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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19129-8.txt b/19129-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9eb6962 --- /dev/null +++ b/19129-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9382 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The She Boss, by Arthur Preston Hankins + +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: The She Boss + A Western Story + +Author: Arthur Preston Hankins + +Release Date: August 27, 2006 [EBook #19129] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHE BOSS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: "He was flailing right and left with a huge pine knot in +either hand."] + + + + + + +THE SHE BOSS + +A WESTERN STORY + + +BY + +ARTHUR PRESTON HANKINS + + + + +AUTHOR OF + +THE HERITAGE OF THE HILLS, THE JUBILEE GIRL, ETC. + + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS ---------- NEW YORK + + + + +Copyright, 1922 + +By CHELSEA HOUSE + + +The She Boss + + + +(Printed In the United States of America) + +All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign +languages, including the Scandinavian. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE + II. OUT OF THE WOODS + III. SAN FRANCISCO + IV. TWITTER OR TWEET + V. A RIVAL + VI. THE FIRE + VII. HIRAM, THE BUTTERFLY + VIII. LUCY'S AMBITIONS + IX. HIRAM WAKES UP + X. JERKLINE JO + XI. THE RETURN OF JERKLINE JO + XII. SKINNERS FROM FRISCO + XIII. THE START FOR JULIA + XIV. A WIRE TO JULIA + XV. MR. TWEET NEGOTIATES A LOAN + XVI. TEHACHAPI HANK + XVII. IN LETTERS OF BLACK + XVIII. GREATER RAGTOWN + XIX. WHAT MADE THE WILD CAT + XX. DRUMMOND'S PASSENGER + XXI. LUCY SEES A PROSPECT + XXII. JERKLINE JO'S SURPRISE + XXIII. DRUMMOND WEAVES A DREAM + XXIV. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE LAKE + XXV. JO LOSES HER SUPPORT + XXVI. AT THE HAIRPIN CURVE + XXVII. UNDER THE DRIPPING TREES + XXVIII. FOUR-UP FOR HELP + XXIX. THE GENTLE WILD CAT RETURNS + XXX. HIRAM TAKES THE TRAIL + XXXI. A TALE OF THE DESERT'S DEAD + XXXII. LUCY PLANS A COUNTER-ATTACK + XXXIII. POCKETED + XXXIV. WHILE SPRING APPROACHED + XXXV. THE WAY OF LIFE + + + + +The She Boss + + +CHAPTER I + +BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE + +Spring was manifest in the vast big-timber country of Mendocino County. +"Uncle" Sebastian Burris felt the moist warmth of it oozing from the +slowly drying road as he trudged along. The smell of it emanated from +the white, pale-yellow, and pink fungi that flourished on the soaked +and ancient logs along the way. He heard the voice of it in the soft +murmuring of the South Fork of the Eel, which went twinkling down Bear +Valley through firs and redwoods straight as telegraph poles; in the +caress of the soft south wind soughing in the tree-tops. Chipmunks and +gray squirrels darted across his path. + +A quarter of a mile from Wharton Bixler's store he turned off on a +narrow road which led into the deeper forest. He passed through groves +of redwoods which towered three hundred feet above him, and whose girth +was over sixty feet. A half mile more the old man trudged on sturdily, +muttering occasionally to himself. Then he struck a cross trail which +paralleled Ripley Creek, and this he followed into the sunshine of an +open spot. + +Across this, through thickets of whitethorn, manzanita, alder, and bay +he limped along, following deer trails. The deeper forest was left +behind in the lowlands. A grass-grown bark road, which he eventually +found, followed the creek, ascending sharply through shade and +sunshine, crossing and recrossing the creek on wooden bridges, +twisting, always climbing. + +On one of the bridges Uncle Sebastian Burris halted. A great snarl of +bleached driftwood had collected just above the bridge, and through it +the clear water roared in a dozen tiny cataracts. Beyond the drift +Uncle Sebastian had caught a glimpse of some living, moving object. He +wiped his watery blue eyes with a red handkerchief, looked once more, +then crossed the bridge and wound through a thicket of huckleberry +bushes till abreast the drift. + +A little later he was peering down a steep bank into the +boulder-studded bottom of Ripley Creek, where lay a fine young specimen +of the genus homo idly tossing pebbles into the crystal water. A smile +half sardonic grew in the features of Uncle Sebastian as he stood +looking down at him. + +The youth, unconscious of the presence of another, kept on idly tossing +the pebbles, recumbent on one elbow. His long sinewy legs were incased +in slick jean trousers of stovepipe lines and stiffness. He wore no +coat. A faded blue shirt covered his barrel of a body, and his slouch +hat was off, exposing long, light, wiry hair and a freckled neck. His +lean jaws were covered by a two weeks' growth of beard. About him +drooped hazels and alders. From one end to the other Ripley Creek was +beautiful; there was no lovelier spot in all of California. + +"Hello, Hiram!" Sebastian Burris called at last. + +The youth started perceptibly and sat up. He turned his head over his +left shoulder. Big, bulging blue eyes laughed back at Sebastian. The +good-naturedly twisted mouth that grinned at him was suggestive of a +sluggish drawl. The long legs twined themselves, and Hiram Hooker +flopped over on his stomach, facing his friend. + +"Why, hello, Uncle Sebastian!" he cried in a tone which bore true +welcome. "What're you doin' 'way up here? Come on down an' look at +the young trout!" + +Without remark, Uncle Sebastian, grasping roots and low-hanging +branches, clambered stiffly down the bank. He sat down by the side of +Hiram Hooker and glanced at three old, dirty backless magazines that +lay on the pebbles and smiled. + +"Ain't seen ye down to th' store at stage time in I dunno when, Hiram," +he remarked, surveying the handsome young Hercules with admiration. + +Hiram skimmed a flat piece of slate across a riffle. + +"I never get any mail, Uncle Sebastian," he drawled. + +"They's a heap o' us don't go to Bixler's fer th' mail, Hiram." + +"Heaven knows there's nothin' else to take me there," and there was +just a shade of bitterness in the twist of Hiram's good-natured mouth. + +In place of tossing pebbles, Uncle Sebastian chose to pick up a redwood +splinter on which to whittle. He took out a slick-handled jackknife, +blew a clot of pocket lint from the springs, opened a whetted pruning +blade, and began shaving the brittle wood. His watery blue eyes were +far-off and thoughtful. + +"Jest come from there," he resumed. "We was talkin' about ye down +there, Hiram. Put me in mind to come up an' see ye. Hiram, ye ain't +any too popular in Bear Valley--d'ye know it?" + +"You know I do," promptly replied Hiram. + +"D'ye know what they're sayin' agin' ye?" Uncle Sebastian continued +after a long pause. + +"Don't know as I'm carin'." + +"Yes, ye are, Hiram," said Uncle Sebastian positively. "Don't tell me +that. Ye c'n tell yerself ye don't keer, Hiram, but ye're lyin' to +yerself. It ain't in human nature not to keer what folks thinks about +a fella. Gosh! where'd we be if it wasn't so?" + +Hiram flipped a pebble. "I reckon you're right, Uncle Sebastian, and I +reckon I know you're aimin' at somethin'. You came 'way up here to +spring somethin' on me, didn't you? Well, le's have it." + +"Ye're right, Hiram--I did. In the first place, then, they're sayin' +ye're the laziest fella in Bear Valley." + +Hiram laughed mirthlessly. "There's nothin' new in that, Uncle +Sebastian. They've said the same since paw died. I reckon I am, +maybe." + +"Hiram," patiently persisted the old man, "I didn't walk 'way up here +to listen to such talk. I tell ye, ye're playin' insincere, Hiram. +Down in yer heart ye know as well as anythin' it makes ye hot to be +talked about an' called th' laziest man in Bear Valley. I'd druther +see ye hoppin' mad ner takin' it that a way. + +"Now, Hiram, listen to me: I've known ye sence ye was knee-high to a +duck, ain't I? Yer paw an' me was thicker ner molasses. Yer paw would +'a' made a brilliant man, Hiram, if he'd 'a' had th' chanct. You've +inherited yer paw's brains. + +"When ye was a kid ye was a little devil, I'll admit. Still, givin' +myself credit fer a set o' brains a leetle above th' average o' Bear +Valley, I made allowances. Ye was mean because yer head was full o' +ideas; an' in Bear Valley they's so blamed little to use them ideas on +that ye jest naturally had to turn to meanness. Ye wasn't really bad; +ye was jest alive. All yer life ye been hankerin' fer sumpin that Bear +Valley couldn't give, but ye didn't even know what 'twas ye was +hankerin' fer. How could ye? A man's gotta taste olives before he c'n +tell if he likes 'em, ain't he? Yer paw taught ye to read." Uncle +Sebastian glanced once more, half pityingly, half resentfully, at the +backless magazines. "Readin's put notions into yer head an' set ye to +hankerin'. + +"Then as ye grew up th' Valley folks begun to shun ye, didn't they?" he +continued. "They called ye queer. Then when yer paw died they dropped +ye altogether. It hurt ye, an' ye jest drew aloof an' went to shakes. + +"D'ye know, Hiram, sometimes I find myself not blamin' ye like I +oughta. They called ye no good before ye really was so, an' +practically driv ye to it. Then ye was too proud to brace up an' give +'em th' satisfaction o' thinkin' their treatment o' ye had made ye turn +over a new leaf. If they'd gone on treatin' ye decent ye'd likely come +out all right o' yer own hook. Hiram, pride's put a heap o' men in th' +penitentiary. Pride's stubborn, Hiram. But layin' aside th' root o' +th' trouble, an' lookin' at th' matter through _their_ eyes, it's +really a shame th' way yer paw's place has gone to ruin--th' way you've +gone th' same route. I'd druther see ye plumb bad ern so all-fired +no-good all round. Ye had jobs a number o' times drivin' eight an' ten +on jerkline, freightin' tanbark from Longport. Ye're a good jerkline +skinner, Hiram--no better in the country--but ye won't stick no more'n +a month or two outa each year. + +"But I'm makin' allowances fer ye--I always have--I'm th' only one that +ever has. I been watchin' an' waitin' fer ye to right yerself an' get +at sumpin; but this mornin', down to th' store, it come over me that +ye'll never do it in Bear Valley. + +"Consequently, Hiram," Uncle Sebastian resumed, "ye've gotta move." + +Hiram glanced at him with wide-opened eyes. "Move! Where to?" + +"Out into th' world, Hiram, to strike yer gait. Ye gotta hit th' hard +places an' git experience. Ye gotta taste olives to see if ye c'n +stummick 'em. Ye'll get an awful batterin'-up, I reckon, but ye'll +likely learn if they's anything in ye. At first ye'll probably go to +th' bad an' get a heap worse ern ye was in Bear Valley. That's neither +here ner there. Th' point is, if they's a gait in ye ye'll eventually +strike it. If not--well, then, what's th' difference? I'm goin' to +pay up fer ye down to th' store an' give ye enough to land ye in +Frisco. Then th' good Lord an' what He put into that head o' yers must +look after ye. I'm gonta foreclose on ye, Hiram." + +Hiram was not looking at Uncle Sebastian, but the old man saw his +slight start and the red creep down his columnar neck as the last +sentence came out. One great toe protruded from the upper of one of +Hiram's shoes. Uncle Sebastian saw it twitching. + +"You're foreclosin' on me?" The words came slowly and with a hollow +gulp. + +Uncle Sebastian's lips went straight and hard. "Unless ye'll deed th' +place to me, Hiram." + +Another pause, while the low wind whined in the treetops and Ripley +Creek went gurgling and sucking through the latticed trunks in the pile +of drift. + +"What did you tell me when I gave the mortgage, Uncle Sebastian?" + +The reproach in Hiram's voice did not move the arbiter. "I know what I +told ye, Hiram. I told ye, ye needn't worry--that I wouldn't +foreclose--that I wasn't speculatin' when I lent th' money on th' +place. Jest th' same, Hiram, I'm foreclosin' on ye." + +Uncle Sebastian eyed the young man keenly. The first shock past, Hiram +seemed now to be turning the matter over with just deliberation. + +"I reckon I know what you're up to, Uncle Sebastian," he said at last. +"We've talked the matter over too many times for me to misconstrue your +motives. You're thinkin' that I'll amount to somethin' if I get away +from here." + +"I reckon ye've said it, Hiram." Uncle Sebastian voiced this with +great relief. + +"And you're foreclosin' on me to force me to go." + +"Eggzackly, Hiram. I'm proud that ye interpret my motive." + +Hiram was silent another long minute. Then, with a hollow laugh: "I +reckon you'll be tolerably disappointed, Uncle Sebastian. There was a +time when I'd 'a' looked forward to leavin' Mendocino. I've had +hankerin's, and I've got 'em yet--but I'm scared. I've never been outa +the country but once. What c'n I do away from here? What d'ye expect +of me, anyway?" + +"Ye c'n certainly do as much out o' here as ye're doin' here, Hiram." + +"I don't know about that. It don't take much to live here. I've got +about all I want, I reckon. If I had more books to read I'd be pretty +near content. There was a time, as I said, when it was different; but +now I don't reckon I care. But what particular thing d'ye expect me to +excel in, Uncle Sebastian?" + +"Excel's a tol'able big word, Hiram. I can't tell ye any more. Ye've +wanted to be a poet, an' ye've wanted to be an officer in th' army, an' +this an' that an' th' other--ye've wanted to be pretty near everythin' +ye read about last. When ye git in touch with these things, Hiram, ye +may be able to choose--though they's a heap o' 'em ain't that's in +constant touch. I know ye've got imagination. I know it's wasted here +in th' backwoods; an' I know ye gotta git." + +Uncle Sebastian had risen to emphasize this ultimatum. Now, standing +and looking down, he finished: + +"Whether ye'll bless me or curse me remains to be seen." + +Hiram made no reply--he did not even look up. + +"So be down to Wharton Bixler's by stage time to-morrow, Hiram, an' be +ready to take th' stage to Brown's Corner. I'll go with ye that far, +an' ye c'n deed me th' prop'ty before a notary, so's I won't be obliged +to foreclose. Then I'll come back an' pay yer bill at Bixler's, an' +ye'll have one hundred dollars to take ye down to Frisco. Will ye be +at th' store at half past nine?" + +A wait, then a short nod. + +Uncle Sebastian half turned, paused, cleared his throat, and for the +first time lost his high-handed control of the situation. + +"Hiram," he said in a lower tone, "I reckon I'm a fool, but I hope ye +ain't holdin' anything agin' me. So help me, boy, I believe I'm doin' +ye a turn. Do--d'ye believe it or not?" + +"Wait'll to-morrow, Uncle Sebastian," came Hiram's pleading voice. +"Le'me think it over all to-night. You've plumb knocked the props from +under me." + +Without another word, Uncle Sebastian climbed up the bank and strode +off through the huckleberries. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OUT OF THE WOODS + +For over an hour Hiram Hooker lay perfectly still at the creekside. +His wide-open eyes stared dreamily into the water. His mind was +stunned by the present situation. Feverishly and against his will his +thoughts went hurrying back over the years which had led up to this +momentous climax. + +A woman moved frequently across the picture--a bent, tired, work-warped +woman--his mother. The pitiable leanness of the life of Hiram's mother +had been appalling. One word stood for the tenor of her days from sun +to sun--nothing. She had never seen a piano or a typewriter, or even a +washing machine. Silent, unmurmuring, she had given her life for +nothing and gone. + +Swiftly came in the picture the likeness of Hiram's father--tall, +bewhiskered, strong as an ox, soft-voiced, and easy-going. Nothing but +kindness had emanated from the father to his wife and child. Foster +Hooker, too, had slaved his life away for nothing. The rocky land had +claimed him and held him down. They had had enough to eat and to keep +them warm--beyond that, nothing. Now he lay with Hiram's mother +between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. + +There was in Hiram's thoughts no bitterness against his parents. They +had been always kind and had given their best to him. The rocky land +had held them chained. It offered sustenance, and of the big +progressing world beyond they had lived afraid. In the early days they +had buried themselves in the big woods to make their fortune. But the +fortune was not there, and old age crept on. Old age told them that +the world outside had passed beyond them, and they were afraid. + +After all, had they given Hiram nothing? In his bitter moments he had +thought so, but to-day his thoughts were mellowed. He was on the eve +of leaving everything that held memories of them. Had they not given +him of themselves a love for the grandeur of these woods which touched +no other soul, save Uncle Sebastian's, perhaps, in all the valley? +Hiram saw more in a redwood tree than the natives did; saw the beauty +of contrast in the open spots in the forest, where the others saw only +grazing ground for cattle; saw wonders in the rioting streams without a +thought of miners' inches. His father had taught him the love of +books, but there had been so few to love. He had taught him to think. +Hiram was weird, queer, a "leetle cracked" to the others of Bear +Valley. Uncle Sebastian alone had understood him--had sympathized with +him and helped him. + +Now, though, it was over. He was leaving forever. One hundred +dollars! He had never possessed so much in his twenty-six starved +years! An exultation seized him which beat throbbingly in his temples +and fired his soul with recklessness. He was bound out into the Great +Unknown, where the promises of his dreams would be fulfilled. He would +do great things, live great adventures, then come back to scoff at them! + +He sprang to his feet, collected the backless magazines, and climbed +the bank. With long strides he hurried along the bark road which wound +round the contour of the hills. An hour later he was trotting down a +manzanita slope to his cabin, nestled in the cup of the hills, +surrounded by the whispering firs. + +Just within he paused and looked about as if seeing the sordidness of +his home for the first time. All the way up the hill the exultation of +impending departure had thrilled him. It thrilled him still, and a new +feeling of contempt of what he saw came over him. + +A panther skin hung on the rough, unpainted wall above the black and +cheerless fireplace, three sets of antlers surrounding it. Near the +fireplace lay an unsightly pile of wood and chips. The doors of the +cracked and rusty stove were gaping wide. The remains of his breakfast +were on the clothless, homemade table. His rifle, the only thing well +kept, stood in a corner. + +He passed through into the other room, separated from this by a thin +board partition. There, in oval walnut frames, hung the pictures of +the two who lay between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. A slight +sense of depression seized him. The bed unmade, brought a sparkle of +anger to his eyes. He was disgusted with himself, but it did not last. +The thought of the adventures that lay beyond and beckoned came +uppermost once more. "The girl" beckoned, too. + +Yes, there was a girl. Hiram had seen her only in his dreams. She was +not like Bear Valley girls. She was large and sturdy and strong, and +her hair was of such dark brown as to seem almost black, her eyes dark +and large and lustrous. She was a queen among women, this girl of his +dreams. About her hung some great mystery, and adventure followed in +her footsteps. Out there somewhere beyond Bear Valley she stood +beckoning him to come! + +He went to bed early, to toss for hours and at last to drop into +fretful, torturing dreams. The scream of a panther awoke him once. + +He was up before sunrise, cooking his bacon and coffee and frying +slices of cold biscuit in the bacon grease. + +The east was pink when he left the cabin, carrying the rifle, which he +meant to give to Uncle Sebastian. Everything else he left behind. He +took a short cut over Wild-cat Hill. On its crest, between the two +bull pines, he stopped before two graces. + +The red sun was peering through the saddle of Signal Hill. Cold mists +rose from the forest. In the air was the breath of the morning. +Weirdly the early wind moaned through the needles of the tall bull +pines. Up from the caņon came the roaring of Ripley Creek as it raced +to the sea. + +A lump came in Hiram's throat that he could not down. At his feet lay +those who had lived and starved for him through the countless denials +of this wilderness. Below him lay the cabin which he had known as home +for twenty-six long years. About him stretched the grandeur of this +untarnished land. Scalding tears burst from his eyes. Some monstrous +ogre had arisen to crush him. They were driving him from his home, +from the land of his birth, from the spots he loved! No bitterer +period ever came in Hiram's life than when he stood that misty morning +and watched the sun rise on the turning point of his career. Blindly +he stumbled down Wild-cat Hill and took up the long road to Bixler's +store. They were driving him, like Hagar, from all that he held dear, +and there was hatred in his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SAN FRANCISCO + +The train that carried Hiram Hooker to San Francisco was late. Thirty +miles from the bay it began making up for lost time. Through the +falling dusk it roared toward the metropolis. Slowly the landscape +faded. Vineyards and chicken ranches and orchards and rolling hills +studded with live oaks gave place to the electric-lighted tentacles of +the city. The lights blinked by at Hiram. They helped depress him, +for they were a part of the modernity that he feared. Suburbs grew to +a continuous stretch of lighted streets and houses. Always those +lights blinked on every side. There was witchery in all of it--in the +smell of the city close at hand, in the cold salt air from the bay, in +the _chunk-a-lunk_, _chunk-a-lunk_ of the speeding locomotive. + +Hiram sat forward on the seat, eager, shrinking, exultant, always +straining while he shrank. He tried to plan, but could not. Night +closed in, and all that he saw now were the blinking lights that raced +astern. Off in the black sky to the southward a rosy light suffused +the night--San Francisco. + +"Saus-a-lito! Everybody change! Don't forget yer baggage!" + +Hiram was swept out with the crowd, swept through the chute to the +ferryboat, swept aboard. He followed the crowd forward and stood in +the bow. Black as ink the Bay of San Francisco stretched before him. +Like fireflies the lights of vessels scurried through the blackness. +Beyond the black water blinked the countless eyes of San Francisco, +above these the rosy glow which had beckoned since the fall of dusk. + +The boat had started before Hiram was aware. Smoothly it slipped along +toward the beacons on the other shore. Hiram breathed the keen salt +breeze in gulps and looked steadily and curiously at the world that +waited for him. Somewhere there, perhaps, the girl of his dreams was +beckoning, and begging him not to be afraid. The boat nosed into her +slip and the crowd swept him ashore, swept him through the Ferry +Building, and, as it went its thousand ways, left him stranded, staring +unbelievingly up Market Street. + +Ten minutes he stood there. Thousands pressed by him. The laughter +and grumblings of life buzzed in his uncomprehending ears. No one +noticed him. The continuous _clang-clang-clang_ of the street cars +grew to a rhythmic roar. Strange odors filled his nostrils. What held +him most was the lights--the myriad lights that blinked away in +perspective up Market Street, clusters of them, pillars of them, wheels +of them, stars and squares of them. They all blended into a shower of +diamonds and held him spellbound. Then the clang of the street cars, +the clatter of hoofs on cobbles, the crunch of wheels, the raucous +toots of automobile horns and the purring of the engines, the ceaseless +laughing and murmuring of the crowds, the unfamiliar odors all blended +with the lights, and Hiram Hooker was breathing life, and knew that it +was warm, knew that he loved it, and was unafraid! + +At last he sighed and began warily crossing the street from the Ferry +Building to Market Street. He had read of country boys in the city. +He knew enough not to stand in the street and stare. He wisely kept +with a crowd while crossing, and made their experience in braving the +dangers of traffic protect him. He reached the other curb in safety +and started up the long, broad street. + +Hiram Hooker will never forget that night. Not once after leaving the +water front did he know his location, and it would have mattered little +if he had. He walked on and on untiringly through an entrancing dream. +He was alone in a great museum--the other human beings were not fellow +spectators, but specimens on exhibition. + +The beauty of the women fascinated him. Never in his wildest +imaginings had he fancied such forms and faces. The most beautiful +girl in Bear Valley bore the face of a gargoyle compared with the soft, +creamy faces he saw that night. The flashing, long-lashed eyes, the +red lips, the coils on coils of fluffy hair, the swishing silk, +unfamiliar furs, sparkling jewels, and the slender French heels were +stupefying. + +He was growing hungry. He had not eaten a bite since early morning, +and now it was eleven o'clock at night. It appalled him to think of +entering a restaurant and being confronted by one of those +white-skinned, slim-formed divinities he saw flitting from table to +table. He did not know what to order nor how to order it. Even the +smallest places looked imposing with their myriad lights and fixtures +of gilt and white and glittering glass. But he knew he must screw his +courage to it. + +There seemed to be a restaurant nearly every other door in the locality +he was now passing through. Not only that, but many electric letters +blazing down the street notified him that he would have no trouble in +finding rooms; rooms by the day or week; rooms and board; rooms 15 +cents and up; lodging; rooms with or without board; beds 10 cents and +up. He was on Kearny Street, he knew, but he did not know where Kearny +Street was in relation to the rest of the city. + +He strolled along, staring through the windows at the appetizing +displays and searching for a restaurant where none of those +creamy-skinned beings that caused him so much uneasiness were employed. +At last he found one where, it seemed, only smooth-faced men in short +black coats and low-cut vests were serving. His abused stomach goaded +him to slink through the doorway and seek a table. + +Just within the door he paused. The place seemed crowded. He was +about to slink out again when a woman's voice said in his ear: "This +side, please--all full here." + +He turned quickly, with a gulp, to see a slim, black-clad girl, with +one of those appalling piles of fluffy hair topping her head, whisking +past behind him. Now he noticed that the restaurant was divided in +half by a screen which ran the length of the building, and that one +side--the side he had seen through the window--was for men, and the +other for women. The tables on the men's side were filled. The girl +stood beckoning from a table on the women's side. Other waitresses he +had not seen before were working here. Hiram could not back out now. +His legs trembled as he obeyed the girl's beckoning finger. + +He reached the table and stumbled noisily into a seat. The girl, now +holding out a menu card, was looking at him curiously, he felt. The +blood rushed to his face; he dared not look at her. Fumblingly he took +the card and straightway dropped it on the floor. + +Together they bent over to regain it. Their bodies touched. Hiram +grew sick. She recovered the card and was standing erect when he +crawfished up from the floor. He was burning up with shame. Again he +took the card, but his glazed eyes could not read a word. + +Suddenly he knew that she was speaking. + +"I think you'd like a ribber, medium," she was saying, "with French +fries and a dish of peas." + +Hiram's head nodded without command. He knew she was leaving the +table, and something forced his eyes to her. She was turning, but her +eyes were looking back into his. In those eyes, big and brown beneath +dark, arched brows and long lashes, there was a look that thrilled him +to his soul. She was more beautiful than any woman he had seen through +all the splendor of the night, and she had flashed to him a spark of +kindness in a maelstrom of misery! Was this the girl who had been +beckoning him on? + +She was coming back. She paused beside him and placed a napkin, +silver, bread and butter, and a glass of water before him. He tried to +look up, but could not. He felt her close to him as she arranged the +things before him. + +She was speaking again, low, soothingly. + +"Awful crowd to-night. We don't usually put single gentlemen on this +side, but I guess you won't mind. Your ribber'll be here in a minute." + +She was gone again. He saw her brown hair bobbing toward the kitchen. +He watched the swing doors, eager for her return. + +They burst open at last and she came forward and placed a big platter +before him, on which steamed an enormous rib steak, beside this a dish +of French-fried potatoes and a dish of peas. + +She glided away once more and did not again come near his table while +he ate. He kept his eyes on her throughout the meal, and continued to +lower them when he thought her about to look toward him. His "ribber" +was good, and he ate the last scrap. Then he paid his bill and hurried +out. + +Through the window he looked back for her. She was nowhere in sight. + +In a miserable hallway on the second floor of a dingy brick building, +he obeyed the legend over a button in the wall, which read: +"Landlord--push the button." The result was that a squint-eyed man +came from a door marked "office" and yawningly asked him his business. +Hiram wished a twenty-five-cent room, he said. He was taken to one, +which was not a room at all, but a stall--that is, the thin board +partitions did not connect with the ceiling by three feet. The bed was +a single one, and the sheets had brought the proprietor many a +twenty-five-cent piece since coming from the laundry. The additional +furnishings of the "room" were six nails driven in the board wall to +hold one's clothes. From all over the floor came lusty snores and the +mutterings of world-worn men. + +With the city smells still in his nostrils, the buzz of city life still +in his ears, and the countless lights twinkling in a frame about the +white face of a brown-haired, red-lipped girl, he fell asleep from +sheer fatigue. But with unaccountable perversity his dreaming mind +dwelt not upon the beautiful vision he had come to love in fifteen +seconds, but on the whispering firs and twinkling streams of Mendocino, +and on a plodding ten-horse jerkline team hauling tanbark over the +mountains to the coast. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TWITTER OR TWEET + +Hiram Hooker washed in the community lavatory in the hall next morning. +Then he sought the squint-eyed landlord and paid a week's room rent in +advance, thereby saving fifty cents. + +He wished to strike out at once after breakfast to begin justifying +Uncle Sebastian's faith in him, but so far he had not laid a plan. He +noticed lettering on a door in the hall which dignified what lay beyond +as a "lounging room." The door stood ajar, and he saw that the room +was empty. He decided to go in and think. A thousand and one wonders +awaited his curious eyes, but they must wait. His hundred dollars had +dwindled perceptibly; it was time to give his future a practical +thought or two. + +In the "lounging room" were a long plain board writing-table, ten +yellow kitchen chairs. Hiram took a seat by a window overlooking +Kearny Street. + +He could not plan, he found, for his ideas of seeking employment were +of the vaguest; he did not know where to look for it, nor what duties +he should state that he could perform. Dreaming of it up there in +Mendocino County, climbing up in the world from the bottom rung had +seemed so easy. + +He began feeling a little lonesome. He had resolved to brave the +fascinating eyes of the girl of the restaurant again, and perhaps speak +to her if occasion offered, when the door opened and three men came +into the lounging room. + +Two of them scraped chairs to the table and from a drawer took a dirty +pack of cards and a homemade cribbage board, with headless matches for +markers. The third took from his pocket a folded newspaper and sat +down at the window opposite Hiram. He at once began reading, and +seemed not to be a companion of the other two. Hiram took note that he +perused the want-ad sheets. + +Hiram studied the two at cards. He resolved that he did not like their +unkempt looks, so turned his attention to the man with the paper. + +In dress this man was in a class with the other two, though perhaps a +little better groomed. But a careful observer would have taken note of +certain finer characteristics in the face. It was the face of a man in +the thirties, robust and good-natured, with bushy brows, slate-blue +eyes, and a nose that would have been termed Grecian if it had not been +for a semiconical twist to the left. He was of stalky build, carefully +shaved that morning, and wore a dingy turndown collar. His shoes, +though scuffed with wear, were polished. + +In the midst of this scrutiny the man suddenly lowered the paper and +leveled his eyes at Hiram. The look almost said "What do you want?" in +a disinterested though not antagonistic way. Hiram was caught +unawares. He felt the question and had answered it, to cover his +embarrassment, before he knew the words were coming. + +"D'ye find any jobs in the paper?" + +The two at cards looked quickly at Hiram and shrugged, and the game +went on in silence, as before. + +"What d'ye follow?" asked the man with the twisted nose in a sort of +rollicking voice by no means unpleasant. + +"D'ye mean what c'n I do?" + +The man with the paper nodded. + +Hiram scraped his chair a foot closer. "Why, I don't exactly know. +I'm willin' to do anything--that is, try." + +The slate-blue eyes quizzically studied Hiram a little longer, then +settled on the paper once more. + +A few moments they scanned the column. Then: + +"Maybe some o' these'll look attractive ol'-timer. 'Wanted three +bushelmen; one coat-maker; first-class pants operator; shoe shiner; two +farm carpenters, Arizona, four dollars a day, fare refunded; two +carpenters, city, five dollars a day; one hundred muckers, New Mexico, +two-fifty day; one trammer, three-fifty day; one hundred laborers, New +Mexico, three dollars day; porter in bakery, city, must be sober; boy, +sixteen years old, make himself generally useful in pickle plant; two +jerkline drivers--must be good, southern California; cooks, waiters, +teamsters, muckers galore. Call and see us. Morgan & Stroud, +Four-hundred-and-fifteen Clay Street.'" + +He lowered the paper and once more fixed the slate-blue eyes on Hiram. +"There you are, ol'-timer--pick yer road to wealth and prominence." + +His smile brought Hiram's chair closer. + +"How d'ye get any o' these jobs?" he asked. + +"Part with two dollars to Morgan & Stroud for the address o' the +advertiser, then beat the other fella to it," was the reply. + +"But they wanted a hundred muckers, you read." + +"Oh, that's different. They ship you out for two dollars to where the +job is. The contractor deducts your fare from your first month's pay +and refunds it to the railroad company, or sticks it in his pocket if +he's wise. Le's see--where they shippin'?" He glanced at the column +again. "N' Mexico, eh? Yes, they'll ship you down there for two +dollars, and you c'n go to work and grow up with the country. C'n you +drive a team?" + +"Sure," said Hiram. "I c'n drive eight or ten, or even sixteen +jerkline, too. You read something about jerkline skinners." + +"Then I'd go as a jerkline skinner at--what is it?--fifty-five and +found. Found means board, you know." + +"And you're sure they'll send me down to southern California for two +dollars and gi' me a job drivin' mules?" + +"They'll be tickled to death to do it. Where you from?" + +Hiram heaved a sigh. "Mendocino County," he replied. + +"Hittin' the trail for the first time, eh?" + +The questioner evidently knew it, so Hiram did not reply. + +"M'm-m! Fine big country--Mendocino. You oughta stayed there. That +country'll go to work and come out with a loud report some day." + +"You've been there?" asked Hiram eagerly. + +"Been everywhere." + +"What do you follow?" Hiram used the new expression almost +unconsciously. + +"I'm a promoter and capitalist." + +"A promoter and capitalist," Hiram repeated vaguely. + +"Yep. At present, though, I ain't workin' at the capitalist end. But +I'm always a promoter." + +Hiram was growing uncomfortable. He had been warming toward this +genial stranger; now he felt he was being ridiculed. He kept silent +and looked out the window. + +The other nonchalantly resumed his paper as if the conversation were +over. + +But Hiram did not wish it to end here. Despite the stranger's +fantastic statement, there was that in his bearing which told Hiram he +meant what he said, and that, furthermore, it was with him a matter of +indifference whether any one believed him or not. He wished the two +tramps would leave. He felt that then he could talk to the other man +with less reserve. + +As he sat there silently thinking, this wish was granted. A third +unkempt individual thrust his head in at the door and remarked, "Hey, +youse!" + +The cribbage players looked up. + +In explanation the man in the door held up a quarter between a +calloused forefinger and thumb. + +A broad grin broke on the face of one of the players as he scraped back +his chair and rose. "Cheese, Thumbscrew, where'd youse glom it?" he +gasped ecstatically. + +"Never mind w'ere I glommed it, Scully," was the retort. "De point is, +are youse guys in on helpin' me lick up a growler?" + +The other tramp had risen, and spoke for both as he strode toward the +door. "Lead us to it, Thumbscrew," he swaggered portentously; "lead us +to it, ol'-timer!" And the door slammed behind the three. + +Hiram glanced back at the man behind the newspaper. He had not so much +as slanted a look toward the door. + +Hiram's chance had come. After a silent minute he essayed: + +"But I didn't come to the city to leave it right away and go to drivin' +mules. I came here to get a start." + +The other politely lowered his paper. "What're you doin'--breakin' +loose from home to make yer fortune?" he asked. + +Hiram nodded and smiled. + +The man surveyed him for the first time from head to foot. "Been a +farmer up in Mendocino?" he queried. + +"Sorta," Hiram admitted. Then in a low voice: "To tell the truth, this +is my first time in a city. I got in last night. I've never been out +o' Mendocino County but once before." + +A few wrinkles of puzzlement came between the other's brows. "How old +are you?" + +"Twenty-six," was Hiram's meek confession. + +The stranger studied, a whimsical smile twisting his lips, a far-away +look in the slate-blue eyes. With a little jerk he emerged from +reverie and asked: + +"And what d'ye expect to take up here in Frisco?" + +Hiram scraped his chair still closer. "I don't know," he acknowledged. +"To tell the truth, I'm pretty green. I don't know anybody here and +don't know where to begin." + +"Don't say green," corrected the other. "That's obsolete. Say raw, or +that you're a hick, or a come-on. Well, what d'ye want to follow?" + +"I thought if I could get into some big man's office and work up, I +might reach----" + +The other man raised his hand protestingly and his face assumed a sick +expression. + +"Forget it! Forget it!" he cried. "Say, that's the biggest mistake a +fella like you could make. Your feet are too big for an office. Say, +take this from me: An office man is always an office man. He knows the +figgers--nothing else. The fella out on the works is the lad that +knows the fundamentals of the job. Take this railroad-construction +business, for instance: When the contractor wants a new general +superintendent he don't make him out of an office man. He goes out on +the job and gets him. You get offices outa your head, and get out and +learn something." He was thoughtful a minute, then finished with the +question: "How long are you on cash?" + +"I haven't got much," Hiram confessed--"sixty some dollars." + +"M'm-m," the other said musingly. Then, after another thoughtful +pause: "Say, I suppose you're a little shy about bracin' these +employment men, ain't you?" + +Hiram nodded. + +"Then I'll tell you what I'll do: You go to work and dig up my fee, and +I'll go down to southern California with you on the jerkline job. I +been wantin' to get outa Frisco for a week, but couldn't raise the +price. Anywhere'll suit me, where there's a chance o' makin' a little +stake. That's what you wanta do--go to work and make a stake. Then +look about for something you c'n float for yourself. There's nothin' +in working for somebody else. Work for yourself if it's only running a +peanut stand. Southern California'll do. What d'ye say?" + +"D'ye mean you're broke?" + +"Broke! I'm ruined!" + +"How did you lose your money?" Hiram asked innocently. + +"You're askin' for the story o' my life. What d'ye say, now? Le's go +to work and get breakfast, then enter Morgan & Stroud's in our usual +graceful manner and tell 'em we've decided to accept their kind offer +and let 'em ship us south. You'll probably learn a few things on that +trip." + +"Are you a jerkline skinner?" + +"I dunno. Maybe I am. I never tried. But if that's what you wanta +hit--me, too. Say, what's your name?" + +"Hiram Hooker." + +"That's a peach, all right. They sure labeled you for the part. Mine +ain't much better though. They call me Twitter-or-Tweet." + +"What!" + +"Proves I'm a bird, don't it? My name is Orr Tweet. Can you beat it? +So they call me Twitter-or-Tweet, or just Twitter--or sometimes +Playmate. I'm gregarious. I gotta have a partner all the time. I'll +play with any o' the little boys so long as they're nice to me." + +He handed Hiram a card. It read: + + ORR TWEET + + REPRESENTING THE CUCAMONGA + DEVELOPMENT COMPANY + Cerro Gordo, Mexico + + THE HOMESEEKERS' PROMISED LAND + OF MILK AND HONEY + + +"That Cucamonga Development Company and the milk-and-honey business is +passé," explained Mr. Tweet, "but I've got no other card. They pinched +the owners, and I flew the coop before they could lay it onto me. +Crooked deal." + +"What was it?" Hiram asked vaguely. + +"Banana plantation," Tweet replied lightly. "At least they called it +that--I never saw it. I was just promotin' the deal. Well, what d'ye +say?" he persisted. "I'm broke and I need a little cash. But I'm a +money getter! You tide me over this little depression and I'll +remember you. We may strike somethin' that'll look good anywhere +between here and there. If so, we'll drop off and look into it." + +Hiram did not know what to say. He had no experience in reading human +nature, and Mr. Tweet would have appeared as an enigma to many more +astute than Hiram. + +"What do you want me to do?" he hedged. + +"Hold me up, if your coin lasts, till I hit the ball--that's all. +You'll never regret it." Tweet sat pulling his twisted nose from side +to side, as if trying to straighten it. + +"But I don't understand. You seem to be--that is, you call yourself a +capitalist, and you're only--I mean it seems funny----" + +"I get you. I talk like a millionaire and travel with tramps." Tweet +sighed. "Well, my faculty for breedin' confidence in others is one o' +the big secrets o' my success. Success, I say--get that? If this +faculty won't work on you, then I lose this time. I'll say no more. +Think it over." + +He yawned, rose, and started for the door. + +"Are--are you goin' down on the street?" Hiram asked timidly. + +"Yes, I thought I'd stroll about a bit." + +"I--I guess I'll go with you, if you don't mind." + +"Sure not--come on." + +Hiram rose quickly and followed him out. Even though he were to +distrust this man, in the end, the thought of losing him now was +appalling. + +Down on the street he thought of breakfast and paused before the +restaurant. + +"Have you had breakfast, Mr. Tweet?" he asked. + +Tweet stopped and looked at him soberly. "Are you invitin' me to +dine?" he said quizzically. + +"Well, kinda that way," admitted Hiram with a foolish grin. "I haven't +eaten myself, and----" + +"I haven't eaten myself either, nor anybody else since yesterday +mornin'. I accept." + +And promptly Mr. Tweet pushed ahead through the swinging doors. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A RIVAL + +The restaurant was all but deserted at the late breakfast hour when +Hiram Hooker and Mr. Tweet entered. Hiram timidly wished that the +men's side were filled, so that he would be obliged to eat on the +ladies' side again. A waiter was beckoning them to the men's side, +however, and Hiram meekly led the way, though casting a quick, +expectant glance down the long row of tables beyond the screen. + +Waitresses were dallying about, but he did not see the girl with the +cords of fluffy hair. He was halfway through breakfast before it +occurred to him that, as she was at work at eleven the night before, he +scarce could expect her at nine in the morning. He was glad she was +not there to tantalize him, and at the same time deeply disappointed. + +Hiram's new acquaintance changed perceptibly as the food began to warm +him. Mildly loquacious before, he now became voluble. + +"I wanta tell you this," he remarked finally, "you're in luck to strike +me when I'm crippled for cash. A week from now, perhaps, you'd never +met me at all. And if you had, there'd 'a' been nothin' to connect us. +But right now I'm up against it and forced to sleep in a +twenty-five-cent lodgin' house. Therefore we met and found out each of +us had somethin' the other wanted. You're lucky, Hooker--that's all +there is to it. You'd 'a' drifted about for years and never got the +chance to hook up with Twitter-or-Tweet. And here you are, right from +the backwoods, makin' yourself solid the first crack outa the box with +the original money-getter. Stay by me till I get a toehold, and I'll +make you." + +Hiram was at a loss how to take him. He had not agreed to tide him +over, had not even made up his mind that Tweet was not a rank faker; +yet Tweet seemed to be taking it for granted that his case was won, and +that they were to go from the breakfast table to Morgan & Stroud's to +enter the road to competence. + +As if answering his thoughts, Tweet said: + +"I'm a mystery to you, ain't I? I don't use very good grammar, but I +talk sense. I'm talkin' about makin' piles o' money, and I'm gettin' +my breakfast off o' you, ain't I? If I really was the heavy hitter I'm +advertisin' myself to be I wouldn't condescend to take you on, would I? +That's what you been thinkin', ain't it? + +"Take those hobos up in the lodgin' house, for instance. Curiosity's +eatin' their hearts out in regard to me. They know I ain't a tramp, +yet they see me float smoothly along among 'em and never strike a +discord. I don't seem to mix with 'em, neither do I seem to keep aloof +from 'em. I'm there and I ain't there--see? If they only knew it, +I've tramped miles to their feet. Yet I never was a regular tramp. + +"On the other hand, when I'm hob-nobbin' with the upper class I keep +them guessin'. I talk kinda crude, yet what I say seems to be worth +listenin' to. I go into a flash hotel or cafe and never stumble over +anything, or knock the carafe off the table, or order corned-beef hash +when the menu card looks like an advanced lesson in _parlez vous_. +They take me to the circus to amuse me, and I come back at 'em with +grand opera. + +"So that's the way it goes, and you'll savvy more about it when you see +more o' me. At present I'm goin' to take you away from Frisco and, if +somethin' turns up, give you a start. I'm doin't this principally +because I need your little roll to tide me over till I get a workin' +stake. I'm frank about it. But I may learn to like you. You appear +to be sorta bright." + +Tweet pushed back his chair. "Now we'll go down to Morgan & Stroud's +and get out where we c'n go to work and do somethin', and have a chance +to look about and think." + +Protestations died on Hiram's lips, and he dutifully rose and followed. + +There was a cigar case on the cashier's counter, and Tweet leaned over +it, looking down at the contents, while Hiram laid his check beside the +cash register and fumbled for his pocketbook. He produced a dollar and +laid it on the check, then looked about for some one to receive them. +The space behind the counter was empty, but from a little inclosed +portion of the window came the slow, labored clicking of typewriter +keys. + +"Tap the dollar on the show case," suggested Tweet. + +Hiram tapped the glass. + +Instantly, in the window room, the clicking keys were hushed. Hiram +heard the squeak of a swivel chair. He heard the swish and caught the +gleam of a white skirt. The next moment she was standing before him. + +His breathing checked itself, and his knees began that sickening +tattoo. He was instantly so miserable that he longed to die. Yet he +faced her big eyes, brown and good-natured and smiling with +recognition, and dumbly pushed the check and the dollar across the +counter. + +"Why, hello!" she said lightly. + +"Hello," came a quavering echo. + +The drawer of the cash register shot out with a metallic clang. +Hiram's dollar jingled in among its kind. The girl's slim fingers were +suspending a quarter to be dropped into his palm, suggesting to Hiram's +abnormal mind the fear of contamination. He feebly put out his hand, +and she dropped the coin. + +"Thank you," she acknowledged in a light, professional tone, raising +her voice on the "you." + +She was turning away, when Tweet looked up from the cigars. + +"Since when, Lucy?" came his rollicking voice. She turned back, +smiling. "Oh, since just this morning," she replied. "The boss fired +the cashier just before I went off watch last night. He said he was +going to call up the employment agency and get another the first thing +this morning. + +"'What's the matter with giving some one here a chance?' I says. +'That's the way with you fellows,' I says. 'A girl can work her +fingers off for you for years, then when the chance comes for something +better, why, you telephone an employment agency and give it to a +perfect stranger. You give me a pain!' I says. + +"'But you ain't a cashier--you're a waitress,' he says. + +"'I'm not speaking about myself in particular,' I says. 'I'm speaking +about all of us who are working for you. Then,' I says, 'how do you +know I can't make change? When there's an opening for better pay and +easier work,' I says, 'why don't you come to us and see if any of us +think we can hold it down? You know us and can trust us, and instead +of giving us a look-in, you go and hire an outsider.'" + +"Good stuff!" commented Tweet. "And he fell for it, did he?" + +She flipped out her palms in a little gesture. "I'm here, ain't I? +Waited table from seven to three last night, and came behind the +counter here at five-thirty this morning. The boss'll relieve me at +twelve o'clock. Guess I'll sleep some to-night!" + +"Fine business! Makin' good, eh?" + +"I'm not fired yet, am I?" Her white teeth flashed. + +"But c'n you keep the books?" + +She sniffed. "I certainly can. I haven't been a waitress all my life. +These books are nothing." + +Here the gigantic Hiram caught his lower lip sagging and resolutely +lifted it to dignity. + +"Well, I like your style," Tweet was telling her. "Tell 'em about it, +every time--that's the way to get a toehold. But you're not much of a +stenog, Lucy--was that you peckin' away in there?" + +A shade of pink swept her face. + +"I used to operate a machine a little with one finger of each hand," +she explained, "but I'm all out of practice. I don't have to use a +typewriter on this job though. It's an old one the boss took for a +bill." + +"Just practicin' up again, eh?" + +"Ye-yes," she hesitated. Again her skin grew faintly pink. + +"Good business! Go to it! Every little bit helps. Well, +congratulations, Lucy. So long! C'm on, Hiram." + +"Thanks." Lucy laughed, and went into her little room. + +Hiram sighed boyishly, upset the toothpick holder at his elbow, and +fled in Mr. Tweet's wake. + +"Pretty nifty little kid," Tweet remarked, as Hiram joined him. + +"You know her--wh-what's her name?" + +Tweet turned and looked at Hiram's red face in mild surprise. + +"Wh-what's wrong with you?" he queried. + +"Nothin'"--sheepishly. + +"Well, I'll be dog-goned if I don't believe you're gun shy on the +female question!" was Tweet's conviction. "These frisky Frisco pullets +goin' to your head, Hooker. A little paint and a little powder and a +frowsy topknot seems to sorta touched some new funny bone in you, eh? +Heavens, I remember how I fell for it years ago!" + +Hiram closed his lips tight. He hated Tweet. + +Tweet slapped him on the back and laughed. + +"Forget it, Hiram," he advised familiarly. "It ain't like me to roast +anybody when I see it hurts. Why, le's see now--I don't know the kid's +name. I've heard the men call her Lucy--that's all. I been eatin' +there right along--that is, up till yesterday mornin'. She seems to be +popular with the fellas. Not a bad little kid, though, I take it. Got +some savvy, at any rate. Ain't content with her lowly lot--and that's +my kind. Oughtn't to make customers have to call her away from that +typewriter, though--I don't like that. Well," he switched abruptly, +"what you been thinkin' about our little deal?" + +"Nothing," Hiram retorted resentfully. + +They had been slowly walking down the street. Tweet stopped short and +looked at him. + +"That means what? That you don't care to consider it further?" + +It had meant just that when Hiram said it. There was now in Tweet's +question a tone of finality. Hiram felt that his reply would end the +matter. Swiftly his mind grasped for a judicious rejoinder and settled +on "No." He could not bring himself to part with this semblance of +friendship just yet. + +"All right, then," Tweet returned. "You're just not through +considerin', eh? Well, I'll tell you: We'll break away and give you a +chance to think. There's a man down California Street I wanta see +before I leave and I'll stroll down that way. You think it over, and +meet me at eleven-thirty up in that disfiguration old Squinty calls a +loungin' room. So long." + +He turned abruptly and strode away. + +Hiram watched his erect figure and firm step till the crowd hid him, +then followed more slowly in the same direction. His feet were +carrying him toward the restaurant, and he was guiltily permitting +them. He saw a shining drab automobile drawn up at the curb before the +restaurant door. He walked slower and slower as he neared the door, +paused, and looked within. + +Lucy was leaning on the counter negligently collecting scattered +toothpicks, and conversing laughingly with a carefully dressed +middle-aged man with a handsome face and curly brown hair. His hair +and Lucy's fluffy topknot were almost touching. Hiram saw him grasp +playfully at Lucy's hand, saw her jerk it away with a flirtatious laugh. + +Then Hiram bolted, half blind with pain. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE FIRE + +Hiram did not take note of much till he was three blocks from the +restaurant. There was a dull pain somewhere within him, but when his +thinking apparatus began shaking off its stunned condition he found it +difficult to analyze this pain. + +The girl had done practically nothing. In fact, but for her laughter, +her attitude toward the well-dressed man would have showed righteous +displeasure. The thought that this might be a common occurrence did +not enter his head. He was distressed now; he found, only with a keen +feeling of utter alienation, he was one lone backwoodsman against San +Francisco, scorning him, ready to trample him under foot. + +A sign over the window of a store cleared this mystery. Hiram stopped +and stared up at it. In a flash he knew what was the matter with him, +and that he hated the stranger for his clothes--that he hated everybody +because this man wore good clothes. He squeezed his pocketbook and +read and reread the painted words in their painted circles: + +"O'coat, $40, no more; Coat, $20, no more; Pants, $5, no more; Hat, $3, +no more." + +His mind was adding twenty, five, and three. The total was +twenty-eight. He could get along without an overcoat, though in San +Francisco, even in summer, an overcoat is comfortable at night. Should +he or should he not? His rusty old clothes were torturing him. +Twenty-eight dollars! And perhaps only four or five more for extras--a +tie, collars, suspenders, and--oh, yes! shoes. He had forgotten the +shoes. His were brogans. He must have shoes, too. Perhaps five for +shoes. He had barely sixty-seven dollars. Should he? Was it foolish, +or---- + +Reflected in the show window he saw a drab automobile flash behind him. +At the wheel he saw, erect, forceful, jaunty, and well-dressed, with a +black cigar gripped in his teeth, the man who had snatched at Lucy's +hand. Clinching his pocketbook, Hiram entered the store. + +A half hour later he came out, poorer by some thirty-eight dollars, but +rich in the self-esteem which the bright, stiff garments gave him. + +He left his bundle in his stall at the lodging house, criticized +himself before the cracked mirror in the hall, and went down on the +street. He bought three five-cent cigars and lighted one. He gripped +it in his teeth and let it protrude from the left-hand corner of his +mouth. Then he started for the restaurant. + +Long before he reached it panic was upon him. He had absolutely no +pretext on which to enter. It was then only ten-thirty, and he had +breakfasted at nine. To enter boldly and begin a conversation with +Lucy--which he had all along boastfully promised himself he would +do--he now knew to be the last thing on earth he would dare. + +Besides, though the garments he wore were new and bright and stiff, +those two brief glimpses of his rival's clothes now tardily showed him +that there was a difference. His coat, for instance, seemed a bit +angular--there seemed to be corners he had not noticed in the store. +It did not snuggle down to his neck and shoulders just right. Hiram +thought that perhaps the linen collar was a trifle too large. + +Thus criticizing, and walking slower and slower, he neared the +restaurant. Now it was impossible to take another step without coming +abreast of it. He stopped and looked in a jeweler's window next door. + +He stood there fifteen minutes. Time and again he nerved himself up to +entering the restaurant, only to feel cold sweat break out on his +forehead as he lifted his foot. He would return to the lodging house, +change his clothes, and see her when he ate at noon. He would never +let her see him in those now hated new clothes. He had squandered +thirty-eight dollars for her, and he had only twenty-nine left. + +Down the street from the heart of the city came a sudden clangor. +Vehicles were rushed close to the curbs. Up a side street a new jangle +of bells broke out. Never had Hiram seen a city fire, but at once he +knew that such was happening. + +A hook-and-ladder company rattled past with clamor and gongs and +clatter of hoofbeats. People poured from the doors of buildings to +watch. Men rushed to the curb and looked after the firemen; the women +stood near the buildings, under the awnings, shading their eyes and +standing on tiptoes. Quickly the sidewalk filled. A chemical engine +passed, clouds of black smoke rolling in its wake. Across the street a +pillar of black smoke burst from a third-story window. + +"It's across the street! Across the street!" shouted the crowd. + +A hose cart rumbled up. The men on the curb grew frantic, yelling and +pointing to the smoke. The hose cart was stopped. + +A little later the chief's automobile came. Then the apparatus that +had passed down the street came back. Flames and smoke were bursting +from three windows now. The street and the sidewalk were filled with +the crowd. + +Hiram had not moved a muscle. People elbowed him on both sides, but he +paid no attention. The rapid operations of the fire fighters held him +spell-bound. + +"Oo-oo-oo! Look there!" suddenly came a shrill familiar voice at his +side. + +A sputter of sparks had shot from the roof of the building, and a man +had emerged from a trap-door, it seemed, and darted from sight. But +the fire and every new phase of it had lost all holding power over +Hiram Hooker. Pressed to his elbow, wedged in by the crowd, stood Lucy. + +"Oh, I love a fire!" she was ecstatically informing some one on her +other side--a waitress. + +Hiram stood there sick with her proximity. She had not recognized +him--she was engrossed with the clouds of black smoke, the intermittent +red gleam of blaze, and the crackling streams of water. Her tongue was +wagging rapidly, and she seemed not to care to whom she spoke or +whether that fortunate person were listening. + +Suddenly, through the scurrying firemen in the street, a big red +automobile came slowly. It was filled with men and women. Its horn +was honking perpetually. Besides the fire apparatus, no other vehicles +were allowed in the street, yet no one seemed to interfere with this +machine. + +"Oh, it's the Samax Company!" exclaimed Lucy, dancing up and down. +"They're going to take a fire picture. Look, Minnie! There's Mr. +Kenoke--the director! I never thought of it--right here at my very +door, too! If I only could see him, Minnie. What a chance for the +fire scene in 'The Crowning Defeat!' Oh, why didn't I think of it, +Minnie? Mr. Kenoke! Mr. Kenoke! Oh, dear, he wouldn't hear me in a +thousand years!" + +She was waving over the heads of the crowd at some one in the red +automobile, it seemed. There seemed even less likelihood now of her +taking note of Hiram. He watched her furtively and wondered. + +"Oh, I must see him!" she went on excitedly. "Say, mister"--she +suddenly turned a flushed face to Hiram--"won't you---- Why, hello!" +she broke off. "I didn't know it was you. Oh, you will, I know! +You're big--you can do it! Won't you try to get to that heavy-set man +in the machine for me? Please--won't you?" + +She was looking eagerly up at him. Hiram rose to the situation like a +man. For her he felt he would have cheerfully entered a beehive should +she command him. Was not this the adventure girl of whom he had +dreamed? + +"What'll I do?" + +"Oh, will you? Good! Listen: Tell him to have Mr. Blair carry Miss +Worthington out the door. And listen: Miss Worthington has +fainted--see? Mr. Blair faints then, and staggers and falls down with +her. Then Mr. Speed rushes up and takes a letter from Mr. Blair's +pocket and runs out of the picture. And listen: Mr. Blair and Miss +Worthington still lie there. Tell him there's no makeup. And tell him +Miss Lucy Dalles wants him to do that, and that he won't regret it. +Tell him I said it was a peach--see? But listen: Don't say anything +about me being in a restaurant, though. Oh, can you? Will you?" + +Hiram was stunned. Had the girl gone crazy? + +"Go on, please, before the fire's out! I can't explain now--wait. +I'll tell you later. He'll know, though. Go on, now--try!" + +Without the faintest notion of what it was all about--with only the +thrilling thought that he was serving her--Hiram's big figure began +pushing through the crowd, dazedly repeating her queer message and the +names. + +He was tall, strong, and angular. Shoving this way and that, he fought +his way to the curb. Here he encountered a rope stretched lengthwise +of the street. The crowd was now confined to the sidewalk. Hiram +crawled under the rope. A policeman shouted at him and started toward +him. Hiram ran, tripped over a slippery hose, caught himself, and +plunged on through the knots of struggling, dripping firemen. + +The automobile had stopped. The occupants were clambering to the wet +pavement. One man was hurriedly setting up a peculiar-shaped camera +directly opposite the entrance of the burning building. Another, a +heavy-set man, was bobbing about, shouting orders to men and women, who +listened, then ran toward the door. + +Everybody was crazy, it seemed, but this had nothing to do with Hiram +in carrying out his mission. He ran up to this heavy-set man and cried: + +"Are you Mr. Kenoke?" + +"Sure! Get out the way! What d'ye want? Now, Miss Worthington, run +for the ladder. Hurry up, girlie! Come on, Blair! Quick! Quick! +What d'ye want--you?" + +Hiram gulped and searched his brains. "Miss Lucy Dalles says to tell +you to have Mr. Blair carry Miss Worthington out of the door. She's +fainted, she said, and then he faints and falls. They lay there, and +another fella--I forget that name--takes a letter from Mr. Blair's +pocket and runs away. Mr. What's-his-name and Miss Worthington still +lie there. Mr.--er--let's see--there's no makeup. And it's a peach, +and you won't regret it." + +"Humph! All right; I get you. I'll take a chance. Lucy Dalles, you +say? Thanks. Get that, Collins? 'Bout ten feet, I guess. After +this. Now, out of the way, please. All ready, there! Let her go! +Now, up with that ladder, deary! Get in there! Get in the picture +Worthington!" + +Hiram stepped back. The man with the camera began turning a crank on +one side, and a low whirring noise blended softly with the roar of the +rushing water. Hiram saw dripping men and women dancing about like +maniacs before the smoking door. + +He did not wait for more. He had done his duty, and he hurried back +for his reward. + +"Did you do it? Did you see him?" + +Lucy Dalles, with parted lips, was straining toward him as he cleaved +his way back to her. + +Hiram nodded. + +"Oh, what did he say?" + +"He said: 'All right. I'll risk it.' He said a lot more, but I guess +it wasn't to me." + +"Well, you're all right," she said, with a beaming smile. "D'ye hear, +Minnie? Mr. Kenoke's going to take it!" + +Minnie, a freckle-faced girl, was busily chewing gum and watching the +spectacle. She indifferently replied, "Yea," and craned her neck away +to focus some new development in the fire fight. + +Lucy at once ignored her. + +"Say, that was great, all right! I'm much obliged, I'm sure. That'll +mean something to me." She was looking straight at Hiram. Now she +hesitated, then, a bit flustered, concluded, "That was all right." + +Hiram grinned and bobbed his head. + +She looked at him in confusion a little longer, then turned to Minnie. + +"Goodness! I must get back in," she said hurriedly. + +Still Minnie gave no heed, and Lucy faced Hiram once more. + +"I said I'd tell you about it, didn't I? Well, I will--that is, if you +care?" + +Hiram bobbed his head again. + +She looked through the jeweler's window at a small brass clock. + +"Gracious! Can that clock be right? It's after eleven! Say, listen: +I'm going off watch at twelve. If you'll be here I'll tell you then." + +"Yes, ma'am--I'll be here." + +"All right. Good-by. Much obliged, I'm sure." + +She squeezed back of Minnie, and scampered through the restaurant door. + +Hiram stood watching the streams of water--that is, he looked that way. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +HIRAM, THE BUTTERFLY + +"Mother, I've come home to die!" gasped Playmate Tweet. + +He was seated in one of the yellow chairs near a window of the lounging +room. He had dropped his newspaper and was staring at Hiram Hooker as +he strode through the door. + +Hiram seated himself on the edge of a chair and grinned uncomfortably. + +The ordeal of appearing before Tweet in his new clothes, at first +poignantly dreaded, had been absent from his thoughts for the past +hour. Standing there before the jeweler's store after Lucy Dalles had +left him, tingling blissfully in every vein, the mundane thought that +Tweet was probably awaiting him in the lodging house had obtruded +itself and hurried him up the street. As he opened the lounging-room +door he thought once more of his clothes. + +Tweet rubbed his eyes and looked again. "Christopher Columbus!" he +added in an undertone. He blinked his eyes three times, then threw +himself back and laughed uproariously. + +For a half minute he shook in his chair, then got up, wiped his twisted +nose with his handkerchief, and came over to his half resentful charge. + +"Well, Hiram," he said with a chuckle, "how much did they set us back?" + +"Set us back?" + +"I mean, how poor are we now?" + +"How poor are _we_?" + +"Sure--Tweet, Hooker & Co. pays the bills." + +"I guess I c'n do what I want to with my own money, can't I?" + +"Sure--sure! Don't get your shirt off. I don't mean to insinuate that +you're not capable o' judiciously handlin' the firm's money. I just +want you to read me the balance sheet." + +"Well, then, I spent thirty-eight dollars, and I've got twenty-nine +dollars left." + +"Stand up." + +Hiram did so. + +"Turn round." + +Hiram wheeled slowly. + +Tweet studied him from every angle, and as Hiram turned he noted the +twinkles which came and went in his slate-blue eyes. Without another +word Tweet left him standing there, went back and sat down, and hid his +face behind his paper. + +Hiram waited a minute, then slowly sank to the edge of his chair. +After a little he asked pleadingly: + +"Ain't they all right?" + +Tweet's paper trembled. A bit of this, then Tweet lowered it and +presented a countenance which seemed never to have known a smile. + +"Hiram," he remarked, "I don't wanta hurt your feelin's, but the part +o' true friendship calls for me to use the surgeon's knife. Hiram, I +wouldn't wear that outfit to a funeral. D'ye get me?" + +Hiram's blue eyes blazed. "Yes, I get you," he began coldly, then +curbed a threatening outburst. "I know they're not the best in the +land," he concluded sensibly, "but I feel better in 'em." + +"There's somethin' in that," Tweet propounded sagely. "There's a whole +lot in gettin' that feel. Good clothes kinda brace a fella up and give +him the nerve to buck on in the big game. Hiram, if your new outfit +gives you the _feel_, it's the goods. When you get next a little it'll +cost you more money to get that feel outa clothes. After all, now, +when that tin-roof look wears off of 'em you won't appear so +whittled-out in that suit. But now, layin' all jokes aside, are they +just the thing for drivin' old Jack and Ned on the railroad grade? +And didn't this sudden lavishness kinda set the company back on its +haunches?" + +Hiram looked out the window. "Did you see the fire?" he asked absently. + +"Yes--walked round the block to get outa the crowd. But----" + +"I just had to kinda spruce up a bit, Mr. Tweet. I felt so +kinda--well, kinda countrified and--and lost, you might say." + +"What's the fire got to do with that? And call me Playmate, too." + +"Nothin', I suppose." + +"Right across from the restaurant wasn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"M'm-m--I'd 'a' made a good lawyer, wouldn't I, Hiram?" + +"I don't know--why?" + +"Why, talkin' about sprucin' up, as you call it, you drift to a fire +that occurred across the street from the place where there's a +frowsy-topped waitress that's got you goin'. Well, le's foget it. Do +we go to southern California together, or not? Our pile's dwindlin' on +account o' this butterfly life you're leadin'." + +"I--I'd like to, but---- Well, I left home to get a start in the city, +and I think I oughta---- Really, I wanta go, but----" Hiram gave it +up, and his lean face flushed. + +"Go on--I didn't interrupt you." + +"Well, I--that's all. I want to go to work here." + +Tweet laughed with a little snort. "Now looky here," he said, "I think +I savvy you pretty well. If I was to go to work and tell you outright +that you couldn't win Lucy, you'd get bull-headed and try to show me. +But le'me tell you this: You ain't goin' to win her till you get next +to yourself. Now, Lucy's a pretty popular dame with the fellas about +the restaurant. I've seen her joy-ridin' with fellas I know are there +with the coin, and savvy more in a minute than you ever knew. Now, +wait a minute!--don't get excited. All this ain't your fault. It's +the fault o' your past environment. You're a hick, and you can't help +it. You get out and learn somethin' and gather up a few beans. Then +come back and, if you still want the kid, go get her. + +"Now, you see this Lucy this afternoon and tell her you're bound out +into the Great Unknown to make your fortune, but that you're comin' +back to see her. Put emphasis on who you're comin' back to see. Then +flee from temptation. Come now--le's swallow this awful pill like a +man." + +Hiram thought a long time, looking out the window. In the midst of +this Tweet resumed his paper. + +The sensible thing to do was for Hiram to sacrifice love to the +friendship that promised him a start, in order to gain love back more +conclusively in the end. Yes, he loved her--he loved her madly! + +Boiling the present situation right down to facts, he had little +confidence in Tweet's boasted powers. He could not reconcile Tweet's +present impecunious condition with his hints of past affluence. But he +liked him instinctively, which, after all, is more human and +satisfactory than liking a person after analyzing him and weighing his +good qualities against his shortcomings. So it was the thought of +Tweet's friendship which finally prompted him to say: "I guess I'll go +with you." + +"Good!" Tweet dropped his paper. "This afternoon?" + +"No--to-morrow." + +"Not on your life! This afternoon." + +"Well, I'll tell you in an hour or so. Now--now it's about noon. You +wait here a little, while I go down in the street. Then I'll come +back, and we'll go eat." + +Tweet looked at him long and steadily. "Got a date with Lucy, eh?" he +said at last. + +"Ye-yes--I saw her at the fire this morning. She said she wanted to +see me when she went off watch at noon--I'll be right back--probably." + +Tweet frowned, then laughed. "Go ahead, Hooker," he relented testily; +"go ahead. Got a date with her, eh? I thought maybe you'd just go +down there and gape at her through the window. Go to it--but don't +forget!" + +Hiram hurried out. + +Again his feet seemed palsied as he neared the restaurant. Was he to +suffer such pangs of stage fright always when about to meet her? + +He had not long to dwell on the query. Before he knew it he was face +to face with her. She had been looking in the jeweler's window while +she waited for him, and had turned as he came abreast. + +She was smiling. "You're a minute late," she scolded, pointing to the +jeweler's brass clock. + +"Yes, ma'am--I was kept." + +"Oh, don't look so serious. A minute's nothing." + +"No, ma'am--not much." + +Silence claimed them for a time. + +"Well, what'll we do?" she finally asked a little petulantly, and +turned her back on him to look into the window. + +"I dunno," he began; then a sudden wild idea struck him. He had seen +along the curbs automobiles bearing signs which read "For Hire--Four +Dollars an Hour." It was worth it, if only to break this humiliating +situation. "We might take a little spin in a machine," he finished +with a tottery tone of indifference. + +"Oh, I'd like that," she said instantly. "But I gotta dress. We'll +get a car and ride 'round to where I room." + +They walked to the corner, where was a taxi stand. Hiram engaged a car +by the hour, and they entered. She directed the driver to her rooming +house, and they were off. + +The car presently drew up to the curb, and the driver swung the door +open for his passengers. Into a dark, musty little parlor the girl led +Hiram of the butterfly life. + +"Sit down," she invited; "and excuse me a minute." + +She went back into the hall, and Hiram heard the tattoo of her feet on +the stairs. + +It was a grand parlor, Hiram thought. There was a piano, a phonograph, +a whatnot filled with specimens of quartz, and four cloth-covered +cushion rockers. With rattlesnake fairness the one Hiram chose +squeaked a warning before it tried to land him on the back of his neck. + +Hiram sat there round-eyed and dreaming, while outside the hired car +purred on, indifferent to the flight of time. + +Twenty minutes later Hiram's dream was broken by the clatter of Lucy's +high heels on the stairs. Lucy entered, dressed in silk and furs and +wearing a large picture hat. The savings of many months were on Lucy's +back, and Hiram felt further removed from her than ever. + +"Where'll we go?" he asked miserably as he clumsily helped her into the +car. + +"Golden Gate Park, Mr. Hooker," she said. + +The driver, having heard, touched his cap, and they rolled away. + +"How'd you know my name?" The burden of keeping this question had been +overriding Hiram's bashfulness since she had spoken it. + +Lucy laughed. "You didn't think I'd go so far as to invite you home +with me if I didn't know you, did you? At least kinda know you?" + +"I hadn't thought about that at all, ma'am. But when you said 'Mr. +Hooker' it gave me a jolt." + +"I'll bet it did. Well, didn't you stand in front of the jewelry shop +for over a quarter of an hour before the fire this morning?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"And you didn't see your friend come out of the restaurant while you +were there?" + +"Who, Tweet? No, ma'am--I didn't." + +"Well, he did. He'd been in talking with me. I didn't know his name, +though. Is that it? Tweet? Heavens above! Say, he's a funny guy. +Well, he'd been in talking about you. He said you were out in front of +the jeweler's shop and wondered if he could get out without you seeing +him." + +Hiram only stared and waited. + +"He told me your name was Hiram Hooker, and that you had just come from +Mendocino County. That's how I knew." + +For quite a time she was silent. Then she said: + +"He appears to be sort of butting in, it seems to me." + +Hiram waited again. + +"He came in and says: 'Say, Lucy, your lifeline and mine are getting +tangled. You're crossing my path and frustrating my plans.' You know +how he talks! + +"'How d'ye get that way?' I says. 'Spring it.' + +"'Why, your many charms are leading my business partner from the path +of duty,' he says. + +"'Go on,' I told him, 'and talk sense, if you've got anything to say.' + +"Then he told me that you two were partners, and were going down to +southern California together to 'get a toehold,' he said; and that you +were keeping the thing back by--by--by wanting to hang around Frisco. +He said you two had a good thing and that you were spoiling it, and +that you were nearly broke and getting more so every minute. + +"I kind of like him. He's funny, but I'll bet he's right. And he said +for me to give you the cold shoul--well, what he meant was for me to +advise you to hurry up and get out with him. + +"But now listen: If I'd intended to do that I wouldn't have told you +that he told me to, would I? Of course not. I wanted to see you about +something else. Two things: First, I promised to tell you about the +moving picture you helped me with this morning. Then the other thing +is Mendocino." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Listen, I'm +from Mendocino County," she finished. "I've been away three years. +I'm nearly dying to talk to some one from up there!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +LUCY'S AMBITIONS + +Learning that Lucy Dalles was from Mendocino County was startling, but +surprise over this took second place in Hiram Hooker's thoughts. He +was stricken with consternation to think that all the time he had been +before the jeweler's window, trying to nerve himself up to enter the +restaurant, she had known he was there. + +"After your friend left the restaurant," she was saying, "I thought I'd +go out and tell you about me being from Mendocino. Just as I left the +door the hook-and-ladder came by. Then I stood by you watching the +fire, you know, till the Samax people drove up. Then I forgot +everything but getting the picture for the fire scene in 'The Crowning +Defeat.' I asked you to see Mr. Kenoke for me, and you did--and it was +dandy of you, too. Now I'll tell you about my scenarios; then I want +to talk about nothing but Mendocino County. + +"Well, I write scenarios for moving-picture production," she went on. +"That's one reason why I wanted the cashier's job--so I could have the +use of the boss' old typewriter. I've been paying a public +stenographer fifty cents a thousand words to copy my work, and it cuts +into the profits when you get so little for a scenario. + +"I've been writing them a year now. I've sold ten. That's not very +many, is it?--when you know; that I have written over fifty. I've sold +most of mine to this Samax Company, through the mail; and one day I +went to their Western studio, here in the city, and told them who I was +and got acquainted with Mr. Kenoke. He's their best producer, I think. + +"As it happened, I am now working on a play that calls for a big fire +scene. I was worried about it, because they send so many of my +scenarios back with the comment that they are too difficult to produce. +It's a dandy plot, and I hated to give it up just because it would +require a burning building. They would hardly buy a building and burn +it down just to please me, you know. + +"But when they hear of a fire they get right to it, if they can, and +take rescue scenes, and so forth, then have their contract writers work +up a scenario in which the scenes can be used. But that's hack work. +Mine is different, you see. My scenario called for a fire, and +couldn't be produced without it. Quite different from having a fire +call for a scenario. + +"Well, now you know. I couldn't explain then, you see. There wasn't +time, and, besides, I was too excited. I doubted if you would have +understood, either--you just from the country. + +"Now don't think I'm making fun of you. But it's the truth, isn't it? +And it was certainly great of you to go the way you did, not having the +least idea of what you were up against." + +"It wasn't much," Hiram said in his unassuming way. + +"Yes, it was," the girl said with a lack of the enthusiasm which had +marked her former grateful utterances. Her eyes were far away, and it +was apparent that another matter held precedence in her mind. "You +just got into Frisco last night, your partner said." + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"I could see that when you came in the restaurant. Your new suit looks +fairly nice." She scanned him frankly. + +Hiram squirmed. "Tweet said I looked whittled out in it," he said +truthfully. + +"You don't any such thing! You don't mind my being so personal, do +you? I've taken quite an interest in you since Mr. Tweet talked about +you--especially as you are from Mendocino. You looked so forlorn and +scared last night when you came in the restaurant. I could see that +you didn't know what to order or how to order it, and that you were +half starved. I remembered my first day in the city. Honestly, I was +scared blue! But tell me--what part of the country are you from?" + +"I'm from Bear Valley," Hiram told her. + +"Bear Valley! Why, our old place is just on the other side of the +range. I've been in Bear Valley lots of times. Our place is in Temple +Valley." + +"I know Temple Valley," Hiram put in quickly. + +"Of course you do! Why did you come down here?" + +"I was gettin' tired of the backwoods--been there all my life," said +Hiram lamely. + +Lucy's eyes grew dreamy. "I thought the same," she said pensively at +last. "I was born there in Temple Valley. I was content, too, till I +was about twenty; then I got to mixing with the summer boarders that +came to the Mills place for the trout season. They'd have something on +every night, and I got acquainted and was always invited. I got to +wanting to go to the city, and I hated Temple Valley. + +"Then my folks died. I didn't get along the best in the world with +Emma--that's by [Transcribers' note: my?] brother's wife. So I pulled +out the day after my twentieth birthday and came to Frisco--and I've +been here ever since. But there was another reason why I left." + +She sighed and leaned back. + +"You've heard of Mrs. Cummings, the writer, haven't you? She was up +at Mills' place one summer, and I got acquainted with her. I told her +I'd always had the writing bug, and she encouraged me. I had no +education but what I'd got in the Temple district school, but I'd read +a lot. + +"So I wanted to write, and finally I left and came to Frisco, and I had +an awful time. Finally I got a job in a cheap restaurant and had to +wait table, and when I got the cashier's job last night I got out of +the rut for the first time in three years. I quit two or three times, +thinking I could make a living writing scenarios, but I always had to +go back to the beaneries. + +"I'm going to hold down the restaurant job till things come my way. +I've given up the idea that I'm a genius. My clothes cost a lot. +Things will break for me some day. Maybe I'll get in the pictures. I +want to go to Los Angeles and try, when I can save a little jack. I +left the woods to win out, and I'm going to do it by fair means or +foul. I'm ambitious. I'm determined to be rich some day." + +Hiram drank in her chatter for two hours more, and when they returned +to her rooming house he paid the driver of the car thirteen dollars and +fifty cents, and now had only fifteen-fifty to his name. He was +horrified at the prospects, but blissfully conscious that he had given +Lucy Dalles an afternoon of pleasure. + +"I want to show you my room," she said, as the car departed. "Come in. +Don't make any noise going upstairs." + +She led the way in, and he followed her softly. She opened a door on +the second floor and stood back for him to look. + +"I furnished my own room," she said proudly. "It's all mine, and paid +for--pretty nearly." + +Hiram stood aghast in the doorway. Never, except in the show windows, +had his eye rested on such splendor. + +There was a rug on the floor, soft and thick, which Lucy told him was a +genuine Smyrna. There was a leopard skin, with stuffed head and red, +gaping jaws. There were two handsome overstuffed leather chairs, and +the bedroom set was Circassian walnut, so Lucy said. + +She closed the door and hurried him below. + +"You see, I've realized part of my ambition," she said, sinking into +the squeaky rocker. "I'm not so clever or so cultured and all that, +but I came from the backwoods to be somebody and have something, and +I'll make good one way or another. What you saw is just a beginner. I +might have bought a typewriter instead, but--well, I just didn't."' + +"They're mighty nice," commented Hiram, as she paused. + +"Yes, they made a fool out of me when I hit Frisco," she continued +absently, "but my day's coming. I'm getting a toehold, as your Mr. +Tweet says. I've rubbed off some of the Mendocino moss." She glanced +a little vainly at her slim, well-garbed figure. "I'm after the money +now--and I'll get it! + +"But tell me about your partner," she continued. "Who is he, anyway?" + +"I can't tell you." + +"M'm-m!" She pursed her lips and frowned thoughtfully. "And he just +wants you to go out with him, hit or miss?" + +"That seems to be it, ma'am. And I don't think I'll go--now." + +"Now? What do you mean, now?" + +A wave of red ran over Hiram's face, and he began stammering. + +The hint of a smile flickered across Lucy's lips as she hurried on +without his answer. Hiram was a big man, ruggedly handsome. It +pleased Lucy's vanity to have him gawk at her as he did. + +"I think I can find out something about this gentleman," she said. "He +came in the restaurant a few days ago, and I noticed two business men I +know quite well talking about him. I'll find out something about this +Tweet for you, and let you know. You don't want to let anybody play +you for a sucker." + +"Oh, I can take care of myself when it comes to that." + +"_Yes_, you can!" She laughed. "You'll lose some of that confidence +before you've been here many days. Now don't be offended. Shall I get +this dope on him, if I can?" + +"I'd thank you kindly, ma'am." + +"Well, I will, then. Now let's forget it and talk about Mendocino. Go +on--you talk so little." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HIRAM WAKES UP + +Hiram walked with an elastic step from Lucy Dalles' rooming house. It +was hard to believe that all that was happening to him was true. In a +sort of haze that floated before him as he walked along hung Lucy's +face. He wished to go on forever thus. He found no fault in her--he +refused to. Some imp whispered to him that his fifteen dollars and +fifty cents would last forever. He did not actually believe this, but +he refused to worry over the matter. Fate was kind. He was living a +dream--and who needs money in Dreamland? + +It was like the slap of a cold towel when Tweet's face suddenly +displaced Lucy's in the haze. Up there in the lounging room Tweet had +been waiting for him four hours! Tweet was doubtless hungry--he, +Hiram, had been to a feast of love! + +He felt like sneaking away to another lodging house till Tweet had +disappeared. But he did not. Instead he sneaked up the dusty stairs +and through the door of the lounging room. + +Tweet was there, half hidden behind his paper. Hiram sidled into a +seat, swallowed twice, and said "Hello." + +Tweet at once lowered the paper and looked at him at if he did not +quite recall his face. + +"Why, hello there!" he returned carelessly. "Back, eh? Here's +somethin' may int'rest you." + +He got up, folding the paper, and carried it over to Hiram, pointing to +an article headed: + +"New Ditch Digger Makes Good." + +Hiram stared at the heading in dire confusion. He had been half +prepared for a rating; Tweet's complete disregard of his remissness was +distressing. + +"Mr. Tweet, I've got to apologize," he began. + +"Bad practice," Tweet interrupted. "The better way is to never do +anythin' that calls for an apology. Can't say that I live up to it, +but I do my darnedest--and angels can do no more. After the first half +hour I knew you wouldn't show up, so I went down and had lunch. More'n +you've had, I'll bet. Just glance over that article and see what you +think of it." + +"I thought you were broke." + +"Oh, they can't keep a good man down. The friend I went to see +insisted that I take a dollar he had that wasn't workin'. Don't +suppose I'll be with you for dinner, either, as I've got an engagement +at about that hour. But read that article." + +Hiram obeyed. + +It told of a ditch digger that had recently been enlarged from the +inventor's model, and which, at the first trial, was proving a decided +success in moving earth more rapidly than any previously invented. +With only his model to prove his claims, the inventor had managed to +sell all the stock; and from the very beginning the operations would be +carried out by a closed corporation. The question before the directors +was whether to have machines manufactured and hire them out, or to +construct a plant and manufacture them for the trade. + +To Hiram it was dull and incomprehensible, and after finishing it he +looked up at Tweet for an explanation. + +"I got a sixth int'rest in her, Hooker," Tweet carelessly informed him. +"My pay for sellin' the stock for 'em." + +"Really! Is it worth anything to you?" + +"I'm holdin' it' at eight thousand five hundred. It'll be worth double +that in a year or two." + +"Eight thousand five hundred!" Hiram stared unbelievingly at Tweet. +"Why don't you sell it, then?" + +"Didn't I say it would be worth double that amount in a year or two?" + +"Yes, but you're broke and----" + +"And I'll stay broke on a deal like that." Tweet's indignation caused +him to grab his off-center nose and impatiently correct its obstinate +trend, but to no avail. "But le's forget it and get back to that +bugbear of our young lives. _When_ are we _going_ to southern +California?" + +Hiram sat framing a reply, which was rather a difficult process. + +"Le's wait till to-morrow, anyway," he said at last. + +"Had quite a little chat with Lucy to-day, eh?" + +"Yes, I did. When you told----" Hiram bit his tongue. "The truth is, +she's from Mendocino County, too, and we--we--that is, we found it out." + +Not the faintest sign of suspicion or surprise showed in Tweet's face. +"Well, suit yourself," he said nonchalantly. "It's a little late, or +I'd go this afternoon. But to-morrow I go. My friend'll dig up the +price, but I hate to hit him up any more. Think it over a little +longer, Hooker--I'm goin' down for a little stroll. But +remember--before noon to-morrow I've gotta have a definite answer. +I've found that Morgan & Stroud send their bunches out every day at one +o'clock." + +Tweet folded his precious paper, crammed it his pocket, and left the +room. + +A few minutes afterward Hiram followed. He ate lunch and dinner in +one, then strolled about the city, dreaming of Lucy and fretfully +counting the hours till he might expect to feast his material eyes on +her again. At nine o'clock he returned to the lodging house, made sure +that Tweet was not in the lounging room, and went to bed. + +Next morning, close to nine o'clock, he was shifting from one foot to +the other before the cashier's counter in the restaurant. From the +little window inclosure came the clicking of typewriter keys, a little +more spirited than before. Hiram had strategically chosen the slack +business hour of the morning. He had eaten breakfast in a cheaper +restaurant, two blocks down the street. He had not seen Tweet. He had +been walking about the streets since six o'clock. + +The keys kept clicking. Hiram cleared his throat several times, and at +last, as before, tapped on the show case with a coin. The clicking +stopped, a skirt swished, and the gates of heaven opened, it seemed to +Hiram. + +"Well, look who's here! Good morning." + +"Ha-ha-ha! Good morning, ma'am." + +"Then let's begin this good morning by dropping the 'ma'am.' They all +say it up in Mendocino, I know. It's considered the _ne plus ultra_ of +good breeding up there. You see I'm trying to steer you straight, and +I've got to be frank. I didn't have anybody kind enough to pick the +moss off me." + +"I'll stop sayin' it, if you say so." + +"Sure, you want to. Now, I've had another visit from Mr. Tweet. He +roasted me for not carrying out his orders. He's just the least bit +too fresh, and I intimated as much. But he told me just about how much +money you had, and I decided you'd better take his advice and go with +him." + +"But I've decided not to go at all now," said Hiram. "I'm goin' to +begin lookin' for a job here in the city to-day." + +"Aw, you can't get a job here that'll make you any money. Tweet told +me something about where you're going down there in southern +California. It's on the desert. A new railroad's building. Things +will be lively. A friend of mine was in here at the time. He's got a +lot of automobile trucks, and makes piles of money. Maybe you noticed +him. Good-looking fellow in a brown suit. Drives a big drab car?" + +"Ye-yes, I've seen him," admitted Hiram resentfully. + +"Well, he was in here and talked with Tweet, and he said he thought +he'd look into the freighting proposition down there. With his trucks, +you know. There's a long haul over the desert and the mountains, it +seems, and he says it ought to be good. Said maybe he'd take me down +some time, if anything turned up." + +"You wouldn't go!" + +"Wouldn't I? Huh! You bet your life I would! I only hope he'll stick +to what he says. Maybe I'd get to see you down there. Tweet said he'd +heard that the place they freight to is a live one. Ragtown, he said +they called it. That's the kind of a place to make money in. I'd go, +if I were you. Go down and make a stake, and then come back to Frisco. +Money talks here." + +"With you?" Said Hiram, slowly drinking in dread suspicion. + +"You betcha my life!" Lucy said lightly. + +She broke off suddenly and turned toward the door with a smile of +welcome on her lips. In came Hiram Hooker's hated rival, Al Drummond. + +"Hello, Lucy!" he called breezily. Then he leaned over the counter, +glanced hurriedly about the empty restaurant, and kissed the girl on +the lips. + +She slapped at him playfully. "You got a nerve, Al!" she exclaimed. + +Hiram Hooker heard no more, for blindly he was stumbling out, crushed, +heartbroken. Hiram Hooker suddenly had decided to go to southern +California with Mr. Orr Tweet, and the sooner they could get away the +better he would like it. He realized now that Lucy Dalles was not the +adventure girl who had beckoned in his dreams. She was a cheap, +scheming adventuress, and he hated the very thought of her now--and was +plunged into the depths of despair and humiliation. + +In the lounging room he found Tweet. + +"Come on," he said huskily, "le's go to the employment office. I'm +ready." + +Orr Tweet arose, casting a curious look at Hiram's haggard face, but +said nothing as he followed him out. + +Fifteen minutes later they entered a large employment bureau on Clay +Street, where were gathered perhaps a hundred workingmen reading the +bulletins or lounging on benches. + +Every now and then a brisk, leonine-headed man walked about among them, +making announcements as a train caller does in a big union depot. + +"Shippin' to Oregon--two o'clock to-morrow afternoon--I want two +hundred muckers--forty cents an hour--board one dollar a day. I want +twenty skinners, same job, forty a month and found. Sign up, boys! +Hit the trail and make yer stake. Two dollars is the bill! + +"I want one hundred men to work in onions and potatoes. +Three-twenty-five a day and board. Think of it, boys! +Three-twenty-five a day and _board_! Like gettin' money from home! +Get your blankets and line up for the chance of a lifetime. + +"Then listen, boys! I want six rough carpenters--the rougher the +better--mine work. Eight dollars a day, eight hours--_dollar an hour_! +Fee two dollars. Think of that, huskies! Can ye swing a hammer or +push a saw? You're on if you can--sign up! Ship ye out this evenin'. +A snap! A cinch! + +"I want a sub-grade foreman at seven dollars--eight hours! + +"I want skinners, muckers, hard-rock men for Washington. I want +lumberjacks for Washington--long job--good pay! I want hard-rock men +for Alaska--the harder the better. And I want----" + +Here Orr Tweet grasped the enthusiast's sleeve. "How about those +jerkline skinners for southern California?" he asked. "Saw it in the +paper." + +"I'll see, old-timer--I'll look that up for you right away. Just step +inside, please--you and your pal. Let you know all about it in two +minutes. Line up for a good job, boys! Get out and make a stake! +Just a minute, boss man. Step right inside." + +Inside a railing, where many clerks were at work, the applicants were +turned over to a sallow young man, who, being informed of what they +wanted, consulted certain memoranda. Then he swiveled toward the two +and gave them the particulars. + +"Gold Belt Cut-off," he said. "Buildin' across the desert in southern +California. Good camps--good pay--good grub--good water----" + +"Cut all that," dryly interrupted Orr Tweet. + +"All right, sir," replied the clerk cheerfully. "Main contractors, +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou. Want fifty muckers and fifty skinners--two +jerkline skinners--must be A-1. Fifty-five a month and found. Fee two +dollars. Ship you out one o'clock to-morrow. On?" + +Tweet nudged Hiram and nodded, and Hiram tendered four silver dollars. + +"Just a minute," said the clerk--though accepting the money. "This +office can't afford to get in bad with big contractors like Demarest, +Spruce & Tillou. They've specified A-1 jerkline skinners, to skin +eight, ten, and twelve over the desert and mountains. Are you there?" + +"We are there," replied Orr Tweet. + +The clerk looked doubtful. "Well, guess we'll have to take your word +for it. Chances are you'll break away when you get to where you're +makin' it, anyway. This is kind of a special job, though. Demarest +himself wrote a personal letter about the two jerkline skinners. +They're not for him, it seems--just to be shipped down with the other +skinners and muckers and hard-rock men we're sendin' him. The jerkline +skinners are for 'Jerkline Jo.' Ever heard that name? If you're +jerkline skinners that have followed railroad work you ought to've +heard o' Jerkline Jo. Usta be monakered 'Gypo Jo.'" + +"We're not railroaders," said Mr. Tweet glibly. "We're from Mendocino +County--the big woods you know. But we can skin 'em for Jerkline Jo or +any other man." + +"I'll take a chance," said the clerk briskly. "If you'd just wanted to +get your railroad trip out o' Frisco you'd not thought to pick out the +jerkline job, when only two were wanted. Jerkline Jo is a woman, +though." + +"Yeah?" returned Mr. Tweet, then said to the heartbroken Hiram: "You +can't escape 'em, it seems, Hooker--you big mountain of a lady killer! +This is gonta be good. Send us to Jerkline Jo, old hoss! She'll bless +you with her last breath. Chances are you'll meet a regular woman, +now, Hiram--not a doll with three years' wages on her back! A big +outdoor picture like you fallin' for a bunch o' female French pastry +like that!" + +The employment agency clerk shrugged and took their names. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +JERKLINE JO + +About six months previous to Hiram Hooker's momentous debut into the +world outside of the big trees of Mendocino County, a girl stood in her +dormitory room at Kendrick Hall and read a telegram with tear-dimmed +eyes. + +This girl was Miss Josepha Modock. She was twenty-two, and Providence +had been kind to her--nay, lavish. She was straight and sturdy and +strong. Her hair was of a dark chestnut hue, and its beauty and +luxuriant growth made it at once the envy and admiration of her fellow +students of the Wisconsin boarding school. Her eyes were large and +dark and luminous, her nose just far enough short of perfect, her lips +full and distracting. + +Josepha Modock had been two years at Kendrick Hall. She was older than +most of the girls who were her classmates, for the desire and +opportunity to acquire an education had come to her at a late day in +her teens. She was ambitious, however, and was making fast progress +with her college preparatory course. Then came the telegram which she +now held, and over which she wept tears of grief. + +Her name was not really Josepha Modock. Modock was the name of her +foster father, and he and her foster mother, the latter dead now for +ten years, had given the girl the name of Josepha, because, when they +had found her a mere baby weeping and lost on the great desert of +California, they had discovered a "J" embroidered on her underwear. + +At that time Peter Modock--"Pickhandle" Modock--had been what is known +in railroad-construction circles as a gypo man, or shanty man. A gypo +man is an impecunious construction contractor whose light, haphazard +outfit of teams and tools makes it necessary for him to subcontract in +the lightest dirt work from a slightly better equipped subcontractor, +who in turn has taken a subcontract from the main contractors in a big +piece of railroad building. In the vernacular of the grade, a gypo +man's daughter, if she follows the outfit, is known as a gypo queen. + +Josepha Modock, then, had grown up in the camp of Pickhandle Modock, +and in time had been known as a gypo queen, or shanty queen, and the +prettiest one in the business at that. + +It was when the Salt Lake Road was being built across the Mohave Desert +that the baby girl had been found. Pickhandle Modock had taken a +little piece of work from Grace Brothers, and was on his way across the +sandy wastes to pitch camp and begin operations. His outfit was to be +one of the first to arrive, and as yet no definite line of travel had +been established to the work. A terrific sandstorm came up, and the +outfit became lost on the desert, where men and teams wandered about +without water for many perilous hours, some time in the midst of which +the human atom afterward called Josepha was found. + +She had been sole mistress of a tiny camp tucked away in a +half-sheltered little arroyo, over which spiked yucca palms stood guard +and helped to break the wind and check the drifting sands. There were +provisioned pack bags there, and the blowing sand had not entirely +covered the small hoof prints of several burros. A corral of corky +yucca trunks held the child a prisoner, and more trunks had been laid +on the walls to form a roof, which kept off coyotes. In here they +found her sobbing, suffering for water, abandoned by her elders, while +slowly but surely the sand was sifting in to bury her alive. + +All trails leading to or from the spot had been wiped out. The child +was cautiously given water and food, and the suffering contractor's +party camped there, hoping for the return of the man or men who had +left the baby to such dangers in the merciless desert. But no one came +to claim her that day nor during the ensuing night; so next morning +Pickhandle's outfit set out to search desperately to better their own +alarming conditions, and took the child along. Modock left behind a +note explaining their action and informing whoever was responsible how +he might eventually be connected with, whereupon the child would be +returned. + +That day the sandstorm subsided, and the outfit stumbled upon the road +to their destination. They found water before noon, and camped there +to recuperate. Here also, when they took their leave, they left word +of their appropriation of the baby girl. Later, when they had reached +their camp site and settled down, Modock, having received no +communication relative to the child, returned on horseback and sought +for the spot where she had been found. At last it was discovered, and +it was quite apparent that during the ten days' interval no one had +been there. The pack bags with the supplies, and the few miners' tools +that lay about, were all but buried in the sands. Modock's note was +still there. + +Deciding that the baby's guardians or parents had perished in the +storm, Pickhandle Modock took the articles for the purpose of +identification, if some one ever should claim the child, and returned +with them to his camp, greatly to the joy of motherly Anna Modock, his +wife. Anna Modock had no children, and now she loved the desert waif +as if the child had been her own. + +Slowly Pickhandle Modock prospered in the years that followed, for he +was a thrifty, hard-working man. The child, whom they had named +Josepha, grew to girlhood, and reached young womanhood as a sprite of +the camps--a gypo queen. The Modocks were uneducated people, but knew +it, and strove to make amends by educating the girl to the best of +their ability. When the contractor had prospered to the point where he +needed and could afford a bookkeeper, he employed a gray-haired +derelict of the grade, half of whose duties were to educate Josepha. + +The old man loved the child and did his best by her, guiding her +successfully through the elementary branches and succeeding in +implanting in her mind what is known as a common-school education. She +learned rapidly, but showed no particular interest in her studies. +With the work of the grade she was enraptured. At ten she was driving +a slip team, loading and dumping without the help of any one. Later +she drove wheeler teams, then snap teams, and even the six-horse plow +teams. She became a wonderful horsewoman, and, when in the West, +entered contests at rodeos in trick riding, riding buckers and +so-called outlaws, and won many prizes. Horses and mules loved her. +Her voice or her hand spoke to them in a language that they seemed to +know. She could break a colt to steady work in half the time required +by any man she had ever met. It was said that the only thing a horse +or mule would not do for her was to talk, whereupon Josepha trained a +colt to "talk," just to prove that her understanding of animals was +virtually unlimited. + +So Joshepha Modock grew to young womanhood, admired, loved, and spoiled +by the thousands of nomad laborers who knew her. At eighteen she could +truthfully boast of a hundred proposals of marriage, and some of them +had been worth an ambitious girl's consideration. Gypo Jo they called +her, and she was known all over the West, where her foster father's +operations were confined, and stories of her beauty and horsewomanship +had gone East and North and South, for railroad-construction laborers +are a nomadic brood and repeat their tales and traditions from coast to +coast. + +Then Pickhandle Modock, whose wife had died some years before, made the +move which finally brought his mounting prospects to the verge of ruin. +Just when he was on the point of being recognized as a contractor of +consequence, and owned a big, fine outfit of stock and tents and +implements, he decided to change his activities to those of a freighter. + +Numerous railroad projects were being launched in the West, and most of +the lines were bound to extend through countries difficult to access. +Contractors preferred to have their freight hauled to them by regular +freighters, so that every team of their own could be put on the task of +railroad building. Or so Pickhandle Modock reasoned. + +Accordingly he sold his construction outfit, and with the proceeds +bought heavy freight wagons and heavy young teams, and launched forth +in his new career. For a year or more he followed railroad camps with +his heavy freight outfit; then he suddenly decided that he was getting +too old for camp life and to be eternally moving about. So when a new +gold mine was opened up in the mountains that overlook southern +California's desert, he moved into the little frontier town of Palada, +forty miles from the new mines, and got the freighting contract from +this railroad point up into the mountains. + +He bought out the town's largest store, and set up a blacksmith and +wagoner's shop to keep his great wagons in repair and his hard-working +teams shod. Here for a year or more Josepha attended high school +during the winter months, and drove eight and ten-horse teams with a +jerkline to the mines in summer, and acquired her new title of Jerkline +Jo because of her skill in training and handling the big teams. Here, +too, she required [Transcriber's note: acquired?] her thirst for an +education, and, torn between her new ambition and her love for the big +outdoors and her devoted mules and horses, she at last set off for +Wisconsin for her preparatory course at Kendrick Hall. + +Pickhandle Modock, however, had reckoned without the automobile truck, +which now was fast displacing heavy freight teams. While as yet the +road into the mountains was not in the best shape for trucks, at least +during winter months, still the noisy transporters of freight, of the +lower tonnage capacity, were taking a great deal of business from him. +Then the road on the other side of the mountains, connecting with the +big coast-side cities, was paved; and this ended Pickhandle Modock's +career as a jerkline freighter. The town of Palada, too, degenerated +from an active little supply point to a stagnating desert village, with +no visible means of support, and Pickhandle Modock found himself with a +big stock of goods on hand with no one to buy, and with sixty or more +heavy freight horses eating their heads off in their corrals. + +His circumstances went from bad to worse, but he had carefully kept all +this from his adopted daughter, in the preparatory school in the Middle +West. Consequently the blithe and lovable Jerkline Jo knew nothing of +the state of affairs when the telegram announcing her father's death +reached her that fateful morning. + +It stunned her at first. She could scarcely believe that lovable, +hard-working, grizzled old Pickhandle Modock, the only father she had +ever known had gone out of her life forever. The justice of the peace +at Palada, who had handled Pickhandle's legal affairs, had sent the +telegram, which advised her to return at once, as she was named as the +sole heir to her foster father's estate. The telegram--a night letter +and a long one--hinted of things of which she had not even dreamed, an +prepared her for financial disappointments. + +She at once realized that her school days at Kendrick Hall were ended, +just when the future looked so bright. She would have entered college +next year, and this, too, she must now forego, just when her ambition +was at its height. + +But she had been through many discouragements as a gypo queen, and she +did not flinch. She had known poverty--even actual want--had fought +mud and sandstorms and cold and heat and rain that hampered work for +weeks and months. In her was the indomitable spirit of the pioneer. +She bravely and silently packed her treasured belongings, bade a +dry-eyed good-by to her tearful instructors and classmates, and set her +face toward the Western desert to learn the worst, and meet it as +hard-fighting old Pickhandle Modock would have wished her to meet +it--as a girl called Jerkline Jo should meet life's threatening defeats. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE RETURN OF JERKLINE JO + +When the long overland train contemptuously groaned to a reluctant stop +in Palada the infrequent occurrence told the town that Jerkline Jo had +returned for her foster father's funeral and the readjustment of his +badly involved affairs. Old friends, old pals, old lovers crowded +about her on the depot platform, wringing her strong hand in sympathy +and offering help. The village hack was running no more now, so +friends carried her baggage for her to the house on the hill, where lay +the body of Pickhandle Modock. + +Friends stayed with her that night. The funeral was solemnized next +day. In all the world, now, Jerkline Jo had not the semblance of a +relative, so far as she knew. She even did not know her name, and of +Pickhandle Modock's family she had met not a single soul. But she had +youth, courage, and ambition, and she went bravely at the many tasks +before her. + +With the old justice of the peace she took up her father's affairs, and +it soon became evident that to attempt to continue the store under +existing conditions would be the part of folly. The business was +deeply in debt to jobbers in the cities on the coast side of the +mountains, and such stock as they would accept must go back to them to +cancel their claims. The store building was mortgaged; the residence +property was mortgaged. The teams and wagons and the blacksmith shop +seemed to be all that she could save from the wreckage, and these +appeared to be more of an encumbrance than otherwise. + +Still, she decided, against the advice of all well-meaning friends, to +try to hold on to them and to be able to own them, clear of any claims +against them. She knew the freighting business and construction +teaming, and virtually nothing else; so with the idea that all of +Pickhandle Modock's proud building must not have been for naught, she +fought for final control of the freight outfit, and would not listen to +those who claimed that the days of freighting with teams were over +forever. + +In a month everything was settled--all creditors satisfied. She had +arranged to pay the store's debts with the acceptable stock on hand, +having made great concessions. She had promised the store building and +the residence property to the mortgagees, effective after the will had +been probated. To her delight, she found that the teams, blacksmith's +and wagoner's equipment, and the wagons would be hers intact. True, +the teams were a great expense, and there was almost nothing left with +which to buy hay and grain for them. But she was making inquiry here +and there in an effort to put them to work again. Eventually she was +successful in getting them on mountain pasture at a dollar and a half a +head per month. There were sixty-one animals in all, and the pasturage +fees amounted to quite a monthly sum, but it was far inferior to the +monthly feed bills she had been paying. + +For several months she hung on desperately, hoping against hope, with +everything going out and nothing coming in, then one bright and +long-to-be-remembered day came news of the new railroad which was to +cross the desert a hundred miles from Palada. + +Jerkline Jo made inquiry and found out the work was to begin at once, +and that the project was a large one, involving difficult construction +feats. By train she rode to the nearest railroad point, met the +engineers of the preliminary survey, found an old friend in the party, +and with him rode horseback on an old mining road over the range that +stood between the railroad and that part of the desert which the new +route would cross. + +Close study of the engineers' maps and her general knowledge of +construction conditions told her much. She decided on the logical +place where the inevitable "rag town" would spring up. This, she +reasoned, would be as close as possible to the biggest camp of the main +contractors, Demarest, Spruce & Tillou. + +There was water to be had at several widely separated places along the +new right of way, but she knew that the water supply closest to the big +camp would draw the tent city about it. + +She knew, too, where the big camp would be, for the simple reason that +the heaviest piece of work is eventually left to the main contractors; +so she was able to figure to a dot just where Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou's Camp Number One would locate. She had not the remotest idea, +then, however, how this knowledge was to benefit her later. + +To the tent town and to the camps of the many subcontractors who would +come, thousands of tons of freight must be hauled. The railroad point +nearest to the spot where the main contractor would camp was the town +of Julia, from which the two had ridden horseback, and the mountain +range lay between Julia and the right of way of the proposed, route. A +forty-five mile trip through heavy desert sands, over the steep grades +of an abandoned mountain road, and through heavy sands again would +inevitable, and until the new steel rails had crept to a point opposite +Julia, teams or automobile truck must supply the laborers and teams +with the necessities of life. + +Jo knew little about automobile trucks, but she did not fear them. +They would give her keen competition, no doubt, at least during summer +months but a study of the mountain soil convinced her that in winter +there would be another story to tell. Anyway, she and her beautiful +freight animals must take their chance against these modern machines. +It would be a race between the tortoise and the hare; and every one +knows that the hare has gained no little reputation from the outcome of +that legendary contest. + +From Julia, Jerkline Jo hurried by train to San Francisco, to the +Western office of the big contracting firm of Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou, whose headquarters were in Minneapolis. She knew Mr. Demarest +personally, and was fortunate in finding him in San Francisco upon her +arrival there. + +"Well, well, well!" the big man cried jovially, as the girl was ushered +into his private office. "Gypo Jo! Heavens to Betsy! Girl, I haven't +seen you in five years. Put 'er there for old times' sake!" + +"It's Jerkline Jo nowadays, Mr. Demarest," and she laughed. + +Philip Demarest was a large, portly man, with a ruddy, red face, +blue-veined and kindly. He had come up from the grade, and was +eminently proud of his successful climb. + +For thirty minutes he refused positively to talk business. He +preferred to sit and dwell on bygone days with the one-time queen of +Pickhandle Modock's gypo camp, to listen to the account of her father's +rise and fall and his subsequent untimely death, and of the girl's +ambitions and life in the Middle Western school. They told many a +story, these old-timers of the nomadic camps, and had many a laugh over +quaint remembrances. Then they got down to business. + +Demarest listened carefully to Jo's ideas, and as she concluded he +drummed thoughtfully on his desk. + +"I think myself, Jo," he said presently, "that in winter you can grab +off the money from any old automobile concern. But through the summer +months they're gonta give you a nice little run for your money. And if +they get freight there with less delay than you fail to avoid, and can +do it for the same figure, they're gonta rampse you--that's all. + +"Certain parties are lookin' into the matter already," he went on. +"There's one fella here in Frisco that's got a fleet o' trucks--fella +named Albert Drummond. Shrewd customer, too. He was tryin' to make a +dicker with us. But we'll make no deals. We're not goin' to freight +any ourselves if we can get out of it. But we'll sign no contracts in +such a matter. Lowest bidder gets our business so long as he don't +fail to keep us supplied with all we need. If you can underbid these +truck men, you'll get the business; and from what I know about you, I +have no doubt but that you'll deliver the goods." + +"Gasoline is terribly high right now," Jo pointed out. + +"So's hay, for that matter," said Demarest bluntly. + +"I've heard, too, of a possible scarcity of gas," Jo told him. + +"Yes, but the scarcity of hay is almost as threatenin', my girl; and +those big horses certainly can eat the stuff. But tell me--what do you +figure you can lay freight down for at the spot where you say we're +bound to locate our biggest camp?" + +"Two and a half cents a pound," was her prompt reply. + +"It's an awful price, when you think it over," he said reflectively. +"Just imagine, Jo; two and a half cents a pound bein' added onto the +price of a sack o' flour--with flour at the unheard-of price it's +already reached. And hay and grain! Jo, it's simply staggering." + +"I admit that," she said. "But I suppose you took all that into +account when you made your bid on the job." + +"You bet your sweet life we did, girl! And I'll tell you what--we +figured freight at three and a half cents a pound." + +"You're fortunate. I'll get that, too, if I beat the trucks." + +"Figurin' on gougin' us out of our profits already, eh?" + +"Not at all, Mr. Demarest. Two and a half cents is my minimum. I'll +freight for that only if forced to by the trucks. I doubt if I can +make money at that figure. Only a trial over an extended period of +time will tell. It all depends on the nature of the soil--on the +condition that the roads develop after a period of heavy traffic over +them, and the devastation of the winter rains. There'll be snow in +those mountains, too. It's a gamble--a big gamble--but all that I can +see against me is the fact that trucks don't eat hay when they're not +at work." + +"And how d'ye know where our Camp One is going to be located, girl?" he +asked kindly. "I don't know myself yet." + +"Of course you don't know positively," she replied. "But I'll bet you +ten to one that you'll never sublet that piece of heavy-rock work +through the buttes. I don't know a subcontractor--and I've not been +out of touch with the grade so very long--who could tackle that +stupendous task. So, if you can't sublet it--and I'm betting you +can't--it will be up to you folks to do it yourselves. So that tells +me where your largest camp will be, and at the nearest water to your +largest camp the rag town will spring up. Isn't that all logical?" + +"Sound as a dollar," he told her. "You weren't raised by Pickhandle +Modock for nothing, were you?" + +She rose from her chair. "Tell your subs to send me a wire at Julia +when they're ready for any freight, at two and a half cents for a +starter," she said. "I'll get it to 'em. But if no one meets my +price, look for a raise to three cents for the second trip. Of course, +if I don't hear from them, I'll know some one has beaten me out. Then +I'll see what can be done. Your camp, of course, won't be in till +last, I suppose. I'll go back to Palada now, take the stock off +pasture, and begin hardening them up. Then I'll start for Julia, and +will be there before your outfit moves in." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +SKINNERS FROM FRISCO + +Back at Palada, Jerkline Jo began hunting up the expert skinners who +had pulled the long sash-cord lines for her foster father, and who had +drifted to parts unknown since the completion of the paved road that +had virtually put Pickhandle Modock out of the running. The world has +not an oversupply of expert jerkline skinners, and the plucky girl's +chances for success depended in great part on obtaining good men to +handle her teams. She was able to trace some of the men, and her offer +to pay their expenses to Palada brought replies favorable to the +project in each case. For jerkline jobs are scarce these days, and a +jerkline skinner would rather follow his calling than do any other sort +of work. + +The blacksmith, horseshoer, and wagoner, Carter Potts, was still in +Palada, and wished for nothing better than to serve the girl. They had +decided to reopen the shop at Julia, and for his devotion Jo promised +him a generous per cent of any profits which might accrue from work +aside from the care of the immense wagons and shoeing the teams. This +in addition to his monthly salary of a hundred dollars and board. + +From Oregon now came "Blink" Keddie, who had driven teams for +Pickhandle Modock since long before the old railroader had settled at +Palada. Tom Gulick came from Utah, where he had been working on a +cattle ranch. Heine Schultz and Jim McAllen came from remote regions +in the northern lumber woods. But of Ed Hopkins, the prince of mule +skinners, and Harry Powell the girl could get no trace. + +With the dependable force that she had mustered, however, she took the +stock from pasture, broke even on a job to a desert town to the west in +order to put the teams in shape, and then made ready for the +hundred-and-fifty-mile trip to Julia. She had written Mr. Demarest and +asked him to advertise for two good jerkline skinners to be shipped +with the first draft of laborers he would get from San Francisco. She +had small hopes of obtaining good skinners by this method, but no other +course presented itself. + +Two days before the start for Julia came a wire from the San Francisco +office of Demarest, Spruce & Tillou. It read: + + Employment office notifies two jerkline skinners + applied re advertisement in paper and have been + forwarded Palada. Arrive day after to-morrow. + + +Jo showed the telegram to Heine Schultz when she went to the corrals +this morning. + +"I'll bet you get a couple o' peaches, Jo," he laughed. "Why, any +tramp's likely to go to an employment office and say he's anything they +want him to be, just to get on the job. And maybe, even, he'll ditch +the train before he reaches the job. Just wanted the trip, you know." + +Jo's broad, smooth brow puckered. "I do hope that will not prove the +case," she said. "Jerkline skinners are so hard to get, particularly +in this country. Every man who has ever driven a horse or mule seems +to imagine he can drive jerkline, but you know and I know that it takes +knack and years of practice. But I'm hoping that because these two +applied for this particular job they're all right. If they merely +wished to get free transportation out of San Francisco, it was not +necessary for them to apply as jerkies. They could as easily have +arranged to be shipped as plain skinners, or rock men, or muckers." + +"I'll bet you draw a prize, all right," Heine chuckled disconcertingly. + +Jerkline Jo postponed the start a day, and awaited the coming of the +applicants. + +As the local passenger train from Los Angeles whistled for Palada, Mr. +Orr Tweet roused himself from his seat in the smoker and slapped the +muscle-corded thigh of the disconsolate Hiram Hooker. + +"She blows, Hiram, old boy!" cried Mr. Tweet. "Fame and fortune await +us just ahead. She slows! She creeps! Palada opens her arms to us! +Perk up, Hiram! The girl wasn't your kind, my boy. You'd have stepped +all over her little feet, and she'd got a divorce and alimony on the +grounds o' cruelty." + +Hiram Hooker sighed and stretched his columnar arms. For a moment or +two the new prospects that loomed kept his mind busy, then his thoughts +reverted to Lucy Dalles, and gloom claimed him once more. + +"Don't talk like that, Playmate," he said. "You don't understand. I +loved the girl." + +"Prune juice! She'd 'a' made a regular sucker outa you. Good thing I +got you away. A big mountain o' blood and bone like you fallin' for a +dash o' cake frosting like that little hasher. Hiram, you've got a +man's body and a man's brains, and I like you better the more I see of +you. If you're goin' to weep over a woman, weep over a regular woman, +boy--a man's woman. There! Look out the window. See that straight, +strong, black-headed desert girl in chaps and a Stetson? Look at the +brown of her! Look at her stride! Queen o' the earth, hey? That's +the kind of a woman for a man with the body of an elephant and the +imagination of a poet, like you've got. There's a girl worth sighin' +for, only she wears leather chaps! Well, out we go. Palada for a +toehold on the ladder o' fame and fortune!" + +The train had squeaked to a stop, and the effervescent Mr. Tweet and +his huge companion descended the steps to the sunny platform. The +businesslike Mr. Tweet buttonholed the first villager he met, and +informed him: + +"We're lookin' for a party called Jerkline Jo--a lady with a far-flung +reputation. Can you steer us to her rendezvous, my friend?" + +The man stared at him a moment, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. + +"There's Jo over there," he said. "She's lookin' for ye, I reckon. +That pretty girl in the chaps." + +"Her!" gasped Mr. Tweet. "Lordy! And I was just eulogizin' her +through the window o' the coach. I saw her first--Hiram--I saw her +first!" + +Next second Mr. Tweet was before Jerkline Jo, lifting his hat and +bowing politely. Behind him, Hiram Hooker stood awkwardly looking at +the girl he had traveled six hundred miles to work for. + +"Madam," said his companion, "if you are Jerkline Jo, permit me to +introduce myself and my friend. I am Mr. Tweet--Playmate +Tweet--Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet. My friend and companion in arms is +Hiram Hooker, from the virgin forests of Wild-cat Hill. I hope we find +you well, and a look into your face tells me that I never hoped for a +surer thing in my life. Madam, when you know me better, you will learn +that I am not fresh, merely bubbling over with the joy of existence." + +For a little Jerkline Jo gazed at him, then burst into ringing +laughter. "Well, if you can drive jerkline," she said, "there's no +doubt but that you will be a pleasant addition to our little family. +I'm happy to meet you, Mr.----" + +"Playmate Tweet--Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet." + +"_What_?" + +"Orr Tweet--Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet," patiently repeated Mr. Tweet. + +"Are you trying to be funny?" The dark eyes narrowed dangerously. + +"I am funny," corrected Mr. Tweet. "I can't help it. Allow me to +explain: My last name, unfortunately, is Tweet. Tweet is the +well-known conversational effort of a bird, and also 'Twitter,' if we +are to believe the bird lovers. Therefore, I am ruthlessly called +Twitter at times by my friends, and more often Twitter-or-Tweet. Orr +is my first name. Orr Tweet. Suppose, for instance, my name happened +to be Jim Brown, and I had been given the nickname of Blister. Then I +would be called Blister Jim Brown, or Blister Brown. But my name is +Orr Tweet, and my nickname is Twitter-or-Tweet. Therefore, I am +Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet, or Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet. You've heard +the story of the lady who asked the ticket agent for 'Two to Duluth,' +haven't you? He thought she was flirting with him, and came back with +'Tweedle-de-dee;' whereupon she slapped him. So far I have escaped +such consequences when telling people my name. But if, when asked, I +reply 'Orr Tweet,' they say 'What or Tweet?' Then if I reply +'Twitter-or-Tweet _Orr_ Tweet,' they look at me as if they thought I +was trying to kid 'em. So I begin my explanation by giving them my +nickname, or monaker, 'Playmate,' and follow it with my second monaker, +'Twitter-or-Tweet,' as I am frequently called, or Twitter-or-Tweet Orr +Tweet, or Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet. It's very simple." + +Jerkline Jo laughed again at the end of this seemingly nonsensical +harangue, and fixed her dark eyes on Hiram Hooker. The giant stood +staring at her, and not a thought of Lucy Dalles was in his mind now. +His blue eyes caught her dark ones, and his glance was lowered in +confusion. Womanlike, Jerkline Jo took him in at a glance, and +something within her responded to the appeal that his handsome manhood +made to femininity. + +"What a godlike physique!" she thought. + +Then impulsively she stepped forward and extended her hand. + +"I'm glad you've come, Mr. Hooker," she said. "And I do hope you are +really a jerkline skinner." + +"And how 'bout me?" complained Mr. Tweet. + +"I beg your pardon," said the girl, biting her lip. "What a stupid +thing for me to say! But really--well, Mr. Hooker does look more like +an outdoors man than you do, Mr. Tweet. I didn't mean to discriminate +between you in my offer of welcome, though. Mr. Hooker, _are_ you a +jerkline skinner?" + +For the first time Hiram's soft voice began to drawl. "Yes, ma'am," he +told her earnestly. "I've driven jerkline since I was knee-high to a +duck--eight and ten and twelve, and even sixteen, ma'am. I reckon I +can make 'em pull, no matter how far out you hook 'em on." + +"Where have you worked?" + +"At home, ma'am--in the big timber o' Mendocino County--haulin' tanbark +and ties and shakes and posts over the mountains to the lumber steamers +on the coast." + +"Do you love horses and mules?" she queried eagerly. + +"I love everything that breathes, I reckon, ma'am," he told her softly. +"I kill nothin' that lives, except rattlesnakes, unless I need the +meat. Then sometimes I don't kill." + +Jerkline Jo's dark eyes glowed. She turned to Mr. Tweet. + +"And you?" she asked. + +"Madam," he replied, "I came down here under false pretenses, but now +I'll make a clean breast o' my treachery. I was broke; I had to get +out o' Frisco and get a toehold somewhere. But after seein' you, I +can't try to put one over on you. Couldn't if I wanted to try, I +guess. I am not a jerkline skinner, but I love animals. I am one of +those confident persons who will try anything once--even twice. The +things I have done, and was told I could not do, are legion. If you +will give me a trial for my inseparable friend's sake, I have no doubt +at all but that in the course of a short time your mules will refuse to +lift a foot unless I am behind 'em with my persuasive voice. In other +words, Miss Jo, I am yours to command." + +She smiled, a finger to her lips. "Well, come over to the corrals, +both of you," she said, "and we'll see what we can do. I simply must +have Mr. Hooker. So if you two are inseparable, why----" She paused. + +"I understand," Tweet put in. "All women are that way, once they're +subjected to Hooker's spell. I simply can't get it myself, but it's a +fact." + +Jerkline Jo blushed furiously. She who had withstood the ordeal of a +hundred proposals, she who had been raised where men were continually +twitting her about some man who was yearning to bestow his affections +upon her, was blushing at Tweet's harmless suggestions. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE START FOR JULIA + +Jerkline Jo walked ahead of Hiram Hooker and Tweet to the stables and +corrals, where her three-score horses and mules and her big wagons were +awaiting the start. + +"We're all ready to go," she told the pair. "I was only waiting for +you. We'll start at once, whether you are jerkline skinners or not, of +course; but if you're not, I'm afraid we'll go without you." + +Mr. Tweet glanced at Hiram and whispered: "I'm 'fraid this is where we +separate, Hooker. Still, I don't know. Maybe I'm a jerkline skinner, +after all. I'll never know till I try." + +In front of the stable Tweet came to an abrupt halt and studiously +regarded one of the huge freight wagons. + +"Just a moment," he began quaintly. "Was that wagon built to go, or is +it just an advertisement to show what the wagonmaker could do?" + +Jo's wagons weighed nearly six thousand pounds. Each separate wheel +had cost her foster father seventy-five dollars, prewar price. The +investment that a single complete wagon represented was in the +neighborhood of six hundred dollars; and as there were seven of them, +besides the lighter trailers, the total outlay was no mean sum. The +spokes of the great wheels were as large as Mr. Tweet's thighs; the +hubs were larger than his waist; the tires were ten inches in width; +the entire running-gear looked as if a small forest of sturdy hardwood +had been felled for its construction. + +"It is built to go," the girl assured him. + +"Stutterin' Demosthenes! I didn't think there were enough horses in +the world to move the thing! Madam, I have swiftly reached the +conclusion that I am not a jerkline skinner. Are you, Hooker?" + +Hiram smiled and spoke to Jerkline Jo. + +"That's a fine wagon, ma'am," he said. "I never saw any as good as +that." + +"We've six more just like it," she told him, "and some lighter +trailers. The man who made them is dead. I doubt if the world will +ever again see such wagons when these are gone. Now, I want you to +hook up, Mr. Hooker, and show me what you can do." + +"Hook up, Hooker!" laughed Tweet, always ready to embrace the slightest +opportunity for a joke. + +The girl led the way into the stable, and Heine Schultz, temporary +wrangler, showed Hiram ten immense black horses, not one of them under +sixteen hundred pounds. + +"Get 'em out," ordered Jo. + +Hiram went to work immediately, with a briskness that caused Heine to +wink at Jo, he threw on the heavy harness and led forth the big-footed +teams. He did not ask which were the leaders or the wheelers, for this +was indicated by the nature of their respective harness and bridles. +Heine noted this and winked again. Hiram was told, when he asked, the +names of the ten, and pointers and swing teams were indicated. In a +period of time utterly bewildering to Mr. Tweet the man from Wild-cat +Hill had his ten black beauties strung out in twos before one of the +wagons, and was speaking to Jerkline Jo. + +"I see you ride in the wagons," he observed. "I always rode the nigh +wheeler hoss, ma'am." + +"You may do so if you choose. We've saddles." + +"Your way suits me," Hiram returned. "It's easier work, I reckon." + +The girl climbed into the wagon with Hiram. Heine Schultz did +likewise. Mr. Tweet, being a gregarious person, did not like to be +left alone, so followed the others' example. + +"Which way, ma'am?" asked the new skinner. + +Jo pointed. "Up that street, and turn the corner to your left," she +directed. + +The wagon was about half loaded with the blacksmith's outfit. To add +to this the horse wrangler set the heavy brakes. + +Hiram grasped the jerkline, but allowed it to hang slack in his hands. +Now came his soft, caressing drawl, low and musical: + +"Pete! Abe! Feel of it! Molly! Steve! Ben! Prince! Up ahead, +there--Jane! Buck!" + +As a team the great animals started the heavy wagon, and moved off with +a jingle of chains and bells and the creak of harness. + +Heine released the brake and looked at Jo, and this time he merely +nodded. + +A block up the street Hiram gave a single pull on his jerkline, and +called: "Haw, Jane!" An instant later--"Gee, Steve! Gee, Molly! +_Gee_, Molly! Steady! Good enough!" + +With the leaders and the swings pulling to the left and turning into +the cross street, and the pointers heaving slightly to the right, the +long string made the turn, and the wagon rolled around the corner in +the middle of the street. + +This street that they had entered was one of the oldest in +Palada--built by Mexicans in the old Spanish style. There were no +sidewalks--there was not room for them. + +"Turn to your right at the next corner," commanded Jerkline Jo. + +Hiram Hooker nodded. + +As the leaders neared the corner Hiram cried: "Haw, Jane! Haw, Buck!" +and tugged once on his jerkline. Obeying the command, the leaders, +followed by the eight, brought the wagon close to the left-hand side of +the street. Two quick jerks on the line, and the sharp cries, "Gee, +Buck! Gee, Jane!" turned the well-trained leaders to the right and +headed them toward the entrance to the cross street. "Haw, Steve! +Haw, Molly! Over the chain, Molly! Haw, boys, haw!" + +At Hiram's command, the off pointer, Molly, had stepped daintily over +the heavy chain that ran between her and her mate, and now both of them +were pulling the heavy tongue at right angles to the left, the wheelers +helping. As neatly as most men might have made the corner with a +single buggy, the string of ten and the heavy wagon swung into the +intersecting street, as narrow as the other, and not a hub touched. + +Jerkline Jo's dark eyes were sparkling. "You've got a job, Hiram," she +said. "A jerkline driver who can make that corner without scraping a +hub is a real jerkline driver." + +"Thank you," replied Hiram, with a merry grin, thrilling at her use of +his given name. "And I'll say that the man that trained this team was +a jerkline driver, too." + +"A man didn't train them," Jerkline Jo informed him proudly. "I +trained them." + +"Just the same," returned Hiram, "I stick by what I said." + +"Now you take the line, Mr. Tweet," instructed Jerkline Jo. + +"I don't care for it," said Tweet. "I'm a promoter and capitalist. +I'll go to work and get a job here in this burg, Miss Jo, and pay you +for my transportation down when I've earned the price. But I have a +sneaking feeling that Molly wouldn't care for the cadence of my voice; +and Pete he eyed me kinda suspiciously when Hiram led 'im out. +No--there's a limit. I've reached it." + +"Drive back to the stable, Hiram," Jo ordered. "We'll start for Julia +at once." + +She turned to Tweet. "I'm sorry," she said. "Why did you ship down +here as a jerkline skinner, Mr. Tweet? You came over a rival railroad, +of course, and your transportation will cost me full fare." + +"Madam," he replied guiltily, "I was broke, and just had to get outa +Frisco. And I couldn't leave Hiram. Why, that boy would 'a' been a +suicide, if it hadn't been for me. He was in love, and wouldn't work, +and in another day he'd been broke--a hick from Wild-cat Hill alone and +friendless and in love in big, cruel San Francisco. If it wasn't for +me, you'd never got 'im." + +"That's right," spoke up Hiram. "He made me come." + +"Madam," added Tweet, "I hope you'll forgive me. I'll pay you all I +owe you with interest. I'm the original go-getter from Gogettersburg, +on the Grabemoff River. I'm down and out right now, but any day I'm +liable to turn into a skyrocket. Madam, you trust me. I've promised +Hooker to lead him to fame and fortune, and to do that I gotta stick +with 'im, ain't I? Well, then, can't you find somethin' for me to do +for you, so's I c'n ride with you to this new railroad? That country +sounds good to me. I'll maybe go to work and get a toehold over there. +You'll never regret befriendin' me, Miss Jo." + +The girl stood, thoughtful, her feet planted against the jolting of the +wagon. + +"Could you help about the cooking?" she asked. + +"Madam, I could--and would." + +"I like to be accommodating," she told him. "I know how it is. I was +raised in the camps, and know all about being broke and knocking about +the country. I'll take you along, and I'll take a chance on your +paying me for the transportation." + +"You'll never regret it, Miss Jo. Pile whatever you want done on me. +I'm a good roustabout, willin' and cheerful, and always a kind, happy +little playmate. Thank you." + +An hour later ten heavy wagons, some of them trailing because of the +lack of skinners, rumbled through Palada, with an eight or ten-horse +team pulling, the remainder of the horses and mules and Jerkline Jo's +black saddle mare following like devoted dogs. Palada was out in a +body to wave good-by and good luck to Jerkline Jo. She drove the last +team, ten magnificent whites, spotless as circus horses, with thirty +tiny bells jingling over their proud necks. Ahead of her in the train +Hiram Hooker drove his blacks. As long as she could see anybody at +Palada, Jerkline Jo stood in the front of her wagon, facing rearward, +and waved her hat. There were tears in her dark eyes as she turned to +her team at last, and the desert opened its arms to their coming. + +Slowly the teams forged ahead into the infinite sandy waste, where +whispering yuccas and thorny cactus grew, and jack rabbits went looping +away among bronze greasewood bushes. A cloud of dust hung over the +wagon trail. Ahead stretched seeming nothingness for mile after weary +mile. + +Jerkline Jo hoped to make twenty miles a day, loaded as the wagons were +with only the blacksmith outfit. She might have made perhaps +twenty-four miles under such conditions, had it not been for the +counteracting softness of the teams. Loaded, they would make from ten +to twelve miles daily, which seems intolerably slow in these days of +speed and nerve-wracking restlessness. But with six of the teams +working steadily the outfit would transport upward of thirty tons +twelve miles a day, which represents an enormous amount of provisions +for man and beast. + +Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet rode with Hiram. The train had been +traveling perhaps two hours, and it was after eleven o'clock, when +there came a "Who-hoo!" from Jerkline Jo. Hiram and Tweet looked back. + +She beckoned with her hand. Both Hiram and Tweet placed fingers on +their breasts inquisitively; then she cupped her hands about her mouth +and called: + +"_Hi_-ram!" + +"'_Hi_-ram,' huh?" grunted Tweet. "For one hungering second I thought +maybe she wanted me." He grasped his twisted nose and straightened it. +"'Twon't stay," he observed gloomily. "Go on and ride with her, you +big soft-voiced lady killer! I'll stick with Pete, and maybe he'll +learn to love me. What'll I do if they begin to get rambunctious, +Hiram?" + +"Don't worry," Hiram returned. "They won't do anything they're not +doing right now. Just let 'em drift right along." + +He swung himself to the ground and waited until the girl's wagon came +abreast, then climbed up over a brake-shoe and squeezed himself between +the slats of the tall freight rack with which her wagon was equipped. + +The girl stood in the front end of the rack, and such material as the +wagon carried was piled behind her, leaving a little compartment free +of encumbrance in which she might move about. There was no driver's +seat, and therefore quite a little room was hers. + +Hiram gazed in utter bewilderment at what he saw. A coal-oil stove was +burning, and on it pots were steaming. There was a tiny +oilcloth-covered table, and on it and under it were pots and pans and +other utensils of the kitchen. + +What surprised him more, though, was another lower table before which +stood a collapsible stool. On it were books and papers and a portable +typewriter, with a half-typed sheet on the platen. There were ink and +pens and other articles necessary to an officer or a study. Against +the front end of the wagon rack stood a chest, with its lid closed, and +more cooking utensils were on top of it. + +Jerkline Jo smiled at his bewilderment. + +"I'm cooking our dinner, you see," she explained. "To keep good men, I +figure that they must be well cared for. When my father ran this +freight outfit our skinners cooked for themselves, and often were +obliged to eat cold lunches. When they did cook, there was no time for +anything better than fried steak, or fried ham, or fried bacon and +eggs. One grows terribly tired of fried things, and, besides, they're +not good for the digestion. + +"I've resolved that on this job we're going to live like people who are +permanently situated. That chest there is a fireless cooker. My own +scheme. In it now vegetables and a beef roast are cooking, and they'll +be ready by noon. I mean to make biscuits and bread and cakes and pies +in my oil-stove oven, which is a dandy. I can arrange to do all that +on the smoothest portions of the road. I'll roll my biscuit dough soon +now, and when we camp there'll be fresh, hot biscuits, roast beef with +brown gravy, and steamed vegetables all ready for us. What do you +think of my scheme, Hiram?" + +Hiram knew nothing of the advantages of a fireless cooker, but he did +know that food such as she had spoken of was unheard of on a freighting +trip, and told her so. + +"Besides," she added, "I have bought some large thermos bottles, and no +matter how hot the desert is we'll always have cold water to drink. +Every night it will get almost ice cold in this country, you know; and +if we bottle it early in the morning it will remain cold all day." + +Hiram was looking at the typewriter. "This is my office and study," +said the girl. "My foster father's recent death called me from a +preparatory school back in the Middle West, just when I was getting +along so well toward gaining an education. I decided not to give up. +I am taking two correspondence courses, and mean to continue my studies +here in my wagon. Also I am learning stenography and touch-typewriting. + +"At first I thought I'd open an office at Julia or the rag town that +will spring up soon, and not drive a team myself. Then it occurred to +me that I could save money by driving a team, and could continue my +studies and attend to my business affairs while on the road. With +well-trained teams, like we have, a freight skinner has hours and hours +on the road when he has nothing to do but loll on his seat and smoke. +As I don't smoke, I mean to improve the time with study. Don't you +think I'm a wonderful schemer, Hiram?" + +Hiram nodded, and thoughts of pink-and-white little Lucy Dalles and her +ambitions were far in the background of his mind. Jerkline Jo was a +beautiful girl--as different in her beauty from Lucy Dalles as is day +from night. Her hair was dark and heavy, and crowned a low, broad +brow. Her skin was now tanned a rich mahogany, but was clear and +flawless, and her bare arms were round and brown. Her confident poise, +her sturdy shoulders, showed character and strength far above the +ordinary. She was a man's woman, was Jerkline Jo Modock, and only a +man among men might hope to become her mate. She wore a broad-brimmed +Stetson with a horsehair band, a blue-flannel man's shirt, worn leather +chaps for comfort, and riding boots. A holstered six-shooter hung +close at hand, the ivory-handled butt of the big weapon ready to her +grasp. Here was a wonderful woman, and Hiram Hooker knew it, and knew, +too, that here at last was the adventure girl who, in his dreams up +there on Wild-cat Hill in the big woods of the North had been beckoning +him to come and work for her, to fight for her--to die for her if fate +should so decree. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A WIRE TO JULIA + +"I wanted you to tell me something about yourself, Hiram," said +Jerkline Jo. "That's why I called you. What a giant of a man you are! +Tell me about Wild-cat Hill and the big woods of Mendocino. I've never +been so far north in California." + +She seated herself on the stool, and Hiram sat cross-legged on the +floor of the freight rack. Ahead the many silvery bells, hung on steel +bows over the hames of each of Jo's white beauties, jingled merrily as +the wagon rolled on into the illimitable desert. + +Hiram began to talk, and gradually he grew eloquent, for at soul he was +a poet. He told of the grandeur of the big, solemn redwoods, of the +ice-cold creeks that plunged riotously through the mysterious +fastnesses of great forests. He told of his dead father and mother, +asleep forever between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. He told of +his cramped, starved life, of his hopes and vague ambitions and his +dreams. + +She listened silently, deeply interested, her dark eyes glowing upon +him, her chin cupped by a strong brown hand. His simplicity was new +and refreshing. Soon she realized that no ordinary mind lay dormant +back of the well-formed forehead of this tender-hearted backwoodsman. +His talk showed that he had read a great deal and had somehow grasped +the significance of it all. Several times her eyes filled with tears +as she listened; often she smiled understandingly at his quaint +confessions. Presently she asked: + +"Hiram, have you any ambition for an education?" + +"Yes," he told her. "I've always wanted that, I guess. That's why I +read so much, I s'pose. But there wasn't much chance up there. I +learned all they could teach me at school--learned it easy. But there +wasn't any chance to go farther." + +"You've that chance now," she told him softly. + +"Do you mean----" He stopped, his lips parted as he gazed into her +eyes. + +"Just that," she said. "I'll help you. We'll study together. Right +here in my wagon. Your blacks will jog along without you over many +stretches in the road from Julia to the camps. Through the mountains, +of course, we shall have to be at the jerklines constantly. We'll be +four days traveling between Julia and the camps, loaded, and between +two and three days returning empty. Only one day of the trip going +will be over a mountain road. The rest of the time you may ride with +me and fight for your education. I'll help you." + +"Miss Jo----" There was a lump in Hiram's throat. + +"Just Jo, please. No one ever troubles to call me miss, and I don't +want them to." + +"I'll do it, then, Jo," said Hiram huskily. "I never dreamed I'd ever +have such a chance. And I'll work, too--I'll study night and day. But +why--why are you doin' this for me?" + +Slowly the rich color mounted to the cheeks Jerkline Jo. "I--I know +how it is," she said. "I was raised in a gypo camp, and had no chance +until late in my teens. Knew nothing but mules and horses until I was +eighteen or over--cared for nothing else. And I love them still; but +I've grown ambitious to get all that I can from life. I like you, +Hiram Hooker. You're a big, clean-minded, simple-souled man. I'll +help you all I can." + +Hiram's experience with Lucy Dalles, and now with this splendid girl +called Jerkline Jo, might have turned the head of a more sophisticated +male. But the big woods of the North teach a man his insignificance in +the scheme of life, teach him honesty and simplicity of heart and +sincerity. So now Hiram Hooker's ego was not inflamed. He had no idea +of his appeal to the other sex. Few women could help admiring such a +handsome young giant as was Hiram, strong as a bull, symmetrical as +some sturdy plant; and his drawling, soft voice was a caress that +bespoke the kindly heart of a child and the tenderness of a woman. +Withal he had a poet's soul, and all women love poetry in a man. + +"Tell me about Twitter-or-Tweet, and so forth," she begged finally. "I +can't understand that man. Is he a pure fake?" + +"I don't know," Hiram replied. "He was mighty good to me in a way. +He's been about a heap." + +"Hiram, if you'll pardon me, we'll begin your lesson right now. I +wouldn't say a 'heap.' You must try to overcome such colloquialisms." + +"I'll try never to say it again," Hiram promised unblushingly. + +"But listen," she added. "Don't take me to task if you hear me saying +things in the vernacular of the railroad grade. I have to. As Gypo +Jo, I know thousands of the old-timers, and they expect certain things +of me for old times' sake. As Jerkline Jo, the situation will be much +the same. I am obliged to be a mixer. Men whose friendship I could +not afford to dispense with even if I wished to--which, I assure you, I +do not--won't stand for a high-and-mighty attitude in me. I am of the +railroad grade, and proud of it, and I must continue to be a part of +the rough-and-ready frontier life. Hiram, I suppose your ideas of +womanhood are very hallowed. Will you be greatly shocked when you see +me go into a tent saloon and drink a glass of beer with the rabble of +the big camps?" + +"Do you do that?" + +"I simply have to, Hiram. Ever since I was knee-high to you, until a +very few years ago, I lived with one or more tent saloons within a +stone's throw of our camp. Morals are, after all, a local conception, +Hiram. What is thought to be wrong in one country will be the accepted +practice just over the border line. It's all in the viewpoint. I not +only go into saloons with men friends of mine, but sometimes I play +poker or roulette or faro just to please them. And listen: Never in +all my rough-and-ready life in railroad camps have I been insulted by +regular stiffs, as the laborers are called. Certain outsiders have +misunderstood my freedom from conventionality on several occasions, but +always to their sorrow. Understand, I don't care the snap of my finger +for beer, or to gamble; but these things will be expected of me now as +in the old days when I knew no better, and I dare not assume a superior +attitude toward people who have known me since I was found, a mere +baby, half buried by the desert sands." + +She told Hiram about her childhood then, and that she knew nothing of +her parents, not even her own true name. Hiram gave ear eagerly to her +story, and thought he understood her situation. + +"I couldn't think anything wrong of you, ma'am,' he told her gently as +she finished. + +"And don't call me 'ma'am,' please," she corrected with a friendly +smile. "And that reminds me that I made us wander from the subject of +Twitter-or-Tweet. You were telling me about him when I interrupted. +What is he? He's not a common tramp--a stiff." + +"He says he's a promoter and capitalist," Hiram repeated. + +"Of course he's talking nonsense." + +Hiram then told of Mr. Tweet's card, which promulgated his operations +as a salesman of banana lands, and of the stock he claimed to own in +the new ditch digger. + +"I thought perhaps he was some sort of a book agent," said the girl, +laughing. + +"I don't know much about people," Hiram confessed with naïve +simplicity. "I can't judge folks very well--some folks, anyway." + +"I'm afraid he's a wind bag," decided Jo. "Well, we'll befriend him to +the grade, anyway, and I guess that then he'll be obliged to shift for +himself. If freight were moving freely, and every day, I might manage +to use him--but that won't be the case at first. So we'll have to bid +him good-by at the camps. I have an idea he can take care of himself." + +Jerkline Jo glanced at her leather-protected wrist watch. + +"It's eight minutes of twelve, Hiram," she announced. "I'll roll out +my biscuit dough. Can you yell? If so, shout ahead to Blink Keddie +and call a halt for noon." + +Hiram rose to his six feet one and cupped his great hands about his +mouth. The mellow call that he sent out had rung through miles of +Mendocino forest, and now caused every skinner in the line to turn and +look back. A wave of Jo's hand and they understood the noon had come. + +When they were in camp, and the teams had been fed and watered from the +great tank wagon, and Jerkline Jo, with the able help of +Twitter-or-Tweet, had made ready the steaming meal, there arose loud +praise of the girl's idea concerning the fireless cooker. + +"By golly, Jo, this here's grub!" applauded Jim McAllen. "Some scheme, +ol'-timer!" + +"I thought it was a kind of a nutty idea when you sprung it, Jo," +confessed Tom Gulick, "but I'm strong for the cooker now. Long may she +wave! Pass the gravy, Blink." + +Jerkline Jo glowed with pleasure over her success. + +Mr. Tweet made himself very useful by acting as waiter, and hopped +about with pots and pans, leading the steaming food on the skinners' +plates. Jo watched him with interest, but still was unable to consider +him anything but an imaginative failure--a man who perhaps had seen +better days. + +When they had finished eating, he collected the dishes, and, as water +was heating on the oil stove, had everything washed up and in its place +before the resumption of their travel. + +"He's clean and neat and thoughtful," Jerkline Jo reflected. "Perhaps +I'll be able to use him after all. We could use an extra man as +roustabout, if business gets good. I'll see. He seems so fond of +Hiram, and, really, if it weren't for him, I'd never heard of Hiram." + +She grew thoughtful then, and a trace of red showed under her brown +skin. Why had she become so interested in this big countryman from the +very start, she wondered. + +It was a long, tiresome trip, and days before they reached their +temporary destination Hiram Hooker was riding in Jo's wagon, deep in +history and algebra and grammar, for Jo had with her all of her +schoolbooks. + +The days seemed short to both of them. As the magnificent whites +plodded steadily on, there was added to the music of the nickeled bells +the rapid clicking of Jo at the portable typewriter, or the slower, +hesitating peck of Hiram Hooker. They were a silent pair, for they +were deep in their studies. + +Strange indeed was the picture they presented as they were moved slowly +along under the hot desert sky. But for Hiram, at least, this was the +beginning of everything. Some magic touch had set him on the road that +for years he had longed to travel--the road to knowledge and a better +life. Beside him rode the adventure girl who had been beckoning him +out of the woods of doubt and ignorance, the girl who had colored his +dreams up on lonely Wild-cat Hill. + +Hiram quickly became a favorite with Jo's skinners, too; for anybody or +anything that the girl approved of was sure to make an appeal to the +loyal little crew who swore by Jerkline Jo. Besides, Hiram was +irresistible in his quaint geniality and his musical drawl. They +called him "Wild Cat" at first, but when they considered his hugeness +and uniform good nature the name seemed a misnomer; so they amended it +and called him "The Gentle Wild Cat." This moniker clung to Hiram +Hooker through all of his subsequent life in the desert. + +The seventh day after their start, at evening, they rolled into Julia +and set the populace agog with speculation. + +As the whites passed the depot the station master came out. + +"Does a fella named Jerkline Jo belong to this outfit?" he asked, +walking along beside Jo's wagon. + +"I'm Jerkline Jo," she told him. + +"You! Huh! Well, there's a wire for you. I'll run and get it." + +Jo called to her ten whites to halt, and the wagon came to a rest. A +minute later the yellow paper was in her hands. She read: + + Twenty tons awaiting you at Mulligan Supply + Company, Julia. Get it over the mountains at once + to Breece Brothers, Hunter & Stevenson, and + Washburn-Stokes. Drummond's trucks are coming. You + are in for a stiff fight. Good luck. DEMAREST. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MR. TWEET NEGOTIATES A LOAN + +Oblivious to the staring eyes of the little desert town of Julia, +Jerkline Jo, after pitching camp near water on the edge of the village, +began hurrying about on her business. + +She was directed to the man who owned the land on which the teams and +men were now resting, and found that she could make a deal to lease the +property at a reasonable figure. She made a freckle-faced boy happy +with a bright new dime, and sent him back to her men with instructions +for them to pitch the tents permanently and proceed to make the spot +the Julia headquarters of the outfit. + +She wired her thanks to Demarest and assured him that the order would +go forward next day, if the dealers had it ready. Next she hunted up +the Mulligan Supply Company and found that it was a new concern in +Julia, having just moved in with a large stock of goods from Los +Angeles. It was a branch of a big Los Angeles jobbing firm, and the +new railroad across the mountains had brought it here. + +The manager greeted her warmly, and told her that he had heard of her +through Mr. Demarest. The entire order was ready for immediate +shipment, he said, so Jo hurried back to camp and had her men hook two +horses on each of six wagons, now empty, and drive to the store, where +they were backed in to the loading platform. + +They ate their supper then, and afterward worked far into the night +loading case goods, baled hay, grain, new tools, and innumerable like +commodities. When the wagons were loaded and the great tarpaulins +hauled down over everything but the hay and grain, it was necessary for +Jo to appoint a watchman for the night. She had no more than broached +the subject when Playmate Tweet, who had helped manfully with the +loading, offered his services. + +"I been just ridin' all day," he said, "and tryin' to convince Pete +that I'm a reg'lar fella. I'll squat on the goods till mornin', come +what may." + +In truth Jo did not just like to trust him. The goods, amounting in +value far up into the thousands, were now under her complete control, +and she was accountable for every penny to the purchasers of them. But +she had not the heart to refuse Tweet's offer, and she wanted her +skinners to rest for the remainder of the night, in view of the hard +work that lay before them. So she accepted, and Mr. Tweet took his +post. + +He was there like the boy on the burning deck when they came with the +teams early next morning, walking about briskly to keep warm through +the cold desert dawn, whistling merrily. Jo had brought his breakfast +on a plate, and hot coffee in a bottle. + +Carter Potts, the blacksmith, was left behind to set up his shop and +care for the extra mules and horses. + +Quickly the teams were hooked on, and with complaining groans and heavy +wagons, each now weighing with its load upward of six and a third tons, +moved through the sleepy town toward the distant mountains. + +"Hooker," said Tweet, as he sat beside his friend behind the laboring +blacks, "this is a man's life. This is doin' somethin'! This is +gettin' somewhere! This is livin'! I envy you, Hiram. I envy you +that big body of yours and the way you can handle ten big horses as if +you were drivin' a trick donkey hitched to a clown's cart. Wild Cat, +you're a lucky man. And what a glorious woman, Hooker, to throw the +magic over it all! You're the man for her, my boy--the only man I ever +met that oughta have the nerve to try to win her. And she fell for +you, you big buffalo with the voice of a turtle-dove! Play her +carefully, boy, and you can win. Don't go at it like you did with +Cream Puffs, up there in Frisco. But you'll win her, Hiram--it's in +you to do it. Now, Hooker, can you slip me a five-spot when we get to +the camps?" + +"I haven't much more than that, Playmate," Hiram averred. + +"Well, you got a job, ain't you? I haven't. Money didn't seem to +worry you much when you were puttin' on your Follies o' Nineteen-twenty +with Lucy, up there where the white lights gleam." + +"What are you going to do with it?" asked Hiram. + +"This is your foolish day, ain't it? I'll tell you what I'm _not_ +goin' to do with it. I'm not goin' to hire an automobile at four +dollars an hour and take a lassie out for a ride over the desert." + +"I'll try and let you have it." + +"Just how much jack you got on you yet, Hooker, old friend from Wild +Cat?" + +"Seven dollars." + +"That's a mint, man! Say, try to slip me all of it, will you, Hiram? +I got a scheme. You won't need it--you got a job. And remember who +was the means o' gettin' it, Hiram. Why, it's worth seven bucks for +the privilege of just lookin' once into those eyes o' Jerkline Jo." + +"Can't you go to work over at the camps and earn some money?" Hiram +wanted to know. + +"I _could_--yes. But I don't earn my jack that way, Hiram. I'm a +promoter." + +"Jo told me she thought she might be able to give you something to do, +after all." + +"Don't want it. Tender her my heartfelt thanks just the same, Hiram. +All I wanted in the first place was to get down here and look things +over, then go to work and get a toehold and start the fireworks. If +things are like I think--say, I'll be givin' you people jobs in a week +or so. B'lieve it, Hiram?" + +"No," replied Hiram bluntly. "Buck, step up a little! Molly! Pete!" + +Playmate Tweet sighed heavily. "Hardest folks to convince I ever +struck," he complained. "Listen, Hooker: last night while I was +guardin' the loads the night watchman at Julia strolled around, and we +had a little talk. He's an old-timer in this country, and he told me +all about it from there to Ellangone. I got some dope from him about +this country we're makin' for; and puttin' what I heard from him with +what Jerkline Jo has told me, I gets a grand scheme. It'll put me in +on the ground floor, if things break right and then----' Oh, boy! +Richard will be himself again!" + +"Tell me about it!" + +"Too deep for you, my son. You'd never savvy the ins and outs. +Besides, when Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet gets his nose to a trail, he's one +old hound that don't bark his head off--see? There'll be other bright +young promoters lookin' for the secret, and I've learned to keep my +mouth shut. + +"Now," he went on, "when I get over there and have a little look-see, I +may decide to beat it out pronto and start the clockworks. If I do, +I'll need your seven dollars to get me back into the land o' the +livin', where I can start the performance. If I give you the word, +Hooker, slip me that jack. If I don't tell you to, I'll go to work at +some o' the camps and make a stake and beat it for more promisin' +pastures. You'll never regret it, Hooker. It'll be bread cast on the +waters, and she'll come back chocolate cake." + +"I'll think about it," Hiram promised. + +"Do that! And in the event that I say things look extra good, you'd +better slip Jerkline Jo a little sob story, and get her to let you drag +down what you got comin' on your wages--and slip that to me, too. By +golly, Hooker, once I get a toehold, Millions is my middle name." + +Hiram smiled wryly. + +On through the day the teams plodded toward the mountain pass. Hiram +rode with Jerkline Jo in their movable schoolroom, and left Tweet to +his own thoughts behind the blacks. They camped on the desert that +night, at a ranch conveniently situated between Julia and the +mountains, where was an abundance of artesian water. Next day at one +o'clock they left the flat, hot sweeps and ascended steadily into firs +and pines on the old mines road. + +They were obliged to stop frequently and make repairs in the road and +to clear away brush that for years had been overgrowing the course of +their steep climb. + +Often as they ascended laboriously they followed shelves hacked in +mountainsides, with the desert they had left thousands of feet below +them. There were places where a solid wall of rock upreared itself on +one side of the narrow road, while on the other side a precipice +dropped straight down, and tall pines at its base looked like +toothpicks. There were hair-pin curves which taxed the skinners' +ingenuity, where the one or the other of their pointers would cross the +chain to pull the wagons away from the banks, and often both pointers +were obliged to leave the road entirely and pull along the sides of +precipices. + +However, they topped the highest point in the pass before darkness had +overtaken them completely. They camped for the night beside a +picturesque and cold mountain lake, at an altitude of six thousand five +hundred feet. + +Morning showed them the desert, sweeping away again on the other side +of the range. There still remained twenty-five miles to be traveled, +eight of them comprising the descent through the pass. + +Once down on the level again, Hiram turned his team over to the care of +Tweet, and boarded Jo's wagon for the continuation of his education. + +So they crawled on persistently, and eventually, ahead of them over the +desert, white tents glowed pink in the sunlight like toadstools in a +great timberless pasture, and their first trip was nearing its end. + +When they reached the first cluster of tents Jerkline Jo discovered +that they represented the largest of the subcontractors to whom her +freight had been consigned. The next one was situated five miles +farther up the line, and the third six miles beyond that. None of them +had been there when she made her horseback trip. Close to the first +camp that they reached, that of the Washburn-Stokes Construction +Company's, the inevitable rag town had sprung up. + +Already there were a dozen or more tents, most of them housing saloons, +dance halls, and gamblers' layouts, and here and there a board or +corrugated iron structure was under process of building. Only the +three construction camps, as yet, had arrived on this portion of the +work; the next camp beyond this group was fifty miles to the north. + +Jerkline Jo knew, however, that before many days had passed camps large +and small would be dotted along the right of way, and that all must be +supplied by some one. + +She stood talking to Mr. Washburn, the head of the firm, while his +freight was being stacked before the huge commissary tent, when Mr. +Tweet approached her. + +"I'd like a word with you, Miss Modock, when you're at liberty," he +said politely. + +"Why, I'm just loafing with Mr. Washburn now," she said lightly, and +turned away with him. + +"Will you please tell me again what you did a few days back about the +camp at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou?" he asked. "Explain it all, +please--just why you think the tent town will eventually be located in +a different place than it is now." + +"Why, it's simple," she told him. "It's this way: Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou have the main contract here--a hundred miles, I've heard. When +a big company like that contracts to build a hundred miles of grade, +they at once begin to sublet portions to smaller contractors. Some +take a mile; some two miles, some five--according to the nature of the +work and the respective capacities of their outfits. Understand?" + +"Yes--I got that." + +"Well, it's natural, then, that the most difficult pieces--the biggest +work--will be the most difficult to sublet. Consequently when the main +contractors can sublet no more, they move in and get at the difficult +pieces that remain on their hands. + +"Now, I've seen a good bit of this line, and I've talked with the +engineers. Also I know the names of most of the subcontractors who +have figured on the job. I know that none of them have adequate +equipment to tackle the big rock cut that will be necessary through +that chain of buttes, twelve miles to the south of here." + +She pointed to the buttes, blue and hazy in the evening light of the +desert. + +"So, my friend, it follows as the night the day that Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou will eventually move in with their heaviest-hitting outfit to +run that cut, which certainly will be left on their hands. It follows +as the night the day, again, that the leeches who always drift in to +get the stiff's pay day away from them will settle near the biggest +camp, if there's sufficient water. + +"Down near those buttes, where the big camp is bound to be, there's +plenty of water, and before many days have passed Ragtown in all its +glory will be erected right there. + +"These supplies that we're hauling now are charged to the account of +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou," she further explained. "You see, they +furnish their subs with everything they need. Now when Demarest, +Spruce & Tillou move in there will be little or no freighting for us to +any camp but theirs. All goods will be concentrated in their +commissary then, and the subs will buy direct from them and do their +own hauling to the various camps. Of course, Ragtown will have to be +supplied--but Ragtown and Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One +will be virtually the same as regards our freight terminus." + +"And how long before the main contractors will get here?" he asked, +working his twisted nose from side to side as if in the hope of +eventually persuading it to point dead ahead. + +"That all depends on whether they have given up trying to sublet any +more work or not. If they think they won't be able to load any one +else up with a job, they'll be in directly--almost any day. But if +they still think there's a chance to get rid of the hard pieces, +they'll hold off until the matter is settled, of course." + +"Thank you," said Mr. Tweet abruptly, and was turning briskly away when +she remarked: + +"I've decided that perhaps I can use you after all, if----" + +"Sorry," he interrupted, "but I can't accept your offer, even though I +appreciate it and thank you from the bottom of my heart. Truth is, I +gotta get busy. I've heard there's a stage goin' out to the north +to-night, and I gotta make it. By the way, did Hiram speak to you +about advancin' him what pay was comin' to him?" + +Jo's eyes narrowed. "No," she said coldly, "he didn't mention such a +matter." + +Twitter-or-Tweet came back to her. "Listen," he said, "you owe him +about twenty bucks. I want it. I'll need it. You slip it to Hiram, +and I'll borrow it off o' him. You see----" + +"Why, I'll do nothing of the sort!" she cried vehemently. "Do I look +like a sucker to you, Mr. Tweet?" + +"Oh, dear, dear, dear!" he cried. "You don't understand. I'm gonta +swing somethin' big. I need that and what Hiram's already got to float +me along till I can hit the ball. For Heaven's sake, put a little +confidence in me, ma'am, can't you? I'm gonta send the Gentle Wild Cat +to you. He'll tell you. He trusts me." + +"He trusts everybody," she remarked evenly. "Besides," she added, "you +seem to forget, too, that you owe me for your railroad fare down here." + +"Oh, that! Why, I'll pay you that in no time now. But wait--I'll +unload freight in Hiram's place, and send him to you." + +Sure enough, Hiram came presently and asked her, as a special favor to +him, to let him have what money was owing to him. + +"Hiram," she said, "you're going to lend it to Tweet, and he's going +out in the auto stage to-night." + +"I know it," said Hiram. "I got to help him. He's been a pretty good +friend to me, Jo, and--and--I just like him. Why, if it hadn't been +for him I'd never met you." + +Jo colored and looked away. "You big, simple-hearted boy!" she cried. +"Do you know what he is going to do?" + +"No--he won't talk." + +She was thoughtful a little, then took out a purse and handed him a +twenty-dollar bill. + +"Kiss it good-by," she said; "but I suppose the experience will be +worth something to you." + +"Thank you," said Hiram, very red of face. "I'm sorry for what I said +about you meetin' me through Tweet, Jo. I meant to say, o' course, +that if it hadn't been for Tweet I'd never got the job." + +"Oh," said Jo, straight-lipped, "I understand." + +Tweet was not with the outfit when it pitched camp close by for the +night. He sat in the automobile stage instead, and waved a friendly +good-by to them. "Bread on the water, Hiram, comes back chocolate +cake!" he cried. "That is, Tweet bread does. Ha-ha, Hiram! You been +mighty good to me, folks. So long for a time!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +TEHACHAPI HANK + +Toward the middle of the following afternoon Jerkline Jo's freight +outfit, minus the diverting Mr. Tweet of the twisted nose, was wending +its way empty back toward the distant mountains, hauling the necessary +water in the tank wagon. + +They were still ten miles from the mouth of the mountain pass when they +went into camp on the desert for the night. When they started next +morning the tank wagon was taken on a way and left, for, with the lake +at the highest point of the pass, and the artesian water at the desert +ranch on the other side, they would be well supplied for the remainder +of the trip. + +Before noon they were entering the pass and moving up the steep ascent +into cooler atmosphere, and light, invigorating air, scented with the +breath of pines and junipers. + +Hiram Hooker was lazing on his high seat, dreaming and watching his +leaders, when from behind came the familiar call: + +"Who-hoo!" + +He turned his face back toward the mistress of the ten gigantic whites. + +"Who repaired the road back there?" she shouted. + +"I don't know," Hiram called back. "I can't remember that we stopped +there." + +"We didn't. Some one else has done that. Keep your eyes open, Gentle +Wild Cat." + +Hiram did this, and presently began to see ruts had been filled in +repeatedly and the marks left by boulders that had been snaked to the +edge of the precipice and allowed to thunder down a caņon. + +This continued all the way to the summit, where they camped for a late +nooning beside the mountain lake. + +When they took up the journey again, and had reached a point half a +mile beyond the lake, came upon a lone touring car and a little camp. +Frequently now Hiram looked back, to see perplexity and worry on the +usually placid brow of Jerkline Jo. A half mile beyond the camp they +found seven men working with ax and pick and shovel, repairing the road. + +Jo set the heavy brake and called to her ten to stop. Hearing her +command, Hiram also halted his blacks. The rest of the skinners moved +on slowly down the mountain, looking back for Jo's signal for them to +stop. She gave none, however, so they continued on. + +"Who is repairing this road, please?" Jo called from her wagon to a +group of men. + +One of them approached her a few steps. "Fella called Drummond," he +replied. + +"Isn't he the automobile-truck man from San Francisco?" + +"Yeah." + +"Is he here?" + +"No, ma'am. He come to Julia and got us to come over here in a machine +and go to work, and he went back to Los Angeles, I think. Said he'd be +out in a day or two." + +"Thank you," said Jo, and threw off her brake. + +There was no good opportunity for Hiram to talk over this matter with +her until they had left the mountains and were in camp at the desert +ranch. "I don't quite like it," Jo said then. "It seems that Mr. +Drummond should have come to me in this matter, and if the road needed +repairing to the extent that he is doing it we should share the expense +between us." + +"Drummond?" queried Hiram. "I think I know that man. I've seen him, +anyway." + +"You! Where?" + +"In San Francisco. It seems that Tweet was in a restaurant there +talking to a--a waitress about coming down here. This Drummond he--he +knew that waitress, and came in to see her while Tweet was there. They +got to talking it over, I guess, and Tweet told him all about the new +railroad. The waitress told me----" + +"You mean Lucy?" + +Hiram's face reddened. "That was her name," he admitted. "I--I +suppose Tweet told you about her." + +"A little. But I interrupted." + +"Well, Lucy said Drummond had been interested in what Tweet had to say, +and he said he might look into the freighting possibilities of the new +road. He's got a string of trucks, I was told." + +"What sort of a man is he, Hiram?" + +"Big fellow--always seems to be having fun. He's as big as I am, but +not so awkward, I guess. He wears fine clothes. But I don't know +anything about him at all. I never spoke to him." + +The outfit reached Julia in the course of time, and found that "Blacky" +Potts had set up his shop in a large circular tent, and was hammering +away briskly on his anvil. Also he had made the camp snug and +comfortable under whispering cottonwood, and had fenced off a corral +with barbed wire. + +Jo at once went to the Mulligan Supply Company to learn that a message +had come to her, in their care, from Demarest. It stated that their +big construction outfit was then on its way from northern California, +and would cross to the new railroad from a point seventy-five miles to +the north. In view of the long trip, they wished to travel as light as +possible. Consequently there was another big order for Jo to freight +in ahead of them at once. What interested Jo more, though, was the +fact that Demarest ordered it delivered at the buttes, asking that a +watchman be camped there to guard the supplies, provided they arrived +ahead of the outfit. + +Immediately they went to work at the loading, and in the end six wagons +were carrying capacity. The seventh lead wagon was an extra, which Jo +had decided to use only in case of a breakdown. With thirty tons of +hay, grain, case goods, and barreled provisions they started back early +the following morning. Jo's heart was light, for this was exceedingly +good business, and it was coming faster than she had dared to hope, +with so few camps established. Still, she was puzzled over the +repairing of the mountain road. + +"Fellow called Drummond has a big order to haul in trucks," the manager +of the supply company had told her. "It's for a store that's going to +open up at Ragtown, I understand. Guess he'll get it out tomorrow or +next day." + +All went well with the wagon train during the first lap of the desert +trip. Hiram rode with his employer, and their migratory institution of +learning was in full swing. Then when they reached the beginning of +the mountain pass they found a shock in store for them. + +The head skinner, Blink Keddie, had no more than entered the pass with +his eight bay mules when a man stepped into the road and held up a hand +for him to stop. He was a Western-looking individual, a seamed-faced +son of the deserts, and an immense Colt revolver dragged at his hips. +He had come from a tiny tent set back from the road a way, half hidden +by junipers and close to a trickling spring. + +Keddie clamped his brake and stopped his eight, eying the stranger +curiously. Keddie, like Heine Schultz and Tom Gulick, had been on the +railroad grade with Pickhandle Modock when Jo was a little girl. He +was devoted to her and her interests, and anything that threatened her +prosperity he was wont to look upon as his personal affair. + +"Mornin'," he drawled as the following teams came to a stop, and +skinners cupped hands behind their ears to listen. + +"Quite a jag you got there," observed the man in the road. + +Blink was entirely sober. "Jag" referred to the enormity of the load +of freight. + +"Little matter o' sixty thousand, altogether. I wasn't aimin' to let +'em blow right here, though, I pardner. Was there any particular +reason ye had for stoppin' me?" + +"Well, maybe there was, stranger. How many teams ye got pullin'." + +Blink counted rapidly. "Four tens and two eights," he made reply. + +"Uh-huh--but I mean how many span, pardner?" + +Once more Blink struggled with arithmetic. "That'd make twenty-eight +pair, wouldn't it?" + +"Just about--just about, pardner. And two times twenty-eight is +fifty-six, ain't it?" + +Blink Keddie promptly agreed. + +"Agreed, eh? Then I'll ask ye kindly for fifty-six dollars, stranger." + +Keddie thoughtfully began rolling a cigarette. "If I had fifty-six +dollars, ol'-timer," he said, "I wouldn't converse with the likes o' +you." + +The gunman grinned. "Does take some time to save that amount skinnin' +jerkline or bein' toll master on a mountain road," he admitted. "Are +you the boss?" + +"If I was the boss," slowly returned Blink, "I wouldn't live in the +same county with you." + +By this time Jerkline Jo, who had been hurrying forward along the wagon +train to find out what had occurred, arrived on the scene of their airy +persiflage. + +"What's wrong here, Blink?" she wanted to know. + +"This fella has been insultin' me," claimed Blink. "He insinuated I +belonged to the idle-rich class. I guess he's institutin' some sort of +a drive or other. You talk to 'im, Jo." + +"Well?" The girl wheeled and faced the man, hands on hips. + +The Westerner swept off his hat. "Ye see, ma'am," he said to her, +"this here's a toll road now--from here clean acrost the mountains to +the desert on t'other side. I'm toll master. I'm to collect two +dollars a loaded team for the trip through the pass. The price +includes the return trip, empty." + +Jerkline Jo paled. Up behind her crowded Tom Gulick, Hiram Hooker, +Heine Schultz, and Jim McAllen, and, if looks could have killed, the +man with the gun would have been ripe for the undertaker's care. + +"Two dollars! You mean----" + +"A dollar a head, then, ma'am. You got fifty-six animals. That 'u'd +be fifty-six dollars, wouldn't it?" He smiled persuasively. + +Jo gasped, and turned and glanced helplessly over her little army of +loyal men. + +"By whose authority are you demanding this?" She spun back to the toll +master, her dark eyes now aflame. + +"Mr. Al Drummond he's the boss, ma'am. He's from Friscotown. He's +gotta keep up the road, so o' course he's gonta charge other folks to +travel on it. It's jest like as if it was his private prop'ty, as I +savvy the deal, ma'am. I got papers to show ye, if ye wanta see 'em. +Course I got nothin' to do with it--nothin' atall. Mr. Drummond he +jest hired me to collect the fees and keep folks off that refused to +pay. I might add, though, ma'am, that I've always been considered a +pretty good keeper-off when I'm hired for that purpose. I'm from the +Kitchen Rancho, over toward the Tehachapi. They call me Tehachapi +Hank. At yer service, ma'am." + +Jerkline Jo's red lips were straight. She was indignant. A sense of +defeat almost overwhelmed her. Such a situation had not even remotely +occurred to her. In a wave of despair the realization swept over her +that she had attempted something of which she knew nothing. There had +been no one to advise her, and in the unbounded confidence of youth she +had not sought counsel. On the railroad grade few men could have put +anything over on her. But this was another matter. + +Fifty-six dollars for the eighteen-mile trip through the pass! It +would be ruinous. She would be obliged to advance her rate to meet +this additional expense, and then the truckman holding the franchise +would be able to haul freight cheaper than she could. + +Back of her the men were muttering useless threats among themselves. +Jo found her voice at last. There was no need to ask to see a copy of +the franchise, because there was not the slightest doubt in her mind +that everything was aboveboard in that respect. She simply had been +outgeneraled. There was nothing to do but to pay--for the present, at +least--as the freight on her wagons must be delivered at any cost, now +that she had contracted to deliver it. What she said was: + +"Will you accept my check?" + +"Certainly, ma'am--most certain," was the ready reply. + +"I'll go back to my wagon and write one for you then," she said, trying +to keep her voice steady. "Let the wagons go on, please. When mine +reaches you I'll hand out the check." + +Tehachapi Hank touched his broad-brimmed hat again. "All right and +proper, ma'am," he assured her. + +He was waiting by the roadside when her stanch whites marched past him, +and she reached the check out through the slats of the rack. He +touched his hat brim again and smiled then with true Western +politeness, pocketed the slip of paper without so much as glancing at +it. + +Dully she watched the broad straining backs of her beloved animals as +they planted their great fetlocked feet and heaved their burden ever +upward. Ahead of them she could hear her skinners shouting back and +forth from wagon to wagon above the jingling of the bells, their tones +high-pitched and angry. Why had she not consulted with Demarest and +asked him to lay before her details of every angle that might present +itself in such an undertaking as hers? + +Demarest knew all the twists and turns of modern business ruthlessness. +He might have been able to foresee a situation like this and to put +weapons into her hands with which she might have combated it. + +She shrugged her sturdy shoulders finally, and as noon was close at +hand gave attention to her cooking. For the present she would drive +the matter from her thoughts. There was work to be accomplished, which +was a part of the present delivery of freight. When this task was +completed she would see what could be done. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN LETTERS OF BLACK + +There was a general outburst of indignation on the part of Jerkline +Jo's devoted retainers when the outfit went into camp at noon, +quarterway through the mountain pass. + +"We'll fix 'im, Jo!" Heine Schultz exclaimed angrily. "All we gotta do +is make out to get ahead o' his old cough wagons and not let 'em pass. +We can hold 'im back clear through the pass, if we string out. Le's +figger it out fer the rest o' the trip, Jo. There's not over six +places where one vehicle can pass another. Now what we gotta do is +string out our outfit so's none o' us'll hit one o' those places when +the machines are comin'. Say, we can hold 'em up till----" + +"Heine," said Jerkline Jo quietly, "is that your idea of business." + +"Course it is. Stick it to the Al Drummond, Jo! He's started +somethin' that he'll have a hard time finishin', that's all. Say, we +can slip it to him till he'll be sick o' that dirty deal he handed you. +Leave it to Blink and me. We got it all schemed out." + +"Heine," Jo remarked, "we'll travel right along as we have always +traveled. If one of Mr. Drummond's trucks comes up behind us and wants +to pass we will let it pass when it is convenient to do so." + +"Not here, Jo! My team don't put one foot outa the road to let a truck +pass." + +"No, I don't expect you to do that. But it will depend on conditions. +If you are loaded and he is empty, of course he must look out for +himself. Again, if you are climbing and he is coming down, he must get +out of the difficulty as best he can. But when you, loaded, reach a +place where a truck can pass you, and you know one is coming up behind +you and wishes to pass, you will stop your team in the road and let it +circle around you." + +"I won't, Jo! I----" + +"Yes, you will. You will do as I say, as you always do." She smiled +at him sweetly and patted his shoulder. "Loyal old Heinrich!" she +said. "Just the same old-timer, we must observe the courtesy of the +road always. Think it over--you'll see I'm right." + +"Jo, you can't afford a jolt like that," said Jim McAllen. + +"I can't," Jo told him frankly. "Right now I don't know what to do. I +must keep on, by some hook or crook, till I can get advice from some +one who's onto such tricks--Demarest, perhaps." + +"It's a rotten deal!" + +"I have an idea it's perfectly legitimate, Jim." + +"They ain't gonta do anything to the road to make it worth a tenth o' +what they ask to travel on it. You saw the little putterin' jobs they +did, Jo." + +"I have an idea," replied the girl, "that when winter comes they'll be +quite busy. And it also occurs to me that, now that they've agreed to +maintain the road if given the franchise, we can make them do it down +to the letter, or render their franchise void." + +"By golly, I bet you can at that, Jo!" put in Tom Gulick. "I've heard, +though, there's a rotten bunch of grafters runnin' this county. They'd +probably beat you out some way, so long as Drummond was puttin' up +cigar money for them." + +Up until now Hiram Hooker had said nothing. Now came his soothing +drawl, and the others listened. + +"I don't know much about automobiles and what they can do," he said. +"But I do know mountains and mountain roads, and somethin' about +mountain soil. And I've this to say: If Jo can hang on till winter +there'll be no trucks runnin' against her. Then if they still collect +for crossin' through the pass, all she's got to do is raise the freight +rate to meet the extra expense. There's exactly ten places on the road +where we're goin' to hook maybe thirty horses on every wagon to get +across next winter. And I'll bet my month's wages against a dollar of +Mr. Drummond's money that he'll be begging for teams to haul him out. +Then, of course, the price ought to be about fifty-six dollars a haul, +regardless of distance, hadn't it?" + +"Good boy!" cried Keddie. "Listen to our Gentle Wild Cat pur! He's +right, too, I'll say. If we can hang on till winter, Jo can collect +back all she's paid out for tolls--and I'll say a little profit on the +deal wouldn't make me weep."' + +"But winter's a long way off," Jim McAllen gloomily pointed out. + +After this there was thoughtful silence. + +To add to the misfortunes of the second trip to the camps, Jim McAllen +broke a reach when the train neared the foot of the grade. There were +spare reaches in the outfit, of course, but they had to unload the +wagon to substitute one, and it all took a great deal of time. Then a +horse became sick, and Jerkline Jo positively refused to work a sick +horse. The animal was taken out of harness and allowed to tag along +behind with his mate, who automatically became useless, too. A ton of +supplies was taken from the wagon to which the sick horse belonged, and +distributed among the other loads. This took more time, and night +overtook the outfit with several miles between them and the tank wagon +that awaited their coming on the desert. + +Hour after hour they plodded along, not daring to camp until they had +water. There was no moon, and as the desert road was little more than +a trail Heine Schultz let his team tag Keddie's and walked ahead with a +lantern to guide the lead skinner. Thirsty and hungry and weary, they +reached the tank about nine o'clock. Then came a hearty curse from the +man with the lantern, followed by: + +"Lord, be merciful unto me, a skinner! The tank's empty, Jo!" + +The party descended hurriedly and crowded about him. It was a steel +tank, and a careful search failed to show that any of its plates had +sprung a leak. Then the light was held under the spigot, and, though +the hot desert sun had evaporated every drop of water, there was a hole +worn in the sand where it had fallen in a stream. The spigot was open. + +"How 'bout it now, Jo?" Heine queried. "Is this what you call +legitimate business--huh? I guess now you'll let me hold 'em back when +I can." + +Without replying Jo stooped and made an examination. + +"Some one has turned the water out," she said, rising wearily. "Will +we be obliged to hire a watchman to camp by our water tank? This is +serious, boys. The unwritten law of the desert would condemn whoever +did this to a lariat and a yucca palm. Still, we don't know who did +it. It's too dark to find tracks or to learn anything about it. It's +seventeen miles to the Washburn-Stokes outfit--the nearest water ahead. +Or it's eight miles back to the lake in the mountains. What's best to +do?" + +They turned the problem over and over, and finally decided unanimously +that to send the tank with six horses back to the lake, to be refilled, +was the wiser plan. Hiram volunteered for the trip, and Schultz +volunteered to go with him. At once the two set off behind six of +Hiram's lamenting animals for the long night trip, eating a hasty lunch +as they traveled. + +Dawn was breaking when they returned with a full tank, and were greeted +by the braying of the mules and the expectant nickering of the horses, +who smelled the water from afar. + +Jo ordered a rest until ten o'clock, to counteract the suffering that +the thirsty animals had undergone and to rest Hiram's six after the +performance of their double task. + +These setbacks made them late in their arrival at the scene of coming +toil, but gradually the distant buttes grew plainer as they moved on +steadily toward them over the crunching sands, so hot and barren. + +Hiram Hooker was riding with Jerkline Jo as they approached the buttes. +She was hammering away on her typewriter, while Hiram was deep in a +mathematical problem, his tongue out and gripped by his teeth. The +clicking of the typewriter ceased suddenly, and Jo asked: + +"Isn't that a tent over there near the buttes, Wild Cat?" + +Hiram looked up and shielded his eyes, straining his vision over the +rolling white backs of Jo's team into the yellow vastness beyond. + +"Looks like it," he said. + +"We'll not have to arrange for a watchman then. Demarest has sent a +man, I guess. Get out my binoculars, please, and see what you can make +out." + +Hiram took the strong glasses from their case, and, steadying himself +against a side of the freight rack, trained them on the distant speck +of white that represented a lonely tent. + +At once the tent seemed to jump across the desert to a point a short +distance ahead of them. Hiram's lips parted and a snort of surprise +escaped him. + +Before the front of the tent, on a pole planted there, was a big sign +composed of black letters against a white background. And this is what +Hiram Hooker read: + + The Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey + + OFFICE OF THE PALOMA RANCHO INVESTMENT COMPANY + + Orr Tweet, President. Walk In + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +GREATER RAGTOWN + +Indeed he was an important-looking individual who greeted the freight +outfit of Jerkline Jo when it came to a weary halt at the foot of the +desert buttes. He wore a new olive-drab suit, composed of Norfolk +jacket and bellows breeches, an imposing Columbia-shape Stetson, and +shiny new russet-leather puttees. From one corner of his mouth, +aligned with his twisted nose, protruded long, expensive-looking cigar. +This was Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet. + +Hat removed, bowing like a Japanese, he approached the astonished +skinners and offered his hand to Jerkline Jo. + +"Madam," he said, "permit me to extend to you Ragtown's most cordial +welcome. And you, gentlemen, are included, of course. When you have +the time, Miss Modock, I should like the pleasure of your presence in +the office of the Paloma Rancho Investment Company. If I may offer a +suggestion, too, it might be well to deposit Mr. Demarest's freight +close to my office, so that I can look out for it until the arrival of +the outfit. Hooker, come with your employer if you can conveniently do +so." + +So saying, Mr. Tweet recrowned himself with his new Stetson, turned, +and strolled impressively toward his tent, disappearing between its +lazily flapping portals. + +With the exception of Hiram Hooker, Jo's skinners shouted with +laughter. Jo and Hiram merely exchanged bewildered looks. + +"We'll go over now, Wild Cat," she said. "There's lots of time to +unload. We can't make it out of here to-day, anyway." + +Side by side they walked toward the lonesome little tent with the big +sign on a pole in front of it--a mere atom of white in the vast desert. + +Orr Tweet sat at an oaken desk in one corner of the tent. In another +corner was his bunk, a new suit case, and a new trunk, both in keeping +with Tweet's expensive outdoor clothes. There were several chairs. +Tweet arose briskly and held one for the girl with all the ceremony of +a head waiter in a restaurant of repute. + +"Jo," he began, "I hope you'll pardon the familiarity; there is a +matter of sixteen or seventeen dollars due you, I believe, for my +transportation from Frisco to Palada. And, Hiram, I believe I owe you +somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty dollars--the exact amount +escapes me temporarily. Now, both of you, the question is this: Do you +prefer cash, or stock in the Paloma Rancho Investment Company, or land? +The choice is yours." + +"Tweet," ordered Hiram, "get down off your high horse and talk sense. +What on earth is all this, anyway?" + +Tweet laughed and winked and became himself again. + +"Hiram, old boy," he confided, "I'm on the road to fortune. This is +gonta be the biggest deal I ever tried to swing. And, by golly! I'm +the little boy that c'n swing 'er!" + +"Tell us about it," pleaded Jerkline Jo. + +"Well, sir, Jo, I owe everything to you, and I'll prove I'm not the man +to be slow in showin' my gratitude. I'm a go-getter, and no mistake. +I couldn't make you folks believe it, so I had to go to work and show +you. But I bear you no ill will. You didn't know anything about me. + +"Well, dear little playmates, here's the dope: + +"That night watchman over there at Julia told me who owned all the land +about here, and said they were in tight financial circumstances--badly +in need o' ready money. They're big land owners--land poor. I drank +that all down, and she listened good to me. For the rest, I banked on +the accurate judgment of a party known as Jerkline Jo. I says to +myself: 'Jo's been on the grade all her life and savvies conditions. +If she says Ragtown is goin' to be located at the buttes, that part o' +the country's the part to get toehold on. Anyway, Playmate,' I says, +'we'll take a chance on Jerkline Jo.' And that's what me and Playmate +did. + +"I hunted up the owners o' the land when I gets to Los Angeles, and +makes 'em an offer on twelve thousan' acres--comprisin' the entire +tract known as Paloma Rancho, an ancient Spanish grant. Good for +nothin', I'd been told, but to run cows on in winter, when the filaree +and bunch grass are green. Just the same, there are other parts o' +this ole desert that are comin' out with a bang here lately. Lookit up +in Lucerne Valley and around Victorville! Good pear land, once she's +cleared o' the desert growth and a little humus-bearin' fertilizer +added to the soil. Produces good alfalfa, too. Anyway, I says I'll +take a chance, so I made 'em an offer. + +"They pretended like they thought the railroad was gonta do 'em a lot +o' good in a few years; that they didn't care whether they disposed o' +the property or not. But that bunk's old stuff to me, so I shut 'em up +and made 'em talk turkey. I made 'em an offer o' ten dollars an acre +for Paloma Rancho, payment to be made in quarterly installments of six +thousan' dollars, each, contract to run for five years, with interest +at seven per cent on deferred payments--first payment o' six thousan' +dollars to be made in advance. + +"They refused, and I picked up my hat and started out. They called me +back, and for ten minutes we puttered around between ten dollars an +acre and fifteen, and at last they fell into my arms. We had the +papers drawn up, and I slips 'em a certified check for six thousan' +buckerinos." + +"You gave them six thousand dollars!" cried Hiram. + +"Sure," Tweet replied easily. "I'd already wired to Frisco and +disposed o' my ditch-digger holdin's for over eight thousan'; I got +over a thousan' left, five hundred paid on an automobile that's now +asleep back o' this office, and a toehold on Paloma Rancho, twelve +thousan' acres o' perfectly beautiful sand. + +"And now that you folks have dumped a cargo o' freight here marked D., +S. & T., No. 1, I know we win. We're goin' to make this one o' the +liveliest propositions in the West. Ragtown will move down here as +soon as the big outfit lands at the buttes. City lots in +Ragtown--which later probably will be known as Tweet--will be worth +from a hundred dollars to two hundred and fifty, accordin' to location. +My engineers will be here soon, and we'll lay off the town site. I've +made application for a post office, and by the time the papers come +from the department there'll be plenty o' signers here. Concessions +will be granted at reasonable figures. Farming lands will be sold at +from fifty dollars an acre up to a hundred and fifty, accordin' to +location, depth to water, et cetera. This will include stock in the +company's water right. Water will be developed up in the mountains, on +a site that goes with the ranch, at an approximate expense of one +hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. I am organizing my water +company now, and will let all old friends in on the ground floor, of +course. Water at Butte Springs, by the way, Ragtown's present supply, +will cost twenty-five cents a head for stock, and five cents a drink +for human beings who are recognized citizens of Ragtown, the +Tweet-to-be. Old friends, however, are hereby extended the privilege +of watering free of charge while life shall last. + +"So folks, we're off in a bunch. Keep your eye on Ragtown, metropolis +of the Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey." + +"But how about your next payment?" asked Jerkline Jo. "If I'm not too +impertinent, can you meet it?" + +"Right this moment," replied Tweet, "I couldn't even look like I wanted +to meet it. But why worry for nearly three months more? Ragtown will +pay it for me. I'll meet her when she's due--never fear. I always get +out some way. My middle name is Millions. Gogettersburg is my +birthplace. You folks and Pete are my first failure in convincin' +others of my shrewdness, honesty, and unbounded ability." + +For an hour Mr. Tweet told of his glowing plans, but he found it +difficult to convince either Jo or Hiram that he had success within his +grasp. Not until the conversation worked around to the mountain-road +franchise did Jerkline Jo realize that, in befriending Orr Tweet, she +had enlisted an ally who would and could help her. + +"Why, we've got 'em by the tail, girl!" he cried. "Just keep on payin' +what they ask till Ragtown moves down here, which will happen as soon +as Demarest gets settled. Then it'll cost this Drummond to travel +across Paloma Rancho exactly what it has cost you to come through the +pass. And I'll get me a roughneck with a gun, too, and see that he +pays. And if he eventually falls down and quits, you make him live up +to that franchise and keep that road in perfect repair, or sue him, by +golly! Leave it to me, Jo. I'll fix his timepiece. Every spare +dollar you get, you slip it to me to help me meet those payments. +It'll let you in on the ground floor, by golly! We'll make a million +out of it, Jo--you and me and the Gentle Wild Cat. And I'll show 'em +how to try and take advantage of a girl like you! Folks, the future +looks mighty bright for all of us!" + +While they were conversing Blink Keddie's voice Came from outside the +tent: + +"Jo! The trucks are comin' in." + +The three went out and joined the head skinner, who pointed far over +the shimmering desert at three dots moving along from the mountains +toward the Washburn-Stokes camp. + +"Poor fish!" Tweet said disgustedly. "They don't know what's in store +for 'em. Next trip they make, probably, Ragtown and the big camp will +be on Paloma Rancho, and then they're blocked." + +Mr. Tweet ate supper with Jo and her skinners, and afterward the outfit +spent a pleasant evening listening to the promoter's rosy plannings. +Even the most skeptical among them gradually became convinced that, if +he could hold on and meet his payments, he might make a go of it. +Early next morning they started back, passed the polite Mr. Tehachapi +Hank in the course of time, and arrived in Julia without further mishap. + +Now came a period of inactivity. There were orders for goods to be +hauled, but a great portion of what was demanded had not yet arrived by +train from the coast side of the mountain range. + +Such delays were expensive. Jerkline Jo could have made a profit +running into four figures every month, allowing for deterioration and a +reasonable per cent on the investment represented, could she have kept +her teams moving steadily, with the wagons loaded to capacity every +trip. As yet, though, with so few camps established, this could not +reasonably be hoped for, and she had made due allowance for such +setbacks when deciding upon her freight rate. She had charged +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou three cents a pound for the last consignment. + +The three trucks that they had seen returned. They were of two-ton +capacity. More came in from the coast, which carried five tons, and +there was a fleet of five-ton trailers. Jo learned that Drummond had +made a price of two and three-quarter cents, so she promptly met it +and, by wire, notified Demarest to that effect. + +She was anxious to see the five-tonners in operation. She believed +that machines carrying a large tonnage would meet with serious +difficulties in the pass, and also in the desert sand, in places. But +they would make the trip so quickly that she began to have grave +doubts. They might worm their way out of many difficulties, and still +make the camps while her teams were on the first lap of the journey. +So far, she had seen nothing of her competitor, Al Drummond. + +There reached the Mulligan Supply Company a telegram from Demarest +instituting a standing order for baled alfalfa, and instructing that +all freight be hauled by Jo so long as she could keep ahead of the +congestion and haul as cheaply as others. Promptly, then, Jo loaded to +capacity with hay, and they were off again. + +Four light trucks had preceded her with case goods, for Ragtown's +store, she supposed. But the remainder of the fleet remained idle at +Julia, and seemed to have no business. Jo was reasonably sure that, +for old friendship's sake, Philip Demarest would see to it that she got +all of his hauling, providing she could make deliveries to his +satisfaction. She thought that until new camps settled on the +grade--camps of bigger contractors who would buy their supplies direct +and not depend on Demarest, Spruce & Tillou--Mr. Drummond would have +many idle days. Then, of course, he might cut to the bone on the +freight rate, and Jo feared that, with the trucks eating nothing while +they rested, Drummond might be better able to withstand a rate war. + +They were held up by the genial but exacting Tehachapi Hank at the foot +of the grade, as on their last trip. Jo paid cash this time, and +demanded a receipt, as ordered to do by Tweet. + +As the wagon train neared the highest point in the pass she noticed +that her whites and Hiram's blacks seemed to be lagging behind. Still, +both teams seemed to be moving briskly enough and steadily. But the +other teams were far in the lead. + +Then Hiram's wagon entered upon a system of hairpin curves, and for +nearly fifteen minutes none of her skinners was in sight. + +She continued to wonder at the unwonted speed of the skinners ahead of +Hiram. + +Just as she reached the outmost point of a bow in the second hairpin +curve, she heard a dull rumble behind her. Looking back, she saw +nothing unusual, for in this place the road wound about U's and S's in +the mountainside, and one could not see far along it, either ahead or +behind. Deciding that a tree had fallen, she dismissed the matter from +her thoughts, and gave her attention to manipulating the jerkline over +an exacting piece of road. + +She worked out of the curves eventually, to see the other teams moving +placidly along ahead of her, but now she and Hiram had caught up again. + +She spoke about it when they camped for the midday rest. It was Hiram +who made reply. + +"I was wondering at their speed, too, Jo," he said. "The rest of 'em +were all way ahead of me and out o' sight for twenty minutes, maybe." + +There followed a bantering conversation on the relative merits of the +various teams, with minute explanation by the foremost skinners as to +just why it was impossible for such miserable animals as the whites and +the blacks to keep in sight of the rest. And for the time being, this +ended the incident. + +They left the delicately scented mountain country in due course and +took up the long, weary journey over the desert. When they were near +enough to the buttes to make out objects at their feet it became plain +to all that the big outfit of Demarest, Spruce & Tillou had arrived and +pitched its camp. + +Shortly after they became aware of this a machine was discovered coming +toward them from the distant tents. Then another put in an appearance, +following the first. Jo now heard the cough of motors behind her, and, +looking back, saw two trucks. + +The first machine coming from the camps swung from the road when it +neared Blink Keddie and waited, panting, until the outfit had passed +it. Only the driver was in it, a man Jerkline Jo had never before +seen. He lifted his hat politely as her whites rolled past, and she +thanked him for his patience. Then he moved his car into the road and +continued on toward the trucks. Looking back, Jo saw that all three +stopped when they came together. + +Now, from ahead, came the second car, and at the wheel sat +Twitter-or-Tweet. He signaled Keddie to stop, and the outfit came to a +halt. + +"Hello, Jo, and fellas!" cried the beaming Mr. Tweet, descending from +his car. "The man who just passed you in the touring car is Mr. +Richard Huber, one of our first citizens. He's Ragtown's first +merchant. He's gone to direct the trucks to come to Greater Ragtown +with their loads. For, folks, Ragtown is moving in a body, with its +traps on burros' and men's backs and in wagons and flivvers to the +Tweet-to-be. Talked Huber out o' leasing, and sold him fifteen town +lots, by golly! Half down, balance in three years--seven and a half +per cent interest on deferred payments. Man of discernment. I'll +proclaim to the high, green mountains! I'm on my way to collect our +fee for allowin' the trucks to cross Paloma Rancho. How much you been +held up for, Jo?" + +"One hundred and twelve dollars," she told him. + +"Just a minute. I'll hand it to you. Move on now, and I'll get back +in the road and collect." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WHAT MADE THE WILD CAT + +Jerkline Jo's wagon train snailed on over the desert toward the tents +of Demarest's big camp. The tires of Mr. Tweet's shiny new car plunked +down into the road, and that gentleman continued on toward the trucks +and the machine of Ragtown's first merchant, Mr. Huber. + +Hiram Hooker was riding with Jerkline Jo, and the two had been deep in +their studies when the appearance of the various automobiles had +distracted their attention. Hiram now climbed to the top of Jo's +immense load of baled alfalfa, and, looking back, made reports to her. + +"They're all together now," he said, "and having quite an argument. +Tweet's swinging his arms about as if he wanted to fight. + +"Now he's getting into his car. He and the storekeeper are turning in +ahead of the trucks. Here they all come, Tweet in the lead!" + +A little later Tweet shouted to Hiram to stop, and Hiram relayed the +command to Jo, who called to her ten whites and brought them to a +standstill. A little later five angry men hurried on foot alongside +the wagon. + +"Here's your hundred and twelve dollars, Jo," Tweet said exultantly, +passing the girl a sheaf of bills, "And that settles that. Now, Mr. +Drummond, step over here and be introduced to Jerkline Jo Modock and my +friend Hiram Hooker, from Wild-cat Hill. We'll see if you folks can't +get together and conduct your affairs amicably." + +Al Drummond, Hiram Hooker's one-time rival, was indeed there, dressed +after the fashion of Mr. Tweet, and looking big and important and +business-like. There was a dark scowl on his brow though as he came +forward and nodded to Jo, but did not offer his hand. + +"Well, I've been held up," he muttered, "and I'm going to see about it, +but----" + +"See about it all you want to, my friend," put in Tweet smoothly. "I +have complete control of this land, and have the sole right to say who +shall cross it and who shall not, and under what conditions. The ranch +is posted, and everything is in order. This road is a new one, and you +can't make the claim that it has been used so long that it must be +considered in the nature of a public highway. You've not a leg to +stand on; so every time you turn a wheel on this property it's goin' to +cost you just what the last trip through the pass cost Jerkline Jo. +You started something, my friend, and you can't finish it--that's all. +Take your medicine like a sport." + +"I'm going to keep up that mountain road, and I'm going to charge to +move vehicles and teams over it," replied Drummond angrily. "My +operations are legitimate. Yours are a holdup." + +"Suit yourself." Tweet shrugged indifferently. "But, as I pointed +out, you'll pay back every cent you collect from Jo. And, besides, +you'll be out the expenses of your toll master." + +"Others besides this lady will be crossing--lots of them later on," +said Drummond. "I'm not going to keep that road in condition for the +general public free of charge." + +"Then the best thing you can do is make a dicker with Jo to share her +part of the maintenance expenses, and you two divide the spoils that +you collect from others." + +"I can't agree to that," Jo put in hastily. "The road will serve very +well as it is for our purposes, with a few repairs now and then which +my boys can attend to themselves. We don't have to have a road in as +good condition as the trucks will demand. We are entirely satisfied as +matters stand." + +Tweet slapped his thigh. "Spoken like a man!" he cried. "Now it's +your move, Mr. Drummond. Fix your road all you want to and gouge +travelers for the last cent you can, but this outfit travels through +the mountains free, any way you can figure it out. Better write out a +permanent permit for Jo, and do away with this collectin' back and +forth and only breakin' even." + +The truck man was so angry he scarcely could contain himself. + +"It's a dirty, rotten deal!" he said between gritted teeth. "And this +is only part of it. This bunch of roughnecks rolled a big boulder in +the road after they'd passed yesterday, or some time, and it took us +three hours to get it out. Had to hook on the trucks, and unload, and +cut poles--and I don't know what all we didn't have to do to get the +thing out so we could pass it. That's dirty, low-down business, and +anybody who would do such a thing is a dirty piker--I don't care if she +is a woman! If I've got to come out here and buck a wild woman with no +principle I'll----" + +Al Drummond paused abruptly. A mountain of bone and muscle had swooped +down from the top of the load of baled hay and loomed large before him. + +"Mr. Drummond," said a caressing voice with what seemed a totally +disinterested drawl, "you're a liar!" + +For a few seconds there was not a sound as Hiram Hooker stood before +Drummond and eyed him placidly. The truck man's face had gone +chalk-white. They were big men, both of them, and for all that +Drummond's life had not been a rugged one, he was physically pretty +much a man. Jo's skinners had come running back, and, with Tweet and +Huber, looked on expectantly, sensing that a crisis between the two big +huskies was imminent. Then came the voice of Jerkline Jo. + +"Hiram," she said, "don't be hasty." Jerkline Jo had seen many a fight +between big men of the outdoor life. It was no new experience, and +there was not a quaver in her tones. She had been brought up where men +settled matters with fists or guns or pick handles. "Listen, Hiram," +she continued, "Mr. Drummond is telling the truth, I think, up to a +certain point. When you boys were way ahead of me yesterday I heard a +rumble behind me. Evidently a big boulder rolled down in the road +after we had passed. Just the same I'll thank you, Hiram, to ask Mr. +Drummond to apologize for accusing me of being responsible." + +"Yes, ma'am," drawled Hiram, reverting to his old speech of the redwood +forests. "Ye heard, Mr. Drummond. We didn't roll down any stone. I'd +apologize now if I was you. That's best." + +"Listen to the Gentle Wild Cat pur," said Heine Schultz, looking +abstractedly up at the clouds. + +"Well, you ain't me, you gangling hick!" said Drummond. "I saw +footprints up above the rock wall that the stone fell from. It was +pushed down. There are six of you. You could roll down a rock that we +three couldn't budge. You even could hook on teams and drag it in the +road behind you. Then when you came back, if it was still there, you +could easily snake it out of your own way with these big horses." + +"I reckon you're right," admitted Hiram. "But we didn't do that, so +you oughta apologize to Jo." There was a deceptively soothing note in +Hiram's tones. He seemed to be patiently pointing out the better +course for Mr. Drummond to pursue, with no suggestion of what might be +the penalty for guessing wrong. + +"Well, I'll not apologize! I'm not a fool! That rock was rolled down. +It----" + +"You're a liar, Mr. Drummond," repeated Hiram. + +Then they came together with a thud of big bodies and a shower of +hooflike fists. + +"Hi-yi!" yelled Blink Keddie. "What made our Gentle Wild Cat wild? +Come on, boys! Back up ol' Wild Cat! Eat 'im, Hi-_ram_! Eat 'im +alive! Le's send this outfit to the cleaners!" + +"Blink!" called Jerkline Jo shrilly as the pugnacious skinner charged +threateningly at Drummond's truck drivers. He came to a stop. "Don't +make it general unless it becomes necessary," Jo added smoothly. + +Meantime the two huge belligerents were hammering stunning blows at +each other. About them now stood silent men in a circle, with the +vast, hot desert stretching away on every side. + +It developed shortly that Drummond was an athlete. He was quicker on +his feet than Hiram and knew more tricks of offense and defense. +Hiram, on the other hand, was a bull for strength and endurance, and in +the big-woods country had maintained a reputation as a rough-and-tumble +fighter and wrestler, though most of his encounters had been friendly +bouts. Furthermore, he was cool as one of his Mendocino trout streams, +and he fought in a businesslike way and never allowed himself to lose +his temper. + +He was therefore the more deadly, for his endurance was unbounded, and +the punishment that Drummond was able to inflict seemed to have no +effect whatever. And when one of his big fists found its mark a groan +went up from Huber and Tweet. But Jerkline Jo and her rough-and-ready +skinners, the latter all old fighters of the camps and used to unseemly +sights, and the sickening sound of a big fist landing on giving bone, +only watched and waited for the result. + +In no time at all, it seemed, the face of the truck man was raw, while +Hiram's showed only bruises. They clinched repeatedly, and soon it +became apparent that Drummond was forcing these clinches. + +"You've got 'im goin', Gentle Wild Cat!" yelled Tom Gulick. "Keep +after his mush, ol'-timer! Pretty soon he won't be able to see you; +then clean house with 'im!" + +Drummond played for Hiram's wind now, but there was not an ounce of fat +over the stomach that he hammered so repeatedly, and it seemed as if he +were battering hard rubber. He was fast losing his own wind, for his +life had not been so healthy as had that of the man from the Northern +forests. Hiram's punishing fists were finding their target more +frequently now, for the truck man's defense was failing him. He was +slowing up--breathing hard--gulping. + +"Guess it's time to stop it, Gentle Wild Cat," complacently observed +Jim McAllen. + +Then Hiram finished it. He crowded his big antagonist and beat him to +his knees with blows that seemed to be skull crushing. Drummond's nose +and mouth were badly damaged. Both eyes were mere slits, blazing +between coloring puffs. One crushing, blow straight into his face as +he came up defiantly sent him reeling about, head down, groping blindly. + +"One more in the same place, Wild Cat!" called Gulick. + +But Hiram desisted, though continuing to trail the groping man as he +reeled through the sand, stumbling frequently. + +"Lock the door, Hiram!" begged Heine Schultz. "It's all over but +closin' up." + +Hiram shook his head, and then Drummond wilted and sank in the sand. + +Water was quickly provided, and the pulse of Jerkline Jo leaped as she +saw that Hiram himself was taking the most prominent part in the +whipped man's revival. It was fully five minutes before Drummond was +conscious again; then Hiram helped to bear him to one of the trucks. + +"Thank you, Hiram," Jo said softly as he returned. + +He looked up into her eyes, which were moist round the rims. He had +fought and won for his girl of romance, and he knew now that it had +been she who through all the years had been beckoning him to come. + +With a damp cloth she tenderly touched his bruised face here and there +as the wagon train moved on again. + +"Don't think any the worse of me, Hiram," she pleaded. "Perhaps I'm a +roughneck, after all, as Drummond intimated. But I can't faint and +carry on at the sight of blood and the sound of battering fists as most +women do. I like a fight--a fair fight--a good fight--a manly fight. +Life for me has been always a fight. I've learned not to shrink. Am I +brutal--for a woman?" + +"No," said Hiram. "I think I want you that way. Nobody could look +into your eyes, Jo, and think you weren't tender and compassionate. +I'd want my woman to be a fighter, I guess, when it was the time and +place to fight." + +Jerkline Jo's face was radiant with color, but she said softly: + +"And I want my man to be a fighter. It's in my blood, it seems." + +They said nothing more about it then, but each knew that love had +spoken, and the unfriendly desert seemed a delectable land. + +In camp that night Blink Keddie made a confession. + +"Jo," he said, twisting and squirming, "me and Heine and Jim and Tom +did ease that boulder into the road. We done it to get even for the +empty water tank." + +"Why, Blink!" Jo cried, aghast. + +"We made it up to do it, and not even let Wild Cat in on the deal, +'cause he seemed to think like you did. So we rampsed our teams and +got way ahead o' you folks, then stopped 'em when they was outa you +folks' sight around the curves, and ran back through the trees with +bars. We had our rock all picked out, and it didn't take the four o' +us no time to ease her to the edge and let 'er plunk down in the road +behind you. Then we run ahead through the woods and got on our wagons +before you caught up. Now you know--what're you goin' to do about it?" + +"Shall I have Wild Cat take you out, one at a time," Jo asked +mischievously, after a thoughtful pause. + +Keddie shrugged. "I ain't achin' for my portion o' that," he +confessed, "but ol' Timberline will know he's been in a fight." + +"It was despicable of you boys," Jo said sternly. "We'll not fight +that way." + +"But the empty water tank, Jo!" cried Heine. "My goat ain't through +gettin' got about that deal yet. You gotta fight the devil with fire, +as they say." + +"I'm terribly sorry," Jo continued, her brow clouding. "That act is +responsible for to-day's trouble, and we haven't yet heard the last of +that, I'm afraid. And now _I'll_ have to apologize to Mr. Drummond and +explain." + +"No, no, Jo! Let Hi-_ram_ do it. He knows how to apologize. Think o' +the water tank, Jo!" + +"We have no proof that Drummond or his men were responsible for the +empty tank, boys. I'm terribly sorry. I must think over what's best +to be done now. We mustn't stoop to such methods. Even though we are +subjected to underhand competition, we ourselves must fight fair and +not descend to our enemy's level." + +"You're aimin' to go to heaven, Jo," Gulick accused. "Drummond started +the dirty work. We can show him a dozen tricks to offset emptyin' our +tank. Better tell him not to do anythin' more. We'll stop his clock +if he does." + +"You'll do it fairly, then, or you'll not drive teams for me," Jo +emphatically told them. + +Their silence disturbed her. They knew that she could not do without +them. Even as matters stood, she could have used one more jerkline +skinner could she have found one good enough to handle her much-loved +animals. They were loyal to her, a stanch little army, hard to defeat +if their crude but forceful methods of fighting could be brought into +play. All of them looked upon the girl as their especial charge in +life, and whenever they fought for her they would, with only her +well-being in mind, fight as they saw fit. Still, she could control +them if forewarned of their plans. She always had controlled them--not +by condemning and issuing orders and threatening, but by the exercise +of her sweet womanly personality; for there was not a man of them but +loved her and fairly worshiped at her shrine. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +DRUMMOND'S PASSENGER + +The summer progressed, and great changes were wrought on the desert. +To the last soul Ragtown moved from its first location into the +hospitable arms of Mr. Tweet--but Tweet's hospitality demanded its +price. Outfit after outfit came crawling across the desert to pitch +camp somewhere along the line and begin its portion of the big work in +band. There was a post office at Ragtown, twenty or more saloons, +dance halls and gambling dens combined, restaurants, tent hotels, +stores, and even a bank and a motion-picture show. Thousands of rough, +hard-drinking, hard-fighting men thronged the mushroom town, and it +resembled a mining town of California's early days. Miners and +cattlemen, too, made the town headquarters, and there were frequent +fights and an occasional shooting scrape. The cost of everything was +high. Money flowed freely, as did bootleg jackass brandy. It seemed +that the prohibition enforcement officers had been unable to locate the +infant town. The rough, unrestrained life of the frontier was rife at +Ragtown, and Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet gleaned shekels right and left. + +Jerkline Jo had not seen Al Drummond to speak with him after the fight. +He had been laid up for a week from the terrible battering that Hiram +had given him, and when he was about again he left the country in his +touring car. + +His drivers continued to transport freight to the new Ragtown and to +certain independent contractors who had reached the work. In truth, it +developed that there was plenty of hauling to keep both outfits busy, +and Jerkline Jo was making money hand over fist, as was every one who +had services to offer or something to sell. + +Tehachapi Hank no longer stood like an ogre guarding the portals to the +mountain pass. Drummond had been beaten on that deal, and the gunman's +removal was an admission of defeat. Consequently, Tweet exacted no +charge for the trucks to cross his ranch. Things were running smoothly +between the two freighting enterprises, and Jerkline Jo hoped against +hope that there would be no more trouble. But she had not liked the +baleful look in Drummond's eye when she caught it on the street in +Ragtown one evening. It was plain that he considered great humiliation +had been heaped upon him, and that he was waiting and watching for an +opportunity for revenge. + +Then one day she met him face to face in Julia, and stepped to him to +tell him about the boulder in the road. His glance was like a knife +thrust as he turned on his heel and stalked away before she could +speak. After that, of course, she made no further effort to enlighten +him. + +As the weeks passed it developed that Orr Tweet was not the slowest +salesman in California, where salesmen--especially land +salesmen--achieve their greatest triumphs. Not only did he sell lots +and building sites in Ragtown, but he disposed of the surrounding +acreage to would-be ranchers and speculators, and had been able with +ease, he informed his old friends, to meet his second payment on the +ranch. He urged Jo to invest her earnings in the company, and after +consideration she resolved to take a chance with him; for here and +there, where wells had been sunk and pumping apparatus installed, the +once barren land was turning green and showing evidences of rich and +productive soil. + +So things stood, or refused to stand, in Ragtown and the vicinity when +Drummond drove in one day with no less a passenger than a pretty girl, +all pink and white, named Lucy Dalles. Hiram Hooker came face to face +with her in Ragtown's boisterous business street an hour after her +arrival, for Jo's freight outfit was at rest there for the night. + +Lucy was as pretty in her petite, doll-like way as when she had so +fascinated him in the city, but now he could not help comparing her +hothouse beauty with the brown-skinned, outdoor desirability of +Jerkline Jo. Jo could have picked up this frail, silk-garbed creature +and thrown her overhead; yet in pure womanliness and tenderness Lucy +was not her equal. Jerkline Jo was a queen--a ruler--a fearless woman +with a purpose in life, big of body and soul and brain. Lucy Dalles +was merely a pretty girl, with an ambition for money and life's +frivolous pleasures. Hiram understood this now. + +She greeted him glowingly, and called him by his first name. + +"I told you I was coming," she cried, giggling. "And isn't this rich? +If only I were writing scenarios now!" + +"Aren't you?" asked Hiram. + +"No, I gave it up. They got too exacting for me, and began buying the +picture rights of books and magazine stories by established authors in +preference to original scripts for the screen. I was a piker, +anyway--nothing in me, I guess. So I threw up the sponge." + +"You're still a waitress, then?" + +She looked at him archly. "Not on your sweet young life!" and she +laughed. "I didn't throw ambition overboard when I quit writing +scenarios. Writing in any form is usually a slow road to success, I've +learned. I never wanted to be a writer just for the sake o' the work. +I want jack, and lots of it, and what it'll buy." + +Hiram felt a sudden disgust for her and her sordid aims in life. But +to appear polite he asked: + +"What are you doing, then?" + +"Everybody I can," she retorted. "I worked in a beauty parlor for a +little as a hairdresser and manicure. I'm out for the money, Hiram. +I'm not a pickpocket yet, but that's because I don't know how to be +one. But if you've got any loose change in your pockets watch out. +I'm out for the coin. But here comes Al. He brought me down. He's +going to set me up in business." + +"Drummond?" he asked. "He and I don't speak. We had a little trouble." + +Again she arched her penciled brows. "He didn't tell me," she said. +"He'll be sore at me talkin' to you then. See him over there by that +saloon? He's stopped and is scowling at us. Well, I'll just stick +with you to show him his place. Take me somewhere, Hiram; I want to +see the life." + +Hiram did not know what to say. He would have preferred to terminate +the conversation. Lucy Dalles held no fascination for him now. Hiram +had met and loved a woman without parallel in his brief experience of +life. But he could not be impolite, so he sauntered down the street +with the girl, trying to make conversation and hoping that Drummond +would not be offended all over again. + +In all the resorts men and women were crowding before the bar, gambling +with abandon or dancing. + +"Buy me a drink, Hiram," Lucy pleaded. "I just want to go into one of +these places. Women do it here, I understand." + +Hiram shrugged and led her into the Palace Dance Hall, conducted by a +notorious character, who followed big construction camps, called +"Ghost" Falcott because of his chalk-white skin. + +It was pay day at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's, and the Palace was +crowded. They found a place at the bar, however, and the girl stood +looking over the half-drunken throng with eager eyes, now and then +casting a glance through the door to see if Drummond was following her. + +Their drinks had just been served when into the dive, with a grinning +construction stiff on each arm, marched Jerkline Jo, laughing gayly. + +This was no new sight. Frequently Hiram had seen his adventure girl in +such places, laughing and chatting with old friends of the grade. +Always, it seemed, they respected her and took her actions for granted. + +"Hello, Gentle Wild Cat!" Jo called, catching sight of him. Then she +noticed that he was with the girl, and a quick look of puzzlement came +in her dark eyes. + +Hiram made haste to call her. + +"I want to introduce you," he said quickly. + +Jo turned, still holding to the arms of the stiffs, and Hiram made the +introduction. Jo responded pleasantly, and the look that came in her +eyes told Hiram that she remembered the name and knew who Lucy was. + +"Sorry I can't join you, Hiram," said Jo. "These plugs have got me +dead to rights, and I've promised to set 'em up to the house." + +She released the arms of the stiffs, and, cupping her hands about her +mouth, shouted above the general din: + +"Drinks for the house on Jerkline Jo! Le's go!" + +Some one nudged Hiram on the other side, and he turned to find Orr +Tweet. + +"Did you ever see the likes o' that Jerkline Jo?" he said admiringly. +"What a woman, Hiram! She can get away with anything, and there ain't +a stiff on the grade that would think any the worse of her for it. +She's pure-hearted and clean-minded, and everybody knows it and treats +her like the lady she is. But say---- For Heaven's sake! Look who's +here!" + +His steel-blue eyes had taken in Lucy, who stood studying Jerkline Jo, +the center of a crowd of rough, appreciative men who wrung her hands +right and left. + +Lucy turned and flashed Tweet a bright smile. "I remember you, o' +course," she said, shaking hands. "They tell me you hit the ball an +awful bang down here in Ragtown. I always knew you were there when you +talked to me up in Frisco." + +For several minutes, while bartenders worked frantically to supply Jo's +big order, Tweet and Lucy talked, and Hiram watched Jo. Then Tweet +excused himself and hurried away after some man--a prospective citizen +of Ragtown, no doubt--and Lucy turned to Hiram. + +"So that's Jerkline Jo, is it?" she said half scornfully. "What is +she, Hiram?" + +"A lady," said Hiram with a dangerous note of warning in his tones. + +Lucy sensed it and shrugged. "Maybe she is," she said lightly. "I +don't know anything about her beyond what I've heard, of course--except +that she's a heart-breaker--a man-killer. But what's she doing here?" +she could not help tacking on. + +"I might come back and ask you what you're doing here," Hiram retorted +coldly. + +Lucy shrugged. "Oh, I don't make any pretenses of piety--now," she +said significantly. Then, casting a defiant glance at him, she +produced a silver cigarette case, took a cigarette from it, and begged +for the end of his cigar at which to light it. "They say Jerkline Jo +is grabbing off big jack. How 'bout it?" She puffed indolently, +greatly to her companion's disgust. + +"She works hard and earns money," Jo's supporter defended. "She raised +the wages of all of us, too, as soon as business began to look up. We +skinners get ninety dollars a month and board now." + +"Ninety dollars a month!" Lucy said jeeringly. "D'ye call that money! +I didn't think you'd continue to be such a fish as long as this, Hiram." + +"Well, I'm investin' it," said Hiram. "It may be more some day." + +Luck looked suddenly into Hiram's eyes, then let her lashes cover her +own. + +"I guess this pious Jerkline Jo has got you goin'," she observed. + +"I work for her," said Hiram awkwardly. + +"Any man would, I guess. Men are all suckers." + +Hiram said nothing to this, and presently, stating that he would be +obliged to return to camp, asked Lucy if she was ready to go. + +Rather petulantly she gave in, and just outside the door they +encountered the glowering Al Drummond. + +"Lucy," he said sharply, "come here!" + +"I'll have to go," Lucy said to Hiram. "See you later, honey boy from +the woods. Good night!" + +Hiram saw Drummond take a step and roughly grab Lucy's arm as she +tripped up to him. They walked away, plainly indulging in a heated +argument. + +"'Honey boy,' huh!" and Hiram snorted. "Men are suckers--till they +meet a regular woman!" + +He hurried back to camp and rolled himself in his blankets without +further thought of the girl who had caused him to make such a fool of +himself in San Francisco. Had he but known it the advent of Lucy +Dalles in Ragtown was to have a great deal to do with the future +fortunes of both Jerkline Jo and himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +LUCY SEES A PROSPECT + +There was so much freighting that summer that the combined outfits of +Jerkline Jo Modock and Al Drummond were taxed to capacity. The new +settlers made constant demands upon them, and, though their wants were +puny in comparison with those of the camps, Jo accommodated them +whenever she could. Water had been struck at the surprisingly shallow +depth of forty-five feet in some places, and many pumping plants were +transported over the mountains. Things looked as if Twitter-or-Tweet +was about due to make his fortune, and Jo kept investing more and more +of her surplus earnings, and he was meeting his payments promptly. +There was talk of Ragtown eventually being made a division point. If +this transpired, the railroad shops would be erected there, and the +permanent success of the town would be assured. Already a few +venturesome souls were building permanent structures whenever they were +fortunate enough to get building materials hauled in. + +Drummond's five-ton trucks seemed to be meeting all requirements, and +he had added to his fleet. Jo, however, remained conservative. She +had seen rag towns spring up on railroad grades before--many of +them--only to disappear forever with the laying of the steel. Still, +she had confidence in the farming possibilities of Paloma Rancho--but +she bought no more equipment, principally, perhaps, because she could +not get desirable jerkline skinners, and because extra equipment would +mean more work for her, more time taken from her studies. She was +content with a good thing so far as financial success was +concerned--her great ambition was for an education. + +Drummond, of course, was also making money; but he fell a prey to the +lure of the free-and-easy life of the frontier town, and gambled and +drank perpetually. There were stories of big losses at faro, under +which Drummond did not always bear up as a good sport should. + +As for Lucy Dalles, that ambitious young woman entered with gusto into +the feverish life of Ragtown. Drummond had leased a shooting-gallery +concession from the accommodating Tweet, and had ensconced the girl +behind the rifles--or in front of them--to run the gallery. + +So she confided to Hiram Hooker, when he passed along Ragtown's main +thoroughfare one night, and for the first time saw her on exhibition in +the gallery. She had partitioned off one corner of the gallery and set +up a manicure and hairdressing parlor. Of mornings, when business in +the gallery was dull, she made many an extra dollar by beautifying the +women of Ragtown. + +"Yes, there's money in it," she said. "Al had the gallery stunt in +mind when he brought me down, so I quit the beauty parlor where I was +working in Frisco and got a job in a shooting gallery and learned how +to run one and to keep my noodle from getting in front of a gun. My +face is my fortune, after all, Hiram boy. One look at my smile, and +the hicks come right in and pick up a rifle. I'm coinin' money, and +I'm having the time of my young life. Last night a miner bet me five +dollars against a kiss he could knock over ten ducks in ten shots. He +did it, and I paid up like a sport. It got the gang started at the +game, and in the end I grabbed off thirty bucks, and only kissed twice. +Pretty soft--what? I guess you're horrified, Hiram?" She glanced at +him with coquettish defiance. + +"Disgusted," Hiram could truthfully have said, but he only grinned and +thanked his stars for his escape. + +Lucy's dark eyes flashed daggers at the broad back of Hiram Hooker as +he left her and swung along indifferently up the street. With a +woman's intuition she had known in San Francisco that the big, handsome +countryman with the soft, drawling voice had fallen a victim to her +charms. Now, because of Jerkline Jo, he was utterly indifferent to +her. Lucy was piqued, angry at him, angrier at Jerkline Jo. She did +not love Hiram, but she wanted him to love her, and though she did not +want him she wanted no other woman to own him. + +"I'll fix you one o' these days, you big hick!" she threatened between +clenched teeth. + +Summer passed all too quickly for those who labored incessantly, and +the winter rains set in. They at once grew harder and more frequent, +and then it poured as it does only in the West. Snow fell in the +mountains. Then the activities of Al Drummond ceased abruptly. + +No wonder, for often as high as twenty teams were hooked on to the +enormous wagons of Jerkline Jo, and every animal was obliged to pull to +the limit of his strength to move the terrific weight, hub-deep in the +clinging mud. This did not tend to improve the road, of course, and +all of Drummond's efforts to corduroy it and otherwise preserve a firm +path for his machines were unavailing. The tortoise had won the race! + +Drummond had gambled away his profits, and now it was whispered about +that he still owed money on his trucks. Before the last of November he +gave up in despair, allowed his trucks to be taken by the mortgagees, +and settled down to a life of gambling on the proceeds of his +shooting-gallery concession. + +One day there trudged into Ragtown a strange figure, marked by the +desert, bent and old, in the wake of six lamenting burros laden with +mining supplies and tools. He gave the name of Basil Filer, and said +that he was seeking gold. Ragtown promptly wrote him down as a crazy +prospector. His eye caught the eye of Lucy Dalles, leaning over her +carpeted counter between her rifles, and when he had made camp he +limped along and accosted her. + +"Come in and try a string, Uncle," she begged with the little pout she +had found so effective in coercing male humanity into her lair. "An +old desert rat like you oughta hit the bull's-eye every shot." + +Filer grinned and stepped up to the counter, eying the girl from under +heavy, fierce eyebrows that looked as if the dust of a thousand trails +had settled in them. Lucy lowered her dark lashes and looked demure. + +"B'long on the desert, girlie?" rumbled the deep voice of the old +prospector. + +"Sure, Uncle." + +"Uh-huh. And how old might ye be, now?" + +"Nearly twenty-two." + +"Uh-huh--pretty near twenty-two. That's nice. Where's yer paw and +maw?" + +"They're both dead," Lucy told him, trying to appear innocent and +unsophisticated as she lifted her glance to his face. + +"Maybe now yer paw was a desert prospector," he suggested. + +"Uh-huh." Lucy nodded her fluffy head vigorously up and down. This +was another childlike action which she had found pleasing to +men--especially the older men. Of course she was lying like a little +sailor; but "Uncle" seemed interested in her, and business was dull +just then. She would pretend to be all that he seemed to wish her to +be as long as she could successfully follow his conversational leads. + +"What do they call you, girlie?" he asked next. + +"Lucy." + +"Lucy, eh? Lucy what, now?" + +"Lucy Dalles." + +"Dalles, huh? Dalles!" His weird old eyes, peculiarly tinted from +years of looking into the mirage-draped distances of the desert, were +strangely reminiscent. + +"Maybe that ain't your right name, though," he kept on feelingly. + +"Maybe not," replied Lucy quite truthfully. After all, she had only +her father's and her mother's word for it. For all she knew she might +be the reincarnation of the Queen of Sheba. "Let's try a shot, Uncle," +she added, sensing deep water ahead. + +Indolently he picked up a .22 rifle, and rang the bell of her most +difficult bull's-eye target eight shots out of ten. He paid her and +seemed in nowise elated over her fulsome praise, designed to keep him +shooting. + +He took up his long cane again. "I'll drift up the drag a ways," he +said, "and see what's goin' on. Nothin' but desert owls lived here +when I traveled through last--two years ago. I'll be back. Maybe I'll +want to ast ye a few p'inted questions. Will ye answer, eh?" + +"Sure," she told him lightly, whacking her gum for emphasis. "Come and +pour your heart out to me, Uncle--I'll listen." + +Lucy had taken more of the well-filled buckskin poke that the old man +had pulled from the neck of his greasy shirt to pay her for the pastime. + +She leaned out and craned her neck to watch him moving up the street, +glancing through doors and openly investigating on every side. + +Her intuition told her that the gray old rat had something on his mind. +Lonely old soul that he was, she reasoned, he was bashful and at a loss +how to conduct himself in the unfamiliar presence of a woman. "When +he's all gowed up he'll talk my head off," she decided. "He's going to +fortify himself now. Guess I'll have to look into this." + +When the bent, plodding figure had disappeared through the entrance to +Ghost Falcott's Palace Dance Hall, Lucy called across the street to a +boy sitting on the edge of the new board sidewalk. The boy crossed to +her and she handed him a dime. + +"Find Al Drummond and tell him I want to see him at once," she directed. + +A little later Al Drummond presented himself. His face showed the +effects of a sleepless night, but he was already refortified with +jackass brandy for the ordeals of the day, and was in nowise stupid. + +They leaned on the carpeted counter, heads close together, and talked +in lowered voices. + +"What this old bird has got on his chest I can't tell," Lucy explained. +"But I played up to him, and if he gets all gowed up he'll spill it. +He's crazy as they make 'em, Al. It may not amount to anything at all, +but I'm for always lookin' into such little things. You never can +tell, Al. Maybe this'll be good. Anyway, he's got a leather bag +that's heavy with jack, and he won't need that when he hits the trail +again. Warm up to him and get 'im started, then steer him to me." + +"Wise little kid," Al Drummond commented. "Leave it to me." + +The male plotter experienced no difficulty in finding the grizzled +desert rat. He was evidently a self-starter, having brought his own, +and, all alone at Ghost Falcott's bar, he was pouring raw jackass +brandy down a throat that seemed urgently in need of it. Seeing that +he was satisfactorily working out his own destruction, Drummond shot +craps to divert himself until the prospector should become mellowed to +a point where it was safe to approach him. + +It seemed though that the old man had an enormous capacity. An hour +passed, and, though he drank repeatedly on his high-lonesome, he seemed +little the worse for it. Drummond patiently watched and waited. He +knew that with some newly distilled brandy does not take immediate +effect, but that drunkenness comes on suddenly when the victim least +expects it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +JERKLINE JO'S SURPRISE + +Meantime events were happening out in the street which were to have a +distinct bearing on Lucy and Al's plot to separate Basil Filer from the +contents of his buckskin poke. + +These events, however, were quite commonplace on the face of them. The +first was the arrival of Jerkline Jo's wagon train, loaded to the +gunwales with case goods, general merchandise, and food for stock. + +The arrival of Jerkline Jo and her proud huskies always was an event of +importance at Ragtown. They made a picture as the heavy eight and +ten-horse teams with the hundreds of bells a-jingle rolled the immense +wagons down the street, while Jo's skinners, quite aware of the furor +they were creating, called "Gee" and "Haw" and manipulated their +jerklines unnecessarily, for the sole purpose of awing the spectators. +One wagon was stopped at Huber's store; the rest continued on through +to Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One, a half mile beyond the +town. + +It was Jo's whites that had been brought to a halt before Huber's. The +proprietor came out and asked that the load be discharged in the rear, +as he had just completed a new freight platform at the back entrance. + +"Right!" called Jo. Then, "Annie! Ned! Feel of it, white folks! +Bert! Snip! All together. Let's go!" + +Like a well-trained company of infantry, the ten whites leaned to the +collars, and the eight tons behind them moved off as easily as a baby +buggy. The hub of all eyes, the attractive girl with cries of "Gee" +and "Haw" and picturesque manipulation of the jerkline, swung her team +around the corner and into the alley. Men with whom she had a standing +agreement to unload freight for her when their services were needed +already had come through the store, and were waiting for her on the new +platform. Dexterously she guided the team with the jerkline and by +word of mouth, so that the load crept along not two inches from the +edge of the platform and came to a stop. + +She left her team standing, for Hiram Hooker was to ride back on her +black saddle pony for them as soon as the remainder of the outfit had +reached the camp. Whistling, with her leather chaps swishing, she +walked through the store, smiling right and left at the clerks. + +"Well, Jo, how was the trip?" asked Huber as she leaned on the edge of +the window to the proprietor's office and handed him her bills of +lading. + +"Oh, much the same as usual," she replied. "The whirlwinds gave us +some trouble. They're prevalent this time of year on the desert, and +are sometimes fearfully annoying--especially so if it's been dry for a +few days and the top of the sand isn't moist." + +"What do they do to you, Jo?" asked Huber interestedly. + +"Drive you crazy sometimes," she laughed. "They're just like little +cyclones, you know. You'll be moving along serenely, when one of them +will steal up behind you, and before you know it you're the center of a +maelstrom of sand and dust, unable to see, your hat gone, your mouth +and nose filled with--well, about everything that the desert boasts of. +I was feeding hay to a pair of my horses this noon, when a whirlwind +slipped up on me. I threw myself flat on the ground, as one must do or +be swept off his feet, and when it had passed there was not one scrap +of that dry alfalfa hay where I'd thrown it. I found my hat a mile +distant. My nostrils and ears and eyes and mouth were literally loaded +with dirt and fine hay chaff. And my hair! Heavens!" She put her +hands to it. "I usually wear it in braids, you know, but to-day I +thought I'd be smart and perk up a bit. Now I'll have to 'go to the +cleaners,' as Heine says." + +Huber laughed. "Say, Jo," he said, "that reminds me. There's a girl +here that'll give you a shampoo. She runs a shooting gallery, and has +a little beauty parlor on the side. Oh, we're getting quite urban at +Ragtown. We'll have Turkish baths next. Go to see her--she'll fix you +up." + +"I'll just do that," said Jo, and went out on the street. + +Then for the first time she became aware that Lucy Dalles was the +proprietress of Ragtown's beauty parlor, and even then she did not find +it out until she was inside the parlor and Lucy entered by a side door +that connected with the gallery. It was too late to back out +gracefully, even had Jo been inclined to do so. + +"Why, hello!" she said. "I didn't know you ran this place. Miss +Dalles, isn't it? We met in the Palace Dance Hall one night, didn't +we?" + +Lucy smiled professionally. She did not like this strong, rugged, +beautiful girl who strode along the street with such a firm, conquering +tread and left men gaping after her. Still, she could not afford to +show her dislike. + +"Oh, yes--I remember you perfectly well," she said. "Who wouldn't +remember the famous Jerkline Jo! Is there something I can do for you?" + +"Mercy, yes!" laughed Jo. "One look at me ought to show you that." +She told about the whirlwind, and Lucy smiled thinly, and indicated the +chair. + +Jo climbed into it, and was bundled with clean, perfumed towels that +caused her to grow reminiscent of school days and dainty dresses and +all the things that as Jerkline Jo she had been obliged to put aside. + +"Do you know," she said as Lucy began her delicate ministrations, "I've +never before in my life been in a beauty parlor." + +"You are one of the few women who do not need one," said Lucy, forced +to a sincere compliment by the undeniable, fresh beauty of her patron. + +"Oh, thank you!" said Jo with a laugh. "It's not just that, though. I +expect, if the truth were told, I've needed the services of a beauty +artist for years. But I was raised in a construction camp, you know, +until I was pretty much of a young lady, and such things were entirely +out of my ken. Then at Palada, where my foster father eventually +settled and went into the freighting business and running a store, we +were not so progressive as Ragtown even. So when I went to boarding +school in the Middle West I was virtually immune from many of the new +fads. You, then, are the first person that ever washed my hair--except +myself, of course. I remember even that my dear old foster mother +always made me wash it when I was a kid--once a year perhaps," she +ended with a laugh. "Poor ma! She had little enough time to fuss with +a child's hair, cooking for big, hungry men all the time as she was, +and driving a slip team while she was resting." + +Jo was merely trying to make conversation, for she could think of +little to say that she thought might touch a responsive cord in the +fluffy girl from the city. Jerkline Jo was a man's woman. She could +talk about almost anything that other women could not bring into their +conversation. + +"You've had an interesting life, haven't you?" observed Lucy, +manipulating Jo's scalp till the skin tingled pleasantly. "I wish I +could have met you when I was writing moving-picture scenarios. What a +character you would have made for the heroine of a Western thriller!" + +"Oh, you've written scenarios! How interesting! And--and--if this +isn't trespassing on delicate ground--sold them?" + +Lucy tittered. "Yes, I sold some of them," she replied. + +This gave them a basis for conversation, and they progressed famously +until the grinning face of a railroad-construction stiff appeared +suddenly at the door. + +"Hey!" he called to other stiffs behind him. "Look wot's goin' on!" + +"Hello, there, 'Squinty' Malley!" and Jo laughed. "Get your face out +of that door. This is sacred ground, you roughneck!" + +"Look at Jo!" derided Squinty, an old friend of the girl's in many a +half-remembered camp. "Hey, youse plugs, gadder 'round here and lamp +Jerkline Jo dollin' up! Good night!" + +"Beat it now!" Jo reiterated. + +"Say, dis here's good!" retorted Squinty. "I to't youse was a reg'lar +woman, Jo! Youse know more 'bout cuffin' ole Jack an' Ned dan youse do +'bout fixin' yer hair. Say, lady," he addressed Lucy, "fix 'er +up--hey? Doll 'er up proper, an' le's see wot de ol'-timer looks like." + +"You'll oblige me by getting out of the door," said Lucy indignantly. + +"Oh, don't scold the poor eel!" pleaded Jerkline Jo. "He doesn't know +any better. So you want to see me dolled up, do you, Squint? By +George, you're on, old-timer! I've got some glad rags here in this +burg. Go on now! I'll be the queen of the ball to-night!" + +"Lucy," Jo laughed familiarly when the tramps had vanished, "fix up my +hair the best you possibly can. Give me the latest, will you? I'm +going to have some fun to-night." + +An hour later, when darkness had settled over Ragtown and the night's +revel was on, there entered the Palace Dance Hall a figure that brought +gamblers from their absorbing games, stopped the dizzying whirl of the +dancers, and caused glasses that were halfway to eager lips to pause in +mid-air. + +Jerkline Jo's almost black hair was piled on top of her head in +bewildering fashion, and set off with flashing rhinestone ornaments, +furnished by Lucy Dalles. Jo wore a semievening dress of pale-blue +silk, and Lucy had powdered her face and neck until little contrast +could be noted between skin that had braved the desert winds and that +which had been protected. Jo wore fashionable slippers with great +shell buckles and high French heels. She cast a dazzling smile over +the silent assemblage, then threw back her glorious head and let her +laughter ring. + +That laugh revealed her identity. + +"Jerkline Jo!" came a chorus of yells, and men stared at her, while +women drew together in groups, their comments expressed in lowered +voices. + +As they crowded around her Lucy Dalles peered in at the door, a +contemptuous sneer on her lips. + +"Have a good time, old girl!" she muttered, grinding her little white +teeth. "But I learned something to-day that'll set _you_ back a step +or two. Get me to doll you up, will you, you impossible roughneck? +You'll pay for that!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +DRUMMOND WEAVES A DREAM + +Shortly after Jerkline Jo left the beauty parlor of Lucy Dalles, +mischievously bent on giving Ragtown a harmless little shock, Al +Drummond sidled up to the old prospector at the bar in the Palace Dance +Hall. + +"Hello, old-timer," he said with a cheerful smile. "How's prospecting +these days?" + +The old desert rat fixed a filmy eye on him. "Have a shot," he invited +with the suggestion of a thickening tongue. + +"Thanks, old hoss. Don't care if I do. That is, if you'll have one +with me." + +They drank, and Drummond promptly ordered another. A lowering of his +left eyelid gave the bartender his instructions, and a sprinkling of +powder found its way into the glass that was thumped before Basil Filer. + +Not long after this he became agreeable to anything that Al Drummond +might suggest. Al took him from place to place, always standing his +share of the exorbitant prices demanded in Ragtown, and finally +suggested that they try their marksmanship as a diversion. + +"Good!" agreed Filer gutturally. "Little girl, eh? Pretty!" He +winked knowingly at Drummond. "I wanta have talk with her. I know who +she is. B'en trailin' her fer years. Le's go, pardner. You're goo' +scout. So'm I--hey?" + +"You bet your sweet life you're a good scout! Come on--we'll have a +time to-night." + +Drummond had previously sent a boy to Lucy with a note informing her +that the come-on was about ripe for plucking, and telling her to put +some one else in charge of the gallery and be in readiness. Lucy had +sent out and found the man who at times relieved her, and when Drummond +and the old gold-seeker lurched up she was free to act as the +circumstances might demand. + +The two men fired at the targets for a little, Filer failing to display +the same wonderful marksmanship which he had done earlier in the +evening. Eventually Lucy invited the two to go back into the little +cabin in the rear of the gallery where she carried on her trifling +domestic activities. Filer readily agreed to this, and presently the +three were seated around a table in Lucy's cabin, with a coal-oil lamp +on it, a deck of cards suggestively in evidence, and a bottle of +precious brandy and glasses. Lucy had brought from San Francisco her +leopard-skin rug, the overstuffed chairs, and her other extravagances +in house furnishings. Their contrast with the new pine walls of the +cabin produced an effect quite startling and bizarre. Basil Filer saw +none of it, however. He became very drowsy when he was seated. Al +Drummond winked at Lucy. + +The girl shook her head, and presently, seeing that the prospector was +almost asleep, leaned toward her fellow conspirator and whispered: + +"Don't hurry about getting his roll. Try to liven him up and get him +to talking. I'm curious. He's got something on his mind that may make +that buckskin bag look like thirty cents." + +"Get the jack," ordered Al. "To-morrow he won't even remember he ever +saw us. You're letting your story-telling instinct warp your judgment, +Lucy. You're looking for mysteries. I'll get that roll right now." + +"No, leave it, Al, please! You can get it later, if I'm wrong. But I +just feel that this old fella's got something locked up in his breast. +Rouse him and leave him to me. I'll make him talk. I'm sorry you +doped him. You may have spoiled everything." + +At this instant she looked up to see the bleary old eyes fixed on her +intently. + +"Feeling better, Uncle?" she asked lightly. "I've got some +bromo-seltzer. I'll give you a shot; it will liven you up. Don't want +to go down and out so early in the evening, old sport!" + +"Desert girl, huh?" thickly muttered Basil Filer. "Huh--I know +somethin' 'bout you. You was found on the desert, wasn't ye--when +you's li'l' girl--baby girl? I know. Can't fool o' Filer. B'en +huntin' you f'r years." He closed his eyes again, and his head sank +forward on his breast. + +Lucy shook him awake and prepared a dose of bromo-seltzer, which he +readily drank at her command. + +"How did you know about me, Uncle?" she asked. "What you said is the +truth. I was found on the desert here when I was a baby girl. But how +did you know? Tell me all about it. Do you know my father's name?" + +"Sure! Sure! Name was Len-Len-Len-Leonard Prince. You're Jean +Prince. Len Prince was m' ol' pardner. I'm lookin'--lookin' for the +claim Len Prince and me and The Chink found--and lost ag'in. Rich! +Yellow with gol'. You're Jean Prince--I know. I c'n prove it by your +head. Tha's what I wanta see--yer head--down under the hair. That'll +tell me you're Baby Jean Prince. Then I c'n find the gold." + +Lucy clutched Al Drummond's arm. "Listen to him! Listen to him!" she +breathed. + +Hiram Hooker stood aghast in the entrance of the Palace Dance Hall. +All eyes within were focused on a couple waltzing in the center of the +floor to low music. The man was a Mr. Dalworth, Ragtown's new banker, +in charge of the branch of a Los Angeles banking institution that had +been opened in the frontier camp. The girl, smiling and radiant and +glistening with pale-blue silk and gems, was his adventure girl, +Jerkline Jo. + +Never had Hiram seen Jo in anything but a flannel shirt, Stetson hat, +and chaps or divided riding skirt. Despite the fact that she was +making money fast and that he was working for her at ninety dollars a +month, Hiram had not before looked upon her as entirely out of his +reach. He was learning fast, and had lost much of his backwoods +uncouthness. He loved Jerkline Jo as only a big-hearted, simple-souled +man can love a woman. Some day, he had told himself, he would do +something to make himself worthy of her, for he never would ask her to +marry him while he was in her employ. He was too proud to ask an +independent girl to marry him when he had nothing to offer. + +That rare feminine creature gliding so gracefully over the floor with +the dapper, well-dressed banker, however, plunged Hiram into the depths +of despair. Financially, mentally, and now socially, he felt her +altogether out of his world. He had forgotten until now her days at +school and in polite society. + +It did not make him think the worse of her to see her dancing in a +saloon, with rough men from the cities standing about and looking on +admirably. Ragtown was Ragtown, and people did things here which would +have ostracized them from decent society elsewhere. It was not this +that hurt; he knew that the girl was pure-minded and that her morals +were flawless, despite what prudish persons--of which there were none +in Ragtown--might have thought of her choice of the place which she +chose to satisfy her whim of the evening. Jo was one of those rare +souls who can pass among evil men and women and not only not be +contaminated, but preserve an unsullied reputation, too. It was the +dress and the glittering tones and the wonderful coiffure, and her +gentlemanly, well-groomed partner of the dance, that caused him to turn +away, bitter and broken in spirit. + +"Well, how do you like her to-night?" came a taunting voice. + +Lucy Dalles had stepped beside him and peering in at the revel. + +"Some class, eh? Some lady, I'll say! Oh, sure!" + +Hiram could have choked her, but without a remark he sped away from her +into the night. + +It was then that Lucy Dallas clenched her teeth and hurled invective at +the radiant girl within. + +She left the scene and hurried back to her little cabin, where the +crazy prospector, Basil Filer, lay in a heap on the floor, snoring +loudly. + +A moment after her entry Al Drummond came in again with another man +following him. + +"How much jack did you leave him?" he whispered to the girl. + +"I left it all. It's safest. What I copied from the paper will be +worth a thousand times what's in that money bag." + +"Just the same, I want money now--to-night," Drummond said, and, +stooping, pulled the poke from the shirt front of the unconscious miner. + +"Take only half of it, then," Lucy pleaded. "Then he'll think he spent +that much. Don't be a piker, Al. You've got something big to work +for, and you try to spoil it by rolling a stiff for a few dollars." + +Drummond grunted, slipped a wad of bills into his trousers pocket, and +replaced the poke in the desert rat's shirt. + +"All right, Stool," he said to the other man. "You take his head; I'll +take his feet." + +A little later a train of pack burros moved away from Ragtown into the +desert night. + +A mile from town the man Stool halted them and waited, and presently +heard the chug of a motor. Soon Al Drummond drove up in the last of +his five-ton trucks, in the bottom of which, tossed about, lay the +still unconscious form of the old prospector. + +The two men worked swiftly, and slanted two twelve-inch planks two +inches thick from the rear end of the truck to the ground. With ropes +about the necks of the desert rat's six burros, they hauled and +hammered and coaxed them one by one aboard the truck. Then on into the +night they drove, over the vast, black desert. + +Seventy-five miles from Ragtown they stopped the car, and unloaded the +burros and their snoring master. They rolled the man in his blankets, +then set the burros' packs about in orderly array and loosed the little +animals to crop the bunch grass that was green and succulent in winter. +From one pack bag they took cooking utensils and other articles, and +ranged them about on the ground as the old man himself might have done +upon making camp. + +"He'll wake up to-morrow and think he dreamed about Ragtown," chuckled +Drummond. + +"He sure will know he's nutty then," said Stool. + +They climbed once more into the truck, and before dawn were back in the +city of tents and new pine shacks. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +WHAT HAPPENED AT THE LAKE + +Shortly before dusk on the night following Jerkline Jo's revel in +Ragtown, the empty wagons of her train rumbled to the highest point in +the mountain pass and were drawn up side by side, like an artillery +organization in "battery-front" formation, on the shores of the +mountain lake. + +Jo's fireless cooker had been working for her throughout the trip, and +while her bantering skinners cared for the teams and greased the great +axles in preparation for the morrow's journey, the girl made ready the +evening meal. + +At last supper was over, and, as was their custom, the men helped her +wash the dishes. Thus the task became a short one. The men settled +down to their smoking about the crackling camp fire, and as light still +remained at this high altitude, Jo decided on a stroll along the lake +shore. + +All about stood the tall peaks, their crests snow-mantled. Over the +level lowlands about the lake the silent forests of pine and fir swept +away on all sides. The lake, some two miles in length, lay like an +opal in the palm of the mountains, flashing fiery colors that it stole +from the sunset clouds above it. + +The air was chill and quiet. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the +tranquil lake, so cold and remote. Jo buttoned her coat for warmth and +trudged on away from the camp, watching flocks of chattering mudhens +and mallards that fed on a long spaghettilike growth which grew on the +lake bottom and floated to the surface. + +She walked for a mile before she turned. She was thinking of the +previous night, and of the banker's unexpected proposal of marriage +when she had accepted his invitation for supper after the dance. She +had known Dalworth only a short time, and his ardent wooing had come as +a distinct surprise. + +Now she had turned back toward the winking eye of the camp fire, which +threw a brilliant dagger of light across the now dark lake. In the +stream of fiery color, water fowl bobbed about grotesquely. Close at +hand was a grove of pines, a few trees extending down to the shore, +though for the most part the land immediately about the lake was an +open, grassy meadow. She heard a slight rustling in among the pines as +she passed them. + +She had not strapped on her cartridge belt and six-shooter when leaving +camp. In fact, she seldom carried the weapon, but always kept it +hanging close to her hand in the wagon. Now and then she strapped it +on when in Ragtown, for of late an element had been sifting in with +which she was not familiar. It represented the riffraff from the +cities--men who knew nothing of construction camps and were unaware of +the fact that she, because of old associations and a thorough +understanding of frontier men and frontier life, could enter a dance +hall and still be respected and absolutely safe from harm. One of +these had put an arm about her one night, and promptly had been +rewarded with a blow on the nose; for Jo did not slap when she +administered rebuke, but punched expertly and powerfully, as does a +man. Next moment the offender had been pitched bodily into the street +by as many rough hands as could lay hold of him. Only Jo's +intervention had saved the man from being kicked into insensibility. + +Once again she heard the rustling, and wished that she had her gun. It +was only some animals, she told herself--a coon or a skunk, or perhaps +a wild cat or coyote prowling about to spring upon an unsuspecting +mudhen that had swam too far inshore. Still, a strange dread seized +her, and she quickened her step. + +Again she heard the rustle and the sound of a soft footfall. No animal +would have produced that single, rather heavy tread. She glanced +apprehensively toward the dark trees, and it seemed to her that she saw +a black upright bulk move stealthily from one trunk to another. + +Then two things happened at once. From the pines stealthily emerged +the figure of a man--there was no mistaking it. But in the same +instant there came a call from close at hand: + +"Jo! Jo! Where are you?" + +A feeling of vast relief came over the girl as she recognized the +caressing voice of the man from Wild-cat Hill. Instantly the figure on +her left faded; the blur of it became one with the shadows of the trees. + +"Hiram!" she called gladly. "Here I am! Hurry!" + +The sound of running feet answered her, and in a little while the big +form of Hiram Hooker reached her side. + +Jo was breathing weakly. She could not remember of ever before having +been so near a panic or fright. What had caused the unfamiliar feeling +now was a mystery to her--unless the suggested menace in the sight of +the dark, skulking figure had been augmented by the ghostly quietude of +the black forest and the unfriendly solitude of the cold mountain lake. + +"Oh, Hiram!" she cried. "I'm so glad you're here! Hiram--I--I believe +I'm sc-scared." + +How it happened neither of them knew, for all at once his powerful arms +were about her, and she had crept into them as less courageous women +instinctively seek the protection of the stronger sex. His arms +tightened and she pressed closer to him as if she were cold and seeking +warmth. Hiram was ablaze with love for her and exultation. He lifted +her bodily from the ground, and her lips quivered against his. + +"Oh, Hiram! Hiram!" she cried then as if in terror. "What am I doing? +What is the matter with me? You kissed me, Hiram, and--and I let you! +I must have been terribly frightened. I--I seem to have lost my +reason." + +"No! No! Don't say that!" begged Hiram huskily. "Jo, I love you! +You love me, Jo. Say you love me." + +She hid her face against his breast and said nothing, but her shoulders +shook. + +"Jo, say it!" he pleaded. "Don't torment me! You must love me. You +came to my arms when trouble threatened. Tell me that you love me, Jo!" + +She only trembled and shivered as if cold. + +"Tell me, Jo! Don't torture me. Tell me that you love me!" + +There was a stifled sob; then, in muffled tones: + +"You big, blind country jake! If you don't know that I'm telling you +that with every nerve and fiber of my being, you deserve torture!" + +The forest and the lake came together in Hiram's vision, then vanished. +There was no lake, no trees, no sentinel peaks about them. + +"But, Jo," said Hiram as they walked back slowly toward the camp, his +arm about her waist, "I can't marry you. I've got nothing--I'm only +your skinner. You--why, your profits every month run up into four +figures. Oh, I wish you hadn't a cent! I wish Drummond had beaten us +out!" + +"What foolish talk!" she said scornfully. "What is money? I care so +little for money, Hiram. It was only to try and preserve from total +collapse all my hard-working, indomitable, old foster father had built +up so patiently that I undertook the freighting job. I've made +money--lots of it--and if you think you and the rest of the boys +haven't had a big share in my success you're all wrong. We'll keep on +skinning them to Ragtown till the steel is laid; then I mean to do +something handsome by the men who have been so loyal to me, and sell +the outfit. Then"--she sighed--"then something else," she finished. + +"But that's neither here nor there," Hiram pointed out. "I'm penniless +compared with you. I couldn't marry a girl who had money while I have +nothing to offer her. I'm too much of a man for that. Why, everything +that I have I owe to you--even the education I am so slowly acquiring." + +"Oh, I won't listen to such talk, Hiram! Most of my money is invested +in Tweet's project, anyway. We'll let him handle it, and you and I +will continue to study and improve ourselves. Then when Tweet begins +to pay us dividends we'll travel, and----" + +"On your money! Not in a thousand years!" + +"You're bull-headed about a trifle, Hiram," she accused. + +"Jo," he said after a thoughtful pause, "don't wear that blue silk +dress and those diamonds and have your hair fixed that way any more. +It--it makes me feel hollowlike." + +They had almost forgotten the man in the pines, there was so much else +to think about now. Jo was almost ready to confess that she had +imagined the entire incident--that she had heard only a prowling animal +and had seen the shadow of a shrub. Hiram, on his part, was too +triumphant over the thought that he, only a few months from the +backwoods of Mendocino County, had captured the heart of this splendid +girl, whom men praised and admired and swore by throughout all the +desert region. + +Still the man was stubborn. In him was a knight-errantry which forbade +him to marry a girl and profit by the rewards of her pluck, energy, and +business courage. If he could not make money to offer her, he must do +something big for her, must win for her some conflict that threatened +her fortunes, must make himself worthy of her by some great service. + +Hiram still kept his boyish dreams of the adventure girl who had +beckoned him from the forests to deeds of emprise. He had found his +adventure girl, but he would not consider that he had won her yet. He +little knew that night that his opportunity was close at hand, and that +the shadow which the coming event had cast before it had lurked there +in the lakeside pines. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +JO LOSES HER SUPPORT + +Eight days later Jerkline Jo leaned on the ledge of the office window +in Huber's store at Ragtown and handed him the various papers which +accompanied a consignment of freight from Julia. + +"There's no hay, Jo," he cried, looking up in perplexity and worriment. + +"The Mulligan Supply Company was short of hay when we left," Jo +explained. "They hoped to have a trainload in by the time I got back." + +"There's the dickens to pay!" he grumbled. "They know I have to have +hay right along. I've a standing order for at least half a load of hay +every trip. These settlers are buying it fast. I have only ten bales +on hand. Next fellow that comes along will probably want all ten of +them. A nice mess! What's the matter with those Ikes over there at +Julia? Are they asleep?" + +"It seems they've had some difficulty in getting alfalfa here lately," +the girl explained. "I'm sorry, Mr. Huber. The best I can do for you +is to promise to bring every bale I can next trip." + +"Rush it," ordered the merchant. "If you can make it, let somebody +else's order ride, Jo, and bring me every pound you can." + +"I'll see what can be done," was her promise as she left and went to +the little cabin that she had had built for her at the edge of town. + +Here she cleansed herself of the stains of the trip, and substituted +for chaps and flannel shirt a new tailor-made suit which had just come +from Los Angeles. As she was about to go out again Twitter-or-Tweet +Orr Tweet knocked on her door. + +"Jo," he said with his whimsical smile, "I'm showing a couple o' men +some property, and thought you might like to take a ride. You've never +seen much of the cultivated land, have you--except from a distance? +Come 'n' see what chances your money's got in Paloma Rancho, the +Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey. Won't be gone over an +hour." + +His car was waiting, with his two prospective land purchasers in the +tonneau. Jo readily agreed, for she had nothing to occupy her, and +Tweet helped her in beside the driver's seat, after introducing the men +to her. + +Tweet drove slowly and talked a great deal, steering the car with one +hand and directing his conversation at all three of his listeners. He +dwelt at length to the strangers on Jerkline Jo's great success in her +freighting enterprise, not neglecting to mention that she was investing +a great portion of her profits in Paloma Rancho. The men were +impressed. + +Jo, too, was impressed with Tweet's abilities as a salesman. He +emanated confidence, and his enthusiasm seemed well-founded and +sincere. In fact, the new alfalfa ranches and the orchards of young +pear trees looked promising indeed, and the projects showed evidences +of thrift and capability on the part of the ranchers and near-ranchers +who had bought land on contract from the discoverer of Paloma Rancho's +dormant possibilities. + +Tweet told of his idea of eventually tapping the mountain lake near +which Jo was wont to camp and bringing the water down to irrigate such +portions of desert land as might require it; for there were places +where three hundred feet of boring had not developed a drop of the +precious fluid. The promoter had an engineer's estimate of the cost of +the entire water system, and said that his original figures had been +pretty close. + +It all seemed feasible, and things looked generally prosperous. Jo +enjoyed her ride and the opportunity to see what had been accomplished. +Returning, however, the complete enjoyment of the trip was marred by +tire trouble, and, with one thing and another, it was nine o'clock at +night before the party, reached Ragtown. + +They were ravenously hungry, and Tweet invited the three to dinner in +the town's closest approach to a satisfactory restaurant. It was after +ten o'clock when they left the table. Tweet gallantly asked to +accompany Jo to her cabin, and both were laughing at the absurdity of a +girl like Jerkline Jo needing an escort, when Hiram Hooker hurried up +to them. + +"Well, I c'n see who's cut out," said Tweet, assuming a mournful +expression. "So, if you don't mind, Jo, I'll get over to the hotel and +keep after those two suckers. Take care of her, Wild Cat, and do +whatever she tells you to do, or answer to me with your life. There's +only one Jerkline Jo, you know, and the world needs her all the time. +So long, playmates!" + +"Jo," said Hiram when Tweet had bustled away up the dimly lighted +street, "there's an awful mess. Heine and Jim and Tom and Blink are +all drunk as fiddlers!" + +"What!" Jo stopped in her tracks and held him by the arm. "Oh, dear!" +she cried. "How could they do such a thing! I've watched them so +carefully, and they've been so good. But the moment I'm out of their +sight for a few hours---- Oh, dear! I didn't think that they'd treat +me that way!" + +"I can't get it straight myself, Jo," Hiram told her. "They always +hoist a few when we get in, and sometimes I join them. I've never +before seen any of them when he wasn't at least able to ramble safely +back to camp. But to-night they're all four dead to the world. I +can't even shake a word out of them. Heine just sits there in the +Dugout, with his head on his breast, and is like a dead man." + +"Where were you?" + +"In camp--studying. About half past nine I thought I'd stroll into +town and get a cigar and see what the boys were doing. I couldn't find +them in the Palace, and went from place to place till I stumbled on +them in the Dugout, every last one of them down and out. I was looking +for Tweet, to have him take the bunch of them to camp in his car, when +I saw you folks come out of the restaurant." + +"The Dugout," puzzled Jo. "Do they go there often?" + +"Hardly ever. It's the worst dump in town, as you know. They're all +crooked enough, but I've heard strange whisperings about certain shady +happenings in the Dugout." + +"Was anybody with them?" + +"Not when I found them." + +"Hiram," said Jo, "it sounds like dope to me. They're loyal to me, I +tell you. No, they're not to blame--they'd never treat me that way. +They've been doped." + +"But why? And by whom?" + +"Those are questions. None of them have any money on them to speak of, +I know. I've got the bank pass books of every one of them in my chest. +Again, who'd have the nerve to dope and try to roll a skinner of +Jerkline Jo's? He'd be playing with fire. These dive keepers know all +about me; they know my power. I could mobilize an army of two hundred +stiffs in an hour's time, and if I asked it they'd lay every dump in +Ragtown flat. You bet these parasites know better than to trifle with +Jerkline Jo." + +Her dark eyes flashed angrily in the light of a store window. + +"Well, let's not stand here bewailing our fate like children lost in +the woods. We've simply got to _get_ out to-morrow. Mr. Huber is wild +about the shortness of his stock of hay, and I promised to rush him all +I could. Get Tweet and dump my boys into his car and take 'em to camp. +We'll see what we can do to bring them out of it and make them fit for +the trip by morning." + +Far into the morning hours, in the outfit's camp on the edge of town, +Jo and Hiram strove to revive the stupefied men, but nothing beyond +groans could they get from them. + +"They're doped, Hiram--pitilessly doped!" Jo cried in despair at last. +"Go for Doctor Dennison. Carry him on your shoulders if he won't come." + +The medical man came readily at Hiram's request, and after a brief +examination of the sluggish men remarked that Jo's surmise had been +correct. He then ordered her to go to her cabin and get some badly +needed sleep, and at once went to work on the unconscious quartet, with +Hiram aiding all he could. + +"Whoever did this cursed thing, Wild Cat," said the physician, "was an +amateur. He might have killed them. They've taken aboard terrible +doses, and I can tell you right now that not one of them will start for +Julia to-day. You may as well tell Jo to make other arrangements." + +His prophecy proved correct. Heine Schultz had regained consciousness +when dawn came, but was unable to tell a coherent story of what had +occurred, and was deathly sick. The other three still remained +unresponsive to the doctor's treatment. + +"Well," said Jo, when she answered Hiram's knock on her cabin door at +five-thirty, "what must be must. Huber has to have hay. I promised +it, and Jerkline Jo never, never breaks a promise. So hook up the +blacks and whites, Hiram, and lead six of Heine's team to be added to +yours and six of Jim's for me. Hook on two trailers. You and I will +make it to Julia and drive sixteen each back here with Huber's hay. +That's the very best we can do, but we'll do that the best we know how. +I'll be out by the time you get 'em hooked up. We'll nibble our +breakfast as we travel. Shoot the piece, Hiram boy, my knight from +Wild-cat Hill!" + +That night in a pelting hail storm Jerkline Jo and Hiram went into camp +beside the mountain lake, and the stage was set for the second act in +the plot cooked up by the two who had lost all principle under +Ragtown's subtle influence--Al Drummond and Lucy Dalles. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AT THE HAIRPIN CURVE + +The storm in the mountains continued all night, the downpour shifting +from hail to sleet and from sleet to a cold, drenching rain. Jo in her +remote little tent kept dry and comfortable. Hiram kept the same, +rolled in his blankets under a wagon, the ground about it ditched to +run the water off. There was shelter for the mules and horses, too, +for at the approach of winter Jo had freighted to the mountain camping +site sufficient lumber for a roof, which was supported by poles cut +from the forest. + +It was still dark and raining when the two beleaguered freighters +continued their journey next morning. Hiram, with eight of his own +black horses hitched to the wagon, and four span of mules and horses +leading, went ahead, as usual. They left the level mountain valley +that swaddled the lake and started down the steep grades toward the +Julia side of the desert. + +"We'll have a pull coming back if this keeps up!" Jo shouted through +the rain, just as Hiram's teams began negotiating the system of hairpin +curves upon which Jo's skinners had rolled the boulder in retaliation +for the drained water tank. + +Hiram did not hear her, for the wagons were rumbling, thirty-two sets +of big hoofs were sloshing in mud, the bells a-jingle, the rain a roar. + +Jo wore a yellow oilskin slicker and a sou'wester of the same material, +and rubber knee boots. Only her pretty face, smiling from the +concealing garments, showed that she was a woman. + +The animals that trailed behind Hiram's wagon went out of sight around +the first curve. The last of these mules were not a hundred feet ahead +of the noses of Jo's white leaders. As her leaders reached the curve +Jo called shrilly to her off-pointer to cross the chain and pull the +wagon away from the rock wall on the right-hand side. Obediently the +mare stepped over the chain, and she and her mate began pulling the +pole at an angle of forty-five degrees from the direction in which the +leaders and swings were traveling. The wagon and its trailer made the +sharp curve, and the mare was stepping back into place at Jo's command, +when suddenly the girl's breathing was shut off, and she was whipped +from her feet as if a cyclone had struck her. + +Several pairs of arms were about her; a heavy cloth was over her mouth +and nose and eyes. Fighting frantically against she knew not what, she +was borne rapidly toward the tail-end of the wagon. Some one's arms +were about her middle; another pair circled her shoulders; still +another held her booted legs at the knees. + +She tried to scream, but only a vague b-b-r-r sounded through the cloth +that covered her face. She kicked and clawed and twisted and jerked +and squirmed with surprising suddenness. Nevertheless, a rope was +bound about her slicker, round and round from her shoulders to her +ankles, swathing her like the bandages of a mummy, until she was almost +as stiff as one. She heard the roar of the rain, but no sound of her +moving team. She was whipped from the ground as if she weighed no more +than ten pounds; and in a horizontal position the three pairs of arms +bore her along rapidly in the direction that she had come, much as if +she were a roll of canvas bound about with marline hitches. + +Presently she felt herself ascending; then wet foliage brushed her +face. Not a word had been spoken--almost she had heard not a sound, +because of the noise of the rain and the slushy hoofbeats and the +bells. Whoever her captors were, they had lain in wait until the elbow +of the curve separated Hiram's outfit and hers, and then had climbed in +her wagon at the rear and stolen stealthily upon her from behind. +Their work had been distressingly thorough. + +She was not greatly frightened, merely stunned and bewildered. What on +earth could be the meaning of such an act, was the question that kept +uppermost in her thoughts as she felt herself borne swiftly along +through the dripping forest. + +Meantime, Hiram Hooker had looked back to watch Jerkline Jo's whites +round the curve. There were not many opportunities for looking back at +the girl that Hiram did not improve. He loved to watch Jo's expert +handling of the team in tight places. It made a picture to delight the +heart of any man. He saw the leaders come around, then the swings. +Next he saw the off pointer mare recrossing the chain and returning to +place. Then came the butt team and--an empty wagon. + +For an instant or two Hiram gazed unbelievingly, then turned and set +his brake, calling to his team to whoa. Next moment he was running +back. + +He sprang into Jo's empty wagon, set the brake, and stopped her team. +Then he was out by the tail end, running back along the road, calling +frantically. + +On the left-hand side of the road yawned a chasm, five hundred feet in +depth. Had something happened? Had Jo fallen down this precipice? + +As he ran he skirted the edge, shouting down. Only the pelting rain +and the swish of forest trees made a mocking answer. If for any reason +the girl had been obliged to leave the wagon, she would have stopped +her team. This was no place to allow a team to travel alone. + +He was thunderstruck--scarce able to believe his senses. Back in the +road he trotted along, his blue eyes searching expertly in the mud for +signs of what had happened. But it seemed that the trampling of the +animals that were following Jo's wagon had obliterated every trace, +provided the girl had been afoot in the road. And she must have been +afoot there, or flown up into the sky! + +Ah! He came to an abrupt halt. In the mud at the roadside was a +single footprint--the print of a man's shoe. Then on the rock wall on +the right-hand side of the road, and close to the footprint, was fresh +mud. On hands and knees Hiram climbed up the rocky slope, and at the +top found mud again. Buckthorn bushes grew close by. Some one had +brushed against them recently, for the raindrops had been shaken from +the leaves. In all the big-timber country of Mendocino County there +had been no surer trailer than Hiram Hooker. For days he had followed +panther and bear, eventually to track them to their lairs. No big +animal hunt ever had been considered complete without Hiram Hooker to +go along. + +He remembered the incident of the man in the pines by the lake shore +and groaned: "Fools!" he muttered. "They thought the rain would help +cover their trail, where it only makes it plainer. Men can't travel +through wet bushes without leaving a trail that looks like it had been +made with whitewash and a broom. What has happened? Oh, Jo! Jo!" + +He was off at a lope, his eyes darting glances hither and thither, +following the trail as accurately as a hound follows a scent. Here +leaves glistened with raindrops--there they looked dull. The trail was +plain. + +What has happened? The footprint of a man, and no sight of tracks made +by the girl! Hiram was unarmed. He had left his wagon too surprised +to think of grabbing up the Colt that he carried. Should he go back +now and get Jo's six-shooter? No, the rain was falling too fast. Soon +the bushes that the kidnapers had brushed in their escape would be +covered with drops of water again, and the tail would vanish, since the +land was rocky and showed no footprints. He must keep as close to the +fleeing men as possible. He knew there must be more than one to +manhandle Jerkline Jo! + +Thus raced his thoughts as he sped on, never for an instant faltering +on the trail. + +"If it only doesn't rain harder!" came his groan. He prayed with +childlike simplicity against this calamity, for more rain would wipe +out the trail altogether. + +He saw a large pine knot as he ran along, and paused to grasp it up. +It was heavy with pitch and shaped like the warclub of an Indian. It +was, in fact, too heavy, and few men would have considered it in the +light of a weapon. Fifty yards farther Hiram found a mate to it, and +picked it up too. Then he sped on and on into the forest of pines and +firs, praying that the brush would not give out and make his trailing +slower. + +If these men ahead of him were trusting to their own legs to get away +with Jerkline Jo, their legs would have to be better than any Hiram +Hooker ever before had matched his own against. Why, he could keep up +this pace for hours and hours! He knew more about surmounting the +difficulties of a forest wilderness than any man in the south, he +proudly told himself. These woods were as nothing compared with the +majestic, seemingly endless sweep of the vast forests which he had +roamed since childhood! If they did not take to horses, he'd make them +sick of their bargains before they had gone many miles! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +UNDER THE DRIPPING TREES + +Vaguely Hiram Hooker sensed a diabolical plot as he pounded on through +the rain, tireless, determined, remorseless, on the trail of the +abductors of Jerkline Jo. + +The doping of his four fellow skinners at Ragtown had a part in the +plan. It had been done deliberately to force the girl and Hiram into +the wilderness alone. Some one had known of Huber's shortage of hay, +and had schemed accordingly, aware of Jerkline Jo's eternal willingness +to do her best by her patrons, regardless of the strain upon herself. +The plotters had not been able to get at Hiram. Perhaps they had not +tried. Jerkline Jo would hardly essay a trip to Julia and back alone. +Too many difficulties might arise on the road that a lone skinner--even +a man skinner--could not cope with. So they perhaps had not molested +Hiram, hoping, if he were on his feet, that the girl would attempt the +trip with him. They had waited at the first U curve, and the moment he +was out of sight had pounced upon her. Suppose he had not chanced to +look back? The many curves ahead would have hidden her from him for +nearly an hour after that first one had been passed. That would have +given them a start, the disadvantage of which he could not have +overcome. As it was, though, he knew that he was hot on their trail, +and burdened as they were, was gaining on them at every leap. Was +Drummond back of this? Hiram could think of no one else who would be +even remotely at enmity with the lovable Jerkline Jo. + +He brought up suddenly and squatted behind a bush of southern +manzanita. Just ahead, in an open portion of the forest, was a group +of three men, standing in a circle about a stiff, immovable figure on +the ground. Three saddled horses stood close by, their tails turned +toward the rain, their heads lowered disconsolately. + +The men had just stopped and laid down their burden, which was nothing +else than the tightly bound body of Jerkline Jo. All three men wore +masks over their faces and new bright-blue overalls to further aid in +hiding their identities. Hiram saw the rope about the girl, running in +a spiral from her shoulders to her ankles. He saw the cloth over her +face, knotted behind her head. + +What should he do? There were three men standing about the girl, +rubbing their arms, which probably ached from the strain of carrying +her. Beyond a doubt they were armed. He tried to think, to plan; but +in the midst of it all half-formulated schemes deserted him because of +the sudden action of one of them. + +He had taken something from his pocket, and now he and another stooped +over the prostrate figure of the girl. One man grasped her head in +both hands; the next instant Hiram realized with horror that a blade +was gleaming dully through the rain in the right hand of the other man. +The third stooped and squatted on Jo's ankles. + +Hiram Hooker had at least one more accomplishment than has been +mentioned. As a boy he had used it to terrify his elders on dark +nights in the forest. He could imitate the piercing, blood-chilling +scream of the prowling panther until women in lonely forest cabins +clutched their breasts in fear, and men's faces blanched. Sprinting +from his place of concealment like a football player, crouching low as +he ran, he bore down upon the three men, and had almost reached them +before he loosed that terrorizing cry. Before it had died out in the +lonely, dripping wilderness, he was flailing right and left with a huge +pine knot in either hand, amazing and invincible as Sampson with his +jawbone of an ass. + +With yells of terror, the trio rocked back on their haunches and +struggled frantically to gain their feet. There was a sickening crack, +and the man who had held Jo's head pitched backward, a victim of one of +Hiram's warclubs. Swinging about, he aimed a blow with his left-hand +club, but its intended target ducked, and the club descended on the +man's shoulder, wringing a cry of pain from lips that whitened suddenly. + +The third man was up now, and sprang upon Hiram's back. The other +charged him from in front. Hiram hurled his left-hand club straight +into this man's face, and with his free hand reached down and grasped +the left leg of the man who had climbed him in the rear. Carrying this +man, who all the time was raining blows on his head, Hiram ran with all +his might for a close-by pine. As he neared it he whirled about and +threw himself at it backward with every atom of his force. + +There followed a terrible impact, and in his ear exploded the breath of +the man on his back, as he came in violent contact with the trunk of +the tree. The shock pitched Hiram forward on his face, and the man who +had climbed upon him fell limply to the earth, the wind entirely +crushed out of him. + +Hiram bounded to his feet and confronted the man into whose face he had +thrown the pine knot, and who now was rushing him, brandishing a +revolver. Hiram's blow had knocked the mask from this man's face, but +it was a face that Hiram had never seen before. + +A shot barked dully in the heavy atmosphere of the forest, and the +smoke hung in a little ball. Hiram felt the impact of the bullet, and +was whirled half around with the force of it. He knew he had been hit +some place--in the breast or shoulder perhaps--but as yet felt not the +slightest pain. Fire flashed in his very face, now, and this time he +smelled the acrid powder; but he had been in motion when the trigger +was pressed and the bullet whined away fretfully through the trees. On +the heels of the second report came that sickening crack once more, and +the face of the man that glared through the smoke at Hiram went red +with a smear of blood. + +He sank to his knees, and Hiram spun about just in time to aim another +crashing blow at the skull of the man whom he had catapulted into the +tree. His mask still held in place, but his hat was off and Hiram saw +that his hair was brown and wavy. There had not been time to aim, and +the blow fell on his assailant's neck. + +They clinched, went down together, rolling over and over, clawing at +each other like fighting lynxes. + +"Gi' me the paper! Gi' me the paper!" yelled a voice, as Hiram climbed +uppermost on his man and fought to free his entangled arms. + +At the same instant other arms were thrown about him from behind. The +man he had hit first had reëntered the fight, it seemed. + +With a herculean heave the man from Wild-cat Hill lurched backward, +carrying his lighter assailant with him. Hiram had lost his club. He +grasped the man on his back by the under part of his thighs, as he had +the other, and lifted his feet from the ground. Then, so quickly that +the man was taken off his guard, Hiram leaped into the air and fell +backward, falling with all the weight of his huge body on the man who +clung to him like an abalone to a rock. + +"_Wuff_!" he heard again, as the fellow's breath forsook him in a spasm +of pain. He lost his hold on Hiram, and Hiram flopped over. + +"Run! Get a horse! Get away with the paper!" this fellow choked; and +as Hiram sprang upon him he saw the other rise and totter toward a +horse. + +Crashing a blow to the face of the man under him, Hiram sprang to his +feet and lunged at the one who was fleeing. Whatever "the paper" +meant, it was the nucleus of the plot, it appeared, and Hiram purposed +to have it. + +But, grasping frantically for a stirrup, then sprawling along the neck +of the nearest horse, the man yelled to the animal, and it leaped away +with him through the trees. + +Hiram whirled back, beaten in that direction, and made for the other, +who was on his feet and also running toward the two remaining mounts. +The third man still lay inert. + +Hiram started running for the second escaping man, but suddenly his +knees refused to hold his legs to their accustomed task. Blindness was +coming upon him, but he continued to grope toward the horses. Then +again came the sounds of rapidly thundering hoofs. Hiram Hooker sighed +weakly and placed both hands to his breast, which seemed weighted with +some heavy object, or bound about tightly with a rope. His hands came +away red and wet He wilted in his tracks, sighed again, and seemed to +drift placidly into a deep, soothing sleep. + +Then a noise partially awoke him. His senses swam, and he thought he +heard himself laughing crazily, but could not make sure whether he was +laughing or only had imagined it. A man was reeling toward the +remaining horse, both hands to his head, and he looked so helpless and +befuddled that Hiram laughed again--or thought he did. The man groaned +and mumbled, then fell flat on his face, as a baby falls in an +unchecked collapse. A little while he lay there, then struggled to his +feet again, and tottered toward the horse, who seemed to be neighing +shrilly for the mates that had deserted him. + +Why, that was what Hiram had heard, he reasoned. He had not been +laughing at all. A long space of semiconsciousness. Then came the +dull thunder of hoofs once more. Hiram half raised his body on an +elbow. There lay Jerkline Jo, stiff and immovable in her yellow +oilskins. There was no one else about. Save himself, of course, but +he was so sleepy. + +He fell back with a crash. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +FOUR-UP FOR HELP + +Bound and helpless, Jerkline Jo Modock lay on the ground and listened +to the sounds of the battle raging around her. She knew that her hero +from Wild-cat Hill had come with his terrorizing panther scream, and +she heard curses and thudding clubs, then popping revolver shots. + +She was struggling desperately to free herself of her bonds, but she +only wearied herself and accomplished nothing. With her teeth she +chewed at the cloth that covered her face, trying to draw it down below +her eyes, so that she could at least see; but her efforts here proved +futile, too. Then she began twisting her head from side to side and +hunching her shoulders, which she found she could move, in an effort to +loosen the knot at the back of her head, or to scrape the cloth away. + +This last in time she accomplished, but it was long after all sounds of +the conflict had ceased. + +As the cloth came loose she moved it along by sticking out her tongue +and working it from side to side, at the same time tossing her head +about. At last it slipped off, and, by raising her head, she gazed +about through the dark, wet trees. + +She had heard the thud of horses' hoofs, but now not a horse was to be +seen. Fifty feet from her, perhaps, lay the silent form of Hiram +Hooker, flat on his back. No other human being save herself and Hiram +seemed to be in all that dripping wilderness. + +Time and again she called to the man to whom she had given her heart, +but Hiram's lips remained motionless. A great fear clutched at her. +Hiram was dead. + +She fought down her terror, the horror of it all, and sought +desperately for a way to release herself. She was bound round and +round until she was so stiff that even to roll over and over on the +ground was impossible, as she could get no purchase whatever for her +strong, tough muscles. She began striving to bend her knees, and in +this, as the bonds gradually changed position and gave a little, she +was eventually successful. Once she had a start in this tiresome +process, she gained more and more, and finally she could move her legs +from their straight position. + +She rested then, and when she began squirming again found that she was +able to flop over on her side. + +In this new position she looked about over the ground for something to +help her, and close at hand she saw the dull gleam of steel. + +As yet she had not the remotest idea of why she had been kidnaped; nor +had she seen any of the persons who had perpetrated the act. Not a +word had been spoken to her or in her presence before the fight. She +had heard the man yelling about "the paper," though, toward the close +of the battle, but no other words throughout the entire ordeal. + +The blade that showed its dull steel against the soggy brown pine +needles lay five feet beyond her reach. But now she could roll to it, +and began to do so, flopping along like a fish in the bottom of a boat. +She rested when her face was close to it, and began to study how she +might make use of it. + +She might be able to take it in her teeth, but doubted if she could +reach that part of the rope about her shoulders, even then. If it was +a dagger, she could not think how she could utilize it, as it probably +would have no cutting edge. If it was a pocketknife, it doubtless +would be dull, as pocketknives usually are, and therefore useless. +With any pressure that she might be able to command, a keen cutting +edge would be necessary to free her from the coils of the lariat. + +By now she had regained her strength, and once more began wriggling and +worming until her eyes were close to the blade, half hidden by pine +needles. Then she realized with surprise and a thrill of hope that the +object was a razor. + +How such a tool came to be dropped by her assailants was more than she +could fathom. She did not try. Working her face closer and closer to +the razor she took the end of the handle between her teeth, and, +twisting her head from side to side, finally managed to close the blade +without cutting herself by pressing it against the ground. + +Then she rolled so that her face was directly over it, and took both +handle and blade in her mouth, by the middle. Her brain had been +active through these clumsy maneuvers; she had a plan. + +Now for a tree from which suckers were growing close to the ground. +The pines were hopeless in this respect, but off a way she saw the +naked branches of a black oak, and toward it she rolled, the closed +razor in her mouth. + +It was a long, tiresome trip, and when she reached the tree there was +not a sucker growing from it. She saw another black oak close at hand, +and continued her flopping, seallike progress, toward it. + +Here, to her unbounded delight, slender suckers grew up from an exposed +root. She released the razor and chewed upon one of them until she had +browsed it down to a leafless stub four inches high. + +Then, working with her teeth and tongue and straining every muscle in +her neck, she contrived, at the risk of slashing her face, to insert +the stump of the sucker between the two halves of the razor handle. + +This pushed up the blade, and it remained in a half-closed position +like a threatening guillotine. Knowing now that she would not be cut, +she took the end of the handle in her teeth and pulled it down as far +as it would go. Still the edge of the blade remained balanced against +the top of the sucker. So she rolled about until she found a pine +twig, which she took in her mouth, rolling with it back to the razor. +With one end of the twig in her mouth, she was able to push the blade +open with the other end, and it fell back against the root of the oak, +edge uppermost. + +She rested again, and then crawled over the root until a coil of the +rope that bound her shoulders was pressing against the keen edge of the +razor blade. Working her shoulders up and down, she saw the leather +strands parting clean, and soon only one strand remained uncut. She +rolled from the razor and scraped this last strand against another +exposed root of the oak until it parted. + +Two minutes more, and she was sitting up, unwinding the rawhide lariat +from her legs with hands that were free. + +She struggled to her feet, and though she ached in every bone and +muscle, ran to Hiram and bent over him with a little cry of anguish on +her lips. + +His shirt front was stained crimson, and terror seized her. She fought +it off and, bending down, listened with an ear to his heart. She +breathed a little tremulous prayer of thankfulness as she heard his +regular heartbeats, and then tore open his shirt to find that a bullet +had entered his breast, high up on the right-hand side. + +As best she could she stopped the bleeding and tried to revive Hiram. +Into cold rain water, collected in a hollow of the ground, she plunged +her handkerchief again and again, bathing the man's temples and chafing +his wrists. + +At last he opened his eyes, stared oddly at her a little, then, seeming +to remember everything, strove to rise. + +Probably one woman in all that country could have completed the +gigantic task of getting this big, wounded man back to the wagons, but +Jerkline Jo was fortunately that woman. With an arm of Hiram about her +neck, and her arm about his waist, they staggered away through the +rain, Hiram conscious enough to direct the way, for the girl was +completely lost. It was early in the morning that their journey had +been interrupted so ruthlessly, but it was afternoon before they came +again to the road, and Hiram dropped exhausted in Jo's lead wagon. + +Here she was able better to attend to his wound, and brandy, which she +always carried, revived him greatly. + +There was no course open now but to loose all the horses but four, +leave three of the wagons where they stood, and drive as fast as she +could with the four hitched to the head wagon, to get the wounded man +to Artesian Ranch, about eighteen miles distant down on the Julia side +of the desert. + +Never before or afterward in the lives of the actors in this outland +drama were the mountains that divided the desert to know such a drive +as that. Jerkline Jo had a set of four-up checks which she carried in +case of emergency, and by one o'clock four of her big whites were +racing down the perilous grade, with Jo holding the four leather lines +and operating the brake repeatedly, urging them to greater efforts +continually. The huge wagon careened about hairpin curves, skirted +precipices, rumbled from caņon to caņon, while the girl, always sure of +herself, always sure of her horses, guided it skillfully and laughed at +catastrophies that yawned at her every foot of the way. + +In the middle of the afternoon they raced out on the desert and took up +the long miles to the ranch. At dark they reached it, the horses badly +spent, unaccustomed as they were to moving faster than a walk. There +was an automobile at the ranch, and Hiram was hurried on to the doctor +at Julia, while Jo worked far into the night rubbing down her trembling +whites, crooning to them, and giving them short drinks of water until +they were resting their weary bodies in the litter, content and quiet +at last. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE GENTLE WILD CAT RETURNS + +Hiram Hooker was very weak when he reached the doctor. The bullet was +found and successfully removed, however, and Hiram's great physical +perfection did the rest. + +He was quickly on the mend, and in a month was able to take his team +again. + +Meantime Jerkline Jo and her four other skinners had contrived to make +their customary trips from Julia to Ragtown, all of them calling to see +Hiram, who was being cared for at the doctor's house, the minute they +completed their west-bound trip. Jo spent most of her time with him +when in Julia, and when he was well enough they talked frequently of +the strange occurrence in the mountains. But they did not get down to +solid work on the mystery until Hiram was on his first trip to Ragtown +after his wound had healed. Then the wagon train came to a stop at the +curves, and Jo and all of her skinners walked through the forest to the +scene of Hiram's battle. + +After a search they found the spot. Jo showed the men the razor, still +propped up as she had left it, held up by the sucker of the black oak. +She found the remains of the lariat, too. A search failed to reveal +anything beyond the razor that had been dropped by the surprised +kidnapers. + +"Lord, be merciful unto me, a skinner!" exclaimed Heine Schultz, +seating himself on a prostrate pine. "Wild Cat, you say one o' these +Jaspers was bendin' over Jo with this here razoo?" + +"I'm sure it was that that he had in his hand," Hiram replied. "He was +the second one that I soaked, and I saw him drop it." + +"Boy! Boy! That musta been some fight," observed Jim McAllen. "Think +of our ol' Wild Cat puttin' the three of 'em on the run! Man, how +comes it I miss all the good things in this life? Jo, was they aimin' +to cut your pretty throat?" + +Jo shuddered. "Thank Heaven I was blindfolded!" was her grateful +thought. "But how ridiculous, boys! A razor! If they'd wanted to +kill me, at least one of them had a gat. Ask Hiram." + +"Maybe they was just goin' to cut you loose and tell you why they'd +swiped you, when the Gentle Wild Cat went wild again," suggested Gulick. + +"Cut a perfectly good lariat!" Jo picked it up. "Couldn't they have +untied the knots?" + +Gulick took the lariat and examined it. "Thirty-five feet," he said. +"Rawhide--six-strand plait Been rubbed with cow's liver to soften 'er, +too. What else? Whoop! What's this?" + +He was studying the honda, also of rawhide, pressed flat when soaked +and riveted in shape, a plaited button on the end of the lariat proper +to keep it from slipping through the hole. + +"Letters cut in this," Gulick announced. "T. H.' Who's that stand +for?" + +All went silent for a time, thinking; then Hiram Hooker said quietly, +as if what he suggested mattered but little: + +"Tehachapi Hank." + +All talked at once now. Not one was there that was not sure Hiram had +hit upon a clew. + +"And Tehachapi Hank's a bad man," said Heine. "Admitted it himself. +And he's a side-kick of that cholo-faced Drummond!" + +Study of the razor, now red with rust, showed the amateur detectives +nothing. + +"And ye saw only the face of one of 'em, Hiram?" Blink Keddie asked it. + +"Only one. The others managed to keep their masks on." + +"Tehachapi Hank and Al Drummond them other two was," said McAllen +positively. "Too bad it wasn't one o' them you knocked the mask off +of, Wild Cat." + +"And you never saw this fella that you got a look at?" asked Schultz. + +Hiram shook his head. "I didn't even see him well," he added. +"Through revolver smoke--and the rain pouring--and next instant his +face didn't look like anything much. That was a wicked old pine knot." + +"I'll say she was, boy! But about the razor?" Keddie kept on. + +Again Hiram could not answer. + +"Why, that's easy!" laughed Heine Schultz. "They was gonta give Jo a +shave!" + +Jo and Hiram walked together behind the rest and talked as the party +returned to the wagons. For the first time she told him of what her +skinners had had to report when they were over their sickness following +the doping at Ragtown. One and all, they said, they had been invited +to the little cabin of the girl who ran the shooting gallery for a +drink; after having fired several strings of shots and "joshed" with +her out in front. From there they had gone to the Palace, and +afterward, being dazed and feeling drowsy, had wandered in a group into +the Dugout, a place that they seldom frequented, and could remember +nothing after that. + +"Why--why--do they think Lucy doped them?" cried Hiram. + +Jo shrugged. "They can't remember drinking anywhere but with her and +in the Palace," she said. "They got it one place or the other, Hiram." + +"The Palace, of course, then. Why--Lucy--she----" + +"Is a friend of Al Drummond," Jo helped him out, her red lips set. + +"Did you find out whether or not Drummond was in Ragtown at the time?" + +"I looked into all that I dared, but it was nine days before I got +back. Oh, I had an awful time, with nobody to help me but a few green +men I'd picked up at Julia--finding the horses and all. But Huber got +his hay!" she added proudly. "When I got back to Ragtown, of course +nobody remembered whether Drummond had been there that day or not. He +goes and comes frequently, you know. And I didn't dare press +questions. I told the boys to keep still about it all. I thought that +best." + +"Was Drummond there on your last trip in?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Beaten up? I'm sure I must have left my mark on all three of them." + +"I didn't get to see him, but no one said anything about any injury." + +"Much as we dislike him, it's hard to think that Drummond would be +concerned in such a plot," Hiram remarked. + +"Plot?" + +"Of course, Jo." + +"Against me? What have I done?" + +"We're getting nowhere with such speculation, Jo," said Hiram. "We +boys will just have to keep our eyes open and see what we can find out. +There's more back of it than the idea to tantalize you because you beat +Al Drummond in the freighting game. I wish I knew what the razor was +for." + +"Of course, they weren't going to kill me, Hiram. No need for all that +monkeywork, if that had been the case." + +"I only saw the man with the razor," Hiram told her, "and got busy. Of +course, I didn't even know it was a razor then, but I saw steel. I +thought they were going to kill you. Didn't take much time to think, +at that." + +"You terrible scrapper!" laughed the girl. "Who'd have thought that +I'd ever have needed such a man--and got him! Hiram, you've--you've +never kissed me since that night." + +Hiram's face turned red as fire. "I ain't worthy to kiss ye, Jo," he +said, lapsing into his backwoods drawl. "Wait'll I settle this thing +that's come up for you. Wait'll I find out about 'the paper.' Then +maybe I'll have somethin' to offer you." + +In his great embarrassment he pointed to the ground, where were tracks +and scratches. + +"Ben a bob cat usin' thereabouts," he drawled. + + +With Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet the month that Hiram had been laid up +had developed a new and unforeseen situation. He laid the particulars +before Jerkline Jo and Hiram, both investors in his enterprise. The +conference took place when Jo's freight outfit jingled into Ragtown two +days later. + +Tweet invited them to dinner in the Wigwam, a saloon and restaurant and +gambling house combined, where the patrons sat on stools before a high +counter which was in the nature of a continuation of the bar. The +three took seats at the farther end, so that their conversation would +be less likely to be overheard. + +"Playmates," Tweet began, when their orders were before them, "I didn't +think our Uncle Sam would go to work and hand us a package just when we +were gettin' us a toehold. But that's just what he's done. I been +watchin' for it to develop for some little time. Now the leak has +sprung. + +"You see, outside o' Paloma Rancho, every other section o' land in here +b'longs to the Gold Belt Cut-off, and adjoinin' sections are government +land. Maybe you c'n guess what's happened." + +"Thrown open," Jerkline Jo said promptly. + +"Yep--open to homesteaders. They're flockin' in in automobiles, in +perambulators, on motor cycles, burros, horseback, and afoot--in +everything but submarines. So far as any one can see, they're gettin' +just as good land as Paloma Rancho; and the folks we've sold to are +castin' dark looks at one Tweet. As if I was to blame! Two fellas +that hadn't paid in much have jumped their contracts with us, and are +takin' up claims. If many more pull stuff like that--say, somebody'll +be in bad! + +"Just the same, though, my engineers tell me there's shallower water +here than any place on this ol' desert. Butte Springs proves that, +too. And we got the water right on the mountain lake; so they can't +get that. Riparian rights--all straight, by golly! No worry there. I +don't think settlers'll have any luck striking water without big +expense anywhere around us. Just the same, it'll take time to prove +that. + +"The settler, you savvy, has six months after he files before he's got +to get on his land. Even then he ain't required to develop water; and +chances are he won't. He'll put in dry crops to cover the improvements +demanded by the government, whether they succeed or not--which they +won't. But all this time, because nobody'll be makin' a great effort +to locate water, folks will be believin' that government land is as +good as ours. See the point? Paloma Rancho land will stop sellin' +pronto, and our pleasant little dream will turn into a scary nightmare." + +"But if the surrounding land is inferior to the rancho," said Jo, "it's +only a matter of time until people will find it out. Then you'll +regain your old status, won't you?" + +"In time. Yeah--that's it. But time's money, little girl; and once +every three months I gotta slap down six thousand filthy lucreinos, +plus a neat little bunch o' interest, or--bingo! All is lost! + +"Folks that peddled me this property are gettin' on their feet again, +and their young lives are one long regret over havin' had ta part with +Paloma Rancho. 'Salways th' way. One dog leaves a bone, and another +dog comes along and goes to work and picks her up. Then the other dog +he goes to work and thinks that was a pretty darn good bone after all. +Then fur begins to fly, and old ladies yell: 'How cruel! Stop it, you +big heartless men!' + +"So the other dogs won't miss a chance to shoot the prongs into me the +moment I fail on a single payment and the interest due. They don't +have to; I signed to forfeit everything any interest day that I failed +to pungle up. Three days o' grace--then--boom! 'Wasn't it pretty, +papa! Shoot off another one just like it!'" + +Jerkline Jo sipped her near-coffee thoughtfully, and gazed unseeingly +at the menu card, a marvel of weird orthography, punctuated with fly +specks and splatters of egg yolk. Jo had over ten thousand dollars +invested in Paloma Rancho. + +"We're not doing the freighting business that we did," she confessed, +aware that Playmate Tweet was studying her face expectantly and +patiently straightening a nose whose tip always left true center the +moment he released it. "Lots of the smaller contractors have finished +here, and are moving on to new jobs up the line, out of our reach. +Ragtown, too, seems to be slowing up, don't you think?" + +Tweet pursed his lips. "I hate to admit it," he said, "but I guess +you're right. Still, we can expect things to be slower in winter. +Then these settlers oughta help Ragtown some when spring comes along. +Chances are, though, most of 'em are broke. 'Salways like that. I've +been homesteadin' communities before now. No good, as a rule. + +"But I ain't worryin' about Ragtown. She'll perk up. We're gonta get +the yards and the roundhouse--that's a cinch. I know it now. Demarest +slipped it to me. I've spread the glad tidin's, o' course, but it +didn't seem to help. Folks have believed it all along, and have gone +ahead on that belief--so the rush because of that feature was over +before I sprung it. But Ragtown'll pick up in time. The floaters will +go, and substantial citizens will take their places. It's the land +contracts that we need in order to meet our payments and have a future +to bank on, and they're what'll slow up and hurt us till folks get sane +and see we got the only dope." + +"You'll have to meet the next payment--when?" Hiram put in here. + +"April first--two months off. Six thousan' dollars and interest on +deferred payments." + +"Can you meet it?" + +"I couldn't if it was due now," was Tweet's reply. + +"Well, I'll see that you meet that payment," Jo said. "That will give +you three months more leeway--five months, counting from now--and by +that time things should begin to look up once more." + +Tweet heaved a great sigh of relief. "That's a big load off my chest," +he claimed, as they left the stools. + +Two hours later Hiram Hooker, apparently wandering aimlessly about the +dimly lighted street, saw Al Drummond lift a hinged portion of the +shooting-gallery counter and pass within. A man was in charge, and +there was nobody shooting. Drummond nodded briefly to him, traversed +the length of the target range, and disappeared through a door in the +rear. + +Three minutes after this Hiram slunk stealthily along the alley and up +to Lucy's little cabin. Softly his fingers plucked at a knot in a +knothole, which he had loosened that evening while Lucy was on watch in +the gallery. Holding the circular bit of wood in his hand, he placed +an ear to the knothole, which was hidden from those inside by a huge +piece of furniture. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +HIRAM TAKES THE TRAIL + +Hiram Hooker stood motionless in the alley back of Lucy Dalles' cabin +and listened intently through the knothole. + +"Well," he heard Al Drummond saying to Lucy, "I see they got in again +this evening." + +Hiram supposed "they" referred to the freighting outfit of Jerkline Jo. + +"Yes," replied Lucy, "and here it is late January, Al, and we've +accomplished nothing." + +"No, nothing," Drummond admitted gloomily. "And our chances look +mighty slim to get at her. Every trip she's got those five husky +skinners with her, and I guess every one of them is fool enough to put +up a scrap for her if he knew he'd get croaked in the deal." + +"We must think up another plan to separate her from them," the girl +suggested. + +"Confound it!" muttered Drummond. "Everything was moving along +smoothly, and the next minute we'd have had the razor working; then +here comes that big boob and takes us by surprise. Lord, how he swung +those clubs!" + +"You're afraid of him, since he beat you up on the desert," Lucy said +tauntingly. + +"Huh! I'll get him yet! I'm willing to admit he's too many for me in +a stand-up and knock-down fight. He's a whirlwind--I never saw his +like. Why, up there in the mountains he seemed to have a dozen arms, +all working at once. Wild Cat is right! But I haven't been raised on +salt pork and corn bread. I've lived. Just the same, when I get good +and ready I'll fix his engine for him." + +"I imagine he'll be around to oversee the work," remarked Lucy in a +tone that probably made Drummond long to choke her. + +"Well, that's not the point," she went on after a little. "What are we +going to do to get at that creature known as Jerkline Jo, the +four-flusher? She's crooked as a dog's hind leg, and goes around +pulling the pious stuff on the roughnecks." + +"You think because you're crooked every other woman is, eh? I'll say +this for Jo--she's straight and a dead-game sport. She's not a +four-flusher. Of course I'd do anything to get even for the way she +handed it to me in the freighting game. But there's no sense in you +and me running her down to each other when we don't believe ourselves." + +"So you've fallen for her, too, have you?" Lucy asked sarcastically. + +"Don't be a fool, Lucy! A man can't help admiring a girl like Jo." + +"Thanks for your assurances, Al," Lucy said cuttingly. + +"Well, well, well! Scrap all night about nothing! Forget it! Shut +up! Guess who I saw to-day as I was driving over the desert." + +"Who?" sullenly. + +"Your dear old uncle." + +"My uncle!" + +"Sure--that's what you called him. Basil Filer, the crazy prospector." + +"Sure enough, Al?" Lucy's tones were brighter. + +"Pretty much so. Didn't seem to recognize me at all. I was at +Comstock's camp, and he rambled in with his burros. Stood within five +feet of me and looked right at me. Never saw me before!" and Drummond +chuckled. + +"Al, where on earth do you suppose he's been since you took him out on +the desert and dumped him?" + +"Heaven knows! Wandering about looking for a prospect, I suppose. I'd +have given fifty dollars to be hidden close by when he came out of it +next morning." + +"Poor old duffer! But suppose Hooker and Jo or some of that bunch +should stumble onto him, Al! Was he making this way?" + +"Yes; but he was fifty miles up the lines. There were two or three +women about Comstock's commissary tent--two of Comstock's daughters and +the wife of his walking-boss. The old bird kept looking at them and +shaking his head, just like he did with you. He's still hunting for +his pardner's daughter. He's a crazy nut, and I guess wherever he goes +he's trying to get on her trail." + +"Don't you suppose he remembers me, Al? We sure had him going that +night. I was Jean Prince to him, all right. And when you inked me up, +and he got a look--say, he couldn't tell his story fast enough, could +he?" + +Drummond chuckled reminiscently. "Yes, next minute he'd have had you +scalped, kid, if I hadn't slipped him another powder. Well, if he does +drift back here you've simply got to lie low and keep out of his sight. +I'll tell the boys to keep their eyes open and slip me the dope if they +see him rambling into Ragtown. Then you fade away till he beats it out +again." + +"Won't he ask about me? And try to find out where I've gone?" + +"I doubt it. He's still got his precious paper. If, we'd stolen that, +instead of copying it, there might be the very devil to pay. But as +long as he's still got it he's too nutty to suspect. Of course, +though, nobody can tell what's going on in the other fellow's noodle. +I'd say, though, that if you aren't here he'll think the whole business +was a pipe dream." + +"I hope so. We don't want any further complications. Now when are you +and Hank and that friend of his going to make another attempt to get +Jerkline Jo? And how are you going about it?" + +"Hank's still camping up in the mountains and spying on the outfit when +it travels through the pass," Al informed her. "He's watching their +habits, and taking note of just how they travel along, trying to dope +out something new. He'll get a scheme before spring, I'm thinking. +There's a bad hombre, kid. It would give me the creeps to know he was +trailing me through those lonesome woods. Man! I wouldn't turn my +back to that plug with fifteen cents in my jeans!" + +"Can't we get some more of Hank's pals and simply ambush Jo's whole +outfit? Collar all of them, and then get after Jo. Surely a bunch of +men could take them all by surprise and put the fixin's to 'em." + +Drummond snorted. "We've got to split the haul four ways as it is," he +pointed out. "And that bo that helped us get Filer away--Stool--he +smells a rat and is keeping an eye single to horning in on the +clean-up. Lucy, I wouldn't attack Jo's bunch of roughnecks with less +than a dozen men; and you can bet your young life our gang is too big +as it is. Keep the home fires burning, I'll say!" + +"Well, for Heaven's sake, try and get busy soon!" Lucy cried +petulantly. "Goodness knows I did my part--all that any woman could be +expected to do. So far I'm the only one that's accomplished anything. +Why in thunder didn't Hank's friend, Pete, 'tend to the business up +there in the mountains, after you and Hank had beat it? Hooker was +out, this fellow said, and the girl still tied. And then he comes out +of his dope and gets on a horse, and beats it like you other two +quitters!" + +"He didn't have the paper," explained Al. "Besides, Pete thought he +was going to croak. He was laid up longer than Hooker, even, and +Hooker had got a bullet. Pete's skull was cracked, and for a time it +was a toss-up whether he'd pull through or not. He went nutty up +there, I guess. He was lying sidewise across the saddle, unconscious +but holding on for dear life, when the horse caught up with us. And +Hank and I ducked out because--well, it's hard to explain. Both of us +were pretty badly beaten up, you know, and there wasn't much fight left +in us. Hooker had surprised us, and we were rattled. I don't know--a +fellow can't explain just why he does the wrong thing in a situation +like that. But knock the fight out of a man and make him groggy, and +he'll bungle every time." + +"Well, do something now," ordered Lucy frigidly; and Hiram heard +Drummond scrape back his chair in rising. + +"All right--we'll see. I'll beat it now. Up late last night playing +poker. Rotten luck, too!" + +"Al," said Lucy's voice, "when we get that jack, are you going to give +me a fair share of it?" + +"Sure--sure! Why do you keep harping on that, Lucy? Haven't I +promised you I would? Good night. I'm dead tired!" + +Half an hour before dawn next morning Hiram Hooker crawled from his +blankets in camp and fed hay and grain to Babe, Jerkline Jo's black +saddle mare. Then, leaving his companions placidly snoring, he walked +briskly along the trail to Ragtown. Ten minutes after his start he was +knocking on the door of Jo's tiny pine cabin. + +"What is it?" finally came the girl's sleepy tones. "Who is there?" + +"It's I, Jo. Hiram. Will you come to the door a second? I want to +talk with you." + +"You big whale! What do you mean, waking me up in the middle of the +night? Anything wrong?" + +"No, Jo. And it's almost time to get up. The boys will be out by the +time I get back. Hurry and get dressed, won't you?" + +There was a rustling and quick moving about inside, and presently the +door was unlocked and Jerkline Jo poked her head out inquiringly. + +"I came to ask you for a few days off," he explained. + +"Why, Hiram?" + +"Yes, just one trip, Jo. There isn't any more freight than the rest of +you can handle just now. Won't be till spring, I'm thinking." + +"Oh, I could spare you now better than later on. But--but what, Hiram?" + +"And I'd like to borrow Babe and your saddle and bridle, too." + +"Take them," she said confidently. "Whatever your mysterious +disappearance means, I know I can trust you." + +Half an hour afterward Hiram swung himself into Jo's big California +saddle, and then leaned over and spoke to Blink Keddie and Heine +Schultz, busy at harnessing the teams. + +"I don't know when I'll be back, boys," he said. "But remember what I +told you: Don't let Jo out of your sight in the pass--nor anywhere +else, for that matter--and keep your guns handy all the time." + +"Don't worry, Gentle Wild Cat!" Schultz assured him. + +"So long, then," said Hiram, and swung Babe into the road that +connected Ragtown with the line of camps which dotted the desert from +end to end. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +A TALE OF THE DESERT'S DEAD + +No land seems so delectable as the desert early on a crisp morning. +The rare air causes the blood to pound through one's veins, and an +unexplainable rapture seizes man's spirits. + +Jo's black mare, Babe, had not been ridden for weeks, and every +greasewood bush that she saw became in the weird light of sunrise a +grotesque goblin ready to spring at her and devour her whole. At +least, so she pretended, and as her natural weapon of defense lay in +flight, she kept Hiram Hooker busy holding her down to a fast gallop. + +The low-hanging tapaderos flapped loosely. Hiram's borrowed +silver-mounted spurs--a reminder of Tom Gulick's cow-punching days in +Utah--jingled merrily. The heavy six-gun at his hip flopped against +the silver-rimmed cantle of Jo's fifty-pound saddle. The smells of the +morning were sweet. Away over the vast expanse of bronze greasewood, +far-flung buttes caught the early rays of the sun and took on something +of the likeness of a solar spectrum, purple at their bases, the colors +ranging upward through blues and greens and yellows to a spun-gold +glitter at their summits. Jack rabbits loped away through the brush. +Now and then a coyote, ears pricked up, trotted along, his tail +dragging. Tecolote, the little desert owl, came from his hole and sat +on the pile of dirt beside it, while his wife peeked out with her round +head just above the ground and gave silent approval to her lord and +master's querulous criticism of the rider. + +Life was good--life was glorious. Life was love! The poetic heart of +the man from Wild-cat Hill sang ceaselessly. He was away on his +romantic quest to serve the most splendid girl a man had ever loved! + +As the morning progressed and the sun climbed higher and higher, Babe +bore him through many camps, both large and small. At each he drew +rein and made inquiry after an old prospector called Basil Filer, who +drove six burros. No one had seen such a man, however, and Hiram +continued on toward the north until noon. Then he stopped for dinner +and to feed and rest the mare at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp +Number Two. They had come twenty-one miles that morning, he learned at +dinner in the huge dining tent; and when he started out again he held +Babe in, because she was soft for want of exercise. + +On and on they traveled, nevertheless, Hiram making inquiry at every +camp. At last, thirty miles from Ragtown, he got word of the +prospector. A camp freighter who traveled to the north for supplies +from Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Three had seen such a man +trudging along with his long staff, eyes bent on the ground, behind his +six burros. He had been seen about ten miles farther north, traveling +south, the day before. + +Hiram loped on, and now reached a strip of the right-of-way where camps +were few and far between. The desert was dryer here than in the +vicinity of Ragtown, and greasewood and whispering yuccas gave place to +low sage and the shimmering dry lakes, which lure thirsting men on to +their doom with their mocking resemblance to the life-saving water the +wanderer craves. + +Always, it seemed, there was somewhere within the range of Hiram's +vision one of those weird whirlwinds sweeping along. Often they were +so far away they seemed motionless, and looked like brown funnel-shaped +pillars, wrong end up, supporting the turquoise sky. Again, they were +close--sometimes six or seven in sight at once--as they spun like huge +tops, sucking up everything loose in their path, and whirling it round +and round with stupefying rapidity. + +At last one of them overtook the horse and rider, and the mare stopped +short, thrusting her head between her front legs and tucking in her +flowing tail. Hiram had time only to grab his hat and throw himself +forward along the mare's neck; the next instant it seemed as if a +million tugging hands had hold of him and were trying to whirl him into +the heavens and carry him, like a garment whipped from a clothesline, +into mysterious distances. + +When it had passed he sat erect once more and dug the dirt from his +ears and eyes, trying to follow the twister's progress as it sped +drunkenly on to find other victims. + +Then it was that Hiram saw the pack train, not far distant over the +desert, making ready to receive the coming whirlwind. The burros, wise +little animals that they are, had huddled together, tails outward, +heads down; and in the center of them Hiram saw a man just stooping for +the protection of their bodies. Next instant the group vanished--was +swallowed up by the wind demon. + +When the old man looked up after the onslaught, Hiram was riding upon +him. The prospector stood trying to stare at him from the center of +his pack train, wiping his watering eyes and sand-stained mouth. + +"Hello, there!" called Hiram. "It spoke to us in passing, too. How do +you like 'em?" + +"I got to like 'em," returned the old man. "I eat 'em--breakfast, +dinner, and supper. Grub don't taste good any more 'less a twister's +passed over it and seasoned it up. Who are you?" + +Hiram swung his great frame from the creaking saddle. + +"I'm Hiram Hooker," he announced, lowering the mare's reins and +advancing until a mouse-colored burro aimed a kick at him to show him +that he was a rank outsider whose company was not desired. + +"Why, Muta, that ain't no way to act!" mildly expostulated the burro's +master. "She's just a mite playful," he explained apologetically to +Hiram. "Muta, she thinks a heap o' the ole man, ye see, an' she's +always lookin' out that strangers don't mean 'im any harm." + +He placed both arms about the shaggy burro's neck. "You must be more +polite, Muta," he said chidingly, while the little animal trust out her +upper lip and nibbled at the large horn buttons on his dusty canvas +coat. + +"Which way are you bound?" asked Hiram. + +"South now. Just travelin'. Maybe I'll make it over to Rattlesnake +Buttes"--he raised an arm toward the northeast--"and maybe down Caldron +Caņon way." He pointed southeast toward the mountains. "I dunno--just +driftin' along, me an' the little fellas. Sometimes we drift here, and +sometimes we drift there. Don't matter much, s'long's there's grub an' +a little rolled barley in the pack-bags. What's the dif'rence anyway?" +His red-lidded eyes looked up weirdly at Hiram. + +Bent and pathetic he was, this old man of the hills and deserts--this +old lizard of the unfriendly sands. In his eyes all time seemed to +have written its history. His brows were shaggy and desert-colored, +like the brows of the Ancient Mariner whose scrawny, clutching fingers +robbed the Wedding Guest of his night of pleasure. His hands shook, +and he carried a long cane; but for him the merciless desert seemed to +hold no lasting terror, for he spent his life on its desert searching +for the treasure that is hidden there. + +"Me and the little fellas just drift along. We get work at the camps +when our grubstake's gone; and then we ramble on and on--just driftin', +kinda. I got a ole jack rabbit for supper, pardner. He was sleepin' +under a sagebrush, and I puts out his eye with my six and twenty paces. +Can you do that? But you're young--young and got a clever eye. +Anyway, I got a ole jack for supper. Now, if you had a bottle on you +couldn't we have a time!" + +"I've no bottle," Hiram said. "I'm sorry. But, if you'll invite me, +I'll help you with the jack." + +"Got blankets behind yer saddle, I see. All right, my friend. Ole +Filer's always ready to share his grub with a passer-by on the desert. +There's water in my little tank. Burros don't drink much, you know. A +taste's enough till we get to a camp to-morrow. Handy, those camps, +for prospectors needin' a grubstake. Let's camp over there by that +lonesome yucca palm. He looks as if he wanted company. Maybe he'll +whisper where they's gold to-night--if we keep on ear awake. He-he! +Oh, they whisper lots--lots--lots! But they always lie like sin!" + +When the "ole jack" had paid the final price of his lack of +watchfulness, Hiram Hooker and the crazy prospector leaned back and +looked up at the cold stars that smiled cruelly down on the arid waste. +The wind whispered mysteriously through the bayonets of the yucca palm +above them. Not long would one be obliged to live and move and have +his being alone on this desert before strange messages would begin to +formulate in the wind's eerie whispering in the yuccas. + +The burros ranged about, browsing off the desert growth. There had +been barley for Babe, and Hiram had watered her at the last camp. A +rinse-out of her mouth and she would do very well till morning. + +And there under the scornful stars Hiram and the old man lounged on +packbags and talked, with their tiny camp fire of greasewood roots +between them. And gradually as Hiram told what he knew and convinced +the gray old rat of his honesty, an uncanny tale of the barren lands +began unfolding, a tale revolving about a little girl baby left by +prospectors in a yucca-trunk corral--the tale of Jean Prince, daughter +of Leonard Prince, whose bones had been gnawed by coyotes and covered +by the shifting sands for over twenty years. And the baby girl, Jean +Prince, was none other than the magnetic, dark-haired woman who now +drove jerkline to Ragtown and numbered her admirers by the +thousand--Jerkline Jo, Queen of the Outland Camps. + +"They was three of us at first," narrated Filer in a shaky voice. +"Three of us and Baby Jean. Baby Jean and me and Len Prince and 'The +Chink.' And that makes four. But Baby Jean was only two years old. + +"Hong Duo was the chink--a grinnin' yenshee hound from up beyond the +Tehachapi--way up--up toward the Sierra Nevadas, in the placer country. +White prospectors ner white miners don't often work with chinks. +Chinks is only good for workin' tailin's when it comes to mines. But +Len he'd saved Hong Duo's life in trouble in a dump in Placerville--ol' +Hangtown--and the chink had clung to um like a burro to somethin' he's +swiped from Camp. + +"Agin' that, too, the chink had money--an' Len and me was broke. Fer a +year he grubstaked us, and followed us around pocketin' up that a way, +cookin' and such, and livin' for Len and Baby Jean. + +"Baby Jean's maw she died when the kid was borned; and everywhere Len +went after she was a year or more he took her. We drifted south--me +and Len and the chink and Baby Jean. + +"Up Death Valley way we got wind o' somethin' good. Days and days we +makes it into the land that God forgot, and here and there we pecked +out a little color. Then Len and me we gets a lead, and we leaves the +chink and Baby Jean and drifts on into a country that makes me shiver +yet ta think of. + +"We got some gold--quite some. And me"--his voice grew low--"I was +younger then, and mean as dirt. I was high-gradin' on my pardner right +and left. I guess I was always mean; but I've paid the price. + +"Then Len he gets onto me, but he holds his tongue. And we make it on +and on into Little Hall, till the sandstorm come. + +"Fer nigh onto fifty-nine years I've roamed the desert, pardner, but +I've never seen another storm like that. Days and days she blowed, and +sometimes you couldn't see yer hand before yer face for the flyin' +sand. Someway we gets out of it, the Almighty knows how! But from +that day to this I've never been able to find that place ag'in. + +"There was gold there--piles and piles o' gold--and Len he'd found it. +Found it out alone one day before the storm set in. And knowin' I'd +been high-gradin' on him, he kep' this find to 'imself. Then come the +storm, and we fought out just ahead o' death. + +"Then Len he keeps tryin' to go back--wants to work long for a big +grubstake, and is quiet and dreams a lot, with Baby Jean in his arms, +and the chink settin' cross-legged lookin' at 'em with his glitterin' +little eyes--half full o' hop, I guess. And I gets onto why Len wants +to drift back there to that land o' dead men's bones, and I watch 'im, +and freeze to 'im continual. + +"Len he makes a bluff at this an' that an' the other--him and me and +the chink driftin' from here to there over this part o' the desert, or +hereabouts, scratchin' a little now and ag'in. But Len his heart ain't +in it, I see; and all the time he's tryin' to shake me off, I get it. +But I won't shake. + +"Well, Len he ain't no more good after the awful time we went through +up there in that terrible land. He never was a man ag'in after that; +and he gets scared, I guess, and thinks he's gonna cash his chips. +They's a queer look in his eyes, and in camp he just sets and sets with +Baby Jean in his arms, and the hophead lookin' at 'em from across the +fire with his glitterin' little eyes. And sometimes Len he just sets +and sets and watches Baby Jean asleep, and his eyes are worried like a +horse's eyes when he knows he's starvin'; and the yenshee hound he just +sets and looks at Len, and Heaven only knows what he's thinkin'! + +"Then we make it up along in where the Salt Lake road was buildin' +then--up Barstow way--all wild them days. And one day Len and me and +the chink goes out into the buttes, and leaves Baby Jean in a +yucca-stump corral so's the c'yotes can't get at her, like we did +sometimes. She wasn't never a yellin' kid. Give her a bottle o' +canned cow, and she'd suck herself to sleep with varmints prowlin' +about and sandstorms blowin'. Sometimes she'd sob if things was goin' +wrong in her little world--low and heartbroken, like a woman cries. +But yell--never! + +"So we leaves her suckin' at her bottle, for Len he'd never broke her +of it, and out we goes to scratch around some more up in Turkey Buttes. + +"It was lookin' to storm and we hadn't oughta gone maybe; but we didn't +aim to make it far, and could come back any time. But when she broke +she broke sudden; and only once before had I seen such a blow as that. +We got plumb lost five miles from camp; and all that day and all that +night and all next day we wandered about in the whirlin' sand, outa +water, and goin' crazier every minute. The chink he gives up, and so +does Len; and I'm too crazy to make 'em keep on fightin'. I dragged +out two days later, way north o' the buttes--plumb bughouse, my tongue +all black and stiff as rubber. I've never been the same man since, I +guess. I dream about them days and nights. + +"The folks that found me they go huntin' for Len and the chink and Baby +Jean t'other side o' the buttes. They find Len and the chink, both +dead, their faces and tongues---- But I don't like to remember that! +Sometimes the yuccas they whisper about it; but I always plug my ears +and begin to sing, or talk to the asses about the fun we'll have when +we find Jean Prince and get the gold Len knew about up there Death +Valley way. + +"They turned Len's things over to me. The baby they couldn't find; but +after weeks they stumbled onto the camp where we'd left her and found +everything almost buried in sand. The kid was gone, and the c'yotes +hadn't got her. They was a piece o' paper in the camp; but it had +rained and rained since it was stuck up there, and all the writin' was +gone. In Len's things I finds the paper that I'm carryin', and I kep' +it to myself. I've got it now--right here"--he thumped his +breast--"and for twenty years I've hunted for Baby Jean and never found +her. + +"They's gold up there--up where Len Prince found it. The paper tells +only half o' how to relocate Len's claims. At the beginnin' it says +the paper's for Baby Jean, and no one else is to have it. Len knew he +was soon goin' to croak--and he fixed it for Baby Jean when he was +gone. He done his best. Any one who's got the paper knows only half. +Whoever's got the paper can't do nothin' without Baby Jean. + +"The chink he done it. It was crazy--loco, you'll say. But what c'n +you expect from a man who's suffered as he did? Lissen, pardner--the +chink he done it. The paper tells about it. The chink he doped the +kid--with opium, some way, I guess--so's it wouldn't hurt her, and then +he tattooed the rest o' the directions for findin' the gold on the head +o' Baby Jean. Cut off some hair in back, and shaved a spot on her +little head, and tattooed it there. The chink he did. And then the +hair grew out ag'in, and nobody ever knew! + +"Even Baby Jean don't know--a woman grown up now. And years and years +I've hunted for her, but couldn't find her. Cause I couldn't stick, I +guess. Somethin' always kep' callin' me back into the hills, and I'd +forgot. Just me and the little fellas, we understand. And we're +driftin' about ag'in huntin' for Baby Jean. + +"I had a funny dream. I dreamed I'd found her--a young woman grown. +And in that dream she told me she was Baby Jean, and I told her all +about the paper and the tattoo marks. And then it looked like I +drifted into deeper sleep and I woke up in camp way out in nowhere. +I'd forgot again, you see, and drifted for the hills just when I'd +found Baby Jean. Or so I dreamed. But sometimes I think I wasn't +dreamin', pardner. It wasn't just like other dreams I've had. I got +it that I was in a place called Ragtown, and I know they's such a +place, cause everybody tells me so. And I was sick after the dream. +Funny! I'm drifting that a way now. I want to see that Ragtown. Was +it a dream? Or was the yuccas laughin' at ole Filer ag'in? I dunno. +But how come it I dreamed about a place called Ragtown, a place that +really is but that I never seen?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +LUCY PLANS A COUNTER-ATTACK + +One who has never lived in a frontier camp such as Ragtown may find it +difficult to analyze the characters of Lucy Dalles and Albert Drummond. + +Less than a year before Ragtown had sprung up overnight, both had been +ordinarily respectable American citizens. Lucy's crowning fault had +been the lust for wealth. Added to this now was the fierce +determination to realize her ambition, coupled with the complete +breakdown of the moral fabric of her soul. She had been flirtatious +and pleasure-loving in San Francisco, but perhaps not really bad at +heart. + +Drummond had been as decent as millions of other young men who pass for +that in good society. A bit wild, but a man who dealt squarely with +others sportsmanlike, and perhaps considered perfectly honest by +himself and all who knew him. + +But all this the frontier town had changed. That little semidormant +spark of wickedness and criminality which is perhaps in every mother's +son and daughter of us had been fanned to a flame by the lawlessness of +Ragtown. The feverish night life, the chink of gold on gambling tables +that were seldom unoccupied, the continual drinking of intoxicants, the +doping and robbing of stiffs, which was practiced with studied, +businesslike regularity, the brawls and shooting scrapes--all these had +worked their insidious spell upon mentalities not forfeited by careful +early training and bed-rock character. + +Drummond and Lucy Dalles were dangerous conspirators now, and took a +certain pride in the knowledge of it. They not only schemed for great +rewards, but for the love of it. Lust for wealth and for revenge, the +thrill of the dangerous and underhanded game they played, contempt for +those whose moral fabric was too strongly woven to break under the +strain of Ragtown, a certain vague satisfaction in their newly +discovered rascality--all these spurred them on to make the most of +their opportunities. One step in the direction they had taken leads so +easily to another, that now they had reached a point in their moral +lapse where they would stop at nothing--not even the taking of life--to +win that on which they had set their hearts. + +From a night spent at poker, Al Drummond, weary and half dead for +sleep, reeled from the Dugout early on the morning when Hiram Hooker +set out to find the crazy prospector, Basil Filer. As he slouched +along the street in the cold he heard the jingling of bells and the +rumbling of heavy wagons; and presently the freight outfit of Jerkline +Jo rolled past, the girl and her skinners, bundled to the ears and +slapping their hands against their ribs for warmth. + +Drummond gave them a contemptuous glance for their honest and difficult +endeavor, then took note that his old enemy, the man from Wild-cat +Hill, was missing. He wondered about this, but gave it little thought +until it dawned upon him that Jo's beautiful black saddle mare, which +usually followed behind the wagon train with doglike loyalty, was +absent too. He stopped short then and found that he was thinking of +the old prospector, whom he had seen for the second time the day before. + +He was worried. Could it be possible that Jo and Hiram had got wind of +the mystery? For all he knew, they might have met the old man +somewhere on the desert and learned his secret. It was such a usual +thing to see Hiram behind his ten black freighters on every trip in or +out that the conspirator could not down suspicion. + +All that day he worried over it, but did not mention it to Lucy. +Coming from another night of poker the following morning, having seen +nothing of Hiram Hooker in the meantime, he decided to look into the +matter as best he could. + +He would get his car and drive up the line a way, toward the camp where +he had seen Filer two days before. He could readily learn at +intervening camps whether or not Hiram had ridden that way on Jo's +black mare. + +He had no appetite for breakfast, so he got out his touring car and +drove away toward the north while Ragtown slept. + +Men were at work in the third camp that he reached, and here a little +inquiry brought forth the information that Hooker had gone the way +Drummond had feared. Now he drove fast along the road that followed +the right of way, passing rapidly through camp after camp, until he was +far from Ragtown. + +It was not yet eight o'clock when, far ahead, he saw a black horse +galloping toward him. He had just run the car out upon the smooth, +dark surface of one of the desert's famous dry lakes, where almost +nothing grew. The ground was level and hard as a dance floor, so he +turned from the road and drove at right angles to it across the crusted +soil. He drove fast, and by the time the rider reached the point in +the road where Drummond first had seen him Drummond was so far away +that Hiram could not recognize him or his car. + +Drummond circled now and regained the road, continuing on into the +north in search of what he dreaded to discover. But not many miles had +been covered before he was gritting his teeth and swearing over the +knowledge of his scheme's defeat. He saw rolling toward him, swinging +their packs from side to side as gently as a mother rocks a cradle, six +shaggy, long-eared "desert canaries" with an old desert-colored man +behind them who limped along with the aid of a cane. + +Drummond drove no farther in that direction. There was no need for it. +The sight of the old man drifting toward Ragtown and Hiram galloping on +ahead of him showed him plainly that the cat was out of the bag, that +the two had held a conference on the desert during the night just past. + +Bitter with rage, Drummond turned about and drove fiercely back in +Hiram's wake. He slowed down when he began to draw near to the horse +and rider, and for an hour kept his distance while he waited for Hiram +to reach another dry lake that was nearer to Ragtown than the first. + +When the rider ahead had reached it and was galloping across if, +Drummond speeded up, reached the lake in turn, and at last was able to +make a wide half circle over land where no greasewood grew to impede +the course of the car. + +The lake was a large one, and by driving at close to sixty miles an +hour and skirting its edge, he reached the road again a mile ahead of +Hiram, and sped on toward home to break the news of defeat to Lucy +Dalles. + +At ten o'clock he reached Ragtown, having driven recklessly. + +"Somebody's spilled the beans!" was his stormy beginning. "We're +gypped. Got any jackass? Gi'me the bottle. I'm a wreck!" + +He dropped wearily into a chair and told of what he had discovered. + +"How on earth did they get wind of it?" she asked. + +Drummond threw out his hands in a gesture proclaiming ignorance and +despair. + +"There's one thing sure," she said thoughtfully. "He saw the paper +only yesterday or last night for the first time. Else why did he ride +way up there to see Filer? Jerkline Jo, then, has not yet seen it. +They've heard about it, though, and Hooker was sent out to hunt for +Filer. So the first thing the big rube will do when he reaches Ragtown +will be to travel over toward Julia to overtake Jo and report. He'll +get another horse, maybe, or hire a machine. Tweet would be in on it, +no doubt, and would take him in his car. So what we've got to do, my +dear boy, is to see that Hooker doesn't get to Jo with what he's +learned." + +"What can we do? He probably made a copy of what's written on Filer's +paper, so, even if we were to hold him up and get it away from him, old +Filer still would have the dope." + +"Of course. That means that we've got to fix that old dub, too." + +"What d'ye mean fix him?" + +The girl shrugged. "Stop the leak some way," she replied. "If we can +destroy Filer's paper and the copy Hooker's got, then we'll be the only +ones who know the dope. We'll have the only copy in existence, in +other words; and even if we fail to get at Jerkline Jo and learn the +rest of it, we can hold her to our terms. She won't be able to do a +thing without knowing what her father wrote on the paper that Filer +has." + +"Lucy, it's a crazy business," said Drummond. "Sometimes I think it's +all a pipedream of that nutty old prospector. They're all +bughouse--these old desert rats." + +"It's not a pipedream," Lucy stoutly maintained. "I tell you I saw the +blue tattoo marks on that woman's scalp when I was beautifying her up +for the ball that night. I wondered what they were. Of course, with +her heavy hair covering them--growing right out of them, in fact--I +couldn't make out anything but blue dots." + +"And you didn't ask her about 'em?" + +"Why, of course not, Al! Do you suppose a hair dresser would last very +long in the business if she showed curiosity about a thing like that? +You don't know much about women. If I'd found a knob on her nut as big +as a baseball she'd never have been told that I'd seen it." + +"But how in thunder has she reached her present age without knowing +it's there?" + +"She inadvertantly explained that; and so, when later in the day, old +Filer spilled what he knew I was sure Jo had never dreamed of what she +is carrying about under her hair. + +"You see, she was raised like an Indian. She told me that, even when +she was a little kid, she'd always been made to wash her own hair. She +naïvely confided to me that when she came into my place it was her +first time in any sort of a beauty parlor. A woman can't very well see +the back of her head, can she? And she'd never be able to see the +tattoo marks, even with two mirrors, with all that beautiful hair she's +got. Do you know what your scalp looks like, at the back of your head, +just above your ears? I guess not! You bet it's straight! And here +you sit arguing about a trifle, when a rich gold claim is slipping from +our fingers. Can't you--put your brain to work?" + +"Well, what's to be done?" + +"If that big boog starts to overtake Jerkline Jo, he's got to be +stopped, and the copy taken away from him. While this is going on, +Filer must be held up and the original taken from him and destroyed. + +"Then when we get the copy away from Hooker and destroy Filer's +original, we can throw our cards on the table and laugh at 'em. Come +right out and say, 'Yes, we schemed to beat you, and we've done it. +What're you going to do about it? You've got the tattooed part, we've +got the only copy of the other part. Make us an offer! Otherwise, +throw us in jail, if you think you've got it on us; but before we go +the paper will go up in smoke!' That'll hold 'em; and we'll demand +that we are not to be prosecuted, and we'll shake down half of the haul. + +"But listen, Al--we'll do that only if they beat us out up to a point +where negotiations become necessary. If only we can destroy the +original and Hooker's copy, we can hold Hooker a prisoner till we get +at Jerkline Jo and find out what's on her head. Then we can hog it all +and beat it." + +"Well--well, how'll we begin? You got me beat, Lucy. You're a better +schemer than I am. What's to be done first?" + +"Beat it in your car to the mountains and get Tehachapi and the other +roughnecks. Send Tehachapi Hank up the line to waylay Filer between +camps somewhere, with instructions to get the original from him by hook +or crook. Leave it to Hank. + +"Meantime, Hooker gets in here and starts after Jerkline Jo. It's +doubtful if the thickhead will think to memorize what's on his copy, as +I have done. Even if he does think to, he won't have time to do it +before you nab him. He's dense--he wouldn't learn it in a week, I'll +say!" + +"You and Hank's friend will waylay him, then, and get his copy, destroy +it, and take Hooker into the mountains as a prisoner, with Hank's +friend to guard him. Then it will be up to you and me to get Jerkline +Jo as she's coming back through the mountains. Yes, I'll go along! It +seems the rest of you can do nothing. Leave that Jane to me! I'll get +her by a method unknown to you men! + +"We'll dope her, cut off her hair, shave her scalp, and get the part of +the directions for finding the gold that we lack. Then, Al, why can't +you and I get the stuff, beat it, and give Hank and the other jasper +the ha-ha?" + +"Lucy, you're getting to be a regular little devil!" + +Lucy shrugged and seemed rather pleased than otherwise. + +"And your ideas about that gold are of the vaguest," he continued. +"You seem to think it's lying about in chunks, begging to be picked up +and heaped in bushel baskets! All we can do, perhaps, is make claim +filings, and get to Los Angeles and record them. Then, to realize +anything, we've got to take mining engineers out there to make tests. +Then the companies they represent will make us an offer--and probably +skin us alive. In the meantime we'll be having all kinds of trouble +with Jerkline Jo and her bunch of roustabouts." + +"Well, then, we'll settle all that later," Lucy retorted. "Your first +move is to go for Hank and get a toehold, as Tweet says. Don't borrow +trouble! It's time to figure out our future steps when we know we hold +all the trumps. And the sooner you start the better. Thank Heaven +you've not gambled away your last automobile, Al! Their horses beat +you before, but your last little old boat will win out now. Get after +'em, boy! It's a great game if you don't weaken!" + +Five minutes later Drummond was driving rapidly toward the mouth of the +mountain pass. By three o'clock he was back and following the line of +camps again, with Tehachapi Hank huddled on the floor of the tonneau +and covered with robes. Drummond had the good fortune to pass through +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Two when Hiram had stopped +there for a late "hand-out," furnished by the obliging cooks. Drummond +saw the black mare standing near the cook tent door, and hurried on +through, elated over the knowledge that Hiram had not seen him. He at +last dumped his passenger on the desert between camps, having estimated +that the slow-moving burro train could not be many miles ahead. + +Promising to return for Hank as soon as possible, Drummond raced back +toward Ragtown, passed Hiram again--at close quarters this time--and +reached the tent village ahead of him early in the evening. + +Now he and Lucy settled down to wait for Hiram's coming and to watch +his future movements. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +POCKETED + +Hiram Hooker, knowing well the story of Jerkline Jo's having been found +as a baby girl in a deserted camp on the desert, had easily been able +to convince old Basil Filer that she was the young woman he had been +searching for so long. + +They had spent half the night in planning in their desert camp. +Hiram's frank, open nature tended to breed confidence in the most +pessimistic of men; and when he told Filer of the wonderful character +of Jerkline Jo and assured him that, despite his past rascality, he +would be handsomely rewarded by her, the helpless old man agreed to all +that he proposed. + +Knowing that the prospector would not reach Ragtown for a long time +with his sauntering burros, Hiram was for making a copy of what the +precious paper contained and hurrying on ahead, to overtake Jo as soon +as possible, and suggest that she make arrangements for a strip to the +lost claims before starting back from Julia. To this the desert rat +agreed; but when they were ready for Hiram to make a copy it was +discovered that neither man had a scrap of paper, or even a pencil. + +There was nothing to be done then, if the original plan was to be +carried out, but for Basil Filer to surrender into Hiram's keeping the +document. This, with many misgivings, Filer consented to do. + +So they broke camp early next morning, and Hiram hurried on ahead with +the original in his pocket. The old man was to traipse along after +him, and in all probability would reach Ragtown before Hiram had +overtaken Jo. + +Al Drummond passed Hiram in his car as he was nearing his journey's end +late that afternoon; but of course Hiram thought nothing of this, as +Drummond and his car made a familiar sight about the country. Hiram +had decided to ask Tweet to carry him in his machine until Jerkline Jo +had been overtaken, which would probably occur between the foot of the +mountains and Artesian Ranch on the other side. Then Tweet would +return, and Hiram would ride on with the outfit and reveal to the girl +what he had heard of the strange thing she had worn concealed under her +lustrous hair since she was two years old. + +Hiram knew about how Drummond and Lucy had stumbled onto the truth, +which Jerkline Jo herself had not even dreamed of. + +What the old prospector had told him of his "dream" convinced Hiram +that Lucy had got wind of the secret and had cleverly posed as the lost +child grown up, and had been able to draw Filer's story out of him. He +had said that in his dream he had been shown something on the girl's +scalp, under her hair, that looked like tattooing. Hiram reasoned that +Drummond could have dotted Lucy's scalp with a pen and ink sufficient +to convince the old desert rat that she was the girl he was seeking. +Then he had told his story, but had been in some way rendered +unconscious and disposed of before he could demand the clipping of +Lucy's hair and the shaving of her scalp. No doubt, while he was +unconscious, Drummond and Lucy had made a copy of what was on the paper. + +To Hiram's great disappointment he found on reaching Ragtown late that +afternoon that Twitter-or-Tweet had driven to Los Angeles on business. +He hunted about for another machine, but there seemed to be none in +town that he could hire. There was Drummond's, of course, but to deal +with him was out of the question. + +"Hello, Hiram boy!" Lucy called sweetly as he walked past the shooting +gallery. "You look worried. Whassa malla? Jo fired you?" + +"Not yet," said Hiram briefly. "I was looking for a machine so that I +could catch up with the outfit, but can't seem to locate one." + +"Not many about town this time of year," she commented. "Did you get +so cuckooed Jo had to leave you behind to sober up, Wild Cat? And now +you've got to chase her, eh? 'Fraid Heine or some of 'em'll get her +away from you if you don't stick around--that it?" + +To this Hiram smiled with cold politeness, but, made no reply, passing +on down the street. + +He would be forced to wait until morning. Then, provided Tweet had not +returned, he would have to ride Babe over the mountains and reach +Jerkline Jo at least before she had started back. After all, there was +no great hurry. The gold had lain where it did for countless +centuries. It would continue to lie so for a few days more, perhaps. + +Tweet did not return that night, and at dawn Hiram was away toward the +mountains on the black mare, the precious paper secreted in his shirt. +He was ten miles from Ragtown before it occurred to him what a fool he +had been in not making a copy of it. Any one of a hundred things might +happen to it. Still, the crazy prospector had carried it through all +the years and had lost it. + +He wondered if it would not be a practical idea to commit it to memory. +Why, certainly--that was the thing to do. + +He was nearing such foothills as the abrupt mountain range boasted when +he decided not only to memorize it, but to make a copy on an envelope +which was in his pocket. It had covered a letter from Uncle Sebastian +Burris, Hiram's benefactor, up there in Mendocino County. He had found +it awaiting him the night before at Ragtown. He and Uncle Sebastian +had kept up a correspondence ever since Hiram had come south. + +Although he had no pencil, it occurred to him that he could write with +the lead bullet of one of his revolver cartridges, which simple feat he +had often performed in idle moments in the woods up home. + +Dismounting, he lowered the bridle rein over Babe's head, and sat down +on the ground. He took out Uncle Sebastian's letter, and with his +pocket-knife slit the envelope till it provided him with a square of +paper. He laid the worn original--a yellow piece of tough sheepskin +paper--on a flat rock beside him. He took a cartridge from his belt +and began to copy the reddish writing. + +He had just completed the task when there came a sudden terrific roar +in his ears, and before he knew what was happening a desert twister had +swept down upon him in all its fury. + +It passed swiftly, and through half-blinded eyes Hiram saw that the +original had been whisked from the rock on which it had lain as if by +magic. + +Fortunately he had held to his copy instinctively; but he had not +compared it with the original. He might have made some small but vital +mistake. Away over the desert twisted the miniature cyclone, and he +knew that, spinning around with it, was the sheepskin. Rather +foolishly in his excitement he grabbed his six-shooter from its holster +and slapped it down upon his copy to protect it from another such +catastrophe, and, still half-blinded, vaulted to the saddle and set the +mare at a dead run in the wake of the whirlwind. + +Then it was that Al Drummond, who had been slowly creeping through the +greasewood bushes toward Hiram, arose with a yelp of triumph and ran to +the weighted-down copy of the precious directions. + +Out there in the whirlwind the original was fleeing rapidly away from +the frantic rider, with the chances many to one that it would not be +recovered. Here in Drummond's hand was the only copy in existence, +except the one already in his and Lucy's possession. It was plain that +Hiram had not previously made another copy, else why would he have +stopped here on the desert to draft this one? Also, by the same token, +it was plain that Hiram had not memorized the contents. Basil Filer +might have done so, it was true; but, then, Tehachapi Hank would attend +to Basil Filer. + +Quickly Drummond stooped and touched the blaze of a match to the +envelope, and in a few minutes only a crinkled bit of black, charred +paper lay on the ground. + +"Pete!" he called, and from the greasewood another man arose and +hurried toward him. + +"Look!" Drummond cried exultantly, pointing to the burned paper. +"There's what's left of the copy he was making. And here's his gun--he +used it to weigh down the copy when he raced away after the whirlwind. +Run for the horses. We'll get after him and get the original away from +him, if he gets it. Then, if Hank gets Filer--which he certainly +will--we'll have the only copies in existence!" + +Pete, the bosom friend of Tehachapi Hank, turned about and ran up +toward the fringe of junipers that concealed their horses, brought down +the day before from the mountains. Drummond, while he waited, gazed +after the strange chase, and noted that the fleet black mare was +steadily overtaking the moving funnel of dust which represented the +whirlwind. + +"By golly, if he can ride into the thing and break it, or keep up with +it till it breaks itself, he'll get the sheepskin!" Drummond muttered. +"But he won't keep it. He's left his gun. He's our meat now!" + +Then Pete rode up rapidly, leading Drummond's mount, and next moment +they were on the dead run in pursuit of Hiram. + +Time and again, as they drew nearer, they saw Hiram deliberately riding +the mare through the whirlwind, trying to break it. The thing seemed a +devil, alive and diabolically bent on eluding him. It changed course +from right to left, but the cow pony was as quick as it was; and it +seemed to the racing spectators that she enjoyed the game. Hiram was +so intent on his task, so frequently blinded by the whirlwind, while +his ears were filled with its roar, that to ride almost upon him +without his knowledge of it was an easy task for Pete and Drummond. + +They were very close to him, then, when at last the mare's lunges broke +the whirlwind, and a scattered cloud of dust hid horse and rider. +Whether or not Hiram had rescued the paper they could not tell, but +they spurred their horses on. + +The dust settled, and close at hand they saw Hiram, dismounted. At the +same instant he seemed to hear the thunder of hoofs, and glanced their +way. He took a couple of steps and grasped his mare's bridle, and was +standing unconcernedly at her head When they raced up, both training +sixshooters on him. + +"Stick 'em up, Hooker!" ordered Drummond. "This means business at +last." + +Totally unarmed, Hiram grinned and slowly elevated his hands. + +Watching him closely, Drummond and Pete dismounted, and, still keeping +their sixes trained on Hiram's stomach, approached him. + +"Well, Hooker," Drummond said sneeringly, "we meet again, don't we? +You see, we've showed our hand at last--and it's a pretty good one, +too. You're onto us, anyway, I guess, so from now on we'll fight in +the open. Did you get the sheepskin?" + +Hiram reverted to his provincial drawl, as was his habit in moments of +great stress. + +"No, she got plumb away from me," he said. "She got outa the whirlwind +back there somewheres, or else she's gone on with what's left o' the +twister." + +"I was afraid you wasn't going to say that, Hooker," Drummond said. +"Well, let me show you something. Do you recognize this gat?" + +Hiram looked uneasily at a third big six-shooter, which Drummond had +produced as he spoke. + +"I reckon she was mine a while back," he said with a gulp. + +"Exactly. And what you left it to hold down, Hooker, has gone up in +smoke." + +"You got---- You burned----" + +"Got and burned is right, Hooker. But I don't just like your tone. If +you were on the stage, Brother Hiram, I think you'd get the hook. +'Hook Hooker!' the audience might yell. Don't you think I'm funny at +times, Gentle Wild Cat? It's just my pleasant little way of informing +you that I consider you a poor actor. 'You got--you burned' was pretty +fair, Hi-ram, but not quite good enough. So we're going to search you +and make sure you didn't get the sheepskin out of the whirlwind." + +"I didn't get it," Hiram said sulkily. "She's gone forever." + +"She is in any event, Hooker. But we have a copy at Ragtown--don't +forget that. Now let go these reins and step over here. And be mighty +careful, Hi-ram--mighty careful. My friend here is a nervous man with +a six-gun." + +Obediently Hiram dropped the mare's reins and stepped away from her +head. Drummond laid the two revolvers at some distance away from them +on the ground, so that, while he was searching Hiram, the latter would +have no opportunity to grab one from him and turn the tables. + +"Keep 'em up," he ordered; and, while Pete trained his gun on Hiram, +Drummond searched his prisoner from head to foot. + +"Guess you told the truth," he said. "Still, a fellow never can tell. +You're a pretty foxy guy at times. Strip, Hooker. + +"I guess you did tell the truth," Drummond said a few minutes later +after a thorough search had been made. "Still I'm not through yet. +You saw us coming and had time to hide it, if you found it." + +He stepped to the mare and went over her saddle, even turning the cheek +straps of the bridle inside out, and pawing through her heavy mane and +tail. He looked and felt in her ears. He held her nostrils with his +fingers until she jerked up her head and snorted out a blast of held-in +air. + +"Guess that would have shot out any paper in her nostrils," he remarked. + +"They say this Jo's a hoss trainer," suggested Pete. "Maybe the mare's +a trick hoss. Look in her mouth Drummond." + +Drummond did this, but found it empty. He studied a minute, his eyes +closed thoughtfully, then threw off the saddle and examined the +sheepskin lining, _tapaderos_, jockeys, skirts. + +Now for fifteen minutes he walked about over the ground. It was hard +and firm here--almost as smooth as the surface of a dry lake, with no +loose sand in which the paper might be concealed and little desert +growth. + +Returning he lifted the mare's feet one by one, then faced Hiram again. + +"Open your mouth," he commanded; and Hiram obeyed, displaying an empty +cavity. + +"Well, ole hoss, I guess the game's up for you folks," Drummond said +chuckling. "I never thought we'd be lucky enough to get rid of the +original. So now we'll leave you to put on your clothes and go your +way. You may see Jerkline Jo and tell her your little story; and you +two can discuss what's best to do. When you've decided, come to me and +we'll dicker with you." + +"How 'bout takin' 'im into the mountains?" asked Pete in a low voice. + +"No, that won't be necessary now. We need him to put the case before +Jerkline Jo. I'm against violence, anyway, in the main. And I'm not a +hog, like a certain person I might mention if it weren't for Hooker's +overhearing it. We'll let him go, and dicker later. Half suits me." + +Drummond climbed into the saddle, and the two wheeled their horses and +rode away. + +Hiram began to dress. + +"Look, Hooker!" called Drummond from a distance. "I'll drop your gun +right here." + +Hiram nodded and continued putting on his clothes, then resaddled the +mare. + +Then when the departing riders were mere specks in the distance he +stepped to Babe's head, reached his fingers up one of her nostrils, and +pulled out the wadded sheepskin document. + +"A heap o' fellas call themselves hossmen that don't know about that +little pocket in a hoss' nose," came his whimsical Mendocino drawl. +"She could snort all day, but the pocket ain't connected with her +nostrils." He patted Babe's glossy neck. "Li'l' black mare," he +crooned into her furry ear, "le's go find Jo!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +WHILE SPRING APPROACHED + +At a late hour in the evening of the day that Hiram Hooker set out to +ride with the sheepskin to Jerkline Jo, on her way to Julia, a strange +figure presented itself at the door of the lighted commissary tent of +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Two. + +"Well, who in thunder are you?" exclaimed the young commissary clerk, +as his eyes fell upon a set of shaggy gray brows and a dusty, +bewhiskered face. + +"I'm Basil Filer--ole Filer," was the croaking reply. "I jest stopped +in to see if ye got a' automobile, or a hoss an' buggy, or somethin' +here." + +"Well, what if we have?" + +"Thought maybe ye'd give Tehachapi Hank a ride," came the answer. +"He's too heavy for Muta--that's my biggest burro. His feet drags and +ketches in the greasewood, and Muta she gets provoked at him. He won't +bother you none--Hank won't. He's peaceable. But he oughta be got to +a constable or somethin'. You see, Hank he's dead." + +This brought the clerk out into the night; and there in the light +streaming from the tent door lay the figure of a man crosswise and face +down on a burro's back. + +"Ye see, I know Hank some time," explained Basil Filer simply. "And +jest last night a friend o' mine he camped with me, and said Hank was +up to his old devilment ag'in. So I was camped on the desert out there +this evenin', and Hank he drifts in. And--well, I'm watchin', you see; +and so when Hank he sidles round and I see somethin' heavylike in his +hand, why, I ups and goes for my cannon. Then Hank he goes for his, +and I have to let him have it from the hip. Got any ca'tridges, +pardner? Hank he wasted the last one I had." + +"You--you killed this man?" faltered the clerk. + +"I hadn't only one ca'tridge, pardner," Filer said patiently. "And +Hank he's accounted a pretty clever gunman. Well, maybe he was. Ole +Filer he shoots ole jack rabbits in the eye at twenty paces with a six, +they'll tell ye. Anyway ye can figger that out, here's Hank. And he +oughta see a coroner er somethin'. I don't want 'im. Besides, time +Muta'd packed him to Ragtown, Hank he'd spoil. Muta she never did like +Tehachapi Hank, nohow." + +The following day the mortal remains of Tehachapi Hank were brought +into Ragtown, together with his self-confessed killer Basil Filer. The +constable--for Ragtown had one now--took Filer in charge and hurried +him to the county seat in Twitter-or-Tweet's machine. The burros had +been loosed to pick their living on the desert. + +"So that failed beautifully!" exclaimed Al Drummond to Lucy Dalles. +"Who'd have thought that old rabbit would be too quick for Hank! He +must have been on his guard." + +Lucy shrugged indifferently. "Filer was a master shot," she observed. +"Failed beautifully is right, Al--beautifully for us. It couldn't have +happened better. Now Brother Hank is out of it. If you can contrive +some way to shake Hank's partner, Pete, there'll be no one but you and +me to whack up. + +"Since Hank is numbered among the late lamented," she continued, "I can +forgive you for bungling the Hooker end of your job. With Hank's +finger out of the pot, I'm content to split with Jerkline Jo. So, no +thanks to you, everything has worked out all right after all. Can't +you send Pete out with instructions to bite a rattlesnake, or something +like that?" + +"You're mighty good-natured to-day, kid," Al said. + +"Why shouldn't I be? Since we know the original document and that +boob's copy are both destroyed--and that before he had time to commit +the directions to memory. We have nothing whatever to do but wait for +Jerkline Jo to come to us and ask us what our terms are. Then if you +and I aren't foxy enough to squeeze out the amiable Mr. Pete---- Well, +leave it to me!" + +"But have you thought," Drummond pointed out, "that perhaps Filer has +committed the instructions to memory?" + +Lucy scoffed at this and dismissed it with: "That old lunatic? Never! +He can hardly remember the story, and now and then forgets that he's +hunting for Baby Jean and hikes back for the desert. Don't worry about +his having committed anything to memory. He has no memory to commit it +to!" + +At about the time the foregoing dialogue was being spoken in Ragtown, +Jerkline Jo, in her tent at Julia, was making strange remarks to Hiram +Hooker, to wit, as follows: + +"Hi-_ram_! It ti-i-i-ickles! Sto-op-op! Wait a minute, Hiram!" + +"Huh!" snorted the unfeeling man. "Whoever heard of anybody being +ticklish on the head!" + +"But I am, Hiram! I just know I am! And isn't that razor far too +sharp?" + +"'There ain't no such thing,'" quoted the man out of the store of his +masculine experience. "Now quit wiggling, Jo, or I'm liable to cut +you." + +"Now go slow, Hiram. And if I say it feels funny, you stop. Now easy +at first! Horrors! I wouldn't be a man for anything!" + +"Don't blame me," mumbled Hiram. "Now quit wrinkling your scalp, Jo. +Fella'd think I was going to cut your head off, the way you dodge and +shrink." + +They were alone in the tent. Jo was on her knees on the ground, and +behind her and over her stood Hiram with an old-fashioned razor in his +hand. Beside them on a chair lay a strand of almost black hair three +feet in length, which Hiram swore that he would preserve until his +dying breath. On the back of Jo's head appeared a round spot, covered +with hairs half an inch in length, and these the brutal man was trying +to shave off with the razor. Never had barber a more provoking +customer. + +"Oh, I'll look like a fright, Hiram! I've always been proud of my +hair." + +"It'll grow out again," he said soothingly. "Besides, what I cut off +didn't cover a spot an inch and a half in diameter. With hair like +yours, it can't be noticed. If I'd thought it would disfigure your +hair, girl, I'd have said, 'Let the old gold go!' What an idea!" + +"I positively never heard of such a weird thing. And to think it's on +me! And---- Oo-oo-oo-oo! You cut me, Hiram! It's bleeding!" + +"No, no, no! Only more lather. Don't wiggle, Jo!" + +"There! It's all over," Hiram said after a minute of silence. + + +Four days later Lucy Dalles and Al Drummond stood behind the counter of +the shooting gallery at Ragtown, and with a certain amount of nervous +expectancy watched the freight outfit of Jerkline Jo grow larger and +larger as it neared the journey's end. + +Soon they heard the merry jingling of hundreds of bells, and next the +big horses were planting their heavy fetlocked feet in the street, +their glossy necks arched proudly as Ragtown turned out to greet them. + +Lucy stood on tiptoe and craned her neck along the line of heavily +loaded wagons. "Don't see Jo's whites at the tail end," she remarked. + +And presently her companion supplemented: "Nor Hooker's blacks. Say, +that's funny. There's only four teams, Hooker and the girl didn't +come!" + +"Oh, dear, dear! What can that mean? Al, Hooker must have memorized +the directions! And----" + +"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "If he'd memorized them, why did he sit down +on the desert to copy em?" + +"Oh, that's right, of course! But I'm worried, Al. Something must be +wrong." + +Just then two men passed along the street, and a fragment of their +conversation floated to the anxious pair: "Says Jo's sick at Julia-----" + +"Oh that's it!" Lucy murmured in relief. "And the hick stayed to nurse +her. There's not so much freight to be hauled right now. See, +Al--Heine and Keddie each are driving sixteen, with trailers. The +extra horses are white and black--Jo's and Hiram's. I wonder what's +the matter with Jo." + +"Huh!" snickered Drummond. "The package we handed her is enough to +make anybody sick! But I don't just like the way things look, either. +By golly, aren't we to know where we stand until Jo gets well!" + +Three of the wagons and trailers groaned on through the town toward +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One, while the fourth--Heine +Schultz driving--entered the alley to reach the rear of Huber's store. +Twenty minutes later Schultz suddenly presented himself at the shooting +gallery. + +"Howdy," he greeted Al and Lucy, touching the broad brim of his hat +with a forefinger. "Jo's sick. I guess you've heard." + +"Yes, so some one said," Lucy smiled amiably at the dusty skinner. +"Isn't it too bad! What seems to be wrong, Heine?" + +"Bad cold--settled in her lungs," replied Heine briefly. "Er--now--Jo +told me to ask you somethin', miss. Either you or Drummond, she said. +I don't know what it's about. She just said: 'Go see Drummond or Lucy +when you get in and ask them their terms and let me know what they say +when you get back to Julia.'" + +Drummond darted a quick, triumphant glance at the girl. + +"Oh, yes," she said lightly to the skinner, "I know what she refers to. +Why, just tell her, 'Half,' Heine. That's all you need to say; she'll +understand." + +"Gotcha," said Heine, and lounged away, rolling a brown paper cigarette. + +The outfit started back again early next morning; and eight days later +it returned, still minus its two important figures. Again Heine +Schultz rested his bony elbows on the carpeted counter of the shooting +gallery, and spoke to Lucy, who this time was alone. + +"About that business between you folks and Jo," he said, indolently +filling a cigarette paper. + +"Yes?" eagerly returned Lucy. + +"Jo says tell you, 'Half is too much.'" + +"Oh! She--she's still ill?" + +Heine, shook his head sadly and tapped his chest. "Can't hardly hear +her talk," he said. "It's fierce. Wild Cat's scared stiff about it. +Well, what'll I tell 'er, Miss Lucy?" + +"I'll have to see Al before giving you an answer," she told him. +"Can't you drop around after supper, Heine?" + +"Sure. I'm on the water wagon, though," he added blandly, with no +suggestion of a deep meaning in his tones. + +An hour afterward Drummond met Heine on the street and handed him a +sealed envelope. "Give that to Jerkline Jo," he commanded shortly. + +"Gotcha!" drawled Heine, and slouched on up the street. + +"Confound it!" Drummond grumbled to Lucy little later. "Why in thunder +doesn't Tweet put a telephone line to civilization? We're wasting +time!" + +"Couldn't do anything, anyway, till Jo's on her feet again," the girl +practically pointed out. "Don't be overimpatient." + +Eight days later Heine Schultz faced them again. + +"Jo's still too sick to write," he announced. "But she's gettin' +better right along. She told me to tell you that what you wrote was +fierce, and that you was too greedy. That's only what Jo said. Don't +take it out on me. She said she'd be willin' to let you have a fourth, +over an' above all expenses." + +"Well, she'll do nothing of the sort!" Lucy cut in hotly. + +"Come around later, Heine," put in Drummond. "I'll have another note." + +"Gotcha!" replied Heine, and picked up a rifle to sight at a target +before strolling nonchalantly on. + +Two miles out of town next morning Heine took out his pocketknife and +slit the envelope covering the note that Drummond had given him to be +delivered to Jerkline Jo. + +"M'm-m!" he mumbled, reading slowly, a great calloused forefinger +following the lines. + + You'll come to our terms immediately, or our copy + of the instructions goes into the fire. We've reached + the end of our rope, and won't monkey any longer. + Take your choice, Miss Modock--or Miss Jean + Prince--half or nothing. Yes, we're just ornery + enough to rob ourselves to spite you. + + +Heine scratched his head and muttered: "Lord, be merciful unto me, a +skinner! Now what'll I say to that? Guess I'll stretch this trip out +to twelve days--we c'n have a breakdown or somethin'." + +It was indeed twelve days before the outfit was again seen in Ragtown; +and then Mr. Schultz had this to say to Drummond and the girl: + +"Jo says she'll be about pretty soon now, and she'll come over with us +next trip and see you herself. Says for you not to do anything rash, +or anything like that. What'll I tell her?" + +"Tell her to hurry up!" Drummond said angrily. + +"Gotcha!" drawled Heine, and betook himself to camp. + +Ten days later Mr. Schultz had this to report: + +"Well, sir, Jo she just naturally had a terrible relapse. Doctor's +worried blue about 'er. She can't talk, and she can't see to read. +She just lays there and gasps somethin' fierce." + +"What on earth has she?" cried Lucy. + +Heine scratched his head. "The doc said it was a kind o' complication +or somethin'. Dip'theria and appendiseetus, I think he said. Yes, +sir--that's it. Dip'theria and appendiseetus." + +"Ridiculous!" scoffed Lucy. "Did they operate?" + +"Operate! I should say they did! They whittled that woman down to +such a frazzle and when the doc goes to see her in the mornin' he has +to shake the sheets to find her!" + +"Heine, I believe you're a humorist," Lucy said doubtfully. + +Heine grinned. "She's gettin' better now, though; and the doc says +next trip she'll probably be over. Then she c'n 'tend to her business +with you herself. I wish she would. I get things all mixed up." + +Drummond and Lucy stared at each other when the skinner had left. + +"Gypped!" exclaimed Drummond. "There's something phony about this! By +George, I'm--I'm scared there's something wrong! Heine's been lying +like a sailor. I believe I'll drive over to Julia tomorrow and see +what I can find out." + + +"Sit down, Heine," invited Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet, rising and +lowering the window shade in his little pine office as the jerkline +skinner entered. + +Heine accepted. + +"Well?" queried Tweet, with a look of worriment in his face. + +"Ain't heard a word from 'em, Playmate, since they come in and filed, +and went back with a minin' engineer," said Heine. "I'm gettin' +worried myself. You see, that's a bad country up in there where +they've gone. Many a man's gone in there and left his bones for the +buzzards to pick." + +"But weren't they fixed for an ordeal, Heine?" + +"No one ever hit Death Valley better fixed," was the reply. "Jo, she +hires two big trucks and takes horses and pack burros and feed and grub +and water till you couldn't rest. They aimed to go as far as they +could with the trucks, and then make a headquarters there, leave the +drivers to look out for the camp, and her and Wild Cat was gonta make +it on in with the horses and the canaries. They had a scout that knows +that country from the southern end o' the Panamints to Lost Valley. +Oh, they went heeled; but it's a big job and takes time. Still, they +oughta be showin' up by now." + +Orr Tweet heaved a great sigh. "Jo's simply forgotten all about me," +he said mournfully. "Heine, I don't mind tellin' you--but if somethin' +don't happen pretty soon one Tweet goes up Salt Creek. Here it's only +ten days till I gotta plunk down six thousan' iron men, plus a raft o' +interest money. And the mortgages o' this blame rancho are watchin' me +like buzzards, ready to swoop down the minute I begin to gasp. They +got me where the hair's short, Heine. I not only lose the rancho and +all, but every cent Jo and me and Hiram's put into her. I ain't +sellin' an acre these days. Won't till summer's here, and the +blame'-fool homesteaders see that Paloma Rancho's worth ten times what +the government land's worth. The work on the grade is nearin' +completion, and the steel's creepin' closer every day. Every mornin', +when it's still, you c'n hear the whistle o' the track-layin' engine. +The camps are finishin' and movin' on, one by one. That takes trade +away from Ragtown, and concessionaires are quittin', too. A month from +now Ragtown will be only a memory, Heine. Not that, as Tweet, she +won't build up later and more substantially, when the steel's laid and +trains are runnin'. But to keep a stiff upper lip till then brings +gray hairs!" + +"Don't you worry," Heine said consolingly. "You just set tight and +watch the spring blossoms come. Jerkline Jo never failed man nor horse +nor dog in her life, and she ain't forgot you for a second. You bet +your last dime on Jerkline Jo, ol'-timer--and Wild Cat, too, s'far's +that goes. They'll ramble home in time to save you. I'll bet my bank +roll on it!" + +"Only ten days more," Tweet sighed heavily. "Oh, papa, what pretty +fireworks you made! Heine, are you still keepin' Drummond in hot +water?" + +"Oh, yes," Heine assured him. "They're doin' very well. Guess +Drummond'll be drivin' to see how Jo's gettin' along pretty soon. I +guess I queered things to-day. Tried to get funny, and pretty near +spilled the beans. I'll say he'd better take along about five huskies +to move boulders outa the road, if he tries to make it through the +pass. Them big boys just naturally roll down behind us the minute +we've passed. And comin' back, we hook on and snake 'em outa the way. +And then, by golly, they spring right back again! Funny rocks in this +country, Tweet." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +THE WAY OF LIFE + +Sand, sand, sand--far as the eye can reach, a sea of sand, with here +and there a half-buried and bleached horned skull, and vultures +circling high above in the heavens. + +Away in the blinding distance five specks appear, and finally are seen +to be slowly on the move. Hours after this discovery, if an observer +were to remain stationary, the specks take on the shapes of animal +life--two men, a woman, and two burros bearing packs. Onward they move +slowly, and once more become mere specks, scarce discernible against +the weird hue of the sky, then vanish altogether. Once more in all +this vast, dread waste moves nothing save the vultures indolently +circling in the hot dome above. + +Days later a dust-covered automobile worms its way through the traffic +in Los Angeles and comes to rest before a tall office building. Two as +dusty as the car descend from the tonneau, and one leaves the seat +beside the driver. Pedestrians stare curiously at the trio as, talking +and laughing in high spirits, they cross the pavement to the building's +entrance. + +"Desert rats--mining folks," observes a wiseacre to his friend. "Look +at the girl and the chaps! Peach, eh? That's the life! Ho-hum! +Gotta get back to the old office, Bill. See you to-night at lodge, I +s'pose. S'long!" + +In a lavishly furnished anteroom of a suite of offices on the top floor +of the building, Jerkline Jo and Hiram Hooker sank into overstuffed +chairs and relaxed, while the other man, in khaki and scarred puttees, +excused himself and entered the rooms beyond, carrying a suit case that +tugged at his arm until his shoulder sagged. He was absent from the +intercom a half hour. + +"Well, boy," said Jerkline Jo, "it's all over, I guess. What an +experience! I thought I knew the desert and the rough life before, but +I wasn't out of my A B C's." + +"It was glorious, though," said Hiram. "I wouldn't have missed it, +dear, for worlds." + +"Nor I, either. But I don't wish ever to return. Once is enough." + +After this they were silent. Both sat with eyes closed, dreaming of +the past and the beckoning future. Their dreams were finally +interrupted by the reappearance of Mr. John Downer, the mining engineer +for the Gold Hills Mining Co., in whose offices they now sat. + +"Well," he began, smiling, "if you'll come in now, Mr. Floresta would +like to have a talk with you. Getting a bit rested, Miss Modock?" + +Mr. Floresta, president of the Gold Hills Mining Co., was a pudgy, pink +man, carefully groomed and manicured and barbered, who radiated +businesslike good nature. On his rich mahogany desk lay a row of gold +specimens that glittered in the sunlight streaming in through a window. +He shook hands warmly with Jo and Hiram; and when all were seated they +talked of the trip for a time, and then the president plunged to the +heart of the business that had brought them together. + +"Knowing that you were in a hurry, Miss Modock," he said, "I called a +meeting of the stockholders, and we reached the conclusion that, if Mr. +Downer's report was entirely satisfactory, there would be no use in +quibbling over the price you and Mr. Hooker have asked. The sum that +you ask for the group of claims that you filed upon is, as you are +aware, an enormous one for unproved mining properties. Still, we wish +to be fair; and on Mr. Downer's glowing report we are going to take a +chance. Therefore, please state your pleasure in the matter of +payments, and arrangements will be made at once." + +A great sigh escaped Jo, and tears welled to her dark eyes. + +"Thank you, Mr. Floresta," she said. "If you can let us have two +hundred thousand at once, I'm sure payment of the remainder of the +million can be easily arranged to suit both sides." + +Mr. Floresta bowed and pushed a buzzer button. A moment or so later a +messenger was on the way to a bank with a check. When he returned he +handed Floresta another check--one certified by the cashier of the +company's banking house. + +"Now for yours and Mr. Hooker's signatures, please," said Floresta. "I +have indicated in the transfer papers that the remainder of the million +dollars is to be paid in four semi-annual installments, of two hundred +thousand each, with interest at six per cent on deferred payments. Is +that entirely satisfactory?" + +"Entirely," Jo told him, and went to his desk and took up the pen he +handed her. + +Five minutes later Hiram and the girl were alone in the anteroom once +more. Hiram took the hands of Jerkline Jo and bent over her. + +"Ma'am," he drawled whimsically, "if you'll let me, I'll kiss you now!" + + +Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet paced back and forth in his little pine +office, his hands behind his back, his brows furrowed. Every little +while he grabbed his nose and straightened it savagely, but each time +it reverted to its list to port again, and Tweet marched on +disconsolately. It was the evening of the next to last day of his +three days of grace. To-morrow Paloma Rancho, Ragtown, and all that +they represented would slip automatically from his control, and he +could not raise a finger to stop it. + +Suddenly the door burst open with a bang, and Heine Schultz filled the +little office with the roar of a behemoth: + +"Oh, boy! Have you seen it? Just come in with the mail! Los Angeles +papers! Here, read, man! And then get drunk! I'll help you!" + +Tweet snatched the paper from him, and his steel-blue eyes bugged at +the glaring headlines: + + Gold! Gold! Gold! Death Valley Gives Up + Another Secret. Rich Find in Little-Known Corner + of Treacherous Waste. Dead Father of Picturesque + Girl Called Jerkline Jo the Finder. Weird Tale of + Struggles and Death and Baby Lost on Desert. Gold + Hills Mining Co. Takes Over the Claims at $1,000,000. + President Says Richest Discovery Since Days of '49. + + +"Great stutterin' Demosthenes!" exclaimed Tweet, and fell limply into a +chair. + +Then again the door was opened, and a boy from the post office handed +Tweet a special-delivery letter. Tremblingly he tore the envelope and +removed a yellow telegram. Tears sprang to his eyes as he read aloud: + + "Have to-day deposited to credit of your checking + account in Bluemount National Bank, Los Angeles, + one hundred thousand dollars. Check against it at + pleasure. Hiram and I on our way to Mendocino + County for a little rest and to see old friend of his. + Reach Ragtown in about two weeks if all goes well. + + "JEAN PRINCE HOOKER, JERKLINE JO." + + +Tweet sprang from his chair, cramming on his hat. + +"Lock the door and take the key, Heine!" he cried. "I'm going to Los +Angeles at fifty miles an hour!" + + +At the same time in the shooting gallery Al Drummond and Lucy Dalles +stared over the top of a newspaper at each other, their eyes tragic. + +"Gyped!" exclaimed Drummond at last. + +"Gyped!" Lucy echoed faintly. + +Then for a time there was silence, broken at last by Drummond's weary +voice. + +"Guess I'll drift up to the Dugout," he said. "See you later." + +Lucy made no reply, but stood staring out across the spring-scented +desert, her thoughts on the tinkling streams of Mendocino and the big, +kind, sheltering trees. The rhododendrons were beginning to blossom +there now. Soon the redwood lilies would be scenting the air with +their delicate fragrance. Gray squirrels would be scolding in lofty +trees, and trout would be leaping in still, dark pools. + +Lucy sat down very suddenly, and then her head fell forward on her +arms. There on the carpeted counter, between the rifles, she sobbed +heartbrokenly. She knew by intuition that in her quest for wealth she +would not have Al Drummond to help her in the future. + + +Ragtown's biggest day was when old Basil Filer, having been acquitted +of the charge of murder on the evidence furnished by Jerkline Jo and +Hiram Hooker, returned to hunt for his burros. This was Ragtown's +greatest day because Hiram Hooker and his bride came, too. + +They had spent a pleasant time with Uncle Sebastian Burris in Mendocino +County, most glorious of countries in spring. Hiram had expressed the +wish to see Uncle Sebastian again and to tell him all that had befallen +him in driving jerkline to Ragtown. Hiram had learned a great lesson, +he felt. He had left the north woods to do something less prosaic than +driving jerkline, and a series of peculiar incidents had forced him +back into the same old groove again. Yet the once scorned, neglected +task had brought him adventures and a fortune and a splendid girl. +Over all this he wished to marvel with his old benefactor and friend, +and Jo had readily consented to the trip. They had returned for Basil +Filer's trial as the main witnesses for the defense. + +The stage brought all three into the town, and for the first time they +saw the new steel and the track-laying engine beyond. Carpenters were +building the roundhouse, and new buildings were going up all over the +village. + +Ragtown turned out in a body to meet them. The wagons and teams of +Jerkline Jo's freight outfit were covered with flags, and Jo's proud +skinners paraded the streets, the wagons loaded with cheering +townspeople. Carried on the shoulders of men, the bride and groom were +escorted to the Palace Dance Hall, where a banquet had been prepared, +over which presided Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet. + +Far into the night they celebrated, and in all of Ragtown there was +only one who did not attend. This was poor little Lucy Dalles, sobbing +her heart out in her little cabin, her dream of wealth and marriage +with Al Drummond gone. + +It was nearly midnight when there came a gentle tapping on her door. +Dashing the tears from her eyes, Lucy walked unsteadily across her +expensive rug and opened the door to a crack. Next moment she found +herself in a pair of strong arms, and her head lay on the breast of +Jerkline Jo. + +"There, there, dear! There, there! Don't cry! It's all right--all +right! I know--I understand." + +With her arms about the sobbing girl, big-hearted Jerkline Jo, the +desert's grandest product, led the way to one of the big leather chairs +and sat down. Only Lucy's sobs broke the silence, while Jo sat and +smoothed back her pretty hair. + +Presently the sobbing ceased, and then Jo rose and, taking her in her +arms again, kissed her and smiled into her eyes. + +"You must bathe your eyes now, dear," said Jo, "for Mr. Tweet is coming +to see you pretty soon. He told me so. Now look your best for Tweet +has something serious to say to you." + +She left her then, and an hour later Tweet interrupted Jo and Hiram in +Jo's little cabin on the edge of town. He came in and sat down. + +"Well, Jo," he said, "it's a go. We'll go to work and get married +to-morrow mornin', if the old bus will take us to a preacher. I guess +I've loved her some time," Tweet added bashfully. "Lucy and me'll make +nice little playmates." + +Hiram rose and gripped his old friend's hand. "I'm mighty glad, +Tweet," he told him. "Just too much Ragtown--that's all that was the +matter with Lucy. She was kind to me up there in Frisco when I'd just +come out of the woods. Her heart's warm, and that's what counts." + +Tweet's steel-blue eyes twinkled. "Course nobody could blame her for +makin' you spend four dollars an hour for an automobile," he said. "It +was a crime not to roll you for your jack in those days, Hooker. I +forgave her for that a long time ago." + +Next morning Basil Filer drifted into town, driving his recaptured +burros ahead of him. Silently he worked at packing the bags and +throwing diamond hitches. + +Jerkline Jo and Hiram stood laughing at the gurgling imps of the +desert, and Jo went up to Filer. + +"What does this mean?" she asked. "You're all packed up for a trip." + +The weird old eyes looked up at her queerly. "We're goin'--out there," +croaked Filer, a trembling finger pointing toward the fragrant desert. +"It's spring, Baby Jean--and now's the time to hunt for gold, when +there's lots o' feed for the little fellas." + +"Gold!" cried Jo. "Why, man, you've so much money coming to you that +you can't spend it in the rest of your natural life." + +"Money?" he said absently. "Yes--you've done me han'some, Baby Jean. +But I ain't got much use for money. Money's only a grubstake, so's you +c'n buy things and go out and hunt for gold. Good-by, folks! Next +fall you'll see me and the little fellas ag'in. Hi, Muta! Lead out!" + +And, gripping his staff, he limped off in the wake of his long-eared +companions, swinging their packs from side to side as a mother rocks +the cradle. + +"They're all like that," said a man. "It's the hunt for it that keeps +'em goin'. They don't know what to do with it when they get it." + +The dark eyes of Jerkline Jo were full of dreams. + +"Yes, we're all like that, I imagine," she said. + +"And how bout _you_, Jo?" some one asked. "Now that you're rich and +married and all?" + +Jo looked down the street at the nearly completed roundhouse and the +track-laying engine working on below the town. + +"I?" she said dreamily. "Why--why--I don't just know. The steel has +come, and now freight will reach here by train. We're going to New +York--Hiram and I--and maybe across the Atlantic. But we'll come back +soon, and--and---- Oh, there'll be a new road building +somewhere--another Ragtown. We couldn't quit, I guess. What's city +life and all that money will buy compared with the thrill of driving a +ten-horse jerkline team over the desert and the mountains? I guess, +after we've looked about the Gentle Wild Cat and I will just keep on +driving jerkline to Ragtown--somewhere." + +She pointed over the desert to where a bent old man and six drifting +burros were blending gradually into the landscape. + +"He's not crazy," she said softly. "He has just voiced a great +fundamental truth for all humanity. Money is only a grubstake. The +world needs gold and--and freight. Jerkline to Ragtown--that's life! +Some Ragtown will need freight--some Ragtown--somewhere." + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The She Boss, by Arthur Preston Hankins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHE BOSS *** + +***** This file should be named 19129-8.txt or 19129-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/1/2/19129/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: The She Boss + A Western Story + +Author: Arthur Preston Hankins + +Release Date: August 27, 2006 [EBook #19129] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHE BOSS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT=""He was flailing right and left with a huge pine knot in either hand."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="424" HEIGHT="629"> +<H3> +[Frontispiece: "He was flailing right and left <BR> +with a huge pine knot in either hand."] +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE SHE BOSS +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +A WESTERN STORY +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ARTHUR PRESTON HANKINS +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF +<BR> +THE HERITAGE OF THE HILLS, +<BR> +THE JUBILEE GIRL, ETC. +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP +<BR> +PUBLISHERS ————— NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +Copyright, 1922 +<BR> +By CHELSEA HOUSE +<BR><BR> +The She Boss +<BR><BR><BR> +(Printed In the United States of America) +<BR><BR> +All rights reserved, including that of translation <BR> +into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian. +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">OUT OF THE WOODS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">SAN FRANCISCO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">TWITTER OR TWEET</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">A RIVAL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE FIRE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">HIRAM, THE BUTTERFLY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">LUCY'S AMBITIONS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">HIRAM WAKES UP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">JERKLINE JO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE RETURN OF JERKLINE JO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">SKINNERS FROM FRISCO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">THE START FOR JULIA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">A WIRE TO JULIA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">MR. TWEET NEGOTIATES A LOAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">TEHACHAPI HANK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">IN LETTERS OF BLACK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">GREATER RAGTOWN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">WHAT MADE THE WILD CAT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">DRUMMOND'S PASSENGER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">LUCY SEES A PROSPECT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">JERKLINE JO'S SURPRISE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">DRUMMOND WEAVES A DREAM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">WHAT HAPPENED AT THE LAKE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">JO LOSES HER SUPPORT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">AT THE HAIRPIN CURVE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">UNDER THE DRIPPING TREES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">FOUR-UP FOR HELP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">THE GENTLE WILD CAT RETURNS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">HIRAM TAKES THE TRAIL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap31">A TALE OF THE DESERT'S DEAD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap32">LUCY PLANS A COUNTER-ATTACK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap33">POCKETED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap34">WHILE SPRING APPROACHED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap35">THE WAY OF LIFE</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +The She Boss +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE +</H3> + +<P> +Spring was manifest in the vast big-timber country of Mendocino County. +"Uncle" Sebastian Burris felt the moist warmth of it oozing from the +slowly drying road as he trudged along. The smell of it emanated from +the white, pale-yellow, and pink fungi that flourished on the soaked +and ancient logs along the way. He heard the voice of it in the soft +murmuring of the South Fork of the Eel, which went twinkling down Bear +Valley through firs and redwoods straight as telegraph poles; in the +caress of the soft south wind soughing in the tree-tops. Chipmunks and +gray squirrels darted across his path. +</P> + +<P> +A quarter of a mile from Wharton Bixler's store he turned off on a +narrow road which led into the deeper forest. He passed through groves +of redwoods which towered three hundred feet above him, and whose girth +was over sixty feet. A half mile more the old man trudged on sturdily, +muttering occasionally to himself. Then he struck a cross trail which +paralleled Ripley Creek, and this he followed into the sunshine of an +open spot. +</P> + +<P> +Across this, through thickets of whitethorn, manzanita, alder, and bay +he limped along, following deer trails. The deeper forest was left +behind in the lowlands. A grass-grown bark road, which he eventually +found, followed the creek, ascending sharply through shade and +sunshine, crossing and recrossing the creek on wooden bridges, +twisting, always climbing. +</P> + +<P> +On one of the bridges Uncle Sebastian Burris halted. A great snarl of +bleached driftwood had collected just above the bridge, and through it +the clear water roared in a dozen tiny cataracts. Beyond the drift +Uncle Sebastian had caught a glimpse of some living, moving object. He +wiped his watery blue eyes with a red handkerchief, looked once more, +then crossed the bridge and wound through a thicket of huckleberry +bushes till abreast the drift. +</P> + +<P> +A little later he was peering down a steep bank into the +boulder-studded bottom of Ripley Creek, where lay a fine young specimen +of the genus homo idly tossing pebbles into the crystal water. A smile +half sardonic grew in the features of Uncle Sebastian as he stood +looking down at him. +</P> + +<P> +The youth, unconscious of the presence of another, kept on idly tossing +the pebbles, recumbent on one elbow. His long sinewy legs were incased +in slick jean trousers of stovepipe lines and stiffness. He wore no +coat. A faded blue shirt covered his barrel of a body, and his slouch +hat was off, exposing long, light, wiry hair and a freckled neck. His +lean jaws were covered by a two weeks' growth of beard. About him +drooped hazels and alders. From one end to the other Ripley Creek was +beautiful; there was no lovelier spot in all of California. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Hiram!" Sebastian Burris called at last. +</P> + +<P> +The youth started perceptibly and sat up. He turned his head over his +left shoulder. Big, bulging blue eyes laughed back at Sebastian. The +good-naturedly twisted mouth that grinned at him was suggestive of a +sluggish drawl. The long legs twined themselves, and Hiram Hooker +flopped over on his stomach, facing his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, hello, Uncle Sebastian!" he cried in a tone which bore true +welcome. "What're you doin' 'way up here? Come on down an' look at +the young trout!" +</P> + +<P> +Without remark, Uncle Sebastian, grasping roots and low-hanging +branches, clambered stiffly down the bank. He sat down by the side of +Hiram Hooker and glanced at three old, dirty backless magazines that +lay on the pebbles and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't seen ye down to th' store at stage time in I dunno when, Hiram," +he remarked, surveying the handsome young Hercules with admiration. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram skimmed a flat piece of slate across a riffle. +</P> + +<P> +"I never get any mail, Uncle Sebastian," he drawled. +</P> + +<P> +"They's a heap o' us don't go to Bixler's fer th' mail, Hiram." +</P> + +<P> +"Heaven knows there's nothin' else to take me there," and there was +just a shade of bitterness in the twist of Hiram's good-natured mouth. +</P> + +<P> +In place of tossing pebbles, Uncle Sebastian chose to pick up a redwood +splinter on which to whittle. He took out a slick-handled jackknife, +blew a clot of pocket lint from the springs, opened a whetted pruning +blade, and began shaving the brittle wood. His watery blue eyes were +far-off and thoughtful. +</P> + +<P> +"Jest come from there," he resumed. "We was talkin' about ye down +there, Hiram. Put me in mind to come up an' see ye. Hiram, ye ain't +any too popular in Bear Valley—d'ye know it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know I do," promptly replied Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +"D'ye know what they're sayin' agin' ye?" Uncle Sebastian continued +after a long pause. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't know as I'm carin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ye are, Hiram," said Uncle Sebastian positively. "Don't tell me +that. Ye c'n tell yerself ye don't keer, Hiram, but ye're lyin' to +yerself. It ain't in human nature not to keer what folks thinks about +a fella. Gosh! where'd we be if it wasn't so?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram flipped a pebble. "I reckon you're right, Uncle Sebastian, and I +reckon I know you're aimin' at somethin'. You came 'way up here to +spring somethin' on me, didn't you? Well, le's have it." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye're right, Hiram—I did. In the first place, then, they're sayin' +ye're the laziest fella in Bear Valley." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram laughed mirthlessly. "There's nothin' new in that, Uncle +Sebastian. They've said the same since paw died. I reckon I am, +maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram," patiently persisted the old man, "I didn't walk 'way up here +to listen to such talk. I tell ye, ye're playin' insincere, Hiram. +Down in yer heart ye know as well as anythin' it makes ye hot to be +talked about an' called th' laziest man in Bear Valley. I'd druther +see ye hoppin' mad ner takin' it that a way. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Hiram, listen to me: I've known ye sence ye was knee-high to a +duck, ain't I? Yer paw an' me was thicker ner molasses. Yer paw would +'a' made a brilliant man, Hiram, if he'd 'a' had th' chanct. You've +inherited yer paw's brains. +</P> + +<P> +"When ye was a kid ye was a little devil, I'll admit. Still, givin' +myself credit fer a set o' brains a leetle above th' average o' Bear +Valley, I made allowances. Ye was mean because yer head was full o' +ideas; an' in Bear Valley they's so blamed little to use them ideas on +that ye jest naturally had to turn to meanness. Ye wasn't really bad; +ye was jest alive. All yer life ye been hankerin' fer sumpin that Bear +Valley couldn't give, but ye didn't even know what 'twas ye was +hankerin' fer. How could ye? A man's gotta taste olives before he c'n +tell if he likes 'em, ain't he? Yer paw taught ye to read." Uncle +Sebastian glanced once more, half pityingly, half resentfully, at the +backless magazines. "Readin's put notions into yer head an' set ye to +hankerin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Then as ye grew up th' Valley folks begun to shun ye, didn't they?" he +continued. "They called ye queer. Then when yer paw died they dropped +ye altogether. It hurt ye, an' ye jest drew aloof an' went to shakes. +</P> + +<P> +"D'ye know, Hiram, sometimes I find myself not blamin' ye like I +oughta. They called ye no good before ye really was so, an' +practically driv ye to it. Then ye was too proud to brace up an' give +'em th' satisfaction o' thinkin' their treatment o' ye had made ye turn +over a new leaf. If they'd gone on treatin' ye decent ye'd likely come +out all right o' yer own hook. Hiram, pride's put a heap o' men in th' +penitentiary. Pride's stubborn, Hiram. But layin' aside th' root o' +th' trouble, an' lookin' at th' matter through <I>their</I> eyes, it's +really a shame th' way yer paw's place has gone to ruin—th' way you've +gone th' same route. I'd druther see ye plumb bad ern so all-fired +no-good all round. Ye had jobs a number o' times drivin' eight an' ten +on jerkline, freightin' tanbark from Longport. Ye're a good jerkline +skinner, Hiram—no better in the country—but ye won't stick no more'n +a month or two outa each year. +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm makin' allowances fer ye—I always have—I'm th' only one that +ever has. I been watchin' an' waitin' fer ye to right yerself an' get +at sumpin; but this mornin', down to th' store, it come over me that +ye'll never do it in Bear Valley. +</P> + +<P> +"Consequently, Hiram," Uncle Sebastian resumed, "ye've gotta move." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram glanced at him with wide-opened eyes. "Move! Where to?" +</P> + +<P> +"Out into th' world, Hiram, to strike yer gait. Ye gotta hit th' hard +places an' git experience. Ye gotta taste olives to see if ye c'n +stummick 'em. Ye'll get an awful batterin'-up, I reckon, but ye'll +likely learn if they's anything in ye. At first ye'll probably go to +th' bad an' get a heap worse ern ye was in Bear Valley. That's neither +here ner there. Th' point is, if they's a gait in ye ye'll eventually +strike it. If not—well, then, what's th' difference? I'm goin' to +pay up fer ye down to th' store an' give ye enough to land ye in +Frisco. Then th' good Lord an' what He put into that head o' yers must +look after ye. I'm gonta foreclose on ye, Hiram." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram was not looking at Uncle Sebastian, but the old man saw his +slight start and the red creep down his columnar neck as the last +sentence came out. One great toe protruded from the upper of one of +Hiram's shoes. Uncle Sebastian saw it twitching. +</P> + +<P> +"You're foreclosin' on me?" The words came slowly and with a hollow +gulp. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Sebastian's lips went straight and hard. "Unless ye'll deed th' +place to me, Hiram." +</P> + +<P> +Another pause, while the low wind whined in the treetops and Ripley +Creek went gurgling and sucking through the latticed trunks in the pile +of drift. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you tell me when I gave the mortgage, Uncle Sebastian?" +</P> + +<P> +The reproach in Hiram's voice did not move the arbiter. "I know what I +told ye, Hiram. I told ye, ye needn't worry—that I wouldn't +foreclose—that I wasn't speculatin' when I lent th' money on th' +place. Jest th' same, Hiram, I'm foreclosin' on ye." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Sebastian eyed the young man keenly. The first shock past, Hiram +seemed now to be turning the matter over with just deliberation. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon I know what you're up to, Uncle Sebastian," he said at last. +"We've talked the matter over too many times for me to misconstrue your +motives. You're thinkin' that I'll amount to somethin' if I get away +from here." +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon ye've said it, Hiram." Uncle Sebastian voiced this with +great relief. +</P> + +<P> +"And you're foreclosin' on me to force me to go." +</P> + +<P> +"Eggzackly, Hiram. I'm proud that ye interpret my motive." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram was silent another long minute. Then, with a hollow laugh: "I +reckon you'll be tolerably disappointed, Uncle Sebastian. There was a +time when I'd 'a' looked forward to leavin' Mendocino. I've had +hankerin's, and I've got 'em yet—but I'm scared. I've never been outa +the country but once. What c'n I do away from here? What d'ye expect +of me, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye c'n certainly do as much out o' here as ye're doin' here, Hiram." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know about that. It don't take much to live here. I've got +about all I want, I reckon. If I had more books to read I'd be pretty +near content. There was a time, as I said, when it was different; but +now I don't reckon I care. But what particular thing d'ye expect me to +excel in, Uncle Sebastian?" +</P> + +<P> +"Excel's a tol'able big word, Hiram. I can't tell ye any more. Ye've +wanted to be a poet, an' ye've wanted to be an officer in th' army, an' +this an' that an' th' other—ye've wanted to be pretty near everythin' +ye read about last. When ye git in touch with these things, Hiram, ye +may be able to choose—though they's a heap o' 'em ain't that's in +constant touch. I know ye've got imagination. I know it's wasted here +in th' backwoods; an' I know ye gotta git." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Sebastian had risen to emphasize this ultimatum. Now, standing +and looking down, he finished: +</P> + +<P> +"Whether ye'll bless me or curse me remains to be seen." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram made no reply—he did not even look up. +</P> + +<P> +"So be down to Wharton Bixler's by stage time to-morrow, Hiram, an' be +ready to take th' stage to Brown's Corner. I'll go with ye that far, +an' ye c'n deed me th' prop'ty before a notary, so's I won't be obliged +to foreclose. Then I'll come back an' pay yer bill at Bixler's, an' +ye'll have one hundred dollars to take ye down to Frisco. Will ye be +at th' store at half past nine?" +</P> + +<P> +A wait, then a short nod. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Sebastian half turned, paused, cleared his throat, and for the +first time lost his high-handed control of the situation. +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram," he said in a lower tone, "I reckon I'm a fool, but I hope ye +ain't holdin' anything agin' me. So help me, boy, I believe I'm doin' +ye a turn. Do—d'ye believe it or not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait'll to-morrow, Uncle Sebastian," came Hiram's pleading voice. +"Le'me think it over all to-night. You've plumb knocked the props from +under me." +</P> + +<P> +Without another word, Uncle Sebastian climbed up the bank and strode +off through the huckleberries. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +OUT OF THE WOODS +</H3> + + +<P> +For over an hour Hiram Hooker lay perfectly still at the creekside. +His wide-open eyes stared dreamily into the water. His mind was +stunned by the present situation. Feverishly and against his will his +thoughts went hurrying back over the years which had led up to this +momentous climax. +</P> + +<P> +A woman moved frequently across the picture—a bent, tired, work-warped +woman—his mother. The pitiable leanness of the life of Hiram's mother +had been appalling. One word stood for the tenor of her days from sun +to sun—nothing. She had never seen a piano or a typewriter, or even a +washing machine. Silent, unmurmuring, she had given her life for +nothing and gone. +</P> + +<P> +Swiftly came in the picture the likeness of Hiram's father—tall, +bewhiskered, strong as an ox, soft-voiced, and easy-going. Nothing but +kindness had emanated from the father to his wife and child. Foster +Hooker, too, had slaved his life away for nothing. The rocky land had +claimed him and held him down. They had had enough to eat and to keep +them warm—beyond that, nothing. Now he lay with Hiram's mother +between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. +</P> + +<P> +There was in Hiram's thoughts no bitterness against his parents. They +had been always kind and had given their best to him. The rocky land +had held them chained. It offered sustenance, and of the big +progressing world beyond they had lived afraid. In the early days they +had buried themselves in the big woods to make their fortune. But the +fortune was not there, and old age crept on. Old age told them that +the world outside had passed beyond them, and they were afraid. +</P> + +<P> +After all, had they given Hiram nothing? In his bitter moments he had +thought so, but to-day his thoughts were mellowed. He was on the eve +of leaving everything that held memories of them. Had they not given +him of themselves a love for the grandeur of these woods which touched +no other soul, save Uncle Sebastian's, perhaps, in all the valley? +Hiram saw more in a redwood tree than the natives did; saw the beauty +of contrast in the open spots in the forest, where the others saw only +grazing ground for cattle; saw wonders in the rioting streams without a +thought of miners' inches. His father had taught him the love of +books, but there had been so few to love. He had taught him to think. +Hiram was weird, queer, a "leetle cracked" to the others of Bear +Valley. Uncle Sebastian alone had understood him—had sympathized with +him and helped him. +</P> + +<P> +Now, though, it was over. He was leaving forever. One hundred +dollars! He had never possessed so much in his twenty-six starved +years! An exultation seized him which beat throbbingly in his temples +and fired his soul with recklessness. He was bound out into the Great +Unknown, where the promises of his dreams would be fulfilled. He would +do great things, live great adventures, then come back to scoff at them! +</P> + +<P> +He sprang to his feet, collected the backless magazines, and climbed +the bank. With long strides he hurried along the bark road which wound +round the contour of the hills. An hour later he was trotting down a +manzanita slope to his cabin, nestled in the cup of the hills, +surrounded by the whispering firs. +</P> + +<P> +Just within he paused and looked about as if seeing the sordidness of +his home for the first time. All the way up the hill the exultation of +impending departure had thrilled him. It thrilled him still, and a new +feeling of contempt of what he saw came over him. +</P> + +<P> +A panther skin hung on the rough, unpainted wall above the black and +cheerless fireplace, three sets of antlers surrounding it. Near the +fireplace lay an unsightly pile of wood and chips. The doors of the +cracked and rusty stove were gaping wide. The remains of his breakfast +were on the clothless, homemade table. His rifle, the only thing well +kept, stood in a corner. +</P> + +<P> +He passed through into the other room, separated from this by a thin +board partition. There, in oval walnut frames, hung the pictures of +the two who lay between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. A slight +sense of depression seized him. The bed unmade, brought a sparkle of +anger to his eyes. He was disgusted with himself, but it did not last. +The thought of the adventures that lay beyond and beckoned came +uppermost once more. "The girl" beckoned, too. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, there was a girl. Hiram had seen her only in his dreams. She was +not like Bear Valley girls. She was large and sturdy and strong, and +her hair was of such dark brown as to seem almost black, her eyes dark +and large and lustrous. She was a queen among women, this girl of his +dreams. About her hung some great mystery, and adventure followed in +her footsteps. Out there somewhere beyond Bear Valley she stood +beckoning him to come! +</P> + +<P> +He went to bed early, to toss for hours and at last to drop into +fretful, torturing dreams. The scream of a panther awoke him once. +</P> + +<P> +He was up before sunrise, cooking his bacon and coffee and frying +slices of cold biscuit in the bacon grease. +</P> + +<P> +The east was pink when he left the cabin, carrying the rifle, which he +meant to give to Uncle Sebastian. Everything else he left behind. He +took a short cut over Wild-cat Hill. On its crest, between the two +bull pines, he stopped before two graces. +</P> + +<P> +The red sun was peering through the saddle of Signal Hill. Cold mists +rose from the forest. In the air was the breath of the morning. +Weirdly the early wind moaned through the needles of the tall bull +pines. Up from the caņon came the roaring of Ripley Creek as it raced +to the sea. +</P> + +<P> +A lump came in Hiram's throat that he could not down. At his feet lay +those who had lived and starved for him through the countless denials +of this wilderness. Below him lay the cabin which he had known as home +for twenty-six long years. About him stretched the grandeur of this +untarnished land. Scalding tears burst from his eyes. Some monstrous +ogre had arisen to crush him. They were driving him from his home, +from the land of his birth, from the spots he loved! No bitterer +period ever came in Hiram's life than when he stood that misty morning +and watched the sun rise on the turning point of his career. Blindly +he stumbled down Wild-cat Hill and took up the long road to Bixler's +store. They were driving him, like Hagar, from all that he held dear, +and there was hatred in his heart. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SAN FRANCISCO +</H3> + + +<P> +The train that carried Hiram Hooker to San Francisco was late. Thirty +miles from the bay it began making up for lost time. Through the +falling dusk it roared toward the metropolis. Slowly the landscape +faded. Vineyards and chicken ranches and orchards and rolling hills +studded with live oaks gave place to the electric-lighted tentacles of +the city. The lights blinked by at Hiram. They helped depress him, +for they were a part of the modernity that he feared. Suburbs grew to +a continuous stretch of lighted streets and houses. Always those +lights blinked on every side. There was witchery in all of it—in the +smell of the city close at hand, in the cold salt air from the bay, in +the <I>chunk-a-lunk</I>, <I>chunk-a-lunk</I> of the speeding locomotive. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram sat forward on the seat, eager, shrinking, exultant, always +straining while he shrank. He tried to plan, but could not. Night +closed in, and all that he saw now were the blinking lights that raced +astern. Off in the black sky to the southward a rosy light suffused +the night—San Francisco. +</P> + +<P> +"Saus-a-lito! Everybody change! Don't forget yer baggage!" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram was swept out with the crowd, swept through the chute to the +ferryboat, swept aboard. He followed the crowd forward and stood in +the bow. Black as ink the Bay of San Francisco stretched before him. +Like fireflies the lights of vessels scurried through the blackness. +Beyond the black water blinked the countless eyes of San Francisco, +above these the rosy glow which had beckoned since the fall of dusk. +</P> + +<P> +The boat had started before Hiram was aware. Smoothly it slipped along +toward the beacons on the other shore. Hiram breathed the keen salt +breeze in gulps and looked steadily and curiously at the world that +waited for him. Somewhere there, perhaps, the girl of his dreams was +beckoning, and begging him not to be afraid. The boat nosed into her +slip and the crowd swept him ashore, swept him through the Ferry +Building, and, as it went its thousand ways, left him stranded, staring +unbelievingly up Market Street. +</P> + +<P> +Ten minutes he stood there. Thousands pressed by him. The laughter +and grumblings of life buzzed in his uncomprehending ears. No one +noticed him. The continuous <I>clang-clang-clang</I> of the street cars +grew to a rhythmic roar. Strange odors filled his nostrils. What held +him most was the lights—the myriad lights that blinked away in +perspective up Market Street, clusters of them, pillars of them, wheels +of them, stars and squares of them. They all blended into a shower of +diamonds and held him spellbound. Then the clang of the street cars, +the clatter of hoofs on cobbles, the crunch of wheels, the raucous +toots of automobile horns and the purring of the engines, the ceaseless +laughing and murmuring of the crowds, the unfamiliar odors all blended +with the lights, and Hiram Hooker was breathing life, and knew that it +was warm, knew that he loved it, and was unafraid! +</P> + +<P> +At last he sighed and began warily crossing the street from the Ferry +Building to Market Street. He had read of country boys in the city. +He knew enough not to stand in the street and stare. He wisely kept +with a crowd while crossing, and made their experience in braving the +dangers of traffic protect him. He reached the other curb in safety +and started up the long, broad street. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram Hooker will never forget that night. Not once after leaving the +water front did he know his location, and it would have mattered little +if he had. He walked on and on untiringly through an entrancing dream. +He was alone in a great museum—the other human beings were not fellow +spectators, but specimens on exhibition. +</P> + +<P> +The beauty of the women fascinated him. Never in his wildest +imaginings had he fancied such forms and faces. The most beautiful +girl in Bear Valley bore the face of a gargoyle compared with the soft, +creamy faces he saw that night. The flashing, long-lashed eyes, the +red lips, the coils on coils of fluffy hair, the swishing silk, +unfamiliar furs, sparkling jewels, and the slender French heels were +stupefying. +</P> + +<P> +He was growing hungry. He had not eaten a bite since early morning, +and now it was eleven o'clock at night. It appalled him to think of +entering a restaurant and being confronted by one of those +white-skinned, slim-formed divinities he saw flitting from table to +table. He did not know what to order nor how to order it. Even the +smallest places looked imposing with their myriad lights and fixtures +of gilt and white and glittering glass. But he knew he must screw his +courage to it. +</P> + +<P> +There seemed to be a restaurant nearly every other door in the locality +he was now passing through. Not only that, but many electric letters +blazing down the street notified him that he would have no trouble in +finding rooms; rooms by the day or week; rooms and board; rooms 15 +cents and up; lodging; rooms with or without board; beds 10 cents and +up. He was on Kearny Street, he knew, but he did not know where Kearny +Street was in relation to the rest of the city. +</P> + +<P> +He strolled along, staring through the windows at the appetizing +displays and searching for a restaurant where none of those +creamy-skinned beings that caused him so much uneasiness were employed. +At last he found one where, it seemed, only smooth-faced men in short +black coats and low-cut vests were serving. His abused stomach goaded +him to slink through the doorway and seek a table. +</P> + +<P> +Just within the door he paused. The place seemed crowded. He was +about to slink out again when a woman's voice said in his ear: "This +side, please—all full here." +</P> + +<P> +He turned quickly, with a gulp, to see a slim, black-clad girl, with +one of those appalling piles of fluffy hair topping her head, whisking +past behind him. Now he noticed that the restaurant was divided in +half by a screen which ran the length of the building, and that one +side—the side he had seen through the window—was for men, and the +other for women. The tables on the men's side were filled. The girl +stood beckoning from a table on the women's side. Other waitresses he +had not seen before were working here. Hiram could not back out now. +His legs trembled as he obeyed the girl's beckoning finger. +</P> + +<P> +He reached the table and stumbled noisily into a seat. The girl, now +holding out a menu card, was looking at him curiously, he felt. The +blood rushed to his face; he dared not look at her. Fumblingly he took +the card and straightway dropped it on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Together they bent over to regain it. Their bodies touched. Hiram +grew sick. She recovered the card and was standing erect when he +crawfished up from the floor. He was burning up with shame. Again he +took the card, but his glazed eyes could not read a word. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he knew that she was speaking. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you'd like a ribber, medium," she was saying, "with French +fries and a dish of peas." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram's head nodded without command. He knew she was leaving the +table, and something forced his eyes to her. She was turning, but her +eyes were looking back into his. In those eyes, big and brown beneath +dark, arched brows and long lashes, there was a look that thrilled him +to his soul. She was more beautiful than any woman he had seen through +all the splendor of the night, and she had flashed to him a spark of +kindness in a maelstrom of misery! Was this the girl who had been +beckoning him on? +</P> + +<P> +She was coming back. She paused beside him and placed a napkin, +silver, bread and butter, and a glass of water before him. He tried to +look up, but could not. He felt her close to him as she arranged the +things before him. +</P> + +<P> +She was speaking again, low, soothingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Awful crowd to-night. We don't usually put single gentlemen on this +side, but I guess you won't mind. Your ribber'll be here in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +She was gone again. He saw her brown hair bobbing toward the kitchen. +He watched the swing doors, eager for her return. +</P> + +<P> +They burst open at last and she came forward and placed a big platter +before him, on which steamed an enormous rib steak, beside this a dish +of French-fried potatoes and a dish of peas. +</P> + +<P> +She glided away once more and did not again come near his table while +he ate. He kept his eyes on her throughout the meal, and continued to +lower them when he thought her about to look toward him. His "ribber" +was good, and he ate the last scrap. Then he paid his bill and hurried +out. +</P> + +<P> +Through the window he looked back for her. She was nowhere in sight. +</P> + +<P> +In a miserable hallway on the second floor of a dingy brick building, +he obeyed the legend over a button in the wall, which read: +"Landlord—push the button." The result was that a squint-eyed man +came from a door marked "office" and yawningly asked him his business. +Hiram wished a twenty-five-cent room, he said. He was taken to one, +which was not a room at all, but a stall—that is, the thin board +partitions did not connect with the ceiling by three feet. The bed was +a single one, and the sheets had brought the proprietor many a +twenty-five-cent piece since coming from the laundry. The additional +furnishings of the "room" were six nails driven in the board wall to +hold one's clothes. From all over the floor came lusty snores and the +mutterings of world-worn men. +</P> + +<P> +With the city smells still in his nostrils, the buzz of city life still +in his ears, and the countless lights twinkling in a frame about the +white face of a brown-haired, red-lipped girl, he fell asleep from +sheer fatigue. But with unaccountable perversity his dreaming mind +dwelt not upon the beautiful vision he had come to love in fifteen +seconds, but on the whispering firs and twinkling streams of Mendocino, +and on a plodding ten-horse jerkline team hauling tanbark over the +mountains to the coast. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TWITTER OR TWEET +</H3> + + +<P> +Hiram Hooker washed in the community lavatory in the hall next morning. +Then he sought the squint-eyed landlord and paid a week's room rent in +advance, thereby saving fifty cents. +</P> + +<P> +He wished to strike out at once after breakfast to begin justifying +Uncle Sebastian's faith in him, but so far he had not laid a plan. He +noticed lettering on a door in the hall which dignified what lay beyond +as a "lounging room." The door stood ajar, and he saw that the room +was empty. He decided to go in and think. A thousand and one wonders +awaited his curious eyes, but they must wait. His hundred dollars had +dwindled perceptibly; it was time to give his future a practical +thought or two. +</P> + +<P> +In the "lounging room" were a long plain board writing-table, ten +yellow kitchen chairs. Hiram took a seat by a window overlooking +Kearny Street. +</P> + +<P> +He could not plan, he found, for his ideas of seeking employment were +of the vaguest; he did not know where to look for it, nor what duties +he should state that he could perform. Dreaming of it up there in +Mendocino County, climbing up in the world from the bottom rung had +seemed so easy. +</P> + +<P> +He began feeling a little lonesome. He had resolved to brave the +fascinating eyes of the girl of the restaurant again, and perhaps speak +to her if occasion offered, when the door opened and three men came +into the lounging room. +</P> + +<P> +Two of them scraped chairs to the table and from a drawer took a dirty +pack of cards and a homemade cribbage board, with headless matches for +markers. The third took from his pocket a folded newspaper and sat +down at the window opposite Hiram. He at once began reading, and +seemed not to be a companion of the other two. Hiram took note that he +perused the want-ad sheets. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram studied the two at cards. He resolved that he did not like their +unkempt looks, so turned his attention to the man with the paper. +</P> + +<P> +In dress this man was in a class with the other two, though perhaps a +little better groomed. But a careful observer would have taken note of +certain finer characteristics in the face. It was the face of a man in +the thirties, robust and good-natured, with bushy brows, slate-blue +eyes, and a nose that would have been termed Grecian if it had not been +for a semiconical twist to the left. He was of stalky build, carefully +shaved that morning, and wore a dingy turndown collar. His shoes, +though scuffed with wear, were polished. +</P> + +<P> +In the midst of this scrutiny the man suddenly lowered the paper and +leveled his eyes at Hiram. The look almost said "What do you want?" in +a disinterested though not antagonistic way. Hiram was caught +unawares. He felt the question and had answered it, to cover his +embarrassment, before he knew the words were coming. +</P> + +<P> +"D'ye find any jobs in the paper?" +</P> + +<P> +The two at cards looked quickly at Hiram and shrugged, and the game +went on in silence, as before. +</P> + +<P> +"What d'ye follow?" asked the man with the twisted nose in a sort of +rollicking voice by no means unpleasant. +</P> + +<P> +"D'ye mean what c'n I do?" +</P> + +<P> +The man with the paper nodded. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram scraped his chair a foot closer. "Why, I don't exactly know. +I'm willin' to do anything—that is, try." +</P> + +<P> +The slate-blue eyes quizzically studied Hiram a little longer, then +settled on the paper once more. +</P> + +<P> +A few moments they scanned the column. Then: +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe some o' these'll look attractive ol'-timer. 'Wanted three +bushelmen; one coat-maker; first-class pants operator; shoe shiner; two +farm carpenters, Arizona, four dollars a day, fare refunded; two +carpenters, city, five dollars a day; one hundred muckers, New Mexico, +two-fifty day; one trammer, three-fifty day; one hundred laborers, New +Mexico, three dollars day; porter in bakery, city, must be sober; boy, +sixteen years old, make himself generally useful in pickle plant; two +jerkline drivers—must be good, southern California; cooks, waiters, +teamsters, muckers galore. Call and see us. Morgan & Stroud, +Four-hundred-and-fifteen Clay Street.'" +</P> + +<P> +He lowered the paper and once more fixed the slate-blue eyes on Hiram. +"There you are, ol'-timer—pick yer road to wealth and prominence." +</P> + +<P> +His smile brought Hiram's chair closer. +</P> + +<P> +"How d'ye get any o' these jobs?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Part with two dollars to Morgan & Stroud for the address o' the +advertiser, then beat the other fella to it," was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +"But they wanted a hundred muckers, you read." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's different. They ship you out for two dollars to where the +job is. The contractor deducts your fare from your first month's pay +and refunds it to the railroad company, or sticks it in his pocket if +he's wise. Le's see—where they shippin'?" He glanced at the column +again. "N' Mexico, eh? Yes, they'll ship you down there for two +dollars, and you c'n go to work and grow up with the country. C'n you +drive a team?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," said Hiram. "I c'n drive eight or ten, or even sixteen +jerkline, too. You read something about jerkline skinners." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'd go as a jerkline skinner at—what is it?—fifty-five and +found. Found means board, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"And you're sure they'll send me down to southern California for two +dollars and gi' me a job drivin' mules?" +</P> + +<P> +"They'll be tickled to death to do it. Where you from?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram heaved a sigh. "Mendocino County," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Hittin' the trail for the first time, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +The questioner evidently knew it, so Hiram did not reply. +</P> + +<P> +"M'm-m! Fine big country—Mendocino. You oughta stayed there. That +country'll go to work and come out with a loud report some day." +</P> + +<P> +"You've been there?" asked Hiram eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Been everywhere." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you follow?" Hiram used the new expression almost +unconsciously. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a promoter and capitalist." +</P> + +<P> +"A promoter and capitalist," Hiram repeated vaguely. +</P> + +<P> +"Yep. At present, though, I ain't workin' at the capitalist end. But +I'm always a promoter." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram was growing uncomfortable. He had been warming toward this +genial stranger; now he felt he was being ridiculed. He kept silent +and looked out the window. +</P> + +<P> +The other nonchalantly resumed his paper as if the conversation were +over. +</P> + +<P> +But Hiram did not wish it to end here. Despite the stranger's +fantastic statement, there was that in his bearing which told Hiram he +meant what he said, and that, furthermore, it was with him a matter of +indifference whether any one believed him or not. He wished the two +tramps would leave. He felt that then he could talk to the other man +with less reserve. +</P> + +<P> +As he sat there silently thinking, this wish was granted. A third +unkempt individual thrust his head in at the door and remarked, "Hey, +youse!" +</P> + +<P> +The cribbage players looked up. +</P> + +<P> +In explanation the man in the door held up a quarter between a +calloused forefinger and thumb. +</P> + +<P> +A broad grin broke on the face of one of the players as he scraped back +his chair and rose. "Cheese, Thumbscrew, where'd youse glom it?" he +gasped ecstatically. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind w'ere I glommed it, Scully," was the retort. "De point is, +are youse guys in on helpin' me lick up a growler?" +</P> + +<P> +The other tramp had risen, and spoke for both as he strode toward the +door. "Lead us to it, Thumbscrew," he swaggered portentously; "lead us +to it, ol'-timer!" And the door slammed behind the three. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram glanced back at the man behind the newspaper. He had not so much +as slanted a look toward the door. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram's chance had come. After a silent minute he essayed: +</P> + +<P> +"But I didn't come to the city to leave it right away and go to drivin' +mules. I came here to get a start." +</P> + +<P> +The other politely lowered his paper. "What're you doin'—breakin' +loose from home to make yer fortune?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram nodded and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +The man surveyed him for the first time from head to foot. "Been a +farmer up in Mendocino?" he queried. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorta," Hiram admitted. Then in a low voice: "To tell the truth, this +is my first time in a city. I got in last night. I've never been out +o' Mendocino County but once before." +</P> + +<P> +A few wrinkles of puzzlement came between the other's brows. "How old +are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty-six," was Hiram's meek confession. +</P> + +<P> +The stranger studied, a whimsical smile twisting his lips, a far-away +look in the slate-blue eyes. With a little jerk he emerged from +reverie and asked: +</P> + +<P> +"And what d'ye expect to take up here in Frisco?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram scraped his chair still closer. "I don't know," he acknowledged. +"To tell the truth, I'm pretty green. I don't know anybody here and +don't know where to begin." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say green," corrected the other. "That's obsolete. Say raw, or +that you're a hick, or a come-on. Well, what d'ye want to follow?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought if I could get into some big man's office and work up, I +might reach——" +</P> + +<P> +The other man raised his hand protestingly and his face assumed a sick +expression. +</P> + +<P> +"Forget it! Forget it!" he cried. "Say, that's the biggest mistake a +fella like you could make. Your feet are too big for an office. Say, +take this from me: An office man is always an office man. He knows the +figgers—nothing else. The fella out on the works is the lad that +knows the fundamentals of the job. Take this railroad-construction +business, for instance: When the contractor wants a new general +superintendent he don't make him out of an office man. He goes out on +the job and gets him. You get offices outa your head, and get out and +learn something." He was thoughtful a minute, then finished with the +question: "How long are you on cash?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't got much," Hiram confessed—"sixty some dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"M'm-m," the other said musingly. Then, after another thoughtful +pause: "Say, I suppose you're a little shy about bracin' these +employment men, ain't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll tell you what I'll do: You go to work and dig up my fee, and +I'll go down to southern California with you on the jerkline job. I +been wantin' to get outa Frisco for a week, but couldn't raise the +price. Anywhere'll suit me, where there's a chance o' makin' a little +stake. That's what you wanta do—go to work and make a stake. Then +look about for something you c'n float for yourself. There's nothin' +in working for somebody else. Work for yourself if it's only running a +peanut stand. Southern California'll do. What d'ye say?" +</P> + +<P> +"D'ye mean you're broke?" +</P> + +<P> +"Broke! I'm ruined!" +</P> + +<P> +"How did you lose your money?" Hiram asked innocently. +</P> + +<P> +"You're askin' for the story o' my life. What d'ye say, now? Le's go +to work and get breakfast, then enter Morgan & Stroud's in our usual +graceful manner and tell 'em we've decided to accept their kind offer +and let 'em ship us south. You'll probably learn a few things on that +trip." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you a jerkline skinner?" +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno. Maybe I am. I never tried. But if that's what you wanta +hit—me, too. Say, what's your name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram Hooker." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a peach, all right. They sure labeled you for the part. Mine +ain't much better though. They call me Twitter-or-Tweet." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" +</P> + +<P> +"Proves I'm a bird, don't it? My name is Orr Tweet. Can you beat it? +So they call me Twitter-or-Tweet, or just Twitter—or sometimes +Playmate. I'm gregarious. I gotta have a partner all the time. I'll +play with any o' the little boys so long as they're nice to me." +</P> + +<P> +He handed Hiram a card. It read: +</P> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ORR TWEET<BR> +REPRESENTING THE CUCAMONGA<BR> +DEVELOPMENT COMPANY<BR> +<BR> +Cerro Gordo, Mexico<BR> +<BR> +THE HOMESEEKERS' PROMISED LAND<BR> +OF MILK AND HONEY<BR> +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P> +"That Cucamonga Development Company and the milk-and-honey business is +passé," explained Mr. Tweet, "but I've got no other card. They pinched +the owners, and I flew the coop before they could lay it onto me. +Crooked deal." +</P> + +<P> +"What was it?" Hiram asked vaguely. +</P> + +<P> +"Banana plantation," Tweet replied lightly. "At least they called it +that—I never saw it. I was just promotin' the deal. Well, what d'ye +say?" he persisted. "I'm broke and I need a little cash. But I'm a +money getter! You tide me over this little depression and I'll +remember you. We may strike somethin' that'll look good anywhere +between here and there. If so, we'll drop off and look into it." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram did not know what to say. He had no experience in reading human +nature, and Mr. Tweet would have appeared as an enigma to many more +astute than Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want me to do?" he hedged. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold me up, if your coin lasts, till I hit the ball—that's all. +You'll never regret it." Tweet sat pulling his twisted nose from side +to side, as if trying to straighten it. +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't understand. You seem to be—that is, you call yourself a +capitalist, and you're only—I mean it seems funny——" +</P> + +<P> +"I get you. I talk like a millionaire and travel with tramps." Tweet +sighed. "Well, my faculty for breedin' confidence in others is one o' +the big secrets o' my success. Success, I say—get that? If this +faculty won't work on you, then I lose this time. I'll say no more. +Think it over." +</P> + +<P> +He yawned, rose, and started for the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Are—are you goin' down on the street?" Hiram asked timidly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I thought I'd stroll about a bit." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I guess I'll go with you, if you don't mind." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure not—come on." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram rose quickly and followed him out. Even though he were to +distrust this man, in the end, the thought of losing him now was +appalling. +</P> + +<P> +Down on the street he thought of breakfast and paused before the +restaurant. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you had breakfast, Mr. Tweet?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Tweet stopped and looked at him soberly. "Are you invitin' me to +dine?" he said quizzically. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, kinda that way," admitted Hiram with a foolish grin. "I haven't +eaten myself, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't eaten myself either, nor anybody else since yesterday +mornin'. I accept." +</P> + +<P> +And promptly Mr. Tweet pushed ahead through the swinging doors. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A RIVAL +</H3> + + +<P> +The restaurant was all but deserted at the late breakfast hour when +Hiram Hooker and Mr. Tweet entered. Hiram timidly wished that the +men's side were filled, so that he would be obliged to eat on the +ladies' side again. A waiter was beckoning them to the men's side, +however, and Hiram meekly led the way, though casting a quick, +expectant glance down the long row of tables beyond the screen. +</P> + +<P> +Waitresses were dallying about, but he did not see the girl with the +cords of fluffy hair. He was halfway through breakfast before it +occurred to him that, as she was at work at eleven the night before, he +scarce could expect her at nine in the morning. He was glad she was +not there to tantalize him, and at the same time deeply disappointed. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram's new acquaintance changed perceptibly as the food began to warm +him. Mildly loquacious before, he now became voluble. +</P> + +<P> +"I wanta tell you this," he remarked finally, "you're in luck to strike +me when I'm crippled for cash. A week from now, perhaps, you'd never +met me at all. And if you had, there'd 'a' been nothin' to connect us. +But right now I'm up against it and forced to sleep in a +twenty-five-cent lodgin' house. Therefore we met and found out each of +us had somethin' the other wanted. You're lucky, Hooker—that's all +there is to it. You'd 'a' drifted about for years and never got the +chance to hook up with Twitter-or-Tweet. And here you are, right from +the backwoods, makin' yourself solid the first crack outa the box with +the original money-getter. Stay by me till I get a toehold, and I'll +make you." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram was at a loss how to take him. He had not agreed to tide him +over, had not even made up his mind that Tweet was not a rank faker; +yet Tweet seemed to be taking it for granted that his case was won, and +that they were to go from the breakfast table to Morgan & Stroud's to +enter the road to competence. +</P> + +<P> +As if answering his thoughts, Tweet said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a mystery to you, ain't I? I don't use very good grammar, but I +talk sense. I'm talkin' about makin' piles o' money, and I'm gettin' +my breakfast off o' you, ain't I? If I really was the heavy hitter I'm +advertisin' myself to be I wouldn't condescend to take you on, would I? +That's what you been thinkin', ain't it? +</P> + +<P> +"Take those hobos up in the lodgin' house, for instance. Curiosity's +eatin' their hearts out in regard to me. They know I ain't a tramp, +yet they see me float smoothly along among 'em and never strike a +discord. I don't seem to mix with 'em, neither do I seem to keep aloof +from 'em. I'm there and I ain't there—see? If they only knew it, +I've tramped miles to their feet. Yet I never was a regular tramp. +</P> + +<P> +"On the other hand, when I'm hob-nobbin' with the upper class I keep +them guessin'. I talk kinda crude, yet what I say seems to be worth +listenin' to. I go into a flash hotel or cafe and never stumble over +anything, or knock the carafe off the table, or order corned-beef hash +when the menu card looks like an advanced lesson in <I>parlez vous</I>. +They take me to the circus to amuse me, and I come back at 'em with +grand opera. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's the way it goes, and you'll savvy more about it when you see +more o' me. At present I'm goin' to take you away from Frisco and, if +somethin' turns up, give you a start. I'm doin't this principally +because I need your little roll to tide me over till I get a workin' +stake. I'm frank about it. But I may learn to like you. You appear +to be sorta bright." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet pushed back his chair. "Now we'll go down to Morgan & Stroud's +and get out where we c'n go to work and do somethin', and have a chance +to look about and think." +</P> + +<P> +Protestations died on Hiram's lips, and he dutifully rose and followed. +</P> + +<P> +There was a cigar case on the cashier's counter, and Tweet leaned over +it, looking down at the contents, while Hiram laid his check beside the +cash register and fumbled for his pocketbook. He produced a dollar and +laid it on the check, then looked about for some one to receive them. +The space behind the counter was empty, but from a little inclosed +portion of the window came the slow, labored clicking of typewriter +keys. +</P> + +<P> +"Tap the dollar on the show case," suggested Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram tapped the glass. +</P> + +<P> +Instantly, in the window room, the clicking keys were hushed. Hiram +heard the squeak of a swivel chair. He heard the swish and caught the +gleam of a white skirt. The next moment she was standing before him. +</P> + +<P> +His breathing checked itself, and his knees began that sickening +tattoo. He was instantly so miserable that he longed to die. Yet he +faced her big eyes, brown and good-natured and smiling with +recognition, and dumbly pushed the check and the dollar across the +counter. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, hello!" she said lightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello," came a quavering echo. +</P> + +<P> +The drawer of the cash register shot out with a metallic clang. +Hiram's dollar jingled in among its kind. The girl's slim fingers were +suspending a quarter to be dropped into his palm, suggesting to Hiram's +abnormal mind the fear of contamination. He feebly put out his hand, +and she dropped the coin. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," she acknowledged in a light, professional tone, raising +her voice on the "you." +</P> + +<P> +She was turning away, when Tweet looked up from the cigars. +</P> + +<P> +"Since when, Lucy?" came his rollicking voice. She turned back, +smiling. "Oh, since just this morning," she replied. "The boss fired +the cashier just before I went off watch last night. He said he was +going to call up the employment agency and get another the first thing +this morning. +</P> + +<P> +"'What's the matter with giving some one here a chance?' I says. +'That's the way with you fellows,' I says. 'A girl can work her +fingers off for you for years, then when the chance comes for something +better, why, you telephone an employment agency and give it to a +perfect stranger. You give me a pain!' I says. +</P> + +<P> +"'But you ain't a cashier—you're a waitress,' he says. +</P> + +<P> +"'I'm not speaking about myself in particular,' I says. 'I'm speaking +about all of us who are working for you. Then,' I says, 'how do you +know I can't make change? When there's an opening for better pay and +easier work,' I says, 'why don't you come to us and see if any of us +think we can hold it down? You know us and can trust us, and instead +of giving us a look-in, you go and hire an outsider.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Good stuff!" commented Tweet. "And he fell for it, did he?" +</P> + +<P> +She flipped out her palms in a little gesture. "I'm here, ain't I? +Waited table from seven to three last night, and came behind the +counter here at five-thirty this morning. The boss'll relieve me at +twelve o'clock. Guess I'll sleep some to-night!" +</P> + +<P> +"Fine business! Makin' good, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not fired yet, am I?" Her white teeth flashed. +</P> + +<P> +"But c'n you keep the books?" +</P> + +<P> +She sniffed. "I certainly can. I haven't been a waitress all my life. +These books are nothing." +</P> + +<P> +Here the gigantic Hiram caught his lower lip sagging and resolutely +lifted it to dignity. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I like your style," Tweet was telling her. "Tell 'em about it, +every time—that's the way to get a toehold. But you're not much of a +stenog, Lucy—was that you peckin' away in there?" +</P> + +<P> +A shade of pink swept her face. +</P> + +<P> +"I used to operate a machine a little with one finger of each hand," +she explained, "but I'm all out of practice. I don't have to use a +typewriter on this job though. It's an old one the boss took for a +bill." +</P> + +<P> +"Just practicin' up again, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-yes," she hesitated. Again her skin grew faintly pink. +</P> + +<P> +"Good business! Go to it! Every little bit helps. Well, +congratulations, Lucy. So long! C'm on, Hiram." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks." Lucy laughed, and went into her little room. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram sighed boyishly, upset the toothpick holder at his elbow, and +fled in Mr. Tweet's wake. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty nifty little kid," Tweet remarked, as Hiram joined him. +</P> + +<P> +"You know her—wh-what's her name?" +</P> + +<P> +Tweet turned and looked at Hiram's red face in mild surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Wh-what's wrong with you?" he queried. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin'"—sheepishly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll be dog-goned if I don't believe you're gun shy on the +female question!" was Tweet's conviction. "These frisky Frisco pullets +goin' to your head, Hooker. A little paint and a little powder and a +frowsy topknot seems to sorta touched some new funny bone in you, eh? +Heavens, I remember how I fell for it years ago!" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram closed his lips tight. He hated Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +Tweet slapped him on the back and laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Forget it, Hiram," he advised familiarly. "It ain't like me to roast +anybody when I see it hurts. Why, le's see now—I don't know the kid's +name. I've heard the men call her Lucy—that's all. I been eatin' +there right along—that is, up till yesterday mornin'. She seems to be +popular with the fellas. Not a bad little kid, though, I take it. Got +some savvy, at any rate. Ain't content with her lowly lot—and that's +my kind. Oughtn't to make customers have to call her away from that +typewriter, though—I don't like that. Well," he switched abruptly, +"what you been thinkin' about our little deal?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," Hiram retorted resentfully. +</P> + +<P> +They had been slowly walking down the street. Tweet stopped short and +looked at him. +</P> + +<P> +"That means what? That you don't care to consider it further?" +</P> + +<P> +It had meant just that when Hiram said it. There was now in Tweet's +question a tone of finality. Hiram felt that his reply would end the +matter. Swiftly his mind grasped for a judicious rejoinder and settled +on "No." He could not bring himself to part with this semblance of +friendship just yet. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, then," Tweet returned. "You're just not through +considerin', eh? Well, I'll tell you: We'll break away and give you a +chance to think. There's a man down California Street I wanta see +before I leave and I'll stroll down that way. You think it over, and +meet me at eleven-thirty up in that disfiguration old Squinty calls a +loungin' room. So long." +</P> + +<P> +He turned abruptly and strode away. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram watched his erect figure and firm step till the crowd hid him, +then followed more slowly in the same direction. His feet were +carrying him toward the restaurant, and he was guiltily permitting +them. He saw a shining drab automobile drawn up at the curb before the +restaurant door. He walked slower and slower as he neared the door, +paused, and looked within. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy was leaning on the counter negligently collecting scattered +toothpicks, and conversing laughingly with a carefully dressed +middle-aged man with a handsome face and curly brown hair. His hair +and Lucy's fluffy topknot were almost touching. Hiram saw him grasp +playfully at Lucy's hand, saw her jerk it away with a flirtatious laugh. +</P> + +<P> +Then Hiram bolted, half blind with pain. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIRE +</H3> + + +<P> +Hiram did not take note of much till he was three blocks from the +restaurant. There was a dull pain somewhere within him, but when his +thinking apparatus began shaking off its stunned condition he found it +difficult to analyze this pain. +</P> + +<P> +The girl had done practically nothing. In fact, but for her laughter, +her attitude toward the well-dressed man would have showed righteous +displeasure. The thought that this might be a common occurrence did +not enter his head. He was distressed now; he found, only with a keen +feeling of utter alienation, he was one lone backwoodsman against San +Francisco, scorning him, ready to trample him under foot. +</P> + +<P> +A sign over the window of a store cleared this mystery. Hiram stopped +and stared up at it. In a flash he knew what was the matter with him, +and that he hated the stranger for his clothes—that he hated everybody +because this man wore good clothes. He squeezed his pocketbook and +read and reread the painted words in their painted circles: +</P> + +<P> +"O'coat, $40, no more; Coat, $20, no more; Pants, $5, no more; Hat, $3, +no more." +</P> + +<P> +His mind was adding twenty, five, and three. The total was +twenty-eight. He could get along without an overcoat, though in San +Francisco, even in summer, an overcoat is comfortable at night. Should +he or should he not? His rusty old clothes were torturing him. +Twenty-eight dollars! And perhaps only four or five more for extras—a +tie, collars, suspenders, and—oh, yes! shoes. He had forgotten the +shoes. His were brogans. He must have shoes, too. Perhaps five for +shoes. He had barely sixty-seven dollars. Should he? Was it foolish, +or—— +</P> + +<P> +Reflected in the show window he saw a drab automobile flash behind him. +At the wheel he saw, erect, forceful, jaunty, and well-dressed, with a +black cigar gripped in his teeth, the man who had snatched at Lucy's +hand. Clinching his pocketbook, Hiram entered the store. +</P> + +<P> +A half hour later he came out, poorer by some thirty-eight dollars, but +rich in the self-esteem which the bright, stiff garments gave him. +</P> + +<P> +He left his bundle in his stall at the lodging house, criticized +himself before the cracked mirror in the hall, and went down on the +street. He bought three five-cent cigars and lighted one. He gripped +it in his teeth and let it protrude from the left-hand corner of his +mouth. Then he started for the restaurant. +</P> + +<P> +Long before he reached it panic was upon him. He had absolutely no +pretext on which to enter. It was then only ten-thirty, and he had +breakfasted at nine. To enter boldly and begin a conversation with +Lucy—which he had all along boastfully promised himself he would +do—he now knew to be the last thing on earth he would dare. +</P> + +<P> +Besides, though the garments he wore were new and bright and stiff, +those two brief glimpses of his rival's clothes now tardily showed him +that there was a difference. His coat, for instance, seemed a bit +angular—there seemed to be corners he had not noticed in the store. +It did not snuggle down to his neck and shoulders just right. Hiram +thought that perhaps the linen collar was a trifle too large. +</P> + +<P> +Thus criticizing, and walking slower and slower, he neared the +restaurant. Now it was impossible to take another step without coming +abreast of it. He stopped and looked in a jeweler's window next door. +</P> + +<P> +He stood there fifteen minutes. Time and again he nerved himself up to +entering the restaurant, only to feel cold sweat break out on his +forehead as he lifted his foot. He would return to the lodging house, +change his clothes, and see her when he ate at noon. He would never +let her see him in those now hated new clothes. He had squandered +thirty-eight dollars for her, and he had only twenty-nine left. +</P> + +<P> +Down the street from the heart of the city came a sudden clangor. +Vehicles were rushed close to the curbs. Up a side street a new jangle +of bells broke out. Never had Hiram seen a city fire, but at once he +knew that such was happening. +</P> + +<P> +A hook-and-ladder company rattled past with clamor and gongs and +clatter of hoofbeats. People poured from the doors of buildings to +watch. Men rushed to the curb and looked after the firemen; the women +stood near the buildings, under the awnings, shading their eyes and +standing on tiptoes. Quickly the sidewalk filled. A chemical engine +passed, clouds of black smoke rolling in its wake. Across the street a +pillar of black smoke burst from a third-story window. +</P> + +<P> +"It's across the street! Across the street!" shouted the crowd. +</P> + +<P> +A hose cart rumbled up. The men on the curb grew frantic, yelling and +pointing to the smoke. The hose cart was stopped. +</P> + +<P> +A little later the chief's automobile came. Then the apparatus that +had passed down the street came back. Flames and smoke were bursting +from three windows now. The street and the sidewalk were filled with +the crowd. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram had not moved a muscle. People elbowed him on both sides, but he +paid no attention. The rapid operations of the fire fighters held him +spell-bound. +</P> + +<P> +"Oo-oo-oo! Look there!" suddenly came a shrill familiar voice at his +side. +</P> + +<P> +A sputter of sparks had shot from the roof of the building, and a man +had emerged from a trap-door, it seemed, and darted from sight. But +the fire and every new phase of it had lost all holding power over +Hiram Hooker. Pressed to his elbow, wedged in by the crowd, stood Lucy. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I love a fire!" she was ecstatically informing some one on her +other side—a waitress. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram stood there sick with her proximity. She had not recognized +him—she was engrossed with the clouds of black smoke, the intermittent +red gleam of blaze, and the crackling streams of water. Her tongue was +wagging rapidly, and she seemed not to care to whom she spoke or +whether that fortunate person were listening. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly, through the scurrying firemen in the street, a big red +automobile came slowly. It was filled with men and women. Its horn +was honking perpetually. Besides the fire apparatus, no other vehicles +were allowed in the street, yet no one seemed to interfere with this +machine. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's the Samax Company!" exclaimed Lucy, dancing up and down. +"They're going to take a fire picture. Look, Minnie! There's Mr. +Kenoke—the director! I never thought of it—right here at my very +door, too! If I only could see him, Minnie. What a chance for the +fire scene in 'The Crowning Defeat!' Oh, why didn't I think of it, +Minnie? Mr. Kenoke! Mr. Kenoke! Oh, dear, he wouldn't hear me in a +thousand years!" +</P> + +<P> +She was waving over the heads of the crowd at some one in the red +automobile, it seemed. There seemed even less likelihood now of her +taking note of Hiram. He watched her furtively and wondered. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I must see him!" she went on excitedly. "Say, mister"—she +suddenly turned a flushed face to Hiram—"won't you—— Why, hello!" +she broke off. "I didn't know it was you. Oh, you will, I know! +You're big—you can do it! Won't you try to get to that heavy-set man +in the machine for me? Please—won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +She was looking eagerly up at him. Hiram rose to the situation like a +man. For her he felt he would have cheerfully entered a beehive should +she command him. Was not this the adventure girl of whom he had +dreamed? +</P> + +<P> +"What'll I do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, will you? Good! Listen: Tell him to have Mr. Blair carry Miss +Worthington out the door. And listen: Miss Worthington has +fainted—see? Mr. Blair faints then, and staggers and falls down with +her. Then Mr. Speed rushes up and takes a letter from Mr. Blair's +pocket and runs out of the picture. And listen: Mr. Blair and Miss +Worthington still lie there. Tell him there's no makeup. And tell him +Miss Lucy Dalles wants him to do that, and that he won't regret it. +Tell him I said it was a peach—see? But listen: Don't say anything +about me being in a restaurant, though. Oh, can you? Will you?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram was stunned. Had the girl gone crazy? +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, please, before the fire's out! I can't explain now—wait. +I'll tell you later. He'll know, though. Go on, now—try!" +</P> + +<P> +Without the faintest notion of what it was all about—with only the +thrilling thought that he was serving her—Hiram's big figure began +pushing through the crowd, dazedly repeating her queer message and the +names. +</P> + +<P> +He was tall, strong, and angular. Shoving this way and that, he fought +his way to the curb. Here he encountered a rope stretched lengthwise +of the street. The crowd was now confined to the sidewalk. Hiram +crawled under the rope. A policeman shouted at him and started toward +him. Hiram ran, tripped over a slippery hose, caught himself, and +plunged on through the knots of struggling, dripping firemen. +</P> + +<P> +The automobile had stopped. The occupants were clambering to the wet +pavement. One man was hurriedly setting up a peculiar-shaped camera +directly opposite the entrance of the burning building. Another, a +heavy-set man, was bobbing about, shouting orders to men and women, who +listened, then ran toward the door. +</P> + +<P> +Everybody was crazy, it seemed, but this had nothing to do with Hiram +in carrying out his mission. He ran up to this heavy-set man and cried: +</P> + +<P> +"Are you Mr. Kenoke?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure! Get out the way! What d'ye want? Now, Miss Worthington, run +for the ladder. Hurry up, girlie! Come on, Blair! Quick! Quick! +What d'ye want—you?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram gulped and searched his brains. "Miss Lucy Dalles says to tell +you to have Mr. Blair carry Miss Worthington out of the door. She's +fainted, she said, and then he faints and falls. They lay there, and +another fella—I forget that name—takes a letter from Mr. Blair's +pocket and runs away. Mr. What's-his-name and Miss Worthington still +lie there. Mr.—er—let's see—there's no makeup. And it's a peach, +and you won't regret it." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph! All right; I get you. I'll take a chance. Lucy Dalles, you +say? Thanks. Get that, Collins? 'Bout ten feet, I guess. After +this. Now, out of the way, please. All ready, there! Let her go! +Now, up with that ladder, deary! Get in there! Get in the picture +Worthington!" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram stepped back. The man with the camera began turning a crank on +one side, and a low whirring noise blended softly with the roar of the +rushing water. Hiram saw dripping men and women dancing about like +maniacs before the smoking door. +</P> + +<P> +He did not wait for more. He had done his duty, and he hurried back +for his reward. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you do it? Did you see him?" +</P> + +<P> +Lucy Dalles, with parted lips, was straining toward him as he cleaved +his way back to her. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, what did he say?" +</P> + +<P> +"He said: 'All right. I'll risk it.' He said a lot more, but I guess +it wasn't to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you're all right," she said, with a beaming smile. "D'ye hear, +Minnie? Mr. Kenoke's going to take it!" +</P> + +<P> +Minnie, a freckle-faced girl, was busily chewing gum and watching the +spectacle. She indifferently replied, "Yea," and craned her neck away +to focus some new development in the fire fight. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy at once ignored her. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, that was great, all right! I'm much obliged, I'm sure. That'll +mean something to me." She was looking straight at Hiram. Now she +hesitated, then, a bit flustered, concluded, "That was all right." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram grinned and bobbed his head. +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him in confusion a little longer, then turned to Minnie. +</P> + +<P> +"Goodness! I must get back in," she said hurriedly. +</P> + +<P> +Still Minnie gave no heed, and Lucy faced Hiram once more. +</P> + +<P> +"I said I'd tell you about it, didn't I? Well, I will—that is, if you +care?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram bobbed his head again. +</P> + +<P> +She looked through the jeweler's window at a small brass clock. +</P> + +<P> +"Gracious! Can that clock be right? It's after eleven! Say, listen: +I'm going off watch at twelve. If you'll be here I'll tell you then." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am—I'll be here." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. Good-by. Much obliged, I'm sure." +</P> + +<P> +She squeezed back of Minnie, and scampered through the restaurant door. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram stood watching the streams of water—that is, he looked that way. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HIRAM, THE BUTTERFLY +</H3> + + +<P> +"Mother, I've come home to die!" gasped Playmate Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +He was seated in one of the yellow chairs near a window of the lounging +room. He had dropped his newspaper and was staring at Hiram Hooker as +he strode through the door. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram seated himself on the edge of a chair and grinned uncomfortably. +</P> + +<P> +The ordeal of appearing before Tweet in his new clothes, at first +poignantly dreaded, had been absent from his thoughts for the past +hour. Standing there before the jeweler's store after Lucy Dalles had +left him, tingling blissfully in every vein, the mundane thought that +Tweet was probably awaiting him in the lodging house had obtruded +itself and hurried him up the street. As he opened the lounging-room +door he thought once more of his clothes. +</P> + +<P> +Tweet rubbed his eyes and looked again. "Christopher Columbus!" he +added in an undertone. He blinked his eyes three times, then threw +himself back and laughed uproariously. +</P> + +<P> +For a half minute he shook in his chair, then got up, wiped his twisted +nose with his handkerchief, and came over to his half resentful charge. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Hiram," he said with a chuckle, "how much did they set us back?" +</P> + +<P> +"Set us back?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean, how poor are we now?" +</P> + +<P> +"How poor are <I>we</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure—Tweet, Hooker & Co. pays the bills." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I c'n do what I want to with my own money, can't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure—sure! Don't get your shirt off. I don't mean to insinuate that +you're not capable o' judiciously handlin' the firm's money. I just +want you to read me the balance sheet." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, I spent thirty-eight dollars, and I've got twenty-nine +dollars left." +</P> + +<P> +"Stand up." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram did so. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn round." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram wheeled slowly. +</P> + +<P> +Tweet studied him from every angle, and as Hiram turned he noted the +twinkles which came and went in his slate-blue eyes. Without another +word Tweet left him standing there, went back and sat down, and hid his +face behind his paper. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram waited a minute, then slowly sank to the edge of his chair. +After a little he asked pleadingly: +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't they all right?" +</P> + +<P> +Tweet's paper trembled. A bit of this, then Tweet lowered it and +presented a countenance which seemed never to have known a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram," he remarked, "I don't wanta hurt your feelin's, but the part +o' true friendship calls for me to use the surgeon's knife. Hiram, I +wouldn't wear that outfit to a funeral. D'ye get me?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram's blue eyes blazed. "Yes, I get you," he began coldly, then +curbed a threatening outburst. "I know they're not the best in the +land," he concluded sensibly, "but I feel better in 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"There's somethin' in that," Tweet propounded sagely. "There's a whole +lot in gettin' that feel. Good clothes kinda brace a fella up and give +him the nerve to buck on in the big game. Hiram, if your new outfit +gives you the <I>feel</I>, it's the goods. When you get next a little it'll +cost you more money to get that feel outa clothes. After all, now, +when that tin-roof look wears off of 'em you won't appear so +whittled-out in that suit. But now, layin' all jokes aside, are they +just the thing for drivin' old Jack and Ned on the railroad grade? +And didn't this sudden lavishness kinda set the company back on its +haunches?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram looked out the window. "Did you see the fire?" he asked absently. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—walked round the block to get outa the crowd. But——" +</P> + +<P> +"I just had to kinda spruce up a bit, Mr. Tweet. I felt so +kinda—well, kinda countrified and—and lost, you might say." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the fire got to do with that? And call me Playmate, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin', I suppose." +</P> + +<P> +"Right across from the restaurant wasn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"M'm-m—I'd 'a' made a good lawyer, wouldn't I, Hiram?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know—why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, talkin' about sprucin' up, as you call it, you drift to a fire +that occurred across the street from the place where there's a +frowsy-topped waitress that's got you goin'. Well, le's foget it. Do +we go to southern California together, or not? Our pile's dwindlin' on +account o' this butterfly life you're leadin'." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I'd like to, but—— Well, I left home to get a start in the city, +and I think I oughta—— Really, I wanta go, but——" Hiram gave it +up, and his lean face flushed. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on—I didn't interrupt you." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I—that's all. I want to go to work here." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet laughed with a little snort. "Now looky here," he said, "I think +I savvy you pretty well. If I was to go to work and tell you outright +that you couldn't win Lucy, you'd get bull-headed and try to show me. +But le'me tell you this: You ain't goin' to win her till you get next +to yourself. Now, Lucy's a pretty popular dame with the fellas about +the restaurant. I've seen her joy-ridin' with fellas I know are there +with the coin, and savvy more in a minute than you ever knew. Now, +wait a minute!—don't get excited. All this ain't your fault. It's +the fault o' your past environment. You're a hick, and you can't help +it. You get out and learn somethin' and gather up a few beans. Then +come back and, if you still want the kid, go get her. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, you see this Lucy this afternoon and tell her you're bound out +into the Great Unknown to make your fortune, but that you're comin' +back to see her. Put emphasis on who you're comin' back to see. Then +flee from temptation. Come now—le's swallow this awful pill like a +man." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram thought a long time, looking out the window. In the midst of +this Tweet resumed his paper. +</P> + +<P> +The sensible thing to do was for Hiram to sacrifice love to the +friendship that promised him a start, in order to gain love back more +conclusively in the end. Yes, he loved her—he loved her madly! +</P> + +<P> +Boiling the present situation right down to facts, he had little +confidence in Tweet's boasted powers. He could not reconcile Tweet's +present impecunious condition with his hints of past affluence. But he +liked him instinctively, which, after all, is more human and +satisfactory than liking a person after analyzing him and weighing his +good qualities against his shortcomings. So it was the thought of +Tweet's friendship which finally prompted him to say: "I guess I'll go +with you." +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" Tweet dropped his paper. "This afternoon?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Not on your life! This afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll tell you in an hour or so. Now—now it's about noon. You +wait here a little, while I go down in the street. Then I'll come +back, and we'll go eat." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet looked at him long and steadily. "Got a date with Lucy, eh?" he +said at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-yes—I saw her at the fire this morning. She said she wanted to +see me when she went off watch at noon—I'll be right back—probably." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet frowned, then laughed. "Go ahead, Hooker," he relented testily; +"go ahead. Got a date with her, eh? I thought maybe you'd just go +down there and gape at her through the window. Go to it—but don't +forget!" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram hurried out. +</P> + +<P> +Again his feet seemed palsied as he neared the restaurant. Was he to +suffer such pangs of stage fright always when about to meet her? +</P> + +<P> +He had not long to dwell on the query. Before he knew it he was face +to face with her. She had been looking in the jeweler's window while +she waited for him, and had turned as he came abreast. +</P> + +<P> +She was smiling. "You're a minute late," she scolded, pointing to the +jeweler's brass clock. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am—I was kept." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't look so serious. A minute's nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"No, ma'am—not much." +</P> + +<P> +Silence claimed them for a time. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what'll we do?" she finally asked a little petulantly, and +turned her back on him to look into the window. +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno," he began; then a sudden wild idea struck him. He had seen +along the curbs automobiles bearing signs which read "For Hire—Four +Dollars an Hour." It was worth it, if only to break this humiliating +situation. "We might take a little spin in a machine," he finished +with a tottery tone of indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'd like that," she said instantly. "But I gotta dress. We'll +get a car and ride 'round to where I room." +</P> + +<P> +They walked to the corner, where was a taxi stand. Hiram engaged a car +by the hour, and they entered. She directed the driver to her rooming +house, and they were off. +</P> + +<P> +The car presently drew up to the curb, and the driver swung the door +open for his passengers. Into a dark, musty little parlor the girl led +Hiram of the butterfly life. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down," she invited; "and excuse me a minute." +</P> + +<P> +She went back into the hall, and Hiram heard the tattoo of her feet on +the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +It was a grand parlor, Hiram thought. There was a piano, a phonograph, +a whatnot filled with specimens of quartz, and four cloth-covered +cushion rockers. With rattlesnake fairness the one Hiram chose +squeaked a warning before it tried to land him on the back of his neck. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram sat there round-eyed and dreaming, while outside the hired car +purred on, indifferent to the flight of time. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty minutes later Hiram's dream was broken by the clatter of Lucy's +high heels on the stairs. Lucy entered, dressed in silk and furs and +wearing a large picture hat. The savings of many months were on Lucy's +back, and Hiram felt further removed from her than ever. +</P> + +<P> +"Where'll we go?" he asked miserably as he clumsily helped her into the +car. +</P> + +<P> +"Golden Gate Park, Mr. Hooker," she said. +</P> + +<P> +The driver, having heard, touched his cap, and they rolled away. +</P> + +<P> +"How'd you know my name?" The burden of keeping this question had been +overriding Hiram's bashfulness since she had spoken it. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy laughed. "You didn't think I'd go so far as to invite you home +with me if I didn't know you, did you? At least kinda know you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hadn't thought about that at all, ma'am. But when you said 'Mr. +Hooker' it gave me a jolt." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet it did. Well, didn't you stand in front of the jewelry shop +for over a quarter of an hour before the fire this morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"And you didn't see your friend come out of the restaurant while you +were there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who, Tweet? No, ma'am—I didn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he did. He'd been in talking with me. I didn't know his name, +though. Is that it? Tweet? Heavens above! Say, he's a funny guy. +Well, he'd been in talking about you. He said you were out in front of +the jeweler's shop and wondered if he could get out without you seeing +him." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram only stared and waited. +</P> + +<P> +"He told me your name was Hiram Hooker, and that you had just come from +Mendocino County. That's how I knew." +</P> + +<P> +For quite a time she was silent. Then she said: +</P> + +<P> +"He appears to be sort of butting in, it seems to me." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram waited again. +</P> + +<P> +"He came in and says: 'Say, Lucy, your lifeline and mine are getting +tangled. You're crossing my path and frustrating my plans.' You know +how he talks! +</P> + +<P> +"'How d'ye get that way?' I says. 'Spring it.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Why, your many charms are leading my business partner from the path +of duty,' he says. +</P> + +<P> +"'Go on,' I told him, 'and talk sense, if you've got anything to say.' +</P> + +<P> +"Then he told me that you two were partners, and were going down to +southern California together to 'get a toehold,' he said; and that you +were keeping the thing back by—by—by wanting to hang around Frisco. +He said you two had a good thing and that you were spoiling it, and +that you were nearly broke and getting more so every minute. +</P> + +<P> +"I kind of like him. He's funny, but I'll bet he's right. And he said +for me to give you the cold shoul—well, what he meant was for me to +advise you to hurry up and get out with him. +</P> + +<P> +"But now listen: If I'd intended to do that I wouldn't have told you +that he told me to, would I? Of course not. I wanted to see you about +something else. Two things: First, I promised to tell you about the +moving picture you helped me with this morning. Then the other thing +is Mendocino." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Listen, I'm +from Mendocino County," she finished. "I've been away three years. +I'm nearly dying to talk to some one from up there!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LUCY'S AMBITIONS +</H3> + + +<P> +Learning that Lucy Dalles was from Mendocino County was startling, but +surprise over this took second place in Hiram Hooker's thoughts. He +was stricken with consternation to think that all the time he had been +before the jeweler's window, trying to nerve himself up to enter the +restaurant, she had known he was there. +</P> + +<P> +"After your friend left the restaurant," she was saying, "I thought I'd +go out and tell you about me being from Mendocino. Just as I left the +door the hook-and-ladder came by. Then I stood by you watching the +fire, you know, till the Samax people drove up. Then I forgot +everything but getting the picture for the fire scene in 'The Crowning +Defeat.' I asked you to see Mr. Kenoke for me, and you did—and it was +dandy of you, too. Now I'll tell you about my scenarios; then I want +to talk about nothing but Mendocino County. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I write scenarios for moving-picture production," she went on. +"That's one reason why I wanted the cashier's job—so I could have the +use of the boss' old typewriter. I've been paying a public +stenographer fifty cents a thousand words to copy my work, and it cuts +into the profits when you get so little for a scenario. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been writing them a year now. I've sold ten. That's not very +many, is it?—when you know; that I have written over fifty. I've sold +most of mine to this Samax Company, through the mail; and one day I +went to their Western studio, here in the city, and told them who I was +and got acquainted with Mr. Kenoke. He's their best producer, I think. +</P> + +<P> +"As it happened, I am now working on a play that calls for a big fire +scene. I was worried about it, because they send so many of my +scenarios back with the comment that they are too difficult to produce. +It's a dandy plot, and I hated to give it up just because it would +require a burning building. They would hardly buy a building and burn +it down just to please me, you know. +</P> + +<P> +"But when they hear of a fire they get right to it, if they can, and +take rescue scenes, and so forth, then have their contract writers work +up a scenario in which the scenes can be used. But that's hack work. +Mine is different, you see. My scenario called for a fire, and +couldn't be produced without it. Quite different from having a fire +call for a scenario. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, now you know. I couldn't explain then, you see. There wasn't +time, and, besides, I was too excited. I doubted if you would have +understood, either—you just from the country. +</P> + +<P> +"Now don't think I'm making fun of you. But it's the truth, isn't it? +And it was certainly great of you to go the way you did, not having the +least idea of what you were up against." +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't much," Hiram said in his unassuming way. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it was," the girl said with a lack of the enthusiasm which had +marked her former grateful utterances. Her eyes were far away, and it +was apparent that another matter held precedence in her mind. "You +just got into Frisco last night, your partner said." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"I could see that when you came in the restaurant. Your new suit looks +fairly nice." She scanned him frankly. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram squirmed. "Tweet said I looked whittled out in it," he said +truthfully. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't any such thing! You don't mind my being so personal, do +you? I've taken quite an interest in you since Mr. Tweet talked about +you—especially as you are from Mendocino. You looked so forlorn and +scared last night when you came in the restaurant. I could see that +you didn't know what to order or how to order it, and that you were +half starved. I remembered my first day in the city. Honestly, I was +scared blue! But tell me—what part of the country are you from?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm from Bear Valley," Hiram told her. +</P> + +<P> +"Bear Valley! Why, our old place is just on the other side of the +range. I've been in Bear Valley lots of times. Our place is in Temple +Valley." +</P> + +<P> +"I know Temple Valley," Hiram put in quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you do! Why did you come down here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was gettin' tired of the backwoods—been there all my life," said +Hiram lamely. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy's eyes grew dreamy. "I thought the same," she said pensively at +last. "I was born there in Temple Valley. I was content, too, till I +was about twenty; then I got to mixing with the summer boarders that +came to the Mills place for the trout season. They'd have something on +every night, and I got acquainted and was always invited. I got to +wanting to go to the city, and I hated Temple Valley. +</P> + +<P> +"Then my folks died. I didn't get along the best in the world with +Emma—that's by [Transcribers' note: my?] brother's wife. So I pulled +out the day after my twentieth birthday and came to Frisco—and I've +been here ever since. But there was another reason why I left." +</P> + +<P> +She sighed and leaned back. +</P> + +<P> +"You've heard of Mrs. Cummings, the writer, haven't you? She was up +at Mills' place one summer, and I got acquainted with her. I told her +I'd always had the writing bug, and she encouraged me. I had no +education but what I'd got in the Temple district school, but I'd read +a lot. +</P> + +<P> +"So I wanted to write, and finally I left and came to Frisco, and I had +an awful time. Finally I got a job in a cheap restaurant and had to +wait table, and when I got the cashier's job last night I got out of +the rut for the first time in three years. I quit two or three times, +thinking I could make a living writing scenarios, but I always had to +go back to the beaneries. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to hold down the restaurant job till things come my way. +I've given up the idea that I'm a genius. My clothes cost a lot. +Things will break for me some day. Maybe I'll get in the pictures. I +want to go to Los Angeles and try, when I can save a little jack. I +left the woods to win out, and I'm going to do it by fair means or +foul. I'm ambitious. I'm determined to be rich some day." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram drank in her chatter for two hours more, and when they returned +to her rooming house he paid the driver of the car thirteen dollars and +fifty cents, and now had only fifteen-fifty to his name. He was +horrified at the prospects, but blissfully conscious that he had given +Lucy Dalles an afternoon of pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to show you my room," she said, as the car departed. "Come in. +Don't make any noise going upstairs." +</P> + +<P> +She led the way in, and he followed her softly. She opened a door on +the second floor and stood back for him to look. +</P> + +<P> +"I furnished my own room," she said proudly. "It's all mine, and paid +for—pretty nearly." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram stood aghast in the doorway. Never, except in the show windows, +had his eye rested on such splendor. +</P> + +<P> +There was a rug on the floor, soft and thick, which Lucy told him was a +genuine Smyrna. There was a leopard skin, with stuffed head and red, +gaping jaws. There were two handsome overstuffed leather chairs, and +the bedroom set was Circassian walnut, so Lucy said. +</P> + +<P> +She closed the door and hurried him below. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, I've realized part of my ambition," she said, sinking into +the squeaky rocker. "I'm not so clever or so cultured and all that, +but I came from the backwoods to be somebody and have something, and +I'll make good one way or another. What you saw is just a beginner. I +might have bought a typewriter instead, but—well, I just didn't."' +</P> + +<P> +"They're mighty nice," commented Hiram, as she paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, they made a fool out of me when I hit Frisco," she continued +absently, "but my day's coming. I'm getting a toehold, as your Mr. +Tweet says. I've rubbed off some of the Mendocino moss." She glanced +a little vainly at her slim, well-garbed figure. "I'm after the money +now—and I'll get it! +</P> + +<P> +"But tell me about your partner," she continued. "Who is he, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"M'm-m!" She pursed her lips and frowned thoughtfully. "And he just +wants you to go out with him, hit or miss?" +</P> + +<P> +"That seems to be it, ma'am. And I don't think I'll go—now." +</P> + +<P> +"Now? What do you mean, now?" +</P> + +<P> +A wave of red ran over Hiram's face, and he began stammering. +</P> + +<P> +The hint of a smile flickered across Lucy's lips as she hurried on +without his answer. Hiram was a big man, ruggedly handsome. It +pleased Lucy's vanity to have him gawk at her as he did. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I can find out something about this gentleman," she said. "He +came in the restaurant a few days ago, and I noticed two business men I +know quite well talking about him. I'll find out something about this +Tweet for you, and let you know. You don't want to let anybody play +you for a sucker." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I can take care of myself when it comes to that." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Yes</I>, you can!" She laughed. "You'll lose some of that confidence +before you've been here many days. Now don't be offended. Shall I get +this dope on him, if I can?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd thank you kindly, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I will, then. Now let's forget it and talk about Mendocino. Go +on—you talk so little." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HIRAM WAKES UP +</H3> + + +<P> +Hiram walked with an elastic step from Lucy Dalles' rooming house. It +was hard to believe that all that was happening to him was true. In a +sort of haze that floated before him as he walked along hung Lucy's +face. He wished to go on forever thus. He found no fault in her—he +refused to. Some imp whispered to him that his fifteen dollars and +fifty cents would last forever. He did not actually believe this, but +he refused to worry over the matter. Fate was kind. He was living a +dream—and who needs money in Dreamland? +</P> + +<P> +It was like the slap of a cold towel when Tweet's face suddenly +displaced Lucy's in the haze. Up there in the lounging room Tweet had +been waiting for him four hours! Tweet was doubtless hungry—he, +Hiram, had been to a feast of love! +</P> + +<P> +He felt like sneaking away to another lodging house till Tweet had +disappeared. But he did not. Instead he sneaked up the dusty stairs +and through the door of the lounging room. +</P> + +<P> +Tweet was there, half hidden behind his paper. Hiram sidled into a +seat, swallowed twice, and said "Hello." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet at once lowered the paper and looked at him at if he did not +quite recall his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, hello there!" he returned carelessly. "Back, eh? Here's +somethin' may int'rest you." +</P> + +<P> +He got up, folding the paper, and carried it over to Hiram, pointing to +an article headed: +</P> + +<P> +"New Ditch Digger Makes Good." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram stared at the heading in dire confusion. He had been half +prepared for a rating; Tweet's complete disregard of his remissness was +distressing. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Tweet, I've got to apologize," he began. +</P> + +<P> +"Bad practice," Tweet interrupted. "The better way is to never do +anythin' that calls for an apology. Can't say that I live up to it, +but I do my darnedest—and angels can do no more. After the first half +hour I knew you wouldn't show up, so I went down and had lunch. More'n +you've had, I'll bet. Just glance over that article and see what you +think of it." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you were broke." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, they can't keep a good man down. The friend I went to see +insisted that I take a dollar he had that wasn't workin'. Don't +suppose I'll be with you for dinner, either, as I've got an engagement +at about that hour. But read that article." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +It told of a ditch digger that had recently been enlarged from the +inventor's model, and which, at the first trial, was proving a decided +success in moving earth more rapidly than any previously invented. +With only his model to prove his claims, the inventor had managed to +sell all the stock; and from the very beginning the operations would be +carried out by a closed corporation. The question before the directors +was whether to have machines manufactured and hire them out, or to +construct a plant and manufacture them for the trade. +</P> + +<P> +To Hiram it was dull and incomprehensible, and after finishing it he +looked up at Tweet for an explanation. +</P> + +<P> +"I got a sixth int'rest in her, Hooker," Tweet carelessly informed him. +"My pay for sellin' the stock for 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"Really! Is it worth anything to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm holdin' it' at eight thousand five hundred. It'll be worth double +that in a year or two." +</P> + +<P> +"Eight thousand five hundred!" Hiram stared unbelievingly at Tweet. +"Why don't you sell it, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I say it would be worth double that amount in a year or two?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but you're broke and——" +</P> + +<P> +"And I'll stay broke on a deal like that." Tweet's indignation caused +him to grab his off-center nose and impatiently correct its obstinate +trend, but to no avail. "But le's forget it and get back to that +bugbear of our young lives. <I>When</I> are we <I>going</I> to southern +California?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram sat framing a reply, which was rather a difficult process. +</P> + +<P> +"Le's wait till to-morrow, anyway," he said at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Had quite a little chat with Lucy to-day, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I did. When you told——" Hiram bit his tongue. "The truth is, +she's from Mendocino County, too, and we—we—that is, we found it out." +</P> + +<P> +Not the faintest sign of suspicion or surprise showed in Tweet's face. +"Well, suit yourself," he said nonchalantly. "It's a little late, or +I'd go this afternoon. But to-morrow I go. My friend'll dig up the +price, but I hate to hit him up any more. Think it over a little +longer, Hooker—I'm goin' down for a little stroll. But +remember—before noon to-morrow I've gotta have a definite answer. +I've found that Morgan & Stroud send their bunches out every day at one +o'clock." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet folded his precious paper, crammed it his pocket, and left the +room. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes afterward Hiram followed. He ate lunch and dinner in +one, then strolled about the city, dreaming of Lucy and fretfully +counting the hours till he might expect to feast his material eyes on +her again. At nine o'clock he returned to the lodging house, made sure +that Tweet was not in the lounging room, and went to bed. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning, close to nine o'clock, he was shifting from one foot to +the other before the cashier's counter in the restaurant. From the +little window inclosure came the clicking of typewriter keys, a little +more spirited than before. Hiram had strategically chosen the slack +business hour of the morning. He had eaten breakfast in a cheaper +restaurant, two blocks down the street. He had not seen Tweet. He had +been walking about the streets since six o'clock. +</P> + +<P> +The keys kept clicking. Hiram cleared his throat several times, and at +last, as before, tapped on the show case with a coin. The clicking +stopped, a skirt swished, and the gates of heaven opened, it seemed to +Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, look who's here! Good morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Ha-ha-ha! Good morning, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"Then let's begin this good morning by dropping the 'ma'am.' They all +say it up in Mendocino, I know. It's considered the <I>ne plus ultra</I> of +good breeding up there. You see I'm trying to steer you straight, and +I've got to be frank. I didn't have anybody kind enough to pick the +moss off me." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll stop sayin' it, if you say so." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, you want to. Now, I've had another visit from Mr. Tweet. He +roasted me for not carrying out his orders. He's just the least bit +too fresh, and I intimated as much. But he told me just about how much +money you had, and I decided you'd better take his advice and go with +him." +</P> + +<P> +"But I've decided not to go at all now," said Hiram. "I'm goin' to +begin lookin' for a job here in the city to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, you can't get a job here that'll make you any money. Tweet told +me something about where you're going down there in southern +California. It's on the desert. A new railroad's building. Things +will be lively. A friend of mine was in here at the time. He's got a +lot of automobile trucks, and makes piles of money. Maybe you noticed +him. Good-looking fellow in a brown suit. Drives a big drab car?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-yes, I've seen him," admitted Hiram resentfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he was in here and talked with Tweet, and he said he thought +he'd look into the freighting proposition down there. With his trucks, +you know. There's a long haul over the desert and the mountains, it +seems, and he says it ought to be good. Said maybe he'd take me down +some time, if anything turned up." +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't go!" +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't I? Huh! You bet your life I would! I only hope he'll stick +to what he says. Maybe I'd get to see you down there. Tweet said he'd +heard that the place they freight to is a live one. Ragtown, he said +they called it. That's the kind of a place to make money in. I'd go, +if I were you. Go down and make a stake, and then come back to Frisco. +Money talks here." +</P> + +<P> +"With you?" Said Hiram, slowly drinking in dread suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +"You betcha my life!" Lucy said lightly. +</P> + +<P> +She broke off suddenly and turned toward the door with a smile of +welcome on her lips. In came Hiram Hooker's hated rival, Al Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Lucy!" he called breezily. Then he leaned over the counter, +glanced hurriedly about the empty restaurant, and kissed the girl on +the lips. +</P> + +<P> +She slapped at him playfully. "You got a nerve, Al!" she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram Hooker heard no more, for blindly he was stumbling out, crushed, +heartbroken. Hiram Hooker suddenly had decided to go to southern +California with Mr. Orr Tweet, and the sooner they could get away the +better he would like it. He realized now that Lucy Dalles was not the +adventure girl who had beckoned in his dreams. She was a cheap, +scheming adventuress, and he hated the very thought of her now—and was +plunged into the depths of despair and humiliation. +</P> + +<P> +In the lounging room he found Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on," he said huskily, "le's go to the employment office. I'm +ready." +</P> + +<P> +Orr Tweet arose, casting a curious look at Hiram's haggard face, but +said nothing as he followed him out. +</P> + +<P> +Fifteen minutes later they entered a large employment bureau on Clay +Street, where were gathered perhaps a hundred workingmen reading the +bulletins or lounging on benches. +</P> + +<P> +Every now and then a brisk, leonine-headed man walked about among them, +making announcements as a train caller does in a big union depot. +</P> + +<P> +"Shippin' to Oregon—two o'clock to-morrow afternoon—I want two +hundred muckers—forty cents an hour—board one dollar a day. I want +twenty skinners, same job, forty a month and found. Sign up, boys! +Hit the trail and make yer stake. Two dollars is the bill! +</P> + +<P> +"I want one hundred men to work in onions and potatoes. +Three-twenty-five a day and board. Think of it, boys! +Three-twenty-five a day and <I>board</I>! Like gettin' money from home! +Get your blankets and line up for the chance of a lifetime. +</P> + +<P> +"Then listen, boys! I want six rough carpenters—the rougher the +better—mine work. Eight dollars a day, eight hours—<I>dollar an hour</I>! +Fee two dollars. Think of that, huskies! Can ye swing a hammer or +push a saw? You're on if you can—sign up! Ship ye out this evenin'. +A snap! A cinch! +</P> + +<P> +"I want a sub-grade foreman at seven dollars—eight hours! +</P> + +<P> +"I want skinners, muckers, hard-rock men for Washington. I want +lumberjacks for Washington—long job—good pay! I want hard-rock men +for Alaska—the harder the better. And I want——" +</P> + +<P> +Here Orr Tweet grasped the enthusiast's sleeve. "How about those +jerkline skinners for southern California?" he asked. "Saw it in the +paper." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see, old-timer—I'll look that up for you right away. Just step +inside, please—you and your pal. Let you know all about it in two +minutes. Line up for a good job, boys! Get out and make a stake! +Just a minute, boss man. Step right inside." +</P> + +<P> +Inside a railing, where many clerks were at work, the applicants were +turned over to a sallow young man, who, being informed of what they +wanted, consulted certain memoranda. Then he swiveled toward the two +and gave them the particulars. +</P> + +<P> +"Gold Belt Cut-off," he said. "Buildin' across the desert in southern +California. Good camps—good pay—good grub—good water——" +</P> + +<P> +"Cut all that," dryly interrupted Orr Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, sir," replied the clerk cheerfully. "Main contractors, +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou. Want fifty muckers and fifty skinners—two +jerkline skinners—must be A-1. Fifty-five a month and found. Fee two +dollars. Ship you out one o'clock to-morrow. On?" +</P> + +<P> +Tweet nudged Hiram and nodded, and Hiram tendered four silver dollars. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a minute," said the clerk—though accepting the money. "This +office can't afford to get in bad with big contractors like Demarest, +Spruce & Tillou. They've specified A-1 jerkline skinners, to skin +eight, ten, and twelve over the desert and mountains. Are you there?" +</P> + +<P> +"We are there," replied Orr Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +The clerk looked doubtful. "Well, guess we'll have to take your word +for it. Chances are you'll break away when you get to where you're +makin' it, anyway. This is kind of a special job, though. Demarest +himself wrote a personal letter about the two jerkline skinners. +They're not for him, it seems—just to be shipped down with the other +skinners and muckers and hard-rock men we're sendin' him. The jerkline +skinners are for 'Jerkline Jo.' Ever heard that name? If you're +jerkline skinners that have followed railroad work you ought to've +heard o' Jerkline Jo. Usta be monakered 'Gypo Jo.'" +</P> + +<P> +"We're not railroaders," said Mr. Tweet glibly. "We're from Mendocino +County—the big woods you know. But we can skin 'em for Jerkline Jo or +any other man." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take a chance," said the clerk briskly. "If you'd just wanted to +get your railroad trip out o' Frisco you'd not thought to pick out the +jerkline job, when only two were wanted. Jerkline Jo is a woman, +though." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah?" returned Mr. Tweet, then said to the heartbroken Hiram: "You +can't escape 'em, it seems, Hooker—you big mountain of a lady killer! +This is gonta be good. Send us to Jerkline Jo, old hoss! She'll bless +you with her last breath. Chances are you'll meet a regular woman, +now, Hiram—not a doll with three years' wages on her back! A big +outdoor picture like you fallin' for a bunch o' female French pastry +like that!" +</P> + +<P> +The employment agency clerk shrugged and took their names. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JERKLINE JO +</H3> + + +<P> +About six months previous to Hiram Hooker's momentous debut into the +world outside of the big trees of Mendocino County, a girl stood in her +dormitory room at Kendrick Hall and read a telegram with tear-dimmed +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +This girl was Miss Josepha Modock. She was twenty-two, and Providence +had been kind to her—nay, lavish. She was straight and sturdy and +strong. Her hair was of a dark chestnut hue, and its beauty and +luxuriant growth made it at once the envy and admiration of her fellow +students of the Wisconsin boarding school. Her eyes were large and +dark and luminous, her nose just far enough short of perfect, her lips +full and distracting. +</P> + +<P> +Josepha Modock had been two years at Kendrick Hall. She was older than +most of the girls who were her classmates, for the desire and +opportunity to acquire an education had come to her at a late day in +her teens. She was ambitious, however, and was making fast progress +with her college preparatory course. Then came the telegram which she +now held, and over which she wept tears of grief. +</P> + +<P> +Her name was not really Josepha Modock. Modock was the name of her +foster father, and he and her foster mother, the latter dead now for +ten years, had given the girl the name of Josepha, because, when they +had found her a mere baby weeping and lost on the great desert of +California, they had discovered a "J" embroidered on her underwear. +</P> + +<P> +At that time Peter Modock—"Pickhandle" Modock—had been what is known +in railroad-construction circles as a gypo man, or shanty man. A gypo +man is an impecunious construction contractor whose light, haphazard +outfit of teams and tools makes it necessary for him to subcontract in +the lightest dirt work from a slightly better equipped subcontractor, +who in turn has taken a subcontract from the main contractors in a big +piece of railroad building. In the vernacular of the grade, a gypo +man's daughter, if she follows the outfit, is known as a gypo queen. +</P> + +<P> +Josepha Modock, then, had grown up in the camp of Pickhandle Modock, +and in time had been known as a gypo queen, or shanty queen, and the +prettiest one in the business at that. +</P> + +<P> +It was when the Salt Lake Road was being built across the Mohave Desert +that the baby girl had been found. Pickhandle Modock had taken a +little piece of work from Grace Brothers, and was on his way across the +sandy wastes to pitch camp and begin operations. His outfit was to be +one of the first to arrive, and as yet no definite line of travel had +been established to the work. A terrific sandstorm came up, and the +outfit became lost on the desert, where men and teams wandered about +without water for many perilous hours, some time in the midst of which +the human atom afterward called Josepha was found. +</P> + +<P> +She had been sole mistress of a tiny camp tucked away in a +half-sheltered little arroyo, over which spiked yucca palms stood guard +and helped to break the wind and check the drifting sands. There were +provisioned pack bags there, and the blowing sand had not entirely +covered the small hoof prints of several burros. A corral of corky +yucca trunks held the child a prisoner, and more trunks had been laid +on the walls to form a roof, which kept off coyotes. In here they +found her sobbing, suffering for water, abandoned by her elders, while +slowly but surely the sand was sifting in to bury her alive. +</P> + +<P> +All trails leading to or from the spot had been wiped out. The child +was cautiously given water and food, and the suffering contractor's +party camped there, hoping for the return of the man or men who had +left the baby to such dangers in the merciless desert. But no one came +to claim her that day nor during the ensuing night; so next morning +Pickhandle's outfit set out to search desperately to better their own +alarming conditions, and took the child along. Modock left behind a +note explaining their action and informing whoever was responsible how +he might eventually be connected with, whereupon the child would be +returned. +</P> + +<P> +That day the sandstorm subsided, and the outfit stumbled upon the road +to their destination. They found water before noon, and camped there +to recuperate. Here also, when they took their leave, they left word +of their appropriation of the baby girl. Later, when they had reached +their camp site and settled down, Modock, having received no +communication relative to the child, returned on horseback and sought +for the spot where she had been found. At last it was discovered, and +it was quite apparent that during the ten days' interval no one had +been there. The pack bags with the supplies, and the few miners' tools +that lay about, were all but buried in the sands. Modock's note was +still there. +</P> + +<P> +Deciding that the baby's guardians or parents had perished in the +storm, Pickhandle Modock took the articles for the purpose of +identification, if some one ever should claim the child, and returned +with them to his camp, greatly to the joy of motherly Anna Modock, his +wife. Anna Modock had no children, and now she loved the desert waif +as if the child had been her own. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly Pickhandle Modock prospered in the years that followed, for he +was a thrifty, hard-working man. The child, whom they had named +Josepha, grew to girlhood, and reached young womanhood as a sprite of +the camps—a gypo queen. The Modocks were uneducated people, but knew +it, and strove to make amends by educating the girl to the best of +their ability. When the contractor had prospered to the point where he +needed and could afford a bookkeeper, he employed a gray-haired +derelict of the grade, half of whose duties were to educate Josepha. +</P> + +<P> +The old man loved the child and did his best by her, guiding her +successfully through the elementary branches and succeeding in +implanting in her mind what is known as a common-school education. She +learned rapidly, but showed no particular interest in her studies. +With the work of the grade she was enraptured. At ten she was driving +a slip team, loading and dumping without the help of any one. Later +she drove wheeler teams, then snap teams, and even the six-horse plow +teams. She became a wonderful horsewoman, and, when in the West, +entered contests at rodeos in trick riding, riding buckers and +so-called outlaws, and won many prizes. Horses and mules loved her. +Her voice or her hand spoke to them in a language that they seemed to +know. She could break a colt to steady work in half the time required +by any man she had ever met. It was said that the only thing a horse +or mule would not do for her was to talk, whereupon Josepha trained a +colt to "talk," just to prove that her understanding of animals was +virtually unlimited. +</P> + +<P> +So Joshepha Modock grew to young womanhood, admired, loved, and spoiled +by the thousands of nomad laborers who knew her. At eighteen she could +truthfully boast of a hundred proposals of marriage, and some of them +had been worth an ambitious girl's consideration. Gypo Jo they called +her, and she was known all over the West, where her foster father's +operations were confined, and stories of her beauty and horsewomanship +had gone East and North and South, for railroad-construction laborers +are a nomadic brood and repeat their tales and traditions from coast to +coast. +</P> + +<P> +Then Pickhandle Modock, whose wife had died some years before, made the +move which finally brought his mounting prospects to the verge of ruin. +Just when he was on the point of being recognized as a contractor of +consequence, and owned a big, fine outfit of stock and tents and +implements, he decided to change his activities to those of a freighter. +</P> + +<P> +Numerous railroad projects were being launched in the West, and most of +the lines were bound to extend through countries difficult to access. +Contractors preferred to have their freight hauled to them by regular +freighters, so that every team of their own could be put on the task of +railroad building. Or so Pickhandle Modock reasoned. +</P> + +<P> +Accordingly he sold his construction outfit, and with the proceeds +bought heavy freight wagons and heavy young teams, and launched forth +in his new career. For a year or more he followed railroad camps with +his heavy freight outfit; then he suddenly decided that he was getting +too old for camp life and to be eternally moving about. So when a new +gold mine was opened up in the mountains that overlook southern +California's desert, he moved into the little frontier town of Palada, +forty miles from the new mines, and got the freighting contract from +this railroad point up into the mountains. +</P> + +<P> +He bought out the town's largest store, and set up a blacksmith and +wagoner's shop to keep his great wagons in repair and his hard-working +teams shod. Here for a year or more Josepha attended high school +during the winter months, and drove eight and ten-horse teams with a +jerkline to the mines in summer, and acquired her new title of Jerkline +Jo because of her skill in training and handling the big teams. Here, +too, she required [Transcriber's note: acquired?] her thirst for an +education, and, torn between her new ambition and her love for the big +outdoors and her devoted mules and horses, she at last set off for +Wisconsin for her preparatory course at Kendrick Hall. +</P> + +<P> +Pickhandle Modock, however, had reckoned without the automobile truck, +which now was fast displacing heavy freight teams. While as yet the +road into the mountains was not in the best shape for trucks, at least +during winter months, still the noisy transporters of freight, of the +lower tonnage capacity, were taking a great deal of business from him. +Then the road on the other side of the mountains, connecting with the +big coast-side cities, was paved; and this ended Pickhandle Modock's +career as a jerkline freighter. The town of Palada, too, degenerated +from an active little supply point to a stagnating desert village, with +no visible means of support, and Pickhandle Modock found himself with a +big stock of goods on hand with no one to buy, and with sixty or more +heavy freight horses eating their heads off in their corrals. +</P> + +<P> +His circumstances went from bad to worse, but he had carefully kept all +this from his adopted daughter, in the preparatory school in the Middle +West. Consequently the blithe and lovable Jerkline Jo knew nothing of +the state of affairs when the telegram announcing her father's death +reached her that fateful morning. +</P> + +<P> +It stunned her at first. She could scarcely believe that lovable, +hard-working, grizzled old Pickhandle Modock, the only father she had +ever known had gone out of her life forever. The justice of the peace +at Palada, who had handled Pickhandle's legal affairs, had sent the +telegram, which advised her to return at once, as she was named as the +sole heir to her foster father's estate. The telegram—a night letter +and a long one—hinted of things of which she had not even dreamed, an +prepared her for financial disappointments. +</P> + +<P> +She at once realized that her school days at Kendrick Hall were ended, +just when the future looked so bright. She would have entered college +next year, and this, too, she must now forego, just when her ambition +was at its height. +</P> + +<P> +But she had been through many discouragements as a gypo queen, and she +did not flinch. She had known poverty—even actual want—had fought +mud and sandstorms and cold and heat and rain that hampered work for +weeks and months. In her was the indomitable spirit of the pioneer. +She bravely and silently packed her treasured belongings, bade a +dry-eyed good-by to her tearful instructors and classmates, and set her +face toward the Western desert to learn the worst, and meet it as +hard-fighting old Pickhandle Modock would have wished her to meet +it—as a girl called Jerkline Jo should meet life's threatening defeats. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE RETURN OF JERKLINE JO +</H3> + + +<P> +When the long overland train contemptuously groaned to a reluctant stop +in Palada the infrequent occurrence told the town that Jerkline Jo had +returned for her foster father's funeral and the readjustment of his +badly involved affairs. Old friends, old pals, old lovers crowded +about her on the depot platform, wringing her strong hand in sympathy +and offering help. The village hack was running no more now, so +friends carried her baggage for her to the house on the hill, where lay +the body of Pickhandle Modock. +</P> + +<P> +Friends stayed with her that night. The funeral was solemnized next +day. In all the world, now, Jerkline Jo had not the semblance of a +relative, so far as she knew. She even did not know her name, and of +Pickhandle Modock's family she had met not a single soul. But she had +youth, courage, and ambition, and she went bravely at the many tasks +before her. +</P> + +<P> +With the old justice of the peace she took up her father's affairs, and +it soon became evident that to attempt to continue the store under +existing conditions would be the part of folly. The business was +deeply in debt to jobbers in the cities on the coast side of the +mountains, and such stock as they would accept must go back to them to +cancel their claims. The store building was mortgaged; the residence +property was mortgaged. The teams and wagons and the blacksmith shop +seemed to be all that she could save from the wreckage, and these +appeared to be more of an encumbrance than otherwise. +</P> + +<P> +Still, she decided, against the advice of all well-meaning friends, to +try to hold on to them and to be able to own them, clear of any claims +against them. She knew the freighting business and construction +teaming, and virtually nothing else; so with the idea that all of +Pickhandle Modock's proud building must not have been for naught, she +fought for final control of the freight outfit, and would not listen to +those who claimed that the days of freighting with teams were over +forever. +</P> + +<P> +In a month everything was settled—all creditors satisfied. She had +arranged to pay the store's debts with the acceptable stock on hand, +having made great concessions. She had promised the store building and +the residence property to the mortgagees, effective after the will had +been probated. To her delight, she found that the teams, blacksmith's +and wagoner's equipment, and the wagons would be hers intact. True, +the teams were a great expense, and there was almost nothing left with +which to buy hay and grain for them. But she was making inquiry here +and there in an effort to put them to work again. Eventually she was +successful in getting them on mountain pasture at a dollar and a half a +head per month. There were sixty-one animals in all, and the pasturage +fees amounted to quite a monthly sum, but it was far inferior to the +monthly feed bills she had been paying. +</P> + +<P> +For several months she hung on desperately, hoping against hope, with +everything going out and nothing coming in, then one bright and +long-to-be-remembered day came news of the new railroad which was to +cross the desert a hundred miles from Palada. +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo made inquiry and found out the work was to begin at once, +and that the project was a large one, involving difficult construction +feats. By train she rode to the nearest railroad point, met the +engineers of the preliminary survey, found an old friend in the party, +and with him rode horseback on an old mining road over the range that +stood between the railroad and that part of the desert which the new +route would cross. +</P> + +<P> +Close study of the engineers' maps and her general knowledge of +construction conditions told her much. She decided on the logical +place where the inevitable "rag town" would spring up. This, she +reasoned, would be as close as possible to the biggest camp of the main +contractors, Demarest, Spruce & Tillou. +</P> + +<P> +There was water to be had at several widely separated places along the +new right of way, but she knew that the water supply closest to the big +camp would draw the tent city about it. +</P> + +<P> +She knew, too, where the big camp would be, for the simple reason that +the heaviest piece of work is eventually left to the main contractors; +so she was able to figure to a dot just where Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou's Camp Number One would locate. She had not the remotest idea, +then, however, how this knowledge was to benefit her later. +</P> + +<P> +To the tent town and to the camps of the many subcontractors who would +come, thousands of tons of freight must be hauled. The railroad point +nearest to the spot where the main contractor would camp was the town +of Julia, from which the two had ridden horseback, and the mountain +range lay between Julia and the right of way of the proposed, route. A +forty-five mile trip through heavy desert sands, over the steep grades +of an abandoned mountain road, and through heavy sands again would +inevitable, and until the new steel rails had crept to a point opposite +Julia, teams or automobile truck must supply the laborers and teams +with the necessities of life. +</P> + +<P> +Jo knew little about automobile trucks, but she did not fear them. +They would give her keen competition, no doubt, at least during summer +months but a study of the mountain soil convinced her that in winter +there would be another story to tell. Anyway, she and her beautiful +freight animals must take their chance against these modern machines. +It would be a race between the tortoise and the hare; and every one +knows that the hare has gained no little reputation from the outcome of +that legendary contest. +</P> + +<P> +From Julia, Jerkline Jo hurried by train to San Francisco, to the +Western office of the big contracting firm of Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou, whose headquarters were in Minneapolis. She knew Mr. Demarest +personally, and was fortunate in finding him in San Francisco upon her +arrival there. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, well!" the big man cried jovially, as the girl was ushered +into his private office. "Gypo Jo! Heavens to Betsy! Girl, I haven't +seen you in five years. Put 'er there for old times' sake!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's Jerkline Jo nowadays, Mr. Demarest," and she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +Philip Demarest was a large, portly man, with a ruddy, red face, +blue-veined and kindly. He had come up from the grade, and was +eminently proud of his successful climb. +</P> + +<P> +For thirty minutes he refused positively to talk business. He +preferred to sit and dwell on bygone days with the one-time queen of +Pickhandle Modock's gypo camp, to listen to the account of her father's +rise and fall and his subsequent untimely death, and of the girl's +ambitions and life in the Middle Western school. They told many a +story, these old-timers of the nomadic camps, and had many a laugh over +quaint remembrances. Then they got down to business. +</P> + +<P> +Demarest listened carefully to Jo's ideas, and as she concluded he +drummed thoughtfully on his desk. +</P> + +<P> +"I think myself, Jo," he said presently, "that in winter you can grab +off the money from any old automobile concern. But through the summer +months they're gonta give you a nice little run for your money. And if +they get freight there with less delay than you fail to avoid, and can +do it for the same figure, they're gonta rampse you—that's all. +</P> + +<P> +"Certain parties are lookin' into the matter already," he went on. +"There's one fella here in Frisco that's got a fleet o' trucks—fella +named Albert Drummond. Shrewd customer, too. He was tryin' to make a +dicker with us. But we'll make no deals. We're not goin' to freight +any ourselves if we can get out of it. But we'll sign no contracts in +such a matter. Lowest bidder gets our business so long as he don't +fail to keep us supplied with all we need. If you can underbid these +truck men, you'll get the business; and from what I know about you, I +have no doubt but that you'll deliver the goods." +</P> + +<P> +"Gasoline is terribly high right now," Jo pointed out. +</P> + +<P> +"So's hay, for that matter," said Demarest bluntly. +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard, too, of a possible scarcity of gas," Jo told him. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but the scarcity of hay is almost as threatenin', my girl; and +those big horses certainly can eat the stuff. But tell me—what do you +figure you can lay freight down for at the spot where you say we're +bound to locate our biggest camp?" +</P> + +<P> +"Two and a half cents a pound," was her prompt reply. +</P> + +<P> +"It's an awful price, when you think it over," he said reflectively. +"Just imagine, Jo; two and a half cents a pound bein' added onto the +price of a sack o' flour—with flour at the unheard-of price it's +already reached. And hay and grain! Jo, it's simply staggering." +</P> + +<P> +"I admit that," she said. "But I suppose you took all that into +account when you made your bid on the job." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet your sweet life we did, girl! And I'll tell you what—we +figured freight at three and a half cents a pound." +</P> + +<P> +"You're fortunate. I'll get that, too, if I beat the trucks." +</P> + +<P> +"Figurin' on gougin' us out of our profits already, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all, Mr. Demarest. Two and a half cents is my minimum. I'll +freight for that only if forced to by the trucks. I doubt if I can +make money at that figure. Only a trial over an extended period of +time will tell. It all depends on the nature of the soil—on the +condition that the roads develop after a period of heavy traffic over +them, and the devastation of the winter rains. There'll be snow in +those mountains, too. It's a gamble—a big gamble—but all that I can +see against me is the fact that trucks don't eat hay when they're not +at work." +</P> + +<P> +"And how d'ye know where our Camp One is going to be located, girl?" he +asked kindly. "I don't know myself yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you don't know positively," she replied. "But I'll bet you +ten to one that you'll never sublet that piece of heavy-rock work +through the buttes. I don't know a subcontractor—and I've not been +out of touch with the grade so very long—who could tackle that +stupendous task. So, if you can't sublet it—and I'm betting you +can't—it will be up to you folks to do it yourselves. So that tells +me where your largest camp will be, and at the nearest water to your +largest camp the rag town will spring up. Isn't that all logical?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sound as a dollar," he told her. "You weren't raised by Pickhandle +Modock for nothing, were you?" +</P> + +<P> +She rose from her chair. "Tell your subs to send me a wire at Julia +when they're ready for any freight, at two and a half cents for a +starter," she said. "I'll get it to 'em. But if no one meets my +price, look for a raise to three cents for the second trip. Of course, +if I don't hear from them, I'll know some one has beaten me out. Then +I'll see what can be done. Your camp, of course, won't be in till +last, I suppose. I'll go back to Palada now, take the stock off +pasture, and begin hardening them up. Then I'll start for Julia, and +will be there before your outfit moves in." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SKINNERS FROM FRISCO +</H3> + + +<P> +Back at Palada, Jerkline Jo began hunting up the expert skinners who +had pulled the long sash-cord lines for her foster father, and who had +drifted to parts unknown since the completion of the paved road that +had virtually put Pickhandle Modock out of the running. The world has +not an oversupply of expert jerkline skinners, and the plucky girl's +chances for success depended in great part on obtaining good men to +handle her teams. She was able to trace some of the men, and her offer +to pay their expenses to Palada brought replies favorable to the +project in each case. For jerkline jobs are scarce these days, and a +jerkline skinner would rather follow his calling than do any other sort +of work. +</P> + +<P> +The blacksmith, horseshoer, and wagoner, Carter Potts, was still in +Palada, and wished for nothing better than to serve the girl. They had +decided to reopen the shop at Julia, and for his devotion Jo promised +him a generous per cent of any profits which might accrue from work +aside from the care of the immense wagons and shoeing the teams. This +in addition to his monthly salary of a hundred dollars and board. +</P> + +<P> +From Oregon now came "Blink" Keddie, who had driven teams for +Pickhandle Modock since long before the old railroader had settled at +Palada. Tom Gulick came from Utah, where he had been working on a +cattle ranch. Heine Schultz and Jim McAllen came from remote regions +in the northern lumber woods. But of Ed Hopkins, the prince of mule +skinners, and Harry Powell the girl could get no trace. +</P> + +<P> +With the dependable force that she had mustered, however, she took the +stock from pasture, broke even on a job to a desert town to the west in +order to put the teams in shape, and then made ready for the +hundred-and-fifty-mile trip to Julia. She had written Mr. Demarest and +asked him to advertise for two good jerkline skinners to be shipped +with the first draft of laborers he would get from San Francisco. She +had small hopes of obtaining good skinners by this method, but no other +course presented itself. +</P> + +<P> +Two days before the start for Julia came a wire from the San Francisco +office of Demarest, Spruce & Tillou. It read: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Employment office notifies two jerkline skinners +applied re advertisement in paper and have been +forwarded Palada. Arrive day after to-morrow. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Jo showed the telegram to Heine Schultz when she went to the corrals +this morning. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet you get a couple o' peaches, Jo," he laughed. "Why, any +tramp's likely to go to an employment office and say he's anything they +want him to be, just to get on the job. And maybe, even, he'll ditch +the train before he reaches the job. Just wanted the trip, you know." +</P> + +<P> +Jo's broad, smooth brow puckered. "I do hope that will not prove the +case," she said. "Jerkline skinners are so hard to get, particularly +in this country. Every man who has ever driven a horse or mule seems +to imagine he can drive jerkline, but you know and I know that it takes +knack and years of practice. But I'm hoping that because these two +applied for this particular job they're all right. If they merely +wished to get free transportation out of San Francisco, it was not +necessary for them to apply as jerkies. They could as easily have +arranged to be shipped as plain skinners, or rock men, or muckers." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet you draw a prize, all right," Heine chuckled disconcertingly. +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo postponed the start a day, and awaited the coming of the +applicants. +</P> + +<P> +As the local passenger train from Los Angeles whistled for Palada, Mr. +Orr Tweet roused himself from his seat in the smoker and slapped the +muscle-corded thigh of the disconsolate Hiram Hooker. +</P> + +<P> +"She blows, Hiram, old boy!" cried Mr. Tweet. "Fame and fortune await +us just ahead. She slows! She creeps! Palada opens her arms to us! +Perk up, Hiram! The girl wasn't your kind, my boy. You'd have stepped +all over her little feet, and she'd got a divorce and alimony on the +grounds o' cruelty." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram Hooker sighed and stretched his columnar arms. For a moment or +two the new prospects that loomed kept his mind busy, then his thoughts +reverted to Lucy Dalles, and gloom claimed him once more. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk like that, Playmate," he said. "You don't understand. I +loved the girl." +</P> + +<P> +"Prune juice! She'd 'a' made a regular sucker outa you. Good thing I +got you away. A big mountain o' blood and bone like you fallin' for a +dash o' cake frosting like that little hasher. Hiram, you've got a +man's body and a man's brains, and I like you better the more I see of +you. If you're goin' to weep over a woman, weep over a regular woman, +boy—a man's woman. There! Look out the window. See that straight, +strong, black-headed desert girl in chaps and a Stetson? Look at the +brown of her! Look at her stride! Queen o' the earth, hey? That's +the kind of a woman for a man with the body of an elephant and the +imagination of a poet, like you've got. There's a girl worth sighin' +for, only she wears leather chaps! Well, out we go. Palada for a +toehold on the ladder o' fame and fortune!" +</P> + +<P> +The train had squeaked to a stop, and the effervescent Mr. Tweet and +his huge companion descended the steps to the sunny platform. The +businesslike Mr. Tweet buttonholed the first villager he met, and +informed him: +</P> + +<P> +"We're lookin' for a party called Jerkline Jo—a lady with a far-flung +reputation. Can you steer us to her rendezvous, my friend?" +</P> + +<P> +The man stared at him a moment, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Jo over there," he said. "She's lookin' for ye, I reckon. +That pretty girl in the chaps." +</P> + +<P> +"Her!" gasped Mr. Tweet. "Lordy! And I was just eulogizin' her +through the window o' the coach. I saw her first—Hiram—I saw her +first!" +</P> + +<P> +Next second Mr. Tweet was before Jerkline Jo, lifting his hat and +bowing politely. Behind him, Hiram Hooker stood awkwardly looking at +the girl he had traveled six hundred miles to work for. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," said his companion, "if you are Jerkline Jo, permit me to +introduce myself and my friend. I am Mr. Tweet—Playmate +Tweet—Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet. My friend and companion in arms is +Hiram Hooker, from the virgin forests of Wild-cat Hill. I hope we find +you well, and a look into your face tells me that I never hoped for a +surer thing in my life. Madam, when you know me better, you will learn +that I am not fresh, merely bubbling over with the joy of existence." +</P> + +<P> +For a little Jerkline Jo gazed at him, then burst into ringing +laughter. "Well, if you can drive jerkline," she said, "there's no +doubt but that you will be a pleasant addition to our little family. +I'm happy to meet you, Mr.——" +</P> + +<P> +"Playmate Tweet—Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>What</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +"Orr Tweet—Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet," patiently repeated Mr. Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you trying to be funny?" The dark eyes narrowed dangerously. +</P> + +<P> +"I am funny," corrected Mr. Tweet. "I can't help it. Allow me to +explain: My last name, unfortunately, is Tweet. Tweet is the +well-known conversational effort of a bird, and also 'Twitter,' if we +are to believe the bird lovers. Therefore, I am ruthlessly called +Twitter at times by my friends, and more often Twitter-or-Tweet. Orr +is my first name. Orr Tweet. Suppose, for instance, my name happened +to be Jim Brown, and I had been given the nickname of Blister. Then I +would be called Blister Jim Brown, or Blister Brown. But my name is +Orr Tweet, and my nickname is Twitter-or-Tweet. Therefore, I am +Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet, or Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet. You've heard +the story of the lady who asked the ticket agent for 'Two to Duluth,' +haven't you? He thought she was flirting with him, and came back with +'Tweedle-de-dee;' whereupon she slapped him. So far I have escaped +such consequences when telling people my name. But if, when asked, I +reply 'Orr Tweet,' they say 'What or Tweet?' Then if I reply +'Twitter-or-Tweet <I>Orr</I> Tweet,' they look at me as if they thought I +was trying to kid 'em. So I begin my explanation by giving them my +nickname, or monaker, 'Playmate,' and follow it with my second monaker, +'Twitter-or-Tweet,' as I am frequently called, or Twitter-or-Tweet Orr +Tweet, or Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet. It's very simple." +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo laughed again at the end of this seemingly nonsensical +harangue, and fixed her dark eyes on Hiram Hooker. The giant stood +staring at her, and not a thought of Lucy Dalles was in his mind now. +His blue eyes caught her dark ones, and his glance was lowered in +confusion. Womanlike, Jerkline Jo took him in at a glance, and +something within her responded to the appeal that his handsome manhood +made to femininity. +</P> + +<P> +"What a godlike physique!" she thought. +</P> + +<P> +Then impulsively she stepped forward and extended her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you've come, Mr. Hooker," she said. "And I do hope you are +really a jerkline skinner." +</P> + +<P> +"And how 'bout me?" complained Mr. Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon," said the girl, biting her lip. "What a stupid +thing for me to say! But really—well, Mr. Hooker does look more like +an outdoors man than you do, Mr. Tweet. I didn't mean to discriminate +between you in my offer of welcome, though. Mr. Hooker, <I>are</I> you a +jerkline skinner?" +</P> + +<P> +For the first time Hiram's soft voice began to drawl. "Yes, ma'am," he +told her earnestly. "I've driven jerkline since I was knee-high to a +duck—eight and ten and twelve, and even sixteen, ma'am. I reckon I +can make 'em pull, no matter how far out you hook 'em on." +</P> + +<P> +"Where have you worked?" +</P> + +<P> +"At home, ma'am—in the big timber o' Mendocino County—haulin' tanbark +and ties and shakes and posts over the mountains to the lumber steamers +on the coast." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you love horses and mules?" she queried eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"I love everything that breathes, I reckon, ma'am," he told her softly. +"I kill nothin' that lives, except rattlesnakes, unless I need the +meat. Then sometimes I don't kill." +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo's dark eyes glowed. She turned to Mr. Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +"And you?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," he replied, "I came down here under false pretenses, but now +I'll make a clean breast o' my treachery. I was broke; I had to get +out o' Frisco and get a toehold somewhere. But after seein' you, I +can't try to put one over on you. Couldn't if I wanted to try, I +guess. I am not a jerkline skinner, but I love animals. I am one of +those confident persons who will try anything once—even twice. The +things I have done, and was told I could not do, are legion. If you +will give me a trial for my inseparable friend's sake, I have no doubt +at all but that in the course of a short time your mules will refuse to +lift a foot unless I am behind 'em with my persuasive voice. In other +words, Miss Jo, I am yours to command." +</P> + +<P> +She smiled, a finger to her lips. "Well, come over to the corrals, +both of you," she said, "and we'll see what we can do. I simply must +have Mr. Hooker. So if you two are inseparable, why——" She paused. +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," Tweet put in. "All women are that way, once they're +subjected to Hooker's spell. I simply can't get it myself, but it's a +fact." +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo blushed furiously. She who had withstood the ordeal of a +hundred proposals, she who had been raised where men were continually +twitting her about some man who was yearning to bestow his affections +upon her, was blushing at Tweet's harmless suggestions. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE START FOR JULIA +</H3> + + +<P> +Jerkline Jo walked ahead of Hiram Hooker and Tweet to the stables and +corrals, where her three-score horses and mules and her big wagons were +awaiting the start. +</P> + +<P> +"We're all ready to go," she told the pair. "I was only waiting for +you. We'll start at once, whether you are jerkline skinners or not, of +course; but if you're not, I'm afraid we'll go without you." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Tweet glanced at Hiram and whispered: "I'm 'fraid this is where we +separate, Hooker. Still, I don't know. Maybe I'm a jerkline skinner, +after all. I'll never know till I try." +</P> + +<P> +In front of the stable Tweet came to an abrupt halt and studiously +regarded one of the huge freight wagons. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a moment," he began quaintly. "Was that wagon built to go, or is +it just an advertisement to show what the wagonmaker could do?" +</P> + +<P> +Jo's wagons weighed nearly six thousand pounds. Each separate wheel +had cost her foster father seventy-five dollars, prewar price. The +investment that a single complete wagon represented was in the +neighborhood of six hundred dollars; and as there were seven of them, +besides the lighter trailers, the total outlay was no mean sum. The +spokes of the great wheels were as large as Mr. Tweet's thighs; the +hubs were larger than his waist; the tires were ten inches in width; +the entire running-gear looked as if a small forest of sturdy hardwood +had been felled for its construction. +</P> + +<P> +"It is built to go," the girl assured him. +</P> + +<P> +"Stutterin' Demosthenes! I didn't think there were enough horses in +the world to move the thing! Madam, I have swiftly reached the +conclusion that I am not a jerkline skinner. Are you, Hooker?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram smiled and spoke to Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a fine wagon, ma'am," he said. "I never saw any as good as +that." +</P> + +<P> +"We've six more just like it," she told him, "and some lighter +trailers. The man who made them is dead. I doubt if the world will +ever again see such wagons when these are gone. Now, I want you to +hook up, Mr. Hooker, and show me what you can do." +</P> + +<P> +"Hook up, Hooker!" laughed Tweet, always ready to embrace the slightest +opportunity for a joke. +</P> + +<P> +The girl led the way into the stable, and Heine Schultz, temporary +wrangler, showed Hiram ten immense black horses, not one of them under +sixteen hundred pounds. +</P> + +<P> +"Get 'em out," ordered Jo. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram went to work immediately, with a briskness that caused Heine to +wink at Jo, he threw on the heavy harness and led forth the big-footed +teams. He did not ask which were the leaders or the wheelers, for this +was indicated by the nature of their respective harness and bridles. +Heine noted this and winked again. Hiram was told, when he asked, the +names of the ten, and pointers and swing teams were indicated. In a +period of time utterly bewildering to Mr. Tweet the man from Wild-cat +Hill had his ten black beauties strung out in twos before one of the +wagons, and was speaking to Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"I see you ride in the wagons," he observed. "I always rode the nigh +wheeler hoss, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"You may do so if you choose. We've saddles." +</P> + +<P> +"Your way suits me," Hiram returned. "It's easier work, I reckon." +</P> + +<P> +The girl climbed into the wagon with Hiram. Heine Schultz did +likewise. Mr. Tweet, being a gregarious person, did not like to be +left alone, so followed the others' example. +</P> + +<P> +"Which way, ma'am?" asked the new skinner. +</P> + +<P> +Jo pointed. "Up that street, and turn the corner to your left," she +directed. +</P> + +<P> +The wagon was about half loaded with the blacksmith's outfit. To add +to this the horse wrangler set the heavy brakes. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram grasped the jerkline, but allowed it to hang slack in his hands. +Now came his soft, caressing drawl, low and musical: +</P> + +<P> +"Pete! Abe! Feel of it! Molly! Steve! Ben! Prince! Up ahead, +there—Jane! Buck!" +</P> + +<P> +As a team the great animals started the heavy wagon, and moved off with +a jingle of chains and bells and the creak of harness. +</P> + +<P> +Heine released the brake and looked at Jo, and this time he merely +nodded. +</P> + +<P> +A block up the street Hiram gave a single pull on his jerkline, and +called: "Haw, Jane!" An instant later—"Gee, Steve! Gee, Molly! +<I>Gee</I>, Molly! Steady! Good enough!" +</P> + +<P> +With the leaders and the swings pulling to the left and turning into +the cross street, and the pointers heaving slightly to the right, the +long string made the turn, and the wagon rolled around the corner in +the middle of the street. +</P> + +<P> +This street that they had entered was one of the oldest in +Palada—built by Mexicans in the old Spanish style. There were no +sidewalks—there was not room for them. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn to your right at the next corner," commanded Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram Hooker nodded. +</P> + +<P> +As the leaders neared the corner Hiram cried: "Haw, Jane! Haw, Buck!" +and tugged once on his jerkline. Obeying the command, the leaders, +followed by the eight, brought the wagon close to the left-hand side of +the street. Two quick jerks on the line, and the sharp cries, "Gee, +Buck! Gee, Jane!" turned the well-trained leaders to the right and +headed them toward the entrance to the cross street. "Haw, Steve! +Haw, Molly! Over the chain, Molly! Haw, boys, haw!" +</P> + +<P> +At Hiram's command, the off pointer, Molly, had stepped daintily over +the heavy chain that ran between her and her mate, and now both of them +were pulling the heavy tongue at right angles to the left, the wheelers +helping. As neatly as most men might have made the corner with a +single buggy, the string of ten and the heavy wagon swung into the +intersecting street, as narrow as the other, and not a hub touched. +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo's dark eyes were sparkling. "You've got a job, Hiram," she +said. "A jerkline driver who can make that corner without scraping a +hub is a real jerkline driver." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," replied Hiram, with a merry grin, thrilling at her use of +his given name. "And I'll say that the man that trained this team was +a jerkline driver, too." +</P> + +<P> +"A man didn't train them," Jerkline Jo informed him proudly. "I +trained them." +</P> + +<P> +"Just the same," returned Hiram, "I stick by what I said." +</P> + +<P> +"Now you take the line, Mr. Tweet," instructed Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care for it," said Tweet. "I'm a promoter and capitalist. +I'll go to work and get a job here in this burg, Miss Jo, and pay you +for my transportation down when I've earned the price. But I have a +sneaking feeling that Molly wouldn't care for the cadence of my voice; +and Pete he eyed me kinda suspiciously when Hiram led 'im out. +No—there's a limit. I've reached it." +</P> + +<P> +"Drive back to the stable, Hiram," Jo ordered. "We'll start for Julia +at once." +</P> + +<P> +She turned to Tweet. "I'm sorry," she said. "Why did you ship down +here as a jerkline skinner, Mr. Tweet? You came over a rival railroad, +of course, and your transportation will cost me full fare." +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," he replied guiltily, "I was broke, and just had to get outa +Frisco. And I couldn't leave Hiram. Why, that boy would 'a' been a +suicide, if it hadn't been for me. He was in love, and wouldn't work, +and in another day he'd been broke—a hick from Wild-cat Hill alone and +friendless and in love in big, cruel San Francisco. If it wasn't for +me, you'd never got 'im." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," spoke up Hiram. "He made me come." +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," added Tweet, "I hope you'll forgive me. I'll pay you all I +owe you with interest. I'm the original go-getter from Gogettersburg, +on the Grabemoff River. I'm down and out right now, but any day I'm +liable to turn into a skyrocket. Madam, you trust me. I've promised +Hooker to lead him to fame and fortune, and to do that I gotta stick +with 'im, ain't I? Well, then, can't you find somethin' for me to do +for you, so's I c'n ride with you to this new railroad? That country +sounds good to me. I'll maybe go to work and get a toehold over there. +You'll never regret befriendin' me, Miss Jo." +</P> + +<P> +The girl stood, thoughtful, her feet planted against the jolting of the +wagon. +</P> + +<P> +"Could you help about the cooking?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam, I could—and would." +</P> + +<P> +"I like to be accommodating," she told him. "I know how it is. I was +raised in the camps, and know all about being broke and knocking about +the country. I'll take you along, and I'll take a chance on your +paying me for the transportation." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll never regret it, Miss Jo. Pile whatever you want done on me. +I'm a good roustabout, willin' and cheerful, and always a kind, happy +little playmate. Thank you." +</P> + +<P> +An hour later ten heavy wagons, some of them trailing because of the +lack of skinners, rumbled through Palada, with an eight or ten-horse +team pulling, the remainder of the horses and mules and Jerkline Jo's +black saddle mare following like devoted dogs. Palada was out in a +body to wave good-by and good luck to Jerkline Jo. She drove the last +team, ten magnificent whites, spotless as circus horses, with thirty +tiny bells jingling over their proud necks. Ahead of her in the train +Hiram Hooker drove his blacks. As long as she could see anybody at +Palada, Jerkline Jo stood in the front of her wagon, facing rearward, +and waved her hat. There were tears in her dark eyes as she turned to +her team at last, and the desert opened its arms to their coming. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly the teams forged ahead into the infinite sandy waste, where +whispering yuccas and thorny cactus grew, and jack rabbits went looping +away among bronze greasewood bushes. A cloud of dust hung over the +wagon trail. Ahead stretched seeming nothingness for mile after weary +mile. +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo hoped to make twenty miles a day, loaded as the wagons were +with only the blacksmith outfit. She might have made perhaps +twenty-four miles under such conditions, had it not been for the +counteracting softness of the teams. Loaded, they would make from ten +to twelve miles daily, which seems intolerably slow in these days of +speed and nerve-wracking restlessness. But with six of the teams +working steadily the outfit would transport upward of thirty tons +twelve miles a day, which represents an enormous amount of provisions +for man and beast. +</P> + +<P> +Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet rode with Hiram. The train had been +traveling perhaps two hours, and it was after eleven o'clock, when +there came a "Who-hoo!" from Jerkline Jo. Hiram and Tweet looked back. +</P> + +<P> +She beckoned with her hand. Both Hiram and Tweet placed fingers on +their breasts inquisitively; then she cupped her hands about her mouth +and called: +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Hi</I>-ram!" +</P> + +<P> +"'<I>Hi</I>-ram,' huh?" grunted Tweet. "For one hungering second I thought +maybe she wanted me." He grasped his twisted nose and straightened it. +"'Twon't stay," he observed gloomily. "Go on and ride with her, you +big soft-voiced lady killer! I'll stick with Pete, and maybe he'll +learn to love me. What'll I do if they begin to get rambunctious, +Hiram?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry," Hiram returned. "They won't do anything they're not +doing right now. Just let 'em drift right along." +</P> + +<P> +He swung himself to the ground and waited until the girl's wagon came +abreast, then climbed up over a brake-shoe and squeezed himself between +the slats of the tall freight rack with which her wagon was equipped. +</P> + +<P> +The girl stood in the front end of the rack, and such material as the +wagon carried was piled behind her, leaving a little compartment free +of encumbrance in which she might move about. There was no driver's +seat, and therefore quite a little room was hers. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram gazed in utter bewilderment at what he saw. A coal-oil stove was +burning, and on it pots were steaming. There was a tiny +oilcloth-covered table, and on it and under it were pots and pans and +other utensils of the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +What surprised him more, though, was another lower table before which +stood a collapsible stool. On it were books and papers and a portable +typewriter, with a half-typed sheet on the platen. There were ink and +pens and other articles necessary to an officer or a study. Against +the front end of the wagon rack stood a chest, with its lid closed, and +more cooking utensils were on top of it. +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo smiled at his bewilderment. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm cooking our dinner, you see," she explained. "To keep good men, I +figure that they must be well cared for. When my father ran this +freight outfit our skinners cooked for themselves, and often were +obliged to eat cold lunches. When they did cook, there was no time for +anything better than fried steak, or fried ham, or fried bacon and +eggs. One grows terribly tired of fried things, and, besides, they're +not good for the digestion. +</P> + +<P> +"I've resolved that on this job we're going to live like people who are +permanently situated. That chest there is a fireless cooker. My own +scheme. In it now vegetables and a beef roast are cooking, and they'll +be ready by noon. I mean to make biscuits and bread and cakes and pies +in my oil-stove oven, which is a dandy. I can arrange to do all that +on the smoothest portions of the road. I'll roll my biscuit dough soon +now, and when we camp there'll be fresh, hot biscuits, roast beef with +brown gravy, and steamed vegetables all ready for us. What do you +think of my scheme, Hiram?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram knew nothing of the advantages of a fireless cooker, but he did +know that food such as she had spoken of was unheard of on a freighting +trip, and told her so. +</P> + +<P> +"Besides," she added, "I have bought some large thermos bottles, and no +matter how hot the desert is we'll always have cold water to drink. +Every night it will get almost ice cold in this country, you know; and +if we bottle it early in the morning it will remain cold all day." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram was looking at the typewriter. "This is my office and study," +said the girl. "My foster father's recent death called me from a +preparatory school back in the Middle West, just when I was getting +along so well toward gaining an education. I decided not to give up. +I am taking two correspondence courses, and mean to continue my studies +here in my wagon. Also I am learning stenography and touch-typewriting. +</P> + +<P> +"At first I thought I'd open an office at Julia or the rag town that +will spring up soon, and not drive a team myself. Then it occurred to +me that I could save money by driving a team, and could continue my +studies and attend to my business affairs while on the road. With +well-trained teams, like we have, a freight skinner has hours and hours +on the road when he has nothing to do but loll on his seat and smoke. +As I don't smoke, I mean to improve the time with study. Don't you +think I'm a wonderful schemer, Hiram?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram nodded, and thoughts of pink-and-white little Lucy Dalles and her +ambitions were far in the background of his mind. Jerkline Jo was a +beautiful girl—as different in her beauty from Lucy Dalles as is day +from night. Her hair was dark and heavy, and crowned a low, broad +brow. Her skin was now tanned a rich mahogany, but was clear and +flawless, and her bare arms were round and brown. Her confident poise, +her sturdy shoulders, showed character and strength far above the +ordinary. She was a man's woman, was Jerkline Jo Modock, and only a +man among men might hope to become her mate. She wore a broad-brimmed +Stetson with a horsehair band, a blue-flannel man's shirt, worn leather +chaps for comfort, and riding boots. A holstered six-shooter hung +close at hand, the ivory-handled butt of the big weapon ready to her +grasp. Here was a wonderful woman, and Hiram Hooker knew it, and knew, +too, that here at last was the adventure girl who, in his dreams up +there on Wild-cat Hill in the big woods of the North had been beckoning +him to come and work for her, to fight for her—to die for her if fate +should so decree. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A WIRE TO JULIA +</H3> + + +<P> +"I wanted you to tell me something about yourself, Hiram," said +Jerkline Jo. "That's why I called you. What a giant of a man you are! +Tell me about Wild-cat Hill and the big woods of Mendocino. I've never +been so far north in California." +</P> + +<P> +She seated herself on the stool, and Hiram sat cross-legged on the +floor of the freight rack. Ahead the many silvery bells, hung on steel +bows over the hames of each of Jo's white beauties, jingled merrily as +the wagon rolled on into the illimitable desert. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram began to talk, and gradually he grew eloquent, for at soul he was +a poet. He told of the grandeur of the big, solemn redwoods, of the +ice-cold creeks that plunged riotously through the mysterious +fastnesses of great forests. He told of his dead father and mother, +asleep forever between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. He told of +his cramped, starved life, of his hopes and vague ambitions and his +dreams. +</P> + +<P> +She listened silently, deeply interested, her dark eyes glowing upon +him, her chin cupped by a strong brown hand. His simplicity was new +and refreshing. Soon she realized that no ordinary mind lay dormant +back of the well-formed forehead of this tender-hearted backwoodsman. +His talk showed that he had read a great deal and had somehow grasped +the significance of it all. Several times her eyes filled with tears +as she listened; often she smiled understandingly at his quaint +confessions. Presently she asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram, have you any ambition for an education?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he told her. "I've always wanted that, I guess. That's why I +read so much, I s'pose. But there wasn't much chance up there. I +learned all they could teach me at school—learned it easy. But there +wasn't any chance to go farther." +</P> + +<P> +"You've that chance now," she told him softly. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean——" He stopped, his lips parted as he gazed into her +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Just that," she said. "I'll help you. We'll study together. Right +here in my wagon. Your blacks will jog along without you over many +stretches in the road from Julia to the camps. Through the mountains, +of course, we shall have to be at the jerklines constantly. We'll be +four days traveling between Julia and the camps, loaded, and between +two and three days returning empty. Only one day of the trip going +will be over a mountain road. The rest of the time you may ride with +me and fight for your education. I'll help you." +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Jo——" There was a lump in Hiram's throat. +</P> + +<P> +"Just Jo, please. No one ever troubles to call me miss, and I don't +want them to." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do it, then, Jo," said Hiram huskily. "I never dreamed I'd ever +have such a chance. And I'll work, too—I'll study night and day. But +why—why are you doin' this for me?" +</P> + +<P> +Slowly the rich color mounted to the cheeks Jerkline Jo. "I—I know +how it is," she said. "I was raised in a gypo camp, and had no chance +until late in my teens. Knew nothing but mules and horses until I was +eighteen or over—cared for nothing else. And I love them still; but +I've grown ambitious to get all that I can from life. I like you, +Hiram Hooker. You're a big, clean-minded, simple-souled man. I'll +help you all I can." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram's experience with Lucy Dalles, and now with this splendid girl +called Jerkline Jo, might have turned the head of a more sophisticated +male. But the big woods of the North teach a man his insignificance in +the scheme of life, teach him honesty and simplicity of heart and +sincerity. So now Hiram Hooker's ego was not inflamed. He had no idea +of his appeal to the other sex. Few women could help admiring such a +handsome young giant as was Hiram, strong as a bull, symmetrical as +some sturdy plant; and his drawling, soft voice was a caress that +bespoke the kindly heart of a child and the tenderness of a woman. +Withal he had a poet's soul, and all women love poetry in a man. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me about Twitter-or-Tweet, and so forth," she begged finally. "I +can't understand that man. Is he a pure fake?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," Hiram replied. "He was mighty good to me in a way. +He's been about a heap." +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram, if you'll pardon me, we'll begin your lesson right now. I +wouldn't say a 'heap.' You must try to overcome such colloquialisms." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try never to say it again," Hiram promised unblushingly. +</P> + +<P> +"But listen," she added. "Don't take me to task if you hear me saying +things in the vernacular of the railroad grade. I have to. As Gypo +Jo, I know thousands of the old-timers, and they expect certain things +of me for old times' sake. As Jerkline Jo, the situation will be much +the same. I am obliged to be a mixer. Men whose friendship I could +not afford to dispense with even if I wished to—which, I assure you, I +do not—won't stand for a high-and-mighty attitude in me. I am of the +railroad grade, and proud of it, and I must continue to be a part of +the rough-and-ready frontier life. Hiram, I suppose your ideas of +womanhood are very hallowed. Will you be greatly shocked when you see +me go into a tent saloon and drink a glass of beer with the rabble of +the big camps?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you do that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I simply have to, Hiram. Ever since I was knee-high to you, until a +very few years ago, I lived with one or more tent saloons within a +stone's throw of our camp. Morals are, after all, a local conception, +Hiram. What is thought to be wrong in one country will be the accepted +practice just over the border line. It's all in the viewpoint. I not +only go into saloons with men friends of mine, but sometimes I play +poker or roulette or faro just to please them. And listen: Never in +all my rough-and-ready life in railroad camps have I been insulted by +regular stiffs, as the laborers are called. Certain outsiders have +misunderstood my freedom from conventionality on several occasions, but +always to their sorrow. Understand, I don't care the snap of my finger +for beer, or to gamble; but these things will be expected of me now as +in the old days when I knew no better, and I dare not assume a superior +attitude toward people who have known me since I was found, a mere +baby, half buried by the desert sands." +</P> + +<P> +She told Hiram about her childhood then, and that she knew nothing of +her parents, not even her own true name. Hiram gave ear eagerly to her +story, and thought he understood her situation. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't think anything wrong of you, ma'am,' he told her gently as +she finished. +</P> + +<P> +"And don't call me 'ma'am,' please," she corrected with a friendly +smile. "And that reminds me that I made us wander from the subject of +Twitter-or-Tweet. You were telling me about him when I interrupted. +What is he? He's not a common tramp—a stiff." +</P> + +<P> +"He says he's a promoter and capitalist," Hiram repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course he's talking nonsense." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram then told of Mr. Tweet's card, which promulgated his operations +as a salesman of banana lands, and of the stock he claimed to own in +the new ditch digger. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought perhaps he was some sort of a book agent," said the girl, +laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know much about people," Hiram confessed with naïve +simplicity. "I can't judge folks very well—some folks, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid he's a wind bag," decided Jo. "Well, we'll befriend him to +the grade, anyway, and I guess that then he'll be obliged to shift for +himself. If freight were moving freely, and every day, I might manage +to use him—but that won't be the case at first. So we'll have to bid +him good-by at the camps. I have an idea he can take care of himself." +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo glanced at her leather-protected wrist watch. +</P> + +<P> +"It's eight minutes of twelve, Hiram," she announced. "I'll roll out +my biscuit dough. Can you yell? If so, shout ahead to Blink Keddie +and call a halt for noon." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram rose to his six feet one and cupped his great hands about his +mouth. The mellow call that he sent out had rung through miles of +Mendocino forest, and now caused every skinner in the line to turn and +look back. A wave of Jo's hand and they understood the noon had come. +</P> + +<P> +When they were in camp, and the teams had been fed and watered from the +great tank wagon, and Jerkline Jo, with the able help of +Twitter-or-Tweet, had made ready the steaming meal, there arose loud +praise of the girl's idea concerning the fireless cooker. +</P> + +<P> +"By golly, Jo, this here's grub!" applauded Jim McAllen. "Some scheme, +ol'-timer!" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought it was a kind of a nutty idea when you sprung it, Jo," +confessed Tom Gulick, "but I'm strong for the cooker now. Long may she +wave! Pass the gravy, Blink." +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo glowed with pleasure over her success. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Tweet made himself very useful by acting as waiter, and hopped +about with pots and pans, leading the steaming food on the skinners' +plates. Jo watched him with interest, but still was unable to consider +him anything but an imaginative failure—a man who perhaps had seen +better days. +</P> + +<P> +When they had finished eating, he collected the dishes, and, as water +was heating on the oil stove, had everything washed up and in its place +before the resumption of their travel. +</P> + +<P> +"He's clean and neat and thoughtful," Jerkline Jo reflected. "Perhaps +I'll be able to use him after all. We could use an extra man as +roustabout, if business gets good. I'll see. He seems so fond of +Hiram, and, really, if it weren't for him, I'd never heard of Hiram." +</P> + +<P> +She grew thoughtful then, and a trace of red showed under her brown +skin. Why had she become so interested in this big countryman from the +very start, she wondered. +</P> + +<P> +It was a long, tiresome trip, and days before they reached their +temporary destination Hiram Hooker was riding in Jo's wagon, deep in +history and algebra and grammar, for Jo had with her all of her +schoolbooks. +</P> + +<P> +The days seemed short to both of them. As the magnificent whites +plodded steadily on, there was added to the music of the nickeled bells +the rapid clicking of Jo at the portable typewriter, or the slower, +hesitating peck of Hiram Hooker. They were a silent pair, for they +were deep in their studies. +</P> + +<P> +Strange indeed was the picture they presented as they were moved slowly +along under the hot desert sky. But for Hiram, at least, this was the +beginning of everything. Some magic touch had set him on the road that +for years he had longed to travel—the road to knowledge and a better +life. Beside him rode the adventure girl who had been beckoning him +out of the woods of doubt and ignorance, the girl who had colored his +dreams up on lonely Wild-cat Hill. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram quickly became a favorite with Jo's skinners, too; for anybody or +anything that the girl approved of was sure to make an appeal to the +loyal little crew who swore by Jerkline Jo. Besides, Hiram was +irresistible in his quaint geniality and his musical drawl. They +called him "Wild Cat" at first, but when they considered his hugeness +and uniform good nature the name seemed a misnomer; so they amended it +and called him "The Gentle Wild Cat." This moniker clung to Hiram +Hooker through all of his subsequent life in the desert. +</P> + +<P> +The seventh day after their start, at evening, they rolled into Julia +and set the populace agog with speculation. +</P> + +<P> +As the whites passed the depot the station master came out. +</P> + +<P> +"Does a fella named Jerkline Jo belong to this outfit?" he asked, +walking along beside Jo's wagon. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Jerkline Jo," she told him. +</P> + +<P> +"You! Huh! Well, there's a wire for you. I'll run and get it." +</P> + +<P> +Jo called to her ten whites to halt, and the wagon came to a rest. A +minute later the yellow paper was in her hands. She read: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Twenty tons awaiting you at Mulligan Supply +Company, Julia. Get it over the mountains at once +to Breece Brothers, Hunter & Stevenson, and +Washburn-Stokes. Drummond's trucks are coming. You +are in for a stiff fight. Good luck. DEMAREST. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MR. TWEET NEGOTIATES A LOAN +</H3> + + +<P> +Oblivious to the staring eyes of the little desert town of Julia, +Jerkline Jo, after pitching camp near water on the edge of the village, +began hurrying about on her business. +</P> + +<P> +She was directed to the man who owned the land on which the teams and +men were now resting, and found that she could make a deal to lease the +property at a reasonable figure. She made a freckle-faced boy happy +with a bright new dime, and sent him back to her men with instructions +for them to pitch the tents permanently and proceed to make the spot +the Julia headquarters of the outfit. +</P> + +<P> +She wired her thanks to Demarest and assured him that the order would +go forward next day, if the dealers had it ready. Next she hunted up +the Mulligan Supply Company and found that it was a new concern in +Julia, having just moved in with a large stock of goods from Los +Angeles. It was a branch of a big Los Angeles jobbing firm, and the +new railroad across the mountains had brought it here. +</P> + +<P> +The manager greeted her warmly, and told her that he had heard of her +through Mr. Demarest. The entire order was ready for immediate +shipment, he said, so Jo hurried back to camp and had her men hook two +horses on each of six wagons, now empty, and drive to the store, where +they were backed in to the loading platform. +</P> + +<P> +They ate their supper then, and afterward worked far into the night +loading case goods, baled hay, grain, new tools, and innumerable like +commodities. When the wagons were loaded and the great tarpaulins +hauled down over everything but the hay and grain, it was necessary for +Jo to appoint a watchman for the night. She had no more than broached +the subject when Playmate Tweet, who had helped manfully with the +loading, offered his services. +</P> + +<P> +"I been just ridin' all day," he said, "and tryin' to convince Pete +that I'm a reg'lar fella. I'll squat on the goods till mornin', come +what may." +</P> + +<P> +In truth Jo did not just like to trust him. The goods, amounting in +value far up into the thousands, were now under her complete control, +and she was accountable for every penny to the purchasers of them. But +she had not the heart to refuse Tweet's offer, and she wanted her +skinners to rest for the remainder of the night, in view of the hard +work that lay before them. So she accepted, and Mr. Tweet took his +post. +</P> + +<P> +He was there like the boy on the burning deck when they came with the +teams early next morning, walking about briskly to keep warm through +the cold desert dawn, whistling merrily. Jo had brought his breakfast +on a plate, and hot coffee in a bottle. +</P> + +<P> +Carter Potts, the blacksmith, was left behind to set up his shop and +care for the extra mules and horses. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly the teams were hooked on, and with complaining groans and heavy +wagons, each now weighing with its load upward of six and a third tons, +moved through the sleepy town toward the distant mountains. +</P> + +<P> +"Hooker," said Tweet, as he sat beside his friend behind the laboring +blacks, "this is a man's life. This is doin' somethin'! This is +gettin' somewhere! This is livin'! I envy you, Hiram. I envy you +that big body of yours and the way you can handle ten big horses as if +you were drivin' a trick donkey hitched to a clown's cart. Wild Cat, +you're a lucky man. And what a glorious woman, Hooker, to throw the +magic over it all! You're the man for her, my boy—the only man I ever +met that oughta have the nerve to try to win her. And she fell for +you, you big buffalo with the voice of a turtle-dove! Play her +carefully, boy, and you can win. Don't go at it like you did with +Cream Puffs, up there in Frisco. But you'll win her, Hiram—it's in +you to do it. Now, Hooker, can you slip me a five-spot when we get to +the camps?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't much more than that, Playmate," Hiram averred. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you got a job, ain't you? I haven't. Money didn't seem to +worry you much when you were puttin' on your Follies o' Nineteen-twenty +with Lucy, up there where the white lights gleam." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do with it?" asked Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +"This is your foolish day, ain't it? I'll tell you what I'm <I>not</I> +goin' to do with it. I'm not goin' to hire an automobile at four +dollars an hour and take a lassie out for a ride over the desert." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try and let you have it." +</P> + +<P> +"Just how much jack you got on you yet, Hooker, old friend from Wild +Cat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seven dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a mint, man! Say, try to slip me all of it, will you, Hiram? +I got a scheme. You won't need it—you got a job. And remember who +was the means o' gettin' it, Hiram. Why, it's worth seven bucks for +the privilege of just lookin' once into those eyes o' Jerkline Jo." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you go to work over at the camps and earn some money?" Hiram +wanted to know. +</P> + +<P> +"I <I>could</I>—yes. But I don't earn my jack that way, Hiram. I'm a +promoter." +</P> + +<P> +"Jo told me she thought she might be able to give you something to do, +after all." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't want it. Tender her my heartfelt thanks just the same, Hiram. +All I wanted in the first place was to get down here and look things +over, then go to work and get a toehold and start the fireworks. If +things are like I think—say, I'll be givin' you people jobs in a week +or so. B'lieve it, Hiram?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Hiram bluntly. "Buck, step up a little! Molly! Pete!" +</P> + +<P> +Playmate Tweet sighed heavily. "Hardest folks to convince I ever +struck," he complained. "Listen, Hooker: last night while I was +guardin' the loads the night watchman at Julia strolled around, and we +had a little talk. He's an old-timer in this country, and he told me +all about it from there to Ellangone. I got some dope from him about +this country we're makin' for; and puttin' what I heard from him with +what Jerkline Jo has told me, I gets a grand scheme. It'll put me in +on the ground floor, if things break right and then——' Oh, boy! +Richard will be himself again!" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me about it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Too deep for you, my son. You'd never savvy the ins and outs. +Besides, when Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet gets his nose to a trail, he's one +old hound that don't bark his head off—see? There'll be other bright +young promoters lookin' for the secret, and I've learned to keep my +mouth shut. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," he went on, "when I get over there and have a little look-see, I +may decide to beat it out pronto and start the clockworks. If I do, +I'll need your seven dollars to get me back into the land o' the +livin', where I can start the performance. If I give you the word, +Hooker, slip me that jack. If I don't tell you to, I'll go to work at +some o' the camps and make a stake and beat it for more promisin' +pastures. You'll never regret it, Hooker. It'll be bread cast on the +waters, and she'll come back chocolate cake." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll think about it," Hiram promised. +</P> + +<P> +"Do that! And in the event that I say things look extra good, you'd +better slip Jerkline Jo a little sob story, and get her to let you drag +down what you got comin' on your wages—and slip that to me, too. By +golly, Hooker, once I get a toehold, Millions is my middle name." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram smiled wryly. +</P> + +<P> +On through the day the teams plodded toward the mountain pass. Hiram +rode with Jerkline Jo in their movable schoolroom, and left Tweet to +his own thoughts behind the blacks. They camped on the desert that +night, at a ranch conveniently situated between Julia and the +mountains, where was an abundance of artesian water. Next day at one +o'clock they left the flat, hot sweeps and ascended steadily into firs +and pines on the old mines road. +</P> + +<P> +They were obliged to stop frequently and make repairs in the road and +to clear away brush that for years had been overgrowing the course of +their steep climb. +</P> + +<P> +Often as they ascended laboriously they followed shelves hacked in +mountainsides, with the desert they had left thousands of feet below +them. There were places where a solid wall of rock upreared itself on +one side of the narrow road, while on the other side a precipice +dropped straight down, and tall pines at its base looked like +toothpicks. There were hair-pin curves which taxed the skinners' +ingenuity, where the one or the other of their pointers would cross the +chain to pull the wagons away from the banks, and often both pointers +were obliged to leave the road entirely and pull along the sides of +precipices. +</P> + +<P> +However, they topped the highest point in the pass before darkness had +overtaken them completely. They camped for the night beside a +picturesque and cold mountain lake, at an altitude of six thousand five +hundred feet. +</P> + +<P> +Morning showed them the desert, sweeping away again on the other side +of the range. There still remained twenty-five miles to be traveled, +eight of them comprising the descent through the pass. +</P> + +<P> +Once down on the level again, Hiram turned his team over to the care of +Tweet, and boarded Jo's wagon for the continuation of his education. +</P> + +<P> +So they crawled on persistently, and eventually, ahead of them over the +desert, white tents glowed pink in the sunlight like toadstools in a +great timberless pasture, and their first trip was nearing its end. +</P> + +<P> +When they reached the first cluster of tents Jerkline Jo discovered +that they represented the largest of the subcontractors to whom her +freight had been consigned. The next one was situated five miles +farther up the line, and the third six miles beyond that. None of them +had been there when she made her horseback trip. Close to the first +camp that they reached, that of the Washburn-Stokes Construction +Company's, the inevitable rag town had sprung up. +</P> + +<P> +Already there were a dozen or more tents, most of them housing saloons, +dance halls, and gamblers' layouts, and here and there a board or +corrugated iron structure was under process of building. Only the +three construction camps, as yet, had arrived on this portion of the +work; the next camp beyond this group was fifty miles to the north. +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo knew, however, that before many days had passed camps large +and small would be dotted along the right of way, and that all must be +supplied by some one. +</P> + +<P> +She stood talking to Mr. Washburn, the head of the firm, while his +freight was being stacked before the huge commissary tent, when Mr. +Tweet approached her. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like a word with you, Miss Modock, when you're at liberty," he +said politely. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I'm just loafing with Mr. Washburn now," she said lightly, and +turned away with him. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you please tell me again what you did a few days back about the +camp at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou?" he asked. "Explain it all, +please—just why you think the tent town will eventually be located in +a different place than it is now." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it's simple," she told him. "It's this way: Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou have the main contract here—a hundred miles, I've heard. When +a big company like that contracts to build a hundred miles of grade, +they at once begin to sublet portions to smaller contractors. Some +take a mile; some two miles, some five—according to the nature of the +work and the respective capacities of their outfits. Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—I got that." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's natural, then, that the most difficult pieces—the biggest +work—will be the most difficult to sublet. Consequently when the main +contractors can sublet no more, they move in and get at the difficult +pieces that remain on their hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, I've seen a good bit of this line, and I've talked with the +engineers. Also I know the names of most of the subcontractors who +have figured on the job. I know that none of them have adequate +equipment to tackle the big rock cut that will be necessary through +that chain of buttes, twelve miles to the south of here." +</P> + +<P> +She pointed to the buttes, blue and hazy in the evening light of the +desert. +</P> + +<P> +"So, my friend, it follows as the night the day that Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou will eventually move in with their heaviest-hitting outfit to +run that cut, which certainly will be left on their hands. It follows +as the night the day, again, that the leeches who always drift in to +get the stiff's pay day away from them will settle near the biggest +camp, if there's sufficient water. +</P> + +<P> +"Down near those buttes, where the big camp is bound to be, there's +plenty of water, and before many days have passed Ragtown in all its +glory will be erected right there. +</P> + +<P> +"These supplies that we're hauling now are charged to the account of +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou," she further explained. "You see, they +furnish their subs with everything they need. Now when Demarest, +Spruce & Tillou move in there will be little or no freighting for us to +any camp but theirs. All goods will be concentrated in their +commissary then, and the subs will buy direct from them and do their +own hauling to the various camps. Of course, Ragtown will have to be +supplied—but Ragtown and Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One +will be virtually the same as regards our freight terminus." +</P> + +<P> +"And how long before the main contractors will get here?" he asked, +working his twisted nose from side to side as if in the hope of +eventually persuading it to point dead ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"That all depends on whether they have given up trying to sublet any +more work or not. If they think they won't be able to load any one +else up with a job, they'll be in directly—almost any day. But if +they still think there's a chance to get rid of the hard pieces, +they'll hold off until the matter is settled, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Mr. Tweet abruptly, and was turning briskly away when +she remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"I've decided that perhaps I can use you after all, if——" +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry," he interrupted, "but I can't accept your offer, even though I +appreciate it and thank you from the bottom of my heart. Truth is, I +gotta get busy. I've heard there's a stage goin' out to the north +to-night, and I gotta make it. By the way, did Hiram speak to you +about advancin' him what pay was comin' to him?" +</P> + +<P> +Jo's eyes narrowed. "No," she said coldly, "he didn't mention such a +matter." +</P> + +<P> +Twitter-or-Tweet came back to her. "Listen," he said, "you owe him +about twenty bucks. I want it. I'll need it. You slip it to Hiram, +and I'll borrow it off o' him. You see——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I'll do nothing of the sort!" she cried vehemently. "Do I look +like a sucker to you, Mr. Tweet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, dear, dear, dear!" he cried. "You don't understand. I'm gonta +swing somethin' big. I need that and what Hiram's already got to float +me along till I can hit the ball. For Heaven's sake, put a little +confidence in me, ma'am, can't you? I'm gonta send the Gentle Wild Cat +to you. He'll tell you. He trusts me." +</P> + +<P> +"He trusts everybody," she remarked evenly. "Besides," she added, "you +seem to forget, too, that you owe me for your railroad fare down here." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that! Why, I'll pay you that in no time now. But wait—I'll +unload freight in Hiram's place, and send him to you." +</P> + +<P> +Sure enough, Hiram came presently and asked her, as a special favor to +him, to let him have what money was owing to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram," she said, "you're going to lend it to Tweet, and he's going +out in the auto stage to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it," said Hiram. "I got to help him. He's been a pretty good +friend to me, Jo, and—and—I just like him. Why, if it hadn't been +for him I'd never met you." +</P> + +<P> +Jo colored and looked away. "You big, simple-hearted boy!" she cried. +"Do you know what he is going to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—he won't talk." +</P> + +<P> +She was thoughtful a little, then took out a purse and handed him a +twenty-dollar bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Kiss it good-by," she said; "but I suppose the experience will be +worth something to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Hiram, very red of face. "I'm sorry for what I said +about you meetin' me through Tweet, Jo. I meant to say, o' course, +that if it hadn't been for Tweet I'd never got the job." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Jo, straight-lipped, "I understand." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet was not with the outfit when it pitched camp close by for the +night. He sat in the automobile stage instead, and waved a friendly +good-by to them. "Bread on the water, Hiram, comes back chocolate +cake!" he cried. "That is, Tweet bread does. Ha-ha, Hiram! You been +mighty good to me, folks. So long for a time!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TEHACHAPI HANK +</H3> + + +<P> +Toward the middle of the following afternoon Jerkline Jo's freight +outfit, minus the diverting Mr. Tweet of the twisted nose, was wending +its way empty back toward the distant mountains, hauling the necessary +water in the tank wagon. +</P> + +<P> +They were still ten miles from the mouth of the mountain pass when they +went into camp on the desert for the night. When they started next +morning the tank wagon was taken on a way and left, for, with the lake +at the highest point of the pass, and the artesian water at the desert +ranch on the other side, they would be well supplied for the remainder +of the trip. +</P> + +<P> +Before noon they were entering the pass and moving up the steep ascent +into cooler atmosphere, and light, invigorating air, scented with the +breath of pines and junipers. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram Hooker was lazing on his high seat, dreaming and watching his +leaders, when from behind came the familiar call: +</P> + +<P> +"Who-hoo!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned his face back toward the mistress of the ten gigantic whites. +</P> + +<P> +"Who repaired the road back there?" she shouted. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," Hiram called back. "I can't remember that we stopped +there." +</P> + +<P> +"We didn't. Some one else has done that. Keep your eyes open, Gentle +Wild Cat." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram did this, and presently began to see ruts had been filled in +repeatedly and the marks left by boulders that had been snaked to the +edge of the precipice and allowed to thunder down a caņon. +</P> + +<P> +This continued all the way to the summit, where they camped for a late +nooning beside the mountain lake. +</P> + +<P> +When they took up the journey again, and had reached a point half a +mile beyond the lake, came upon a lone touring car and a little camp. +Frequently now Hiram looked back, to see perplexity and worry on the +usually placid brow of Jerkline Jo. A half mile beyond the camp they +found seven men working with ax and pick and shovel, repairing the road. +</P> + +<P> +Jo set the heavy brake and called to her ten to stop. Hearing her +command, Hiram also halted his blacks. The rest of the skinners moved +on slowly down the mountain, looking back for Jo's signal for them to +stop. She gave none, however, so they continued on. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is repairing this road, please?" Jo called from her wagon to a +group of men. +</P> + +<P> +One of them approached her a few steps. "Fella called Drummond," he +replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't he the automobile-truck man from San Francisco?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah." +</P> + +<P> +"Is he here?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, ma'am. He come to Julia and got us to come over here in a machine +and go to work, and he went back to Los Angeles, I think. Said he'd be +out in a day or two." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Jo, and threw off her brake. +</P> + +<P> +There was no good opportunity for Hiram to talk over this matter with +her until they had left the mountains and were in camp at the desert +ranch. "I don't quite like it," Jo said then. "It seems that Mr. +Drummond should have come to me in this matter, and if the road needed +repairing to the extent that he is doing it we should share the expense +between us." +</P> + +<P> +"Drummond?" queried Hiram. "I think I know that man. I've seen him, +anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"You! Where?" +</P> + +<P> +"In San Francisco. It seems that Tweet was in a restaurant there +talking to a—a waitress about coming down here. This Drummond he—he +knew that waitress, and came in to see her while Tweet was there. They +got to talking it over, I guess, and Tweet told him all about the new +railroad. The waitress told me——" +</P> + +<P> +"You mean Lucy?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram's face reddened. "That was her name," he admitted. "I—I +suppose Tweet told you about her." +</P> + +<P> +"A little. But I interrupted." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Lucy said Drummond had been interested in what Tweet had to say, +and he said he might look into the freighting possibilities of the new +road. He's got a string of trucks, I was told." +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of a man is he, Hiram?" +</P> + +<P> +"Big fellow—always seems to be having fun. He's as big as I am, but +not so awkward, I guess. He wears fine clothes. But I don't know +anything about him at all. I never spoke to him." +</P> + +<P> +The outfit reached Julia in the course of time, and found that "Blacky" +Potts had set up his shop in a large circular tent, and was hammering +away briskly on his anvil. Also he had made the camp snug and +comfortable under whispering cottonwood, and had fenced off a corral +with barbed wire. +</P> + +<P> +Jo at once went to the Mulligan Supply Company to learn that a message +had come to her, in their care, from Demarest. It stated that their +big construction outfit was then on its way from northern California, +and would cross to the new railroad from a point seventy-five miles to +the north. In view of the long trip, they wished to travel as light as +possible. Consequently there was another big order for Jo to freight +in ahead of them at once. What interested Jo more, though, was the +fact that Demarest ordered it delivered at the buttes, asking that a +watchman be camped there to guard the supplies, provided they arrived +ahead of the outfit. +</P> + +<P> +Immediately they went to work at the loading, and in the end six wagons +were carrying capacity. The seventh lead wagon was an extra, which Jo +had decided to use only in case of a breakdown. With thirty tons of +hay, grain, case goods, and barreled provisions they started back early +the following morning. Jo's heart was light, for this was exceedingly +good business, and it was coming faster than she had dared to hope, +with so few camps established. Still, she was puzzled over the +repairing of the mountain road. +</P> + +<P> +"Fellow called Drummond has a big order to haul in trucks," the manager +of the supply company had told her. "It's for a store that's going to +open up at Ragtown, I understand. Guess he'll get it out tomorrow or +next day." +</P> + +<P> +All went well with the wagon train during the first lap of the desert +trip. Hiram rode with his employer, and their migratory institution of +learning was in full swing. Then when they reached the beginning of +the mountain pass they found a shock in store for them. +</P> + +<P> +The head skinner, Blink Keddie, had no more than entered the pass with +his eight bay mules when a man stepped into the road and held up a hand +for him to stop. He was a Western-looking individual, a seamed-faced +son of the deserts, and an immense Colt revolver dragged at his hips. +He had come from a tiny tent set back from the road a way, half hidden +by junipers and close to a trickling spring. +</P> + +<P> +Keddie clamped his brake and stopped his eight, eying the stranger +curiously. Keddie, like Heine Schultz and Tom Gulick, had been on the +railroad grade with Pickhandle Modock when Jo was a little girl. He +was devoted to her and her interests, and anything that threatened her +prosperity he was wont to look upon as his personal affair. +</P> + +<P> +"Mornin'," he drawled as the following teams came to a stop, and +skinners cupped hands behind their ears to listen. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite a jag you got there," observed the man in the road. +</P> + +<P> +Blink was entirely sober. "Jag" referred to the enormity of the load +of freight. +</P> + +<P> +"Little matter o' sixty thousand, altogether. I wasn't aimin' to let +'em blow right here, though, I pardner. Was there any particular +reason ye had for stoppin' me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, maybe there was, stranger. How many teams ye got pullin'." +</P> + +<P> +Blink counted rapidly. "Four tens and two eights," he made reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh—but I mean how many span, pardner?" +</P> + +<P> +Once more Blink struggled with arithmetic. "That'd make twenty-eight +pair, wouldn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just about—just about, pardner. And two times twenty-eight is +fifty-six, ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Blink Keddie promptly agreed. +</P> + +<P> +"Agreed, eh? Then I'll ask ye kindly for fifty-six dollars, stranger." +</P> + +<P> +Keddie thoughtfully began rolling a cigarette. "If I had fifty-six +dollars, ol'-timer," he said, "I wouldn't converse with the likes o' +you." +</P> + +<P> +The gunman grinned. "Does take some time to save that amount skinnin' +jerkline or bein' toll master on a mountain road," he admitted. "Are +you the boss?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I was the boss," slowly returned Blink, "I wouldn't live in the +same county with you." +</P> + +<P> +By this time Jerkline Jo, who had been hurrying forward along the wagon +train to find out what had occurred, arrived on the scene of their airy +persiflage. +</P> + +<P> +"What's wrong here, Blink?" she wanted to know. +</P> + +<P> +"This fella has been insultin' me," claimed Blink. "He insinuated I +belonged to the idle-rich class. I guess he's institutin' some sort of +a drive or other. You talk to 'im, Jo." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" The girl wheeled and faced the man, hands on hips. +</P> + +<P> +The Westerner swept off his hat. "Ye see, ma'am," he said to her, +"this here's a toll road now—from here clean acrost the mountains to +the desert on t'other side. I'm toll master. I'm to collect two +dollars a loaded team for the trip through the pass. The price +includes the return trip, empty." +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo paled. Up behind her crowded Tom Gulick, Hiram Hooker, +Heine Schultz, and Jim McAllen, and, if looks could have killed, the +man with the gun would have been ripe for the undertaker's care. +</P> + +<P> +"Two dollars! You mean——" +</P> + +<P> +"A dollar a head, then, ma'am. You got fifty-six animals. That 'u'd +be fifty-six dollars, wouldn't it?" He smiled persuasively. +</P> + +<P> +Jo gasped, and turned and glanced helplessly over her little army of +loyal men. +</P> + +<P> +"By whose authority are you demanding this?" She spun back to the toll +master, her dark eyes now aflame. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Al Drummond he's the boss, ma'am. He's from Friscotown. He's +gotta keep up the road, so o' course he's gonta charge other folks to +travel on it. It's jest like as if it was his private prop'ty, as I +savvy the deal, ma'am. I got papers to show ye, if ye wanta see 'em. +Course I got nothin' to do with it—nothin' atall. Mr. Drummond he +jest hired me to collect the fees and keep folks off that refused to +pay. I might add, though, ma'am, that I've always been considered a +pretty good keeper-off when I'm hired for that purpose. I'm from the +Kitchen Rancho, over toward the Tehachapi. They call me Tehachapi +Hank. At yer service, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo's red lips were straight. She was indignant. A sense of +defeat almost overwhelmed her. Such a situation had not even remotely +occurred to her. In a wave of despair the realization swept over her +that she had attempted something of which she knew nothing. There had +been no one to advise her, and in the unbounded confidence of youth she +had not sought counsel. On the railroad grade few men could have put +anything over on her. But this was another matter. +</P> + +<P> +Fifty-six dollars for the eighteen-mile trip through the pass! It +would be ruinous. She would be obliged to advance her rate to meet +this additional expense, and then the truckman holding the franchise +would be able to haul freight cheaper than she could. +</P> + +<P> +Back of her the men were muttering useless threats among themselves. +Jo found her voice at last. There was no need to ask to see a copy of +the franchise, because there was not the slightest doubt in her mind +that everything was aboveboard in that respect. She simply had been +outgeneraled. There was nothing to do but to pay—for the present, at +least—as the freight on her wagons must be delivered at any cost, now +that she had contracted to deliver it. What she said was: +</P> + +<P> +"Will you accept my check?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, ma'am—most certain," was the ready reply. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go back to my wagon and write one for you then," she said, trying +to keep her voice steady. "Let the wagons go on, please. When mine +reaches you I'll hand out the check." +</P> + +<P> +Tehachapi Hank touched his broad-brimmed hat again. "All right and +proper, ma'am," he assured her. +</P> + +<P> +He was waiting by the roadside when her stanch whites marched past him, +and she reached the check out through the slats of the rack. He +touched his hat brim again and smiled then with true Western +politeness, pocketed the slip of paper without so much as glancing at +it. +</P> + +<P> +Dully she watched the broad straining backs of her beloved animals as +they planted their great fetlocked feet and heaved their burden ever +upward. Ahead of them she could hear her skinners shouting back and +forth from wagon to wagon above the jingling of the bells, their tones +high-pitched and angry. Why had she not consulted with Demarest and +asked him to lay before her details of every angle that might present +itself in such an undertaking as hers? +</P> + +<P> +Demarest knew all the twists and turns of modern business ruthlessness. +He might have been able to foresee a situation like this and to put +weapons into her hands with which she might have combated it. +</P> + +<P> +She shrugged her sturdy shoulders finally, and as noon was close at +hand gave attention to her cooking. For the present she would drive +the matter from her thoughts. There was work to be accomplished, which +was a part of the present delivery of freight. When this task was +completed she would see what could be done. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN LETTERS OF BLACK +</H3> + + +<P> +There was a general outburst of indignation on the part of Jerkline +Jo's devoted retainers when the outfit went into camp at noon, +quarterway through the mountain pass. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll fix 'im, Jo!" Heine Schultz exclaimed angrily. "All we gotta do +is make out to get ahead o' his old cough wagons and not let 'em pass. +We can hold 'im back clear through the pass, if we string out. Le's +figger it out fer the rest o' the trip, Jo. There's not over six +places where one vehicle can pass another. Now what we gotta do is +string out our outfit so's none o' us'll hit one o' those places when +the machines are comin'. Say, we can hold 'em up till——" +</P> + +<P> +"Heine," said Jerkline Jo quietly, "is that your idea of business." +</P> + +<P> +"Course it is. Stick it to the Al Drummond, Jo! He's started +somethin' that he'll have a hard time finishin', that's all. Say, we +can slip it to him till he'll be sick o' that dirty deal he handed you. +Leave it to Blink and me. We got it all schemed out." +</P> + +<P> +"Heine," Jo remarked, "we'll travel right along as we have always +traveled. If one of Mr. Drummond's trucks comes up behind us and wants +to pass we will let it pass when it is convenient to do so." +</P> + +<P> +"Not here, Jo! My team don't put one foot outa the road to let a truck +pass." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't expect you to do that. But it will depend on conditions. +If you are loaded and he is empty, of course he must look out for +himself. Again, if you are climbing and he is coming down, he must get +out of the difficulty as best he can. But when you, loaded, reach a +place where a truck can pass you, and you know one is coming up behind +you and wishes to pass, you will stop your team in the road and let it +circle around you." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't, Jo! I——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you will. You will do as I say, as you always do." She smiled +at him sweetly and patted his shoulder. "Loyal old Heinrich!" she +said. "Just the same old-timer, we must observe the courtesy of the +road always. Think it over—you'll see I'm right." +</P> + +<P> +"Jo, you can't afford a jolt like that," said Jim McAllen. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't," Jo told him frankly. "Right now I don't know what to do. I +must keep on, by some hook or crook, till I can get advice from some +one who's onto such tricks—Demarest, perhaps." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a rotten deal!" +</P> + +<P> +"I have an idea it's perfectly legitimate, Jim." +</P> + +<P> +"They ain't gonta do anything to the road to make it worth a tenth o' +what they ask to travel on it. You saw the little putterin' jobs they +did, Jo." +</P> + +<P> +"I have an idea," replied the girl, "that when winter comes they'll be +quite busy. And it also occurs to me that, now that they've agreed to +maintain the road if given the franchise, we can make them do it down +to the letter, or render their franchise void." +</P> + +<P> +"By golly, I bet you can at that, Jo!" put in Tom Gulick. "I've heard, +though, there's a rotten bunch of grafters runnin' this county. They'd +probably beat you out some way, so long as Drummond was puttin' up +cigar money for them." +</P> + +<P> +Up until now Hiram Hooker had said nothing. Now came his soothing +drawl, and the others listened. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know much about automobiles and what they can do," he said. +"But I do know mountains and mountain roads, and somethin' about +mountain soil. And I've this to say: If Jo can hang on till winter +there'll be no trucks runnin' against her. Then if they still collect +for crossin' through the pass, all she's got to do is raise the freight +rate to meet the extra expense. There's exactly ten places on the road +where we're goin' to hook maybe thirty horses on every wagon to get +across next winter. And I'll bet my month's wages against a dollar of +Mr. Drummond's money that he'll be begging for teams to haul him out. +Then, of course, the price ought to be about fifty-six dollars a haul, +regardless of distance, hadn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good boy!" cried Keddie. "Listen to our Gentle Wild Cat pur! He's +right, too, I'll say. If we can hang on till winter, Jo can collect +back all she's paid out for tolls—and I'll say a little profit on the +deal wouldn't make me weep."' +</P> + +<P> +"But winter's a long way off," Jim McAllen gloomily pointed out. +</P> + +<P> +After this there was thoughtful silence. +</P> + +<P> +To add to the misfortunes of the second trip to the camps, Jim McAllen +broke a reach when the train neared the foot of the grade. There were +spare reaches in the outfit, of course, but they had to unload the +wagon to substitute one, and it all took a great deal of time. Then a +horse became sick, and Jerkline Jo positively refused to work a sick +horse. The animal was taken out of harness and allowed to tag along +behind with his mate, who automatically became useless, too. A ton of +supplies was taken from the wagon to which the sick horse belonged, and +distributed among the other loads. This took more time, and night +overtook the outfit with several miles between them and the tank wagon +that awaited their coming on the desert. +</P> + +<P> +Hour after hour they plodded along, not daring to camp until they had +water. There was no moon, and as the desert road was little more than +a trail Heine Schultz let his team tag Keddie's and walked ahead with a +lantern to guide the lead skinner. Thirsty and hungry and weary, they +reached the tank about nine o'clock. Then came a hearty curse from the +man with the lantern, followed by: +</P> + +<P> +"Lord, be merciful unto me, a skinner! The tank's empty, Jo!" +</P> + +<P> +The party descended hurriedly and crowded about him. It was a steel +tank, and a careful search failed to show that any of its plates had +sprung a leak. Then the light was held under the spigot, and, though +the hot desert sun had evaporated every drop of water, there was a hole +worn in the sand where it had fallen in a stream. The spigot was open. +</P> + +<P> +"How 'bout it now, Jo?" Heine queried. "Is this what you call +legitimate business—huh? I guess now you'll let me hold 'em back when +I can." +</P> + +<P> +Without replying Jo stooped and made an examination. +</P> + +<P> +"Some one has turned the water out," she said, rising wearily. "Will +we be obliged to hire a watchman to camp by our water tank? This is +serious, boys. The unwritten law of the desert would condemn whoever +did this to a lariat and a yucca palm. Still, we don't know who did +it. It's too dark to find tracks or to learn anything about it. It's +seventeen miles to the Washburn-Stokes outfit—the nearest water ahead. +Or it's eight miles back to the lake in the mountains. What's best to +do?" +</P> + +<P> +They turned the problem over and over, and finally decided unanimously +that to send the tank with six horses back to the lake, to be refilled, +was the wiser plan. Hiram volunteered for the trip, and Schultz +volunteered to go with him. At once the two set off behind six of +Hiram's lamenting animals for the long night trip, eating a hasty lunch +as they traveled. +</P> + +<P> +Dawn was breaking when they returned with a full tank, and were greeted +by the braying of the mules and the expectant nickering of the horses, +who smelled the water from afar. +</P> + +<P> +Jo ordered a rest until ten o'clock, to counteract the suffering that +the thirsty animals had undergone and to rest Hiram's six after the +performance of their double task. +</P> + +<P> +These setbacks made them late in their arrival at the scene of coming +toil, but gradually the distant buttes grew plainer as they moved on +steadily toward them over the crunching sands, so hot and barren. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram Hooker was riding with Jerkline Jo as they approached the buttes. +She was hammering away on her typewriter, while Hiram was deep in a +mathematical problem, his tongue out and gripped by his teeth. The +clicking of the typewriter ceased suddenly, and Jo asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't that a tent over there near the buttes, Wild Cat?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram looked up and shielded his eyes, straining his vision over the +rolling white backs of Jo's team into the yellow vastness beyond. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like it," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll not have to arrange for a watchman then. Demarest has sent a +man, I guess. Get out my binoculars, please, and see what you can make +out." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram took the strong glasses from their case, and, steadying himself +against a side of the freight rack, trained them on the distant speck +of white that represented a lonely tent. +</P> + +<P> +At once the tent seemed to jump across the desert to a point a short +distance ahead of them. Hiram's lips parted and a snort of surprise +escaped him. +</P> + +<P> +Before the front of the tent, on a pole planted there, was a big sign +composed of black letters against a white background. And this is what +Hiram Hooker read: +</P> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey<BR> +<BR> +OFFICE OF THE PALOMA RANCHO INVESTMENT COMPANY<BR> +<BR> +Orr Tweet, President. Walk In<BR> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GREATER RAGTOWN +</H3> + + +<P> +Indeed he was an important-looking individual who greeted the freight +outfit of Jerkline Jo when it came to a weary halt at the foot of the +desert buttes. He wore a new olive-drab suit, composed of Norfolk +jacket and bellows breeches, an imposing Columbia-shape Stetson, and +shiny new russet-leather puttees. From one corner of his mouth, +aligned with his twisted nose, protruded long, expensive-looking cigar. +This was Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +Hat removed, bowing like a Japanese, he approached the astonished +skinners and offered his hand to Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," he said, "permit me to extend to you Ragtown's most cordial +welcome. And you, gentlemen, are included, of course. When you have +the time, Miss Modock, I should like the pleasure of your presence in +the office of the Paloma Rancho Investment Company. If I may offer a +suggestion, too, it might be well to deposit Mr. Demarest's freight +close to my office, so that I can look out for it until the arrival of +the outfit. Hooker, come with your employer if you can conveniently do +so." +</P> + +<P> +So saying, Mr. Tweet recrowned himself with his new Stetson, turned, +and strolled impressively toward his tent, disappearing between its +lazily flapping portals. +</P> + +<P> +With the exception of Hiram Hooker, Jo's skinners shouted with +laughter. Jo and Hiram merely exchanged bewildered looks. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll go over now, Wild Cat," she said. "There's lots of time to +unload. We can't make it out of here to-day, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +Side by side they walked toward the lonesome little tent with the big +sign on a pole in front of it—a mere atom of white in the vast desert. +</P> + +<P> +Orr Tweet sat at an oaken desk in one corner of the tent. In another +corner was his bunk, a new suit case, and a new trunk, both in keeping +with Tweet's expensive outdoor clothes. There were several chairs. +Tweet arose briskly and held one for the girl with all the ceremony of +a head waiter in a restaurant of repute. +</P> + +<P> +"Jo," he began, "I hope you'll pardon the familiarity; there is a +matter of sixteen or seventeen dollars due you, I believe, for my +transportation from Frisco to Palada. And, Hiram, I believe I owe you +somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty dollars—the exact amount +escapes me temporarily. Now, both of you, the question is this: Do you +prefer cash, or stock in the Paloma Rancho Investment Company, or land? +The choice is yours." +</P> + +<P> +"Tweet," ordered Hiram, "get down off your high horse and talk sense. +What on earth is all this, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +Tweet laughed and winked and became himself again. +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram, old boy," he confided, "I'm on the road to fortune. This is +gonta be the biggest deal I ever tried to swing. And, by golly! I'm +the little boy that c'n swing 'er!" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell us about it," pleaded Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sir, Jo, I owe everything to you, and I'll prove I'm not the man +to be slow in showin' my gratitude. I'm a go-getter, and no mistake. +I couldn't make you folks believe it, so I had to go to work and show +you. But I bear you no ill will. You didn't know anything about me. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, dear little playmates, here's the dope: +</P> + +<P> +"That night watchman over there at Julia told me who owned all the land +about here, and said they were in tight financial circumstances—badly +in need o' ready money. They're big land owners—land poor. I drank +that all down, and she listened good to me. For the rest, I banked on +the accurate judgment of a party known as Jerkline Jo. I says to +myself: 'Jo's been on the grade all her life and savvies conditions. +If she says Ragtown is goin' to be located at the buttes, that part o' +the country's the part to get toehold on. Anyway, Playmate,' I says, +'we'll take a chance on Jerkline Jo.' And that's what me and Playmate +did. +</P> + +<P> +"I hunted up the owners o' the land when I gets to Los Angeles, and +makes 'em an offer on twelve thousan' acres—comprisin' the entire +tract known as Paloma Rancho, an ancient Spanish grant. Good for +nothin', I'd been told, but to run cows on in winter, when the filaree +and bunch grass are green. Just the same, there are other parts o' +this ole desert that are comin' out with a bang here lately. Lookit up +in Lucerne Valley and around Victorville! Good pear land, once she's +cleared o' the desert growth and a little humus-bearin' fertilizer +added to the soil. Produces good alfalfa, too. Anyway, I says I'll +take a chance, so I made 'em an offer. +</P> + +<P> +"They pretended like they thought the railroad was gonta do 'em a lot +o' good in a few years; that they didn't care whether they disposed o' +the property or not. But that bunk's old stuff to me, so I shut 'em up +and made 'em talk turkey. I made 'em an offer o' ten dollars an acre +for Paloma Rancho, payment to be made in quarterly installments of six +thousan' dollars, each, contract to run for five years, with interest +at seven per cent on deferred payments—first payment o' six thousan' +dollars to be made in advance. +</P> + +<P> +"They refused, and I picked up my hat and started out. They called me +back, and for ten minutes we puttered around between ten dollars an +acre and fifteen, and at last they fell into my arms. We had the +papers drawn up, and I slips 'em a certified check for six thousan' +buckerinos." +</P> + +<P> +"You gave them six thousand dollars!" cried Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," Tweet replied easily. "I'd already wired to Frisco and +disposed o' my ditch-digger holdin's for over eight thousan'; I got +over a thousan' left, five hundred paid on an automobile that's now +asleep back o' this office, and a toehold on Paloma Rancho, twelve +thousan' acres o' perfectly beautiful sand. +</P> + +<P> +"And now that you folks have dumped a cargo o' freight here marked D., +S. & T., No. 1, I know we win. We're goin' to make this one o' the +liveliest propositions in the West. Ragtown will move down here as +soon as the big outfit lands at the buttes. City lots in +Ragtown—which later probably will be known as Tweet—will be worth +from a hundred dollars to two hundred and fifty, accordin' to location. +My engineers will be here soon, and we'll lay off the town site. I've +made application for a post office, and by the time the papers come +from the department there'll be plenty o' signers here. Concessions +will be granted at reasonable figures. Farming lands will be sold at +from fifty dollars an acre up to a hundred and fifty, accordin' to +location, depth to water, et cetera. This will include stock in the +company's water right. Water will be developed up in the mountains, on +a site that goes with the ranch, at an approximate expense of one +hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. I am organizing my water +company now, and will let all old friends in on the ground floor, of +course. Water at Butte Springs, by the way, Ragtown's present supply, +will cost twenty-five cents a head for stock, and five cents a drink +for human beings who are recognized citizens of Ragtown, the +Tweet-to-be. Old friends, however, are hereby extended the privilege +of watering free of charge while life shall last. +</P> + +<P> +"So folks, we're off in a bunch. Keep your eye on Ragtown, metropolis +of the Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey." +</P> + +<P> +"But how about your next payment?" asked Jerkline Jo. "If I'm not too +impertinent, can you meet it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Right this moment," replied Tweet, "I couldn't even look like I wanted +to meet it. But why worry for nearly three months more? Ragtown will +pay it for me. I'll meet her when she's due—never fear. I always get +out some way. My middle name is Millions. Gogettersburg is my +birthplace. You folks and Pete are my first failure in convincin' +others of my shrewdness, honesty, and unbounded ability." +</P> + +<P> +For an hour Mr. Tweet told of his glowing plans, but he found it +difficult to convince either Jo or Hiram that he had success within his +grasp. Not until the conversation worked around to the mountain-road +franchise did Jerkline Jo realize that, in befriending Orr Tweet, she +had enlisted an ally who would and could help her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, we've got 'em by the tail, girl!" he cried. "Just keep on payin' +what they ask till Ragtown moves down here, which will happen as soon +as Demarest gets settled. Then it'll cost this Drummond to travel +across Paloma Rancho exactly what it has cost you to come through the +pass. And I'll get me a roughneck with a gun, too, and see that he +pays. And if he eventually falls down and quits, you make him live up +to that franchise and keep that road in perfect repair, or sue him, by +golly! Leave it to me, Jo. I'll fix his timepiece. Every spare +dollar you get, you slip it to me to help me meet those payments. +It'll let you in on the ground floor, by golly! We'll make a million +out of it, Jo—you and me and the Gentle Wild Cat. And I'll show 'em +how to try and take advantage of a girl like you! Folks, the future +looks mighty bright for all of us!" +</P> + +<P> +While they were conversing Blink Keddie's voice Came from outside the +tent: +</P> + +<P> +"Jo! The trucks are comin' in." +</P> + +<P> +The three went out and joined the head skinner, who pointed far over +the shimmering desert at three dots moving along from the mountains +toward the Washburn-Stokes camp. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor fish!" Tweet said disgustedly. "They don't know what's in store +for 'em. Next trip they make, probably, Ragtown and the big camp will +be on Paloma Rancho, and then they're blocked." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Tweet ate supper with Jo and her skinners, and afterward the outfit +spent a pleasant evening listening to the promoter's rosy plannings. +Even the most skeptical among them gradually became convinced that, if +he could hold on and meet his payments, he might make a go of it. +Early next morning they started back, passed the polite Mr. Tehachapi +Hank in the course of time, and arrived in Julia without further mishap. +</P> + +<P> +Now came a period of inactivity. There were orders for goods to be +hauled, but a great portion of what was demanded had not yet arrived by +train from the coast side of the mountain range. +</P> + +<P> +Such delays were expensive. Jerkline Jo could have made a profit +running into four figures every month, allowing for deterioration and a +reasonable per cent on the investment represented, could she have kept +her teams moving steadily, with the wagons loaded to capacity every +trip. As yet, though, with so few camps established, this could not +reasonably be hoped for, and she had made due allowance for such +setbacks when deciding upon her freight rate. She had charged +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou three cents a pound for the last consignment. +</P> + +<P> +The three trucks that they had seen returned. They were of two-ton +capacity. More came in from the coast, which carried five tons, and +there was a fleet of five-ton trailers. Jo learned that Drummond had +made a price of two and three-quarter cents, so she promptly met it +and, by wire, notified Demarest to that effect. +</P> + +<P> +She was anxious to see the five-tonners in operation. She believed +that machines carrying a large tonnage would meet with serious +difficulties in the pass, and also in the desert sand, in places. But +they would make the trip so quickly that she began to have grave +doubts. They might worm their way out of many difficulties, and still +make the camps while her teams were on the first lap of the journey. +So far, she had seen nothing of her competitor, Al Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +There reached the Mulligan Supply Company a telegram from Demarest +instituting a standing order for baled alfalfa, and instructing that +all freight be hauled by Jo so long as she could keep ahead of the +congestion and haul as cheaply as others. Promptly, then, Jo loaded to +capacity with hay, and they were off again. +</P> + +<P> +Four light trucks had preceded her with case goods, for Ragtown's +store, she supposed. But the remainder of the fleet remained idle at +Julia, and seemed to have no business. Jo was reasonably sure that, +for old friendship's sake, Philip Demarest would see to it that she got +all of his hauling, providing she could make deliveries to his +satisfaction. She thought that until new camps settled on the +grade—camps of bigger contractors who would buy their supplies direct +and not depend on Demarest, Spruce & Tillou—Mr. Drummond would have +many idle days. Then, of course, he might cut to the bone on the +freight rate, and Jo feared that, with the trucks eating nothing while +they rested, Drummond might be better able to withstand a rate war. +</P> + +<P> +They were held up by the genial but exacting Tehachapi Hank at the foot +of the grade, as on their last trip. Jo paid cash this time, and +demanded a receipt, as ordered to do by Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +As the wagon train neared the highest point in the pass she noticed +that her whites and Hiram's blacks seemed to be lagging behind. Still, +both teams seemed to be moving briskly enough and steadily. But the +other teams were far in the lead. +</P> + +<P> +Then Hiram's wagon entered upon a system of hairpin curves, and for +nearly fifteen minutes none of her skinners was in sight. +</P> + +<P> +She continued to wonder at the unwonted speed of the skinners ahead of +Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +Just as she reached the outmost point of a bow in the second hairpin +curve, she heard a dull rumble behind her. Looking back, she saw +nothing unusual, for in this place the road wound about U's and S's in +the mountainside, and one could not see far along it, either ahead or +behind. Deciding that a tree had fallen, she dismissed the matter from +her thoughts, and gave her attention to manipulating the jerkline over +an exacting piece of road. +</P> + +<P> +She worked out of the curves eventually, to see the other teams moving +placidly along ahead of her, but now she and Hiram had caught up again. +</P> + +<P> +She spoke about it when they camped for the midday rest. It was Hiram +who made reply. +</P> + +<P> +"I was wondering at their speed, too, Jo," he said. "The rest of 'em +were all way ahead of me and out o' sight for twenty minutes, maybe." +</P> + +<P> +There followed a bantering conversation on the relative merits of the +various teams, with minute explanation by the foremost skinners as to +just why it was impossible for such miserable animals as the whites and +the blacks to keep in sight of the rest. And for the time being, this +ended the incident. +</P> + +<P> +They left the delicately scented mountain country in due course and +took up the long, weary journey over the desert. When they were near +enough to the buttes to make out objects at their feet it became plain +to all that the big outfit of Demarest, Spruce & Tillou had arrived and +pitched its camp. +</P> + +<P> +Shortly after they became aware of this a machine was discovered coming +toward them from the distant tents. Then another put in an appearance, +following the first. Jo now heard the cough of motors behind her, and, +looking back, saw two trucks. +</P> + +<P> +The first machine coming from the camps swung from the road when it +neared Blink Keddie and waited, panting, until the outfit had passed +it. Only the driver was in it, a man Jerkline Jo had never before +seen. He lifted his hat politely as her whites rolled past, and she +thanked him for his patience. Then he moved his car into the road and +continued on toward the trucks. Looking back, Jo saw that all three +stopped when they came together. +</P> + +<P> +Now, from ahead, came the second car, and at the wheel sat +Twitter-or-Tweet. He signaled Keddie to stop, and the outfit came to a +halt. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Jo, and fellas!" cried the beaming Mr. Tweet, descending from +his car. "The man who just passed you in the touring car is Mr. +Richard Huber, one of our first citizens. He's Ragtown's first +merchant. He's gone to direct the trucks to come to Greater Ragtown +with their loads. For, folks, Ragtown is moving in a body, with its +traps on burros' and men's backs and in wagons and flivvers to the +Tweet-to-be. Talked Huber out o' leasing, and sold him fifteen town +lots, by golly! Half down, balance in three years—seven and a half +per cent interest on deferred payments. Man of discernment. I'll +proclaim to the high, green mountains! I'm on my way to collect our +fee for allowin' the trucks to cross Paloma Rancho. How much you been +held up for, Jo?" +</P> + +<P> +"One hundred and twelve dollars," she told him. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a minute. I'll hand it to you. Move on now, and I'll get back +in the road and collect." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHAT MADE THE WILD CAT +</H3> + + +<P> +Jerkline Jo's wagon train snailed on over the desert toward the tents +of Demarest's big camp. The tires of Mr. Tweet's shiny new car plunked +down into the road, and that gentleman continued on toward the trucks +and the machine of Ragtown's first merchant, Mr. Huber. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram Hooker was riding with Jerkline Jo, and the two had been deep in +their studies when the appearance of the various automobiles had +distracted their attention. Hiram now climbed to the top of Jo's +immense load of baled alfalfa, and, looking back, made reports to her. +</P> + +<P> +"They're all together now," he said, "and having quite an argument. +Tweet's swinging his arms about as if he wanted to fight. +</P> + +<P> +"Now he's getting into his car. He and the storekeeper are turning in +ahead of the trucks. Here they all come, Tweet in the lead!" +</P> + +<P> +A little later Tweet shouted to Hiram to stop, and Hiram relayed the +command to Jo, who called to her ten whites and brought them to a +standstill. A little later five angry men hurried on foot alongside +the wagon. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's your hundred and twelve dollars, Jo," Tweet said exultantly, +passing the girl a sheaf of bills, "And that settles that. Now, Mr. +Drummond, step over here and be introduced to Jerkline Jo Modock and my +friend Hiram Hooker, from Wild-cat Hill. We'll see if you folks can't +get together and conduct your affairs amicably." +</P> + +<P> +Al Drummond, Hiram Hooker's one-time rival, was indeed there, dressed +after the fashion of Mr. Tweet, and looking big and important and +business-like. There was a dark scowl on his brow though as he came +forward and nodded to Jo, but did not offer his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I've been held up," he muttered, "and I'm going to see about it, +but——" +</P> + +<P> +"See about it all you want to, my friend," put in Tweet smoothly. "I +have complete control of this land, and have the sole right to say who +shall cross it and who shall not, and under what conditions. The ranch +is posted, and everything is in order. This road is a new one, and you +can't make the claim that it has been used so long that it must be +considered in the nature of a public highway. You've not a leg to +stand on; so every time you turn a wheel on this property it's goin' to +cost you just what the last trip through the pass cost Jerkline Jo. +You started something, my friend, and you can't finish it—that's all. +Take your medicine like a sport." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to keep up that mountain road, and I'm going to charge to +move vehicles and teams over it," replied Drummond angrily. "My +operations are legitimate. Yours are a holdup." +</P> + +<P> +"Suit yourself." Tweet shrugged indifferently. "But, as I pointed +out, you'll pay back every cent you collect from Jo. And, besides, +you'll be out the expenses of your toll master." +</P> + +<P> +"Others besides this lady will be crossing—lots of them later on," +said Drummond. "I'm not going to keep that road in condition for the +general public free of charge." +</P> + +<P> +"Then the best thing you can do is make a dicker with Jo to share her +part of the maintenance expenses, and you two divide the spoils that +you collect from others." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't agree to that," Jo put in hastily. "The road will serve very +well as it is for our purposes, with a few repairs now and then which +my boys can attend to themselves. We don't have to have a road in as +good condition as the trucks will demand. We are entirely satisfied as +matters stand." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet slapped his thigh. "Spoken like a man!" he cried. "Now it's +your move, Mr. Drummond. Fix your road all you want to and gouge +travelers for the last cent you can, but this outfit travels through +the mountains free, any way you can figure it out. Better write out a +permanent permit for Jo, and do away with this collectin' back and +forth and only breakin' even." +</P> + +<P> +The truck man was so angry he scarcely could contain himself. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a dirty, rotten deal!" he said between gritted teeth. "And this +is only part of it. This bunch of roughnecks rolled a big boulder in +the road after they'd passed yesterday, or some time, and it took us +three hours to get it out. Had to hook on the trucks, and unload, and +cut poles—and I don't know what all we didn't have to do to get the +thing out so we could pass it. That's dirty, low-down business, and +anybody who would do such a thing is a dirty piker—I don't care if she +is a woman! If I've got to come out here and buck a wild woman with no +principle I'll——" +</P> + +<P> +Al Drummond paused abruptly. A mountain of bone and muscle had swooped +down from the top of the load of baled hay and loomed large before him. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Drummond," said a caressing voice with what seemed a totally +disinterested drawl, "you're a liar!" +</P> + +<P> +For a few seconds there was not a sound as Hiram Hooker stood before +Drummond and eyed him placidly. The truck man's face had gone +chalk-white. They were big men, both of them, and for all that +Drummond's life had not been a rugged one, he was physically pretty +much a man. Jo's skinners had come running back, and, with Tweet and +Huber, looked on expectantly, sensing that a crisis between the two big +huskies was imminent. Then came the voice of Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram," she said, "don't be hasty." Jerkline Jo had seen many a fight +between big men of the outdoor life. It was no new experience, and +there was not a quaver in her tones. She had been brought up where men +settled matters with fists or guns or pick handles. "Listen, Hiram," +she continued, "Mr. Drummond is telling the truth, I think, up to a +certain point. When you boys were way ahead of me yesterday I heard a +rumble behind me. Evidently a big boulder rolled down in the road +after we had passed. Just the same I'll thank you, Hiram, to ask Mr. +Drummond to apologize for accusing me of being responsible." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am," drawled Hiram, reverting to his old speech of the redwood +forests. "Ye heard, Mr. Drummond. We didn't roll down any stone. I'd +apologize now if I was you. That's best." +</P> + +<P> +"Listen to the Gentle Wild Cat pur," said Heine Schultz, looking +abstractedly up at the clouds. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you ain't me, you gangling hick!" said Drummond. "I saw +footprints up above the rock wall that the stone fell from. It was +pushed down. There are six of you. You could roll down a rock that we +three couldn't budge. You even could hook on teams and drag it in the +road behind you. Then when you came back, if it was still there, you +could easily snake it out of your own way with these big horses." +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon you're right," admitted Hiram. "But we didn't do that, so +you oughta apologize to Jo." There was a deceptively soothing note in +Hiram's tones. He seemed to be patiently pointing out the better +course for Mr. Drummond to pursue, with no suggestion of what might be +the penalty for guessing wrong. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll not apologize! I'm not a fool! That rock was rolled down. +It——" +</P> + +<P> +"You're a liar, Mr. Drummond," repeated Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +Then they came together with a thud of big bodies and a shower of +hooflike fists. +</P> + +<P> +"Hi-yi!" yelled Blink Keddie. "What made our Gentle Wild Cat wild? +Come on, boys! Back up ol' Wild Cat! Eat 'im, Hi-<I>ram</I>! Eat 'im +alive! Le's send this outfit to the cleaners!" +</P> + +<P> +"Blink!" called Jerkline Jo shrilly as the pugnacious skinner charged +threateningly at Drummond's truck drivers. He came to a stop. "Don't +make it general unless it becomes necessary," Jo added smoothly. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime the two huge belligerents were hammering stunning blows at +each other. About them now stood silent men in a circle, with the +vast, hot desert stretching away on every side. +</P> + +<P> +It developed shortly that Drummond was an athlete. He was quicker on +his feet than Hiram and knew more tricks of offense and defense. +Hiram, on the other hand, was a bull for strength and endurance, and in +the big-woods country had maintained a reputation as a rough-and-tumble +fighter and wrestler, though most of his encounters had been friendly +bouts. Furthermore, he was cool as one of his Mendocino trout streams, +and he fought in a businesslike way and never allowed himself to lose +his temper. +</P> + +<P> +He was therefore the more deadly, for his endurance was unbounded, and +the punishment that Drummond was able to inflict seemed to have no +effect whatever. And when one of his big fists found its mark a groan +went up from Huber and Tweet. But Jerkline Jo and her rough-and-ready +skinners, the latter all old fighters of the camps and used to unseemly +sights, and the sickening sound of a big fist landing on giving bone, +only watched and waited for the result. +</P> + +<P> +In no time at all, it seemed, the face of the truck man was raw, while +Hiram's showed only bruises. They clinched repeatedly, and soon it +became apparent that Drummond was forcing these clinches. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got 'im goin', Gentle Wild Cat!" yelled Tom Gulick. "Keep +after his mush, ol'-timer! Pretty soon he won't be able to see you; +then clean house with 'im!" +</P> + +<P> +Drummond played for Hiram's wind now, but there was not an ounce of fat +over the stomach that he hammered so repeatedly, and it seemed as if he +were battering hard rubber. He was fast losing his own wind, for his +life had not been so healthy as had that of the man from the Northern +forests. Hiram's punishing fists were finding their target more +frequently now, for the truck man's defense was failing him. He was +slowing up—breathing hard—gulping. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess it's time to stop it, Gentle Wild Cat," complacently observed +Jim McAllen. +</P> + +<P> +Then Hiram finished it. He crowded his big antagonist and beat him to +his knees with blows that seemed to be skull crushing. Drummond's nose +and mouth were badly damaged. Both eyes were mere slits, blazing +between coloring puffs. One crushing, blow straight into his face as +he came up defiantly sent him reeling about, head down, groping blindly. +</P> + +<P> +"One more in the same place, Wild Cat!" called Gulick. +</P> + +<P> +But Hiram desisted, though continuing to trail the groping man as he +reeled through the sand, stumbling frequently. +</P> + +<P> +"Lock the door, Hiram!" begged Heine Schultz. "It's all over but +closin' up." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram shook his head, and then Drummond wilted and sank in the sand. +</P> + +<P> +Water was quickly provided, and the pulse of Jerkline Jo leaped as she +saw that Hiram himself was taking the most prominent part in the +whipped man's revival. It was fully five minutes before Drummond was +conscious again; then Hiram helped to bear him to one of the trucks. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Hiram," Jo said softly as he returned. +</P> + +<P> +He looked up into her eyes, which were moist round the rims. He had +fought and won for his girl of romance, and he knew now that it had +been she who through all the years had been beckoning him to come. +</P> + +<P> +With a damp cloth she tenderly touched his bruised face here and there +as the wagon train moved on again. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't think any the worse of me, Hiram," she pleaded. "Perhaps I'm a +roughneck, after all, as Drummond intimated. But I can't faint and +carry on at the sight of blood and the sound of battering fists as most +women do. I like a fight—a fair fight—a good fight—a manly fight. +Life for me has been always a fight. I've learned not to shrink. Am I +brutal—for a woman?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Hiram. "I think I want you that way. Nobody could look +into your eyes, Jo, and think you weren't tender and compassionate. +I'd want my woman to be a fighter, I guess, when it was the time and +place to fight." +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo's face was radiant with color, but she said softly: +</P> + +<P> +"And I want my man to be a fighter. It's in my blood, it seems." +</P> + +<P> +They said nothing more about it then, but each knew that love had +spoken, and the unfriendly desert seemed a delectable land. +</P> + +<P> +In camp that night Blink Keddie made a confession. +</P> + +<P> +"Jo," he said, twisting and squirming, "me and Heine and Jim and Tom +did ease that boulder into the road. We done it to get even for the +empty water tank." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Blink!" Jo cried, aghast. +</P> + +<P> +"We made it up to do it, and not even let Wild Cat in on the deal, +'cause he seemed to think like you did. So we rampsed our teams and +got way ahead o' you folks, then stopped 'em when they was outa you +folks' sight around the curves, and ran back through the trees with +bars. We had our rock all picked out, and it didn't take the four o' +us no time to ease her to the edge and let 'er plunk down in the road +behind you. Then we run ahead through the woods and got on our wagons +before you caught up. Now you know—what're you goin' to do about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I have Wild Cat take you out, one at a time," Jo asked +mischievously, after a thoughtful pause. +</P> + +<P> +Keddie shrugged. "I ain't achin' for my portion o' that," he +confessed, "but ol' Timberline will know he's been in a fight." +</P> + +<P> +"It was despicable of you boys," Jo said sternly. "We'll not fight +that way." +</P> + +<P> +"But the empty water tank, Jo!" cried Heine. "My goat ain't through +gettin' got about that deal yet. You gotta fight the devil with fire, +as they say." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm terribly sorry," Jo continued, her brow clouding. "That act is +responsible for to-day's trouble, and we haven't yet heard the last of +that, I'm afraid. And now <I>I'll</I> have to apologize to Mr. Drummond and +explain." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, Jo! Let Hi-<I>ram</I> do it. He knows how to apologize. Think o' +the water tank, Jo!" +</P> + +<P> +"We have no proof that Drummond or his men were responsible for the +empty tank, boys. I'm terribly sorry. I must think over what's best +to be done now. We mustn't stoop to such methods. Even though we are +subjected to underhand competition, we ourselves must fight fair and +not descend to our enemy's level." +</P> + +<P> +"You're aimin' to go to heaven, Jo," Gulick accused. "Drummond started +the dirty work. We can show him a dozen tricks to offset emptyin' our +tank. Better tell him not to do anythin' more. We'll stop his clock +if he does." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll do it fairly, then, or you'll not drive teams for me," Jo +emphatically told them. +</P> + +<P> +Their silence disturbed her. They knew that she could not do without +them. Even as matters stood, she could have used one more jerkline +skinner could she have found one good enough to handle her much-loved +animals. They were loyal to her, a stanch little army, hard to defeat +if their crude but forceful methods of fighting could be brought into +play. All of them looked upon the girl as their especial charge in +life, and whenever they fought for her they would, with only her +well-being in mind, fight as they saw fit. Still, she could control +them if forewarned of their plans. She always had controlled them—not +by condemning and issuing orders and threatening, but by the exercise +of her sweet womanly personality; for there was not a man of them but +loved her and fairly worshiped at her shrine. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DRUMMOND'S PASSENGER +</H3> + + +<P> +The summer progressed, and great changes were wrought on the desert. +To the last soul Ragtown moved from its first location into the +hospitable arms of Mr. Tweet—but Tweet's hospitality demanded its +price. Outfit after outfit came crawling across the desert to pitch +camp somewhere along the line and begin its portion of the big work in +band. There was a post office at Ragtown, twenty or more saloons, +dance halls and gambling dens combined, restaurants, tent hotels, +stores, and even a bank and a motion-picture show. Thousands of rough, +hard-drinking, hard-fighting men thronged the mushroom town, and it +resembled a mining town of California's early days. Miners and +cattlemen, too, made the town headquarters, and there were frequent +fights and an occasional shooting scrape. The cost of everything was +high. Money flowed freely, as did bootleg jackass brandy. It seemed +that the prohibition enforcement officers had been unable to locate the +infant town. The rough, unrestrained life of the frontier was rife at +Ragtown, and Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet gleaned shekels right and left. +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo had not seen Al Drummond to speak with him after the fight. +He had been laid up for a week from the terrible battering that Hiram +had given him, and when he was about again he left the country in his +touring car. +</P> + +<P> +His drivers continued to transport freight to the new Ragtown and to +certain independent contractors who had reached the work. In truth, it +developed that there was plenty of hauling to keep both outfits busy, +and Jerkline Jo was making money hand over fist, as was every one who +had services to offer or something to sell. +</P> + +<P> +Tehachapi Hank no longer stood like an ogre guarding the portals to the +mountain pass. Drummond had been beaten on that deal, and the gunman's +removal was an admission of defeat. Consequently, Tweet exacted no +charge for the trucks to cross his ranch. Things were running smoothly +between the two freighting enterprises, and Jerkline Jo hoped against +hope that there would be no more trouble. But she had not liked the +baleful look in Drummond's eye when she caught it on the street in +Ragtown one evening. It was plain that he considered great humiliation +had been heaped upon him, and that he was waiting and watching for an +opportunity for revenge. +</P> + +<P> +Then one day she met him face to face in Julia, and stepped to him to +tell him about the boulder in the road. His glance was like a knife +thrust as he turned on his heel and stalked away before she could +speak. After that, of course, she made no further effort to enlighten +him. +</P> + +<P> +As the weeks passed it developed that Orr Tweet was not the slowest +salesman in California, where salesmen—especially land +salesmen—achieve their greatest triumphs. Not only did he sell lots +and building sites in Ragtown, but he disposed of the surrounding +acreage to would-be ranchers and speculators, and had been able with +ease, he informed his old friends, to meet his second payment on the +ranch. He urged Jo to invest her earnings in the company, and after +consideration she resolved to take a chance with him; for here and +there, where wells had been sunk and pumping apparatus installed, the +once barren land was turning green and showing evidences of rich and +productive soil. +</P> + +<P> +So things stood, or refused to stand, in Ragtown and the vicinity when +Drummond drove in one day with no less a passenger than a pretty girl, +all pink and white, named Lucy Dalles. Hiram Hooker came face to face +with her in Ragtown's boisterous business street an hour after her +arrival, for Jo's freight outfit was at rest there for the night. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy was as pretty in her petite, doll-like way as when she had so +fascinated him in the city, but now he could not help comparing her +hothouse beauty with the brown-skinned, outdoor desirability of +Jerkline Jo. Jo could have picked up this frail, silk-garbed creature +and thrown her overhead; yet in pure womanliness and tenderness Lucy +was not her equal. Jerkline Jo was a queen—a ruler—a fearless woman +with a purpose in life, big of body and soul and brain. Lucy Dalles +was merely a pretty girl, with an ambition for money and life's +frivolous pleasures. Hiram understood this now. +</P> + +<P> +She greeted him glowingly, and called him by his first name. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you I was coming," she cried, giggling. "And isn't this rich? +If only I were writing scenarios now!" +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you?" asked Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I gave it up. They got too exacting for me, and began buying the +picture rights of books and magazine stories by established authors in +preference to original scripts for the screen. I was a piker, +anyway—nothing in me, I guess. So I threw up the sponge." +</P> + +<P> +"You're still a waitress, then?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him archly. "Not on your sweet young life!" and she +laughed. "I didn't throw ambition overboard when I quit writing +scenarios. Writing in any form is usually a slow road to success, I've +learned. I never wanted to be a writer just for the sake o' the work. +I want jack, and lots of it, and what it'll buy." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram felt a sudden disgust for her and her sordid aims in life. But +to appear polite he asked: +</P> + +<P> +"What are you doing, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Everybody I can," she retorted. "I worked in a beauty parlor for a +little as a hairdresser and manicure. I'm out for the money, Hiram. +I'm not a pickpocket yet, but that's because I don't know how to be +one. But if you've got any loose change in your pockets watch out. +I'm out for the coin. But here comes Al. He brought me down. He's +going to set me up in business." +</P> + +<P> +"Drummond?" he asked. "He and I don't speak. We had a little trouble." +</P> + +<P> +Again she arched her penciled brows. "He didn't tell me," she said. +"He'll be sore at me talkin' to you then. See him over there by that +saloon? He's stopped and is scowling at us. Well, I'll just stick +with you to show him his place. Take me somewhere, Hiram; I want to +see the life." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram did not know what to say. He would have preferred to terminate +the conversation. Lucy Dalles held no fascination for him now. Hiram +had met and loved a woman without parallel in his brief experience of +life. But he could not be impolite, so he sauntered down the street +with the girl, trying to make conversation and hoping that Drummond +would not be offended all over again. +</P> + +<P> +In all the resorts men and women were crowding before the bar, gambling +with abandon or dancing. +</P> + +<P> +"Buy me a drink, Hiram," Lucy pleaded. "I just want to go into one of +these places. Women do it here, I understand." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram shrugged and led her into the Palace Dance Hall, conducted by a +notorious character, who followed big construction camps, called +"Ghost" Falcott because of his chalk-white skin. +</P> + +<P> +It was pay day at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's, and the Palace was +crowded. They found a place at the bar, however, and the girl stood +looking over the half-drunken throng with eager eyes, now and then +casting a glance through the door to see if Drummond was following her. +</P> + +<P> +Their drinks had just been served when into the dive, with a grinning +construction stiff on each arm, marched Jerkline Jo, laughing gayly. +</P> + +<P> +This was no new sight. Frequently Hiram had seen his adventure girl in +such places, laughing and chatting with old friends of the grade. +Always, it seemed, they respected her and took her actions for granted. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Gentle Wild Cat!" Jo called, catching sight of him. Then she +noticed that he was with the girl, and a quick look of puzzlement came +in her dark eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram made haste to call her. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to introduce you," he said quickly. +</P> + +<P> +Jo turned, still holding to the arms of the stiffs, and Hiram made the +introduction. Jo responded pleasantly, and the look that came in her +eyes told Hiram that she remembered the name and knew who Lucy was. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry I can't join you, Hiram," said Jo. "These plugs have got me +dead to rights, and I've promised to set 'em up to the house." +</P> + +<P> +She released the arms of the stiffs, and, cupping her hands about her +mouth, shouted above the general din: +</P> + +<P> +"Drinks for the house on Jerkline Jo! Le's go!" +</P> + +<P> +Some one nudged Hiram on the other side, and he turned to find Orr +Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever see the likes o' that Jerkline Jo?" he said admiringly. +"What a woman, Hiram! She can get away with anything, and there ain't +a stiff on the grade that would think any the worse of her for it. +She's pure-hearted and clean-minded, and everybody knows it and treats +her like the lady she is. But say—— For Heaven's sake! Look who's +here!" +</P> + +<P> +His steel-blue eyes had taken in Lucy, who stood studying Jerkline Jo, +the center of a crowd of rough, appreciative men who wrung her hands +right and left. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy turned and flashed Tweet a bright smile. "I remember you, o' +course," she said, shaking hands. "They tell me you hit the ball an +awful bang down here in Ragtown. I always knew you were there when you +talked to me up in Frisco." +</P> + +<P> +For several minutes, while bartenders worked frantically to supply Jo's +big order, Tweet and Lucy talked, and Hiram watched Jo. Then Tweet +excused himself and hurried away after some man—a prospective citizen +of Ragtown, no doubt—and Lucy turned to Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's Jerkline Jo, is it?" she said half scornfully. "What is +she, Hiram?" +</P> + +<P> +"A lady," said Hiram with a dangerous note of warning in his tones. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy sensed it and shrugged. "Maybe she is," she said lightly. "I +don't know anything about her beyond what I've heard, of course—except +that she's a heart-breaker—a man-killer. But what's she doing here?" +she could not help tacking on. +</P> + +<P> +"I might come back and ask you what you're doing here," Hiram retorted +coldly. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy shrugged. "Oh, I don't make any pretenses of piety—now," she +said significantly. Then, casting a defiant glance at him, she +produced a silver cigarette case, took a cigarette from it, and begged +for the end of his cigar at which to light it. "They say Jerkline Jo +is grabbing off big jack. How 'bout it?" She puffed indolently, +greatly to her companion's disgust. +</P> + +<P> +"She works hard and earns money," Jo's supporter defended. "She raised +the wages of all of us, too, as soon as business began to look up. We +skinners get ninety dollars a month and board now." +</P> + +<P> +"Ninety dollars a month!" Lucy said jeeringly. "D'ye call that money! +I didn't think you'd continue to be such a fish as long as this, Hiram." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm investin' it," said Hiram. "It may be more some day." +</P> + +<P> +Luck looked suddenly into Hiram's eyes, then let her lashes cover her +own. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess this pious Jerkline Jo has got you goin'," she observed. +</P> + +<P> +"I work for her," said Hiram awkwardly. +</P> + +<P> +"Any man would, I guess. Men are all suckers." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram said nothing to this, and presently, stating that he would be +obliged to return to camp, asked Lucy if she was ready to go. +</P> + +<P> +Rather petulantly she gave in, and just outside the door they +encountered the glowering Al Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +"Lucy," he said sharply, "come here!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have to go," Lucy said to Hiram. "See you later, honey boy from +the woods. Good night!" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram saw Drummond take a step and roughly grab Lucy's arm as she +tripped up to him. They walked away, plainly indulging in a heated +argument. +</P> + +<P> +"'Honey boy,' huh!" and Hiram snorted. "Men are suckers—till they +meet a regular woman!" +</P> + +<P> +He hurried back to camp and rolled himself in his blankets without +further thought of the girl who had caused him to make such a fool of +himself in San Francisco. Had he but known it the advent of Lucy +Dalles in Ragtown was to have a great deal to do with the future +fortunes of both Jerkline Jo and himself. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LUCY SEES A PROSPECT +</H3> + + +<P> +There was so much freighting that summer that the combined outfits of +Jerkline Jo Modock and Al Drummond were taxed to capacity. The new +settlers made constant demands upon them, and, though their wants were +puny in comparison with those of the camps, Jo accommodated them +whenever she could. Water had been struck at the surprisingly shallow +depth of forty-five feet in some places, and many pumping plants were +transported over the mountains. Things looked as if Twitter-or-Tweet +was about due to make his fortune, and Jo kept investing more and more +of her surplus earnings, and he was meeting his payments promptly. +There was talk of Ragtown eventually being made a division point. If +this transpired, the railroad shops would be erected there, and the +permanent success of the town would be assured. Already a few +venturesome souls were building permanent structures whenever they were +fortunate enough to get building materials hauled in. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond's five-ton trucks seemed to be meeting all requirements, and +he had added to his fleet. Jo, however, remained conservative. She +had seen rag towns spring up on railroad grades before—many of +them—only to disappear forever with the laying of the steel. Still, +she had confidence in the farming possibilities of Paloma Rancho—but +she bought no more equipment, principally, perhaps, because she could +not get desirable jerkline skinners, and because extra equipment would +mean more work for her, more time taken from her studies. She was +content with a good thing so far as financial success was +concerned—her great ambition was for an education. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond, of course, was also making money; but he fell a prey to the +lure of the free-and-easy life of the frontier town, and gambled and +drank perpetually. There were stories of big losses at faro, under +which Drummond did not always bear up as a good sport should. +</P> + +<P> +As for Lucy Dalles, that ambitious young woman entered with gusto into +the feverish life of Ragtown. Drummond had leased a shooting-gallery +concession from the accommodating Tweet, and had ensconced the girl +behind the rifles—or in front of them—to run the gallery. +</P> + +<P> +So she confided to Hiram Hooker, when he passed along Ragtown's main +thoroughfare one night, and for the first time saw her on exhibition in +the gallery. She had partitioned off one corner of the gallery and set +up a manicure and hairdressing parlor. Of mornings, when business in +the gallery was dull, she made many an extra dollar by beautifying the +women of Ragtown. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there's money in it," she said. "Al had the gallery stunt in +mind when he brought me down, so I quit the beauty parlor where I was +working in Frisco and got a job in a shooting gallery and learned how +to run one and to keep my noodle from getting in front of a gun. My +face is my fortune, after all, Hiram boy. One look at my smile, and +the hicks come right in and pick up a rifle. I'm coinin' money, and +I'm having the time of my young life. Last night a miner bet me five +dollars against a kiss he could knock over ten ducks in ten shots. He +did it, and I paid up like a sport. It got the gang started at the +game, and in the end I grabbed off thirty bucks, and only kissed twice. +Pretty soft—what? I guess you're horrified, Hiram?" She glanced at +him with coquettish defiance. +</P> + +<P> +"Disgusted," Hiram could truthfully have said, but he only grinned and +thanked his stars for his escape. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy's dark eyes flashed daggers at the broad back of Hiram Hooker as +he left her and swung along indifferently up the street. With a +woman's intuition she had known in San Francisco that the big, handsome +countryman with the soft, drawling voice had fallen a victim to her +charms. Now, because of Jerkline Jo, he was utterly indifferent to +her. Lucy was piqued, angry at him, angrier at Jerkline Jo. She did +not love Hiram, but she wanted him to love her, and though she did not +want him she wanted no other woman to own him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll fix you one o' these days, you big hick!" she threatened between +clenched teeth. +</P> + +<P> +Summer passed all too quickly for those who labored incessantly, and +the winter rains set in. They at once grew harder and more frequent, +and then it poured as it does only in the West. Snow fell in the +mountains. Then the activities of Al Drummond ceased abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +No wonder, for often as high as twenty teams were hooked on to the +enormous wagons of Jerkline Jo, and every animal was obliged to pull to +the limit of his strength to move the terrific weight, hub-deep in the +clinging mud. This did not tend to improve the road, of course, and +all of Drummond's efforts to corduroy it and otherwise preserve a firm +path for his machines were unavailing. The tortoise had won the race! +</P> + +<P> +Drummond had gambled away his profits, and now it was whispered about +that he still owed money on his trucks. Before the last of November he +gave up in despair, allowed his trucks to be taken by the mortgagees, +and settled down to a life of gambling on the proceeds of his +shooting-gallery concession. +</P> + +<P> +One day there trudged into Ragtown a strange figure, marked by the +desert, bent and old, in the wake of six lamenting burros laden with +mining supplies and tools. He gave the name of Basil Filer, and said +that he was seeking gold. Ragtown promptly wrote him down as a crazy +prospector. His eye caught the eye of Lucy Dalles, leaning over her +carpeted counter between her rifles, and when he had made camp he +limped along and accosted her. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in and try a string, Uncle," she begged with the little pout she +had found so effective in coercing male humanity into her lair. "An +old desert rat like you oughta hit the bull's-eye every shot." +</P> + +<P> +Filer grinned and stepped up to the counter, eying the girl from under +heavy, fierce eyebrows that looked as if the dust of a thousand trails +had settled in them. Lucy lowered her dark lashes and looked demure. +</P> + +<P> +"B'long on the desert, girlie?" rumbled the deep voice of the old +prospector. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, Uncle." +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh. And how old might ye be, now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nearly twenty-two." +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh—pretty near twenty-two. That's nice. Where's yer paw and +maw?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're both dead," Lucy told him, trying to appear innocent and +unsophisticated as she lifted her glance to his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe now yer paw was a desert prospector," he suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh." Lucy nodded her fluffy head vigorously up and down. This +was another childlike action which she had found pleasing to +men—especially the older men. Of course she was lying like a little +sailor; but "Uncle" seemed interested in her, and business was dull +just then. She would pretend to be all that he seemed to wish her to +be as long as she could successfully follow his conversational leads. +</P> + +<P> +"What do they call you, girlie?" he asked next. +</P> + +<P> +"Lucy." +</P> + +<P> +"Lucy, eh? Lucy what, now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lucy Dalles." +</P> + +<P> +"Dalles, huh? Dalles!" His weird old eyes, peculiarly tinted from +years of looking into the mirage-draped distances of the desert, were +strangely reminiscent. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe that ain't your right name, though," he kept on feelingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe not," replied Lucy quite truthfully. After all, she had only +her father's and her mother's word for it. For all she knew she might +be the reincarnation of the Queen of Sheba. "Let's try a shot, Uncle," +she added, sensing deep water ahead. +</P> + +<P> +Indolently he picked up a .22 rifle, and rang the bell of her most +difficult bull's-eye target eight shots out of ten. He paid her and +seemed in nowise elated over her fulsome praise, designed to keep him +shooting. +</P> + +<P> +He took up his long cane again. "I'll drift up the drag a ways," he +said, "and see what's goin' on. Nothin' but desert owls lived here +when I traveled through last—two years ago. I'll be back. Maybe I'll +want to ast ye a few p'inted questions. Will ye answer, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," she told him lightly, whacking her gum for emphasis. "Come and +pour your heart out to me, Uncle—I'll listen." +</P> + +<P> +Lucy had taken more of the well-filled buckskin poke that the old man +had pulled from the neck of his greasy shirt to pay her for the pastime. +</P> + +<P> +She leaned out and craned her neck to watch him moving up the street, +glancing through doors and openly investigating on every side. +</P> + +<P> +Her intuition told her that the gray old rat had something on his mind. +Lonely old soul that he was, she reasoned, he was bashful and at a loss +how to conduct himself in the unfamiliar presence of a woman. "When +he's all gowed up he'll talk my head off," she decided. "He's going to +fortify himself now. Guess I'll have to look into this." +</P> + +<P> +When the bent, plodding figure had disappeared through the entrance to +Ghost Falcott's Palace Dance Hall, Lucy called across the street to a +boy sitting on the edge of the new board sidewalk. The boy crossed to +her and she handed him a dime. +</P> + +<P> +"Find Al Drummond and tell him I want to see him at once," she directed. +</P> + +<P> +A little later Al Drummond presented himself. His face showed the +effects of a sleepless night, but he was already refortified with +jackass brandy for the ordeals of the day, and was in nowise stupid. +</P> + +<P> +They leaned on the carpeted counter, heads close together, and talked +in lowered voices. +</P> + +<P> +"What this old bird has got on his chest I can't tell," Lucy explained. +"But I played up to him, and if he gets all gowed up he'll spill it. +He's crazy as they make 'em, Al. It may not amount to anything at all, +but I'm for always lookin' into such little things. You never can +tell, Al. Maybe this'll be good. Anyway, he's got a leather bag +that's heavy with jack, and he won't need that when he hits the trail +again. Warm up to him and get 'im started, then steer him to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Wise little kid," Al Drummond commented. "Leave it to me." +</P> + +<P> +The male plotter experienced no difficulty in finding the grizzled +desert rat. He was evidently a self-starter, having brought his own, +and, all alone at Ghost Falcott's bar, he was pouring raw jackass +brandy down a throat that seemed urgently in need of it. Seeing that +he was satisfactorily working out his own destruction, Drummond shot +craps to divert himself until the prospector should become mellowed to +a point where it was safe to approach him. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed though that the old man had an enormous capacity. An hour +passed, and, though he drank repeatedly on his high-lonesome, he seemed +little the worse for it. Drummond patiently watched and waited. He +knew that with some newly distilled brandy does not take immediate +effect, but that drunkenness comes on suddenly when the victim least +expects it. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JERKLINE JO'S SURPRISE +</H3> + + +<P> +Meantime events were happening out in the street which were to have a +distinct bearing on Lucy and Al's plot to separate Basil Filer from the +contents of his buckskin poke. +</P> + +<P> +These events, however, were quite commonplace on the face of them. The +first was the arrival of Jerkline Jo's wagon train, loaded to the +gunwales with case goods, general merchandise, and food for stock. +</P> + +<P> +The arrival of Jerkline Jo and her proud huskies always was an event of +importance at Ragtown. They made a picture as the heavy eight and +ten-horse teams with the hundreds of bells a-jingle rolled the immense +wagons down the street, while Jo's skinners, quite aware of the furor +they were creating, called "Gee" and "Haw" and manipulated their +jerklines unnecessarily, for the sole purpose of awing the spectators. +One wagon was stopped at Huber's store; the rest continued on through +to Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One, a half mile beyond the +town. +</P> + +<P> +It was Jo's whites that had been brought to a halt before Huber's. The +proprietor came out and asked that the load be discharged in the rear, +as he had just completed a new freight platform at the back entrance. +</P> + +<P> +"Right!" called Jo. Then, "Annie! Ned! Feel of it, white folks! +Bert! Snip! All together. Let's go!" +</P> + +<P> +Like a well-trained company of infantry, the ten whites leaned to the +collars, and the eight tons behind them moved off as easily as a baby +buggy. The hub of all eyes, the attractive girl with cries of "Gee" +and "Haw" and picturesque manipulation of the jerkline, swung her team +around the corner and into the alley. Men with whom she had a standing +agreement to unload freight for her when their services were needed +already had come through the store, and were waiting for her on the new +platform. Dexterously she guided the team with the jerkline and by +word of mouth, so that the load crept along not two inches from the +edge of the platform and came to a stop. +</P> + +<P> +She left her team standing, for Hiram Hooker was to ride back on her +black saddle pony for them as soon as the remainder of the outfit had +reached the camp. Whistling, with her leather chaps swishing, she +walked through the store, smiling right and left at the clerks. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Jo, how was the trip?" asked Huber as she leaned on the edge of +the window to the proprietor's office and handed him her bills of +lading. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, much the same as usual," she replied. "The whirlwinds gave us +some trouble. They're prevalent this time of year on the desert, and +are sometimes fearfully annoying—especially so if it's been dry for a +few days and the top of the sand isn't moist." +</P> + +<P> +"What do they do to you, Jo?" asked Huber interestedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Drive you crazy sometimes," she laughed. "They're just like little +cyclones, you know. You'll be moving along serenely, when one of them +will steal up behind you, and before you know it you're the center of a +maelstrom of sand and dust, unable to see, your hat gone, your mouth +and nose filled with—well, about everything that the desert boasts of. +I was feeding hay to a pair of my horses this noon, when a whirlwind +slipped up on me. I threw myself flat on the ground, as one must do or +be swept off his feet, and when it had passed there was not one scrap +of that dry alfalfa hay where I'd thrown it. I found my hat a mile +distant. My nostrils and ears and eyes and mouth were literally loaded +with dirt and fine hay chaff. And my hair! Heavens!" She put her +hands to it. "I usually wear it in braids, you know, but to-day I +thought I'd be smart and perk up a bit. Now I'll have to 'go to the +cleaners,' as Heine says." +</P> + +<P> +Huber laughed. "Say, Jo," he said, "that reminds me. There's a girl +here that'll give you a shampoo. She runs a shooting gallery, and has +a little beauty parlor on the side. Oh, we're getting quite urban at +Ragtown. We'll have Turkish baths next. Go to see her—she'll fix you +up." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll just do that," said Jo, and went out on the street. +</P> + +<P> +Then for the first time she became aware that Lucy Dalles was the +proprietress of Ragtown's beauty parlor, and even then she did not find +it out until she was inside the parlor and Lucy entered by a side door +that connected with the gallery. It was too late to back out +gracefully, even had Jo been inclined to do so. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, hello!" she said. "I didn't know you ran this place. Miss +Dalles, isn't it? We met in the Palace Dance Hall one night, didn't +we?" +</P> + +<P> +Lucy smiled professionally. She did not like this strong, rugged, +beautiful girl who strode along the street with such a firm, conquering +tread and left men gaping after her. Still, she could not afford to +show her dislike. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes—I remember you perfectly well," she said. "Who wouldn't +remember the famous Jerkline Jo! Is there something I can do for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mercy, yes!" laughed Jo. "One look at me ought to show you that." +She told about the whirlwind, and Lucy smiled thinly, and indicated the +chair. +</P> + +<P> +Jo climbed into it, and was bundled with clean, perfumed towels that +caused her to grow reminiscent of school days and dainty dresses and +all the things that as Jerkline Jo she had been obliged to put aside. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know," she said as Lucy began her delicate ministrations, "I've +never before in my life been in a beauty parlor." +</P> + +<P> +"You are one of the few women who do not need one," said Lucy, forced +to a sincere compliment by the undeniable, fresh beauty of her patron. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, thank you!" said Jo with a laugh. "It's not just that, though. I +expect, if the truth were told, I've needed the services of a beauty +artist for years. But I was raised in a construction camp, you know, +until I was pretty much of a young lady, and such things were entirely +out of my ken. Then at Palada, where my foster father eventually +settled and went into the freighting business and running a store, we +were not so progressive as Ragtown even. So when I went to boarding +school in the Middle West I was virtually immune from many of the new +fads. You, then, are the first person that ever washed my hair—except +myself, of course. I remember even that my dear old foster mother +always made me wash it when I was a kid—once a year perhaps," she +ended with a laugh. "Poor ma! She had little enough time to fuss with +a child's hair, cooking for big, hungry men all the time as she was, +and driving a slip team while she was resting." +</P> + +<P> +Jo was merely trying to make conversation, for she could think of +little to say that she thought might touch a responsive cord in the +fluffy girl from the city. Jerkline Jo was a man's woman. She could +talk about almost anything that other women could not bring into their +conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"You've had an interesting life, haven't you?" observed Lucy, +manipulating Jo's scalp till the skin tingled pleasantly. "I wish I +could have met you when I was writing moving-picture scenarios. What a +character you would have made for the heroine of a Western thriller!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you've written scenarios! How interesting! And—and—if this +isn't trespassing on delicate ground—sold them?" +</P> + +<P> +Lucy tittered. "Yes, I sold some of them," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +This gave them a basis for conversation, and they progressed famously +until the grinning face of a railroad-construction stiff appeared +suddenly at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey!" he called to other stiffs behind him. "Look wot's goin' on!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, there, 'Squinty' Malley!" and Jo laughed. "Get your face out +of that door. This is sacred ground, you roughneck!" +</P> + +<P> +"Look at Jo!" derided Squinty, an old friend of the girl's in many a +half-remembered camp. "Hey, youse plugs, gadder 'round here and lamp +Jerkline Jo dollin' up! Good night!" +</P> + +<P> +"Beat it now!" Jo reiterated. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, dis here's good!" retorted Squinty. "I to't youse was a reg'lar +woman, Jo! Youse know more 'bout cuffin' ole Jack an' Ned dan youse do +'bout fixin' yer hair. Say, lady," he addressed Lucy, "fix 'er +up—hey? Doll 'er up proper, an' le's see wot de ol'-timer looks like." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll oblige me by getting out of the door," said Lucy indignantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't scold the poor eel!" pleaded Jerkline Jo. "He doesn't know +any better. So you want to see me dolled up, do you, Squint? By +George, you're on, old-timer! I've got some glad rags here in this +burg. Go on now! I'll be the queen of the ball to-night!" +</P> + +<P> +"Lucy," Jo laughed familiarly when the tramps had vanished, "fix up my +hair the best you possibly can. Give me the latest, will you? I'm +going to have some fun to-night." +</P> + +<P> +An hour later, when darkness had settled over Ragtown and the night's +revel was on, there entered the Palace Dance Hall a figure that brought +gamblers from their absorbing games, stopped the dizzying whirl of the +dancers, and caused glasses that were halfway to eager lips to pause in +mid-air. +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo's almost black hair was piled on top of her head in +bewildering fashion, and set off with flashing rhinestone ornaments, +furnished by Lucy Dalles. Jo wore a semievening dress of pale-blue +silk, and Lucy had powdered her face and neck until little contrast +could be noted between skin that had braved the desert winds and that +which had been protected. Jo wore fashionable slippers with great +shell buckles and high French heels. She cast a dazzling smile over +the silent assemblage, then threw back her glorious head and let her +laughter ring. +</P> + +<P> +That laugh revealed her identity. +</P> + +<P> +"Jerkline Jo!" came a chorus of yells, and men stared at her, while +women drew together in groups, their comments expressed in lowered +voices. +</P> + +<P> +As they crowded around her Lucy Dalles peered in at the door, a +contemptuous sneer on her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Have a good time, old girl!" she muttered, grinding her little white +teeth. "But I learned something to-day that'll set <I>you</I> back a step +or two. Get me to doll you up, will you, you impossible roughneck? +You'll pay for that!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DRUMMOND WEAVES A DREAM +</H3> + + +<P> +Shortly after Jerkline Jo left the beauty parlor of Lucy Dalles, +mischievously bent on giving Ragtown a harmless little shock, Al +Drummond sidled up to the old prospector at the bar in the Palace Dance +Hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, old-timer," he said with a cheerful smile. "How's prospecting +these days?" +</P> + +<P> +The old desert rat fixed a filmy eye on him. "Have a shot," he invited +with the suggestion of a thickening tongue. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, old hoss. Don't care if I do. That is, if you'll have one +with me." +</P> + +<P> +They drank, and Drummond promptly ordered another. A lowering of his +left eyelid gave the bartender his instructions, and a sprinkling of +powder found its way into the glass that was thumped before Basil Filer. +</P> + +<P> +Not long after this he became agreeable to anything that Al Drummond +might suggest. Al took him from place to place, always standing his +share of the exorbitant prices demanded in Ragtown, and finally +suggested that they try their marksmanship as a diversion. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" agreed Filer gutturally. "Little girl, eh? Pretty!" He +winked knowingly at Drummond. "I wanta have talk with her. I know who +she is. B'en trailin' her fer years. Le's go, pardner. You're goo' +scout. So'm I—hey?" +</P> + +<P> +"You bet your sweet life you're a good scout! Come on—we'll have a +time to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond had previously sent a boy to Lucy with a note informing her +that the come-on was about ripe for plucking, and telling her to put +some one else in charge of the gallery and be in readiness. Lucy had +sent out and found the man who at times relieved her, and when Drummond +and the old gold-seeker lurched up she was free to act as the +circumstances might demand. +</P> + +<P> +The two men fired at the targets for a little, Filer failing to display +the same wonderful marksmanship which he had done earlier in the +evening. Eventually Lucy invited the two to go back into the little +cabin in the rear of the gallery where she carried on her trifling +domestic activities. Filer readily agreed to this, and presently the +three were seated around a table in Lucy's cabin, with a coal-oil lamp +on it, a deck of cards suggestively in evidence, and a bottle of +precious brandy and glasses. Lucy had brought from San Francisco her +leopard-skin rug, the overstuffed chairs, and her other extravagances +in house furnishings. Their contrast with the new pine walls of the +cabin produced an effect quite startling and bizarre. Basil Filer saw +none of it, however. He became very drowsy when he was seated. Al +Drummond winked at Lucy. +</P> + +<P> +The girl shook her head, and presently, seeing that the prospector was +almost asleep, leaned toward her fellow conspirator and whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't hurry about getting his roll. Try to liven him up and get him +to talking. I'm curious. He's got something on his mind that may make +that buckskin bag look like thirty cents." +</P> + +<P> +"Get the jack," ordered Al. "To-morrow he won't even remember he ever +saw us. You're letting your story-telling instinct warp your judgment, +Lucy. You're looking for mysteries. I'll get that roll right now." +</P> + +<P> +"No, leave it, Al, please! You can get it later, if I'm wrong. But I +just feel that this old fella's got something locked up in his breast. +Rouse him and leave him to me. I'll make him talk. I'm sorry you +doped him. You may have spoiled everything." +</P> + +<P> +At this instant she looked up to see the bleary old eyes fixed on her +intently. +</P> + +<P> +"Feeling better, Uncle?" she asked lightly. "I've got some +bromo-seltzer. I'll give you a shot; it will liven you up. Don't want +to go down and out so early in the evening, old sport!" +</P> + +<P> +"Desert girl, huh?" thickly muttered Basil Filer. "Huh—I know +somethin' 'bout you. You was found on the desert, wasn't ye—when +you's li'l' girl—baby girl? I know. Can't fool o' Filer. B'en +huntin' you f'r years." He closed his eyes again, and his head sank +forward on his breast. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy shook him awake and prepared a dose of bromo-seltzer, which he +readily drank at her command. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you know about me, Uncle?" she asked. "What you said is the +truth. I was found on the desert here when I was a baby girl. But how +did you know? Tell me all about it. Do you know my father's name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure! Sure! Name was Len-Len-Len-Leonard Prince. You're Jean +Prince. Len Prince was m' ol' pardner. I'm lookin'—lookin' for the +claim Len Prince and me and The Chink found—and lost ag'in. Rich! +Yellow with gol'. You're Jean Prince—I know. I c'n prove it by your +head. Tha's what I wanta see—yer head—down under the hair. That'll +tell me you're Baby Jean Prince. Then I c'n find the gold." +</P> + +<P> +Lucy clutched Al Drummond's arm. "Listen to him! Listen to him!" she +breathed. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram Hooker stood aghast in the entrance of the Palace Dance Hall. +All eyes within were focused on a couple waltzing in the center of the +floor to low music. The man was a Mr. Dalworth, Ragtown's new banker, +in charge of the branch of a Los Angeles banking institution that had +been opened in the frontier camp. The girl, smiling and radiant and +glistening with pale-blue silk and gems, was his adventure girl, +Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +Never had Hiram seen Jo in anything but a flannel shirt, Stetson hat, +and chaps or divided riding skirt. Despite the fact that she was +making money fast and that he was working for her at ninety dollars a +month, Hiram had not before looked upon her as entirely out of his +reach. He was learning fast, and had lost much of his backwoods +uncouthness. He loved Jerkline Jo as only a big-hearted, simple-souled +man can love a woman. Some day, he had told himself, he would do +something to make himself worthy of her, for he never would ask her to +marry him while he was in her employ. He was too proud to ask an +independent girl to marry him when he had nothing to offer. +</P> + +<P> +That rare feminine creature gliding so gracefully over the floor with +the dapper, well-dressed banker, however, plunged Hiram into the depths +of despair. Financially, mentally, and now socially, he felt her +altogether out of his world. He had forgotten until now her days at +school and in polite society. +</P> + +<P> +It did not make him think the worse of her to see her dancing in a +saloon, with rough men from the cities standing about and looking on +admirably. Ragtown was Ragtown, and people did things here which would +have ostracized them from decent society elsewhere. It was not this +that hurt; he knew that the girl was pure-minded and that her morals +were flawless, despite what prudish persons—of which there were none +in Ragtown—might have thought of her choice of the place which she +chose to satisfy her whim of the evening. Jo was one of those rare +souls who can pass among evil men and women and not only not be +contaminated, but preserve an unsullied reputation, too. It was the +dress and the glittering tones and the wonderful coiffure, and her +gentlemanly, well-groomed partner of the dance, that caused him to turn +away, bitter and broken in spirit. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, how do you like her to-night?" came a taunting voice. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy Dalles had stepped beside him and peering in at the revel. +</P> + +<P> +"Some class, eh? Some lady, I'll say! Oh, sure!" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram could have choked her, but without a remark he sped away from her +into the night. +</P> + +<P> +It was then that Lucy Dallas clenched her teeth and hurled invective at +the radiant girl within. +</P> + +<P> +She left the scene and hurried back to her little cabin, where the +crazy prospector, Basil Filer, lay in a heap on the floor, snoring +loudly. +</P> + +<P> +A moment after her entry Al Drummond came in again with another man +following him. +</P> + +<P> +"How much jack did you leave him?" he whispered to the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"I left it all. It's safest. What I copied from the paper will be +worth a thousand times what's in that money bag." +</P> + +<P> +"Just the same, I want money now—to-night," Drummond said, and, +stooping, pulled the poke from the shirt front of the unconscious miner. +</P> + +<P> +"Take only half of it, then," Lucy pleaded. "Then he'll think he spent +that much. Don't be a piker, Al. You've got something big to work +for, and you try to spoil it by rolling a stiff for a few dollars." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond grunted, slipped a wad of bills into his trousers pocket, and +replaced the poke in the desert rat's shirt. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Stool," he said to the other man. "You take his head; I'll +take his feet." +</P> + +<P> +A little later a train of pack burros moved away from Ragtown into the +desert night. +</P> + +<P> +A mile from town the man Stool halted them and waited, and presently +heard the chug of a motor. Soon Al Drummond drove up in the last of +his five-ton trucks, in the bottom of which, tossed about, lay the +still unconscious form of the old prospector. +</P> + +<P> +The two men worked swiftly, and slanted two twelve-inch planks two +inches thick from the rear end of the truck to the ground. With ropes +about the necks of the desert rat's six burros, they hauled and +hammered and coaxed them one by one aboard the truck. Then on into the +night they drove, over the vast, black desert. +</P> + +<P> +Seventy-five miles from Ragtown they stopped the car, and unloaded the +burros and their snoring master. They rolled the man in his blankets, +then set the burros' packs about in orderly array and loosed the little +animals to crop the bunch grass that was green and succulent in winter. +From one pack bag they took cooking utensils and other articles, and +ranged them about on the ground as the old man himself might have done +upon making camp. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll wake up to-morrow and think he dreamed about Ragtown," chuckled +Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +"He sure will know he's nutty then," said Stool. +</P> + +<P> +They climbed once more into the truck, and before dawn were back in the +city of tents and new pine shacks. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHAT HAPPENED AT THE LAKE +</H3> + + +<P> +Shortly before dusk on the night following Jerkline Jo's revel in +Ragtown, the empty wagons of her train rumbled to the highest point in +the mountain pass and were drawn up side by side, like an artillery +organization in "battery-front" formation, on the shores of the +mountain lake. +</P> + +<P> +Jo's fireless cooker had been working for her throughout the trip, and +while her bantering skinners cared for the teams and greased the great +axles in preparation for the morrow's journey, the girl made ready the +evening meal. +</P> + +<P> +At last supper was over, and, as was their custom, the men helped her +wash the dishes. Thus the task became a short one. The men settled +down to their smoking about the crackling camp fire, and as light still +remained at this high altitude, Jo decided on a stroll along the lake +shore. +</P> + +<P> +All about stood the tall peaks, their crests snow-mantled. Over the +level lowlands about the lake the silent forests of pine and fir swept +away on all sides. The lake, some two miles in length, lay like an +opal in the palm of the mountains, flashing fiery colors that it stole +from the sunset clouds above it. +</P> + +<P> +The air was chill and quiet. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the +tranquil lake, so cold and remote. Jo buttoned her coat for warmth and +trudged on away from the camp, watching flocks of chattering mudhens +and mallards that fed on a long spaghettilike growth which grew on the +lake bottom and floated to the surface. +</P> + +<P> +She walked for a mile before she turned. She was thinking of the +previous night, and of the banker's unexpected proposal of marriage +when she had accepted his invitation for supper after the dance. She +had known Dalworth only a short time, and his ardent wooing had come as +a distinct surprise. +</P> + +<P> +Now she had turned back toward the winking eye of the camp fire, which +threw a brilliant dagger of light across the now dark lake. In the +stream of fiery color, water fowl bobbed about grotesquely. Close at +hand was a grove of pines, a few trees extending down to the shore, +though for the most part the land immediately about the lake was an +open, grassy meadow. She heard a slight rustling in among the pines as +she passed them. +</P> + +<P> +She had not strapped on her cartridge belt and six-shooter when leaving +camp. In fact, she seldom carried the weapon, but always kept it +hanging close to her hand in the wagon. Now and then she strapped it +on when in Ragtown, for of late an element had been sifting in with +which she was not familiar. It represented the riffraff from the +cities—men who knew nothing of construction camps and were unaware of +the fact that she, because of old associations and a thorough +understanding of frontier men and frontier life, could enter a dance +hall and still be respected and absolutely safe from harm. One of +these had put an arm about her one night, and promptly had been +rewarded with a blow on the nose; for Jo did not slap when she +administered rebuke, but punched expertly and powerfully, as does a +man. Next moment the offender had been pitched bodily into the street +by as many rough hands as could lay hold of him. Only Jo's +intervention had saved the man from being kicked into insensibility. +</P> + +<P> +Once again she heard the rustling, and wished that she had her gun. It +was only some animals, she told herself—a coon or a skunk, or perhaps +a wild cat or coyote prowling about to spring upon an unsuspecting +mudhen that had swam too far inshore. Still, a strange dread seized +her, and she quickened her step. +</P> + +<P> +Again she heard the rustle and the sound of a soft footfall. No animal +would have produced that single, rather heavy tread. She glanced +apprehensively toward the dark trees, and it seemed to her that she saw +a black upright bulk move stealthily from one trunk to another. +</P> + +<P> +Then two things happened at once. From the pines stealthily emerged +the figure of a man—there was no mistaking it. But in the same +instant there came a call from close at hand: +</P> + +<P> +"Jo! Jo! Where are you?" +</P> + +<P> +A feeling of vast relief came over the girl as she recognized the +caressing voice of the man from Wild-cat Hill. Instantly the figure on +her left faded; the blur of it became one with the shadows of the trees. +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram!" she called gladly. "Here I am! Hurry!" +</P> + +<P> +The sound of running feet answered her, and in a little while the big +form of Hiram Hooker reached her side. +</P> + +<P> +Jo was breathing weakly. She could not remember of ever before having +been so near a panic or fright. What had caused the unfamiliar feeling +now was a mystery to her—unless the suggested menace in the sight of +the dark, skulking figure had been augmented by the ghostly quietude of +the black forest and the unfriendly solitude of the cold mountain lake. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Hiram!" she cried. "I'm so glad you're here! Hiram—I—I believe +I'm sc-scared." +</P> + +<P> +How it happened neither of them knew, for all at once his powerful arms +were about her, and she had crept into them as less courageous women +instinctively seek the protection of the stronger sex. His arms +tightened and she pressed closer to him as if she were cold and seeking +warmth. Hiram was ablaze with love for her and exultation. He lifted +her bodily from the ground, and her lips quivered against his. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Hiram! Hiram!" she cried then as if in terror. "What am I doing? +What is the matter with me? You kissed me, Hiram, and—and I let you! +I must have been terribly frightened. I—I seem to have lost my +reason." +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! Don't say that!" begged Hiram huskily. "Jo, I love you! +You love me, Jo. Say you love me." +</P> + +<P> +She hid her face against his breast and said nothing, but her shoulders +shook. +</P> + +<P> +"Jo, say it!" he pleaded. "Don't torment me! You must love me. You +came to my arms when trouble threatened. Tell me that you love me, Jo!" +</P> + +<P> +She only trembled and shivered as if cold. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, Jo! Don't torture me. Tell me that you love me!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a stifled sob; then, in muffled tones: +</P> + +<P> +"You big, blind country jake! If you don't know that I'm telling you +that with every nerve and fiber of my being, you deserve torture!" +</P> + +<P> +The forest and the lake came together in Hiram's vision, then vanished. +There was no lake, no trees, no sentinel peaks about them. +</P> + +<P> +"But, Jo," said Hiram as they walked back slowly toward the camp, his +arm about her waist, "I can't marry you. I've got nothing—I'm only +your skinner. You—why, your profits every month run up into four +figures. Oh, I wish you hadn't a cent! I wish Drummond had beaten us +out!" +</P> + +<P> +"What foolish talk!" she said scornfully. "What is money? I care so +little for money, Hiram. It was only to try and preserve from total +collapse all my hard-working, indomitable, old foster father had built +up so patiently that I undertook the freighting job. I've made +money—lots of it—and if you think you and the rest of the boys +haven't had a big share in my success you're all wrong. We'll keep on +skinning them to Ragtown till the steel is laid; then I mean to do +something handsome by the men who have been so loyal to me, and sell +the outfit. Then"—she sighed—"then something else," she finished. +</P> + +<P> +"But that's neither here nor there," Hiram pointed out. "I'm penniless +compared with you. I couldn't marry a girl who had money while I have +nothing to offer her. I'm too much of a man for that. Why, everything +that I have I owe to you—even the education I am so slowly acquiring." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I won't listen to such talk, Hiram! Most of my money is invested +in Tweet's project, anyway. We'll let him handle it, and you and I +will continue to study and improve ourselves. Then when Tweet begins +to pay us dividends we'll travel, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"On your money! Not in a thousand years!" +</P> + +<P> +"You're bull-headed about a trifle, Hiram," she accused. +</P> + +<P> +"Jo," he said after a thoughtful pause, "don't wear that blue silk +dress and those diamonds and have your hair fixed that way any more. +It—it makes me feel hollowlike." +</P> + +<P> +They had almost forgotten the man in the pines, there was so much else +to think about now. Jo was almost ready to confess that she had +imagined the entire incident—that she had heard only a prowling animal +and had seen the shadow of a shrub. Hiram, on his part, was too +triumphant over the thought that he, only a few months from the +backwoods of Mendocino County, had captured the heart of this splendid +girl, whom men praised and admired and swore by throughout all the +desert region. +</P> + +<P> +Still the man was stubborn. In him was a knight-errantry which forbade +him to marry a girl and profit by the rewards of her pluck, energy, and +business courage. If he could not make money to offer her, he must do +something big for her, must win for her some conflict that threatened +her fortunes, must make himself worthy of her by some great service. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram still kept his boyish dreams of the adventure girl who had +beckoned him from the forests to deeds of emprise. He had found his +adventure girl, but he would not consider that he had won her yet. He +little knew that night that his opportunity was close at hand, and that +the shadow which the coming event had cast before it had lurked there +in the lakeside pines. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JO LOSES HER SUPPORT +</H3> + + +<P> +Eight days later Jerkline Jo leaned on the ledge of the office window +in Huber's store at Ragtown and handed him the various papers which +accompanied a consignment of freight from Julia. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no hay, Jo," he cried, looking up in perplexity and worriment. +</P> + +<P> +"The Mulligan Supply Company was short of hay when we left," Jo +explained. "They hoped to have a trainload in by the time I got back." +</P> + +<P> +"There's the dickens to pay!" he grumbled. "They know I have to have +hay right along. I've a standing order for at least half a load of hay +every trip. These settlers are buying it fast. I have only ten bales +on hand. Next fellow that comes along will probably want all ten of +them. A nice mess! What's the matter with those Ikes over there at +Julia? Are they asleep?" +</P> + +<P> +"It seems they've had some difficulty in getting alfalfa here lately," +the girl explained. "I'm sorry, Mr. Huber. The best I can do for you +is to promise to bring every bale I can next trip." +</P> + +<P> +"Rush it," ordered the merchant. "If you can make it, let somebody +else's order ride, Jo, and bring me every pound you can." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see what can be done," was her promise as she left and went to +the little cabin that she had had built for her at the edge of town. +</P> + +<P> +Here she cleansed herself of the stains of the trip, and substituted +for chaps and flannel shirt a new tailor-made suit which had just come +from Los Angeles. As she was about to go out again Twitter-or-Tweet +Orr Tweet knocked on her door. +</P> + +<P> +"Jo," he said with his whimsical smile, "I'm showing a couple o' men +some property, and thought you might like to take a ride. You've never +seen much of the cultivated land, have you—except from a distance? +Come 'n' see what chances your money's got in Paloma Rancho, the +Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey. Won't be gone over an +hour." +</P> + +<P> +His car was waiting, with his two prospective land purchasers in the +tonneau. Jo readily agreed, for she had nothing to occupy her, and +Tweet helped her in beside the driver's seat, after introducing the men +to her. +</P> + +<P> +Tweet drove slowly and talked a great deal, steering the car with one +hand and directing his conversation at all three of his listeners. He +dwelt at length to the strangers on Jerkline Jo's great success in her +freighting enterprise, not neglecting to mention that she was investing +a great portion of her profits in Paloma Rancho. The men were +impressed. +</P> + +<P> +Jo, too, was impressed with Tweet's abilities as a salesman. He +emanated confidence, and his enthusiasm seemed well-founded and +sincere. In fact, the new alfalfa ranches and the orchards of young +pear trees looked promising indeed, and the projects showed evidences +of thrift and capability on the part of the ranchers and near-ranchers +who had bought land on contract from the discoverer of Paloma Rancho's +dormant possibilities. +</P> + +<P> +Tweet told of his idea of eventually tapping the mountain lake near +which Jo was wont to camp and bringing the water down to irrigate such +portions of desert land as might require it; for there were places +where three hundred feet of boring had not developed a drop of the +precious fluid. The promoter had an engineer's estimate of the cost of +the entire water system, and said that his original figures had been +pretty close. +</P> + +<P> +It all seemed feasible, and things looked generally prosperous. Jo +enjoyed her ride and the opportunity to see what had been accomplished. +Returning, however, the complete enjoyment of the trip was marred by +tire trouble, and, with one thing and another, it was nine o'clock at +night before the party, reached Ragtown. +</P> + +<P> +They were ravenously hungry, and Tweet invited the three to dinner in +the town's closest approach to a satisfactory restaurant. It was after +ten o'clock when they left the table. Tweet gallantly asked to +accompany Jo to her cabin, and both were laughing at the absurdity of a +girl like Jerkline Jo needing an escort, when Hiram Hooker hurried up +to them. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I c'n see who's cut out," said Tweet, assuming a mournful +expression. "So, if you don't mind, Jo, I'll get over to the hotel and +keep after those two suckers. Take care of her, Wild Cat, and do +whatever she tells you to do, or answer to me with your life. There's +only one Jerkline Jo, you know, and the world needs her all the time. +So long, playmates!" +</P> + +<P> +"Jo," said Hiram when Tweet had bustled away up the dimly lighted +street, "there's an awful mess. Heine and Jim and Tom and Blink are +all drunk as fiddlers!" +</P> + +<P> +"What!" Jo stopped in her tracks and held him by the arm. "Oh, dear!" +she cried. "How could they do such a thing! I've watched them so +carefully, and they've been so good. But the moment I'm out of their +sight for a few hours—— Oh, dear! I didn't think that they'd treat +me that way!" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't get it straight myself, Jo," Hiram told her. "They always +hoist a few when we get in, and sometimes I join them. I've never +before seen any of them when he wasn't at least able to ramble safely +back to camp. But to-night they're all four dead to the world. I +can't even shake a word out of them. Heine just sits there in the +Dugout, with his head on his breast, and is like a dead man." +</P> + +<P> +"Where were you?" +</P> + +<P> +"In camp—studying. About half past nine I thought I'd stroll into +town and get a cigar and see what the boys were doing. I couldn't find +them in the Palace, and went from place to place till I stumbled on +them in the Dugout, every last one of them down and out. I was looking +for Tweet, to have him take the bunch of them to camp in his car, when +I saw you folks come out of the restaurant." +</P> + +<P> +"The Dugout," puzzled Jo. "Do they go there often?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly ever. It's the worst dump in town, as you know. They're all +crooked enough, but I've heard strange whisperings about certain shady +happenings in the Dugout." +</P> + +<P> +"Was anybody with them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not when I found them." +</P> + +<P> +"Hiram," said Jo, "it sounds like dope to me. They're loyal to me, I +tell you. No, they're not to blame—they'd never treat me that way. +They've been doped." +</P> + +<P> +"But why? And by whom?" +</P> + +<P> +"Those are questions. None of them have any money on them to speak of, +I know. I've got the bank pass books of every one of them in my chest. +Again, who'd have the nerve to dope and try to roll a skinner of +Jerkline Jo's? He'd be playing with fire. These dive keepers know all +about me; they know my power. I could mobilize an army of two hundred +stiffs in an hour's time, and if I asked it they'd lay every dump in +Ragtown flat. You bet these parasites know better than to trifle with +Jerkline Jo." +</P> + +<P> +Her dark eyes flashed angrily in the light of a store window. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, let's not stand here bewailing our fate like children lost in +the woods. We've simply got to <I>get</I> out to-morrow. Mr. Huber is wild +about the shortness of his stock of hay, and I promised to rush him all +I could. Get Tweet and dump my boys into his car and take 'em to camp. +We'll see what we can do to bring them out of it and make them fit for +the trip by morning." +</P> + +<P> +Far into the morning hours, in the outfit's camp on the edge of town, +Jo and Hiram strove to revive the stupefied men, but nothing beyond +groans could they get from them. +</P> + +<P> +"They're doped, Hiram—pitilessly doped!" Jo cried in despair at last. +"Go for Doctor Dennison. Carry him on your shoulders if he won't come." +</P> + +<P> +The medical man came readily at Hiram's request, and after a brief +examination of the sluggish men remarked that Jo's surmise had been +correct. He then ordered her to go to her cabin and get some badly +needed sleep, and at once went to work on the unconscious quartet, with +Hiram aiding all he could. +</P> + +<P> +"Whoever did this cursed thing, Wild Cat," said the physician, "was an +amateur. He might have killed them. They've taken aboard terrible +doses, and I can tell you right now that not one of them will start for +Julia to-day. You may as well tell Jo to make other arrangements." +</P> + +<P> +His prophecy proved correct. Heine Schultz had regained consciousness +when dawn came, but was unable to tell a coherent story of what had +occurred, and was deathly sick. The other three still remained +unresponsive to the doctor's treatment. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Jo, when she answered Hiram's knock on her cabin door at +five-thirty, "what must be must. Huber has to have hay. I promised +it, and Jerkline Jo never, never breaks a promise. So hook up the +blacks and whites, Hiram, and lead six of Heine's team to be added to +yours and six of Jim's for me. Hook on two trailers. You and I will +make it to Julia and drive sixteen each back here with Huber's hay. +That's the very best we can do, but we'll do that the best we know how. +I'll be out by the time you get 'em hooked up. We'll nibble our +breakfast as we travel. Shoot the piece, Hiram boy, my knight from +Wild-cat Hill!" +</P> + +<P> +That night in a pelting hail storm Jerkline Jo and Hiram went into camp +beside the mountain lake, and the stage was set for the second act in +the plot cooked up by the two who had lost all principle under +Ragtown's subtle influence—Al Drummond and Lucy Dalles. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE HAIRPIN CURVE +</H3> + + +<P> +The storm in the mountains continued all night, the downpour shifting +from hail to sleet and from sleet to a cold, drenching rain. Jo in her +remote little tent kept dry and comfortable. Hiram kept the same, +rolled in his blankets under a wagon, the ground about it ditched to +run the water off. There was shelter for the mules and horses, too, +for at the approach of winter Jo had freighted to the mountain camping +site sufficient lumber for a roof, which was supported by poles cut +from the forest. +</P> + +<P> +It was still dark and raining when the two beleaguered freighters +continued their journey next morning. Hiram, with eight of his own +black horses hitched to the wagon, and four span of mules and horses +leading, went ahead, as usual. They left the level mountain valley +that swaddled the lake and started down the steep grades toward the +Julia side of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have a pull coming back if this keeps up!" Jo shouted through +the rain, just as Hiram's teams began negotiating the system of hairpin +curves upon which Jo's skinners had rolled the boulder in retaliation +for the drained water tank. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram did not hear her, for the wagons were rumbling, thirty-two sets +of big hoofs were sloshing in mud, the bells a-jingle, the rain a roar. +</P> + +<P> +Jo wore a yellow oilskin slicker and a sou'wester of the same material, +and rubber knee boots. Only her pretty face, smiling from the +concealing garments, showed that she was a woman. +</P> + +<P> +The animals that trailed behind Hiram's wagon went out of sight around +the first curve. The last of these mules were not a hundred feet ahead +of the noses of Jo's white leaders. As her leaders reached the curve +Jo called shrilly to her off-pointer to cross the chain and pull the +wagon away from the rock wall on the right-hand side. Obediently the +mare stepped over the chain, and she and her mate began pulling the +pole at an angle of forty-five degrees from the direction in which the +leaders and swings were traveling. The wagon and its trailer made the +sharp curve, and the mare was stepping back into place at Jo's command, +when suddenly the girl's breathing was shut off, and she was whipped +from her feet as if a cyclone had struck her. +</P> + +<P> +Several pairs of arms were about her; a heavy cloth was over her mouth +and nose and eyes. Fighting frantically against she knew not what, she +was borne rapidly toward the tail-end of the wagon. Some one's arms +were about her middle; another pair circled her shoulders; still +another held her booted legs at the knees. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to scream, but only a vague b-b-r-r sounded through the cloth +that covered her face. She kicked and clawed and twisted and jerked +and squirmed with surprising suddenness. Nevertheless, a rope was +bound about her slicker, round and round from her shoulders to her +ankles, swathing her like the bandages of a mummy, until she was almost +as stiff as one. She heard the roar of the rain, but no sound of her +moving team. She was whipped from the ground as if she weighed no more +than ten pounds; and in a horizontal position the three pairs of arms +bore her along rapidly in the direction that she had come, much as if +she were a roll of canvas bound about with marline hitches. +</P> + +<P> +Presently she felt herself ascending; then wet foliage brushed her +face. Not a word had been spoken—almost she had heard not a sound, +because of the noise of the rain and the slushy hoofbeats and the +bells. Whoever her captors were, they had lain in wait until the elbow +of the curve separated Hiram's outfit and hers, and then had climbed in +her wagon at the rear and stolen stealthily upon her from behind. +Their work had been distressingly thorough. +</P> + +<P> +She was not greatly frightened, merely stunned and bewildered. What on +earth could be the meaning of such an act, was the question that kept +uppermost in her thoughts as she felt herself borne swiftly along +through the dripping forest. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime, Hiram Hooker had looked back to watch Jerkline Jo's whites +round the curve. There were not many opportunities for looking back at +the girl that Hiram did not improve. He loved to watch Jo's expert +handling of the team in tight places. It made a picture to delight the +heart of any man. He saw the leaders come around, then the swings. +Next he saw the off pointer mare recrossing the chain and returning to +place. Then came the butt team and—an empty wagon. +</P> + +<P> +For an instant or two Hiram gazed unbelievingly, then turned and set +his brake, calling to his team to whoa. Next moment he was running +back. +</P> + +<P> +He sprang into Jo's empty wagon, set the brake, and stopped her team. +Then he was out by the tail end, running back along the road, calling +frantically. +</P> + +<P> +On the left-hand side of the road yawned a chasm, five hundred feet in +depth. Had something happened? Had Jo fallen down this precipice? +</P> + +<P> +As he ran he skirted the edge, shouting down. Only the pelting rain +and the swish of forest trees made a mocking answer. If for any reason +the girl had been obliged to leave the wagon, she would have stopped +her team. This was no place to allow a team to travel alone. +</P> + +<P> +He was thunderstruck—scarce able to believe his senses. Back in the +road he trotted along, his blue eyes searching expertly in the mud for +signs of what had happened. But it seemed that the trampling of the +animals that were following Jo's wagon had obliterated every trace, +provided the girl had been afoot in the road. And she must have been +afoot there, or flown up into the sky! +</P> + +<P> +Ah! He came to an abrupt halt. In the mud at the roadside was a +single footprint—the print of a man's shoe. Then on the rock wall on +the right-hand side of the road, and close to the footprint, was fresh +mud. On hands and knees Hiram climbed up the rocky slope, and at the +top found mud again. Buckthorn bushes grew close by. Some one had +brushed against them recently, for the raindrops had been shaken from +the leaves. In all the big-timber country of Mendocino County there +had been no surer trailer than Hiram Hooker. For days he had followed +panther and bear, eventually to track them to their lairs. No big +animal hunt ever had been considered complete without Hiram Hooker to +go along. +</P> + +<P> +He remembered the incident of the man in the pines by the lake shore +and groaned: "Fools!" he muttered. "They thought the rain would help +cover their trail, where it only makes it plainer. Men can't travel +through wet bushes without leaving a trail that looks like it had been +made with whitewash and a broom. What has happened? Oh, Jo! Jo!" +</P> + +<P> +He was off at a lope, his eyes darting glances hither and thither, +following the trail as accurately as a hound follows a scent. Here +leaves glistened with raindrops—there they looked dull. The trail was +plain. +</P> + +<P> +What has happened? The footprint of a man, and no sight of tracks made +by the girl! Hiram was unarmed. He had left his wagon too surprised +to think of grabbing up the Colt that he carried. Should he go back +now and get Jo's six-shooter? No, the rain was falling too fast. Soon +the bushes that the kidnapers had brushed in their escape would be +covered with drops of water again, and the tail would vanish, since the +land was rocky and showed no footprints. He must keep as close to the +fleeing men as possible. He knew there must be more than one to +manhandle Jerkline Jo! +</P> + +<P> +Thus raced his thoughts as he sped on, never for an instant faltering +on the trail. +</P> + +<P> +"If it only doesn't rain harder!" came his groan. He prayed with +childlike simplicity against this calamity, for more rain would wipe +out the trail altogether. +</P> + +<P> +He saw a large pine knot as he ran along, and paused to grasp it up. +It was heavy with pitch and shaped like the warclub of an Indian. It +was, in fact, too heavy, and few men would have considered it in the +light of a weapon. Fifty yards farther Hiram found a mate to it, and +picked it up too. Then he sped on and on into the forest of pines and +firs, praying that the brush would not give out and make his trailing +slower. +</P> + +<P> +If these men ahead of him were trusting to their own legs to get away +with Jerkline Jo, their legs would have to be better than any Hiram +Hooker ever before had matched his own against. Why, he could keep up +this pace for hours and hours! He knew more about surmounting the +difficulties of a forest wilderness than any man in the south, he +proudly told himself. These woods were as nothing compared with the +majestic, seemingly endless sweep of the vast forests which he had +roamed since childhood! If they did not take to horses, he'd make them +sick of their bargains before they had gone many miles! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +UNDER THE DRIPPING TREES +</H3> + + +<P> +Vaguely Hiram Hooker sensed a diabolical plot as he pounded on through +the rain, tireless, determined, remorseless, on the trail of the +abductors of Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +The doping of his four fellow skinners at Ragtown had a part in the +plan. It had been done deliberately to force the girl and Hiram into +the wilderness alone. Some one had known of Huber's shortage of hay, +and had schemed accordingly, aware of Jerkline Jo's eternal willingness +to do her best by her patrons, regardless of the strain upon herself. +The plotters had not been able to get at Hiram. Perhaps they had not +tried. Jerkline Jo would hardly essay a trip to Julia and back alone. +Too many difficulties might arise on the road that a lone skinner—even +a man skinner—could not cope with. So they perhaps had not molested +Hiram, hoping, if he were on his feet, that the girl would attempt the +trip with him. They had waited at the first U curve, and the moment he +was out of sight had pounced upon her. Suppose he had not chanced to +look back? The many curves ahead would have hidden her from him for +nearly an hour after that first one had been passed. That would have +given them a start, the disadvantage of which he could not have +overcome. As it was, though, he knew that he was hot on their trail, +and burdened as they were, was gaining on them at every leap. Was +Drummond back of this? Hiram could think of no one else who would be +even remotely at enmity with the lovable Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +He brought up suddenly and squatted behind a bush of southern +manzanita. Just ahead, in an open portion of the forest, was a group +of three men, standing in a circle about a stiff, immovable figure on +the ground. Three saddled horses stood close by, their tails turned +toward the rain, their heads lowered disconsolately. +</P> + +<P> +The men had just stopped and laid down their burden, which was nothing +else than the tightly bound body of Jerkline Jo. All three men wore +masks over their faces and new bright-blue overalls to further aid in +hiding their identities. Hiram saw the rope about the girl, running in +a spiral from her shoulders to her ankles. He saw the cloth over her +face, knotted behind her head. +</P> + +<P> +What should he do? There were three men standing about the girl, +rubbing their arms, which probably ached from the strain of carrying +her. Beyond a doubt they were armed. He tried to think, to plan; but +in the midst of it all half-formulated schemes deserted him because of +the sudden action of one of them. +</P> + +<P> +He had taken something from his pocket, and now he and another stooped +over the prostrate figure of the girl. One man grasped her head in +both hands; the next instant Hiram realized with horror that a blade +was gleaming dully through the rain in the right hand of the other man. +The third stooped and squatted on Jo's ankles. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram Hooker had at least one more accomplishment than has been +mentioned. As a boy he had used it to terrify his elders on dark +nights in the forest. He could imitate the piercing, blood-chilling +scream of the prowling panther until women in lonely forest cabins +clutched their breasts in fear, and men's faces blanched. Sprinting +from his place of concealment like a football player, crouching low as +he ran, he bore down upon the three men, and had almost reached them +before he loosed that terrorizing cry. Before it had died out in the +lonely, dripping wilderness, he was flailing right and left with a huge +pine knot in either hand, amazing and invincible as Sampson with his +jawbone of an ass. +</P> + +<P> +With yells of terror, the trio rocked back on their haunches and +struggled frantically to gain their feet. There was a sickening crack, +and the man who had held Jo's head pitched backward, a victim of one of +Hiram's warclubs. Swinging about, he aimed a blow with his left-hand +club, but its intended target ducked, and the club descended on the +man's shoulder, wringing a cry of pain from lips that whitened suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +The third man was up now, and sprang upon Hiram's back. The other +charged him from in front. Hiram hurled his left-hand club straight +into this man's face, and with his free hand reached down and grasped +the left leg of the man who had climbed him in the rear. Carrying this +man, who all the time was raining blows on his head, Hiram ran with all +his might for a close-by pine. As he neared it he whirled about and +threw himself at it backward with every atom of his force. +</P> + +<P> +There followed a terrible impact, and in his ear exploded the breath of +the man on his back, as he came in violent contact with the trunk of +the tree. The shock pitched Hiram forward on his face, and the man who +had climbed upon him fell limply to the earth, the wind entirely +crushed out of him. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram bounded to his feet and confronted the man into whose face he had +thrown the pine knot, and who now was rushing him, brandishing a +revolver. Hiram's blow had knocked the mask from this man's face, but +it was a face that Hiram had never seen before. +</P> + +<P> +A shot barked dully in the heavy atmosphere of the forest, and the +smoke hung in a little ball. Hiram felt the impact of the bullet, and +was whirled half around with the force of it. He knew he had been hit +some place—in the breast or shoulder perhaps—but as yet felt not the +slightest pain. Fire flashed in his very face, now, and this time he +smelled the acrid powder; but he had been in motion when the trigger +was pressed and the bullet whined away fretfully through the trees. On +the heels of the second report came that sickening crack once more, and +the face of the man that glared through the smoke at Hiram went red +with a smear of blood. +</P> + +<P> +He sank to his knees, and Hiram spun about just in time to aim another +crashing blow at the skull of the man whom he had catapulted into the +tree. His mask still held in place, but his hat was off and Hiram saw +that his hair was brown and wavy. There had not been time to aim, and +the blow fell on his assailant's neck. +</P> + +<P> +They clinched, went down together, rolling over and over, clawing at +each other like fighting lynxes. +</P> + +<P> +"Gi' me the paper! Gi' me the paper!" yelled a voice, as Hiram climbed +uppermost on his man and fought to free his entangled arms. +</P> + +<P> +At the same instant other arms were thrown about him from behind. The +man he had hit first had reëntered the fight, it seemed. +</P> + +<P> +With a herculean heave the man from Wild-cat Hill lurched backward, +carrying his lighter assailant with him. Hiram had lost his club. He +grasped the man on his back by the under part of his thighs, as he had +the other, and lifted his feet from the ground. Then, so quickly that +the man was taken off his guard, Hiram leaped into the air and fell +backward, falling with all the weight of his huge body on the man who +clung to him like an abalone to a rock. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Wuff</I>!" he heard again, as the fellow's breath forsook him in a spasm +of pain. He lost his hold on Hiram, and Hiram flopped over. +</P> + +<P> +"Run! Get a horse! Get away with the paper!" this fellow choked; and +as Hiram sprang upon him he saw the other rise and totter toward a +horse. +</P> + +<P> +Crashing a blow to the face of the man under him, Hiram sprang to his +feet and lunged at the one who was fleeing. Whatever "the paper" +meant, it was the nucleus of the plot, it appeared, and Hiram purposed +to have it. +</P> + +<P> +But, grasping frantically for a stirrup, then sprawling along the neck +of the nearest horse, the man yelled to the animal, and it leaped away +with him through the trees. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram whirled back, beaten in that direction, and made for the other, +who was on his feet and also running toward the two remaining mounts. +The third man still lay inert. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram started running for the second escaping man, but suddenly his +knees refused to hold his legs to their accustomed task. Blindness was +coming upon him, but he continued to grope toward the horses. Then +again came the sounds of rapidly thundering hoofs. Hiram Hooker sighed +weakly and placed both hands to his breast, which seemed weighted with +some heavy object, or bound about tightly with a rope. His hands came +away red and wet He wilted in his tracks, sighed again, and seemed to +drift placidly into a deep, soothing sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Then a noise partially awoke him. His senses swam, and he thought he +heard himself laughing crazily, but could not make sure whether he was +laughing or only had imagined it. A man was reeling toward the +remaining horse, both hands to his head, and he looked so helpless and +befuddled that Hiram laughed again—or thought he did. The man groaned +and mumbled, then fell flat on his face, as a baby falls in an +unchecked collapse. A little while he lay there, then struggled to his +feet again, and tottered toward the horse, who seemed to be neighing +shrilly for the mates that had deserted him. +</P> + +<P> +Why, that was what Hiram had heard, he reasoned. He had not been +laughing at all. A long space of semiconsciousness. Then came the +dull thunder of hoofs once more. Hiram half raised his body on an +elbow. There lay Jerkline Jo, stiff and immovable in her yellow +oilskins. There was no one else about. Save himself, of course, but +he was so sleepy. +</P> + +<P> +He fell back with a crash. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FOUR-UP FOR HELP +</H3> + + +<P> +Bound and helpless, Jerkline Jo Modock lay on the ground and listened +to the sounds of the battle raging around her. She knew that her hero +from Wild-cat Hill had come with his terrorizing panther scream, and +she heard curses and thudding clubs, then popping revolver shots. +</P> + +<P> +She was struggling desperately to free herself of her bonds, but she +only wearied herself and accomplished nothing. With her teeth she +chewed at the cloth that covered her face, trying to draw it down below +her eyes, so that she could at least see; but her efforts here proved +futile, too. Then she began twisting her head from side to side and +hunching her shoulders, which she found she could move, in an effort to +loosen the knot at the back of her head, or to scrape the cloth away. +</P> + +<P> +This last in time she accomplished, but it was long after all sounds of +the conflict had ceased. +</P> + +<P> +As the cloth came loose she moved it along by sticking out her tongue +and working it from side to side, at the same time tossing her head +about. At last it slipped off, and, by raising her head, she gazed +about through the dark, wet trees. +</P> + +<P> +She had heard the thud of horses' hoofs, but now not a horse was to be +seen. Fifty feet from her, perhaps, lay the silent form of Hiram +Hooker, flat on his back. No other human being save herself and Hiram +seemed to be in all that dripping wilderness. +</P> + +<P> +Time and again she called to the man to whom she had given her heart, +but Hiram's lips remained motionless. A great fear clutched at her. +Hiram was dead. +</P> + +<P> +She fought down her terror, the horror of it all, and sought +desperately for a way to release herself. She was bound round and +round until she was so stiff that even to roll over and over on the +ground was impossible, as she could get no purchase whatever for her +strong, tough muscles. She began striving to bend her knees, and in +this, as the bonds gradually changed position and gave a little, she +was eventually successful. Once she had a start in this tiresome +process, she gained more and more, and finally she could move her legs +from their straight position. +</P> + +<P> +She rested then, and when she began squirming again found that she was +able to flop over on her side. +</P> + +<P> +In this new position she looked about over the ground for something to +help her, and close at hand she saw the dull gleam of steel. +</P> + +<P> +As yet she had not the remotest idea of why she had been kidnaped; nor +had she seen any of the persons who had perpetrated the act. Not a +word had been spoken to her or in her presence before the fight. She +had heard the man yelling about "the paper," though, toward the close +of the battle, but no other words throughout the entire ordeal. +</P> + +<P> +The blade that showed its dull steel against the soggy brown pine +needles lay five feet beyond her reach. But now she could roll to it, +and began to do so, flopping along like a fish in the bottom of a boat. +She rested when her face was close to it, and began to study how she +might make use of it. +</P> + +<P> +She might be able to take it in her teeth, but doubted if she could +reach that part of the rope about her shoulders, even then. If it was +a dagger, she could not think how she could utilize it, as it probably +would have no cutting edge. If it was a pocketknife, it doubtless +would be dull, as pocketknives usually are, and therefore useless. +With any pressure that she might be able to command, a keen cutting +edge would be necessary to free her from the coils of the lariat. +</P> + +<P> +By now she had regained her strength, and once more began wriggling and +worming until her eyes were close to the blade, half hidden by pine +needles. Then she realized with surprise and a thrill of hope that the +object was a razor. +</P> + +<P> +How such a tool came to be dropped by her assailants was more than she +could fathom. She did not try. Working her face closer and closer to +the razor she took the end of the handle between her teeth, and, +twisting her head from side to side, finally managed to close the blade +without cutting herself by pressing it against the ground. +</P> + +<P> +Then she rolled so that her face was directly over it, and took both +handle and blade in her mouth, by the middle. Her brain had been +active through these clumsy maneuvers; she had a plan. +</P> + +<P> +Now for a tree from which suckers were growing close to the ground. +The pines were hopeless in this respect, but off a way she saw the +naked branches of a black oak, and toward it she rolled, the closed +razor in her mouth. +</P> + +<P> +It was a long, tiresome trip, and when she reached the tree there was +not a sucker growing from it. She saw another black oak close at hand, +and continued her flopping, seallike progress, toward it. +</P> + +<P> +Here, to her unbounded delight, slender suckers grew up from an exposed +root. She released the razor and chewed upon one of them until she had +browsed it down to a leafless stub four inches high. +</P> + +<P> +Then, working with her teeth and tongue and straining every muscle in +her neck, she contrived, at the risk of slashing her face, to insert +the stump of the sucker between the two halves of the razor handle. +</P> + +<P> +This pushed up the blade, and it remained in a half-closed position +like a threatening guillotine. Knowing now that she would not be cut, +she took the end of the handle in her teeth and pulled it down as far +as it would go. Still the edge of the blade remained balanced against +the top of the sucker. So she rolled about until she found a pine +twig, which she took in her mouth, rolling with it back to the razor. +With one end of the twig in her mouth, she was able to push the blade +open with the other end, and it fell back against the root of the oak, +edge uppermost. +</P> + +<P> +She rested again, and then crawled over the root until a coil of the +rope that bound her shoulders was pressing against the keen edge of the +razor blade. Working her shoulders up and down, she saw the leather +strands parting clean, and soon only one strand remained uncut. She +rolled from the razor and scraped this last strand against another +exposed root of the oak until it parted. +</P> + +<P> +Two minutes more, and she was sitting up, unwinding the rawhide lariat +from her legs with hands that were free. +</P> + +<P> +She struggled to her feet, and though she ached in every bone and +muscle, ran to Hiram and bent over him with a little cry of anguish on +her lips. +</P> + +<P> +His shirt front was stained crimson, and terror seized her. She fought +it off and, bending down, listened with an ear to his heart. She +breathed a little tremulous prayer of thankfulness as she heard his +regular heartbeats, and then tore open his shirt to find that a bullet +had entered his breast, high up on the right-hand side. +</P> + +<P> +As best she could she stopped the bleeding and tried to revive Hiram. +Into cold rain water, collected in a hollow of the ground, she plunged +her handkerchief again and again, bathing the man's temples and chafing +his wrists. +</P> + +<P> +At last he opened his eyes, stared oddly at her a little, then, seeming +to remember everything, strove to rise. +</P> + +<P> +Probably one woman in all that country could have completed the +gigantic task of getting this big, wounded man back to the wagons, but +Jerkline Jo was fortunately that woman. With an arm of Hiram about her +neck, and her arm about his waist, they staggered away through the +rain, Hiram conscious enough to direct the way, for the girl was +completely lost. It was early in the morning that their journey had +been interrupted so ruthlessly, but it was afternoon before they came +again to the road, and Hiram dropped exhausted in Jo's lead wagon. +</P> + +<P> +Here she was able better to attend to his wound, and brandy, which she +always carried, revived him greatly. +</P> + +<P> +There was no course open now but to loose all the horses but four, +leave three of the wagons where they stood, and drive as fast as she +could with the four hitched to the head wagon, to get the wounded man +to Artesian Ranch, about eighteen miles distant down on the Julia side +of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +Never before or afterward in the lives of the actors in this outland +drama were the mountains that divided the desert to know such a drive +as that. Jerkline Jo had a set of four-up checks which she carried in +case of emergency, and by one o'clock four of her big whites were +racing down the perilous grade, with Jo holding the four leather lines +and operating the brake repeatedly, urging them to greater efforts +continually. The huge wagon careened about hairpin curves, skirted +precipices, rumbled from caņon to caņon, while the girl, always sure of +herself, always sure of her horses, guided it skillfully and laughed at +catastrophies that yawned at her every foot of the way. +</P> + +<P> +In the middle of the afternoon they raced out on the desert and took up +the long miles to the ranch. At dark they reached it, the horses badly +spent, unaccustomed as they were to moving faster than a walk. There +was an automobile at the ranch, and Hiram was hurried on to the doctor +at Julia, while Jo worked far into the night rubbing down her trembling +whites, crooning to them, and giving them short drinks of water until +they were resting their weary bodies in the litter, content and quiet +at last. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GENTLE WILD CAT RETURNS +</H3> + + +<P> +Hiram Hooker was very weak when he reached the doctor. The bullet was +found and successfully removed, however, and Hiram's great physical +perfection did the rest. +</P> + +<P> +He was quickly on the mend, and in a month was able to take his team +again. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime Jerkline Jo and her four other skinners had contrived to make +their customary trips from Julia to Ragtown, all of them calling to see +Hiram, who was being cared for at the doctor's house, the minute they +completed their west-bound trip. Jo spent most of her time with him +when in Julia, and when he was well enough they talked frequently of +the strange occurrence in the mountains. But they did not get down to +solid work on the mystery until Hiram was on his first trip to Ragtown +after his wound had healed. Then the wagon train came to a stop at the +curves, and Jo and all of her skinners walked through the forest to the +scene of Hiram's battle. +</P> + +<P> +After a search they found the spot. Jo showed the men the razor, still +propped up as she had left it, held up by the sucker of the black oak. +She found the remains of the lariat, too. A search failed to reveal +anything beyond the razor that had been dropped by the surprised +kidnapers. +</P> + +<P> +"Lord, be merciful unto me, a skinner!" exclaimed Heine Schultz, +seating himself on a prostrate pine. "Wild Cat, you say one o' these +Jaspers was bendin' over Jo with this here razoo?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure it was that that he had in his hand," Hiram replied. "He was +the second one that I soaked, and I saw him drop it." +</P> + +<P> +"Boy! Boy! That musta been some fight," observed Jim McAllen. "Think +of our ol' Wild Cat puttin' the three of 'em on the run! Man, how +comes it I miss all the good things in this life? Jo, was they aimin' +to cut your pretty throat?" +</P> + +<P> +Jo shuddered. "Thank Heaven I was blindfolded!" was her grateful +thought. "But how ridiculous, boys! A razor! If they'd wanted to +kill me, at least one of them had a gat. Ask Hiram." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe they was just goin' to cut you loose and tell you why they'd +swiped you, when the Gentle Wild Cat went wild again," suggested Gulick. +</P> + +<P> +"Cut a perfectly good lariat!" Jo picked it up. "Couldn't they have +untied the knots?" +</P> + +<P> +Gulick took the lariat and examined it. "Thirty-five feet," he said. +"Rawhide—six-strand plait Been rubbed with cow's liver to soften 'er, +too. What else? Whoop! What's this?" +</P> + +<P> +He was studying the honda, also of rawhide, pressed flat when soaked +and riveted in shape, a plaited button on the end of the lariat proper +to keep it from slipping through the hole. +</P> + +<P> +"Letters cut in this," Gulick announced. "T. H.' Who's that stand +for?" +</P> + +<P> +All went silent for a time, thinking; then Hiram Hooker said quietly, +as if what he suggested mattered but little: +</P> + +<P> +"Tehachapi Hank." +</P> + +<P> +All talked at once now. Not one was there that was not sure Hiram had +hit upon a clew. +</P> + +<P> +"And Tehachapi Hank's a bad man," said Heine. "Admitted it himself. +And he's a side-kick of that cholo-faced Drummond!" +</P> + +<P> +Study of the razor, now red with rust, showed the amateur detectives +nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"And ye saw only the face of one of 'em, Hiram?" Blink Keddie asked it. +</P> + +<P> +"Only one. The others managed to keep their masks on." +</P> + +<P> +"Tehachapi Hank and Al Drummond them other two was," said McAllen +positively. "Too bad it wasn't one o' them you knocked the mask off +of, Wild Cat." +</P> + +<P> +"And you never saw this fella that you got a look at?" asked Schultz. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram shook his head. "I didn't even see him well," he added. +"Through revolver smoke—and the rain pouring—and next instant his +face didn't look like anything much. That was a wicked old pine knot." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll say she was, boy! But about the razor?" Keddie kept on. +</P> + +<P> +Again Hiram could not answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that's easy!" laughed Heine Schultz. "They was gonta give Jo a +shave!" +</P> + +<P> +Jo and Hiram walked together behind the rest and talked as the party +returned to the wagons. For the first time she told him of what her +skinners had had to report when they were over their sickness following +the doping at Ragtown. One and all, they said, they had been invited +to the little cabin of the girl who ran the shooting gallery for a +drink; after having fired several strings of shots and "joshed" with +her out in front. From there they had gone to the Palace, and +afterward, being dazed and feeling drowsy, had wandered in a group into +the Dugout, a place that they seldom frequented, and could remember +nothing after that. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—why—do they think Lucy doped them?" cried Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +Jo shrugged. "They can't remember drinking anywhere but with her and +in the Palace," she said. "They got it one place or the other, Hiram." +</P> + +<P> +"The Palace, of course, then. Why—Lucy—she——" +</P> + +<P> +"Is a friend of Al Drummond," Jo helped him out, her red lips set. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you find out whether or not Drummond was in Ragtown at the time?" +</P> + +<P> +"I looked into all that I dared, but it was nine days before I got +back. Oh, I had an awful time, with nobody to help me but a few green +men I'd picked up at Julia—finding the horses and all. But Huber got +his hay!" she added proudly. "When I got back to Ragtown, of course +nobody remembered whether Drummond had been there that day or not. He +goes and comes frequently, you know. And I didn't dare press +questions. I told the boys to keep still about it all. I thought that +best." +</P> + +<P> +"Was Drummond there on your last trip in?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Beaten up? I'm sure I must have left my mark on all three of them." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't get to see him, but no one said anything about any injury." +</P> + +<P> +"Much as we dislike him, it's hard to think that Drummond would be +concerned in such a plot," Hiram remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"Plot?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, Jo." +</P> + +<P> +"Against me? What have I done?" +</P> + +<P> +"We're getting nowhere with such speculation, Jo," said Hiram. "We +boys will just have to keep our eyes open and see what we can find out. +There's more back of it than the idea to tantalize you because you beat +Al Drummond in the freighting game. I wish I knew what the razor was +for." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, they weren't going to kill me, Hiram. No need for all that +monkeywork, if that had been the case." +</P> + +<P> +"I only saw the man with the razor," Hiram told her, "and got busy. Of +course, I didn't even know it was a razor then, but I saw steel. I +thought they were going to kill you. Didn't take much time to think, +at that." +</P> + +<P> +"You terrible scrapper!" laughed the girl. "Who'd have thought that +I'd ever have needed such a man—and got him! Hiram, you've—you've +never kissed me since that night." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram's face turned red as fire. "I ain't worthy to kiss ye, Jo," he +said, lapsing into his backwoods drawl. "Wait'll I settle this thing +that's come up for you. Wait'll I find out about 'the paper.' Then +maybe I'll have somethin' to offer you." +</P> + +<P> +In his great embarrassment he pointed to the ground, where were tracks +and scratches. +</P> + +<P> +"Ben a bob cat usin' thereabouts," he drawled. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +With Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet the month that Hiram had been laid up +had developed a new and unforeseen situation. He laid the particulars +before Jerkline Jo and Hiram, both investors in his enterprise. The +conference took place when Jo's freight outfit jingled into Ragtown two +days later. +</P> + +<P> +Tweet invited them to dinner in the Wigwam, a saloon and restaurant and +gambling house combined, where the patrons sat on stools before a high +counter which was in the nature of a continuation of the bar. The +three took seats at the farther end, so that their conversation would +be less likely to be overheard. +</P> + +<P> +"Playmates," Tweet began, when their orders were before them, "I didn't +think our Uncle Sam would go to work and hand us a package just when we +were gettin' us a toehold. But that's just what he's done. I been +watchin' for it to develop for some little time. Now the leak has +sprung. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, outside o' Paloma Rancho, every other section o' land in here +b'longs to the Gold Belt Cut-off, and adjoinin' sections are government +land. Maybe you c'n guess what's happened." +</P> + +<P> +"Thrown open," Jerkline Jo said promptly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yep—open to homesteaders. They're flockin' in in automobiles, in +perambulators, on motor cycles, burros, horseback, and afoot—in +everything but submarines. So far as any one can see, they're gettin' +just as good land as Paloma Rancho; and the folks we've sold to are +castin' dark looks at one Tweet. As if I was to blame! Two fellas +that hadn't paid in much have jumped their contracts with us, and are +takin' up claims. If many more pull stuff like that—say, somebody'll +be in bad! +</P> + +<P> +"Just the same, though, my engineers tell me there's shallower water +here than any place on this ol' desert. Butte Springs proves that, +too. And we got the water right on the mountain lake; so they can't +get that. Riparian rights—all straight, by golly! No worry there. I +don't think settlers'll have any luck striking water without big +expense anywhere around us. Just the same, it'll take time to prove +that. +</P> + +<P> +"The settler, you savvy, has six months after he files before he's got +to get on his land. Even then he ain't required to develop water; and +chances are he won't. He'll put in dry crops to cover the improvements +demanded by the government, whether they succeed or not—which they +won't. But all this time, because nobody'll be makin' a great effort +to locate water, folks will be believin' that government land is as +good as ours. See the point? Paloma Rancho land will stop sellin' +pronto, and our pleasant little dream will turn into a scary nightmare." +</P> + +<P> +"But if the surrounding land is inferior to the rancho," said Jo, "it's +only a matter of time until people will find it out. Then you'll +regain your old status, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"In time. Yeah—that's it. But time's money, little girl; and once +every three months I gotta slap down six thousand filthy lucreinos, +plus a neat little bunch o' interest, or—bingo! All is lost! +</P> + +<P> +"Folks that peddled me this property are gettin' on their feet again, +and their young lives are one long regret over havin' had ta part with +Paloma Rancho. 'Salways th' way. One dog leaves a bone, and another +dog comes along and goes to work and picks her up. Then the other dog +he goes to work and thinks that was a pretty darn good bone after all. +Then fur begins to fly, and old ladies yell: 'How cruel! Stop it, you +big heartless men!' +</P> + +<P> +"So the other dogs won't miss a chance to shoot the prongs into me the +moment I fail on a single payment and the interest due. They don't +have to; I signed to forfeit everything any interest day that I failed +to pungle up. Three days o' grace—then—boom! 'Wasn't it pretty, +papa! Shoot off another one just like it!'" +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo sipped her near-coffee thoughtfully, and gazed unseeingly +at the menu card, a marvel of weird orthography, punctuated with fly +specks and splatters of egg yolk. Jo had over ten thousand dollars +invested in Paloma Rancho. +</P> + +<P> +"We're not doing the freighting business that we did," she confessed, +aware that Playmate Tweet was studying her face expectantly and +patiently straightening a nose whose tip always left true center the +moment he released it. "Lots of the smaller contractors have finished +here, and are moving on to new jobs up the line, out of our reach. +Ragtown, too, seems to be slowing up, don't you think?" +</P> + +<P> +Tweet pursed his lips. "I hate to admit it," he said, "but I guess +you're right. Still, we can expect things to be slower in winter. +Then these settlers oughta help Ragtown some when spring comes along. +Chances are, though, most of 'em are broke. 'Salways like that. I've +been homesteadin' communities before now. No good, as a rule. +</P> + +<P> +"But I ain't worryin' about Ragtown. She'll perk up. We're gonta get +the yards and the roundhouse—that's a cinch. I know it now. Demarest +slipped it to me. I've spread the glad tidin's, o' course, but it +didn't seem to help. Folks have believed it all along, and have gone +ahead on that belief—so the rush because of that feature was over +before I sprung it. But Ragtown'll pick up in time. The floaters will +go, and substantial citizens will take their places. It's the land +contracts that we need in order to meet our payments and have a future +to bank on, and they're what'll slow up and hurt us till folks get sane +and see we got the only dope." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have to meet the next payment—when?" Hiram put in here. +</P> + +<P> +"April first—two months off. Six thousan' dollars and interest on +deferred payments." +</P> + +<P> +"Can you meet it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't if it was due now," was Tweet's reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll see that you meet that payment," Jo said. "That will give +you three months more leeway—five months, counting from now—and by +that time things should begin to look up once more." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet heaved a great sigh of relief. "That's a big load off my chest," +he claimed, as they left the stools. +</P> + +<P> +Two hours later Hiram Hooker, apparently wandering aimlessly about the +dimly lighted street, saw Al Drummond lift a hinged portion of the +shooting-gallery counter and pass within. A man was in charge, and +there was nobody shooting. Drummond nodded briefly to him, traversed +the length of the target range, and disappeared through a door in the +rear. +</P> + +<P> +Three minutes after this Hiram slunk stealthily along the alley and up +to Lucy's little cabin. Softly his fingers plucked at a knot in a +knothole, which he had loosened that evening while Lucy was on watch in +the gallery. Holding the circular bit of wood in his hand, he placed +an ear to the knothole, which was hidden from those inside by a huge +piece of furniture. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HIRAM TAKES THE TRAIL +</H3> + + +<P> +Hiram Hooker stood motionless in the alley back of Lucy Dalles' cabin +and listened intently through the knothole. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he heard Al Drummond saying to Lucy, "I see they got in again +this evening." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram supposed "they" referred to the freighting outfit of Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Lucy, "and here it is late January, Al, and we've +accomplished nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"No, nothing," Drummond admitted gloomily. "And our chances look +mighty slim to get at her. Every trip she's got those five husky +skinners with her, and I guess every one of them is fool enough to put +up a scrap for her if he knew he'd get croaked in the deal." +</P> + +<P> +"We must think up another plan to separate her from them," the girl +suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound it!" muttered Drummond. "Everything was moving along +smoothly, and the next minute we'd have had the razor working; then +here comes that big boob and takes us by surprise. Lord, how he swung +those clubs!" +</P> + +<P> +"You're afraid of him, since he beat you up on the desert," Lucy said +tauntingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh! I'll get him yet! I'm willing to admit he's too many for me in +a stand-up and knock-down fight. He's a whirlwind—I never saw his +like. Why, up there in the mountains he seemed to have a dozen arms, +all working at once. Wild Cat is right! But I haven't been raised on +salt pork and corn bread. I've lived. Just the same, when I get good +and ready I'll fix his engine for him." +</P> + +<P> +"I imagine he'll be around to oversee the work," remarked Lucy in a +tone that probably made Drummond long to choke her. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that's not the point," she went on after a little. "What are we +going to do to get at that creature known as Jerkline Jo, the +four-flusher? She's crooked as a dog's hind leg, and goes around +pulling the pious stuff on the roughnecks." +</P> + +<P> +"You think because you're crooked every other woman is, eh? I'll say +this for Jo—she's straight and a dead-game sport. She's not a +four-flusher. Of course I'd do anything to get even for the way she +handed it to me in the freighting game. But there's no sense in you +and me running her down to each other when we don't believe ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +"So you've fallen for her, too, have you?" Lucy asked sarcastically. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be a fool, Lucy! A man can't help admiring a girl like Jo." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks for your assurances, Al," Lucy said cuttingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, well! Scrap all night about nothing! Forget it! Shut +up! Guess who I saw to-day as I was driving over the desert." +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" sullenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Your dear old uncle." +</P> + +<P> +"My uncle!" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure—that's what you called him. Basil Filer, the crazy prospector." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure enough, Al?" Lucy's tones were brighter. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty much so. Didn't seem to recognize me at all. I was at +Comstock's camp, and he rambled in with his burros. Stood within five +feet of me and looked right at me. Never saw me before!" and Drummond +chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +"Al, where on earth do you suppose he's been since you took him out on +the desert and dumped him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Heaven knows! Wandering about looking for a prospect, I suppose. I'd +have given fifty dollars to be hidden close by when he came out of it +next morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor old duffer! But suppose Hooker and Jo or some of that bunch +should stumble onto him, Al! Was he making this way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; but he was fifty miles up the lines. There were two or three +women about Comstock's commissary tent—two of Comstock's daughters and +the wife of his walking-boss. The old bird kept looking at them and +shaking his head, just like he did with you. He's still hunting for +his pardner's daughter. He's a crazy nut, and I guess wherever he goes +he's trying to get on her trail." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you suppose he remembers me, Al? We sure had him going that +night. I was Jean Prince to him, all right. And when you inked me up, +and he got a look—say, he couldn't tell his story fast enough, could +he?" +</P> + +<P> +Drummond chuckled reminiscently. "Yes, next minute he'd have had you +scalped, kid, if I hadn't slipped him another powder. Well, if he does +drift back here you've simply got to lie low and keep out of his sight. +I'll tell the boys to keep their eyes open and slip me the dope if they +see him rambling into Ragtown. Then you fade away till he beats it out +again." +</P> + +<P> +"Won't he ask about me? And try to find out where I've gone?" +</P> + +<P> +"I doubt it. He's still got his precious paper. If, we'd stolen that, +instead of copying it, there might be the very devil to pay. But as +long as he's still got it he's too nutty to suspect. Of course, +though, nobody can tell what's going on in the other fellow's noodle. +I'd say, though, that if you aren't here he'll think the whole business +was a pipe dream." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope so. We don't want any further complications. Now when are you +and Hank and that friend of his going to make another attempt to get +Jerkline Jo? And how are you going about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hank's still camping up in the mountains and spying on the outfit when +it travels through the pass," Al informed her. "He's watching their +habits, and taking note of just how they travel along, trying to dope +out something new. He'll get a scheme before spring, I'm thinking. +There's a bad hombre, kid. It would give me the creeps to know he was +trailing me through those lonesome woods. Man! I wouldn't turn my +back to that plug with fifteen cents in my jeans!" +</P> + +<P> +"Can't we get some more of Hank's pals and simply ambush Jo's whole +outfit? Collar all of them, and then get after Jo. Surely a bunch of +men could take them all by surprise and put the fixin's to 'em." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond snorted. "We've got to split the haul four ways as it is," he +pointed out. "And that bo that helped us get Filer away—Stool—he +smells a rat and is keeping an eye single to horning in on the +clean-up. Lucy, I wouldn't attack Jo's bunch of roughnecks with less +than a dozen men; and you can bet your young life our gang is too big +as it is. Keep the home fires burning, I'll say!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, for Heaven's sake, try and get busy soon!" Lucy cried +petulantly. "Goodness knows I did my part—all that any woman could be +expected to do. So far I'm the only one that's accomplished anything. +Why in thunder didn't Hank's friend, Pete, 'tend to the business up +there in the mountains, after you and Hank had beat it? Hooker was +out, this fellow said, and the girl still tied. And then he comes out +of his dope and gets on a horse, and beats it like you other two +quitters!" +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't have the paper," explained Al. "Besides, Pete thought he +was going to croak. He was laid up longer than Hooker, even, and +Hooker had got a bullet. Pete's skull was cracked, and for a time it +was a toss-up whether he'd pull through or not. He went nutty up +there, I guess. He was lying sidewise across the saddle, unconscious +but holding on for dear life, when the horse caught up with us. And +Hank and I ducked out because—well, it's hard to explain. Both of us +were pretty badly beaten up, you know, and there wasn't much fight left +in us. Hooker had surprised us, and we were rattled. I don't know—a +fellow can't explain just why he does the wrong thing in a situation +like that. But knock the fight out of a man and make him groggy, and +he'll bungle every time." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, do something now," ordered Lucy frigidly; and Hiram heard +Drummond scrape back his chair in rising. +</P> + +<P> +"All right—we'll see. I'll beat it now. Up late last night playing +poker. Rotten luck, too!" +</P> + +<P> +"Al," said Lucy's voice, "when we get that jack, are you going to give +me a fair share of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure—sure! Why do you keep harping on that, Lucy? Haven't I +promised you I would? Good night. I'm dead tired!" +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour before dawn next morning Hiram Hooker crawled from his +blankets in camp and fed hay and grain to Babe, Jerkline Jo's black +saddle mare. Then, leaving his companions placidly snoring, he walked +briskly along the trail to Ragtown. Ten minutes after his start he was +knocking on the door of Jo's tiny pine cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" finally came the girl's sleepy tones. "Who is there?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's I, Jo. Hiram. Will you come to the door a second? I want to +talk with you." +</P> + +<P> +"You big whale! What do you mean, waking me up in the middle of the +night? Anything wrong?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Jo. And it's almost time to get up. The boys will be out by the +time I get back. Hurry and get dressed, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a rustling and quick moving about inside, and presently the +door was unlocked and Jerkline Jo poked her head out inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"I came to ask you for a few days off," he explained. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Hiram?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, just one trip, Jo. There isn't any more freight than the rest of +you can handle just now. Won't be till spring, I'm thinking." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I could spare you now better than later on. But—but what, Hiram?" +</P> + +<P> +"And I'd like to borrow Babe and your saddle and bridle, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Take them," she said confidently. "Whatever your mysterious +disappearance means, I know I can trust you." +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour afterward Hiram swung himself into Jo's big California +saddle, and then leaned over and spoke to Blink Keddie and Heine +Schultz, busy at harnessing the teams. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know when I'll be back, boys," he said. "But remember what I +told you: Don't let Jo out of your sight in the pass—nor anywhere +else, for that matter—and keep your guns handy all the time." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry, Gentle Wild Cat!" Schultz assured him. +</P> + +<P> +"So long, then," said Hiram, and swung Babe into the road that +connected Ragtown with the line of camps which dotted the desert from +end to end. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap31"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A TALE OF THE DESERT'S DEAD +</H3> + + +<P> +No land seems so delectable as the desert early on a crisp morning. +The rare air causes the blood to pound through one's veins, and an +unexplainable rapture seizes man's spirits. +</P> + +<P> +Jo's black mare, Babe, had not been ridden for weeks, and every +greasewood bush that she saw became in the weird light of sunrise a +grotesque goblin ready to spring at her and devour her whole. At +least, so she pretended, and as her natural weapon of defense lay in +flight, she kept Hiram Hooker busy holding her down to a fast gallop. +</P> + +<P> +The low-hanging tapaderos flapped loosely. Hiram's borrowed +silver-mounted spurs—a reminder of Tom Gulick's cow-punching days in +Utah—jingled merrily. The heavy six-gun at his hip flopped against +the silver-rimmed cantle of Jo's fifty-pound saddle. The smells of the +morning were sweet. Away over the vast expanse of bronze greasewood, +far-flung buttes caught the early rays of the sun and took on something +of the likeness of a solar spectrum, purple at their bases, the colors +ranging upward through blues and greens and yellows to a spun-gold +glitter at their summits. Jack rabbits loped away through the brush. +Now and then a coyote, ears pricked up, trotted along, his tail +dragging. Tecolote, the little desert owl, came from his hole and sat +on the pile of dirt beside it, while his wife peeked out with her round +head just above the ground and gave silent approval to her lord and +master's querulous criticism of the rider. +</P> + +<P> +Life was good—life was glorious. Life was love! The poetic heart of +the man from Wild-cat Hill sang ceaselessly. He was away on his +romantic quest to serve the most splendid girl a man had ever loved! +</P> + +<P> +As the morning progressed and the sun climbed higher and higher, Babe +bore him through many camps, both large and small. At each he drew +rein and made inquiry after an old prospector called Basil Filer, who +drove six burros. No one had seen such a man, however, and Hiram +continued on toward the north until noon. Then he stopped for dinner +and to feed and rest the mare at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp +Number Two. They had come twenty-one miles that morning, he learned at +dinner in the huge dining tent; and when he started out again he held +Babe in, because she was soft for want of exercise. +</P> + +<P> +On and on they traveled, nevertheless, Hiram making inquiry at every +camp. At last, thirty miles from Ragtown, he got word of the +prospector. A camp freighter who traveled to the north for supplies +from Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Three had seen such a man +trudging along with his long staff, eyes bent on the ground, behind his +six burros. He had been seen about ten miles farther north, traveling +south, the day before. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram loped on, and now reached a strip of the right-of-way where camps +were few and far between. The desert was dryer here than in the +vicinity of Ragtown, and greasewood and whispering yuccas gave place to +low sage and the shimmering dry lakes, which lure thirsting men on to +their doom with their mocking resemblance to the life-saving water the +wanderer craves. +</P> + +<P> +Always, it seemed, there was somewhere within the range of Hiram's +vision one of those weird whirlwinds sweeping along. Often they were +so far away they seemed motionless, and looked like brown funnel-shaped +pillars, wrong end up, supporting the turquoise sky. Again, they were +close—sometimes six or seven in sight at once—as they spun like huge +tops, sucking up everything loose in their path, and whirling it round +and round with stupefying rapidity. +</P> + +<P> +At last one of them overtook the horse and rider, and the mare stopped +short, thrusting her head between her front legs and tucking in her +flowing tail. Hiram had time only to grab his hat and throw himself +forward along the mare's neck; the next instant it seemed as if a +million tugging hands had hold of him and were trying to whirl him into +the heavens and carry him, like a garment whipped from a clothesline, +into mysterious distances. +</P> + +<P> +When it had passed he sat erect once more and dug the dirt from his +ears and eyes, trying to follow the twister's progress as it sped +drunkenly on to find other victims. +</P> + +<P> +Then it was that Hiram saw the pack train, not far distant over the +desert, making ready to receive the coming whirlwind. The burros, wise +little animals that they are, had huddled together, tails outward, +heads down; and in the center of them Hiram saw a man just stooping for +the protection of their bodies. Next instant the group vanished—was +swallowed up by the wind demon. +</P> + +<P> +When the old man looked up after the onslaught, Hiram was riding upon +him. The prospector stood trying to stare at him from the center of +his pack train, wiping his watering eyes and sand-stained mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, there!" called Hiram. "It spoke to us in passing, too. How do +you like 'em?" +</P> + +<P> +"I got to like 'em," returned the old man. "I eat 'em—breakfast, +dinner, and supper. Grub don't taste good any more 'less a twister's +passed over it and seasoned it up. Who are you?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram swung his great frame from the creaking saddle. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Hiram Hooker," he announced, lowering the mare's reins and +advancing until a mouse-colored burro aimed a kick at him to show him +that he was a rank outsider whose company was not desired. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Muta, that ain't no way to act!" mildly expostulated the burro's +master. "She's just a mite playful," he explained apologetically to +Hiram. "Muta, she thinks a heap o' the ole man, ye see, an' she's +always lookin' out that strangers don't mean 'im any harm." +</P> + +<P> +He placed both arms about the shaggy burro's neck. "You must be more +polite, Muta," he said chidingly, while the little animal trust out her +upper lip and nibbled at the large horn buttons on his dusty canvas +coat. +</P> + +<P> +"Which way are you bound?" asked Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +"South now. Just travelin'. Maybe I'll make it over to Rattlesnake +Buttes"—he raised an arm toward the northeast—"and maybe down Caldron +Caņon way." He pointed southeast toward the mountains. "I dunno—just +driftin' along, me an' the little fellas. Sometimes we drift here, and +sometimes we drift there. Don't matter much, s'long's there's grub an' +a little rolled barley in the pack-bags. What's the dif'rence anyway?" +His red-lidded eyes looked up weirdly at Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +Bent and pathetic he was, this old man of the hills and deserts—this +old lizard of the unfriendly sands. In his eyes all time seemed to +have written its history. His brows were shaggy and desert-colored, +like the brows of the Ancient Mariner whose scrawny, clutching fingers +robbed the Wedding Guest of his night of pleasure. His hands shook, +and he carried a long cane; but for him the merciless desert seemed to +hold no lasting terror, for he spent his life on its desert searching +for the treasure that is hidden there. +</P> + +<P> +"Me and the little fellas just drift along. We get work at the camps +when our grubstake's gone; and then we ramble on and on—just driftin', +kinda. I got a ole jack rabbit for supper, pardner. He was sleepin' +under a sagebrush, and I puts out his eye with my six and twenty paces. +Can you do that? But you're young—young and got a clever eye. +Anyway, I got a ole jack for supper. Now, if you had a bottle on you +couldn't we have a time!" +</P> + +<P> +"I've no bottle," Hiram said. "I'm sorry. But, if you'll invite me, +I'll help you with the jack." +</P> + +<P> +"Got blankets behind yer saddle, I see. All right, my friend. Ole +Filer's always ready to share his grub with a passer-by on the desert. +There's water in my little tank. Burros don't drink much, you know. A +taste's enough till we get to a camp to-morrow. Handy, those camps, +for prospectors needin' a grubstake. Let's camp over there by that +lonesome yucca palm. He looks as if he wanted company. Maybe he'll +whisper where they's gold to-night—if we keep on ear awake. He-he! +Oh, they whisper lots—lots—lots! But they always lie like sin!" +</P> + +<P> +When the "ole jack" had paid the final price of his lack of +watchfulness, Hiram Hooker and the crazy prospector leaned back and +looked up at the cold stars that smiled cruelly down on the arid waste. +The wind whispered mysteriously through the bayonets of the yucca palm +above them. Not long would one be obliged to live and move and have +his being alone on this desert before strange messages would begin to +formulate in the wind's eerie whispering in the yuccas. +</P> + +<P> +The burros ranged about, browsing off the desert growth. There had +been barley for Babe, and Hiram had watered her at the last camp. A +rinse-out of her mouth and she would do very well till morning. +</P> + +<P> +And there under the scornful stars Hiram and the old man lounged on +packbags and talked, with their tiny camp fire of greasewood roots +between them. And gradually as Hiram told what he knew and convinced +the gray old rat of his honesty, an uncanny tale of the barren lands +began unfolding, a tale revolving about a little girl baby left by +prospectors in a yucca-trunk corral—the tale of Jean Prince, daughter +of Leonard Prince, whose bones had been gnawed by coyotes and covered +by the shifting sands for over twenty years. And the baby girl, Jean +Prince, was none other than the magnetic, dark-haired woman who now +drove jerkline to Ragtown and numbered her admirers by the +thousand—Jerkline Jo, Queen of the Outland Camps. +</P> + +<P> +"They was three of us at first," narrated Filer in a shaky voice. +"Three of us and Baby Jean. Baby Jean and me and Len Prince and 'The +Chink.' And that makes four. But Baby Jean was only two years old. +</P> + +<P> +"Hong Duo was the chink—a grinnin' yenshee hound from up beyond the +Tehachapi—way up—up toward the Sierra Nevadas, in the placer country. +White prospectors ner white miners don't often work with chinks. +Chinks is only good for workin' tailin's when it comes to mines. But +Len he'd saved Hong Duo's life in trouble in a dump in Placerville—ol' +Hangtown—and the chink had clung to um like a burro to somethin' he's +swiped from Camp. +</P> + +<P> +"Agin' that, too, the chink had money—an' Len and me was broke. Fer a +year he grubstaked us, and followed us around pocketin' up that a way, +cookin' and such, and livin' for Len and Baby Jean. +</P> + +<P> +"Baby Jean's maw she died when the kid was borned; and everywhere Len +went after she was a year or more he took her. We drifted south—me +and Len and the chink and Baby Jean. +</P> + +<P> +"Up Death Valley way we got wind o' somethin' good. Days and days we +makes it into the land that God forgot, and here and there we pecked +out a little color. Then Len and me we gets a lead, and we leaves the +chink and Baby Jean and drifts on into a country that makes me shiver +yet ta think of. +</P> + +<P> +"We got some gold—quite some. And me"—his voice grew low—"I was +younger then, and mean as dirt. I was high-gradin' on my pardner right +and left. I guess I was always mean; but I've paid the price. +</P> + +<P> +"Then Len he gets onto me, but he holds his tongue. And we make it on +and on into Little Hall, till the sandstorm come. +</P> + +<P> +"Fer nigh onto fifty-nine years I've roamed the desert, pardner, but +I've never seen another storm like that. Days and days she blowed, and +sometimes you couldn't see yer hand before yer face for the flyin' +sand. Someway we gets out of it, the Almighty knows how! But from +that day to this I've never been able to find that place ag'in. +</P> + +<P> +"There was gold there—piles and piles o' gold—and Len he'd found it. +Found it out alone one day before the storm set in. And knowin' I'd +been high-gradin' on him, he kep' this find to 'imself. Then come the +storm, and we fought out just ahead o' death. +</P> + +<P> +"Then Len he keeps tryin' to go back—wants to work long for a big +grubstake, and is quiet and dreams a lot, with Baby Jean in his arms, +and the chink settin' cross-legged lookin' at 'em with his glitterin' +little eyes—half full o' hop, I guess. And I gets onto why Len wants +to drift back there to that land o' dead men's bones, and I watch 'im, +and freeze to 'im continual. +</P> + +<P> +"Len he makes a bluff at this an' that an' the other—him and me and +the chink driftin' from here to there over this part o' the desert, or +hereabouts, scratchin' a little now and ag'in. But Len his heart ain't +in it, I see; and all the time he's tryin' to shake me off, I get it. +But I won't shake. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Len he ain't no more good after the awful time we went through +up there in that terrible land. He never was a man ag'in after that; +and he gets scared, I guess, and thinks he's gonna cash his chips. +They's a queer look in his eyes, and in camp he just sets and sets with +Baby Jean in his arms, and the hophead lookin' at 'em from across the +fire with his glitterin' little eyes. And sometimes Len he just sets +and sets and watches Baby Jean asleep, and his eyes are worried like a +horse's eyes when he knows he's starvin'; and the yenshee hound he just +sets and looks at Len, and Heaven only knows what he's thinkin'! +</P> + +<P> +"Then we make it up along in where the Salt Lake road was buildin' +then—up Barstow way—all wild them days. And one day Len and me and +the chink goes out into the buttes, and leaves Baby Jean in a +yucca-stump corral so's the c'yotes can't get at her, like we did +sometimes. She wasn't never a yellin' kid. Give her a bottle o' +canned cow, and she'd suck herself to sleep with varmints prowlin' +about and sandstorms blowin'. Sometimes she'd sob if things was goin' +wrong in her little world—low and heartbroken, like a woman cries. +But yell—never! +</P> + +<P> +"So we leaves her suckin' at her bottle, for Len he'd never broke her +of it, and out we goes to scratch around some more up in Turkey Buttes. +</P> + +<P> +"It was lookin' to storm and we hadn't oughta gone maybe; but we didn't +aim to make it far, and could come back any time. But when she broke +she broke sudden; and only once before had I seen such a blow as that. +We got plumb lost five miles from camp; and all that day and all that +night and all next day we wandered about in the whirlin' sand, outa +water, and goin' crazier every minute. The chink he gives up, and so +does Len; and I'm too crazy to make 'em keep on fightin'. I dragged +out two days later, way north o' the buttes—plumb bughouse, my tongue +all black and stiff as rubber. I've never been the same man since, I +guess. I dream about them days and nights. +</P> + +<P> +"The folks that found me they go huntin' for Len and the chink and Baby +Jean t'other side o' the buttes. They find Len and the chink, both +dead, their faces and tongues—— But I don't like to remember that! +Sometimes the yuccas they whisper about it; but I always plug my ears +and begin to sing, or talk to the asses about the fun we'll have when +we find Jean Prince and get the gold Len knew about up there Death +Valley way. +</P> + +<P> +"They turned Len's things over to me. The baby they couldn't find; but +after weeks they stumbled onto the camp where we'd left her and found +everything almost buried in sand. The kid was gone, and the c'yotes +hadn't got her. They was a piece o' paper in the camp; but it had +rained and rained since it was stuck up there, and all the writin' was +gone. In Len's things I finds the paper that I'm carryin', and I kep' +it to myself. I've got it now—right here"—he thumped his +breast—"and for twenty years I've hunted for Baby Jean and never found +her. +</P> + +<P> +"They's gold up there—up where Len Prince found it. The paper tells +only half o' how to relocate Len's claims. At the beginnin' it says +the paper's for Baby Jean, and no one else is to have it. Len knew he +was soon goin' to croak—and he fixed it for Baby Jean when he was +gone. He done his best. Any one who's got the paper knows only half. +Whoever's got the paper can't do nothin' without Baby Jean. +</P> + +<P> +"The chink he done it. It was crazy—loco, you'll say. But what c'n +you expect from a man who's suffered as he did? Lissen, pardner—the +chink he done it. The paper tells about it. The chink he doped the +kid—with opium, some way, I guess—so's it wouldn't hurt her, and then +he tattooed the rest o' the directions for findin' the gold on the head +o' Baby Jean. Cut off some hair in back, and shaved a spot on her +little head, and tattooed it there. The chink he did. And then the +hair grew out ag'in, and nobody ever knew! +</P> + +<P> +"Even Baby Jean don't know—a woman grown up now. And years and years +I've hunted for her, but couldn't find her. Cause I couldn't stick, I +guess. Somethin' always kep' callin' me back into the hills, and I'd +forgot. Just me and the little fellas, we understand. And we're +driftin' about ag'in huntin' for Baby Jean. +</P> + +<P> +"I had a funny dream. I dreamed I'd found her—a young woman grown. +And in that dream she told me she was Baby Jean, and I told her all +about the paper and the tattoo marks. And then it looked like I +drifted into deeper sleep and I woke up in camp way out in nowhere. +I'd forgot again, you see, and drifted for the hills just when I'd +found Baby Jean. Or so I dreamed. But sometimes I think I wasn't +dreamin', pardner. It wasn't just like other dreams I've had. I got +it that I was in a place called Ragtown, and I know they's such a +place, cause everybody tells me so. And I was sick after the dream. +Funny! I'm drifting that a way now. I want to see that Ragtown. Was +it a dream? Or was the yuccas laughin' at ole Filer ag'in? I dunno. +But how come it I dreamed about a place called Ragtown, a place that +really is but that I never seen?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap32"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LUCY PLANS A COUNTER-ATTACK +</H3> + + +<P> +One who has never lived in a frontier camp such as Ragtown may find it +difficult to analyze the characters of Lucy Dalles and Albert Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +Less than a year before Ragtown had sprung up overnight, both had been +ordinarily respectable American citizens. Lucy's crowning fault had +been the lust for wealth. Added to this now was the fierce +determination to realize her ambition, coupled with the complete +breakdown of the moral fabric of her soul. She had been flirtatious +and pleasure-loving in San Francisco, but perhaps not really bad at +heart. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond had been as decent as millions of other young men who pass for +that in good society. A bit wild, but a man who dealt squarely with +others sportsmanlike, and perhaps considered perfectly honest by +himself and all who knew him. +</P> + +<P> +But all this the frontier town had changed. That little semidormant +spark of wickedness and criminality which is perhaps in every mother's +son and daughter of us had been fanned to a flame by the lawlessness of +Ragtown. The feverish night life, the chink of gold on gambling tables +that were seldom unoccupied, the continual drinking of intoxicants, the +doping and robbing of stiffs, which was practiced with studied, +businesslike regularity, the brawls and shooting scrapes—all these had +worked their insidious spell upon mentalities not forfeited by careful +early training and bed-rock character. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond and Lucy Dalles were dangerous conspirators now, and took a +certain pride in the knowledge of it. They not only schemed for great +rewards, but for the love of it. Lust for wealth and for revenge, the +thrill of the dangerous and underhanded game they played, contempt for +those whose moral fabric was too strongly woven to break under the +strain of Ragtown, a certain vague satisfaction in their newly +discovered rascality—all these spurred them on to make the most of +their opportunities. One step in the direction they had taken leads so +easily to another, that now they had reached a point in their moral +lapse where they would stop at nothing—not even the taking of life—to +win that on which they had set their hearts. +</P> + +<P> +From a night spent at poker, Al Drummond, weary and half dead for +sleep, reeled from the Dugout early on the morning when Hiram Hooker +set out to find the crazy prospector, Basil Filer. As he slouched +along the street in the cold he heard the jingling of bells and the +rumbling of heavy wagons; and presently the freight outfit of Jerkline +Jo rolled past, the girl and her skinners, bundled to the ears and +slapping their hands against their ribs for warmth. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond gave them a contemptuous glance for their honest and difficult +endeavor, then took note that his old enemy, the man from Wild-cat +Hill, was missing. He wondered about this, but gave it little thought +until it dawned upon him that Jo's beautiful black saddle mare, which +usually followed behind the wagon train with doglike loyalty, was +absent too. He stopped short then and found that he was thinking of +the old prospector, whom he had seen for the second time the day before. +</P> + +<P> +He was worried. Could it be possible that Jo and Hiram had got wind of +the mystery? For all he knew, they might have met the old man +somewhere on the desert and learned his secret. It was such a usual +thing to see Hiram behind his ten black freighters on every trip in or +out that the conspirator could not down suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +All that day he worried over it, but did not mention it to Lucy. +Coming from another night of poker the following morning, having seen +nothing of Hiram Hooker in the meantime, he decided to look into the +matter as best he could. +</P> + +<P> +He would get his car and drive up the line a way, toward the camp where +he had seen Filer two days before. He could readily learn at +intervening camps whether or not Hiram had ridden that way on Jo's +black mare. +</P> + +<P> +He had no appetite for breakfast, so he got out his touring car and +drove away toward the north while Ragtown slept. +</P> + +<P> +Men were at work in the third camp that he reached, and here a little +inquiry brought forth the information that Hooker had gone the way +Drummond had feared. Now he drove fast along the road that followed +the right of way, passing rapidly through camp after camp, until he was +far from Ragtown. +</P> + +<P> +It was not yet eight o'clock when, far ahead, he saw a black horse +galloping toward him. He had just run the car out upon the smooth, +dark surface of one of the desert's famous dry lakes, where almost +nothing grew. The ground was level and hard as a dance floor, so he +turned from the road and drove at right angles to it across the crusted +soil. He drove fast, and by the time the rider reached the point in +the road where Drummond first had seen him Drummond was so far away +that Hiram could not recognize him or his car. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond circled now and regained the road, continuing on into the +north in search of what he dreaded to discover. But not many miles had +been covered before he was gritting his teeth and swearing over the +knowledge of his scheme's defeat. He saw rolling toward him, swinging +their packs from side to side as gently as a mother rocks a cradle, six +shaggy, long-eared "desert canaries" with an old desert-colored man +behind them who limped along with the aid of a cane. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond drove no farther in that direction. There was no need for it. +The sight of the old man drifting toward Ragtown and Hiram galloping on +ahead of him showed him plainly that the cat was out of the bag, that +the two had held a conference on the desert during the night just past. +</P> + +<P> +Bitter with rage, Drummond turned about and drove fiercely back in +Hiram's wake. He slowed down when he began to draw near to the horse +and rider, and for an hour kept his distance while he waited for Hiram +to reach another dry lake that was nearer to Ragtown than the first. +</P> + +<P> +When the rider ahead had reached it and was galloping across if, +Drummond speeded up, reached the lake in turn, and at last was able to +make a wide half circle over land where no greasewood grew to impede +the course of the car. +</P> + +<P> +The lake was a large one, and by driving at close to sixty miles an +hour and skirting its edge, he reached the road again a mile ahead of +Hiram, and sped on toward home to break the news of defeat to Lucy +Dalles. +</P> + +<P> +At ten o'clock he reached Ragtown, having driven recklessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody's spilled the beans!" was his stormy beginning. "We're +gypped. Got any jackass? Gi'me the bottle. I'm a wreck!" +</P> + +<P> +He dropped wearily into a chair and told of what he had discovered. +</P> + +<P> +"How on earth did they get wind of it?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Drummond threw out his hands in a gesture proclaiming ignorance and +despair. +</P> + +<P> +"There's one thing sure," she said thoughtfully. "He saw the paper +only yesterday or last night for the first time. Else why did he ride +way up there to see Filer? Jerkline Jo, then, has not yet seen it. +They've heard about it, though, and Hooker was sent out to hunt for +Filer. So the first thing the big rube will do when he reaches Ragtown +will be to travel over toward Julia to overtake Jo and report. He'll +get another horse, maybe, or hire a machine. Tweet would be in on it, +no doubt, and would take him in his car. So what we've got to do, my +dear boy, is to see that Hooker doesn't get to Jo with what he's +learned." +</P> + +<P> +"What can we do? He probably made a copy of what's written on Filer's +paper, so, even if we were to hold him up and get it away from him, old +Filer still would have the dope." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. That means that we've got to fix that old dub, too." +</P> + +<P> +"What d'ye mean fix him?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl shrugged. "Stop the leak some way," she replied. "If we can +destroy Filer's paper and the copy Hooker's got, then we'll be the only +ones who know the dope. We'll have the only copy in existence, in +other words; and even if we fail to get at Jerkline Jo and learn the +rest of it, we can hold her to our terms. She won't be able to do a +thing without knowing what her father wrote on the paper that Filer +has." +</P> + +<P> +"Lucy, it's a crazy business," said Drummond. "Sometimes I think it's +all a pipedream of that nutty old prospector. They're all +bughouse—these old desert rats." +</P> + +<P> +"It's not a pipedream," Lucy stoutly maintained. "I tell you I saw the +blue tattoo marks on that woman's scalp when I was beautifying her up +for the ball that night. I wondered what they were. Of course, with +her heavy hair covering them—growing right out of them, in fact—I +couldn't make out anything but blue dots." +</P> + +<P> +"And you didn't ask her about 'em?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, of course not, Al! Do you suppose a hair dresser would last very +long in the business if she showed curiosity about a thing like that? +You don't know much about women. If I'd found a knob on her nut as big +as a baseball she'd never have been told that I'd seen it." +</P> + +<P> +"But how in thunder has she reached her present age without knowing +it's there?" +</P> + +<P> +"She inadvertantly explained that; and so, when later in the day, old +Filer spilled what he knew I was sure Jo had never dreamed of what she +is carrying about under her hair. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, she was raised like an Indian. She told me that, even when +she was a little kid, she'd always been made to wash her own hair. She +naïvely confided to me that when she came into my place it was her +first time in any sort of a beauty parlor. A woman can't very well see +the back of her head, can she? And she'd never be able to see the +tattoo marks, even with two mirrors, with all that beautiful hair she's +got. Do you know what your scalp looks like, at the back of your head, +just above your ears? I guess not! You bet it's straight! And here +you sit arguing about a trifle, when a rich gold claim is slipping from +our fingers. Can't you—put your brain to work?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what's to be done?" +</P> + +<P> +"If that big boog starts to overtake Jerkline Jo, he's got to be +stopped, and the copy taken away from him. While this is going on, +Filer must be held up and the original taken from him and destroyed. +</P> + +<P> +"Then when we get the copy away from Hooker and destroy Filer's +original, we can throw our cards on the table and laugh at 'em. Come +right out and say, 'Yes, we schemed to beat you, and we've done it. +What're you going to do about it? You've got the tattooed part, we've +got the only copy of the other part. Make us an offer! Otherwise, +throw us in jail, if you think you've got it on us; but before we go +the paper will go up in smoke!' That'll hold 'em; and we'll demand +that we are not to be prosecuted, and we'll shake down half of the haul. +</P> + +<P> +"But listen, Al—we'll do that only if they beat us out up to a point +where negotiations become necessary. If only we can destroy the +original and Hooker's copy, we can hold Hooker a prisoner till we get +at Jerkline Jo and find out what's on her head. Then we can hog it all +and beat it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—well, how'll we begin? You got me beat, Lucy. You're a better +schemer than I am. What's to be done first?" +</P> + +<P> +"Beat it in your car to the mountains and get Tehachapi and the other +roughnecks. Send Tehachapi Hank up the line to waylay Filer between +camps somewhere, with instructions to get the original from him by hook +or crook. Leave it to Hank. +</P> + +<P> +"Meantime, Hooker gets in here and starts after Jerkline Jo. It's +doubtful if the thickhead will think to memorize what's on his copy, as +I have done. Even if he does think to, he won't have time to do it +before you nab him. He's dense—he wouldn't learn it in a week, I'll +say!" +</P> + +<P> +"You and Hank's friend will waylay him, then, and get his copy, destroy +it, and take Hooker into the mountains as a prisoner, with Hank's +friend to guard him. Then it will be up to you and me to get Jerkline +Jo as she's coming back through the mountains. Yes, I'll go along! It +seems the rest of you can do nothing. Leave that Jane to me! I'll get +her by a method unknown to you men! +</P> + +<P> +"We'll dope her, cut off her hair, shave her scalp, and get the part of +the directions for finding the gold that we lack. Then, Al, why can't +you and I get the stuff, beat it, and give Hank and the other jasper +the ha-ha?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lucy, you're getting to be a regular little devil!" +</P> + +<P> +Lucy shrugged and seemed rather pleased than otherwise. +</P> + +<P> +"And your ideas about that gold are of the vaguest," he continued. +"You seem to think it's lying about in chunks, begging to be picked up +and heaped in bushel baskets! All we can do, perhaps, is make claim +filings, and get to Los Angeles and record them. Then, to realize +anything, we've got to take mining engineers out there to make tests. +Then the companies they represent will make us an offer—and probably +skin us alive. In the meantime we'll be having all kinds of trouble +with Jerkline Jo and her bunch of roustabouts." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, we'll settle all that later," Lucy retorted. "Your first +move is to go for Hank and get a toehold, as Tweet says. Don't borrow +trouble! It's time to figure out our future steps when we know we hold +all the trumps. And the sooner you start the better. Thank Heaven +you've not gambled away your last automobile, Al! Their horses beat +you before, but your last little old boat will win out now. Get after +'em, boy! It's a great game if you don't weaken!" +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later Drummond was driving rapidly toward the mouth of the +mountain pass. By three o'clock he was back and following the line of +camps again, with Tehachapi Hank huddled on the floor of the tonneau +and covered with robes. Drummond had the good fortune to pass through +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Two when Hiram had stopped +there for a late "hand-out," furnished by the obliging cooks. Drummond +saw the black mare standing near the cook tent door, and hurried on +through, elated over the knowledge that Hiram had not seen him. He at +last dumped his passenger on the desert between camps, having estimated +that the slow-moving burro train could not be many miles ahead. +</P> + +<P> +Promising to return for Hank as soon as possible, Drummond raced back +toward Ragtown, passed Hiram again—at close quarters this time—and +reached the tent village ahead of him early in the evening. +</P> + +<P> +Now he and Lucy settled down to wait for Hiram's coming and to watch +his future movements. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap33"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +POCKETED +</H3> + + +<P> +Hiram Hooker, knowing well the story of Jerkline Jo's having been found +as a baby girl in a deserted camp on the desert, had easily been able +to convince old Basil Filer that she was the young woman he had been +searching for so long. +</P> + +<P> +They had spent half the night in planning in their desert camp. +Hiram's frank, open nature tended to breed confidence in the most +pessimistic of men; and when he told Filer of the wonderful character +of Jerkline Jo and assured him that, despite his past rascality, he +would be handsomely rewarded by her, the helpless old man agreed to all +that he proposed. +</P> + +<P> +Knowing that the prospector would not reach Ragtown for a long time +with his sauntering burros, Hiram was for making a copy of what the +precious paper contained and hurrying on ahead, to overtake Jo as soon +as possible, and suggest that she make arrangements for a strip to the +lost claims before starting back from Julia. To this the desert rat +agreed; but when they were ready for Hiram to make a copy it was +discovered that neither man had a scrap of paper, or even a pencil. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing to be done then, if the original plan was to be +carried out, but for Basil Filer to surrender into Hiram's keeping the +document. This, with many misgivings, Filer consented to do. +</P> + +<P> +So they broke camp early next morning, and Hiram hurried on ahead with +the original in his pocket. The old man was to traipse along after +him, and in all probability would reach Ragtown before Hiram had +overtaken Jo. +</P> + +<P> +Al Drummond passed Hiram in his car as he was nearing his journey's end +late that afternoon; but of course Hiram thought nothing of this, as +Drummond and his car made a familiar sight about the country. Hiram +had decided to ask Tweet to carry him in his machine until Jerkline Jo +had been overtaken, which would probably occur between the foot of the +mountains and Artesian Ranch on the other side. Then Tweet would +return, and Hiram would ride on with the outfit and reveal to the girl +what he had heard of the strange thing she had worn concealed under her +lustrous hair since she was two years old. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram knew about how Drummond and Lucy had stumbled onto the truth, +which Jerkline Jo herself had not even dreamed of. +</P> + +<P> +What the old prospector had told him of his "dream" convinced Hiram +that Lucy had got wind of the secret and had cleverly posed as the lost +child grown up, and had been able to draw Filer's story out of him. He +had said that in his dream he had been shown something on the girl's +scalp, under her hair, that looked like tattooing. Hiram reasoned that +Drummond could have dotted Lucy's scalp with a pen and ink sufficient +to convince the old desert rat that she was the girl he was seeking. +Then he had told his story, but had been in some way rendered +unconscious and disposed of before he could demand the clipping of +Lucy's hair and the shaving of her scalp. No doubt, while he was +unconscious, Drummond and Lucy had made a copy of what was on the paper. +</P> + +<P> +To Hiram's great disappointment he found on reaching Ragtown late that +afternoon that Twitter-or-Tweet had driven to Los Angeles on business. +He hunted about for another machine, but there seemed to be none in +town that he could hire. There was Drummond's, of course, but to deal +with him was out of the question. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Hiram boy!" Lucy called sweetly as he walked past the shooting +gallery. "You look worried. Whassa malla? Jo fired you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," said Hiram briefly. "I was looking for a machine so that I +could catch up with the outfit, but can't seem to locate one." +</P> + +<P> +"Not many about town this time of year," she commented. "Did you get +so cuckooed Jo had to leave you behind to sober up, Wild Cat? And now +you've got to chase her, eh? 'Fraid Heine or some of 'em'll get her +away from you if you don't stick around—that it?" +</P> + +<P> +To this Hiram smiled with cold politeness, but, made no reply, passing +on down the street. +</P> + +<P> +He would be forced to wait until morning. Then, provided Tweet had not +returned, he would have to ride Babe over the mountains and reach +Jerkline Jo at least before she had started back. After all, there was +no great hurry. The gold had lain where it did for countless +centuries. It would continue to lie so for a few days more, perhaps. +</P> + +<P> +Tweet did not return that night, and at dawn Hiram was away toward the +mountains on the black mare, the precious paper secreted in his shirt. +He was ten miles from Ragtown before it occurred to him what a fool he +had been in not making a copy of it. Any one of a hundred things might +happen to it. Still, the crazy prospector had carried it through all +the years and had lost it. +</P> + +<P> +He wondered if it would not be a practical idea to commit it to memory. +Why, certainly—that was the thing to do. +</P> + +<P> +He was nearing such foothills as the abrupt mountain range boasted when +he decided not only to memorize it, but to make a copy on an envelope +which was in his pocket. It had covered a letter from Uncle Sebastian +Burris, Hiram's benefactor, up there in Mendocino County. He had found +it awaiting him the night before at Ragtown. He and Uncle Sebastian +had kept up a correspondence ever since Hiram had come south. +</P> + +<P> +Although he had no pencil, it occurred to him that he could write with +the lead bullet of one of his revolver cartridges, which simple feat he +had often performed in idle moments in the woods up home. +</P> + +<P> +Dismounting, he lowered the bridle rein over Babe's head, and sat down +on the ground. He took out Uncle Sebastian's letter, and with his +pocket-knife slit the envelope till it provided him with a square of +paper. He laid the worn original—a yellow piece of tough sheepskin +paper—on a flat rock beside him. He took a cartridge from his belt +and began to copy the reddish writing. +</P> + +<P> +He had just completed the task when there came a sudden terrific roar +in his ears, and before he knew what was happening a desert twister had +swept down upon him in all its fury. +</P> + +<P> +It passed swiftly, and through half-blinded eyes Hiram saw that the +original had been whisked from the rock on which it had lain as if by +magic. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately he had held to his copy instinctively; but he had not +compared it with the original. He might have made some small but vital +mistake. Away over the desert twisted the miniature cyclone, and he +knew that, spinning around with it, was the sheepskin. Rather +foolishly in his excitement he grabbed his six-shooter from its holster +and slapped it down upon his copy to protect it from another such +catastrophe, and, still half-blinded, vaulted to the saddle and set the +mare at a dead run in the wake of the whirlwind. +</P> + +<P> +Then it was that Al Drummond, who had been slowly creeping through the +greasewood bushes toward Hiram, arose with a yelp of triumph and ran to +the weighted-down copy of the precious directions. +</P> + +<P> +Out there in the whirlwind the original was fleeing rapidly away from +the frantic rider, with the chances many to one that it would not be +recovered. Here in Drummond's hand was the only copy in existence, +except the one already in his and Lucy's possession. It was plain that +Hiram had not previously made another copy, else why would he have +stopped here on the desert to draft this one? Also, by the same token, +it was plain that Hiram had not memorized the contents. Basil Filer +might have done so, it was true; but, then, Tehachapi Hank would attend +to Basil Filer. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly Drummond stooped and touched the blaze of a match to the +envelope, and in a few minutes only a crinkled bit of black, charred +paper lay on the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"Pete!" he called, and from the greasewood another man arose and +hurried toward him. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" Drummond cried exultantly, pointing to the burned paper. +"There's what's left of the copy he was making. And here's his gun—he +used it to weigh down the copy when he raced away after the whirlwind. +Run for the horses. We'll get after him and get the original away from +him, if he gets it. Then, if Hank gets Filer—which he certainly +will—we'll have the only copies in existence!" +</P> + +<P> +Pete, the bosom friend of Tehachapi Hank, turned about and ran up +toward the fringe of junipers that concealed their horses, brought down +the day before from the mountains. Drummond, while he waited, gazed +after the strange chase, and noted that the fleet black mare was +steadily overtaking the moving funnel of dust which represented the +whirlwind. +</P> + +<P> +"By golly, if he can ride into the thing and break it, or keep up with +it till it breaks itself, he'll get the sheepskin!" Drummond muttered. +"But he won't keep it. He's left his gun. He's our meat now!" +</P> + +<P> +Then Pete rode up rapidly, leading Drummond's mount, and next moment +they were on the dead run in pursuit of Hiram. +</P> + +<P> +Time and again, as they drew nearer, they saw Hiram deliberately riding +the mare through the whirlwind, trying to break it. The thing seemed a +devil, alive and diabolically bent on eluding him. It changed course +from right to left, but the cow pony was as quick as it was; and it +seemed to the racing spectators that she enjoyed the game. Hiram was +so intent on his task, so frequently blinded by the whirlwind, while +his ears were filled with its roar, that to ride almost upon him +without his knowledge of it was an easy task for Pete and Drummond. +</P> + +<P> +They were very close to him, then, when at last the mare's lunges broke +the whirlwind, and a scattered cloud of dust hid horse and rider. +Whether or not Hiram had rescued the paper they could not tell, but +they spurred their horses on. +</P> + +<P> +The dust settled, and close at hand they saw Hiram, dismounted. At the +same instant he seemed to hear the thunder of hoofs, and glanced their +way. He took a couple of steps and grasped his mare's bridle, and was +standing unconcernedly at her head When they raced up, both training +sixshooters on him. +</P> + +<P> +"Stick 'em up, Hooker!" ordered Drummond. "This means business at +last." +</P> + +<P> +Totally unarmed, Hiram grinned and slowly elevated his hands. +</P> + +<P> +Watching him closely, Drummond and Pete dismounted, and, still keeping +their sixes trained on Hiram's stomach, approached him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Hooker," Drummond said sneeringly, "we meet again, don't we? +You see, we've showed our hand at last—and it's a pretty good one, +too. You're onto us, anyway, I guess, so from now on we'll fight in +the open. Did you get the sheepskin?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram reverted to his provincial drawl, as was his habit in moments of +great stress. +</P> + +<P> +"No, she got plumb away from me," he said. "She got outa the whirlwind +back there somewheres, or else she's gone on with what's left o' the +twister." +</P> + +<P> +"I was afraid you wasn't going to say that, Hooker," Drummond said. +"Well, let me show you something. Do you recognize this gat?" +</P> + +<P> +Hiram looked uneasily at a third big six-shooter, which Drummond had +produced as he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon she was mine a while back," he said with a gulp. +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly. And what you left it to hold down, Hooker, has gone up in +smoke." +</P> + +<P> +"You got—— You burned——" +</P> + +<P> +"Got and burned is right, Hooker. But I don't just like your tone. If +you were on the stage, Brother Hiram, I think you'd get the hook. +'Hook Hooker!' the audience might yell. Don't you think I'm funny at +times, Gentle Wild Cat? It's just my pleasant little way of informing +you that I consider you a poor actor. 'You got—you burned' was pretty +fair, Hi-ram, but not quite good enough. So we're going to search you +and make sure you didn't get the sheepskin out of the whirlwind." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't get it," Hiram said sulkily. "She's gone forever." +</P> + +<P> +"She is in any event, Hooker. But we have a copy at Ragtown—don't +forget that. Now let go these reins and step over here. And be mighty +careful, Hi-ram—mighty careful. My friend here is a nervous man with +a six-gun." +</P> + +<P> +Obediently Hiram dropped the mare's reins and stepped away from her +head. Drummond laid the two revolvers at some distance away from them +on the ground, so that, while he was searching Hiram, the latter would +have no opportunity to grab one from him and turn the tables. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep 'em up," he ordered; and, while Pete trained his gun on Hiram, +Drummond searched his prisoner from head to foot. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess you told the truth," he said. "Still, a fellow never can tell. +You're a pretty foxy guy at times. Strip, Hooker. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you did tell the truth," Drummond said a few minutes later +after a thorough search had been made. "Still I'm not through yet. +You saw us coming and had time to hide it, if you found it." +</P> + +<P> +He stepped to the mare and went over her saddle, even turning the cheek +straps of the bridle inside out, and pawing through her heavy mane and +tail. He looked and felt in her ears. He held her nostrils with his +fingers until she jerked up her head and snorted out a blast of held-in +air. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess that would have shot out any paper in her nostrils," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"They say this Jo's a hoss trainer," suggested Pete. "Maybe the mare's +a trick hoss. Look in her mouth Drummond." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond did this, but found it empty. He studied a minute, his eyes +closed thoughtfully, then threw off the saddle and examined the +sheepskin lining, <I>tapaderos</I>, jockeys, skirts. +</P> + +<P> +Now for fifteen minutes he walked about over the ground. It was hard +and firm here—almost as smooth as the surface of a dry lake, with no +loose sand in which the paper might be concealed and little desert +growth. +</P> + +<P> +Returning he lifted the mare's feet one by one, then faced Hiram again. +</P> + +<P> +"Open your mouth," he commanded; and Hiram obeyed, displaying an empty +cavity. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, ole hoss, I guess the game's up for you folks," Drummond said +chuckling. "I never thought we'd be lucky enough to get rid of the +original. So now we'll leave you to put on your clothes and go your +way. You may see Jerkline Jo and tell her your little story; and you +two can discuss what's best to do. When you've decided, come to me and +we'll dicker with you." +</P> + +<P> +"How 'bout takin' 'im into the mountains?" asked Pete in a low voice. +</P> + +<P> +"No, that won't be necessary now. We need him to put the case before +Jerkline Jo. I'm against violence, anyway, in the main. And I'm not a +hog, like a certain person I might mention if it weren't for Hooker's +overhearing it. We'll let him go, and dicker later. Half suits me." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond climbed into the saddle, and the two wheeled their horses and +rode away. +</P> + +<P> +Hiram began to dress. +</P> + +<P> +"Look, Hooker!" called Drummond from a distance. "I'll drop your gun +right here." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram nodded and continued putting on his clothes, then resaddled the +mare. +</P> + +<P> +Then when the departing riders were mere specks in the distance he +stepped to Babe's head, reached his fingers up one of her nostrils, and +pulled out the wadded sheepskin document. +</P> + +<P> +"A heap o' fellas call themselves hossmen that don't know about that +little pocket in a hoss' nose," came his whimsical Mendocino drawl. +"She could snort all day, but the pocket ain't connected with her +nostrils." He patted Babe's glossy neck. "Li'l' black mare," he +crooned into her furry ear, "le's go find Jo!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap34"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHILE SPRING APPROACHED +</H3> + + +<P> +At a late hour in the evening of the day that Hiram Hooker set out to +ride with the sheepskin to Jerkline Jo, on her way to Julia, a strange +figure presented itself at the door of the lighted commissary tent of +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Two. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, who in thunder are you?" exclaimed the young commissary clerk, +as his eyes fell upon a set of shaggy gray brows and a dusty, +bewhiskered face. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Basil Filer—ole Filer," was the croaking reply. "I jest stopped +in to see if ye got a' automobile, or a hoss an' buggy, or somethin' +here." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what if we have?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thought maybe ye'd give Tehachapi Hank a ride," came the answer. +"He's too heavy for Muta—that's my biggest burro. His feet drags and +ketches in the greasewood, and Muta she gets provoked at him. He won't +bother you none—Hank won't. He's peaceable. But he oughta be got to +a constable or somethin'. You see, Hank he's dead." +</P> + +<P> +This brought the clerk out into the night; and there in the light +streaming from the tent door lay the figure of a man crosswise and face +down on a burro's back. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye see, I know Hank some time," explained Basil Filer simply. "And +jest last night a friend o' mine he camped with me, and said Hank was +up to his old devilment ag'in. So I was camped on the desert out there +this evenin', and Hank he drifts in. And—well, I'm watchin', you see; +and so when Hank he sidles round and I see somethin' heavylike in his +hand, why, I ups and goes for my cannon. Then Hank he goes for his, +and I have to let him have it from the hip. Got any ca'tridges, +pardner? Hank he wasted the last one I had." +</P> + +<P> +"You—you killed this man?" faltered the clerk. +</P> + +<P> +"I hadn't only one ca'tridge, pardner," Filer said patiently. "And +Hank he's accounted a pretty clever gunman. Well, maybe he was. Ole +Filer he shoots ole jack rabbits in the eye at twenty paces with a six, +they'll tell ye. Anyway ye can figger that out, here's Hank. And he +oughta see a coroner er somethin'. I don't want 'im. Besides, time +Muta'd packed him to Ragtown, Hank he'd spoil. Muta she never did like +Tehachapi Hank, nohow." +</P> + +<P> +The following day the mortal remains of Tehachapi Hank were brought +into Ragtown, together with his self-confessed killer Basil Filer. The +constable—for Ragtown had one now—took Filer in charge and hurried +him to the county seat in Twitter-or-Tweet's machine. The burros had +been loosed to pick their living on the desert. +</P> + +<P> +"So that failed beautifully!" exclaimed Al Drummond to Lucy Dalles. +"Who'd have thought that old rabbit would be too quick for Hank! He +must have been on his guard." +</P> + +<P> +Lucy shrugged indifferently. "Filer was a master shot," she observed. +"Failed beautifully is right, Al—beautifully for us. It couldn't have +happened better. Now Brother Hank is out of it. If you can contrive +some way to shake Hank's partner, Pete, there'll be no one but you and +me to whack up. +</P> + +<P> +"Since Hank is numbered among the late lamented," she continued, "I can +forgive you for bungling the Hooker end of your job. With Hank's +finger out of the pot, I'm content to split with Jerkline Jo. So, no +thanks to you, everything has worked out all right after all. Can't +you send Pete out with instructions to bite a rattlesnake, or something +like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're mighty good-natured to-day, kid," Al said. +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't I be? Since we know the original document and that +boob's copy are both destroyed—and that before he had time to commit +the directions to memory. We have nothing whatever to do but wait for +Jerkline Jo to come to us and ask us what our terms are. Then if you +and I aren't foxy enough to squeeze out the amiable Mr. Pete—— Well, +leave it to me!" +</P> + +<P> +"But have you thought," Drummond pointed out, "that perhaps Filer has +committed the instructions to memory?" +</P> + +<P> +Lucy scoffed at this and dismissed it with: "That old lunatic? Never! +He can hardly remember the story, and now and then forgets that he's +hunting for Baby Jean and hikes back for the desert. Don't worry about +his having committed anything to memory. He has no memory to commit it +to!" +</P> + +<P> +At about the time the foregoing dialogue was being spoken in Ragtown, +Jerkline Jo, in her tent at Julia, was making strange remarks to Hiram +Hooker, to wit, as follows: +</P> + +<P> +"Hi-<I>ram</I>! It ti-i-i-ickles! Sto-op-op! Wait a minute, Hiram!" +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" snorted the unfeeling man. "Whoever heard of anybody being +ticklish on the head!" +</P> + +<P> +"But I am, Hiram! I just know I am! And isn't that razor far too +sharp?" +</P> + +<P> +"'There ain't no such thing,'" quoted the man out of the store of his +masculine experience. "Now quit wiggling, Jo, or I'm liable to cut +you." +</P> + +<P> +"Now go slow, Hiram. And if I say it feels funny, you stop. Now easy +at first! Horrors! I wouldn't be a man for anything!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't blame me," mumbled Hiram. "Now quit wrinkling your scalp, Jo. +Fella'd think I was going to cut your head off, the way you dodge and +shrink." +</P> + +<P> +They were alone in the tent. Jo was on her knees on the ground, and +behind her and over her stood Hiram with an old-fashioned razor in his +hand. Beside them on a chair lay a strand of almost black hair three +feet in length, which Hiram swore that he would preserve until his +dying breath. On the back of Jo's head appeared a round spot, covered +with hairs half an inch in length, and these the brutal man was trying +to shave off with the razor. Never had barber a more provoking +customer. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'll look like a fright, Hiram! I've always been proud of my +hair." +</P> + +<P> +"It'll grow out again," he said soothingly. "Besides, what I cut off +didn't cover a spot an inch and a half in diameter. With hair like +yours, it can't be noticed. If I'd thought it would disfigure your +hair, girl, I'd have said, 'Let the old gold go!' What an idea!" +</P> + +<P> +"I positively never heard of such a weird thing. And to think it's on +me! And—— Oo-oo-oo-oo! You cut me, Hiram! It's bleeding!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, no! Only more lather. Don't wiggle, Jo!" +</P> + +<P> +"There! It's all over," Hiram said after a minute of silence. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Four days later Lucy Dalles and Al Drummond stood behind the counter of +the shooting gallery at Ragtown, and with a certain amount of nervous +expectancy watched the freight outfit of Jerkline Jo grow larger and +larger as it neared the journey's end. +</P> + +<P> +Soon they heard the merry jingling of hundreds of bells, and next the +big horses were planting their heavy fetlocked feet in the street, +their glossy necks arched proudly as Ragtown turned out to greet them. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy stood on tiptoe and craned her neck along the line of heavily +loaded wagons. "Don't see Jo's whites at the tail end," she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +And presently her companion supplemented: "Nor Hooker's blacks. Say, +that's funny. There's only four teams, Hooker and the girl didn't +come!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, dear, dear! What can that mean? Al, Hooker must have memorized +the directions! And——" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "If he'd memorized them, why did he sit down +on the desert to copy em?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's right, of course! But I'm worried, Al. Something must be +wrong." +</P> + +<P> +Just then two men passed along the street, and a fragment of their +conversation floated to the anxious pair: "Says Jo's sick at Julia——-" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh that's it!" Lucy murmured in relief. "And the hick stayed to nurse +her. There's not so much freight to be hauled right now. See, +Al—Heine and Keddie each are driving sixteen, with trailers. The +extra horses are white and black—Jo's and Hiram's. I wonder what's +the matter with Jo." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" snickered Drummond. "The package we handed her is enough to +make anybody sick! But I don't just like the way things look, either. +By golly, aren't we to know where we stand until Jo gets well!" +</P> + +<P> +Three of the wagons and trailers groaned on through the town toward +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One, while the fourth—Heine +Schultz driving—entered the alley to reach the rear of Huber's store. +Twenty minutes later Schultz suddenly presented himself at the shooting +gallery. +</P> + +<P> +"Howdy," he greeted Al and Lucy, touching the broad brim of his hat +with a forefinger. "Jo's sick. I guess you've heard." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, so some one said," Lucy smiled amiably at the dusty skinner. +"Isn't it too bad! What seems to be wrong, Heine?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bad cold—settled in her lungs," replied Heine briefly. "Er—now—Jo +told me to ask you somethin', miss. Either you or Drummond, she said. +I don't know what it's about. She just said: 'Go see Drummond or Lucy +when you get in and ask them their terms and let me know what they say +when you get back to Julia.'" +</P> + +<P> +Drummond darted a quick, triumphant glance at the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," she said lightly to the skinner, "I know what she refers to. +Why, just tell her, 'Half,' Heine. That's all you need to say; she'll +understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Gotcha," said Heine, and lounged away, rolling a brown paper cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +The outfit started back again early next morning; and eight days later +it returned, still minus its two important figures. Again Heine +Schultz rested his bony elbows on the carpeted counter of the shooting +gallery, and spoke to Lucy, who this time was alone. +</P> + +<P> +"About that business between you folks and Jo," he said, indolently +filling a cigarette paper. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" eagerly returned Lucy. +</P> + +<P> +"Jo says tell you, 'Half is too much.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! She—she's still ill?" +</P> + +<P> +Heine, shook his head sadly and tapped his chest. "Can't hardly hear +her talk," he said. "It's fierce. Wild Cat's scared stiff about it. +Well, what'll I tell 'er, Miss Lucy?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have to see Al before giving you an answer," she told him. +"Can't you drop around after supper, Heine?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. I'm on the water wagon, though," he added blandly, with no +suggestion of a deep meaning in his tones. +</P> + +<P> +An hour afterward Drummond met Heine on the street and handed him a +sealed envelope. "Give that to Jerkline Jo," he commanded shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"Gotcha!" drawled Heine, and slouched on up the street. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound it!" Drummond grumbled to Lucy little later. "Why in thunder +doesn't Tweet put a telephone line to civilization? We're wasting +time!" +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't do anything, anyway, till Jo's on her feet again," the girl +practically pointed out. "Don't be overimpatient." +</P> + +<P> +Eight days later Heine Schultz faced them again. +</P> + +<P> +"Jo's still too sick to write," he announced. "But she's gettin' +better right along. She told me to tell you that what you wrote was +fierce, and that you was too greedy. That's only what Jo said. Don't +take it out on me. She said she'd be willin' to let you have a fourth, +over an' above all expenses." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she'll do nothing of the sort!" Lucy cut in hotly. +</P> + +<P> +"Come around later, Heine," put in Drummond. "I'll have another note." +</P> + +<P> +"Gotcha!" replied Heine, and picked up a rifle to sight at a target +before strolling nonchalantly on. +</P> + +<P> +Two miles out of town next morning Heine took out his pocketknife and +slit the envelope covering the note that Drummond had given him to be +delivered to Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"M'm-m!" he mumbled, reading slowly, a great calloused forefinger +following the lines. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +You'll come to our terms immediately, or our copy +of the instructions goes into the fire. We've reached +the end of our rope, and won't monkey any longer. +Take your choice, Miss Modock--or Miss Jean +Prince--half or nothing. Yes, we're just ornery +enough to rob ourselves to spite you. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Heine scratched his head and muttered: "Lord, be merciful unto me, a +skinner! Now what'll I say to that? Guess I'll stretch this trip out +to twelve days—we c'n have a breakdown or somethin'." +</P> + +<P> +It was indeed twelve days before the outfit was again seen in Ragtown; +and then Mr. Schultz had this to say to Drummond and the girl: +</P> + +<P> +"Jo says she'll be about pretty soon now, and she'll come over with us +next trip and see you herself. Says for you not to do anything rash, +or anything like that. What'll I tell her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell her to hurry up!" Drummond said angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"Gotcha!" drawled Heine, and betook himself to camp. +</P> + +<P> +Ten days later Mr. Schultz had this to report: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sir, Jo she just naturally had a terrible relapse. Doctor's +worried blue about 'er. She can't talk, and she can't see to read. +She just lays there and gasps somethin' fierce." +</P> + +<P> +"What on earth has she?" cried Lucy. +</P> + +<P> +Heine scratched his head. "The doc said it was a kind o' complication +or somethin'. Dip'theria and appendiseetus, I think he said. Yes, +sir—that's it. Dip'theria and appendiseetus." +</P> + +<P> +"Ridiculous!" scoffed Lucy. "Did they operate?" +</P> + +<P> +"Operate! I should say they did! They whittled that woman down to +such a frazzle and when the doc goes to see her in the mornin' he has +to shake the sheets to find her!" +</P> + +<P> +"Heine, I believe you're a humorist," Lucy said doubtfully. +</P> + +<P> +Heine grinned. "She's gettin' better now, though; and the doc says +next trip she'll probably be over. Then she c'n 'tend to her business +with you herself. I wish she would. I get things all mixed up." +</P> + +<P> +Drummond and Lucy stared at each other when the skinner had left. +</P> + +<P> +"Gypped!" exclaimed Drummond. "There's something phony about this! By +George, I'm—I'm scared there's something wrong! Heine's been lying +like a sailor. I believe I'll drive over to Julia tomorrow and see +what I can find out." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Sit down, Heine," invited Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet, rising and +lowering the window shade in his little pine office as the jerkline +skinner entered. +</P> + +<P> +Heine accepted. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" queried Tweet, with a look of worriment in his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't heard a word from 'em, Playmate, since they come in and filed, +and went back with a minin' engineer," said Heine. "I'm gettin' +worried myself. You see, that's a bad country up in there where +they've gone. Many a man's gone in there and left his bones for the +buzzards to pick." +</P> + +<P> +"But weren't they fixed for an ordeal, Heine?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one ever hit Death Valley better fixed," was the reply. "Jo, she +hires two big trucks and takes horses and pack burros and feed and grub +and water till you couldn't rest. They aimed to go as far as they +could with the trucks, and then make a headquarters there, leave the +drivers to look out for the camp, and her and Wild Cat was gonta make +it on in with the horses and the canaries. They had a scout that knows +that country from the southern end o' the Panamints to Lost Valley. +Oh, they went heeled; but it's a big job and takes time. Still, they +oughta be showin' up by now." +</P> + +<P> +Orr Tweet heaved a great sigh. "Jo's simply forgotten all about me," +he said mournfully. "Heine, I don't mind tellin' you—but if somethin' +don't happen pretty soon one Tweet goes up Salt Creek. Here it's only +ten days till I gotta plunk down six thousan' iron men, plus a raft o' +interest money. And the mortgages o' this blame rancho are watchin' me +like buzzards, ready to swoop down the minute I begin to gasp. They +got me where the hair's short, Heine. I not only lose the rancho and +all, but every cent Jo and me and Hiram's put into her. I ain't +sellin' an acre these days. Won't till summer's here, and the +blame'-fool homesteaders see that Paloma Rancho's worth ten times what +the government land's worth. The work on the grade is nearin' +completion, and the steel's creepin' closer every day. Every mornin', +when it's still, you c'n hear the whistle o' the track-layin' engine. +The camps are finishin' and movin' on, one by one. That takes trade +away from Ragtown, and concessionaires are quittin', too. A month from +now Ragtown will be only a memory, Heine. Not that, as Tweet, she +won't build up later and more substantially, when the steel's laid and +trains are runnin'. But to keep a stiff upper lip till then brings +gray hairs!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you worry," Heine said consolingly. "You just set tight and +watch the spring blossoms come. Jerkline Jo never failed man nor horse +nor dog in her life, and she ain't forgot you for a second. You bet +your last dime on Jerkline Jo, ol'-timer—and Wild Cat, too, s'far's +that goes. They'll ramble home in time to save you. I'll bet my bank +roll on it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Only ten days more," Tweet sighed heavily. "Oh, papa, what pretty +fireworks you made! Heine, are you still keepin' Drummond in hot +water?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," Heine assured him. "They're doin' very well. Guess +Drummond'll be drivin' to see how Jo's gettin' along pretty soon. I +guess I queered things to-day. Tried to get funny, and pretty near +spilled the beans. I'll say he'd better take along about five huskies +to move boulders outa the road, if he tries to make it through the +pass. Them big boys just naturally roll down behind us the minute +we've passed. And comin' back, we hook on and snake 'em outa the way. +And then, by golly, they spring right back again! Funny rocks in this +country, Tweet." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap35"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WAY OF LIFE +</H3> + + +<P> +Sand, sand, sand—far as the eye can reach, a sea of sand, with here +and there a half-buried and bleached horned skull, and vultures +circling high above in the heavens. +</P> + +<P> +Away in the blinding distance five specks appear, and finally are seen +to be slowly on the move. Hours after this discovery, if an observer +were to remain stationary, the specks take on the shapes of animal +life—two men, a woman, and two burros bearing packs. Onward they move +slowly, and once more become mere specks, scarce discernible against +the weird hue of the sky, then vanish altogether. Once more in all +this vast, dread waste moves nothing save the vultures indolently +circling in the hot dome above. +</P> + +<P> +Days later a dust-covered automobile worms its way through the traffic +in Los Angeles and comes to rest before a tall office building. Two as +dusty as the car descend from the tonneau, and one leaves the seat +beside the driver. Pedestrians stare curiously at the trio as, talking +and laughing in high spirits, they cross the pavement to the building's +entrance. +</P> + +<P> +"Desert rats—mining folks," observes a wiseacre to his friend. "Look +at the girl and the chaps! Peach, eh? That's the life! Ho-hum! +Gotta get back to the old office, Bill. See you to-night at lodge, I +s'pose. S'long!" +</P> + +<P> +In a lavishly furnished anteroom of a suite of offices on the top floor +of the building, Jerkline Jo and Hiram Hooker sank into overstuffed +chairs and relaxed, while the other man, in khaki and scarred puttees, +excused himself and entered the rooms beyond, carrying a suit case that +tugged at his arm until his shoulder sagged. He was absent from the +intercom a half hour. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, boy," said Jerkline Jo, "it's all over, I guess. What an +experience! I thought I knew the desert and the rough life before, but +I wasn't out of my A B C's." +</P> + +<P> +"It was glorious, though," said Hiram. "I wouldn't have missed it, +dear, for worlds." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I, either. But I don't wish ever to return. Once is enough." +</P> + +<P> +After this they were silent. Both sat with eyes closed, dreaming of +the past and the beckoning future. Their dreams were finally +interrupted by the reappearance of Mr. John Downer, the mining engineer +for the Gold Hills Mining Co., in whose offices they now sat. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he began, smiling, "if you'll come in now, Mr. Floresta would +like to have a talk with you. Getting a bit rested, Miss Modock?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Floresta, president of the Gold Hills Mining Co., was a pudgy, pink +man, carefully groomed and manicured and barbered, who radiated +businesslike good nature. On his rich mahogany desk lay a row of gold +specimens that glittered in the sunlight streaming in through a window. +He shook hands warmly with Jo and Hiram; and when all were seated they +talked of the trip for a time, and then the president plunged to the +heart of the business that had brought them together. +</P> + +<P> +"Knowing that you were in a hurry, Miss Modock," he said, "I called a +meeting of the stockholders, and we reached the conclusion that, if Mr. +Downer's report was entirely satisfactory, there would be no use in +quibbling over the price you and Mr. Hooker have asked. The sum that +you ask for the group of claims that you filed upon is, as you are +aware, an enormous one for unproved mining properties. Still, we wish +to be fair; and on Mr. Downer's glowing report we are going to take a +chance. Therefore, please state your pleasure in the matter of +payments, and arrangements will be made at once." +</P> + +<P> +A great sigh escaped Jo, and tears welled to her dark eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Mr. Floresta," she said. "If you can let us have two +hundred thousand at once, I'm sure payment of the remainder of the +million can be easily arranged to suit both sides." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Floresta bowed and pushed a buzzer button. A moment or so later a +messenger was on the way to a bank with a check. When he returned he +handed Floresta another check—one certified by the cashier of the +company's banking house. +</P> + +<P> +"Now for yours and Mr. Hooker's signatures, please," said Floresta. "I +have indicated in the transfer papers that the remainder of the million +dollars is to be paid in four semi-annual installments, of two hundred +thousand each, with interest at six per cent on deferred payments. Is +that entirely satisfactory?" +</P> + +<P> +"Entirely," Jo told him, and went to his desk and took up the pen he +handed her. +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later Hiram and the girl were alone in the anteroom once +more. Hiram took the hands of Jerkline Jo and bent over her. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma'am," he drawled whimsically, "if you'll let me, I'll kiss you now!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet paced back and forth in his little pine +office, his hands behind his back, his brows furrowed. Every little +while he grabbed his nose and straightened it savagely, but each time +it reverted to its list to port again, and Tweet marched on +disconsolately. It was the evening of the next to last day of his +three days of grace. To-morrow Paloma Rancho, Ragtown, and all that +they represented would slip automatically from his control, and he +could not raise a finger to stop it. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the door burst open with a bang, and Heine Schultz filled the +little office with the roar of a behemoth: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, boy! Have you seen it? Just come in with the mail! Los Angeles +papers! Here, read, man! And then get drunk! I'll help you!" +</P> + +<P> +Tweet snatched the paper from him, and his steel-blue eyes bugged at +the glaring headlines: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Gold! Gold! Gold! Death Valley Gives Up +Another Secret. Rich Find in Little-Known Corner +of Treacherous Waste. Dead Father of Picturesque +Girl Called Jerkline Jo the Finder. Weird Tale of +Struggles and Death and Baby Lost on Desert. Gold +Hills Mining Co. Takes Over the Claims at $1,000,000. +President Says Richest Discovery Since Days of '49. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Great stutterin' Demosthenes!" exclaimed Tweet, and fell limply into a +chair. +</P> + +<P> +Then again the door was opened, and a boy from the post office handed +Tweet a special-delivery letter. Tremblingly he tore the envelope and +removed a yellow telegram. Tears sprang to his eyes as he read aloud: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Have to-day deposited to credit of your checking +account in Bluemount National Bank, Los Angeles, +one hundred thousand dollars. Check against it at +pleasure. Hiram and I on our way to Mendocino +County for a little rest and to see old friend of his. +Reach Ragtown in about two weeks if all goes well. +<BR><BR> +"JEAN PRINCE HOOKER, JERKLINE JO."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Tweet sprang from his chair, cramming on his hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Lock the door and take the key, Heine!" he cried. "I'm going to Los +Angeles at fifty miles an hour!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +At the same time in the shooting gallery Al Drummond and Lucy Dalles +stared over the top of a newspaper at each other, their eyes tragic. +</P> + +<P> +"Gyped!" exclaimed Drummond at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Gyped!" Lucy echoed faintly. +</P> + +<P> +Then for a time there was silence, broken at last by Drummond's weary +voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess I'll drift up to the Dugout," he said. "See you later." +</P> + +<P> +Lucy made no reply, but stood staring out across the spring-scented +desert, her thoughts on the tinkling streams of Mendocino and the big, +kind, sheltering trees. The rhododendrons were beginning to blossom +there now. Soon the redwood lilies would be scenting the air with +their delicate fragrance. Gray squirrels would be scolding in lofty +trees, and trout would be leaping in still, dark pools. +</P> + +<P> +Lucy sat down very suddenly, and then her head fell forward on her +arms. There on the carpeted counter, between the rifles, she sobbed +heartbrokenly. She knew by intuition that in her quest for wealth she +would not have Al Drummond to help her in the future. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Ragtown's biggest day was when old Basil Filer, having been acquitted +of the charge of murder on the evidence furnished by Jerkline Jo and +Hiram Hooker, returned to hunt for his burros. This was Ragtown's +greatest day because Hiram Hooker and his bride came, too. +</P> + +<P> +They had spent a pleasant time with Uncle Sebastian Burris in Mendocino +County, most glorious of countries in spring. Hiram had expressed the +wish to see Uncle Sebastian again and to tell him all that had befallen +him in driving jerkline to Ragtown. Hiram had learned a great lesson, +he felt. He had left the north woods to do something less prosaic than +driving jerkline, and a series of peculiar incidents had forced him +back into the same old groove again. Yet the once scorned, neglected +task had brought him adventures and a fortune and a splendid girl. +Over all this he wished to marvel with his old benefactor and friend, +and Jo had readily consented to the trip. They had returned for Basil +Filer's trial as the main witnesses for the defense. +</P> + +<P> +The stage brought all three into the town, and for the first time they +saw the new steel and the track-laying engine beyond. Carpenters were +building the roundhouse, and new buildings were going up all over the +village. +</P> + +<P> +Ragtown turned out in a body to meet them. The wagons and teams of +Jerkline Jo's freight outfit were covered with flags, and Jo's proud +skinners paraded the streets, the wagons loaded with cheering +townspeople. Carried on the shoulders of men, the bride and groom were +escorted to the Palace Dance Hall, where a banquet had been prepared, +over which presided Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet. +</P> + +<P> +Far into the night they celebrated, and in all of Ragtown there was +only one who did not attend. This was poor little Lucy Dalles, sobbing +her heart out in her little cabin, her dream of wealth and marriage +with Al Drummond gone. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly midnight when there came a gentle tapping on her door. +Dashing the tears from her eyes, Lucy walked unsteadily across her +expensive rug and opened the door to a crack. Next moment she found +herself in a pair of strong arms, and her head lay on the breast of +Jerkline Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, dear! There, there! Don't cry! It's all right—all +right! I know—I understand." +</P> + +<P> +With her arms about the sobbing girl, big-hearted Jerkline Jo, the +desert's grandest product, led the way to one of the big leather chairs +and sat down. Only Lucy's sobs broke the silence, while Jo sat and +smoothed back her pretty hair. +</P> + +<P> +Presently the sobbing ceased, and then Jo rose and, taking her in her +arms again, kissed her and smiled into her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You must bathe your eyes now, dear," said Jo, "for Mr. Tweet is coming +to see you pretty soon. He told me so. Now look your best for Tweet +has something serious to say to you." +</P> + +<P> +She left her then, and an hour later Tweet interrupted Jo and Hiram in +Jo's little cabin on the edge of town. He came in and sat down. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Jo," he said, "it's a go. We'll go to work and get married +to-morrow mornin', if the old bus will take us to a preacher. I guess +I've loved her some time," Tweet added bashfully. "Lucy and me'll make +nice little playmates." +</P> + +<P> +Hiram rose and gripped his old friend's hand. "I'm mighty glad, +Tweet," he told him. "Just too much Ragtown—that's all that was the +matter with Lucy. She was kind to me up there in Frisco when I'd just +come out of the woods. Her heart's warm, and that's what counts." +</P> + +<P> +Tweet's steel-blue eyes twinkled. "Course nobody could blame her for +makin' you spend four dollars an hour for an automobile," he said. "It +was a crime not to roll you for your jack in those days, Hooker. I +forgave her for that a long time ago." +</P> + +<P> +Next morning Basil Filer drifted into town, driving his recaptured +burros ahead of him. Silently he worked at packing the bags and +throwing diamond hitches. +</P> + +<P> +Jerkline Jo and Hiram stood laughing at the gurgling imps of the +desert, and Jo went up to Filer. +</P> + +<P> +"What does this mean?" she asked. "You're all packed up for a trip." +</P> + +<P> +The weird old eyes looked up at her queerly. "We're goin'—out there," +croaked Filer, a trembling finger pointing toward the fragrant desert. +"It's spring, Baby Jean—and now's the time to hunt for gold, when +there's lots o' feed for the little fellas." +</P> + +<P> +"Gold!" cried Jo. "Why, man, you've so much money coming to you that +you can't spend it in the rest of your natural life." +</P> + +<P> +"Money?" he said absently. "Yes—you've done me han'some, Baby Jean. +But I ain't got much use for money. Money's only a grubstake, so's you +c'n buy things and go out and hunt for gold. Good-by, folks! Next +fall you'll see me and the little fellas ag'in. Hi, Muta! Lead out!" +</P> + +<P> +And, gripping his staff, he limped off in the wake of his long-eared +companions, swinging their packs from side to side as a mother rocks +the cradle. +</P> + +<P> +"They're all like that," said a man. "It's the hunt for it that keeps +'em goin'. They don't know what to do with it when they get it." +</P> + +<P> +The dark eyes of Jerkline Jo were full of dreams. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, we're all like that, I imagine," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"And how bout <I>you</I>, Jo?" some one asked. "Now that you're rich and +married and all?" +</P> + +<P> +Jo looked down the street at the nearly completed roundhouse and the +track-laying engine working on below the town. +</P> + +<P> +"I?" she said dreamily. "Why—why—I don't just know. The steel has +come, and now freight will reach here by train. We're going to New +York—Hiram and I—and maybe across the Atlantic. But we'll come back +soon, and—and—— Oh, there'll be a new road building +somewhere—another Ragtown. We couldn't quit, I guess. What's city +life and all that money will buy compared with the thrill of driving a +ten-horse jerkline team over the desert and the mountains? I guess, +after we've looked about the Gentle Wild Cat and I will just keep on +driving jerkline to Ragtown—somewhere." +</P> + +<P> +She pointed over the desert to where a bent old man and six drifting +burros were blending gradually into the landscape. +</P> + +<P> +"He's not crazy," she said softly. "He has just voiced a great +fundamental truth for all humanity. Money is only a grubstake. The +world needs gold and—and freight. Jerkline to Ragtown—that's life! +Some Ragtown will need freight—some Ragtown—somewhere." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE END. +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The She Boss, by Arthur Preston Hankins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHE BOSS *** + +***** This file should be named 19129-h.htm or 19129-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/1/2/19129/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: The She Boss + A Western Story + +Author: Arthur Preston Hankins + +Release Date: August 27, 2006 [EBook #19129] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHE BOSS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: "He was flailing right and left with a huge pine knot in +either hand."] + + + + + + +THE SHE BOSS + +A WESTERN STORY + + +BY + +ARTHUR PRESTON HANKINS + + + + +AUTHOR OF + +THE HERITAGE OF THE HILLS, THE JUBILEE GIRL, ETC. + + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP + +PUBLISHERS ---------- NEW YORK + + + + +Copyright, 1922 + +By CHELSEA HOUSE + + +The She Boss + + + +(Printed In the United States of America) + +All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign +languages, including the Scandinavian. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE + II. OUT OF THE WOODS + III. SAN FRANCISCO + IV. TWITTER OR TWEET + V. A RIVAL + VI. THE FIRE + VII. HIRAM, THE BUTTERFLY + VIII. LUCY'S AMBITIONS + IX. HIRAM WAKES UP + X. JERKLINE JO + XI. THE RETURN OF JERKLINE JO + XII. SKINNERS FROM FRISCO + XIII. THE START FOR JULIA + XIV. A WIRE TO JULIA + XV. MR. TWEET NEGOTIATES A LOAN + XVI. TEHACHAPI HANK + XVII. IN LETTERS OF BLACK + XVIII. GREATER RAGTOWN + XIX. WHAT MADE THE WILD CAT + XX. DRUMMOND'S PASSENGER + XXI. LUCY SEES A PROSPECT + XXII. JERKLINE JO'S SURPRISE + XXIII. DRUMMOND WEAVES A DREAM + XXIV. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE LAKE + XXV. JO LOSES HER SUPPORT + XXVI. AT THE HAIRPIN CURVE + XXVII. UNDER THE DRIPPING TREES + XXVIII. FOUR-UP FOR HELP + XXIX. THE GENTLE WILD CAT RETURNS + XXX. HIRAM TAKES THE TRAIL + XXXI. A TALE OF THE DESERT'S DEAD + XXXII. LUCY PLANS A COUNTER-ATTACK + XXXIII. POCKETED + XXXIV. WHILE SPRING APPROACHED + XXXV. THE WAY OF LIFE + + + + +The She Boss + + +CHAPTER I + +BEAR VALLEY'S DRONE + +Spring was manifest in the vast big-timber country of Mendocino County. +"Uncle" Sebastian Burris felt the moist warmth of it oozing from the +slowly drying road as he trudged along. The smell of it emanated from +the white, pale-yellow, and pink fungi that flourished on the soaked +and ancient logs along the way. He heard the voice of it in the soft +murmuring of the South Fork of the Eel, which went twinkling down Bear +Valley through firs and redwoods straight as telegraph poles; in the +caress of the soft south wind soughing in the tree-tops. Chipmunks and +gray squirrels darted across his path. + +A quarter of a mile from Wharton Bixler's store he turned off on a +narrow road which led into the deeper forest. He passed through groves +of redwoods which towered three hundred feet above him, and whose girth +was over sixty feet. A half mile more the old man trudged on sturdily, +muttering occasionally to himself. Then he struck a cross trail which +paralleled Ripley Creek, and this he followed into the sunshine of an +open spot. + +Across this, through thickets of whitethorn, manzanita, alder, and bay +he limped along, following deer trails. The deeper forest was left +behind in the lowlands. A grass-grown bark road, which he eventually +found, followed the creek, ascending sharply through shade and +sunshine, crossing and recrossing the creek on wooden bridges, +twisting, always climbing. + +On one of the bridges Uncle Sebastian Burris halted. A great snarl of +bleached driftwood had collected just above the bridge, and through it +the clear water roared in a dozen tiny cataracts. Beyond the drift +Uncle Sebastian had caught a glimpse of some living, moving object. He +wiped his watery blue eyes with a red handkerchief, looked once more, +then crossed the bridge and wound through a thicket of huckleberry +bushes till abreast the drift. + +A little later he was peering down a steep bank into the +boulder-studded bottom of Ripley Creek, where lay a fine young specimen +of the genus homo idly tossing pebbles into the crystal water. A smile +half sardonic grew in the features of Uncle Sebastian as he stood +looking down at him. + +The youth, unconscious of the presence of another, kept on idly tossing +the pebbles, recumbent on one elbow. His long sinewy legs were incased +in slick jean trousers of stovepipe lines and stiffness. He wore no +coat. A faded blue shirt covered his barrel of a body, and his slouch +hat was off, exposing long, light, wiry hair and a freckled neck. His +lean jaws were covered by a two weeks' growth of beard. About him +drooped hazels and alders. From one end to the other Ripley Creek was +beautiful; there was no lovelier spot in all of California. + +"Hello, Hiram!" Sebastian Burris called at last. + +The youth started perceptibly and sat up. He turned his head over his +left shoulder. Big, bulging blue eyes laughed back at Sebastian. The +good-naturedly twisted mouth that grinned at him was suggestive of a +sluggish drawl. The long legs twined themselves, and Hiram Hooker +flopped over on his stomach, facing his friend. + +"Why, hello, Uncle Sebastian!" he cried in a tone which bore true +welcome. "What're you doin' 'way up here? Come on down an' look at +the young trout!" + +Without remark, Uncle Sebastian, grasping roots and low-hanging +branches, clambered stiffly down the bank. He sat down by the side of +Hiram Hooker and glanced at three old, dirty backless magazines that +lay on the pebbles and smiled. + +"Ain't seen ye down to th' store at stage time in I dunno when, Hiram," +he remarked, surveying the handsome young Hercules with admiration. + +Hiram skimmed a flat piece of slate across a riffle. + +"I never get any mail, Uncle Sebastian," he drawled. + +"They's a heap o' us don't go to Bixler's fer th' mail, Hiram." + +"Heaven knows there's nothin' else to take me there," and there was +just a shade of bitterness in the twist of Hiram's good-natured mouth. + +In place of tossing pebbles, Uncle Sebastian chose to pick up a redwood +splinter on which to whittle. He took out a slick-handled jackknife, +blew a clot of pocket lint from the springs, opened a whetted pruning +blade, and began shaving the brittle wood. His watery blue eyes were +far-off and thoughtful. + +"Jest come from there," he resumed. "We was talkin' about ye down +there, Hiram. Put me in mind to come up an' see ye. Hiram, ye ain't +any too popular in Bear Valley--d'ye know it?" + +"You know I do," promptly replied Hiram. + +"D'ye know what they're sayin' agin' ye?" Uncle Sebastian continued +after a long pause. + +"Don't know as I'm carin'." + +"Yes, ye are, Hiram," said Uncle Sebastian positively. "Don't tell me +that. Ye c'n tell yerself ye don't keer, Hiram, but ye're lyin' to +yerself. It ain't in human nature not to keer what folks thinks about +a fella. Gosh! where'd we be if it wasn't so?" + +Hiram flipped a pebble. "I reckon you're right, Uncle Sebastian, and I +reckon I know you're aimin' at somethin'. You came 'way up here to +spring somethin' on me, didn't you? Well, le's have it." + +"Ye're right, Hiram--I did. In the first place, then, they're sayin' +ye're the laziest fella in Bear Valley." + +Hiram laughed mirthlessly. "There's nothin' new in that, Uncle +Sebastian. They've said the same since paw died. I reckon I am, +maybe." + +"Hiram," patiently persisted the old man, "I didn't walk 'way up here +to listen to such talk. I tell ye, ye're playin' insincere, Hiram. +Down in yer heart ye know as well as anythin' it makes ye hot to be +talked about an' called th' laziest man in Bear Valley. I'd druther +see ye hoppin' mad ner takin' it that a way. + +"Now, Hiram, listen to me: I've known ye sence ye was knee-high to a +duck, ain't I? Yer paw an' me was thicker ner molasses. Yer paw would +'a' made a brilliant man, Hiram, if he'd 'a' had th' chanct. You've +inherited yer paw's brains. + +"When ye was a kid ye was a little devil, I'll admit. Still, givin' +myself credit fer a set o' brains a leetle above th' average o' Bear +Valley, I made allowances. Ye was mean because yer head was full o' +ideas; an' in Bear Valley they's so blamed little to use them ideas on +that ye jest naturally had to turn to meanness. Ye wasn't really bad; +ye was jest alive. All yer life ye been hankerin' fer sumpin that Bear +Valley couldn't give, but ye didn't even know what 'twas ye was +hankerin' fer. How could ye? A man's gotta taste olives before he c'n +tell if he likes 'em, ain't he? Yer paw taught ye to read." Uncle +Sebastian glanced once more, half pityingly, half resentfully, at the +backless magazines. "Readin's put notions into yer head an' set ye to +hankerin'. + +"Then as ye grew up th' Valley folks begun to shun ye, didn't they?" he +continued. "They called ye queer. Then when yer paw died they dropped +ye altogether. It hurt ye, an' ye jest drew aloof an' went to shakes. + +"D'ye know, Hiram, sometimes I find myself not blamin' ye like I +oughta. They called ye no good before ye really was so, an' +practically driv ye to it. Then ye was too proud to brace up an' give +'em th' satisfaction o' thinkin' their treatment o' ye had made ye turn +over a new leaf. If they'd gone on treatin' ye decent ye'd likely come +out all right o' yer own hook. Hiram, pride's put a heap o' men in th' +penitentiary. Pride's stubborn, Hiram. But layin' aside th' root o' +th' trouble, an' lookin' at th' matter through _their_ eyes, it's +really a shame th' way yer paw's place has gone to ruin--th' way you've +gone th' same route. I'd druther see ye plumb bad ern so all-fired +no-good all round. Ye had jobs a number o' times drivin' eight an' ten +on jerkline, freightin' tanbark from Longport. Ye're a good jerkline +skinner, Hiram--no better in the country--but ye won't stick no more'n +a month or two outa each year. + +"But I'm makin' allowances fer ye--I always have--I'm th' only one that +ever has. I been watchin' an' waitin' fer ye to right yerself an' get +at sumpin; but this mornin', down to th' store, it come over me that +ye'll never do it in Bear Valley. + +"Consequently, Hiram," Uncle Sebastian resumed, "ye've gotta move." + +Hiram glanced at him with wide-opened eyes. "Move! Where to?" + +"Out into th' world, Hiram, to strike yer gait. Ye gotta hit th' hard +places an' git experience. Ye gotta taste olives to see if ye c'n +stummick 'em. Ye'll get an awful batterin'-up, I reckon, but ye'll +likely learn if they's anything in ye. At first ye'll probably go to +th' bad an' get a heap worse ern ye was in Bear Valley. That's neither +here ner there. Th' point is, if they's a gait in ye ye'll eventually +strike it. If not--well, then, what's th' difference? I'm goin' to +pay up fer ye down to th' store an' give ye enough to land ye in +Frisco. Then th' good Lord an' what He put into that head o' yers must +look after ye. I'm gonta foreclose on ye, Hiram." + +Hiram was not looking at Uncle Sebastian, but the old man saw his +slight start and the red creep down his columnar neck as the last +sentence came out. One great toe protruded from the upper of one of +Hiram's shoes. Uncle Sebastian saw it twitching. + +"You're foreclosin' on me?" The words came slowly and with a hollow +gulp. + +Uncle Sebastian's lips went straight and hard. "Unless ye'll deed th' +place to me, Hiram." + +Another pause, while the low wind whined in the treetops and Ripley +Creek went gurgling and sucking through the latticed trunks in the pile +of drift. + +"What did you tell me when I gave the mortgage, Uncle Sebastian?" + +The reproach in Hiram's voice did not move the arbiter. "I know what I +told ye, Hiram. I told ye, ye needn't worry--that I wouldn't +foreclose--that I wasn't speculatin' when I lent th' money on th' +place. Jest th' same, Hiram, I'm foreclosin' on ye." + +Uncle Sebastian eyed the young man keenly. The first shock past, Hiram +seemed now to be turning the matter over with just deliberation. + +"I reckon I know what you're up to, Uncle Sebastian," he said at last. +"We've talked the matter over too many times for me to misconstrue your +motives. You're thinkin' that I'll amount to somethin' if I get away +from here." + +"I reckon ye've said it, Hiram." Uncle Sebastian voiced this with +great relief. + +"And you're foreclosin' on me to force me to go." + +"Eggzackly, Hiram. I'm proud that ye interpret my motive." + +Hiram was silent another long minute. Then, with a hollow laugh: "I +reckon you'll be tolerably disappointed, Uncle Sebastian. There was a +time when I'd 'a' looked forward to leavin' Mendocino. I've had +hankerin's, and I've got 'em yet--but I'm scared. I've never been outa +the country but once. What c'n I do away from here? What d'ye expect +of me, anyway?" + +"Ye c'n certainly do as much out o' here as ye're doin' here, Hiram." + +"I don't know about that. It don't take much to live here. I've got +about all I want, I reckon. If I had more books to read I'd be pretty +near content. There was a time, as I said, when it was different; but +now I don't reckon I care. But what particular thing d'ye expect me to +excel in, Uncle Sebastian?" + +"Excel's a tol'able big word, Hiram. I can't tell ye any more. Ye've +wanted to be a poet, an' ye've wanted to be an officer in th' army, an' +this an' that an' th' other--ye've wanted to be pretty near everythin' +ye read about last. When ye git in touch with these things, Hiram, ye +may be able to choose--though they's a heap o' 'em ain't that's in +constant touch. I know ye've got imagination. I know it's wasted here +in th' backwoods; an' I know ye gotta git." + +Uncle Sebastian had risen to emphasize this ultimatum. Now, standing +and looking down, he finished: + +"Whether ye'll bless me or curse me remains to be seen." + +Hiram made no reply--he did not even look up. + +"So be down to Wharton Bixler's by stage time to-morrow, Hiram, an' be +ready to take th' stage to Brown's Corner. I'll go with ye that far, +an' ye c'n deed me th' prop'ty before a notary, so's I won't be obliged +to foreclose. Then I'll come back an' pay yer bill at Bixler's, an' +ye'll have one hundred dollars to take ye down to Frisco. Will ye be +at th' store at half past nine?" + +A wait, then a short nod. + +Uncle Sebastian half turned, paused, cleared his throat, and for the +first time lost his high-handed control of the situation. + +"Hiram," he said in a lower tone, "I reckon I'm a fool, but I hope ye +ain't holdin' anything agin' me. So help me, boy, I believe I'm doin' +ye a turn. Do--d'ye believe it or not?" + +"Wait'll to-morrow, Uncle Sebastian," came Hiram's pleading voice. +"Le'me think it over all to-night. You've plumb knocked the props from +under me." + +Without another word, Uncle Sebastian climbed up the bank and strode +off through the huckleberries. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OUT OF THE WOODS + +For over an hour Hiram Hooker lay perfectly still at the creekside. +His wide-open eyes stared dreamily into the water. His mind was +stunned by the present situation. Feverishly and against his will his +thoughts went hurrying back over the years which had led up to this +momentous climax. + +A woman moved frequently across the picture--a bent, tired, work-warped +woman--his mother. The pitiable leanness of the life of Hiram's mother +had been appalling. One word stood for the tenor of her days from sun +to sun--nothing. She had never seen a piano or a typewriter, or even a +washing machine. Silent, unmurmuring, she had given her life for +nothing and gone. + +Swiftly came in the picture the likeness of Hiram's father--tall, +bewhiskered, strong as an ox, soft-voiced, and easy-going. Nothing but +kindness had emanated from the father to his wife and child. Foster +Hooker, too, had slaved his life away for nothing. The rocky land had +claimed him and held him down. They had had enough to eat and to keep +them warm--beyond that, nothing. Now he lay with Hiram's mother +between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. + +There was in Hiram's thoughts no bitterness against his parents. They +had been always kind and had given their best to him. The rocky land +had held them chained. It offered sustenance, and of the big +progressing world beyond they had lived afraid. In the early days they +had buried themselves in the big woods to make their fortune. But the +fortune was not there, and old age crept on. Old age told them that +the world outside had passed beyond them, and they were afraid. + +After all, had they given Hiram nothing? In his bitter moments he had +thought so, but to-day his thoughts were mellowed. He was on the eve +of leaving everything that held memories of them. Had they not given +him of themselves a love for the grandeur of these woods which touched +no other soul, save Uncle Sebastian's, perhaps, in all the valley? +Hiram saw more in a redwood tree than the natives did; saw the beauty +of contrast in the open spots in the forest, where the others saw only +grazing ground for cattle; saw wonders in the rioting streams without a +thought of miners' inches. His father had taught him the love of +books, but there had been so few to love. He had taught him to think. +Hiram was weird, queer, a "leetle cracked" to the others of Bear +Valley. Uncle Sebastian alone had understood him--had sympathized with +him and helped him. + +Now, though, it was over. He was leaving forever. One hundred +dollars! He had never possessed so much in his twenty-six starved +years! An exultation seized him which beat throbbingly in his temples +and fired his soul with recklessness. He was bound out into the Great +Unknown, where the promises of his dreams would be fulfilled. He would +do great things, live great adventures, then come back to scoff at them! + +He sprang to his feet, collected the backless magazines, and climbed +the bank. With long strides he hurried along the bark road which wound +round the contour of the hills. An hour later he was trotting down a +manzanita slope to his cabin, nestled in the cup of the hills, +surrounded by the whispering firs. + +Just within he paused and looked about as if seeing the sordidness of +his home for the first time. All the way up the hill the exultation of +impending departure had thrilled him. It thrilled him still, and a new +feeling of contempt of what he saw came over him. + +A panther skin hung on the rough, unpainted wall above the black and +cheerless fireplace, three sets of antlers surrounding it. Near the +fireplace lay an unsightly pile of wood and chips. The doors of the +cracked and rusty stove were gaping wide. The remains of his breakfast +were on the clothless, homemade table. His rifle, the only thing well +kept, stood in a corner. + +He passed through into the other room, separated from this by a thin +board partition. There, in oval walnut frames, hung the pictures of +the two who lay between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. A slight +sense of depression seized him. The bed unmade, brought a sparkle of +anger to his eyes. He was disgusted with himself, but it did not last. +The thought of the adventures that lay beyond and beckoned came +uppermost once more. "The girl" beckoned, too. + +Yes, there was a girl. Hiram had seen her only in his dreams. She was +not like Bear Valley girls. She was large and sturdy and strong, and +her hair was of such dark brown as to seem almost black, her eyes dark +and large and lustrous. She was a queen among women, this girl of his +dreams. About her hung some great mystery, and adventure followed in +her footsteps. Out there somewhere beyond Bear Valley she stood +beckoning him to come! + +He went to bed early, to toss for hours and at last to drop into +fretful, torturing dreams. The scream of a panther awoke him once. + +He was up before sunrise, cooking his bacon and coffee and frying +slices of cold biscuit in the bacon grease. + +The east was pink when he left the cabin, carrying the rifle, which he +meant to give to Uncle Sebastian. Everything else he left behind. He +took a short cut over Wild-cat Hill. On its crest, between the two +bull pines, he stopped before two graces. + +The red sun was peering through the saddle of Signal Hill. Cold mists +rose from the forest. In the air was the breath of the morning. +Weirdly the early wind moaned through the needles of the tall bull +pines. Up from the canon came the roaring of Ripley Creek as it raced +to the sea. + +A lump came in Hiram's throat that he could not down. At his feet lay +those who had lived and starved for him through the countless denials +of this wilderness. Below him lay the cabin which he had known as home +for twenty-six long years. About him stretched the grandeur of this +untarnished land. Scalding tears burst from his eyes. Some monstrous +ogre had arisen to crush him. They were driving him from his home, +from the land of his birth, from the spots he loved! No bitterer +period ever came in Hiram's life than when he stood that misty morning +and watched the sun rise on the turning point of his career. Blindly +he stumbled down Wild-cat Hill and took up the long road to Bixler's +store. They were driving him, like Hagar, from all that he held dear, +and there was hatred in his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SAN FRANCISCO + +The train that carried Hiram Hooker to San Francisco was late. Thirty +miles from the bay it began making up for lost time. Through the +falling dusk it roared toward the metropolis. Slowly the landscape +faded. Vineyards and chicken ranches and orchards and rolling hills +studded with live oaks gave place to the electric-lighted tentacles of +the city. The lights blinked by at Hiram. They helped depress him, +for they were a part of the modernity that he feared. Suburbs grew to +a continuous stretch of lighted streets and houses. Always those +lights blinked on every side. There was witchery in all of it--in the +smell of the city close at hand, in the cold salt air from the bay, in +the _chunk-a-lunk_, _chunk-a-lunk_ of the speeding locomotive. + +Hiram sat forward on the seat, eager, shrinking, exultant, always +straining while he shrank. He tried to plan, but could not. Night +closed in, and all that he saw now were the blinking lights that raced +astern. Off in the black sky to the southward a rosy light suffused +the night--San Francisco. + +"Saus-a-lito! Everybody change! Don't forget yer baggage!" + +Hiram was swept out with the crowd, swept through the chute to the +ferryboat, swept aboard. He followed the crowd forward and stood in +the bow. Black as ink the Bay of San Francisco stretched before him. +Like fireflies the lights of vessels scurried through the blackness. +Beyond the black water blinked the countless eyes of San Francisco, +above these the rosy glow which had beckoned since the fall of dusk. + +The boat had started before Hiram was aware. Smoothly it slipped along +toward the beacons on the other shore. Hiram breathed the keen salt +breeze in gulps and looked steadily and curiously at the world that +waited for him. Somewhere there, perhaps, the girl of his dreams was +beckoning, and begging him not to be afraid. The boat nosed into her +slip and the crowd swept him ashore, swept him through the Ferry +Building, and, as it went its thousand ways, left him stranded, staring +unbelievingly up Market Street. + +Ten minutes he stood there. Thousands pressed by him. The laughter +and grumblings of life buzzed in his uncomprehending ears. No one +noticed him. The continuous _clang-clang-clang_ of the street cars +grew to a rhythmic roar. Strange odors filled his nostrils. What held +him most was the lights--the myriad lights that blinked away in +perspective up Market Street, clusters of them, pillars of them, wheels +of them, stars and squares of them. They all blended into a shower of +diamonds and held him spellbound. Then the clang of the street cars, +the clatter of hoofs on cobbles, the crunch of wheels, the raucous +toots of automobile horns and the purring of the engines, the ceaseless +laughing and murmuring of the crowds, the unfamiliar odors all blended +with the lights, and Hiram Hooker was breathing life, and knew that it +was warm, knew that he loved it, and was unafraid! + +At last he sighed and began warily crossing the street from the Ferry +Building to Market Street. He had read of country boys in the city. +He knew enough not to stand in the street and stare. He wisely kept +with a crowd while crossing, and made their experience in braving the +dangers of traffic protect him. He reached the other curb in safety +and started up the long, broad street. + +Hiram Hooker will never forget that night. Not once after leaving the +water front did he know his location, and it would have mattered little +if he had. He walked on and on untiringly through an entrancing dream. +He was alone in a great museum--the other human beings were not fellow +spectators, but specimens on exhibition. + +The beauty of the women fascinated him. Never in his wildest +imaginings had he fancied such forms and faces. The most beautiful +girl in Bear Valley bore the face of a gargoyle compared with the soft, +creamy faces he saw that night. The flashing, long-lashed eyes, the +red lips, the coils on coils of fluffy hair, the swishing silk, +unfamiliar furs, sparkling jewels, and the slender French heels were +stupefying. + +He was growing hungry. He had not eaten a bite since early morning, +and now it was eleven o'clock at night. It appalled him to think of +entering a restaurant and being confronted by one of those +white-skinned, slim-formed divinities he saw flitting from table to +table. He did not know what to order nor how to order it. Even the +smallest places looked imposing with their myriad lights and fixtures +of gilt and white and glittering glass. But he knew he must screw his +courage to it. + +There seemed to be a restaurant nearly every other door in the locality +he was now passing through. Not only that, but many electric letters +blazing down the street notified him that he would have no trouble in +finding rooms; rooms by the day or week; rooms and board; rooms 15 +cents and up; lodging; rooms with or without board; beds 10 cents and +up. He was on Kearny Street, he knew, but he did not know where Kearny +Street was in relation to the rest of the city. + +He strolled along, staring through the windows at the appetizing +displays and searching for a restaurant where none of those +creamy-skinned beings that caused him so much uneasiness were employed. +At last he found one where, it seemed, only smooth-faced men in short +black coats and low-cut vests were serving. His abused stomach goaded +him to slink through the doorway and seek a table. + +Just within the door he paused. The place seemed crowded. He was +about to slink out again when a woman's voice said in his ear: "This +side, please--all full here." + +He turned quickly, with a gulp, to see a slim, black-clad girl, with +one of those appalling piles of fluffy hair topping her head, whisking +past behind him. Now he noticed that the restaurant was divided in +half by a screen which ran the length of the building, and that one +side--the side he had seen through the window--was for men, and the +other for women. The tables on the men's side were filled. The girl +stood beckoning from a table on the women's side. Other waitresses he +had not seen before were working here. Hiram could not back out now. +His legs trembled as he obeyed the girl's beckoning finger. + +He reached the table and stumbled noisily into a seat. The girl, now +holding out a menu card, was looking at him curiously, he felt. The +blood rushed to his face; he dared not look at her. Fumblingly he took +the card and straightway dropped it on the floor. + +Together they bent over to regain it. Their bodies touched. Hiram +grew sick. She recovered the card and was standing erect when he +crawfished up from the floor. He was burning up with shame. Again he +took the card, but his glazed eyes could not read a word. + +Suddenly he knew that she was speaking. + +"I think you'd like a ribber, medium," she was saying, "with French +fries and a dish of peas." + +Hiram's head nodded without command. He knew she was leaving the +table, and something forced his eyes to her. She was turning, but her +eyes were looking back into his. In those eyes, big and brown beneath +dark, arched brows and long lashes, there was a look that thrilled him +to his soul. She was more beautiful than any woman he had seen through +all the splendor of the night, and she had flashed to him a spark of +kindness in a maelstrom of misery! Was this the girl who had been +beckoning him on? + +She was coming back. She paused beside him and placed a napkin, +silver, bread and butter, and a glass of water before him. He tried to +look up, but could not. He felt her close to him as she arranged the +things before him. + +She was speaking again, low, soothingly. + +"Awful crowd to-night. We don't usually put single gentlemen on this +side, but I guess you won't mind. Your ribber'll be here in a minute." + +She was gone again. He saw her brown hair bobbing toward the kitchen. +He watched the swing doors, eager for her return. + +They burst open at last and she came forward and placed a big platter +before him, on which steamed an enormous rib steak, beside this a dish +of French-fried potatoes and a dish of peas. + +She glided away once more and did not again come near his table while +he ate. He kept his eyes on her throughout the meal, and continued to +lower them when he thought her about to look toward him. His "ribber" +was good, and he ate the last scrap. Then he paid his bill and hurried +out. + +Through the window he looked back for her. She was nowhere in sight. + +In a miserable hallway on the second floor of a dingy brick building, +he obeyed the legend over a button in the wall, which read: +"Landlord--push the button." The result was that a squint-eyed man +came from a door marked "office" and yawningly asked him his business. +Hiram wished a twenty-five-cent room, he said. He was taken to one, +which was not a room at all, but a stall--that is, the thin board +partitions did not connect with the ceiling by three feet. The bed was +a single one, and the sheets had brought the proprietor many a +twenty-five-cent piece since coming from the laundry. The additional +furnishings of the "room" were six nails driven in the board wall to +hold one's clothes. From all over the floor came lusty snores and the +mutterings of world-worn men. + +With the city smells still in his nostrils, the buzz of city life still +in his ears, and the countless lights twinkling in a frame about the +white face of a brown-haired, red-lipped girl, he fell asleep from +sheer fatigue. But with unaccountable perversity his dreaming mind +dwelt not upon the beautiful vision he had come to love in fifteen +seconds, but on the whispering firs and twinkling streams of Mendocino, +and on a plodding ten-horse jerkline team hauling tanbark over the +mountains to the coast. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TWITTER OR TWEET + +Hiram Hooker washed in the community lavatory in the hall next morning. +Then he sought the squint-eyed landlord and paid a week's room rent in +advance, thereby saving fifty cents. + +He wished to strike out at once after breakfast to begin justifying +Uncle Sebastian's faith in him, but so far he had not laid a plan. He +noticed lettering on a door in the hall which dignified what lay beyond +as a "lounging room." The door stood ajar, and he saw that the room +was empty. He decided to go in and think. A thousand and one wonders +awaited his curious eyes, but they must wait. His hundred dollars had +dwindled perceptibly; it was time to give his future a practical +thought or two. + +In the "lounging room" were a long plain board writing-table, ten +yellow kitchen chairs. Hiram took a seat by a window overlooking +Kearny Street. + +He could not plan, he found, for his ideas of seeking employment were +of the vaguest; he did not know where to look for it, nor what duties +he should state that he could perform. Dreaming of it up there in +Mendocino County, climbing up in the world from the bottom rung had +seemed so easy. + +He began feeling a little lonesome. He had resolved to brave the +fascinating eyes of the girl of the restaurant again, and perhaps speak +to her if occasion offered, when the door opened and three men came +into the lounging room. + +Two of them scraped chairs to the table and from a drawer took a dirty +pack of cards and a homemade cribbage board, with headless matches for +markers. The third took from his pocket a folded newspaper and sat +down at the window opposite Hiram. He at once began reading, and +seemed not to be a companion of the other two. Hiram took note that he +perused the want-ad sheets. + +Hiram studied the two at cards. He resolved that he did not like their +unkempt looks, so turned his attention to the man with the paper. + +In dress this man was in a class with the other two, though perhaps a +little better groomed. But a careful observer would have taken note of +certain finer characteristics in the face. It was the face of a man in +the thirties, robust and good-natured, with bushy brows, slate-blue +eyes, and a nose that would have been termed Grecian if it had not been +for a semiconical twist to the left. He was of stalky build, carefully +shaved that morning, and wore a dingy turndown collar. His shoes, +though scuffed with wear, were polished. + +In the midst of this scrutiny the man suddenly lowered the paper and +leveled his eyes at Hiram. The look almost said "What do you want?" in +a disinterested though not antagonistic way. Hiram was caught +unawares. He felt the question and had answered it, to cover his +embarrassment, before he knew the words were coming. + +"D'ye find any jobs in the paper?" + +The two at cards looked quickly at Hiram and shrugged, and the game +went on in silence, as before. + +"What d'ye follow?" asked the man with the twisted nose in a sort of +rollicking voice by no means unpleasant. + +"D'ye mean what c'n I do?" + +The man with the paper nodded. + +Hiram scraped his chair a foot closer. "Why, I don't exactly know. +I'm willin' to do anything--that is, try." + +The slate-blue eyes quizzically studied Hiram a little longer, then +settled on the paper once more. + +A few moments they scanned the column. Then: + +"Maybe some o' these'll look attractive ol'-timer. 'Wanted three +bushelmen; one coat-maker; first-class pants operator; shoe shiner; two +farm carpenters, Arizona, four dollars a day, fare refunded; two +carpenters, city, five dollars a day; one hundred muckers, New Mexico, +two-fifty day; one trammer, three-fifty day; one hundred laborers, New +Mexico, three dollars day; porter in bakery, city, must be sober; boy, +sixteen years old, make himself generally useful in pickle plant; two +jerkline drivers--must be good, southern California; cooks, waiters, +teamsters, muckers galore. Call and see us. Morgan & Stroud, +Four-hundred-and-fifteen Clay Street.'" + +He lowered the paper and once more fixed the slate-blue eyes on Hiram. +"There you are, ol'-timer--pick yer road to wealth and prominence." + +His smile brought Hiram's chair closer. + +"How d'ye get any o' these jobs?" he asked. + +"Part with two dollars to Morgan & Stroud for the address o' the +advertiser, then beat the other fella to it," was the reply. + +"But they wanted a hundred muckers, you read." + +"Oh, that's different. They ship you out for two dollars to where the +job is. The contractor deducts your fare from your first month's pay +and refunds it to the railroad company, or sticks it in his pocket if +he's wise. Le's see--where they shippin'?" He glanced at the column +again. "N' Mexico, eh? Yes, they'll ship you down there for two +dollars, and you c'n go to work and grow up with the country. C'n you +drive a team?" + +"Sure," said Hiram. "I c'n drive eight or ten, or even sixteen +jerkline, too. You read something about jerkline skinners." + +"Then I'd go as a jerkline skinner at--what is it?--fifty-five and +found. Found means board, you know." + +"And you're sure they'll send me down to southern California for two +dollars and gi' me a job drivin' mules?" + +"They'll be tickled to death to do it. Where you from?" + +Hiram heaved a sigh. "Mendocino County," he replied. + +"Hittin' the trail for the first time, eh?" + +The questioner evidently knew it, so Hiram did not reply. + +"M'm-m! Fine big country--Mendocino. You oughta stayed there. That +country'll go to work and come out with a loud report some day." + +"You've been there?" asked Hiram eagerly. + +"Been everywhere." + +"What do you follow?" Hiram used the new expression almost +unconsciously. + +"I'm a promoter and capitalist." + +"A promoter and capitalist," Hiram repeated vaguely. + +"Yep. At present, though, I ain't workin' at the capitalist end. But +I'm always a promoter." + +Hiram was growing uncomfortable. He had been warming toward this +genial stranger; now he felt he was being ridiculed. He kept silent +and looked out the window. + +The other nonchalantly resumed his paper as if the conversation were +over. + +But Hiram did not wish it to end here. Despite the stranger's +fantastic statement, there was that in his bearing which told Hiram he +meant what he said, and that, furthermore, it was with him a matter of +indifference whether any one believed him or not. He wished the two +tramps would leave. He felt that then he could talk to the other man +with less reserve. + +As he sat there silently thinking, this wish was granted. A third +unkempt individual thrust his head in at the door and remarked, "Hey, +youse!" + +The cribbage players looked up. + +In explanation the man in the door held up a quarter between a +calloused forefinger and thumb. + +A broad grin broke on the face of one of the players as he scraped back +his chair and rose. "Cheese, Thumbscrew, where'd youse glom it?" he +gasped ecstatically. + +"Never mind w'ere I glommed it, Scully," was the retort. "De point is, +are youse guys in on helpin' me lick up a growler?" + +The other tramp had risen, and spoke for both as he strode toward the +door. "Lead us to it, Thumbscrew," he swaggered portentously; "lead us +to it, ol'-timer!" And the door slammed behind the three. + +Hiram glanced back at the man behind the newspaper. He had not so much +as slanted a look toward the door. + +Hiram's chance had come. After a silent minute he essayed: + +"But I didn't come to the city to leave it right away and go to drivin' +mules. I came here to get a start." + +The other politely lowered his paper. "What're you doin'--breakin' +loose from home to make yer fortune?" he asked. + +Hiram nodded and smiled. + +The man surveyed him for the first time from head to foot. "Been a +farmer up in Mendocino?" he queried. + +"Sorta," Hiram admitted. Then in a low voice: "To tell the truth, this +is my first time in a city. I got in last night. I've never been out +o' Mendocino County but once before." + +A few wrinkles of puzzlement came between the other's brows. "How old +are you?" + +"Twenty-six," was Hiram's meek confession. + +The stranger studied, a whimsical smile twisting his lips, a far-away +look in the slate-blue eyes. With a little jerk he emerged from +reverie and asked: + +"And what d'ye expect to take up here in Frisco?" + +Hiram scraped his chair still closer. "I don't know," he acknowledged. +"To tell the truth, I'm pretty green. I don't know anybody here and +don't know where to begin." + +"Don't say green," corrected the other. "That's obsolete. Say raw, or +that you're a hick, or a come-on. Well, what d'ye want to follow?" + +"I thought if I could get into some big man's office and work up, I +might reach----" + +The other man raised his hand protestingly and his face assumed a sick +expression. + +"Forget it! Forget it!" he cried. "Say, that's the biggest mistake a +fella like you could make. Your feet are too big for an office. Say, +take this from me: An office man is always an office man. He knows the +figgers--nothing else. The fella out on the works is the lad that +knows the fundamentals of the job. Take this railroad-construction +business, for instance: When the contractor wants a new general +superintendent he don't make him out of an office man. He goes out on +the job and gets him. You get offices outa your head, and get out and +learn something." He was thoughtful a minute, then finished with the +question: "How long are you on cash?" + +"I haven't got much," Hiram confessed--"sixty some dollars." + +"M'm-m," the other said musingly. Then, after another thoughtful +pause: "Say, I suppose you're a little shy about bracin' these +employment men, ain't you?" + +Hiram nodded. + +"Then I'll tell you what I'll do: You go to work and dig up my fee, and +I'll go down to southern California with you on the jerkline job. I +been wantin' to get outa Frisco for a week, but couldn't raise the +price. Anywhere'll suit me, where there's a chance o' makin' a little +stake. That's what you wanta do--go to work and make a stake. Then +look about for something you c'n float for yourself. There's nothin' +in working for somebody else. Work for yourself if it's only running a +peanut stand. Southern California'll do. What d'ye say?" + +"D'ye mean you're broke?" + +"Broke! I'm ruined!" + +"How did you lose your money?" Hiram asked innocently. + +"You're askin' for the story o' my life. What d'ye say, now? Le's go +to work and get breakfast, then enter Morgan & Stroud's in our usual +graceful manner and tell 'em we've decided to accept their kind offer +and let 'em ship us south. You'll probably learn a few things on that +trip." + +"Are you a jerkline skinner?" + +"I dunno. Maybe I am. I never tried. But if that's what you wanta +hit--me, too. Say, what's your name?" + +"Hiram Hooker." + +"That's a peach, all right. They sure labeled you for the part. Mine +ain't much better though. They call me Twitter-or-Tweet." + +"What!" + +"Proves I'm a bird, don't it? My name is Orr Tweet. Can you beat it? +So they call me Twitter-or-Tweet, or just Twitter--or sometimes +Playmate. I'm gregarious. I gotta have a partner all the time. I'll +play with any o' the little boys so long as they're nice to me." + +He handed Hiram a card. It read: + + ORR TWEET + + REPRESENTING THE CUCAMONGA + DEVELOPMENT COMPANY + Cerro Gordo, Mexico + + THE HOMESEEKERS' PROMISED LAND + OF MILK AND HONEY + + +"That Cucamonga Development Company and the milk-and-honey business is +passe," explained Mr. Tweet, "but I've got no other card. They pinched +the owners, and I flew the coop before they could lay it onto me. +Crooked deal." + +"What was it?" Hiram asked vaguely. + +"Banana plantation," Tweet replied lightly. "At least they called it +that--I never saw it. I was just promotin' the deal. Well, what d'ye +say?" he persisted. "I'm broke and I need a little cash. But I'm a +money getter! You tide me over this little depression and I'll +remember you. We may strike somethin' that'll look good anywhere +between here and there. If so, we'll drop off and look into it." + +Hiram did not know what to say. He had no experience in reading human +nature, and Mr. Tweet would have appeared as an enigma to many more +astute than Hiram. + +"What do you want me to do?" he hedged. + +"Hold me up, if your coin lasts, till I hit the ball--that's all. +You'll never regret it." Tweet sat pulling his twisted nose from side +to side, as if trying to straighten it. + +"But I don't understand. You seem to be--that is, you call yourself a +capitalist, and you're only--I mean it seems funny----" + +"I get you. I talk like a millionaire and travel with tramps." Tweet +sighed. "Well, my faculty for breedin' confidence in others is one o' +the big secrets o' my success. Success, I say--get that? If this +faculty won't work on you, then I lose this time. I'll say no more. +Think it over." + +He yawned, rose, and started for the door. + +"Are--are you goin' down on the street?" Hiram asked timidly. + +"Yes, I thought I'd stroll about a bit." + +"I--I guess I'll go with you, if you don't mind." + +"Sure not--come on." + +Hiram rose quickly and followed him out. Even though he were to +distrust this man, in the end, the thought of losing him now was +appalling. + +Down on the street he thought of breakfast and paused before the +restaurant. + +"Have you had breakfast, Mr. Tweet?" he asked. + +Tweet stopped and looked at him soberly. "Are you invitin' me to +dine?" he said quizzically. + +"Well, kinda that way," admitted Hiram with a foolish grin. "I haven't +eaten myself, and----" + +"I haven't eaten myself either, nor anybody else since yesterday +mornin'. I accept." + +And promptly Mr. Tweet pushed ahead through the swinging doors. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A RIVAL + +The restaurant was all but deserted at the late breakfast hour when +Hiram Hooker and Mr. Tweet entered. Hiram timidly wished that the +men's side were filled, so that he would be obliged to eat on the +ladies' side again. A waiter was beckoning them to the men's side, +however, and Hiram meekly led the way, though casting a quick, +expectant glance down the long row of tables beyond the screen. + +Waitresses were dallying about, but he did not see the girl with the +cords of fluffy hair. He was halfway through breakfast before it +occurred to him that, as she was at work at eleven the night before, he +scarce could expect her at nine in the morning. He was glad she was +not there to tantalize him, and at the same time deeply disappointed. + +Hiram's new acquaintance changed perceptibly as the food began to warm +him. Mildly loquacious before, he now became voluble. + +"I wanta tell you this," he remarked finally, "you're in luck to strike +me when I'm crippled for cash. A week from now, perhaps, you'd never +met me at all. And if you had, there'd 'a' been nothin' to connect us. +But right now I'm up against it and forced to sleep in a +twenty-five-cent lodgin' house. Therefore we met and found out each of +us had somethin' the other wanted. You're lucky, Hooker--that's all +there is to it. You'd 'a' drifted about for years and never got the +chance to hook up with Twitter-or-Tweet. And here you are, right from +the backwoods, makin' yourself solid the first crack outa the box with +the original money-getter. Stay by me till I get a toehold, and I'll +make you." + +Hiram was at a loss how to take him. He had not agreed to tide him +over, had not even made up his mind that Tweet was not a rank faker; +yet Tweet seemed to be taking it for granted that his case was won, and +that they were to go from the breakfast table to Morgan & Stroud's to +enter the road to competence. + +As if answering his thoughts, Tweet said: + +"I'm a mystery to you, ain't I? I don't use very good grammar, but I +talk sense. I'm talkin' about makin' piles o' money, and I'm gettin' +my breakfast off o' you, ain't I? If I really was the heavy hitter I'm +advertisin' myself to be I wouldn't condescend to take you on, would I? +That's what you been thinkin', ain't it? + +"Take those hobos up in the lodgin' house, for instance. Curiosity's +eatin' their hearts out in regard to me. They know I ain't a tramp, +yet they see me float smoothly along among 'em and never strike a +discord. I don't seem to mix with 'em, neither do I seem to keep aloof +from 'em. I'm there and I ain't there--see? If they only knew it, +I've tramped miles to their feet. Yet I never was a regular tramp. + +"On the other hand, when I'm hob-nobbin' with the upper class I keep +them guessin'. I talk kinda crude, yet what I say seems to be worth +listenin' to. I go into a flash hotel or cafe and never stumble over +anything, or knock the carafe off the table, or order corned-beef hash +when the menu card looks like an advanced lesson in _parlez vous_. +They take me to the circus to amuse me, and I come back at 'em with +grand opera. + +"So that's the way it goes, and you'll savvy more about it when you see +more o' me. At present I'm goin' to take you away from Frisco and, if +somethin' turns up, give you a start. I'm doin't this principally +because I need your little roll to tide me over till I get a workin' +stake. I'm frank about it. But I may learn to like you. You appear +to be sorta bright." + +Tweet pushed back his chair. "Now we'll go down to Morgan & Stroud's +and get out where we c'n go to work and do somethin', and have a chance +to look about and think." + +Protestations died on Hiram's lips, and he dutifully rose and followed. + +There was a cigar case on the cashier's counter, and Tweet leaned over +it, looking down at the contents, while Hiram laid his check beside the +cash register and fumbled for his pocketbook. He produced a dollar and +laid it on the check, then looked about for some one to receive them. +The space behind the counter was empty, but from a little inclosed +portion of the window came the slow, labored clicking of typewriter +keys. + +"Tap the dollar on the show case," suggested Tweet. + +Hiram tapped the glass. + +Instantly, in the window room, the clicking keys were hushed. Hiram +heard the squeak of a swivel chair. He heard the swish and caught the +gleam of a white skirt. The next moment she was standing before him. + +His breathing checked itself, and his knees began that sickening +tattoo. He was instantly so miserable that he longed to die. Yet he +faced her big eyes, brown and good-natured and smiling with +recognition, and dumbly pushed the check and the dollar across the +counter. + +"Why, hello!" she said lightly. + +"Hello," came a quavering echo. + +The drawer of the cash register shot out with a metallic clang. +Hiram's dollar jingled in among its kind. The girl's slim fingers were +suspending a quarter to be dropped into his palm, suggesting to Hiram's +abnormal mind the fear of contamination. He feebly put out his hand, +and she dropped the coin. + +"Thank you," she acknowledged in a light, professional tone, raising +her voice on the "you." + +She was turning away, when Tweet looked up from the cigars. + +"Since when, Lucy?" came his rollicking voice. She turned back, +smiling. "Oh, since just this morning," she replied. "The boss fired +the cashier just before I went off watch last night. He said he was +going to call up the employment agency and get another the first thing +this morning. + +"'What's the matter with giving some one here a chance?' I says. +'That's the way with you fellows,' I says. 'A girl can work her +fingers off for you for years, then when the chance comes for something +better, why, you telephone an employment agency and give it to a +perfect stranger. You give me a pain!' I says. + +"'But you ain't a cashier--you're a waitress,' he says. + +"'I'm not speaking about myself in particular,' I says. 'I'm speaking +about all of us who are working for you. Then,' I says, 'how do you +know I can't make change? When there's an opening for better pay and +easier work,' I says, 'why don't you come to us and see if any of us +think we can hold it down? You know us and can trust us, and instead +of giving us a look-in, you go and hire an outsider.'" + +"Good stuff!" commented Tweet. "And he fell for it, did he?" + +She flipped out her palms in a little gesture. "I'm here, ain't I? +Waited table from seven to three last night, and came behind the +counter here at five-thirty this morning. The boss'll relieve me at +twelve o'clock. Guess I'll sleep some to-night!" + +"Fine business! Makin' good, eh?" + +"I'm not fired yet, am I?" Her white teeth flashed. + +"But c'n you keep the books?" + +She sniffed. "I certainly can. I haven't been a waitress all my life. +These books are nothing." + +Here the gigantic Hiram caught his lower lip sagging and resolutely +lifted it to dignity. + +"Well, I like your style," Tweet was telling her. "Tell 'em about it, +every time--that's the way to get a toehold. But you're not much of a +stenog, Lucy--was that you peckin' away in there?" + +A shade of pink swept her face. + +"I used to operate a machine a little with one finger of each hand," +she explained, "but I'm all out of practice. I don't have to use a +typewriter on this job though. It's an old one the boss took for a +bill." + +"Just practicin' up again, eh?" + +"Ye-yes," she hesitated. Again her skin grew faintly pink. + +"Good business! Go to it! Every little bit helps. Well, +congratulations, Lucy. So long! C'm on, Hiram." + +"Thanks." Lucy laughed, and went into her little room. + +Hiram sighed boyishly, upset the toothpick holder at his elbow, and +fled in Mr. Tweet's wake. + +"Pretty nifty little kid," Tweet remarked, as Hiram joined him. + +"You know her--wh-what's her name?" + +Tweet turned and looked at Hiram's red face in mild surprise. + +"Wh-what's wrong with you?" he queried. + +"Nothin'"--sheepishly. + +"Well, I'll be dog-goned if I don't believe you're gun shy on the +female question!" was Tweet's conviction. "These frisky Frisco pullets +goin' to your head, Hooker. A little paint and a little powder and a +frowsy topknot seems to sorta touched some new funny bone in you, eh? +Heavens, I remember how I fell for it years ago!" + +Hiram closed his lips tight. He hated Tweet. + +Tweet slapped him on the back and laughed. + +"Forget it, Hiram," he advised familiarly. "It ain't like me to roast +anybody when I see it hurts. Why, le's see now--I don't know the kid's +name. I've heard the men call her Lucy--that's all. I been eatin' +there right along--that is, up till yesterday mornin'. She seems to be +popular with the fellas. Not a bad little kid, though, I take it. Got +some savvy, at any rate. Ain't content with her lowly lot--and that's +my kind. Oughtn't to make customers have to call her away from that +typewriter, though--I don't like that. Well," he switched abruptly, +"what you been thinkin' about our little deal?" + +"Nothing," Hiram retorted resentfully. + +They had been slowly walking down the street. Tweet stopped short and +looked at him. + +"That means what? That you don't care to consider it further?" + +It had meant just that when Hiram said it. There was now in Tweet's +question a tone of finality. Hiram felt that his reply would end the +matter. Swiftly his mind grasped for a judicious rejoinder and settled +on "No." He could not bring himself to part with this semblance of +friendship just yet. + +"All right, then," Tweet returned. "You're just not through +considerin', eh? Well, I'll tell you: We'll break away and give you a +chance to think. There's a man down California Street I wanta see +before I leave and I'll stroll down that way. You think it over, and +meet me at eleven-thirty up in that disfiguration old Squinty calls a +loungin' room. So long." + +He turned abruptly and strode away. + +Hiram watched his erect figure and firm step till the crowd hid him, +then followed more slowly in the same direction. His feet were +carrying him toward the restaurant, and he was guiltily permitting +them. He saw a shining drab automobile drawn up at the curb before the +restaurant door. He walked slower and slower as he neared the door, +paused, and looked within. + +Lucy was leaning on the counter negligently collecting scattered +toothpicks, and conversing laughingly with a carefully dressed +middle-aged man with a handsome face and curly brown hair. His hair +and Lucy's fluffy topknot were almost touching. Hiram saw him grasp +playfully at Lucy's hand, saw her jerk it away with a flirtatious laugh. + +Then Hiram bolted, half blind with pain. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE FIRE + +Hiram did not take note of much till he was three blocks from the +restaurant. There was a dull pain somewhere within him, but when his +thinking apparatus began shaking off its stunned condition he found it +difficult to analyze this pain. + +The girl had done practically nothing. In fact, but for her laughter, +her attitude toward the well-dressed man would have showed righteous +displeasure. The thought that this might be a common occurrence did +not enter his head. He was distressed now; he found, only with a keen +feeling of utter alienation, he was one lone backwoodsman against San +Francisco, scorning him, ready to trample him under foot. + +A sign over the window of a store cleared this mystery. Hiram stopped +and stared up at it. In a flash he knew what was the matter with him, +and that he hated the stranger for his clothes--that he hated everybody +because this man wore good clothes. He squeezed his pocketbook and +read and reread the painted words in their painted circles: + +"O'coat, $40, no more; Coat, $20, no more; Pants, $5, no more; Hat, $3, +no more." + +His mind was adding twenty, five, and three. The total was +twenty-eight. He could get along without an overcoat, though in San +Francisco, even in summer, an overcoat is comfortable at night. Should +he or should he not? His rusty old clothes were torturing him. +Twenty-eight dollars! And perhaps only four or five more for extras--a +tie, collars, suspenders, and--oh, yes! shoes. He had forgotten the +shoes. His were brogans. He must have shoes, too. Perhaps five for +shoes. He had barely sixty-seven dollars. Should he? Was it foolish, +or---- + +Reflected in the show window he saw a drab automobile flash behind him. +At the wheel he saw, erect, forceful, jaunty, and well-dressed, with a +black cigar gripped in his teeth, the man who had snatched at Lucy's +hand. Clinching his pocketbook, Hiram entered the store. + +A half hour later he came out, poorer by some thirty-eight dollars, but +rich in the self-esteem which the bright, stiff garments gave him. + +He left his bundle in his stall at the lodging house, criticized +himself before the cracked mirror in the hall, and went down on the +street. He bought three five-cent cigars and lighted one. He gripped +it in his teeth and let it protrude from the left-hand corner of his +mouth. Then he started for the restaurant. + +Long before he reached it panic was upon him. He had absolutely no +pretext on which to enter. It was then only ten-thirty, and he had +breakfasted at nine. To enter boldly and begin a conversation with +Lucy--which he had all along boastfully promised himself he would +do--he now knew to be the last thing on earth he would dare. + +Besides, though the garments he wore were new and bright and stiff, +those two brief glimpses of his rival's clothes now tardily showed him +that there was a difference. His coat, for instance, seemed a bit +angular--there seemed to be corners he had not noticed in the store. +It did not snuggle down to his neck and shoulders just right. Hiram +thought that perhaps the linen collar was a trifle too large. + +Thus criticizing, and walking slower and slower, he neared the +restaurant. Now it was impossible to take another step without coming +abreast of it. He stopped and looked in a jeweler's window next door. + +He stood there fifteen minutes. Time and again he nerved himself up to +entering the restaurant, only to feel cold sweat break out on his +forehead as he lifted his foot. He would return to the lodging house, +change his clothes, and see her when he ate at noon. He would never +let her see him in those now hated new clothes. He had squandered +thirty-eight dollars for her, and he had only twenty-nine left. + +Down the street from the heart of the city came a sudden clangor. +Vehicles were rushed close to the curbs. Up a side street a new jangle +of bells broke out. Never had Hiram seen a city fire, but at once he +knew that such was happening. + +A hook-and-ladder company rattled past with clamor and gongs and +clatter of hoofbeats. People poured from the doors of buildings to +watch. Men rushed to the curb and looked after the firemen; the women +stood near the buildings, under the awnings, shading their eyes and +standing on tiptoes. Quickly the sidewalk filled. A chemical engine +passed, clouds of black smoke rolling in its wake. Across the street a +pillar of black smoke burst from a third-story window. + +"It's across the street! Across the street!" shouted the crowd. + +A hose cart rumbled up. The men on the curb grew frantic, yelling and +pointing to the smoke. The hose cart was stopped. + +A little later the chief's automobile came. Then the apparatus that +had passed down the street came back. Flames and smoke were bursting +from three windows now. The street and the sidewalk were filled with +the crowd. + +Hiram had not moved a muscle. People elbowed him on both sides, but he +paid no attention. The rapid operations of the fire fighters held him +spell-bound. + +"Oo-oo-oo! Look there!" suddenly came a shrill familiar voice at his +side. + +A sputter of sparks had shot from the roof of the building, and a man +had emerged from a trap-door, it seemed, and darted from sight. But +the fire and every new phase of it had lost all holding power over +Hiram Hooker. Pressed to his elbow, wedged in by the crowd, stood Lucy. + +"Oh, I love a fire!" she was ecstatically informing some one on her +other side--a waitress. + +Hiram stood there sick with her proximity. She had not recognized +him--she was engrossed with the clouds of black smoke, the intermittent +red gleam of blaze, and the crackling streams of water. Her tongue was +wagging rapidly, and she seemed not to care to whom she spoke or +whether that fortunate person were listening. + +Suddenly, through the scurrying firemen in the street, a big red +automobile came slowly. It was filled with men and women. Its horn +was honking perpetually. Besides the fire apparatus, no other vehicles +were allowed in the street, yet no one seemed to interfere with this +machine. + +"Oh, it's the Samax Company!" exclaimed Lucy, dancing up and down. +"They're going to take a fire picture. Look, Minnie! There's Mr. +Kenoke--the director! I never thought of it--right here at my very +door, too! If I only could see him, Minnie. What a chance for the +fire scene in 'The Crowning Defeat!' Oh, why didn't I think of it, +Minnie? Mr. Kenoke! Mr. Kenoke! Oh, dear, he wouldn't hear me in a +thousand years!" + +She was waving over the heads of the crowd at some one in the red +automobile, it seemed. There seemed even less likelihood now of her +taking note of Hiram. He watched her furtively and wondered. + +"Oh, I must see him!" she went on excitedly. "Say, mister"--she +suddenly turned a flushed face to Hiram--"won't you---- Why, hello!" +she broke off. "I didn't know it was you. Oh, you will, I know! +You're big--you can do it! Won't you try to get to that heavy-set man +in the machine for me? Please--won't you?" + +She was looking eagerly up at him. Hiram rose to the situation like a +man. For her he felt he would have cheerfully entered a beehive should +she command him. Was not this the adventure girl of whom he had +dreamed? + +"What'll I do?" + +"Oh, will you? Good! Listen: Tell him to have Mr. Blair carry Miss +Worthington out the door. And listen: Miss Worthington has +fainted--see? Mr. Blair faints then, and staggers and falls down with +her. Then Mr. Speed rushes up and takes a letter from Mr. Blair's +pocket and runs out of the picture. And listen: Mr. Blair and Miss +Worthington still lie there. Tell him there's no makeup. And tell him +Miss Lucy Dalles wants him to do that, and that he won't regret it. +Tell him I said it was a peach--see? But listen: Don't say anything +about me being in a restaurant, though. Oh, can you? Will you?" + +Hiram was stunned. Had the girl gone crazy? + +"Go on, please, before the fire's out! I can't explain now--wait. +I'll tell you later. He'll know, though. Go on, now--try!" + +Without the faintest notion of what it was all about--with only the +thrilling thought that he was serving her--Hiram's big figure began +pushing through the crowd, dazedly repeating her queer message and the +names. + +He was tall, strong, and angular. Shoving this way and that, he fought +his way to the curb. Here he encountered a rope stretched lengthwise +of the street. The crowd was now confined to the sidewalk. Hiram +crawled under the rope. A policeman shouted at him and started toward +him. Hiram ran, tripped over a slippery hose, caught himself, and +plunged on through the knots of struggling, dripping firemen. + +The automobile had stopped. The occupants were clambering to the wet +pavement. One man was hurriedly setting up a peculiar-shaped camera +directly opposite the entrance of the burning building. Another, a +heavy-set man, was bobbing about, shouting orders to men and women, who +listened, then ran toward the door. + +Everybody was crazy, it seemed, but this had nothing to do with Hiram +in carrying out his mission. He ran up to this heavy-set man and cried: + +"Are you Mr. Kenoke?" + +"Sure! Get out the way! What d'ye want? Now, Miss Worthington, run +for the ladder. Hurry up, girlie! Come on, Blair! Quick! Quick! +What d'ye want--you?" + +Hiram gulped and searched his brains. "Miss Lucy Dalles says to tell +you to have Mr. Blair carry Miss Worthington out of the door. She's +fainted, she said, and then he faints and falls. They lay there, and +another fella--I forget that name--takes a letter from Mr. Blair's +pocket and runs away. Mr. What's-his-name and Miss Worthington still +lie there. Mr.--er--let's see--there's no makeup. And it's a peach, +and you won't regret it." + +"Humph! All right; I get you. I'll take a chance. Lucy Dalles, you +say? Thanks. Get that, Collins? 'Bout ten feet, I guess. After +this. Now, out of the way, please. All ready, there! Let her go! +Now, up with that ladder, deary! Get in there! Get in the picture +Worthington!" + +Hiram stepped back. The man with the camera began turning a crank on +one side, and a low whirring noise blended softly with the roar of the +rushing water. Hiram saw dripping men and women dancing about like +maniacs before the smoking door. + +He did not wait for more. He had done his duty, and he hurried back +for his reward. + +"Did you do it? Did you see him?" + +Lucy Dalles, with parted lips, was straining toward him as he cleaved +his way back to her. + +Hiram nodded. + +"Oh, what did he say?" + +"He said: 'All right. I'll risk it.' He said a lot more, but I guess +it wasn't to me." + +"Well, you're all right," she said, with a beaming smile. "D'ye hear, +Minnie? Mr. Kenoke's going to take it!" + +Minnie, a freckle-faced girl, was busily chewing gum and watching the +spectacle. She indifferently replied, "Yea," and craned her neck away +to focus some new development in the fire fight. + +Lucy at once ignored her. + +"Say, that was great, all right! I'm much obliged, I'm sure. That'll +mean something to me." She was looking straight at Hiram. Now she +hesitated, then, a bit flustered, concluded, "That was all right." + +Hiram grinned and bobbed his head. + +She looked at him in confusion a little longer, then turned to Minnie. + +"Goodness! I must get back in," she said hurriedly. + +Still Minnie gave no heed, and Lucy faced Hiram once more. + +"I said I'd tell you about it, didn't I? Well, I will--that is, if you +care?" + +Hiram bobbed his head again. + +She looked through the jeweler's window at a small brass clock. + +"Gracious! Can that clock be right? It's after eleven! Say, listen: +I'm going off watch at twelve. If you'll be here I'll tell you then." + +"Yes, ma'am--I'll be here." + +"All right. Good-by. Much obliged, I'm sure." + +She squeezed back of Minnie, and scampered through the restaurant door. + +Hiram stood watching the streams of water--that is, he looked that way. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +HIRAM, THE BUTTERFLY + +"Mother, I've come home to die!" gasped Playmate Tweet. + +He was seated in one of the yellow chairs near a window of the lounging +room. He had dropped his newspaper and was staring at Hiram Hooker as +he strode through the door. + +Hiram seated himself on the edge of a chair and grinned uncomfortably. + +The ordeal of appearing before Tweet in his new clothes, at first +poignantly dreaded, had been absent from his thoughts for the past +hour. Standing there before the jeweler's store after Lucy Dalles had +left him, tingling blissfully in every vein, the mundane thought that +Tweet was probably awaiting him in the lodging house had obtruded +itself and hurried him up the street. As he opened the lounging-room +door he thought once more of his clothes. + +Tweet rubbed his eyes and looked again. "Christopher Columbus!" he +added in an undertone. He blinked his eyes three times, then threw +himself back and laughed uproariously. + +For a half minute he shook in his chair, then got up, wiped his twisted +nose with his handkerchief, and came over to his half resentful charge. + +"Well, Hiram," he said with a chuckle, "how much did they set us back?" + +"Set us back?" + +"I mean, how poor are we now?" + +"How poor are _we_?" + +"Sure--Tweet, Hooker & Co. pays the bills." + +"I guess I c'n do what I want to with my own money, can't I?" + +"Sure--sure! Don't get your shirt off. I don't mean to insinuate that +you're not capable o' judiciously handlin' the firm's money. I just +want you to read me the balance sheet." + +"Well, then, I spent thirty-eight dollars, and I've got twenty-nine +dollars left." + +"Stand up." + +Hiram did so. + +"Turn round." + +Hiram wheeled slowly. + +Tweet studied him from every angle, and as Hiram turned he noted the +twinkles which came and went in his slate-blue eyes. Without another +word Tweet left him standing there, went back and sat down, and hid his +face behind his paper. + +Hiram waited a minute, then slowly sank to the edge of his chair. +After a little he asked pleadingly: + +"Ain't they all right?" + +Tweet's paper trembled. A bit of this, then Tweet lowered it and +presented a countenance which seemed never to have known a smile. + +"Hiram," he remarked, "I don't wanta hurt your feelin's, but the part +o' true friendship calls for me to use the surgeon's knife. Hiram, I +wouldn't wear that outfit to a funeral. D'ye get me?" + +Hiram's blue eyes blazed. "Yes, I get you," he began coldly, then +curbed a threatening outburst. "I know they're not the best in the +land," he concluded sensibly, "but I feel better in 'em." + +"There's somethin' in that," Tweet propounded sagely. "There's a whole +lot in gettin' that feel. Good clothes kinda brace a fella up and give +him the nerve to buck on in the big game. Hiram, if your new outfit +gives you the _feel_, it's the goods. When you get next a little it'll +cost you more money to get that feel outa clothes. After all, now, +when that tin-roof look wears off of 'em you won't appear so +whittled-out in that suit. But now, layin' all jokes aside, are they +just the thing for drivin' old Jack and Ned on the railroad grade? +And didn't this sudden lavishness kinda set the company back on its +haunches?" + +Hiram looked out the window. "Did you see the fire?" he asked absently. + +"Yes--walked round the block to get outa the crowd. But----" + +"I just had to kinda spruce up a bit, Mr. Tweet. I felt so +kinda--well, kinda countrified and--and lost, you might say." + +"What's the fire got to do with that? And call me Playmate, too." + +"Nothin', I suppose." + +"Right across from the restaurant wasn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"M'm-m--I'd 'a' made a good lawyer, wouldn't I, Hiram?" + +"I don't know--why?" + +"Why, talkin' about sprucin' up, as you call it, you drift to a fire +that occurred across the street from the place where there's a +frowsy-topped waitress that's got you goin'. Well, le's foget it. Do +we go to southern California together, or not? Our pile's dwindlin' on +account o' this butterfly life you're leadin'." + +"I--I'd like to, but---- Well, I left home to get a start in the city, +and I think I oughta---- Really, I wanta go, but----" Hiram gave it +up, and his lean face flushed. + +"Go on--I didn't interrupt you." + +"Well, I--that's all. I want to go to work here." + +Tweet laughed with a little snort. "Now looky here," he said, "I think +I savvy you pretty well. If I was to go to work and tell you outright +that you couldn't win Lucy, you'd get bull-headed and try to show me. +But le'me tell you this: You ain't goin' to win her till you get next +to yourself. Now, Lucy's a pretty popular dame with the fellas about +the restaurant. I've seen her joy-ridin' with fellas I know are there +with the coin, and savvy more in a minute than you ever knew. Now, +wait a minute!--don't get excited. All this ain't your fault. It's +the fault o' your past environment. You're a hick, and you can't help +it. You get out and learn somethin' and gather up a few beans. Then +come back and, if you still want the kid, go get her. + +"Now, you see this Lucy this afternoon and tell her you're bound out +into the Great Unknown to make your fortune, but that you're comin' +back to see her. Put emphasis on who you're comin' back to see. Then +flee from temptation. Come now--le's swallow this awful pill like a +man." + +Hiram thought a long time, looking out the window. In the midst of +this Tweet resumed his paper. + +The sensible thing to do was for Hiram to sacrifice love to the +friendship that promised him a start, in order to gain love back more +conclusively in the end. Yes, he loved her--he loved her madly! + +Boiling the present situation right down to facts, he had little +confidence in Tweet's boasted powers. He could not reconcile Tweet's +present impecunious condition with his hints of past affluence. But he +liked him instinctively, which, after all, is more human and +satisfactory than liking a person after analyzing him and weighing his +good qualities against his shortcomings. So it was the thought of +Tweet's friendship which finally prompted him to say: "I guess I'll go +with you." + +"Good!" Tweet dropped his paper. "This afternoon?" + +"No--to-morrow." + +"Not on your life! This afternoon." + +"Well, I'll tell you in an hour or so. Now--now it's about noon. You +wait here a little, while I go down in the street. Then I'll come +back, and we'll go eat." + +Tweet looked at him long and steadily. "Got a date with Lucy, eh?" he +said at last. + +"Ye-yes--I saw her at the fire this morning. She said she wanted to +see me when she went off watch at noon--I'll be right back--probably." + +Tweet frowned, then laughed. "Go ahead, Hooker," he relented testily; +"go ahead. Got a date with her, eh? I thought maybe you'd just go +down there and gape at her through the window. Go to it--but don't +forget!" + +Hiram hurried out. + +Again his feet seemed palsied as he neared the restaurant. Was he to +suffer such pangs of stage fright always when about to meet her? + +He had not long to dwell on the query. Before he knew it he was face +to face with her. She had been looking in the jeweler's window while +she waited for him, and had turned as he came abreast. + +She was smiling. "You're a minute late," she scolded, pointing to the +jeweler's brass clock. + +"Yes, ma'am--I was kept." + +"Oh, don't look so serious. A minute's nothing." + +"No, ma'am--not much." + +Silence claimed them for a time. + +"Well, what'll we do?" she finally asked a little petulantly, and +turned her back on him to look into the window. + +"I dunno," he began; then a sudden wild idea struck him. He had seen +along the curbs automobiles bearing signs which read "For Hire--Four +Dollars an Hour." It was worth it, if only to break this humiliating +situation. "We might take a little spin in a machine," he finished +with a tottery tone of indifference. + +"Oh, I'd like that," she said instantly. "But I gotta dress. We'll +get a car and ride 'round to where I room." + +They walked to the corner, where was a taxi stand. Hiram engaged a car +by the hour, and they entered. She directed the driver to her rooming +house, and they were off. + +The car presently drew up to the curb, and the driver swung the door +open for his passengers. Into a dark, musty little parlor the girl led +Hiram of the butterfly life. + +"Sit down," she invited; "and excuse me a minute." + +She went back into the hall, and Hiram heard the tattoo of her feet on +the stairs. + +It was a grand parlor, Hiram thought. There was a piano, a phonograph, +a whatnot filled with specimens of quartz, and four cloth-covered +cushion rockers. With rattlesnake fairness the one Hiram chose +squeaked a warning before it tried to land him on the back of his neck. + +Hiram sat there round-eyed and dreaming, while outside the hired car +purred on, indifferent to the flight of time. + +Twenty minutes later Hiram's dream was broken by the clatter of Lucy's +high heels on the stairs. Lucy entered, dressed in silk and furs and +wearing a large picture hat. The savings of many months were on Lucy's +back, and Hiram felt further removed from her than ever. + +"Where'll we go?" he asked miserably as he clumsily helped her into the +car. + +"Golden Gate Park, Mr. Hooker," she said. + +The driver, having heard, touched his cap, and they rolled away. + +"How'd you know my name?" The burden of keeping this question had been +overriding Hiram's bashfulness since she had spoken it. + +Lucy laughed. "You didn't think I'd go so far as to invite you home +with me if I didn't know you, did you? At least kinda know you?" + +"I hadn't thought about that at all, ma'am. But when you said 'Mr. +Hooker' it gave me a jolt." + +"I'll bet it did. Well, didn't you stand in front of the jewelry shop +for over a quarter of an hour before the fire this morning?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"And you didn't see your friend come out of the restaurant while you +were there?" + +"Who, Tweet? No, ma'am--I didn't." + +"Well, he did. He'd been in talking with me. I didn't know his name, +though. Is that it? Tweet? Heavens above! Say, he's a funny guy. +Well, he'd been in talking about you. He said you were out in front of +the jeweler's shop and wondered if he could get out without you seeing +him." + +Hiram only stared and waited. + +"He told me your name was Hiram Hooker, and that you had just come from +Mendocino County. That's how I knew." + +For quite a time she was silent. Then she said: + +"He appears to be sort of butting in, it seems to me." + +Hiram waited again. + +"He came in and says: 'Say, Lucy, your lifeline and mine are getting +tangled. You're crossing my path and frustrating my plans.' You know +how he talks! + +"'How d'ye get that way?' I says. 'Spring it.' + +"'Why, your many charms are leading my business partner from the path +of duty,' he says. + +"'Go on,' I told him, 'and talk sense, if you've got anything to say.' + +"Then he told me that you two were partners, and were going down to +southern California together to 'get a toehold,' he said; and that you +were keeping the thing back by--by--by wanting to hang around Frisco. +He said you two had a good thing and that you were spoiling it, and +that you were nearly broke and getting more so every minute. + +"I kind of like him. He's funny, but I'll bet he's right. And he said +for me to give you the cold shoul--well, what he meant was for me to +advise you to hurry up and get out with him. + +"But now listen: If I'd intended to do that I wouldn't have told you +that he told me to, would I? Of course not. I wanted to see you about +something else. Two things: First, I promised to tell you about the +moving picture you helped me with this morning. Then the other thing +is Mendocino." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Listen, I'm +from Mendocino County," she finished. "I've been away three years. +I'm nearly dying to talk to some one from up there!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +LUCY'S AMBITIONS + +Learning that Lucy Dalles was from Mendocino County was startling, but +surprise over this took second place in Hiram Hooker's thoughts. He +was stricken with consternation to think that all the time he had been +before the jeweler's window, trying to nerve himself up to enter the +restaurant, she had known he was there. + +"After your friend left the restaurant," she was saying, "I thought I'd +go out and tell you about me being from Mendocino. Just as I left the +door the hook-and-ladder came by. Then I stood by you watching the +fire, you know, till the Samax people drove up. Then I forgot +everything but getting the picture for the fire scene in 'The Crowning +Defeat.' I asked you to see Mr. Kenoke for me, and you did--and it was +dandy of you, too. Now I'll tell you about my scenarios; then I want +to talk about nothing but Mendocino County. + +"Well, I write scenarios for moving-picture production," she went on. +"That's one reason why I wanted the cashier's job--so I could have the +use of the boss' old typewriter. I've been paying a public +stenographer fifty cents a thousand words to copy my work, and it cuts +into the profits when you get so little for a scenario. + +"I've been writing them a year now. I've sold ten. That's not very +many, is it?--when you know; that I have written over fifty. I've sold +most of mine to this Samax Company, through the mail; and one day I +went to their Western studio, here in the city, and told them who I was +and got acquainted with Mr. Kenoke. He's their best producer, I think. + +"As it happened, I am now working on a play that calls for a big fire +scene. I was worried about it, because they send so many of my +scenarios back with the comment that they are too difficult to produce. +It's a dandy plot, and I hated to give it up just because it would +require a burning building. They would hardly buy a building and burn +it down just to please me, you know. + +"But when they hear of a fire they get right to it, if they can, and +take rescue scenes, and so forth, then have their contract writers work +up a scenario in which the scenes can be used. But that's hack work. +Mine is different, you see. My scenario called for a fire, and +couldn't be produced without it. Quite different from having a fire +call for a scenario. + +"Well, now you know. I couldn't explain then, you see. There wasn't +time, and, besides, I was too excited. I doubted if you would have +understood, either--you just from the country. + +"Now don't think I'm making fun of you. But it's the truth, isn't it? +And it was certainly great of you to go the way you did, not having the +least idea of what you were up against." + +"It wasn't much," Hiram said in his unassuming way. + +"Yes, it was," the girl said with a lack of the enthusiasm which had +marked her former grateful utterances. Her eyes were far away, and it +was apparent that another matter held precedence in her mind. "You +just got into Frisco last night, your partner said." + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"I could see that when you came in the restaurant. Your new suit looks +fairly nice." She scanned him frankly. + +Hiram squirmed. "Tweet said I looked whittled out in it," he said +truthfully. + +"You don't any such thing! You don't mind my being so personal, do +you? I've taken quite an interest in you since Mr. Tweet talked about +you--especially as you are from Mendocino. You looked so forlorn and +scared last night when you came in the restaurant. I could see that +you didn't know what to order or how to order it, and that you were +half starved. I remembered my first day in the city. Honestly, I was +scared blue! But tell me--what part of the country are you from?" + +"I'm from Bear Valley," Hiram told her. + +"Bear Valley! Why, our old place is just on the other side of the +range. I've been in Bear Valley lots of times. Our place is in Temple +Valley." + +"I know Temple Valley," Hiram put in quickly. + +"Of course you do! Why did you come down here?" + +"I was gettin' tired of the backwoods--been there all my life," said +Hiram lamely. + +Lucy's eyes grew dreamy. "I thought the same," she said pensively at +last. "I was born there in Temple Valley. I was content, too, till I +was about twenty; then I got to mixing with the summer boarders that +came to the Mills place for the trout season. They'd have something on +every night, and I got acquainted and was always invited. I got to +wanting to go to the city, and I hated Temple Valley. + +"Then my folks died. I didn't get along the best in the world with +Emma--that's by [Transcribers' note: my?] brother's wife. So I pulled +out the day after my twentieth birthday and came to Frisco--and I've +been here ever since. But there was another reason why I left." + +She sighed and leaned back. + +"You've heard of Mrs. Cummings, the writer, haven't you? She was up +at Mills' place one summer, and I got acquainted with her. I told her +I'd always had the writing bug, and she encouraged me. I had no +education but what I'd got in the Temple district school, but I'd read +a lot. + +"So I wanted to write, and finally I left and came to Frisco, and I had +an awful time. Finally I got a job in a cheap restaurant and had to +wait table, and when I got the cashier's job last night I got out of +the rut for the first time in three years. I quit two or three times, +thinking I could make a living writing scenarios, but I always had to +go back to the beaneries. + +"I'm going to hold down the restaurant job till things come my way. +I've given up the idea that I'm a genius. My clothes cost a lot. +Things will break for me some day. Maybe I'll get in the pictures. I +want to go to Los Angeles and try, when I can save a little jack. I +left the woods to win out, and I'm going to do it by fair means or +foul. I'm ambitious. I'm determined to be rich some day." + +Hiram drank in her chatter for two hours more, and when they returned +to her rooming house he paid the driver of the car thirteen dollars and +fifty cents, and now had only fifteen-fifty to his name. He was +horrified at the prospects, but blissfully conscious that he had given +Lucy Dalles an afternoon of pleasure. + +"I want to show you my room," she said, as the car departed. "Come in. +Don't make any noise going upstairs." + +She led the way in, and he followed her softly. She opened a door on +the second floor and stood back for him to look. + +"I furnished my own room," she said proudly. "It's all mine, and paid +for--pretty nearly." + +Hiram stood aghast in the doorway. Never, except in the show windows, +had his eye rested on such splendor. + +There was a rug on the floor, soft and thick, which Lucy told him was a +genuine Smyrna. There was a leopard skin, with stuffed head and red, +gaping jaws. There were two handsome overstuffed leather chairs, and +the bedroom set was Circassian walnut, so Lucy said. + +She closed the door and hurried him below. + +"You see, I've realized part of my ambition," she said, sinking into +the squeaky rocker. "I'm not so clever or so cultured and all that, +but I came from the backwoods to be somebody and have something, and +I'll make good one way or another. What you saw is just a beginner. I +might have bought a typewriter instead, but--well, I just didn't."' + +"They're mighty nice," commented Hiram, as she paused. + +"Yes, they made a fool out of me when I hit Frisco," she continued +absently, "but my day's coming. I'm getting a toehold, as your Mr. +Tweet says. I've rubbed off some of the Mendocino moss." She glanced +a little vainly at her slim, well-garbed figure. "I'm after the money +now--and I'll get it! + +"But tell me about your partner," she continued. "Who is he, anyway?" + +"I can't tell you." + +"M'm-m!" She pursed her lips and frowned thoughtfully. "And he just +wants you to go out with him, hit or miss?" + +"That seems to be it, ma'am. And I don't think I'll go--now." + +"Now? What do you mean, now?" + +A wave of red ran over Hiram's face, and he began stammering. + +The hint of a smile flickered across Lucy's lips as she hurried on +without his answer. Hiram was a big man, ruggedly handsome. It +pleased Lucy's vanity to have him gawk at her as he did. + +"I think I can find out something about this gentleman," she said. "He +came in the restaurant a few days ago, and I noticed two business men I +know quite well talking about him. I'll find out something about this +Tweet for you, and let you know. You don't want to let anybody play +you for a sucker." + +"Oh, I can take care of myself when it comes to that." + +"_Yes_, you can!" She laughed. "You'll lose some of that confidence +before you've been here many days. Now don't be offended. Shall I get +this dope on him, if I can?" + +"I'd thank you kindly, ma'am." + +"Well, I will, then. Now let's forget it and talk about Mendocino. Go +on--you talk so little." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HIRAM WAKES UP + +Hiram walked with an elastic step from Lucy Dalles' rooming house. It +was hard to believe that all that was happening to him was true. In a +sort of haze that floated before him as he walked along hung Lucy's +face. He wished to go on forever thus. He found no fault in her--he +refused to. Some imp whispered to him that his fifteen dollars and +fifty cents would last forever. He did not actually believe this, but +he refused to worry over the matter. Fate was kind. He was living a +dream--and who needs money in Dreamland? + +It was like the slap of a cold towel when Tweet's face suddenly +displaced Lucy's in the haze. Up there in the lounging room Tweet had +been waiting for him four hours! Tweet was doubtless hungry--he, +Hiram, had been to a feast of love! + +He felt like sneaking away to another lodging house till Tweet had +disappeared. But he did not. Instead he sneaked up the dusty stairs +and through the door of the lounging room. + +Tweet was there, half hidden behind his paper. Hiram sidled into a +seat, swallowed twice, and said "Hello." + +Tweet at once lowered the paper and looked at him at if he did not +quite recall his face. + +"Why, hello there!" he returned carelessly. "Back, eh? Here's +somethin' may int'rest you." + +He got up, folding the paper, and carried it over to Hiram, pointing to +an article headed: + +"New Ditch Digger Makes Good." + +Hiram stared at the heading in dire confusion. He had been half +prepared for a rating; Tweet's complete disregard of his remissness was +distressing. + +"Mr. Tweet, I've got to apologize," he began. + +"Bad practice," Tweet interrupted. "The better way is to never do +anythin' that calls for an apology. Can't say that I live up to it, +but I do my darnedest--and angels can do no more. After the first half +hour I knew you wouldn't show up, so I went down and had lunch. More'n +you've had, I'll bet. Just glance over that article and see what you +think of it." + +"I thought you were broke." + +"Oh, they can't keep a good man down. The friend I went to see +insisted that I take a dollar he had that wasn't workin'. Don't +suppose I'll be with you for dinner, either, as I've got an engagement +at about that hour. But read that article." + +Hiram obeyed. + +It told of a ditch digger that had recently been enlarged from the +inventor's model, and which, at the first trial, was proving a decided +success in moving earth more rapidly than any previously invented. +With only his model to prove his claims, the inventor had managed to +sell all the stock; and from the very beginning the operations would be +carried out by a closed corporation. The question before the directors +was whether to have machines manufactured and hire them out, or to +construct a plant and manufacture them for the trade. + +To Hiram it was dull and incomprehensible, and after finishing it he +looked up at Tweet for an explanation. + +"I got a sixth int'rest in her, Hooker," Tweet carelessly informed him. +"My pay for sellin' the stock for 'em." + +"Really! Is it worth anything to you?" + +"I'm holdin' it' at eight thousand five hundred. It'll be worth double +that in a year or two." + +"Eight thousand five hundred!" Hiram stared unbelievingly at Tweet. +"Why don't you sell it, then?" + +"Didn't I say it would be worth double that amount in a year or two?" + +"Yes, but you're broke and----" + +"And I'll stay broke on a deal like that." Tweet's indignation caused +him to grab his off-center nose and impatiently correct its obstinate +trend, but to no avail. "But le's forget it and get back to that +bugbear of our young lives. _When_ are we _going_ to southern +California?" + +Hiram sat framing a reply, which was rather a difficult process. + +"Le's wait till to-morrow, anyway," he said at last. + +"Had quite a little chat with Lucy to-day, eh?" + +"Yes, I did. When you told----" Hiram bit his tongue. "The truth is, +she's from Mendocino County, too, and we--we--that is, we found it out." + +Not the faintest sign of suspicion or surprise showed in Tweet's face. +"Well, suit yourself," he said nonchalantly. "It's a little late, or +I'd go this afternoon. But to-morrow I go. My friend'll dig up the +price, but I hate to hit him up any more. Think it over a little +longer, Hooker--I'm goin' down for a little stroll. But +remember--before noon to-morrow I've gotta have a definite answer. +I've found that Morgan & Stroud send their bunches out every day at one +o'clock." + +Tweet folded his precious paper, crammed it his pocket, and left the +room. + +A few minutes afterward Hiram followed. He ate lunch and dinner in +one, then strolled about the city, dreaming of Lucy and fretfully +counting the hours till he might expect to feast his material eyes on +her again. At nine o'clock he returned to the lodging house, made sure +that Tweet was not in the lounging room, and went to bed. + +Next morning, close to nine o'clock, he was shifting from one foot to +the other before the cashier's counter in the restaurant. From the +little window inclosure came the clicking of typewriter keys, a little +more spirited than before. Hiram had strategically chosen the slack +business hour of the morning. He had eaten breakfast in a cheaper +restaurant, two blocks down the street. He had not seen Tweet. He had +been walking about the streets since six o'clock. + +The keys kept clicking. Hiram cleared his throat several times, and at +last, as before, tapped on the show case with a coin. The clicking +stopped, a skirt swished, and the gates of heaven opened, it seemed to +Hiram. + +"Well, look who's here! Good morning." + +"Ha-ha-ha! Good morning, ma'am." + +"Then let's begin this good morning by dropping the 'ma'am.' They all +say it up in Mendocino, I know. It's considered the _ne plus ultra_ of +good breeding up there. You see I'm trying to steer you straight, and +I've got to be frank. I didn't have anybody kind enough to pick the +moss off me." + +"I'll stop sayin' it, if you say so." + +"Sure, you want to. Now, I've had another visit from Mr. Tweet. He +roasted me for not carrying out his orders. He's just the least bit +too fresh, and I intimated as much. But he told me just about how much +money you had, and I decided you'd better take his advice and go with +him." + +"But I've decided not to go at all now," said Hiram. "I'm goin' to +begin lookin' for a job here in the city to-day." + +"Aw, you can't get a job here that'll make you any money. Tweet told +me something about where you're going down there in southern +California. It's on the desert. A new railroad's building. Things +will be lively. A friend of mine was in here at the time. He's got a +lot of automobile trucks, and makes piles of money. Maybe you noticed +him. Good-looking fellow in a brown suit. Drives a big drab car?" + +"Ye-yes, I've seen him," admitted Hiram resentfully. + +"Well, he was in here and talked with Tweet, and he said he thought +he'd look into the freighting proposition down there. With his trucks, +you know. There's a long haul over the desert and the mountains, it +seems, and he says it ought to be good. Said maybe he'd take me down +some time, if anything turned up." + +"You wouldn't go!" + +"Wouldn't I? Huh! You bet your life I would! I only hope he'll stick +to what he says. Maybe I'd get to see you down there. Tweet said he'd +heard that the place they freight to is a live one. Ragtown, he said +they called it. That's the kind of a place to make money in. I'd go, +if I were you. Go down and make a stake, and then come back to Frisco. +Money talks here." + +"With you?" Said Hiram, slowly drinking in dread suspicion. + +"You betcha my life!" Lucy said lightly. + +She broke off suddenly and turned toward the door with a smile of +welcome on her lips. In came Hiram Hooker's hated rival, Al Drummond. + +"Hello, Lucy!" he called breezily. Then he leaned over the counter, +glanced hurriedly about the empty restaurant, and kissed the girl on +the lips. + +She slapped at him playfully. "You got a nerve, Al!" she exclaimed. + +Hiram Hooker heard no more, for blindly he was stumbling out, crushed, +heartbroken. Hiram Hooker suddenly had decided to go to southern +California with Mr. Orr Tweet, and the sooner they could get away the +better he would like it. He realized now that Lucy Dalles was not the +adventure girl who had beckoned in his dreams. She was a cheap, +scheming adventuress, and he hated the very thought of her now--and was +plunged into the depths of despair and humiliation. + +In the lounging room he found Tweet. + +"Come on," he said huskily, "le's go to the employment office. I'm +ready." + +Orr Tweet arose, casting a curious look at Hiram's haggard face, but +said nothing as he followed him out. + +Fifteen minutes later they entered a large employment bureau on Clay +Street, where were gathered perhaps a hundred workingmen reading the +bulletins or lounging on benches. + +Every now and then a brisk, leonine-headed man walked about among them, +making announcements as a train caller does in a big union depot. + +"Shippin' to Oregon--two o'clock to-morrow afternoon--I want two +hundred muckers--forty cents an hour--board one dollar a day. I want +twenty skinners, same job, forty a month and found. Sign up, boys! +Hit the trail and make yer stake. Two dollars is the bill! + +"I want one hundred men to work in onions and potatoes. +Three-twenty-five a day and board. Think of it, boys! +Three-twenty-five a day and _board_! Like gettin' money from home! +Get your blankets and line up for the chance of a lifetime. + +"Then listen, boys! I want six rough carpenters--the rougher the +better--mine work. Eight dollars a day, eight hours--_dollar an hour_! +Fee two dollars. Think of that, huskies! Can ye swing a hammer or +push a saw? You're on if you can--sign up! Ship ye out this evenin'. +A snap! A cinch! + +"I want a sub-grade foreman at seven dollars--eight hours! + +"I want skinners, muckers, hard-rock men for Washington. I want +lumberjacks for Washington--long job--good pay! I want hard-rock men +for Alaska--the harder the better. And I want----" + +Here Orr Tweet grasped the enthusiast's sleeve. "How about those +jerkline skinners for southern California?" he asked. "Saw it in the +paper." + +"I'll see, old-timer--I'll look that up for you right away. Just step +inside, please--you and your pal. Let you know all about it in two +minutes. Line up for a good job, boys! Get out and make a stake! +Just a minute, boss man. Step right inside." + +Inside a railing, where many clerks were at work, the applicants were +turned over to a sallow young man, who, being informed of what they +wanted, consulted certain memoranda. Then he swiveled toward the two +and gave them the particulars. + +"Gold Belt Cut-off," he said. "Buildin' across the desert in southern +California. Good camps--good pay--good grub--good water----" + +"Cut all that," dryly interrupted Orr Tweet. + +"All right, sir," replied the clerk cheerfully. "Main contractors, +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou. Want fifty muckers and fifty skinners--two +jerkline skinners--must be A-1. Fifty-five a month and found. Fee two +dollars. Ship you out one o'clock to-morrow. On?" + +Tweet nudged Hiram and nodded, and Hiram tendered four silver dollars. + +"Just a minute," said the clerk--though accepting the money. "This +office can't afford to get in bad with big contractors like Demarest, +Spruce & Tillou. They've specified A-1 jerkline skinners, to skin +eight, ten, and twelve over the desert and mountains. Are you there?" + +"We are there," replied Orr Tweet. + +The clerk looked doubtful. "Well, guess we'll have to take your word +for it. Chances are you'll break away when you get to where you're +makin' it, anyway. This is kind of a special job, though. Demarest +himself wrote a personal letter about the two jerkline skinners. +They're not for him, it seems--just to be shipped down with the other +skinners and muckers and hard-rock men we're sendin' him. The jerkline +skinners are for 'Jerkline Jo.' Ever heard that name? If you're +jerkline skinners that have followed railroad work you ought to've +heard o' Jerkline Jo. Usta be monakered 'Gypo Jo.'" + +"We're not railroaders," said Mr. Tweet glibly. "We're from Mendocino +County--the big woods you know. But we can skin 'em for Jerkline Jo or +any other man." + +"I'll take a chance," said the clerk briskly. "If you'd just wanted to +get your railroad trip out o' Frisco you'd not thought to pick out the +jerkline job, when only two were wanted. Jerkline Jo is a woman, +though." + +"Yeah?" returned Mr. Tweet, then said to the heartbroken Hiram: "You +can't escape 'em, it seems, Hooker--you big mountain of a lady killer! +This is gonta be good. Send us to Jerkline Jo, old hoss! She'll bless +you with her last breath. Chances are you'll meet a regular woman, +now, Hiram--not a doll with three years' wages on her back! A big +outdoor picture like you fallin' for a bunch o' female French pastry +like that!" + +The employment agency clerk shrugged and took their names. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +JERKLINE JO + +About six months previous to Hiram Hooker's momentous debut into the +world outside of the big trees of Mendocino County, a girl stood in her +dormitory room at Kendrick Hall and read a telegram with tear-dimmed +eyes. + +This girl was Miss Josepha Modock. She was twenty-two, and Providence +had been kind to her--nay, lavish. She was straight and sturdy and +strong. Her hair was of a dark chestnut hue, and its beauty and +luxuriant growth made it at once the envy and admiration of her fellow +students of the Wisconsin boarding school. Her eyes were large and +dark and luminous, her nose just far enough short of perfect, her lips +full and distracting. + +Josepha Modock had been two years at Kendrick Hall. She was older than +most of the girls who were her classmates, for the desire and +opportunity to acquire an education had come to her at a late day in +her teens. She was ambitious, however, and was making fast progress +with her college preparatory course. Then came the telegram which she +now held, and over which she wept tears of grief. + +Her name was not really Josepha Modock. Modock was the name of her +foster father, and he and her foster mother, the latter dead now for +ten years, had given the girl the name of Josepha, because, when they +had found her a mere baby weeping and lost on the great desert of +California, they had discovered a "J" embroidered on her underwear. + +At that time Peter Modock--"Pickhandle" Modock--had been what is known +in railroad-construction circles as a gypo man, or shanty man. A gypo +man is an impecunious construction contractor whose light, haphazard +outfit of teams and tools makes it necessary for him to subcontract in +the lightest dirt work from a slightly better equipped subcontractor, +who in turn has taken a subcontract from the main contractors in a big +piece of railroad building. In the vernacular of the grade, a gypo +man's daughter, if she follows the outfit, is known as a gypo queen. + +Josepha Modock, then, had grown up in the camp of Pickhandle Modock, +and in time had been known as a gypo queen, or shanty queen, and the +prettiest one in the business at that. + +It was when the Salt Lake Road was being built across the Mohave Desert +that the baby girl had been found. Pickhandle Modock had taken a +little piece of work from Grace Brothers, and was on his way across the +sandy wastes to pitch camp and begin operations. His outfit was to be +one of the first to arrive, and as yet no definite line of travel had +been established to the work. A terrific sandstorm came up, and the +outfit became lost on the desert, where men and teams wandered about +without water for many perilous hours, some time in the midst of which +the human atom afterward called Josepha was found. + +She had been sole mistress of a tiny camp tucked away in a +half-sheltered little arroyo, over which spiked yucca palms stood guard +and helped to break the wind and check the drifting sands. There were +provisioned pack bags there, and the blowing sand had not entirely +covered the small hoof prints of several burros. A corral of corky +yucca trunks held the child a prisoner, and more trunks had been laid +on the walls to form a roof, which kept off coyotes. In here they +found her sobbing, suffering for water, abandoned by her elders, while +slowly but surely the sand was sifting in to bury her alive. + +All trails leading to or from the spot had been wiped out. The child +was cautiously given water and food, and the suffering contractor's +party camped there, hoping for the return of the man or men who had +left the baby to such dangers in the merciless desert. But no one came +to claim her that day nor during the ensuing night; so next morning +Pickhandle's outfit set out to search desperately to better their own +alarming conditions, and took the child along. Modock left behind a +note explaining their action and informing whoever was responsible how +he might eventually be connected with, whereupon the child would be +returned. + +That day the sandstorm subsided, and the outfit stumbled upon the road +to their destination. They found water before noon, and camped there +to recuperate. Here also, when they took their leave, they left word +of their appropriation of the baby girl. Later, when they had reached +their camp site and settled down, Modock, having received no +communication relative to the child, returned on horseback and sought +for the spot where she had been found. At last it was discovered, and +it was quite apparent that during the ten days' interval no one had +been there. The pack bags with the supplies, and the few miners' tools +that lay about, were all but buried in the sands. Modock's note was +still there. + +Deciding that the baby's guardians or parents had perished in the +storm, Pickhandle Modock took the articles for the purpose of +identification, if some one ever should claim the child, and returned +with them to his camp, greatly to the joy of motherly Anna Modock, his +wife. Anna Modock had no children, and now she loved the desert waif +as if the child had been her own. + +Slowly Pickhandle Modock prospered in the years that followed, for he +was a thrifty, hard-working man. The child, whom they had named +Josepha, grew to girlhood, and reached young womanhood as a sprite of +the camps--a gypo queen. The Modocks were uneducated people, but knew +it, and strove to make amends by educating the girl to the best of +their ability. When the contractor had prospered to the point where he +needed and could afford a bookkeeper, he employed a gray-haired +derelict of the grade, half of whose duties were to educate Josepha. + +The old man loved the child and did his best by her, guiding her +successfully through the elementary branches and succeeding in +implanting in her mind what is known as a common-school education. She +learned rapidly, but showed no particular interest in her studies. +With the work of the grade she was enraptured. At ten she was driving +a slip team, loading and dumping without the help of any one. Later +she drove wheeler teams, then snap teams, and even the six-horse plow +teams. She became a wonderful horsewoman, and, when in the West, +entered contests at rodeos in trick riding, riding buckers and +so-called outlaws, and won many prizes. Horses and mules loved her. +Her voice or her hand spoke to them in a language that they seemed to +know. She could break a colt to steady work in half the time required +by any man she had ever met. It was said that the only thing a horse +or mule would not do for her was to talk, whereupon Josepha trained a +colt to "talk," just to prove that her understanding of animals was +virtually unlimited. + +So Joshepha Modock grew to young womanhood, admired, loved, and spoiled +by the thousands of nomad laborers who knew her. At eighteen she could +truthfully boast of a hundred proposals of marriage, and some of them +had been worth an ambitious girl's consideration. Gypo Jo they called +her, and she was known all over the West, where her foster father's +operations were confined, and stories of her beauty and horsewomanship +had gone East and North and South, for railroad-construction laborers +are a nomadic brood and repeat their tales and traditions from coast to +coast. + +Then Pickhandle Modock, whose wife had died some years before, made the +move which finally brought his mounting prospects to the verge of ruin. +Just when he was on the point of being recognized as a contractor of +consequence, and owned a big, fine outfit of stock and tents and +implements, he decided to change his activities to those of a freighter. + +Numerous railroad projects were being launched in the West, and most of +the lines were bound to extend through countries difficult to access. +Contractors preferred to have their freight hauled to them by regular +freighters, so that every team of their own could be put on the task of +railroad building. Or so Pickhandle Modock reasoned. + +Accordingly he sold his construction outfit, and with the proceeds +bought heavy freight wagons and heavy young teams, and launched forth +in his new career. For a year or more he followed railroad camps with +his heavy freight outfit; then he suddenly decided that he was getting +too old for camp life and to be eternally moving about. So when a new +gold mine was opened up in the mountains that overlook southern +California's desert, he moved into the little frontier town of Palada, +forty miles from the new mines, and got the freighting contract from +this railroad point up into the mountains. + +He bought out the town's largest store, and set up a blacksmith and +wagoner's shop to keep his great wagons in repair and his hard-working +teams shod. Here for a year or more Josepha attended high school +during the winter months, and drove eight and ten-horse teams with a +jerkline to the mines in summer, and acquired her new title of Jerkline +Jo because of her skill in training and handling the big teams. Here, +too, she required [Transcriber's note: acquired?] her thirst for an +education, and, torn between her new ambition and her love for the big +outdoors and her devoted mules and horses, she at last set off for +Wisconsin for her preparatory course at Kendrick Hall. + +Pickhandle Modock, however, had reckoned without the automobile truck, +which now was fast displacing heavy freight teams. While as yet the +road into the mountains was not in the best shape for trucks, at least +during winter months, still the noisy transporters of freight, of the +lower tonnage capacity, were taking a great deal of business from him. +Then the road on the other side of the mountains, connecting with the +big coast-side cities, was paved; and this ended Pickhandle Modock's +career as a jerkline freighter. The town of Palada, too, degenerated +from an active little supply point to a stagnating desert village, with +no visible means of support, and Pickhandle Modock found himself with a +big stock of goods on hand with no one to buy, and with sixty or more +heavy freight horses eating their heads off in their corrals. + +His circumstances went from bad to worse, but he had carefully kept all +this from his adopted daughter, in the preparatory school in the Middle +West. Consequently the blithe and lovable Jerkline Jo knew nothing of +the state of affairs when the telegram announcing her father's death +reached her that fateful morning. + +It stunned her at first. She could scarcely believe that lovable, +hard-working, grizzled old Pickhandle Modock, the only father she had +ever known had gone out of her life forever. The justice of the peace +at Palada, who had handled Pickhandle's legal affairs, had sent the +telegram, which advised her to return at once, as she was named as the +sole heir to her foster father's estate. The telegram--a night letter +and a long one--hinted of things of which she had not even dreamed, an +prepared her for financial disappointments. + +She at once realized that her school days at Kendrick Hall were ended, +just when the future looked so bright. She would have entered college +next year, and this, too, she must now forego, just when her ambition +was at its height. + +But she had been through many discouragements as a gypo queen, and she +did not flinch. She had known poverty--even actual want--had fought +mud and sandstorms and cold and heat and rain that hampered work for +weeks and months. In her was the indomitable spirit of the pioneer. +She bravely and silently packed her treasured belongings, bade a +dry-eyed good-by to her tearful instructors and classmates, and set her +face toward the Western desert to learn the worst, and meet it as +hard-fighting old Pickhandle Modock would have wished her to meet +it--as a girl called Jerkline Jo should meet life's threatening defeats. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE RETURN OF JERKLINE JO + +When the long overland train contemptuously groaned to a reluctant stop +in Palada the infrequent occurrence told the town that Jerkline Jo had +returned for her foster father's funeral and the readjustment of his +badly involved affairs. Old friends, old pals, old lovers crowded +about her on the depot platform, wringing her strong hand in sympathy +and offering help. The village hack was running no more now, so +friends carried her baggage for her to the house on the hill, where lay +the body of Pickhandle Modock. + +Friends stayed with her that night. The funeral was solemnized next +day. In all the world, now, Jerkline Jo had not the semblance of a +relative, so far as she knew. She even did not know her name, and of +Pickhandle Modock's family she had met not a single soul. But she had +youth, courage, and ambition, and she went bravely at the many tasks +before her. + +With the old justice of the peace she took up her father's affairs, and +it soon became evident that to attempt to continue the store under +existing conditions would be the part of folly. The business was +deeply in debt to jobbers in the cities on the coast side of the +mountains, and such stock as they would accept must go back to them to +cancel their claims. The store building was mortgaged; the residence +property was mortgaged. The teams and wagons and the blacksmith shop +seemed to be all that she could save from the wreckage, and these +appeared to be more of an encumbrance than otherwise. + +Still, she decided, against the advice of all well-meaning friends, to +try to hold on to them and to be able to own them, clear of any claims +against them. She knew the freighting business and construction +teaming, and virtually nothing else; so with the idea that all of +Pickhandle Modock's proud building must not have been for naught, she +fought for final control of the freight outfit, and would not listen to +those who claimed that the days of freighting with teams were over +forever. + +In a month everything was settled--all creditors satisfied. She had +arranged to pay the store's debts with the acceptable stock on hand, +having made great concessions. She had promised the store building and +the residence property to the mortgagees, effective after the will had +been probated. To her delight, she found that the teams, blacksmith's +and wagoner's equipment, and the wagons would be hers intact. True, +the teams were a great expense, and there was almost nothing left with +which to buy hay and grain for them. But she was making inquiry here +and there in an effort to put them to work again. Eventually she was +successful in getting them on mountain pasture at a dollar and a half a +head per month. There were sixty-one animals in all, and the pasturage +fees amounted to quite a monthly sum, but it was far inferior to the +monthly feed bills she had been paying. + +For several months she hung on desperately, hoping against hope, with +everything going out and nothing coming in, then one bright and +long-to-be-remembered day came news of the new railroad which was to +cross the desert a hundred miles from Palada. + +Jerkline Jo made inquiry and found out the work was to begin at once, +and that the project was a large one, involving difficult construction +feats. By train she rode to the nearest railroad point, met the +engineers of the preliminary survey, found an old friend in the party, +and with him rode horseback on an old mining road over the range that +stood between the railroad and that part of the desert which the new +route would cross. + +Close study of the engineers' maps and her general knowledge of +construction conditions told her much. She decided on the logical +place where the inevitable "rag town" would spring up. This, she +reasoned, would be as close as possible to the biggest camp of the main +contractors, Demarest, Spruce & Tillou. + +There was water to be had at several widely separated places along the +new right of way, but she knew that the water supply closest to the big +camp would draw the tent city about it. + +She knew, too, where the big camp would be, for the simple reason that +the heaviest piece of work is eventually left to the main contractors; +so she was able to figure to a dot just where Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou's Camp Number One would locate. She had not the remotest idea, +then, however, how this knowledge was to benefit her later. + +To the tent town and to the camps of the many subcontractors who would +come, thousands of tons of freight must be hauled. The railroad point +nearest to the spot where the main contractor would camp was the town +of Julia, from which the two had ridden horseback, and the mountain +range lay between Julia and the right of way of the proposed, route. A +forty-five mile trip through heavy desert sands, over the steep grades +of an abandoned mountain road, and through heavy sands again would +inevitable, and until the new steel rails had crept to a point opposite +Julia, teams or automobile truck must supply the laborers and teams +with the necessities of life. + +Jo knew little about automobile trucks, but she did not fear them. +They would give her keen competition, no doubt, at least during summer +months but a study of the mountain soil convinced her that in winter +there would be another story to tell. Anyway, she and her beautiful +freight animals must take their chance against these modern machines. +It would be a race between the tortoise and the hare; and every one +knows that the hare has gained no little reputation from the outcome of +that legendary contest. + +From Julia, Jerkline Jo hurried by train to San Francisco, to the +Western office of the big contracting firm of Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou, whose headquarters were in Minneapolis. She knew Mr. Demarest +personally, and was fortunate in finding him in San Francisco upon her +arrival there. + +"Well, well, well!" the big man cried jovially, as the girl was ushered +into his private office. "Gypo Jo! Heavens to Betsy! Girl, I haven't +seen you in five years. Put 'er there for old times' sake!" + +"It's Jerkline Jo nowadays, Mr. Demarest," and she laughed. + +Philip Demarest was a large, portly man, with a ruddy, red face, +blue-veined and kindly. He had come up from the grade, and was +eminently proud of his successful climb. + +For thirty minutes he refused positively to talk business. He +preferred to sit and dwell on bygone days with the one-time queen of +Pickhandle Modock's gypo camp, to listen to the account of her father's +rise and fall and his subsequent untimely death, and of the girl's +ambitions and life in the Middle Western school. They told many a +story, these old-timers of the nomadic camps, and had many a laugh over +quaint remembrances. Then they got down to business. + +Demarest listened carefully to Jo's ideas, and as she concluded he +drummed thoughtfully on his desk. + +"I think myself, Jo," he said presently, "that in winter you can grab +off the money from any old automobile concern. But through the summer +months they're gonta give you a nice little run for your money. And if +they get freight there with less delay than you fail to avoid, and can +do it for the same figure, they're gonta rampse you--that's all. + +"Certain parties are lookin' into the matter already," he went on. +"There's one fella here in Frisco that's got a fleet o' trucks--fella +named Albert Drummond. Shrewd customer, too. He was tryin' to make a +dicker with us. But we'll make no deals. We're not goin' to freight +any ourselves if we can get out of it. But we'll sign no contracts in +such a matter. Lowest bidder gets our business so long as he don't +fail to keep us supplied with all we need. If you can underbid these +truck men, you'll get the business; and from what I know about you, I +have no doubt but that you'll deliver the goods." + +"Gasoline is terribly high right now," Jo pointed out. + +"So's hay, for that matter," said Demarest bluntly. + +"I've heard, too, of a possible scarcity of gas," Jo told him. + +"Yes, but the scarcity of hay is almost as threatenin', my girl; and +those big horses certainly can eat the stuff. But tell me--what do you +figure you can lay freight down for at the spot where you say we're +bound to locate our biggest camp?" + +"Two and a half cents a pound," was her prompt reply. + +"It's an awful price, when you think it over," he said reflectively. +"Just imagine, Jo; two and a half cents a pound bein' added onto the +price of a sack o' flour--with flour at the unheard-of price it's +already reached. And hay and grain! Jo, it's simply staggering." + +"I admit that," she said. "But I suppose you took all that into +account when you made your bid on the job." + +"You bet your sweet life we did, girl! And I'll tell you what--we +figured freight at three and a half cents a pound." + +"You're fortunate. I'll get that, too, if I beat the trucks." + +"Figurin' on gougin' us out of our profits already, eh?" + +"Not at all, Mr. Demarest. Two and a half cents is my minimum. I'll +freight for that only if forced to by the trucks. I doubt if I can +make money at that figure. Only a trial over an extended period of +time will tell. It all depends on the nature of the soil--on the +condition that the roads develop after a period of heavy traffic over +them, and the devastation of the winter rains. There'll be snow in +those mountains, too. It's a gamble--a big gamble--but all that I can +see against me is the fact that trucks don't eat hay when they're not +at work." + +"And how d'ye know where our Camp One is going to be located, girl?" he +asked kindly. "I don't know myself yet." + +"Of course you don't know positively," she replied. "But I'll bet you +ten to one that you'll never sublet that piece of heavy-rock work +through the buttes. I don't know a subcontractor--and I've not been +out of touch with the grade so very long--who could tackle that +stupendous task. So, if you can't sublet it--and I'm betting you +can't--it will be up to you folks to do it yourselves. So that tells +me where your largest camp will be, and at the nearest water to your +largest camp the rag town will spring up. Isn't that all logical?" + +"Sound as a dollar," he told her. "You weren't raised by Pickhandle +Modock for nothing, were you?" + +She rose from her chair. "Tell your subs to send me a wire at Julia +when they're ready for any freight, at two and a half cents for a +starter," she said. "I'll get it to 'em. But if no one meets my +price, look for a raise to three cents for the second trip. Of course, +if I don't hear from them, I'll know some one has beaten me out. Then +I'll see what can be done. Your camp, of course, won't be in till +last, I suppose. I'll go back to Palada now, take the stock off +pasture, and begin hardening them up. Then I'll start for Julia, and +will be there before your outfit moves in." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +SKINNERS FROM FRISCO + +Back at Palada, Jerkline Jo began hunting up the expert skinners who +had pulled the long sash-cord lines for her foster father, and who had +drifted to parts unknown since the completion of the paved road that +had virtually put Pickhandle Modock out of the running. The world has +not an oversupply of expert jerkline skinners, and the plucky girl's +chances for success depended in great part on obtaining good men to +handle her teams. She was able to trace some of the men, and her offer +to pay their expenses to Palada brought replies favorable to the +project in each case. For jerkline jobs are scarce these days, and a +jerkline skinner would rather follow his calling than do any other sort +of work. + +The blacksmith, horseshoer, and wagoner, Carter Potts, was still in +Palada, and wished for nothing better than to serve the girl. They had +decided to reopen the shop at Julia, and for his devotion Jo promised +him a generous per cent of any profits which might accrue from work +aside from the care of the immense wagons and shoeing the teams. This +in addition to his monthly salary of a hundred dollars and board. + +From Oregon now came "Blink" Keddie, who had driven teams for +Pickhandle Modock since long before the old railroader had settled at +Palada. Tom Gulick came from Utah, where he had been working on a +cattle ranch. Heine Schultz and Jim McAllen came from remote regions +in the northern lumber woods. But of Ed Hopkins, the prince of mule +skinners, and Harry Powell the girl could get no trace. + +With the dependable force that she had mustered, however, she took the +stock from pasture, broke even on a job to a desert town to the west in +order to put the teams in shape, and then made ready for the +hundred-and-fifty-mile trip to Julia. She had written Mr. Demarest and +asked him to advertise for two good jerkline skinners to be shipped +with the first draft of laborers he would get from San Francisco. She +had small hopes of obtaining good skinners by this method, but no other +course presented itself. + +Two days before the start for Julia came a wire from the San Francisco +office of Demarest, Spruce & Tillou. It read: + + Employment office notifies two jerkline skinners + applied re advertisement in paper and have been + forwarded Palada. Arrive day after to-morrow. + + +Jo showed the telegram to Heine Schultz when she went to the corrals +this morning. + +"I'll bet you get a couple o' peaches, Jo," he laughed. "Why, any +tramp's likely to go to an employment office and say he's anything they +want him to be, just to get on the job. And maybe, even, he'll ditch +the train before he reaches the job. Just wanted the trip, you know." + +Jo's broad, smooth brow puckered. "I do hope that will not prove the +case," she said. "Jerkline skinners are so hard to get, particularly +in this country. Every man who has ever driven a horse or mule seems +to imagine he can drive jerkline, but you know and I know that it takes +knack and years of practice. But I'm hoping that because these two +applied for this particular job they're all right. If they merely +wished to get free transportation out of San Francisco, it was not +necessary for them to apply as jerkies. They could as easily have +arranged to be shipped as plain skinners, or rock men, or muckers." + +"I'll bet you draw a prize, all right," Heine chuckled disconcertingly. + +Jerkline Jo postponed the start a day, and awaited the coming of the +applicants. + +As the local passenger train from Los Angeles whistled for Palada, Mr. +Orr Tweet roused himself from his seat in the smoker and slapped the +muscle-corded thigh of the disconsolate Hiram Hooker. + +"She blows, Hiram, old boy!" cried Mr. Tweet. "Fame and fortune await +us just ahead. She slows! She creeps! Palada opens her arms to us! +Perk up, Hiram! The girl wasn't your kind, my boy. You'd have stepped +all over her little feet, and she'd got a divorce and alimony on the +grounds o' cruelty." + +Hiram Hooker sighed and stretched his columnar arms. For a moment or +two the new prospects that loomed kept his mind busy, then his thoughts +reverted to Lucy Dalles, and gloom claimed him once more. + +"Don't talk like that, Playmate," he said. "You don't understand. I +loved the girl." + +"Prune juice! She'd 'a' made a regular sucker outa you. Good thing I +got you away. A big mountain o' blood and bone like you fallin' for a +dash o' cake frosting like that little hasher. Hiram, you've got a +man's body and a man's brains, and I like you better the more I see of +you. If you're goin' to weep over a woman, weep over a regular woman, +boy--a man's woman. There! Look out the window. See that straight, +strong, black-headed desert girl in chaps and a Stetson? Look at the +brown of her! Look at her stride! Queen o' the earth, hey? That's +the kind of a woman for a man with the body of an elephant and the +imagination of a poet, like you've got. There's a girl worth sighin' +for, only she wears leather chaps! Well, out we go. Palada for a +toehold on the ladder o' fame and fortune!" + +The train had squeaked to a stop, and the effervescent Mr. Tweet and +his huge companion descended the steps to the sunny platform. The +businesslike Mr. Tweet buttonholed the first villager he met, and +informed him: + +"We're lookin' for a party called Jerkline Jo--a lady with a far-flung +reputation. Can you steer us to her rendezvous, my friend?" + +The man stared at him a moment, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. + +"There's Jo over there," he said. "She's lookin' for ye, I reckon. +That pretty girl in the chaps." + +"Her!" gasped Mr. Tweet. "Lordy! And I was just eulogizin' her +through the window o' the coach. I saw her first--Hiram--I saw her +first!" + +Next second Mr. Tweet was before Jerkline Jo, lifting his hat and +bowing politely. Behind him, Hiram Hooker stood awkwardly looking at +the girl he had traveled six hundred miles to work for. + +"Madam," said his companion, "if you are Jerkline Jo, permit me to +introduce myself and my friend. I am Mr. Tweet--Playmate +Tweet--Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet. My friend and companion in arms is +Hiram Hooker, from the virgin forests of Wild-cat Hill. I hope we find +you well, and a look into your face tells me that I never hoped for a +surer thing in my life. Madam, when you know me better, you will learn +that I am not fresh, merely bubbling over with the joy of existence." + +For a little Jerkline Jo gazed at him, then burst into ringing +laughter. "Well, if you can drive jerkline," she said, "there's no +doubt but that you will be a pleasant addition to our little family. +I'm happy to meet you, Mr.----" + +"Playmate Tweet--Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet." + +"_What_?" + +"Orr Tweet--Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet," patiently repeated Mr. Tweet. + +"Are you trying to be funny?" The dark eyes narrowed dangerously. + +"I am funny," corrected Mr. Tweet. "I can't help it. Allow me to +explain: My last name, unfortunately, is Tweet. Tweet is the +well-known conversational effort of a bird, and also 'Twitter,' if we +are to believe the bird lovers. Therefore, I am ruthlessly called +Twitter at times by my friends, and more often Twitter-or-Tweet. Orr +is my first name. Orr Tweet. Suppose, for instance, my name happened +to be Jim Brown, and I had been given the nickname of Blister. Then I +would be called Blister Jim Brown, or Blister Brown. But my name is +Orr Tweet, and my nickname is Twitter-or-Tweet. Therefore, I am +Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet, or Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet. You've heard +the story of the lady who asked the ticket agent for 'Two to Duluth,' +haven't you? He thought she was flirting with him, and came back with +'Tweedle-de-dee;' whereupon she slapped him. So far I have escaped +such consequences when telling people my name. But if, when asked, I +reply 'Orr Tweet,' they say 'What or Tweet?' Then if I reply +'Twitter-or-Tweet _Orr_ Tweet,' they look at me as if they thought I +was trying to kid 'em. So I begin my explanation by giving them my +nickname, or monaker, 'Playmate,' and follow it with my second monaker, +'Twitter-or-Tweet,' as I am frequently called, or Twitter-or-Tweet Orr +Tweet, or Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet. It's very simple." + +Jerkline Jo laughed again at the end of this seemingly nonsensical +harangue, and fixed her dark eyes on Hiram Hooker. The giant stood +staring at her, and not a thought of Lucy Dalles was in his mind now. +His blue eyes caught her dark ones, and his glance was lowered in +confusion. Womanlike, Jerkline Jo took him in at a glance, and +something within her responded to the appeal that his handsome manhood +made to femininity. + +"What a godlike physique!" she thought. + +Then impulsively she stepped forward and extended her hand. + +"I'm glad you've come, Mr. Hooker," she said. "And I do hope you are +really a jerkline skinner." + +"And how 'bout me?" complained Mr. Tweet. + +"I beg your pardon," said the girl, biting her lip. "What a stupid +thing for me to say! But really--well, Mr. Hooker does look more like +an outdoors man than you do, Mr. Tweet. I didn't mean to discriminate +between you in my offer of welcome, though. Mr. Hooker, _are_ you a +jerkline skinner?" + +For the first time Hiram's soft voice began to drawl. "Yes, ma'am," he +told her earnestly. "I've driven jerkline since I was knee-high to a +duck--eight and ten and twelve, and even sixteen, ma'am. I reckon I +can make 'em pull, no matter how far out you hook 'em on." + +"Where have you worked?" + +"At home, ma'am--in the big timber o' Mendocino County--haulin' tanbark +and ties and shakes and posts over the mountains to the lumber steamers +on the coast." + +"Do you love horses and mules?" she queried eagerly. + +"I love everything that breathes, I reckon, ma'am," he told her softly. +"I kill nothin' that lives, except rattlesnakes, unless I need the +meat. Then sometimes I don't kill." + +Jerkline Jo's dark eyes glowed. She turned to Mr. Tweet. + +"And you?" she asked. + +"Madam," he replied, "I came down here under false pretenses, but now +I'll make a clean breast o' my treachery. I was broke; I had to get +out o' Frisco and get a toehold somewhere. But after seein' you, I +can't try to put one over on you. Couldn't if I wanted to try, I +guess. I am not a jerkline skinner, but I love animals. I am one of +those confident persons who will try anything once--even twice. The +things I have done, and was told I could not do, are legion. If you +will give me a trial for my inseparable friend's sake, I have no doubt +at all but that in the course of a short time your mules will refuse to +lift a foot unless I am behind 'em with my persuasive voice. In other +words, Miss Jo, I am yours to command." + +She smiled, a finger to her lips. "Well, come over to the corrals, +both of you," she said, "and we'll see what we can do. I simply must +have Mr. Hooker. So if you two are inseparable, why----" She paused. + +"I understand," Tweet put in. "All women are that way, once they're +subjected to Hooker's spell. I simply can't get it myself, but it's a +fact." + +Jerkline Jo blushed furiously. She who had withstood the ordeal of a +hundred proposals, she who had been raised where men were continually +twitting her about some man who was yearning to bestow his affections +upon her, was blushing at Tweet's harmless suggestions. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE START FOR JULIA + +Jerkline Jo walked ahead of Hiram Hooker and Tweet to the stables and +corrals, where her three-score horses and mules and her big wagons were +awaiting the start. + +"We're all ready to go," she told the pair. "I was only waiting for +you. We'll start at once, whether you are jerkline skinners or not, of +course; but if you're not, I'm afraid we'll go without you." + +Mr. Tweet glanced at Hiram and whispered: "I'm 'fraid this is where we +separate, Hooker. Still, I don't know. Maybe I'm a jerkline skinner, +after all. I'll never know till I try." + +In front of the stable Tweet came to an abrupt halt and studiously +regarded one of the huge freight wagons. + +"Just a moment," he began quaintly. "Was that wagon built to go, or is +it just an advertisement to show what the wagonmaker could do?" + +Jo's wagons weighed nearly six thousand pounds. Each separate wheel +had cost her foster father seventy-five dollars, prewar price. The +investment that a single complete wagon represented was in the +neighborhood of six hundred dollars; and as there were seven of them, +besides the lighter trailers, the total outlay was no mean sum. The +spokes of the great wheels were as large as Mr. Tweet's thighs; the +hubs were larger than his waist; the tires were ten inches in width; +the entire running-gear looked as if a small forest of sturdy hardwood +had been felled for its construction. + +"It is built to go," the girl assured him. + +"Stutterin' Demosthenes! I didn't think there were enough horses in +the world to move the thing! Madam, I have swiftly reached the +conclusion that I am not a jerkline skinner. Are you, Hooker?" + +Hiram smiled and spoke to Jerkline Jo. + +"That's a fine wagon, ma'am," he said. "I never saw any as good as +that." + +"We've six more just like it," she told him, "and some lighter +trailers. The man who made them is dead. I doubt if the world will +ever again see such wagons when these are gone. Now, I want you to +hook up, Mr. Hooker, and show me what you can do." + +"Hook up, Hooker!" laughed Tweet, always ready to embrace the slightest +opportunity for a joke. + +The girl led the way into the stable, and Heine Schultz, temporary +wrangler, showed Hiram ten immense black horses, not one of them under +sixteen hundred pounds. + +"Get 'em out," ordered Jo. + +Hiram went to work immediately, with a briskness that caused Heine to +wink at Jo, he threw on the heavy harness and led forth the big-footed +teams. He did not ask which were the leaders or the wheelers, for this +was indicated by the nature of their respective harness and bridles. +Heine noted this and winked again. Hiram was told, when he asked, the +names of the ten, and pointers and swing teams were indicated. In a +period of time utterly bewildering to Mr. Tweet the man from Wild-cat +Hill had his ten black beauties strung out in twos before one of the +wagons, and was speaking to Jerkline Jo. + +"I see you ride in the wagons," he observed. "I always rode the nigh +wheeler hoss, ma'am." + +"You may do so if you choose. We've saddles." + +"Your way suits me," Hiram returned. "It's easier work, I reckon." + +The girl climbed into the wagon with Hiram. Heine Schultz did +likewise. Mr. Tweet, being a gregarious person, did not like to be +left alone, so followed the others' example. + +"Which way, ma'am?" asked the new skinner. + +Jo pointed. "Up that street, and turn the corner to your left," she +directed. + +The wagon was about half loaded with the blacksmith's outfit. To add +to this the horse wrangler set the heavy brakes. + +Hiram grasped the jerkline, but allowed it to hang slack in his hands. +Now came his soft, caressing drawl, low and musical: + +"Pete! Abe! Feel of it! Molly! Steve! Ben! Prince! Up ahead, +there--Jane! Buck!" + +As a team the great animals started the heavy wagon, and moved off with +a jingle of chains and bells and the creak of harness. + +Heine released the brake and looked at Jo, and this time he merely +nodded. + +A block up the street Hiram gave a single pull on his jerkline, and +called: "Haw, Jane!" An instant later--"Gee, Steve! Gee, Molly! +_Gee_, Molly! Steady! Good enough!" + +With the leaders and the swings pulling to the left and turning into +the cross street, and the pointers heaving slightly to the right, the +long string made the turn, and the wagon rolled around the corner in +the middle of the street. + +This street that they had entered was one of the oldest in +Palada--built by Mexicans in the old Spanish style. There were no +sidewalks--there was not room for them. + +"Turn to your right at the next corner," commanded Jerkline Jo. + +Hiram Hooker nodded. + +As the leaders neared the corner Hiram cried: "Haw, Jane! Haw, Buck!" +and tugged once on his jerkline. Obeying the command, the leaders, +followed by the eight, brought the wagon close to the left-hand side of +the street. Two quick jerks on the line, and the sharp cries, "Gee, +Buck! Gee, Jane!" turned the well-trained leaders to the right and +headed them toward the entrance to the cross street. "Haw, Steve! +Haw, Molly! Over the chain, Molly! Haw, boys, haw!" + +At Hiram's command, the off pointer, Molly, had stepped daintily over +the heavy chain that ran between her and her mate, and now both of them +were pulling the heavy tongue at right angles to the left, the wheelers +helping. As neatly as most men might have made the corner with a +single buggy, the string of ten and the heavy wagon swung into the +intersecting street, as narrow as the other, and not a hub touched. + +Jerkline Jo's dark eyes were sparkling. "You've got a job, Hiram," she +said. "A jerkline driver who can make that corner without scraping a +hub is a real jerkline driver." + +"Thank you," replied Hiram, with a merry grin, thrilling at her use of +his given name. "And I'll say that the man that trained this team was +a jerkline driver, too." + +"A man didn't train them," Jerkline Jo informed him proudly. "I +trained them." + +"Just the same," returned Hiram, "I stick by what I said." + +"Now you take the line, Mr. Tweet," instructed Jerkline Jo. + +"I don't care for it," said Tweet. "I'm a promoter and capitalist. +I'll go to work and get a job here in this burg, Miss Jo, and pay you +for my transportation down when I've earned the price. But I have a +sneaking feeling that Molly wouldn't care for the cadence of my voice; +and Pete he eyed me kinda suspiciously when Hiram led 'im out. +No--there's a limit. I've reached it." + +"Drive back to the stable, Hiram," Jo ordered. "We'll start for Julia +at once." + +She turned to Tweet. "I'm sorry," she said. "Why did you ship down +here as a jerkline skinner, Mr. Tweet? You came over a rival railroad, +of course, and your transportation will cost me full fare." + +"Madam," he replied guiltily, "I was broke, and just had to get outa +Frisco. And I couldn't leave Hiram. Why, that boy would 'a' been a +suicide, if it hadn't been for me. He was in love, and wouldn't work, +and in another day he'd been broke--a hick from Wild-cat Hill alone and +friendless and in love in big, cruel San Francisco. If it wasn't for +me, you'd never got 'im." + +"That's right," spoke up Hiram. "He made me come." + +"Madam," added Tweet, "I hope you'll forgive me. I'll pay you all I +owe you with interest. I'm the original go-getter from Gogettersburg, +on the Grabemoff River. I'm down and out right now, but any day I'm +liable to turn into a skyrocket. Madam, you trust me. I've promised +Hooker to lead him to fame and fortune, and to do that I gotta stick +with 'im, ain't I? Well, then, can't you find somethin' for me to do +for you, so's I c'n ride with you to this new railroad? That country +sounds good to me. I'll maybe go to work and get a toehold over there. +You'll never regret befriendin' me, Miss Jo." + +The girl stood, thoughtful, her feet planted against the jolting of the +wagon. + +"Could you help about the cooking?" she asked. + +"Madam, I could--and would." + +"I like to be accommodating," she told him. "I know how it is. I was +raised in the camps, and know all about being broke and knocking about +the country. I'll take you along, and I'll take a chance on your +paying me for the transportation." + +"You'll never regret it, Miss Jo. Pile whatever you want done on me. +I'm a good roustabout, willin' and cheerful, and always a kind, happy +little playmate. Thank you." + +An hour later ten heavy wagons, some of them trailing because of the +lack of skinners, rumbled through Palada, with an eight or ten-horse +team pulling, the remainder of the horses and mules and Jerkline Jo's +black saddle mare following like devoted dogs. Palada was out in a +body to wave good-by and good luck to Jerkline Jo. She drove the last +team, ten magnificent whites, spotless as circus horses, with thirty +tiny bells jingling over their proud necks. Ahead of her in the train +Hiram Hooker drove his blacks. As long as she could see anybody at +Palada, Jerkline Jo stood in the front of her wagon, facing rearward, +and waved her hat. There were tears in her dark eyes as she turned to +her team at last, and the desert opened its arms to their coming. + +Slowly the teams forged ahead into the infinite sandy waste, where +whispering yuccas and thorny cactus grew, and jack rabbits went looping +away among bronze greasewood bushes. A cloud of dust hung over the +wagon trail. Ahead stretched seeming nothingness for mile after weary +mile. + +Jerkline Jo hoped to make twenty miles a day, loaded as the wagons were +with only the blacksmith outfit. She might have made perhaps +twenty-four miles under such conditions, had it not been for the +counteracting softness of the teams. Loaded, they would make from ten +to twelve miles daily, which seems intolerably slow in these days of +speed and nerve-wracking restlessness. But with six of the teams +working steadily the outfit would transport upward of thirty tons +twelve miles a day, which represents an enormous amount of provisions +for man and beast. + +Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet rode with Hiram. The train had been +traveling perhaps two hours, and it was after eleven o'clock, when +there came a "Who-hoo!" from Jerkline Jo. Hiram and Tweet looked back. + +She beckoned with her hand. Both Hiram and Tweet placed fingers on +their breasts inquisitively; then she cupped her hands about her mouth +and called: + +"_Hi_-ram!" + +"'_Hi_-ram,' huh?" grunted Tweet. "For one hungering second I thought +maybe she wanted me." He grasped his twisted nose and straightened it. +"'Twon't stay," he observed gloomily. "Go on and ride with her, you +big soft-voiced lady killer! I'll stick with Pete, and maybe he'll +learn to love me. What'll I do if they begin to get rambunctious, +Hiram?" + +"Don't worry," Hiram returned. "They won't do anything they're not +doing right now. Just let 'em drift right along." + +He swung himself to the ground and waited until the girl's wagon came +abreast, then climbed up over a brake-shoe and squeezed himself between +the slats of the tall freight rack with which her wagon was equipped. + +The girl stood in the front end of the rack, and such material as the +wagon carried was piled behind her, leaving a little compartment free +of encumbrance in which she might move about. There was no driver's +seat, and therefore quite a little room was hers. + +Hiram gazed in utter bewilderment at what he saw. A coal-oil stove was +burning, and on it pots were steaming. There was a tiny +oilcloth-covered table, and on it and under it were pots and pans and +other utensils of the kitchen. + +What surprised him more, though, was another lower table before which +stood a collapsible stool. On it were books and papers and a portable +typewriter, with a half-typed sheet on the platen. There were ink and +pens and other articles necessary to an officer or a study. Against +the front end of the wagon rack stood a chest, with its lid closed, and +more cooking utensils were on top of it. + +Jerkline Jo smiled at his bewilderment. + +"I'm cooking our dinner, you see," she explained. "To keep good men, I +figure that they must be well cared for. When my father ran this +freight outfit our skinners cooked for themselves, and often were +obliged to eat cold lunches. When they did cook, there was no time for +anything better than fried steak, or fried ham, or fried bacon and +eggs. One grows terribly tired of fried things, and, besides, they're +not good for the digestion. + +"I've resolved that on this job we're going to live like people who are +permanently situated. That chest there is a fireless cooker. My own +scheme. In it now vegetables and a beef roast are cooking, and they'll +be ready by noon. I mean to make biscuits and bread and cakes and pies +in my oil-stove oven, which is a dandy. I can arrange to do all that +on the smoothest portions of the road. I'll roll my biscuit dough soon +now, and when we camp there'll be fresh, hot biscuits, roast beef with +brown gravy, and steamed vegetables all ready for us. What do you +think of my scheme, Hiram?" + +Hiram knew nothing of the advantages of a fireless cooker, but he did +know that food such as she had spoken of was unheard of on a freighting +trip, and told her so. + +"Besides," she added, "I have bought some large thermos bottles, and no +matter how hot the desert is we'll always have cold water to drink. +Every night it will get almost ice cold in this country, you know; and +if we bottle it early in the morning it will remain cold all day." + +Hiram was looking at the typewriter. "This is my office and study," +said the girl. "My foster father's recent death called me from a +preparatory school back in the Middle West, just when I was getting +along so well toward gaining an education. I decided not to give up. +I am taking two correspondence courses, and mean to continue my studies +here in my wagon. Also I am learning stenography and touch-typewriting. + +"At first I thought I'd open an office at Julia or the rag town that +will spring up soon, and not drive a team myself. Then it occurred to +me that I could save money by driving a team, and could continue my +studies and attend to my business affairs while on the road. With +well-trained teams, like we have, a freight skinner has hours and hours +on the road when he has nothing to do but loll on his seat and smoke. +As I don't smoke, I mean to improve the time with study. Don't you +think I'm a wonderful schemer, Hiram?" + +Hiram nodded, and thoughts of pink-and-white little Lucy Dalles and her +ambitions were far in the background of his mind. Jerkline Jo was a +beautiful girl--as different in her beauty from Lucy Dalles as is day +from night. Her hair was dark and heavy, and crowned a low, broad +brow. Her skin was now tanned a rich mahogany, but was clear and +flawless, and her bare arms were round and brown. Her confident poise, +her sturdy shoulders, showed character and strength far above the +ordinary. She was a man's woman, was Jerkline Jo Modock, and only a +man among men might hope to become her mate. She wore a broad-brimmed +Stetson with a horsehair band, a blue-flannel man's shirt, worn leather +chaps for comfort, and riding boots. A holstered six-shooter hung +close at hand, the ivory-handled butt of the big weapon ready to her +grasp. Here was a wonderful woman, and Hiram Hooker knew it, and knew, +too, that here at last was the adventure girl who, in his dreams up +there on Wild-cat Hill in the big woods of the North had been beckoning +him to come and work for her, to fight for her--to die for her if fate +should so decree. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A WIRE TO JULIA + +"I wanted you to tell me something about yourself, Hiram," said +Jerkline Jo. "That's why I called you. What a giant of a man you are! +Tell me about Wild-cat Hill and the big woods of Mendocino. I've never +been so far north in California." + +She seated herself on the stool, and Hiram sat cross-legged on the +floor of the freight rack. Ahead the many silvery bells, hung on steel +bows over the hames of each of Jo's white beauties, jingled merrily as +the wagon rolled on into the illimitable desert. + +Hiram began to talk, and gradually he grew eloquent, for at soul he was +a poet. He told of the grandeur of the big, solemn redwoods, of the +ice-cold creeks that plunged riotously through the mysterious +fastnesses of great forests. He told of his dead father and mother, +asleep forever between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. He told of +his cramped, starved life, of his hopes and vague ambitions and his +dreams. + +She listened silently, deeply interested, her dark eyes glowing upon +him, her chin cupped by a strong brown hand. His simplicity was new +and refreshing. Soon she realized that no ordinary mind lay dormant +back of the well-formed forehead of this tender-hearted backwoodsman. +His talk showed that he had read a great deal and had somehow grasped +the significance of it all. Several times her eyes filled with tears +as she listened; often she smiled understandingly at his quaint +confessions. Presently she asked: + +"Hiram, have you any ambition for an education?" + +"Yes," he told her. "I've always wanted that, I guess. That's why I +read so much, I s'pose. But there wasn't much chance up there. I +learned all they could teach me at school--learned it easy. But there +wasn't any chance to go farther." + +"You've that chance now," she told him softly. + +"Do you mean----" He stopped, his lips parted as he gazed into her +eyes. + +"Just that," she said. "I'll help you. We'll study together. Right +here in my wagon. Your blacks will jog along without you over many +stretches in the road from Julia to the camps. Through the mountains, +of course, we shall have to be at the jerklines constantly. We'll be +four days traveling between Julia and the camps, loaded, and between +two and three days returning empty. Only one day of the trip going +will be over a mountain road. The rest of the time you may ride with +me and fight for your education. I'll help you." + +"Miss Jo----" There was a lump in Hiram's throat. + +"Just Jo, please. No one ever troubles to call me miss, and I don't +want them to." + +"I'll do it, then, Jo," said Hiram huskily. "I never dreamed I'd ever +have such a chance. And I'll work, too--I'll study night and day. But +why--why are you doin' this for me?" + +Slowly the rich color mounted to the cheeks Jerkline Jo. "I--I know +how it is," she said. "I was raised in a gypo camp, and had no chance +until late in my teens. Knew nothing but mules and horses until I was +eighteen or over--cared for nothing else. And I love them still; but +I've grown ambitious to get all that I can from life. I like you, +Hiram Hooker. You're a big, clean-minded, simple-souled man. I'll +help you all I can." + +Hiram's experience with Lucy Dalles, and now with this splendid girl +called Jerkline Jo, might have turned the head of a more sophisticated +male. But the big woods of the North teach a man his insignificance in +the scheme of life, teach him honesty and simplicity of heart and +sincerity. So now Hiram Hooker's ego was not inflamed. He had no idea +of his appeal to the other sex. Few women could help admiring such a +handsome young giant as was Hiram, strong as a bull, symmetrical as +some sturdy plant; and his drawling, soft voice was a caress that +bespoke the kindly heart of a child and the tenderness of a woman. +Withal he had a poet's soul, and all women love poetry in a man. + +"Tell me about Twitter-or-Tweet, and so forth," she begged finally. "I +can't understand that man. Is he a pure fake?" + +"I don't know," Hiram replied. "He was mighty good to me in a way. +He's been about a heap." + +"Hiram, if you'll pardon me, we'll begin your lesson right now. I +wouldn't say a 'heap.' You must try to overcome such colloquialisms." + +"I'll try never to say it again," Hiram promised unblushingly. + +"But listen," she added. "Don't take me to task if you hear me saying +things in the vernacular of the railroad grade. I have to. As Gypo +Jo, I know thousands of the old-timers, and they expect certain things +of me for old times' sake. As Jerkline Jo, the situation will be much +the same. I am obliged to be a mixer. Men whose friendship I could +not afford to dispense with even if I wished to--which, I assure you, I +do not--won't stand for a high-and-mighty attitude in me. I am of the +railroad grade, and proud of it, and I must continue to be a part of +the rough-and-ready frontier life. Hiram, I suppose your ideas of +womanhood are very hallowed. Will you be greatly shocked when you see +me go into a tent saloon and drink a glass of beer with the rabble of +the big camps?" + +"Do you do that?" + +"I simply have to, Hiram. Ever since I was knee-high to you, until a +very few years ago, I lived with one or more tent saloons within a +stone's throw of our camp. Morals are, after all, a local conception, +Hiram. What is thought to be wrong in one country will be the accepted +practice just over the border line. It's all in the viewpoint. I not +only go into saloons with men friends of mine, but sometimes I play +poker or roulette or faro just to please them. And listen: Never in +all my rough-and-ready life in railroad camps have I been insulted by +regular stiffs, as the laborers are called. Certain outsiders have +misunderstood my freedom from conventionality on several occasions, but +always to their sorrow. Understand, I don't care the snap of my finger +for beer, or to gamble; but these things will be expected of me now as +in the old days when I knew no better, and I dare not assume a superior +attitude toward people who have known me since I was found, a mere +baby, half buried by the desert sands." + +She told Hiram about her childhood then, and that she knew nothing of +her parents, not even her own true name. Hiram gave ear eagerly to her +story, and thought he understood her situation. + +"I couldn't think anything wrong of you, ma'am,' he told her gently as +she finished. + +"And don't call me 'ma'am,' please," she corrected with a friendly +smile. "And that reminds me that I made us wander from the subject of +Twitter-or-Tweet. You were telling me about him when I interrupted. +What is he? He's not a common tramp--a stiff." + +"He says he's a promoter and capitalist," Hiram repeated. + +"Of course he's talking nonsense." + +Hiram then told of Mr. Tweet's card, which promulgated his operations +as a salesman of banana lands, and of the stock he claimed to own in +the new ditch digger. + +"I thought perhaps he was some sort of a book agent," said the girl, +laughing. + +"I don't know much about people," Hiram confessed with naive +simplicity. "I can't judge folks very well--some folks, anyway." + +"I'm afraid he's a wind bag," decided Jo. "Well, we'll befriend him to +the grade, anyway, and I guess that then he'll be obliged to shift for +himself. If freight were moving freely, and every day, I might manage +to use him--but that won't be the case at first. So we'll have to bid +him good-by at the camps. I have an idea he can take care of himself." + +Jerkline Jo glanced at her leather-protected wrist watch. + +"It's eight minutes of twelve, Hiram," she announced. "I'll roll out +my biscuit dough. Can you yell? If so, shout ahead to Blink Keddie +and call a halt for noon." + +Hiram rose to his six feet one and cupped his great hands about his +mouth. The mellow call that he sent out had rung through miles of +Mendocino forest, and now caused every skinner in the line to turn and +look back. A wave of Jo's hand and they understood the noon had come. + +When they were in camp, and the teams had been fed and watered from the +great tank wagon, and Jerkline Jo, with the able help of +Twitter-or-Tweet, had made ready the steaming meal, there arose loud +praise of the girl's idea concerning the fireless cooker. + +"By golly, Jo, this here's grub!" applauded Jim McAllen. "Some scheme, +ol'-timer!" + +"I thought it was a kind of a nutty idea when you sprung it, Jo," +confessed Tom Gulick, "but I'm strong for the cooker now. Long may she +wave! Pass the gravy, Blink." + +Jerkline Jo glowed with pleasure over her success. + +Mr. Tweet made himself very useful by acting as waiter, and hopped +about with pots and pans, leading the steaming food on the skinners' +plates. Jo watched him with interest, but still was unable to consider +him anything but an imaginative failure--a man who perhaps had seen +better days. + +When they had finished eating, he collected the dishes, and, as water +was heating on the oil stove, had everything washed up and in its place +before the resumption of their travel. + +"He's clean and neat and thoughtful," Jerkline Jo reflected. "Perhaps +I'll be able to use him after all. We could use an extra man as +roustabout, if business gets good. I'll see. He seems so fond of +Hiram, and, really, if it weren't for him, I'd never heard of Hiram." + +She grew thoughtful then, and a trace of red showed under her brown +skin. Why had she become so interested in this big countryman from the +very start, she wondered. + +It was a long, tiresome trip, and days before they reached their +temporary destination Hiram Hooker was riding in Jo's wagon, deep in +history and algebra and grammar, for Jo had with her all of her +schoolbooks. + +The days seemed short to both of them. As the magnificent whites +plodded steadily on, there was added to the music of the nickeled bells +the rapid clicking of Jo at the portable typewriter, or the slower, +hesitating peck of Hiram Hooker. They were a silent pair, for they +were deep in their studies. + +Strange indeed was the picture they presented as they were moved slowly +along under the hot desert sky. But for Hiram, at least, this was the +beginning of everything. Some magic touch had set him on the road that +for years he had longed to travel--the road to knowledge and a better +life. Beside him rode the adventure girl who had been beckoning him +out of the woods of doubt and ignorance, the girl who had colored his +dreams up on lonely Wild-cat Hill. + +Hiram quickly became a favorite with Jo's skinners, too; for anybody or +anything that the girl approved of was sure to make an appeal to the +loyal little crew who swore by Jerkline Jo. Besides, Hiram was +irresistible in his quaint geniality and his musical drawl. They +called him "Wild Cat" at first, but when they considered his hugeness +and uniform good nature the name seemed a misnomer; so they amended it +and called him "The Gentle Wild Cat." This moniker clung to Hiram +Hooker through all of his subsequent life in the desert. + +The seventh day after their start, at evening, they rolled into Julia +and set the populace agog with speculation. + +As the whites passed the depot the station master came out. + +"Does a fella named Jerkline Jo belong to this outfit?" he asked, +walking along beside Jo's wagon. + +"I'm Jerkline Jo," she told him. + +"You! Huh! Well, there's a wire for you. I'll run and get it." + +Jo called to her ten whites to halt, and the wagon came to a rest. A +minute later the yellow paper was in her hands. She read: + + Twenty tons awaiting you at Mulligan Supply + Company, Julia. Get it over the mountains at once + to Breece Brothers, Hunter & Stevenson, and + Washburn-Stokes. Drummond's trucks are coming. You + are in for a stiff fight. Good luck. DEMAREST. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MR. TWEET NEGOTIATES A LOAN + +Oblivious to the staring eyes of the little desert town of Julia, +Jerkline Jo, after pitching camp near water on the edge of the village, +began hurrying about on her business. + +She was directed to the man who owned the land on which the teams and +men were now resting, and found that she could make a deal to lease the +property at a reasonable figure. She made a freckle-faced boy happy +with a bright new dime, and sent him back to her men with instructions +for them to pitch the tents permanently and proceed to make the spot +the Julia headquarters of the outfit. + +She wired her thanks to Demarest and assured him that the order would +go forward next day, if the dealers had it ready. Next she hunted up +the Mulligan Supply Company and found that it was a new concern in +Julia, having just moved in with a large stock of goods from Los +Angeles. It was a branch of a big Los Angeles jobbing firm, and the +new railroad across the mountains had brought it here. + +The manager greeted her warmly, and told her that he had heard of her +through Mr. Demarest. The entire order was ready for immediate +shipment, he said, so Jo hurried back to camp and had her men hook two +horses on each of six wagons, now empty, and drive to the store, where +they were backed in to the loading platform. + +They ate their supper then, and afterward worked far into the night +loading case goods, baled hay, grain, new tools, and innumerable like +commodities. When the wagons were loaded and the great tarpaulins +hauled down over everything but the hay and grain, it was necessary for +Jo to appoint a watchman for the night. She had no more than broached +the subject when Playmate Tweet, who had helped manfully with the +loading, offered his services. + +"I been just ridin' all day," he said, "and tryin' to convince Pete +that I'm a reg'lar fella. I'll squat on the goods till mornin', come +what may." + +In truth Jo did not just like to trust him. The goods, amounting in +value far up into the thousands, were now under her complete control, +and she was accountable for every penny to the purchasers of them. But +she had not the heart to refuse Tweet's offer, and she wanted her +skinners to rest for the remainder of the night, in view of the hard +work that lay before them. So she accepted, and Mr. Tweet took his +post. + +He was there like the boy on the burning deck when they came with the +teams early next morning, walking about briskly to keep warm through +the cold desert dawn, whistling merrily. Jo had brought his breakfast +on a plate, and hot coffee in a bottle. + +Carter Potts, the blacksmith, was left behind to set up his shop and +care for the extra mules and horses. + +Quickly the teams were hooked on, and with complaining groans and heavy +wagons, each now weighing with its load upward of six and a third tons, +moved through the sleepy town toward the distant mountains. + +"Hooker," said Tweet, as he sat beside his friend behind the laboring +blacks, "this is a man's life. This is doin' somethin'! This is +gettin' somewhere! This is livin'! I envy you, Hiram. I envy you +that big body of yours and the way you can handle ten big horses as if +you were drivin' a trick donkey hitched to a clown's cart. Wild Cat, +you're a lucky man. And what a glorious woman, Hooker, to throw the +magic over it all! You're the man for her, my boy--the only man I ever +met that oughta have the nerve to try to win her. And she fell for +you, you big buffalo with the voice of a turtle-dove! Play her +carefully, boy, and you can win. Don't go at it like you did with +Cream Puffs, up there in Frisco. But you'll win her, Hiram--it's in +you to do it. Now, Hooker, can you slip me a five-spot when we get to +the camps?" + +"I haven't much more than that, Playmate," Hiram averred. + +"Well, you got a job, ain't you? I haven't. Money didn't seem to +worry you much when you were puttin' on your Follies o' Nineteen-twenty +with Lucy, up there where the white lights gleam." + +"What are you going to do with it?" asked Hiram. + +"This is your foolish day, ain't it? I'll tell you what I'm _not_ +goin' to do with it. I'm not goin' to hire an automobile at four +dollars an hour and take a lassie out for a ride over the desert." + +"I'll try and let you have it." + +"Just how much jack you got on you yet, Hooker, old friend from Wild +Cat?" + +"Seven dollars." + +"That's a mint, man! Say, try to slip me all of it, will you, Hiram? +I got a scheme. You won't need it--you got a job. And remember who +was the means o' gettin' it, Hiram. Why, it's worth seven bucks for +the privilege of just lookin' once into those eyes o' Jerkline Jo." + +"Can't you go to work over at the camps and earn some money?" Hiram +wanted to know. + +"I _could_--yes. But I don't earn my jack that way, Hiram. I'm a +promoter." + +"Jo told me she thought she might be able to give you something to do, +after all." + +"Don't want it. Tender her my heartfelt thanks just the same, Hiram. +All I wanted in the first place was to get down here and look things +over, then go to work and get a toehold and start the fireworks. If +things are like I think--say, I'll be givin' you people jobs in a week +or so. B'lieve it, Hiram?" + +"No," replied Hiram bluntly. "Buck, step up a little! Molly! Pete!" + +Playmate Tweet sighed heavily. "Hardest folks to convince I ever +struck," he complained. "Listen, Hooker: last night while I was +guardin' the loads the night watchman at Julia strolled around, and we +had a little talk. He's an old-timer in this country, and he told me +all about it from there to Ellangone. I got some dope from him about +this country we're makin' for; and puttin' what I heard from him with +what Jerkline Jo has told me, I gets a grand scheme. It'll put me in +on the ground floor, if things break right and then----' Oh, boy! +Richard will be himself again!" + +"Tell me about it!" + +"Too deep for you, my son. You'd never savvy the ins and outs. +Besides, when Twitter-or-Tweet Tweet gets his nose to a trail, he's one +old hound that don't bark his head off--see? There'll be other bright +young promoters lookin' for the secret, and I've learned to keep my +mouth shut. + +"Now," he went on, "when I get over there and have a little look-see, I +may decide to beat it out pronto and start the clockworks. If I do, +I'll need your seven dollars to get me back into the land o' the +livin', where I can start the performance. If I give you the word, +Hooker, slip me that jack. If I don't tell you to, I'll go to work at +some o' the camps and make a stake and beat it for more promisin' +pastures. You'll never regret it, Hooker. It'll be bread cast on the +waters, and she'll come back chocolate cake." + +"I'll think about it," Hiram promised. + +"Do that! And in the event that I say things look extra good, you'd +better slip Jerkline Jo a little sob story, and get her to let you drag +down what you got comin' on your wages--and slip that to me, too. By +golly, Hooker, once I get a toehold, Millions is my middle name." + +Hiram smiled wryly. + +On through the day the teams plodded toward the mountain pass. Hiram +rode with Jerkline Jo in their movable schoolroom, and left Tweet to +his own thoughts behind the blacks. They camped on the desert that +night, at a ranch conveniently situated between Julia and the +mountains, where was an abundance of artesian water. Next day at one +o'clock they left the flat, hot sweeps and ascended steadily into firs +and pines on the old mines road. + +They were obliged to stop frequently and make repairs in the road and +to clear away brush that for years had been overgrowing the course of +their steep climb. + +Often as they ascended laboriously they followed shelves hacked in +mountainsides, with the desert they had left thousands of feet below +them. There were places where a solid wall of rock upreared itself on +one side of the narrow road, while on the other side a precipice +dropped straight down, and tall pines at its base looked like +toothpicks. There were hair-pin curves which taxed the skinners' +ingenuity, where the one or the other of their pointers would cross the +chain to pull the wagons away from the banks, and often both pointers +were obliged to leave the road entirely and pull along the sides of +precipices. + +However, they topped the highest point in the pass before darkness had +overtaken them completely. They camped for the night beside a +picturesque and cold mountain lake, at an altitude of six thousand five +hundred feet. + +Morning showed them the desert, sweeping away again on the other side +of the range. There still remained twenty-five miles to be traveled, +eight of them comprising the descent through the pass. + +Once down on the level again, Hiram turned his team over to the care of +Tweet, and boarded Jo's wagon for the continuation of his education. + +So they crawled on persistently, and eventually, ahead of them over the +desert, white tents glowed pink in the sunlight like toadstools in a +great timberless pasture, and their first trip was nearing its end. + +When they reached the first cluster of tents Jerkline Jo discovered +that they represented the largest of the subcontractors to whom her +freight had been consigned. The next one was situated five miles +farther up the line, and the third six miles beyond that. None of them +had been there when she made her horseback trip. Close to the first +camp that they reached, that of the Washburn-Stokes Construction +Company's, the inevitable rag town had sprung up. + +Already there were a dozen or more tents, most of them housing saloons, +dance halls, and gamblers' layouts, and here and there a board or +corrugated iron structure was under process of building. Only the +three construction camps, as yet, had arrived on this portion of the +work; the next camp beyond this group was fifty miles to the north. + +Jerkline Jo knew, however, that before many days had passed camps large +and small would be dotted along the right of way, and that all must be +supplied by some one. + +She stood talking to Mr. Washburn, the head of the firm, while his +freight was being stacked before the huge commissary tent, when Mr. +Tweet approached her. + +"I'd like a word with you, Miss Modock, when you're at liberty," he +said politely. + +"Why, I'm just loafing with Mr. Washburn now," she said lightly, and +turned away with him. + +"Will you please tell me again what you did a few days back about the +camp at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou?" he asked. "Explain it all, +please--just why you think the tent town will eventually be located in +a different place than it is now." + +"Why, it's simple," she told him. "It's this way: Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou have the main contract here--a hundred miles, I've heard. When +a big company like that contracts to build a hundred miles of grade, +they at once begin to sublet portions to smaller contractors. Some +take a mile; some two miles, some five--according to the nature of the +work and the respective capacities of their outfits. Understand?" + +"Yes--I got that." + +"Well, it's natural, then, that the most difficult pieces--the biggest +work--will be the most difficult to sublet. Consequently when the main +contractors can sublet no more, they move in and get at the difficult +pieces that remain on their hands. + +"Now, I've seen a good bit of this line, and I've talked with the +engineers. Also I know the names of most of the subcontractors who +have figured on the job. I know that none of them have adequate +equipment to tackle the big rock cut that will be necessary through +that chain of buttes, twelve miles to the south of here." + +She pointed to the buttes, blue and hazy in the evening light of the +desert. + +"So, my friend, it follows as the night the day that Demarest, Spruce & +Tillou will eventually move in with their heaviest-hitting outfit to +run that cut, which certainly will be left on their hands. It follows +as the night the day, again, that the leeches who always drift in to +get the stiff's pay day away from them will settle near the biggest +camp, if there's sufficient water. + +"Down near those buttes, where the big camp is bound to be, there's +plenty of water, and before many days have passed Ragtown in all its +glory will be erected right there. + +"These supplies that we're hauling now are charged to the account of +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou," she further explained. "You see, they +furnish their subs with everything they need. Now when Demarest, +Spruce & Tillou move in there will be little or no freighting for us to +any camp but theirs. All goods will be concentrated in their +commissary then, and the subs will buy direct from them and do their +own hauling to the various camps. Of course, Ragtown will have to be +supplied--but Ragtown and Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One +will be virtually the same as regards our freight terminus." + +"And how long before the main contractors will get here?" he asked, +working his twisted nose from side to side as if in the hope of +eventually persuading it to point dead ahead. + +"That all depends on whether they have given up trying to sublet any +more work or not. If they think they won't be able to load any one +else up with a job, they'll be in directly--almost any day. But if +they still think there's a chance to get rid of the hard pieces, +they'll hold off until the matter is settled, of course." + +"Thank you," said Mr. Tweet abruptly, and was turning briskly away when +she remarked: + +"I've decided that perhaps I can use you after all, if----" + +"Sorry," he interrupted, "but I can't accept your offer, even though I +appreciate it and thank you from the bottom of my heart. Truth is, I +gotta get busy. I've heard there's a stage goin' out to the north +to-night, and I gotta make it. By the way, did Hiram speak to you +about advancin' him what pay was comin' to him?" + +Jo's eyes narrowed. "No," she said coldly, "he didn't mention such a +matter." + +Twitter-or-Tweet came back to her. "Listen," he said, "you owe him +about twenty bucks. I want it. I'll need it. You slip it to Hiram, +and I'll borrow it off o' him. You see----" + +"Why, I'll do nothing of the sort!" she cried vehemently. "Do I look +like a sucker to you, Mr. Tweet?" + +"Oh, dear, dear, dear!" he cried. "You don't understand. I'm gonta +swing somethin' big. I need that and what Hiram's already got to float +me along till I can hit the ball. For Heaven's sake, put a little +confidence in me, ma'am, can't you? I'm gonta send the Gentle Wild Cat +to you. He'll tell you. He trusts me." + +"He trusts everybody," she remarked evenly. "Besides," she added, "you +seem to forget, too, that you owe me for your railroad fare down here." + +"Oh, that! Why, I'll pay you that in no time now. But wait--I'll +unload freight in Hiram's place, and send him to you." + +Sure enough, Hiram came presently and asked her, as a special favor to +him, to let him have what money was owing to him. + +"Hiram," she said, "you're going to lend it to Tweet, and he's going +out in the auto stage to-night." + +"I know it," said Hiram. "I got to help him. He's been a pretty good +friend to me, Jo, and--and--I just like him. Why, if it hadn't been +for him I'd never met you." + +Jo colored and looked away. "You big, simple-hearted boy!" she cried. +"Do you know what he is going to do?" + +"No--he won't talk." + +She was thoughtful a little, then took out a purse and handed him a +twenty-dollar bill. + +"Kiss it good-by," she said; "but I suppose the experience will be +worth something to you." + +"Thank you," said Hiram, very red of face. "I'm sorry for what I said +about you meetin' me through Tweet, Jo. I meant to say, o' course, +that if it hadn't been for Tweet I'd never got the job." + +"Oh," said Jo, straight-lipped, "I understand." + +Tweet was not with the outfit when it pitched camp close by for the +night. He sat in the automobile stage instead, and waved a friendly +good-by to them. "Bread on the water, Hiram, comes back chocolate +cake!" he cried. "That is, Tweet bread does. Ha-ha, Hiram! You been +mighty good to me, folks. So long for a time!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +TEHACHAPI HANK + +Toward the middle of the following afternoon Jerkline Jo's freight +outfit, minus the diverting Mr. Tweet of the twisted nose, was wending +its way empty back toward the distant mountains, hauling the necessary +water in the tank wagon. + +They were still ten miles from the mouth of the mountain pass when they +went into camp on the desert for the night. When they started next +morning the tank wagon was taken on a way and left, for, with the lake +at the highest point of the pass, and the artesian water at the desert +ranch on the other side, they would be well supplied for the remainder +of the trip. + +Before noon they were entering the pass and moving up the steep ascent +into cooler atmosphere, and light, invigorating air, scented with the +breath of pines and junipers. + +Hiram Hooker was lazing on his high seat, dreaming and watching his +leaders, when from behind came the familiar call: + +"Who-hoo!" + +He turned his face back toward the mistress of the ten gigantic whites. + +"Who repaired the road back there?" she shouted. + +"I don't know," Hiram called back. "I can't remember that we stopped +there." + +"We didn't. Some one else has done that. Keep your eyes open, Gentle +Wild Cat." + +Hiram did this, and presently began to see ruts had been filled in +repeatedly and the marks left by boulders that had been snaked to the +edge of the precipice and allowed to thunder down a canon. + +This continued all the way to the summit, where they camped for a late +nooning beside the mountain lake. + +When they took up the journey again, and had reached a point half a +mile beyond the lake, came upon a lone touring car and a little camp. +Frequently now Hiram looked back, to see perplexity and worry on the +usually placid brow of Jerkline Jo. A half mile beyond the camp they +found seven men working with ax and pick and shovel, repairing the road. + +Jo set the heavy brake and called to her ten to stop. Hearing her +command, Hiram also halted his blacks. The rest of the skinners moved +on slowly down the mountain, looking back for Jo's signal for them to +stop. She gave none, however, so they continued on. + +"Who is repairing this road, please?" Jo called from her wagon to a +group of men. + +One of them approached her a few steps. "Fella called Drummond," he +replied. + +"Isn't he the automobile-truck man from San Francisco?" + +"Yeah." + +"Is he here?" + +"No, ma'am. He come to Julia and got us to come over here in a machine +and go to work, and he went back to Los Angeles, I think. Said he'd be +out in a day or two." + +"Thank you," said Jo, and threw off her brake. + +There was no good opportunity for Hiram to talk over this matter with +her until they had left the mountains and were in camp at the desert +ranch. "I don't quite like it," Jo said then. "It seems that Mr. +Drummond should have come to me in this matter, and if the road needed +repairing to the extent that he is doing it we should share the expense +between us." + +"Drummond?" queried Hiram. "I think I know that man. I've seen him, +anyway." + +"You! Where?" + +"In San Francisco. It seems that Tweet was in a restaurant there +talking to a--a waitress about coming down here. This Drummond he--he +knew that waitress, and came in to see her while Tweet was there. They +got to talking it over, I guess, and Tweet told him all about the new +railroad. The waitress told me----" + +"You mean Lucy?" + +Hiram's face reddened. "That was her name," he admitted. "I--I +suppose Tweet told you about her." + +"A little. But I interrupted." + +"Well, Lucy said Drummond had been interested in what Tweet had to say, +and he said he might look into the freighting possibilities of the new +road. He's got a string of trucks, I was told." + +"What sort of a man is he, Hiram?" + +"Big fellow--always seems to be having fun. He's as big as I am, but +not so awkward, I guess. He wears fine clothes. But I don't know +anything about him at all. I never spoke to him." + +The outfit reached Julia in the course of time, and found that "Blacky" +Potts had set up his shop in a large circular tent, and was hammering +away briskly on his anvil. Also he had made the camp snug and +comfortable under whispering cottonwood, and had fenced off a corral +with barbed wire. + +Jo at once went to the Mulligan Supply Company to learn that a message +had come to her, in their care, from Demarest. It stated that their +big construction outfit was then on its way from northern California, +and would cross to the new railroad from a point seventy-five miles to +the north. In view of the long trip, they wished to travel as light as +possible. Consequently there was another big order for Jo to freight +in ahead of them at once. What interested Jo more, though, was the +fact that Demarest ordered it delivered at the buttes, asking that a +watchman be camped there to guard the supplies, provided they arrived +ahead of the outfit. + +Immediately they went to work at the loading, and in the end six wagons +were carrying capacity. The seventh lead wagon was an extra, which Jo +had decided to use only in case of a breakdown. With thirty tons of +hay, grain, case goods, and barreled provisions they started back early +the following morning. Jo's heart was light, for this was exceedingly +good business, and it was coming faster than she had dared to hope, +with so few camps established. Still, she was puzzled over the +repairing of the mountain road. + +"Fellow called Drummond has a big order to haul in trucks," the manager +of the supply company had told her. "It's for a store that's going to +open up at Ragtown, I understand. Guess he'll get it out tomorrow or +next day." + +All went well with the wagon train during the first lap of the desert +trip. Hiram rode with his employer, and their migratory institution of +learning was in full swing. Then when they reached the beginning of +the mountain pass they found a shock in store for them. + +The head skinner, Blink Keddie, had no more than entered the pass with +his eight bay mules when a man stepped into the road and held up a hand +for him to stop. He was a Western-looking individual, a seamed-faced +son of the deserts, and an immense Colt revolver dragged at his hips. +He had come from a tiny tent set back from the road a way, half hidden +by junipers and close to a trickling spring. + +Keddie clamped his brake and stopped his eight, eying the stranger +curiously. Keddie, like Heine Schultz and Tom Gulick, had been on the +railroad grade with Pickhandle Modock when Jo was a little girl. He +was devoted to her and her interests, and anything that threatened her +prosperity he was wont to look upon as his personal affair. + +"Mornin'," he drawled as the following teams came to a stop, and +skinners cupped hands behind their ears to listen. + +"Quite a jag you got there," observed the man in the road. + +Blink was entirely sober. "Jag" referred to the enormity of the load +of freight. + +"Little matter o' sixty thousand, altogether. I wasn't aimin' to let +'em blow right here, though, I pardner. Was there any particular +reason ye had for stoppin' me?" + +"Well, maybe there was, stranger. How many teams ye got pullin'." + +Blink counted rapidly. "Four tens and two eights," he made reply. + +"Uh-huh--but I mean how many span, pardner?" + +Once more Blink struggled with arithmetic. "That'd make twenty-eight +pair, wouldn't it?" + +"Just about--just about, pardner. And two times twenty-eight is +fifty-six, ain't it?" + +Blink Keddie promptly agreed. + +"Agreed, eh? Then I'll ask ye kindly for fifty-six dollars, stranger." + +Keddie thoughtfully began rolling a cigarette. "If I had fifty-six +dollars, ol'-timer," he said, "I wouldn't converse with the likes o' +you." + +The gunman grinned. "Does take some time to save that amount skinnin' +jerkline or bein' toll master on a mountain road," he admitted. "Are +you the boss?" + +"If I was the boss," slowly returned Blink, "I wouldn't live in the +same county with you." + +By this time Jerkline Jo, who had been hurrying forward along the wagon +train to find out what had occurred, arrived on the scene of their airy +persiflage. + +"What's wrong here, Blink?" she wanted to know. + +"This fella has been insultin' me," claimed Blink. "He insinuated I +belonged to the idle-rich class. I guess he's institutin' some sort of +a drive or other. You talk to 'im, Jo." + +"Well?" The girl wheeled and faced the man, hands on hips. + +The Westerner swept off his hat. "Ye see, ma'am," he said to her, +"this here's a toll road now--from here clean acrost the mountains to +the desert on t'other side. I'm toll master. I'm to collect two +dollars a loaded team for the trip through the pass. The price +includes the return trip, empty." + +Jerkline Jo paled. Up behind her crowded Tom Gulick, Hiram Hooker, +Heine Schultz, and Jim McAllen, and, if looks could have killed, the +man with the gun would have been ripe for the undertaker's care. + +"Two dollars! You mean----" + +"A dollar a head, then, ma'am. You got fifty-six animals. That 'u'd +be fifty-six dollars, wouldn't it?" He smiled persuasively. + +Jo gasped, and turned and glanced helplessly over her little army of +loyal men. + +"By whose authority are you demanding this?" She spun back to the toll +master, her dark eyes now aflame. + +"Mr. Al Drummond he's the boss, ma'am. He's from Friscotown. He's +gotta keep up the road, so o' course he's gonta charge other folks to +travel on it. It's jest like as if it was his private prop'ty, as I +savvy the deal, ma'am. I got papers to show ye, if ye wanta see 'em. +Course I got nothin' to do with it--nothin' atall. Mr. Drummond he +jest hired me to collect the fees and keep folks off that refused to +pay. I might add, though, ma'am, that I've always been considered a +pretty good keeper-off when I'm hired for that purpose. I'm from the +Kitchen Rancho, over toward the Tehachapi. They call me Tehachapi +Hank. At yer service, ma'am." + +Jerkline Jo's red lips were straight. She was indignant. A sense of +defeat almost overwhelmed her. Such a situation had not even remotely +occurred to her. In a wave of despair the realization swept over her +that she had attempted something of which she knew nothing. There had +been no one to advise her, and in the unbounded confidence of youth she +had not sought counsel. On the railroad grade few men could have put +anything over on her. But this was another matter. + +Fifty-six dollars for the eighteen-mile trip through the pass! It +would be ruinous. She would be obliged to advance her rate to meet +this additional expense, and then the truckman holding the franchise +would be able to haul freight cheaper than she could. + +Back of her the men were muttering useless threats among themselves. +Jo found her voice at last. There was no need to ask to see a copy of +the franchise, because there was not the slightest doubt in her mind +that everything was aboveboard in that respect. She simply had been +outgeneraled. There was nothing to do but to pay--for the present, at +least--as the freight on her wagons must be delivered at any cost, now +that she had contracted to deliver it. What she said was: + +"Will you accept my check?" + +"Certainly, ma'am--most certain," was the ready reply. + +"I'll go back to my wagon and write one for you then," she said, trying +to keep her voice steady. "Let the wagons go on, please. When mine +reaches you I'll hand out the check." + +Tehachapi Hank touched his broad-brimmed hat again. "All right and +proper, ma'am," he assured her. + +He was waiting by the roadside when her stanch whites marched past him, +and she reached the check out through the slats of the rack. He +touched his hat brim again and smiled then with true Western +politeness, pocketed the slip of paper without so much as glancing at +it. + +Dully she watched the broad straining backs of her beloved animals as +they planted their great fetlocked feet and heaved their burden ever +upward. Ahead of them she could hear her skinners shouting back and +forth from wagon to wagon above the jingling of the bells, their tones +high-pitched and angry. Why had she not consulted with Demarest and +asked him to lay before her details of every angle that might present +itself in such an undertaking as hers? + +Demarest knew all the twists and turns of modern business ruthlessness. +He might have been able to foresee a situation like this and to put +weapons into her hands with which she might have combated it. + +She shrugged her sturdy shoulders finally, and as noon was close at +hand gave attention to her cooking. For the present she would drive +the matter from her thoughts. There was work to be accomplished, which +was a part of the present delivery of freight. When this task was +completed she would see what could be done. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN LETTERS OF BLACK + +There was a general outburst of indignation on the part of Jerkline +Jo's devoted retainers when the outfit went into camp at noon, +quarterway through the mountain pass. + +"We'll fix 'im, Jo!" Heine Schultz exclaimed angrily. "All we gotta do +is make out to get ahead o' his old cough wagons and not let 'em pass. +We can hold 'im back clear through the pass, if we string out. Le's +figger it out fer the rest o' the trip, Jo. There's not over six +places where one vehicle can pass another. Now what we gotta do is +string out our outfit so's none o' us'll hit one o' those places when +the machines are comin'. Say, we can hold 'em up till----" + +"Heine," said Jerkline Jo quietly, "is that your idea of business." + +"Course it is. Stick it to the Al Drummond, Jo! He's started +somethin' that he'll have a hard time finishin', that's all. Say, we +can slip it to him till he'll be sick o' that dirty deal he handed you. +Leave it to Blink and me. We got it all schemed out." + +"Heine," Jo remarked, "we'll travel right along as we have always +traveled. If one of Mr. Drummond's trucks comes up behind us and wants +to pass we will let it pass when it is convenient to do so." + +"Not here, Jo! My team don't put one foot outa the road to let a truck +pass." + +"No, I don't expect you to do that. But it will depend on conditions. +If you are loaded and he is empty, of course he must look out for +himself. Again, if you are climbing and he is coming down, he must get +out of the difficulty as best he can. But when you, loaded, reach a +place where a truck can pass you, and you know one is coming up behind +you and wishes to pass, you will stop your team in the road and let it +circle around you." + +"I won't, Jo! I----" + +"Yes, you will. You will do as I say, as you always do." She smiled +at him sweetly and patted his shoulder. "Loyal old Heinrich!" she +said. "Just the same old-timer, we must observe the courtesy of the +road always. Think it over--you'll see I'm right." + +"Jo, you can't afford a jolt like that," said Jim McAllen. + +"I can't," Jo told him frankly. "Right now I don't know what to do. I +must keep on, by some hook or crook, till I can get advice from some +one who's onto such tricks--Demarest, perhaps." + +"It's a rotten deal!" + +"I have an idea it's perfectly legitimate, Jim." + +"They ain't gonta do anything to the road to make it worth a tenth o' +what they ask to travel on it. You saw the little putterin' jobs they +did, Jo." + +"I have an idea," replied the girl, "that when winter comes they'll be +quite busy. And it also occurs to me that, now that they've agreed to +maintain the road if given the franchise, we can make them do it down +to the letter, or render their franchise void." + +"By golly, I bet you can at that, Jo!" put in Tom Gulick. "I've heard, +though, there's a rotten bunch of grafters runnin' this county. They'd +probably beat you out some way, so long as Drummond was puttin' up +cigar money for them." + +Up until now Hiram Hooker had said nothing. Now came his soothing +drawl, and the others listened. + +"I don't know much about automobiles and what they can do," he said. +"But I do know mountains and mountain roads, and somethin' about +mountain soil. And I've this to say: If Jo can hang on till winter +there'll be no trucks runnin' against her. Then if they still collect +for crossin' through the pass, all she's got to do is raise the freight +rate to meet the extra expense. There's exactly ten places on the road +where we're goin' to hook maybe thirty horses on every wagon to get +across next winter. And I'll bet my month's wages against a dollar of +Mr. Drummond's money that he'll be begging for teams to haul him out. +Then, of course, the price ought to be about fifty-six dollars a haul, +regardless of distance, hadn't it?" + +"Good boy!" cried Keddie. "Listen to our Gentle Wild Cat pur! He's +right, too, I'll say. If we can hang on till winter, Jo can collect +back all she's paid out for tolls--and I'll say a little profit on the +deal wouldn't make me weep."' + +"But winter's a long way off," Jim McAllen gloomily pointed out. + +After this there was thoughtful silence. + +To add to the misfortunes of the second trip to the camps, Jim McAllen +broke a reach when the train neared the foot of the grade. There were +spare reaches in the outfit, of course, but they had to unload the +wagon to substitute one, and it all took a great deal of time. Then a +horse became sick, and Jerkline Jo positively refused to work a sick +horse. The animal was taken out of harness and allowed to tag along +behind with his mate, who automatically became useless, too. A ton of +supplies was taken from the wagon to which the sick horse belonged, and +distributed among the other loads. This took more time, and night +overtook the outfit with several miles between them and the tank wagon +that awaited their coming on the desert. + +Hour after hour they plodded along, not daring to camp until they had +water. There was no moon, and as the desert road was little more than +a trail Heine Schultz let his team tag Keddie's and walked ahead with a +lantern to guide the lead skinner. Thirsty and hungry and weary, they +reached the tank about nine o'clock. Then came a hearty curse from the +man with the lantern, followed by: + +"Lord, be merciful unto me, a skinner! The tank's empty, Jo!" + +The party descended hurriedly and crowded about him. It was a steel +tank, and a careful search failed to show that any of its plates had +sprung a leak. Then the light was held under the spigot, and, though +the hot desert sun had evaporated every drop of water, there was a hole +worn in the sand where it had fallen in a stream. The spigot was open. + +"How 'bout it now, Jo?" Heine queried. "Is this what you call +legitimate business--huh? I guess now you'll let me hold 'em back when +I can." + +Without replying Jo stooped and made an examination. + +"Some one has turned the water out," she said, rising wearily. "Will +we be obliged to hire a watchman to camp by our water tank? This is +serious, boys. The unwritten law of the desert would condemn whoever +did this to a lariat and a yucca palm. Still, we don't know who did +it. It's too dark to find tracks or to learn anything about it. It's +seventeen miles to the Washburn-Stokes outfit--the nearest water ahead. +Or it's eight miles back to the lake in the mountains. What's best to +do?" + +They turned the problem over and over, and finally decided unanimously +that to send the tank with six horses back to the lake, to be refilled, +was the wiser plan. Hiram volunteered for the trip, and Schultz +volunteered to go with him. At once the two set off behind six of +Hiram's lamenting animals for the long night trip, eating a hasty lunch +as they traveled. + +Dawn was breaking when they returned with a full tank, and were greeted +by the braying of the mules and the expectant nickering of the horses, +who smelled the water from afar. + +Jo ordered a rest until ten o'clock, to counteract the suffering that +the thirsty animals had undergone and to rest Hiram's six after the +performance of their double task. + +These setbacks made them late in their arrival at the scene of coming +toil, but gradually the distant buttes grew plainer as they moved on +steadily toward them over the crunching sands, so hot and barren. + +Hiram Hooker was riding with Jerkline Jo as they approached the buttes. +She was hammering away on her typewriter, while Hiram was deep in a +mathematical problem, his tongue out and gripped by his teeth. The +clicking of the typewriter ceased suddenly, and Jo asked: + +"Isn't that a tent over there near the buttes, Wild Cat?" + +Hiram looked up and shielded his eyes, straining his vision over the +rolling white backs of Jo's team into the yellow vastness beyond. + +"Looks like it," he said. + +"We'll not have to arrange for a watchman then. Demarest has sent a +man, I guess. Get out my binoculars, please, and see what you can make +out." + +Hiram took the strong glasses from their case, and, steadying himself +against a side of the freight rack, trained them on the distant speck +of white that represented a lonely tent. + +At once the tent seemed to jump across the desert to a point a short +distance ahead of them. Hiram's lips parted and a snort of surprise +escaped him. + +Before the front of the tent, on a pole planted there, was a big sign +composed of black letters against a white background. And this is what +Hiram Hooker read: + + The Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey + + OFFICE OF THE PALOMA RANCHO INVESTMENT COMPANY + + Orr Tweet, President. Walk In + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +GREATER RAGTOWN + +Indeed he was an important-looking individual who greeted the freight +outfit of Jerkline Jo when it came to a weary halt at the foot of the +desert buttes. He wore a new olive-drab suit, composed of Norfolk +jacket and bellows breeches, an imposing Columbia-shape Stetson, and +shiny new russet-leather puttees. From one corner of his mouth, +aligned with his twisted nose, protruded long, expensive-looking cigar. +This was Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet. + +Hat removed, bowing like a Japanese, he approached the astonished +skinners and offered his hand to Jerkline Jo. + +"Madam," he said, "permit me to extend to you Ragtown's most cordial +welcome. And you, gentlemen, are included, of course. When you have +the time, Miss Modock, I should like the pleasure of your presence in +the office of the Paloma Rancho Investment Company. If I may offer a +suggestion, too, it might be well to deposit Mr. Demarest's freight +close to my office, so that I can look out for it until the arrival of +the outfit. Hooker, come with your employer if you can conveniently do +so." + +So saying, Mr. Tweet recrowned himself with his new Stetson, turned, +and strolled impressively toward his tent, disappearing between its +lazily flapping portals. + +With the exception of Hiram Hooker, Jo's skinners shouted with +laughter. Jo and Hiram merely exchanged bewildered looks. + +"We'll go over now, Wild Cat," she said. "There's lots of time to +unload. We can't make it out of here to-day, anyway." + +Side by side they walked toward the lonesome little tent with the big +sign on a pole in front of it--a mere atom of white in the vast desert. + +Orr Tweet sat at an oaken desk in one corner of the tent. In another +corner was his bunk, a new suit case, and a new trunk, both in keeping +with Tweet's expensive outdoor clothes. There were several chairs. +Tweet arose briskly and held one for the girl with all the ceremony of +a head waiter in a restaurant of repute. + +"Jo," he began, "I hope you'll pardon the familiarity; there is a +matter of sixteen or seventeen dollars due you, I believe, for my +transportation from Frisco to Palada. And, Hiram, I believe I owe you +somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty dollars--the exact amount +escapes me temporarily. Now, both of you, the question is this: Do you +prefer cash, or stock in the Paloma Rancho Investment Company, or land? +The choice is yours." + +"Tweet," ordered Hiram, "get down off your high horse and talk sense. +What on earth is all this, anyway?" + +Tweet laughed and winked and became himself again. + +"Hiram, old boy," he confided, "I'm on the road to fortune. This is +gonta be the biggest deal I ever tried to swing. And, by golly! I'm +the little boy that c'n swing 'er!" + +"Tell us about it," pleaded Jerkline Jo. + +"Well, sir, Jo, I owe everything to you, and I'll prove I'm not the man +to be slow in showin' my gratitude. I'm a go-getter, and no mistake. +I couldn't make you folks believe it, so I had to go to work and show +you. But I bear you no ill will. You didn't know anything about me. + +"Well, dear little playmates, here's the dope: + +"That night watchman over there at Julia told me who owned all the land +about here, and said they were in tight financial circumstances--badly +in need o' ready money. They're big land owners--land poor. I drank +that all down, and she listened good to me. For the rest, I banked on +the accurate judgment of a party known as Jerkline Jo. I says to +myself: 'Jo's been on the grade all her life and savvies conditions. +If she says Ragtown is goin' to be located at the buttes, that part o' +the country's the part to get toehold on. Anyway, Playmate,' I says, +'we'll take a chance on Jerkline Jo.' And that's what me and Playmate +did. + +"I hunted up the owners o' the land when I gets to Los Angeles, and +makes 'em an offer on twelve thousan' acres--comprisin' the entire +tract known as Paloma Rancho, an ancient Spanish grant. Good for +nothin', I'd been told, but to run cows on in winter, when the filaree +and bunch grass are green. Just the same, there are other parts o' +this ole desert that are comin' out with a bang here lately. Lookit up +in Lucerne Valley and around Victorville! Good pear land, once she's +cleared o' the desert growth and a little humus-bearin' fertilizer +added to the soil. Produces good alfalfa, too. Anyway, I says I'll +take a chance, so I made 'em an offer. + +"They pretended like they thought the railroad was gonta do 'em a lot +o' good in a few years; that they didn't care whether they disposed o' +the property or not. But that bunk's old stuff to me, so I shut 'em up +and made 'em talk turkey. I made 'em an offer o' ten dollars an acre +for Paloma Rancho, payment to be made in quarterly installments of six +thousan' dollars, each, contract to run for five years, with interest +at seven per cent on deferred payments--first payment o' six thousan' +dollars to be made in advance. + +"They refused, and I picked up my hat and started out. They called me +back, and for ten minutes we puttered around between ten dollars an +acre and fifteen, and at last they fell into my arms. We had the +papers drawn up, and I slips 'em a certified check for six thousan' +buckerinos." + +"You gave them six thousand dollars!" cried Hiram. + +"Sure," Tweet replied easily. "I'd already wired to Frisco and +disposed o' my ditch-digger holdin's for over eight thousan'; I got +over a thousan' left, five hundred paid on an automobile that's now +asleep back o' this office, and a toehold on Paloma Rancho, twelve +thousan' acres o' perfectly beautiful sand. + +"And now that you folks have dumped a cargo o' freight here marked D., +S. & T., No. 1, I know we win. We're goin' to make this one o' the +liveliest propositions in the West. Ragtown will move down here as +soon as the big outfit lands at the buttes. City lots in +Ragtown--which later probably will be known as Tweet--will be worth +from a hundred dollars to two hundred and fifty, accordin' to location. +My engineers will be here soon, and we'll lay off the town site. I've +made application for a post office, and by the time the papers come +from the department there'll be plenty o' signers here. Concessions +will be granted at reasonable figures. Farming lands will be sold at +from fifty dollars an acre up to a hundred and fifty, accordin' to +location, depth to water, et cetera. This will include stock in the +company's water right. Water will be developed up in the mountains, on +a site that goes with the ranch, at an approximate expense of one +hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. I am organizing my water +company now, and will let all old friends in on the ground floor, of +course. Water at Butte Springs, by the way, Ragtown's present supply, +will cost twenty-five cents a head for stock, and five cents a drink +for human beings who are recognized citizens of Ragtown, the +Tweet-to-be. Old friends, however, are hereby extended the privilege +of watering free of charge while life shall last. + +"So folks, we're off in a bunch. Keep your eye on Ragtown, metropolis +of the Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey." + +"But how about your next payment?" asked Jerkline Jo. "If I'm not too +impertinent, can you meet it?" + +"Right this moment," replied Tweet, "I couldn't even look like I wanted +to meet it. But why worry for nearly three months more? Ragtown will +pay it for me. I'll meet her when she's due--never fear. I always get +out some way. My middle name is Millions. Gogettersburg is my +birthplace. You folks and Pete are my first failure in convincin' +others of my shrewdness, honesty, and unbounded ability." + +For an hour Mr. Tweet told of his glowing plans, but he found it +difficult to convince either Jo or Hiram that he had success within his +grasp. Not until the conversation worked around to the mountain-road +franchise did Jerkline Jo realize that, in befriending Orr Tweet, she +had enlisted an ally who would and could help her. + +"Why, we've got 'em by the tail, girl!" he cried. "Just keep on payin' +what they ask till Ragtown moves down here, which will happen as soon +as Demarest gets settled. Then it'll cost this Drummond to travel +across Paloma Rancho exactly what it has cost you to come through the +pass. And I'll get me a roughneck with a gun, too, and see that he +pays. And if he eventually falls down and quits, you make him live up +to that franchise and keep that road in perfect repair, or sue him, by +golly! Leave it to me, Jo. I'll fix his timepiece. Every spare +dollar you get, you slip it to me to help me meet those payments. +It'll let you in on the ground floor, by golly! We'll make a million +out of it, Jo--you and me and the Gentle Wild Cat. And I'll show 'em +how to try and take advantage of a girl like you! Folks, the future +looks mighty bright for all of us!" + +While they were conversing Blink Keddie's voice Came from outside the +tent: + +"Jo! The trucks are comin' in." + +The three went out and joined the head skinner, who pointed far over +the shimmering desert at three dots moving along from the mountains +toward the Washburn-Stokes camp. + +"Poor fish!" Tweet said disgustedly. "They don't know what's in store +for 'em. Next trip they make, probably, Ragtown and the big camp will +be on Paloma Rancho, and then they're blocked." + +Mr. Tweet ate supper with Jo and her skinners, and afterward the outfit +spent a pleasant evening listening to the promoter's rosy plannings. +Even the most skeptical among them gradually became convinced that, if +he could hold on and meet his payments, he might make a go of it. +Early next morning they started back, passed the polite Mr. Tehachapi +Hank in the course of time, and arrived in Julia without further mishap. + +Now came a period of inactivity. There were orders for goods to be +hauled, but a great portion of what was demanded had not yet arrived by +train from the coast side of the mountain range. + +Such delays were expensive. Jerkline Jo could have made a profit +running into four figures every month, allowing for deterioration and a +reasonable per cent on the investment represented, could she have kept +her teams moving steadily, with the wagons loaded to capacity every +trip. As yet, though, with so few camps established, this could not +reasonably be hoped for, and she had made due allowance for such +setbacks when deciding upon her freight rate. She had charged +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou three cents a pound for the last consignment. + +The three trucks that they had seen returned. They were of two-ton +capacity. More came in from the coast, which carried five tons, and +there was a fleet of five-ton trailers. Jo learned that Drummond had +made a price of two and three-quarter cents, so she promptly met it +and, by wire, notified Demarest to that effect. + +She was anxious to see the five-tonners in operation. She believed +that machines carrying a large tonnage would meet with serious +difficulties in the pass, and also in the desert sand, in places. But +they would make the trip so quickly that she began to have grave +doubts. They might worm their way out of many difficulties, and still +make the camps while her teams were on the first lap of the journey. +So far, she had seen nothing of her competitor, Al Drummond. + +There reached the Mulligan Supply Company a telegram from Demarest +instituting a standing order for baled alfalfa, and instructing that +all freight be hauled by Jo so long as she could keep ahead of the +congestion and haul as cheaply as others. Promptly, then, Jo loaded to +capacity with hay, and they were off again. + +Four light trucks had preceded her with case goods, for Ragtown's +store, she supposed. But the remainder of the fleet remained idle at +Julia, and seemed to have no business. Jo was reasonably sure that, +for old friendship's sake, Philip Demarest would see to it that she got +all of his hauling, providing she could make deliveries to his +satisfaction. She thought that until new camps settled on the +grade--camps of bigger contractors who would buy their supplies direct +and not depend on Demarest, Spruce & Tillou--Mr. Drummond would have +many idle days. Then, of course, he might cut to the bone on the +freight rate, and Jo feared that, with the trucks eating nothing while +they rested, Drummond might be better able to withstand a rate war. + +They were held up by the genial but exacting Tehachapi Hank at the foot +of the grade, as on their last trip. Jo paid cash this time, and +demanded a receipt, as ordered to do by Tweet. + +As the wagon train neared the highest point in the pass she noticed +that her whites and Hiram's blacks seemed to be lagging behind. Still, +both teams seemed to be moving briskly enough and steadily. But the +other teams were far in the lead. + +Then Hiram's wagon entered upon a system of hairpin curves, and for +nearly fifteen minutes none of her skinners was in sight. + +She continued to wonder at the unwonted speed of the skinners ahead of +Hiram. + +Just as she reached the outmost point of a bow in the second hairpin +curve, she heard a dull rumble behind her. Looking back, she saw +nothing unusual, for in this place the road wound about U's and S's in +the mountainside, and one could not see far along it, either ahead or +behind. Deciding that a tree had fallen, she dismissed the matter from +her thoughts, and gave her attention to manipulating the jerkline over +an exacting piece of road. + +She worked out of the curves eventually, to see the other teams moving +placidly along ahead of her, but now she and Hiram had caught up again. + +She spoke about it when they camped for the midday rest. It was Hiram +who made reply. + +"I was wondering at their speed, too, Jo," he said. "The rest of 'em +were all way ahead of me and out o' sight for twenty minutes, maybe." + +There followed a bantering conversation on the relative merits of the +various teams, with minute explanation by the foremost skinners as to +just why it was impossible for such miserable animals as the whites and +the blacks to keep in sight of the rest. And for the time being, this +ended the incident. + +They left the delicately scented mountain country in due course and +took up the long, weary journey over the desert. When they were near +enough to the buttes to make out objects at their feet it became plain +to all that the big outfit of Demarest, Spruce & Tillou had arrived and +pitched its camp. + +Shortly after they became aware of this a machine was discovered coming +toward them from the distant tents. Then another put in an appearance, +following the first. Jo now heard the cough of motors behind her, and, +looking back, saw two trucks. + +The first machine coming from the camps swung from the road when it +neared Blink Keddie and waited, panting, until the outfit had passed +it. Only the driver was in it, a man Jerkline Jo had never before +seen. He lifted his hat politely as her whites rolled past, and she +thanked him for his patience. Then he moved his car into the road and +continued on toward the trucks. Looking back, Jo saw that all three +stopped when they came together. + +Now, from ahead, came the second car, and at the wheel sat +Twitter-or-Tweet. He signaled Keddie to stop, and the outfit came to a +halt. + +"Hello, Jo, and fellas!" cried the beaming Mr. Tweet, descending from +his car. "The man who just passed you in the touring car is Mr. +Richard Huber, one of our first citizens. He's Ragtown's first +merchant. He's gone to direct the trucks to come to Greater Ragtown +with their loads. For, folks, Ragtown is moving in a body, with its +traps on burros' and men's backs and in wagons and flivvers to the +Tweet-to-be. Talked Huber out o' leasing, and sold him fifteen town +lots, by golly! Half down, balance in three years--seven and a half +per cent interest on deferred payments. Man of discernment. I'll +proclaim to the high, green mountains! I'm on my way to collect our +fee for allowin' the trucks to cross Paloma Rancho. How much you been +held up for, Jo?" + +"One hundred and twelve dollars," she told him. + +"Just a minute. I'll hand it to you. Move on now, and I'll get back +in the road and collect." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WHAT MADE THE WILD CAT + +Jerkline Jo's wagon train snailed on over the desert toward the tents +of Demarest's big camp. The tires of Mr. Tweet's shiny new car plunked +down into the road, and that gentleman continued on toward the trucks +and the machine of Ragtown's first merchant, Mr. Huber. + +Hiram Hooker was riding with Jerkline Jo, and the two had been deep in +their studies when the appearance of the various automobiles had +distracted their attention. Hiram now climbed to the top of Jo's +immense load of baled alfalfa, and, looking back, made reports to her. + +"They're all together now," he said, "and having quite an argument. +Tweet's swinging his arms about as if he wanted to fight. + +"Now he's getting into his car. He and the storekeeper are turning in +ahead of the trucks. Here they all come, Tweet in the lead!" + +A little later Tweet shouted to Hiram to stop, and Hiram relayed the +command to Jo, who called to her ten whites and brought them to a +standstill. A little later five angry men hurried on foot alongside +the wagon. + +"Here's your hundred and twelve dollars, Jo," Tweet said exultantly, +passing the girl a sheaf of bills, "And that settles that. Now, Mr. +Drummond, step over here and be introduced to Jerkline Jo Modock and my +friend Hiram Hooker, from Wild-cat Hill. We'll see if you folks can't +get together and conduct your affairs amicably." + +Al Drummond, Hiram Hooker's one-time rival, was indeed there, dressed +after the fashion of Mr. Tweet, and looking big and important and +business-like. There was a dark scowl on his brow though as he came +forward and nodded to Jo, but did not offer his hand. + +"Well, I've been held up," he muttered, "and I'm going to see about it, +but----" + +"See about it all you want to, my friend," put in Tweet smoothly. "I +have complete control of this land, and have the sole right to say who +shall cross it and who shall not, and under what conditions. The ranch +is posted, and everything is in order. This road is a new one, and you +can't make the claim that it has been used so long that it must be +considered in the nature of a public highway. You've not a leg to +stand on; so every time you turn a wheel on this property it's goin' to +cost you just what the last trip through the pass cost Jerkline Jo. +You started something, my friend, and you can't finish it--that's all. +Take your medicine like a sport." + +"I'm going to keep up that mountain road, and I'm going to charge to +move vehicles and teams over it," replied Drummond angrily. "My +operations are legitimate. Yours are a holdup." + +"Suit yourself." Tweet shrugged indifferently. "But, as I pointed +out, you'll pay back every cent you collect from Jo. And, besides, +you'll be out the expenses of your toll master." + +"Others besides this lady will be crossing--lots of them later on," +said Drummond. "I'm not going to keep that road in condition for the +general public free of charge." + +"Then the best thing you can do is make a dicker with Jo to share her +part of the maintenance expenses, and you two divide the spoils that +you collect from others." + +"I can't agree to that," Jo put in hastily. "The road will serve very +well as it is for our purposes, with a few repairs now and then which +my boys can attend to themselves. We don't have to have a road in as +good condition as the trucks will demand. We are entirely satisfied as +matters stand." + +Tweet slapped his thigh. "Spoken like a man!" he cried. "Now it's +your move, Mr. Drummond. Fix your road all you want to and gouge +travelers for the last cent you can, but this outfit travels through +the mountains free, any way you can figure it out. Better write out a +permanent permit for Jo, and do away with this collectin' back and +forth and only breakin' even." + +The truck man was so angry he scarcely could contain himself. + +"It's a dirty, rotten deal!" he said between gritted teeth. "And this +is only part of it. This bunch of roughnecks rolled a big boulder in +the road after they'd passed yesterday, or some time, and it took us +three hours to get it out. Had to hook on the trucks, and unload, and +cut poles--and I don't know what all we didn't have to do to get the +thing out so we could pass it. That's dirty, low-down business, and +anybody who would do such a thing is a dirty piker--I don't care if she +is a woman! If I've got to come out here and buck a wild woman with no +principle I'll----" + +Al Drummond paused abruptly. A mountain of bone and muscle had swooped +down from the top of the load of baled hay and loomed large before him. + +"Mr. Drummond," said a caressing voice with what seemed a totally +disinterested drawl, "you're a liar!" + +For a few seconds there was not a sound as Hiram Hooker stood before +Drummond and eyed him placidly. The truck man's face had gone +chalk-white. They were big men, both of them, and for all that +Drummond's life had not been a rugged one, he was physically pretty +much a man. Jo's skinners had come running back, and, with Tweet and +Huber, looked on expectantly, sensing that a crisis between the two big +huskies was imminent. Then came the voice of Jerkline Jo. + +"Hiram," she said, "don't be hasty." Jerkline Jo had seen many a fight +between big men of the outdoor life. It was no new experience, and +there was not a quaver in her tones. She had been brought up where men +settled matters with fists or guns or pick handles. "Listen, Hiram," +she continued, "Mr. Drummond is telling the truth, I think, up to a +certain point. When you boys were way ahead of me yesterday I heard a +rumble behind me. Evidently a big boulder rolled down in the road +after we had passed. Just the same I'll thank you, Hiram, to ask Mr. +Drummond to apologize for accusing me of being responsible." + +"Yes, ma'am," drawled Hiram, reverting to his old speech of the redwood +forests. "Ye heard, Mr. Drummond. We didn't roll down any stone. I'd +apologize now if I was you. That's best." + +"Listen to the Gentle Wild Cat pur," said Heine Schultz, looking +abstractedly up at the clouds. + +"Well, you ain't me, you gangling hick!" said Drummond. "I saw +footprints up above the rock wall that the stone fell from. It was +pushed down. There are six of you. You could roll down a rock that we +three couldn't budge. You even could hook on teams and drag it in the +road behind you. Then when you came back, if it was still there, you +could easily snake it out of your own way with these big horses." + +"I reckon you're right," admitted Hiram. "But we didn't do that, so +you oughta apologize to Jo." There was a deceptively soothing note in +Hiram's tones. He seemed to be patiently pointing out the better +course for Mr. Drummond to pursue, with no suggestion of what might be +the penalty for guessing wrong. + +"Well, I'll not apologize! I'm not a fool! That rock was rolled down. +It----" + +"You're a liar, Mr. Drummond," repeated Hiram. + +Then they came together with a thud of big bodies and a shower of +hooflike fists. + +"Hi-yi!" yelled Blink Keddie. "What made our Gentle Wild Cat wild? +Come on, boys! Back up ol' Wild Cat! Eat 'im, Hi-_ram_! Eat 'im +alive! Le's send this outfit to the cleaners!" + +"Blink!" called Jerkline Jo shrilly as the pugnacious skinner charged +threateningly at Drummond's truck drivers. He came to a stop. "Don't +make it general unless it becomes necessary," Jo added smoothly. + +Meantime the two huge belligerents were hammering stunning blows at +each other. About them now stood silent men in a circle, with the +vast, hot desert stretching away on every side. + +It developed shortly that Drummond was an athlete. He was quicker on +his feet than Hiram and knew more tricks of offense and defense. +Hiram, on the other hand, was a bull for strength and endurance, and in +the big-woods country had maintained a reputation as a rough-and-tumble +fighter and wrestler, though most of his encounters had been friendly +bouts. Furthermore, he was cool as one of his Mendocino trout streams, +and he fought in a businesslike way and never allowed himself to lose +his temper. + +He was therefore the more deadly, for his endurance was unbounded, and +the punishment that Drummond was able to inflict seemed to have no +effect whatever. And when one of his big fists found its mark a groan +went up from Huber and Tweet. But Jerkline Jo and her rough-and-ready +skinners, the latter all old fighters of the camps and used to unseemly +sights, and the sickening sound of a big fist landing on giving bone, +only watched and waited for the result. + +In no time at all, it seemed, the face of the truck man was raw, while +Hiram's showed only bruises. They clinched repeatedly, and soon it +became apparent that Drummond was forcing these clinches. + +"You've got 'im goin', Gentle Wild Cat!" yelled Tom Gulick. "Keep +after his mush, ol'-timer! Pretty soon he won't be able to see you; +then clean house with 'im!" + +Drummond played for Hiram's wind now, but there was not an ounce of fat +over the stomach that he hammered so repeatedly, and it seemed as if he +were battering hard rubber. He was fast losing his own wind, for his +life had not been so healthy as had that of the man from the Northern +forests. Hiram's punishing fists were finding their target more +frequently now, for the truck man's defense was failing him. He was +slowing up--breathing hard--gulping. + +"Guess it's time to stop it, Gentle Wild Cat," complacently observed +Jim McAllen. + +Then Hiram finished it. He crowded his big antagonist and beat him to +his knees with blows that seemed to be skull crushing. Drummond's nose +and mouth were badly damaged. Both eyes were mere slits, blazing +between coloring puffs. One crushing, blow straight into his face as +he came up defiantly sent him reeling about, head down, groping blindly. + +"One more in the same place, Wild Cat!" called Gulick. + +But Hiram desisted, though continuing to trail the groping man as he +reeled through the sand, stumbling frequently. + +"Lock the door, Hiram!" begged Heine Schultz. "It's all over but +closin' up." + +Hiram shook his head, and then Drummond wilted and sank in the sand. + +Water was quickly provided, and the pulse of Jerkline Jo leaped as she +saw that Hiram himself was taking the most prominent part in the +whipped man's revival. It was fully five minutes before Drummond was +conscious again; then Hiram helped to bear him to one of the trucks. + +"Thank you, Hiram," Jo said softly as he returned. + +He looked up into her eyes, which were moist round the rims. He had +fought and won for his girl of romance, and he knew now that it had +been she who through all the years had been beckoning him to come. + +With a damp cloth she tenderly touched his bruised face here and there +as the wagon train moved on again. + +"Don't think any the worse of me, Hiram," she pleaded. "Perhaps I'm a +roughneck, after all, as Drummond intimated. But I can't faint and +carry on at the sight of blood and the sound of battering fists as most +women do. I like a fight--a fair fight--a good fight--a manly fight. +Life for me has been always a fight. I've learned not to shrink. Am I +brutal--for a woman?" + +"No," said Hiram. "I think I want you that way. Nobody could look +into your eyes, Jo, and think you weren't tender and compassionate. +I'd want my woman to be a fighter, I guess, when it was the time and +place to fight." + +Jerkline Jo's face was radiant with color, but she said softly: + +"And I want my man to be a fighter. It's in my blood, it seems." + +They said nothing more about it then, but each knew that love had +spoken, and the unfriendly desert seemed a delectable land. + +In camp that night Blink Keddie made a confession. + +"Jo," he said, twisting and squirming, "me and Heine and Jim and Tom +did ease that boulder into the road. We done it to get even for the +empty water tank." + +"Why, Blink!" Jo cried, aghast. + +"We made it up to do it, and not even let Wild Cat in on the deal, +'cause he seemed to think like you did. So we rampsed our teams and +got way ahead o' you folks, then stopped 'em when they was outa you +folks' sight around the curves, and ran back through the trees with +bars. We had our rock all picked out, and it didn't take the four o' +us no time to ease her to the edge and let 'er plunk down in the road +behind you. Then we run ahead through the woods and got on our wagons +before you caught up. Now you know--what're you goin' to do about it?" + +"Shall I have Wild Cat take you out, one at a time," Jo asked +mischievously, after a thoughtful pause. + +Keddie shrugged. "I ain't achin' for my portion o' that," he +confessed, "but ol' Timberline will know he's been in a fight." + +"It was despicable of you boys," Jo said sternly. "We'll not fight +that way." + +"But the empty water tank, Jo!" cried Heine. "My goat ain't through +gettin' got about that deal yet. You gotta fight the devil with fire, +as they say." + +"I'm terribly sorry," Jo continued, her brow clouding. "That act is +responsible for to-day's trouble, and we haven't yet heard the last of +that, I'm afraid. And now _I'll_ have to apologize to Mr. Drummond and +explain." + +"No, no, Jo! Let Hi-_ram_ do it. He knows how to apologize. Think o' +the water tank, Jo!" + +"We have no proof that Drummond or his men were responsible for the +empty tank, boys. I'm terribly sorry. I must think over what's best +to be done now. We mustn't stoop to such methods. Even though we are +subjected to underhand competition, we ourselves must fight fair and +not descend to our enemy's level." + +"You're aimin' to go to heaven, Jo," Gulick accused. "Drummond started +the dirty work. We can show him a dozen tricks to offset emptyin' our +tank. Better tell him not to do anythin' more. We'll stop his clock +if he does." + +"You'll do it fairly, then, or you'll not drive teams for me," Jo +emphatically told them. + +Their silence disturbed her. They knew that she could not do without +them. Even as matters stood, she could have used one more jerkline +skinner could she have found one good enough to handle her much-loved +animals. They were loyal to her, a stanch little army, hard to defeat +if their crude but forceful methods of fighting could be brought into +play. All of them looked upon the girl as their especial charge in +life, and whenever they fought for her they would, with only her +well-being in mind, fight as they saw fit. Still, she could control +them if forewarned of their plans. She always had controlled them--not +by condemning and issuing orders and threatening, but by the exercise +of her sweet womanly personality; for there was not a man of them but +loved her and fairly worshiped at her shrine. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +DRUMMOND'S PASSENGER + +The summer progressed, and great changes were wrought on the desert. +To the last soul Ragtown moved from its first location into the +hospitable arms of Mr. Tweet--but Tweet's hospitality demanded its +price. Outfit after outfit came crawling across the desert to pitch +camp somewhere along the line and begin its portion of the big work in +band. There was a post office at Ragtown, twenty or more saloons, +dance halls and gambling dens combined, restaurants, tent hotels, +stores, and even a bank and a motion-picture show. Thousands of rough, +hard-drinking, hard-fighting men thronged the mushroom town, and it +resembled a mining town of California's early days. Miners and +cattlemen, too, made the town headquarters, and there were frequent +fights and an occasional shooting scrape. The cost of everything was +high. Money flowed freely, as did bootleg jackass brandy. It seemed +that the prohibition enforcement officers had been unable to locate the +infant town. The rough, unrestrained life of the frontier was rife at +Ragtown, and Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet gleaned shekels right and left. + +Jerkline Jo had not seen Al Drummond to speak with him after the fight. +He had been laid up for a week from the terrible battering that Hiram +had given him, and when he was about again he left the country in his +touring car. + +His drivers continued to transport freight to the new Ragtown and to +certain independent contractors who had reached the work. In truth, it +developed that there was plenty of hauling to keep both outfits busy, +and Jerkline Jo was making money hand over fist, as was every one who +had services to offer or something to sell. + +Tehachapi Hank no longer stood like an ogre guarding the portals to the +mountain pass. Drummond had been beaten on that deal, and the gunman's +removal was an admission of defeat. Consequently, Tweet exacted no +charge for the trucks to cross his ranch. Things were running smoothly +between the two freighting enterprises, and Jerkline Jo hoped against +hope that there would be no more trouble. But she had not liked the +baleful look in Drummond's eye when she caught it on the street in +Ragtown one evening. It was plain that he considered great humiliation +had been heaped upon him, and that he was waiting and watching for an +opportunity for revenge. + +Then one day she met him face to face in Julia, and stepped to him to +tell him about the boulder in the road. His glance was like a knife +thrust as he turned on his heel and stalked away before she could +speak. After that, of course, she made no further effort to enlighten +him. + +As the weeks passed it developed that Orr Tweet was not the slowest +salesman in California, where salesmen--especially land +salesmen--achieve their greatest triumphs. Not only did he sell lots +and building sites in Ragtown, but he disposed of the surrounding +acreage to would-be ranchers and speculators, and had been able with +ease, he informed his old friends, to meet his second payment on the +ranch. He urged Jo to invest her earnings in the company, and after +consideration she resolved to take a chance with him; for here and +there, where wells had been sunk and pumping apparatus installed, the +once barren land was turning green and showing evidences of rich and +productive soil. + +So things stood, or refused to stand, in Ragtown and the vicinity when +Drummond drove in one day with no less a passenger than a pretty girl, +all pink and white, named Lucy Dalles. Hiram Hooker came face to face +with her in Ragtown's boisterous business street an hour after her +arrival, for Jo's freight outfit was at rest there for the night. + +Lucy was as pretty in her petite, doll-like way as when she had so +fascinated him in the city, but now he could not help comparing her +hothouse beauty with the brown-skinned, outdoor desirability of +Jerkline Jo. Jo could have picked up this frail, silk-garbed creature +and thrown her overhead; yet in pure womanliness and tenderness Lucy +was not her equal. Jerkline Jo was a queen--a ruler--a fearless woman +with a purpose in life, big of body and soul and brain. Lucy Dalles +was merely a pretty girl, with an ambition for money and life's +frivolous pleasures. Hiram understood this now. + +She greeted him glowingly, and called him by his first name. + +"I told you I was coming," she cried, giggling. "And isn't this rich? +If only I were writing scenarios now!" + +"Aren't you?" asked Hiram. + +"No, I gave it up. They got too exacting for me, and began buying the +picture rights of books and magazine stories by established authors in +preference to original scripts for the screen. I was a piker, +anyway--nothing in me, I guess. So I threw up the sponge." + +"You're still a waitress, then?" + +She looked at him archly. "Not on your sweet young life!" and she +laughed. "I didn't throw ambition overboard when I quit writing +scenarios. Writing in any form is usually a slow road to success, I've +learned. I never wanted to be a writer just for the sake o' the work. +I want jack, and lots of it, and what it'll buy." + +Hiram felt a sudden disgust for her and her sordid aims in life. But +to appear polite he asked: + +"What are you doing, then?" + +"Everybody I can," she retorted. "I worked in a beauty parlor for a +little as a hairdresser and manicure. I'm out for the money, Hiram. +I'm not a pickpocket yet, but that's because I don't know how to be +one. But if you've got any loose change in your pockets watch out. +I'm out for the coin. But here comes Al. He brought me down. He's +going to set me up in business." + +"Drummond?" he asked. "He and I don't speak. We had a little trouble." + +Again she arched her penciled brows. "He didn't tell me," she said. +"He'll be sore at me talkin' to you then. See him over there by that +saloon? He's stopped and is scowling at us. Well, I'll just stick +with you to show him his place. Take me somewhere, Hiram; I want to +see the life." + +Hiram did not know what to say. He would have preferred to terminate +the conversation. Lucy Dalles held no fascination for him now. Hiram +had met and loved a woman without parallel in his brief experience of +life. But he could not be impolite, so he sauntered down the street +with the girl, trying to make conversation and hoping that Drummond +would not be offended all over again. + +In all the resorts men and women were crowding before the bar, gambling +with abandon or dancing. + +"Buy me a drink, Hiram," Lucy pleaded. "I just want to go into one of +these places. Women do it here, I understand." + +Hiram shrugged and led her into the Palace Dance Hall, conducted by a +notorious character, who followed big construction camps, called +"Ghost" Falcott because of his chalk-white skin. + +It was pay day at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's, and the Palace was +crowded. They found a place at the bar, however, and the girl stood +looking over the half-drunken throng with eager eyes, now and then +casting a glance through the door to see if Drummond was following her. + +Their drinks had just been served when into the dive, with a grinning +construction stiff on each arm, marched Jerkline Jo, laughing gayly. + +This was no new sight. Frequently Hiram had seen his adventure girl in +such places, laughing and chatting with old friends of the grade. +Always, it seemed, they respected her and took her actions for granted. + +"Hello, Gentle Wild Cat!" Jo called, catching sight of him. Then she +noticed that he was with the girl, and a quick look of puzzlement came +in her dark eyes. + +Hiram made haste to call her. + +"I want to introduce you," he said quickly. + +Jo turned, still holding to the arms of the stiffs, and Hiram made the +introduction. Jo responded pleasantly, and the look that came in her +eyes told Hiram that she remembered the name and knew who Lucy was. + +"Sorry I can't join you, Hiram," said Jo. "These plugs have got me +dead to rights, and I've promised to set 'em up to the house." + +She released the arms of the stiffs, and, cupping her hands about her +mouth, shouted above the general din: + +"Drinks for the house on Jerkline Jo! Le's go!" + +Some one nudged Hiram on the other side, and he turned to find Orr +Tweet. + +"Did you ever see the likes o' that Jerkline Jo?" he said admiringly. +"What a woman, Hiram! She can get away with anything, and there ain't +a stiff on the grade that would think any the worse of her for it. +She's pure-hearted and clean-minded, and everybody knows it and treats +her like the lady she is. But say---- For Heaven's sake! Look who's +here!" + +His steel-blue eyes had taken in Lucy, who stood studying Jerkline Jo, +the center of a crowd of rough, appreciative men who wrung her hands +right and left. + +Lucy turned and flashed Tweet a bright smile. "I remember you, o' +course," she said, shaking hands. "They tell me you hit the ball an +awful bang down here in Ragtown. I always knew you were there when you +talked to me up in Frisco." + +For several minutes, while bartenders worked frantically to supply Jo's +big order, Tweet and Lucy talked, and Hiram watched Jo. Then Tweet +excused himself and hurried away after some man--a prospective citizen +of Ragtown, no doubt--and Lucy turned to Hiram. + +"So that's Jerkline Jo, is it?" she said half scornfully. "What is +she, Hiram?" + +"A lady," said Hiram with a dangerous note of warning in his tones. + +Lucy sensed it and shrugged. "Maybe she is," she said lightly. "I +don't know anything about her beyond what I've heard, of course--except +that she's a heart-breaker--a man-killer. But what's she doing here?" +she could not help tacking on. + +"I might come back and ask you what you're doing here," Hiram retorted +coldly. + +Lucy shrugged. "Oh, I don't make any pretenses of piety--now," she +said significantly. Then, casting a defiant glance at him, she +produced a silver cigarette case, took a cigarette from it, and begged +for the end of his cigar at which to light it. "They say Jerkline Jo +is grabbing off big jack. How 'bout it?" She puffed indolently, +greatly to her companion's disgust. + +"She works hard and earns money," Jo's supporter defended. "She raised +the wages of all of us, too, as soon as business began to look up. We +skinners get ninety dollars a month and board now." + +"Ninety dollars a month!" Lucy said jeeringly. "D'ye call that money! +I didn't think you'd continue to be such a fish as long as this, Hiram." + +"Well, I'm investin' it," said Hiram. "It may be more some day." + +Luck looked suddenly into Hiram's eyes, then let her lashes cover her +own. + +"I guess this pious Jerkline Jo has got you goin'," she observed. + +"I work for her," said Hiram awkwardly. + +"Any man would, I guess. Men are all suckers." + +Hiram said nothing to this, and presently, stating that he would be +obliged to return to camp, asked Lucy if she was ready to go. + +Rather petulantly she gave in, and just outside the door they +encountered the glowering Al Drummond. + +"Lucy," he said sharply, "come here!" + +"I'll have to go," Lucy said to Hiram. "See you later, honey boy from +the woods. Good night!" + +Hiram saw Drummond take a step and roughly grab Lucy's arm as she +tripped up to him. They walked away, plainly indulging in a heated +argument. + +"'Honey boy,' huh!" and Hiram snorted. "Men are suckers--till they +meet a regular woman!" + +He hurried back to camp and rolled himself in his blankets without +further thought of the girl who had caused him to make such a fool of +himself in San Francisco. Had he but known it the advent of Lucy +Dalles in Ragtown was to have a great deal to do with the future +fortunes of both Jerkline Jo and himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +LUCY SEES A PROSPECT + +There was so much freighting that summer that the combined outfits of +Jerkline Jo Modock and Al Drummond were taxed to capacity. The new +settlers made constant demands upon them, and, though their wants were +puny in comparison with those of the camps, Jo accommodated them +whenever she could. Water had been struck at the surprisingly shallow +depth of forty-five feet in some places, and many pumping plants were +transported over the mountains. Things looked as if Twitter-or-Tweet +was about due to make his fortune, and Jo kept investing more and more +of her surplus earnings, and he was meeting his payments promptly. +There was talk of Ragtown eventually being made a division point. If +this transpired, the railroad shops would be erected there, and the +permanent success of the town would be assured. Already a few +venturesome souls were building permanent structures whenever they were +fortunate enough to get building materials hauled in. + +Drummond's five-ton trucks seemed to be meeting all requirements, and +he had added to his fleet. Jo, however, remained conservative. She +had seen rag towns spring up on railroad grades before--many of +them--only to disappear forever with the laying of the steel. Still, +she had confidence in the farming possibilities of Paloma Rancho--but +she bought no more equipment, principally, perhaps, because she could +not get desirable jerkline skinners, and because extra equipment would +mean more work for her, more time taken from her studies. She was +content with a good thing so far as financial success was +concerned--her great ambition was for an education. + +Drummond, of course, was also making money; but he fell a prey to the +lure of the free-and-easy life of the frontier town, and gambled and +drank perpetually. There were stories of big losses at faro, under +which Drummond did not always bear up as a good sport should. + +As for Lucy Dalles, that ambitious young woman entered with gusto into +the feverish life of Ragtown. Drummond had leased a shooting-gallery +concession from the accommodating Tweet, and had ensconced the girl +behind the rifles--or in front of them--to run the gallery. + +So she confided to Hiram Hooker, when he passed along Ragtown's main +thoroughfare one night, and for the first time saw her on exhibition in +the gallery. She had partitioned off one corner of the gallery and set +up a manicure and hairdressing parlor. Of mornings, when business in +the gallery was dull, she made many an extra dollar by beautifying the +women of Ragtown. + +"Yes, there's money in it," she said. "Al had the gallery stunt in +mind when he brought me down, so I quit the beauty parlor where I was +working in Frisco and got a job in a shooting gallery and learned how +to run one and to keep my noodle from getting in front of a gun. My +face is my fortune, after all, Hiram boy. One look at my smile, and +the hicks come right in and pick up a rifle. I'm coinin' money, and +I'm having the time of my young life. Last night a miner bet me five +dollars against a kiss he could knock over ten ducks in ten shots. He +did it, and I paid up like a sport. It got the gang started at the +game, and in the end I grabbed off thirty bucks, and only kissed twice. +Pretty soft--what? I guess you're horrified, Hiram?" She glanced at +him with coquettish defiance. + +"Disgusted," Hiram could truthfully have said, but he only grinned and +thanked his stars for his escape. + +Lucy's dark eyes flashed daggers at the broad back of Hiram Hooker as +he left her and swung along indifferently up the street. With a +woman's intuition she had known in San Francisco that the big, handsome +countryman with the soft, drawling voice had fallen a victim to her +charms. Now, because of Jerkline Jo, he was utterly indifferent to +her. Lucy was piqued, angry at him, angrier at Jerkline Jo. She did +not love Hiram, but she wanted him to love her, and though she did not +want him she wanted no other woman to own him. + +"I'll fix you one o' these days, you big hick!" she threatened between +clenched teeth. + +Summer passed all too quickly for those who labored incessantly, and +the winter rains set in. They at once grew harder and more frequent, +and then it poured as it does only in the West. Snow fell in the +mountains. Then the activities of Al Drummond ceased abruptly. + +No wonder, for often as high as twenty teams were hooked on to the +enormous wagons of Jerkline Jo, and every animal was obliged to pull to +the limit of his strength to move the terrific weight, hub-deep in the +clinging mud. This did not tend to improve the road, of course, and +all of Drummond's efforts to corduroy it and otherwise preserve a firm +path for his machines were unavailing. The tortoise had won the race! + +Drummond had gambled away his profits, and now it was whispered about +that he still owed money on his trucks. Before the last of November he +gave up in despair, allowed his trucks to be taken by the mortgagees, +and settled down to a life of gambling on the proceeds of his +shooting-gallery concession. + +One day there trudged into Ragtown a strange figure, marked by the +desert, bent and old, in the wake of six lamenting burros laden with +mining supplies and tools. He gave the name of Basil Filer, and said +that he was seeking gold. Ragtown promptly wrote him down as a crazy +prospector. His eye caught the eye of Lucy Dalles, leaning over her +carpeted counter between her rifles, and when he had made camp he +limped along and accosted her. + +"Come in and try a string, Uncle," she begged with the little pout she +had found so effective in coercing male humanity into her lair. "An +old desert rat like you oughta hit the bull's-eye every shot." + +Filer grinned and stepped up to the counter, eying the girl from under +heavy, fierce eyebrows that looked as if the dust of a thousand trails +had settled in them. Lucy lowered her dark lashes and looked demure. + +"B'long on the desert, girlie?" rumbled the deep voice of the old +prospector. + +"Sure, Uncle." + +"Uh-huh. And how old might ye be, now?" + +"Nearly twenty-two." + +"Uh-huh--pretty near twenty-two. That's nice. Where's yer paw and +maw?" + +"They're both dead," Lucy told him, trying to appear innocent and +unsophisticated as she lifted her glance to his face. + +"Maybe now yer paw was a desert prospector," he suggested. + +"Uh-huh." Lucy nodded her fluffy head vigorously up and down. This +was another childlike action which she had found pleasing to +men--especially the older men. Of course she was lying like a little +sailor; but "Uncle" seemed interested in her, and business was dull +just then. She would pretend to be all that he seemed to wish her to +be as long as she could successfully follow his conversational leads. + +"What do they call you, girlie?" he asked next. + +"Lucy." + +"Lucy, eh? Lucy what, now?" + +"Lucy Dalles." + +"Dalles, huh? Dalles!" His weird old eyes, peculiarly tinted from +years of looking into the mirage-draped distances of the desert, were +strangely reminiscent. + +"Maybe that ain't your right name, though," he kept on feelingly. + +"Maybe not," replied Lucy quite truthfully. After all, she had only +her father's and her mother's word for it. For all she knew she might +be the reincarnation of the Queen of Sheba. "Let's try a shot, Uncle," +she added, sensing deep water ahead. + +Indolently he picked up a .22 rifle, and rang the bell of her most +difficult bull's-eye target eight shots out of ten. He paid her and +seemed in nowise elated over her fulsome praise, designed to keep him +shooting. + +He took up his long cane again. "I'll drift up the drag a ways," he +said, "and see what's goin' on. Nothin' but desert owls lived here +when I traveled through last--two years ago. I'll be back. Maybe I'll +want to ast ye a few p'inted questions. Will ye answer, eh?" + +"Sure," she told him lightly, whacking her gum for emphasis. "Come and +pour your heart out to me, Uncle--I'll listen." + +Lucy had taken more of the well-filled buckskin poke that the old man +had pulled from the neck of his greasy shirt to pay her for the pastime. + +She leaned out and craned her neck to watch him moving up the street, +glancing through doors and openly investigating on every side. + +Her intuition told her that the gray old rat had something on his mind. +Lonely old soul that he was, she reasoned, he was bashful and at a loss +how to conduct himself in the unfamiliar presence of a woman. "When +he's all gowed up he'll talk my head off," she decided. "He's going to +fortify himself now. Guess I'll have to look into this." + +When the bent, plodding figure had disappeared through the entrance to +Ghost Falcott's Palace Dance Hall, Lucy called across the street to a +boy sitting on the edge of the new board sidewalk. The boy crossed to +her and she handed him a dime. + +"Find Al Drummond and tell him I want to see him at once," she directed. + +A little later Al Drummond presented himself. His face showed the +effects of a sleepless night, but he was already refortified with +jackass brandy for the ordeals of the day, and was in nowise stupid. + +They leaned on the carpeted counter, heads close together, and talked +in lowered voices. + +"What this old bird has got on his chest I can't tell," Lucy explained. +"But I played up to him, and if he gets all gowed up he'll spill it. +He's crazy as they make 'em, Al. It may not amount to anything at all, +but I'm for always lookin' into such little things. You never can +tell, Al. Maybe this'll be good. Anyway, he's got a leather bag +that's heavy with jack, and he won't need that when he hits the trail +again. Warm up to him and get 'im started, then steer him to me." + +"Wise little kid," Al Drummond commented. "Leave it to me." + +The male plotter experienced no difficulty in finding the grizzled +desert rat. He was evidently a self-starter, having brought his own, +and, all alone at Ghost Falcott's bar, he was pouring raw jackass +brandy down a throat that seemed urgently in need of it. Seeing that +he was satisfactorily working out his own destruction, Drummond shot +craps to divert himself until the prospector should become mellowed to +a point where it was safe to approach him. + +It seemed though that the old man had an enormous capacity. An hour +passed, and, though he drank repeatedly on his high-lonesome, he seemed +little the worse for it. Drummond patiently watched and waited. He +knew that with some newly distilled brandy does not take immediate +effect, but that drunkenness comes on suddenly when the victim least +expects it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +JERKLINE JO'S SURPRISE + +Meantime events were happening out in the street which were to have a +distinct bearing on Lucy and Al's plot to separate Basil Filer from the +contents of his buckskin poke. + +These events, however, were quite commonplace on the face of them. The +first was the arrival of Jerkline Jo's wagon train, loaded to the +gunwales with case goods, general merchandise, and food for stock. + +The arrival of Jerkline Jo and her proud huskies always was an event of +importance at Ragtown. They made a picture as the heavy eight and +ten-horse teams with the hundreds of bells a-jingle rolled the immense +wagons down the street, while Jo's skinners, quite aware of the furor +they were creating, called "Gee" and "Haw" and manipulated their +jerklines unnecessarily, for the sole purpose of awing the spectators. +One wagon was stopped at Huber's store; the rest continued on through +to Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One, a half mile beyond the +town. + +It was Jo's whites that had been brought to a halt before Huber's. The +proprietor came out and asked that the load be discharged in the rear, +as he had just completed a new freight platform at the back entrance. + +"Right!" called Jo. Then, "Annie! Ned! Feel of it, white folks! +Bert! Snip! All together. Let's go!" + +Like a well-trained company of infantry, the ten whites leaned to the +collars, and the eight tons behind them moved off as easily as a baby +buggy. The hub of all eyes, the attractive girl with cries of "Gee" +and "Haw" and picturesque manipulation of the jerkline, swung her team +around the corner and into the alley. Men with whom she had a standing +agreement to unload freight for her when their services were needed +already had come through the store, and were waiting for her on the new +platform. Dexterously she guided the team with the jerkline and by +word of mouth, so that the load crept along not two inches from the +edge of the platform and came to a stop. + +She left her team standing, for Hiram Hooker was to ride back on her +black saddle pony for them as soon as the remainder of the outfit had +reached the camp. Whistling, with her leather chaps swishing, she +walked through the store, smiling right and left at the clerks. + +"Well, Jo, how was the trip?" asked Huber as she leaned on the edge of +the window to the proprietor's office and handed him her bills of +lading. + +"Oh, much the same as usual," she replied. "The whirlwinds gave us +some trouble. They're prevalent this time of year on the desert, and +are sometimes fearfully annoying--especially so if it's been dry for a +few days and the top of the sand isn't moist." + +"What do they do to you, Jo?" asked Huber interestedly. + +"Drive you crazy sometimes," she laughed. "They're just like little +cyclones, you know. You'll be moving along serenely, when one of them +will steal up behind you, and before you know it you're the center of a +maelstrom of sand and dust, unable to see, your hat gone, your mouth +and nose filled with--well, about everything that the desert boasts of. +I was feeding hay to a pair of my horses this noon, when a whirlwind +slipped up on me. I threw myself flat on the ground, as one must do or +be swept off his feet, and when it had passed there was not one scrap +of that dry alfalfa hay where I'd thrown it. I found my hat a mile +distant. My nostrils and ears and eyes and mouth were literally loaded +with dirt and fine hay chaff. And my hair! Heavens!" She put her +hands to it. "I usually wear it in braids, you know, but to-day I +thought I'd be smart and perk up a bit. Now I'll have to 'go to the +cleaners,' as Heine says." + +Huber laughed. "Say, Jo," he said, "that reminds me. There's a girl +here that'll give you a shampoo. She runs a shooting gallery, and has +a little beauty parlor on the side. Oh, we're getting quite urban at +Ragtown. We'll have Turkish baths next. Go to see her--she'll fix you +up." + +"I'll just do that," said Jo, and went out on the street. + +Then for the first time she became aware that Lucy Dalles was the +proprietress of Ragtown's beauty parlor, and even then she did not find +it out until she was inside the parlor and Lucy entered by a side door +that connected with the gallery. It was too late to back out +gracefully, even had Jo been inclined to do so. + +"Why, hello!" she said. "I didn't know you ran this place. Miss +Dalles, isn't it? We met in the Palace Dance Hall one night, didn't +we?" + +Lucy smiled professionally. She did not like this strong, rugged, +beautiful girl who strode along the street with such a firm, conquering +tread and left men gaping after her. Still, she could not afford to +show her dislike. + +"Oh, yes--I remember you perfectly well," she said. "Who wouldn't +remember the famous Jerkline Jo! Is there something I can do for you?" + +"Mercy, yes!" laughed Jo. "One look at me ought to show you that." +She told about the whirlwind, and Lucy smiled thinly, and indicated the +chair. + +Jo climbed into it, and was bundled with clean, perfumed towels that +caused her to grow reminiscent of school days and dainty dresses and +all the things that as Jerkline Jo she had been obliged to put aside. + +"Do you know," she said as Lucy began her delicate ministrations, "I've +never before in my life been in a beauty parlor." + +"You are one of the few women who do not need one," said Lucy, forced +to a sincere compliment by the undeniable, fresh beauty of her patron. + +"Oh, thank you!" said Jo with a laugh. "It's not just that, though. I +expect, if the truth were told, I've needed the services of a beauty +artist for years. But I was raised in a construction camp, you know, +until I was pretty much of a young lady, and such things were entirely +out of my ken. Then at Palada, where my foster father eventually +settled and went into the freighting business and running a store, we +were not so progressive as Ragtown even. So when I went to boarding +school in the Middle West I was virtually immune from many of the new +fads. You, then, are the first person that ever washed my hair--except +myself, of course. I remember even that my dear old foster mother +always made me wash it when I was a kid--once a year perhaps," she +ended with a laugh. "Poor ma! She had little enough time to fuss with +a child's hair, cooking for big, hungry men all the time as she was, +and driving a slip team while she was resting." + +Jo was merely trying to make conversation, for she could think of +little to say that she thought might touch a responsive cord in the +fluffy girl from the city. Jerkline Jo was a man's woman. She could +talk about almost anything that other women could not bring into their +conversation. + +"You've had an interesting life, haven't you?" observed Lucy, +manipulating Jo's scalp till the skin tingled pleasantly. "I wish I +could have met you when I was writing moving-picture scenarios. What a +character you would have made for the heroine of a Western thriller!" + +"Oh, you've written scenarios! How interesting! And--and--if this +isn't trespassing on delicate ground--sold them?" + +Lucy tittered. "Yes, I sold some of them," she replied. + +This gave them a basis for conversation, and they progressed famously +until the grinning face of a railroad-construction stiff appeared +suddenly at the door. + +"Hey!" he called to other stiffs behind him. "Look wot's goin' on!" + +"Hello, there, 'Squinty' Malley!" and Jo laughed. "Get your face out +of that door. This is sacred ground, you roughneck!" + +"Look at Jo!" derided Squinty, an old friend of the girl's in many a +half-remembered camp. "Hey, youse plugs, gadder 'round here and lamp +Jerkline Jo dollin' up! Good night!" + +"Beat it now!" Jo reiterated. + +"Say, dis here's good!" retorted Squinty. "I to't youse was a reg'lar +woman, Jo! Youse know more 'bout cuffin' ole Jack an' Ned dan youse do +'bout fixin' yer hair. Say, lady," he addressed Lucy, "fix 'er +up--hey? Doll 'er up proper, an' le's see wot de ol'-timer looks like." + +"You'll oblige me by getting out of the door," said Lucy indignantly. + +"Oh, don't scold the poor eel!" pleaded Jerkline Jo. "He doesn't know +any better. So you want to see me dolled up, do you, Squint? By +George, you're on, old-timer! I've got some glad rags here in this +burg. Go on now! I'll be the queen of the ball to-night!" + +"Lucy," Jo laughed familiarly when the tramps had vanished, "fix up my +hair the best you possibly can. Give me the latest, will you? I'm +going to have some fun to-night." + +An hour later, when darkness had settled over Ragtown and the night's +revel was on, there entered the Palace Dance Hall a figure that brought +gamblers from their absorbing games, stopped the dizzying whirl of the +dancers, and caused glasses that were halfway to eager lips to pause in +mid-air. + +Jerkline Jo's almost black hair was piled on top of her head in +bewildering fashion, and set off with flashing rhinestone ornaments, +furnished by Lucy Dalles. Jo wore a semievening dress of pale-blue +silk, and Lucy had powdered her face and neck until little contrast +could be noted between skin that had braved the desert winds and that +which had been protected. Jo wore fashionable slippers with great +shell buckles and high French heels. She cast a dazzling smile over +the silent assemblage, then threw back her glorious head and let her +laughter ring. + +That laugh revealed her identity. + +"Jerkline Jo!" came a chorus of yells, and men stared at her, while +women drew together in groups, their comments expressed in lowered +voices. + +As they crowded around her Lucy Dalles peered in at the door, a +contemptuous sneer on her lips. + +"Have a good time, old girl!" she muttered, grinding her little white +teeth. "But I learned something to-day that'll set _you_ back a step +or two. Get me to doll you up, will you, you impossible roughneck? +You'll pay for that!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +DRUMMOND WEAVES A DREAM + +Shortly after Jerkline Jo left the beauty parlor of Lucy Dalles, +mischievously bent on giving Ragtown a harmless little shock, Al +Drummond sidled up to the old prospector at the bar in the Palace Dance +Hall. + +"Hello, old-timer," he said with a cheerful smile. "How's prospecting +these days?" + +The old desert rat fixed a filmy eye on him. "Have a shot," he invited +with the suggestion of a thickening tongue. + +"Thanks, old hoss. Don't care if I do. That is, if you'll have one +with me." + +They drank, and Drummond promptly ordered another. A lowering of his +left eyelid gave the bartender his instructions, and a sprinkling of +powder found its way into the glass that was thumped before Basil Filer. + +Not long after this he became agreeable to anything that Al Drummond +might suggest. Al took him from place to place, always standing his +share of the exorbitant prices demanded in Ragtown, and finally +suggested that they try their marksmanship as a diversion. + +"Good!" agreed Filer gutturally. "Little girl, eh? Pretty!" He +winked knowingly at Drummond. "I wanta have talk with her. I know who +she is. B'en trailin' her fer years. Le's go, pardner. You're goo' +scout. So'm I--hey?" + +"You bet your sweet life you're a good scout! Come on--we'll have a +time to-night." + +Drummond had previously sent a boy to Lucy with a note informing her +that the come-on was about ripe for plucking, and telling her to put +some one else in charge of the gallery and be in readiness. Lucy had +sent out and found the man who at times relieved her, and when Drummond +and the old gold-seeker lurched up she was free to act as the +circumstances might demand. + +The two men fired at the targets for a little, Filer failing to display +the same wonderful marksmanship which he had done earlier in the +evening. Eventually Lucy invited the two to go back into the little +cabin in the rear of the gallery where she carried on her trifling +domestic activities. Filer readily agreed to this, and presently the +three were seated around a table in Lucy's cabin, with a coal-oil lamp +on it, a deck of cards suggestively in evidence, and a bottle of +precious brandy and glasses. Lucy had brought from San Francisco her +leopard-skin rug, the overstuffed chairs, and her other extravagances +in house furnishings. Their contrast with the new pine walls of the +cabin produced an effect quite startling and bizarre. Basil Filer saw +none of it, however. He became very drowsy when he was seated. Al +Drummond winked at Lucy. + +The girl shook her head, and presently, seeing that the prospector was +almost asleep, leaned toward her fellow conspirator and whispered: + +"Don't hurry about getting his roll. Try to liven him up and get him +to talking. I'm curious. He's got something on his mind that may make +that buckskin bag look like thirty cents." + +"Get the jack," ordered Al. "To-morrow he won't even remember he ever +saw us. You're letting your story-telling instinct warp your judgment, +Lucy. You're looking for mysteries. I'll get that roll right now." + +"No, leave it, Al, please! You can get it later, if I'm wrong. But I +just feel that this old fella's got something locked up in his breast. +Rouse him and leave him to me. I'll make him talk. I'm sorry you +doped him. You may have spoiled everything." + +At this instant she looked up to see the bleary old eyes fixed on her +intently. + +"Feeling better, Uncle?" she asked lightly. "I've got some +bromo-seltzer. I'll give you a shot; it will liven you up. Don't want +to go down and out so early in the evening, old sport!" + +"Desert girl, huh?" thickly muttered Basil Filer. "Huh--I know +somethin' 'bout you. You was found on the desert, wasn't ye--when +you's li'l' girl--baby girl? I know. Can't fool o' Filer. B'en +huntin' you f'r years." He closed his eyes again, and his head sank +forward on his breast. + +Lucy shook him awake and prepared a dose of bromo-seltzer, which he +readily drank at her command. + +"How did you know about me, Uncle?" she asked. "What you said is the +truth. I was found on the desert here when I was a baby girl. But how +did you know? Tell me all about it. Do you know my father's name?" + +"Sure! Sure! Name was Len-Len-Len-Leonard Prince. You're Jean +Prince. Len Prince was m' ol' pardner. I'm lookin'--lookin' for the +claim Len Prince and me and The Chink found--and lost ag'in. Rich! +Yellow with gol'. You're Jean Prince--I know. I c'n prove it by your +head. Tha's what I wanta see--yer head--down under the hair. That'll +tell me you're Baby Jean Prince. Then I c'n find the gold." + +Lucy clutched Al Drummond's arm. "Listen to him! Listen to him!" she +breathed. + +Hiram Hooker stood aghast in the entrance of the Palace Dance Hall. +All eyes within were focused on a couple waltzing in the center of the +floor to low music. The man was a Mr. Dalworth, Ragtown's new banker, +in charge of the branch of a Los Angeles banking institution that had +been opened in the frontier camp. The girl, smiling and radiant and +glistening with pale-blue silk and gems, was his adventure girl, +Jerkline Jo. + +Never had Hiram seen Jo in anything but a flannel shirt, Stetson hat, +and chaps or divided riding skirt. Despite the fact that she was +making money fast and that he was working for her at ninety dollars a +month, Hiram had not before looked upon her as entirely out of his +reach. He was learning fast, and had lost much of his backwoods +uncouthness. He loved Jerkline Jo as only a big-hearted, simple-souled +man can love a woman. Some day, he had told himself, he would do +something to make himself worthy of her, for he never would ask her to +marry him while he was in her employ. He was too proud to ask an +independent girl to marry him when he had nothing to offer. + +That rare feminine creature gliding so gracefully over the floor with +the dapper, well-dressed banker, however, plunged Hiram into the depths +of despair. Financially, mentally, and now socially, he felt her +altogether out of his world. He had forgotten until now her days at +school and in polite society. + +It did not make him think the worse of her to see her dancing in a +saloon, with rough men from the cities standing about and looking on +admirably. Ragtown was Ragtown, and people did things here which would +have ostracized them from decent society elsewhere. It was not this +that hurt; he knew that the girl was pure-minded and that her morals +were flawless, despite what prudish persons--of which there were none +in Ragtown--might have thought of her choice of the place which she +chose to satisfy her whim of the evening. Jo was one of those rare +souls who can pass among evil men and women and not only not be +contaminated, but preserve an unsullied reputation, too. It was the +dress and the glittering tones and the wonderful coiffure, and her +gentlemanly, well-groomed partner of the dance, that caused him to turn +away, bitter and broken in spirit. + +"Well, how do you like her to-night?" came a taunting voice. + +Lucy Dalles had stepped beside him and peering in at the revel. + +"Some class, eh? Some lady, I'll say! Oh, sure!" + +Hiram could have choked her, but without a remark he sped away from her +into the night. + +It was then that Lucy Dallas clenched her teeth and hurled invective at +the radiant girl within. + +She left the scene and hurried back to her little cabin, where the +crazy prospector, Basil Filer, lay in a heap on the floor, snoring +loudly. + +A moment after her entry Al Drummond came in again with another man +following him. + +"How much jack did you leave him?" he whispered to the girl. + +"I left it all. It's safest. What I copied from the paper will be +worth a thousand times what's in that money bag." + +"Just the same, I want money now--to-night," Drummond said, and, +stooping, pulled the poke from the shirt front of the unconscious miner. + +"Take only half of it, then," Lucy pleaded. "Then he'll think he spent +that much. Don't be a piker, Al. You've got something big to work +for, and you try to spoil it by rolling a stiff for a few dollars." + +Drummond grunted, slipped a wad of bills into his trousers pocket, and +replaced the poke in the desert rat's shirt. + +"All right, Stool," he said to the other man. "You take his head; I'll +take his feet." + +A little later a train of pack burros moved away from Ragtown into the +desert night. + +A mile from town the man Stool halted them and waited, and presently +heard the chug of a motor. Soon Al Drummond drove up in the last of +his five-ton trucks, in the bottom of which, tossed about, lay the +still unconscious form of the old prospector. + +The two men worked swiftly, and slanted two twelve-inch planks two +inches thick from the rear end of the truck to the ground. With ropes +about the necks of the desert rat's six burros, they hauled and +hammered and coaxed them one by one aboard the truck. Then on into the +night they drove, over the vast, black desert. + +Seventy-five miles from Ragtown they stopped the car, and unloaded the +burros and their snoring master. They rolled the man in his blankets, +then set the burros' packs about in orderly array and loosed the little +animals to crop the bunch grass that was green and succulent in winter. +From one pack bag they took cooking utensils and other articles, and +ranged them about on the ground as the old man himself might have done +upon making camp. + +"He'll wake up to-morrow and think he dreamed about Ragtown," chuckled +Drummond. + +"He sure will know he's nutty then," said Stool. + +They climbed once more into the truck, and before dawn were back in the +city of tents and new pine shacks. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +WHAT HAPPENED AT THE LAKE + +Shortly before dusk on the night following Jerkline Jo's revel in +Ragtown, the empty wagons of her train rumbled to the highest point in +the mountain pass and were drawn up side by side, like an artillery +organization in "battery-front" formation, on the shores of the +mountain lake. + +Jo's fireless cooker had been working for her throughout the trip, and +while her bantering skinners cared for the teams and greased the great +axles in preparation for the morrow's journey, the girl made ready the +evening meal. + +At last supper was over, and, as was their custom, the men helped her +wash the dishes. Thus the task became a short one. The men settled +down to their smoking about the crackling camp fire, and as light still +remained at this high altitude, Jo decided on a stroll along the lake +shore. + +All about stood the tall peaks, their crests snow-mantled. Over the +level lowlands about the lake the silent forests of pine and fir swept +away on all sides. The lake, some two miles in length, lay like an +opal in the palm of the mountains, flashing fiery colors that it stole +from the sunset clouds above it. + +The air was chill and quiet. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the +tranquil lake, so cold and remote. Jo buttoned her coat for warmth and +trudged on away from the camp, watching flocks of chattering mudhens +and mallards that fed on a long spaghettilike growth which grew on the +lake bottom and floated to the surface. + +She walked for a mile before she turned. She was thinking of the +previous night, and of the banker's unexpected proposal of marriage +when she had accepted his invitation for supper after the dance. She +had known Dalworth only a short time, and his ardent wooing had come as +a distinct surprise. + +Now she had turned back toward the winking eye of the camp fire, which +threw a brilliant dagger of light across the now dark lake. In the +stream of fiery color, water fowl bobbed about grotesquely. Close at +hand was a grove of pines, a few trees extending down to the shore, +though for the most part the land immediately about the lake was an +open, grassy meadow. She heard a slight rustling in among the pines as +she passed them. + +She had not strapped on her cartridge belt and six-shooter when leaving +camp. In fact, she seldom carried the weapon, but always kept it +hanging close to her hand in the wagon. Now and then she strapped it +on when in Ragtown, for of late an element had been sifting in with +which she was not familiar. It represented the riffraff from the +cities--men who knew nothing of construction camps and were unaware of +the fact that she, because of old associations and a thorough +understanding of frontier men and frontier life, could enter a dance +hall and still be respected and absolutely safe from harm. One of +these had put an arm about her one night, and promptly had been +rewarded with a blow on the nose; for Jo did not slap when she +administered rebuke, but punched expertly and powerfully, as does a +man. Next moment the offender had been pitched bodily into the street +by as many rough hands as could lay hold of him. Only Jo's +intervention had saved the man from being kicked into insensibility. + +Once again she heard the rustling, and wished that she had her gun. It +was only some animals, she told herself--a coon or a skunk, or perhaps +a wild cat or coyote prowling about to spring upon an unsuspecting +mudhen that had swam too far inshore. Still, a strange dread seized +her, and she quickened her step. + +Again she heard the rustle and the sound of a soft footfall. No animal +would have produced that single, rather heavy tread. She glanced +apprehensively toward the dark trees, and it seemed to her that she saw +a black upright bulk move stealthily from one trunk to another. + +Then two things happened at once. From the pines stealthily emerged +the figure of a man--there was no mistaking it. But in the same +instant there came a call from close at hand: + +"Jo! Jo! Where are you?" + +A feeling of vast relief came over the girl as she recognized the +caressing voice of the man from Wild-cat Hill. Instantly the figure on +her left faded; the blur of it became one with the shadows of the trees. + +"Hiram!" she called gladly. "Here I am! Hurry!" + +The sound of running feet answered her, and in a little while the big +form of Hiram Hooker reached her side. + +Jo was breathing weakly. She could not remember of ever before having +been so near a panic or fright. What had caused the unfamiliar feeling +now was a mystery to her--unless the suggested menace in the sight of +the dark, skulking figure had been augmented by the ghostly quietude of +the black forest and the unfriendly solitude of the cold mountain lake. + +"Oh, Hiram!" she cried. "I'm so glad you're here! Hiram--I--I believe +I'm sc-scared." + +How it happened neither of them knew, for all at once his powerful arms +were about her, and she had crept into them as less courageous women +instinctively seek the protection of the stronger sex. His arms +tightened and she pressed closer to him as if she were cold and seeking +warmth. Hiram was ablaze with love for her and exultation. He lifted +her bodily from the ground, and her lips quivered against his. + +"Oh, Hiram! Hiram!" she cried then as if in terror. "What am I doing? +What is the matter with me? You kissed me, Hiram, and--and I let you! +I must have been terribly frightened. I--I seem to have lost my +reason." + +"No! No! Don't say that!" begged Hiram huskily. "Jo, I love you! +You love me, Jo. Say you love me." + +She hid her face against his breast and said nothing, but her shoulders +shook. + +"Jo, say it!" he pleaded. "Don't torment me! You must love me. You +came to my arms when trouble threatened. Tell me that you love me, Jo!" + +She only trembled and shivered as if cold. + +"Tell me, Jo! Don't torture me. Tell me that you love me!" + +There was a stifled sob; then, in muffled tones: + +"You big, blind country jake! If you don't know that I'm telling you +that with every nerve and fiber of my being, you deserve torture!" + +The forest and the lake came together in Hiram's vision, then vanished. +There was no lake, no trees, no sentinel peaks about them. + +"But, Jo," said Hiram as they walked back slowly toward the camp, his +arm about her waist, "I can't marry you. I've got nothing--I'm only +your skinner. You--why, your profits every month run up into four +figures. Oh, I wish you hadn't a cent! I wish Drummond had beaten us +out!" + +"What foolish talk!" she said scornfully. "What is money? I care so +little for money, Hiram. It was only to try and preserve from total +collapse all my hard-working, indomitable, old foster father had built +up so patiently that I undertook the freighting job. I've made +money--lots of it--and if you think you and the rest of the boys +haven't had a big share in my success you're all wrong. We'll keep on +skinning them to Ragtown till the steel is laid; then I mean to do +something handsome by the men who have been so loyal to me, and sell +the outfit. Then"--she sighed--"then something else," she finished. + +"But that's neither here nor there," Hiram pointed out. "I'm penniless +compared with you. I couldn't marry a girl who had money while I have +nothing to offer her. I'm too much of a man for that. Why, everything +that I have I owe to you--even the education I am so slowly acquiring." + +"Oh, I won't listen to such talk, Hiram! Most of my money is invested +in Tweet's project, anyway. We'll let him handle it, and you and I +will continue to study and improve ourselves. Then when Tweet begins +to pay us dividends we'll travel, and----" + +"On your money! Not in a thousand years!" + +"You're bull-headed about a trifle, Hiram," she accused. + +"Jo," he said after a thoughtful pause, "don't wear that blue silk +dress and those diamonds and have your hair fixed that way any more. +It--it makes me feel hollowlike." + +They had almost forgotten the man in the pines, there was so much else +to think about now. Jo was almost ready to confess that she had +imagined the entire incident--that she had heard only a prowling animal +and had seen the shadow of a shrub. Hiram, on his part, was too +triumphant over the thought that he, only a few months from the +backwoods of Mendocino County, had captured the heart of this splendid +girl, whom men praised and admired and swore by throughout all the +desert region. + +Still the man was stubborn. In him was a knight-errantry which forbade +him to marry a girl and profit by the rewards of her pluck, energy, and +business courage. If he could not make money to offer her, he must do +something big for her, must win for her some conflict that threatened +her fortunes, must make himself worthy of her by some great service. + +Hiram still kept his boyish dreams of the adventure girl who had +beckoned him from the forests to deeds of emprise. He had found his +adventure girl, but he would not consider that he had won her yet. He +little knew that night that his opportunity was close at hand, and that +the shadow which the coming event had cast before it had lurked there +in the lakeside pines. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +JO LOSES HER SUPPORT + +Eight days later Jerkline Jo leaned on the ledge of the office window +in Huber's store at Ragtown and handed him the various papers which +accompanied a consignment of freight from Julia. + +"There's no hay, Jo," he cried, looking up in perplexity and worriment. + +"The Mulligan Supply Company was short of hay when we left," Jo +explained. "They hoped to have a trainload in by the time I got back." + +"There's the dickens to pay!" he grumbled. "They know I have to have +hay right along. I've a standing order for at least half a load of hay +every trip. These settlers are buying it fast. I have only ten bales +on hand. Next fellow that comes along will probably want all ten of +them. A nice mess! What's the matter with those Ikes over there at +Julia? Are they asleep?" + +"It seems they've had some difficulty in getting alfalfa here lately," +the girl explained. "I'm sorry, Mr. Huber. The best I can do for you +is to promise to bring every bale I can next trip." + +"Rush it," ordered the merchant. "If you can make it, let somebody +else's order ride, Jo, and bring me every pound you can." + +"I'll see what can be done," was her promise as she left and went to +the little cabin that she had had built for her at the edge of town. + +Here she cleansed herself of the stains of the trip, and substituted +for chaps and flannel shirt a new tailor-made suit which had just come +from Los Angeles. As she was about to go out again Twitter-or-Tweet +Orr Tweet knocked on her door. + +"Jo," he said with his whimsical smile, "I'm showing a couple o' men +some property, and thought you might like to take a ride. You've never +seen much of the cultivated land, have you--except from a distance? +Come 'n' see what chances your money's got in Paloma Rancho, the +Homesteader's Promised Land of Milk and Honey. Won't be gone over an +hour." + +His car was waiting, with his two prospective land purchasers in the +tonneau. Jo readily agreed, for she had nothing to occupy her, and +Tweet helped her in beside the driver's seat, after introducing the men +to her. + +Tweet drove slowly and talked a great deal, steering the car with one +hand and directing his conversation at all three of his listeners. He +dwelt at length to the strangers on Jerkline Jo's great success in her +freighting enterprise, not neglecting to mention that she was investing +a great portion of her profits in Paloma Rancho. The men were +impressed. + +Jo, too, was impressed with Tweet's abilities as a salesman. He +emanated confidence, and his enthusiasm seemed well-founded and +sincere. In fact, the new alfalfa ranches and the orchards of young +pear trees looked promising indeed, and the projects showed evidences +of thrift and capability on the part of the ranchers and near-ranchers +who had bought land on contract from the discoverer of Paloma Rancho's +dormant possibilities. + +Tweet told of his idea of eventually tapping the mountain lake near +which Jo was wont to camp and bringing the water down to irrigate such +portions of desert land as might require it; for there were places +where three hundred feet of boring had not developed a drop of the +precious fluid. The promoter had an engineer's estimate of the cost of +the entire water system, and said that his original figures had been +pretty close. + +It all seemed feasible, and things looked generally prosperous. Jo +enjoyed her ride and the opportunity to see what had been accomplished. +Returning, however, the complete enjoyment of the trip was marred by +tire trouble, and, with one thing and another, it was nine o'clock at +night before the party, reached Ragtown. + +They were ravenously hungry, and Tweet invited the three to dinner in +the town's closest approach to a satisfactory restaurant. It was after +ten o'clock when they left the table. Tweet gallantly asked to +accompany Jo to her cabin, and both were laughing at the absurdity of a +girl like Jerkline Jo needing an escort, when Hiram Hooker hurried up +to them. + +"Well, I c'n see who's cut out," said Tweet, assuming a mournful +expression. "So, if you don't mind, Jo, I'll get over to the hotel and +keep after those two suckers. Take care of her, Wild Cat, and do +whatever she tells you to do, or answer to me with your life. There's +only one Jerkline Jo, you know, and the world needs her all the time. +So long, playmates!" + +"Jo," said Hiram when Tweet had bustled away up the dimly lighted +street, "there's an awful mess. Heine and Jim and Tom and Blink are +all drunk as fiddlers!" + +"What!" Jo stopped in her tracks and held him by the arm. "Oh, dear!" +she cried. "How could they do such a thing! I've watched them so +carefully, and they've been so good. But the moment I'm out of their +sight for a few hours---- Oh, dear! I didn't think that they'd treat +me that way!" + +"I can't get it straight myself, Jo," Hiram told her. "They always +hoist a few when we get in, and sometimes I join them. I've never +before seen any of them when he wasn't at least able to ramble safely +back to camp. But to-night they're all four dead to the world. I +can't even shake a word out of them. Heine just sits there in the +Dugout, with his head on his breast, and is like a dead man." + +"Where were you?" + +"In camp--studying. About half past nine I thought I'd stroll into +town and get a cigar and see what the boys were doing. I couldn't find +them in the Palace, and went from place to place till I stumbled on +them in the Dugout, every last one of them down and out. I was looking +for Tweet, to have him take the bunch of them to camp in his car, when +I saw you folks come out of the restaurant." + +"The Dugout," puzzled Jo. "Do they go there often?" + +"Hardly ever. It's the worst dump in town, as you know. They're all +crooked enough, but I've heard strange whisperings about certain shady +happenings in the Dugout." + +"Was anybody with them?" + +"Not when I found them." + +"Hiram," said Jo, "it sounds like dope to me. They're loyal to me, I +tell you. No, they're not to blame--they'd never treat me that way. +They've been doped." + +"But why? And by whom?" + +"Those are questions. None of them have any money on them to speak of, +I know. I've got the bank pass books of every one of them in my chest. +Again, who'd have the nerve to dope and try to roll a skinner of +Jerkline Jo's? He'd be playing with fire. These dive keepers know all +about me; they know my power. I could mobilize an army of two hundred +stiffs in an hour's time, and if I asked it they'd lay every dump in +Ragtown flat. You bet these parasites know better than to trifle with +Jerkline Jo." + +Her dark eyes flashed angrily in the light of a store window. + +"Well, let's not stand here bewailing our fate like children lost in +the woods. We've simply got to _get_ out to-morrow. Mr. Huber is wild +about the shortness of his stock of hay, and I promised to rush him all +I could. Get Tweet and dump my boys into his car and take 'em to camp. +We'll see what we can do to bring them out of it and make them fit for +the trip by morning." + +Far into the morning hours, in the outfit's camp on the edge of town, +Jo and Hiram strove to revive the stupefied men, but nothing beyond +groans could they get from them. + +"They're doped, Hiram--pitilessly doped!" Jo cried in despair at last. +"Go for Doctor Dennison. Carry him on your shoulders if he won't come." + +The medical man came readily at Hiram's request, and after a brief +examination of the sluggish men remarked that Jo's surmise had been +correct. He then ordered her to go to her cabin and get some badly +needed sleep, and at once went to work on the unconscious quartet, with +Hiram aiding all he could. + +"Whoever did this cursed thing, Wild Cat," said the physician, "was an +amateur. He might have killed them. They've taken aboard terrible +doses, and I can tell you right now that not one of them will start for +Julia to-day. You may as well tell Jo to make other arrangements." + +His prophecy proved correct. Heine Schultz had regained consciousness +when dawn came, but was unable to tell a coherent story of what had +occurred, and was deathly sick. The other three still remained +unresponsive to the doctor's treatment. + +"Well," said Jo, when she answered Hiram's knock on her cabin door at +five-thirty, "what must be must. Huber has to have hay. I promised +it, and Jerkline Jo never, never breaks a promise. So hook up the +blacks and whites, Hiram, and lead six of Heine's team to be added to +yours and six of Jim's for me. Hook on two trailers. You and I will +make it to Julia and drive sixteen each back here with Huber's hay. +That's the very best we can do, but we'll do that the best we know how. +I'll be out by the time you get 'em hooked up. We'll nibble our +breakfast as we travel. Shoot the piece, Hiram boy, my knight from +Wild-cat Hill!" + +That night in a pelting hail storm Jerkline Jo and Hiram went into camp +beside the mountain lake, and the stage was set for the second act in +the plot cooked up by the two who had lost all principle under +Ragtown's subtle influence--Al Drummond and Lucy Dalles. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AT THE HAIRPIN CURVE + +The storm in the mountains continued all night, the downpour shifting +from hail to sleet and from sleet to a cold, drenching rain. Jo in her +remote little tent kept dry and comfortable. Hiram kept the same, +rolled in his blankets under a wagon, the ground about it ditched to +run the water off. There was shelter for the mules and horses, too, +for at the approach of winter Jo had freighted to the mountain camping +site sufficient lumber for a roof, which was supported by poles cut +from the forest. + +It was still dark and raining when the two beleaguered freighters +continued their journey next morning. Hiram, with eight of his own +black horses hitched to the wagon, and four span of mules and horses +leading, went ahead, as usual. They left the level mountain valley +that swaddled the lake and started down the steep grades toward the +Julia side of the desert. + +"We'll have a pull coming back if this keeps up!" Jo shouted through +the rain, just as Hiram's teams began negotiating the system of hairpin +curves upon which Jo's skinners had rolled the boulder in retaliation +for the drained water tank. + +Hiram did not hear her, for the wagons were rumbling, thirty-two sets +of big hoofs were sloshing in mud, the bells a-jingle, the rain a roar. + +Jo wore a yellow oilskin slicker and a sou'wester of the same material, +and rubber knee boots. Only her pretty face, smiling from the +concealing garments, showed that she was a woman. + +The animals that trailed behind Hiram's wagon went out of sight around +the first curve. The last of these mules were not a hundred feet ahead +of the noses of Jo's white leaders. As her leaders reached the curve +Jo called shrilly to her off-pointer to cross the chain and pull the +wagon away from the rock wall on the right-hand side. Obediently the +mare stepped over the chain, and she and her mate began pulling the +pole at an angle of forty-five degrees from the direction in which the +leaders and swings were traveling. The wagon and its trailer made the +sharp curve, and the mare was stepping back into place at Jo's command, +when suddenly the girl's breathing was shut off, and she was whipped +from her feet as if a cyclone had struck her. + +Several pairs of arms were about her; a heavy cloth was over her mouth +and nose and eyes. Fighting frantically against she knew not what, she +was borne rapidly toward the tail-end of the wagon. Some one's arms +were about her middle; another pair circled her shoulders; still +another held her booted legs at the knees. + +She tried to scream, but only a vague b-b-r-r sounded through the cloth +that covered her face. She kicked and clawed and twisted and jerked +and squirmed with surprising suddenness. Nevertheless, a rope was +bound about her slicker, round and round from her shoulders to her +ankles, swathing her like the bandages of a mummy, until she was almost +as stiff as one. She heard the roar of the rain, but no sound of her +moving team. She was whipped from the ground as if she weighed no more +than ten pounds; and in a horizontal position the three pairs of arms +bore her along rapidly in the direction that she had come, much as if +she were a roll of canvas bound about with marline hitches. + +Presently she felt herself ascending; then wet foliage brushed her +face. Not a word had been spoken--almost she had heard not a sound, +because of the noise of the rain and the slushy hoofbeats and the +bells. Whoever her captors were, they had lain in wait until the elbow +of the curve separated Hiram's outfit and hers, and then had climbed in +her wagon at the rear and stolen stealthily upon her from behind. +Their work had been distressingly thorough. + +She was not greatly frightened, merely stunned and bewildered. What on +earth could be the meaning of such an act, was the question that kept +uppermost in her thoughts as she felt herself borne swiftly along +through the dripping forest. + +Meantime, Hiram Hooker had looked back to watch Jerkline Jo's whites +round the curve. There were not many opportunities for looking back at +the girl that Hiram did not improve. He loved to watch Jo's expert +handling of the team in tight places. It made a picture to delight the +heart of any man. He saw the leaders come around, then the swings. +Next he saw the off pointer mare recrossing the chain and returning to +place. Then came the butt team and--an empty wagon. + +For an instant or two Hiram gazed unbelievingly, then turned and set +his brake, calling to his team to whoa. Next moment he was running +back. + +He sprang into Jo's empty wagon, set the brake, and stopped her team. +Then he was out by the tail end, running back along the road, calling +frantically. + +On the left-hand side of the road yawned a chasm, five hundred feet in +depth. Had something happened? Had Jo fallen down this precipice? + +As he ran he skirted the edge, shouting down. Only the pelting rain +and the swish of forest trees made a mocking answer. If for any reason +the girl had been obliged to leave the wagon, she would have stopped +her team. This was no place to allow a team to travel alone. + +He was thunderstruck--scarce able to believe his senses. Back in the +road he trotted along, his blue eyes searching expertly in the mud for +signs of what had happened. But it seemed that the trampling of the +animals that were following Jo's wagon had obliterated every trace, +provided the girl had been afoot in the road. And she must have been +afoot there, or flown up into the sky! + +Ah! He came to an abrupt halt. In the mud at the roadside was a +single footprint--the print of a man's shoe. Then on the rock wall on +the right-hand side of the road, and close to the footprint, was fresh +mud. On hands and knees Hiram climbed up the rocky slope, and at the +top found mud again. Buckthorn bushes grew close by. Some one had +brushed against them recently, for the raindrops had been shaken from +the leaves. In all the big-timber country of Mendocino County there +had been no surer trailer than Hiram Hooker. For days he had followed +panther and bear, eventually to track them to their lairs. No big +animal hunt ever had been considered complete without Hiram Hooker to +go along. + +He remembered the incident of the man in the pines by the lake shore +and groaned: "Fools!" he muttered. "They thought the rain would help +cover their trail, where it only makes it plainer. Men can't travel +through wet bushes without leaving a trail that looks like it had been +made with whitewash and a broom. What has happened? Oh, Jo! Jo!" + +He was off at a lope, his eyes darting glances hither and thither, +following the trail as accurately as a hound follows a scent. Here +leaves glistened with raindrops--there they looked dull. The trail was +plain. + +What has happened? The footprint of a man, and no sight of tracks made +by the girl! Hiram was unarmed. He had left his wagon too surprised +to think of grabbing up the Colt that he carried. Should he go back +now and get Jo's six-shooter? No, the rain was falling too fast. Soon +the bushes that the kidnapers had brushed in their escape would be +covered with drops of water again, and the tail would vanish, since the +land was rocky and showed no footprints. He must keep as close to the +fleeing men as possible. He knew there must be more than one to +manhandle Jerkline Jo! + +Thus raced his thoughts as he sped on, never for an instant faltering +on the trail. + +"If it only doesn't rain harder!" came his groan. He prayed with +childlike simplicity against this calamity, for more rain would wipe +out the trail altogether. + +He saw a large pine knot as he ran along, and paused to grasp it up. +It was heavy with pitch and shaped like the warclub of an Indian. It +was, in fact, too heavy, and few men would have considered it in the +light of a weapon. Fifty yards farther Hiram found a mate to it, and +picked it up too. Then he sped on and on into the forest of pines and +firs, praying that the brush would not give out and make his trailing +slower. + +If these men ahead of him were trusting to their own legs to get away +with Jerkline Jo, their legs would have to be better than any Hiram +Hooker ever before had matched his own against. Why, he could keep up +this pace for hours and hours! He knew more about surmounting the +difficulties of a forest wilderness than any man in the south, he +proudly told himself. These woods were as nothing compared with the +majestic, seemingly endless sweep of the vast forests which he had +roamed since childhood! If they did not take to horses, he'd make them +sick of their bargains before they had gone many miles! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +UNDER THE DRIPPING TREES + +Vaguely Hiram Hooker sensed a diabolical plot as he pounded on through +the rain, tireless, determined, remorseless, on the trail of the +abductors of Jerkline Jo. + +The doping of his four fellow skinners at Ragtown had a part in the +plan. It had been done deliberately to force the girl and Hiram into +the wilderness alone. Some one had known of Huber's shortage of hay, +and had schemed accordingly, aware of Jerkline Jo's eternal willingness +to do her best by her patrons, regardless of the strain upon herself. +The plotters had not been able to get at Hiram. Perhaps they had not +tried. Jerkline Jo would hardly essay a trip to Julia and back alone. +Too many difficulties might arise on the road that a lone skinner--even +a man skinner--could not cope with. So they perhaps had not molested +Hiram, hoping, if he were on his feet, that the girl would attempt the +trip with him. They had waited at the first U curve, and the moment he +was out of sight had pounced upon her. Suppose he had not chanced to +look back? The many curves ahead would have hidden her from him for +nearly an hour after that first one had been passed. That would have +given them a start, the disadvantage of which he could not have +overcome. As it was, though, he knew that he was hot on their trail, +and burdened as they were, was gaining on them at every leap. Was +Drummond back of this? Hiram could think of no one else who would be +even remotely at enmity with the lovable Jerkline Jo. + +He brought up suddenly and squatted behind a bush of southern +manzanita. Just ahead, in an open portion of the forest, was a group +of three men, standing in a circle about a stiff, immovable figure on +the ground. Three saddled horses stood close by, their tails turned +toward the rain, their heads lowered disconsolately. + +The men had just stopped and laid down their burden, which was nothing +else than the tightly bound body of Jerkline Jo. All three men wore +masks over their faces and new bright-blue overalls to further aid in +hiding their identities. Hiram saw the rope about the girl, running in +a spiral from her shoulders to her ankles. He saw the cloth over her +face, knotted behind her head. + +What should he do? There were three men standing about the girl, +rubbing their arms, which probably ached from the strain of carrying +her. Beyond a doubt they were armed. He tried to think, to plan; but +in the midst of it all half-formulated schemes deserted him because of +the sudden action of one of them. + +He had taken something from his pocket, and now he and another stooped +over the prostrate figure of the girl. One man grasped her head in +both hands; the next instant Hiram realized with horror that a blade +was gleaming dully through the rain in the right hand of the other man. +The third stooped and squatted on Jo's ankles. + +Hiram Hooker had at least one more accomplishment than has been +mentioned. As a boy he had used it to terrify his elders on dark +nights in the forest. He could imitate the piercing, blood-chilling +scream of the prowling panther until women in lonely forest cabins +clutched their breasts in fear, and men's faces blanched. Sprinting +from his place of concealment like a football player, crouching low as +he ran, he bore down upon the three men, and had almost reached them +before he loosed that terrorizing cry. Before it had died out in the +lonely, dripping wilderness, he was flailing right and left with a huge +pine knot in either hand, amazing and invincible as Sampson with his +jawbone of an ass. + +With yells of terror, the trio rocked back on their haunches and +struggled frantically to gain their feet. There was a sickening crack, +and the man who had held Jo's head pitched backward, a victim of one of +Hiram's warclubs. Swinging about, he aimed a blow with his left-hand +club, but its intended target ducked, and the club descended on the +man's shoulder, wringing a cry of pain from lips that whitened suddenly. + +The third man was up now, and sprang upon Hiram's back. The other +charged him from in front. Hiram hurled his left-hand club straight +into this man's face, and with his free hand reached down and grasped +the left leg of the man who had climbed him in the rear. Carrying this +man, who all the time was raining blows on his head, Hiram ran with all +his might for a close-by pine. As he neared it he whirled about and +threw himself at it backward with every atom of his force. + +There followed a terrible impact, and in his ear exploded the breath of +the man on his back, as he came in violent contact with the trunk of +the tree. The shock pitched Hiram forward on his face, and the man who +had climbed upon him fell limply to the earth, the wind entirely +crushed out of him. + +Hiram bounded to his feet and confronted the man into whose face he had +thrown the pine knot, and who now was rushing him, brandishing a +revolver. Hiram's blow had knocked the mask from this man's face, but +it was a face that Hiram had never seen before. + +A shot barked dully in the heavy atmosphere of the forest, and the +smoke hung in a little ball. Hiram felt the impact of the bullet, and +was whirled half around with the force of it. He knew he had been hit +some place--in the breast or shoulder perhaps--but as yet felt not the +slightest pain. Fire flashed in his very face, now, and this time he +smelled the acrid powder; but he had been in motion when the trigger +was pressed and the bullet whined away fretfully through the trees. On +the heels of the second report came that sickening crack once more, and +the face of the man that glared through the smoke at Hiram went red +with a smear of blood. + +He sank to his knees, and Hiram spun about just in time to aim another +crashing blow at the skull of the man whom he had catapulted into the +tree. His mask still held in place, but his hat was off and Hiram saw +that his hair was brown and wavy. There had not been time to aim, and +the blow fell on his assailant's neck. + +They clinched, went down together, rolling over and over, clawing at +each other like fighting lynxes. + +"Gi' me the paper! Gi' me the paper!" yelled a voice, as Hiram climbed +uppermost on his man and fought to free his entangled arms. + +At the same instant other arms were thrown about him from behind. The +man he had hit first had reentered the fight, it seemed. + +With a herculean heave the man from Wild-cat Hill lurched backward, +carrying his lighter assailant with him. Hiram had lost his club. He +grasped the man on his back by the under part of his thighs, as he had +the other, and lifted his feet from the ground. Then, so quickly that +the man was taken off his guard, Hiram leaped into the air and fell +backward, falling with all the weight of his huge body on the man who +clung to him like an abalone to a rock. + +"_Wuff_!" he heard again, as the fellow's breath forsook him in a spasm +of pain. He lost his hold on Hiram, and Hiram flopped over. + +"Run! Get a horse! Get away with the paper!" this fellow choked; and +as Hiram sprang upon him he saw the other rise and totter toward a +horse. + +Crashing a blow to the face of the man under him, Hiram sprang to his +feet and lunged at the one who was fleeing. Whatever "the paper" +meant, it was the nucleus of the plot, it appeared, and Hiram purposed +to have it. + +But, grasping frantically for a stirrup, then sprawling along the neck +of the nearest horse, the man yelled to the animal, and it leaped away +with him through the trees. + +Hiram whirled back, beaten in that direction, and made for the other, +who was on his feet and also running toward the two remaining mounts. +The third man still lay inert. + +Hiram started running for the second escaping man, but suddenly his +knees refused to hold his legs to their accustomed task. Blindness was +coming upon him, but he continued to grope toward the horses. Then +again came the sounds of rapidly thundering hoofs. Hiram Hooker sighed +weakly and placed both hands to his breast, which seemed weighted with +some heavy object, or bound about tightly with a rope. His hands came +away red and wet He wilted in his tracks, sighed again, and seemed to +drift placidly into a deep, soothing sleep. + +Then a noise partially awoke him. His senses swam, and he thought he +heard himself laughing crazily, but could not make sure whether he was +laughing or only had imagined it. A man was reeling toward the +remaining horse, both hands to his head, and he looked so helpless and +befuddled that Hiram laughed again--or thought he did. The man groaned +and mumbled, then fell flat on his face, as a baby falls in an +unchecked collapse. A little while he lay there, then struggled to his +feet again, and tottered toward the horse, who seemed to be neighing +shrilly for the mates that had deserted him. + +Why, that was what Hiram had heard, he reasoned. He had not been +laughing at all. A long space of semiconsciousness. Then came the +dull thunder of hoofs once more. Hiram half raised his body on an +elbow. There lay Jerkline Jo, stiff and immovable in her yellow +oilskins. There was no one else about. Save himself, of course, but +he was so sleepy. + +He fell back with a crash. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +FOUR-UP FOR HELP + +Bound and helpless, Jerkline Jo Modock lay on the ground and listened +to the sounds of the battle raging around her. She knew that her hero +from Wild-cat Hill had come with his terrorizing panther scream, and +she heard curses and thudding clubs, then popping revolver shots. + +She was struggling desperately to free herself of her bonds, but she +only wearied herself and accomplished nothing. With her teeth she +chewed at the cloth that covered her face, trying to draw it down below +her eyes, so that she could at least see; but her efforts here proved +futile, too. Then she began twisting her head from side to side and +hunching her shoulders, which she found she could move, in an effort to +loosen the knot at the back of her head, or to scrape the cloth away. + +This last in time she accomplished, but it was long after all sounds of +the conflict had ceased. + +As the cloth came loose she moved it along by sticking out her tongue +and working it from side to side, at the same time tossing her head +about. At last it slipped off, and, by raising her head, she gazed +about through the dark, wet trees. + +She had heard the thud of horses' hoofs, but now not a horse was to be +seen. Fifty feet from her, perhaps, lay the silent form of Hiram +Hooker, flat on his back. No other human being save herself and Hiram +seemed to be in all that dripping wilderness. + +Time and again she called to the man to whom she had given her heart, +but Hiram's lips remained motionless. A great fear clutched at her. +Hiram was dead. + +She fought down her terror, the horror of it all, and sought +desperately for a way to release herself. She was bound round and +round until she was so stiff that even to roll over and over on the +ground was impossible, as she could get no purchase whatever for her +strong, tough muscles. She began striving to bend her knees, and in +this, as the bonds gradually changed position and gave a little, she +was eventually successful. Once she had a start in this tiresome +process, she gained more and more, and finally she could move her legs +from their straight position. + +She rested then, and when she began squirming again found that she was +able to flop over on her side. + +In this new position she looked about over the ground for something to +help her, and close at hand she saw the dull gleam of steel. + +As yet she had not the remotest idea of why she had been kidnaped; nor +had she seen any of the persons who had perpetrated the act. Not a +word had been spoken to her or in her presence before the fight. She +had heard the man yelling about "the paper," though, toward the close +of the battle, but no other words throughout the entire ordeal. + +The blade that showed its dull steel against the soggy brown pine +needles lay five feet beyond her reach. But now she could roll to it, +and began to do so, flopping along like a fish in the bottom of a boat. +She rested when her face was close to it, and began to study how she +might make use of it. + +She might be able to take it in her teeth, but doubted if she could +reach that part of the rope about her shoulders, even then. If it was +a dagger, she could not think how she could utilize it, as it probably +would have no cutting edge. If it was a pocketknife, it doubtless +would be dull, as pocketknives usually are, and therefore useless. +With any pressure that she might be able to command, a keen cutting +edge would be necessary to free her from the coils of the lariat. + +By now she had regained her strength, and once more began wriggling and +worming until her eyes were close to the blade, half hidden by pine +needles. Then she realized with surprise and a thrill of hope that the +object was a razor. + +How such a tool came to be dropped by her assailants was more than she +could fathom. She did not try. Working her face closer and closer to +the razor she took the end of the handle between her teeth, and, +twisting her head from side to side, finally managed to close the blade +without cutting herself by pressing it against the ground. + +Then she rolled so that her face was directly over it, and took both +handle and blade in her mouth, by the middle. Her brain had been +active through these clumsy maneuvers; she had a plan. + +Now for a tree from which suckers were growing close to the ground. +The pines were hopeless in this respect, but off a way she saw the +naked branches of a black oak, and toward it she rolled, the closed +razor in her mouth. + +It was a long, tiresome trip, and when she reached the tree there was +not a sucker growing from it. She saw another black oak close at hand, +and continued her flopping, seallike progress, toward it. + +Here, to her unbounded delight, slender suckers grew up from an exposed +root. She released the razor and chewed upon one of them until she had +browsed it down to a leafless stub four inches high. + +Then, working with her teeth and tongue and straining every muscle in +her neck, she contrived, at the risk of slashing her face, to insert +the stump of the sucker between the two halves of the razor handle. + +This pushed up the blade, and it remained in a half-closed position +like a threatening guillotine. Knowing now that she would not be cut, +she took the end of the handle in her teeth and pulled it down as far +as it would go. Still the edge of the blade remained balanced against +the top of the sucker. So she rolled about until she found a pine +twig, which she took in her mouth, rolling with it back to the razor. +With one end of the twig in her mouth, she was able to push the blade +open with the other end, and it fell back against the root of the oak, +edge uppermost. + +She rested again, and then crawled over the root until a coil of the +rope that bound her shoulders was pressing against the keen edge of the +razor blade. Working her shoulders up and down, she saw the leather +strands parting clean, and soon only one strand remained uncut. She +rolled from the razor and scraped this last strand against another +exposed root of the oak until it parted. + +Two minutes more, and she was sitting up, unwinding the rawhide lariat +from her legs with hands that were free. + +She struggled to her feet, and though she ached in every bone and +muscle, ran to Hiram and bent over him with a little cry of anguish on +her lips. + +His shirt front was stained crimson, and terror seized her. She fought +it off and, bending down, listened with an ear to his heart. She +breathed a little tremulous prayer of thankfulness as she heard his +regular heartbeats, and then tore open his shirt to find that a bullet +had entered his breast, high up on the right-hand side. + +As best she could she stopped the bleeding and tried to revive Hiram. +Into cold rain water, collected in a hollow of the ground, she plunged +her handkerchief again and again, bathing the man's temples and chafing +his wrists. + +At last he opened his eyes, stared oddly at her a little, then, seeming +to remember everything, strove to rise. + +Probably one woman in all that country could have completed the +gigantic task of getting this big, wounded man back to the wagons, but +Jerkline Jo was fortunately that woman. With an arm of Hiram about her +neck, and her arm about his waist, they staggered away through the +rain, Hiram conscious enough to direct the way, for the girl was +completely lost. It was early in the morning that their journey had +been interrupted so ruthlessly, but it was afternoon before they came +again to the road, and Hiram dropped exhausted in Jo's lead wagon. + +Here she was able better to attend to his wound, and brandy, which she +always carried, revived him greatly. + +There was no course open now but to loose all the horses but four, +leave three of the wagons where they stood, and drive as fast as she +could with the four hitched to the head wagon, to get the wounded man +to Artesian Ranch, about eighteen miles distant down on the Julia side +of the desert. + +Never before or afterward in the lives of the actors in this outland +drama were the mountains that divided the desert to know such a drive +as that. Jerkline Jo had a set of four-up checks which she carried in +case of emergency, and by one o'clock four of her big whites were +racing down the perilous grade, with Jo holding the four leather lines +and operating the brake repeatedly, urging them to greater efforts +continually. The huge wagon careened about hairpin curves, skirted +precipices, rumbled from canon to canon, while the girl, always sure of +herself, always sure of her horses, guided it skillfully and laughed at +catastrophies that yawned at her every foot of the way. + +In the middle of the afternoon they raced out on the desert and took up +the long miles to the ranch. At dark they reached it, the horses badly +spent, unaccustomed as they were to moving faster than a walk. There +was an automobile at the ranch, and Hiram was hurried on to the doctor +at Julia, while Jo worked far into the night rubbing down her trembling +whites, crooning to them, and giving them short drinks of water until +they were resting their weary bodies in the litter, content and quiet +at last. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE GENTLE WILD CAT RETURNS + +Hiram Hooker was very weak when he reached the doctor. The bullet was +found and successfully removed, however, and Hiram's great physical +perfection did the rest. + +He was quickly on the mend, and in a month was able to take his team +again. + +Meantime Jerkline Jo and her four other skinners had contrived to make +their customary trips from Julia to Ragtown, all of them calling to see +Hiram, who was being cared for at the doctor's house, the minute they +completed their west-bound trip. Jo spent most of her time with him +when in Julia, and when he was well enough they talked frequently of +the strange occurrence in the mountains. But they did not get down to +solid work on the mystery until Hiram was on his first trip to Ragtown +after his wound had healed. Then the wagon train came to a stop at the +curves, and Jo and all of her skinners walked through the forest to the +scene of Hiram's battle. + +After a search they found the spot. Jo showed the men the razor, still +propped up as she had left it, held up by the sucker of the black oak. +She found the remains of the lariat, too. A search failed to reveal +anything beyond the razor that had been dropped by the surprised +kidnapers. + +"Lord, be merciful unto me, a skinner!" exclaimed Heine Schultz, +seating himself on a prostrate pine. "Wild Cat, you say one o' these +Jaspers was bendin' over Jo with this here razoo?" + +"I'm sure it was that that he had in his hand," Hiram replied. "He was +the second one that I soaked, and I saw him drop it." + +"Boy! Boy! That musta been some fight," observed Jim McAllen. "Think +of our ol' Wild Cat puttin' the three of 'em on the run! Man, how +comes it I miss all the good things in this life? Jo, was they aimin' +to cut your pretty throat?" + +Jo shuddered. "Thank Heaven I was blindfolded!" was her grateful +thought. "But how ridiculous, boys! A razor! If they'd wanted to +kill me, at least one of them had a gat. Ask Hiram." + +"Maybe they was just goin' to cut you loose and tell you why they'd +swiped you, when the Gentle Wild Cat went wild again," suggested Gulick. + +"Cut a perfectly good lariat!" Jo picked it up. "Couldn't they have +untied the knots?" + +Gulick took the lariat and examined it. "Thirty-five feet," he said. +"Rawhide--six-strand plait Been rubbed with cow's liver to soften 'er, +too. What else? Whoop! What's this?" + +He was studying the honda, also of rawhide, pressed flat when soaked +and riveted in shape, a plaited button on the end of the lariat proper +to keep it from slipping through the hole. + +"Letters cut in this," Gulick announced. "T. H.' Who's that stand +for?" + +All went silent for a time, thinking; then Hiram Hooker said quietly, +as if what he suggested mattered but little: + +"Tehachapi Hank." + +All talked at once now. Not one was there that was not sure Hiram had +hit upon a clew. + +"And Tehachapi Hank's a bad man," said Heine. "Admitted it himself. +And he's a side-kick of that cholo-faced Drummond!" + +Study of the razor, now red with rust, showed the amateur detectives +nothing. + +"And ye saw only the face of one of 'em, Hiram?" Blink Keddie asked it. + +"Only one. The others managed to keep their masks on." + +"Tehachapi Hank and Al Drummond them other two was," said McAllen +positively. "Too bad it wasn't one o' them you knocked the mask off +of, Wild Cat." + +"And you never saw this fella that you got a look at?" asked Schultz. + +Hiram shook his head. "I didn't even see him well," he added. +"Through revolver smoke--and the rain pouring--and next instant his +face didn't look like anything much. That was a wicked old pine knot." + +"I'll say she was, boy! But about the razor?" Keddie kept on. + +Again Hiram could not answer. + +"Why, that's easy!" laughed Heine Schultz. "They was gonta give Jo a +shave!" + +Jo and Hiram walked together behind the rest and talked as the party +returned to the wagons. For the first time she told him of what her +skinners had had to report when they were over their sickness following +the doping at Ragtown. One and all, they said, they had been invited +to the little cabin of the girl who ran the shooting gallery for a +drink; after having fired several strings of shots and "joshed" with +her out in front. From there they had gone to the Palace, and +afterward, being dazed and feeling drowsy, had wandered in a group into +the Dugout, a place that they seldom frequented, and could remember +nothing after that. + +"Why--why--do they think Lucy doped them?" cried Hiram. + +Jo shrugged. "They can't remember drinking anywhere but with her and +in the Palace," she said. "They got it one place or the other, Hiram." + +"The Palace, of course, then. Why--Lucy--she----" + +"Is a friend of Al Drummond," Jo helped him out, her red lips set. + +"Did you find out whether or not Drummond was in Ragtown at the time?" + +"I looked into all that I dared, but it was nine days before I got +back. Oh, I had an awful time, with nobody to help me but a few green +men I'd picked up at Julia--finding the horses and all. But Huber got +his hay!" she added proudly. "When I got back to Ragtown, of course +nobody remembered whether Drummond had been there that day or not. He +goes and comes frequently, you know. And I didn't dare press +questions. I told the boys to keep still about it all. I thought that +best." + +"Was Drummond there on your last trip in?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Beaten up? I'm sure I must have left my mark on all three of them." + +"I didn't get to see him, but no one said anything about any injury." + +"Much as we dislike him, it's hard to think that Drummond would be +concerned in such a plot," Hiram remarked. + +"Plot?" + +"Of course, Jo." + +"Against me? What have I done?" + +"We're getting nowhere with such speculation, Jo," said Hiram. "We +boys will just have to keep our eyes open and see what we can find out. +There's more back of it than the idea to tantalize you because you beat +Al Drummond in the freighting game. I wish I knew what the razor was +for." + +"Of course, they weren't going to kill me, Hiram. No need for all that +monkeywork, if that had been the case." + +"I only saw the man with the razor," Hiram told her, "and got busy. Of +course, I didn't even know it was a razor then, but I saw steel. I +thought they were going to kill you. Didn't take much time to think, +at that." + +"You terrible scrapper!" laughed the girl. "Who'd have thought that +I'd ever have needed such a man--and got him! Hiram, you've--you've +never kissed me since that night." + +Hiram's face turned red as fire. "I ain't worthy to kiss ye, Jo," he +said, lapsing into his backwoods drawl. "Wait'll I settle this thing +that's come up for you. Wait'll I find out about 'the paper.' Then +maybe I'll have somethin' to offer you." + +In his great embarrassment he pointed to the ground, where were tracks +and scratches. + +"Ben a bob cat usin' thereabouts," he drawled. + + +With Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet the month that Hiram had been laid up +had developed a new and unforeseen situation. He laid the particulars +before Jerkline Jo and Hiram, both investors in his enterprise. The +conference took place when Jo's freight outfit jingled into Ragtown two +days later. + +Tweet invited them to dinner in the Wigwam, a saloon and restaurant and +gambling house combined, where the patrons sat on stools before a high +counter which was in the nature of a continuation of the bar. The +three took seats at the farther end, so that their conversation would +be less likely to be overheard. + +"Playmates," Tweet began, when their orders were before them, "I didn't +think our Uncle Sam would go to work and hand us a package just when we +were gettin' us a toehold. But that's just what he's done. I been +watchin' for it to develop for some little time. Now the leak has +sprung. + +"You see, outside o' Paloma Rancho, every other section o' land in here +b'longs to the Gold Belt Cut-off, and adjoinin' sections are government +land. Maybe you c'n guess what's happened." + +"Thrown open," Jerkline Jo said promptly. + +"Yep--open to homesteaders. They're flockin' in in automobiles, in +perambulators, on motor cycles, burros, horseback, and afoot--in +everything but submarines. So far as any one can see, they're gettin' +just as good land as Paloma Rancho; and the folks we've sold to are +castin' dark looks at one Tweet. As if I was to blame! Two fellas +that hadn't paid in much have jumped their contracts with us, and are +takin' up claims. If many more pull stuff like that--say, somebody'll +be in bad! + +"Just the same, though, my engineers tell me there's shallower water +here than any place on this ol' desert. Butte Springs proves that, +too. And we got the water right on the mountain lake; so they can't +get that. Riparian rights--all straight, by golly! No worry there. I +don't think settlers'll have any luck striking water without big +expense anywhere around us. Just the same, it'll take time to prove +that. + +"The settler, you savvy, has six months after he files before he's got +to get on his land. Even then he ain't required to develop water; and +chances are he won't. He'll put in dry crops to cover the improvements +demanded by the government, whether they succeed or not--which they +won't. But all this time, because nobody'll be makin' a great effort +to locate water, folks will be believin' that government land is as +good as ours. See the point? Paloma Rancho land will stop sellin' +pronto, and our pleasant little dream will turn into a scary nightmare." + +"But if the surrounding land is inferior to the rancho," said Jo, "it's +only a matter of time until people will find it out. Then you'll +regain your old status, won't you?" + +"In time. Yeah--that's it. But time's money, little girl; and once +every three months I gotta slap down six thousand filthy lucreinos, +plus a neat little bunch o' interest, or--bingo! All is lost! + +"Folks that peddled me this property are gettin' on their feet again, +and their young lives are one long regret over havin' had ta part with +Paloma Rancho. 'Salways th' way. One dog leaves a bone, and another +dog comes along and goes to work and picks her up. Then the other dog +he goes to work and thinks that was a pretty darn good bone after all. +Then fur begins to fly, and old ladies yell: 'How cruel! Stop it, you +big heartless men!' + +"So the other dogs won't miss a chance to shoot the prongs into me the +moment I fail on a single payment and the interest due. They don't +have to; I signed to forfeit everything any interest day that I failed +to pungle up. Three days o' grace--then--boom! 'Wasn't it pretty, +papa! Shoot off another one just like it!'" + +Jerkline Jo sipped her near-coffee thoughtfully, and gazed unseeingly +at the menu card, a marvel of weird orthography, punctuated with fly +specks and splatters of egg yolk. Jo had over ten thousand dollars +invested in Paloma Rancho. + +"We're not doing the freighting business that we did," she confessed, +aware that Playmate Tweet was studying her face expectantly and +patiently straightening a nose whose tip always left true center the +moment he released it. "Lots of the smaller contractors have finished +here, and are moving on to new jobs up the line, out of our reach. +Ragtown, too, seems to be slowing up, don't you think?" + +Tweet pursed his lips. "I hate to admit it," he said, "but I guess +you're right. Still, we can expect things to be slower in winter. +Then these settlers oughta help Ragtown some when spring comes along. +Chances are, though, most of 'em are broke. 'Salways like that. I've +been homesteadin' communities before now. No good, as a rule. + +"But I ain't worryin' about Ragtown. She'll perk up. We're gonta get +the yards and the roundhouse--that's a cinch. I know it now. Demarest +slipped it to me. I've spread the glad tidin's, o' course, but it +didn't seem to help. Folks have believed it all along, and have gone +ahead on that belief--so the rush because of that feature was over +before I sprung it. But Ragtown'll pick up in time. The floaters will +go, and substantial citizens will take their places. It's the land +contracts that we need in order to meet our payments and have a future +to bank on, and they're what'll slow up and hurt us till folks get sane +and see we got the only dope." + +"You'll have to meet the next payment--when?" Hiram put in here. + +"April first--two months off. Six thousan' dollars and interest on +deferred payments." + +"Can you meet it?" + +"I couldn't if it was due now," was Tweet's reply. + +"Well, I'll see that you meet that payment," Jo said. "That will give +you three months more leeway--five months, counting from now--and by +that time things should begin to look up once more." + +Tweet heaved a great sigh of relief. "That's a big load off my chest," +he claimed, as they left the stools. + +Two hours later Hiram Hooker, apparently wandering aimlessly about the +dimly lighted street, saw Al Drummond lift a hinged portion of the +shooting-gallery counter and pass within. A man was in charge, and +there was nobody shooting. Drummond nodded briefly to him, traversed +the length of the target range, and disappeared through a door in the +rear. + +Three minutes after this Hiram slunk stealthily along the alley and up +to Lucy's little cabin. Softly his fingers plucked at a knot in a +knothole, which he had loosened that evening while Lucy was on watch in +the gallery. Holding the circular bit of wood in his hand, he placed +an ear to the knothole, which was hidden from those inside by a huge +piece of furniture. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +HIRAM TAKES THE TRAIL + +Hiram Hooker stood motionless in the alley back of Lucy Dalles' cabin +and listened intently through the knothole. + +"Well," he heard Al Drummond saying to Lucy, "I see they got in again +this evening." + +Hiram supposed "they" referred to the freighting outfit of Jerkline Jo. + +"Yes," replied Lucy, "and here it is late January, Al, and we've +accomplished nothing." + +"No, nothing," Drummond admitted gloomily. "And our chances look +mighty slim to get at her. Every trip she's got those five husky +skinners with her, and I guess every one of them is fool enough to put +up a scrap for her if he knew he'd get croaked in the deal." + +"We must think up another plan to separate her from them," the girl +suggested. + +"Confound it!" muttered Drummond. "Everything was moving along +smoothly, and the next minute we'd have had the razor working; then +here comes that big boob and takes us by surprise. Lord, how he swung +those clubs!" + +"You're afraid of him, since he beat you up on the desert," Lucy said +tauntingly. + +"Huh! I'll get him yet! I'm willing to admit he's too many for me in +a stand-up and knock-down fight. He's a whirlwind--I never saw his +like. Why, up there in the mountains he seemed to have a dozen arms, +all working at once. Wild Cat is right! But I haven't been raised on +salt pork and corn bread. I've lived. Just the same, when I get good +and ready I'll fix his engine for him." + +"I imagine he'll be around to oversee the work," remarked Lucy in a +tone that probably made Drummond long to choke her. + +"Well, that's not the point," she went on after a little. "What are we +going to do to get at that creature known as Jerkline Jo, the +four-flusher? She's crooked as a dog's hind leg, and goes around +pulling the pious stuff on the roughnecks." + +"You think because you're crooked every other woman is, eh? I'll say +this for Jo--she's straight and a dead-game sport. She's not a +four-flusher. Of course I'd do anything to get even for the way she +handed it to me in the freighting game. But there's no sense in you +and me running her down to each other when we don't believe ourselves." + +"So you've fallen for her, too, have you?" Lucy asked sarcastically. + +"Don't be a fool, Lucy! A man can't help admiring a girl like Jo." + +"Thanks for your assurances, Al," Lucy said cuttingly. + +"Well, well, well! Scrap all night about nothing! Forget it! Shut +up! Guess who I saw to-day as I was driving over the desert." + +"Who?" sullenly. + +"Your dear old uncle." + +"My uncle!" + +"Sure--that's what you called him. Basil Filer, the crazy prospector." + +"Sure enough, Al?" Lucy's tones were brighter. + +"Pretty much so. Didn't seem to recognize me at all. I was at +Comstock's camp, and he rambled in with his burros. Stood within five +feet of me and looked right at me. Never saw me before!" and Drummond +chuckled. + +"Al, where on earth do you suppose he's been since you took him out on +the desert and dumped him?" + +"Heaven knows! Wandering about looking for a prospect, I suppose. I'd +have given fifty dollars to be hidden close by when he came out of it +next morning." + +"Poor old duffer! But suppose Hooker and Jo or some of that bunch +should stumble onto him, Al! Was he making this way?" + +"Yes; but he was fifty miles up the lines. There were two or three +women about Comstock's commissary tent--two of Comstock's daughters and +the wife of his walking-boss. The old bird kept looking at them and +shaking his head, just like he did with you. He's still hunting for +his pardner's daughter. He's a crazy nut, and I guess wherever he goes +he's trying to get on her trail." + +"Don't you suppose he remembers me, Al? We sure had him going that +night. I was Jean Prince to him, all right. And when you inked me up, +and he got a look--say, he couldn't tell his story fast enough, could +he?" + +Drummond chuckled reminiscently. "Yes, next minute he'd have had you +scalped, kid, if I hadn't slipped him another powder. Well, if he does +drift back here you've simply got to lie low and keep out of his sight. +I'll tell the boys to keep their eyes open and slip me the dope if they +see him rambling into Ragtown. Then you fade away till he beats it out +again." + +"Won't he ask about me? And try to find out where I've gone?" + +"I doubt it. He's still got his precious paper. If, we'd stolen that, +instead of copying it, there might be the very devil to pay. But as +long as he's still got it he's too nutty to suspect. Of course, +though, nobody can tell what's going on in the other fellow's noodle. +I'd say, though, that if you aren't here he'll think the whole business +was a pipe dream." + +"I hope so. We don't want any further complications. Now when are you +and Hank and that friend of his going to make another attempt to get +Jerkline Jo? And how are you going about it?" + +"Hank's still camping up in the mountains and spying on the outfit when +it travels through the pass," Al informed her. "He's watching their +habits, and taking note of just how they travel along, trying to dope +out something new. He'll get a scheme before spring, I'm thinking. +There's a bad hombre, kid. It would give me the creeps to know he was +trailing me through those lonesome woods. Man! I wouldn't turn my +back to that plug with fifteen cents in my jeans!" + +"Can't we get some more of Hank's pals and simply ambush Jo's whole +outfit? Collar all of them, and then get after Jo. Surely a bunch of +men could take them all by surprise and put the fixin's to 'em." + +Drummond snorted. "We've got to split the haul four ways as it is," he +pointed out. "And that bo that helped us get Filer away--Stool--he +smells a rat and is keeping an eye single to horning in on the +clean-up. Lucy, I wouldn't attack Jo's bunch of roughnecks with less +than a dozen men; and you can bet your young life our gang is too big +as it is. Keep the home fires burning, I'll say!" + +"Well, for Heaven's sake, try and get busy soon!" Lucy cried +petulantly. "Goodness knows I did my part--all that any woman could be +expected to do. So far I'm the only one that's accomplished anything. +Why in thunder didn't Hank's friend, Pete, 'tend to the business up +there in the mountains, after you and Hank had beat it? Hooker was +out, this fellow said, and the girl still tied. And then he comes out +of his dope and gets on a horse, and beats it like you other two +quitters!" + +"He didn't have the paper," explained Al. "Besides, Pete thought he +was going to croak. He was laid up longer than Hooker, even, and +Hooker had got a bullet. Pete's skull was cracked, and for a time it +was a toss-up whether he'd pull through or not. He went nutty up +there, I guess. He was lying sidewise across the saddle, unconscious +but holding on for dear life, when the horse caught up with us. And +Hank and I ducked out because--well, it's hard to explain. Both of us +were pretty badly beaten up, you know, and there wasn't much fight left +in us. Hooker had surprised us, and we were rattled. I don't know--a +fellow can't explain just why he does the wrong thing in a situation +like that. But knock the fight out of a man and make him groggy, and +he'll bungle every time." + +"Well, do something now," ordered Lucy frigidly; and Hiram heard +Drummond scrape back his chair in rising. + +"All right--we'll see. I'll beat it now. Up late last night playing +poker. Rotten luck, too!" + +"Al," said Lucy's voice, "when we get that jack, are you going to give +me a fair share of it?" + +"Sure--sure! Why do you keep harping on that, Lucy? Haven't I +promised you I would? Good night. I'm dead tired!" + +Half an hour before dawn next morning Hiram Hooker crawled from his +blankets in camp and fed hay and grain to Babe, Jerkline Jo's black +saddle mare. Then, leaving his companions placidly snoring, he walked +briskly along the trail to Ragtown. Ten minutes after his start he was +knocking on the door of Jo's tiny pine cabin. + +"What is it?" finally came the girl's sleepy tones. "Who is there?" + +"It's I, Jo. Hiram. Will you come to the door a second? I want to +talk with you." + +"You big whale! What do you mean, waking me up in the middle of the +night? Anything wrong?" + +"No, Jo. And it's almost time to get up. The boys will be out by the +time I get back. Hurry and get dressed, won't you?" + +There was a rustling and quick moving about inside, and presently the +door was unlocked and Jerkline Jo poked her head out inquiringly. + +"I came to ask you for a few days off," he explained. + +"Why, Hiram?" + +"Yes, just one trip, Jo. There isn't any more freight than the rest of +you can handle just now. Won't be till spring, I'm thinking." + +"Oh, I could spare you now better than later on. But--but what, Hiram?" + +"And I'd like to borrow Babe and your saddle and bridle, too." + +"Take them," she said confidently. "Whatever your mysterious +disappearance means, I know I can trust you." + +Half an hour afterward Hiram swung himself into Jo's big California +saddle, and then leaned over and spoke to Blink Keddie and Heine +Schultz, busy at harnessing the teams. + +"I don't know when I'll be back, boys," he said. "But remember what I +told you: Don't let Jo out of your sight in the pass--nor anywhere +else, for that matter--and keep your guns handy all the time." + +"Don't worry, Gentle Wild Cat!" Schultz assured him. + +"So long, then," said Hiram, and swung Babe into the road that +connected Ragtown with the line of camps which dotted the desert from +end to end. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +A TALE OF THE DESERT'S DEAD + +No land seems so delectable as the desert early on a crisp morning. +The rare air causes the blood to pound through one's veins, and an +unexplainable rapture seizes man's spirits. + +Jo's black mare, Babe, had not been ridden for weeks, and every +greasewood bush that she saw became in the weird light of sunrise a +grotesque goblin ready to spring at her and devour her whole. At +least, so she pretended, and as her natural weapon of defense lay in +flight, she kept Hiram Hooker busy holding her down to a fast gallop. + +The low-hanging tapaderos flapped loosely. Hiram's borrowed +silver-mounted spurs--a reminder of Tom Gulick's cow-punching days in +Utah--jingled merrily. The heavy six-gun at his hip flopped against +the silver-rimmed cantle of Jo's fifty-pound saddle. The smells of the +morning were sweet. Away over the vast expanse of bronze greasewood, +far-flung buttes caught the early rays of the sun and took on something +of the likeness of a solar spectrum, purple at their bases, the colors +ranging upward through blues and greens and yellows to a spun-gold +glitter at their summits. Jack rabbits loped away through the brush. +Now and then a coyote, ears pricked up, trotted along, his tail +dragging. Tecolote, the little desert owl, came from his hole and sat +on the pile of dirt beside it, while his wife peeked out with her round +head just above the ground and gave silent approval to her lord and +master's querulous criticism of the rider. + +Life was good--life was glorious. Life was love! The poetic heart of +the man from Wild-cat Hill sang ceaselessly. He was away on his +romantic quest to serve the most splendid girl a man had ever loved! + +As the morning progressed and the sun climbed higher and higher, Babe +bore him through many camps, both large and small. At each he drew +rein and made inquiry after an old prospector called Basil Filer, who +drove six burros. No one had seen such a man, however, and Hiram +continued on toward the north until noon. Then he stopped for dinner +and to feed and rest the mare at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp +Number Two. They had come twenty-one miles that morning, he learned at +dinner in the huge dining tent; and when he started out again he held +Babe in, because she was soft for want of exercise. + +On and on they traveled, nevertheless, Hiram making inquiry at every +camp. At last, thirty miles from Ragtown, he got word of the +prospector. A camp freighter who traveled to the north for supplies +from Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Three had seen such a man +trudging along with his long staff, eyes bent on the ground, behind his +six burros. He had been seen about ten miles farther north, traveling +south, the day before. + +Hiram loped on, and now reached a strip of the right-of-way where camps +were few and far between. The desert was dryer here than in the +vicinity of Ragtown, and greasewood and whispering yuccas gave place to +low sage and the shimmering dry lakes, which lure thirsting men on to +their doom with their mocking resemblance to the life-saving water the +wanderer craves. + +Always, it seemed, there was somewhere within the range of Hiram's +vision one of those weird whirlwinds sweeping along. Often they were +so far away they seemed motionless, and looked like brown funnel-shaped +pillars, wrong end up, supporting the turquoise sky. Again, they were +close--sometimes six or seven in sight at once--as they spun like huge +tops, sucking up everything loose in their path, and whirling it round +and round with stupefying rapidity. + +At last one of them overtook the horse and rider, and the mare stopped +short, thrusting her head between her front legs and tucking in her +flowing tail. Hiram had time only to grab his hat and throw himself +forward along the mare's neck; the next instant it seemed as if a +million tugging hands had hold of him and were trying to whirl him into +the heavens and carry him, like a garment whipped from a clothesline, +into mysterious distances. + +When it had passed he sat erect once more and dug the dirt from his +ears and eyes, trying to follow the twister's progress as it sped +drunkenly on to find other victims. + +Then it was that Hiram saw the pack train, not far distant over the +desert, making ready to receive the coming whirlwind. The burros, wise +little animals that they are, had huddled together, tails outward, +heads down; and in the center of them Hiram saw a man just stooping for +the protection of their bodies. Next instant the group vanished--was +swallowed up by the wind demon. + +When the old man looked up after the onslaught, Hiram was riding upon +him. The prospector stood trying to stare at him from the center of +his pack train, wiping his watering eyes and sand-stained mouth. + +"Hello, there!" called Hiram. "It spoke to us in passing, too. How do +you like 'em?" + +"I got to like 'em," returned the old man. "I eat 'em--breakfast, +dinner, and supper. Grub don't taste good any more 'less a twister's +passed over it and seasoned it up. Who are you?" + +Hiram swung his great frame from the creaking saddle. + +"I'm Hiram Hooker," he announced, lowering the mare's reins and +advancing until a mouse-colored burro aimed a kick at him to show him +that he was a rank outsider whose company was not desired. + +"Why, Muta, that ain't no way to act!" mildly expostulated the burro's +master. "She's just a mite playful," he explained apologetically to +Hiram. "Muta, she thinks a heap o' the ole man, ye see, an' she's +always lookin' out that strangers don't mean 'im any harm." + +He placed both arms about the shaggy burro's neck. "You must be more +polite, Muta," he said chidingly, while the little animal trust out her +upper lip and nibbled at the large horn buttons on his dusty canvas +coat. + +"Which way are you bound?" asked Hiram. + +"South now. Just travelin'. Maybe I'll make it over to Rattlesnake +Buttes"--he raised an arm toward the northeast--"and maybe down Caldron +Canon way." He pointed southeast toward the mountains. "I dunno--just +driftin' along, me an' the little fellas. Sometimes we drift here, and +sometimes we drift there. Don't matter much, s'long's there's grub an' +a little rolled barley in the pack-bags. What's the dif'rence anyway?" +His red-lidded eyes looked up weirdly at Hiram. + +Bent and pathetic he was, this old man of the hills and deserts--this +old lizard of the unfriendly sands. In his eyes all time seemed to +have written its history. His brows were shaggy and desert-colored, +like the brows of the Ancient Mariner whose scrawny, clutching fingers +robbed the Wedding Guest of his night of pleasure. His hands shook, +and he carried a long cane; but for him the merciless desert seemed to +hold no lasting terror, for he spent his life on its desert searching +for the treasure that is hidden there. + +"Me and the little fellas just drift along. We get work at the camps +when our grubstake's gone; and then we ramble on and on--just driftin', +kinda. I got a ole jack rabbit for supper, pardner. He was sleepin' +under a sagebrush, and I puts out his eye with my six and twenty paces. +Can you do that? But you're young--young and got a clever eye. +Anyway, I got a ole jack for supper. Now, if you had a bottle on you +couldn't we have a time!" + +"I've no bottle," Hiram said. "I'm sorry. But, if you'll invite me, +I'll help you with the jack." + +"Got blankets behind yer saddle, I see. All right, my friend. Ole +Filer's always ready to share his grub with a passer-by on the desert. +There's water in my little tank. Burros don't drink much, you know. A +taste's enough till we get to a camp to-morrow. Handy, those camps, +for prospectors needin' a grubstake. Let's camp over there by that +lonesome yucca palm. He looks as if he wanted company. Maybe he'll +whisper where they's gold to-night--if we keep on ear awake. He-he! +Oh, they whisper lots--lots--lots! But they always lie like sin!" + +When the "ole jack" had paid the final price of his lack of +watchfulness, Hiram Hooker and the crazy prospector leaned back and +looked up at the cold stars that smiled cruelly down on the arid waste. +The wind whispered mysteriously through the bayonets of the yucca palm +above them. Not long would one be obliged to live and move and have +his being alone on this desert before strange messages would begin to +formulate in the wind's eerie whispering in the yuccas. + +The burros ranged about, browsing off the desert growth. There had +been barley for Babe, and Hiram had watered her at the last camp. A +rinse-out of her mouth and she would do very well till morning. + +And there under the scornful stars Hiram and the old man lounged on +packbags and talked, with their tiny camp fire of greasewood roots +between them. And gradually as Hiram told what he knew and convinced +the gray old rat of his honesty, an uncanny tale of the barren lands +began unfolding, a tale revolving about a little girl baby left by +prospectors in a yucca-trunk corral--the tale of Jean Prince, daughter +of Leonard Prince, whose bones had been gnawed by coyotes and covered +by the shifting sands for over twenty years. And the baby girl, Jean +Prince, was none other than the magnetic, dark-haired woman who now +drove jerkline to Ragtown and numbered her admirers by the +thousand--Jerkline Jo, Queen of the Outland Camps. + +"They was three of us at first," narrated Filer in a shaky voice. +"Three of us and Baby Jean. Baby Jean and me and Len Prince and 'The +Chink.' And that makes four. But Baby Jean was only two years old. + +"Hong Duo was the chink--a grinnin' yenshee hound from up beyond the +Tehachapi--way up--up toward the Sierra Nevadas, in the placer country. +White prospectors ner white miners don't often work with chinks. +Chinks is only good for workin' tailin's when it comes to mines. But +Len he'd saved Hong Duo's life in trouble in a dump in Placerville--ol' +Hangtown--and the chink had clung to um like a burro to somethin' he's +swiped from Camp. + +"Agin' that, too, the chink had money--an' Len and me was broke. Fer a +year he grubstaked us, and followed us around pocketin' up that a way, +cookin' and such, and livin' for Len and Baby Jean. + +"Baby Jean's maw she died when the kid was borned; and everywhere Len +went after she was a year or more he took her. We drifted south--me +and Len and the chink and Baby Jean. + +"Up Death Valley way we got wind o' somethin' good. Days and days we +makes it into the land that God forgot, and here and there we pecked +out a little color. Then Len and me we gets a lead, and we leaves the +chink and Baby Jean and drifts on into a country that makes me shiver +yet ta think of. + +"We got some gold--quite some. And me"--his voice grew low--"I was +younger then, and mean as dirt. I was high-gradin' on my pardner right +and left. I guess I was always mean; but I've paid the price. + +"Then Len he gets onto me, but he holds his tongue. And we make it on +and on into Little Hall, till the sandstorm come. + +"Fer nigh onto fifty-nine years I've roamed the desert, pardner, but +I've never seen another storm like that. Days and days she blowed, and +sometimes you couldn't see yer hand before yer face for the flyin' +sand. Someway we gets out of it, the Almighty knows how! But from +that day to this I've never been able to find that place ag'in. + +"There was gold there--piles and piles o' gold--and Len he'd found it. +Found it out alone one day before the storm set in. And knowin' I'd +been high-gradin' on him, he kep' this find to 'imself. Then come the +storm, and we fought out just ahead o' death. + +"Then Len he keeps tryin' to go back--wants to work long for a big +grubstake, and is quiet and dreams a lot, with Baby Jean in his arms, +and the chink settin' cross-legged lookin' at 'em with his glitterin' +little eyes--half full o' hop, I guess. And I gets onto why Len wants +to drift back there to that land o' dead men's bones, and I watch 'im, +and freeze to 'im continual. + +"Len he makes a bluff at this an' that an' the other--him and me and +the chink driftin' from here to there over this part o' the desert, or +hereabouts, scratchin' a little now and ag'in. But Len his heart ain't +in it, I see; and all the time he's tryin' to shake me off, I get it. +But I won't shake. + +"Well, Len he ain't no more good after the awful time we went through +up there in that terrible land. He never was a man ag'in after that; +and he gets scared, I guess, and thinks he's gonna cash his chips. +They's a queer look in his eyes, and in camp he just sets and sets with +Baby Jean in his arms, and the hophead lookin' at 'em from across the +fire with his glitterin' little eyes. And sometimes Len he just sets +and sets and watches Baby Jean asleep, and his eyes are worried like a +horse's eyes when he knows he's starvin'; and the yenshee hound he just +sets and looks at Len, and Heaven only knows what he's thinkin'! + +"Then we make it up along in where the Salt Lake road was buildin' +then--up Barstow way--all wild them days. And one day Len and me and +the chink goes out into the buttes, and leaves Baby Jean in a +yucca-stump corral so's the c'yotes can't get at her, like we did +sometimes. She wasn't never a yellin' kid. Give her a bottle o' +canned cow, and she'd suck herself to sleep with varmints prowlin' +about and sandstorms blowin'. Sometimes she'd sob if things was goin' +wrong in her little world--low and heartbroken, like a woman cries. +But yell--never! + +"So we leaves her suckin' at her bottle, for Len he'd never broke her +of it, and out we goes to scratch around some more up in Turkey Buttes. + +"It was lookin' to storm and we hadn't oughta gone maybe; but we didn't +aim to make it far, and could come back any time. But when she broke +she broke sudden; and only once before had I seen such a blow as that. +We got plumb lost five miles from camp; and all that day and all that +night and all next day we wandered about in the whirlin' sand, outa +water, and goin' crazier every minute. The chink he gives up, and so +does Len; and I'm too crazy to make 'em keep on fightin'. I dragged +out two days later, way north o' the buttes--plumb bughouse, my tongue +all black and stiff as rubber. I've never been the same man since, I +guess. I dream about them days and nights. + +"The folks that found me they go huntin' for Len and the chink and Baby +Jean t'other side o' the buttes. They find Len and the chink, both +dead, their faces and tongues---- But I don't like to remember that! +Sometimes the yuccas they whisper about it; but I always plug my ears +and begin to sing, or talk to the asses about the fun we'll have when +we find Jean Prince and get the gold Len knew about up there Death +Valley way. + +"They turned Len's things over to me. The baby they couldn't find; but +after weeks they stumbled onto the camp where we'd left her and found +everything almost buried in sand. The kid was gone, and the c'yotes +hadn't got her. They was a piece o' paper in the camp; but it had +rained and rained since it was stuck up there, and all the writin' was +gone. In Len's things I finds the paper that I'm carryin', and I kep' +it to myself. I've got it now--right here"--he thumped his +breast--"and for twenty years I've hunted for Baby Jean and never found +her. + +"They's gold up there--up where Len Prince found it. The paper tells +only half o' how to relocate Len's claims. At the beginnin' it says +the paper's for Baby Jean, and no one else is to have it. Len knew he +was soon goin' to croak--and he fixed it for Baby Jean when he was +gone. He done his best. Any one who's got the paper knows only half. +Whoever's got the paper can't do nothin' without Baby Jean. + +"The chink he done it. It was crazy--loco, you'll say. But what c'n +you expect from a man who's suffered as he did? Lissen, pardner--the +chink he done it. The paper tells about it. The chink he doped the +kid--with opium, some way, I guess--so's it wouldn't hurt her, and then +he tattooed the rest o' the directions for findin' the gold on the head +o' Baby Jean. Cut off some hair in back, and shaved a spot on her +little head, and tattooed it there. The chink he did. And then the +hair grew out ag'in, and nobody ever knew! + +"Even Baby Jean don't know--a woman grown up now. And years and years +I've hunted for her, but couldn't find her. Cause I couldn't stick, I +guess. Somethin' always kep' callin' me back into the hills, and I'd +forgot. Just me and the little fellas, we understand. And we're +driftin' about ag'in huntin' for Baby Jean. + +"I had a funny dream. I dreamed I'd found her--a young woman grown. +And in that dream she told me she was Baby Jean, and I told her all +about the paper and the tattoo marks. And then it looked like I +drifted into deeper sleep and I woke up in camp way out in nowhere. +I'd forgot again, you see, and drifted for the hills just when I'd +found Baby Jean. Or so I dreamed. But sometimes I think I wasn't +dreamin', pardner. It wasn't just like other dreams I've had. I got +it that I was in a place called Ragtown, and I know they's such a +place, cause everybody tells me so. And I was sick after the dream. +Funny! I'm drifting that a way now. I want to see that Ragtown. Was +it a dream? Or was the yuccas laughin' at ole Filer ag'in? I dunno. +But how come it I dreamed about a place called Ragtown, a place that +really is but that I never seen?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +LUCY PLANS A COUNTER-ATTACK + +One who has never lived in a frontier camp such as Ragtown may find it +difficult to analyze the characters of Lucy Dalles and Albert Drummond. + +Less than a year before Ragtown had sprung up overnight, both had been +ordinarily respectable American citizens. Lucy's crowning fault had +been the lust for wealth. Added to this now was the fierce +determination to realize her ambition, coupled with the complete +breakdown of the moral fabric of her soul. She had been flirtatious +and pleasure-loving in San Francisco, but perhaps not really bad at +heart. + +Drummond had been as decent as millions of other young men who pass for +that in good society. A bit wild, but a man who dealt squarely with +others sportsmanlike, and perhaps considered perfectly honest by +himself and all who knew him. + +But all this the frontier town had changed. That little semidormant +spark of wickedness and criminality which is perhaps in every mother's +son and daughter of us had been fanned to a flame by the lawlessness of +Ragtown. The feverish night life, the chink of gold on gambling tables +that were seldom unoccupied, the continual drinking of intoxicants, the +doping and robbing of stiffs, which was practiced with studied, +businesslike regularity, the brawls and shooting scrapes--all these had +worked their insidious spell upon mentalities not forfeited by careful +early training and bed-rock character. + +Drummond and Lucy Dalles were dangerous conspirators now, and took a +certain pride in the knowledge of it. They not only schemed for great +rewards, but for the love of it. Lust for wealth and for revenge, the +thrill of the dangerous and underhanded game they played, contempt for +those whose moral fabric was too strongly woven to break under the +strain of Ragtown, a certain vague satisfaction in their newly +discovered rascality--all these spurred them on to make the most of +their opportunities. One step in the direction they had taken leads so +easily to another, that now they had reached a point in their moral +lapse where they would stop at nothing--not even the taking of life--to +win that on which they had set their hearts. + +From a night spent at poker, Al Drummond, weary and half dead for +sleep, reeled from the Dugout early on the morning when Hiram Hooker +set out to find the crazy prospector, Basil Filer. As he slouched +along the street in the cold he heard the jingling of bells and the +rumbling of heavy wagons; and presently the freight outfit of Jerkline +Jo rolled past, the girl and her skinners, bundled to the ears and +slapping their hands against their ribs for warmth. + +Drummond gave them a contemptuous glance for their honest and difficult +endeavor, then took note that his old enemy, the man from Wild-cat +Hill, was missing. He wondered about this, but gave it little thought +until it dawned upon him that Jo's beautiful black saddle mare, which +usually followed behind the wagon train with doglike loyalty, was +absent too. He stopped short then and found that he was thinking of +the old prospector, whom he had seen for the second time the day before. + +He was worried. Could it be possible that Jo and Hiram had got wind of +the mystery? For all he knew, they might have met the old man +somewhere on the desert and learned his secret. It was such a usual +thing to see Hiram behind his ten black freighters on every trip in or +out that the conspirator could not down suspicion. + +All that day he worried over it, but did not mention it to Lucy. +Coming from another night of poker the following morning, having seen +nothing of Hiram Hooker in the meantime, he decided to look into the +matter as best he could. + +He would get his car and drive up the line a way, toward the camp where +he had seen Filer two days before. He could readily learn at +intervening camps whether or not Hiram had ridden that way on Jo's +black mare. + +He had no appetite for breakfast, so he got out his touring car and +drove away toward the north while Ragtown slept. + +Men were at work in the third camp that he reached, and here a little +inquiry brought forth the information that Hooker had gone the way +Drummond had feared. Now he drove fast along the road that followed +the right of way, passing rapidly through camp after camp, until he was +far from Ragtown. + +It was not yet eight o'clock when, far ahead, he saw a black horse +galloping toward him. He had just run the car out upon the smooth, +dark surface of one of the desert's famous dry lakes, where almost +nothing grew. The ground was level and hard as a dance floor, so he +turned from the road and drove at right angles to it across the crusted +soil. He drove fast, and by the time the rider reached the point in +the road where Drummond first had seen him Drummond was so far away +that Hiram could not recognize him or his car. + +Drummond circled now and regained the road, continuing on into the +north in search of what he dreaded to discover. But not many miles had +been covered before he was gritting his teeth and swearing over the +knowledge of his scheme's defeat. He saw rolling toward him, swinging +their packs from side to side as gently as a mother rocks a cradle, six +shaggy, long-eared "desert canaries" with an old desert-colored man +behind them who limped along with the aid of a cane. + +Drummond drove no farther in that direction. There was no need for it. +The sight of the old man drifting toward Ragtown and Hiram galloping on +ahead of him showed him plainly that the cat was out of the bag, that +the two had held a conference on the desert during the night just past. + +Bitter with rage, Drummond turned about and drove fiercely back in +Hiram's wake. He slowed down when he began to draw near to the horse +and rider, and for an hour kept his distance while he waited for Hiram +to reach another dry lake that was nearer to Ragtown than the first. + +When the rider ahead had reached it and was galloping across if, +Drummond speeded up, reached the lake in turn, and at last was able to +make a wide half circle over land where no greasewood grew to impede +the course of the car. + +The lake was a large one, and by driving at close to sixty miles an +hour and skirting its edge, he reached the road again a mile ahead of +Hiram, and sped on toward home to break the news of defeat to Lucy +Dalles. + +At ten o'clock he reached Ragtown, having driven recklessly. + +"Somebody's spilled the beans!" was his stormy beginning. "We're +gypped. Got any jackass? Gi'me the bottle. I'm a wreck!" + +He dropped wearily into a chair and told of what he had discovered. + +"How on earth did they get wind of it?" she asked. + +Drummond threw out his hands in a gesture proclaiming ignorance and +despair. + +"There's one thing sure," she said thoughtfully. "He saw the paper +only yesterday or last night for the first time. Else why did he ride +way up there to see Filer? Jerkline Jo, then, has not yet seen it. +They've heard about it, though, and Hooker was sent out to hunt for +Filer. So the first thing the big rube will do when he reaches Ragtown +will be to travel over toward Julia to overtake Jo and report. He'll +get another horse, maybe, or hire a machine. Tweet would be in on it, +no doubt, and would take him in his car. So what we've got to do, my +dear boy, is to see that Hooker doesn't get to Jo with what he's +learned." + +"What can we do? He probably made a copy of what's written on Filer's +paper, so, even if we were to hold him up and get it away from him, old +Filer still would have the dope." + +"Of course. That means that we've got to fix that old dub, too." + +"What d'ye mean fix him?" + +The girl shrugged. "Stop the leak some way," she replied. "If we can +destroy Filer's paper and the copy Hooker's got, then we'll be the only +ones who know the dope. We'll have the only copy in existence, in +other words; and even if we fail to get at Jerkline Jo and learn the +rest of it, we can hold her to our terms. She won't be able to do a +thing without knowing what her father wrote on the paper that Filer +has." + +"Lucy, it's a crazy business," said Drummond. "Sometimes I think it's +all a pipedream of that nutty old prospector. They're all +bughouse--these old desert rats." + +"It's not a pipedream," Lucy stoutly maintained. "I tell you I saw the +blue tattoo marks on that woman's scalp when I was beautifying her up +for the ball that night. I wondered what they were. Of course, with +her heavy hair covering them--growing right out of them, in fact--I +couldn't make out anything but blue dots." + +"And you didn't ask her about 'em?" + +"Why, of course not, Al! Do you suppose a hair dresser would last very +long in the business if she showed curiosity about a thing like that? +You don't know much about women. If I'd found a knob on her nut as big +as a baseball she'd never have been told that I'd seen it." + +"But how in thunder has she reached her present age without knowing +it's there?" + +"She inadvertantly explained that; and so, when later in the day, old +Filer spilled what he knew I was sure Jo had never dreamed of what she +is carrying about under her hair. + +"You see, she was raised like an Indian. She told me that, even when +she was a little kid, she'd always been made to wash her own hair. She +naively confided to me that when she came into my place it was her +first time in any sort of a beauty parlor. A woman can't very well see +the back of her head, can she? And she'd never be able to see the +tattoo marks, even with two mirrors, with all that beautiful hair she's +got. Do you know what your scalp looks like, at the back of your head, +just above your ears? I guess not! You bet it's straight! And here +you sit arguing about a trifle, when a rich gold claim is slipping from +our fingers. Can't you--put your brain to work?" + +"Well, what's to be done?" + +"If that big boog starts to overtake Jerkline Jo, he's got to be +stopped, and the copy taken away from him. While this is going on, +Filer must be held up and the original taken from him and destroyed. + +"Then when we get the copy away from Hooker and destroy Filer's +original, we can throw our cards on the table and laugh at 'em. Come +right out and say, 'Yes, we schemed to beat you, and we've done it. +What're you going to do about it? You've got the tattooed part, we've +got the only copy of the other part. Make us an offer! Otherwise, +throw us in jail, if you think you've got it on us; but before we go +the paper will go up in smoke!' That'll hold 'em; and we'll demand +that we are not to be prosecuted, and we'll shake down half of the haul. + +"But listen, Al--we'll do that only if they beat us out up to a point +where negotiations become necessary. If only we can destroy the +original and Hooker's copy, we can hold Hooker a prisoner till we get +at Jerkline Jo and find out what's on her head. Then we can hog it all +and beat it." + +"Well--well, how'll we begin? You got me beat, Lucy. You're a better +schemer than I am. What's to be done first?" + +"Beat it in your car to the mountains and get Tehachapi and the other +roughnecks. Send Tehachapi Hank up the line to waylay Filer between +camps somewhere, with instructions to get the original from him by hook +or crook. Leave it to Hank. + +"Meantime, Hooker gets in here and starts after Jerkline Jo. It's +doubtful if the thickhead will think to memorize what's on his copy, as +I have done. Even if he does think to, he won't have time to do it +before you nab him. He's dense--he wouldn't learn it in a week, I'll +say!" + +"You and Hank's friend will waylay him, then, and get his copy, destroy +it, and take Hooker into the mountains as a prisoner, with Hank's +friend to guard him. Then it will be up to you and me to get Jerkline +Jo as she's coming back through the mountains. Yes, I'll go along! It +seems the rest of you can do nothing. Leave that Jane to me! I'll get +her by a method unknown to you men! + +"We'll dope her, cut off her hair, shave her scalp, and get the part of +the directions for finding the gold that we lack. Then, Al, why can't +you and I get the stuff, beat it, and give Hank and the other jasper +the ha-ha?" + +"Lucy, you're getting to be a regular little devil!" + +Lucy shrugged and seemed rather pleased than otherwise. + +"And your ideas about that gold are of the vaguest," he continued. +"You seem to think it's lying about in chunks, begging to be picked up +and heaped in bushel baskets! All we can do, perhaps, is make claim +filings, and get to Los Angeles and record them. Then, to realize +anything, we've got to take mining engineers out there to make tests. +Then the companies they represent will make us an offer--and probably +skin us alive. In the meantime we'll be having all kinds of trouble +with Jerkline Jo and her bunch of roustabouts." + +"Well, then, we'll settle all that later," Lucy retorted. "Your first +move is to go for Hank and get a toehold, as Tweet says. Don't borrow +trouble! It's time to figure out our future steps when we know we hold +all the trumps. And the sooner you start the better. Thank Heaven +you've not gambled away your last automobile, Al! Their horses beat +you before, but your last little old boat will win out now. Get after +'em, boy! It's a great game if you don't weaken!" + +Five minutes later Drummond was driving rapidly toward the mouth of the +mountain pass. By three o'clock he was back and following the line of +camps again, with Tehachapi Hank huddled on the floor of the tonneau +and covered with robes. Drummond had the good fortune to pass through +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Two when Hiram had stopped +there for a late "hand-out," furnished by the obliging cooks. Drummond +saw the black mare standing near the cook tent door, and hurried on +through, elated over the knowledge that Hiram had not seen him. He at +last dumped his passenger on the desert between camps, having estimated +that the slow-moving burro train could not be many miles ahead. + +Promising to return for Hank as soon as possible, Drummond raced back +toward Ragtown, passed Hiram again--at close quarters this time--and +reached the tent village ahead of him early in the evening. + +Now he and Lucy settled down to wait for Hiram's coming and to watch +his future movements. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +POCKETED + +Hiram Hooker, knowing well the story of Jerkline Jo's having been found +as a baby girl in a deserted camp on the desert, had easily been able +to convince old Basil Filer that she was the young woman he had been +searching for so long. + +They had spent half the night in planning in their desert camp. +Hiram's frank, open nature tended to breed confidence in the most +pessimistic of men; and when he told Filer of the wonderful character +of Jerkline Jo and assured him that, despite his past rascality, he +would be handsomely rewarded by her, the helpless old man agreed to all +that he proposed. + +Knowing that the prospector would not reach Ragtown for a long time +with his sauntering burros, Hiram was for making a copy of what the +precious paper contained and hurrying on ahead, to overtake Jo as soon +as possible, and suggest that she make arrangements for a strip to the +lost claims before starting back from Julia. To this the desert rat +agreed; but when they were ready for Hiram to make a copy it was +discovered that neither man had a scrap of paper, or even a pencil. + +There was nothing to be done then, if the original plan was to be +carried out, but for Basil Filer to surrender into Hiram's keeping the +document. This, with many misgivings, Filer consented to do. + +So they broke camp early next morning, and Hiram hurried on ahead with +the original in his pocket. The old man was to traipse along after +him, and in all probability would reach Ragtown before Hiram had +overtaken Jo. + +Al Drummond passed Hiram in his car as he was nearing his journey's end +late that afternoon; but of course Hiram thought nothing of this, as +Drummond and his car made a familiar sight about the country. Hiram +had decided to ask Tweet to carry him in his machine until Jerkline Jo +had been overtaken, which would probably occur between the foot of the +mountains and Artesian Ranch on the other side. Then Tweet would +return, and Hiram would ride on with the outfit and reveal to the girl +what he had heard of the strange thing she had worn concealed under her +lustrous hair since she was two years old. + +Hiram knew about how Drummond and Lucy had stumbled onto the truth, +which Jerkline Jo herself had not even dreamed of. + +What the old prospector had told him of his "dream" convinced Hiram +that Lucy had got wind of the secret and had cleverly posed as the lost +child grown up, and had been able to draw Filer's story out of him. He +had said that in his dream he had been shown something on the girl's +scalp, under her hair, that looked like tattooing. Hiram reasoned that +Drummond could have dotted Lucy's scalp with a pen and ink sufficient +to convince the old desert rat that she was the girl he was seeking. +Then he had told his story, but had been in some way rendered +unconscious and disposed of before he could demand the clipping of +Lucy's hair and the shaving of her scalp. No doubt, while he was +unconscious, Drummond and Lucy had made a copy of what was on the paper. + +To Hiram's great disappointment he found on reaching Ragtown late that +afternoon that Twitter-or-Tweet had driven to Los Angeles on business. +He hunted about for another machine, but there seemed to be none in +town that he could hire. There was Drummond's, of course, but to deal +with him was out of the question. + +"Hello, Hiram boy!" Lucy called sweetly as he walked past the shooting +gallery. "You look worried. Whassa malla? Jo fired you?" + +"Not yet," said Hiram briefly. "I was looking for a machine so that I +could catch up with the outfit, but can't seem to locate one." + +"Not many about town this time of year," she commented. "Did you get +so cuckooed Jo had to leave you behind to sober up, Wild Cat? And now +you've got to chase her, eh? 'Fraid Heine or some of 'em'll get her +away from you if you don't stick around--that it?" + +To this Hiram smiled with cold politeness, but, made no reply, passing +on down the street. + +He would be forced to wait until morning. Then, provided Tweet had not +returned, he would have to ride Babe over the mountains and reach +Jerkline Jo at least before she had started back. After all, there was +no great hurry. The gold had lain where it did for countless +centuries. It would continue to lie so for a few days more, perhaps. + +Tweet did not return that night, and at dawn Hiram was away toward the +mountains on the black mare, the precious paper secreted in his shirt. +He was ten miles from Ragtown before it occurred to him what a fool he +had been in not making a copy of it. Any one of a hundred things might +happen to it. Still, the crazy prospector had carried it through all +the years and had lost it. + +He wondered if it would not be a practical idea to commit it to memory. +Why, certainly--that was the thing to do. + +He was nearing such foothills as the abrupt mountain range boasted when +he decided not only to memorize it, but to make a copy on an envelope +which was in his pocket. It had covered a letter from Uncle Sebastian +Burris, Hiram's benefactor, up there in Mendocino County. He had found +it awaiting him the night before at Ragtown. He and Uncle Sebastian +had kept up a correspondence ever since Hiram had come south. + +Although he had no pencil, it occurred to him that he could write with +the lead bullet of one of his revolver cartridges, which simple feat he +had often performed in idle moments in the woods up home. + +Dismounting, he lowered the bridle rein over Babe's head, and sat down +on the ground. He took out Uncle Sebastian's letter, and with his +pocket-knife slit the envelope till it provided him with a square of +paper. He laid the worn original--a yellow piece of tough sheepskin +paper--on a flat rock beside him. He took a cartridge from his belt +and began to copy the reddish writing. + +He had just completed the task when there came a sudden terrific roar +in his ears, and before he knew what was happening a desert twister had +swept down upon him in all its fury. + +It passed swiftly, and through half-blinded eyes Hiram saw that the +original had been whisked from the rock on which it had lain as if by +magic. + +Fortunately he had held to his copy instinctively; but he had not +compared it with the original. He might have made some small but vital +mistake. Away over the desert twisted the miniature cyclone, and he +knew that, spinning around with it, was the sheepskin. Rather +foolishly in his excitement he grabbed his six-shooter from its holster +and slapped it down upon his copy to protect it from another such +catastrophe, and, still half-blinded, vaulted to the saddle and set the +mare at a dead run in the wake of the whirlwind. + +Then it was that Al Drummond, who had been slowly creeping through the +greasewood bushes toward Hiram, arose with a yelp of triumph and ran to +the weighted-down copy of the precious directions. + +Out there in the whirlwind the original was fleeing rapidly away from +the frantic rider, with the chances many to one that it would not be +recovered. Here in Drummond's hand was the only copy in existence, +except the one already in his and Lucy's possession. It was plain that +Hiram had not previously made another copy, else why would he have +stopped here on the desert to draft this one? Also, by the same token, +it was plain that Hiram had not memorized the contents. Basil Filer +might have done so, it was true; but, then, Tehachapi Hank would attend +to Basil Filer. + +Quickly Drummond stooped and touched the blaze of a match to the +envelope, and in a few minutes only a crinkled bit of black, charred +paper lay on the ground. + +"Pete!" he called, and from the greasewood another man arose and +hurried toward him. + +"Look!" Drummond cried exultantly, pointing to the burned paper. +"There's what's left of the copy he was making. And here's his gun--he +used it to weigh down the copy when he raced away after the whirlwind. +Run for the horses. We'll get after him and get the original away from +him, if he gets it. Then, if Hank gets Filer--which he certainly +will--we'll have the only copies in existence!" + +Pete, the bosom friend of Tehachapi Hank, turned about and ran up +toward the fringe of junipers that concealed their horses, brought down +the day before from the mountains. Drummond, while he waited, gazed +after the strange chase, and noted that the fleet black mare was +steadily overtaking the moving funnel of dust which represented the +whirlwind. + +"By golly, if he can ride into the thing and break it, or keep up with +it till it breaks itself, he'll get the sheepskin!" Drummond muttered. +"But he won't keep it. He's left his gun. He's our meat now!" + +Then Pete rode up rapidly, leading Drummond's mount, and next moment +they were on the dead run in pursuit of Hiram. + +Time and again, as they drew nearer, they saw Hiram deliberately riding +the mare through the whirlwind, trying to break it. The thing seemed a +devil, alive and diabolically bent on eluding him. It changed course +from right to left, but the cow pony was as quick as it was; and it +seemed to the racing spectators that she enjoyed the game. Hiram was +so intent on his task, so frequently blinded by the whirlwind, while +his ears were filled with its roar, that to ride almost upon him +without his knowledge of it was an easy task for Pete and Drummond. + +They were very close to him, then, when at last the mare's lunges broke +the whirlwind, and a scattered cloud of dust hid horse and rider. +Whether or not Hiram had rescued the paper they could not tell, but +they spurred their horses on. + +The dust settled, and close at hand they saw Hiram, dismounted. At the +same instant he seemed to hear the thunder of hoofs, and glanced their +way. He took a couple of steps and grasped his mare's bridle, and was +standing unconcernedly at her head When they raced up, both training +sixshooters on him. + +"Stick 'em up, Hooker!" ordered Drummond. "This means business at +last." + +Totally unarmed, Hiram grinned and slowly elevated his hands. + +Watching him closely, Drummond and Pete dismounted, and, still keeping +their sixes trained on Hiram's stomach, approached him. + +"Well, Hooker," Drummond said sneeringly, "we meet again, don't we? +You see, we've showed our hand at last--and it's a pretty good one, +too. You're onto us, anyway, I guess, so from now on we'll fight in +the open. Did you get the sheepskin?" + +Hiram reverted to his provincial drawl, as was his habit in moments of +great stress. + +"No, she got plumb away from me," he said. "She got outa the whirlwind +back there somewheres, or else she's gone on with what's left o' the +twister." + +"I was afraid you wasn't going to say that, Hooker," Drummond said. +"Well, let me show you something. Do you recognize this gat?" + +Hiram looked uneasily at a third big six-shooter, which Drummond had +produced as he spoke. + +"I reckon she was mine a while back," he said with a gulp. + +"Exactly. And what you left it to hold down, Hooker, has gone up in +smoke." + +"You got---- You burned----" + +"Got and burned is right, Hooker. But I don't just like your tone. If +you were on the stage, Brother Hiram, I think you'd get the hook. +'Hook Hooker!' the audience might yell. Don't you think I'm funny at +times, Gentle Wild Cat? It's just my pleasant little way of informing +you that I consider you a poor actor. 'You got--you burned' was pretty +fair, Hi-ram, but not quite good enough. So we're going to search you +and make sure you didn't get the sheepskin out of the whirlwind." + +"I didn't get it," Hiram said sulkily. "She's gone forever." + +"She is in any event, Hooker. But we have a copy at Ragtown--don't +forget that. Now let go these reins and step over here. And be mighty +careful, Hi-ram--mighty careful. My friend here is a nervous man with +a six-gun." + +Obediently Hiram dropped the mare's reins and stepped away from her +head. Drummond laid the two revolvers at some distance away from them +on the ground, so that, while he was searching Hiram, the latter would +have no opportunity to grab one from him and turn the tables. + +"Keep 'em up," he ordered; and, while Pete trained his gun on Hiram, +Drummond searched his prisoner from head to foot. + +"Guess you told the truth," he said. "Still, a fellow never can tell. +You're a pretty foxy guy at times. Strip, Hooker. + +"I guess you did tell the truth," Drummond said a few minutes later +after a thorough search had been made. "Still I'm not through yet. +You saw us coming and had time to hide it, if you found it." + +He stepped to the mare and went over her saddle, even turning the cheek +straps of the bridle inside out, and pawing through her heavy mane and +tail. He looked and felt in her ears. He held her nostrils with his +fingers until she jerked up her head and snorted out a blast of held-in +air. + +"Guess that would have shot out any paper in her nostrils," he remarked. + +"They say this Jo's a hoss trainer," suggested Pete. "Maybe the mare's +a trick hoss. Look in her mouth Drummond." + +Drummond did this, but found it empty. He studied a minute, his eyes +closed thoughtfully, then threw off the saddle and examined the +sheepskin lining, _tapaderos_, jockeys, skirts. + +Now for fifteen minutes he walked about over the ground. It was hard +and firm here--almost as smooth as the surface of a dry lake, with no +loose sand in which the paper might be concealed and little desert +growth. + +Returning he lifted the mare's feet one by one, then faced Hiram again. + +"Open your mouth," he commanded; and Hiram obeyed, displaying an empty +cavity. + +"Well, ole hoss, I guess the game's up for you folks," Drummond said +chuckling. "I never thought we'd be lucky enough to get rid of the +original. So now we'll leave you to put on your clothes and go your +way. You may see Jerkline Jo and tell her your little story; and you +two can discuss what's best to do. When you've decided, come to me and +we'll dicker with you." + +"How 'bout takin' 'im into the mountains?" asked Pete in a low voice. + +"No, that won't be necessary now. We need him to put the case before +Jerkline Jo. I'm against violence, anyway, in the main. And I'm not a +hog, like a certain person I might mention if it weren't for Hooker's +overhearing it. We'll let him go, and dicker later. Half suits me." + +Drummond climbed into the saddle, and the two wheeled their horses and +rode away. + +Hiram began to dress. + +"Look, Hooker!" called Drummond from a distance. "I'll drop your gun +right here." + +Hiram nodded and continued putting on his clothes, then resaddled the +mare. + +Then when the departing riders were mere specks in the distance he +stepped to Babe's head, reached his fingers up one of her nostrils, and +pulled out the wadded sheepskin document. + +"A heap o' fellas call themselves hossmen that don't know about that +little pocket in a hoss' nose," came his whimsical Mendocino drawl. +"She could snort all day, but the pocket ain't connected with her +nostrils." He patted Babe's glossy neck. "Li'l' black mare," he +crooned into her furry ear, "le's go find Jo!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +WHILE SPRING APPROACHED + +At a late hour in the evening of the day that Hiram Hooker set out to +ride with the sheepskin to Jerkline Jo, on her way to Julia, a strange +figure presented itself at the door of the lighted commissary tent of +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number Two. + +"Well, who in thunder are you?" exclaimed the young commissary clerk, +as his eyes fell upon a set of shaggy gray brows and a dusty, +bewhiskered face. + +"I'm Basil Filer--ole Filer," was the croaking reply. "I jest stopped +in to see if ye got a' automobile, or a hoss an' buggy, or somethin' +here." + +"Well, what if we have?" + +"Thought maybe ye'd give Tehachapi Hank a ride," came the answer. +"He's too heavy for Muta--that's my biggest burro. His feet drags and +ketches in the greasewood, and Muta she gets provoked at him. He won't +bother you none--Hank won't. He's peaceable. But he oughta be got to +a constable or somethin'. You see, Hank he's dead." + +This brought the clerk out into the night; and there in the light +streaming from the tent door lay the figure of a man crosswise and face +down on a burro's back. + +"Ye see, I know Hank some time," explained Basil Filer simply. "And +jest last night a friend o' mine he camped with me, and said Hank was +up to his old devilment ag'in. So I was camped on the desert out there +this evenin', and Hank he drifts in. And--well, I'm watchin', you see; +and so when Hank he sidles round and I see somethin' heavylike in his +hand, why, I ups and goes for my cannon. Then Hank he goes for his, +and I have to let him have it from the hip. Got any ca'tridges, +pardner? Hank he wasted the last one I had." + +"You--you killed this man?" faltered the clerk. + +"I hadn't only one ca'tridge, pardner," Filer said patiently. "And +Hank he's accounted a pretty clever gunman. Well, maybe he was. Ole +Filer he shoots ole jack rabbits in the eye at twenty paces with a six, +they'll tell ye. Anyway ye can figger that out, here's Hank. And he +oughta see a coroner er somethin'. I don't want 'im. Besides, time +Muta'd packed him to Ragtown, Hank he'd spoil. Muta she never did like +Tehachapi Hank, nohow." + +The following day the mortal remains of Tehachapi Hank were brought +into Ragtown, together with his self-confessed killer Basil Filer. The +constable--for Ragtown had one now--took Filer in charge and hurried +him to the county seat in Twitter-or-Tweet's machine. The burros had +been loosed to pick their living on the desert. + +"So that failed beautifully!" exclaimed Al Drummond to Lucy Dalles. +"Who'd have thought that old rabbit would be too quick for Hank! He +must have been on his guard." + +Lucy shrugged indifferently. "Filer was a master shot," she observed. +"Failed beautifully is right, Al--beautifully for us. It couldn't have +happened better. Now Brother Hank is out of it. If you can contrive +some way to shake Hank's partner, Pete, there'll be no one but you and +me to whack up. + +"Since Hank is numbered among the late lamented," she continued, "I can +forgive you for bungling the Hooker end of your job. With Hank's +finger out of the pot, I'm content to split with Jerkline Jo. So, no +thanks to you, everything has worked out all right after all. Can't +you send Pete out with instructions to bite a rattlesnake, or something +like that?" + +"You're mighty good-natured to-day, kid," Al said. + +"Why shouldn't I be? Since we know the original document and that +boob's copy are both destroyed--and that before he had time to commit +the directions to memory. We have nothing whatever to do but wait for +Jerkline Jo to come to us and ask us what our terms are. Then if you +and I aren't foxy enough to squeeze out the amiable Mr. Pete---- Well, +leave it to me!" + +"But have you thought," Drummond pointed out, "that perhaps Filer has +committed the instructions to memory?" + +Lucy scoffed at this and dismissed it with: "That old lunatic? Never! +He can hardly remember the story, and now and then forgets that he's +hunting for Baby Jean and hikes back for the desert. Don't worry about +his having committed anything to memory. He has no memory to commit it +to!" + +At about the time the foregoing dialogue was being spoken in Ragtown, +Jerkline Jo, in her tent at Julia, was making strange remarks to Hiram +Hooker, to wit, as follows: + +"Hi-_ram_! It ti-i-i-ickles! Sto-op-op! Wait a minute, Hiram!" + +"Huh!" snorted the unfeeling man. "Whoever heard of anybody being +ticklish on the head!" + +"But I am, Hiram! I just know I am! And isn't that razor far too +sharp?" + +"'There ain't no such thing,'" quoted the man out of the store of his +masculine experience. "Now quit wiggling, Jo, or I'm liable to cut +you." + +"Now go slow, Hiram. And if I say it feels funny, you stop. Now easy +at first! Horrors! I wouldn't be a man for anything!" + +"Don't blame me," mumbled Hiram. "Now quit wrinkling your scalp, Jo. +Fella'd think I was going to cut your head off, the way you dodge and +shrink." + +They were alone in the tent. Jo was on her knees on the ground, and +behind her and over her stood Hiram with an old-fashioned razor in his +hand. Beside them on a chair lay a strand of almost black hair three +feet in length, which Hiram swore that he would preserve until his +dying breath. On the back of Jo's head appeared a round spot, covered +with hairs half an inch in length, and these the brutal man was trying +to shave off with the razor. Never had barber a more provoking +customer. + +"Oh, I'll look like a fright, Hiram! I've always been proud of my +hair." + +"It'll grow out again," he said soothingly. "Besides, what I cut off +didn't cover a spot an inch and a half in diameter. With hair like +yours, it can't be noticed. If I'd thought it would disfigure your +hair, girl, I'd have said, 'Let the old gold go!' What an idea!" + +"I positively never heard of such a weird thing. And to think it's on +me! And---- Oo-oo-oo-oo! You cut me, Hiram! It's bleeding!" + +"No, no, no! Only more lather. Don't wiggle, Jo!" + +"There! It's all over," Hiram said after a minute of silence. + + +Four days later Lucy Dalles and Al Drummond stood behind the counter of +the shooting gallery at Ragtown, and with a certain amount of nervous +expectancy watched the freight outfit of Jerkline Jo grow larger and +larger as it neared the journey's end. + +Soon they heard the merry jingling of hundreds of bells, and next the +big horses were planting their heavy fetlocked feet in the street, +their glossy necks arched proudly as Ragtown turned out to greet them. + +Lucy stood on tiptoe and craned her neck along the line of heavily +loaded wagons. "Don't see Jo's whites at the tail end," she remarked. + +And presently her companion supplemented: "Nor Hooker's blacks. Say, +that's funny. There's only four teams, Hooker and the girl didn't +come!" + +"Oh, dear, dear! What can that mean? Al, Hooker must have memorized +the directions! And----" + +"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "If he'd memorized them, why did he sit down +on the desert to copy em?" + +"Oh, that's right, of course! But I'm worried, Al. Something must be +wrong." + +Just then two men passed along the street, and a fragment of their +conversation floated to the anxious pair: "Says Jo's sick at Julia-----" + +"Oh that's it!" Lucy murmured in relief. "And the hick stayed to nurse +her. There's not so much freight to be hauled right now. See, +Al--Heine and Keddie each are driving sixteen, with trailers. The +extra horses are white and black--Jo's and Hiram's. I wonder what's +the matter with Jo." + +"Huh!" snickered Drummond. "The package we handed her is enough to +make anybody sick! But I don't just like the way things look, either. +By golly, aren't we to know where we stand until Jo gets well!" + +Three of the wagons and trailers groaned on through the town toward +Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One, while the fourth--Heine +Schultz driving--entered the alley to reach the rear of Huber's store. +Twenty minutes later Schultz suddenly presented himself at the shooting +gallery. + +"Howdy," he greeted Al and Lucy, touching the broad brim of his hat +with a forefinger. "Jo's sick. I guess you've heard." + +"Yes, so some one said," Lucy smiled amiably at the dusty skinner. +"Isn't it too bad! What seems to be wrong, Heine?" + +"Bad cold--settled in her lungs," replied Heine briefly. "Er--now--Jo +told me to ask you somethin', miss. Either you or Drummond, she said. +I don't know what it's about. She just said: 'Go see Drummond or Lucy +when you get in and ask them their terms and let me know what they say +when you get back to Julia.'" + +Drummond darted a quick, triumphant glance at the girl. + +"Oh, yes," she said lightly to the skinner, "I know what she refers to. +Why, just tell her, 'Half,' Heine. That's all you need to say; she'll +understand." + +"Gotcha," said Heine, and lounged away, rolling a brown paper cigarette. + +The outfit started back again early next morning; and eight days later +it returned, still minus its two important figures. Again Heine +Schultz rested his bony elbows on the carpeted counter of the shooting +gallery, and spoke to Lucy, who this time was alone. + +"About that business between you folks and Jo," he said, indolently +filling a cigarette paper. + +"Yes?" eagerly returned Lucy. + +"Jo says tell you, 'Half is too much.'" + +"Oh! She--she's still ill?" + +Heine, shook his head sadly and tapped his chest. "Can't hardly hear +her talk," he said. "It's fierce. Wild Cat's scared stiff about it. +Well, what'll I tell 'er, Miss Lucy?" + +"I'll have to see Al before giving you an answer," she told him. +"Can't you drop around after supper, Heine?" + +"Sure. I'm on the water wagon, though," he added blandly, with no +suggestion of a deep meaning in his tones. + +An hour afterward Drummond met Heine on the street and handed him a +sealed envelope. "Give that to Jerkline Jo," he commanded shortly. + +"Gotcha!" drawled Heine, and slouched on up the street. + +"Confound it!" Drummond grumbled to Lucy little later. "Why in thunder +doesn't Tweet put a telephone line to civilization? We're wasting +time!" + +"Couldn't do anything, anyway, till Jo's on her feet again," the girl +practically pointed out. "Don't be overimpatient." + +Eight days later Heine Schultz faced them again. + +"Jo's still too sick to write," he announced. "But she's gettin' +better right along. She told me to tell you that what you wrote was +fierce, and that you was too greedy. That's only what Jo said. Don't +take it out on me. She said she'd be willin' to let you have a fourth, +over an' above all expenses." + +"Well, she'll do nothing of the sort!" Lucy cut in hotly. + +"Come around later, Heine," put in Drummond. "I'll have another note." + +"Gotcha!" replied Heine, and picked up a rifle to sight at a target +before strolling nonchalantly on. + +Two miles out of town next morning Heine took out his pocketknife and +slit the envelope covering the note that Drummond had given him to be +delivered to Jerkline Jo. + +"M'm-m!" he mumbled, reading slowly, a great calloused forefinger +following the lines. + + You'll come to our terms immediately, or our copy + of the instructions goes into the fire. We've reached + the end of our rope, and won't monkey any longer. + Take your choice, Miss Modock--or Miss Jean + Prince--half or nothing. Yes, we're just ornery + enough to rob ourselves to spite you. + + +Heine scratched his head and muttered: "Lord, be merciful unto me, a +skinner! Now what'll I say to that? Guess I'll stretch this trip out +to twelve days--we c'n have a breakdown or somethin'." + +It was indeed twelve days before the outfit was again seen in Ragtown; +and then Mr. Schultz had this to say to Drummond and the girl: + +"Jo says she'll be about pretty soon now, and she'll come over with us +next trip and see you herself. Says for you not to do anything rash, +or anything like that. What'll I tell her?" + +"Tell her to hurry up!" Drummond said angrily. + +"Gotcha!" drawled Heine, and betook himself to camp. + +Ten days later Mr. Schultz had this to report: + +"Well, sir, Jo she just naturally had a terrible relapse. Doctor's +worried blue about 'er. She can't talk, and she can't see to read. +She just lays there and gasps somethin' fierce." + +"What on earth has she?" cried Lucy. + +Heine scratched his head. "The doc said it was a kind o' complication +or somethin'. Dip'theria and appendiseetus, I think he said. Yes, +sir--that's it. Dip'theria and appendiseetus." + +"Ridiculous!" scoffed Lucy. "Did they operate?" + +"Operate! I should say they did! They whittled that woman down to +such a frazzle and when the doc goes to see her in the mornin' he has +to shake the sheets to find her!" + +"Heine, I believe you're a humorist," Lucy said doubtfully. + +Heine grinned. "She's gettin' better now, though; and the doc says +next trip she'll probably be over. Then she c'n 'tend to her business +with you herself. I wish she would. I get things all mixed up." + +Drummond and Lucy stared at each other when the skinner had left. + +"Gypped!" exclaimed Drummond. "There's something phony about this! By +George, I'm--I'm scared there's something wrong! Heine's been lying +like a sailor. I believe I'll drive over to Julia tomorrow and see +what I can find out." + + +"Sit down, Heine," invited Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet, rising and +lowering the window shade in his little pine office as the jerkline +skinner entered. + +Heine accepted. + +"Well?" queried Tweet, with a look of worriment in his face. + +"Ain't heard a word from 'em, Playmate, since they come in and filed, +and went back with a minin' engineer," said Heine. "I'm gettin' +worried myself. You see, that's a bad country up in there where +they've gone. Many a man's gone in there and left his bones for the +buzzards to pick." + +"But weren't they fixed for an ordeal, Heine?" + +"No one ever hit Death Valley better fixed," was the reply. "Jo, she +hires two big trucks and takes horses and pack burros and feed and grub +and water till you couldn't rest. They aimed to go as far as they +could with the trucks, and then make a headquarters there, leave the +drivers to look out for the camp, and her and Wild Cat was gonta make +it on in with the horses and the canaries. They had a scout that knows +that country from the southern end o' the Panamints to Lost Valley. +Oh, they went heeled; but it's a big job and takes time. Still, they +oughta be showin' up by now." + +Orr Tweet heaved a great sigh. "Jo's simply forgotten all about me," +he said mournfully. "Heine, I don't mind tellin' you--but if somethin' +don't happen pretty soon one Tweet goes up Salt Creek. Here it's only +ten days till I gotta plunk down six thousan' iron men, plus a raft o' +interest money. And the mortgages o' this blame rancho are watchin' me +like buzzards, ready to swoop down the minute I begin to gasp. They +got me where the hair's short, Heine. I not only lose the rancho and +all, but every cent Jo and me and Hiram's put into her. I ain't +sellin' an acre these days. Won't till summer's here, and the +blame'-fool homesteaders see that Paloma Rancho's worth ten times what +the government land's worth. The work on the grade is nearin' +completion, and the steel's creepin' closer every day. Every mornin', +when it's still, you c'n hear the whistle o' the track-layin' engine. +The camps are finishin' and movin' on, one by one. That takes trade +away from Ragtown, and concessionaires are quittin', too. A month from +now Ragtown will be only a memory, Heine. Not that, as Tweet, she +won't build up later and more substantially, when the steel's laid and +trains are runnin'. But to keep a stiff upper lip till then brings +gray hairs!" + +"Don't you worry," Heine said consolingly. "You just set tight and +watch the spring blossoms come. Jerkline Jo never failed man nor horse +nor dog in her life, and she ain't forgot you for a second. You bet +your last dime on Jerkline Jo, ol'-timer--and Wild Cat, too, s'far's +that goes. They'll ramble home in time to save you. I'll bet my bank +roll on it!" + +"Only ten days more," Tweet sighed heavily. "Oh, papa, what pretty +fireworks you made! Heine, are you still keepin' Drummond in hot +water?" + +"Oh, yes," Heine assured him. "They're doin' very well. Guess +Drummond'll be drivin' to see how Jo's gettin' along pretty soon. I +guess I queered things to-day. Tried to get funny, and pretty near +spilled the beans. I'll say he'd better take along about five huskies +to move boulders outa the road, if he tries to make it through the +pass. Them big boys just naturally roll down behind us the minute +we've passed. And comin' back, we hook on and snake 'em outa the way. +And then, by golly, they spring right back again! Funny rocks in this +country, Tweet." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +THE WAY OF LIFE + +Sand, sand, sand--far as the eye can reach, a sea of sand, with here +and there a half-buried and bleached horned skull, and vultures +circling high above in the heavens. + +Away in the blinding distance five specks appear, and finally are seen +to be slowly on the move. Hours after this discovery, if an observer +were to remain stationary, the specks take on the shapes of animal +life--two men, a woman, and two burros bearing packs. Onward they move +slowly, and once more become mere specks, scarce discernible against +the weird hue of the sky, then vanish altogether. Once more in all +this vast, dread waste moves nothing save the vultures indolently +circling in the hot dome above. + +Days later a dust-covered automobile worms its way through the traffic +in Los Angeles and comes to rest before a tall office building. Two as +dusty as the car descend from the tonneau, and one leaves the seat +beside the driver. Pedestrians stare curiously at the trio as, talking +and laughing in high spirits, they cross the pavement to the building's +entrance. + +"Desert rats--mining folks," observes a wiseacre to his friend. "Look +at the girl and the chaps! Peach, eh? That's the life! Ho-hum! +Gotta get back to the old office, Bill. See you to-night at lodge, I +s'pose. S'long!" + +In a lavishly furnished anteroom of a suite of offices on the top floor +of the building, Jerkline Jo and Hiram Hooker sank into overstuffed +chairs and relaxed, while the other man, in khaki and scarred puttees, +excused himself and entered the rooms beyond, carrying a suit case that +tugged at his arm until his shoulder sagged. He was absent from the +intercom a half hour. + +"Well, boy," said Jerkline Jo, "it's all over, I guess. What an +experience! I thought I knew the desert and the rough life before, but +I wasn't out of my A B C's." + +"It was glorious, though," said Hiram. "I wouldn't have missed it, +dear, for worlds." + +"Nor I, either. But I don't wish ever to return. Once is enough." + +After this they were silent. Both sat with eyes closed, dreaming of +the past and the beckoning future. Their dreams were finally +interrupted by the reappearance of Mr. John Downer, the mining engineer +for the Gold Hills Mining Co., in whose offices they now sat. + +"Well," he began, smiling, "if you'll come in now, Mr. Floresta would +like to have a talk with you. Getting a bit rested, Miss Modock?" + +Mr. Floresta, president of the Gold Hills Mining Co., was a pudgy, pink +man, carefully groomed and manicured and barbered, who radiated +businesslike good nature. On his rich mahogany desk lay a row of gold +specimens that glittered in the sunlight streaming in through a window. +He shook hands warmly with Jo and Hiram; and when all were seated they +talked of the trip for a time, and then the president plunged to the +heart of the business that had brought them together. + +"Knowing that you were in a hurry, Miss Modock," he said, "I called a +meeting of the stockholders, and we reached the conclusion that, if Mr. +Downer's report was entirely satisfactory, there would be no use in +quibbling over the price you and Mr. Hooker have asked. The sum that +you ask for the group of claims that you filed upon is, as you are +aware, an enormous one for unproved mining properties. Still, we wish +to be fair; and on Mr. Downer's glowing report we are going to take a +chance. Therefore, please state your pleasure in the matter of +payments, and arrangements will be made at once." + +A great sigh escaped Jo, and tears welled to her dark eyes. + +"Thank you, Mr. Floresta," she said. "If you can let us have two +hundred thousand at once, I'm sure payment of the remainder of the +million can be easily arranged to suit both sides." + +Mr. Floresta bowed and pushed a buzzer button. A moment or so later a +messenger was on the way to a bank with a check. When he returned he +handed Floresta another check--one certified by the cashier of the +company's banking house. + +"Now for yours and Mr. Hooker's signatures, please," said Floresta. "I +have indicated in the transfer papers that the remainder of the million +dollars is to be paid in four semi-annual installments, of two hundred +thousand each, with interest at six per cent on deferred payments. Is +that entirely satisfactory?" + +"Entirely," Jo told him, and went to his desk and took up the pen he +handed her. + +Five minutes later Hiram and the girl were alone in the anteroom once +more. Hiram took the hands of Jerkline Jo and bent over her. + +"Ma'am," he drawled whimsically, "if you'll let me, I'll kiss you now!" + + +Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet paced back and forth in his little pine +office, his hands behind his back, his brows furrowed. Every little +while he grabbed his nose and straightened it savagely, but each time +it reverted to its list to port again, and Tweet marched on +disconsolately. It was the evening of the next to last day of his +three days of grace. To-morrow Paloma Rancho, Ragtown, and all that +they represented would slip automatically from his control, and he +could not raise a finger to stop it. + +Suddenly the door burst open with a bang, and Heine Schultz filled the +little office with the roar of a behemoth: + +"Oh, boy! Have you seen it? Just come in with the mail! Los Angeles +papers! Here, read, man! And then get drunk! I'll help you!" + +Tweet snatched the paper from him, and his steel-blue eyes bugged at +the glaring headlines: + + Gold! Gold! Gold! Death Valley Gives Up + Another Secret. Rich Find in Little-Known Corner + of Treacherous Waste. Dead Father of Picturesque + Girl Called Jerkline Jo the Finder. Weird Tale of + Struggles and Death and Baby Lost on Desert. Gold + Hills Mining Co. Takes Over the Claims at $1,000,000. + President Says Richest Discovery Since Days of '49. + + +"Great stutterin' Demosthenes!" exclaimed Tweet, and fell limply into a +chair. + +Then again the door was opened, and a boy from the post office handed +Tweet a special-delivery letter. Tremblingly he tore the envelope and +removed a yellow telegram. Tears sprang to his eyes as he read aloud: + + "Have to-day deposited to credit of your checking + account in Bluemount National Bank, Los Angeles, + one hundred thousand dollars. Check against it at + pleasure. Hiram and I on our way to Mendocino + County for a little rest and to see old friend of his. + Reach Ragtown in about two weeks if all goes well. + + "JEAN PRINCE HOOKER, JERKLINE JO." + + +Tweet sprang from his chair, cramming on his hat. + +"Lock the door and take the key, Heine!" he cried. "I'm going to Los +Angeles at fifty miles an hour!" + + +At the same time in the shooting gallery Al Drummond and Lucy Dalles +stared over the top of a newspaper at each other, their eyes tragic. + +"Gyped!" exclaimed Drummond at last. + +"Gyped!" Lucy echoed faintly. + +Then for a time there was silence, broken at last by Drummond's weary +voice. + +"Guess I'll drift up to the Dugout," he said. "See you later." + +Lucy made no reply, but stood staring out across the spring-scented +desert, her thoughts on the tinkling streams of Mendocino and the big, +kind, sheltering trees. The rhododendrons were beginning to blossom +there now. Soon the redwood lilies would be scenting the air with +their delicate fragrance. Gray squirrels would be scolding in lofty +trees, and trout would be leaping in still, dark pools. + +Lucy sat down very suddenly, and then her head fell forward on her +arms. There on the carpeted counter, between the rifles, she sobbed +heartbrokenly. She knew by intuition that in her quest for wealth she +would not have Al Drummond to help her in the future. + + +Ragtown's biggest day was when old Basil Filer, having been acquitted +of the charge of murder on the evidence furnished by Jerkline Jo and +Hiram Hooker, returned to hunt for his burros. This was Ragtown's +greatest day because Hiram Hooker and his bride came, too. + +They had spent a pleasant time with Uncle Sebastian Burris in Mendocino +County, most glorious of countries in spring. Hiram had expressed the +wish to see Uncle Sebastian again and to tell him all that had befallen +him in driving jerkline to Ragtown. Hiram had learned a great lesson, +he felt. He had left the north woods to do something less prosaic than +driving jerkline, and a series of peculiar incidents had forced him +back into the same old groove again. Yet the once scorned, neglected +task had brought him adventures and a fortune and a splendid girl. +Over all this he wished to marvel with his old benefactor and friend, +and Jo had readily consented to the trip. They had returned for Basil +Filer's trial as the main witnesses for the defense. + +The stage brought all three into the town, and for the first time they +saw the new steel and the track-laying engine beyond. Carpenters were +building the roundhouse, and new buildings were going up all over the +village. + +Ragtown turned out in a body to meet them. The wagons and teams of +Jerkline Jo's freight outfit were covered with flags, and Jo's proud +skinners paraded the streets, the wagons loaded with cheering +townspeople. Carried on the shoulders of men, the bride and groom were +escorted to the Palace Dance Hall, where a banquet had been prepared, +over which presided Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet. + +Far into the night they celebrated, and in all of Ragtown there was +only one who did not attend. This was poor little Lucy Dalles, sobbing +her heart out in her little cabin, her dream of wealth and marriage +with Al Drummond gone. + +It was nearly midnight when there came a gentle tapping on her door. +Dashing the tears from her eyes, Lucy walked unsteadily across her +expensive rug and opened the door to a crack. Next moment she found +herself in a pair of strong arms, and her head lay on the breast of +Jerkline Jo. + +"There, there, dear! There, there! Don't cry! It's all right--all +right! I know--I understand." + +With her arms about the sobbing girl, big-hearted Jerkline Jo, the +desert's grandest product, led the way to one of the big leather chairs +and sat down. Only Lucy's sobs broke the silence, while Jo sat and +smoothed back her pretty hair. + +Presently the sobbing ceased, and then Jo rose and, taking her in her +arms again, kissed her and smiled into her eyes. + +"You must bathe your eyes now, dear," said Jo, "for Mr. Tweet is coming +to see you pretty soon. He told me so. Now look your best for Tweet +has something serious to say to you." + +She left her then, and an hour later Tweet interrupted Jo and Hiram in +Jo's little cabin on the edge of town. He came in and sat down. + +"Well, Jo," he said, "it's a go. We'll go to work and get married +to-morrow mornin', if the old bus will take us to a preacher. I guess +I've loved her some time," Tweet added bashfully. "Lucy and me'll make +nice little playmates." + +Hiram rose and gripped his old friend's hand. "I'm mighty glad, +Tweet," he told him. "Just too much Ragtown--that's all that was the +matter with Lucy. She was kind to me up there in Frisco when I'd just +come out of the woods. Her heart's warm, and that's what counts." + +Tweet's steel-blue eyes twinkled. "Course nobody could blame her for +makin' you spend four dollars an hour for an automobile," he said. "It +was a crime not to roll you for your jack in those days, Hooker. I +forgave her for that a long time ago." + +Next morning Basil Filer drifted into town, driving his recaptured +burros ahead of him. Silently he worked at packing the bags and +throwing diamond hitches. + +Jerkline Jo and Hiram stood laughing at the gurgling imps of the +desert, and Jo went up to Filer. + +"What does this mean?" she asked. "You're all packed up for a trip." + +The weird old eyes looked up at her queerly. "We're goin'--out there," +croaked Filer, a trembling finger pointing toward the fragrant desert. +"It's spring, Baby Jean--and now's the time to hunt for gold, when +there's lots o' feed for the little fellas." + +"Gold!" cried Jo. "Why, man, you've so much money coming to you that +you can't spend it in the rest of your natural life." + +"Money?" he said absently. "Yes--you've done me han'some, Baby Jean. +But I ain't got much use for money. Money's only a grubstake, so's you +c'n buy things and go out and hunt for gold. Good-by, folks! Next +fall you'll see me and the little fellas ag'in. Hi, Muta! Lead out!" + +And, gripping his staff, he limped off in the wake of his long-eared +companions, swinging their packs from side to side as a mother rocks +the cradle. + +"They're all like that," said a man. "It's the hunt for it that keeps +'em goin'. They don't know what to do with it when they get it." + +The dark eyes of Jerkline Jo were full of dreams. + +"Yes, we're all like that, I imagine," she said. + +"And how bout _you_, Jo?" some one asked. "Now that you're rich and +married and all?" + +Jo looked down the street at the nearly completed roundhouse and the +track-laying engine working on below the town. + +"I?" she said dreamily. "Why--why--I don't just know. The steel has +come, and now freight will reach here by train. We're going to New +York--Hiram and I--and maybe across the Atlantic. But we'll come back +soon, and--and---- Oh, there'll be a new road building +somewhere--another Ragtown. We couldn't quit, I guess. What's city +life and all that money will buy compared with the thrill of driving a +ten-horse jerkline team over the desert and the mountains? I guess, +after we've looked about the Gentle Wild Cat and I will just keep on +driving jerkline to Ragtown--somewhere." + +She pointed over the desert to where a bent old man and six drifting +burros were blending gradually into the landscape. + +"He's not crazy," she said softly. "He has just voiced a great +fundamental truth for all humanity. Money is only a grubstake. The +world needs gold and--and freight. Jerkline to Ragtown--that's life! +Some Ragtown will need freight--some Ragtown--somewhere." + + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The She Boss, by Arthur Preston Hankins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHE BOSS *** + +***** This file should be named 19129.txt or 19129.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/1/2/19129/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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