when a certain domesticated little Mary's lamb I could name was +some instructed himself in the line of pernicious sprightliness. I +never expected, Perry, to see you reduced down from a full-grown +pestilence to such a frivolous fraction of a man. Why,' says I, +'you've got a necktie on; and you speak a senseless kind of indoor +drivel that reminds me of a storekeeper or a lady. You look to me +like you might tote an umbrella and wear suspenders, and go home of +nights.' + +"'The little woman,' says Perry, 'has made some improvements, I +believe. You can't understand, Buck. I haven't been away from the +house at night since we was married.' + +"We talked on a while, me and Perry, and, as sure as I live, that +man interrupted me in the middle of my talk to tell me about six +tomato plants he had growing in his garden. Shoved his agricultural +degradation right up under my nose while I was telling him about the +fun we had tarring and feathering that faro dealer at California +Pete's layout! But by and by Perry shows a flicker of sense. + +"'Buck,' says he, 'I'll have to admit that it is a little dull at +times. Not that I'm not perfectly happy with the little woman, but +a man seems to require some excitement now and then. Now, I'll tell +you: Mariana's gone visiting this afternoon, and she won't be home +till seven o'clock. That's the limit for both of us--seven o'clock. +Neither of us ever stays out a minute after that time unless we are +together. Now, I'm glad you came along, Buck,' says Perry, 'for I'm +feeling just like having one more rip-roaring razoo with you for +the sake of old times. What you say to us putting in the afternoon +having fun--I'd like it fine,' says Perry. + +"I slapped that old captive range-rider half across his little +garden. + +"'Get your hat, you old dried-up alligator,' I shouts, 'you ain't +dead yet. You're part human, anyhow, if you did get all bogged up +in matrimony. We'll take this town to pieces and see what makes it +tick. We'll make all kinds of profligate demands upon the science +of cork pulling. You'll grow horns yet, old muley cow,' says I, +punching Perry in the ribs, 'if you trot around on the trail of vice +with your Uncle Buck.' + +"'I'll have to be home by seven, you know,' says Perry again. + +"'Oh, yes,' says I, winking to myself, for I knew the kind of seven +o'clocks Perry Rountree got back by after he once got to passing +repartee with the bartenders. + +"We goes down to the Gray Mule saloon--that old 'dobe building by +the depot. + +"'Give it a name,' says I, as soon as we got one hoof on the +foot-rest. + +"'Sarsaparilla,' says Perry. + +"You could have knocked me down with a lemon peeling. + +"'Insult me as much as you want to,' I says to Perry, 'but don't +startle the bartender. He may have heart-disease. Come on, now; your +tongue got twisted. The tall glasses,' I orders, 'and the bottle in +the left-hand corner of the ice-chest.' + +"'Sarsaparilla,' repeats Perry, and then his eyes get animated, and +I see he's got some great scheme in his mind he wants to emit. + +"'Buck,' says he, all interested, 'I'll tell you what! I want to +make this a red-letter day. I've been keeping close at home, and I +want to turn myself a-loose. We'll have the highest old time you +ever saw. We'll go in the back room here and play checkers till +half-past six.' + +"I leaned against the bar, and I says to Gotch-eared Mike, who was +on watch: + +"'For God's sake don't mention this. You know what Perry used to be. +He's had the fever, and the doctor says we must humour him.' + +"'Give us the checker-board and the men, Mike,' says Perry. 'Come +on, Buck, I'm just wild to have some excitement.' + +"I went in the back room with Perry. Before we closed the door, I +says to Mike: + +"'Don't ever let it straggle out from under your hat that you seen +Buck Caperton fraternal with sarsaparilla or _persona grata_ with a +checker-board, or I'll make a swallow-fork in your other ear.' + +"I locked the door and me and Perry played checkers. To see that +poor old humiliated piece of household bric-a-brac sitting there and +sniggering out loud whenever he jumped a man, and all obnoxious with +animation when he got into my king row, would have made a sheep-dog +sick with mortification. Him that was once satisfied only when he +was pegging six boards at keno or giving the faro dealers nervous +prostration--to see him pushing them checkers about like Sally +Louisa at a school-children's party--why, I was all smothered up +with mortification. + +"And I sits there playing the black men, all sweating for fear +somebody I knew would find it out. And I thinks to myself some about +this marrying business, and how it seems to be the same kind of a +game as that Mrs. Delilah played. She give her old man a hair cut, +and everybody knows what a man's head looks like after a woman cuts +his hair. And then when the Pharisees came around to guy him he was +so 'shamed that he went to work and kicked the whole house down on +top of the whole outfit. 'Them married men,' thinks I, 'lose all +their spirit and instinct for riot and foolishness. They won't +drink, they won't buck the tiger, they won't even fight. What do +they want to go and stay married for?' I asks myself. + +"But Perry seems to be having hilarity in considerable quantities. + +"'Buck old hoss,' says he, 'isn't this just the hell-roaringest time +we ever had in our lives? I don't know when I've been stirred up so. +You see, I've been sticking pretty close to home since I married, +and I haven't been on a spree in a long time.' + +"'Spree!' Yes, that's what he called it. Playing checkers in the +back room of the Gray Mule! I suppose it did seem to him a little +immoral and nearer to a prolonged debauch than standing over six +tomato plants with a sprinkling-pot. + +"Every little bit Perry looks at his watch and says: + +"'I got to be home, you know, Buck, at seven.' + +"'All right,' I'd say. 'Romp along and move. This here excitement's +killing me. If I don't reform some, and loosen up the strain of this +checkered dissipation I won't have a nerve left.' + +"It might have been half-past six when commotions began to go on +outside in the street. We heard a yelling and a six-shootering, and +a lot of galloping and manoeuvres. + +"'What's that?' I wonders. + +"'Oh, some nonsense outside,' says Perry. 'It's your move. We just +got time to play this game.' + +"'I'll just take a peep through the window,' says I, 'and see. You +can't expect a mere mortal to stand the excitement of having a king +jumped and listen to an unidentified conflict going on at the same +time.' + +"The Gray Mule saloon was one of them old Spanish 'dobe buildings, +and the back room only had two little windows a foot wide, with iron +bars in 'em. I looked out one, and I see the cause of the rucus. + +"There was the Trimble gang--ten of 'em--the worst outfit of +desperadoes and horse-thieves in Texas, coming up the street +shooting right and left. They was coming right straight for the Gray +Mule. Then they got past the range of my sight, but we heard 'em +ride up to the front door, and then they socked the place full of +lead. We heard the big looking-glass behind the bar knocked all to +pieces and the bottles crashing. We could see Gotch-eared Mike in +his apron running across the plaza like a coyote, with the bullets +puffing up dust all around him. Then the gang went to work in the +saloon, drinking what they wanted and smashing what they didn't. + +"Me and Petty both knew that gang, and they knew us. The year before +Perry married, him and me was in the same ranger company--and we +fought that outfit down on the San Miguel, and brought back Ben +Trimble and two others for murder. + +"'We can't get out,' says I. 'We'll have to stay in here till they +leave.' + +"Perry looked at his watch. + +"'Twenty-five to seven,' says he. 'We can finish that game. I got +two men on you. It's your move, Buck. I got to be home at seven, you +know.' + +"We sat down and went on playing. The Trimble gang had a roughhouse +for sure. They were getting good and drunk. They'd drink a while and +holler a while, and then they'd shoot up a few bottles and glasses. +Two or three times they came and tried to open our door. Then there +was some more shooting outside, and I looked out the window again. +Ham Gossett, the town marshal, had a posse in the houses and stores +across the street, and was trying to bag a Trimble or two through +the windows. + +"I lost that game of checkers. I'm free in saying that I lost three +kings that I might have saved if I had been corralled in a more +peaceful pasture. But that drivelling married man sat there and +cackled when he won a man like an unintelligent hen picking up a +grain of corn. + +"When the game was over Perry gets up and looks at his watch. + +"'I've had a glorious time, Buck,' says he, 'but I'll have to be +going now. It's a quarter to seven, and I got to be home by seven, +you know.' + +"I thought he was joking. + +"'They'll clear out or be dead drunk in half an hour or an hour,' +says I. 'You ain't that tired of being married that you want to +commit any more sudden suicide, are you?' says I, giving him the +laugh. + +"'One time,' says Perry, 'I was half an hour late getting home. I +met Mariana on the street looking for me. If you could have seen +her, Buck--but you don't understand. She knows what a wild kind of +a snoozer I've been, and she's afraid something will happen. I'll +never be late getting home again. I'll say good-bye to you now, +Buck.' + +"I got between him and the door. + +"'Married man,' says I, 'I know you was christened a fool the minute +the preacher tangled you up, but don't you never sometimes think one +little think on a human basis? There's ten of that gang in there, +and they're pizen with whisky and desire for murder. They'll drink +you up like a bottle of booze before you get half-way to the door. +Be intelligent, now, and use at least wild-hog sense. Sit down and +wait till we have some chance to get out without being carried in +baskets.' + +"'I got to be home by seven, Buck,' repeats this hen-pecked thing of +little wisdom, like an unthinking poll parrot. 'Mariana,' says he, +'will be out looking for me.' And he reaches down and pulls a leg +out of the checker table. 'I'll go through this Trimble outfit,' +says he, 'like a cottontail through a brush corral. I'm not pestered +any more with a desire to engage in rucuses, but I got to be home by +seven. You lock the door after me, Buck. And don't you forget--I won +three out of them five games. I'd play longer, but Mariana--' + +"'Hush up, you old locoed road runner,' I interrupts. 'Did you +ever notice your Uncle Buck locking doors against trouble? I'm not +married,' says I, 'but I'm as big a d----n fool as any Mormon. +One from four leaves three,' says I, and I gathers out another +leg of the table. 'We'll get home by seven,' says I, 'whether +it's the heavenly one or the other. May I see you home?' says I, +'you sarsaparilla-drinking, checker-playing glutton for death and +destruction.' + +"We opened the door easy, and then stampeded for the front. Part of +the gang was lined up at the bar; part of 'em was passing over the +drinks, and two or three was peeping out the door and window and +taking shots at the marshal's crowd. The room was so full of smoke +we got half-way to the front door before they noticed us. Then I +heard Berry Trimble's voice somewhere yell out: + +"'How'd that Buck Caperton get in here?' and he skinned the side +of my neck with a bullet. I reckon he felt bad over that miss, for +Berry's the best shot south of the Southern Pacific Railroad. But +the smoke in the saloon was some too thick for good shooting. + +"Me and Perry smashed over two of the gang with our table legs, +which didn't miss like the guns did, and as we run out the door I +grabbed a Winchester from a fellow who was watching the outside, and +I turned and regulated the account of Mr. Berry. + +"Me and Perry got out and around the corner all right. I never much +expected to get out, but I wasn't going to be intimidated by that +married man. According to Perry's idea, checkers was the event of +the day, but if I am any judge of gentle recreations that little +table-leg parade through the Gray Mule saloon deserved the +head-lines in the bill of particulars. + +"'Walk fast,' says Perry, 'it's two minutes to seven, and I got to +be home by--' + +"'Oh, shut up,' says I. 'I had an appointment as chief performer at +an inquest at seven, and I'm not kicking about not keeping it.' + +"I had to pass by Perry's little house. His Mariana was standing at +the gate. We got there at five minutes past seven. She had on a blue +wrapper, and her hair was pulled back smooth like little girls do +when they want to look grown-folksy. She didn't see us till we +got close, for she was gazing up the other way. Then she backed +around, and saw Perry, and a kind of a look scooted around over her +face--danged if I can describe it. I heard her breathe long, just +like a cow when you turn her calf in the lot, and she says: 'You're +late, Perry.' + +"'Five minutes,' says Perry, cheerful. 'Me and old Buck was having a +game of checkers.' + +"Perry introduces me to Mariana, and they ask me to come in. No, +sir-ee. I'd had enough truck with married folks for that day. I says +I'll be going along, and that I've spent a very pleasant afternoon +with my old partner--'especially,' says I, just to jostle Perry, +'during that game when the table legs came all loose.' But I'd +promised him not to let her know anything. + +"I've been worrying over that business ever since it happened," +continued Buck. "There's one thing about it that's got me all +twisted up, and I can't figure it out." + +"What was that?" I asked, as I rolled and handed Buck the last +cigarette. + +"Why, I'll tell you: When I saw the look that little woman gave +Perry when she turned round and saw him coming back to the ranch +safe--why was it I got the idea all in a minute that that look of +hers was worth more than the whole caboodle of us--sarsaparilla, +checkers, and all, and that the d----n fool in the game wasn't named +Perry Rountree at all?" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROADS OF DESTINY*** + + +******* This file should be named 1646.txt or 1646.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/4/1646 + + + +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 +https://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 F3. 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, is 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 https://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 https://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 https://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: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was 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: + + https://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. + diff --git a/1646.zip b/1646.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..468ce3b --- /dev/null +++ b/1646.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fde3c7a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1646 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1646) diff --git a/old/rdstn10.txt b/old/rdstn10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7851fe1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rdstn10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11128 @@ +**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Roads of Destiny, by O. Henry** +#4 in our series by O Henry + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Roads of Destiny + +by O. Henry + +February, 1997 [Etext #1646] + + +**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Roads of Destiny, by O. Henry** +******This file should be named rdstn10.txt or rdstn10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, rdstn11.txt. +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, rdstn10a.txt. + + +Etext prepared by John Bickers, jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz +and Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, for time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text +files per month, or 384 more Etexts in 1997 for a total of 1000+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 100 billion Etexts given away. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only 10% of the present number of computer users. 2001 +should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it +will require us reaching less than 5% of the users in 2001. + + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +We would prefer to send you this information by email +(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail). + +****** +If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please +FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives: +[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type] + +ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd etext/etext90 through /etext96 +or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information] +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET INDEX?00.GUT +for a list of books +and +GET NEW GUT for general information +and +MGET GUT* for newsletters. + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Etext prepared by John Bickers, jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz +and Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com + + + + + +ROADS OF DESTINY + +by O. Henry + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. Roads of Destiny + II. The Guardian of the Accolade + III. The Discounters of Money + IV. The Enchanted Profile + V. "Next to Reading Matter" + VI. Art and the Bronco + VII. Phoebe + VIII. A Double-dyed Deceiver + IX. The Passing of Black Eagle + X. A Retrieved Reformation + XI. Cherchez la Femme + XII. Friends in San Rosario + XIII. The Fourth in Salvador + XIV. The Emancipation of Billy + XV. The Enchanted Kiss + XVI. A Departmental Case + XVII. The Renaissance at Charleroi +XVIII. On Behalf of the Management + XIX. Whistling Dick's Christmas Stocking + XX. The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss + XXI. Two Renegades + XXII. The Lonesome Road + + + + +ROADS OF DESTINY + + + +I + +ROADS OF DESTINY + + I go to seek on many roads + What is to be. + True heart and strong, with love to light-- + Will they not bear me in the fight + To order, shun or wield or mould + My Destiny? + +/Unpublished Poems of David Mignot/. + + +The song was over. The words were David's; the air, one of the +countryside. The company about the inn table applauded heartily, for +the young poet paid for the wine. Only the notary, M. Papineau, shook +his head a little at the lines, for he was a man of books, and he had +not drunk with the rest. + +David went out into the village street, where the night air drove the +wine vapour from his head. And then he remembered that he and Yvonne +had quarrelled that day, and that he had resolved to leave his home +that night to seek fame and honour in the great world outside. + +"When my poems are on every man's tongue," he told himself, in a fine +exhilaration, "she will, perhaps, think of the hard words she spoke +this day." + +Except the roisterers in the tavern, the village folk were abed. David +crept softly into his room in the shed of his father's cottage and +made a bundle of his small store of clothing. With this upon a staff, +he set his face outward upon the road that ran from Vernoy. + +He passed his father's herd of sheep, huddled in their nightly pen-- +the sheep he herded daily, leaving them to scatter while he wrote +verses on scraps of paper. He saw a light yet shining in Yvonne's +window, and a weakness shook his purpose of a sudden. Perhaps that +light meant that she rued, sleepless, her anger, and that morning +might--But, no! His decision was made. Vernoy was no place for him. +Not one soul there could share his thoughts. Out along that road lay +his fate and his future. + +Three leagues across the dim, moonlit champaign ran the road, straight +as a ploughman's furrow. It was believed in the village that the road +ran to Paris, at least; and this name the poet whispered often to +himself as he walked. Never so far from Vernoy had David travelled +before. + + + +THE LEFT BRANCH + + /Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. It + joined with another and a larger road at right angles. David + stood, uncertain, for a while, and then took the road to the + left./ + +Upon this more important highway were, imprinted in the dust, wheel +tracks left by the recent passage of some vehicle. Some half an hour +later these traces were verified by the sight of a ponderous carriage +mired in a little brook at the bottom of a steep hill. The driver and +postilions were shouting and tugging at the horses' bridles. On the +road at one side stood a huge, black-clothed man and a slender lady +wrapped in a long, light cloak. + +David saw the lack of skill in the efforts of the servants. He quietly +assumed control of the work. He directed the outriders to cease their +clamour at the horses and to exercise their strength upon the wheels. +The driver alone urged the animals with his familiar voice; David +himself heaved a powerful shoulder at the rear of the carriage, and +with one harmonious tug the great vehicle rolled up on solid ground. +The outriders climbed to their places. + +David stood for a moment upon one foot. The huge gentleman waved a +hand. "You will enter the carriage," he said, in a voice large, like +himself, but smoothed by art and habit. Obedience belonged in the path +of such a voice. Brief as was the young poet's hesitation, it was cut +shorter still by a renewal of the command. David's foot went to the +step. In the darkness he perceived dimly the form of the lady upon the +rear seat. He was about to seat himself opposite, when the voice again +swayed him to its will. "You will sit at the lady's side." + +The gentleman swung his great weight to the forward seat. The carriage +proceeded up the hill. The lady was shrunk, silent, into her corner. +David could not estimate whether she was old or young, but a delicate, +mild perfume from her clothes stirred his poet's fancy to the belief +that there was loveliness beneath the mystery. Here was an adventure +such as he had often imagined. But as yet he held no key to it, for no +word was spoken while he sat with his impenetrable companions. + +In an hour's time David perceived through the window that the vehicle +traversed the street of some town. Then it stopped in front of a +closed and darkened house, and a postilion alighted to hammer +impatiently upon the door. A latticed window above flew wide and a +nightcapped head popped out. + +"Who are ye that disturb honest folk at this time of night? My house +is closed. 'Tis too late for profitable travellers to be abroad. Cease +knocking at my door, and be off." + +"Open!" spluttered the postilion, loudly; "open for Monsiegneur the +Marquis de Beaupertuys." + +"Ah!" cried the voice above. "Ten thousand pardons, my lord. I did not +know--the hour is so late--at once shall the door be opened, and the +house placed at my lord's disposal." + +Inside was heard the clink of chain and bar, and the door was flung +open. Shivering with chill and apprehension, the landlord of the +Silver Flagon stood, half clad, candle in hand, upon the threshold. + +David followed the Marquis out of the carriage. "Assist the lady," he +was ordered. The poet obeyed. He felt her small hand tremble as he +guided her descent. "Into the house," was the next command. + +The room was the long dining-hall of the tavern. A great oak table ran +down its length. The huge gentleman seated himself in a chair at the +nearer end. The lady sank into another against the wall, with an air +of great weariness. David stood, considering how best he might now +take his leave and continue upon his way. + +"My lord," said the landlord, bowing to the floor, "h-had I ex- +expected this honour, entertainment would have been ready. T-t-there +is wine and cold fowl and m-m-maybe--" + +"Candles," said the marquis, spreading the fingers of one plump white +hand in a gesture he had. + +"Y-yes, my lord." He fetched half a dozen candles, lighted them, and +set them upon the table. + +"If monsieur would, perhaps, deign to taste a certain Burgundy--there +is a cask--" + +"Candles," said monsieur, spreading his fingers. + +"Assuredly--quickly--I fly, my lord." + +A dozen more lighted candles shone in the hall. The great bulk of the +marquis overflowed his chair. He was dressed in fine black from head +to foot save for the snowy ruffles at his wrist and throat. Even the +hilt and scabbard of his sword were black. His expression was one of +sneering pride. The ends of an upturned moustache reached nearly to +his mocking eyes. + +The lady sat motionless, and now David perceived that she was young, +and possessed of pathetic and appealing beauty. He was startled from +the contemplation of her forlorn loveliness by the booming voice of +the marquis. + +"What is your name and pursuit?" + +"David Mignot. I am a poet." + +The moustache of the marquis curled nearer to his eyes. + +"How do you live?" + +"I am also a shepherd; I guarded my father's flock," David answered, +with his head high, but a flush upon his cheek. + +"Then listen, master shepherd and poet, to the fortune you have +blundered upon to-night. This lady is my niece, Mademoiselle Lucie de +Varennes. She is of noble descent and is possessed of ten thousand +francs a year in her own right. As to her charms, you have but to +observe for yourself. If the inventory pleases your shepherd's heart, +she becomes your wife at a word. Do not interrupt me. To-night I +conveyed her to the /chateau/ of the Comte de Villemaur, to whom her +hand had been promised. Guests were present; the priest was waiting; +her marriage to one eligible in rank and fortune was ready to be +accomplished. At the alter this demoiselle, so meek and dutiful, +turned upon me like a leopardess, charged me with cruelty and crimes, +and broke, before the gaping priest, the troth I had plighted for her. +I swore there and then, by ten thousand devils, that she should marry +the first man we met after leaving the /chateau/, be he prince, +charcoal-burner, or thief. You, shepherd, are the first. Mademoiselle +must be wed this night. If not you, then another. You have ten minutes +in which to make your decision. Do not vex me with words or questions. +Ten minutes, shepherd; and they are speeding." + +The marquis drummed loudly with his white fingers upon the table. He +sank into a veiled attitude of waiting. It was as if some great house +had shut its doors and windows against approach. David would have +spoken, but the huge man's bearing stopped his tongue. Instead, he +stood by the lady's chair and bowed. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, and he marvelled to find his words flowing +easily before so much elegance and beauty. "You have heard me say I +was a shepherd. I have also had the fancy, at times, that I am a poet. +If it be the test of a poet to adore and cherish the beautiful, that +fancy is now strengthened. Can I serve you in any way, mademoiselle?" + +The young woman looked up at him with eyes dry and mournful. His +frank, glowing face, made serious by the gravity of the adventure, his +strong, straight figure and the liquid sympathy in his blue eyes, +perhaps, also, her imminent need of long-denied help and kindness, +thawed her to sudden tears. + +"Monsieur," she said, in low tones, "you look to be true and kind. He +is my uncle, the brother of my father, and my only relative. He loved +my mother, and he hates me because I am like her. He has made my life +one long terror. I am afraid of his very looks, and never before dared +to disobey him. But to-night he would have married me to a man three +times my age. You will forgive me for bringing this vexation upon you, +monsieur. You will, of course, decline this mad act he tries to force +upon you. But let me thank you for your generous words, at least. I +have had none spoken to me in so long." + +There was now something more than generosity in the poet's eyes. Poet +he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this fine, new loveliness +held him with its freshness and grace. The subtle perfume from her +filled him with strange emotions. His tender look fell warmly upon +her. She leaned to it, thirstily. + +"Ten minutes," said David, "is given me in which to do what I would +devote years to achieve. I will not say I pity you, mademoiselle; it +would not be true--I love you. I cannot ask love from you yet, but let +me rescue you from this cruel man, and, in time, love may come. I +think I have a future; I will not always be a shepherd. For the +present I will cherish you with all my heart and make your life less +sad. Will you trust your fate to me, mademoiselle?" + +"Ah, you would sacrifice yourself from pity!" + +"From love. The time is almost up, mademoiselle." + +"You will regret it, and despise me." + +"I will live only to make you happy, and myself worthy of you." + +Her fine small hand crept into his from beneath her cloak. + +"I will trust you," she breathed, "with my life. And--and love--may +not be so far off as you think. Tell him. Once away from the power of +his eyes I may forget." + +David went and stood before the marquis. The black figure stirred, and +the mocking eyes glanced at the great hall clock. + +"Two minutes to spare. A shepherd requires eight minutes to decide +whether he will accept a bride of beauty and income! Speak up, +shepherd, do you consent to become mademoiselle's husband?" + +"Mademoiselle," said David, standing proudly, "has done me the honour +to yield to my request that she become my wife." + +"Well said!" said the marquis. "You have yet the making of a courtier +in you, master shepherd. Mademoiselle could have drawn a worse prize, +after all. And now to be done with the affair as quick as the Church +and the devil will allow!" + +He struck the table soundly with his sword hilt. The landlord came, +knee-shaking, bringing more candles in the hope of anticipating the +great lord's whims. "Fetch a priest," said the marquis, "a priest; do +you understand? In ten minutes have a priest here, or--" + +The landlord dropped his candles and flew. + +The priest came, heavy-eyed and ruffled. He made David Mignot and +Lucie de Verennes man and wife, pocketed a gold piece that the marquis +tossed him, and shuffled out again into the night. + +"Wine," ordered the marquis, spreading his ominous fingers at the +host. + +"Fill glasses," he said, when it was brought. He stood up at the head +of the table in the candlelight, a black mountain of venom and +conceit, with something like the memory of an old love turned to +poison in his eyes, as it fell upon his niece. + +"Monsieur Mignot," he said, raising his wineglass, "drink after I say +this to you: You have taken to be your wife one who will make your +life a foul and wretched thing. The blood in her is an inheritance +running black lies and red ruin. She will bring you shame and anxiety. +The devil that descended to her is there in her eyes and skin and +mouth that stoop even to beguile a peasant. There is your promise, +monsieur poet, for a happy life. Drink your wine. At last, +mademoiselle, I am rid of you." + +The marquis drank. A little grievous cry, as if from a sudden wound, +came from the girl's lips. David, with his glass in his hand, stepped +forward three paces and faced the marquis. There was little of a +shepherd in his bearing. + +"Just now," he said, calmly, "you did me the honor to call me +'monsieur.' May I hope, therefore that my marriage to mademoiselle has +placed me somewhat nearer to you in--let us say, reflected rank--has +given me the right to stand more as an equal to monseigneur in a +certain little piece of business I have in my mind?" + +"You may hope, shepherd," sneered the marquis. + +"Then," said David, dashing his glass of wine into the contemptuous +eyes that mocked him, "perhaps you will condescend to fight me." + +The fury of the great lord outbroke in one sudden curse like a blast +from a horn. He tore his sword from its black sheath; he called to the +hovering landlord: "A sword there, for this lout!" He turned to the +lady, with a laugh that chilled her heart, and said: "You put much +labour upon me, madame. It seems I must find you a husband and make +you a widow in the same night." + +"I know not sword-play," said David. He flushed to make the confession +before his lady. + +"'I know not sword-play,'" mimicked the marquis. "Shall we fight like +peasants with oaken cudgels? /Hola/! Francois, my pistols!" + +A postilion brought two shining great pistols ornamented with carven +silver, from the carriage holsters. The marquis tossed one upon the +table near David's hand. "To the other end of the table," he cried; +"even a shepherd may pull a trigger. Few of them attain the honour to +die by the weapon of a De Beaupertuys." + +The shepherd and the marquis faced each other from the ends of the +long table. The landlord, in an ague of terror, clutched the air and +stammered: "M-M-Monseigneur, for the love of Christ! not in my house! +--do not spill blood--it will ruin my custom--" The look of the +marquis, threatening him, paralyzed his tongue. + +"Coward," cried the lord of Beaupertuys, "cease chattering your teeth +long enough to give the word for us, if you can." + +Mine host's knees smote the floor. He was without a vocabulary. Even +sounds were beyond him. Still, by gestures he seemed to beseech peace +in the name of his house and custom. + +"I will give the word," said the lady, in a clear voice. She went up +to David and kissed him sweetly. Her eyes were sparkling bright, and +colour had come to her cheek. She stood against the wall, and the two +men levelled their pistols for her count. + +"/Un/--/deux/--/trois/!" + +The two reports came so nearly together that the candles flickered but +once. The marquis stood, smiling, the fingers of his left hand +resting, outspread, upon the end of the table. David remained erect, +and turned his head very slowly, searching for his wife with his eyes. +Then, as a garment falls from where it is hung, he sank, crumpled, +upon the floor. + +With a little cry of terror and despair, the widowed maid ran and +stooped above him. She found his wound, and then looked up with her +old look of pale melancholy. "Through his heart," she whispered. "Oh, +his heart!" + +"Come," boomed the great voice of the marquis, "out with you to the +carriage! Daybreak shall not find you on my hands. Wed you shall be +again, and to a living husband, this night. The next we come upon, my +lady, highwayman or peasant. If the road yields no other, then the +churl that opens my gates. Out with you into the carriage!" + +The marquis, implacable and huge, the lady wrapped again in the +mystery of her cloak, the postilion bearing the weapons--all moved out +to the waiting carriage. The sound of its ponderous wheels rolling +away echoed through the slumbering village. In the hall of the Silver +Flagon the distracted landlord wrung his hands above the slain poet's +body, while the flames of the four and twenty candles danced and +flickered on the table. + + + +THE RIGHT BRANCH + + /Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. It + joined with another and a larger road at right angles. David + stood, uncertain, for a while, and then took the road to the + right./ + +Whither it led he knew not, but he was resolved to leave Vernoy far +behind that night. He travelled a league and then passed a large +/chateau/ which showed testimony of recent entertainment. Lights shone +from every window; from the great stone gateway ran a tracery of wheel +tracks drawn in the dust by the vehicles of the guests. + +Three leagues farther and David was weary. He rested and slept for a +while on a bed of pine boughs at the roadside. Then up and on again +along the unknown way. + +Thus for five days he travelled the great road, sleeping upon Nature's +balsamic beds or in peasants' ricks, eating of their black, hospitable +bread, drinking from streams or the willing cup of the goatherd. + +At length he crossed a great bridge and set his foot within the +smiling city that has crushed or crowned more poets than all the rest +of the world. His breath came quickly as Paris sang to him in a little +undertone her vital chant of greeting--the hum of voice and foot and +wheel. + +High up under the eaves of an old house in the Rue Conti, David paid +for lodging, and set himself, in a wooden chair, to his poems. The +street, once sheltering citizens of import and consequence, was now +given over to those who ever follow in the wake of decline. + +The houses were tall and still possessed of a ruined dignity, but many +of them were empty save for dust and the spider. By night there was +the clash of steel and the cries of brawlers straying restlessly from +inn to inn. Where once gentility abode was now but a rancid and rude +incontinence. But here David found housing commensurate to his scant +purse. Daylight and candlelight found him at pen and paper. + +One afternoon he was returning from a foraging trip to the lower +world, with bread and curds and a bottle of thin wine. Halfway up his +dark stairway he met--or rather came upon, for she rested on the stair +--a young woman of a beauty that should balk even the justice of a +poet's imagination. A loose, dark cloak, flung open, showed a rich +gown beneath. Her eyes changed swiftly with every little shade of +thought. Within one moment they would be round and artless like a +child's, and long and cozening like a gypsy's. One hand raised her +gown, undraping a little shoe, high-heeled, with its ribbons dangling, +untied. So heavenly she was, so unfitted to stoop, so qualified to +charm and command! Perhaps she had seen David coming, and had waited +for his help there. + +Ah, would monsieur pardon that she occupied the stairway, but the +shoe!--the naughty shoe! Alas! it would not remain tied. Ah! if +monsieur /would/ be so gracious! + +The poet's fingers trembled as he tied the contrary ribbons. Then he +would have fled from the danger of her presence, but the eyes grew +long and cozening, like a gypsy's, and held him. He leaned against the +balustrade, clutching his bottle of sour wine. + +"You have been so good," she said, smiling. "Does monsieur, perhaps, +live in the house?" + +"Yes, madame. I--I think so, madame." + +"Perhaps in the third story, then?" + +"No, madame; higher up." + +The lady fluttered her fingers with the least possible gesture of +impatience. + +"Pardon. Certainly I am not discreet in asking. Monsieur will forgive +me? It is surely not becoming that I should inquire where he lodges." + +"Madame, do not say so. I live in the--" + +"No, no, no; do not tell me. Now I see that I erred. But I cannot lose +the interest I feel in this house and all that is in it. Once it was +my home. Often I come here but to dream of those happy days again. +Will you let that be my excuse?" + +"Let me tell you, then, for you need no excuse," stammered the poet. +"I live in the top floor--the small room where the stairs turn." + +"In the front room?" asked the lady, turning her head sidewise. + +"The rear, madame." + +The lady sighed, as if with relief. + +"I will detain you no longer then, monsieur," she said, employing the +round and artless eye. "Take good care of my house. Alas! only the +memories of it are mine now. Adieu, and accept my thanks for your +courtesy." + +She was gone, leaving but a smile and a trace of sweet perfume. David +climbed the stairs as one in slumber. But he awoke from it, and the +smile and the perfume lingered with him and never afterward did either +seem quite to leave him. This lady of whom he knew nothing drove him +to lyrics of eyes, chansons of swiftly conceived love, odes to curling +hair, and sonnets to slippers on slender feet. + +Poet he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this fine, new +loveliness held him with its freshness and grace. The subtle perfume +about her filled him with strange emotions. + +* * * * * + +On a certain night three persons were gathered about a table in a room +on the third floor of the same house. Three chairs and the table and a +lighted candle upon it was all the furniture. One of the persons was a +huge man, dressed in black. His expression was one of sneering pride. +The ends of his upturned moustache reached nearly to his mocking eyes. +Another was a lady, young and beautiful, with eyes that could be round +and artless, as a child's, or long and cozening, like a gypsy's, but +were now keen and ambitious, like any other conspirator's. The third +was a man of action, a combatant, a bold and impatient executive, +breathing fire and steel. he was addressed by the others as Captain +Desrolles. + +This man struck the table with his fist, and said, with controlled +violence: + +"To-night. To-night as he goes to midnight mass. I am tired of the +plotting that gets nowhere. I am sick of signals and ciphers and +secret meetings and such /baragouin/. Let us be honest traitors. If +France is to be rid of him, let us kill in the open, and not hunt with +snares and traps. To-night, I say. I back my words. My hand will do +the deed. To-night, as he goes to mass." + +The lady turned upon him a cordial look. Woman, however wedded to +plots, must ever thus bow to rash courage. The big man stroked his +upturned moustache. + +"Dear captain," he said, in a great voice, softened by habit, "this +time I agree with you. Nothing is to be gained by waiting. Enough of +the palace guards belong to us to make the endeavour a safe one." + +"To-night," repeated Captain Desrolles, again striking the table. "You +have heard me, marquis; my hand will do the deed." + +"But now," said the huge man, softly, "comes a question. Word must be +sent to our partisans in the palace, and a signal agreed upon. Our +stanchest men must accompany the royal carriage. At this hour what +messenger can penetrate so far as the south doorway? Ribouet is +stationed there; once a message is placed in his hands, all will go +well." + +"I will send the message," said the lady. + +"You, countess?" said the marquis, raising his eyebrows. "Your +devotion is great, we know, but--" + +"Listen!" exclaimed the lady, rising and resting her hands upon the +table; "in a garret of this house lives a youth from the provinces as +guileless and tender as the lambs he tended there. I have met him +twice or thrice upon the stairs. I questioned him, fearing that he +might dwell too near the room in which we are accustomed to meet. He +is mine, if I will. He writes poems in his garret, and I think he +dreams of me. He will do what I say. He shall take the message to the +palace." + +The marquis rose from his chair and bowed. "You did not permit me to +finish my sentence, countess," he said. "I would have said: 'Your +devotion is great, but your wit and charm are infinitely greater.'" + +While the conspirators were thus engaged, David was polishing some +lines addressed to his /amorette d'escalier/. He heard a timorous +knock at his door, and opened it, with a great throb, to behold her +there, panting as one in straits, with eyes wide open and artless, +like a child's. + +"Monsieur," she breathed, "I come to you in distress. I believe you to +be good and true, and I know of no other help. How I flew through the +streets among the swaggering men! Monsieur, my mother is dying. My +uncle is a captain of guards in the palace of the king. Some one must +fly to bring him. May I hope--" + +"Mademoiselle," interrupted Davis, his eyes shining with the desire to +do her service, "your hopes shall be my wings. Tell me how I may reach +him." + +The lady thrust a sealed paper into his hand. + +"Go to the south gate--the south gate, mind--and say to the guards +there, 'The falcon has left his nest.' They will pass you, and you +will go to the south entrance to the palace. Repeat the words, and +give this letter to the man who will reply 'Let him strike when he +will.' This is the password, monsieur, entrusted to me by my uncle, +for now when the country is disturbed and men plot against the king's +life, no one without it can gain entrance to the palace grounds after +nightfall. If you will, monsieur, take him this letter so that my +mother may see him before she closes her eyes." + +"Give it me," said David, eagerly. "But shall I let you return home +through the streets alone so late? I--" + +"No, no--fly. Each moment is like a precious jewel. Some time," said +the lady, with eyes long and cozening, like a gypsy's, "I will try to +thank you for your goodness." + +The poet thrust the letter into his breast, and bounded down the +stairway. The lady, when he was gone, returned to the room below. + +The eloquent eyebrows of the marquis interrogated her. + +"He is gone," she said, "as fleet and stupid as one of his own sheep, +to deliver it." + +The table shook again from the batter of Captain Desrolles's fist. + +"Sacred name!" he cried; "I have left my pistols behind! I can trust +no others." + +"Take this," said the marquis, drawing from beneath his cloak a +shining, great weapon, ornamented with carven silver. "There are none +truer. But guard it closely, for it bears my arms and crest, and +already I am suspected. Me, I must put many leagues between myself and +Paris this night. To-morrow must find me in my /chateau/. After you, +dear countess." + +The marquis puffed out the candle. The lady, well cloaked, and the two +gentlemen softly descended the stairway and flowed into the crowd that +roamed along the narrow pavements of the Rue Conti. + +David sped. At the south gate of the king's residence a halberd was +laid to his breast, but he turned its point with the words; "The +falcon has left his nest." + +"Pass, brother," said the guard, "and go quickly." + +On the south steps of the palace they moved to seize him, but again +the /mot de passe/ charmed the watchers. One among them stepped +forward and began: "Let him strike--" but a flurry among the guards +told of a surprise. A man of keen look and soldierly stride suddenly +pressed through them and seized the letter which David held in his +hand. "Come with me," he said, and led him inside the great hall. Then +he tore open the letter and read it. He beckoned to a man uniformed as +an officer of musketeers, who was passing. "Captain Tetreau, you will +have the guards at the south entrance and the south gate arrested and +confined. Place men known to be loyal in their places." To David he +said: "Come with me." + +He conducted him through a corridor and an anteroom into a spacious +chamber, where a melancholy man, sombrely dressed, sat brooding in a +great, leather-covered chair. To that man he said: + +"Sire, I have told you that the palace is as full of traitors and +spies as a sewer is of rats. You have thought, sire, that it was my +fancy. This man penetrated to your very door by their connivance. He +bore a letter which I have intercepted. I have brought him here that +your majesty may no longer think my zeal excessive." + +"I will question him," said the king, stirring in his chair. He looked +at David with heavy eyes dulled by an opaque film. The poet bent his +knee. + +"From where do you come?" asked the king. + +"From the village of Vernoy, in the province of Eure-et-Loir, sire." + +"What do you follow in Paris?" + +"I--I would be a poet, sire." + +"What did you in Vernoy?" + +"I minded my father's flock of sheep." + +The king stirred again, and the film lifted from his eyes. + +"Ah! in the fields!" + +"Yes, sire." + +"You lived in the fields; you went out in the cool of the morning and +lay among the hedges in the grass. The flock distributed itself upon +the hillside; you drank of the living stream; you ate your sweet, +brown bread in the shade, and you listened, doubtless, to blackbirds +piping in the grove. Is not that so, shepherd?" + +"It is, sire," answered David, with a sigh; "and to the bees at the +flowers, and, maybe, to the grape gatherers singing on the hill." + +"Yes, yes," said the king, impatiently; "maybe to them; but surely to +the blackbirds. They whistled often, in the grove, did they not?" + +"Nowhere, sire, so sweetly as in Eure-et-Loir. I have endeavored to +express their song in some verses that I have written." + +"Can you repeat those verses?" asked the king, eagerly. "A long time +ago I listened to the blackbirds. It would be something better than a +kingdom if one could rightly construe their song. And at night you +drove the sheep to the fold and then sat, in peace and tranquillity, +to your pleasant bread. Can you repeat those verses, shepherd?" + +"They run this way, sire," said David, with respectful ardour: + + "'Lazy shepherd, see your lambkins + Skip, ecstatic, on the mead; + See the firs dance in the breezes, + Hear Pan blowing at his reed. + + "Hear us calling from the tree-tops, + See us swoop upon your flock; + Yield us wool to make our nests warm + In the branches of the--'" + +"If it please your majesty," interrupted a harsh voice, "I will ask a +question or two of this rhymester. There is little time to spare. I +crave pardon, sire, if my anxiety for your safety offends." + +"The loyalty," said the king, "of the Duke d'Aumale is too well proven +to give offence." He sank into his chair, and the film came again over +his eyes. + +"First," said the duke, "I will read you the letter he brought: + + "'To-night is the anniversary of the dauphin's death. If he goes, + as is his custom, to midnight mass to pray for the soul of his + son, the falcon will strike, at the corner of the Rue Esplanade. + If this be his intention, set a red light in the upper room at the + southwest corner of the palace, that the falcon may take heed.' + +"Peasant," said the duke, sternly, "you have heard these words. Who +gave you this message to bring?" + +"My lord duke," said David, sincerely, "I will tell you. A lady gave +it me. She said her mother was ill, and that this writing would fetch +her uncle to her bedside. I do not know the meaning of the letter, but +I will swear that she is beautiful and good." + +"Describe the woman," commanded the duke, "and how you came to be her +dupe." + +"Describe her!" said David with a tender smile. "You would command +words to perform miracles. Well, she is made of sunshine and deep +shade. She is slender, like the alders, and moves with their grace. +Her eyes change while you gaze into them; now round, and then half +shut as the sun peeps between two clouds. When she comes, heaven is +all about her; when she leaves, there is chaos and a scent of hawthorn +blossoms. She came to see me in the Rue Conti, number twenty-nine." + +"It is the house," said the duke, turning to the king, "that we have +been watching. Thanks to the poet's tongue, we have a picture of the +infamous Countess Quebedaux." + +"Sire and my lord duke," said David, earnestly, "I hope my poor words +have done no injustice. I have looked into that lady's eyes. I will +stake my life that she is an angel, letter or no letter." + +The duke looked at him steadily. "I will put you to the proof," he +said, slowly. "Dressed as the king, you shall, yourself, attend mass +in his carriage at midnight. Do you accept the test?" + +David smiled. "I have looked into her eyes," he said. "I had my proof +there. Take yours how you will." + +Half an hour before twelve the Duke d'Aumale, with his own hands, set +a red lamp in a southwest window of the palace. At ten minutes to the +hour, David, leaning on his arm, dressed as the king, from top to toe, +with his head bowed in his cloak, walked slowly from the royal +apartments to the waiting carriage. The duke assisted him inside and +closed the door. The carriage whirled away along its route to the +cathedral. + +On the /qui vive/ in a house at the corner of the Rue Esplanade was +Captain Tetreau with twenty men, ready to pounce upon the conspirators +when they should appear. + +But it seemed that, for some reason, the plotters had slightly altered +their plans. When the royal carriage had reached the Rue Christopher, +one square nearer than the Rue Esplanade, forth from it burst Captain +Desrolles, with his band of would-be regicides, and assailed the +equipage. The guards upon the carriage, though surprised at the +premature attack, descended and fought valiantly. The noise of +conflict attracted the force of Captain Tetreau, and they came pelting +down the street to the rescue. But, in the meantime, the desperate +Desrolles had torn open the door of the king's carriage, thrust his +weapon against the body of the dark figure inside, and fired. + +Now, with loyal reinforcements at hand, the street rang with cries and +the rasp of steel, but the frightened horses had dashed away. Upon the +cushions lay the dead body of the poor mock king and poet, slain by a +ball from the pistol of Monseigneur, the Marquis de Beaupertuys. + + + +THE MAIN ROAD + + /Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. It + joined with another and a larger road at right angles. David + stood, uncertain, for a while, and then sat himself to rest upon + its side./ + +Whither these roads led he knew not. Either way there seemed to lie a +great world full of chance and peril. And then, sitting there, his eye +fell upon a bright star, one that he and Yvonne had named for theirs. +That set him thinking of Yvonne, and he wondered if he had not been +too hasty. Why should he leave her and his home because a few hot +words had come between them? Was love so brittle a thing that +jealousy, the very proof of it, could break it? Mornings always +brought a cure for the little heartaches of evening. There was yet +time for him to return home without any one in the sweetly sleeping +village of Vernoy being the wiser. His heart was Yvonne's; there where +he had lived always he could write his poems and find his happiness. + +David rose, and shook off his unrest and the wild mood that had +tempted him. He set his face steadfastly back along the road he had +come. By the time he had retravelled the road to Vernoy, his desire to +rove was gone. He passed the sheepfold, and the sheep scurried, with a +drumming flutter, at his late footsteps, warming his heart by the +homely sound. He crept without noise into his little room and lay +there, thankful that his feet had escaped the distress of new roads +that night. + +How well he knew woman's heart! The next evening Yvonne was at the +well in the road where the young congregated in order that the /cure/ +might have business. The corner of her eye was engaged in a search for +David, albeit her set mouth seemed unrelenting. He saw the look; +braved the mouth, drew from it a recantation and, later, a kiss as +they walked homeward together. + +Three months afterwards they were married. David's father was shrewd +and prosperous. He gave them a wedding that was heard of three leagues +away. Both the young people were favourites in the village. There was +a procession in the streets, a dance on the green; they had the +marionettes and a tumbler out from Dreux to delight the guests. + +Then a year, and David's father died. The sheep and the cottage +descended to him. He already had the seemliest wife in the village. +Yvonne's milk pails and her brass kettles were bright--/ouf/! they +blinded you in the sun when you passed that way. But you must keep +your eyes upon her yard, for her flower beds were so neat and gay they +restored to you your sight. And you might hear her sing, aye, as far +as the double chestnut tree above Pere Gruneau's blacksmith forge. + +But a day came when David drew out paper from a long-shut drawer, and +began to bite the end of a pencil. Spring had come again and touched +his heart. Poet he must have been, for now Yvonne was well-nigh +forgotten. This fine new loveliness of earth held him with its +witchery and grace. The perfume from her woods and meadows stirred him +strangely. Daily had he gone forth with his flock, and brought it safe +at night. But now he stretched himself under the hedge and pieced +words together on his bits of paper. The sheep strayed, and the +wolves, perceiving that difficult poems make easy mutton, ventured +from the woods and stole his lambs. + +David's stock of poems grew longer and his flock smaller. Yvonne's +nose and temper waxed sharp and her talk blunt. Her pans and kettles +grew dull, but her eyes had caught their flash. She pointed out to the +poet that his neglect was reducing the flock and bringing woe upon the +household. David hired a boy to guard the sheep, locked himself in the +little room at the top of the cottage, and wrote more poems. The boy, +being a poet by nature, but not furnished with an outlet in the way of +writing, spent his time in slumber. The wolves lost no time in +discovering that poetry and sleep are practically the same; so the +flock steadily grew smaller. Yvonne's ill temper increased at an equal +rate. Sometimes she would stand in the yard and rail at David through +his high window. Then you could hear her as far as the double chestnut +tree above Pere Gruneau's blacksmith forge. + +M. Papineau, the kind, wise, meddling old notary, saw this, as he saw +everything at which his nose pointed. He went to David, fortified +himself with a great pinch of snuff, and said: + +"Friend Mignot, I affixed the seal upon the marriage certificate of +your father. It would distress me to be obliged to attest a paper +signifying the bankruptcy of his son. But that is what you are coming +to. I speak as an old friend. Now, listen to what I have to say. You +have your heart set, I perceive, upon poetry. At Dreux, I have a +friend, one Monsieur Bril--Georges Bril. He lives in a little cleared +space in a houseful of books. He is a learned man; he visits Paris +each year; he himself has written books. He will tell you when the +catacombs were made, how they found out the names of the stars, and +why the plover has a long bill. The meaning and the form of poetry is +to him as intelligent as the baa of a sheep is to you. I will give you +a letter to him, and you shall take him your poems and let him read +them. Then you will know if you shall write more, or give your +attention to your wife and business." + +"Write the letter," said David, "I am sorry you did not speak of this +sooner." + +At sunrise the next morning he was on the road to Dreux with the +precious roll of poems under his arm. At noon he wiped the dust from +his feet at the door of Monsieur Bril. That learned man broke the seal +of M. Papineau's letter, and sucked up its contents through his +gleaming spectacles as the sun draws water. He took David inside to +his study and sat him down upon a little island beat upon by a sea of +books. + +Monsieur Bril had a conscience. He flinched not even at a mass of +manuscript the thickness of a finger-length and rolled to an +incorrigible curve. He broke the back of the roll against his knee and +began to read. He slighted nothing; he bored into the lump as a worm +into a nut, seeking for a kernel. + +Meanwhile, David sat, marooned, trembling in the spray of so much +literature. It roared in his ears. He held no chart or compass for +voyaging in that sea. Half the world, he thought, must be writing +books. + +Monsieur Bril bored to the last page of the poems. Then he took off +his spectacles, and wiped them with his handkerchief. + +"My old friend, Papineau, is well?" he asked. + +"In the best of health," said David. + +"How many sheep have you, Monsieur Mignot?" + +"Three hundred and nine, when I counted them yesterday. The flock has +had ill fortune. To that number it has decreased from eight hundred +and fifty." + +"You have a wife and home, and lived in comfort. The sheep brought you +plenty. You went into the fields with them and lived in the keen air +and ate the sweet bread of contentment. You had but to be vigilant and +recline there upon nature's breast, listening to the whistle of the +blackbirds in the grove. Am I right thus far?" + +"It was so," said David. + +"I have read all your verses," continued Monsieur Bril, his eyes +wandering about his sea of books as if he conned the horizon for a +sail. "Look yonder, through that window, Monsieur Mignot; tell me what +you see in that tree." + +"I see a crow," said David, looking. + +"There is a bird," said Monsieur Bril, "that shall assist me where I +am disposed to shirk a duty. You know that bird, Monsieur Mignot; he +is the philosopher of the air. He is happy through submission to his +lot. None so merry or full-crawed as he with his whimsical eye and +rollicking step. The fields yield him what he desires. He never +grieves that his plumage is not gay, like the oriole's. And you have +heard, Monsieur Mignot, the notes that nature has given him? Is the +nightingale any happier, do you think?" + +David rose to his feet. The crow cawed harshly from his tree. + +"I thank you, Monsieur Bril," he said, slowly. "There was not, then, +one nightingale among all those croaks?" + +"I could not have missed it," said Monsieur Bril, with a sigh. "I read +every word. Live your poetry, man; do not try to write it any more." + +"I thank you," said David, again. "And now I will be going back to my +sheep." + +"If you would dine with me," said the man of books, "and overlook the +smart of it, I will give you reasons at length." + +"No," said the poet, "I must be back in the fields cawing at my +sheep." + +Back along the road to Vernoy he trudged with his poems under his arm. +When he reached his village he turned into the shop of one Zeigler, a +Jew out of Armenia, who sold anything that came to his hand. + +"Friend," said David, "wolves from the forest harass my sheep on the +hills. I must purchase firearms to protect them. What have you?" + +"A bad day, this, for me, friend Mignot," said Zeigler, spreading his +hands, "for I perceive that I must sell you a weapon that will not +fetch a tenth of its value. Only last I week I bought from a peddlar a +wagon full of goods that he procured at a sale by a /commissionaire/ +of the crown. The sale was of the /chateau/ and belongings of a great +lord--I know not his title--who has been banished for conspiracy +against the king. There are some choice firearms in the lot. This +pistol--oh, a weapon fit for a prince!--it shall be only forty francs +to you, friend Mignot--if I lose ten by the sale. But perhaps an +arquebuse--" + +"This will do," said David, throwing the money on the counter. "Is it +charged?" + +"I will charge it," said Zeigler. "And, for ten francs more, add a +store of powder and ball." + +David laid his pistol under his coat and walked to his cottage. Yvonne +was not there. Of late she had taken to gadding much among the +neighbours. But a fire was glowing in the kitchen stove. David opened +the door of it and thrust his poems in upon the coals. As they blazed +up they made a singing, harsh sound in the flue. + +"The song of the crow!" said the poet. + +He went up to his attic room and closed the door. So quiet was the +village that a score of people heard the roar of the great pistol. +They flocked thither, and up the stairs where the smoke, issuing, drew +their notice. + +The men laid the body of the poet upon his bed, awkwardly arranging it +to conceal the torn plumage of the poor black crow. The women +chattered in a luxury of zealous pity. Some of them ran to tell +Yvonne. + +M. Papineau, whose nose had brought him there among the first, picked +up the weapon and ran his eye over its silver mountings with a mingled +air of connoisseurship and grief. + +"The arms," he explained, aside, to the /cure/, "and crest of +Monseigneur, the Marquis de Beaupertuys." + + + +II + +THE GUARDIAN OF THE ACCOLADE + +Not the least important of the force of the Weymouth Bank was Uncle +Bushrod. Sixty years had Uncle Bushrod given of faithful service to +the house of Weymouth as chattel, servitor, and friend. Of the colour +of the mahogany bank furniture was Uncle Bushrod--thus dark was he +externally; white as the uninked pages of the bank ledgers was his +soul. Eminently pleasing to Uncle Bushrod would the comparison have +been; for to him the only institution in existence worth considering +was the Weymouth Bank, of which he was something between porter and +generalissimo-in-charge. + +Weymouth lay, dreamy and umbrageous, among the low foothills along the +brow of a Southern valley. Three banks there were in Weymouthville. +Two were hopeless, misguided enterprises, lacking the presence and +prestige of a Weymouth to give them glory. The third was The Bank, +managed by the Weymouths--and Uncle Bushrod. In the old Weymouth +homestead--the red brick, white porticoed mansion, the first to your +right as you crossed Elder Creek, coming into town--lived Mr. Robert +Weymouth (the president of the bank), his widowed daughter, Mrs. Vesey +--called "Miss Letty" by every one--and her two children, Nan and Guy. +There, also in a cottage on the grounds, resided Uncle Bushrod and +Aunt Malindy, his wife. Mr. William Weymouth (the cashier of the bank) +lived in a modern, fine house on the principal avenue. + +Mr. Robert was a large, stout man, sixty-two years of age, with a +smooth, plump face, long iron-gray hair and fiery blue eyes. He was +high-tempered, kind, and generous, with a youthful smile and a +formidable, stern voice that did not always mean what it sounded like. +Mr. William was a milder man, correct in deportment and absorbed in +business. The Weymouths formed The Family of Weymouthville, and were +looked up to, as was their right of heritage. + +Uncle Bushrod was the bank's trusted porter, messenger, vassal, and +guardian. He carried a key to the vault, just as Mr. Robert and Mr. +Williams did. Sometimes there was ten, fifteen, or twenty thousand +dollars in sacked silver stacked on the vault floor. It was safe with +Uncle Bushrod. He was a Weymouth in heart, honesty, and pride. + +Of late Uncle Bushrod had not been without worry. It was on account of +Marse Robert. For nearly a year Mr. Robert had been known to indulge +in too much drink. Not enough, understand, to become tipsy, but the +habit was getting a hold upon him, and every one was beginning to +notice it. Half a dozen times a day he would leave the bank and step +around to the Merchants and Planters' Hotel to take a drink. Mr. +Roberts' usual keen judgment and business capacity became a little +impaired. Mr. William, a Weymouth, but not so rich in experience, +tried to dam the inevitable backflow of the tide, but with incomplete +success. The deposits in the Weymouth Bank dropped from six figures to +five. Past-due paper began to accumulate, owing to injudicious loans. +No one cared to address Mr. Robert on the subject of temperance. Many +of his friends said that the cause of it had been the death of his +wife some two years before. Others hesitated on account of Mr. +Robert's quick temper, which was extremely apt to resent personal +interference of such a nature. Miss Letty and the children noticed the +change and grieved about it. Uncle Bushrod also worried, but he was +one of those who would not have dared to remonstrate, although he and +Marse Robert had been raised almost as companions. But there was a +heavier shock coming to Uncle Bushrod than that caused by the bank +president's toddies and juleps. + +Mr. Robert had a passion for fishing, which he usually indulged +whenever the season and business permitted. One day, when reports had +been coming in relating to the bass and perch, he announced his +intention of making a two or three days' visit to the lakes. He was +going down, he said, to Reedy Lake with Judge Archinard, an old +friend. + +Now, Uncle Bushrod was treasurer of the Sons and Daughters of the +Burning Bush. Every association he belonged to made him treasurer +without hesitation. He stood AA1 in coloured circles. He was +understood among them to be Mr. Bushrod Weymouth, of the Weymouth +Bank. + +The night following the day on which Mr. Robert mentioned his intended +fishing-trip the old man woke up and rose from his bed at twelve +o'clock, declaring he must go down to the bank and fetch the pass-book +of the Sons and Daughters, which he had forgotten to bring home. The +bookkeeper had balanced it for him that day, put the cancelled checks +in it, and snapped two elastic bands around it. He put but one band +around other pass-books. + +Aunt Malindy objected to the mission at so late an hour, denouncing it +as foolish and unnecessary, but Uncle Bushrod was not to be deflected +from duty. + +"I done told Sister Adaline Hoskins," he said, "to come by here for +dat book to-morrer mawnin' at sebin o'clock, for to kyar' it to de +meetin' of de bo'd of 'rangements, and dat book gwine to be here when +she come." + +So, Uncle Bushrod put on his old brown suit, got his thick hickory +stick, and meandered through the almost deserted streets of +Weymouthville. He entered the bank, unlocking the side door, and found +the pass-book where he had left it, in the little back room used for +consultations, where he always hung his coat. Looking about casually, +he saw that everything was as he had left it, and was about to start +for home when he was brought to a standstill by the sudden rattle of a +key in the front door. Some one came quickly in, closed the door +softly, and entered the counting-room through the door in the iron +railing. + +That division of the bank's space was connected with the back room by +a narrow passageway, now in deep darkness. + +Uncle Bushrod, firmly gripping his hickory stick, tiptoed gently up +this passage until he could see the midnight intruder into the sacred +precincts of the Weymouth Bank. One dim gas-jet burned there, but even +in its nebulous light he perceived at once that the prowler was the +bank's president. + +Wondering, fearful, undecided what to do, the old coloured man stood +motionless in the gloomy strip of hallway, and waited developments. + +The vault, with its big iron door, was opposite him. Inside that was +the safe, holding the papers of value, the gold and currency of the +bank. On the floor of the vault was, perhaps, eighteen thousand +dollars in silver. + +The president took his key from his pocket, opened the vault and went +inside, nearly closing the door behind him. Uncle Bushrod saw, through +the narrow aperture, the flicker of a candle. In a minute or two--it +seemed an hour to the watcher--Mr. Robert came out, bringing with him +a large hand-satchel, handling it in a careful but hurried manner, as +if fearful that he might be observed. With one hand he closed and +locked the vault door. + +With a reluctant theory forming itself beneath his wool, Uncle Bushrod +waited and watched, shaking in his concealing shadow. + +Mr. Robert set the satchel softly upon a desk, and turned his coat +collar up about his neck and ears. He was dressed in a rough suit of +gray, as if for travelling. He glanced with frowning intentness at the +big office clock above the burning gas-jet, and then looked +lingeringly about the bank--lingeringly and fondly, Uncle Bushrod +thought, as one who bids farewell to dear and familiar scenes. + +Now he caught up his burden again and moved promptly and softly out of +the bank by the way he had come locking the front door behind him. + +For a minute or longer Uncle Bushrod was as stone in his tracks. Had +that midnight rifler of safes and vaults been any other on earth than +the man he was, the old retainer would have rushed upon him and struck +to save the Weymouth property. But now the watcher's soul was tortured +by the poignant dread of something worse than mere robbery. He was +seized by an accusing terror that said the Weymouth name and the +Weymouth honour were about to be lost. Marse Robert robbing the bank! +What else could it mean? The hour of the night, the stealthy visit to +the vault, the satchel brought forth and with expedition and silence, +the prowler's rough dress, his solicitous reading of the clock, and +noiseless departure--what else could it mean? + +And then to the turmoil of Uncle Bushrod's thoughts came the +corroborating recollection of preceding events--Mr. Robert's +increasing intemperance and consequent many moods of royal high +spirits and stern tempers; the casual talk he had heard in the bank of +the decrease in business and difficulty in collecting loans. What else +could it all mean but that Mr. Robert Weymouth was an absconder--was +about to fly with the bank's remaining funds, leaving Mr. William, +Miss Letty, little Nab, Guy, and Uncle Bushrod to bear the disgrace? + +During one minute Uncle Bushrod considered these things, and then he +awoke to sudden determination and action. + +"Lawd! Lawd!" he moaned aloud, as he hobbled hastily toward the side +door. "Sech a come-off after all dese here years of big doin's and +fine doin's. Scan'lous sights upon de yearth when de Weymouth fambly +done turn out robbers and 'bezzlers! Time for Uncle Bushrod to clean +out somebody's chicken-coop and eben matters up. Oh, Lawd! Marse +Robert, you ain't gwine do dat. 'N Miss Letty an' dem chillun so proud +and talkin' 'Weymouth, Weymouth,' all de time! I'm gwine to stop you +ef I can. 'Spec you shoot Mr. Nigger's head off ef he fool wid you, +but I'm gwine stop you ef I can." + +Uncle Bushrod, aided by his hickory stick, impeded by his rheumatism, +hurried down the street toward the railroad station, where the two +lines touching Weymouthville met. As he had expected and feared, he +saw there Mr. Robert, standing in the shadow of the building, waiting +for the train. He held the satchel in his hand. + +When Uncle Bushrod came within twenty yards of the bank president, +standing like a huge, gray ghost by the station wall, sudden +perturbation seized him. The rashness and audacity of the thing he had +come to do struck him fully. He would have been happy could he have +turned and fled from the possibilities of the famous Weymouth wrath. +But again he saw, in his fancy, the white reproachful face of Miss +Letty, and the distressed looks of Nan and Guy, should he fail in his +duty and they question him as to his stewardship. + +Braced by the thought, he approached in a straight line, clearing his +throat and pounding with his stick so that he might be early +recognized. Thus he might avoid the likely danger of too suddenly +surprising the sometimes hasty Mr. Robert. + +"Is that you, Bushrod?" called the clamant, clear voice of the gray +ghost. + +"Yes, suh, Marse Robert." + +"What the devil are you doing out at this time of night?" + +For the first time in his life, Uncle Bushrod told Marse Robert a +falsehood. He could not repress it. He would have to circumlocute a +little. His nerve was not equal to a direct attack. + +"I done been down, suh, to see ol' Aunt M'ria Patterson. She taken +sick in de night, and I kyar'ed her a bottle of M'lindy's medercine. +Yes, suh." + +"Humph!" said Robert. "You better get home out of the night air. It's +damp. You'll hardly be worth killing to-morrow on account of your +rheumatism. Think it'll be a clear day, Bushrod?" + +"I 'low it will, suh. De sun sot red las' night." + +Mr. Robert lit a cigar in the shadow, and the smoke looked like his +gray ghost expanding and escaping into the night air. Somehow, Uncle +Bushrod could barely force his reluctant tongue to the dreadful +subject. He stood, awkward, shambling, with his feet upon the gravel +and fumbling with his stick. But then, afar off--three miles away, at +the Jimtown switch--he heard the faint whistle of the coming train, +the one that was to transport the Weymouth name into the regions of +dishonour and shame. All fear left him. He took off his hat and faced +the chief of the clan he served, the great, royal, kind, lofty, +terrible Weymouth--he bearded him there at the brink of the awful +thing that was about to happen. + +"Marse Robert," he began, his voice quivering a little with the stress +of his feelings, "you 'member de day dey-all rode de tunnament at Oak +Lawn? De day, suh, dat you win in de ridin', and you crown Miss Lucy +de queen?" + +"Tournament?" said Mr. Robert, taking his cigar from his mouth. "Yes, +I remember very well the--but what the deuce are you talking about +tournaments here at midnight for? Go 'long home, Bushrod. I believe +you're sleep-walking." + +"Miss Lucy tetch you on de shoulder," continued the old man, never +heeding, "wid a s'ord, and say: 'I mek you a knight, Suh Robert--rise +up, pure and fearless and widout reproach.' Dat what Miss Lucy say. +Dat's been a long time ago, but me nor you ain't forgot it. And den +dar's another time we ain't forgot--de time when Miss Lucy lay on her +las' bed. She sent for Uncle Bushrod, and she say: 'Uncle Bushrod, +when I die, I want you to take good care of Mr. Robert. Seem like'--so +Miss Lucy say--'he listen to you mo' dan to anybody else. He apt to be +mighty fractious sometimes, and maybe he cuss you when you try to +'suade him but he need somebody what understand him to be 'round wid +him. He am like a little child sometimes'--so Miss Lucy say, wid her +eyes shinin' in her po', thin face--'but he always been'--dem was her +words--'my knight, pure and fearless and widout reproach.'" + +Mr. Robert began to mask, as was his habit, a tendency to soft- +heartedness with a spurious anger. + +"You--you old windbag!" he growled through a cloud of swirling cigar +smoke. "I believe you are crazy. I told you to go home, Bushrod. Miss +Lucy said that, did she? Well, we haven't kept the scutcheon very +clear. Two years ago last week, wasn't it, Bushrod, when she died? +Confound it! Are you going to stand there all night gabbing like a +coffee-coloured gander?" + +The train whistled again. Now it was at the water tank, a mile away. + +"Marse Robert," said Uncle Bushrod, laying his hand on the satchel +that the banker held. "For Gawd's sake, don' take dis wid you. I knows +what's in it. I knows where you got it in de bank. Don' kyar' it wid +you. Dey's big trouble in dat valise for Miss Lucy and Miss Lucy's +child's chillun. Hit's bound to destroy de name of Weymouth and bow +down dem dat own it wid shame and triberlation. Marse Robert, you can +kill dis ole nigger ef you will, but don't take away dis 'er' valise. +If I ever crosses over de Jordan, what I gwine to say to Miss Lucy +when she ax me: 'Uncle Bushrod, wharfo' didn' you take good care of +Mr. Robert?'" + +Mr. Robert Weymouth threw away his cigar and shook free one arm with +that peculiar gesture that always preceded his outbursts of +irascibility. Uncle Bushrod bowed his head to the expected storm, but +he did not flinch. If the house of Weymouth was to fall, he would fall +with it. The banker spoke, and Uncle Bushrod blinked with surprise. +The storm was there, but it was suppressed to the quietness of a +summer breeze. + +"Bushrod," said Mr. Robert, in a lower voice than he usually employed, +"you have overstepped all bounds. You have presumed upon the leniency +with which you have been treated to meddle unpardonably. So you know +what is in this satchel! Your long and faithful service is some +excuse, but--go home, Bushrod--not another word!" + +But Bushrod grasped the satchel with a firmer hand. The headlight of +the train was now lightening the shadows about the station. The roar +was increasing, and folks were stirring about at the track side. + +"Marse Robert, gimme dis 'er' valise. I got a right, suh, to talk to +you dis 'er' way. I slaved for you and 'tended to you from a child up. +I went th'ough de war as yo' body-servant tell we whipped de Yankees +and sent 'em back to de No'th. I was at yo' weddin', and I was n' fur +away when yo' Miss Letty was bawn. And Miss Letty's chillun, dey +watches to-day for Uncle Bushrod when he come home ever' evenin'. I +been a Weymouth, all 'cept in colour and entitlements. Both of us is +old, Marse Robert. 'Tain't goin' to be long till we gwine to see Miss +Lucy and has to give an account of our doin's. De ole nigger man won't +be 'spected to say much mo' dan he done all he could by de fambly dat +owned him. But de Weymouths, dey must say day been livin' pure and +fearless and widout reproach. Gimme dis valise, Marse Robert--I'm +gwine to hab it. I'm gwine to take it back to the bank and lock it up +in de vault. I'm gwine to do Miss Lucy's biddin'. Turn 'er loose, +Marse Robert." + +The train was standing at the station. Some men were pushing trucks +along the side. Two or three sleepy passengers got off and wandered +away into the night. The conductor stepped to the gravel, swung his +lantern and called: "Hello, Frank!" at some one invisible. The bell +clanged, the brakes hissed, the conductor drawled: "All aboard!" + +Mr. Robert released his hold on the satchel. Uncle Bushrod hugged it +to his breast with both arms, as a lover clasps his first beloved. + +"Take it back with you, Bushrod," said Mr. Robert, thrusting his hands +into his pockets. "And let the subject drop--now mind! You've said +quite enough. I'm going to take the train. Tell Mr. William I will be +back on Saturday. Good night." + +The banker climbed the steps of the moving train and disappeared in a +coach. Uncle Bushrod stood motionless, still embracing the precious +satchel. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving in thanks to +the Master above for the salvation of the Weymouth honour. He knew Mr. +Robert would return when he said he would. The Weymouths never lied. +Nor now, thank the Lord! could it be said that they embezzled the +money in banks. + +Then awake to the necessity for further guardianship of Weymouth trust +funds, the old man started for the bank with the redeemed satchel. + +* * * * * + +Three hours from Weymouthville, in the gray dawn, Mr. Robert alighted +from the train at a lonely flag-station. Dimly he could see the figure +of a man waiting on the platform, and the shape of a spring-waggon, +team and driver. Half a dozen lengthy bamboo fishing-poles projected +from the waggon's rear. + +"You're here, Bob," said Judge Archinard, Mr. Robert's old friend and +schoolmate. "It's going to be a royal day for fishing. I thought you +said--why, didn't you bring along the stuff?" + +The president of the Weymouth Bank took off his hat and rumpled his +gray locks. + +"Well, Ben, to tell you the truth, there's an infernally presumptuous +old nigger belonging in my family that broke up the arrangement. He +came down to the depot and vetoed the whole proceeding. He means all +right, and--well, I reckon he /is/ right. Somehow, he had found out +what I had along--though I hid it in the bank vault and sneaked it out +at midnight. I reckon he has noticed that I've been indulging a little +more than a gentleman should, and he laid for me with some reaching +arguments. + +"I'm going to quit drinking," Mr. Robert concluded. "I've come to the +conclusion that a man can't keep it up and be quite what he'd like to +be--'pure and fearless and without reproach'--that's the way old +Bushrod quoted it." + +"Well, I'll have to admit," said the judge, thoughtfully, as they +climbed into the waggon, "that the old darkey's argument can't +conscientiously be overruled." + +"Still," said Mr. Robert, with a ghost of a sigh, "there was two +quarts of the finest old silk-velvet Bourbon in that satchel you ever +wet your lips with." + + + +III + +THE DISCOUNTERS OF MONEY + +The spectacle of the money-caliphs of the present day going about +Bagdad-on-the-Subway trying to relieve the wants of the people is +enough to make the great Al Raschid turn Haroun in his grave. If not +so, then the assertion should do so, the real caliph having been a wit +and a scholar and therefore a hater of puns. + +How properly to alleviate the troubles of the poor is one of the +greatest troubles of the rich. But one thing agreed upon by all +professional philanthropists is that you must never hand over any cash +to your subject. The poor are notoriously temperamental; and when they +get money they exhibit a strong tendency to spend it for stuffed +olives and enlarged crayon portraits instead of giving it to the +instalment man. + +And still, old Haroun had some advantages as an eleemosynarian. He +took around with him on his rambles his vizier, Giafar (a vizier is a +composite of a chauffeur, a secretary of state, and a night-and-day +bank), and old Uncle Mesrour, his executioner, who toted a +snickersnee. With this entourage a caliphing tour could hardly fail to +be successful. Have you noticed lately any newspaper articles headed, +"What Shall We Do With Our Ex-Presidents?" Well, now, suppose that Mr. +Carnegie could engage /him/ and Joe Gans to go about assisting in the +distribution of free libraries? Do you suppose any town would have had +the hardihood to refuse one? That caliphalous combination would cause +two libraries to grow where there had been only one set of E. P. Roe's +works before. + +But, as I said, the money-caliphs are handicapped. They have the idea +that earth has no sorrow that dough cannot heal; and they rely upon it +solely. Al Raschid administered justice, rewarding the deserving, and +punished whomsoever he disliked on the spot. He was the originator of +the short-story contest. Whenever he succoured any chance pick-up in +the bazaars he always made the succouree tell the sad story of his +life. If the narrative lacked construction, style, and /esprit/ he +commanded his vizier to dole him out a couple of thousand ten-dollar +notes of the First National Bank of the Bosphorus, or else gave him a +soft job as Keeper of the Bird Seed for the Bulbuls in the Imperial +Gardens. If the story was a cracker-jack, he had Mesrour, the +executioner, whack of his head. The report that Haroun Al Raschid is +yet alive and is editing the magazine that your grandmother used to +subscribe for lacks confirmation. + +And now follows the Story of the Millionaire, the Inefficacious +Increment, and the Babes Drawn from the Wood. + +Young Howard Pilkins, the millionaire, got his money ornithologically. +He was a shrewd judge of storks, and got in on the ground floor at the +residence of his immediate ancestors, the Pilkins Brewing Company. For +his mother was a partner in the business. Finally old man Pilkins died +from a torpid liver, and then Mrs. Pilkins died from worry on account +of torpid delivery-waggons--and there you have young Howard Pilkins +with 4,000,000; and a good fellow at that. He was an agreeable, +modestly arrogant young man, who implicitly believed that money could +buy anything that the world had to offer. And Bagdad-on-the-Subway for +a long time did everything possible to encourage his belief. + +But the Rat-trap caught him at last; he heard the spring snap, and +found his heart in a wire cage regarding a piece of cheese whose other +name was Alice von der Ruysling. + +The Von der Ruyslings still live in that little square about which so +much has been said, and in which so little has been done. To-day you +hear of Mr. Tilden's underground passage, and you hear Mr. Gould's +elevated passage, and that about ends the noise in the world made by +Gramercy Square. But once it was different. The Von der Ruyslings live +there yet, and they received /the first key ever made to Gramercy +Park/. + +You shall have no description of Alice v. d. R. Just call up in your +mind the picture of your own Maggie or Vera or Beatrice, straighten +her nose, soften her voice, tone her down and then tone her up, make +her beautiful and unattainable--and you have a faint dry-point etching +of Alice. The family owned a crumbly brick house and a coachman named +Joseph in a coat of many colours, and a horse so old that he claimed +to belong to the order of the perissodactyla, and had toes instead of +hoofs. In the year 1898 the family had to buy a new set of harness for +their Perissodactyl. Before using it they made Joseph smear it over +with a mixture of ashes and soot. It was the Von der Ruysling family +that bought the territory between the Bowery and East River and +Rivington Street and the Statue of Liberty, in the year 1649, from an +Indian chief for a quart of passementerie and a pair of Turkey-red +portieres designed for a Harlem flat. I have always admired that +Indian's perspicacity and good taste. All this is merely to convince +you that the Von der Ruyslings were exactly the kind of poor +aristocrats that turn down their noses at people who have money. Oh, +well, I don't mean that; I mean people who have /just/ money. + +One evening Pilkins went down to the red brick house in Gramercy +Square, and made what he thought was a proposal to Alice v. d. R. +Alice, with her nose turned down, and thinking of his money, +considered it a proposition, and refused it and him. Pilkins, +summoning all his resources as any good general would have done, made +an indiscreet references to the advantages that his money would +provide. That settled it. The lady turned so cold that Walter Wellman +himself would have waited until spring to make a dash for her in a +dog-sled. + +But Pilkins was something of a sport himself. You can't fool all the +millionaires every time the ball drops on the Western Union Building. + +"If, at any time," he said to A. v. d. R., "you feel that you would +like to reconsider your answer, send me a rose like that." + +Pilkins audaciously touched a Jacque rose that she wore loosely in her +hair. + +"Very well," said she. "And when I do, you will understand by it that +either you or I have learned something new about the purchasing power +of money. You've been spoiled, my friend. No, I don't think I could +marry you. To-morrow I will send you back the presents you have given +me." + +"Presents!" said Pilkins in surprise. "I never gave you a present in +my life. I would like to see a full-length portrait of the man that +you would take a present from. Why, you never would let me send you +flowers or candy or even art calendars." + +"You've forgotten," said Alice v. d. R., with a little smile. "It was +a long time ago when our families were neighbours. You were seven, and +I was trundling my doll on the sidewalk. You have me a little gray, +hairy kitten, with shoe-buttony eyes. Its head came off and it was +full of candy. You paid five cents for it--you told me so. I haven't +the candy to return to you--I hadn't developed a conscience at three, +so I ate it. But I have the kitten yet, and I will wrap it up neatly +to-night and send it to you to-morrow." + +Beneath the lightness of Alice v. d. R.'s talk the steadfastness of +her rejection showed firm and plain. So there was nothing left for him +but to leave the crumbly red brick house, and be off with his abhorred +millions. + +On his way back, Pilkins walked through Madison Square. The hour hand +of the clock hung about eight; the air was stingingly cool, but not at +the freezing point. The dim little square seemed like a great, cold, +unroofed room, with its four walls of houses, spangled with thousands +of insufficient lights. Only a few loiterers were huddled here and +there on the benches. + +But suddenly Pilkins came upon a youth sitting brave and, as if +conflicting with summer sultriness, coatless, his white shirt-sleeves +conspicuous in the light from the globe of an electric. Close to his +side was a girl, smiling, dreamy, happy. Around her shoulders was, +palpably, the missing coat of the cold-defying youth. It appeared to +be a modern panorama of the Babes in the Wood, revised and brought up +to date, with the exception that the robins hadn't turned up yet with +the protecting leaves. + +With delight the money-caliphs view a situation that they think is +relievable while you wait. + +Pilkins sat on the bench, one seat removed from the youth. He glanced +cautiously and saw (as men do see; and women--oh! never can) that they +were of the same order. + +Pilkins leaned over after a short time and spoke to the youth, who +answered smilingly, and courteously. From general topics the +conversation concentrated to the bed-rock of grim personalities. But +Pilkins did it as delicately and heartily as any caliph could have +done. And when it came to the point, the youth turned to him, soft- +voiced and with his undiminished smile. + +"I don't want to seem unappreciative, old man," he said, with a +youth's somewhat too-early spontaneity of address, "but, you see, I +can't accept anything from a stranger. I know you're all right, and +I'm tremendously obliged, but I couldn't think of borrowing from +anybody. You see, I'm Marcus Clayton--the Claytons of Roanoke County, +Virginia, you know. The young lady is Miss Eva Bedford--I reckon +you've heard of the Bedfords. She's seventeen and one of the Bedfords +of Bedford County. We've eloped from home to get married, and we +wanted to see New York. We got in this afternoon. Somebody got my +pocketbook on the ferry-boat, and I had only three cents in change +outside of it. I'll get some work somewhere to-morrow, and we'll get +married." + +"But, I say, old man," said Pilkins, in confidential low tones, "you +can't keep the lady out here in the cold all night. Now, as for +hotels--" + +"I told you," said the youth, with a broader smile, "that I didn't +have but three cents. Besides, if I had a thousand, we'd have to wait +here until morning. You can understand that, of course. I'm much +obliged, but I can't take any of your money. Miss Bedford and I have +lived an outdoor life, and we don't mind a little cold. I'll get work +of some kind to-morrow. We've got a paper bag of cakes and chocolates, +and we'll get along all right." + +"Listen," said the millionaire, impressively. "My name is Pilkins, and +I'm worth several million dollars. I happen to have in my pockets +about $800 or $900 in cash. Don't you think you are drawing it rather +fine when you decline to accept as much of it as will make you and the +young lady comfortable at least for the night?" + +"I can't say, sir, that I do think so," said Clayton of Roanoke +County. "I've been raised to look at such things differently. But I'm +mightily obliged to you, just the same." + +"Then you force me to say good night," said the millionaire. + +Twice that day had his money been scorned by simple ones to whom his +dollars had appeared as but tin tobacco-tags. He was no worshipper of +the actual minted coin or stamped paper, but he had always believed in +its almost unlimited power to purchase. + +Pilkins walked away rapidly, and then turned abruptly and returned to +the bench where the young couple sat. He took off his hat and began to +speak. The girl looked at him with the same sprightly, glowing +interest that she had been giving to the lights and statuary and sky- +reaching buildings that made the old square seem so far away from +Bedford County. + +"Mr.--er--Roanoke," said Pilkins, "I admire your--your indepen--your +idiocy so much that I'm going to appeal to your chivalry. I believe +that's what you Southerners call it when you keep a lady sitting +outdoors on a bench on a cold night just to keep your old, out-of-date +pride going. Now, I've a friend--a lady--whom I have known all my life +--who lives a few blocks from here--with her parents and sisters and +aunts, and all that kind of endorsement, of course. I am sure this +lady would be happy and pleased to put up--that is, to have Miss--er-- +Bedford give her the pleasure of having her as a guest for the night. +Don't you think, Mr. Roanoke, of--er--Virginie, that you could unbend +your prejudices that far?" + +Clayton of Roanoke rose and held out his hand. + +"Old man," he said, "Miss Bedford will be much pleased to accept the +hospitality of the lady you refer to." + +He formally introduced Mr. Pilkins to Miss Bedford. The girl looked at +him sweetly and comfortably. "It's a lovely evening, Mr. Pilkins-- +don't you think so?" she said slowly. + +Pilkins conducted them to the crumbly red brick house of the Von der +Ruyslings. His card brought Alice downstairs wondering. The runaways +were sent into the drawing-room, while Pilkins told Alice all about it +in the hall. + +"Of course, I will take her in," said Alice. "Haven't those Southern +girls a thoroughbred air? Of course, she will stay here. You will look +after Mr. Clayton, of course." + +"Will I?" said Pilkins, delightedly. "Oh yes, I'll look after him! As +a citizen of New York, and therefore a part-owner of its public parks, +I'm going to extend to him the hospitality of Madison Square to-night. +He's going to sit there on a bench till morning. There's no use +arguing with him. Isn't he wonderful? I'm glad you'll look after the +little lady, Alice. I tell you those Babes in the Wood made my--that +is, er--made Wall Street and the Bank of England look like penny +arcades." + +Miss Von der Ruysling whisked Miss Bedford of Bedford County up to +restful regions upstairs. When she came down, she put an oblong small +pasteboard box into Pilkins' hands. + +"Your present," she said, "that I am returning to you." + +"Oh, yes, I remember," said Pilkins, with a sigh, "the woolly kitten." + +He left Clayton on a park bench, and shook hands with him heartily. + +"After I get work," said the youth, "I'll look you up. Your address is +on your card, isn't it? Thanks. Well, good night. I'm awfully obliged +to you for your kindness. No, thanks, I don't smoke. Good night." + +In his room, Pilkins opened the box and took out the staring, funny +kitten, long ago ravaged of his candy and minus one shoe-button eye. +Pilkins looked at it sorrowfully. + +"After all," he said, "I don't believe that just money alone will--" + +And then he gave a shout and dug into the bottom of the box for +something else that had been the kitten's resting-place--a crushed but +red, red, fragrant, glorious, promising Jacqueminot rose. + + + +IV + +THE ENCHANTED PROFILE + +There are few Caliphesses. Women are Scheherazades by birth, +predilection, instinct, and arrangement of the vocal cords. The +thousand and one stories are being told every day by hundreds of +thousands of viziers' daughters to their respective sultans. But the +bowstring will get some of 'em yet if they don't watch out. + +I heard a story, though, of one lady Caliph. It isn't precisely an +Arabian Nights story, because it brings in Cinderella, who flourished +her dishrag in another epoch and country. So, if you don't mind the +mixed dates (which seem to give it an Eastern flavour, after all), +we'll get along. + +In New York there is an old, old hotel. You have seen woodcuts of it +in the magazines. It was built--let's see--at a time when there was +nothing above Fourteenth Street except the old Indian trail to Boston +and Hammerstein's office. Soon the old hostelry will be torn down. +And, as the stout walls are riven apart and the bricks go roaring down +the chutes, crowds of citizens will gather at the nearest corners and +weep over the destruction of a dear old landmark. Civic pride is +strongest in New Bagdad; and the wettest weeper and the loudest howler +against the iconoclasts will be the man (originally from Terre Haute) +whose fond memories of the old hotel are limited to his having been +kicked out from its free-lunch counter in 1873. + +At this hotel always stopped Mrs. Maggie Brown. Mrs. Brown was a bony +woman of sixty, dressed in the rustiest black, and carrying a handbag +made, apparently, from the hide of the original animal that Adam +decided to call an alligator. She always occupied a small parlour and +bedroom at the top of the hotel at a rental of two dollars per day. +And always, while she was there, each day came hurrying to see her +many men, sharp-faced, anxious-looking, with only seconds to spare. +For Maggie Brown was said to be the third richest woman in the world; +and these solicitous gentlemen were only the city's wealthiest brokers +and business men seeking trifling loans of half a dozen millions or so +from the dingy old lady with the prehistoric handbag. + +The stenographer and typewriter of the Acropolis Hotel (there! I've +let the name of it out!) was Miss Ida Bates. She was a hold-over from +the Greek classics. There wasn't a flaw in her looks. Some old-timer +paying his regards to a lady said: "To have loved her was a liberal +education." Well, even to have looked over the black hair and neat +white shirtwaist of Miss Bates was equal to a full course in any +correspondence school in the country. She sometimes did a little +typewriting for me, and, as she refused to take the money in advance, +she came to look upon me as something of a friend and protege. She had +unfailing kindliness and a good nature; and not even a white-lead +drummer or a fur importer had ever dared to cross the dead line of +good behaviour in her presence. The entire force of the Acropolis, +from the owner, who lived in Vienna, down to the head porter, who had +been bedridden for sixteen years, would have sprung to her defence in +a moment. + +One day I walked past Miss Bates's little sanctum Remingtorium, and +saw in her place a black-haired unit--unmistakably a person--pounding +with each of her forefingers upon the keys. Musing on the mutability +of temporal affairs, I passed on. The next day I went on a two weeks' +vacation. Returning, I strolled through the lobby of the Acropolis, +and saw, with a little warm glow of auld lang syne, Miss Bates, as +Grecian and kind and flawless as ever, just putting the cover on her +machine. The hour for closing had come; but she asked me in to sit for +a few minutes on the dictation chair. Miss Bates explained her absence +from and return to the Acropolis Hotel in words identical with or +similar to these following: + +"Well, Man, how are the stories coming?" + +"Pretty regularly," said I. "About equal to their going." + +"I'm sorry," said she. "Good typewriting is the main thing in a story. +You've missed me, haven't you?" + +"No one," said I, "whom I have ever known knows as well as you do how +to space properly belt buckles, semi-colons, hotel guests, and +hairpins. But you've been away, too. I saw a package of peppermint- +pepsin in your place the other day." + +"I was going to tell you all about it," said Miss Bates, "if you +hadn't interrupted me. + +"Of course, you know about Maggie Brown, who stops here. Well, she's +worth $40,000,000. She lives in Jersey in a ten-dollar flat. She's +always got more cash on hand than half a dozen business candidates for +vice-president. I don't know whether she carries it in her stocking or +not, but I know she's mighty popular down in the part of town where +they worship the golden calf. + +"Well, about two weeks ago, Mrs. Brown stops at the door and rubbers +at me for ten minutes. I'm sitting with my side to her, striking off +some manifold copies of a copper-mine proposition for a nice old man +from Tonopah. But I always see everything all around me. When I'm hard +at work I can see things through my side-combs; and I can leave one +button unbuttoned in the back of my shirtwaist and see who's behind +me. I didn't look around, because I make from eighteen to twenty +dollars a week, and I didn't have to. + +"That evening at knocking-off time she sends for me to come up to her +apartment. I expected to have to typewrite about two thousand words of +notes-of-hand, liens, and contracts, with a ten-cent tip in sight; but +I went. Well, Man, I was certainly surprised. Old Maggie Brown had +turned human. + +"'Child,' says she, 'you're the most beautiful creature I ever saw in +my life. I want you to quit your work and come and live with me. I've +no kith or kin,' says she, 'except a husband and a son or two, and I +hold no communication with any of 'em. They're extravagant burdens on +a hard-working woman. I want you to be a daughter to me. They say I'm +stingy and mean, and the papers print lies about my doing my own +cooking and washing. It's a lie,' she goes on. 'I put my washing out, +except the handkerchiefs and stockings and petticoats and collars, and +light stuff like that. I've got forty million dollars in cash and +stocks and bonds that are as negotiable as Standard Oil, preferred, at +a church fair. I'm a lonely old woman and I need companionship. You're +the most beautiful human being I ever saw,' says she. 'Will you come +and live with me? I'll show 'em whether I can spend money or not,' she +says. + +"Well, Man, what would you have done? Of course, I fell to it. And, to +tell you the truth, I began to like old Maggie. It wasn't all on +account of the forty millions and what she could do for me. I was kind +of lonesome in the world too. Everybody's got to have somebody they +can explain to about the pain in their left shoulder and how fast +patent-leather shoes wear out when they begin to crack. And you can't +talk about such things to men you meet in hotels--they're looking for +just such openings. + +"So I gave up my job in the hotel and went with Mrs. Brown. I +certainly seemed to have a mash on her. She'd look at me for half an +hour at a time when I was sitting, reading, or looking at the +magazines. + +"One time I says to her: 'Do I remind you of some deceased relative or +friend of your childhood, Mrs. Brown? I've noticed you give me a +pretty good optical inspection from time to time.' + +"'You have a face,' she says, 'exactly like a dear friend of mine--the +best friend I ever had. But I like you for yourself, child, too,' she +says. + +"And say, Man, what do you suppose she did? Loosened up like a Marcel +wave in the surf at Coney. She took me to a swell dressmaker and gave +her /a la carte/ to fit me out--money no object. They were rush +orders, and madame locked the front door and put the whole force to +work. + +"Then we moved to--where do you think?--no; guess again--that's right +--the Hotel Bonton. We had a six-room apartment; and it cost $100 a +day. I saw the bill. I began to love that old lady. + +"And then, Man, when my dresses began to come in--oh, I won't tell you +about 'em! you couldn't understand. And I began to call her Aunt +Maggie. You've read about Cinderella, of course. Well, what Cinderella +said when the prince fitted that 3 1/2 A on her foot was a hard-luck +story compared to the things I told myself. + +"Then Aunt Maggie says she is going to give me a coming-out banquet in +the Bonton that'll make moving Vans of all the old Dutch families on +Fifth Avenue. + +"'I've been out before, Aunt Maggie,' says I. 'But I'll come out +again. But you know,' says I, 'that this is one of the swellest hotels +in the city. And you know--pardon me--that it's hard to get a bunch of +notables together unless you've trained for it.' + +"'Don't fret about that, child,' says Aunt Maggie. 'I don't send out +invitations--I issue orders. I'll have fifty guests here that couldn't +be brought together again at any reception unless it were given by +King Edward or William Travers Jerome. They are men, of course, and +all of 'em either owe me money or intend to. Some of their wives won't +come, but a good many will.' + +"Well, I wish you could have been at that banquet. The dinner service +was all gold and cut glass. There were about forty men and eight +ladies present besides Aunt Maggie and I. You'd never have known the +third richest woman in the world. She had on a new black silk dress +with so much passementerie on it that it sounded exactly like a +hailstorm I heard once when I was staying all night with a girl that +lived in a top-floor studio. + +"And my dress!--say, Man, I can't waste the words on you. It was all +hand-made lace--where there was any of it at all--and it cost $300. I +saw the bill. The men were all bald-headed or white-whiskered, and +they kept up a running fire of light repartee about 3-per cents. and +Bryan and the cotton crop. + +"On the left of me was something that talked like a banker, and on my +right was a young fellow who said he was a newspaper artist. He was +the only--well, I was going to tell you. + +"After the dinner was over Mrs. Brown and I went up to the apartment. +We had to squeeze our way through a mob of reporters all the way +through the halls. That's one of the things money does for you. Say, +do you happen to know a newspaper artist named Lathrop--a tall man +with nice eyes and an easy way of talking? No, I don't remember what +paper he works on. Well, all right. + +"When we got upstairs Mrs. Brown telephones for the bill right away. +It came, and it was $600. I saw the bill. Aunt Maggie fainted. I got +her on a lounge and opened the bead-work. + +"'Child,' says she, when she got back to the world, 'what was it? A +raise of rent or an income-tax?' + +"'Just a little dinner,' says I. 'Nothing to worry about--hardly a +drop in the bucket-shop. Sit up and take notice--a dispossess notice, +if there's no other kind.' + +"But say, Man, do you know what Aunt Maggie did? She got cold feet! +She hustled me out of that Hotel Bonton at nine the next morning. We +went to a rooming-house on the lower West Side. She rented one room +that had water on the floor below and light on the floor above. After +we got moved all you could see in the room was about $1,500 worth of +new swell dresses and a one-burner gas-stove. + +"Aunt Maggie had had a sudden attack of the hedges. I guess everybody +has got to go on a spree once in their life. A man spends his on +highballs, and a woman gets woozy on clothes. But with forty million +dollars--say, I'd like to have a picture of--but, speaking of +pictures, did you ever run across a newspaper artist named Lathrop--a +tall--oh, I asked you that before, didn't I? He was mighty nice to me +at the dinner. His voice just suited me. I guess he must have thought +I was to inherit some of Aunt Maggie's money. + +"Well, Mr. Man, three days of that light-housekeeping was plenty for +me. Aunt Maggie was affectionate as ever. She'd hardly let me get out +of her sight. But let me tell you. She was a hedger from Hedgersville, +Hedger County. Seventy-five cents a day was the limit she set. We +cooked our own meals in the room. There I was, with a thousand +dollars' worth of the latest things in clothes, doing stunts over a +one-burner gas-stove. + +"As I say, on the third day I flew the coop. I couldn't stand for +throwing together a fifteen-cent kidney stew while wearing at the same +time, a $150 house-dress, with Valenciennes lace insertion. So I goes +into the closet and puts on the cheapest dress Mrs. Brown had bought +for me--it's the one I've got on now--not so bad for $75, is it? I'd +left all my own clothes in my sister's flat in Brooklyn. + +"'Mrs. Brown, formerly "Aunt Maggie,"' says I to her, 'I'm going to +extend my feet alternately, one after the other, in such a manner and +direction that this tenement will recede from me in the quickest +possible time. I am no worshipper of money,' says I, 'but there are +some things I can't stand. I can stand the fabulous monster that I've +read about that blows hot birds and cold bottles with the same breath. +But I can't stand a quitter,' says I. 'They say you've got forty +million dollars--well, you'll never have any less. And I was beginning +to like you, too,' says I. + +"Well, the late Aunt Maggie kicks till the tears flow. She offers to +move into a swell room with a two-burner stove and running water. + +"'I've spent an awful lot of money, child,' says she. 'We'll have to +economize for a while. You're the most beautiful creature I ever laid +eyes on,' she says, 'and I don't want you to leave me.' + +"Well, you see me, don't you? I walked straight to the Acropolis and +asked for my job back, and I got it. How did you say your writings +were getting along? I know you've lost out some by not having me to +type 'em. Do you ever have 'em illustrated? And, by the way, did you +ever happen to know a newspaper artist--oh, shut up! I know I asked +you before. I wonder what paper he works on? It's funny, but I +couldn't help thinking that he wasn't thinking about the money he +might have been thinking I was thinking I'd get from old Maggie Brown. +If I only knew some of the newspaper editors I'd--" + +The sound of an easy footstep came from the doorway. Ida Bates saw who +it was with her back-hair comb. I saw her turn pink, perfect statue +that she was--a miracle that I share with Pygmalion only. + +"Am I excusable?" she said to me--adorable petitioner that she became. +"It's--it's Mr. Lathrop. I wonder if it really wasn't the money--I +wonder, if after all, he--" + +Of course, I was invited to the wedding. After the ceremony I dragged +Lathrop aside. + +"You are an artist," said I, "and haven't figured out why Maggie Brown +conceived such a strong liking for Miss Bates--that was? Let me show +you." + +The bride wore a simple white dress as beautifully draped as the +costumes of the ancient Greeks. I took some leaves from one of the +decorative wreaths in the little parlour, and made a chaplet of them, +and placed them on nee Bates shining chestnut hair, and made her turn +her profile to her husband. + +"By jingo!" said he. "Isn't Ida a dead ringer for the lady's head on +the silver dollar?" + + + +V + +"NEXT TO READING MATTER" + +He compelled my interest as he stepped from the ferry at Desbrosses +Street. He had the air of being familiar with hemispheres and worlds, +and of entering New York as the lord of a demesne who revisited it in +after years of absence. But I thought that, with all his air, he had +never before set foot on the slippery cobblestones of the City of Too +Many Caliphs. + +He wore loose clothes of a strange bluish drab colour, and a +conservative, round Panama hat without the cock-a-loop indentations +and cants with which Northern fanciers disfigure the tropic head-gear. +Moreover, he was the homeliest man I have ever seen. His ugliness was +less repellent than startling--arising from a sort of Lincolnian +ruggedness and irregularity of feature that spellbound you with wonder +and dismay. So may have looked afrites or the shapes metamorphosed +from the vapour of the fisherman's vase. As he afterward told me, his +name was Judson Tate; and he may as well be called so at once. He wore +his green silk tie through a topaz ring; and he carried a cane made of +the vertebrae of a shark. + +Judson Tate accosted me with some large and casual inquiries about the +city's streets and hotels, in the manner of one who had but for the +moment forgotten the trifling details. I could think of no reason for +disparaging my own quiet hotel in the downtown district; so the mid- +morning of the night found us already victualed and drinked (at my +expense), and ready to be chaired and tobaccoed in a quiet corner of +the lobby. + +There was something on Judson Tate's mind, and, such as it was, he +tried to convey it to me. Already he had accepted me as his friend; +and when I looked at his great, snuff-brown first-mate's hand, with +which he brought emphasis to his periods, within six inches of my +nose, I wondered if, by any chance, he was as sudden in conceiving +enmity against strangers. + +When this man began to talk I perceived in him a certain power. His +voice was a persuasive instrument, upon which he played with a +somewhat specious but effective art. He did not try to make you forget +his ugliness; he flaunted it in your face and made it part of the +charm of his speech. Shutting your eyes, you would have trailed after +this rat-catcher's pipes at least to the walls of Hamelin. Beyond that +you would have had to be more childish to follow. But let him play his +own tune to the words set down, so that if all is too dull, the art of +music may bear the blame. + +"Women," said Judson Tate, "are mysterious creatures." + +My spirits sank. I was not there to listen to such a world-old +hypothesis--to such a time-worn, long-ago-refuted, bald, feeble, +illogical, vicious, patent sophistry--to an ancient, baseless, +wearisome, ragged, unfounded, insidious, falsehood originated by women +themselves, and by them insinuated, foisted, thrust, spread, and +ingeniously promulgated into the ears of mankind by underhanded, +secret and deceptive methods, for the purpose of augmenting, +furthering, and reinforcing their own charms and designs. + +"Oh, I don't know!" said I, vernacularly. + +"Have you ever heard of Oratama?" he asked. + +"Possibly," I answered. "I seem to recall a toe dancer--or a suburban +addition--or was it a perfume?--of some such name." + +"It is a town," said Judson Tate, "on the coast of a foreign country +of which you know nothing and could understand less. It is a country +governed by a dictator and controlled by revolutions and +insubordination. It was there that a great life-drama was played, with +Judson Tate, the homeliest man in America, and Fergus McMahan, the +handsomest adventurer in history or fiction, and Senorita Anabela +Zamora, the beautiful daughter of the alcalde of Oratama, as chief +actors. And, another thing--nowhere else on the globe except in the +department of Trienta y tres in Uruguay does the /chuchula/ plant +grow. The products of the country I speak of are valuable woods, +dyestuffs, gold, rubber, ivory, and cocoa." + +"I was not aware," said I, "that South America produced any ivory." + +"There you are twice mistaken," said Judson Tate, distributing the +words over at least an octave of his wonderful voice. "I did not say +that the country I spoke of was in South America--I must be careful, +my dear man; I have been in politics there, you know. But, even so--I +have played chess against its president with a set carved from the +nasal bones of the tapir--one of our native specimens of the order of +/perissodactyle ungulates/ inhabiting the Cordilleras--which was as +pretty ivory as you would care to see. + +"But is was of romance and adventure and the ways of women that was I +going to tell you, and not of zoological animals. + +"For fifteen years I was the ruling power behind old Sancho Benavides, +the Royal High Thumbscrew of the republic. You've seen his picture in +the papers--a mushy black man with whiskers like the notes on a Swiss +music-box cylinder, and a scroll in his right hand like the ones they +write births on in the family Bible. Well, that chocolate potentate +used to be the biggest item of interest anywhere between the colour +line and the parallels of latitude. It was three throws, horses, +whether he was to wind up in the Hall of Fame or the Bureau of +Combustibles. He'd have been sure called the Roosevelt of the Southern +Continent if it hadn't been that Grover Cleveland was President at the +time. He'd hold office a couple of terms, then he'd sit out for a hand +--always after appointing his own successor for the interims. + +"But it was not Benavides, the Liberator, who was making all this fame +for himself. Not him. It was Judson Tate. Benavides was only the chip +over the bug. I gave him the tip when to declare war and increase +import duties and wear his state trousers. But that wasn't what I +wanted to tell you. How did I get to be It? I'll tell you. Because I'm +the most gifted talker that ever made vocal sounds since Adam first +opened his eyes, pushed aside the smelling-salts, and asked: 'Where am +I?' + +"As you observe, I am about the ugliest man you ever saw outside the +gallery of photographs of the New England early Christian Scientists. +So, at an early age, I perceived that what I lacked in looks I must +make up in eloquence. That I've done. I get what I go after. As the +back-stop and still small voice of old Benavides I made all the great +historical powers-behind-the-throne, such as Talleyrand, Mrs. de +Pompadour, and Loeb, look as small as the minority report of a Duma. I +could talk nations into or out of debt, harangue armies to sleep on +the battlefield, reduce insurrections, inflammations, taxes, +appropriations or surpluses with a few words, and call up the dogs of +war or the dove of peace with the same bird-like whistle. Beauty and +epaulettes and curly moustaches and Grecian profiles in other men were +never in my way. When people first look at me they shudder. Unless +they are in the last stages of /angina pectoris/ they are mine in ten +minutes after I begin to talk. Women and men--I win 'em as they come. +Now, you wouldn't think women would fancy a man with a face like mine, +would you?" + +"Oh, yes, Mr. Tate," said I. "History is bright and fiction dull with +homely men who have charmed women. There seems--" + +"Pardon me," interrupted Judson Tate, "but you don't quite understand. +You have yet to hear my story. + +"Fergus McMahan was a friend of mine in the capital. For a handsome +man I'll admit he was the duty-free merchandise. He had blond curls +and laughing blue eyes and was featured regular. They said he was a +ringer for the statue they call Herr Mees, the god of speech and +eloquence resting in some museum at Rome. Some German anarchist, I +suppose. They are always resting and talking. + +"But Fergus was no talker. He was brought up with the idea that to be +beautiful was to make good. His conversation was about as edifying as +listening to a leak dropping in a tin dish-pan at the head of the bed +when you want to go to sleep. But he and me got to be friends--maybe +because we was so opposite, don't you think? Looking at the Hallowe'en +mask that I call my face when I'm shaving seemed to give Fergus +pleasure; and I'm sure that whenever I heard the feeble output of +throat noises that he called conversation I felt contented to be a +gargoyle with a silver tongue. + +"One time I found it necessary to go down to this coast town of +Oratama to straighten out a lot of political unrest and chop off a few +heads in the customs and military departments. Fergus, who owned the +ice and sulphur-match concessions of the republic, says he'll keep me +company. + +"So, in a jangle of mule-train bells, we gallops into Oratama, and the +town belonged to us as much as Long Island Sound doesn't belong to +Japan when T. R. is at Oyster Bay. I say us; but I mean me. Everybody +for four nations, two oceans, one bay and isthmus, and five +archipelagoes around had heard of Judson Tate. Gentleman adventurer, +they called me. I had been written up in five columns of the yellow +journals, 40,000 words (with marginal decorations) in a monthly +magazine, and a stickful on the twelfth page of the New York /Times/. +If the beauty of Fergus McMahan gained any part of our reception in +Oratama, I'll eat the price-tag in my Panama. It was me that they hung +out paper flowers and palm branches for. I am not a jealous man; I am +stating facts. The people were Nebuchadnezzars; they bit the grass +before me; there was no dust in the town for them to bite. They bowed +down to Judson Tate. They knew that I was the power behind Sancho +Benavides. A word from me was more to them than a whole deckle-edged +library from East Aurora in sectional bookcases was from anybody else. +And yet there are people who spend hours fixing their faces--rubbing +in cold cream and massaging the muscles (always toward the eyes) and +taking in the slack with tincture of benzoin and electrolyzing moles-- +to what end? Looking handsome. Oh, what a mistake! It's the larynx +that the beauty doctors ought to work on. It's words more than warts, +talk more than talcum, palaver more than powder, blarney more than +bloom that counts--the phonograph instead of the photograph. But I was +going to tell you. + +"The local Astors put me and Fergus up at the Centipede Club, a frame +building built on posts sunk in the surf. The tide's only nine inches. +The Little Big High Low Jack-in-the-game of the town came around and +kowtowed. Oh, it wasn't to Herr Mees. They had heard about Judson +Tate. + +"One afternoon me and Fergus McMahan was sitting on the seaward +gallery of the Centipede, drinking iced rum and talking. + +"'Judson,' says Fergus, 'there's an angel in Oratama.' + +"'So long,' says I, 'as it ain't Gabriel, why talk as if you had heard +a trump blow?' + +"'It's the Senorita Anabela Zamora,' says Fergus. 'She's--she's--she's +as lovely as--as hell!' + +"'Bravo!' says I, laughing heartily. 'You have a true lover's +eloquence to paint the beauties of your inamorata. You remind me,' +says I, 'of Faust's wooing of Marguerite--that is, if he wooed her +after he went down the trap-door of the stage.' + +"'Judson,' says Fergus, 'you know you are as beautiless as a +rhinoceros. You can't have any interest in women. I'm awfully gone in +Miss Anabela. And that's why I'm telling you.' + +"'Oh, /seguramente/,' says I. 'I know I have a front elevation like an +Aztec god that guards a buried treasure that never did exist in +Jefferson County, Yucatan. But there are compensations. For instance, +I am It in this country as far as the eye can reach, and then a few +perches and poles. And again,' says I, 'when I engage people in a set- +to of oral, vocal, and laryngeal utterances, I do not usually confine +my side of the argument to what may be likened to a cheap phonographic +reproduction of the ravings of a jellyfish.' + +"'Oh, I know,' says Fergus, amiable, 'that I'm not handy at small +talk. Or large, either. That's why I'm telling you. I want you to help +me.' + +"'How can I do it?' I asked. + +"'I have subsidized,' says Fergus, 'the services of Senorita Anabela's +duenna, whose name is Francesca. You have a reputation in this +country, Judson,' says Fergus, 'of being a great man and a hero.' + +"'I have,' says I. 'And I deserve it.' + +"'And I,' says Fergus, 'am the best-looking man between the arctic +circle and antarctic ice pack.' + +"'With limitations,' says I, 'as to physiognomy and geography, I +freely concede you to be.' + +"'Between the two of us,' says Fergus, 'we ought to land the Senorita +Anabela Zamora. The lady, as you know, is of an old Spanish family, +and further than looking at her driving in the family /carruaje/ of +afternoons around the plaza, or catching a glimpse of her through a +barred window of evenings, she is as unapproachable as a star.' + +"'Land her for which one of us?' says I. + +"'For me of course,' says Fergus. 'You've never seen her. Now, I've +had Francesca point me out to her as being you on several occasions. +When she sees me on the plaza, she thinks she's looking at Don Judson +Tate, the greatest hero, statesman, and romantic figure in the +country. With your reputation and my looks combined in one man, how +can she resist him? She's heard all about your thrilling history, of +course. And she's seen me. Can any woman want more?' asks Fergus +McMahan. + +"'Can she do with less?' I ask. 'How can we separate our mutual +attractions, and how shall we apportion the proceeds?' + +"Then Fergus tells me his scheme. + +"The house of the alcalde, Don Luis Zamora, he says, has a /patio/, of +course--a kind of inner courtyard opening from the street. In an angle +of it is his daughter's window--as dark a place as you could find. And +what do you think he wants me to do? Why, knowing my freedom, charm, +and skilfulness of tongue, he proposes that I go into the /patio/ at +midnight, when the hobgoblin face of me cannot be seen, and make love +to her for him--for the pretty man that she has seen on the plaza, +thinking him to be Don Judson Tate. + +"Why shouldn't I do it for him--for my friend, Fergus McMahan? For him +to ask me was a compliment--an acknowledgment of his own shortcomings. + +"'You little, lily white, fine-haired, highly polished piece of dumb +sculpture,' says I, 'I'll help you. Make your arrangements and get me +in the dark outside her window and my stream of conversation opened up +with the moonlight tremolo stop turned on, and she's yours.' + +"'Keep your face hid, Jud,' says Fergus. 'For heaven's sake, keep your +face hid. I'm a friend of yours in all kinds of sentiment, but this is +a business deal. If I could talk I wouldn't ask you. But seeing me and +listening to you I don't see why she can't be landed.' + +"'By you?' says I. + +"'By me,' says Fergus. + +Well, Fergus and the duenna, Francesca, attended to the details. And +one night they fetched me a long black cloak with a high collar, and +led me to the house at midnight. I stood by the window in the /patio/ +until I heard a voice as soft and sweet as an angel's whisper on the +other side of the bars. I could see only a faint, white clad shape +inside; and, true to Fergus, I pulled the collar of my cloak high up, +for it was July in the wet seasons, and the nights were chilly. And, +smothering a laugh as I thought of the tongue-tied Fergus, I began to +talk. + +"Well, sir, I talked an hour at the Senorita Anabela. I say 'at' +because it was not 'with.' Now and then she would say: 'Oh, Senor,' or +'Now, ain't you foolin'?' or 'I know you don't mean that,' and such +things as women will when they are being rightly courted. Both of us +knew English and Spanish; so in two languages I tried to win the heart +of the lady for my friend Fergus. But for the bars to the window I +could have done it in one. At the end of the hour she dismissed me and +gave me a big, red rose. I handed it over to Fergus when I got home. + +"For three weeks every third or fourth night I impersonated my friend +in the /patio/ at the window of Senorita Anabela. At last she admitted +that her heart was mine, and spoke of having seen me every afternoon +when she drove in the plaza. It was Fergus she had seen, of course. +But it was my talk that won her. Suppose Fergus had gone there, and +tried to make a hit in the dark with his beauty all invisible, and not +a word to say for himself! + +"On the last night she promised to be mine--that is, Fergus's. And she +put her hand between the bars for me to kiss. I bestowed the kiss and +took the news to Fergus. + +"'You might have left that for me to do,' says he. + +"'That'll be your job hereafter,' says I. 'Keep on doing that and +don't try to talk. Maybe after she thinks she's in love she won't +notice the difference between real conversation and the inarticulate +sort of droning that you give forth.' + +"Now, I had never seen Senorita Anabela. So, the next day Fergus asks +me to walk with him through the plaza and view the daily promenade and +exhibition of Oratama society, a sight that had no interest for me. +But I went; and children and dogs took to the banana groves and +mangrove swamps as soon as they had a look at my face. + +"'Here she comes,' said Fergus, twirling his moustache--'the one in +white, in the open carriage with the black horse.' + +"I looked and felt the ground rock under my feet. For Senorita Anabela +Zamora was the most beautiful woman in the world, and the only one +from that moment on, so far as Judson Tate was concerned. I saw at a +glance that I must be hers and she mine forever. I thought of my face +and nearly fainted; and then I thought of my other talents and stood +upright again. And I had been wooing her for three weeks for another +man! + +"As Senorita Anabela's carriage rolled slowly past, she gave Fergus a +long, soft glance from the corners of her night-black eyes, a glance +that would have sent Judson Tate up into heaven in a rubber-tired +chariot. But she never looked at me. And that handsome man only +ruffles his curls and smirks and prances like a lady-killer at my +side. + +"'What do you think of her, Judson?' asks Fergus, with an air. + +"'This much,' says I. 'She is to me Mrs. Judson Tate. I am no man to +play tricks on a friend. So take your warning.' + +"I thought Fergus would die laughing. + +"'Well, well, well,' said he, 'you old doughface! Struck too, are you? +That's great! But you're too late. Francesca tells me that Anabela +talks of nothing but me, day and night. Of course, I'm awfully obliged +to you for making that chin-music to her of evenings. But, do you +know, I've an idea that I could have done it as well myself.' + +"'Mrs. Judson Tate,' says I. 'Don't forget the name. You've had the +use of my tongue to go with your good looks, my boy. You can't lend me +your looks; but hereafter my tongue is my own. Keep your mind on the +name that's to be on the visiting cards two inches by three and a half +--"Mrs. Judson Tate." That's all.' + +"'All right,' says Fergus, laughing again. 'I've talked with her +father, the alcalde, and he's willing. He's to give a /baile/ +to-morrow evening in his new warehouse. If you were a dancing man, +Jud, I'd expect you around to meet the future Mrs. McMahan.' + +"But on the next evening, when the music was playing loudest at the +Alcade Zamora's /baile/, into the room steps Judson Tate in a new +white linen clothes as if he were the biggest man in the whole nation, +which he was. + +"Some of the musicians jumped off the key when they saw my face, and +one or two of the timidest senoritas let out a screech or two. But up +prances the alcalde and almost wipes the dust off my shoes with his +forehead. No mere good looks could have won me that sensational +entrance. + +"'I hear much, Senor Zamora,' says I, 'of the charm of your daughter. +It would give me great pleasure to be presented to her.' + +"There were about six dozen willow rocking-chairs, with pink tidies +tied on to them, arranged against the walls. In one of them sat +Senorita Anabela in white Swiss and red slippers, with pearls and +fireflies in her hair. Fergus was at the other end of the room trying +to break away from two maroons and a claybank girl. + +"The alcalde leads me up to Anabela and presents me. When she took the +first look at my face she dropped her fan and nearly turned her chair +over from the shock. But I'm used to that. + +"I sat down by her, and began to talk. When she heard me speak she +jumped, and her eyes got as big as alligator pears. She couldn't +strike a balance between the tones of my voice and face I carried. But +I kept on talking in the key of C, which is the ladies' key; and +presently she sat still in her chair and a dreamy look came into her +eyes. She was coming my way. She knew of Judson Tate, and what a big +man he was, and the big things he had done; and that was in my favour. +But, of course, it was some shock to her to find out that I was not +the pretty man that had been pointed out to her as the great Judson. +And then I took the Spanish language, which is better than English for +certain purposes, and played on it like a harp of a thousand strings. +I ranged from the second G below the staff up to F-sharp above it. I +set my voice to poetry, art, romance, flowers, and moonlight. I +repeated some of the verses that I had murmured to her in the dark at +her window; and I knew from a sudden soft sparkle in her eye that she +recognized in my voice the tones of her midnight mysterious wooer. + +"Anyhow, I had Fergus McMahan going. Oh, the vocal is the true art--no +doubt about that. Handsome is as handsome palavers. That's the +renovated proverb. + +"I took Senorita Anabela for a walk in the lemon grove while Fergus, +disfiguring himself with an ugly frown, was waltzing with the claybank +girl. Before we returned I had permission to come to her window in the +/patio/ the next evening at midnight and talk some more. + +"Oh, it was easy enough. In two weeks Anabela was engaged to me, and +Fergus was out. He took it calm, for a handsome man, and told me he +wasn't going to give in. + +"'Talk may be all right in its place, Judson,' he says to me, +'although I've never thought it worth cultivating. But,' says he, 'to +expect mere words to back up successfully a face like yours in a +lady's good graces is like expecting a man to make a square meal on +the ringing of a dinner-bell.' + +"But I haven't begun on the story I was going to tell you yet. + +"One day I took a long ride in the hot sunshine, and then took a bath +in the cold waters of a lagoon on the edge of the town before I'd +cooled off. + +"That evening after dark I called at the alcalde's to see Anabela. I +was calling regular every evening then, and we were to be married in a +month. She was looking like a bulbul, a gazelle, and a tea-rose, and +her eyes were as soft and bright as two quarts of cream skimmed off +from the Milky Way. She looked at my rugged features without any +expression of fear or repugnance. Indeed, I fancied that I saw a look +of deep admiration and affection, such as she had cast at Fergus on +the plaza. + +"I sat down, and opened my mouth to tell Anabela what she loved to +hear--that she was a trust, monopolizing all the loveliness of earth. +I opened my mouth, and instead of the usual vibrating words of love +and compliment, there came forth a faint wheeze such as a baby with +croup might emit. Not a word--not a syllable--not an intelligible +sound. I had caught cold in my laryngeal regions when I took my +injudicious bath. + +"For two hours I sat trying to entertain Anabela. She talked a certain +amount, but it was perfunctory and diluted. The nearest approach I +made to speech was to formulate a sound like a clam trying to sing 'A +Life on the Ocean Wave' at low tide. It seemed that Anabela's eyes did +not rest upon me as often as usual. I had nothing with which to charm +her ears. We looked at pictures and she played the guitar +occasionally, very badly. When I left, her parting manner seemed cool +--or at least thoughtful. + +"This happened for five evenings consecutively. + +"On the sixth day she ran away with Fergus McMahan. + +"It was known that they fled in a sailing yacht bound for Belize. I +was only eight hours behind them in a small steam launch belonging to +the Revenue Department. + +"Before I sailed, I rushed into the /botica/ of old Manuel Iquito, a +half-breed Indian druggist. I could not speak, but I pointed to my +throat and made a sound like escaping steam. He began to yawn. In an +hour, according to the customs of the country, I would have been +waited on. I reached across the counter, seized him by the throat, and +pointed again to my own. He yawned once more, and thrust into my hand +a small bottle containing a black liquid. + +"'Take one small spoonful every two hours,' says he. + +"I threw him a dollar and skinned for the steamer. + +"I steamed into the harbour at Belize thirteen seconds behind the +yacht that Anabela and Fergus were on. They started for the shore in a +dory just as my skiff was lowered over the side. I tried to order my +sailormen to row faster, but the sounds died in my larynx before they +came to the light. Then I thought of old Iquito's medicine, and I got +out his bottle and took a swallow of it. + +"The two boats landed at the same moment. I walked straight up to +Anabela and Fergus. Her eyes rested upon me for an instant; then she +turned them, full of feeling and confidence, upon Fergus. I knew I +could not speak, but I was desperate. In speech lay my only hope. I +could not stand beside Fergus and challenge comparison in the way of +beauty. Purely involuntarily, my larynx and epiglottis attempted to +reproduce the sounds that my mind was calling upon my vocal organs to +send forth. + +"To my intense surprise and delight the words rolled forth beautifully +clear, resonant, exquisitely modulated, full of power, expression, and +long-repressed emotion. + +"'Senorita Anabela,' says I, 'may I speak with you aside for a +moment?' + +"You don't want details about that, do you? Thanks. The old eloquence +had come back all right. I led her under a cocoanut palm and put my +old verbal spell on her again. + +"'Judson,' says she, 'when you are talking to me I can hear nothing +else--I can see nothing else--there is nothing and nobody else in the +world for me.' + +"Well, that's about all of the story. Anabela went back to Oratama in +the steamer with me. I never heard what became of Fergus. I never saw +him any more. Anabela is now Mrs. Judson Tate. Has my story bored you +much?" + +"No," said I. "I am always interested in psychological studies. A +human heart--and especially a woman's--is a wonderful thing to +contemplate." + +"It is," said Judson Tate. "And so are the trachea and bronchial tubes +of man. And the larynx too. Did you ever make a study of the +windpipe?" + +"Never," said I. "But I have taken much pleasure in your story. May I +ask after Mrs. Tate, and inquire of her present health and +whereabouts?" + +"Oh, sure," said Judson Tate. "We are living in Bergen Avenue, Jersey +City. The climate down in Oratama didn't suit Mrs. T. I don't suppose +you ever dissected the arytenoid cartilages of the epiglottis, did +you?" + +"Why, no," said I, "I am no surgeon." + +"Pardon me," said Judson Tate, "but every man should know enough of +anatomy and therapeutics to safeguard his own health. A sudden cold +may set up capillary bronchitis or inflammation of the pulmonary +vesicles, which may result in a serious affection of the vocal +organs." + +"Perhaps so," said I, with some impatience; "but that is neither here +nor there. Speaking of the strange manifestations of the affection of +women, I--" + +"Yes, yes," interrupted Judson Tate; "they have peculiar ways. But, as +I was going to tell you: when I went back to Oratama I found out from +Manuel Iquito what was in that mixture he gave me for my lost voice. I +told you how quick it cured me. He made that stuff from the /chuchula/ +plant. Now, look here." + +Judson Tate drew an oblong, white pasteboard box from his pocket. + +"For any cough," he said, "or cold, or hoarseness, or bronchial +affection whatsoever, I have here the greatest remedy in the world. +You see the formula, printed on the box. Each tablet contains +licorice, 2 grains; balsam tolu, 1/10 grain; oil of anise, 1/20 minim; +oil of tar, 1/60 minim; oleo-resin of cubebs, 1/100 minim; fluid +extract of /chuchula/, 1/10 minim. + +"I am in New York," went on Judson Tate, "for the purpose of +organizing a company to market the greatest remedy for throat +affections ever discovered. At present I am introducing the lozenges +in a small way. I have here a box containing four dozen, which I am +selling for the small sum of fifty cents. If you are suffering--" + +* * * * * + +I got up and went away without a word. I walked slowly up to the +little park near my hotel, leaving Judson Tate alone with his +conscience. My feelings were lacerated. He had poured gently upon me a +story that I might have used. There was a little of the breath of life +in it, and some of the synthetic atmosphere that passes, when +cunningly tinkered, in the marts. And, at the last it had proven to be +a commercial pill, deftly coated with the sugar of fiction. The worst +of it was that I could not offer it for sale. Advertising departments +and counting-rooms look down upon me. And it would never do for the +literary. Therefore I sat upon a bench with other disappointed ones +until my eyelids drooped. + +I went to my room, and, as my custom is, read for an hour stories in +my favourite magazines. This was to get my mind back to art again. + +And as I read each story, I threw the magazines sadly and hopelessly, +one by one, upon the floor. Each author, without one exception to +bring balm to my heart, wrote liltingly and sprightly a story of some +particular make of motor-car that seemed to control the sparking plug +of his genius. + +And when the last one was hurled from me I took heart. + +"If readers can swallow so many proprietary automobiles," I said to +myself, "they ought not to strain at one of Tate's Compound Magic +Chuchula Bronchial Lozenges." + +And so if you see this story in print you will understand that +business is business, and that if Art gets very far ahead of Commerce, +she will have to get up and hustle. + +I may as well add, to make a clean job of it, that you can't buy the +/chuchula/ plant in the drug stores. + + + +VI + +ART AND THE BRONCO + +Out of the wilderness had come a painter. Genius, whose coronations +alone are democratic, had woven a chaplet of chaparral for the brow of +Lonny Briscoe. Art, whose divine expression flows impartially from the +fingertips of a cowboy or a dilettante emperor, had chosen for a +medium the Boy Artist of the San Saba. The outcome, seven feet by +twelve of besmeared canvas, stood, gilt-framed, in the lobby of the +Capitol. + +The legislature was in session; the capital city of that great Western +state was enjoying the season of activity and profit that the +congregation of the solons bestowed. The boarding-houses were +corralling the easy dollars of the gamesome law-makers. The greatest +state in the West, an empire in area and resources, had arisen and +repudiated the old libel or barbarism, lawbreaking, and bloodshed. +Order reigned within her borders. Life and property were as safe +there, sir, as anywhere among the corrupt cities of the effete East. +Pillow-shams, churches, strawberry feasts and /habeas corpus/ +flourished. With impunity might the tenderfoot ventilate his +"stovepipe" or his theories of culture. The arts and sciences received +nurture and subsidy. And, therefore, it behooved the legislature of +this great state to make appropriation for the purchase of Lonny +Briscoe's immortal painting. + +Rarely has the San Saba country contributed to the spread of the fine +arts. Its sons have excelled in the solider graces, in the throw of +the lariat, the manipulation of the esteemed .45, the intrepidity of +the one-card draw, and the nocturnal stimulation of towns from undue +lethargy; but, hitherto, it had not been famed as a stronghold of +aesthetics. Lonny Briscoe's brush had removed that disability. Here, +among the limestone rocks, the succulent cactus, and the drought- +parched grass of that arid valley, had been born the Boy Artist. Why +he came to woo art is beyond postulation. Beyond doubt, some spore of +the afflatus must have sprung up within him in spite of the desert +soil of San Saba. The tricksy spirit of creation must have incited him +to attempted expression and then have sat hilarious among the white- +hot sands of the valley, watching its mischievous work. For Lonny's +picture, viewed as a thing of art, was something to have driven away +dull care from the bosoms of the critics. + +The painting--one might almost say panorama--was designed to portray a +typical Western scene, interest culminating in a central animal +figure, that of a stampeding steer, life-size, wild-eyed, fiery, +breaking away in a mad rush from the herd that, close-ridden by a +typical cowpuncher, occupied a position somewhat in the right +background of the picture. The landscape presented fitting and +faithful accessories. Chaparral, mesquit, and pear were distributed in +just proportions. A Spanish dagger-plant, with its waxen blossoms in a +creamy aggregation as large as a water-bucket, contributed floral +beauty and variety. The distance was undulating prairie, bisected by +stretches of the intermittent streams peculiar to the region lined +with the rich green of live-oak and water-elm. A richly mottled +rattlesnake lay coiled beneath a pale green clump of prickly pear in +the foreground. A third of the canvas was ultramarine and lake white-- +the typical Western sky and the flying clouds, rainless and feathery. + +Between two plastered pillars in the commodious hallway near the door +of the chamber of representatives stood the painting. Citizens and +lawmakers passed there by twos and groups and sometimes crowds to gaze +upon it. Many--perhaps a majority of them--had lived the prairie life +and recalled easily the familiar scene. Old cattlemen stood, +reminiscent and candidly pleased, chatting with brothers of former +camps and trails of the days it brought back to mind. Art critics were +few in the town, and there was heard none of that jargon of colour, +perspective, and feeling such as the East loves to use as a curb and a +rod to the pretensions of the artist. 'Twas a great picture, most of +them agreed, admiring the gilt frame--larger than any they had ever +seen. + +Senator Kinney was the picture's champion and sponsor. It was he who +so often stepped forward and asserted, with the voice of a bronco- +buster, that it would be a lasting blot, sir, upon the name of this +great state if it should decline to recognize in a proper manner the +genius that had so brilliantly transferred to imperishable canvas a +scene so typical of the great sources of our state's wealth and +prosperity, land--and--er--live-stock. + +Senator Kinney represented a section of the state in the extreme West +--400 miles from the San Saba country--but the true lover of art is +not limited by metes and bounds. Nor was Senator Mullens, representing +the San Saba country, lukewarm in his belief that the state should +purchase the painting of his constituent. He was advised that the San +Saba country was unanimous in its admiration of the great painting by +one of its own denizens. Hundreds of connoisseurs had straddled their +broncos and ridden miles to view it before its removal to the capital. +Senator Mullens desired reelection, and he knew the importance of the +San Saba vote. He also knew that with the help of Senator Kinney--who +was a power in the legislature--the thing could be put through. Now, +Senator Kinney had an irrigation bill that he wanted passed for the +benefit of his own section, and he knew Senator Mullens could render +him valuable aid and information, the San Saba country already +enjoying the benefits of similar legislation. With these interests +happily dovetailed, wonder at the sudden interest in art at the state +capital must, necessarily, be small. Few artists have uncovered their +first picture to the world under happier auspices than did Lonny +Briscoe. + +Senators Kinney and Mullens came to an understanding in the matter of +irrigation and art while partaking of long drinks in the cafe of the +Empire Hotel. + +"H'm!" said Senator Kinney, "I don't know. I'm no art critic, but it +seems to me the thing won't work. It looks like the worst kind of a +chromo to me. I don't want to cast any reflections upon the artistic +talent of your constituent, Senator, but I, myself, wouldn't give six +bits for the picture--without the frame. How are you going to cram a +thing like that down the throat of a legislature that kicks about a +little item in the expense bill of six hundred and eighty-one dollars +for rubber erasers for only one term? It's wasting time. I'd like to +help you, Mullens, but they'd laugh us out of the Senate chamber if we +were to try it." + +"But you don't get the point," said Senator Mullens, in his deliberate +tones, tapping Kinney's glass with his long forefinger. "I have my own +doubts as to what the picture is intended to represent, a bullfight or +a Japanese allegory, but I want this legislature to make an +appropriation to purchase. Of course, the subject of the picture +should have been in the state historical line, but it's too late to +have the paint scraped off and changed. The state won't miss the money +and the picture can be stowed away in a lumber-room where it won't +annoy any one. Now, here's the point to work on, leaving art to look +after itself--the chap that painted the picture is the grandson of +Lucien Briscoe." + +"Say it again," said Kinney, leaning his head thoughtfully. "Of the +old, original Lucien Briscoe?" + +"Of him. 'The man who,' you know. The man who carved the state out of +the wilderness. The man who settled the Indians. The man who cleaned +out the horse thieves. The man who refused the crown. The state's +favourite son. Do you see the point now?" + +"Wrap up the picture," said Kinney. "It's as good as sold. Why didn't +you say that at first, instead of philandering along about art. I'll +resign my seat in the Senate and go back to chain-carrying for the +county surveyor the day I can't make this state buy a picture +calcimined by a grandson of Lucien Briscoe. Did you ever hear of a +special appropriation for the purchase of a home for the daughter of +One-Eyed Smothers? Well, that went through like a motion to adjourn, +and old One-Eyed never killed half as many Indians as Briscoe did. +About what figure had you and the calciminer agreed upon to sandbag +the treasury for?" + +"I thought," said Mullens, "that maybe five hundred--" + +"Five hundred!" interrupted Kinney, as he hammered on his glass for a +lead pencil and looked around for a waiter. "Only five hundred for a +red steer on the hoof delivered by a grandson of Lucien Briscoe! +Where's your state pride, man? Two thousand is what it'll be. You'll +introduce the bill and I'll get up on the floor of the Senate and wave +the scalp of every Indian old Lucien ever murdered. Let's see, there +was something else proud and foolish he did, wasn't there? Oh, yes; he +declined all emoluments and benefits he was entitled to. Refused his +head-right and veteran donation certificates. Could have been +governor, but wouldn't. Declined a pension. Now's the state's chance +to pay up. It'll have to take the picture, but then it deserves some +punishment for keeping the Briscoe family waiting so long. We'll bring +this thing up about the middle of the month, after the tax bill is +settled. Now, Mullens, you send over, as soon as you can, and get me +the figures on the cost of those irrigation ditches and the statistics +about the increased production per acre. I'm going to need you when +that bill of mine comes up. I reckon we'll be able to pull along +pretty well together this session and maybe others to come, eh, +Senator?" + +Thus did fortune elect to smile upon the Boy Artist of the San Saba. +Fate had already done her share when she arranged his atoms in the +cosmogony of creation as the grandson of Lucien Briscoe. + +The original Briscoe had been a pioneer both as to territorial +occupation and in certain acts prompted by a great and simple heart. +He had been one of the first settlers and crusaders against the wild +forces of nature, the savage and the shallow politician. His name and +memory were revered, equally with any upon the list comprising +Houston, Boone, Crockett, Clark, and Green. He had lived simply, +independently, and unvexed by ambition. Even a less shrewd man than +Senator Kinney could have prophesied that his state would hasten to +honour and reward his grandson, come out of the chaparral at even so +late a day. + +And so, before the great picture by the door of the chamber of +representatives at frequent times for many days could be found the +breezy, robust form of Senator Kinney and be heard his clarion voice +reciting the past deeds of Lucien Briscoe in connection with the +handiwork of his grandson. Senator Mullens's work was more subdued in +sight and sound, but directed along identical lines. + +Then, as the day for the introduction of the bill for appropriation +draws nigh, up from the San Saba country rides Lonny Briscoe and a +loyal lobby of cowpunchers, bronco-back, to boost the cause of art and +glorify the name of friendship, for Lonny is one of them, a knight of +stirrup and chaparreras, as handy with the lariat and .45 as he is +with brush and palette. + +On a March afternoon the lobby dashed, with a whoop, into town. The +cowpunchers had adjusted their garb suitably from that prescribed for +the range to the more conventional requirements of town. They had +conceded their leather chaparreras and transferred their six-shooters +and belts from their persons to the horns of their saddles. Among them +rode Lonny, a youth of twenty-three, brown, solemn-faced, ingenuous, +bowlegged, reticent, bestriding Hot Tamales, the most sagacious cow +pony west of the Mississippi. Senator Mullens had informed him of the +bright prospects of the situation; had even mentioned--so great was +his confidence in the capable Kinney--the price that the state would, +in all likelihood, pay. It seemed to Lonny that fame and fortune were +in his hands. Certainly, a spark of the divine fire was in the little +brown centaur's breast, for he was counting the two thousand dollars +as but a means to future development of his talent. Some day he would +paint a picture even greater than this--one, say, twelve feet by +twenty, full of scope and atmosphere and action. + +During the three days that yet intervened before the coming of the +date fixed for the introduction of the bill, the centaur lobby did +valiant service. Coatless, spurred, weather-tanned, full of enthusiasm +expressed in bizarre terms, they loafed in front of the painting with +tireless zeal. Reasoning not unshrewdly, they estimated that their +comments upon its fidelity to nature would be received as expert +evidence. Loudly they praised the skill of the painter whenever there +were ears near to which such evidence might be profitably addressed. +Lem Perry, the leader of the claque, had a somewhat set speech, being +uninventive in the construction of new phrases. + +"Look at that two-year-old, now," he would say, waving a cinnamon- +brown hand toward the salient point of the picture. "Why, dang my +hide, the critter's alive. I can jest hear him, 'lumpety-lump,' +a-cuttin' away from the herd, pretendin' he's skeered. He's a mean +scamp, that there steer. Look at his eyes a-wailin' and his tail +a-wavin'. He's true and nat'ral to life. He's jest hankerin' fur a cow +pony to round him up and send him scootin' back to the bunch. Dang my +hide! jest look at that tail of his'n a-wavin'. Never knowed a steer +to wave his tail any other way, dang my hide ef I did." + +Jud Shelby, while admitting the excellence of the steer, resolutely +confined himself to open admiration of the landscape, to the end that +the entire picture receive its meed of praise. + +"That piece of range," he declared, "is a dead ringer for Dead Hoss +Valley. Same grass, same lay of land, same old Whipperwill Creek +skallyhootin' in and out of them motts of timber. Them buzzards on the +left is circlin' 'round over Sam Kildrake's old paint hoss that killed +hisself over-drinkin' on a hot day. You can't see the hoss for that +mott of ellums on the creek, but he's thar. Anybody that was goin' to +look for Dead Hoss Valley and come across this picture, why, he'd just +light off'n his bronco and hunt a place to camp." + +Skinny Rogers, wedded to comedy, conceived a complimentary little +piece of acting that never failed to make an impression. Edging quite +near to the picture, he would suddenly, at favourable moments emit a +piercing and awful "Yi-yi!" leap high and away, coming down with a +great stamp of heels and whirring of rowels upon the stone-flagged +floor. + +"Jeeming Cristopher!"--so ran his lines--"thought that rattler was a +gin-u-ine one. Ding baste my skin if I didn't. Seemed to me I heard +him rattle. Look at the blamed, unconverted insect a-layin' under that +pear. Little more, and somebody would a-been snake-bit." + +With these artful dodges, contributed by Lonney's faithful coterie, +with the sonorous Kinney perpetually sounding the picture's merits, +and with the solvent prestige of the pioneer Briscoe covering it like +a precious varnish, it seemed that the San Saba country could not fail +to add a reputation as an art centre to its well-known superiority in +steer-roping contests and achievements with the precarious busted +flush. Thus was created for the picture an atmosphere, due rather to +externals than to the artist's brush, but through it the people seemed +to gaze with more of admiration. There was a magic in the name of +Briscoe that counted high against faulty technique and crude +colouring. The old Indian fighter and wolf slayer would have smiled +grimly in his happy hunting grounds had he known that his dilettante +ghost was thus figuring as an art patron two generations after his +uninspired existence. + +Came the day when the Senate was expected to pass the bill of Senator +Mullens appropriating two thousand dollars for the purchase of the +picture. The gallery of the Senate chamber was early preempted by +Lonny and the San Saba lobby. In the front row of chairs they sat, +wild-haired, self-conscious, jingling, creaking, and rattling, subdued +by the majesty of the council hall. + +The bill was introduced, went to the second reading, and then Senator +Mullens spoke for it dryly, tediously, and at length. Senator Kinney +then arose, and the welkin seized the bellrope preparatory to ringing. +Oratory was at that time a living thing; the world had not quite time +to measure its questions by geometry and the multiplication table. It +was the day of the silver tongue, the sweeping gesture, the decorative +apostrophe, the moving peroration. + +The Senator spoke. The San Saba contingent sat, breathing hard, in the +gallery, its disordered hair hanging down to its eyes, its sixteen- +ounce hats shifted restlessly from knee to knee. Below, the +distinguished Senators either lounged at their desks with the abandon +of proven statesmanship or maintained correct attitudes indicative of +a first term. + +Senator Kinney spoke for an hour. History was his theme--history +mitigated by patriotism and sentiment. He referred casually to the +picture in the outer hall--it was unnecessary, he said, to dilate upon +its merits--the Senators had seen for themselves. The painter of the +picture was the grandson of Lucien Briscoe. Then came the word- +pictures of Briscoe's life set forth in thrilling colours. His rude +and venturesome life, his simple-minded love for the commonwealth he +helped to upbuild, his contempt for rewards and praise, his extreme +and sturdy independence, and the great services he had rendered the +state. The subject of the oration was Lucien Briscoe; the painting +stood in the background serving simply as a means, now happily brought +forward, through which the state might bestow a tardy recompense upon +the descendent of its favourite son. Frequent enthusiastic applause +from the Senators testified to the well reception of the sentiment. + +The bill passed without an opening vote. To-morrow it would be taken +up by the House. Already was it fixed to glide through that body on +rubber tires. Blandford, Grayson, and Plummer, all wheel-horses and +orators, and provided with plentiful memoranda concerning the deeds of +pioneer Briscoe, had agreed to furnish the motive power. + +The San Saba lobby and its /protege/ stumbled awkwardly down the +stairs and out into the Capitol yard. Then they herded closely and +gave one yell of triumph. But one of them--Buck-Kneed Simmers it was-- +hit the key with the thoughtful remark: + +"She cut the mustard," he said, "all right. I reckon they're goin' to +buy Lon's steer. I ain't right much on the parlyment'ry, but I gather +that's what the signs added up. But she seems to me, Lonny, the +argyment ran principal to grandfather, instead of paint. It's +reasonable calculatin' that you want to be glad you got the Briscoe +brand on you, my son." + +That remarked clinched in Lonny's mind an unpleasant, vague suspicion +to the same effect. His reticence increased, and he gathered grass +from the ground, chewing it pensively. The picture as a picture had +been humiliatingly absent from the Senator's arguments. The painter +had been held up as a grandson, pure and simple. While this was +gratifying on certain lines, it made art look little and slab-sided. +The Boy Artist was thinking. + +The hotel Lonny stopped at was near the Capitol. It was near to the +one o'clock dinner hour when the appropriation had been passed by the +Senate. The hotel clerk told Lonny that a famous artist from New York +had arrived in town that day and was in the hotel. He was on his way +westward to New Mexico to study the effect of sunlight upon the +ancient walls of the Zunis. Modern stones reflect light. Those ancient +building materials absorb it. The artist wanted this effect in a +picture he was painting, and was traveling two thousand miles to get +it. + +Lonny sought this man out after dinner and told his story. The artist +was an unhealthy man, kept alive by genius and indifference to life. +He went with Lonny to the Capitol and stood there before the picture. +The artist pulled his beard and looked unhappy. + +"Should like to have your sentiments," said Lonny, "just as they run +out of the pen." + +"It's the way they'll come," said the painter man. "I took three +different kinds of medicine before dinner--by the tablespoonful. The +taste still lingers. I am primed for telling the truth. You want to +know if the picture is, or if it isn't?" + +"Right," said Lonny. "Is it wool or cotton? Should I paint some more +or cut it out and ride herd a-plenty?" + +"I heard a rumour during pie," said the artist, "that the state is +about to pay you two thousand dollars for this picture." + +"It's passed the Senate," said Lonny, "and the House rounds it up +to-morrow." + +"That's lucky," said the pale man. "Do you carry a rabbit's foot?" + +"No," said Lonny, "but it seems I had a grandfather. He's considerable +mixed up in the colour scheme. It took me a year to paint that +picture. Is she entirely awful or not? Some says, now, that the +steer's tail ain't badly drawed. They think it's proportioned nice. +Tell me." + +The artist glanced at Lonny's wiry figure and nut-brown skin. +Something stirred him to a passing irritation. + +"For Art's sake, son," he said, fractiously, "don't spend any more +money for paint. It isn't a picture at all. It's a gun. You hold up +the state with it, if you like, and get your two thousand, but don't +get in front of any more canvas. Live under it. Buy a couple of +hundred ponies with the money--I'm told they're that cheap--and ride, +ride, ride. Fill your lungs and eat and sleep and be happy. No more +pictures. You look healthy. That's genius. Cultivate it." He looked at +his watch. "Twenty minutes to three. Four capsules and one tablet at +three. That's all you wanted to know, isn't it?" + +At three o'clock the cowpunchers rode up for Lonny, bringing Hot +Tamales, saddled. Traditions must be observed. To celebrate the +passage of the bill by the Senate the gang must ride wildly through +the town, creating uproar and excitement. Liquor must be partaken of, +the suburbs shot up, and the glory of the San Saba country +vociferously proclaimed. A part of the programme had been carried out +in the saloons on the way up. + +Lonny mounted Hot Tamales, the accomplished little beast prancing with +fire and intelligence. He was glad to feel Lonny's bowlegged grip +against his ribs again. Lonny was his friend, and he was willing to do +things for him. + +"Come on, boys," said Lonny, urging Hot Tomales into a gallop with his +knees. With a whoop, the inspired lobby tore after him through the +dust. Lonny led his cohorts straight for the Capitol. With a wild +yell, the gang endorsed his now evident intention of riding into it. +Hooray for San Saba! + +Up the six broad, limestone steps clattered the broncos of the +cowpunchers. Into the resounding hallway they pattered, scattering in +dismay those passing on foot. Lonny, in the lead, shoved Hot Tamales +direct for the great picture. At that hour a downpouring, soft light +from the second-story windows bathed the big canvas. Against the +darker background of the hall the painting stood out with valuable +effect. In spite of the defects of the art you could almost fancy that +you gazed out upon a landscape. You might well flinch a step from the +convincing figure of the life-size steer stampeding across the grass. +Perhaps it seemed thus to Hot Tamales. The scene was in his line. +Perhaps he only obeyed the will of his rider. His ears pricked up; he +snorted. Lonny leaned forward in the saddle and elevated his elbows, +wing-like. Thus signals the cowpuncher to his steed to launch himself +full speed ahead. Did Hot Tamales fancy he saw a steer, red and +cavorting, that should be headed off and driven back to the herd? +There was a fierce clatter of hoofs, a rush, a gathering of steely +flank muscles, a leap to the jerk of the bridle rein, and Hot Tamales, +with Lonny bending low in the saddle to dodge the top of the frame, +ripped through the great canvas like a shell from a mortar, leaving +the cloth hanging in ragged sheds about a monstrous hole. + +Quickly Lonny pulled up his pony, and rounded the pillars. Spectators +came running, too astounded to add speech to the commotion. The +sergeant-at-arms of the House came forth, frowned, looked ominous, and +then grinned. Many of the legislators crowded out to observe the +tumult. Lonny's cowpunchers were stricken to silent horror by his mad +deed. + +Senator Kinney happened to be among the earliest to emerge. Before he +could speak Lonny leaned in his saddle as Hot Tamales pranced, pointed +his quirt at the Senator, and said, calmly: + +"That was a fine speech you made to-day, mister, but you might as well +let up on that 'propriation business. I ain't askin' the state to give +me nothin'. I thought I had a picture to sell to it, but it wasn't +one. You said a heap of things about Grandfather Briscoe that makes me +kind of proud I'm his grandson. Well, the Briscoes ain't takin' +presents from the state yet. Anybody can have the frame that wants it. +Hit her up, boys." + +Away scuttled the San Saba delegation out of the hall, down the steps, +along the dusty street. + +Halfway to the San Saba country they camped that night. At bedtime +Lonny stole away from the campfire and sought Hot Tamales, placidly +eating grass at the end of his stake rope. Lonny hung upon his neck, +and his art aspirations went forth forever in one long, regretful +sigh. But as he thus made renunciation his breath formed a word or +two. + +"You was the only one, Tamales, what seen anything in it. It /did/ +look like a steer, didn't it, old hoss?" + + + +VII + +PHOEBE + +"You are a man of many novel adventures and varied enterprises," I +said to Captain Patricio Malone. "Do you believe that the possible +element of good luck or bad luck--if there is such a thing as luck-- +has influenced your career or persisted for or against you to such an +extent that you were forced to attribute results to the operation of +the aforesaid good luck or bad luck?" + +This question (of almost the dull insolence of legal phraseology) was +put while we sat in Rousselin's little red-tiled cafe near Congo +Square in New Orleans. + +Brown-faced, white-hatted, finger-ringed captains of adventure came +often to Rousselin's for the cognac. They came from sea and land, and +were chary of relating the things they had seen--not because they were +more wonderful than the fantasies of the Ananiases of print, but +because they were so different. And I was a perpetual wedding-guest, +always striving to cast my buttonhole over the finger of one of these +mariners of fortune. This Captain Malone was a Hiberno-Iberian creole +who had gone to and fro in the earth and walked up and down in it. He +looked like any other well-dressed man of thirty-five whom you might +meet, except that he was hopelessly weather-tanned, and wore on his +chain an ancient ivory-and-gold Peruvian charm against evil, which has +nothing at all to do with this story. + +"My answer to your question," said the captain, smiling, "will be to +tell you the story of Bad-Luck Kearny. That is, if you don't mind +hearing it." + +My reply was to pound on the table for Rousselin. + +* * * * * + +"Strolling along Tchoupitoulas Street one night," began Captain +Malone, "I noticed, without especially taxing my interest, a small man +walking rapidly toward me. He stepped upon a wooden cellar door, +crashed through it, and disappeared. I rescued him from a heap of soft +coal below. He dusted himself briskly, swearing fluently in a +mechanical tone, as an underpaid actor recites the gypsy's curse. +Gratitude and the dust in his throat seemed to call for fluids to +clear them away. His desire for liquidation was expressed so heartily +that I went with him to a cafe down the street where we had some vile +vermouth and bitters. + +"Looking across that little table I had my first clear sight of +Francis Kearny. He was about five feet seven, but as tough as a +cypress knee. His hair was darkest red, his mouth such a mere slit +that you wondered how the flood of his words came rushing from it. His +eyes were the brightest and lightest blue and the hopefulest that I +ever saw. He gave the double impression that he was at bay and that +you had better not crowd him further. + +"'Just in from a gold-hunting expedition on the coast of Costa Rica,' +he explained. 'Second mate of a banana steamer told me the natives +were panning out enough from the beach sands to buy all the rum, red +calico, and parlour melodeons in the world. The day I got there a +syndicate named Incorporated Jones gets a government concession to all +minerals from a given point. For a next choice I take coast fever and +count green and blue lizards for six weeks in a grass hut. I had to be +notified when I was well, for the reptiles were actually there. Then I +shipped back as third cook on a Norwegian tramp that blew up her +boiler two miles below Quarantine. I was due to bust through that +cellar door here to-night, so I hurried the rest of the way up the +river, roustabouting on a lower coast packet that made up a landing +for every fisherman that wanted a plug of tobacco. And now I'm here +for what comes next. And it'll be along, it'll be along,' said this +queer Mr. Kearny; 'it'll be along on the beams of my bright but not +very particular star.' + +"From the first the personality of Kearny charmed me. I saw in him the +bold heart, the restless nature, and the valiant front against the +buffets of fate that make his countrymen such valuable comrades in +risk and adventure. And just then I was wanting such men. Moored at a +fruit company's pier I had a 500-ton steamer ready to sail the next +day with a cargo of sugar, lumber, and corrugated iron for a port +in--well, let us call the country Esperando--it has not been long ago, +and the name of Patricio Malone is still spoken there when its +unsettled politics are discussed. Beneath the sugar and iron were +packed a thousand Winchester rifles. In Aguas Frias, the capital, Don +Rafael Valdevia, Minister of War, Esperando's greatest-hearted and +most able patriot, awaited my coming. No doubt you have heard, with a +smile, of the insignificant wars and uprisings in those little tropic +republics. They make but a faint clamour against the din of great +nations' battles; but down there, under all the ridiculous uniforms +and petty diplomacy and senseless countermarching and intrigue, are to +be found statesmen and patriots. Don Rafael Valdevia was one. His +great ambition was to raise Esperando into peace and honest prosperity +and the respect of the serious nations. So he waited for my rifles in +Aguas Frias. But one would think I am trying to win a recruit in you! +No; it was Francis Kearny I wanted. And so I told him, speaking long +over our execrable vermouth, breathing the stifling odour from garlic +and tarpaulins, which, as you know, is the distinctive flavour of +cafes in the lower slant of our city. I spoke of the tyrant President +Cruz and the burdens that his green and insolent cruelty laid upon the +people. And at that Kearny's tears flowed. And then I dried them with +a picture of the fat rewards that would be ours when the oppressor +should be overthrown and the wise and generous Valdevia in his seat. +Then Kearny leaped to his feet and wrung my hand with the strength of +a roustabout. He was mine, he said, till the last minion of the hated +despot was hurled from the highest peaks of the Cordilleras into the +sea. + +"I paid the score, and we went out. Near the door Kearny's elbow +overturned an upright glass showcase, smashing it into little bits. I +paid the storekeeper the price he asked. + +"'Come to my hotel for the night,' I said to Kearny. 'We sail +to-morrow at noon.' + +"He agreed; but on the sidewalk he fell to cursing again in the dull +monotonous way that he had done when I pulled him out of the coal +cellar. + +"'Captain,' said he, 'before we go any further, it's no more than fair +to tell you that I'm known from Baffin's Bay to Terra del Fuego as +"Bad-Luck" Kearny. And I'm It. Everything I get into goes up in the +air except a balloon. Every bet I ever made I lost except when I +coppered it. Every boat I ever sailed on sank except the submarines. +Everything I was ever interested in went to pieces except a patent +bombshell that I invented. Everything I ever took hold of and tried to +run I ran into the ground except when I tried to plough. And that's +why they call me Bad-Luck Kearny. I thought I'd tell you.' + +"'Bad luck,' said I, 'or what goes by that name, may now and then +tangle the affairs of any man. But if it persists beyond the estimate +of what we may call the "averages" there must be a cause for it.' + +"'There is,' said Kearny emphatically, 'and when we walk another +square I will show it to you.' + +"Surprised, I kept by his side until we came to Canal Street and out +into the middle of its great width. + +"Kearny seized me by an arm and pointed a tragic forefinger at a +rather brilliant star that shone steadily about thirty degrees above +the horizon. + +"'That's Saturn,' said he, 'the star that presides over bad luck and +evil and disappointment and nothing doing and trouble. I was born +under that star. Every move I make, up bobs Saturn and blocks it. He's +the hoodoo planet of the heavens. They say he's 73,000 miles in +diameter and no solider of body than split-pea soup, and he's got as +many disreputable and malignant rings as Chicago. Now, what kind of a +star is that to be born under?' + +"I asked Kearny where he had obtained all this astonishing knowledge. + +"'From Azrath, the great astrologer of Cleveland, Ohio,' said he. +'That man looked at a glass ball and told me my name before I'd taken +a chair. He prophesied the date of my birth and death before I'd said +a word. And then he cast my horoscope, and the sidereal system socked +me in the solar plexus. It was bad luck for Francis Kearny from A to +Izard and for his friends that were implicated with him. For that I +gave up ten dollars. This Azrath was sorry, but he respected his +profession too much to read the heavens wrong for any man. It was +night time, and he took me out on a balcony and gave me a free view of +the sky. And he showed me which Saturn was, and how to find it in +different balconies and longitudes. + +"'But Saturn wasn't all. He was only the man higher up. He furnishes +so much bad luck that they allow him a gang of deputy sparklers to +help hand it out. They're circulating and revolving and hanging around +the main supply all the time, each one throwing the hoodoo on his own +particular district. + +"'You see that ugly little red star about eight inches above and to +the right of Saturn?' Kearny asked me. 'Well, that's her. That's +Phoebe. She's got me in charge. "By the day of your birth," says +Azrath to me, "your life is subjected to the influence of Saturn. By +the hour and minute of it you must dwell under the sway and direct +authority of Phoebe, the ninth satellite." So said this Azrath.' +Kearny shook his fist violently skyward. 'Curse her, she's done her +work well,' said he. 'Ever since I was astrologized, bad luck has +followed me like my shadow, as I told you. And for many years before. +Now, Captain, I've told you my handicap as a man should. If you're +afraid this evil star of mine might cripple your scheme, leave me out +of it.' + +"I reassured Kearny as well as I could. I told him that for the time +we would banish both astrology and astronomy from our heads. The +manifest valour and enthusiasm of the man drew me. 'Let us see what a +little courage and diligence will do against bad luck,' I said. 'We +will sail to-morrow for Esperando.' + +"Fifty miles down the Mississippi our steamer broke her rudder. We +sent for a tug to tow us back and lost three days. When we struck the +blue waters of the Gulf, all the storm clouds of the Atlantic seemed +to have concentrated above us. We thought surely to sweeten those +leaping waves with our sugar, and to stack our arms and lumber on the +floor of the Mexican Gulf. + +"Kearny did not seek to cast off one iota of the burden of our danger +from the shoulders of his fatal horoscope. He weathered every storm on +deck, smoking a black pipe, to keep which alight rain and sea-water +seemed but as oil. And he shook his fist at the black clouds behind +which his baleful star winked its unseen eye. When the skies cleared +one evening, he reviled his malignant guardian with grim humour. + +"'On watch, aren't you, you red-headed vixen? Out making it hot for +little Francis Kearny and his friends, according to Hoyle. Twinkle, +twinkle, little devil! You're a lady, aren't you?--dogging a man with +your bad luck just because he happened to be born while your boss was +floorwalker. Get busy and sink the ship, you one-eyed banshee. Phoebe! +H'm! Sounds as mild as a milkmaid. You can't judge a woman by her +name. Why couldn't I have had a man star? I can't make the remarks to +Phoebe that I could to a man. Oh, Phoebe, you be--blasted!' + +"For eight days gales and squalls and waterspouts beat us from our +course. Five days only should have landed us in Esperando. Our Jonah +swallowed the bad credit of it with appealing frankness; but that +scarcely lessened the hardships our cause was made to suffer. + +"At last one afternoon we steamed into the calm estuary of the little +Rio Escondido. Three miles up this we crept, feeling for the shallow +channel between the low banks that were crowded to the edge with +gigantic trees and riotous vegetation. Then our whistle gave a little +toot, and in five minutes we heard a shout, and Carlos--my brave +Carlos Quintana--crashed through the tangled vines waving his cap +madly for joy. + +"A hundred yards away was his camp, where three hundred chosen +patriots of Esperando were awaiting our coming. For a month Carlos had +been drilling them there in the tactics of war, and filling them with +the spirit of revolution and liberty. + +"'My Captain--/compadre mio/!' shouted Carlos, while yet my boat was +being lowered. 'You should see them in the drill by /companies/--in +the column wheel--in the march by fours--they are superb! Also in the +manual of arms--but, alas! performed only with sticks of bamboo. The +guns, /capitan/--say that you have brought the guns!' + +"'A thousand Winchesters, Carlos,' I called to him. 'And two +Gatlings.' + +"'/Valgame Dios/!' he cried, throwing his cap in the air. 'We shall +sweep the world!' + +"At that moment Kearny tumbled from the steamer's side into the river. +He could not swim, so the crew threw him a rope and drew him back +aboard. I caught his eye and his look of pathetic but still bright and +undaunted consciousness of his guilty luck. I told myself that +although he might be a man to shun, he was also one to be admired. + +"I gave orders to the sailing-master that the arms, ammunition, and +provisions were to be landed at once. That was easy in the steamer's +boats, except for the two Gatling guns. For their transportation +ashore we carried a stout flatboat, brought for the purpose in the +steamer's hold. + +"In the meantime I walked with Carlos to the camp and made the +soldiers a little speech in Spanish, which they received with +enthusiasm; and then I had some wine and a cigarette in Carlos's tent. +Later we walked back to the river to see how the unloading was being +conducted. + +"The small arms and provisions were already ashore, and the petty +officers and squads of men conveying them to camp. One Gatling had +been safely landed; the other was just being hoisted over the side of +the vessel as we arrived. I noticed Kearny darting about on board, +seeming to have the ambition of ten men, and doing the work of five. I +think his zeal bubbled over when he saw Carlos and me. A rope's end +was swinging loose from some part of the tackle. Kearny leaped +impetuously and caught it. There was a crackle and a hiss and a smoke +of scorching hemp, and the Gatling dropped straight as a plummet +through the bottom of the flatboat and buried itself in twenty feet of +water and five feet of river mud. + +"I turned my back on the scene. I heard Carlos's loud cries as if from +some extreme grief too poignant for words. I heard the complaining +murmur of the crew and the maledictions of Torres, the sailing master +--I could not bear to look. + +"By night some degree of order had been restored in camp. Military +rules were not drawn strictly, and the men were grouped about the +fires of their several messes, playing games of chance, singing their +native songs, or discussing with voluble animation the contingencies +of our march upon the capital. + +"To my tent, which had been pitched for me close to that of my chief +lieutenant, came Kearny, indomitable, smiling, bright-eyed, bearing no +traces of the buffets of his evil star. Rather was his aspect that of +a heroic martyr whose tribulations were so high-sourced and glorious +that he even took a splendour and a prestige from them. + +"'Well, Captain,' said he, 'I guess you realize that Bad-Luck Kearny +is still on deck. It was a shame, now, about that gun. She only needed +to be slewed two inches to clear the rail; and that's why I grabbed +that rope's end. Who'd have thought that a sailor--even a Sicilian +lubber on a banana coaster--would have fastened a line in a bow-knot? +Don't think I'm trying to dodge the responsibility, Captain. It's my +luck.' + +"'There are men, Kearny,' said I gravely, 'who pass through life +blaming upon luck and chance the mistakes that result from their own +faults and incompetency. I do not say that you are such a man. But if +all your mishaps are traceable to that tiny star, the sooner we endow +our colleges with chairs of moral astronomy, the better.' + +"'It isn't the size of the star that counts,' said Kearny; 'it's the +quality. Just the way it is with women. That's why they give the +biggest planets masculine names, and the little stars feminine ones-- +to even things up when it comes to getting their work in. Suppose they +had called my star Agamemnon or Bill McCarty or something like that +instead of Phoebe. Every time one of those old boys touched their +calamity button and sent me down one of their wireless pieces of bad +luck, I could talk back and tell 'em what I thought of 'em in suitable +terms. But you can't address such remarks to a Phoebe.' + +"'It pleases you to make a joke of it, Kearny,' said I, without +smiling. 'But it is no joke to me to think of my Gatling mired in the +river ooze.' + +"'As to that,' said Kearny, abandoning his light mood at once, 'I have +already done what I could. I have had some experience in hoisting +stone in quarries. Torres and I have already spliced three hawsers and +stretched them from the steamer's stern to a tree on shore. We will +rig a tackle and have the gun on terra firma before noon to-morrow.' + +"One could not remain long at outs with Bad-Luck Kearny. + +"'Once more,' said I to him, 'we will waive this question of luck. +Have you ever had experience in drilling raw troops?' + +"'I was first sergeant and drill-master,' said Kearny, 'in the Chilean +army for one year. And captain of artillery for another.' + +"'What became of your command?' I asked. + +"'Shot down to a man,' said Kearny, 'during the revolutions against +Balmaceda.' + +"Somehow the misfortunes of the evil-starred one seemed to turn to me +their comedy side. I lay back upon my goat's-hide cot and laughed +until the woods echoed. Kearny grinned. 'I told you how it was,' he +said. + +"'To-morrow,' I said, 'I shall detail one hundred men under your +command for manual-of-arms drill and company evolutions. You rank as +lieutenant. Now, for God's sake, Kearny,' I urged him, 'try to combat +this superstition if it is one. Bad luck may be like any other visitor +--preferring to stop where it is expected. Get your mind off stars. +Look upon Esperando as your planet of good fortune.' + +"'I thank you, Captain,' said Kearny quietly. 'I will try to make it +the best handicap I ever ran.' + +"By noon the next day the submerged Gatling was rescued, as Kearny had +promised. Then Carlos and Manuel Ortiz and Kearny (my lieutenants) +distributed Winchesters among the troops and put them through an +incessant rifle drill. We fired no shots, blank or solid, for of all +coasts Esperando is the stillest; and we had no desire to sound any +warnings in the ear of that corrupt government until they should carry +with them the message of Liberty and the downfall of Oppression. + +"In the afternoon came a mule-rider bearing a written message to me +from Don Rafael Valdevia in the capital, Aguas Frias. + +"Whenever that man's name comes to my lips, words of tribute to his +greatness, his noble simplicity, and his conspicuous genius follow +irrepressibly. He was a traveller, a student of peoples and +governments, a master of sciences, a poet, an orator, a leader, a +soldier, a critic of the world's campaigns and the idol of the people +in Esperando. I had been honoured by his friendship for years. It was +I who first turned his mind to the thought that he should leave for +his monument a new Esperando--a country freed from the rule of +unscrupulous tyrants, and a people made happy and prosperous by wise +and impartial legislation. When he had consented he threw himself into +the cause with the undivided zeal with which he endowed all of his +acts. The coffers of his great fortune were opened to those of us to +whom were entrusted the secret moves of the game. His popularity was +already so great that he had practically forced President Cruz to +offer him the portfolio of Minister of War. + +"The time, Don Rafael said in his letter, was ripe. Success, he +prophesied, was certain. The people were beginning to clamour publicly +against Cruz's misrule. Bands of citizens in the capital were even +going about of nights hurling stones at public buildings and +expressing their dissatisfaction. A bronze statue of President Cruz in +the Botanical Gardens had been lassoed about the neck and overthrown. +It only remained for me to arrive with my force and my thousand +rifles, and for himself to come forward and proclaim himself the +people's saviour, to overthrow Cruz in a single day. There would be +but a half-hearted resistance from the six hundred government troops +stationed in the capital. Th country was ours. He presumed that by +this time my steamer had arrived at Quintana's camp. He proposed the +eighteenth of July for the attack. That would give us six days in +which to strike camp and march to Aguas Frias. In the meantime Don +Rafael remained my good friend and /compadre en la cause de la +libertad/. + +"On the morning of the 14th we began our march toward the sea- +following range of mountains, over the sixty-mile trail to the +capital. Our small arms and provisions were laden on pack mules. +Twenty men harnessed to each Gatling gun rolled them smoothly along +the flat, alluvial lowlands. Our troops, well-shod and well-fed, moved +with alacrity and heartiness. I and my three lieutenants were mounted +on the tough mountain ponies of the country. + +"A mile out of camp one of the pack mules, becoming stubborn, broke +away from the train and plunged from the path into the thicket. The +alert Kearny spurred quickly after it and intercepted its flight. +Rising in his stirrups, he released one foot and bestowed upon the +mutinous animal a hearty kick. The mule tottered and fell with a crash +broadside upon the ground. As we gathered around it, it walled its +great eyes almost humanly towards Kearny and expired. That was bad; +but worse, to our minds, was the concomitant disaster. Part of the +mule's burden had been one hundred pounds of the finest coffee to be +had in the tropics. The bag burst and spilled the priceless brown mass +of the ground berries among the dense vines and weeds of the swampy +land. /Mala suerte/! When you take away from an Esperandan his coffee, +you abstract his patriotism and 50 per cent. of his value as a +soldier. The men began to rake up the precious stuff; but I beckoned +Kearny back along the trail where they would not hear. The limit had +been reached. + +"I took from my pocket a wallet of money and drew out some bills. + +"'Mr. Kearny,' said I, 'here are some funds belonging to Don Rafael +Valdevia, which I am expending in his cause. I know of no better +service it can buy for him that this. Here is one hundred dollars. +Luck or no luck, we part company here. Star or no star, calamity seems +to travel by your side. You will return to the steamer. She touches at +Amotapa to discharge her lumber and iron, and then puts back to New +Orleans. Hand this note to the sailing-master, who will give you +passage.' I wrote on a leaf torn from my book, and placed it and the +money in Kearny's hand. + +"'Good-bye,' I said, extending my own. 'It is not that I am displeased +with you; but there is no place in this expedition for--let us say, +the Senorita Phoebe.' I said this with a smile, trying to smooth the +thing for him. 'May you have better luck, /companero/.' + +"Kearny took the money and the paper. + +"'It was just a little touch,' said he, 'just a little lift with the +toe of my boot--but what's the odds?--that blamed mule would have died +if I had only dusted his ribs with a powder puff. It was my luck. +Well, Captain, I would have liked to be in that little fight with you +over in Aguas Frias. Success to the cause. /Adios/!' + +"He turned around and set off down the trail without looking back. The +unfortunate mule's pack-saddle was transferred to Kearny's pony, and +we again took up the march. + +"Four days we journeyed over the foot-hills and mountains, fording icy +torrents, winding around the crumbling brows of ragged peaks, creeping +along rocky flanges that overlooked awful precipices, crawling +breathlessly over tottering bridges that crossed bottomless chasms. + +"On the evening of the seventeenth we camped by a little stream on the +bare hills five miles from Aguas Frias. At daybreak we were to take up +the march again. + +"At midnight I was standing outside my tent inhaling the fresh cold +air. The stars were shining bright in the cloudless sky, giving the +heavens their proper aspect of illimitable depth and distance when +viewed from the vague darkness of the blotted earth. Almost at its +zenith was the planet Saturn; and with a half-smile I observed the +sinister red sparkle of his malignant attendant--the demon star of +Kearny's ill luck. And then my thoughts strayed across the hills to +the scene of our coming triumph where the heroic and noble Don Rafael +awaited our coming to set a new and shining star in the firmament of +nations. + +"I heard a slight rustling in the deep grass to my right. I turned and +saw Kearny coming toward me. He was ragged and dew-drenched and +limping. His hat and one boot were gone. About one foot he had tied +some makeshift of cloth and grass. But his manner as he approached was +that of a man who knows his own virtues well enough to be superior to +rebuffs. + +"'Well, sir,' I said, staring at him coldly, 'if there is anything in +persistence, I see no reason why you should not succeed in wrecking +and ruining us yet.' + +"'I kept half a day's journey behind,' said Kearny, fishing out a +stone from the covering of his lame foot, 'so the bad luck wouldn't +touch you. I couldn't help it, Captain; I wanted to be in on this +game. It was a pretty tough trip, especially in the department of the +commissary. In the low grounds there were always bananas and oranges. +Higher up it was worse; but your men left a good deal of goat meat +hanging on the bushes in the camps. Here's your hundred dollars. +You're nearly there now, captain. Let me in on the scrapping +to-morrow.' + +"'Not for a hundred times a hundred would I have the tiniest thing go +wrong with my plans now,' I said, "whether caused by evil planets or +the blunders of mere man. But yonder is Aguas Frias, five miles away, +and a clear road. I am of the mind to defy Saturn and all his +satellites to spoil our success now. At any rate, I will not turn away +to-night as weary a traveller and as good a soldier as you are, +Lieutenant Kearny. Manuel Ortiz's tent is there by the brightest fire. +Rout him out and tell him to supply you with food and blankets and +clothes. We march again at daybreak.' + +"Kearny thanked me briefly but feelingly and moved away. + +"He had gone scarcely a dozen steps when a sudden flash of bright +light illumined the surrounding hills; a sinister, growing, hissing +sound like escaping steam filled my ears. Then followed a roar as of +distant thunder, which grew louder every instant. This terrifying +noise culminated in a tremendous explosion, which seemed to rock the +hills as an earthquake would; the illumination waxed to a glare so +fierce that I clapped my hands over my eyes to save them. I thought +the end of the world had come. I could think of no natural phenomenon +that would explain it. My wits were staggering. The deafening +explosion trailed off into the rumbling roar that had preceded it; and +through this I heard the frightened shouts of my troops as they +stumbled from their resting-places and rushed wildly about. Also I +heard the harsh tones of Kearny's voice crying: 'They'll blame it on +me, of course, and what the devil it is, it's not Francis Kearny that +can give you an answer.' + +"'I opened my eyes. The hills were still there, dark and solid. It had +not been, then, a volcano or an earthquake. I looked up at the sky and +saw a comet-like trail crossing the zenith and extending westward--a +fiery trail waning fainter and narrower each moment. + +"'A meteor!' I called aloud. 'A meteor has fallen. There is no +danger.' + +"And then all other sounds were drowned by a great shout from Kearny's +throat. He had raised both hands above his head and was standing +tiptoe. + +"'PHOEBE'S GONE!' he cried, with all his lungs. 'She's busted and gone +to hell. Look, Captain, the little red-headed hoodoo has blown herself +to smithereens. She found Kearny too tough to handle, and she puffed +up with spite and meanness till her boiler blew up. It's be Bad-Luck +Kearny no more. Oh, let us be joyful! + + "'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall; + Humpty busted, and that'll be all!' + +"I looked up, wondering, and picked out Saturn in his place. But the +small red twinkling luminary in his vicinity, which Kearny had pointed +out to me as his evil star, had vanished. I had seen it there but half +an hour before; there was no doubt that one of those awful and +mysterious spasms of nature had hurled it from the heavens. + +"I clapped Kearny on the shoulder. + +"'Little man,' said I, 'let this clear the way for you. It appears +that astrology has failed to subdue you. Your horoscope must be cast +anew with pluck and loyalty for controlling stars. I play you to win. +Now, get to your tent, and sleep. Daybreak is the word.' + +"At nine o'clock on the morning of the eighteenth of July I rode into +Aguas Frias with Kearny at my side. In his clean linen suit and with +his military poise and keen eye he was a model of a fighting +adventurer. I had visions of him riding as commander of President +Valdevia's body-guard when the plums of the new republic should begin +to fall. + +"Carlos followed with the troops and supplies. He was to halt in a +wood outside the town and remain concealed there until he received the +word to advance. + +"Kearny and I rode down the Calle Ancha toward the /residencia/ of Don +Rafael at the other side of the town. As we passed the superb white +buildings of the University of Esperando, I saw at an open window the +gleaming spectacles and bald head of Herr Bergowitz, professor of the +natural sciences and friend of Don Rafael and of me and of the cause. +He waved his hand to me, with his broad, bland smile. + +"There was no excitement apparent in Aguas Frias. The people went +about leisurely as at all times; the market was thronged with bare- +headed women buying fruit and /carne/; we heard the twang and tinkle +of string bands in the patios of the /cantinas/. We could see that it +was a waiting game that Don Rafael was playing. + +"His /residencia/ as a large but low building around a great courtyard +in grounds crowed with ornamental trees and tropic shrubs. At his door +an old woman who came informed us that Don Rafael had not yet arisen. + +"'Tell him,' said I, 'that Captain Malone and a friend wish to see him +at once. Perhaps he has overslept.' + +"She came back looking frightened. + +"'I have called,' she said, 'and rung his bell many times, but he does +not answer.' + +"I knew where his sleeping-room was. Kearny and I pushed by her and +went to it. I put my shoulder against the thin door and forced it +open. + +"In an armchair by a great table covered with maps and books sat Don +Rafael with his eyes closed. I touched his hand. He had been dead many +hours. On his head above one ear was a wound caused by a heavy blow. +It had ceased to bleed long before. + +"I made the old woman call a /mozo/, and dispatched him in haste to +fetch Herr Bergowitz. + +"He came, and we stood about as if we were half stunned by the awful +shock. Thus can the letting of a few drops of blood from one man's +veins drain the life of a nation. + +"Presently Herr Bergowitz stooped and picked up a darkish stone the +size of an orange which he saw under the table. He examined it closely +through his great glasses with the eye of science. + +"'A fragment,' said he, 'of a detonating meteor. The most remarkable +one in twenty years exploded above this city a little after midnight +this morning.' + +"The professor looked quickly up at the ceiling. We saw the blue sky +through a hole the size of an orange nearly above Don Rafael's chair. + +"I heard a familiar sound, and turned. Kearny had thrown himself on +the floor and was babbling his compendium of bitter, blood-freezing +curses against the star of his evil luck. + +"Undoubtedly Phoebe had been feminine. Even when hurtling on her way +to fiery dissolution and everlasting doom, the last word had been +hers." + +* * * * * + +Captain Malone was not unskilled in narrative. He knew the point where +a story should end. I sat reveling in his effective conclusion when he +aroused me by continuing: + +"Of course," said he, "our schemes were at an end. There was no one to +take Don Rafael's place. Our little army melted away like dew before +the sun. + +"One day after I had returned to New Orleans I related this story to a +friend who holds a professorship in Tulane University. + +"When I had finished he laughed and asked whether I had any knowledge +of Kearny's luck afterward. I told him no, that I had seen him no +more; but that when he left me, he had expressed confidence that his +future would be successful now that his unlucky star had been +overthrown. + +"'No doubt,' said the professor, 'he is happier not to know one fact. +If he derives his bad luck from Phoebe, the ninth satellite of Saturn, +that malicious lady is still engaged in overlooking his career. The +star close to Saturn that he imagined to be her was near that planet +simply by the chance of its orbit--probably at different times he has +regarded many other stars that happened to be in Saturn's +neighbourhood as his evil one. The real Phoebe is visible only through +a very good telescope.' + +"About a year afterward," continued Captain Malone, "I was walking +down a street that crossed the Poydras Market. An immensely stout, +pink-faced lacy in black satin crowded me from the narrow sidewalk +with a frown. Behind her trailed a little man laden to the gunwales +with bundles and bags of goods and vegetables. + +"It was Kearny--but changed. I stopped and shook one of his hands, +which still clung to a bag of garlic and red peppers. + +"'How is the luck, old /companero/?' I asked him. I had not the heart +to tell him the truth about his star. + +"'Well,' said he, 'I am married, as you may guess.' + +"'Francis!' called the big lady, in deep tones, 'are you going to stop +in the street talking all day?' + +"'I am coming, Phoebe dear,' said Kearny, hastening after her." + +Captain Malone ceased again. + +"After all, do you believe in luck?" I asked. + +"Do you?" answered the captain, with his ambiguous smile shaded by the +brim of his soft straw hat. + + + +VIII + +A DOUBLE-DYED DECEIVER + +The trouble began in Laredo. It was the Llano Kid's fault, for he +should have confined his habit of manslaughter to Mexicans. But the +Kid was past twenty; and to have only Mexicans to one's credit at +twenty is to blush unseen on the Rio Grande border. + +It happened in old Justo Valdos's gambling house. There was a poker +game at which sat players who were not all friends, as happens often +where men ride in from afar to shoot Folly as she gallops. There was a +row over so small a matter as a pair of queens; and when the smoke had +cleared away it was found that the Kid had committed an indiscretion, +and his adversary had been guilty of a blunder. For, the unfortunate +combatant, instead of being a Greaser, was a high-blooded youth from +the cow ranches, of about the Kid's own age and possessed of friends +and champions. His blunder in missing the Kid's right ear only a +sixteenth of an inch when he pulled his gun did not lessen the +indiscretion of the better marksman. + +The Kid, not being equipped with a retinue, nor bountifully supplied +with personal admirers and supporters--on account of a rather +umbrageous reputation, even for the border--considered it not +incompatible with his indispensable gameness to perform that judicious +tractional act known as "pulling his freight." + +Quickly the avengers gathered and sought him. Three of them overtook +him within a rod of the station. The Kid turned and showed his teeth +in that brilliant but mirthless smile that usually preceded his deeds +of insolence and violence, and his pursuers fell back without making +it necessary for him even to reach for his weapon. + +But in this affair the Kid had not felt the grim thirst for encounter +that usually urged him on to battle. It had been a purely chance row, +born of the cards and certain epithets impossible for a gentleman to +brook that had passed between the two. The Kid had rather liked the +slim, haughty, brown-faced young chap whom his bullet had cut off in +the first pride of manhood. And now he wanted no more blood. He wanted +to get away and have a good long sleep somewhere in the sun on the +mesquit grass with his handkerchief over his face. Even a Mexican +might have crossed his path in safety while he was in this mood. + +The Kid openly boarded the north-bound passenger train that departed +five minutes later. But at Webb, a few miles out, where it was flagged +to take on a traveller, he abandoned that manner of escape. There were +telegraph stations ahead; and the Kid looked askance at electricity +and steam. Saddle and spur were his rocks of safety. + +The man whom he had shot was a stranger to him. But the Kid knew that +he was of the Coralitos outfit from Hidalgo; and that the punchers +from that ranch were more relentless and vengeful than Kentucky +feudists when wrong or harm was done to one of them. So, with the +wisdom that has characterized many great farmers, the Kid decided to +pile up as many leagues as possible of chaparral and pear between +himself and the retaliation of the Coralitos bunch. + +Near the station was a store; and near the store, scattered among the +mesquits and elms, stood the saddled horses of the customers. Most of +them waited, half asleep, with sagging limbs and drooping heads. But +one, a long-legged roan with a curved neck, snorted and pawed the +turf. Him the Kid mounted, gripped with his knees, and slapped gently +with the owner's own quirt. + +If the slaying of the temerarious card-player had cast a cloud over +the Kid's standing as a good and true citizen, this last act of his +veiled his figure in the darkest shadows of disrepute. On the Rio +Grande border if you take a man's life you sometimes take trash; but +if you take his horse, you take a thing the loss of which renders him +poor, indeed, and which enriches you not--if you are caught. For the +Kid there was no turning back now. + +With the springing roan under him he felt little care or uneasiness. +After a five-mile gallop he drew it in to the plainsman's jogging +trot, and rode northeastward toward the Nueces River bottoms. He knew +the country well--its most tortuous and obscure trails through the +great wilderness of brush and pear, and its camps and lonesome ranches +where one might find safe entertainment. Always he bore to the east; +for the Kid had never seen the ocean, and he had a fancy to lay his +hand upon the mane of the great Gulf, the gamesome colt of the greater +waters. + +So after three days he stood on the shore at Corpus Christi, and +looked out across the gentle ripples of a quiet sea. + +Captain Boone, of the schooner /Flyaway/, stood near his skiff, which +one of his crew was guarding in the surf. When ready to sail he had +discovered that one of the necessaries of life, in the +parallelogrammatic shape of plug tobacco, had been forgotten. A sailor +had been dispatched for the missing cargo. Meanwhile the captain paced +the sands, chewing profanely at his pocket store. + +A slim, wiry youth in high-heeled boots came down to the water's edge. +His face was boyish, but with a premature severity that hinted at a +man's experience. His complexion was naturally dark; and the sun and +wind of an outdoor life had burned it to a coffee brown. His hair was +as black and straight as an Indian's; his face had not yet upturned to +the humiliation of a razor; his eyes were a cold and steady blue. He +carried his left arm somewhat away from his body, for pearl-handled +.45s are frowned upon by town marshals, and are a little bulky when +placed in the left armhole of one's vest. He looked beyond Captain +Boone at the gulf with the impersonal and expressionless dignity of a +Chinese emperor. + +"Thinkin' of buyin' that'ar gulf, buddy?" asked the captain, made +sarcastic by his narrow escape from a tobaccoless voyage. + +"Why, no," said the Kid gently, "I reckon not. I never saw it before. +I was just looking at it. Not thinking of selling it, are you?" + +"Not this trip," said the captain. "I'll send it to you C.O.D. when I +get back to Buenas Tierras. Here comes that capstanfooted lubber with +the chewin'. I ought to've weighed anchor an hour ago." + +"Is that your ship out there?" asked the Kid. + +"Why, yes," answered the captain, "if you want to call a schooner a +ship, and I don't mind lyin'. But you better say Miller and Gonzales, +owners, and ordinary plain, Billy-be-damned old Samuel K. Boone, +skipper." + +"Where are you going to?" asked the refugee. + +"Buenas Tierras, coast of South America--I forgot what they called the +country the last time I was there. Cargo--lumber, corrugated iron, and +machetes." + +"What kind of a country is it?" asked the Kid--"hot or cold?" + +"Warmish, buddy," said the captain. "But a regular Paradise Lost for +elegance of scenery and be-yooty of geography. Ye're wakened every +morning by the sweet singin' of red birds with seven purple tails, and +the sighin' of breezes in the posies and roses. And the inhabitants +never work, for they can reach out and pick steamer baskets of the +choicest hothouse fruit without gettin' out of bed. And there's no +Sunday and no ice and no rent and no troubles and no use and no +nothin'. It's a great country for a man to go to sleep with, and wait +for somethin' to turn up. The bananys and oranges and hurricanes and +pineapples that ye eat comes from there." + +"That sounds to me!" said the Kid, at last betraying interest. +"What'll the expressage be to take me out there with you?" + +"Twenty-four dollars," said Captain Boone; "grub and transportation. +Second cabin. I haven't got a first cabin." + +"You've got my company," said the Kid, pulling out a buckskin bag. + +With three hundred dollars he had gone to Laredo for his regular +"blowout." The duel in Valdos's had cut short his season of hilarity, +but it had left him with nearly $200 for aid in the flight that it had +made necessary. + +"All right, buddy," said the captain. "I hope your ma won't blame me +for this little childish escapade of yours." He beckoned to one of the +boat's crew. "Let Sanchez lift you out to the skiff so you won't get +your feet wet." + +* * * * * + +Thacker, the United States consul at Buenas Tierras, was not yet +drunk. It was only eleven o'clock; and he never arrived at his desired +state of beatitude--a state wherein he sang ancient maudlin vaudeville +songs and pelted his screaming parrot with banana peels--until the +middle of the afternoon. So, when he looked up from his hammock at the +sound of a slight cough, and saw the Kid standing in the door of the +consulate, he was still in a condition to extend the hospitality and +courtesy due from the representative of a great nation. "Don't disturb +yourself," said the Kid, easily. "I just dropped in. They told me it +was customary to light at your camp before starting in to round up the +town. I just came in on a ship from Texas." + +"Glad to see you, Mr.--" said the consul. + +The Kid laughed. + +"Sprague Dalton," he said. "It sounds funny to me to hear it. I'm +called the Llano Kid in the Rio Grande country." + +"I'm Thacker," said the consul. "Take that cane-bottom chair. Now if +you've come to invest, you want somebody to advise you. These dingies +will cheat you out of the gold in your teeth if you don't understand +their ways. Try a cigar?" + +"Much obliged," said the Kid, "but if it wasn't for my corn shucks and +the little bag in my back pocket I couldn't live a minute." He took +out his "makings," and rolled a cigarette. + +"They speak Spanish here," said the consul. "You'll need an +interpreter. If there's anything I can do, why, I'd be delighted. If +you're buying fruit lands or looking for a concession of any sort, +you'll want somebody who knows the ropes to look out for you." + +"I speak Spanish," said the Kid, "about nine times better than I do +English. Everybody speaks it on the range where I come from. And I'm +not in the market for anything." + +"You speak Spanish?" said Thacker thoughtfully. He regarded the kid +absorbedly. + +"You look like a Spaniard, too," he continued. "And you're from Texas. +And you can't be more than twenty or twenty-one. I wonder if you've +got any nerve." + +"You got a deal of some kind to put through?" asked the Texan, with +unexpected shrewdness. + +"Are you open to a proposition?" said Thacker. + +"What's the use to deny it?" said the Kid. "I got into a little gun +frolic down in Laredo and plugged a white man. There wasn't any +Mexican handy. And I come down to your parrot-and-monkey range just +for to smell the morning-glories and marigolds. Now, do you /sabe/?" + +Thacker got up and closed the door. + +"Let me see your hand," he said. + +He took the Kid's left hand, and examined the back of it closely. + +"I can do it," he said excitedly. "Your flesh is as hard as wood and +as healthy as a baby's. It will heal in a week." + +"If it's a fist fight you want to back me for," said the Kid, "don't +put your money up yet. Make it gun work, and I'll keep you company. +But no barehanded scrapping, like ladies at a tea-party, for me." + +"It's easier than that," said Thacker. "Just step here, will you?" + +Through the window he pointed to a two-story white-stuccoed house with +wide galleries rising amid the deep-green tropical foliage on a wooded +hill that sloped gently from the sea. + +"In that house," said Thacker, "a fine old Castilian gentleman and his +wife are yearning to gather you into their arms and fill your pockets +with money. Old Santos Urique lives there. He owns half the gold-mines +in the country." + +"You haven't been eating loco weed, have you?" asked the Kid. + +"Sit down again," said Thacker, "and I'll tell you. Twelve years ago +they lost a kid. No, he didn't die--although most of 'em here do from +drinking the surface water. He was a wild little devil, even if he +wasn't but eight years old. Everybody knows about it. Some Americans +who were through here prospecting for gold had letters to Senor +Urique, and the boy was a favorite with them. They filled his head +with big stories about the States; and about a month after they left, +the kid disappeared, too. He was supposed to have stowed himself away +among the banana bunches on a fruit steamer, and gone to New Orleans. +He was seen once afterward in Texas, it was thought, but they never +heard anything more of him. Old Urique has spent thousands of dollars +having him looked for. The madam was broken up worst of all. The kid +was her life. She wears mourning yet. But they say she believes he'll +come back to her some day, and never gives up hope. On the back of the +boy's left hand was tattooed a flying eagle carrying a spear in his +claws. That's old Urique's coat of arms or something that he inherited +in Spain." + +The Kid raised his left hand slowly and gazed at it curiously. + +"That's it," said Thacker, reaching behind the official desk for his +bottle of smuggled brandy. "You're not so slow. I can do it. What was +I consul at Sandakan for? I never knew till now. In a week I'll have +the eagle bird with the frog-sticker blended in so you'd think you +were born with it. I brought a set of the needles and ink just because +I was sure you'd drop in some day, Mr. Dalton." + +"Oh, hell," said the Kid. "I thought I told you my name!" + +"All right, 'Kid,' then. It won't be that long. How does Senorito +Urique sound, for a change?" + +"I never played son any that I remember of," said the Kid. "If I had +any parents to mention they went over the divide about the time I gave +my first bleat. What is the plan of your round-up?" + +Thacker leaned back against the wall and held his glass up to the +light. + +"We've come now," said he, "to the question of how far you're willing +to go in a little matter of the sort." + +"I told you why I came down here," said the Kid simply. + +"A good answer," said the consul. "But you won't have to go that far. +Here's the scheme. After I get the trademark tattooed on your hand +I'll notify old Urique. In the meantime I'll furnish you with all of +the family history I can find out, so you can be studying up points to +talk about. You've got the looks, you speak the Spanish, you know the +facts, you can tell about Texas, you've got the tattoo mark. When I +notify them that the rightful heir has returned and is waiting to know +whether he will be received and pardoned, what will happen? They'll +simply rush down here and fall on your neck, and the curtain goes down +for refreshments and a stroll in the lobby." + +"I'm waiting," said the Kid. "I haven't had my saddle off in your camp +long, pardner, and I never met you before; but if you intend to let it +go at a parental blessing, why, I'm mistaken in my man, that's all." + +"Thanks," said the consul. "I haven't met anybody in a long time that +keeps up with an argument as well as you do. The rest of it is simple. +If they take you in only for a while it's long enough. Don't give 'em +time to hunt up the strawberry mark on your left shoulder. Old Urique +keeps anywhere from $50,000 to $100,000 in his house all the time in a +little safe that you could open with a shoe buttoner. Get it. My skill +as a tattooer is worth half the boddle. We go halves and catch a tramp +steamer for Rio Janeiro. Let the United States go to pieces if it +can't get along without my services. /Que dice, senor/?" + +"It sounds to me!" said the Kid, nodding his head. "I'm out for the +dust." + +"All right, then," said Thacker. "You'll have to keep close until we +get the bird on you. You can live in the back room here. I do my own +cooking, and I'll make you as comfortable as a parsimonious Government +will allow me." + +Thacker had set the time at a week, but it was two weeks before the +design that he patiently tattooed upon the Kid's hand was to his +notion. And then Thacker called a /muchacho/, and dispatched this note +to the intended victim: + + El Senor Don Santos Urique, + La Casa Blanca, + + My Dear Sir: + + I beg permission to inform you that there is in my house as a + temporary guest a young man who arrived in Buenas Tierras from the + United States some days ago. Without wishing to excite any hopes + that may not be realized, I think there is a possibility of his + being your long-absent son. It might be well for you to call and + see him. If he is, it is my opinion that his intention was to + return to his home, but upon arriving here, his courage failed him + from doubts as to how he would be received. Your true servant, + +Thompson Thacker. + + +Half an hour afterward--quick time for Buenas Tierras--Senor Urique's +ancient landau drove to the consul's door, with the barefooted +coachman beating and shouting at the team of fat, awkward horses. + +A tall man with a white moustache alighted, and assisted to the ground +a lady who was dressed and veiled in unrelieved black. + +The two hastened inside, and were met by Thacker with his best +diplomatic bow. By his desk stood a slender young man with clear-cut, +sun-browned features and smoothly brushed black hair. + +Senora Urique threw back her black veil with a quick gesture. She was +past middle age, and her hair was beginning to silver, but her full, +proud figure and clear olive skin retained traces of the beauty +peculiar to the Basque province. But, once you had seen her eyes, and +comprehended the great sadness that was revealed in their deep shadows +and hopeless expression, you saw that the woman lived only in some +memory. + +She bent upon the young man a long look of the most agonized +questioning. Then her great black eyes turned, and her gaze rested +upon his left hand. And then with a sob, not loud, but seeming to +shake the room, she cried "/Hijo mio/!" and caught the Llano Kid to +her heart. + +A month afterward the Kid came to the consulate in response to a +message sent by Thacker. + +He looked the young Spanish /caballero/. His clothes were imported, +and the wiles of the jewellers had not been spent upon him in vain. A +more than respectable diamond shone on his finger as he rolled a shuck +cigarette. + +"What's doing?" asked Thacker. + +"Nothing much," said the Kid calmly. "I eat my first iguana steak +to-day. They're them big lizards, you /sabe/? I reckon, though, that +frijoles and side bacon would do me about as well. Do you care for +iguanas, Thacker?" + +"No, nor for some other kinds of reptiles," said Thacker. + +It was three in the afternoon, and in another hour he would be in his +state of beatitude. + +"It's time you were making good, sonny," he went on, with an ugly look +on his reddened face. "You're not playing up to me square. You've been +the prodigal son for four weeks now, and you could have had veal for +every meal on a gold dish if you'd wanted it. Now, Mr. Kid, do you +think it's right to leave me out so long on a husk diet? What's the +trouble? Don't you get your filial eyes on anything that looks like +cash in the Casa Blanca? Don't tell me you don't. Everybody knows +where old Urique keeps his stuff. It's U.S. currency, too; he don't +accept anything else. What's doing? Don't say 'nothing' this time." + +"Why, sure," said the Kid, admiring his diamond, "there's plenty of +money up there. I'm no judge of collateral in bunches, but I will +undertake for to say that I've seen the rise of $50,000 at a time in +that tin grub box that my adopted father calls his safe. And he lets +me carry the key sometimes just to show me that he knows I'm the real +Francisco that strayed from the herd a long time ago." + +"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Thacker, angrily. "Don't you +forget that I can upset your apple-cart any day I want to. If old +Urique knew you were an imposter, what sort of things would happen to +you? Oh, you don't know this country, Mr. Texas Kid. The laws here +have got mustard spread between 'em. These people here'd stretch you +out like a frog that had been stepped on, and give you about fifty +sticks at every corner of the plaza. And they'd wear every stick out, +too. What was left of you they'd feed to alligators." + +"I might just as well tell you now, pardner," said the Kid, sliding +down low on his steamer chair, "that things are going to stay just as +they are. They're about right now." + +"What do you mean?" asked Thacker, rattling the bottom of his glass on +his desk. + +"The scheme's off," said the Kid. "And whenever you have the pleasure +of speaking to me address me as Don Francisco Urique. I'll guarantee +I'll answer to it. We'll let Colonel Urique keep his money. His little +tin safe is as good as the time-locker in the First National Bank of +Laredo as far as you and me are concerned." + +"You're going to throw me down, then, are you?" said the consul. + +"Sure," said the Kid cheerfully. "Throw you down. That's it. And now +I'll tell you why. The first night I was up at the colonel's house +they introduced me to a bedroom. No blankets on the floor--a real +room, with a bed and things in it. And before I was asleep, in comes +this artificial mother and tucks in the covers. 'Panchito,' she says, +'my little lost one, God has brought you back to me. I bless His name +forever.' It was that, or some truck like that, she said. And down +comes a drop or two of rain and hits me on the nose. And all that +stuck by me, Mr. Thacker. And it's been that way ever since. And it's +got to stay that way. Don't you think that it's for what's in it for +me, either, that I say so. If you have any such ideas, keep 'em to +yourself. I haven't had much truck with women in my life, and no +mothers to speak of, but here's a lady that we've got to keep fooled. +Once she stood it; twice she won't. I'm a low-down wolf, and the devil +may have sent me on this trail instead of God, but I'll travel it to +the end. And now, don't forget that I'm Don Francisco Urique whenever +you happen to mention my name." + +"I'll expose you to-day, you--you double-dyed traitor," stammered +Thacker. + +The Kid arose and, without violence, took Thacker by the throat with a +hand of steel, and shoved him slowly into a corner. Then he drew from +under his left arm his pearl-handled .45 and poked the cold muzzle of +it against the consul's mouth. + +"I told you why I come here," he said, with his old freezing smile. +"If I leave here, you'll be the reason. Never forget it, pardner. Now, +what is my name?" + +"Er--Don Francisco Urique," gasped Thacker. + +From outside came a sound of wheels, and the shouting of some one, and +the sharp thwacks of a wooden whipstock upon the backs of fat horses. + +The Kid put up his gun, and walked toward the door. But he turned +again and came back to the trembling Thacker, and held up his left +hand with its back toward the consul. + +"There's one more reason," he said slowly, "why things have got to +stand as they are. The fellow I killed in Laredo had one of them same +pictures on his left hand." + +Outside, the ancient landau of Don Santos Urique rattled to the door. +The coachman ceased his bellowing. Senora Urique, in a voluminous gay +gown of white lace and flying ribbons, leaned forward with a happy +look in her great soft eyes. + +"Are you within, dear son?" she called, in the rippling Castilian. + +"/Madre mia, yo vengo/ [mother, I come]," answered the young Don +Francisco Urique. + + + +IX + +THE PASSING OF BLACK EAGLE + +For some months of a certain year a grim bandit infested the Texas +border along the Rio Grande. Peculiarly striking to the optic nerve +was this notorious marauder. His personality secured him the title of +"Black Eagle, the Terror of the Border." Many fearsome tales are on +record concerning the doings of him and his followers. Suddenly, in +the space of a single minute, Black Eagle vanished from earth. He was +never heard of again. His own band never even guessed the mystery of +his disappearance. The border ranches and settlements feared he would +come again to ride and ravage the mesquite flats. He never will. It is +to disclose the fate of Black Eagle that this narrative is written. + +The initial movement of the story is furnished by the foot of a +bartender in St. Louis. His discerning eye fell upon the form of +Chicken Ruggles as he pecked with avidity at the free lunch. Chicken +was a "hobo." He had a long nose like the bill of a fowl, an +inordinate appetite for poultry, and a habit of gratifying it without +expense, which accounts for the name given him by his fellow vagrants. + +Physicians agree that the partaking of liquids at meal times is not a +healthy practice. The hygiene of the saloon promulgates the opposite. +Chicken had neglected to purchase a drink to accompany his meal. The +bartender rounded the counter, caught the injudicious diner by the ear +with a lemon squeezer, led him to the door and kicked him into the +street. + +Thus the mind of Chicken was brought to realize the signs of coming +winter. The night was cold; the stars shone with unkindly brilliancy; +people were hurrying along the streets in two egotistic, jostling +streams. Men had donned their overcoats, and Chicken knew to an exact +percentage the increased difficulty of coaxing dimes from those +buttoned-in vest pockets. The time had come for his annual exodus to +the south. + +A little boy, five or six years old, stood looking with covetous eyes +in a confectioner's window. In one small hand he held an empty two- +ounce vial; in the other he grasped tightly something flat and round, +with a shining milled edge. The scene presented a field of operations +commensurate to Chicken's talents and daring. After sweeping the +horizon to make sure that no official tug was cruising near, he +insidiously accosted his prey. The boy, having been early taught by +his household to regard altruistic advances with extreme suspicion, +received the overtures coldly. + +Then Chicken knew that he must make one of those desperate, nerve- +shattering plunges into speculation that fortune sometimes requires of +those who would win her favour. Five cents was his capital, and this +he must risk against the chance of winning what lay within the close +grasp of the youngster's chubby hand. It was a fearful lottery, +Chicken knew. But he must accomplish his end by strategy, since he had +a wholesome terror of plundering infants by force. Once, in a park, +driven by hunger, he had committed an onslaught upon a bottle of +peptonized infant's food in the possession of an occupant of a baby +carriage. The outraged infant had so promptly opened its mouth and +pressed the button that communicated with the welkin that help +arrived, and Chicken did his thirty days in a snug coop. Wherefore he +was, as he said, "leary of kids." + +Beginning artfully to question the boy concerning his choice of +sweets, he gradually drew out the information he wanted. Mamma said he +was to ask the drug store man for ten cents' worth of paregoric in the +bottle; he was to keep his hand shut tight over the dollar; he must +not stop to talk to anyone in the street; he must ask the drug-store +man to wrap up the change and put it in the pocket of his trousers. +Indeed, they had pockets--two of them! And he liked chocolate creams +best. + +Chicken went into the store and turned plunger. He invested his entire +capital in C.A.N.D.Y. stocks, simply to pave the way to the greater +risk following. + +He gave the sweets to the youngster, and had the satisfaction of +perceiving that confidence was established. After that it was easy to +obtain leadership of the expedition; to take the investment by the +hand and lead it to a nice drug store he knew of in the same block. +There Chicken, with a parental air, passed over the dollar and called +for the medicine, while the boy crunched his candy, glad to be +relieved of the responsibility of the purchase. And then the +successful investor, searching his pockets, found an overcoat button-- +the extent of his winter trousseau--and, wrapping it carefully, placed +the ostensible change in the pocket of confiding juvenility. Setting +the youngster's face homeward, and patting him benevolently on the +back--for Chicken's heart was as soft as those of his feathered +namesakes--the speculator quit the market with a profit of 1,700 per +cent. on his invested capital. + +Two hours later an Iron Mountain freight engine pulled out of the +railroad yards, Texas bound, with a string of empties. In one of the +cattle cars, half buried in excelsior, Chicken lay at ease. Beside him +in his nest was a quart bottle of very poor whisky and a paper bag of +bread and cheese. Mr. Ruggles, in his private car, was on his trip +south for the winter season. + +For a week that car was trundled southward, shifted, laid over, and +manipulated after the manner of rolling stock, but Chicken stuck to +it, leaving it only at necessary times to satisfy his hunger and +thirst. He knew it must go down to the cattle country, and San +Antonio, in the heart of it, was his goal. There the air was +salubrious and mild; the people indulgent and long-suffering. The +bartenders there would not kick him. If he should eat too long or too +often at one place they would swear at him as if by rote and without +heat. They swore so drawlingly, and they rarely paused short of their +full vocabulary, which was copious, so that Chicken had often gulped a +good meal during the process of the vituperative prohibition. The +season there was always spring-like; the plazas were pleasant at +night, with music and gaiety; except during the slight and infrequent +cold snaps one could sleep comfortably out of doors in case the +interiors should develop inhospitability. + +At Texarkana his car was switched to the I. and G.N. Then still +southward it trailed until, at length, it crawled across the Colorado +bridge at Austin, and lined out, straight as an arrow, for the run to +San Antonio. + +When the freight halted at that town Chicken was fast asleep. In ten +minutes the train was off again for Laredo, the end of the road. Those +empty cattle cars were for distribution along the line at points from +which the ranches shipped their stock. + +When Chicken awoke his car was stationary. Looking out between the +slats he saw it was a bright, moonlit night. Scrambling out, he saw +his car with three others abandoned on a little siding in a wild and +lonesome country. A cattle pen and chute stood on one side of the +track. The railroad bisected a vast, dim ocean of prairie, in the +midst of which Chicken, with his futile rolling stock, was as +completely stranded as was Robinson with his land-locked boat. + +A white post stood near the rails. Going up to it, Chicken read the +letters at the top, S. A. 90. Laredo was nearly as far to the south. +He was almost a hundred miles from any town. Coyotes began to yelp in +the mysterious sea around him. Chicken felt lonesome. He had lived in +Boston without an education, in Chicago without nerve, in Philadelphia +without a sleeping place, in New York without a pull, and in Pittsburg +sober, and yet he had never felt so lonely as now. + +Suddenly through the intense silence, he heard the whicker of a horse. +The sound came from the side of the track toward the east, and Chicken +began to explore timorously in that direction. He stepped high along +the mat of curly mesquit grass, for he was afraid of everything there +might be in this wilderness--snakes, rats, brigands, centipedes, +mirages, cowboys, fandangoes, tarantulas, tamales--he had read of them +in the story papers. Rounding a clump of prickly pear that reared high +its fantastic and menacing array of rounded heads, he was struck to +shivering terror by a snort and a thunderous plunge, as the horse, +himself startled, bounded away some fifty yards, and then resumed his +grazing. But here was the one thing in the desert that Chicken did not +fear. He had been reared on a farm; he had handled horses, understood +them, and could ride. + +Approaching slowly and speaking soothingly, he followed the animal, +which, after its first flight, seemed gentle enough, and secured the +end of the twenty-foot lariat that dragged after him in the grass. It +required him but a few moments to contrive the rope into an ingenious +nose-bridle, after the style of the Mexican /borsal/. In another he +was upon the horse's back and off at a splendid lope, giving the +animal free choice of direction. "He will take me somewhere," said +Chicken to himself. + +It would have been a thing of joy, that untrammelled gallop over the +moonlit prairie, even to Chicken, who loathed exertion, but that his +mood was not for it. His head ached; a growing thirst was upon him; +the "somewhere" whither his lucky mount might convey him was full of +dismal peradventure. + +And now he noted that the horse moved to a definite goal. Where the +prairie lay smooth he kept his course straight as an arrow's toward +the east. Deflected by hill or arroyo or impractical spinous brakes, +he quickly flowed again into the current, charted by his unerring +instinct. At last, upon the side of a gentle rise, he suddenly +subsided to a complacent walk. A stone's cast away stood a little mott +of coma trees; beneath it a /jacal/ such as the Mexicans erect--a one- +room house of upright poles daubed with clay and roofed with grass or +tule reeds. An experienced eye would have estimated the spot as the +headquarters of a small sheep ranch. In the moonlight the ground in +the nearby corral showed pulverized to a level smoothness by the hoofs +of the sheep. Everywhere was carelessly distributed the paraphernalia +of the place--ropes, bridles, saddles, sheep pelts, wool sacks, feed +troughs, and camp litter. The barrel of drinking water stood in the +end of the two-horse wagon near the door. The harness was piled, +promiscuous, upon the wagon tongue, soaking up the dew. + +Chicken slipped to earth, and tied the horse to a tree. He halloed +again and again, but the house remained quiet. The door stood open, +and he entered cautiously. The light was sufficient for him to see +that no one was at home. The room was that of a bachelor ranchman who +was content with the necessaries of life. Chicken rummaged +intelligently until he found what he had hardly dared hope for--a +small, brown jug that still contained something near a quart of his +desire. + +Half an hour later, Chicken--now a gamecock of hostile aspect--emerged +from the house with unsteady steps. He had drawn upon the absent +ranchman's equipment to replace his own ragged attire. He wore a suit +of coarse brown ducking, the coat being a sort of rakish bolero, +jaunty to a degree. Boots he had donned, and spurs that whirred with +every lurching step. Buckled around him was a belt full of cartridges +with a big six-shooter in each of its two holsters. + +Prowling about, he found blankets, a saddle and bridle with which he +caparisoned his steed. Again mounting, he rode swiftly away, singing a +loud and tuneless song. + +* * * * * + +Bud King's band of desperadoes, outlaws and horse and cattle thieves +were in camp at a secluded spot on the bank of the Frio. Their +depredations in the Rio Grande country, while no bolder than usual, +had been advertised more extensively, and Captain Kinney's company of +rangers had been ordered down to look after them. Consequently, Bud +King, who was a wise general, instead of cutting out a hot trail for +the upholders of the law, as his men wished to do, retired for the +time to the prickly fastnesses of the Frio valley. + +Though the move was a prudent one, and not incompatible with Bud's +well-known courage, it raised dissension among the members of the +band. In fact, while they thus lay ingloriously /perdu/ in the brush, +the question of Bud King's fitness for the leadership was argued, with +closed doors, as it were, by his followers. Never before had Bud's +skill or efficiency been brought to criticism; but his glory was +wandering (and such is glory's fate) in the light of a newer star. The +sentiment of the band was crystallizing into the opinion that Black +Eagle could lead them with more lustre, profit, and distinction. + +This Black Eagle--sub-titled the "Terror of the Border"--had been a +member of the gang about three months. + +One night while they were in camp on the San Miguel water-hole a +solitary horseman on the regulation fiery steed dashed in among them. +The newcomer was of a portentous and devastating aspect. A beak-like +nose with a predatory curve projected above a mass of bristling, blue- +black whiskers. His eye was cavernous and fierce. He was spurred, +sombreroed, booted, garnished with revolvers, abundantly drunk, and +very much unafraid. Few people in the country drained by the Rio Bravo +would have cared thus to invade alone the camp of Bud King. But this +fell bird swooped fearlessly upon them and demanded to be fed. + +Hospitality in the prairie country is not limited. Even if your enemy +pass your way you must feed him before you shoot him. You must empty +your larder into him before you empty your lead. So the stranger of +undeclared intentions was set down to a mighty feast. + +A talkative bird he was, full of most marvellous loud tales and +exploits, and speaking a language at times obscure but never +colourless. He was a new sensation to Bud King's men, who rarely +encountered new types. They hung, delighted, upon his vainglorious +boasting, the spicy strangeness of his lingo, his contemptuous +familiarity with life, the world, and remote places, and the +extravagant frankness with which he conveyed his sentiments. + +To their guest the band of outlaws seemed to be nothing more than a +congregation of country bumpkins whom he was "stringing for grub" just +as he would have told his stories at the back door of a farmhouse to +wheedle a meal. And, indeed, his ignorance was not without excuse, for +the "bad man" of the Southwest does not run to extremes. Those +brigands might justly have been taken for a little party of peaceable +rustics assembled for a fish-fry or pecan gathering. Gentle of manner, +slouching of gait, soft-voiced, unpicturesquely clothed; not one of +them presented to the eye any witness of the desperate records they +had earned. + +For two days the glittering stranger within the camp was feasted. +Then, by common consent, he was invited to become a member of the +band. He consented, presenting for enrollment the prodigious name of +"Captain Montressor." This name was immediately overruled by the band, +and "Piggy" substituted as a compliment to the awful and insatiate +appetite of its owner. + +Thus did the Texas border receive the most spectacular brigand that +ever rode its chaparral. + +For the next three months Bud King conducted business as usual, +escaping encounters with law officers and being content with +reasonable profits. The band ran off some very good companies of +horses from the ranges, and a few bunches of fine cattle which they +got safely across the Rio Grande and disposed of to fair advantage. +Often the band would ride into the little villages and Mexican +settlements, terrorizing the inhabitants and plundering for the +provisions and ammunition they needed. It was during these bloodless +raids that Piggy's ferocious aspect and frightful voice gained him a +renown more widespread and glorious than those other gentle-voiced and +sad-faced desperadoes could have acquired in a lifetime. + +The Mexicans, most apt in nomenclature, first called him The Black +Eagle, and used to frighten the babes by threatening them with tales +of the dreadful robber who carried off little children in his great +beak. Soon the name extended, and Black Eagle, the Terror of the +Border, became a recognized factor in exaggerated newspaper reports +and ranch gossip. + +The country from the Nueces to the Rio Grande was a wild but fertile +stretch, given over to the sheep and cattle ranches. Range was free; +the inhabitants were few; the law was mainly a letter, and the pirates +met with little opposition until the flaunting and garish Piggy gave +the band undue advertisement. Then McKinney's ranger company headed +for those precincts, and Bud King knew that it meant grim and sudden +war or else temporary retirement. Regarding the risk to be +unnecessary, he drew off his band to an almost inaccessible spot on +the bank of the Frio. Wherefore, as has been said, dissatisfaction +arose among the members, and impeachment proceedings against Bud were +premeditated, with Black Eagle in high favour for the succession. Bud +King was not unaware of the sentiment, and he called aside Cactus +Taylor, his trusted lieutenant, to discuss it. + +"If the boys," said Bud, "ain't satisfied with me, I'm willing to step +out. They're buckin' against my way of handlin' 'em. And 'specially +because I concludes to hit the brush while Sam Kinney is ridin' the +line. I saves 'em from bein' shot or sent up on a state contract, and +they up and says I'm no good." + +"It ain't so much that," explained Cactus, "as it is they're plum +locoed about Piggy. They want them whiskers and that nose of his to +split the wind at the head of the column." + +"There's somethin' mighty seldom about Piggy," declared Bud, musingly. +"I never yet see anything on the hoof that he exactly grades up with. +He can shore holler a plenty and he straddles a hoss from where you +laid the chunk. But he ain't never been smoked yet. You know, Cactus, +we ain't had a row since he's been with us. Piggy's all right for +skearin' the greaser kids and layin' waste a cross-roads store. I +reckon he's the finest canned oyster buccaneer and cheese pirate that +ever was, but how's his appetite for fightin'? I've knowed some +citizens you'd think was starvin' for trouble get a bad case of +dyspepsy the first dose of lead they had to take." + +"He talks all spraddled out," said Cactus, "'bout the rookuses he's +been in. He claims to have saw the elephant and hearn the owl." + +"I know," replied Bud, using the cowpuncher's expressive phrase of +skepticism, "but it sounds to me!" + +This conversation was held one night in camp while the other members +of the band--eight in number--were sprawling around the fire, +lingering over their supper. When Bud and Cactus ceased talking they +heard Piggy's formidable voice holding forth to the others as usual +while he was engaged in checking, though never satisfying, his +ravening appetite. + +"Wat's de use," he was saying, "of chasin' little red cowses and +hosses 'round for t'ousands of miles? Dere ain't nuttin' in it. +Gallopin' t'rough dese bushes and briers, and gettin' a t'irst dat a +brewery couldn't put out, and missin' meals! Say! You know what I'd do +if I was main finger of dis bunch? I'd stick up a train. I'd blow de +express car and make hard dollars where you guys get wind. Youse makes +me tired. Dis sook-cow kind of cheap sport gives me a pain." + +Later on, a deputation waited on Bud. They stood on one leg, chewed +mesquit twigs and circumlocuted, for they hated to hurt his feelings. +Bud foresaw their business, and made it easy for them. Bigger risks +and larger profits was what they wanted. + +The suggestion of Piggy's about holding up a train had fired their +imagination and increased their admiration for the dash and boldness +of the instigator. They were such simple, artless, and custom-bound +bush-rangers that they had never before thought of extending their +habits beyond the running off of live-stock and the shooting of such +of their acquaintances as ventured to interfere. + +Bud acted "on the level," agreeing to take a subordinate place in the +gang until Black Eagle should have been given a trial as leader. + +After a great deal of consultation, studying of time-tables, and +discussion of the country's topography, the time and place for +carrying out their new enterprise was decided upon. At that time there +was a feedstuff famine in Mexico and a cattle famine in certain parts +of the United States, and there was a brisk international trade. Much +money was being shipped along the railroads that connected the two +republics. It was agreed that the most promising place for the +contemplated robbery was at Espina, a little station on the I. and +G.N., about forty miles north of Laredo. The train stopped there one +minute; the country around was wild and unsettled; the station +consisted of but one house in which the agent lived. + +Black Eagle's band set out, riding by night. Arriving in the vicinity +of Espina they rested their horses all day in a thicket a few miles +distant. + +The train was due at Espina at 10.30 P.M. They could rob the train and +be well over the Mexican border with their booty by daylight the next +morning. + +To do Black Eagle justice, he exhibited no signs of flinching from the +responsible honours that had been conferred upon him. + +He assigned his men to their respective posts with discretion, and +coached them carefully as to their duties. On each side of the track +four of the band were to lie concealed in the chaparral. Gotch-Ear +Rodgers was to stick up the station agent. Bronco Charlie was to +remain with the horses, holding them in readiness. At a spot where it +was calculated the engine would be when the train stopped, Bud King +was to lie hidden on one side, and Black Eagle himself on the other. +The two would get the drop on the engineer and fireman, force them to +descend and proceed to the rear. Then the express car would be looted, +and the escape made. No one was to move until Black Eagle gave the +signal by firing his revolver. The plan was perfect. + +At ten minutes to train time every man was at his post, effectually +concealed by the thick chaparral that grew almost to the rails. The +night was dark and lowering, with a fine drizzle falling from the +flying gulf clouds. Black Eagle crouched behind a bush within five +yards of the track. Two six-shooters were belted around him. +Occasionally he drew a large black bottle from his pocket and raised +it to his mouth. + +A star appeared far down the track which soon waxed into the headlight +of the approaching train. It came on with an increasing roar; the +engine bore down upon the ambushing desperadoes with a glare and a +shriek like some avenging monster come to deliver them to justice. +Black Eagle flattened himself upon the ground. The engine, contrary to +their calculations, instead of stopping between him and Bud King's +place of concealment, passed fully forty years farther before it came +to a stand. + +The bandit leader rose to his feet and peered through the bush. His +men all lay quiet, awaiting the signal. Immediately opposite Black +Eagle was a thing that drew his attention. Instead of being a regular +passenger train it was a mixed one. Before him stood a box car, the +door of which, by some means, had been left slightly open. Black Eagle +went up to it and pushed the door farther open. An odour came forth--a +damp, rancid, familiar, musty, intoxicating, beloved odour stirring +strongly at old memories of happy days and travels. Black Eagle +sniffed at the witching smell as the returned wanderer smells of the +rose that twines his boyhood's cottage home. Nostalgia seized him. He +put his hand inside. Excelsior--dry, springy, curly, soft, enticing, +covered the floor. Outside the drizzle had turned to a chilling rain. + +The train bell clanged. The bandit chief unbuckled his belt and cast +it, with its revolvers, upon the ground. His spurs followed quickly, +and his broad sombrero. Black Eagle was moulting. The train started +with a rattling jerk. The ex-Terror of the Border scrambled into the +box car and closed the door. Stretched luxuriously upon the excelsior, +with the black bottle clasped closely to his breast, his eyes closed, +and a foolish, happy smile upon his terrible features Chicken Ruggles +started upon his return trip. + +Undisturbed, with the band of desperate bandits lying motionless, +awaiting the signal to attack, the train pulled out from Espina. As +its speed increased, and the black masses of chaparral went whizzing +past on either side, the express messenger, lighting his pipe, looked +through his window and remarked, feelingly: + +"What a jim-dandy place for a hold-up!" + + + +X + +A RETRIEVED REFORMATION + +A guard came to the prison shoe-shop, where Jimmy Valentine was +assiduously stitching uppers, and escorted him to the front office. +There the warden handed Jimmy his pardon, which had been signed that +morning by the governor. Jimmy took it in a tired kind of way. He had +served nearly ten months of a four year sentence. He had expected to +stay only about three months, at the longest. When a man with as many +friends on the outside as Jimmy Valentine had is received in the +"stir" it is hardly worth while to cut his hair. + +"Now, Valentine," said the warden, "you'll go out in the morning. +Brace up, and make a man of yourself. You're not a bad fellow at +heart. Stop cracking safes, and live straight." + +"Me?" said Jimmy, in surprise. "Why, I never cracked a safe in my +life." + +"Oh, no," laughed the warden. "Of course not. Let's see, now. How was +it you happened to get sent up on that Springfield job? Was it because +you wouldn't prove an alibi for fear of compromising somebody in +extremely high-toned society? Or was it simply a case of a mean old +jury that had it in for you? It's always one or the other with you +innocent victims." + +"Me?" said Jimmy, still blankly virtuous. "Why, warden, I never was in +Springfield in my life!" + +"Take him back, Cronin!" said the warden, "and fix him up with +outgoing clothes. Unlock him at seven in the morning, and let him come +to the bull-pen. Better think over my advice, Valentine." + +At a quarter past seven on the next morning Jimmy stood in the +warden's outer office. He had on a suit of the villainously fitting, +ready-made clothes and a pair of the stiff, squeaky shoes that the +state furnishes to its discharged compulsory guests. + +The clerk handed him a railroad ticket and the five-dollar bill with +which the law expected him to rehabilitate himself into good +citizenship and prosperity. The warden gave him a cigar, and shook +hands. Valentine, 9762, was chronicled on the books, "Pardoned by +Governor," and Mr. James Valentine walked out into the sunshine. + +Disregarding the song of the birds, the waving green trees, and the +smell of the flowers, Jimmy headed straight for a restaurant. There he +tasted the first sweet joys of liberty in the shape of a broiled +chicken and a bottle of white wine--followed by a cigar a grade better +than the one the warden had given him. From there he proceeded +leisurely to the depot. He tossed a quarter into the hat of a blind +man sitting by the door, and boarded his train. Three hours set him +down in a little town near the state line. He went to the cafe of one +Mike Dolan and shook hands with Mike, who was alone behind the bar. + +"Sorry we couldn't make it sooner, Jimmy, me boy," said Mike. "But we +had that protest from Springfield to buck against, and the governor +nearly balked. Feeling all right?" + +"Fine," said Jimmy. "Got my key?" + +He got his key and went upstairs, unlocking the door of a room at the +rear. Everything was just as he had left it. There on the floor was +still Ben Price's collar-button that had been torn from that eminent +detective's shirt-band when they had overpowered Jimmy to arrest him. + +Pulling out from the wall a folding-bed, Jimmy slid back a panel in +the wall and dragged out a dust-covered suit-case. He opened this and +gazed fondly at the finest set of burglar's tools in the East. It was +a complete set, made of specially tempered steel, the latest designs +in drills, punches, braces and bits, jimmies, clamps, and augers, with +two or three novelties, invented by Jimmy himself, in which he took +pride. Over nine hundred dollars they had cost him to have made at +----, a place where they make such things for the profession. + +In half an hour Jimmy went down stairs and through the cafe. He was +now dressed in tasteful and well-fitting clothes, and carried his +dusted and cleaned suit-case in his hand. + +"Got anything on?" asked Mike Dolan, genially. + +"Me?" said Jimmy, in a puzzled tone. "I don't understand. I'm +representing the New York Amalgamated Short Snap Biscuit Cracker and +Frazzled Wheat Company." + +This statement delighted Mike to such an extent that Jimmy had to take +a seltzer-and-milk on the spot. He never touched "hard" drinks. + +A week after the release of Valentine, 9762, there was a neat job of +safe-burglary done in Richmond, Indiana, with no clue to the author. A +scant eight hundred dollars was all that was secured. Two weeks after +that a patented, improved, burglar-proof safe in Logansport was opened +like a cheese to the tune of fifteen hundred dollars, currency; +securities and silver untouched. That began to interest the rogue- +catchers. Then an old-fashioned bank-safe in Jefferson City became +active and threw out of its crater an eruption of bank-notes amounting +to five thousand dollars. The losses were now high enough to bring the +matter up into Ben Price's class of work. By comparing notes, a +remarkable similarity in the methods of the burglaries was noticed. +Ben Price investigated the scenes of the robberies, and was heard to +remark: + +"That's Dandy Jim Valentine's autograph. He's resumed business. Look +at that combination knob--jerked out as easy as pulling up a radish in +wet weather. He's got the only clamps that can do it. And look how +clean those tumblers were punched out! Jimmy never has to drill but +one hole. Yes, I guess I want Mr. Valentine. He'll do his bit next +time without any short-time or clemency foolishness." + +Ben Price knew Jimmy's habits. He had learned them while working on +the Springfield case. Long jumps, quick get-aways, no confederates, +and a taste for good society--these ways had helped Mr. Valentine to +become noted as a successful dodger of retribution. It was given out +that Ben Price had taken up the trail of the elusive cracksman, and +other people with burglar-proof safes felt more at ease. + +One afternoon Jimmy Valentine and his suit-case climbed out of the +mail-hack in Elmore, a little town five miles off the railroad down in +the black-jack country of Arkansas. Jimmy, looking like an athletic +young senior just home from college, went down the board side-walk +toward the hotel. + +A young lady crossed the street, passed him at the corner and entered +a door over which was the sign, "The Elmore Bank." Jimmy Valentine +looked into her eyes, forgot what he was, and became another man. She +lowered her eyes and coloured slightly. Young men of Jimmy's style and +looks were scarce in Elmore. + +Jimmy collared a boy that was loafing on the steps of the bank as if +he were one of the stockholders, and began to ask him questions about +the town, feeding him dimes at intervals. By and by the young lady +came out, looking royally unconscious of the young man with the suit- +case, and went her way. + +"Isn' that young lady Polly Simpson?" asked Jimmy, with specious +guile. + +"Naw," said the boy. "She's Annabel Adams. Her pa owns this bank. +Why'd you come to Elmore for? Is that a gold watch-chain? I'm going to +get a bulldog. Got any more dimes?" + +Jimmy went to the Planters' Hotel, registered as Ralph D. Spencer, and +engaged a room. He leaned on the desk and declared his platform to the +clerk. He said he had come to Elmore to look for a location to go into +business. How was the shoe business, now, in the town? He had thought +of the shoe business. Was there an opening? + +The clerk was impressed by the clothes and manner of Jimmy. He, +himself, was something of a pattern of fashion to the thinly gilded +youth of Elmore, but he now perceived his shortcomings. While trying +to figure out Jimmy's manner of tying his four-in-hand he cordially +gave information. + +Yes, there ought to be a good opening in the shoe line. There wasn't +an exclusive shoe-store in the place. The dry-goods and general stores +handled them. Business in all lines was fairly good. Hoped Mr. Spencer +would decide to locate in Elmore. He would find it a pleasant town to +live in, and the people very sociable. + +Mr. Spencer thought he would stop over in the town a few days and look +over the situation. No, the clerk needn't call the boy. He would carry +up his suit-case, himself; it was rather heavy. + +Mr. Ralph Spencer, the phoenix that arose from Jimmy Valentine's ashes +--ashes left by the flame of a sudden and alterative attack of love-- +remained in Elmore, and prospered. He opened a shoe-store and secured +a good run of trade. + +Socially he was also a success, and made many friends. And he +accomplished the wish of his heart. He met Miss Annabel Adams, and +became more and more captivated by her charms. + +At the end of a year the situation of Mr. Ralph Spencer was this: he +had won the respect of the community, his shoe-store was flourishing, +and he and Annabel were engaged to be married in two weeks. Mr. Adams, +the typical, plodding, country banker, approved of Spencer. Annabel's +pride in him almost equalled her affection. He was as much at home in +the family of Mr. Adams and that of Annabel's married sister as if he +were already a member. + +One day Jimmy sat down in his room and wrote this letter, which he +mailed to the safe address of one of his old friends in St. Louis: + + Dear Old Pal: + + I want you to be at Sullivan's place, in Little Rock, next + Wednesday night, at nine o'clock. I want you to wind up some + little matters for me. And, also, I want to make you a present of + my kit of tools. I know you'll be glad to get them--you couldn't + duplicate the lot for a thousand dollars. Say, Billy, I've quit + the old business--a year ago. I've got a nice store. I'm making an + honest living, and I'm going to marry the finest girl on earth two + weeks from now. It's the only life, Billy--the straight one. I + wouldn't touch a dollar of another man's money now for a million. + After I get married I'm going to sell out and go West, where there + won't be so much danger of having old scores brought up against + me. I tell you, Billy, she's an angel. She believes in me; and I + wouldn't do another crooked thing for the whole world. Be sure to be + at Sully's, for I must see you. I'll bring along the tools with me. + +Your old friend, + +Jimmy. + + +On the Monday night after Jimmy wrote this letter, Ben Price jogged +unobtrusively into Elmore in a livery buggy. He lounged about town in +his quiet way until he found out what he wanted to know. From the +drug-store across the street from Spencer's shoe-store he got a good +look at Ralph D. Spencer. + +"Going to marry the banker's daughter are you, Jimmy?" said Ben to +himself, softly. "Well, I don't know!" + +The next morning Jimmy took breakfast at the Adamses. He was going to +Little Rock that day to order his wedding-suit and buy something nice +for Annabel. That would be the first time he had left town since he +came to Elmore. It had been more than a year now since those last +professional "jobs," and he thought he could safely venture out. + +After breakfast quite a family party went downtown together--Mr. +Adams, Annabel, Jimmy, and Annabel's married sister with her two +little girls, aged five and nine. They came by the hotel where Jimmy +still boarded, and he ran up to his room and brought along his suit- +case. Then they went on to the bank. There stood Jimmy's horse and +buggy and Dolph Gibson, who was going to drive him over to the +railroad station. + +All went inside the high, carved oak railings into the banking-room-- +Jimmy included, for Mr. Adams's future son-in-law was welcome +anywhere. The clerks were pleased to be greeted by the good-looking, +agreeable young man who was going to marry Miss Annabel. Jimmy set his +suit-case down. Annabel, whose heart was bubbling with happiness and +lively youth, put on Jimmy's hat, and picked up the suit-case. +"Wouldn't I make a nice drummer?" said Annabel. "My! Ralph, how heavy +it is? Feels like it was full of gold bricks." + +"Lot of nickel-plated shoe-horns in there," said Jimmy, coolly, "that +I'm going to return. Thought I'd save express charges by taking them +up. I'm getting awfully economical." + +The Elmore Bank had just put in a new safe and vault. Mr. Adams was +very proud of it, and insisted on an inspection by every one. The +vault was a small one, but it had a new, patented door. It fastened +with three solid steel bolts thrown simultaneously with a single +handle, and had a time-lock. Mr. Adams beamingly explained its +workings to Mr. Spencer, who showed a courteous but not too +intelligent interest. The two children, May and Agatha, were delighted +by the shining metal and funny clock and knobs. + +While they were thus engaged Ben Price sauntered in and leaned on his +elbow, looking casually inside between the railings. He told the +teller that he didn't want anything; he was just waiting for a man he +knew. + +Suddenly there was a scream or two from the women, and a commotion. +Unperceived by the elders, May, the nine-year-old girl, in a spirit of +play, had shut Agatha in the vault. She had then shot the bolts and +turned the knob of the combination as she had seen Mr. Adams do. + +The old banker sprang to the handle and tugged at it for a moment. +"The door can't be opened," he groaned. "The clock hasn't been wound +nor the combination set." + +Agatha's mother screamed again, hysterically. + +"Hush!" said Mr. Adams, raising his trembling hand. "All be quite for +a moment. Agatha!" he called as loudly as he could. "Listen to me." +During the following silence they could just hear the faint sound of +the child wildly shrieking in the dark vault in a panic of terror. + +"My precious darling!" wailed the mother. "She will die of fright! +Open the door! Oh, break it open! Can't you men do something?" + +"There isn't a man nearer than Little Rock who can open that door," +said Mr. Adams, in a shaky voice. "My God! Spencer, what shall we do? +That child--she can't stand it long in there. There isn't enough air, +and, besides, she'll go into convulsions from fright." + +Agatha's mother, frantic now, beat the door of the vault with her +hands. Somebody wildly suggested dynamite. Annabel turned to Jimmy, +her large eyes full of anguish, but not yet despairing. To a woman +nothing seems quite impossible to the powers of the man she worships. + +"Can't you do something, Ralph--/try/, won't you?" + +He looked at her with a queer, soft smile on his lips and in his keen +eyes. + +"Annabel," he said, "give me that rose you are wearing, will you?" + +Hardly believing that she heard him aright, she unpinned the bud from +the bosom of her dress, and placed it in his hand. Jimmy stuffed it +into his vest-pocket, threw off his coat and pulled up his shirt- +sleeves. With that act Ralph D. Spencer passed away and Jimmy +Valentine took his place. + +"Get away from the door, all of you," he commanded, shortly. + +He set his suit-case on the table, and opened it out flat. From that +time on he seemed to be unconscious of the presence of any one else. +He laid out the shining, queer implements swiftly and orderly, +whistling softly to himself as he always did when at work. In a deep +silence and immovable, the others watched him as if under a spell. + +In a minute Jimmy's pet drill was biting smoothly into the steel door. +In ten minutes--breaking his own burglarious record--he threw back the +bolts and opened the door. + +Agatha, almost collapsed, but safe, was gathered into her mother's +arms. + +Jimmy Valentine put on his coat, and walked outside the railings +towards the front door. As he went he thought he heard a far-away +voice that he once knew call "Ralph!" But he never hesitated. + +At the door a big man stood somewhat in his way. + +"Hello, Ben!" said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. "Got around at +last, have you? Well, let's go. I don't know that it makes much +difference, now." + +And then Ben Price acted rather strangely. + +"Guess you're mistaken, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Don't believe I +recognize you. Your buggy's waiting for you, ain't it?" + +And Ben Price turned and strolled down the street. + + + +XI + +CHERCHEZ LA FEMME + +Robbins, reporter for the /Picayune/, and Dumars, of /L'Abeille/--the +old French newspaper that has buzzed for nearly a century--were good +friends, well proven by years of ups and downs together. They were +seated where they had a habit of meeting--in the little, Creole- +haunted cafe of Madame Tibault, in Dumaine Street. If you know the +place, you will experience a thrill of pleasure in recalling it to +mind. It is small and dark, with six little polished tables, at which +you may sit and drink the best coffee in New Orleans, and concoctions +of absinthe equal to Sazerac's best. Madame Tibault, fat and +indulgent, presides at the desk, and takes your money. Nicolette and +Meme, madame's nieces, in charming bib aprons, bring the desirable +beverages. + +Dumars, with true Creole luxury, was sipping his absinthe, with half- +closed eyes, in a whirl of cigarette smoke. Robbins was looking over +the morning /Pic./, detecting, as young reporters will, the gross +blunders in the make-up, and the envious blue-pencilling his own stuff +had received. This item, in the advertising columns, caught his eye, +and with an exclamation of sudden interest he read it aloud to his +friend. + + Public Auction.--At three o'clock this afternoon there will be + sold to the highest bidder all the common property of the Little + Sisters of Samaria, at the home of the Sisterhood, in Bonhomme + Street. The sale will dispose of the building, ground, and the + complete furnishings of the house and chapel, without reserve. + +This notice stirred the two friends to a reminiscent talk concerning +an episode in their journalistic career that had occurred about two +years before. They recalled the incidents, went over the old theories, +and discussed it anew from the different perspective time had brought. + +There were no other customers in the cafe. Madame's fine ear had +caught the line of their talk, and she came over to their table--for +had it not been her lost money--her vanished twenty thousand dollars-- +that had set the whole matter going? + +The three took up the long-abandoned mystery, threshing over the old, +dry chaff of it. It was in the chapel of this house of the Little +Sisters of Samaria that Robbins and Dumars had stood during that +eager, fruitless news search of theirs, and looked upon the gilded +statue of the Virgin. + +"Thass so, boys," said madame, summing up. "Thass ver' wicked man, +M'sieur Morin. Everybody shall be cert' he steal those money I plaze in +his hand for keep safe. Yes. He's boun' spend that money, somehow." +Madame turned a broad and contemplative smile upon Dumars. "I +ond'stand you, M'sieur Dumars, those day you come ask fo' tell +ev'ything I know 'bout M'sieur Morin. Ah! yes, I know most time when +those men lose money you say '/Cherchez la femme/'--there is somewhere +the woman. But not for M'sieur Morin. No, boys. Before he shall die, +he is like one saint. You might's well, M'sieur Dumars, go try find +those money in the statue of Virgin Mary that M'sieur Morin present at +those /p'tite soeurs/, as try find one /femme/." + +At Madame Tibault's last words, Robbins started slightly and cast a +keen, sidelong glance at Dumars. The Creole sat, unmoved, dreamily +watching the spirals of his cigarette smoke. + +It was then nine o'clock in the morning and, a few minutes later, the +two friends separated, going different ways to their day's duties. And +now follows the brief story of Madame Tibault's vanished thousands: + +* * * * * + +New Orleans will readily recall to mind the circumstances attendant +upon the death of Mr. Gaspard Morin, in that city. Mr. Morin was an +artistic goldsmith and jeweller in the old French Quarter, and a man +held in the highest esteem. He belonged to one of the oldest French +families, and was of some distinction as an antiquary and historian. +He was a bachelor, about fifty years of age. He lived in quiet +comfort, at one of those rare old hostelries in Royal Street. He was +found in his rooms, one morning, dead from unknown causes. + +When his affairs came to be looked into, it was found that he was +practically insolvent, his stock of goods and personal property barely +--but nearly enough to free him from censure--covering his +liabilities. Following came the disclosure that he had been entrusted +with the sum of twenty thousand dollars by a former upper servant in +the Morin family, one Madame Tibault, which she had received as a +legacy from relatives in France. + +The most searching scrutiny by friends and the legal authorities +failed to reveal the disposition of the money. It had vanished, and +left no trace. Some weeks before his death, Mr. Morin had drawn the +entire amount, in gold coin, from the bank where it had been placed +while he looked about (he told Madame Tibault) for a safe investment. +Therefore, Mr. Morin's memory seemed doomed to bear the cloud of +dishonesty, while madame was, of course, disconsolate. + +Then it was that Robbins and Dumars, representing their respective +journals, began one of those pertinacious private investigations +which, of late years, the press has adopted as a means to glory and +the satisfaction of public curiosity. + +"/Cherchez la femme/," said Dumars. + +"That's the ticket!" agreed Robbins. "All roads lead to the eternal +feminine. We will find the woman." + +They exhausted the knowledge of the staff of Mr. Morin's hotel, from +the bell-boy down to the proprietor. They gently, but inflexibly, +pumped the family of the deceased as far as his cousins twice removed. +They artfully sounded the employees of the late jeweller, and dogged +his customers for information concerning his habits. Like bloodhounds +they traced every step of the supposed defaulter, as nearly as might +be, for years along the limited and monotonous paths he had trodden. + +At the end of their labours, Mr. Morin stood, an immaculate man. Not +one weakness that might be served up as a criminal tendency, not one +deviation from the path of rectitude, not even a hint of a +predilection for the opposite sex, was found to be placed in his +debit. His life had been as regular and austere as a monk's; his +habits, simple and unconcealed. Generous, charitable, and a model in +propriety, was the verdict of all who knew him. + +"What, now?" asked Robbins, fingering his empty notebook. + +"/Cherchez la femme/," said Dumars, lighting a cigarette. "Try Lady +Bellairs." + +This piece of femininity was the race-track favourite of the season. +Being feminine, she was erratic in her gaits, and there were a few +heavy losers about town who had believed she could be true. The +reporters applied for information. + +Mr. Morin? Certainly not. He was never even a spectator at the races. +Not that kind of a man. Surprised the gentlemen should ask. + +"Shall we throw it up?" suggested Robbins, "and let the puzzle +department have a try?" + +"/Cherchez la femme/," hummed Dumars, reaching for a match. "Try the +Little Sisters of What-d'-you-call-'em." + +It had developed, during the investigation, that Mr. Morin had held +this benevolent order in particular favour. He had contributed +liberally toward its support and had chosen its chapel as his +favourite place of private worship. It was said that he went there +daily to make his devotions at the altar. Indeed, toward the last of +his life his whole mind seemed to have fixed itself upon religious +matters, perhaps to the detriment of his worldly affairs. + +Thither went Robbins and Dumars, and were admitted through the narrow +doorway in the blank stone wall that frowned upon Bonhomme Street. An +old woman was sweeping the chapel. She told them that Sister Felicite, +the head of the order, was then at prayer at the altar in the alcove. +In a few moments she would emerge. Heavy, black curtains screened the +alcove. They waited. + +Soon the curtains were disturbed, and Sister Felicite came forth. She +was tall, tragic, bony, and plain-featured, dressed in the black gown +and severe bonnet of the sisterhood. + +Robbins, a good rough-and-tumble reporter, but lacking the delicate +touch, began to speak. + +They represented the press. The lady had, no doubt, heard of the Morin +affair. It was necessary, in justice to that gentleman's memory, to +probe the mystery of the lost money. It was known that he had come +often to this chapel. Any information, now, concerning Mr. Morin's +habits, tastes, the friends he had, and so on, would be of value in +doing him posthumous justice. + +Sister Felicite had heard. Whatever she knew would be willingly told, +but it was very little. Monsieur Morin had been a good friend to the +order, sometimes contributing as much as a hundred dollars. The +sisterhood was an independent one, depending entirely upon private +contributions for the means to carry on its charitable work. Mr. Morin +had presented the chapel with silver candlesticks and an altar cloth. +He came every day to worship in the chapel, sometimes remaining for an +hour. He was a devout Catholic, consecrated to holiness. Yes, and also +in the alcove was a statue of the Virgin that he had himself modeled, +cast, and presented to the order. Oh, it was cruel to cast a doubt +upon so good a man! + +Robbins was also profoundly grieved at the imputation. But, until it +was found what Mr. Morin had done with Madame Tibault's money, he +feared the tongue of slander would not be stilled. Sometimes--in fact, +very often--in affairs of the kind there was--er--as the saying goes-- +er--a lady in the case. In absolute confidence, now--if--perhaps-- + +Sister Felicite's large eyes regarded him solemnly. + +"There was one woman," she said, slowly, "to whom he bowed--to whom he +gave his heart." + +Robbins fumbled rapturously for his pencil. + +"Behold the woman!" said Sister Felicite, suddenly, in deep tones. + +She reached a long arm and swept aside the curtain of the alcove. In +there was a shrine, lit to a glow of soft colour by the light pouring +through a stained-glass window. Within a deep niche in the bare stone +wall stood an image of the Virgin Mary, the colour of pure gold. + +Dumars, a conventional Catholic, succumbed to the dramatic in the act. +He bowed his head for an instant and made the sign of the cross. The +somewhat abashed Robbins, murmuring an indistinct apology, backed +awkwardly away. Sister Felicite drew back the curtain, and the +reporters departed. + +On the narrow sidewalk of Bonhomme Street, Robbins turned to Dumars, +with unworthy sarcasm. + +"Well, what next? Churchy law fem?" + +"Absinthe," said Dumars. + +With the history of the missing money thus partially related, some +conjecture may be formed of the sudden idea that Madame Tibault's +words seemed to have suggested to Robbins's brain. + +Was it so wild a surmise--that the religious fanatic had offered up +his wealth--or, rather, Madame Tibault's--in the shape of a material +symbol of his consuming devotion? Stranger things have been done in +the name of worship. Was it not possible that the lost thousands were +molded into that lustrous image? That the goldsmith had formed it of +the pure and precious metal, and set it there, through some hope of a +perhaps disordered brain to propitiate the saints and pave the way to +his own selfish glory? + +That afternoon, at five minutes to three, Robbins entered the chapel +door of the Little Sisters of Samaria. He saw, in the dim light, a +crowd of perhaps a hundred people gathered to attend the sale. Most of +them were members of various religious orders, priests and churchmen, +come to purchase the paraphernalia of the chapel, lest they fall into +desecrating hands. Others were business men and agents come to bid +upon the realty. A clerical-looking brother had volunteered to wield +the hammer, bringing to the office of auctioneer the anomaly of choice +diction and dignity of manner. + +A few of the minor articles were sold, and then two assistants brought +forward the image of the Virgin. + +Robbins started the bidding at ten dollars. A stout man, in an +ecclesiastical garb, went to fifteen. A voice from another part of the +crowd raised to twenty. The three bid alternately, raising by bids of +five, until the offer was fifty dollars. Then the stout man dropped +out, and Robbins, as a sort of /coup de main/, went to a hundred. + +"One hundred and fifty," said the other voice. + +"Two hundred," bid Robbins, boldly. + +"Two-fifty," called his competitor, promptly. + +The reporter hesitated for the space of a lightning flash, estimating +how much he could borrow from the boys in the office, and screw from +the business manager from his next month's salary. + +"Three hundred," he offered. + +"Three-fifty," spoke up the other, in a louder voice--a voice that +sent Robbins diving suddenly through the crowd in its direction, to +catch Dumars, its owner, ferociously by the collar. + +"You unconverted idiot!" hissed Robbins, close to his ear--"pool!" + +"Agreed!" said Dumars, coolly. "I couldn't raise three hundred and +fifty dollars with a search-warrant, but I can stand half. What you +come bidding against me for?" + +"I thought I was the only fool in the crowd," explained Robbins. + +No one else bidding, the statue was knocked down to the syndicate at +their last offer. Dumars remained with the prize, while Robbins +hurried forth to wring from the resources and credit of both the +price. He soon returned with the money, and the two musketeers loaded +their precious package into a carriage and drove with it to Dumars's +room, in old Chartres Street, nearby. They lugged it, covered with a +cloth, up the stairs, and deposited it on a table. A hundred pounds it +weighed, if an ounce, and at that estimate, according to their +calculation, if their daring theory were correct, it stood there, +worth twenty thousand golden dollars. + +Robbins removed the covering, and opened his pocket-knife. + +"/Sacre/!" muttered Dumars, shuddering. "It is the Mother of Christ. +What would you do?" + +"Shut up, Judas!" said Robbins, coldly. "It's too late for you to be +saved now." + +With a firm hand, he chipped a slice from the shoulder of the image. +The cut showed a dull, grayish metal, with a thin coating of gold +leaf. + +"Lead!" announced Robbins, hurling his knife to the floor--"gilded!" + +"To the devil with it!" said Dumars, forgetting his scruples. "I must +have a drink." + +Together they walked moodily to the cafe of Madame Tribault, two +squares away. + +It seemed that madame's mind had been stirred that day to fresh +recollections of the past services of the two young men in her behalf. + +"You mustn't sit by those table," she interposed, as they were about +to drop into their accustomed seats. "Thass so, boys. But no. I mek +you come at this room, like my /tres bon amis/. Yes. I goin' mek for +you myself one /anisette/ and one /cafe royale/ ver' fine. Ah! I lak +treat my fren' nize. Yes. Plis come in this way." + +Madame led them into the little back room, into which she sometimes +invited the especially favoured of her customers. In two comfortable +armchairs, by a big window that opened upon the courtyard, she placed +them, with a low table between. Bustling hospitably about, she began +to prepare the promised refreshments. + +It was the first time the reporters had been honoured with admission +to the sacred precincts. The room was in dusky twilight, flecked with +gleams of the polished, fine woods and burnished glass and metal that +the Creoles love. From the little courtyard a tiny fountain sent in an +insinuating sound of trickling waters, to which a banana plant by the +window kept time with its tremulous leaves. + +Robbins, an investigator by nature, sent a curious glance roving about +the room. From some barbaric ancestor, madame had inherited a +/penchant/ for the crude in decoration. + +The walls were adorned with cheap lithographs--florid libels upon +nature, addressed to the taste of the /bourgeoisie/--birthday cards, +garish newspaper supplements, and specimens of art-advertising +calculated to reduce the optic nerve to stunned submission. A patch of +something unintelligible in the midst of the more candid display +puzzled Robbins, and he rose and took a step nearer, to interrogate it +at closer range. Then he leaned weakly against the wall, and called +out: + +"Madame Tibault! Oh, madame! Since when--oh! since when have you been +in the habit of papering your walls with five thousand dollar United +States four per cent. gold bonds? Tell me--is this a Grimm's fairy +tale, or should I consult an oculist?" + +At his words, Madame Tibault and Dumars approached. + +"H'what you say?" said madame, cheerily. "H'what you say, M'sieur +Robbin? /Bon/! Ah! those nize li'l peezes papier! One tam I think +those w'at you call calendair, wiz ze li'l day of mont' below. But, +no. Those wall is broke in those plaze, M'sieur Robbin', and I plaze +those li'l peezes papier to conceal ze crack. I did think the couleur +harm'nize so well with the wall papier. Where I get them from? Ah, +yes, I remem' ver' well. One day M'sieur Morin, he come at my houze-- +thass 'bout one mont' before he shall die--thass 'long 'bout tam he +promise fo' inves' those money fo' me. M'sieur Morin, he leave thoze +li'l peezes papier in those table, and say ver' much 'bout money thass +hard for me to ond'stan. /Mais/ I never see those money again. Thass +ver' wicked man, M'sieur Morin. H'what you call those peezes papier, +M'sieur Robbi'--/bon/!" + +Robbins explained. + +"There's your twenty thousand dollars, with coupons attached," he +said, running his thumb around the edge of the four bonds. "Better get +an expert to peel them off for you. Mister Morin was right. I'm going +out to get my ears trimmed." + +He dragged Dumars by the arm into the outer room. Madame was screaming +for Nicolette and Meme to come and observe the fortune returned to her +by M'sieur Morin, that best of men, that saint in glory. + +"Marsy," said Robbins, "I'm going on a jamboree. For three days the +esteemed /Pic./ will have to get along without my valuable services. I +advise you to join me. Now, that green stuff you drink is no good. It +stimulates thought. What we want to do is to forget to remember. I'll +introduce you to the only lady in this case that is guaranteed to +produce the desired results. Her name is Belle of Kentucky, twelve- +year-old Bourbon. In quarts. How does the idea strike you?" + +"/Allons/!" said Dumars. "/Cherchez la femme/." + + + +XII + +FRIENDS IN SAN ROSARIO + +The west-bound train stopped at San Rosario on time at 8.20 A.M. A man +with a thick black-leather wallet under his arm left the train and +walked rapidly up the main street of the town. There were other +passengers who also got off at San Rosario, but they either slouched +limberly over to the railroad eating-house or the Silver Dollar +saloon, or joined the groups of idlers about the station. + +Indecision had no part in the movements of the man with the wallet. He +was short in stature, but strongly built, with very light, closely- +trimmed hair, smooth, determined face, and aggressive, gold-rimmed +nose glasses. He was well dressed in the prevailing Eastern style. His +air denoted a quiet but conscious reserve force, if not actual +authority. + +After walking a distance of three squares he came to the centre of the +town's business area. Here another street of importance crossed the +main one, forming the hub of San Rosario's life and commerce. Upon one +corner stood the post-office. Upon another Rubensky's Clothing +Emporium. The other two diagonally opposing corners were occupied by +the town's two banks, the First National and the Stockmen's National. +Into the First National Bank of San Rosario the newcomer walked, never +slowing his brisk step until he stood at the cashier's window. The +bank opened for business at nine, and the working force was already +assembled, each member preparing his department for the day's +business. The cashier was examining the mail when he noticed the +stranger standing at his window. + +"Bank doesn't open 'til nine," he remarked curtly, but without +feeling. He had had to make that statement so often to early birds +since San Rosario adopted city banking hours. + +"I am well aware of that," said the other man, in cool, brittle tones. +"Will you kindly receive my card?" + +The cashier drew the small, spotless parallelogram inside the bars of +his wicket, and read: + + J.F.C Nettlewick + National Bank Examiner + +"Oh--er--will you walk around inside, Mr.--er--Nettlewick. Your first +visit--didn't know your business, of course. Walk right around, +please." + +The examiner was quickly inside the sacred precincts of the bank, +where he was ponderously introduced to each employee in turn by Mr. +Edlinger, the cashier--a middle-aged gentleman of deliberation, +discretion, and method. + +"I was kind of expecting Sam Turner round again, pretty soon," said +Mr. Edlinger. "Sam's been examining us now, for about four years. I +guess you'll find us all right, though, considering the tightness in +business. Not overly much money on hand, but able to stand the storms, +sir, stand the storms." + +"Mr. Turner and I have been ordered by the Comptroller to exchange +districts," said the examiner, in his decisive, formal tones. "He is +covering my old territory in Southern Illinois and Indiana. I will +take the cash first, please." + +Perry Dorsey, the teller, was already arranging his cash on the +counter for the examiner's inspection. He knew it was right to a cent, +and he had nothing to fear, but he was nervous and flustered. So was +every man in the bank. There was something so icy and swift, so +impersonal and uncompromising about this man that his very presence +seemed an accusation. He looked to be a man who would never make nor +overlook an error. + +Mr. Nettlewick first seized the currency, and with a rapid, almost +juggling motion, counted it by packages. Then he spun the sponge cup +toward him and verified the count by bills. His thin, white fingers +flew like some expert musician's upon the keys of a piano. He dumped +the gold upon the counter with a crash, and the coins whined and sang +as they skimmed across the marble slab from the tips of his nimble +digits. The air was full of fractional currency when he came to the +halves and quarters. He counted the last nickle and dime. He had the +scales brought, and he weighed every sack of silver in the vault. He +questioned Dorsey concerning each of the cash memoranda--certain +checks, charge slips, etc., carried over from the previous day's work +--with unimpeachable courtesy, yet with something so mysteriously +momentous in his frigid manner, that the teller was reduced to pink +cheeks and a stammering tongue. + +This newly-imported examiner was so different from Sam Turner. It had +been Sam's way to enter the bank with a shout, pass the cigars, and +tell the latest stories he had picked up on his rounds. His customary +greeting to Dorsey had been, "Hello, Perry! Haven't skipped out with +the boodle yet, I see." Turner's way of counting the cash had been +different, too. He would finger the packages of bills in a tired kind +of way, and then go into the vault and kick over a few sacks of +silver, and the thing was done. Halves and quarters and dimes? Not for +Sam Turner. "No chicken feed for me," he would say when they were set +before him. "I'm not in the agricultural department." But, then, +Turner was a Texan, an old friend of the bank's president, and had +known Dorsey since he was a baby. + +While the examiner was counting the cash, Major Thomas B. Kingman-- +known to every one as "Major Tom"--the president of the First +National, drove up to the side door with his old dun horse and buggy, +and came inside. He saw the examiner busy with the money, and, going +into the little "pony corral," as he called it, in which his desk was +railed off, he began to look over his letters. + +Earlier, a little incident had occurred that even the sharp eyes of +the examiner had failed to notice. When he had begun his work at the +cash counter, Mr. Edlinger had winked significantly at Roy Wilson, the +youthful bank messenger, and nodded his head slightly toward the front +door. Roy understood, got his hat, and walked leisurely out, with his +collector's book under his arm. Once outside, he made a bee-line for +the Stockmen's National. That bank was also getting ready to open. No +customers had, as yet, presented themselves. + +"Say, you people!" cried Roy, with the familiarity of youth and long +acquaintance, "you want to get a move on you. There's a new bank +examiner over at the First, and he's a stem-winder. He's counting +nickles on Perry, and he's got the whole outfit bluffed. Mr. Edlinger +gave me the tip to let you know." + +Mr. Buckley, president of the Stockmen's National--a stout, elderly +man, looking like a farmer dressed for Sunday--heard Roy from his +private office at the rear and called him. + +"Has Major Kingman come down to the bank yet?" he asked of the boy. + +"Yes, sir, he was just driving up as I left," said Roy. + +"I want you to take him a note. Put it into his own hands as soon as +you get back." + +Mr. Buckley sat down and began to write. + +Roy returned and handed to Major Kingman the envelope containing the +note. The major read it, folded it, and slipped it into his vest +pocket. He leaned back in his chair for a few moments as if he were +meditating deeply, and then rose and went into the vault. He came out +with the bulky, old-fashioned leather note case stamped on the back in +gilt letters, "Bills Discounted." In this were the notes due the bank +with their attached securities, and the major, in his rough way, +dumped the lot upon his desk and began to sort them over. + +By this time Nettlewick had finished his count of the cash. His pencil +fluttered like a swallow over the sheet of paper on which he had set +his figures. He opened his black wallet, which seemed to be also a +kind of secret memorandum book, made a few rapid figures in it, +wheeled and transfixed Dorsey with the glare of his spectacles. That +look seemed to say: "You're safe this time, but--" + +"Cash all correct," snapped the examiner. He made a dash for the +individual bookkeeper, and, for a few minutes there was a fluttering +of ledger leaves and a sailing of balance sheets through the air. + +"How often do you balance your pass-books?" he demanded, suddenly. + +"Er--once a month," faltered the individual bookkeeper, wondering how +many years they would give him. + +"All right," said the examiner, turning and charging upon the general +bookkeeper, who had the statements of his foreign banks and their +reconcilement memoranda ready. Everything there was found to be all +right. Then the stub book of the certificates of deposit. Flutter-- +flutter--zip--zip--check! All right. List of over-drafts, please. +Thanks. H'm-m. Unsigned bills of the bank, next. All right. + +Then came the cashier's turn, and easy-going Mr. Edlinger rubbed his +nose and polished his glasses nervously under the quick fire of +questions concerning the circulation, undivided profits, bank real +estate, and stock ownership. + +Presently Nettlewick was aware of a big man towering above him at his +elbow--a man sixty years of age, rugged and hale, with a rough, +grizzled beard, a mass of gray hair, and a pair of penetrating blue +eyes that confronted the formidable glasses of the examiner without a +flicker. + +"Er--Major Kingman, our president--er--Mr. Nettlewick," said the +cashier. + +Two men of very different types shook hands. One was a finished +product of the world of straight lines, conventional methods, and +formal affairs. The other was something freer, wider, and nearer to +nature. Tom Kingman had not been cut to any pattern. He had been +mule-driver, cowboy, ranger, soldier, sheriff, prospector, and +cattleman. Now, when he was bank president, his old comrades from the +prairies, of the saddle, tent, and trail found no change in him. He +had made his fortune when Texas cattle were at the high tide of value, +and had organized the First National Bank of San Rosario. In spite of +his largeness of heart and sometimes unwise generosity toward his old +friends, the bank had prospered, for Major Tom Kingman knew men as +well as he knew cattle. Of late years the cattle business had known a +depression, and the major's bank was one of the few whose losses had +not been great. + +"And now," said the examiner, briskly, pulling out his watch, "the +last thing is the loans. We will take them up now, if you please." + +He had gone through the First National at almost record-breaking speed +--but thoroughly, as he did everything. The running order of the bank +was smooth and clean, and that had facilitated his work. There was but +one other bank in the town. He received from the Government a fee of +twenty-five dollars for each bank that he examined. He should be able +to go over those loans and discounts in half an hour. If so, he could +examine the other bank immediately afterward, and catch the 11.45, the +only other train that day in the direction he was working. Otherwise, +he would have to spend the night and Sunday in this uninteresting +Western town. That was why Mr. Nettlewick was rushing matters. + +"Come with me, sir," said Major Kingman, in his deep voice, that +united the Southern drawl with the rhythmic twang of the West; "We +will go over them together. Nobody in the bank knows those notes as I +do. Some of 'em are a little wobbly on their legs, and some are +mavericks without extra many brands on their backs, but they'll most +all pay out at the round-up." + +The two sat down at the president's desk. First, the examiner went +through the notes at lightning speed, and added up their total, +finding it to agree with the amount of loans carried on the book of +daily balances. Next, he took up the larger loans, inquiring +scrupulously into the condition of their endorsers or securities. The +new examiner's mind seemed to course and turn and make unexpected +dashes hither and thither like a bloodhound seeking a trail. Finally +he pushed aside all the notes except a few, which he arranged in a +neat pile before him, and began a dry, formal little speech. + +"I find, sir, the condition of your bank to be very good, considering +the poor crops and the depression in the cattle interests of your +state. The clerical work seems to be done accurately and punctually. +Your past-due paper is moderate in amount, and promises only a small +loss. I would recommend the calling in of your large loans, and the +making of only sixty and ninety day or call loans until general +business revives. And now, there is one thing more, and I will have +finished with the bank. Here are six notes aggregating something like +$40,000. They are secured, according to their faces, by various +stocks, bonds, shares, etc. to the value of $70,000. Those securities +are missing from the notes to which they should be attached. I suppose +you have them in the safe or vault. You will permit me to examine +them." + +Major Tom's light-blue eyes turned unflinchingly toward the examiner. + +"No, sir," he said, in a low but steady tone; "those securities are +neither in the safe nor in the vault. I have taken them. You may hold +me personally responsible for their absence." + +Nettlewick felt a slight thrill. He had not expected this. He had +struck a momentous trail when the hunt was drawing to a close. + +"Ah!" said the examiner. He waited a moment, and then continued: "May +I ask you to explain more definitely?" + +"The securities were taken by me," repeated the major. "It was not for +my own use, but to save an old friend in trouble. Come in here, sir, +and we'll talk it over." + +He led the examiner into the bank's private office at the rear, and +closed the door. There was a desk, and a table, and half-a-dozen +leather-covered chairs. On the wall was the mounted head of a Texas +steer with horns five feet from tip to tip. Opposite hung the major's +old cavalry saber that he had carried at Shiloh and Fort Pillow. + +Placing a chair for Nettlewick, the major seated himself by the +window, from which he could see the post-office and the carved +limestone front of the Stockmen's National. He did not speak at once, +and Nettlewick felt, perhaps, that the ice could be broken by +something so near its own temperature as the voice of official +warning. + +"Your statement," he began, "since you have failed to modify it, +amounts, as you must know, to a very serious thing. You are aware, +also, of what my duty must compel me to do. I shall have to go before +the United States Commissioner and make--" + +"I know, I know," said Major Tom, with a wave of his hand. "You don't +suppose I'd run a bank without being posted on national banking laws +and the revised statutes! Do your duty. I'm not asking any favours. +But, I spoke of my friend. I did want you to hear me tell you about +Bob." + +Nettlewick settled himself in his chair. There would be no leaving San +Rosario for him that day. He would have to telegraph to the +Comptroller of the Currency; he would have to swear out a warrant +before the United States Commissioner for the arrest of Major Kingman; +perhaps he would be ordered to close the bank on account of the loss +of the securities. It was not the first crime the examiner had +unearthed. Once or twice the terrible upheaval of human emotions that +his investigations had loosed had almost caused a ripple in his +official calm. He had seen bank men kneel and plead and cry like women +for a chance--an hour's time--the overlooking of a single error. One +cashier had shot himself at his desk before him. None of them had +taken it with the dignity and coolness of this stern old Westerner. +Nettlewick felt that he owed it to him at least to listen if he wished +to talk. With his elbow on the arm of his chair, and his square chin +resting upon the fingers of his right hand, the bank examiner waited +to hear the confession of the president of the First National Bank of +San Rosario. + +"When a man's your friend," began Major Tom, somewhat didactically, +"for forty years, and tried by water, fire, earth, and cyclones, when +you can do him a little favour you feel like doing it." + +("Embezzle for him $70,000 worth of securities," thought the +examiner.) + +"We were cowboys together, Bob and I," continued the major, speaking +slowly, and deliberately, and musingly, as if his thoughts were rather +with the past than the critical present, "and we prospected together +for gold and silver over Arizona, New Mexico, and a good part of +California. We were both in the war of 'sixty-one, but in different +commands. We've fought Indians and horse-thieves side by side; we've +starved for weeks in a cabin in the Arizona mountains, buried twenty +feet deep in snow; we've ridden herd together when the wind blew so +hard the lightning couldn't strike--well, Bob and I have been through +some rough spells since the first time we met in the branding camp of +the old Anchor-Bar ranch. And during that time we've found it +necessary more than once to help each other out of tight places. In +those days it was expected of a man to stick to his friend, and he +didn't ask any credit for it. Probably next day you'd need him to get +at your back and help stand off a band of Apaches, or put a tourniquet +on your leg above a rattlesnake bite and ride for whisky. So, after +all, it was give and take, and if you didn't stand square with your +pardner, why, you might be shy one when you needed him. But Bob was a +man who was willing to go further than that. He never played a limit. + +"Twenty years ago I was sheriff of this country, and I made Bob my +chief deputy. That was before the boom in cattle when we both made our +stake. I was sheriff and collector, and it was a big thing for me +then. I was married, and we had a boy and a girl--a four and a six +year old. There was a comfortable house next to the courthouse, +furnished by the county, rent free, and I was saving some money. Bob +did most of the office work. Both of us had seen rough times and +plenty of rustling and danger, and I tell you it was great to hear the +rain and the sleet dashing against the windows of nights, and be warm +and safe and comfortable, and know you could get up in the morning and +be shaved and have folks call you 'mister.' And then, I had the finest +wife and kids that ever struck the range, and my old friend with me +enjoying the first fruits of prosperity and white shirts, and I guess +I was happy. Yes, I was happy about that time." + +The major sighed and glanced casually out of the window. The bank +examiner changed his position, and leaned his chin upon his other +hand. + +"One winter," continued the major, "the money for the county taxes +came pouring in so fast that I didn't have time to take the stuff to +the bank for a week. I just shoved the checks into a cigar box and the +money into a sack, and locked them in the big safe that belonged to +the sheriff's office. + +"I had been overworked that week, and was about sick, anyway. My +nerves were out of order, and my sleep at night didn't seem to rest +me. The doctor had some scientific name for it, and I was taking +medicine. And so, added to the rest, I went to bed at night with that +money on my mind. Not that there was much need of being worried, for +the safe was a good one, and nobody but Bob and I knew the +combination. On Friday night there was about $6,500 in cash in the +bag. On Saturday morning I went to the office as usual. The safe was +locked, and Bob was writing at his desk. I opened the safe, and the +money was gone. I called Bob, and roused everybody in the court-house +to announce the robbery. It struck me that Bob took it pretty quiet, +considering how much it reflected upon both him and me. + +"Two days went by and we never got a clew. It couldn't have been +burglars, for the safe had been opened by the combination in the +proper way. People must have begun to talk, for one afternoon in comes +Alice--that's my wife--and the boy and girl, and Alice stamps her +foot, and her eyes flash, and she cries out, 'The lying wretches--Tom, +Tom!' and I catch her in a faint, and bring her 'round little by +little, and she lays her head down and cries and cries for the first +time since she took Tom Kingman's name and fortunes. And Jack and +Zilla--the youngsters--they were always wild as tiger cubs to rush +over Bob and climb all over him whenever they were allowed to come to +the court-house--they stood and kicked their little shoes, and herded +together like scared partridges. They were having their first trip +down into the shadows of life. Bob was working at his desk, and he got +up and went out without a word. The grand jury was in session then, +and the next morning Bob went before them and confessed that he stole +the money. He said he lost it in a poker game. In fifteen minutes they +had found a true bill and sent me the warrant to arrest the man with +whom I'd been closer than a thousand brothers for many a year. + +"I did it, and then I said to Bob, pointing: 'There's my house, and +here's my office, and up there's Maine, and out that way is +California, and over there is Florida--and that's your range 'til +court meets. You're in my charge, and I take the responsibility. You +be here when you're wanted.' + +"'Thanks, Tom,' he said, kind of carelessly; 'I was sort of hoping you +wouldn't lock me up. Court meets next Monday, so, if you don't object, +I'll just loaf around the office until then. I've got one favour to +ask, if it isn't too much. If you'd let the kids come out in the yard +once in a while and have a romp I'd like it.' + +"'Why not?' I answered him. 'They're welcome, and so are you. And come +to my house, the same as ever.' You see, Mr. Nettlewick, you can't +make a friend of a thief, but neither can you make a thief of a +friend, all at once." + +The examiner made no answer. At that moment was heard the shrill +whistle of a locomotive pulling into the depot. That was the train on +the little, narrow-gauge road that struck into San Rosario from the +south. The major cocked his ear and listened for a moment, and looked +at his watch. The narrow-gauge was in on time--10.35. The major +continued: + +"So Bob hung around the office, reading the papers and smoking. I put +another deputy to work in his place, and after a while, the first +excitement of the case wore off. + +"One day when we were alone in the office Bob came over to where I was +sitting. He looked sort of grim and blue--the same look he used to get +when he'd been up watching for Indians all night or herd-riding. + +"'Tom,' says he, 'it's harder than standing off redskins; it's harder +than lying in the lava desert forty miles from water; but I'm going to +stick it out to the end. You know that's been my style. But if you'd +tip me the smallest kind of a sign--if you'd just say, "Bob I +understand," why, it would make it lots easier.' + +"I was surprised. 'I don't know what you mean, Bob,' I said. 'Of +course, you know that I'd do anything under the sun to help you that I +could. But you've got me guessing.' + +"'All right, Tom,' was all he said, and he went back to his newspaper +and lit another cigar. + +"It was the night before court met when I found out what he meant. I +went to bed that night with that same old, light-headed, nervous +feeling come back upon me. I dropped off to sleep about midnight. When +I awoke I was standing half dressed in one of the court-house +corridors. Bob was holding one of my arms, our family doctor the +other, and Alice was shaking me and half crying. She had sent for the +doctor without my knowing it, and when he came they had found me out +of bed and missing, and had begun a search. + +"'Sleep-walking,' said the doctor. + +"All of us went back to the house, and the doctor told us some +remarkable stories about the strange things people had done while in +that condition. I was feeling rather chilly after my trip out, and, as +my wife was out of the room at the time, I pulled open the door of an +old wardrobe that stood in the room and dragged out a big quilt I had +seen in there. With it tumbled out the bag of money for stealing which +Bob was to be tried--and convicted--in the morning. + +"'How the jumping rattlesnakes did that get there?' I yelled, and all +hands must have seen how surprised I was. Bob knew in a flash. + +"'You darned old snoozer,' he said, with the old-time look on his +face, 'I saw you put it there. I watched you open the safe and take it +out, and I followed you. I looked through the window and saw you hide +it in that wardrobe.' + +"'Then, you blankety-blank, flop-eared, sheep-headed coyote, what did +you say you took it, for?' + +"'Because,' said Bob, simply, 'I didn't know you were asleep.' + +"I saw him glance toward the door of the room where Jack and Zilla +were, and I knew then what it meant to be a man's friend from Bob's +point of view." + +Major Tom paused, and again directed his glance out of the window. He +saw some one in the Stockmen's National Bank reach and draw a yellow +shade down the whole length of its plate-glass, big front window, +although the position of the sun did not seem to warrant such a +defensive movement against its rays. + +Nettlewick sat up straight in his chair. He had listened patiently, +but without consuming interest, to the major's story. It had impressed +him as irrelevant to the situation, and it could certainly have no +effect upon the consequences. Those Western people, he thought, had an +exaggerated sentimentality. They were not business-like. They needed +to be protected from their friends. Evidently the major had concluded. +And what he had said amounted to nothing. + +"May I ask," said the examiner, "if you have anything further to say +that bears directly upon the question of those abstracted securities?" + +"Abstracted securities, sir!" Major Tom turned suddenly in his chair, +his blue eyes flashing upon the examiner. "What do you mean, sir?" + +He drew from his coat pocket a batch of folded papers held together by +a rubber band, tossed them into Nettlewick's hands, and rose to his +feet. + +"You'll find those securities there, sir, every stock, bond, and share +of 'em. I took them from the notes while you were counting the cash. +Examine and compare them for yourself." + +The major led the way back into the banking room. The examiner, +astounded, perplexed, nettled, at sea, followed. He felt that he had +been made the victim of something that was not exactly a hoax, but +that left him in the shoes of one who had been played upon, used, and +then discarded, without even an inkling of the game. Perhaps, also, +his official position had been irreverently juggled with. But there +was nothing he could take hold of. An official report of the matter +would be an absurdity. And, somehow, he felt that he would never know +anything more about the matter than he did then. + +Frigidly, mechanically, Nettlewick examined the securities, found them +to tally with the notes, gathered his black wallet, and rose to +depart. + +"I will say," he protested, turning the indignant glare of his glasses +upon Major Kingman, "that your statements--your misleading statements, +which you have not condescended to explain--do not appear to be quite +the thing, regarded either as business or humour. I do not understand +such motives or actions." + +Major Tom looked down at him serenely and not unkindly. + +"Son," he said, "there are plenty of things in the chaparral, and on +the prairies, and up the canyons that you don't understand. But I want +to thank you for listening to a garrulous old man's prosy story. We +old Texans love to talk about our adventures and our old comrades, and +the home folks have long ago learned to run when we begin with 'Once +upon a time,' so we have to spin our yarns to the stranger within our +gates." + +The major smiled, but the examiner only bowed coldly, and abruptly +quitted the bank. They saw him travel diagonally across the street in +a straight line and enter the Stockmen's National Bank. + +Major Tom sat down at his desk, and drew from his vest pocket the note +Roy had given him. He had read it once, but hurriedly, and now, with +something like a twinkle in his eyes, he read it again. These were the +words he read: + + Dear Tom: + + I hear there's one of Uncle Sam's grayhounds going through you, + and that means that we'll catch him inside of a couple of hours, + maybe. Now, I want you to do something for me. We've got just + $2,200 in the bank, and the law requires that we have $20,000. I + let Ross and Fisher have $18,000 late yesterday afternoon to buy + up that Gibson bunch of cattle. They'll realise $40,000 in less + than thirty days on the transaction, but that won't make my cash + on hand look any prettier to that bank examiner. Now, I can't show + him those notes, for they're just plain notes of hand without any + security in sight, but you know very well that Pink Ross and Jim + Fisher are two of the finest white men God ever made, and they'll + do the square thing. You remember Jim Fisher--he was the one who + shot that faro dealer in El Paso. I wired Sam Bradshaw's bank to + send me $20,000, and it will get in on the narrow-gauge at 10.35. + You can't let a bank examiner in to count $2,200 and close your + doors. Tom, you hold that examiner. Hold him. Hold him if you have + to rope him and sit on his head. Watch our front window after the + narrow-gauge gets in, and when we've got the cash inside we'll + pull down the shade for a signal. Don't turn him loose till then. + I'm counting on you, Tom. + +Your Old Pard, +Bob Buckly, +/Prest. Stockmen's National/. + + +The major began to tear the note into small pieces and throw them into +his waste basket. He gave a satisfied chuckle as he did so. + +"Confounded old reckless cowpuncher!" he growled, contentedly, "that +pays him some on account for what he tried to do for me in the +sheriff's office twenty years ago." + + + +XIII + +THE FOURTH IN SALVADOR + +On a summer's day, while the city was rocking with the din and red +uproar of patriotism, Billy Casparis told me this story. + +In his way, Billy is Ulysses, Jr. Like Satan, he comes from going to +and fro upon the earth and walking up and down in it. To-morrow +morning while you are cracking your breakfast egg he may be off with +his little alligator grip to boom a town site in the middle of Lake +Okeechobee or to trade horses with the Patagonians. + +We sat at a little, round table, and between us were glasses holding +big lumps of ice, and above us leaned an artificial palm. And because +our scene was set with the properties of the one they recalled to his +mind, Billy was stirred to narrative. + +"It reminds me," said he, "of a Fourth I helped to celebrate down in +Salvador. 'Twas while I was running an ice factory down there, after I +unloaded that silver mine I had in Colorado. I had what they called a +'conditional concession.' They made me put up a thousand dollars cash +forfeit that I would make ice continuously for six months. If I did +that I could draw down my ante. If I failed to do so the government +took the pot. So the inspectors kept dropping in, trying to catch me +without the goods. + +"One day when the thermometer was at 110, the clock at half-past one, +and the calendar at July third, two of the little, brown, oily nosers +in red trousers slid in to make an inspection. Now, the factory hadn't +turned out a pound of ice in three weeks, for a couple of reasons. The +Salvador heathen wouldn't buy it; they said it make things cold they +put it in. And I couldn't make any more, because I was broke. All I +was holding on for was to get down my thousand so I could leave the +country. The six months would be up on the sixth of July. + +"Well, I showed 'em all the ice I had. I raised the lid of a darkish +vat, and there was an elegant 100-pound block of ice, beautiful and +convincing to the eye. I was about to close down the lid again when +one of those brunette sleuths flops down on his red knees and lays a +slanderous and violent hand on my guarantee of good faith. And in two +minutes more they had dragged out on the floor that fine chunk of +molded glass that had cost me fifty dollars to have shipped down from +Frisco. + +"'Ice-y?' says the fellow that played me the dishonourable trick; +'verree warm ice-y. Yes. The day is that hot, senor. Yes. Maybeso it +is of desirableness to leave him out to get the cool. Yes.' + +"'Yes,' says I, 'yes,' for I knew they had me. 'Touching's believing, +ain't it, boys? Yes. Now there's some might say the seats of your +trousers are sky blue, but 'tis my opinion they are red. Let's apply +the tests of the laying on of hands and feet.' And so I hoisted both +those inspectors out the door on the toe of my shoe, and sat down to +cool off on my block of disreputable glass. + +"And, as I live without oats, while I sat there, homesick for money +and without a cent to my ambition, there came on the breeze the most +beautiful smell my nose had entered for a year. God knows where it +came from in that backyard of a country--it was a bouquet of soaked +lemon peel, cigar stumps, and stale beer--exactly the smell of +Goldbrick Charley's place on Fourteenth Street where I used to play +pinochle of afternoons with the third-rate actors. And that smell +drove my troubles through me and clinched 'em at the back. I began to +long for my country and feel sentiments about it; and I said words +about Salvador that you wouldn't think could come legitimate out of an +ice factory. + +"And while I was sitting there, down through the blazing sunshine in +his clean, white clothes comes Maximilian Jones, an American +interested in rubber and rosewood. + +"'Great carrambos!' says I, when he stepped in, for I was in a bad +temper, 'didn't I have catastrophes enough? I know what you want. You +want to tell me that story again about Johnny Ammiger and the widow on +the train. You've told it nine times already this month.' + +"'It must be the heat,' says Jones, stopping in at the door, amazed. +'Poor Billy. He's got bugs. Sitting on ice, and calling his best +friends pseudonyms. Hi!--/muchacho/!' Jones called my force of +employees, who was sitting in the sun, playing with his toes, and told +him to put on his trousers and run for the doctor. + +"'Come back,' says I. 'Sit down, Maxy, and forget it. 'Tis not ice you +see, nor a lunatic upon it. 'Tis only an exile full of homesickness +sitting on a lump of glass that's just cost him a thousand dollars. +Now, what was it Johnny said to the widow first? I'd like to hear it +again, Maxy--honest. Don't mind what I said.' + +"Maximilian Jones and I sat down and talked. He was about as sick of +the country as I was, for the grafters were squeezing him for half the +profits of his rosewood and rubber. Down in the bottom of a tank of +water I had a dozen bottles of sticky Frisco beer; and I fished these +up, and we fell to talking about home and the flag and Hail Columbia +and home-fried potatoes; and the drivel we contributed would have +sickened any man enjoying those blessings. But at that time we were +out of 'em. You can't appreciate home till you've left it, money till +it's spent, your wife till she's joined a woman's club, nor Old Glory +till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of a consul in a +foreign town. + +"And sitting there me and Maximilian Jones, scratching at our prickly +heat and kicking at the lizards on the floor, became afflicted with a +dose of patriotism and affection for our country. There was me, Billy +Casparis, reduced from a capitalist to a pauper by over-addiction to +my glass (in the lump), declares my troubles off for the present and +myself to be an uncrowned sovereign of the greatest country on earth. +And Maximilian Jones pours out whole drug stores of his wrath on +oligarchies and potentates in red trousers and calico shoes. And we +issues a declaration of interference in which we guarantee that the +fourth day of July shall be celebrated in Salvador with all the kinds +of salutes, explosions, honours of war, oratory, and liquids known to +tradition. Yes, neither me nor Jones breathed with soul so dead. There +shall be rucuses in Salvador, we say, and the monkeys had better climb +the tallest cocoanut trees and the fire department get out its red +sashes and two tin buckets. + +"About this time into the factory steps a native man incriminated by +the name of General Mary Esperanza Dingo. He was some pumpkin both in +politics and colour, and the friend of me and Jones. He was full of +politeness and a kind of intelligence, having picked up the latter and +managed to preserve the former during a two years' residence in +Philadelphia studying medicine. For a Salvadorian he was not such a +calamitous little man, though he always would play jack, queen, king, +ace, deuce for a straight. + +"General Mary sits with us and has a bottle. While he was in the +States he had acquired a synopsis of the English language and the art +of admiring our institutions. By and by the General gets up and +tiptoes to the doors and windows and other stage entrances, remarking +'Hist!' at each one. They all do that in Salvador before they ask for +a drink of water or the time of day, being conspirators from the +cradle and matinee idols by proclamation. + +"'Hist!' says General Dingo again, and then he lays his chest on the +table quite like Gaspard the Miser. 'Good friends, senores, to-morrow +will be the great day of Liberty and Independence. The hearts of +Americans and Salvadorians should beat together. Of your history and +your great Washington I know. Is it not so?' + +"Now, me and Jones thought that nice of the General to remember when +the Fourth came. It made us feel good. He must have heard the news +going round in Philadelphia about that disturbance we had with +England. + +"'Yes,' says me and Maxy together, 'we knew it. We were talking about +it when you came in. And you can bet your bottom concession that +there'll be fuss and feathers in the air to-morrow. We are few in +numbers, but the welkin may as well reach out to push the button, for +it's got to ring.' + +"'I, too, shall assist,' says the General, thumping his collar-bone. +'I, too, am on the side of Liberty. Noble Americans, we will make the +day one to be never forgotten.' + +"'For us American whisky,' says Jones--'none of your Scotch smoke or +anisada or Three Star Hennessey to-morrow. We'll borrow the consul's +flag; old man Billfinger shall make orations, and we'll have a +barbecue on the plaza.' + +"'Fireworks,' says I, 'will be scarce; but we'll have all the +cartridges in the shops for our guns. I've got two navy sixes I +brought from Denver.' + +"'There is one cannon,' said the General; 'one big cannon that will go +"BOOM!" And three hundred men with rifles to shoot.' + +"'Oh, say!' says Jones, 'Generalissimo, you're the real silk elastic. +We'll make it a joint international celebration. Please, General, get +a white horse and a blue sash and be grand marshal.' + +"'With my sword,' says the General, rolling his eyes. 'I shall ride at +the head of the brave men who gather in the name of Liberty.' + +"'And you might,' we suggest 'see the commandante and advise him that +we are going to prize things up a bit. We Americans, you know, are +accustomed to using municipal regulations for gun wadding when we line +up to help the eagle scream. He might suspend the rules for one day. +We don't want to get in the calaboose for spanking his soldiers if +they get in our way, do you see?' + +"'Hist!' says General Mary. 'The commandant is with us, heart and +soul. He will aid us. He is one of us.' + +"We made all the arrangements that afternoon. There was a buck coon +from Georgia in Salvador who had drifted down there from a busted-up +coloured colony that had been started on some possumless land in +Mexico. As soon as he heard us say 'barbecue' he wept for joy and +groveled on the ground. He dug his trench on the plaza, and got half a +beef on the coals for an all-night roast. Me and Maxy went to see the +rest of the Americans in the town and they all sizzled like a seidlitz +with joy at the idea of solemnizing an old-time Fourth. + +"There were six of us all together--Martin Dillard, a coffee planter; +Henry Barnes, a railroad man; old man Billfinger, an educated tintype +taker; me and Jonesy, and Jerry, the boss of the barbecue. There was +also an Englishman in town named Sterrett, who was there to write a +book on Domestic Architecture of the Insect World. We felt some +bashfulness about inviting a Britisher to help crow over his own +country, but we decided to risk it, out of our personal regard for +him. + +"We found Sterrett in pajamas working at his manuscript with a bottle +of brandy for a paper weight. + +"'Englishman,' says Jones, 'let us interrupt your disquisition on bug +houses for a moment. To-morrow is the Fourth of July. We don't want to +hurt your feelings, but we're going to commemorate the day when we +licked you by a little refined debauchery and nonsense--something that +can be heard above five miles off. If you are broad-gauged enough to +taste whisky at your own wake, we'd be pleased to have you join us.' + +"'Do you know,' says Sterrett, setting his glasses on his nose, 'I +like your cheek in asking me if I'll join you; blast me if I don't. +You might have known I would, without asking. Not as a traitor to my +own country, but for the intrinsic joy of a blooming row.' + +"On the morning of the Fourth I woke up in that old shanty of an ice +factory feeling sore. I looked around at the wreck of all I possessed, +and my heart was full of bile. From where I lay on my cot I could look +through the window and see the consul's old ragged Stars and Stripes +hanging over his shack. 'You're all kinds of a fool, Billy Casparis,' +I said to myself; 'and of all your crimes against sense it does look +like this idea of celebrating the Fourth should receive the award of +demerit. Your business is busted up, your thousand dollars is gone +into the kitty of this corrupt country on that last bluff you made, +you've got just fifteen Chili dollars left, worth forty-six cents each +at bedtime last night and steadily going down. To-day you'll blow in +your last cent hurrahing for that flag, and to-morrow you'll be living +on bananas from the stalk and screwing your drinks out of your +friends. What's the flag done for you? While you were under it you +worked for what you got. You wore your finger nails down skinning +suckers, and salting mines, and driving bears and alligators off your +town lot additions. How much does patriotism count for on deposit with +the little man with the green eye-shade in the savings-bank adds up +your book? Suppose you were to get pinched over here in this +irreligious country for some little crime or other, and appealed to +your country for protection--what would it do for you? Turn your +appeal over to a committee of one railroad man, an army officer, a +member of each labour union, and a coloured man to investigate whether +any of your ancestors were ever related to a cousin of Mark Hanna, and +then file the papers in the Smithsonian Institution until after the +next election. That's the kind of a sidetrack the Stars and Stripes +would switch you onto.' + +"You can see that I was feeling like an indigo plant; but after I +washed my face in some cool water, and got out my navys and +ammunition, and started up to the Saloon of the Immaculate Saints +where we were to meet, I felt better. And when I saw those other +American boys come swaggering into the trysting place--cool, easy, +conspicuous fellows, ready to risk any kind of a one-card draw, or to +fight grizzlies, fire, or extradition, I began to feel glad I was one +of 'em. So, I says to myself again: 'Billy, you've got fifteen dollars +and a country left this morning--blow in the dollars and blow up the +town as an American gentleman should on Independence Day.' + +"It is my recollection that we began the day along conventional lines. +The six of us--for Sterrett was along--made progress among the +cantinas, divesting the bars as we went of all strong drink bearing +American labels. We kept informing the atmosphere as to the glory and +preeminence of the United States and its ability to subdue, outjump, +and eradicate the other nations of the earth. And, as the findings of +American labels grew more plentiful, we became more contaminated with +patriotism. Maximilian Jones hopes that our late foe, Mr. Sterrett, +will not take offense at our enthusiasm. He sets down his bottle and +shakes Sterrett's hand. 'As white man to white man,' says he, 'denude +our uproar of the slightest taint of personality. Excuse us for Bunker +Hill, Patrick Henry, and Waldorf Astor, and such grievances as might +lie between us as nations.' + +"'Fellow hoodlums,' says Sterrett, 'on behalf of the Queen I ask you +to cheese it. It is an honour to be a guest at disturbing the peace +under the American flag. Let us chant the passionate strains of +"Yankee Doodle" while the senor behind the bar mitigates the occasion +with another round of cochineal and aqua fortis.' + +"Old Man Billfinger, being charged with a kind of rhetoric, makes +speeches every time we stop. We explained to such citizens as we +happened to step on that we were celebrating the dawn of our own +private brand of liberty, and to please enter such inhumanities as we +might commit on the list of unavoidable casualties. + +"About eleven o'clock our bulletins read: 'A considerable rise in +temperature, accompanied by thirst and other alarming symptoms.' We +hooked arms and stretched our line across the narrow streets, all of +us armed with Winchesters and navys for purposes of noise and without +malice. We stopped on a street corner and fired a dozen or so rounds, +and began a serial assortment of United States whoops and yells, +probably the first ever heard in that town. + +"When we made that noise things began to liven up. We heard a +pattering up a side street, and here came General Mary Esperanza Dingo +on a white horse with a couple of hundred brown boys following him in +red undershirts and bare feet, dragging guns ten feet long. Jones and +me had forgot all about General Mary and his promise to help us +celebrate. We fired another salute and gave another yell, while the +General shook hands with us and waved his sword. + +"'Oh, General,' shouts Jones, 'this is great. This will be a real +pleasure to the eagle. Get down and have a drink.' + +"'Drink?' says the general. 'No. There is no time to drink. /Vive la +Libertad/!' + +"'Don't forget /E Pluribus Unum/!' says Henry Barnes. + +"'/Viva/ it good and strong,' says I. 'Likewise, /viva/ George +Washington. God save the Union, and,' I says, bowing to Sterrett, +'don't discard the Queen.' + +"'Thanks,' says Sterrett. 'The next round's mine. All in to the bar. +Army, too.' + +"But we were deprived of Sterrett's treat by a lot of gunshots several +square sway, which General Dingo seemed to think he ought to look +after. He spurred his old white plug up that way, and the soldiers +scuttled along after him. + +"'Mary is a real tropical bird,' says Jones. 'He's turned out the +infantry to help us to honour to the Fourth. We'll get that cannon he +spoke of after a while and fire some window-breakers with it. But just +now I want some of that barbecued beef. Let us on to the plaza.' + +"There we found the meat gloriously done, and Jerry waiting, anxious. +We sat around on the grass, and got hunks of it on our tin plates. +Maximilian Jones, always made tender-hearted by drink, cried some +because George Washington couldn't be there to enjoy the day. 'There +was a man I love, Billy,' he says, weeping on my shoulder. 'Poor +George! To think he's gone, and missed the fireworks. A little more +salt, please, Jerry.' + +"From what we could hear, General Dingo seemed to be kindly +contributing some noise while we feasted. There were guns going off +around town, and pretty soon we heard that cannon go 'BOOM!' just as +he said it would. And then men began to skin along the edge of the +plaza, dodging in among the orange trees and houses. We certainly had +things stirred up in Salvador. We felt proud of the occasion and +grateful to General Dingo. Sterrett was about to take a bite off a +juicy piece of rib when a bullet took it away from his mouth. + +"'Somebody's celebrating with ball cartridges,' says he, reaching for +another piece. 'Little over-zealous for a non-resident patriot, isn't +it?' + +"'Don't mind it,' I says to him. ''Twas an accident. They happen, you +know, on the Fourth. After one reading of the Declaration of +Independence in New York I've known the S.R.O. sign to be hung out at +all the hospitals and police stations.' + +"But then Jerry gives a howl and jumps up with one hand clapped to the +back of his leg where another bullet has acted over-zealous. And then +comes a quantity of yells, and round a corner and across the plaza +gallops General Mary Esperanza Dingo embracing the neck of his horse, +with his men running behind him, mostly dropping their guns by way of +discharging ballast. And chasing 'em all is a company of feverish +little warriors wearing blue trousers and caps. + +"'Assistance, amigos,' the General shouts, trying to stop his horse. +'Assistance, in the name of Liberty!' + +"'That's the Campania Azul, the President's bodyguard,' says Jones. +'What a shame! They've jumped on poor old Mary just because he was +helping us to celebrate. Come on, boys, it's our Fourth;--do we let +that little squad of A.D.T's break it up?' + +"'I vote No,' says Martin Dillard, gathering his Winchester. 'It's the +privilege of an American citizen to drink, drill, dress up, and be +dreadful on the Fourth of July, no matter whose country he's in.' + +"'Fellow citizens!' says old man Billfinger, 'In the darkest hour of +Freedom's birth, when our brave forefathers promulgated the principles +of undying liberty, they never expected that a bunch of blue jays like +that should be allowed to bust up an anniversary. Let us preserve and +protect the Constitution.' + +"We made it unanimous, and then we gathered our guns and assaulted the +blue troops in force. We fired over their heads, and then charged 'em +with a yell, and they broke and ran. We were irritated at having our +barbecue disturbed, and we chased 'em a quarter of a mile. Some of 'em +we caught and kicked hard. The General rallied his troops and joined +in the chase. Finally they scattered in a thick banana grove, and we +couldn't flush a single one. So we sat down and rested. + +"If I were to be put, severe, through the third degree, I wouldn't be +able to tell much about the rest of the day. I mind that we pervaded +the town considerable, calling upon the people to bring out more +armies for us to destroy. I remember seeing a crowd somewhere, and a +tall man that wasn't Billfinger making a Fourth of July speech from a +balcony. And that was about all. + +"Somebody must have hauled the old ice factory up to where I was, and +put it around me, for there's where I was when I woke up the next +morning. As soon as I could recollect by name and address I got up and +held an inquest. My last cent was gone. I was all in. + +"And then a neat black carriage drives to the door, and out steps +General Dingo and a bay man in a silk hat and tan shoes. + +"'Yes,' says I to myself, 'I see it now. You're the Chief de Policeos +and High Lord Chamberlain of the Calaboosum; and you want Billy +Casparis for excess of patriotism and assault with intent. All right. +Might as well be in jail, anyhow.' + +"But it seems that General Mary is smiling, and the bay man shakes my +hand, and speaks in the American dialect. + +"'General Dingo has informed me, Senor Casparis, of your gallant +service in our cause. I desire to thank you with my person. The +bravery of you and the other senores Americanos turned the struggle +for liberty in our favour. Our party triumphed. The terrible battle +will live forever in history. + +"'Battle?' says I; 'what battle?' and I ran my mind back along +history, trying to think. + +"'Senor Casparis is modest,' says General Dingo. 'He led his brave +compadres into the thickest of the fearful conflict. Yes. Without +their aid the revolution would have failed.' + +"'Why, now,' says I, 'don't tell me there was a revolution yesterday. +That was only a Fourth of--' + +"But right there I abbreviated. It seemed to me it might be best. + +"'After the terrible struggle,' says the bay man, 'President Bolano +was forced to fly. To-day Caballo is President by proclamation. Ah, +yes. Beneath the new administration I am the head of the Department of +Mercantile Concessions. On my file I find one report, Senor Casparis, +that you have not made ice in accord with your contract.' And here the +bay man smiles at me, 'cute. + +"'Oh, well,' says I, 'I guess the report's straight. I know they +caught me. That's all there is to it.' + +"'Do not say so,' says the bay man. He pulls off a glove and goes over +and lays his hand on that chunk of glass. + +"'Ice,' says he, nodding his head, solemn. + +"General Dingo also steps over and feels of it. + +"'Ice,' says the General; 'I'll swear to it.' + +"'If Senor Casparis,' says the bay man, 'will present himself to the +treasury on the sixth day of this month he will receive back the +thousand dollars he did deposit as a forfeit. Adios, senor.' + +"The General and the bay man bowed themselves out, and I bowed as +often as they did. + +"And when the carriage rolls away through the sand I bows once more, +deeper than ever, till my hat touches the ground. But this time 'twas +not intended for them. For, over their heads, I saw the old flag +fluttering in the breeze above the consul's roof; and 'twas to it I +made my profoundest salute." + + + +XIV + +THE EMANCIPATION OF BILLY + +In the old, old, square-porticoed mansion, with the wry window- +shutters and the paint peeling off in discoloured flakes, lived one of +the last war governors. + +The South has forgotten the enmity of the great conflict, but it +refuses to abandon its old traditions and idols. In "Governor" +Pemberton, as he was still fondly called, the inhabitants of Elmville +saw the relic of their state's ancient greatness and glory. In his day +he had been a man large in the eye of his country. His state had +pressed upon him every honour within its gift. And now when he was +old, and enjoying a richly merited repose outside the swift current of +public affairs, his townsmen loved to do him reverence for the sake of +the past. + +The Governor's decaying "mansion" stood upon the main street of +Elmville within a few feet of its rickety paling-fence. Every morning +the Governor would descend the steps with extreme care and +deliberation--on account of his rheumatism--and then the click of his +gold-headed cane would be heard as he slowly proceeded up the rugged +brick sidewalk. He was now nearly seventy-eight, but he had grown old +gracefully and beautifully. His rather long, smooth hair and flowing, +parted whiskers were snow-white. His full-skirted frock-croak was +always buttoned snugly about his tall, spare figure. He wore a high, +well-kept silk hat--known as a "plug" in Elmville--and nearly always +gloves. His manners were punctilious, and somewhat overcharged with +courtesy. + +The Governor's walks up Lee Avenue, the principal street, developed in +their course into a sort of memorial, triumphant procession. Everyone +he met saluted him with profound respect. Many would remove their +hats. Those who were honoured with his personal friendship would pause +to shake hands, and then you would see exemplified the genuine /beau +ideal/ Southern courtesy. + +Upon reaching the corner of the second square from the mansion, the +Governor would pause. Another street crossed the venue there, and +traffic, to the extent of several farmers' wagons and a peddler's cart +or two, would rage about the junction. Then the falcon eye of General +Deffenbaugh would perceive the situation, and the General would +hasten, with ponderous solicitude, from his office in the First +National Bank building to the assistance of his old friend. + +When the two exchanged greetings the decay of modern manners would +become accusingly apparent. The General's bulky and commanding figure +would bend lissomely at a point where you would have regarded its +ability to do so with incredulity. The Governor would take the +General's arm and be piloted safely between the hay-wagons and the +sprinkling-cart to the other side of the street. Proceeding to the +post-office in the care of his friend, the esteemed statesmen would +there hold an informal levee among the citizens who were come for +their morning mail. Here, gathering two or three prominent in law, +politics, or family, the pageant would make a stately progress along +the Avenue, stopping at the Palace Hotel, where, perhaps, would be +found upon the register the name of some guest deemed worthy of an +introduction to the state's venerable and illustrious son. If any such +were found, an hour or two would be spent in recalling the faded +glories of the Governor's long-vanished administration. + +On the return march the General would invariably suggest that, His +Excellency being no doubt fatigued, it would be wise to recuperate for +a few minutes at the Drug Emporium of Mr. Appleby R. Fentress (an +elegant gentleman, sir--one of the Chatham County Fentresses--so many +of our best-blooded families have had to go into trade, sir, since the +war). + +Mr. Appleby R. Fentress was a /connoisseur/ in fatigue. Indeed, if he +had not been, his memory alone should have enabled him to prescribe, +for the majestic invasion of his pharmacy was a casual happening that +had surprised him almost daily for years. Mr. Fentress knew the +formula of, and possessed the skill to compound, a certain potion +antagonistic to fatigue, the salient ingredient of which he described +(no doubt in pharmaceutical terms) as "genuine old hand-made Clover +Leaf '59, Private Stock." + +Nor did the ceremony of administering the potion ever vary. Mr. +Fentress would first compound two of the celebrated mixtures--one for +the Governor, and the other for the General to "sample." Then the +Governor would make this little speech in his high, piping, quavering +voice: + +"No, sir--not one drop until you have prepared one for yourself and +join us, Mr. Fentress. Your father, sir, was one of my most valued +supporters and friends during My Administration, and any mark of +esteem I can confer upon his son is not only a pleasure but a duty, +sir." + +Blushing with delight at the royal condescension, the druggist would +obey, and all would drink to the General's toast: "The prosperity of +our grand old state, gentlemen--the memory of her glorious past--the +health of her Favourite Son." + +Some one of the Old Guard was always at hand to escort the Governor +home. Sometimes the General's business duties denied him the +privilege, and then Judge Broomfield or Colonel Titus, or one of the +Ashford County Slaughters would be on hand to perform the rite. + +Such were the observances attendant upon the Governor's morning stroll +to the post-office. How much more magnificent, impressive, and +spectacular, then, was the scene at public functions when the General +would lead forth the silver-haired relic of former greatness, like +some rare and fragile waxwork figure, and trumpet his pristine +eminence to his fellow citizens! + +General Deffenbaugh was the Voice of Elmville. Some said he was +Elmville. At any rate, he had no competitor as the Mouthpiece. He +owned enough stock in the /Daily Banner/ to dictate its utterance, +enough shares in the First National Bank to be the referee of its +loans, and a war record that left him without a rival for first place +at barbecues, school commencements, and Decoration Days. Besides these +acquirements he was possessed with endowments. His personality was +inspiring and triumphant. Undisputed sway had moulded him to the +likeness of a fatted Roman emperor. The tones of his voice were not +otherwise than clarion. To say that the General was public-spirited +would fall short of doing him justice. He had spirit enough for a +dozen publics. And as a sure foundation for it all, he had a heart +that was big and stanch. Yes; General Deffenbaugh was Elmville. + +One little incident that usually occurred during the Governor's +morning walk has had its chronicling delayed by more important +matters. The procession was accustomed to halt before a small brick +office on the Avenue, fronted by a short flight of steep wooden steps. +A modest tin sign over the door bore the words: "Wm. B. Pemberton: +Attorney-at-Law." + +Looking inside, the General would roar: "Hello, Billy, my boy." The +less distinguished members of the escort would call: "Morning, Billy." +The Governor would pipe: "Good morning, William." + +Then a patient-looking little man with hair turning gray along the +temples would come down the steps and shake hands with each one of the +party. All Elmville shook hands when it met. + +The formalities concluded, the little man would go back to his table, +heaped with law books and papers, while the procession would proceed. + +Billy Pemberton was, as his sign declared, a lawyer by profession. By +occupation and common consent he was the Son of his Father. This was +the shadow in which Billy lived, the pit out of which he had +unsuccessfully striven for years to climb and, he had come to believe, +the grave in which his ambitions were destined to be buried. Filial +respect and duty he paid beyond the habit of most sons, but he aspired +to be known and appraised by his own deeds and worth. + +After many years of tireless labour he had become known in certain +quarters far from Elmville as a master of the principles of the law. +Twice he had gone to Washington and argued cases before the highest +tribunal with such acute logic and learning that the silken gowns on +the bench had rustled from the force of it. His income from his +practice had grown until he was able to support his father, in the old +family mansion (which neither of them would have thought of +abandoning, rickety as it was) in the comfort and almost the luxury of +the old extravagant days. Yet, he remained to Elmville as only "Billy" +Pemberton, the son of our distinguished and honoured fellow-townsman, +"ex-Governor Pemberton." Thus was he introduced at public gatherings +where he sometimes spoke, haltingly and prosily, for his talents were +too serious and deep for extempore brilliancy; thus was he presented +to strangers and to the lawyers who made the circuit of the courts; +and so the /Daily Banner/ referred to him in print. To be "the son of" +was his doom. What ever he should accomplish would have to be +sacrificed upon the altar of this magnificent but fatal parental +precedence. + +The peculiarity and the saddest thing about Billy's ambition was that +the only world he thirsted to conquer was Elmville. His nature was +diffident and unassuming. National or State honours might have +oppressed him. But, above all things, he hungered for the appreciation +of the friends among whom he had been born and raised. He would not +have plucked one leaf from the garlands that were so lavishly bestowed +upon his father, he merely rebelled against having his own wreathes +woven from those dried and self-same branches. But Elmville "Billied" +and "sonned" him to his concealed but lasting chagrin, until at length +he grew more reserved and formal and studious than ever. + +There came a morning when Billy found among his mail a letter from a +very high source, tendering him the appointment to an important +judicial position in the new island possessions of our country. The +honour was a distinguished one, for the entire nation had discussed +the probable recipients of these positions, and had agreed that the +situation demanded only men of the highest character, ripe learning, +and evenly balanced mind. + +Billy could not subdue a certain exultation at this token of the +success of his long and arduous labours, but, at the same time, a +whimsical smile lingered around his mouth, for he foresaw in which +column Elmville would place the credit. "We congratulate Governor +Pemberton upon the mark of appreciation conferred upon his son"-- +"Elmville rejoices with our honoured citizen, Governor Pemberton, at +his son's success"--"Put her there, Billy!"--"Judge Billy Pemberton, +sir; son of our State's war hero and the people's pride!"--these were +the phrases, printed and oral, conjured up by Billy's prophetic fancy. +Grandson of his State, and stepchild to Elmville--thus had fate fixed +his kinship to the body politic. + +Billy lived with his father in the old mansion. The two and an elderly +lady--a distant relative--comprised the family. Perhaps, though, old +Jeff, the Governor's ancient coloured body-servant, should be +included. Without doubt, he could have claimed the honour. There were +other servants, but Thomas Jefferson Pemberton, sah, was a member of +"de fambly." + +Jeff was the one Elmvillian who gave to Billy the gold of approval +unmixed with the alloy of paternalism. To him "Mars William" was the +greatest man in Talbot County. Beaten upon though he was by the +shining light that emanates from an ex-war governor, and loyal as he +remained to the old /regime/, his faith and admiration were Billy's. +As valet to a hero, and a member of the family, he may have had +superior opportunities for judging. + +Jeff was the first one to whom Bill revealed the news. When he reached +home for supper Jeff took his "plug" hat and smoothed it before +hanging it upon the hall-rack. + +"Dar now!" said the old man: "I knowed it was er comin'. I knowed it +was gwine ter happen. Er Judge, you says, Mars William? Dem Yankees +done made you er judge? It's high time, sah, dey was doin' somep'n to +make up for dey rascality endurin' de war. I boun' dey holds a confab +and says: 'Le's make Mars William Pemberton er judge, and dat'll +settle it.' Does you have to go way down to dem Fillypines, Mars +William, or kin you judge 'em from here?" + +"I'd have to live there most of the time, of course," said Billy. + +"I wonder what de Gubnor gwine say 'bout dat," speculated Jeff. + +Billy wondered too. + +After supper, when the two sat in the library, according to their +habit, the Governor smoking his clay pipe and Billy his cigar, the son +dutifully confessed to having been tendered the appointment. + +For a long time the Governor sat, smoking, without making any comment. +Billy reclined in his favourite rocker, waiting, perhaps still flushed +with satisfaction over the tender that had come to him, unsolicited, +in his dingy little office, above the heads of the intriguing, time- +serving, clamorous multitude. + +At last the Governor spoke; and, though his words were seemingly +irrelevant, they were to the point. His voice had a note of martyrdom +running through its senile quaver. + +"My rheumatism has been growing steadily worse these past months, +William." + +"I am sorry, father," said Billy, gently. + +"And I am nearly seventy-eight. I am getting to be an old man. I can +recall the names of but two or three who were in public life during My +Administration. What did you say is the nature of this position that +is offered you, William?" + +"A Federal Judgeship, father. I believe it is considered to be a +somewhat flattering tender. It is outside of politics and wire- +pulling, you know." + +"No doubt, no doubt. Few of the Pembertons have engaged in +professional life for nearly a century. None of them have ever held +Federal positions. They have been land-holders, slave-owners, and +planters on a large scale. One of two of the Derwents--your mother's +family--were in the law. Have you decided to accept this appointment, +William?" + +"I am thinking it over," said Billy, slowly, regarding the ash of his +cigar. + +"You have been a good son to me," continued the Governor, stirring his +pipe with the handle of a penholder. + +"I've been your son all my life," said Billy, darkly. + +"I am often gratified," piped the Governor, betraying a touch of +complacency, "by being congratulated upon having a son with such sound +and sterling qualities. Especially in this, our native town, is your +name linked with mine in the talk of our citizens." + +"I never knew anyone to forget the vindculum," murmured Billy, +unintelligibly. + +"Whatever prestige," pursued the parent, "I may be possessed of, by +virtue of my name and services to the state, has been yours to draw +upon freely. I have not hesitated to exert it in your behalf whenever +opportunity offered. And you have deserved it, William. You've been +the best of sons. And now this appointment comes to take you away from +me. I have but a few years left to live. I am almost dependent upon +others now, even in walking and dressing. What would I do without you, +my son?" + +The Governor's pipe dropped to the floor. A tear trickled from his +eye. His voice had risen, and crumbled to a weakling falsetto, and +ceased. He was an old, old man about to be bereft of a son that +cherished him. + +Billy rose, and laid his hand upon the Governor's shoulder. + +"Don't worry, father," he said, cheerfully. "I'm not going to accept. +Elmville is good enough for me. I'll write to-night and decline it." + +At the next interchange of devoirs between the Governor and General +Deffenbaugh on Lee Avenue, His Excellency, with a comfortable air of +self-satisfaction, spoke of the appointment that had been tendered to +Billy. + +The General whistled. + +"That's a plum for Billy," he shouted. "Who'd have thought that Billy +--but, confound it, it's been in him all the time. It's a boost for +Elmville. It'll send real estate up. It's an honour to our state. It's +a compliment to the South. We've all been blind about Billy. When does +he leave? We must have a reception. Great Gatlings! that job's eight +thousand a year! There's been a car-load of lead-pencils worn to stubs +figuring on those appointments. Think of it! Our little, wood-sawing, +mealy-mouthed Billy! Angel unawares doesn't begin to express it. +Elmville is disgraced forever until she lines up in a hurry for +ratification and apology." + +The venerable Moloch smiled fatuously. He carried the fire with which +to consume all these tributes to Billy, the smoke of which would +ascend as an incense to himself. + +"William," said the Governor, with modest pride, "has declined the +appointment. He refuses to leave me in my old age. He is a good son." + +The General swung round, and laid a large forefinger upon the bosom of +his friend. Much of the General's success had been due to his +dexterity in establishing swift lines of communication between cause +and effect. + +"Governor," he said, with a keen look in his big, ox-like eyes, +"you've been complaining to Billy about your rheumatism." + +"My dear General," replied the Governor, stiffly, "my son is forty- +two. He is quite capable of deciding such questions for himself. And +I, as his parent, feel it my duty to state that your remark about--er +--rheumatism is a mighty poor shot from a very small bore, sir, aimed +at a purely personal and private affliction." + +"If you will allow me," retorted the General, "you've afflicted the +public with it for some time; and 'twas no small bore, at that." + +This first tiff between the two old comrades might have grown into +something more serious, but for the fortunate interruption caused by +the ostentatious approach of Colonel Titus and another one of the +court retinue from the right county, to whom the General confided the +coddled statesman and went his way. + +After Billy had so effectually entombed his ambitions, and taken the +veil, so to speak, in a sonnery, he was surprised to discover how much +lighter of heart and happier he felt. He realized what a long, +restless struggle he had maintained, and how much he had lost by +failing to cull the simple but wholesome pleasures by the way. His +heart warmed now to Elmville and the friends who had refused to set +him upon a pedestal. It was better, he began to think, to be "Billy" +and his father's son, and to be hailed familiarly by cheery neighbours +and grown-up playmates, than to be "Your Honour," and sit among +strangers, hearing, maybe, through the arguments of learned counsel, +that old man's feeble voice crying: "What would I do without you, my +son?" + +Billy began to surprise his acquaintances by whistling as he walked up +the street; others he astounded by slapping them disrespectfully upon +their backs and raking up old anecdotes he had not had the time to +recollect for years. Though he hammered away at his law cases as +thoroughly as ever, he found more time for relaxation and the company +of his friends. Some of the younger set were actually after him to +join the golf club. A striking proof of his abandonment to obscurity +was his adoption of a most undignified, rakish, little soft hat, +reserving the "plug" for Sundays and state occasions. Billy was +beginning to enjoy Elmville, though that irreverent burgh had +neglected to crown him with bay and myrtle. + +All the while uneventful peace pervaded Elmville. The Governor +continued to make his triumphal parades to the post-office with the +General as chief marshal, for the slight squall that had rippled their +friendship had, to all indications, been forgotten by both. + +But one day Elmville woke to sudden excitement. The news had come that +a touring presidential party would honour Elmville by a twenty-minute +stop. The Executive had promised a five-minute address from the +balcony of the Palace Hotel. + +Elmville rose as one man--that man being, of course, General +Deffenbaugh--to receive becomingly the chieftain of all the clans. The +train with the tiny Stars and Stripes fluttering from the engine pilot +arrived. Elmville had done her best. There were bands, flowers, +carriages, uniforms, banners, and committees without end. High-school +girls in white frocks impeded the steps of the party with roses strewn +nervously in bunches. The chieftain had seen it all before--scores of +times. He could have pictured it exactly in advance, from the Blue- +and-Gray speech down to the smallest rosebud. Yet his kindly smile of +interest greeted Elmville's display as if it had been the only and +original. + +In the upper rotunda of the Palace Hotel the town's most illustrious +were assembled for the honour of being presented to the distinguished +guests previous to the expected address. Outside, Elmville's +inglorious but patriotic masses filled the streets. + +Here, in the hotel General Deffenbaugh was holding in reserve +Elmville's trump card. Elmville knew; for the trump was a fixed one, +and its lead consecrated by archaic custom. + +At the proper moment Governor Pemberton, beautifully venerable, +magnificently antique, tall, paramount, stepped forward upon the arm +of the General. + +Elmville watched and harked with bated breath. Never until now--when a +Northern President of the United States should clasp hands with ex- +war-Governor Pemberton would the breach be entirely closed--would the +country be made one and indivisible--no North, not much South, very +little East, and no West to speak of. So Elmville excitedly scraped +kalsomine from the walls of the Palace Hotel with its Sunday best, and +waited for the Voice to speak. + +And Billy! We had nearly forgotten Billy. He was cast for Son, and he +waited patiently for his cue. He carried his "plug" in his hand, and +felt serene. He admired his father's striking air and pose. After all, +it was a great deal to be a son of a man who could so gallantly hold +the position of a cynosure for three generations. + +General Deffenbaugh cleared his throat. Elmville opened its mouth, and +squirmed. The chieftain with the kindly, fateful face was holding out +his hand, smiling. Ex-war-Governor Pemberton extended his own across +the chasm. But what was this the General was saying? + +"Mr. President, allow me to present to you one who has the honour to +be the father of our foremost, distinguished citizen, learned and +honoured jurist, beloved townsman, and model Southern gentleman--the +Honourable William B. Pemberton." + + + +XV + +THE ENCHANTED KISS + +But a clerk in the Cut-rate Drug Store was Samuel Tansey, yet his +slender frame was a pad that enfolded the passion of Romeo, the gloom +of Laura, the romance of D'Artagnan, and the desperate inspiration of +Melnotte. Pity, then, that he had been denied expression, that he was +doomed to the burden of utter timidity and diffidence, that Fate had +set him tongue-tied and scarlet before the muslin-clad angels whom he +adored and vainly longed to rescue, clasp, comfort, and subdue. + +The clock's hands were pointing close upon the hour of ten while +Tansey was playing billiards with a number of his friends. On +alternate evenings he was released from duty at the store after seven +o'clock. Even among his fellow-men Tansey was timorous and +constrained. In his imagination he had done valiant deeds and +performed acts of distinguished gallantry; but in fact he was a sallow +youth of twenty-three, with an over-modest demeanour and scant +vocabulary. + +When the clock struck ten, Tansey hastily laid down his cue and struck +sharply upon the show-case with a coin for the attendant to come and +receive the pay for his score. + +"What's your hurry, Tansey?" called one. "Got another engagement?" + +"Tansey got an engagement!" echoed another. "Not on your life. +Tansey's got to get home at Motten by her Peek's orders." + +"It's no such thing," chimed in a pale youth, taking a large cigar +from his mouth; "Tansey's afraid to be late because Miss Katie might +come down stairs to unlock the door, and kiss him in the hall." + +This last delicate piece of raillery sent a fiery tingle into Tansey's +blood, for the indictment was true--barring the kiss. That was a thing +to dream of; to wildly hope for; but too remote and sacred a thing to +think of lightly. + +Casting a cold and contemptuous look at the speaker--a punishment +commensurate with his own diffident spirit--Tansey left the room, +descending the stairs into the street. + +For two years he had silently adored Miss Peek, worshipping her from a +spiritual distance through which her attractions took on stellar +brightness and mystery. Mrs. Peek kept a few choice boarders, among +whom was Tansey. The other young men romped with Katie, chased her +with crickets in their fingers, and "jollied" her with an irreverent +freedom that turned Tansey's heart into cold lead in his bosom. The +signs of his adoration were few--a tremulous "Good morning," stealthy +glances at her during meals, and occasionally (Oh, rapture!) a +blushing, delirious game of cribbage with her in the parlour on some +rare evening when a miraculous lack of engagement kept her at home. +Kiss him in the hall! Aye, he feared it, but it was an ecstatic fear +such as Elijah must have felt when the chariot lifted him into the +unknown. + +But to-night the gibes of his associates had stung him to a feeling of +forward, lawless mutiny; a defiant, challenging, atavistic +recklessness. Spirit of corsair, adventurer, lover, poet, bohemian, +possessed him. The stars he saw above him seemed no more unattainable, +no less high, than the favour of Miss Peek or the fearsome sweetness +of her delectable lips. His fate seemed to him strangely dramatic and +pathetic, and to call for a solace consonant with its extremity. A +saloon was near by, and to this he flitted, calling for absinthe-- +beyond doubt the drink most adequate to his mood--the tipple of the +roue, the abandoned, the vainly sighing lover. + +Once he drank of it, and again, and then again until he felt a +strange, exalted sense of non-participation in worldly affairs pervade +him. Tansey was no drinker; his consumption of three absinthe +anisettes within almost as few minutes proclaimed his unproficiency in +the art; Tansey was merely flooding with unproven liquor his sorrows; +which record and tradition alleged to be drownable. + +Coming out upon the sidewalk, he snapped his fingers defiantly in the +direction of the Peek homestead, turned the other way, and voyaged, +Columbus-like into the wilds of an enchanted street. Nor is the figure +exorbitant, for, beyond his store the foot of Tansey had scarcely been +set for years--store and boarding-house; between these ports he was +charted to run, and contrary currents had rarely deflected his prow. + +Tansey aimlessly protracted his walk, and, whether it was his +unfamiliarity with the district, his recent accession of audacious +errantry, or the sophistical whisper of a certain green-eyed fairy, he +came at last to tread a shuttered, blank, and echoing thoroughfare, +dark and unpeopled. And, suddenly, this way came to an end (as many +streets do in the Spanish-built, archaic town of San Antone), butting +its head against an imminent, high, brick wall. No--the street still +lived! To the right and to the left it breathed through slender tubes +of exit--narrow, somnolent ravines, cobble paved and unlighted. +Accommodating a rise in the street to the right was reared a phantom +flight of five luminous steps of limestone, flanked by a wall of the +same height and of the same material. + +Upon one of these steps Tansey seated himself and bethought him of his +love, and how she might never know she was his love. And of Mother +Peek, fat, vigilant and kind; not unpleased, Tansey thought, that he +and Katie should play cribbage in the parlour together. For the Cut- +rate had not cut his salary, which, sordidly speaking, ranked him star +boarder at the Peek's. And he thought of Captain Peek, Katie's father, +a man he dreaded and abhorred; a genteel loafer and spendthrift, +battening upon the labour of his women-folk; a very queer fish, and, +according to repute, not of the freshest. + +The night had turned chill and foggy. The heart of the town, with its +noises, was left behind. Reflected from the high vapours, its distant +lights were manifest in quivering, cone-shaped streamers, in +questionable blushes of unnamed colours, in unstable, ghostly waves of +far, electric flashes. Now that the darkness was become more friendly, +the wall against which the street splintered developed a stone coping +topped with an armature of spikes. Beyond it loomed what appeared to +be the acute angles of mountain peaks, pierced here and there by +little lambent parallelograms. Considering this vista, Tansey at +length persuaded himself that the seeming mountains were, in fact, the +convent of Santa Mercedes, with which ancient and bulky pile he was +better familiar from different coigns of view. A pleasant note of +singing in his ears reinforced his opinion. High, sweet, holy +carolling, far and harmonious and uprising, as of sanctified nuns at +their responses. At what hour did the Sisters sing? He tried to think +--was it six, eight, twelve? Tansey leaned his back against the +limestone wall and wondered. Strange things followed. The air was full +of white, fluttering pigeons that circled about, and settled upon the +convent wall. The wall blossomed with a quantity of shining green eyes +that blinked and peered at him from the solid masonry. A pink, classic +nymph came from an excavation in the cavernous road and danced, +barefoot and airy, upon the ragged flints. The sky was traversed by a +company of beribboned cats, marching in stupendous, aerial procession. +The noise of singing grew louder; an illumination of unseasonable +fireflies danced past, and strange whispers came out of the dark +without meaning or excuse. + +Without amazement Tansey took note of these phenomena. He was on some +new plane of understanding, though his mind seemed to him clear and, +indeed, happily tranquil. + +A desire for movement and exploration seized him: he rose and turned +into the black gash of street to his right. For a time the high wall +formed one of its boundaries; but further on, two rows of black- +windowed houses closed it in. + +Here was the city's quarter once given over to the Spaniard. Here were +still his forbidding abodes of concrete and adobe, standing cold and +indomitable against the century. From the murky fissure, the eye saw, +flung against the sky, the tangled filigree of his Moorish balconies. +Through stone archways breaths of dead, vault-chilled air coughed upon +him; his feet struck jingling iron rings in staples stone-buried for +half a cycle. Along these paltry avenues had swaggered the arrogant +Don, had caracoled and serenaded and blustered while the tomahawk and +the pioneer's rifle were already uplifted to expel him from a +continent. And Tansey, stumbling through this old-world dust, looked +up, dark as it was, and saw Andalusian beauties glimmering on the +balconies. Some of them were laughing and listening to the goblin +music that still followed; others harked fearfully through the night, +trying to catch the hoof beats of caballeros whose last echoes from +those stones had died away a century ago. Those women were silent, but +Tansey heard the jangle of horseless bridle-bits, the whirr of +riderless rowels, and, now and then, a muttered malediction in a +foreign tongue. But he was not frightened. Shadows, nor shadows of +sounds could daunt him. Afraid? No. Afraid of Mother Peek? Afraid to +face the girl of his heart? Afraid of tipsy Captain Peek? Nay! nor of +these apparitions, nor of that spectral singing that always pursued +him. Singing! He would show them! He lifted up a strong and untuneful +voice: + + "When you hear them bells go tingalingling," + +serving notice upon those mysterious agencies that if it should come +to a face-to-face encounter + + "There'll be a hot time + In the old town + To-night!" + +How long Tansey consumed in treading this haunted byway was not clear +to him, but in time he emerged into a more commodious avenue. When +within a few yards of the corner he perceived, through a window, that +a small confectionary of mean appearance was set in the angle. His +same glance that estimated its meagre equipment, its cheap soda-water +fountain and stock of tobacco and sweets, took cognizance of Captain +Peek within lighting a cigar at a swinging gaslight. + +As Tansey rounded the corner Captain Peek came out, and they met /vis- +a-vis/. An exultant joy filled Tansey when he found himself sustaining +the encounter with implicit courage. Peek, indeed! He raised his hand, +and snapped his fingers loudly. + +It was Peek himself who quailed guiltily before the valiant mien of +the drug clerk. Sharp surprise and a palpable fear bourgeoned upon the +Captain's face. And, verily, that face was one to rather call up such +expressions on the faces of others. The face of a libidinous heathen +idol, small eyed, with carven folds in the heavy jowls, and a +consuming, pagan license in its expression. In the gutter just beyond +the store Tansey saw a closed carriage standing with its back toward +him and a motionless driver perched in his place. + +"Why, it's Tansey!" exclaimed Captain Peek. "How are you, Tansey? H- +have a cigar, Tansey?" + +"Why, it's Peek!" cried Tansey, jubilant at his own temerity. "What +deviltry are you up to now, Peek? Back streets and a closed carriage! +Fie! Peek!" + +"There's no one in the carriage," said the Captain, smoothly. + +"Everybody out of it is in luck," continued Tansey, aggressively. "I'd +love for you to know, Peek, that I'm not stuck on you. You're a +bottle-nosed scoundrel." + +"Why, the little rat's drunk!" cried the Captain, joyfully; "only +drunk, and I thought he was on! Go home, Tansey, and quit bothering +grown persons on the street." + +But just then a white-clad figure sprang out of the carriage, and a +shrill voice--Katie's voice--sliced the air: "Sam! Sam!--help me, +Sam!" + +Tansey sprung toward her, but Captain Peek interposed his bulky form. +Wonder of wonders! the whilom spiritless youth struck out with his +right, and the hulking Captain went over in a swearing heap. Tansey +flew to Katie, and took her in his arms like a conquering knight. She +raised her face, and he kissed her--violets! electricity! caramels! +champagne! Here was the attainment of a dream that brought no +disenchantment. + +"Oh, Sam," cried Katie, when she could, "I knew you would come to +rescue me. What do you suppose the mean things were going to do with +me?" + +"Have your picture taken," said Tansey, wondering at the foolishness +of his remark. + +"No, they were going to eat me. I heard them talking about it." + +"Eat you!" said Tansey, after pondering a moment. "That can't be; +there's no plates." + +But a sudden noise warned him to turn. Down upon him were bearing the +Captain and a monstrous long-bearded dwarf in a spangled cloak and red +trunk-hose. The dwarf leaped twenty feet and clutched them. The +Captain seized Katie and hurled her, shrieking, back into the +carriage, himself followed, and the vehicle dashed away. The dwarf +lifted Tansey high above his head and ran with him into the store. +Holding him with one hand, he raised the lid of an enormous chest half +filled with cakes of ice, flung Tansey inside, and closed down the +cover. + +The force of the fall must have been great, for Tansey lost +consciousness. When his faculties revived his first sensation was one +of severe cold along his back and limbs. Opening his eyes, he found +himself to be seated upon the limestone steps still facing the wall +and convent of Santa Mercedes. His first thought was of the ecstatic +kiss from Katie. The outrageous villainy of Captain Peek, the +unnatural mystery of the situation, his preposterous conflict with the +improbable dwarf--these things roused and angered him, but left no +impression of the unreal. + +"I'll go back there to-morrow," he grumbled aloud, "and knock the head +off that comic-opera squab. Running out and picking up perfect +strangers, and shoving them into cold storage!" + +But the kiss remained uppermost in his mind. "I might have done that +long ago," he mused. "She liked it, too. She called me 'Sam' four +times. I'll not go up that street again. Too much scrapping. Guess +I'll move down the other way. Wonder what she meant by saying they +were going to eat her!" + +Tansey began to feel sleepy, but after a while he decided to move +along again. This time he ventured into the street to his left. It ran +level for a distance, and then dipped gently downward, opening into a +vast, dim, barren space--the old Military Plaza. To his left, some +hundred yards distant, he saw a cluster of flickering lights along the +Plaza's border. He knew the locality at once. + +Huddled within narrow confines were the remnants of the once-famous +purveyors of the celebrated Mexican national cookery. A few years +before, their nightly encampments upon the historic Alamo Plaza, in +the heart of the city, had been a carnival, a saturnalia that was +renowned throughout the land. Then the caterers numbered hundreds; the +patrons thousands. Drawn by the coquettish /senoritas/, the music of +the weird Spanish minstrels, and the strange piquant Mexican dishes +served at a hundred competing tables, crowds thronged the Alamo Plaza +all night. Travellers, rancheros, family parties, gay gasconading +rounders, sightseers and prowlers of polyglot, owlish San Antone +mingled there at the centre of the city's fun and frolic. The popping +of corks, pistols, and questions; the glitter of eyes, jewels and +daggers; the ring of laughter and coin--these were the order of the +night. + +But now no longer. To some half-dozen tents, fires, and tables had +dwindled the picturesque festival, and these had been relegated to an +ancient disused plaza. + +Often had Tansey strolled down to these stands at night to partake of +the delectable /chili-con-carne/, a dish evolved by the genius of +Mexico, composed of delicate meats minced with aromatic herbs and the +poignant /chili colorado/--a compound full of singular flavour and a +fiery zest delightful to the Southron's palate. + +The titillating odour of this concoction came now, on the breeze, to +the nostrils of Tansey, awakening in him hunger for it. As he turned +in that direction he saw a carriage dash up to the Mexicans' tents out +of the gloom of the Plaza. Some figures moved back and forward in the +uncertain light of the lanterns, and then the carriage was driven +swiftly away. + +Tansey approached, and sat at one of the tables covered with gaudy +oil-cloth. Traffic was dull at the moment. A few half-grown boys +noisily fared at another table; the Mexicans hung listless and +phlegmatic about their wares. And it was still. The night hum of the +city crowded to the wall of dark buildings surrounding the Plaza, and +subsided to an indefinite buzz through which sharply perforated the +crackle of the languid fires and the rattle of fork and spoon. A +sedative wind blew from the southeast. The starless firmament pressed +down upon the earth like a leaden cover. + +In all that quiet Tansey turned his head suddenly, and saw, without +disquietude, a troop of spectral horsemen deploy into the Plaza and +charge a luminous line of infantry that advanced to sustain the shock. +He saw the fierce flame of cannon and small arms, but heard no sound. +The careless victuallers lounged vacantly, not deigning to view the +conflict. Tansey mildly wondered to what nations these mute combatants +might belong; turned his back to them and ordered his chili and coffee +from the Mexican woman who advanced to serve him. This woman was old +and careworn; her face was lined like the rind of a cantaloupe. She +fetched the viands from a vessel set by the smouldering fire, and then +retired to a tent, dark within, that stood near by. + +Presently Tansey heard a turmoil in the tent; a wailing, broken- +hearted pleading in the harmonious Spanish tongue, and then two +figures tumbled out into the light of the lanterns. One was the old +woman; the other was a man clothed with a sumptuous and flashing +splendour. The woman seemed to clutch and beseech from him something +against his will. The man broke from her and struck her brutally back +into the tent, where she lay, whimpering and invisible. Observing +Tansey, he walked rapidly to the table where he sat. Tansey recognized +him to be Ramon Torres, a Mexican, the proprietor of the stand he was +patronizing. + +Torres was a handsome, nearly full-blooded descendant of the Spanish, +seemingly about thirty years of age, and of a haughty, but extremely +courteous demeanour. To-night he was dressed with signal magnificence. +His costume was that of a triumphant /matador/, made of purple velvet +almost hidden by jeweled embroidery. Diamonds of enormous size flashed +upon his garb and his hands. He reached for a chair, and, seating +himself at the opposite side of the table, began to roll a finical +cigarette. + +"Ah, Meester Tanse," he said, with a sultry fire in his silky, black +eyes, "I give myself pleasure to see you this evening. Meester Tansee, +you have many times come to eat at my table. I theenk you a safe man-- +a verree good friend. How much would it please you to leeve forever?" + +"Not come back any more?" inquired Tansey. + +"No; not leave--/leeve/; the not-to-die." + +"I would call that," said Tansey, "a snap." + +Torres leaned his elbows upon the table, swallowed a mouthful of +smoke, and spake--each word being projected in a little puff of gray. + +"How old do you theenk I am, Meester Tansee?" + +"Oh, twenty-eight or thirty." + +"Thees day," said the Mexican, "ees my birthday. I am four hundred and +three years of old to-day." + +"Another proof," said Tansey, airily, "of the healthfulness of our +climate." + +"Eet is not the air. I am to relate to you a secret of verree fine +value. Listen me, Meester Tansee. At the age of twenty-three I arrive +in Mexico from Spain. When? In the year fifteen hundred nineteen, with +the /soldados/ of Hernando Cortez. I come to thees country seventeen +fifteen. I saw your Alamo reduced. It was like yesterday to me. Three +hundred ninety-six year ago I learn the secret always to leeve. Look +at these clothes I war--at these /diamantes/. Do you theenk I buy them +with the money I make with selling the /chili-con-carne/, Meester +Tansee?" + +"I should think not," said Tansey, promptly. Torres laughed loudly. + +"/Valgame Dios/! but I do. But it not the kind you eating now. I make +a deeferent kind, the eating of which makes men to always leeve. What +do you think! One thousand people I supply--/diez pesos/ each one pays +me the month. You see! ten thousand /pesos/ everee month! /Que +diable/! how not I wear the fine /ropa/! You see that old woman try to +hold me back a little while ago? That ees my wife. When I marry her +she is young--seventeen year--/bonita/. Like the rest she ees become +old and--what you say!--tough? I am the same--young all the time. +To-night I resolve to dress myself and find another wife befitting my +age. This old woman try to scr-r-ratch my face. Ha! ha! Meester Tansee +--same way they do /entre los Americanos/." + +"And this health-food you spoke of?" said Tansey. + +"Hear me," said Torres, leaning over the table until he lay flat upon +it; "eet is the /chili-con-carne/ made not from the beef or the +chicken, but from the flesh of the /senorita/--young and tender. That +ees the secret. Everee month you must eat of it, having care to do so +before the moon is full, and you will not die any times. See how I +trust you, friend Tansee! To-night I have bought one young ladee-- +verree pretty--so /fina, gorda, blandita/! To-morrow the /chili/ will +be ready. /Ahora si/! One thousand dollars I pay for thees young +ladee. From an /Americano/ I have bought--a verree tip-top man--/el +Capitan Peek/--/que es, Senor/?" + +For Tansey had sprung to his feet, upsetting the chair. The words of +Katie reverberated in his ears: "They're going to eat me, Sam." This, +then, was the monstrous fate to which she had been delivered by her +unnatural parent. The carriage he had seen drive up from the Plaza was +Captain Peek's. Where was Katie? Perhaps already-- + +Before he could decide what to do a loud scream came from the tent. +The old Mexican woman ran out, a flashing knife in her hand. "I have +released her," she cried. "You shall kill no more. They will hang you +--/ingrato/--/encatador/!" + +Torres, with a hissing exclamation, sprang at her. + +"Ramoncito!" she shrieked; "once you loved me." + +The Mexican's arm raised and descended. "You are old," he cried; and +she fell and lay motionless. + +Another scream; the flaps of the tent were flung aside, and there +stood Katie, white with fear, her wrists still bound with a cruel +cord. + +"Sam!" she cried, "save me again!" + +Tansey rounded the table, and flung himself, with superb nerve, upon +the Mexican. Just then a clangour began; the clocks of the city were +tolling the midnight hour. Tansey clutched at Torres, and, for a +moment, felt in his grasp the crunch of velvet and the cold facets of +the glittering gems. The next instant, the bedecked caballero turned +in his hands to a shrunken, leather-visaged, white-bearded, old, old, +screaming mummy, sandalled, ragged, and four hundred and three. The +Mexican woman was crawling to her feet, and laughing. She shook her +brown hand in the face of the whining /viejo/. + +"Go, now," she cried, "and seek your senorita. It was I, Ramoncito, +who brought you to this. Within each moon you eat of the life-giving +/chili/. It was I that kept the wrong time for you. You should have +eaten /yesterday/ instead of /to-morrow/. It is too late. Off with +you, /hombre/! You are too old for me!" + +"This," decided Tansey, releasing his hold of the gray-beard, "is a +private family matter concerning age, and no business of mine." + +With one of the table knives he hastened to saw asunder the fetters of +the fair captive; and then, for the second time that night he kissed +Katie Peek--tasted again the sweetness, the wonder, the thrill of it, +attained once more the maximum of his incessant dreams. + +The next instant an icy blade was driven deep between his shoulders; +he felt his blood slowly congeal; heard the senile cackle of the +perennial Spaniard; saw the Plaza rise and reel till the zenith +crashed into the horizon--and knew no more. + +When Tansey opened his eyes again he was sitting upon those self-same +steps gazing upon the dark bulk of the sleeping convent. In the middle +of his back was still the acute, chilling pain. How had he been +conveyed back there again? He got stiffly to his feet and stretched +his cramped limbs. Supporting himself against the stonework he +revolved in his mind the extravagant adventures that had befallen him +each time he had strayed from the steps that night. In reviewing them +certain features strained his credulity. Had he really met Captain +Peek or Katie or the unparalleled Mexican in his wanders--had he +really encountered them under commonplace conditions and his over- +stimulated brain had supplied the incongruities? However that might +be, a sudden, elating thought caused him an intense joy. Nearly all of +us have, at some point in our lives--either to excuse our own +stupidity or to placate our consciences--promulgated some theory of +fatalism. We have set up an intelligent Fate that works by codes and +signals. Tansey had done likewise; and now he read, through the +night's incidents, the finger-prints of destiny. Each excursion that +he had made had led to the one paramount finale--to Katie and that +kiss, which survived and grew strong and intoxicating in his memory. +Clearly, Fate was holding up to him the mirror that night, calling him +to observe what awaited him at the end of whichever road he might +take. He immediately turned, and hurried homeward. + +* * * * * + +Clothed in an elaborate, pale blue wrapper, cut to fit, Miss Katie +Peek reclined in an armchair before a waning fire in her room. Her +little, bare feet were thrust into house-shoes rimmed with swan's +down. By the light of a small lamp she was attacking the society news +of the latest Sunday paper. Some happy substance, seemingly +indestructible, was being rhythmically crushed between her small white +teeth. Miss Katie read of functions and furbelows, but she kept a +vigilant ear for outside sounds and a frequent eye upon the clock over +the mantel. At every footstep upon the asphalt sidewalk her smooth, +round chin would cease for a moment its regular rise and fall, and a +frown of listening would pucker her pretty brows. + +At last she heard the latch of the iron gate click. She sprang up, +tripped softly to the mirror, where she made a few of those feminine, +flickering passes at her front hair and throat which are warranted to +hypnotize the approaching guest. + +The door-bell rang. Miss Katie, in her haste, turned the blaze of the +lamp lower instead of higher, and hastened noiselessly down stairs +into the hall. She turned the key, the door opened, and Mr. Tansey +side-stepped in. + +"Why, the i-de-a!" exclaimed Miss Katie, "is this you, Mr. Tansey? +It's after midnight. Aren't you ashamed to wake me up at such an hour +to let you in? You're just /awful/!" + +"I was late," said Tansey, brilliantly. + +"I should think you were! Ma was awfully worried about you. When you +weren't in by ten, that hateful Tom McGill said you were out calling +on another--said you were out calling on some young lady. I just +despise Mr. McGill. Well, I'm not going to scold you any more, Mr. +Tansey, if it /is/ a little late--Oh! I turned it the wrong way!" + +Miss Katie gave a little scream. Absent-mindedly she had turned the +blaze of the lamp entirely out instead of higher. It was very dark. + +Tansey heard a musical, soft giggle, and breathed an entrancing odour +of heliotrope. A groping light hand touched his arm." + +"How awkward I was! Can you find your way--Sam?" + +"I--I think I have a match, Miss K-Katie." + +A scratching sound; a flame; a glow of light held at arm's length by +the recreant follower of Destiny illuminating a tableau which shall +end the ignominious chronicle--a maid with unkissed, curling, +contemptuous lips slowly lifting the lamp chimney and allowing the +wick to ignite; then waving a scornful and abjuring hand toward the +staircase--the unhappy Tansey, erstwhile champion in the prophetic +lists of fortune, ingloriously ascending to his just and certain doom, +while (let us imagine) half within the wings stands the imminent +figure of Fate jerking wildly at the wrong strings, and mixing things +up in her usual able manner. + + + +XVI + +A DEPARTMENTAL CASE + +In Texas you may travel a thousand miles in a straight line. If your +course is a crooked one, it is likely that both the distance and your +rate of speed may be vastly increased. Clouds there sail serenely +against the wind. The whip-poor-will delivers its disconsolate cry +with the notes exactly reversed from those of his Northern brother. +Given a drought and a subsequently lively rain, and lo! from a glazed +and stony soil will spring in a single night blossomed lilies, +miraculously fair. Tom Green County was once the standard of +measurement. I have forgotten how many New Jerseys and Rhode Islands +it was that could have been stowed away and lost in its chaparral. But +the legislative axe has slashed Tom Green into a handful of counties +hardly larger than European kingdoms. The legislature convenes at +Austin, near the centre of the state; and, while the representative +from the Rio Grande country is gathering his palm-leaf fan and his +linen duster to set out for the capital, the Pan-handle solon winds +his muffler above his well-buttoned overcoat and kicks the snow from +his well-greased boots ready for the same journey. All this merely to +hint that the big ex-republic of the Southwest forms a sizable star on +the flag, and to prepare for the corollary that things sometimes +happen there uncut to pattern and unfettered by metes and bounds. + +The Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History of the State of +Texas was an official of no very great or very small importance. The +past tense is used, for now he is Commissioner of Insurance alone. +Statistic and history are no longer proper nouns in the government +records. + +In the year 188-, the governor appointed Luke Coonrod Standifer to be +the head of this department. Standifer was then fifty-five years of +age, and a Texan to the core. His father had been one of the state's +earliest settlers and pioneers. Standifer himself had served the +commonwealth as Indian fighter, soldier, ranger, and legislator. Much +learning he did not claim, but he had drank pretty deep of the spring +of experience. + +If other grounds were less abundant, Texas should be well up in the +lists of glory as the grateful republic. For both as republic and +state, it has busily heaped honours and solid rewards upon its sons +who rescued it from the wilderness. + +Wherefore and therefore, Luke Coonrod Standifer, son of Ezra +Standifer, ex-Terry ranger, simon-pure democrat, and lucky dweller in +an unrepresented portion of the politico-geographical map, was +appointed Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History. + +Standifer accepted the honour with some doubt as to the nature of the +office he was to fill and his capacity for filling it--but he +accepted, and by wire. He immediately set out from the little country +town where he maintained (and was scarcely maintained by) a somnolent +and unfruitful office of surveying and map-drawing. Before departing, +he had looked up under the I's, S's and H's in the "Encyclopaedia +Britannica" what information and preparation toward his official +duties that those weighty volumes afforded. + +A few weeks of incumbency diminished the new commissioner's awe of the +great and important office he had been called upon to conduct. An +increasing familiarity with its workings soon restored him to his +accustomed placid course of life. In his office was an old, spectacled +clerk--a consecrated, informed, able machine, who held his desk +regardless of changes of administrative heads. Old Kauffman instructed +his new chief gradually in the knowledge of the department without +seeming to do so, and kept the wheels revolving without the slip of a +cog. + +Indeed, the Department of Insurance, Statistics, and History carried +no great heft of the burden of state. Its main work was the regulating +of the business done in the state by foreign insurance companies, and +the letter of the law was its guide. As for statistics--well, you +wrote letters to county officers, and scissored other people's +reports, and each year you got out a report of your own about the corn +crop and the cotton crop and pecans and pigs and black and white +population, and a great many columns of figures headed "bushels" and +"acres" and "square miles," etc.--and there you were. History? The +branch was purely a receptive one. Old ladies interested in the +science bothered you some with long reports of proceedings of their +historical societies. Some twenty or thirty people would write you +each year that they had secured Sam Houston's pocket-knife or Santa +Ana's whisky-flask or Davy Crockett's rifle--all absolutely +authenticated--and demanded legislative appropriation to purchase. +Most of the work in the history branch went into pigeon-holes. + +One sizzling August afternoon the commissioner reclined in his office- +chair, with his feet upon the long, official table covered with green +billiard cloth. The commissioner was smoking a cigar, and dreamily +regarding the quivering landscape framed by the window that looked +upon the treeless capitol grounds. Perhaps he was thinking of the +rough and ready life he had led, of the old days of breathless +adventure and movement, of the comrades who now trod other paths or +had ceased to tread any, of the changes civilization and peace had +brought, and, maybe, complacently, of the snug and comfortable camp +pitched for him under the dome of the capitol of the state that had +not forgotten his services. + +The business of the department was lax. Insurance was easy. Statistics +were not in demand. History was dead. Old Kauffman, the efficient and +perpetual clerk, had requested an infrequent half-holiday, incited to +the unusual dissipation by the joy of having successfully twisted the +tail of a Connecticut insurance company that was trying to do business +contrary to the edicts of the great Lone Star State. + +The office was very still. A few subdued noises trickled in through +the open door from the other departments--a dull tinkling crash from +the treasurer's office adjoining, as a clerk tossed a bag of silver to +the floor of the vault--the vague, intermittent clatter of a dilatory +typewriter--a dull tapping from the state geologist's quarters as if +some woodpecker had flown in to bore for his prey in the cool of the +massive building--and then a faint rustle and the light shuffling of +the well-worn shoes along the hall, the sounds ceasing at the door +toward which the commissioner's lethargic back was presented. +Following this, the sound of a gentle voice speaking words +unintelligible to the commissioner's somewhat dormant comprehension, +but giving evidence of bewilderment and hesitation. + +The voice was feminine; the commissioner was of the race of cavaliers +who make salaam before the trail of a skirt without considering the +quality of its cloth. + +There stood in the door a faded woman, one of the numerous sisterhood +of the unhappy. She was dressed all in black--poverty's perpetual +mourning for lost joys. Her face had the contours of twenty and the +lines of forty. She may have lived that intervening score of years in +a twelve-month. There was about her yet an aurum of indignant, +unappeased, protesting youth that shone faintly through the premature +veil of unearned decline. + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said the commissioner, gaining his feet to +the accompaniment of a great creaking and sliding of his chair. + +"Are you the governor, sir?" asked the vision of melancholy. + +The commissioner hesitated at the end of his best bow, with his hand +in the bosom of his double-breasted "frock." Truth at last conquered. + +"Well, no, ma'am. I am not the governor. I have the honour to be +Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History. Is there anything, +ma'am, I can do for you? Won't you have a chair, ma'am?" + +The lady subsided into the chair handed her, probably from purely +physical reasons. She wielded a cheap fan--last token of gentility to +be abandoned. Her clothing seemed to indicate a reduction almost to +extreme poverty. She looked at the man who was not the governor, and +saw kindliness and simplicity and a rugged, unadorned courtliness +emanating from a countenance tanned and toughened by forty years of +outdoor life. Also, she saw that his eyes were clear and strong and +blue. Just so they had been when he used them to skim the horizon for +raiding Kiowas and Sioux. His mouth was as set and firm as it had been +on that day when he bearded the old Lion Sam Houston himself, and +defied him during that season when secession was the theme. Now, in +bearing and dress, Luke Coonrod Sandifer endeavoured to do credit to +the important arts and sciences of Insurance, Statistics, and History. +He had abandoned the careless dress of his country home. Now, his +broad-brimmed black slouch hat, and his long-tailed "frock" made him +not the least imposing of the official family, even if his office was +reckoned to stand at the tail of the list. + +"You wanted to see the governor, ma'am?" asked the commissioner, with +a deferential manner he always used toward the fair sex. + +"I hardly know," said the lady, hesitatingly. "I suppose so." And +then, suddenly drawn by the sympathetic look of the other, she poured +forth the story of her need. + +It was a story so common that the public has come to look at its +monotony instead of its pity. The old tale of an unhappy married life +--made so by a brutal, conscienceless husband, a robber, a +spendthrift, a moral coward and a bully, who failed to provide even +the means of the barest existence. Yes, he had come down in the scale +so low as to strike her. It happened only the day before--there was +the bruise on one temple--she had offended his highness by asking for +a little money to live on. And yet she must needs, woman-like, append +a plea for her tyrant--he was drinking; he had rarely abused her thus +when sober. + +"I thought," mourned this pale sister of sorrow, "that maybe the state +might be willing to give me some relief. I've heard of such things +being done for the families of old settlers. I've heard tell that the +state used to give land to the men who fought for it against Mexico, +and settled up the country, and helped drive out the Indians. My +father did all of that, and he never received anything. He never would +take it. I thought the governor would be the one to see, and that's +why I came. If father was entitled to anything, they might let it come +to me." + +"It's possible, ma'am," said Standifer, "that such might be the case. +But 'most all the veterans and settlers got their land certificates +issued, and located long ago. Still, we can look that up in the land +office, and be sure. Your father's name, now, was--" + +"Amos Colvin, sir." + +"Good Lord!" exclaimed Standifer, rising and unbuttoning his tight +coat, excitedly. "Are you Amos Colvin's daughter? Why, ma'am, Amos +Colvin and me were thicker than two hoss thieves for more than ten +years! We fought Kiowas, drove cattle, and rangered side by side +nearly all over Texas. I remember seeing you once before, now. You +were a kid, about seven, a-riding a little yellow pony up and down. +Amos and me stopped at your home for a little grub when we were +trailing that band of Mexican cattle thieves down through Karnes and +Bee. Great tarantulas! and you're Amos Colvin's little girl! Did you +ever hear your father mention Luke Standifer--just kind of casually-- +as if he'd met me once or twice?" + +A little pale smile flitted across the lady's white face. + +"It seems to me," she said, "that I don't remember hearing him talk +about much else. Every day there was some story he had to tell about +what he and you had done. Mighty near the last thing I heard him tell +was about the time when the Indians wounded him, and you crawled out +to him through the grass, with a canteen of water, while they--" + +"Yes, yes--well--oh, that wasn't anything," said Standifer, "hemming" +loudly and buttoning his coat again, briskly. "And now, ma'am, who was +the infernal skunk--I beg your pardon, ma'am--who was the gentleman +you married?" + +"Benton Sharp." + +The commissioner plumped down again into his chair, with a groan. This +gentle, sad little woman, in the rusty black gown, the daughter of his +oldest friend, the wife of Benton Sharp! Benton Sharp, one of the most +noted "bad" men in that part of the state--a man who had been a cattle +thief, an outlaw, a desperado, and was now a gambler, a swaggering +bully, who plied his trade in the larger frontier towns, relying upon +his record and the quickness of his gun play to maintain his +supremacy. Seldom did any one take the risk of going "up against" +Benton Sharp. Even the law officers were content to let him make his +own terms of peace. Sharp was a ready and an accurate shot, and as +lucky as a brand-new penny at coming clear from his scrapes. Standifer +wondered how this pillaging eagle ever came to be mated with Amos +Colvin's little dove, and expressed his wonder. + +Mrs. Sharp sighed. + +"You see, Mr. Standifer, we didn't know anything about him, and he can +be very pleasant and kind when he wants to. We lived down in the +little town of Goliad. Benton came riding down that way, and stopped +there a while. I reckon I was some better looking then than I am now. +He was good to me for a whole year after we were married. He insured +his life for me for five thousand dollars. But for the last six months +he has done everything but kill me. I often wish he had done that, +too. He got out of money for a while, and abused me shamefully for not +having anything he could spend. Then father died, and left me the +little home in Goliad. My husband made me sell that, and turned me out +into the world. I've barely been able to live, for I'm not strong +enough to work. Lately, I heard he was making money in San Antonio, so +I went there, and found him, and asked for a little help. This," +touching the livid bruise on her temple, "is what he gave me. So I +came on to Austin to see the governor. I once heard father say that +there was some land, or a pension, coming to him from the state that +he never would ask for." + +Luke Standifer rose to his feet, and pushed his chair back. He looked +rather perplexedly around the big office, with its handsome furniture. + +"It's a long trail to follow," he said, slowly, "trying to get back +dues from the government. There's red tape and lawyers and rulings and +evidence and courts to keep you waiting. I'm not certain," continued +the commissioner, with a profoundly meditative frown, "whether this +department that I'm the boss of has any jurisdiction or not. It's only +Insurance, Statistics, and History, ma'am, and it don't sound as if it +would cover the case. But sometimes a saddle blanket can be made to +stretch. You keep your seat, just for a few minutes, ma'am, till I +step into the next room and see about it." + +The state treasurer was seated within his massive, complicated +railings, reading a newspaper. Business for the day was about over. +The clerks lolled at their desks, awaiting the closing hour. The +Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History entered, and leaned +in at the window. + +The treasurer, a little, brisk old man, with snow-white moustache and +beard, jumped up youthfully and came forward to greet Standifer. They +were friends of old. + +"Uncle Frank," said the commissioner, using the familiar name by which +the historic treasurer was addressed by every Texan, "how much money +have you got on hand?" + +The treasurer named the sum of the last balance down to the odd cents +--something more than a million dollars. + +The commissioner whistled lowly, and his eyes grew hopefully bright. + +"You know, or else you've heard of, Amos Colvin, Uncle Frank?" + +"Knew him well," said the treasurer, promptly. "A good man. A valuable +citizen. One of the first settlers in the Southwest." + +"His daughter," said Standifer, "is sitting in my office. She's +penniless. She's married to Benton Sharp, a coyote and a murderer. +He's reduced her to want, and broken her heart. Her father helped +build up this state, and it's the state's turn to help his child. A +couple of thousand dollars will buy back her home and let her live in +peace. The State of Texas can't afford to refuse it. Give me the +money, Uncle Frank, and I'll give it to her right away. We'll fix up +the red-tape business afterward." + +The treasurer looked a little bewildered. + +"Why, Standifer," he said, "you know I can't pay a cent out of the +treasury without a warrant from the comptroller. I can't disburse a +dollar without a voucher to show for it." + +The commissioner betrayed a slight impatience. + +"I'll give you a voucher," he declared. "What's this job they've given +me for? Am I just a knot on a mesquite stump? Can't my office stand +for it? Charge it up to Insurance and the other two sideshows. Don't +Statistics show that Amos Colvin came to this state when it was in the +hands of Greasers and rattlesnakes and Comanches, and fought day and +night to make a white man's country of it? Don't they show that Amos +Colvin's daughter is brought to ruin by a villain who's trying to pull +down what you and I and old Texans shed our blood to build up? Don't +History show that the Lone Star State never yet failed to grant relief +to the suffering and oppressed children of the men who made her the +grandest commonwealth in the Union? If Statistics and History don't +bear out the claim of Amos Colvin's child I'll ask the next +legislature to abolish my office. Come, now, Uncle Frank, let her have +the money. I'll sign the papers officially, if you say so; and then if +the governor or the comptroller or the janitor or anybody else makes a +kick, by the Lord I'll refer the matter to the people, and see if they +won't endorse the act." + +The treasurer looked sympathetic but shocked. The commissioner's voice +had grown louder as he rounded off the sentences that, however +praiseworthy they might be in sentiment, reflected somewhat upon the +capacity of the head of a more or less important department of state. +The clerks were beginning to listen. + +"Now, Standifer," said the treasurer, soothingly, "you know I'd like +to help in this matter, but stop and think a moment, please. Every +cent in the treasury is expended only by appropriation made by the +legislature, and drawn out by checks issued by the comptroller. I +can't control the use of a cent of it. Neither can you. Your +department isn't disbursive--it isn't even administrative--it's purely +clerical. The only way for the lady to obtain relief is to petition +the legislature, and--" + +"To the devil with the legislature," said Standifer, turning away. + +The treasurer called him back. + +"I'd be glad, Standifer, to contribute a hundred dollars personally +toward the immediate expenses of Colvin's daughter." He reached for +his pocketbook. + +"Never mind, Uncle Frank," said the commissioner, in a softer tone. +"There's no need of that. She hasn't asked for anything of that sort +yet. Besides, her case is in my hands. I see now what a little, rag- +tag, bob-tail, gotch-eared department I've been put in charge of. It +seems to be about as important as an almanac or a hotel register. But +while I'm running it, it won't turn away any daughters of Amos Colvin +without stretching its jurisdiction to cover, if possible. You want to +keep your eye on the Department of Insurance, Statistics, and +History." + +The commissioner returned to his office, looking thoughtful. He opened +and closed an inkstand on his desk many times with extreme and undue +attention. "Why don't you get a divorce?" he asked, suddenly. + +"I haven't the money to pay for it," answered the lady. + +"Just at present," announced the commissioner, in a formal tone, "the +powers of my department appear to be considerably string-halted. +Statistics seem to be overdrawn at the bank, and History isn't good +for a square meal. But you've come to the right place, ma'am. The +department will see you through. Where did you say your husband is, +ma'am?" + +"He was in San Antonio yesterday. He is living there now." + +Suddenly the commissioner abandoned his official air. He took the +faded little woman's hands in his, and spoke in the old voice he used +on the trail and around campfires. + +"Your name's Amanda, isn't it?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I thought so. I've heard your dad say it often enough. Well, Amanda, +here's your father's best friend, the head of a big office in the +state government, that's going to help you out of your troubles. And +here's the old bushwhacker and cowpuncher that your father has helped +out of scrapes time and time again wants to ask you a question. +Amanda, have you got money enough to run you for the next two or three +days?" + +Mrs. Sharp's white face flushed the least bit. + +"Plenty, sir--for a few days." + +"All right, then, ma'am. Now you go back where you are stopping here, +and you come to the office again the day after to-morrow at four +o'clock in the afternoon. Very likely by that time there will be +something definite to report to you." The commissioner hesitated, and +looked a trifle embarrassed. "You said your husband had insured his +life for $5,000. Do you know whether the premiums have been kept paid +upon it or not?" + +"He paid for a whole year in advance about five months ago," said Mrs. +Sharp. "I have the policy and receipts in my trunk." + +"Oh, that's all right, then," said Standifer. "It's best to look after +things of that sort. Some day they may come in handy." + +Mrs. Sharp departed, and soon afterward Luke Standifer went down to +the little hotel where he boarded and looked up the railroad time- +table in the daily paper. Half an hour later he removed his coat and +vest, and strapped a peculiarly constructed pistol holster across his +shoulders, leaving the receptacle close under his left armpit. Into +the holster he shoved a short-barrelled .44 calibre revolver. Putting +on his clothes again, he strolled to the station and caught the five- +twenty afternoon train for San Antonio. + +The San Antonio /Express/ of the following morning contained this +sensational piece of news: + + + +BENTON SHARP MEETS HIS MATCH + + + The Most Noted Desperado in Southwest Texas Shot to Death in the + Gold Front Restaurant--Prominent State Official Successfully + Defends Himself Against the Noted Bully--Magnificent Exhibition of + Quick Gun Play. + + Last night about eleven o'clock Benton Sharp, with two other men, + entered the Gold Front Restaurant and seated themselves at a + table. Sharp had been drinking, and was loud and boisterous, as he + always was when under the influence of liquor. Five minutes after + the party was seated a tall, well-dressed, elderly gentleman + entered the restaurant. Few present recognized the Honourable Luke + Standifer, the recently appointed Commissioner of Insurance, + Statistics, and History. + + Going over to the same side where Sharp was, Mr. Standifer + prepared to take a seat at the next table. In hanging his hat upon + one of the hooks along the wall he let it fall upon Sharp's head. + Sharp turned, being in an especially ugly humour, and cursed the + other roundly. Mr. Standifer apologized calmly for the accident, + but Sharp continued his vituperations. Mr. Standifer was observed + to draw near and speak a few sentences to the desperado in so low + a tone that no one else caught the words. Sharp sprang up, wild + with rage. In the meantime Standifer had stepped some yards away, + and was standing quietly with his arms folded across the breast of + his loosely hanging coat. + + With that impetuous and deadly rapidity that made Sharp so + dreaded, he reached for the gun he always carried in his hip + pocket--a movement that has preceded the death of at least a dozen + men at his hands. Quick as the motion was, the bystanders assert + that it was met by the most beautiful exhibition of lightning gun- + pulling ever witnessed in the Southwest. As Sharp's pistol was + being raised--and the act was really quicker than the eye could + follow--a glittering .44 appeared as if by some conjuring trick in + the right hand of Mr. Standifer, who, without a perceptible + movement of his arm, shot Benton Sharp through the heart. It seems + that the new Commissioner of Insurance, Statistics, and History + has been an old-time Indian fighter and ranger for many years, + which accounts for the happy knack he has of handling a .44. + + It is not believed that Mr. Standifer will be put to any + inconvenience beyond a necessary formal hearing to-day, as all the + witnesses who were present unite in declaring that the deed was + done in self-defence. + +When Mrs. Sharp appeared at the office of the commissioner, according +to appointment, she found that gentleman calmly eating a golden russet +apple. He greeted her without embarrassment and without hesitation at +approaching the subject that was the topic of the day. + +"I had to do it, ma'am," he said, simply, "or get it myself. Mr. +Kauffman," he added, turning to the old clerk, "please look up the +records of the Security Life Insurance Company and see if they are all +right." + +"No need to look," grunted Kauffman, who had everything in his head. +"It's all O.K. They pay all losses within ten days." + +Mrs. Sharp soon rose to depart. She had arranged to remain in town +until the policy was paid. The commissioner did not detain her. She +was a woman, and he did not know just what to say to her at present. +Rest and time would bring her what she needed. + +But, as she was leaving, Luke Standifer indulged himself in an +official remark: + +"The Department of Insurance, Statistics, and History, ma'am, has done +the best it could with your case. 'Twas a case hard to cover according +to red tape. Statistics failed, and History missed fire, but, if I may +be permitted to say it, we came out particularly strong on Insurance." + + + +XVII + +THE RENAISSANCE AT CHARLEROI + +Grandemont Charles was a little Creole gentleman, aged thirty-four, +with a bald spot on the top of his head and the manners of a prince. +By day he was a clerk in a cotton broker's office in one of those +cold, rancid mountains of oozy brick, down near the levee in New +Orleans. By night, in his three-story-high /chambre garnier/ in the +old French Quarter he was again the last male descendant of the +Charles family, that noble house that had lorded it in France, and had +pushed its way smiling, rapiered, and courtly into Louisiana's early +and brilliant days. Of late years the Charleses had subsided into the +more republican but scarcely less royally carried magnificence and +ease of plantation life along the Mississippi. Perhaps Grandemont was +even Marquis de Brasse. There was that title in the family. But a +Marquis on seventy-five dollars per month! /Vraiment/! Still, it has +been done on less. + +Grandemont had saved out of his salary the sum of six hundred dollars. +Enough, you would say, for any man to marry on. So, after a silence of +two years on that subject, he reopened that most hazardous question to +Mlle. Adele Fauquier, riding down to Meade d'Or, her father's +plantation. Her answer was the same that it had been any time during +the last ten years: "First find my brother, Monsieur Charles." + +This time he had stood before her, perhaps discouraged by a love so +long and hopeless, being dependent upon a contingency so unreasonable, +and demanded to be told in simple words whether she loved him or no. + +Adele looked at him steadily out of her gray eyes that betrayed no +secrets and answered, a little more softly: + +"Grandemont, you have no right to ask that question unless you can do +what I ask of you. Either bring back brother Victor to us or the proof +that he died." + +Somehow, though five times thus rejected, his heart was not so heavy +when he left. She had not denied that she loved. Upon what shallow +waters can the bark of passion remain afloat! Or, shall we play the +doctrinaire, and hint that at thirty-four the tides of life are calmer +and cognizant of many sources instead of but one--as at four-and- +twenty? + +Victor Fauquier would never be found. In those early days of his +disappearance there was money to the Charles name, and Grandemont had +spent the dollars as if they were picayunes in trying to find the lost +youth. Even then he had had small hope of success, for the Mississippi +gives up a victim from its oily tangles only at the whim of its malign +will. + +A thousand times had Grandemont conned in his mind the scene of +Victor's disappearance. And, at each time that Adele had set her +stubborn but pitiful alternative against his suit, still clearer it +repeated itself in his brain. + +The boy had been the family favourite; daring, winning, reckless. His +unwise fancy had been captured by a girl on the plantation--the +daughter of an overseer. Victor's family was in ignorance of the +intrigue, as far as it had gone. To save them the inevitable pain that +his course promised, Grandemont strove to prevent it. Omnipotent money +smoothed the way. The overseer and his daughter left, between a sunset +and dawn, for an undesignated bourne. Grandemont was confident that +this stroke would bring the boy to reason. He rode over to Meade d'Or +to talk with him. The two strolled out of the house and grounds, +crossed the road, and, mounting the levee, walked its broad path while +they conversed. A thunder-cloud was hanging, imminent, above, but, as +yet, no rain fell. At Grandemont's disclosure of his interference in +the clandestine romance, Victor attacked him, in a wild and sudden +fury. Grandemont, though of slight frame, possessed muscles of iron. +He caught the wrists amid a shower of blows descending upon him, bent +the lad backward and stretched him upon the levee path. In a little +while the gust of passion was spent, and he was allowed to rise. Calm +now, but a powder mine where he had been but a whiff of the tantrums, +Victor extended his hand toward the dwelling house of Meade d'Or. + +"You and they," he cried, "have conspired to destroy my happiness. +None of you shall ever look upon my face again." + +Turning, he ran swiftly down the levee, disappearing in the darkness. +Grandemont followed as well as he could, calling to him, but in vain. +For longer than an hour he pursued the search. Descending the side of +the levee, he penetrated the rank density of weeds and willows that +undergrew the trees until the river's edge, shouting Victor's name. +There was never an answer, though once he thought he heard a bubbling +scream from the dun waters sliding past. Then the storm broke, and he +returned to the house drenched and dejected. + +There he explained the boy's absence sufficiently, he thought, not +speaking of the tangle that had led to it, for he hoped that Victor +would return as soon as his anger had cooled. Afterward, when the +threat was made good and they saw his face no more, he found it +difficult to alter his explanations of that night, and there clung a +certain mystery to the boy's reasons for vanishing as well as to the +manner of it. + +It was on that night that Grandemont first perceived a new and +singular expression in Adele's eyes whenever she looked at him. And +through the years following that expression was always there. He could +not read it, for it was born of a thought she would never otherwise +reveal. + +Perhaps, if he had known that Adele had stood at the gate on that +unlucky night, where she had followed, lingering, to await the return +of her brother and lover, wondering why they had chosen so tempestuous +an hour and so black a spot to hold converse--if he had known that a +sudden flash of lightning had revealed to her sight that short, sharp +struggle as Victor was sinking under his hands, he might have +explained everything, and she-- + +I know what she would have done. But one thing is clear--there was +something besides her brother's disappearance between Grandemont's +pleadings for her hand and Adele's "yes." Ten years had passed, and +what she had seen during the space of that lightning flash remained an +indelible picture. She had loved her brother, but was she holding out +for the solution of that mystery or for the "Truth"? Women have been +known to reverence it, even as an abstract principle. It is said there +have been a few who, in the matter of their affections, have +considered a life to be a small thing as compared with a lie. That I +do not know. But, I wonder, had Grandemont cast himself at her feet +crying that his hand had sent Victor to the bottom of that inscrutable +river, and that he could no longer sully his love with a lie, I wonder +if--I wonder what she would have done! + +But, Grandemont Charles, Arcadian little gentleman, never guessed the +meaning of that look in Adele's eyes; and from this last bootless +payment of his devoirs he rode away as rich as ever in honour and +love, but poor in hope. + +That was in September. It was during the first winter month that +Grandemont conceived his idea of the /renaissance/. Since Adele would +never be his, and wealth without her were useless trumpery, why need +he add to that hoard of slowly harvested dollars? Why should he even +retain that hoard? + +Hundreds were the cigarettes he consumed over his claret, sitting at +the little polished tables in the Royal street cafes while thinking +over his plan. By and by he had it perfect. It would cost, beyond +doubt, all the money he had, but--/le jeu vaut la chandelle/--for some +hours he would be once more a Charles of Charleroi. Once again should +the nineteenth of January, that most significant day in the fortunes +of the house of Charles, be fittingly observed. On that date the +French king had seated a Charles by his side at table; on that date +Armand Charles, Marquis de Brasse, landed, like a brilliant meteor, in +New Orleans; it was the date of his mother's wedding; of Grandemont's +birth. Since Grandemont could remember until the breaking up of the +family that anniversary had been the synonym for feasting, +hospitality, and proud commemoration. + +Charleroi was the old family plantation, lying some twenty miles down +the river. Years ago the estate had been sold to discharge the debts +of its too-bountiful owners. Once again it had changed hands, and now +the must and mildew of litigation had settled upon it. A question of +heirship was in the courts, and the dwelling house of Charleroi, +unless the tales told of ghostly powdered and laced Charleses haunting +its unechoing chambers were true, stood uninhabited. + +Grandemont found the solicitor in chancery who held the keys pending +the decision. He proved to be an old friend of the family. Grandemont +explained briefly that he desired to rent the house for two or three +days. He wanted to give a dinner at his old home to a few friends. +That was all. + +"Take it for a week--a month, if you will," said the solicitor; "but +do not speak to me of rental." With a sigh he concluded: "The dinners +I have eaten under that roof, /mon fils/!" + +There came to many of the old, established dealers in furniture, +china, silverware, decorations and household fittings at their stores +on Canal, Chartres, St. Charles, and Royal Streets, a quiet young man +with a little bald spot on the top of his head, distinguished manners, +and the eye of a /connoisseur/, who explained what he wanted. To hire +the complete and elegant equipment of a dining-room, hall, reception- +room, and cloak-rooms. The goods were to be packed and sent, by boat, +to the Charleroi landing, and would be returned within three or four +days. All damage or loss to be promptly paid for. + +Many of those old merchants knew Grandemont by sight, and the +Charleses of old by association. Some of them were of Creole stock and +felt a thrill of responsive sympathy with the magnificently indiscreet +design of this impoverished clerk who would revive but for a moment +the ancient flame of glory with the fuel of his savings. + +"Choose what you want," they said to him. "Handle everything +carefully. See that the damage bill is kept low, and the charges for +the loan will not oppress you." + +To the wine merchants next; and here a doleful slice was lopped from +the six hundred. It was an exquisite pleasure to Grandemont once more +to pick among the precious vintages. The champagne bins lured him like +the abodes of sirens, but these he was forced to pass. With his six +hundred he stood before them as a child with a penny stands before a +French doll. But he bought with taste and discretion of other wines-- +Chablis, Moselle, Chateau d'Or, Hochheimer, and port of right age and +pedigree. + +The matter of the cuisine gave him some studious hours until he +suddenly recollected Andre--Andre, their old /chef/--the most sublime +master of French Creole cookery in the Mississippi Valley. Perhaps he +was yet somewhere about the plantation. The solicitor had told him +that the place was still being cultivated, in accordance with a +compromise agreement between the litigants. + +On the next Sunday after the thought Grandemont rode, horseback, down +to Charleroi. The big, square house with its two long ells looked +blank and cheerless with its closed shutters and doors. + +The shrubbery in the yard was ragged and riotous. Fallen leaves from +the grove littered the walks and porches. Turning down the lane at the +side of the house, Grandemont rode on to the quarters of the +plantation hands. He found the workers just streaming back from +church, careless, happy, and bedecked in gay yellows, reds, and blues. + +Yes, Andre was still there; his wool a little grayer; his mouth as +wide; his laughter as ready as ever. Grandemont told him of his plan, +and the old /chef/ swayed with pride and delight. With a sigh of +relief, knowing that he need have no further concern until the serving +of that dinner was announced, he placed in Andre's hands a liberal sum +for the cost of it, giving /carte blanche/ for its creation. + +Among the blacks were also a number of the old house servants. +Absalom, the former major domo, and a half-dozen of the younger men, +once waiters and attaches of the kitchen, pantry, and other domestic +departments crowded around to greet "M'shi Grande." Absalom guaranteed +to marshal, of these, a corps of assistants that would perform with +credit the serving of the dinner. + +After distributing a liberal largesse among the faithful, Grandemont +rode back to town well pleased. There were many other smaller details +to think of and provide for, but eventually the scheme was complete, +and now there remained only the issuance of the invitations to his +guests. + +Along the river within the scope of a score of miles dwelt some half- +dozen families with whose princely hospitality that of the Charleses +had been contemporaneous. They were the proudest and most august of +the old regime. Their small circle had been a brilliant one; their +social relations close and warm; their houses full of rare welcome and +discriminating bounty. Those friends, said Grandemont, should once +more, if never again, sit at Charleroi on a nineteenth of January to +celebrate the festal day of his house. + +Grandemont had his cards of invitation engraved. They were expensive, +but beautiful. In one particular their good taste might have been +disputed; but the Creole allowed himself that one feather in the cap +of his fugacious splendour. Might he not be allowed, for the one day +of the /renaissance/, to be "Grandemont du Puy Charles, of Charleroi"? +He sent the invitations out early in January so that the guests might +not fail to receive due notice. + +At eight o'clock on the morning of the nineteenth, the lower coast +steamboat /River Belle/ gingerly approached the long unused landing at +Charleroi. The bridge was lowered, and a swarm of the plantation hands +streamed along the rotting pier, bearing ashore a strange assortment +of freight. Great shapeless bundles and bales and packets swathed in +cloth and bound with ropes; tubs and urns of palms, evergreens, and +tropical flowers; tables, mirrors, chairs, couches, carpets, and +pictures--all carefully bound and padded against the dangers of +transit. + +Grandemont was among them, the busiest there. To the safe conveyance +of certain large hampers eloquent with printed cautions to delicate +handling he gave his superintendence, for they contained the fragile +china and glassware. The dropping of one of those hampers would have +cost him more than he could have saved in a year. + +The last article unloaded, the /River Belle/ backed off and continued +her course down stream. In less than an hour everything had been +conveyed to the house. And came then Absalom's task, directing the +placing of the furniture and wares. There was plenty of help, for that +day was always a holiday at Charleroi, and the Negroes did not suffer +the old traditions to lapse. Almost the entire population of the +quarters volunteered their aid. A score of piccaninnies were sweeping +at the leaves in the yard. In the big kitchen at the rear Andre was +lording it with his old-time magnificence over his numerous sub-cooks +and scullions. Shutters were flung wide; dust spun in clouds; the +house echoed to voices and the tread of busy feet. The prince had come +again, and Charleroi woke from its long sleep. + +The full moon, as she rose across the river that night and peeped +above the levee saw a sight that had long been missing from her orbit. +The old plantation house shed a soft and alluring radiance from every +window. Of its two-score rooms only four had been refurnished--the +larger reception chamber, the dining hall, and two smaller rooms for +the convenience of the expected guests. But lighted wax candles were +set in the windows of every room. + +The dining-hall was the /chef d'oeuvre/. The long table, set with +twenty-five covers, sparkled like a winter landscape with its snowy +napery and china and the icy gleam of crystal. The chaste beauty of +the room had required small adornment. The polished floor burned to a +glowing ruby with the reflection of candle light. The rich wainscoting +reached half way to the ceiling. Along and above this had been set the +relieving lightness of a few water-colour sketches of fruit and +flower. + +The reception chamber was fitted in a simple but elegant style. Its +arrangement suggested nothing of the fact that on the morrow the room +would again be cleared and abandoned to the dust and the spider. The +entrance hall was imposing with palms and ferns and the light of an +immense candelabrum. + +At seven o'clock Grandemont, in evening dress, with pearls--a family +passion--in his spotless linen, emerged from somewhere. The +invitations had specified eight as the dining hour. He drew an +armchair upon the porch, and sat there, smoking cigarettes and half +dreaming. + +The moon was an hour high. Fifty years back from the gate stood the +house, under its noble grove. The road ran in front, and then came the +grass-grown levee and the insatiate river beyond. Just above the levee +top a tiny red light was creeping down and a tiny green one was +creeping up. Then the passing steamers saluted, and the hoarse din +startled the drowsy silence of the melancholy lowlands. The stillness +returned, save for the little voices of the night--the owl's +recitative, the capriccio of the crickets, the concerto of the frogs +in the grass. The piccaninnies and the dawdlers from the quarters had +been dismissed to their confines, and the melee of the day was reduced +to an orderly and intelligent silence. The six coloured waiters, in +their white jackets, paced, cat-footed, about the table, pretending to +arrange where all was beyond betterment. Absalom, in black and shining +pumps posed, superior, here and there where the lights set off his +grandeur. And Grandemont rested in his chair, waiting for his guests. + +He must have drifted into a dream--and an extravagant one--for he was +master of Charleroi and Adele was his wife. She was coming out to him +now; he could hear her steps; he could feel her hand upon his +shoulder-- + +"/Pardon moi, M'shi Grande/"--it was Absalom's hand touching him, it +was Absalom's voice, speaking the /patois/ of the blacks--"but it is +eight o'clock." + +Eight o'clock. Grandemont sprang up. In the moonlight he could see the +row of hitching-posts outside the gate. Long ago the horses of the +guests should have stood there. They were vacant. + +A chanted roar of indignation, a just, waxing bellow of affront and +dishonoured genius came from Andre's kitchen, filling the house with +rhythmic protest. The beautiful dinner, the pearl of a dinner, the +little excellent superb jewel of a dinner! But one moment more of +waiting and not even the thousand thunders of black pigs of the +quarter would touch it! + +"They are a little late," said Grandemont, calmly. "They will come +soon. Tell Andre to hold back dinner. And ask him if, by some chance, +a bull from the pastures has broken, roaring, into the house." + +He seated himself again to his cigarettes. Though he had said it, he +scarcely believed Charleroi would entertain company that night. For +the first time in history the invitation of a Charles had been +ignored. So simple in courtesy and honour was Grandemont, and, +perhaps, so serenely confident in the prestige of his name, that the +most likely reasons for the vacant board did not occur to him. + +Charleroi stood by a road travelled daily by people from those +plantations whither his invitations had gone. No doubt even on the day +before the sudden reanimation of the old house they had driven past +and observed the evidences of long desertion and decay. They had +looked at the corpse of Charleroi and then at Grandemont's +invitations, and, though the puzzle or tasteless hoax or whatever the +thing meant left them perplexed, they would not seek its solution by +the folly of a visit to that deserted house. + +The moon was now above the grove, and the yard was pied with deep +shadows save where they lightened in the tender glow of outpouring +candle light. A crisp breeze from the river hinted at the possibility +of frost when the night should have become older. The grass at one +side of the steps was specked with the white stubs of Grandemont's +cigarettes. The cotton-broker's clerk sat in his chair with the smoke +spiralling above him. I doubt that he once thought of the little +fortune he had so impotently squandered. Perhaps it was compensation +enough for him to sit thus at Charleroi for a few retrieved hours. +Idly his mind wandered in and out many fanciful paths of memory. He +smiled to himself as a paraphrased line of Scripture strayed into his +mind: "A certain /poor/ man made a feast." + +He heard the sound of Absalom coughing a note of summons. Grandemont +stirred. This time he had not been asleep--only drowsing. + +"Nine o'clock, /M'shi Grande/," said Absalom in the uninflected voice +of a good servant who states a fact unqualified by personal opinion. + +Grandemont rose to his feet. In their time all the Charleses had been +proven, and they were gallant losers. + +"Serve dinner," he said calmly. And then he checked Absalom's movement +to obey, for something clicked the gate latch and was coming down the +walk toward the house. Something that shuffled its feet and muttered +to itself as it came. It stopped in the current of light at the foot +of the steps and spake, in the universal whine of the gadding +mendicant. + +"Kind sir, could you spare a poor, hungry man, out of luck, a little +to eat? And to sleep in the corner of a shed? For"--the thing +concluded, irrelevantly--"I can sleep now. There are no mountains to +dance reels in the night; and the copper kettles are all scoured +bright. The iron band is still round my ankle, and a link, if it is +your desire I should be chained." + +It set a foot upon the step and drew up the rags that hung upon the +limb. Above the distorted shoe, caked with the dust of a hundred +leagues, they saw the link and the iron band. The clothes of the tramp +were wreaked to piebald tatters by sun and rain and wear. A mat of +brown, tangled hair and beard covered his head and face, out of which +his eyes stared distractedly. Grandemont noticed that he carried in +one hand a white, square card. + +"What is that?" he asked. + +"I picked it up, sir, at the side of the road." The vagabond handed +the card to Grandemont. "Just a little to eat, sir. A little parched +corn, a /tortilla/, or a handful of beans. Goat's meat I cannot eat. +When I cut their throats they cry like children." + +Grandemont held up the card. It was one of his own invitations to +dinner. No doubt some one had cast it away from a passing carriage +after comparing it with the tenantless house of Charleroi. + +"From the hedges and highways bid them come," he said to himself, +softly smiling. And then to Absalom: "Send Louis to me." + +Louis, once his own body-servant, came promptly, in his white jacket. + +"This gentleman," said Grandemont, "will dine with me. Furnish him +with bath and clothes. In twenty minutes have him ready and dinner +served." + +Louis approached the disreputable guest with the suavity due to a +visitor to Charleroi, and spirited him away to inner regions. + +Promptly, in twenty minutes, Absalom announced dinner, and, a moment +later, the guest was ushered into the dining hall where Grandemont +waited, standing, at the head of the table. The attentions of Louis +had transformed the stranger into something resembling the polite +animal. Clean linen and an old evening suit that had been sent down +from town to clothe a waiter had worked a miracle with his exterior. +Brush and comb had partially subdued the wild disorder of his hair. +Now he might have passed for no more extravagant a thing than one of +those /poseurs/ in art and music who affect such oddity of guise. The +man's countenance and demeanour, as he approached the table, exhibited +nothing of the awkwardness or confusion to be expected from his +Arabian Nights change. He allowed Absalom to seat him at Grandemont's +right hand with the manner of one thus accustomed to be waited upon. + +"It grieves me," said Grandemont, "to be obliged to exchange names +with a guest. My own name is Charles." + +"In the mountains," said the wayfarer, "they call me Gringo. Along the +roads they call me Jack." + +"I prefer the latter," said Grandemont. "A glass of wine with you, Mr. +Jack." + +Course after course was served by the supernumerous waiters. +Grandemont, inspired by the results of Andre's exquisite skill in +cookery and his own in the selection of wines became the model host, +talkative, witty, and genial. The guest was fitful in conversation. +His mind seemed to be sustaining a seccession of waves of dementia +followed by intervals of comparative lucidity. There was the glassy +brightness of recent fever in his eyes. A long course of it must have +been the cause of his emaciation and weakness, his distracted mind, +and the dull pallor that showed even through the tan of wind and sun. + +"Charles," he said to Grandemont--for thus he seemed to interpret his +name--"you never saw the mountains dance, did you?" + +"No, Mr. Jack," answered Grandemont, gravely, "the spectacle has been +denied me. But, I assure you, I can understand it must be a diverting +sight. The big ones, you know, white with snow on the tops, waltzing-- +/decollete/, we may say." + +"You first scour the kettles," said Mr. Jack, leaning toward him +excitedly, "to cook the beans in the morning, and you lie down on a +blanket and keep quite still. Then they come out and dance for you. +You would go out and dance with them but you are chained every night +to the centre pole of the hut. You believe the mountains dance, don't +you, Charlie?" + +"I contradict no traveller's tales," said Grandemont, with a smile. + +Mr. Jack laughed loudly. He dropped his voice to a confidential +whisper. + +"You are a fool to believe it," he went on. "They don't really +advance. It's the fever in your head. It's the hard work and the bad +water that does it. You are sick for weeks, and there is no medicine. +The fever comes on every evening, and then you are as strong as two +men. One night the /compania/ are lying drunk with /mescal/. They have +brought back sacks of silver dollars from a ride, and they drink to +celebrate. In the night you file the chain in two and go down the +mountain. You walk for miles--hundreds of them. By and by the +mountains are all gone, and you come to the prairies. They do not +dance at night; they are merciful, and you sleep. Then you come to the +river, and it says things to you. You follow it down, down, but you +can't find what you are looking for." + +Mr. Jack leaned back in his chair, and his eyes slowly closed. The +food and wine had steeped him in a deep calm. The tense strain had +been smoothed from his face. The languor of repletion was claiming +him. Drowsily he spoke again. + +"It's bad manners--I know--to go to sleep--at table--but--that was-- +such a good dinner--Grande, old fellow." + +/Grande/! The owner of the name started and set down his glass. How +should this wretched tatterdemalion whom he had invited, Caliph-like, +to sit at his feet know his name? + +Not at first, but soon, little by little, the suspicion, wild and +unreasonable as it was, stole into his brain. He drew out his watch +with hands that almost balked him by their trembling, and opened the +back case. There was a picture there--a photograph fixed to the inner +side. + +Rising, Grandemont shook Mr. Jack by the shoulder. The weary guest +opened his eyes. Grandemont held the watch. + +"Look at this picture, Mr. Jack. Have you ever--" + +"/My sister Adele/!" + +The vagrant's voice rang loud and sudden through the room. He started +to his feet, but Grandemont's arms were about him, and Grandemont was +calling him "Victor!--Victor Fauquier! /Merci, merci, mon Dieu/!" + +Too far overcome by sleep and fatigue was the lost one to talk that +night. Days afterward, when the tropic /calentura/ had cooled in his +veins, the disordered fragments he had spoken were completed in shape +and sequence. He told the story of his angry flight, of toils and +calamities on sea and shore, of his ebbing and flowing fortune in +southern lands, and of his latest peril when, held a captive, he +served menially in a stronghold of bandits in the Sonora Mountains of +Mexico. And of the fever that seized him there and his escape and +delirium, during which he strayed, perhaps led by some marvellous +instinct, back to the river on whose bank he had been born. And of the +proud and stubborn thing in his blood that had kept him silent through +all those years, clouding the honour of one, though he knew it not, +and keeping apart two loving hearts. "What a thing is love!" you may +say. And if I grant it, you shall say, with me: "What a thing is +pride!" + +On a couch in the reception chamber Victor lay, with a dawning +understanding in his heavy eyes and peace in his softened countenance. +Absalom was preparing a lounge for the transient master of Charleroi, +who, to-morrow, would be again the clerk of a cotton-broker, but +also-- + +"To-morrow," Grandemont was saying, as he stood by the couch of his +guest, speaking the words with his face shining as must have shone the +face of Elijah's charioteer when he announced the glories of that +heavenly journey--"To-morrow I will take you to Her." + + + +XVIII + +ON BEHALF OF THE MANAGEMENT + +This is the story of the man manager, and how he held his own until +the very last paragraph. + +I had it from Sully Magoon, /viva voce/. The words are indeed his; and +if they do not constitute truthful fiction my memory should be taxed +with the blame. + +It is not deemed amiss to point out, in the beginning, the stress that +is laid upon the masculinity of the manager. For, according to Sully, +the term when applied to the feminine division of mankind has +precisely an opposite meaning. The woman manager (he says) economizes, +saves, oppresses her household with bargains and contrivances, and +looks sourly upon any pence that are cast to the fiddler for even a +single jig-step on life's arid march. Wherefore her men-folk call her +blessed, and praise her; and then sneak out the backdoor to see the +Gilhooly Sisters to a buck-and-wing dance. + +Now, the man manager (I still quote Sully) is a Caesar without a +Brutus. He is an autocrat without responsibility, a player who +imperils no stake of his own. His office is to enact, to reverberate, +to boom, to expand, to out-coruscate--profitably, if he can. Bill- +paying and growing gray hairs over results belong to his principals. +It is his to guide the risk, to be the Apotheosis of Front, the three- +tailed Bashaw of Bluff, the Essential Oil of Razzle-Dazzle. + +We sat at luncheon, and Sully Magoon told me. I asked for particulars. + +"My old friend Denver Galloway was a born manager," said Sully. He +first saw the light of day in New York at three years of age. He was +born in Pittsburg, but his parents moved East the third summer +afterward. + +"When Denver grew up, he went into the managing business. At the age +of eight he managed a news-stand for the Dago that owned it. After +that he was manager at different times of a skating-rink, a livery- +stable, a policy game, a restaurant, a dancing academy, a walking +match, a burlesque company, a dry-goods store, a dozen hotels and +summer resorts, an insurance company, and a district leader's +campaign. That campaign, when Coughlin was elected on the East Side, +gave Denver a boost. It got him a job as manager of a Broadway hotel, +and for a while he managed Senator O'Grady's campaign in the +nineteenth. + +"Denver was a New Yorker all over. I think he was out of the city just +twice before the time I'm going to tell you about. Once he went +rabbit-shooting in Yonkers. The other time I met him just landing from +a North River ferry. 'Been out West on a big trip, Sully, old boy,' +says he. 'Gad! Sully, I had no idea we had such a big country. It's +immense. Never conceived of the magnificence of the West before. It's +gorgeous and glorious and infinite. Makes the East seemed cramped and +little. It's a grand thing to travel and get an idea of the extent and +resources of our country.' + +"I'd made several little runs out to California and down to Mexico and +up through Alaska, so I sits down with Denver for a chat about the +things he saw. + +"'Took in the Yosemite, out there, of course?' I asks. + +"'Well--no,' says Denver, 'I don't think so. At least, I don't +recollect it. You see, I only had three days, and I didn't get any +farther west than Youngstown, Ohio.' + +"About two years ago I dropped into New York with a little fly-paper +proposition about a Tennessee mica mine that I wanted to spread out in +a nice, sunny window, in the hopes of catching a few. I was coming out +of a printing-shop one afternoon with a batch of fine, sticky +prospectuses when I ran against Denver coming round a corner. I never +saw him looking so much like a tiger-lily. He was as beautiful and new +as a trellis of sweet peas, and as rollicking as a clarinet solo. We +shook hands, and he asked me what I was doing, and I gave him the +outlines of the scandal I was trying to create in mica. + +"'Pooh, pooh! for your mica,' says Denver. 'Don't you know better, +Sully, than to bump up against the coffers of little old New York with +anything as transparent as mica? Now, you come with me over to the +Hotel Brunswick. You're just the man I was hoping for. I've got +something there in sepia and curled hair that I want you to look at.' + +"'You putting up at the Brunswick?' I asks. + +"'Not a cent,' says Denver, cheerful. 'The syndicate that owns the +hotel puts up. I'm manager.' + +"The Brunswick wasn't one of them Broadway pot-houses all full of +palms and hyphens and flowers and costumes--kind of a mixture of lawns +and laundries. It was on one of the East Side avenues; but it was a +solid, old-time caravansary such as the Mayor of Skaneatelese or the +Governor of Missouri might stop at. Eight stories high it stalked up, +with new striped awnings, and the electrics had it as light as day. + +"'I've been manager here for a year,' says Denver, as we drew nigh. +'When I took charge,' says he, 'nobody nor nothing ever stopped at the +Brunswick. The clock over the clerks' desk used to run for weeks +without winding. A man fell dead with heart-disease on the sidewalk in +front of it one day, and when they went to pick him up he was two +blocks away. I figured out a scheme to catch the West Indies and South +American trade. I persuaded the owners to invest a few more thousands, +and I put every cent of it in electric lights, cayenne papre, gold- +leaf, and garlic. I got a Spanish-speaking force of employees and a +string band; and there was talk going round of a cockfight in the +basement every Sunday. Maybe I didn't catch the nut-brown gang! From +Havana to Patagonia the Don Senors knew about the Brunswick. We get +the highfliers from Cuba and Mexico and the couple of Americas farther +south; and they've simply got the boodle to bombard every bulfinch in +the bush with.' + +When we got to the hotel, Denver stops me at the door. + +"'There's a little liver-coloured man,' says he, 'sitting in a big +leather chair to your right, inside. You sit down and watch him for a +few minutes, and then tell me what you think.' + +"I took a chair, while Denver circulates around in the big rotunda. +The room was about full of curly-headed Cubans and South American +brunettes of different shades; and the atmosphere was international +with cigarette smoke, lit up by diamond rings and edged off with a +whisper of garlic. + +"That Denver Galloway was sure a relief to the eye. Six feet two he +was, red-headed and pink-gilled as a sun-perch. And the air he had! +Court of Saint James, Chauncy Olcott, Kentucky colonels, Count of +Monte Cristo, grand opera--all these things he reminded you of when he +was doing the honours. When he raised his finger the hotel porters and +bell-boys skated across the floor like cockroaches, and even the clerk +behind the desk looked as meek and unimportant as Andy Carnegie. + +"Denver passed around, shaking hands with his guests, and saying over +the two or three Spanish words he knew until it was like a coronation +rehearsal or a Bryan barbecue in Texas. + +"I watched the little man he told me to. 'Twas a little foreign person +in a double-breasted frock-coat, trying to touch the floor with his +toes. He was the colour of vici kid, and his whiskers was like +excelsior made out of mahogany wood. He breathed hard, and he never +once took his eyes off of Denver. There was a look of admiration and +respect on his face like you see on a boy that's following a champion +base-ball team, or the Kaiser William looking at himself in a glass. + +"After Denver goes his rounds he takes me into his private office. + +"'What's your report on the dingy I told you to watch?' he asks. + +"'Well,' says I, 'if you was as big a man as he takes you to be, nine +rooms and bath in the Hall of Fame, rent free till October 1st, would +be about your size.' + +"'You've caught the idea,' says Denver. 'I've given him the wizard +grip and the cabalistic eye. The glamour that emanates from yours +truly has enveloped him like a North River fog. He seems to think that +Senor Galloway is the man who. I guess they don't raise 74-inch +sorrel-tops with romping ways down in his precinct. Now, Sully,' goes +on Denver, 'if you was asked, what would you take the little man to +be?' + +"'Why,' says I, 'the barber around the corner; or, if he's royal, the +king of the boot-blacks.' + +"'Never judge by looks,' says Denver; 'he's the dark-horse candidate +for president of a South American republic.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'he didn't look quite that bad to me.' + +"Then Denver draws his chair up close and gives out his scheme. + +"'Sully,' says he, with seriousness and levity, 'I've been a manager +of one thing and another for over twenty years. That's what I was cut +out for--to have somebody else to put up the money and look after the +repairs and the police and taxes while I run the business. I never had +a dollar of my own invested in my life. I wouldn't know how it felt to +have the dealer rake in a coin of mine. But I can handle other +people's stuff and manage other people's enterprises. I've had an +ambition to get hold of something big--something higher than hotels +and lumber-yards and local politics. I want to be manager of something +way up--like a railroad or a diamond trust or an automobile factory. +Now here comes this little man from the tropics with just what I want, +and he's offered me the job.' + +"'What job?' I asks. 'Is he going to revive the Georgia Minstrels or +open a cigar store?' + +"'He's no 'coon,' says Denver. 'He's General Rompiro--General Josey +Alfonso Sapolio Jew-Ann Rompiro--he has his cards printed by a news- +ticker. He's the real thing, Sully, and he wants me to manage his +campaign--he wants Denver C. Galloway for a president-maker. Think of +that, Sully! Old Denver romping down to the tropics, plucking lotus- +flowers and pineapples with one hand and making presidents with the +other! Won't it make Uncle Mark Hanna mad? And I want you to go too, +Sully. You can help me more than any man I know. I've been herding +that brown man for a month in the hotel so he wouldn't stray down +Fourteenth Street and get roped in by that crowd of refugee tamale- +eaters down there. And he's landed, and D. C. G. is manager of General +J. A. S. J. Rompiro's presidential campaign in the great republic of-- +what's its name?' + +"Denver gets down an atlas from a shelf, and we have a look at the +afflicted country. 'Twas a dark blue one, on the west coast, about the +size of a special delivery stamp. + +"'From what the General tells me,' says Denver, 'and from what I can +gather from the encyclopaedia and by conversing with the janitor of +the Astor Library, it'll be as easy to handle the vote of that country +as it would be for Tammany to get a man named Geoghan appointed on the +White Wings force.' + +"'Why don't General Rumptyro stay at home,' says I, 'and manage his +own canvass?' + +"'You don't understand South American politics,' says Denver, getting +out the cigars. 'It's this way. General Rompiro had the misfortune of +becoming a popular idol. He distinguished himself by leading the army +in pursuit of a couple of sailors who had stolen the plaza--or the +carramba, or something belonging to the government. The people called +him a hero and the government got jealous. The president sends for the +chief of the Department of Public Edifices. "Find me a nice, clean +adobe wall," says he, "and send Senor Rompiro up against it. Then call +out a file of soldiers and--then let him be up against it." +Something,' goes on Denver, 'like the way they've treated Hobson and +Carrie Nation in our country. So the General had to flee. But he was +thoughtful enough to bring along his roll. He's got sinews of war +enough to buy a battleship and float her off in the christening +fluid.' + +"'What chance has he got to be president?' + +"'Wasn't I just giving you his rating?' says Denver. 'His country is +one of the few in South America where the presidents are elected by +popular ballot. The General can't go there just now. It hurts to be +shot against a wall. He needs a campaign manager to go down and whoop +things up for him--to get the boys in line and the new two-dollar +bills afloat and the babies kissed and the machine in running order. +Sully, I don't want to brag, but you remember how I brought Coughlin +under the wire for leader of the nineteenth? Ours was the banner +district. Don't you suppose I know how to manage a little monkey-cage +of a country like that? Why, with the dough the General's willing to +turn loose I could put two more coats of Japan varnish on him and have +him elected Governor of Georgia. New York has got the finest lot of +campaign managers in the world, Sully, and you give me a feeling of +hauteur when you cast doubts on my ability to handle the political +situation in a country so small that they have to print the names of +the towns in the appendix and footnotes.' + +"I argued with Denver some. I told him that politics down in that +tropical atmosphere was bound to be different from the nineteenth +district; but I might just as well have been a Congressman from North +Dakota trying to get an appropriation for a lighthouse and a coast +survey. Denver Galloway had ambitions in the manager line, and what I +said didn't amount to as much as a fig-leaf at the National +Dressmakers' Convention. 'I'll give you three days to cogitate about +going,' says Denver; 'and I'll introduce you to General Rompiro +to-morrow, so you can get his ideas drawn right from the rosewood.' + +"I put on my best reception-to-Booker-Washington manner, the next day +and tapped the distinguished rubber-plant for what he knew. + +"General Rompiro wasn't so gloomy inside as he appeared on the +surface. He was polite enough; and he exuded a number of sounds that +made a fair stagger at arranging themselves into language. It was +English he aimed at, and when his system of syntax reached your mind +it wasn't past you to understand it. If you took a college professor's +magazine essay and a Chinese laundryman's explanation of a lost shirt +and jumbled 'em together, you'd have about what the General handed you +out for conversation. He told me all about his bleeding country, and +what they were trying to do for it before the doctor came. But he +mostly talked of Denver C. Galloway. + +"'Ah, senor,' says he, 'that is the most fine of mans. Never I have +seen one man so magnifico, so gr-r-rand, so conformable to make done +things so swiftly by other mans. He shall make other mans do the acts +and himself to order and regulate, until we arrive at seeing +accomplishments of a suddenly. Oh, yes, senor. In my countree there is +not such mans of so beegness, so good talk, so compliments, so +strongness of sense and such. Ah, that Senor Galloway!' + +"'Yes,' says I, 'old Denver is the boy you want. He's managed every +kind of business here except filibustering, and he might as well +complete the list.' + +"Before the three days was up I decided to join Denver in his +campaign. Denver got three months' vacation from his hotel owners. For +a week we lived in a room with the General, and got all the pointers +about his country that we could interpret from the noises he made. +When we got ready to start, Denver had a pocket full of memorandums, +and letters from the General to his friends, and a list of names and +addresses of loyal politicians who would help along the boom of the +exiled popular idol. Besides these liabilities we carried assets to +the amount of $20,000 in assorted United States currency. General +Rompiro looked like a burnt effigy, but he was Br'er Fox himself when +it came to the real science of politics. + +"'Here is moneys,' says the General, 'of a small amount. There is more +with me--moocho more. Plentee moneys shall you be supplied, Senor +Galloway. More I shall send you at all times that you need. I shall +desire to pay feefty--one hundred thousand pesos, if necessario, to be +elect. How no? Sacramento! If that I am president and do not make one +meelion dolla in the one year you shall keek me on that side!-- +/valgame Dios/!' + +"Denver got a Cuban cigar-maker to fix up a little cipher code with +English and Spanish words, and gave the General a copy, so we could +cable him bulletins about the election, or for more money, and then we +were ready to start. General Rompiro escorted us to the steamer. On +the pier he hugged Denver around the waist and sobbed. 'Noble mans,' +says he, 'General Rompiro propels you into his confidence and trust. +Go, in the hands of the saints to do the work for your friend. /Viva +la libertad/!' + +"'Sure,' says Denver. 'And viva la liberality an' la soaperino and +hoch der land of the lotus and the vote us. Don't worry, General. +We'll have you elected as sure as bananas grow upside down.' + +"'Make pictures on me,' pleads the General--'make pictures on me for +money as it is needful.' + +"'Does he want to be tattooed, would you think?' asks Denver, +wrinkling up his eyes. + +"'Stupid!' says I. 'He wants you to draw on him for election expenses. +It'll be worse than tattooing. More like an autopsy.' + +"Me and Denver steamed down to Panama, and then hiked across the +Isthmus, and then by steamer again down to the town of Espiritu on the +coast of the General's country. + +"That was a town to send J. Howard Payne to the growler. I'll tell you +how you could make one like it. Take a lot of Filipino huts and a +couple of hundred brick-kilns and arrange 'em in squares in a +cemetery. Cart down all the conservatory plants in the Astor and +Vanderbilt greenhouses, and stick 'em about wherever there's room. +Turn all the Bellevue patients and the barbers' convention and the +Tuskegee school loose in the streets, and run the thermometer up to +120 in the shade. Set a fringe of the Rocky Mountains around the rear, +let it rain, and set the whole business on Rockaway Beach in the +middle of January--and you'd have a good imitation of Espiritu. + +"It took me and Denver about a week to get acclimated. Denver sent out +the letters the General had given him, and notified the rest of the +gang that there was something doing at the captain's office. We set up +headquarters in an old 'dobe house on a side street where the grass +was waist high. The election was only four weeks off; but there wasn't +any excitement. The home candidate for president was named +Roadrickeys. This town of Esperitu wasn't the capital any more than +Cleveland, Ohio, is the capital of the United States, but it was the +political centre where they cooked up revolutions, and made up the +slates. + +"At the end of the week Denver says the machine is started running. + +"'Sully,' says he, 'we've got a walkover. Just because General Rompiro +ain't Don Juan-on-the-spot the other crowd ain't at work. They're as +full of apathy as a territorial delegate during the chaplain's prayer. +Now, we want to introduce a little hot stuff in the way of +campaigning, and we'll surprise 'em at the polls.' + +"'How are you going to go about it?' I asks. + +"'Why, the usual way,' says Denver, surprised. 'We'll get the orators +on our side out every night to make speeches in the native lingo, and +have torch-light parades under the shade of the palms, and free +drinks, and buy up all the brass bands, of course, and--well, I'll +turn the baby-kissing over to you, Sully--I've seen a lot of 'em.' + +"'What else?' says I. + +"'Why, you know,' says Denver. 'We get the heelers out with the +crackly two-spots, and coal-tickets, and orders for groceries, and +have a couple of picnics out under the banyan-trees, and dances in the +Firemen's Hall--and the usual things. But first of all, Sully, I'm +going to have the biggest clam-bake down on the beach that was ever +seen south of the tropic of Capricorn. I figured that out from the +start. We'll stuff the whole town and the jungle folk for miles around +with clams. That's the first thing on the programme. Suppose you go +out now, and make the arrangements for that. I want to look over the +estimates the General made of the vote in the coast districts.' + +"I had learned some Spanish in Mexico, so I goes out, as Denver says, +and in fifteen minutes I come back to headquarters. + +"'If there ever was a clam in this country nobody ever saw it,' I +says. + +"'Great sky-rockets!' says Denver, with his mouth and eyes open. 'No +clams? How in the--who ever saw a country without clams? What kind of +a--how's an election to be pulled off without a clam-bake, I'd like to +know? Are you sure there's no clams, Sully?' + +"'Not even a can,' says I. + +"'Then for God's sake go out and try to find what the people here do +eat. We've got to fill 'em up with grub of some kind.' + +"I went out again. Denver was manager. In half an hour I gets back. + +"'They eat,' says I, 'tortillas, cassava, carne de chivo, arroz con +pollo, aquacates, zapates, yucca, and huevos fritos.' + +"'A man that would eat them things,' says Denver, getting a little +mad, 'ought to have his vote challenged.' + +"In a few more days the campaign managers from the other towns came +sliding into Esperitu. Our headquarters was a busy place. We had an +interpreter, and ice-water, and drinks, and cigars, and Denver flashed +the General's roll so often that it got so small you couldn't have +bought a Republican vote in Ohio with it. + +"And then Denver cabled to General Rompiro for ten thousand dollars +more and got it. + +"There were a number of Americans in Esperitu, but they were all in +business or grafts of some kind, and wouldn't take any hand in +politics, which was sensible enough. But they showed me and Denver a +fine time, and fixed us up so we could get decent things to eat and +drink. There was one American, named Hicks, used to come and loaf at +the headquarters. Hicks had had fourteen years of Esperitu. He was six +feet four and weighed in at 135. Cocoa was his line; and coast fever +and the climate had taken all the life out of him. They said he hadn't +smiled in eight years. His face was three feet long, and it never +moved except when he opened it to take quinine. He used to sit in our +headquarters and kill fleas and talk sarcastic. + +"'I don't take much interest in politics,' says Hicks, one day, 'but +I'd like you to tell me what you're trying to do down here, Galloway?' + +"'We're boosting General Rompiro, of course,' says Denver. 'We're +going to put him in the presidential chair. I'm his manager.' + +"'Well,' says Hicks, 'if I was you I'd be a little slower about it. +You've got a long time ahead of you, you know.' + +"'Not any longer than I need,' says Denver. + +"Denver went ahead and worked things smooth. He dealt out money on the +quiet to his lieutenants, and they were always coming after it. There +was free drinks for everybody in town, and bands playing every night, +and fireworks, and there was a lot of heelers going around buying up +votes day and night for the new style of politics in Espiritu, and +everybody liked it. + +"The day set for the election was November 4th. On the night before +Denver and me were smoking our pipes in headquarters, and in comes +Hicks and unjoints himself, and sits in a chair, mournful. Denver is +cheerful and confident. 'Rompiro will win in a romp,' says he. 'We'll +carry the country by 10,000. It's all over but the vivas. To-morrow +will tell the tale.' + +"'What's going to happen to-morrow?' asks Hicks. + +"'Why, the presidential election, of course,' says Denver. + +"'Say,' says Hicks, looking kind of funny, 'didn't anybody tell you +fellows that the election was held a week before you came? Congress +changed the date to July 27th. Roadrickeys was elected by 17,000. I +thought you was booming old Rompiro for next term, two years from now. +Wondered if you was going to keep up such a hot lick that long.' + +"I dropped my pipe on the floor. Denver bit the stem off of his. +Neither of us said anything. + +"And then I heard a sound like somebody ripping a clap-board off of a +barn-roof. 'Twas Hicks laughing for the first time in eight years." + +Sully Magoon paused while the waiter poured us a black coffee. + +"Your friend was, indeed, something of a manager," I said. + +"Wait a minute," said Sully, "I haven't given you any idea of what he +could do yet. That's all to come." + +"When we got back to New York there was General Rompiro waiting for us +on the pier. He was dancing like a cinnamon bear, all impatient for +the news, for Denver had just cabled him when we would arrive and +nothing more. + +"'Am I elect?' he shouts. 'Am I elect, friend of mine? Is that mine +country have demanded General Rompiro for the president? The last +dollar of mine have I sent you that last time. It is necessario that I +am elect. I have not more money. Am I elect, Senor Galloway?' + +"Denver turns to me. + +"'Leave me with old Rompey, Sully,' he says. 'I've got to break it to +him gently. 'Twould be indecent for other eyes to witness the +operation. This is the time, Sully,' says he, 'when old Denver has got +to make good as a jollier and a silver-tongued sorcerer, or else give +up all the medals he's earned.' + +"A couple of days later I went around to the hotel. There was Denver +in his old place, looking like the hero of two historical novels, and +telling 'em what a fine time he'd had down on his orange plantation in +Florida. + +"'Did you fix things up with the General?' I asks him. + +"'Did I?' says Denver. 'Come and see.' + +"He takes me by the arm and walks me to the dining-room door. There +was a little chocolate-brown fat man in a dress suit, with his face +shining with joy as he swelled himself and skipped about the floor. +Danged if Denver hadn't made General Rompiro head waiter of the Hotel +Brunswick!" + +"Is Mr. Galloway still in the managing business?" I asked, as Mr. +Magoon ceased. + +Sully shook his head. + +"Denver married an auburn-haired widow that owns a big hotel in +Harlem. He just helps around the place." + + + +XIX + +WHISTLING DICK'S CHRISTMAS STOCKING + +It was with much caution that Whistling Dick slid back the door of the +box-car, for Article 5716, City Ordinances, authorized (perhaps +unconstitutionally) arrest on suspicion, and he was familiar of old +with this ordinance. So, before climbing out, he surveyed the field +with all the care of a good general. + +He saw no change since his last visit to this big, alms-giving, long- +suffering city of the South, the cold weather paradise of the tramps. +The levee where his freight-car stood was pimpled with dark bulks of +merchandise. The breeze reeked with the well-remembered, sickening +smell of the old tarpaulins that covered bales and barrels. The dun +river slipped along among the shipping with an oily gurgle. Far down +toward Chalmette he could see the great bend in the stream outlined by +the row of electric lights. Across the river Algiers lay, a long, +irregular blot, made darker by the dawn which lightened the sky +beyond. An industrious tug or two, coming for some early sailing ship, +gave a few appalling toots, that seemed to be the signal for breaking +day. The Italian luggers were creeping nearer their landing, laden +with early vegetables and shellfish. A vague roar, subterranean in +quality, from dray wheels and street cars, began to make itself heard +and felt; and the ferryboats, the Mary Anns of water craft, stirred +sullenly to their menial morning tasks. + +Whistling Dick's red head popped suddenly back into the car. A sight +too imposing and magnificent for his gaze had been added to the scene. +A vast, incomparable policeman rounded a pile of rice sacks and stood +within twenty yards of the car. The daily miracle of the dawn, now +being performed above Algiers, received the flattering attention of +this specimen of municipal official splendour. He gazed with unbiased +dignity at the faintly glowing colours until, at last, he turned to +them his broad back, as if convinced that legal interference was not +needed, and the sunrise might proceed unchecked. So he turned his face +to the rice bags, and, drawing a flat flask from an inside pocket, he +placed it to his lips and regarded the firmament. + +Whistling Dick, professional tramp, possessed a half-friendly +acquaintance with this officer. They had met several times before on +the levee at night, for the officer, himself a lover of music, had +been attracted by the exquisite whistling of the shiftless vagabond. +Still, he did not care, under the present circumstances, to renew the +acquaintance. There is a difference between meeting a policeman on a +lonely wharf and whistling a few operatic airs with him, and being +caught by him crawling out of a freight-car. So Dick waited, as even a +New Orleans policeman must move on some time--perhaps it is a +retributive law of nature--and before long "Big Fritz" majestically +disappeared between the trains of cars. + +Whistling Dick waited as long as his judgment advised, and then slid +swiftly to the ground. Assuming as far as possible the air of an +honest labourer who seeks his daily toil, he moved across the network +of railway lines, with the intention of making his way by quiet Girod +Street to a certain bench in Lafayette Square, where, according to +appointment, he hoped to rejoin a pal known as "Slick," this +adventurous pilgrim having preceded him by one day in a cattle-car +into which a loose slat had enticed him. + +As Whistling Dick picked his way where night still lingered among the +big, reeking, musty warehouses, he gave way to the habit that had won +for him his title. Subdued, yet clear, with each note as true and +liquid as a bobolink's, his whistle tinkled about the dim, cold +mountains of brick like drops of rain falling into a hidden pool. He +followed an air, but it swam mistily into a swirling current of +improvisation. You could cull out the trill of mountain brooks, the +staccato of green rushes shivering above chilly lagoons, the pipe of +sleepy birds. + +Rounding a corner, the whistler collided with a mountain of blue and +brass. + +"So," observed the mountain calmly, "You are already pack. Und dere +vill not pe frost before two veeks yet! Und you haf forgotten how to +vistle. Dere was a valse note in dot last bar." + +"Watcher know about it?" said Whistling Dick, with tentative +familiarity; "you wit yer little Gherman-band nixcumrous chunes. +Watcher know about music? Pick yer ears, and listen agin. Here's de +way I whistled it--see?" + +He puckered his lips, but the big policeman held up his hand. + +"Shtop," he said, "und learn der right way. Und learn also dot a +rolling shtone can't vistle for a cent." + +Big Fritz's heavy moustache rounded into a circle, and from its depths +came a sound deep and mellow as that from a flute. He repeated a few +bars of the air the tramp had been whistling. The rendition was cold, +but correct, and he emphasized the note he had taken exception to. + +"Dot p is p natural, und not p vlat. Py der vay, you petter pe glad I +meet you. Von hour later, und I vould half to put you in a gage to +vistle mit der chail pirds. Der orders are to bull all der pums after +sunrise." + +"To which?" + +"To bull der pums--eferybody mitout fisible means. Dirty days is der +price, or fifteen tollars." + +"Is dat straight, or a game you givin' me?" + +"It's der pest tip you efer had. I gif it to you pecause I pelief you +are not so bad as der rest. Und pecause you gan visl 'Der Freisechutz' +bezzer dan I myself gan. Don't run against any more bolicemans aroundt +der corners, but go away from town a few tays. Good-pye." + +So Madame Orleans had at last grown weary of the strange and ruffled +brood that came yearly to nestle beneath her charitable pinions. + +After the big policeman had departed, Whistling Dick stood for an +irresolute minute, feeling all the outraged indignation of a +delinquent tenant who is ordered to vacate his premises. He had +pictured to himself a day of dreamful ease when he should have joined +his pal; a day of lounging on the wharf, munching the bananas and +cocoanuts scattered in unloading the fruit steamers; and then a feast +along the free-lunch counters from which the easy-going owners were +too good-natured or too generous to drive him away, and afterward a +pipe in one of the little flowery parks and a snooze in some shady +corner of the wharf. But here was a stern order to exile, and one that +he knew must be obeyed. So, with a wary eye open from the gleam of +brass buttons, he began his retreat toward a rural refuge. A few days +in the country need not necessarily prove disastrous. Beyond the +possibility of a slight nip of frost, there was no formidable evil to +be looked for. + +However, it was with a depressed spirit that Whistling Dick passed the +old French market on his chosen route down the river. For safety's +sake he still presented to the world his portrayal of the part of the +worthy artisan on his way to labour. A stall-keeper in the market, +undeceived, hailed him by the generic name of his ilk, and "Jack" +halted, taken by surprise. The vender, melted by this proof of his own +acuteness, bestowed a foot of Frankfurter and half a loaf, and thus +the problem of breakfast was solved. + +When the streets, from topographical reasons, began to shun the river +bank the exile mounted to the top of the levee, and on its well- +trodden path pursued his way. The suburban eye regarded him with cold +suspicion, individuals reflected the stern spirit of the city's +heartless edict. He missed the seclusion of the crowded town and the +safety he could always find in the multitude. + +At Chalmette, six miles upon his desultory way, there suddenly menaced +him a vast and bewildering industry. A new port was being established; +the dock was being built, compresses were going up; picks and shovels +and barrows struck at him like serpents from every side. An arrogant +foreman bore down upon him, estimating his muscles with the eye of a +recruiting-sergeant. Brown men and black men all about him were +toiling away. He fled in terror. + +By noon he had reached the country of the plantations, the great, sad, +silent levels bordering the mighty river. He overlooked fields of +sugar-cane so vast that their farthest limits melted into the sky. The +sugar-making season was well advanced, and the cutters were at work; +the waggons creaked drearily after them; the Negro teamsters inspired +the mules to greater speed with mellow and sonorous imprecations. +Dark-green groves, blurred by the blue of distance, showed where the +plantation-houses stood. The tall chimneys of the sugar-mills caught +the eye miles distant, like lighthouses at sea. + +At a certain point Whistling Dick's unerring nose caught the scent of +frying fish. Like a pointer to a quail, he made his way down the levee +side straight to the camp of a credulous and ancient fisherman, whom +he charmed with song and story, so that he dined like an admiral, and +then like a philosopher annihilated the worst three hours of the day +by a nap under the trees. + +When he awoke and again continued his hegira, a frosty sparkle in the +air had succeeded the drowsy warmth of the day, and as this portent of +a chilly night translated itself to the brain of Sir Peregrine, he +lengthened his stride and bethought him of shelter. He travelled a +road that faithfully followed the convolutions of the levee, running +along its base, but whither he knew not. Bushes and rank grass crowded +it to the wheel ruts, and out of this ambuscade the pests of the +lowlands swarmed after him, humming a keen, vicious soprano. And as +the night grew nearer, although colder, the whine of the mosquitoes +became a greedy, petulant snarl that shut out all other sounds. To his +right, against the heavens, he saw a green light moving, and, +accompanying it, the masts and funnels of a big incoming steamer, +moving as upon a screen at a magic-lantern show. And there were +mysterious marshes at his left, out of which came queer gurgling cries +and a choked croaking. The whistling vagrant struck up a merry warble +to offset these melancholy influences, and it is likely that never +before, since Pan himself jigged it on his reeds, had such sounds been +heard in those depressing solitudes. + +A distant clatter in the rear quickly developed into the swift beat of +horses' hoofs, and Whistling Dick stepped aside into the dew-wet grass +to clear the track. Turning his head, he saw approaching a fine team +of stylish grays drawing a double surrey. A stout man with a white +moustache occupied the front seat, giving all his attention to the +rigid lines in his hands. Behind him sat a placid, middle-aged lady +and a brilliant-looking girl hardly arrived at young ladyhood. The +lap-robe had slipped partly from the knees of the gentleman driving, +and Whistling Dick saw two stout canvas bags between his feet--bags +such as, while loafing in cities, he had seen warily transferred +between express waggons and bank doors. The remaining space in the +vehicle was filled with parcels of various sizes and shapes. + +As the surrey swept even with the sidetracked tramp, the bright-eyed +girl, seized by some merry, madcap impulse, leaned out toward him with +a sweet, dazzling smile, and cried, "Mer-ry Christ-mas!" in a shrill, +plaintive treble. + +Such a thing had not often happened to Whistling Dick, and he felt +handicapped in devising the correct response. But lacking time for +reflection, he let his instinct decide, and snatching off his battered +derby, he rapidly extended it at arm's length, and drew it back with a +continuous motion, and shouted a loud, but ceremonious, "Ah, there!" +after the flying surrey. + +The sudden movement of the girl had caused one of the parcels to +become unwrapped, and something limp and black fell from it into the +road. The tramp picked it up, and found it to be a new black silk +stocking, long and fine and slender. It crunched crisply, and yet with +a luxurious softness, between his fingers. + +"Ther bloomin' little skeezicks!" said Whistling Dick, with a broad +grin bisecting his freckled face. "W't d' yer think of dat, now! +Mer-ry Chris-mus! Sounded like a cuckoo clock, da'ts what she did. Dem +guys is swells, too, bet yer life, an' der old 'un stacks dem sacks of +dough down under his trotters like dey was common as dried apples. +Been shoppin' for Chrismus, and de kid's lost one of her new socks +w'ot she was goin' to hold up Santy wid. De bloomin' little skeezicks! +Wit' her 'Mer-ry Chris-mus!' W'ot d' yer t'ink! Same as to say, +'Hello, Jack, how goes it?' and as swell as Fift' Av'noo, and as easy +as a blowout in Cincinnat." + +Whistling Dick folded the stocking carefully, and stuffed it into his +pocket. + +It was nearly two hours later when he came upon signs of habitation. +The buildings of an extensive plantation were brought into view by a +turn in the road. He easily selected the planter's residence in a +large square building with two wings, with numerous good-sized, well- +lighted windows, and broad verandas running around its full extent. it +was set upon a smooth lawn, which was faintly lit by the far-reaching +rays of the lamps within. A noble grove surrounded it, and old- +fashioned shrubbery grew thickly about the walks and fences. The +quarters of the hands and the mill buildings were situated at a +distance in the rear. + +The road was now enclosed on each side by a fence, and presently, as +Whistling Dick drew nearer the house, he suddenly stopped and sniffed +the air. + +"If dere ain't a hobo stew cookin' somewhere in dis immediate +precint," he said to himself, "me nose as quit tellin' de trut'." + +Without hesitation he climbed the fence to windward. He found himself +in an apparently disused lot, where piles of old bricks were stacked, +and rejected, decaying lumber. In a corner he saw the faint glow of a +fire that had become little more than a bed of living coals, and he +thought he could see some dim human forms sitting or lying about it. +He drew nearer, and by the light of a little blaze that suddenly +flared up he saw plainly the fat figure of a ragged man in an old +brown sweater and cap. + +"Dat man," said Whistling Dick to himself softly, "is a dead ringer +for Boston Harry. I'll try him wit de high sign." + +He whistled one or two bars of a rag-time melody, and the air was +immediately taken up, and then quickly ended with a peculiar run. The +first whistler walked confidently up to the fire. The fat man looked +up, and spake in a loud, asthmatic wheeze: + +"Gents, the unexpected but welcome addition to our circle is Mr. +Whistling Dick, an old friend of mine for whom I fully vouches. The +waiter will lay another cover at once. Mr. W. D. will join us at +supper, during which function he will enlighten us in regard to the +circumstances that gave us the pleasure of his company." + +"Chewin' de stuffin' out 'n de dictionary, as usual, Boston," said +Whistling Dick; "but t'anks all de same for de invitashun. I guess I +finds meself here about de same way as yous guys. A cop gimme de tip +dis mornin'. Yous workin' on dis farm?" + +"A guest," said Boston, sternly, "shouldn't never insult his +entertainers until he's filled up wid grub. 'Tain't good business +sense. Workin'!--but I will restrain myself. We five--me, Deaf Pete, +Blinky, Goggles, and Indiana Tom--got put on to this scheme of Noo +Orleans to work visiting gentlemen upon her dirty streets, and we hit +the road last evening just as the tender hues of twilight had flopped +down upon the daisies and things. Blinky, pass the empty oyster-can at +your left to the empty gentleman at your right." + +For the next ten minutes the gang of roadsters paid their undivided +attention to the supper. In an old five-gallon kerosene can they had +cooked a stew of potatoes, meat, and onions, which they partook of +from smaller cans they had found scattered about the vacant lot. + +Whistling Dick had known Boston Harry of old, and knew him to be one +of the shrewdest and most successful of his brotherhood. He looked +like a prosperous stock-drover or solid merchant from some country +village. He was stout and hale, with a ruddy, always smoothly shaven +face. His clothes were strong and neat, and he gave special attention +to his decent-appearing shoes. During the past ten years he had +acquired a reputation for working a larger number of successfully +managed confidence games than any of his acquaintances, and he had not +a day's work to be counted against him. It was rumoured among his +associates that he had saved a considerable amount of money. The four +other men were fair specimens of the slinking, ill-clad, noisome genus +who carried their labels of "suspicious" in plain view. + +After the bottom of the large can had been scraped, and pipes lit at +the coals, two of the men called Boston aside and spake with him lowly +and mysteriously. He nodded decisively, and then said aloud to +Whistling Dick: + +"Listen, sonny, to some plain talky-talk. We five are on a lay. I've +guaranteed you to be square, and you're to come in on the profits +equal with the boys, and you've got to help. Two hundred hands on this +plantation are expecting to be paid a week's wages to-morrow morning. +To-morrow's Christmas, and they want to lay off. Says the boss: 'Work +from five to nine in the morning to get a train load of sugar off, and +I'll pay every man cash down for the week and a day extra.' They say: +'Hooray for the boss! It goes.' He drives to Noo Orleans to-day, and +fetches back the cold dollars. Two thousand and seventy-four fifty is +the amount. I got the figures from a man who talks too much, who got +'em from the bookkeeper. The boss of this plantation thinks he's going +to pay this wealth to the hands. He's got it down wrong; he's going to +pay it to us. It's going to stay in the leisure class, where it +belongs. Now, half of this haul goes to me, and the other half the +rest of you may divide. Why the difference? I represent the brains. +It's my scheme. Here's the way we're going to get it. There's some +company at supper in the house, but they'll leave about nine. They've +just happened in for an hour or so. If they don't go pretty soon, +we'll work the scheme anyhow. We want all night to get away good with +the dollars. They're heavy. About nine o'clock Deaf Pete and Blinky'll +go down the road about a quarter beyond the house, and set fire to a +big cane-field there that the cutters haven't touched yet. The wind's +just right to have it roaring in two minutes. The alarm'll be given, +and every man Jack about the place will be down there in ten minutes, +fighting fire. That'll leave the money sacks and the women alone in +the house for us to handle. You've heard cane burn? Well, there's +mighty few women can screech loud enough to be heard above its +crackling. The thing's dead safe. The only danger is in being caught +before we can get far enough away with the money. Now, if you--" + +"Boston," interrupted Whistling Dick, rising to his feet, "T'anks for +the grub yous fellers has given me, but I'll be movin' on now." + +"What do you mean?" asked Boston, also rising. + +"W'y, you can count me outer dis deal. You oughter know that. I'm on +de bum all right enough, but dat other t'ing don't go wit' me. +Burglary is no good. I'll say good night and many t'anks fer--" + +Whistling Dick had moved away a few steps as he spoke, but he stopped +very suddenly. Boston had covered him with a short revolver of roomy +calibre. + +"Take your seat," said the tramp leader. "I'd feel mighty proud of +myself if I let you go and spoil the game. You'll stick right in this +camp until we finish the job. The end of that brick pile is your +limit. You go two inches beyond that, and I'll have to shoot. Better +take it easy, now." + +"It's my way of doin'," said Whistling Dick. "Easy goes. You can +depress de muzzle of dat twelve-incher, and run 'er back on de trucks. +I remains, as de newspapers says, 'in yer midst.'" + +"All right," said Boston, lowering his piece, as the other returned +and took his seat again on a projecting plank in a pile of timber. +"Don't try to leave; that's all. I wouldn't miss this chance even if I +had to shoot an old acquaintance to make it go. I don't want to hurt +anybody specially, but this thousand dollars I'm going to get will fix +me for fair. I'm going to drop the road, and start a saloon in a +little town I know about. I'm tired of being kicked around." + +Boston Harry took from his pocket a cheap silver watch, and held it +near the fire. + +"It's a quarter to nine," he said. "Pete, you and Blinky start. Go +down the road past the house, and fire the cane in a dozen places. +Then strike for the levee, and come back on it, instead of the road, +so you won't meet anybody. By the time you get back the men will all +be striking out for the fire, and we'll break for the house and collar +the dollars. Everybody cough up what matches he's got." + +The two surly tramps made a collection of all the matches in the +party, Whistling Dick contributing his quota with propitiatory +alacrity, and then they departed in the dim starlight in the direction +of the road. + +Of the three remaining vagrants, two, Goggles and Indiana Tom, +reclined lazily upon convenient lumber and regarded Whistling Dick +with undisguised disfavour. Boston, observing that the dissenting +recruit was disposed to remain peaceably, relaxed a little of his +vigilance. Whistling Dick arose presently and strolled leisurely up +and down keeping carefully within the territory assigned him. + +"Dis planter chap," he said, pausing before Boston Harry, "w'ot makes +yer t'ink he's got de tin in de house wit' 'im?" + +"I'm advised of the facts in the case," said Boston. "He drove to Noo +Orleans and got it, I say, to-day. Want to change your mind now and +come in?" + +"Naw, I was just askin'. Wot kind o' team did de boss drive?" + +"Pair of grays." + +"Double surrey?" + +"Yep." + +"Women folks along?" + +"Wife and kid. Say, what morning paper are you trying to pump news +for?" + +"I was just conversin' to pass de time away. I guess dat team passed +me in de road dis evenin'. Dat's all." + +As Whistling Dick put his hands in his pockets and continued his +curtailed beat up and down by the fire, he felt the silk stocking he +had picked up in the road. + +"Ther bloomin' little skeezicks," he muttered, with a grin. + +As he walked up and down he could see, through a sort of natural +opening or lane among the trees, the planter's residence some seventy- +five yards distant. The side of the house toward him exhibited +spacious, well-lighted windows through which a soft radiance streamed, +illuminating the broad veranda and some extent of the lawn beneath. + +"What's that you said?" asked Boston, sharply. + +"Oh, nuttin' 't all," said Whistling Dick, lounging carelessly, and +kicking meditatively at a little stone on the ground. + +"Just as easy," continued the warbling vagrant softly to himself, "an' +sociable an' swell an' sassy, wit' her 'Mer-ry Chris-mus,' Wot d'yer +t'ink, now!" + +* * * * * + +Dinner, two hours late, was being served in the Bellemeade plantation +dining-room. + +The dining-room and all its appurtenances spoke of an old regime that +was here continued rather than suggested to the memory. The plate was +rich to the extent that its age and quaintness alone saved it from +being showy; there were interesting names signed in the corners of the +pictures on the walls; the viands were of the kind that bring a shine +into the eyes of gourmets. The service was swift, silent, lavish, as +in the days when the waiters were assets like the plate. The names by +which the planter's family and their visitors addressed one another +were historic in the annals of two nations. Their manners and +conversation had that most difficult kind of ease--the kind that still +preserves punctilio. The planter himself seemed to be the dynamo that +generated the larger portion of the gaiety and wit. The younger ones +at the board found it more than difficult to turn back on him his guns +of raillery and banter. It is true, the young men attempted to storm +his works repeatedly, incited by the hope of gaining the approbation +of their fair companions; but even when they sped a well-aimed shaft, +the planter forced them to feel defeat by the tremendous discomfiting +thunder of the laughter with which he accompanied his retorts. At the +head of the table, serene, matronly, benevolent, reigned the mistress +of the house, placing here and there the right smile, the right word, +the encouraging glance. + +The talk of the party was too desultory, too evanescent to follow, but +at last they came to the subject of the tramp nuisance, one that had +of late vexed the plantations for many miles around. The planter +seized the occasion to direct his good-natured fire of raillery at the +mistress, accusing her of encouraging the plague. "They swarm up and +down the river every winter," he said. "They overrun New Orleans, and +we catch the surplus, which is generally the worst part. And, a day or +two ago, Madame New Orleans, suddenly discovering that she can't go +shopping without brushing her skirts against great rows of the +vagabonds sunning themselves on the banquettes, says to the police: +'Catch 'em all,' and the police catch a dozen or two, and the +remaining three or four thousand overflow up and down the levee, and +madame there,"--pointing tragically with the carving-knife at her-- +"feeds them. They won't work; they defy my overseers, and they make +friends with my dogs; and you, madame, feed them before my eyes, and +intimidate me when I would interfere. Tell us, please, how many to-day +did you thus incite to future laziness and depredation?" + +"Six, I think," said madame, with a reflective smile; "but you know +two of them offered to work, for you heard them yourself." + +The planter's disconcerting laugh rang out again. + +"Yes, at their own trades. And one was an artificial-flower maker, and +the other a glass-blower. Oh, they were looking for work! Not a hand +would they consent to lift to labour of any other kind." + +"And another one," continued the soft-hearted mistress, "used quite +good language. It was really extraordinary for one of his class. And +he carried a watch. And had lived in Boston. I don't believe they are +all bad. They have always seemed to me to rather lack development. I +always look upon them as children with whom wisdom has remained at a +standstill while whiskers have continued to grow. We passed one this +evening as we were driving home who had a face as good as it was +incompetent. He was whistling the intermezzo from 'Cavalleria' and +blowing the spirit of Mascagni himself into it." + +A bright eyed young girl who sat at the left of the mistress leaned +over, and said in a confidential undertone: + +"I wonder, mamma, if that tramp we passed on the road found my +stocking, and do you think he will hang it up to-night? Now I can hang +up but one. Do you know why I wanted a new pair of silk stockings when +I have plenty? Well, old Aunt Judy says, if you hang up two that have +never been worn, Santa Claus will fill one with good things, and +Monsieur Pambe will place in the other payment for all the words you +have spoken--good or bad--on the day before Christmas. That's why I've +been unusually nice and polite to everyone to-day. Monsieur Pambe, you +know, is a witch gentleman; he--" + +The words of the young girl were interrupted by a startling thing. + +Like the wraith of some burned-out shooting star, a black streak came +crashing through the window-pane and upon the table, where it shivered +into fragments a dozen pieces of crystal and china ware, and then +glanced between the heads of the guests to the wall, imprinting +therein a deep, round indentation, at which, to-day, the visitor to +Bellemeade marvels as he gazes upon it and listens to this tale as it +is told. + +The women screamed in many keys, and the men sprang to their feet, and +would have laid their hands upon their swords had not the verities of +chronology forbidden. + +The planter was the first to act; he sprang to the intruding missile, +and held it up to view. + +"By Jupiter!" he cried. "A meteoric shower of hosiery! Has +communication at last been established with Mars?" + +"I should say--ahem--Venus," ventured a young-gentleman visitor, +looking hopefully for approbation toward the unresponsive young-lady +visitors. + +The planter held at arm's length the unceremonious visitor--a long +dangling black stocking. "It's loaded," he announced. + +As he spoke, he reversed the stocking, holding it by the toe, and down +from it dropped a roundish stone, wrapped about by a piece of +yellowish paper. "Now for the first interstellar message of the +century!" he cried; and nodding to the company, who had crowded about +him, he adjusted his glasses with provoking deliberation, and examined +it closely. When he finished, he had changed from the jolly host to +the practical, decisive man of business. He immediately struck a bell, +and said to the silent-footed mulatto man who responded: "Go and tell +Mr. Wesley to get Reeves and Maurice and about ten stout hands they +can rely upon, and come to the hall door at once. Tell him to have the +men arm themselves, and bring plenty of ropes and plough lines. Tell +him to hurry." And then he read aloud from the paper these words: + + To the Gent of de Hous: + + Dere is five tuff hoboes xcept meself in the vaken lot near de + road war de old brick piles is. Dey got me stuck up wid a gun see + and I taken dis means of communication. 2 of der lads is gone down + to set fire to de cain field below de hous and when yous fellers + goes to turn de hoes on it de hole gang is goin to rob de hous of + de money yoo gotto pay off wit say git a move on ye say de kid + dropt dis sock on der rode tel her mery crismus de same as she + told me. Ketch de bums down de rode first and den sen a relefe + core to get me out of soke youres truly, + +Whistlen Dick. + + +There was some quiet, but rapid, mavoeuvring at Bellemeade during the +ensuring half hour, which ended in five disgusted and sullen tramps +being captured, and locked securely in an outhouse pending the coming +of the morning and retribution. For another result, the visiting young +gentlemen had secured the unqualified worship of the visiting young +ladies by their distinguished and heroic conduct. For still another, +behold Whistling Dick, the hero, seated at the planter's table, +feasting upon viands his experience had never before included, and +waited upon by admiring femininity in shapes of such beauty and +"swellness" that even his ever-full mouth could scarcely prevent him +from whistling. He was made to disclose in detail his adventure with +the evil gang of Boston Harry, and how he cunningly wrote the note and +wrapped it around the stone and placed it at the toe of the stocking, +and, watching his chance, sent it silently, with a wonderful +centrifugal momentum, like a comet, at one of the big lighted windows +of the dining-room. + +The planter vowed that the wanderer should wander no more; that his +was a goodness and an honesty that should be rewarded, and that a debt +of gratitude had been made that must be paid; for had he not saved +them from a doubtless imminent loss, and maybe a greater calamity? He +assured Whistling Dick that he might consider himself a charge upon +the honour of Bellemeade; that a position suited to his powers would +be found for him at once, and hinted that the way would be heartily +smoothed for him to rise to as high places of emolument and trust as +the plantation afforded. + +But now, they said, he must be weary, and the immediate thing to +consider was rest and sleep. So the mistress spoke to a servant, and +Whistling Dick was conducted to a room in the wing of the house +occupied by the servants. To this room, in a few minutes, was brought +a portable tin bathtub filled with water, which was placed on a piece +of oiled cloth upon the floor. There the vagrant was left to pass the +night. + +By the light of a candle he examined the room. A bed, with the covers +neatly turned back, revealed snowy pillows and sheets. A worn, but +clean, red carpet covered the floor. There was a dresser with a +beveled mirror, a washstand with a flowered bowl and pitcher; the two +or three chairs were softly upholstered. A little table held books, +papers, and a day-old cluster of roses in a jar. There were towels on +a rack and soap in a white dish. + +Whistling Dick set his candle on a chair and placed his hat carefully +under the table. After satisfying what we must suppose to have been +his curiosity by a sober scrutiny, he removed his coat, folded it, and +laid it upon the floor, near the wall, as far as possible from the +unused bathtub. Taking his coat for a pillow, he stretched himself +luxuriously upon the carpet. + +When, on Christmas morning, the first streaks of dawn broke above the +marshes, Whistling Dick awoke, and reached instinctively for his hat. +Then he remembered that the skirts of Fortune had swept him into their +folds on the night previous, and he went to the window and raised it, +to let the fresh breath of the morning cool his brow and fix the yet +dream-like memory of his good luck within his brain. + +As he stood there, certain dread and ominous sounds pierced the +fearful hollow of his ear. + +The force of plantation workers, eager to complete the shortened task +allotted to them, were all astir. The mighty din of the ogre Labour +shook the earth, and the poor tattered and forever disguised Prince in +search of his fortune held tight to the window-sill even in the +enchanted castle, and trembled. + +Already from the bosom of the mill came the thunder of rolling barrels +of sugar, and (prison-like sounds) there was a great rattling of +chains as the mules were harried with stimulant imprecations to their +places by the waggon-tongues. A little vicious "dummy" engine, with a +train of flat cars in tow, stewed and fumed on the plantation tap of +the narrow-gauge railroad, and a toiling, hurrying, hallooing stream +of workers were dimly seen in the half darkness loading the train with +the weekly output of sugar. Here was a poem; an epic--nay, a tragedy-- +with work, the curse of the world, for its theme. + +The December air was frosty, but the sweat broke out upon Whistling +Dick's face. He thrust his head out of the window, and looked down. +Fifteen feet below him, against the wall of the house, he could make +out that a border of flowers grew, and by that token he overhung a bed +of soft earth. + +Softly as a burglar goes, he clambered out upon the sill, lowered +himself until he hung by his hands alone, and then dropped safely. No +one seemed to be about upon this side of the house. He dodged low, and +skimmed swiftly across the yard to the low fence. It was an easy +matter to vault this, for a terror urged him such as lifts the gazelle +over the thorn bush when the lion pursues. A crash through the dew- +drenched weeds on the roadside, a clutching, slippery rush up the +grassy side of the levee to the footpath at the summit, and--he was +free! + +The east was blushing and brightening. The wind, himself a vagrant +rover, saluted his brother upon the cheek. Some wild geese, high +above, gave cry. A rabbit skipped along the path before him, free to +turn to the right or to the left as his mood should send him. The +river slid past, and certainly no one could tell the ultimate abiding +place of its waters. + +A small, ruffled, brown-breasted bird, sitting upon a dog-wood +sapling, began a soft, throaty, tender little piping in praise of the +dew which entices foolish worms from their holes; but suddenly he +stopped, and sat with his head turned sidewise, listening. + +From the path along the levee there burst forth a jubilant, stirring, +buoyant, thrilling whistle, loud and keen and clear as the cleanest +notes of the piccolo. The soaring sound rippled and trilled and +arpeggioed as the songs of wild birds do not; but it had a wild free +grace that, in a way, reminded the small, brown bird of something +familiar, but exactly what he could not tell. There was in it the bird +call, or reveille, that all birds know; but a great waste of lavish, +unmeaning things that art had added and arranged, besides, and that +were quite puzzling and strange; and the little brown bird sat with +his head on one side until the sound died away in the distance. + +The little bird did not know that the part of that strange warbling +that he understood was just what kept the warbler without his +breakfast; but he knew very well that the part he did not understand +did not concern him, so he gave a little flutter of his wings and +swooped down like a brown bullet upon a big fat worm that was +wriggling along the levee path. + + + +XX + +THE HALBERDIER OF THE LITTLE RHEINSCHLOSS + +I go sometimes into the /Bierhalle/ and restaurant called Old Munich. +Not long ago it was a resort of interesting Bohemians, but now only +artists and musicians and literary folk frequent it. But the Pilsner +is yet good, and I take some diversion from the conversation of Waiter +No. 18. + +For many years the customers of Old Munich have accepted the place as +a faithful copy from the ancient German town. The big hall with its +smoky rafters, rows of imported steins, portrait of Goethe, and verses +painted on the walls--translated into German from the original of the +Cincinnati poets--seems atmospherically correct when viewed through +the bottom of a glass. + +But not long ago the proprietors added the room above, called it the +Little Rheinschloss, and built in a stairway. Up there was an +imitation stone parapet, ivy-covered, and the walls were painted to +represent depth and distance, with the Rhine winding at the base of +the vineyarded slopes, and the castle of Ehrenbreitstein looming +directly opposite the entrance. Of course there were tables and +chairs; and you could have beer and food brought you, as you naturally +would on the top of a castle on the Rhine. + +I went into Old Munich one afternoon when there were few customers, +and sat at my usual table near the stairway. I was shocked and almost +displeased to perceive that the glass cigar-case by the orchestra +stand had been smashed to smithereens. I did not like things to happen +in Old Munich. Nothing had ever happened there before. + +Waiter No. 18 came and breathed on my neck. I was his by right of +discovery. Eighteen's brain was built like a corral. It was full of +ideas which, when he opened the gate, came huddling out like a flock +of sheep that might get together afterward or might not. I did not +shine as a shepherd. As a type Eighteen fitted nowhere. I did not find +out if he had a nationality, family, creed, grievance, hobby, soul, +preference, home, or vote. He only came always to my table and, as +long as his leisure would permit, let words flutter from him like +swallows leaving a barn at daylight. + +"How did the cigar-case come to be broken, Eighteen?" I asked, with a +certain feeling of personal grievance. + +"I can tell you about that, sir," said he, resting his foot on the +chair next to mine. "Did you ever have anybody hand you a double +handful of good luck while both your hands were full of bad luck, and +stop to notice how your fingers behaved?" + +"No riddles, Eighteen," said I. "Leave out palmistry and manicuring." + +"You remember," said Eighteen, "the guy in the hammered brass Prince +Albert and the oroide gold pants and the amalgamated copper hat, that +carried the combination meat-axe, ice-pick, and liberty-pole, and used +to stand on the first landing as you go up to the Little Rindslosh." + +"Why, yes," said I. "The halberdier. I never noticed him particularly. +I remember he thought he was only a suit of armour. He had a perfect +poise." + +"He had more than that," said Eighteen. "He was me friend. He was an +advertisement. The boss hired him to stand on the stairs for a kind of +scenery to show there was something doing in the has-been line +upstairs. What did you call him--a what kind of beer?" + +"A halberdier," said I. "That was an ancient man-at-arms of many +hundred years ago." + +"Some mistake," said Eighteen. "This one wasn't that old. He wasn't +over twenty-three or four. + +"It was the boss's idea, rigging a man up in an ante-bellum suit of +tinware and standing him on the landing of the slosh. He bought the +goods at a Fourth Avenue antique store, and hung a sign-out: 'Able- +bodied hal--halberdier wanted. Costume furnished.' + +"The same morning a young man with wrecked good clothes and a hungry +look comes in, bringing the sign with him. I was filling the mustard- +pots at my station. + +"'I'm it,' says he, 'whatever it is. But I never halberdiered in a +restaurant. Put me on. Is it a masquerade?' + +"'I hear talk in the kitchen of a fishball,' says I. + +"'Bully for you, Eighteen,' says he. 'You and I'll get on. Show me the +boss's desk.' + +"Well, the boss tries the Harveyized pajamas on him, and they fitted +him like the scales on a baked redsnapper, and he gets the job. You've +seen what it is--he stood straight up in the corner of the first +landing with his halberd to his shoulder, looking right ahead and +guarding the Portugals of the castle. The boss is nutty about having +the true Old-World flavour to his joint. 'Halberdiers goes with +Rindsloshes,' says he, 'just as rats goes with rathskellers and white +cotton stockings with Tyrolean villages.' The boss is a kind of a +antiologist, and is all posted up on data and such information. + +"From 8 P.M. to two in the morning was the halberdier's hours. He got +two meals with us help and a dollar an night. I eat with him at the +table. He liked me. He never told his name. He was travelling +impromptu, like kings, I guess. The first time at supper I says to +him: 'Have some more of the spuds, Mr. Frelinghuysen.' 'Oh, don't be +so formal and offish, Eighteen,' says he. 'Call me Hal--that's short +for halberdier.' 'Oh, don't think I wanted to pry for names,' says I. +'I know all about the dizzy fall from wealth and greatness. We've got +a count washing dishes in the kitchen; and the third bartender used to +be a Pullman conductor. And they /work/, Sir Percival,' says I, +sarcastic. + +"'Eighteen,' says he, 'as a friendly devil in a cabbage-scented hell, +would you mind cutting up this piece of steak for me? I don't say that +it's got more muscle than I have, but--' And then he shows me the +insides of his hands. They was blistered and cut and corned and +swelled up till they looked like a couple of flank steaks criss- +crossed with a knife--the kind the butchers hide and take home, +knowing what is the best. + +"'Shoveling coal,' says he, 'and piling bricks and loading drays. But +they gave out, and I had to resign. I was born for a halberdier, and +I've been educated for twenty-four years to fill the position. Now, +quit knocking my profession, and pass along a lot more of that ham. +I'm holding the closing exercises,' says he, 'of a forty-eight-hour +fast.' + +"The second night he was on the job he walks down from his corner to +the cigar-case and calls for cigarettes. The customers at the tables +all snicker out loud to show their acquaintance with history. The boss +is on. + +"'An'--let's see--oh, yes--'An anachronism,' says the boss. +'Cigarettes was not made at the time when halberdiers was invented.' + +"'The ones you sell was,' says Sir Percival. 'Caporal wins from +chronology by the length of a cork tip.' So he gets 'em and lights +one, and puts the box in his brass helmet, and goes back to patroling +the Rindslosh. + +"He made a big hit, 'specially with the ladies. Some of 'em would poke +him with their fingers to see if he was real or only a kind of a +stuffed figure like they burn in elegy. And when he'd move they'd +squeak, and make eyes at him as they went up to the slosh. He looked +fine in his halberdashery. He slept at $2 a week in a hall-room on +Third Avenue. He invited me up there one night. He had a little book +on the washstand that he read instead of shopping in the saloons after +hours. 'I'm on to that,' says I, 'from reading about it in novels. All +the heroes on the bum carry the little book. It's either Tantalus or +Liver or Horace, and its printed in Latin, and you're a college man. +And I wouldn't be surprised,' says I, 'if you wasn't educated, too.' +But it was only the batting averages of the League for the last ten +years. + +"One night, about half past eleven, there comes in a party of these +high-rollers that are always hunting up new places to eat in and poke +fun at. There was a swell girl in a 40 H.-P. auto tan coat and veil, +and a fat old man with white side-whiskers, and a young chap that +couldn't keep his feet off the tail of the girl's coat, and an oldish +lady that looked upon life as immoral and unnecessary. 'How perfectly +delightful,' they says, 'to sup in a slosh.' Up the stairs they go; +and in half a minute back down comes the girl, her skirts swishing +like the waves on the beach. She stops on the landing and looks our +halberdier in the eye. + +"'You!' she says, with a smile that reminded me of lemon sherbet. I +was waiting up-stairs in the slosh, then, and I was right down here by +the door, putting some vinegar and cayenne into an empty bottle of +tabasco, and I heard all they said. + +"'It,' says Sir Percival, without moving. 'I'm only local colour. Are +my hauberk, helmet, and halberd on straight?' + +"'Is there an explanation to this?' says she. 'Is it a practical joke +such as men play in those Griddle-cake and Lamb Clubs? I'm afraid I +don't see the point. I heard, vaguely, that you were away. For three +months I--we have not seen you or heard from you.' + +"'I'm halberdiering for my living,' says the stature. 'I'm working,' +says he. 'I don't suppose you know what work means.' + +"'Have you--have you lost your money?' she asks. + +"Sir Percival studies a minute. + +"'I am poorer,' says he, 'than the poorest sandwich man on the streets +--if I don't earn my living.' + +"'You call this work?' says she. 'I thought a man worked with his +hands or his head instead of becoming a mountebank.' + +"'The calling of a halberdier,' says he, 'is an ancient and honourable +one. Sometimes,' says he, 'the man-at-arms at the door has saved the +castle while the plumed knights were cake-walking in the banquet-halls +above.' + +"'I see you're not ashamed,' says she, 'of your peculiar tastes. I +wonder, though, that the manhood I used to think I saw in you didn't +prompt you to draw water or hew wood instead of publicly flaunting +your ignominy in this disgraceful masquerade.' + +"Sir Percival kind of rattles his armour and says: 'Helen, will you +suspend sentence in this matter for just a little while? You don't +understand,' says he. 'I've got to hold this job down a little +longer.' + +"'You like being a harlequin--or halberdier, as you call it?' says +she. + +"'I wouldn't get thrown of the job just now,' says he, with a grin, +'to be appointed Minister to the Court of St. James's.' + +"And then the 40-H.P. girl's eyes sparked as hard as diamonds. + +"'Very well,' says she. 'You shall have full run of your serving-man's +tastes this night.' And she swims over to the boss's desk and gives +him a smile that knocks the specks off his nose. + +"'I think your Rindslosh,' says she, 'is as beautiful as a dream. It +is a little slice of the Old World set down in New York. We shall have +a nice supper up there; but if you will grant us one favour the +illusion will be perfect--give us your halberdier to wait on our +table.' + +"That hits the boss's antiology hobby just right. 'Sure,' says he, +'dot vill be fine. Und der orchestra shall blay "Die Wacht am Rhein" +all der time.' And he goes over and tells the halberdier to go +upstairs and hustle the grub at the swells' table. + +"'I'm on the job,' says Sir Percival, taking off his helmet and +hanging it on his halberd and leaning 'em in the corner. The girl goes +up and takes her seat and I see her jaw squared tight under her smile. +'We're going to be waited on by a real halberdier,' says she, 'one who +is proud of his profession. Isn't it sweet?' + +"'Ripping,' says the swell young man. 'Much prefer a waiter,' says the +fat old gent. 'I hope he doesn't come from a cheap museum,' says the +old lady; 'he might have microbes in his costume.' + +"Before he goes to the table, Sir Percival takes me by the arm. +'Eighteen,' he says, 'I've got to pull off this job without a blunder. +You coach me straight or I'll take that halberd and make hash out of +you.' And then he goes up to the table with his coat of mail on and a +napkin over his arm and waits for the order. + +"'Why, it's Deering!' says the young swell. 'Hello, old man. What +the--' + +"'Beg pardon, sir,' interrupts the halberdier, 'I'm waiting on the +table.' + +"The old man looks at him grim, like a Boston bull. 'So, Deering,' he +says, 'you're at work yet.' + +"'Yes, sir,' says Sir Percival, quiet and gentlemanly as I could have +been myself, 'for almost three months, now.' 'You haven't been +discharged during the time?' asks the old man. 'Not once, sir,' says +he, 'though I've had to change my work several times.' + +"'Waiter,' orders the girl, short and sharp, 'another napkin.' He +brings her one, respectful. + +"I never saw more devil, if I may say it, stirred up in a lady. There +was two bright red spots on her cheeks, and her eyes looked exactly +like a wildcat's I'd seen in the zoo. Her foot kept slapping the floor +all the time. + +"'Waiter,' she orders, 'bring me filtered water without ice. Bring me +a footstool. Take away this empty salt-cellar.' She kept him on the +jump. She was sure giving the halberdier his. + +"There wasn't but a few customers up in the slosh at that time, so I +hung out near the door so I could help Sir Percival serve. + +"He got along fine with the olives and celery and the bluepoints. They +was easy. And then the consomme came up the dumb-waiter all in one big +silver tureen. Instead of serving it from the side-table he picks it +up between his hands and starts to the dining-table with it. When +nearly there he drops the tureen smash on the floor, and the soup +soaks all the lower part of that girl's swell silk dress. + +"'Stupid--incompetent,' says she, giving him a look. 'Standing in a +corner with a halberd seems to be your mission in life.' + +"'Pardon me, lady,' says he. 'It was just a little bit hotter than +blazes. I couldn't help it.' + +"The old man pulls out a memorandum book and hunts in it. 'The 25th of +April, Deering,' says he. 'I know it,' says Sir Percival. 'And ten +minutes to twelve o'clock,' says the old man. 'By Jupiter! you haven't +won yet.' And he pounds the table with his fist and yells to me: +'Waiter, call the manager at once--tell him to hurry here as fast as +he can.' I go after the boss, and old Brockmann hikes up to the slosh +on the jump. + +"'I want this man discharged at once,' roads the old guy. 'Look what +he's done. Ruined my daughter's dress. It cost at least $600. +Discharge this awkward lout at once or I'll sue you for the price of +it.' + +"'Dis is bad pizness,' says the boss. 'Six hundred dollars is much. I +reckon I vill haf to--' + +"'Wait a minute, Herr Brockmann,' says Sir Percival, easy and smiling. +But he was worked up under his tin suitings; I could see that. And +then he made the finest, neatest little speech I ever listened to. I +can't give you the words, of course. He give the millionaires a lovely +roast in a sarcastic way, describing their automobiles and opera-boxes +and diamonds; and then he got around to the working-classes and the +kind of grub they eat and the long hours they work--and all that sort +of stuff--bunkum, of course. 'The restless rich,' says he, 'never +content with their luxuries, always prowling among the haunts of the +poor and humble, amusing themselves with the imperfections and +misfortunes of their fellow men and women. And even here, Herr +Brockmann,' he says, 'in this beautiful Rindslosh, a grand and +enlightening reproduction of Old World history and architecture, they +come to disturb its symmetry and picturesqueness by demanding in their +arrogance that the halberdier of the castle wait upon their table! I +have faithfuly and conscientiously,' says he, 'performed my duties as +a halberdier. I know nothing of a waiter's duties. It was the insolent +whim of these transient, pampered aristocrats that I should be +detailed to serve them food. Must I be blamed--must I be deprived of +the means of a livelihood,' he goes on, 'on account of an accident +that was the result of their own presumption and haughtiness? But what +hurts me more than all,' says Sir Percival, 'is the desecration that +has been done to this splendid Rindslosh--the confiscation of its +halberdier to serve menially at the banquet board.' + +"Even I could see that this stuff was piffle; but it caught the boss. + +"'Mein Gott,' says he, 'you vas right. Ein halberdier have not got der +right to dish up soup. Him I vill not discharge. Have anoder waiter if +you like, und let mein halberdier go back und stand mit his halberd. +But, gentlemen,' he says, pointing to the old man, 'you go ahead and +sue mit der dress. Sue me for $600 or $6,000. I stand der suit.' And +the boss puffs off down-stairs. Old Brockmann was an all-right +Dutchman. + +"Just then the clock strikes twelve, and the old guy laughs loud. 'You +win, Deering,' says he. 'And let me explain to all,' he goes on. 'Some +time ago Mr. Deering asked me for something that I did not want to +give him.' (I looks at the girl, and she turns as red as a pickled +beet.) 'I told him,' says the old guy, 'if he would earn his own +living for three months without being discharged for incompetence, I +would give him what he wanted. It seems that the time was up at twelve +o'clock to-night. I came near fetching you, though, Deering, on that +soup question,' says the old boy, standing up and grabbing Sir +Percival's hand. + +"The halberdier lets out a yell and jumps three feet high. + +"'Look out for those hands,' says he, and he holds 'em up. You never +saw such hands except on a labourer in a limestone quarry. + +"'Heavens, boy!' says old side-whiskers, 'what have you been doing to +'em?' + +"'Oh,' says Sir Percival, 'little chores like hauling coal and +excavating rock till they went back on me. And when I couldn't hold a +pick or a whip I took up halberdiering to give 'em a rest. Tureens +full of hot soup don't seem to be a particularly soothing treatment.' + +"I would have bet on that girl. That high-tempered kind always go as +far the other way, according to my experience. She whizzes round the +table like a cyclone and catches both his hands in hers. 'Poor hands-- +dear hands,' she sings out, and sheds tears on 'em and holds 'em close +to her bosom. Well, sir, with all that Rindslosh scenery it was just +like a play. And the halberdier sits down at the table at the girl's +side, and I served the rest of the supper. And that was about all, +except that when they left he shed his hardware store and went with +'em." + +I dislike to be side-tracked from an original proposition. + +"But you haven't told me, Eighteen," said I, "how the cigar-case came +to be broken." + +"Oh, that was last night," said Eighteen. "Sir Percival and the girl +drove up in a cream-coloured motor-car, and had dinner in the +Rindslosh. 'The same table, Billy,' I heard her say as they went up. I +waited on 'em. We've got a new halberdier now, a bow-legged guy with a +face like a sheep. As they came down-stairs Sir Percival passes him a +ten-case note. The new halberdier drops his halberd, and it falls on +the cigar-case. That's how that happened." + + + +XXI + +TWO RENEGADES + +In the Gate City of the South the Confederate Veterans were reuniting; +and I stood to see them march, beneath the tangled flags of the great +conflict, to the hall of their oratory and commemoration. + +While the irregular and halting line was passing I made onslaught upon +it and dragged from the ranks my friend Barnard O'Keefe, who had no +right to be there. For he was a Northerner born and bred; and what +should he be doing halloing for the Stars and Bars among those gray +and moribund veterans? And why should he be trudging, with his +shining, martial, humorous, broad face, among those warriors of a +previous and alien generation? + +I say I dragged him forth, and held him till the last hickory leg and +waving goatee had stumbled past. And then I hustled him out of the +crowd into a cool interior; for the Gate City was stirred that day, +and the hand-organs wisely eliminated "Marching Through Georgia" from +their repertories. + +"Now, what deviltry are you up to?" I asked of O'Keefe when there were +a table and things in glasses between us. + +O'Keefe wiped his heated face and instigated a commotion among the +floating ice in his glass before he chose to answer. + +"I am assisting at the wake," said he, "of the only nation on earth +that ever did me a good turn. As one gentleman to another, I am +ratifying and celebrating the foreign policy of the late Jefferson +Davis, as fine a statesman as ever settled the financial question of a +country. Equal ratio--that was his platform--a barrel of money for a +barrel of flour--a pair of $20 bills for a pair of boots--a hatful of +currency for a new hat--say, ain't that simple compared with W. J. B's +little old oxidized plank?" + +"What talk is this?" I asked. "Your financial digression is merely a +subterfuge. Why were you marching in the ranks of the Confederate +Veterans?" + +"Because, my lad," answered O'Keefe, "the Confederate Government in +its might and power interposed to protect and defend Barnard O'Keefe +against immediate and dangerous assassination at the hands of a blood- +thirsty foreign country after the Unites States of America had +overruled his appeal for protection, and had instructed Private +Secretary Cortelyou to reduce his estimate of the Republican majority +for 1905 by one vote." + +"Come, Barney," said I, "the Confederate States of America has been +out of existence nearly forty years. You do not look older yourself. +When was it that the deceased government exerted its foreign policy in +your behalf?" + +"Four months ago," said O'Keefe, promptly. "The infamous foreign power +I alluded to is still staggering from the official blow dealt it by +Mr. Davis's contraband aggregation of states. That's why you see me +cake-walking with the ex-rebs to the illegitimate tune about 'simmon- +seeds and cotton. I vote for the Great Father in Washington, but I am +not going back on Mars' Jeff. You say the Confederacy has been dead +forty years? Well, if it hadn't been for it, I'd have been breathing +to-day with soul so dead I couldn't have whispered a single cuss-word +about my native land. The O'Keefes are not overburdened with +ingratitude." + +I must have looked bewildered. "The war was over," I said vacantly, +"in--" + +O'Keefe laughed loudly, scattering my thoughts. + +"Ask old Doc Millikin if the war is over!" he shouted, hugely +diverted. "Oh, no! Doc hasn't surrendered yet. And the Confederate +States! Well, I just told you they bucked officially and solidly and +nationally against a foreign government four months ago and kept me +from being shot. Old Jeff's country stepped in and brought me off +under its wing while Roosevelt was having a gunboat repainted and +waiting for the National Campaign Committee to look up whether I had +ever scratched the ticket." + +"Isn't there a story in this, Barney?" I asked. + +"No," said O'Keefe; "but I'll give you the facts. You know I went down +to Panama when this irritation about a canal began. I thought I'd get +in on the ground floor. I did, and had to sleep on it, and drink water +with little zoos in it; so, of course, I got the Chagres fever. That +was in a little town called San Juan on the coast. + +"After I got the fever hard enough to kill a Port-au-Prince nigger, I +had a relapse in the shape of Doc Millikin. + +"There was a doctor to attend a sick man! If Doc Millikin had your +case, he made the terrors of death seem like an invitation to a +donkey-party. He had the bedside manners of a Piute medicine-man and +the soothing presence of a dray loaded with iron bridge-girders. When +he laid his hand on your fevered brow you felt like Cap John Smith +just before Pocahontas went his bail. + +"Well, this old medical outrage floated down to my shack when I sent +for him. He was build like a shad, and his eyebrows was black, and his +white whiskers trickled down from his chin like milk coming out of a +sprinkling-pot. He had a nigger boy along carrying an old tomato-can +full of calomel, and a saw. + +"Doc felt my pulse, and then he began to mess up some calomel with an +agricultural implement that belonged to the trowel class. + +"'I don't want any death-mask made yet, Doc,' I says, 'nor my liver +put in a plaster-of-Paris cast. I'm sick; and it's medicine I need, +not frescoing.' + +"'You're a blame Yankee, ain't you?' asked Doc, going on mixing up his +Portland cement. + +"'I'm from the North,' says I, 'but I'm a plain man, and don't care +for mural decorations. When you get the Isthmus all asphalted over +with that boll-weevil prescription, would you mind giving me a dose of +pain-killer, or a little strychnine on toast to ease up this feeling +of unhealthiness that I have got?" + +"'They was all sassy, just like you,' says old Doc, 'but we lowered +their temperature considerable. Yes, sir, I reckon we sent a good many +of ye over to old /mortuis nisi bonum/. Look at Antietam and Bull Run +and Seven Pines and around Nashville! There never was a battle where +we didn't lick ye unless you was ten to our one. I knew you were a +blame Yankee the minute I laid eyes on you.' + +"'Don't reopen the chasm, Doc,' I begs him. 'Any Yankeeness I may have +is geographical; and, as far as I am concerned, a Southerner is as +good as a Filipino any day. I'm feeling to bad too argue. Let's have +secession without misrepresentation, if you say so; but what I need is +more laudanum and less Lundy's Lane. If you're mixing that compound +gefloxide of gefloxicum for me, please fill my ears with it before you +get around to the battle of Gettysburg, for there is a subject full of +talk.' + +"By this time Doc Millikin had thrown up a line of fortifications on +square pieces of paper; and he says to me: 'Yank, take one of these +powders every two hours. They won't kill you. I'll be around again +about sundown to see if you're alive.' + +"Old Doc's powders knocked the chagres. I stayed in San Juan, and got +to knowing him better. He was from Mississippi, and the red-hottest +Southerner that ever smelled mint. He made Stonewall Jackson and R. E. +Lee look like Abolitionists. He had a family somewhere down near Yazoo +City; but he stayed away from the States on account of an +uncontrollable liking he had for the absence of a Yankee government. +Him and me got as thick personally as the Emperor of Russia and the +dove of peace, but sectionally we didn't amalgamate. + +"'Twas a beautiful system of medical practice introduced by old Doc +into that isthmus of land. He'd take that bracket-saw and the mild +chloride and his hypodermic, and treat anything from yellow fever to a +personal friend. + +"Besides his other liabilities Doc could play a flute for a minute or +two. He was guilty of two tunes--'Dixie' and another one that was +mighty close to the 'Suwanee River'--you might say one of its +tributaries. He used to come down and sit with me while I was getting +well, and aggrieve his flute and say unreconstructed things about the +North. You'd have thought that the smoke from the first gun at Fort +Sumter was still floating around in the air. + +"You know that was about the time they staged them property +revolutions down there, that wound up in the fifth act with the +thrilling canal scene where Uncle Sam has nine curtain-calls holding +Miss Panama by the hand, while the bloodhounds keep Senator Morgan +treed up in a cocoanut-palm. + +"That's the way it wound up; but at first it seemed as if Colombia was +going to make Panama look like one of the $3.98 kind, with dents made +in it in the factory, like they wear at North Beach fish fries. For +mine, I played the straw-hat crowd to win; and they gave me a +colonel's commission over a brigade of twenty-seven men in the left +wing and second joint of the insurgent army. + +"The Colombian troops were awfully rude to us. One day when I had my +brigade in a sandy spot, with its shoes off doing a battalion drill by +squads, the Government army rushed from behind a bush at us, acting as +noisy and disagreeable as they could. + +"My troops enfiladed, left-faced, and left the spot. After enticing +the enemy for three miles or so we struck a brier-patch and had to sit +down. When we were ordered to throw up our toes and surrender we +obeyed. Five of my best staff-officers fell, suffering extremely with +stone-bruised heels. + +"Then and there those Colombians took your friend Barney, sir, +stripped him of the insignia of his rank, consisting of a pair of +brass knuckles and a canteen of rum, and dragged him before a military +court. The presiding general went through the usual legal formalities +that sometimes cause a case to hang on the calendar of a South +American military court as long as ten minutes. He asked me my age, +and then sentenced me to be shot. + +"They woke up the court interpreter, an American named Jenks, who was +in the rum business and vice versa, and told him to translate the +verdict. + +"Jenks stretched himself and took a morphine tablet. + +"'You've got to back up against th' 'dobe, old man,' says he to me. +'Three weeks, I believe, you get. Haven't got a chew of fine-cut on +you, have you?' + +"'Translate that again, with foot-notes and a glossary,' says I. 'I +don't know whether I'm discharged, condemned, or handed over to the +Gerry Society.' + +"'Oh,' says Jenks, 'don't you understand? You're to be stood up +against a 'dobe wall and shot in two or three weeks--three, I think, +they said.' + +"'Would you mind asking 'em which?' says I. 'A week don't amount to +much after you're dead, but it seems a real nice long spell while you +are alive.' + +"'It's two weeks,' says the interpreter, after inquiring in Spanish of +the court. 'Shall I ask 'em again?' + +"'Let be,' says I. 'Let's have a stationary verdict. If I keep on +appealing this way they'll have me shot about ten days before I was +captured. No, I haven't got any fine-cut.' + +"They sends me over to the /calaboza/ with a detachment of coloured +postal-telegraph boys carrying Enfield rifles, and I am locked up in a +kind of brick bakery. The temperature in there was just about the kind +mentioned in the cooking recipes that call for a quick oven. + +"Then I gives a silver dollar to one of the guards to send for the +United States consul. He comes around in pajamas, with a pair of +glasses on his nose and a dozen or two inside of him. + +"'I'm to be shot in two weeks,' says I. 'And although I've made a +memorandum of it, I don't seem to get it off my mind. You want to call +up Uncle Sam on the cable as quick as you can and get him all worked +up about it. Have 'em send the /Kentucky/ and the /Kearsage/ and the +/Oregon/ down right away. That'll be about enough battleships; but it +wouldn't hurt to have a couple of cruisers and a torpedo-boat +destroyer, too. And--say, if Dewey isn't busy, better have him come +along on the fastest one of the fleet.' + +"'Now, see here, O'Keefe,' says the consul, getting the best of a +hiccup, 'what do you want to bother the State Department about this +matter for?' + +"'Didn't you hear me?' says I; 'I'm to be shot in two weeks. Did you +think I said I was going to a lawn-party? And it wouldn't hurt of +Roosevelt could get the Japs to send down the /Yellowyamtiskookum/ or +the /Ogotosingsing/ or some other first-class cruisers to help. It +would make me feel safer.' + +"'Now, what you want,' says the consul, 'is not to get excited. I'll +send you over some chewing tobacco and some banana fritters when I go +back. The United States can't interfere in this. You know you were +caught insurging against the government, and you're subject to the +laws of this country. To tell the truth, I've had an intimation from +the State Department--unofficially, of course--that whenever a soldier +of fortune demands a fleet of gunboats in a case of revolutionary +/katzenjammer/, I should cut the cable, give him all the tobacco he +wants, and after he's shot take his clothes, if they fit me, for part +payment of my salary.' + +"'Consul,' says I to him, 'this is a serious question. You are +representing Uncle Sam. This ain't any little international +tomfoolery, like a universal peace congress or the christening of the +/Shamrock IV/. I'm an American citizen and I demand protection. I +demand the Mosquito fleet, and Schley, and the Atlantic squadron, and +Bob Evans, and General E. Byrd Grubb, and two or three protocols. What +are you going to do about it?' + +"'Nothing doing,' says the consul. + +"'Be off with you, then,' says I, out of patience with him, 'and send +me Doc Millikin. Ask Doc to come and see me.' + +"Doc comes and looks through the bars at me, surrounded by dirty +soldiers, with even my shoes and canteen confiscated, and he looks +mightily pleased. + +"'Hello, Yank,' says he, 'getting a little taste of Johnson's Island, +now, ain't ye?' + +"'Doc,' says I, 'I've just had an interview with the U.S. consul. I +gather from his remarks that I might just as well have been caught +selling suspenders in Kishineff under the name of Rosenstein as to be +in my present condition. It seems that the only maritime aid I am to +receive from the United States is some navy-plug to chew. Doc,' says +I, 'can't you suspend hostility on the slavery question long enough to +do something for me?' + +"'It ain't been my habit,' Doc Millikin answers, 'to do any painless +dentistry when I find a Yank cutting an eye-tooth. So the Stars and +Stripes ain't lending any marines to shell the huts of the Colombian +cannibals, hey? Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light the +star-spangled banner has fluked in the fight? What's the matter with +the War Department, hey? It's a great thing to be a citizen of a gold- +standard nation, ain't it?' + +"'Rub it in, Doc, all you want,' says I. 'I guess we're weak on +foreign policy.' + +"'For a Yank,' says Doc, putting on his specs and talking more mild, +'you ain't so bad. If you had come from below the line I reckon I +would have liked you right smart. Now since your country has gone back +on you, you have to come to the old doctor whose cotton you burned and +whose mules who stole and whose niggers you freed to help you. Ain't +that so, Yank?' + +"'It is,' says I heartily, 'and let's have a diagnosis of the case +right away, for in two weeks' time all you can do is to hold an +autopsy and I don't want to be amputated if I can help it.' + +"'Now,' says Doc, business-like, 'it's easy enough for you to get out +of this scrape. Money'll do it. You've got to pay a long string of 'em +from General Pomposo down to this anthropoid ape guarding your door. +About $10,000 will do the trick. Have you got the money?' + +"'Me?' says I. 'I've got one Chili dollar, two /real/ pieces, and a +/medio/.' + +"'Then if you've any last words, utter 'em,' says that old reb. 'The +roster of your financial budget sounds quite much to be like the noise +of a requiem.' + +"'Change the treatment,' says I. 'I admit that I'm short. Call a +consultation or use radium or smuggle me in some saws or something.' + +"'Yank,' says Doc Millikin, 'I've a good notion to help you. There's +only one government in the world that can get you out of this +difficulty; and that's the Confederate States of America, the grandest +nation that ever existed.' + +"Just as you said to me I says to Doc; 'Why, the Confederacy ain't a +nation. It's been absolved forty years ago.' + +"'That's a campaign lie,' says Doc. 'She's running along as solid as +the Roman Empire. She's the only hope you've got. Now, you, being a +Yank, have got to go through with some preliminary obsequies before +you can get official aid. You've got to take the oath of allegiance to +the Confederate Government. Then I'll guarantee she does all she can +for you. What do you say, Yank?--it's your last chance.' + +"'If you're fooling with me, Doc,' I answers, 'you're no better than +the United States. But as you say it's the last chance, hurry up and +swear me. I always did like the corn whisky and 'possum anyhow. I +believe I'm half Southerner by nature. I'm willing to try the Klu-klux +in place of the khaki. Get brisk.' + +"Doc Millikin thinks awhile, and then he offers me this oath of +allegiance to take without any kind of a chaser: + +"'I, Barnard O'Keefe, Yank, being of sound body but a Republican mind, +hereby swear to transfer my fealty, respect, and allegiance to the +Confederate States of America, and the government thereof in +consideration of said government, through its official acts and +powers, obtaining my freedom and release from confinement and sentence +of death brought about by the exuberance of my Irish proclivities and +my general pizenness as a Yank.' + +"I repeated these words after Doc, but they seemed to me a kind of +hocus-pocus; and I don't believe any life-insurance company in the +world would have issued me a policy on the strength of 'em. + +"Doc went away saying he would communicate with his government +immediately. + +"Say--you can imagine how I felt--me to be shot in two weeks and my +only hope for help being in a government that's been dead so long that +it isn't even remembered except on Decoration Day and when Joe Wheeler +signs the voucher for his pay-check. But it was all there was in +sight; and somehow I thought Doc Millikin had something up his old +alpaca sleeve that wasn't all foolishness. + +"Around to the jail comes old Doc again in about a week. I was flea- +bitten, a mite sarcastic, and fundamentally hungry. + +"'Any Confederate ironclads in the offing?' I asks. 'Do you notice any +sounds resembling the approach of Jeb Stewart's cavalry overland or +Stonewall Jackson sneaking up in the rear? If you do, I wish you'd say +so.' + +"'It's too soon yet for help to come,' says Doc. + +"'The sooner the better,' says I. 'I don't care if it gets in fully +fifteen minutes before I am shot; and if you happen to lay eyes on +Beauregard or Albert Sidney Johnston or any of the relief corps, wig- +wag 'em to hike along.' + +"'There's been no answer received yet,' says Doc. + +"'Don't forget,' says I, 'that there's only four days more. I don't +know how you propose to work this thing, Doc,' I says to him; 'but it +seems to me I'd sleep better if you had got a government that was +alive and on the map--like Afghanistan or Great Britain, or old man +Kruger's kingdom, to take this matter up. I don't mean any disrespect +to your Confederate States, but I can't help feeling that my chances +of being pulled out of this scrape was decidedly weakened when General +Lee surrendered.' + +"'It's your only chance,' said Doc; 'don't quarrel with it. What did +your own country do for you?' + +"It was only two days before the morning I was to be shot, when Doc +Millikin came around again. + +"'All right, Yank,' says he. 'Help's come. The Confederate States of +America is going to apply for your release. The representatives of the +government arrived on a fruit-steamer last night.' + +"'Bully!' says I--'bully for you, Doc! I suppose it's marines with a +Gatling. I'm going to love your country all I can for this.' + +"'Negotiations,' says old Doc, 'will be opened between the two +governments at once. You will know later to-day if they are +successful.' + +"About four in the afternoon a soldier in red trousers brings a paper +round to the jail, and they unlocks the door and I walks out. The +guard at the door bows and I bows, and I steps into the grass and +wades around to Doc Millikin's shack. + +"Doc was sitting in his hammock playing 'Dixie,' soft and low and out +of tune, on his flute. I interrupted him at 'Look away! look away!' +and shook his hand for five minutes. + +"'I never thought,' says Doc, taking a chew fretfully, 'that I'd ever +try to save any blame Yank's life. But, Mr. O'Keefe, I don't see but +what you are entitled to be considered part human, anyhow. I never +thought Yanks had any of the rudiments of decorum and laudability +about them. I reckon I might have been too aggregative in my +tabulation. But it ain't me you want to thank--it's the Confederate +States of America.' + +"'And I'm much obliged to 'em,' says I. 'It's a poor man that wouldn't +be patriotic with a country that's saved his life. I'll drink to the +Stars and Bars whenever there's a flagstaff and a glass convenient. +But where,' says I, 'are the rescuing troops? If there was a gun fired +or a shell burst, I didn't hear it.' + +"Doc Millikin raises up and points out the window with his flute at +the banana-steamer loading with fruit. + +"'Yank,' says he, 'there's a steamer that's going to sail in the +morning. If I was you, I'd sail on it. The Confederate Government's +done all it can for you. There wasn't a gun fired. The negotiations +were carried on secretly between the two nations by the purser of that +steamer. I got him to do it because I didn't want to appear in it. +Twelve thousand dollars was paid to the officials in bribes to let you +go.' + +"'Man!' says I, sitting down hard--'twelve thousand--how will I ever-- +who could have--where did the money come from?' + +"'Yazoo City,' says Doc Millikin: 'I've got a little saved up there. +Two barrels full. It looks good to these Colombians. 'Twas Confederate +money, every dollar of it. Now do you see why you'd better leave +before they try to pass some of it on an expert?' + +"'I do,' says I. + +"'Now let's hear you give the password,' says Doc Millikin. + +"'Hurrah for Jeff Davis!' says I. + +"'Correct,' says Doc. 'And let me tell you something: The next tune I +learn on my flute is going to be "Yankee Doodle." I reckon there's +some Yanks that are not so pizen. Or, if you was me, would you try +"The Red, White, and Blue"?'" + + + +XXII + +THE LONESOME ROAD + +Brown as a coffee-berry, rugged, pistoled, spurred, wary, +indefeasible, I saw my old friend, Deputy-Marshal Buck Caperton, +stumble, with jingling rowels, into a chair in the marshal's outer +office. + +And because the court-house was almost deserted at that hour, and +because Buck would sometimes relate to me things that were out of +print, I followed him in and tricked him into talk through knowledge +of a weakness he had. For, cigarettes rolled with sweet corn husk were +as honey to Buck's palate; and though he could finger the trigger of a +forty-five with skill and suddenness, he never could learn to roll a +cigarette. + +It was through no fault of mine (for I rolled the cigarettes tight and +smooth), but the upshot of some whim of his own, that instead of to an +Odyssey of the chaparral, I listened to--a dissertation upon +matrimony! This from Buck Caperton! But I maintain that the cigarettes +were impeccable, and crave absolution for myself. + +"We just brought in Jim and Bud Granberry," said Buck. "Train robbing, +you know. Held up the Aransas Pass last month. We caught 'em in the +Twenty-Mile pear flat, south of the Nueces." + +"Have much trouble corralling them?" I asked, for here was the meat +that my hunger for epics craved. + +"Some," said Buck; and then, during a little pause, his thoughts +stampeded off the trail. "It's kind of queer about women," he went on, +"and the place they're supposed to occupy in botany. If I was asked to +classify them I'd say they was a human loco weed. Ever see a bronc +that had been chewing loco? Ride him up to a puddle of water two feet +wide, and he'll give a snort and fall back on you. It looks as big as +the Mississippi River to him. Next trip he'd walk into a canon a +thousand feet deep thinking it was a prairie-dog hole. Same way with a +married man. + +"I was thinking of Perry Rountree, that used to be my sidekicker +before he committed matrimony. In them days me and Perry hated +indisturbances of any kind. We roamed around considerable, stirring up +the echoes and making 'em attend to business. Why, when me and Perry +wanted to have some fun in a town it was a picnic for the census +takers. They just counted the marshal's posse that it took to subdue +us, and there was your population. But then there came along this +Mariana Goodnight girl and looked at Perry sideways, and he was all +bridle-wise and saddle-broke before you could skin a yearling. + +"I wasn't even asked to the wedding. I reckon the bride had my +pedigree and the front elevation of my habits all mapped out, and she +decided that Perry would trot better in double harness without any +unconverted mustang like Buck Caperton whickering around on the +matrimonial range. So it was six months before I saw Perry again. + +"One day I was passing on the edge of town, and I see something like a +man in a little yard by a little house with a sprinkling-pot squirting +water on a rose-bush. Seemed to me, I'd seen something like it before, +and I stopped at the gate, trying to figure out its brands. 'Twas not +Perry Rountree, but 'twas the kind of a curdled jellyfish matrimony +had made out of him. + +"Homicide was what that Mariana had perpetrated. He was looking well +enough, but he had on a white collar and shoes, and you could tell in +a minute that he'd speak polite and pay taxes and stick his little +finger out while drinking, just like a sheep man or a citizen. Great +skyrockets! but I hated to see Perry all corrupted and Willie-ized +like that. + +"He came out to the gate, and shook hands; and I says, with scorn, and +speaking like a paroquet with the pip: 'Beg pardon--Mr. Rountree, I +believe. Seems to me I sagatiated in your associations once, if I am +not mistaken.' + +"'Oh, go to the devil, Buck,' says Perry, polite, as I was afraid he'd +be. + +"'Well, then,' says I, 'you poor, contaminated adjunct of a +sprinkling-pot and degraded household pet, what did you go and do it +for? Look at you, all decent and unriotous, and only fit to sit on +juries and mend the wood-house door. You was a man once. I have +hostility for all such acts. Why don't you go in the house and count +the tidies or set the clock, and not stand out here in the atmosphere? +A jack-rabbit might come along and bite you.' + +"'Now, Buck,' says Perry, speaking mild, and some sorrowful, 'you +don't understand. A married man has got to be different. He feels +different from a tough old cloudburst like you. It's sinful to waste +time pulling up towns just to look at their roots, and playing faro +and looking upon red liquor, and such restless policies as them.' + +"'There was a time,' I says, and I expect I sighed when I mentioned +it, 'when a certain domesticated little Mary's lamb I could name was +some instructed himself in the line of pernicious sprightliness. I +never expected, Perry, to see you reduced down from a full-grown +pestilence to such a frivolous fraction of a man. Why,' says I, +'you've got a necktie on; and you speak a senseless kind of indoor +drivel that reminds me of a storekeeper or a lady. You look to me like +you might tote an umbrella and wear suspenders, and go home of +nights.' + +"'The little woman,' says Perry, 'has made some improvements, I +believe. You can't understand, Buck. I haven't been away from the +house at night since we was married.' + +"We talked on a while, me and Perry, and, as sure as I live, that man +interrupted me in the middle of my talk to tell me about six tomato +plants he had growing in his garden. Shoved his agricultural +degradation right up under my nose while I was telling him about the +fun we had tarring and feathering that faro dealer at California +Pete's layout! But by and by Perry shows a flicker of sense. + +"'Buck,' says he, 'I'll have to admit that it is a little dull at +times. Not that I'm not perfectly happy with the little woman, but a +man seems to require some excitement now and then. Now, I'll tell you: +Mariana's gone visiting this afternoon, and she won't be home till +seven o'clock. Neither of us ever stays out a minute after that time +unless we are together. Now, I'm glad you came along, Buck,' says +Perry, 'for I'm feeling just like having one more rip-roaring razoo +with you for the sake of old times. What you say to us putting in the +afternoon having fun--I'd like it fine,' says Perry. + +"I slapped that old captive range-rider half across his little garden. + +"'Get your hat, you old dried-up alligator,' I shouts, 'you ain't dead +yet. You're part human, anyhow, if you did get all bogged up in +matrimony. We'll take this town to pieces and see what makes it tick. +We'll make all kinds of profligate demands upon the science of cork +pulling. You'll grow horns yet, old muley cow,' says I, punching Perry +in the ribs, 'if you trot around on the trail of vice with your Uncle +Buck.' + +"'I'll have to be home by seven, you know,' says Perry again. + +"'Oh, yes,' says I, winking to myself, for I knew the kind of seven +o'clocks Perry Rountree got back by after he once got to passing +repartee with the bartenders. + +"We goes down to the Gray Mule saloon--that old 'dobe building by the +depot. + +"'Give it a name,' says I, as soon as we got one hoof on the foot- +rest. + +"'Sarsaparilla,' says Perry. + +"You could have knocked me down with a lemon peeling. + +"'Insult me as much as you want to,' I says to Perry, 'but don't +startle the bartender. He may have heart-disease. Come on, now; your +tongue got twisted. The tall glasses,' I orders, 'and the bottle in +the left-hand corner of the ice-chest.' + +"'Sarsaparilla,' repeats Perry, and then his eyes get animated, and I +see he's got some great scheme in his mind he wants to emit. + +"'Buck,' says he, all interested, 'I'll tell you what! I want to make +this a red-letter day. I've been keeping close at home, and I want to +turn myself a-loose. We'll have the highest old time you ever saw. +We'll go in the back room here and play checkers till half-past six.' + +"I leaned against the bar, and I says to Gotch-eared Mike, who was on +watch: + +"'For God's sake don't mention this. You know what Perry used to be. +He's had the fever, and the doctor says we must humour him.' + +"'Give us the checker-board and the men, Mike,' says Perry. 'Come on, +Buck, I'm just wild to have some excitement.' + +"I went in the back room with Perry. Before we closed the door, I says +to Mike: + +"'Don't ever let it straggle out from under your hat that you seen +Buck Caperton fraternal with sarsaparilla or /persona grata/ with a +checker-board, or I'll make a swallow-fork in your other ear.' + +"I locked the door and me and Perry played checkers. To see that poor +old humiliated piece of household bric-a-brac sitting there and +sniggering out loud whenever he jumped a man, and all obnoxious with +animation when he got into my king row, would have made a sheep-dog +sick with mortification. Him that was once satisfied only when he was +pegging six boards at keno or giving the faro dealers nervous +prostration--to see him pushing them checkers about like Sally Louisa +at a school-children's party--why, I was all smothered up with +mortification. + +"And I sits there playing the black men, all sweating for fear +somebody I knew would find it out. And I thinks to myself some about +this marrying business, and how it seems to be the same kind of a game +as that Mrs. Delilah played. She give her old man a hair cut, and +everybody knows what a man's head looks like after a woman cuts his +hair. And then when the Pharisees came around to guy him he was so +'shamed that he went to work and kicked the whole house down on top of +the whole outfit. 'Them married men,' thinks I, 'lose all their spirit +and instinct for riot and foolishness. They won't drink, they won't +buck the tiger, they won't even fight. What do they want to go and +stay married for?' I asks myself. + +"But Perry seems to be having hilarity in considerable quantities. + +"'Buck old hoss,' says he, 'isn't this just the hell-roaringest time +we ever had in our lives? I don't know when I've been stirred up so. +You see, I've been sticking pretty close to home since I married, and +I haven't been on a spree in a long time.' + +"'Spree!' Yes, that's what he called it. Playing checkers in the back +room of the Gray Mule! I suppose it did seem to him a little more +immoral and nearer to a prolonged debauch than standing over six +tomato plants with a sprinkling-pot. + +"Every little bit Perry looks at his watch and says: + +"'I got to be home, you know, Buck, at seven.' + +"'All right,' I'd say. 'Romp along and move. This here excitement's +killing me. If I don't reform some, and loosen up the strain of this +checkered dissipation I won't have a nerve left.' + +"It might have been half-past six when commotions began to go on +outside in the street. We heard a yelling and a six-shootering, and a +lot of galloping and manoeuvres. + +"'What's that?' I wonders. + +"'Oh, some nonsense outside,' says Perry. 'It's your move. We just got +time to play this game.' + +"'I'll just take a peep through the window,' says I, 'and see. You +can't expect a mere mortal to stand the excitement of having a king +jumped and listen to an unidentified conflict going on at the same +time.' + +"The Gray Mule saloon was one of them old Spanish 'dobe buildings, and +the back room only had two little windows a foot wide, with iron bars +in 'em. I looked out one, and I see the cause of the rucus. + +"There was the Trimble gang--ten of 'em--the worst outfit of +desperadoes and horse-thieves in Texas, coming up the street shooting +right and left. They was coming right straight for the Gray Mule. Then +they got past the range of my sight, but we heard 'em ride up to the +front door, and then they socked the place full of lead. We heard the +big looking-glass behind the bar knocked all to pieces and the bottles +crashing. We could see Gotch-eared Mike in his apron running across +the plaza like a coyote, with the bullets puffing up dust all around +him. Then the gang went to work in the saloon, drinking what they +wanted and smashing what they didn't. + +"Me and Petty both knew that gang, and they knew us. The year before +Perry married, him and me was in the same ranger company--and we +fought that outfit down on the San Miguel, and brought back Ben +Trimble and two others for murder. + +"'We can't get out,' says I. 'We'll have to stay in here till they +leave.' + +"Perry looked at his watch. + +"'Twenty-five to seven,' says he. 'We can finish that game. I got two +men on you. It's your move, Buck. I got to be home at seven, you +know.' + +"We sat down and went on playing. The Trimble gang had a roughhouse +for sure. They were getting good and drunk. They'd drink a while and +holler a while, and then they'd shoot up a few bottles and glasses. +Two or three times they came and tried to open our door. Then there +was some more shooting outside, and I looked out the window again. Ham +Gossett, the town marshal, had a posse in the houses and stores across +the street, and was trying to bag a Trimble or two through the +windows. + +"I lost that game of checkers. I'm free in saying that I lost three +kings that I might have saved if I had been corralled in a more +peaceful pasture. But that drivelling married man sat there and +cackled when he won a man like an unintelligent hen picking up a grain +of corn. + +"When the game was over Perry gets up and looks at his watch. + +"'I've had a glorious time, Buck,' says he, 'but I'll have to be going +now. It's a quarter to seven, and I got to be home by seven, you +know.' + +"I thought he was joking. + +"'They'll clear out or be dead drunk in half an hour or an hour,' says +I. 'You ain't that tired of being married that you want to commit any +more sudden suicide, are you?' says I, giving him the laugh. + +"'One time,' says Perry, 'I was half an hour late getting home. I met +Mariana on the street looking for me. If you could have seen her, Buck +--but you don't understand. She knows what a wild kind of a snoozer +I've been, and she's afraid something will happen. I'll never be late +getting home again. I'll say good-bye to you now, Buck.' + +"I got between him and the door. + +"'Married man,' says I, 'I know you was christened a fool the minute +the preacher tangled you up, but don't you never sometimes think one +little think on a human basis? There's ten of that gang in there, and +they're pizen with whisky and desire for murder. They'll drink you up +like a bottle of booze before you get half-way to the door. Be +intelligent, now, and use at least wild-hog sense. Sit down and wait +till we have some chance to get out without being carried in baskets.' + +"'I got to be home by seven, Buck,' repeats this hen-pecked thing of +little wisdom, like an unthinking poll parrot. 'Mariana,' says he, +'will be out looking for me.' And he reaches down and pulls a leg out +of the checker table. 'I'll go through this Trimble outfit,' says he, +'like a cottontail through a brush corral. I'm not pestered any more +with a desire to engage in rucuses, but I got to be home by seven. You +lock the door after me, Buck. And don't you forget--I won three out of +them five games. I'd play longer, but Mariana--' + +"'Hush up, you old locoed road runner,' I interrupts. 'Did you ever +notice your Uncle Buck locking doors against trouble? I'm not +married,' says I, 'but I'm as big a d----n fool as any Mormon. One +from four leaves three,' says I, and I gathers out another leg of the +table. 'We'll get home by seven,' says I, 'whether it's the heavenly +one or the other. May I see you home?' says I, 'you sarsaparilla- +drinking, checker-playing glutton for death and destruction.' + +"We opened the door easy, and then stampeded for the front. Part of +the gang was lined up at the bar; part of 'em was passing over the +drinks, and two or three was peeping out the door and window and +taking shots at the marshal's crowd. The room was so full of smoke we +got half-way to the front door before they noticed us. Then I heard +Berry Trimble's voice somewhere yell out: + +"'How'd that Buck Caperton get in here?' and he skinned the side of my +neck with a bullet. I reckon he felt bad over that miss, for Berry's +the best shot south of the Southern Pacific Railroad. But the smoke in +the saloon was some too thick for good shooting. + +"Me and Perry smashed over two of the gang with our table legs, which +didn't miss like the guns did, and as we run out the door I grabbed a +Winchester from a fellow who was watching the outside, and I turned +and regulated the account of Mr. Berry. + +"Me and Perry got out and around the corner all right. I never much +expected to get out, but I wasn't going to be intimidated by that +married man. According to Perry's idea, checkers was the event of the +day, but if I am any judge of gentle recreations that little table-leg +parade through the Gray Mule saloon deserved the head-lines in the +bill of particulars. + +"'Walk fast,' says Perry, 'it's two minutes to seven, and I got to be +home by--' + +"'Oh, shut up,' says I. 'I had an appointment as chief performer at an +inquest at seven, and I'm not kicking about not keeping it.' + +"I had to pass by Perry's little house. His Mariana was standing at +the gate. We got there at five minutes past seven. She had on a blue +wrapper, and her hair was pulled back smooth like little girls do when +they want to look grown-folksy. She didn't see us till we got close, +for she was gazing up the other way. Then she backed around, and saw +Perry, and a kind of a look scooted around over her face--danged if I +can describe it. I heard her breathe long, just like a cow when you +turn her calf in the lot, and she says: 'You're late, Perry.' + +"'Five minutes,' says Perry, cheerful. 'Me and old Buck was having a +game of checkers.' + +"Perry introduces me to Mariana, and they ask me to come in. No, +sir-ee. I'd had enough truck with married folks for that day. I says +I'll be going along, and that I've spent a very pleasant afternoon +with my old partner--'especially,' says I, just to jostle Perry, +'during that game when the table legs came all loose.' But I'd +promised him not to let her know anything. + +"I've been worrying over that business ever since it happened," +continued Buck. "There's one thing about it that's got me all twisted +up, and I can't figure it out." + +"What was that?" I asked, as I rolled and handed Buck the last +cigarette. + +"Why, I'll tell you: When I saw the look that little woman gave Perry +when she turned round and saw him coming back to the ranch safe--why +was it I got the idea all in a minute that that look of hers was worth +more than the whole caboodle of us--sarsaparilla, checkers, and all, +and that the d----n fool in the game wasn't named Perry Rountree at +all?" + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Roads of Destiny, by O. Henry + diff --git a/old/rdstn10.zip b/old/rdstn10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0fe8a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rdstn10.zip |
