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diff --git a/27437-h/27437-h.htm b/27437-h/27437-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4bacef6 --- /dev/null +++ b/27437-h/27437-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9530 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Desert Dust, by Edwin L. Sabin. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + @media screen { + hr.ppg-pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.ppg-pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + .caption {font-size:.8em;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + .blockquot {margin:0.5em 5% 0.5em 5%;} + div.ra p {text-align: right; margin: auto 0;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Desert Dust, by Edwin L. Sabin + +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: Desert Dust + +Author: Edwin L. Sabin + +Illustrator: J. Clinton Shepherd + +Release Date: December 7, 2008 [EBook #27437] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DESERT DUST *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 369px; height: 502px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 369px;'> +Like some land of Heart’s Desire (<i>see page</i> 22).<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:2.2em; margin-bottom:2em;'>DESERT DUST</p> +<p>By</p> +<p style='font-size:1.2em;'>EDWIN L. SABIN</p> +<p style='margin-bottom:4em; font-style:italic;'>Author of “How Are You Feeling Now?” etc.</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>ILLUSTRATED BY</p> +<p style='margin-bottom:3em;'>J. CLINTON SHEPHERD</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 79px; height: 79px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style='margin-top:3em;'>PHILADELPHIA</p> +<p style='font-size:1.4em;'>GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY</p> +<p style='margin-bottom:2em;'>PUBLISHERS</p> +</div> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p>Copyright, 1921, by</p> +<p style='margin-bottom:1em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Frank A. Munsey Company</span></p> +<p>Copyright, 1922, by</p> +<p style='margin-bottom:3em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>George W. Jacobs & Company</span></p> +<p><i>All rights reserved</i></p> +<p>Printed in U. S. A.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Pair of Blue Eyes</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_A_PAIR_OF_BLUE_EYES'>9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>To Better Acquaintance</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_TO_BETTER_ACQUAINTANCE'>22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Rise in Favor</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_I_RISE_IN_FAVOR'>36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Meet Friends</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_I_MEET_FRIENDS'>54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>On Grand Tour</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_ON_GRAND_TOUR'>72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“High and Dry”</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI__HIGH_AND_DRY'>88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Go to Rendezvous</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_I_GO_TO_RENDEZVOUS'>102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Stake on the Queen</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_I_STAKE_ON_THE_QUEEN'>118</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Accept an Offer</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_I_ACCEPT_AN_OFFER'>131</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Cut Loose</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_I_CUT_LOOSE'>145</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>We Get a “Super”</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_WE_GET_A__SUPER'>162</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Daniel Takes Possession</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_DANIEL_TAKES_POSSESSION'>181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Someone Fears</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_SOMEONE_FEARS'>197</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Take a Lesson</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_I_TAKE_A_LESSON'>205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Trail Narrows</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_THE_TRAIL_NARROWS'>223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Do the Deed</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_I_DO_THE_DEED'>240</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Trail Forks</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_THE_TRAIL_FORKS'>252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Voices in the Void</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_VOICES_IN_THE_VOID'>261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>I Stake Again</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_I_STAKE_AGAIN'>272</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Queen Wins</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_THE_QUEEN_WINS'>286</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>We Wait the Summons</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_WE_WAIT_THE_SUMMONS'>300</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Star Shine</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_STAR_SHINE'>314</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>ILLUSTRATIONS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto'> +<col style='width:80%;' /> +<col style='width:20%;' /> +<tr> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Like some land of Heart’s Desire (<i>see page</i> 22).</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“Madam,” I Uttered Foolishly, “Good Evening.”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>85</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Scouts Galloped Onward</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>280</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='ppg-pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='font-size:1.6em;'>Desert Dust </p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_A_PAIR_OF_BLUE_EYES' id='I_A_PAIR_OF_BLUE_EYES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>A PAIR OF BLUE EYES</h3> +</div> + +<p>In the estimate of the affable brakeman (a gentleman +wearing sky-blue army pantaloons tucked into +cowhide boots, half-buttoned vest, flannel shirt open +at the throat, and upon his red hair a flaring-brimmed +black slouch hat) we were making a fair average of +twenty miles an hour across the greatest country on +earth. It was a flat country of far horizons, and for +vast stretches peopled mainly, as one might judge +from the car windows, by antelope and the equally +curious rodents styled prairie dogs.</p> +<p>Yet despite the novelty of such a ride into that +unknown new West now being spanned at giant’s +strides by the miraculous Pacific Railway, behold me, +surfeited with already five days’ steady travel, +engrossed chiefly in observing a clear, dainty profile +and waiting for the glimpses, time to time, of a pair +of exquisite blue eyes.</p> +<p>Merely to indulge myself in feminine beauty, however, +I need not have undertaken the expense and +fatigue of journeying from Albany on the Hudson +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +out to Omaha on the plains side of the Missouri +River; thence by the Union Pacific Railroad of the +new transcontinental line into the Indian country. +There were handsome women a-plenty in the East; and +of access, also, to a youth of family and parts. I had +pictures of the same in my social register. A man +does not attain to twenty-five years without having +accomplished a few pages of the heart book. Nevertheless +all such pages were—or had seemed to be—wholly +retrospective now, for here I was, advised by +the physicians to “go West,” meaning by this not +simply the one-time West of Ohio, or Illinois, or even +Iowa, but the remote and genuine West lying beyond +the Missouri.</p> +<p>Whereupon, out of desperation that flung the +gauntlet down to hope I had taken the bull by the +horns in earnest. West should be full dose, at the utmost +procurable by modern conveyance.</p> +<p>The Union Pacific announcements acclaimed that +this summer of 1868 the rails should cross the Black +Hills Mountains of Wyoming to another range of the +Rocky Mountains, in Utah; and that by the end of +the year one might ride comfortably clear to Salt +Lake City. Certainly this was “going West” with +a vengeance; but as appeared to me—and to my father +and mother and the physicians—somewhere in +the expanse of brand new Western country, the plains +and mountains, I would find at least the breath of +life. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></p> +<p>When I arrived in Omaha the ticket agent was enabled +to sell me transportation away to the town of +Benton, Wyoming Territory itself, six hundred and +ninety miles (he said) west of the Missouri.</p> +<p>Of Benton I had never heard. It was upon no +public maps, as yet. But in round figures, seven hundred +miles! Practically the distance from Albany to +Cincinnati, and itself distant from Albany over two +thousand miles! All by rail.</p> +<p>Benton was, he explained, the present end of passenger +service, this August. In another month—and +he laughed.</p> +<p>“Fact is, while you’re standing here,” he alleged, +“I may get orders any moment to sell a longer ticket. +The Casements are laying two to three miles of track +a day, seven days in the week, and stepping right on +the heels of the graders. Last April we were selling +only to Cheyenne, rising of five hundred miles. Then +in May we began to sell to Laramie, five hundred and +seventy-six miles. Last of July we began selling to +Benton, a hundred and twenty miles farther. Track’s +now probably fifty or more miles west of Benton and +there’s liable to be another passenger terminus to-morrow. +So it might pay you to wait.”</p> +<p>“No,” I said. “Thank you, but I’ll try Benton. +I can go on from there as I think best. Could you +recommend local accommodations?”</p> +<p>He stared, through the bars of the little window +behind which lay a six-chambered revolver. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></p> +<p>“Could I do what, sir?”</p> +<p>“Recommend a hotel, at Benton where I’m going. +There is a hotel, I suppose?”</p> +<p>“Good Lord!” he exclaimed testily. “In a city +of three thousand people? A hotel? A dozen of +’em, but I don’t know their names. What do you +expect to find in Benton? You’re from the East, I +take it. Going out on spec’, or pleasure, or health?”</p> +<p>“I have been advised to try Western air for a +change,” I answered. “I am looking for some place +that is high, and dry.”</p> +<p>“Consumption, eh?” he shrewdly remarked. +“High and dry; that’s it. Oh, yes; you’ll find Benton +high enough, and toler’bly dry. You bet! And +nobody dies natural, at Benton, they say. Here’s +your ticket. Thank you. And the change. Next, +please.”</p> +<p>It did not take me long to gather the change remaining +from seventy dollars greenbacks swapped for +six hundred and ninety miles of travel at ten cents a +mile. I hastily stepped aside. A subtle fragrance +and a rustle warned me that I was obstructing a +representative of the fair sex. So did the smirk and +smile of the ticket agent.</p> +<p>“Your pardon, madam,” I proffered, lifting my +hat—agreeably dazzled while thus performing.</p> +<p>She acknowledged the tribute with a faint blush. +While pocketing my change and stowing away my +ticket I had opportunity to survey her further. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>“Benton,” she said briefly, to the agent.</p> +<p>We were bound for the same point, then. Ye gods, +but she was a little beauty: a perfect blonde, of the +petite and fully formed type, with regular features +inclined to the clean-cut Grecian, a piquant mouth +deliciously bowed, two eyes of the deepest blue veiled +by long lashes, and a mass of glinting golden hair +upon which perched a ravishing little bonnet. The +natural ensemble was enhanced by her costume, all of +black, from the closely fitting bodice to the rustling +crinoline beneath which there peeped out tiny shoes. +I had opportunity also to note the jet pendant in the +shelly ear toward me, and the flashing rings upon the +fingers of her hands, ungloved in order to sort out the +money from her reticule.</p> +<p>Sooth to say, I might not stand there gawking. +Once, by a demure sideways glance, she betrayed +knowledge of my presence. Her own transaction was +all matter-of-fact, as if engaging passage to Benton of +Wyoming Territory contained no novelty for her. +Could she by any chance live there—a woman dressed +like she was, as much à la mode as if she walked +Broadway in New York? Omaha itself had astonished +me with the display upon its streets; and now if +Benton, far out in the wilderness, should prove +another surprise——! Indeed, the Western world +was not so raw, after all. Strange to say, as soon as +one crossed the Missouri River one began to sense +romance, and to discover it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></p> +<p>As seemed to me, the ticket agent would have +detained her, in defiance of the waiting line; but she +finished her business shortly, with shorter replies to +his idle remarks; and I turned away under pretense of +examining some placards upon the wall advertising +“Platte Valley lands” for sale. I had curiosity to +see which way she wended. Then as she tripped for +the door, casting eyes never right nor left, and still +fumbling at her reticule, a coin slipped from her +fingers and rolled, by good fortune, across the floor.</p> +<p>I was after it instantly; caught it, and with best +bow presented it.</p> +<p>“Permit me, madam.”</p> +<p>She took it.</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> +<p>For a moment she paused to restore it to its company; +and I grasped the occasion.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon. You are going to Benton, of +Wyoming Territory?”</p> +<p>Her eyes met mine so completely as well-nigh to +daze me with their glory. There was a quizzical uplift +in her frank, arch smile.</p> +<p>“I am, sir. To Benton City, of Wyoming Territory.”</p> +<p>“You are acquainted there?” I ventured.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. I am acquainted there. And you are +from Benton?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no,” I assured. “I am from New York +State.” As if anybody might not have known. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +“But I have just purchased my ticket to Benton, +and——” I stammered, “I have made bold to wonder +if you would not have the goodness to tell me +something of the place—as to accommodations, and +all that. You don’t by any chance happen to live +there, do you?”</p> +<p>“And why not, sir, may I ask?” she challenged.</p> +<p>I floundered before her query direct, and her bewildering +eyes and lips—all tantalizing.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know—I had no idea—Wyoming Territory +has been mentioned in the newspapers as +largely Indian country——”</p> +<p>“At Benton we are only six days behind New York +fashions,” she smiled. “You have not been out over +the railroad, then, I suspect. Not to North Platte? +Nor to Cheyenne?”</p> +<p>“I have never been west of Cincinnati before.”</p> +<p>“You have surely been reading of the railroad? +The Pacific Railway between the East and California?”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed. In fact, a friend of mine, named +Stephen Clark, nephew of the Honorable Thurlow +Weed formerly of Albany, was killed a year ago by +your Indians while surveying west of the Black Hills. +And of course there have been accounts in the New +York papers.”</p> +<p>“You are not on survey service? Or possibly, +yes?”</p> +<p>“No, madam.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p> +<p>“A pleasure trip to end of track?”</p> +<p>She evidently was curious, but I was getting accustomed +to questions into private matters. That was +the universal license, out here.</p> +<p>“The pleasure of finding health,” I laughed. “I +have been advised to seek a location high and dry.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” She dimpled adorably. “I congratulate +you on your choice. You will make no mistake, then, +in trying Benton. I can promise you that it is high +and reasonably dry. And as for accommodations—so +far as I have ever heard anybody is accommodated +there with whatever he may wish.” She darted a +glance at me; stepped aside as if to leave.</p> +<p>“I am to understand that it is a city?” I pleaded.</p> +<p>“Benton? Why, certainly. All the world is +flowing to Benton. We gained three thousand people +in two weeks—much to the sorrow of poor old +Cheyenne and Laramie. No doubt there are five +thousand people there now, and all busy. Yes, a +young man will find his opportunities in Benton. I +think your choice will please you. Money is plentiful, +and so are the chances to spend it.” She bestowed +upon me another sparkling glance. “And since we +are both going to Benton I will say ’Au revoir,’ sir.” +She left me quivering.</p> +<p>“You do live there?” I besought, after; and received +a nod of the golden head as she entered the +sacred Ladies’ Waiting Room.</p> +<p>Until the train should be made up I might only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +stroll, restless and strangely buoyed, with that vision +of an entrancing fellow traveler filling my eyes. +Summoned in due time by the clamor “Passengers +for the Pacific Railway! All aboard, going west on +the Union Pacific!” here amidst the platform hurly-burly +of men, women, children and bundles I had the +satisfaction to sight the black-clad figure of My Lady +of the Blue Eyes; hastening, like the rest, but not unattended—for +a brakeman bore her valise and the +conductor her parasol. The scurrying crowd gallantly +parted before her. It as promptly closed upon her +wake; try as I might I was utterly unable to keep in +her course.</p> +<p>Obviously, the train was to be well occupied. +Carried on willy-nilly I mounted the first steps at +hand; elbowed on down the aisle until I managed to +squirm aside into a vacant seat. The remaining half +was at once effectually filled by a large, stout, red-faced +woman who formed the base of a pyramid of +boxes and parcels.</p> +<p>My neighbor, who blocked all egress, was going to +North Platte, three hundred miles westward, I +speedily found out. And she almost as speedily +learned that I was going to Benton.</p> +<p>She stared, round-eyed.</p> +<p>“I reckon you’re a gambler, young man,” she +accused.</p> +<p>“No, madam. Do I look like a gambler?”</p> +<p>“You can’t tell by looks, young man,” she asserted, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +still suspicious, “Maybe you’re on spec’, then, in +some other way.”</p> +<p>“I am seeking health in the West, is all, where the +climate is high and dry.”</p> +<p>“My Gawd!” she blurted. “High and dry! +You’re goin’ to the right place. For all I hear tell, +Benton is high enough and dry enough. Are your +eye-teeth peeled, young man?”</p> +<p>“My eye-teeth?” I repeated. “I hope so, madam. +Are eye-teeth necessary in Benton?”</p> +<p>“Peeled, and with hair on ’em, young man,” she +assured. “I guess you’re a pilgrim, ain’t you? I see +a leetle green in your eye. No, you ain’t a tin-horn. +You’re some mother’s boy, jest gettin’ away from the +trough. My sakes! Sick, too, eh? Weak lungs, +ain’t it? Now you tell me: Why you goin’ to Benton?”</p> +<p>There was an inviting kindness in her query. +Plainly she had a good heart, large in proportion with +her other bulk.</p> +<p>“It’s the farthest point west that I can reach by +railroad, and everybody I have talked with has recommended +it as high and dry.”</p> +<p>“So it is,” she nodded; and chuckled fatly. “But +laws sakes, you don’t need to go that fur. You can +as well stop off at North Platte, or Sidney or Cheyenne. +They’ll sculp you sure at Benton, unless you +watch out mighty sharp.”</p> +<p>“How so, may I ask?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span></p> +<p>“You’re certainly green,” she apprised. “Benton’s +roarin’—and I know what that means. Didn’t +North Platte roar? I seen it at its beginnin’s. My +old man and me, we were there from the fust, when +it started in as the railroad terminal. My sakes, but +them were times! What with the gamblin’ and the +shootin’ and the drinkin’ and the high-cockalorums +night and day, ’twasn’t no place for innocence. Easy +come, easy go, that was the word. I don’t say but +what times were good, though. My old man contracted +government freight, and I run an eatin’ house +for the railroaders, so we made money. Then when +the railroad moved terminus, the wust of the crowd +moved, too, and us others who stayed turned North +Platte into a strictly moral town. But land sakes! +North Platte in its roarin’ days wasn’t no place for a +young man like you. Neither was Julesburg, or Sidney, +or Cheyenne, when they was terminuses. And I +hear tell Benton is wuss’n all rolled into one. Young +man, now listen: You stop off at North Platte, Nebrasky. +It’s healthy and it’s moral, and it’s goin’ to +make Omyha look like a shinplaster. I’ll watch after +you. Maybe I can get you a job in my man’s store. +You’ve j’ined some church, I reckon? Now if you’re +a Baptist——?”</p> +<p>But since I had crossed the Missouri something had +entered into my blood which rendered me obstinate +against such allurements. For her North Platte, +“strictly moral,” and the guardianship of her broad +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +motherly wing I had no ardent feeling. I was set +upon Benton; foolishly, fatuously set. And in after +days—soon to arrive—I bitterly regretted that I had +not yielded to her wholesome, honest counsel.</p> +<p>Nevertheless this was true, at present:</p> +<p>“But I have already purchased my ticket to Benton,” +I objected. “I understand that I shall find the +proper climate there, and suitable accommodations. +And if I don’t like it I can move elsewhere. Possibly +to Salt Lake City, or Denver.”</p> +<p>She snorted.</p> +<p>“In among them Mormons? My Gawd, young +man! Where they live in conkibinage—several +women to one man, like a buffler herd or other beasts +of the field? I guess your mother never heard you +talk like that. Denver—well, Denver mightn’t be bad, +though I do hear tell that folks nigh starve to death +there, what with the Injuns and the snow. Denver +ain’t on no railroad, either. If you want health, and +to grow up with a strictly moral community, you +throw in with North Platte of Nebrasky, the great +and growin’ city of the Plains. I reckon you’ve heard +of North Platte, even where you come from. You +take my word for it, and exchange your ticket.”</p> +<p>It struck me here that the good woman might not +be unbiased in her fondness for North Platte. To +extol the present and future of these Western towns +seemed a fixed habit. During my brief stay in +Omaha—yes, on the way across Illinois and Iowa +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +from Chicago, I had encountered this peculiar trait. +Iowa was rife with aspiring if embryonic metropolises. +Now in Nebraska, Columbus was destined to be +the new national capital and the center of population +for the United States; Fremont was lauded as one of +the great railroad junctions of the world; and North +Platte, three hundred miles out into the plains, was +proclaimed as the rival of Omaha, and “strictly +moral.”</p> +<p>“I thank you,” I replied. “But since I’ve started +for Benton I think I’ll go on. And if I don’t like it +or it doesn’t agree with me you may see me in North +Platte after all.”</p> +<p>She grunted.</p> +<p>“You can find me at the Bon Ton restaurant. If +you get in broke, I’ll take care of you.”</p> +<p>With that she settled herself comfortably. In remarkably +short order she was asleep and snoring.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_TO_BETTER_ACQUAINTANCE' id='II_TO_BETTER_ACQUAINTANCE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>TO BETTER ACQUAINTANCE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The train had started amidst clangor of bell and +the shouts of good-bye and good-luck from the crowd +upon the station platform. We had rolled out +through train yards occupied to the fullest by car +shops, round house, piled-up freight depot, stacks of +ties and iron, and tracks covered with freight cars +loaded high to rails, ties, baled hay, all manner and +means of supplies designed, I imagined, for the building +operations far in the West.</p> +<p>Soon we had left this busy Train Town behind, and +were entering the open country. The landscape was +pleasing, but the real sights probably lay ahead; so I +turned from my window to examine my traveling +quarters.</p> +<p>The coach—a new one, built in the company’s shops +and decidedly upon a par with the very best coaches +of the Eastern roads—was jammed; every seat taken. +I did not see My Lady of the Blue Eyes, nor her +equal, but almost the whole gamut of society was +represented: Farmers, merchants, a few soldiers, +plainsmen in boots and flannel shirt-sleeves and long +hair and large hats, with revolvers hanging from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +racks above them or from the seat ends; one or two +white-faced gentry in broadcloth and patent-leather +shoes—who I fancied might be gamblers such as now +and then plied their trade upon the Hudson River +boats; two Indians in blankets; Eastern tourists, akin +to myself; women and children of country type; and +so forth. What chiefly caught my eye were the carbines +racked against the ends of the coach, for protection +in case of Indians or highwaymen, no doubt. +I observed bottles being passed from hand to hand, +and tilted en route. The amount and frequency of +the whiskey for consumption in this country were astonishing.</p> +<p>My friend snored peacefully. Near noon we halted +for dinner at the town of Fremont, some fifty miles +out. She awakened at the general stir, and when I +squeezed by her she immediately fished for a packet of +lunch. We had thirty minutes at Fremont—ample +time in which to discuss a very excellent meal of +antelope steaks, prairie fowl, fried potatoes and hot +biscuits. There was promise of buffalo meat farther +on, possibly at the next meal station, Grand Island.</p> +<p>The time was sufficient, also, to give me another +glimpse of My Lady of the Blue Eyes, who appeared +to have been awarded the place of honor between the +conductor and the brakeman, at table. She bestowed +upon me a subtle glance of recognition—with a smile +and a slight bow in one; but I failed to find her upon +the station platform after the meal. That I should +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +obtain other opportunities I did not doubt. Benton +was yet thirty hours’ travel.</p> +<p>All that afternoon we rocked along up the Platte +Valley, with the Platte River—a broad but shallow +stream—constantly upon our left. My seat companion +evidently had exhausted her repertoire, for +she slumbered at ease, gradually sinking into a shapeless +mass, her flowered bonnet askew. Several other +passengers also were sleeping; due, in part, to the +whiskey bottles. The car was thinning out, I noted, +and I might bid in advance for the chance of obtaining +a new location in a certain car ahead.</p> +<p>The scenery through the car window had merged +into a monotony accentuated by great spaces. As far +as Fremont the country along the railroad had been +well settled with farms and unfenced cultivated fields. +Now we had issued into the untrammeled prairies, +here and there humanized by an isolated shack or a +lonely traveler by horse or wagon, but in the main a +vast sun-baked dead sea of gentle, silent undulations +extending, brownish, clear to the horizons. The only +refreshing sights were the Platte River, flowing blue +and yellow among sand-bars and islands, and the side +streams that we passed. Close at hand the principal +tokens of life were the little flag stations, and the +tremendous freight trains side-tracked to give us the +right of way. The widely separated hamlets where +we impatiently stopped were the oases in the desert.</p> +<p>In the sunset we halted at the supper station, named +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +Grand Island. My seat neighbor finished her lunch +box, and I returned well fortified by another excellent +meal at the not exorbitant price, one dollar and +a quarter. There had been buffalo meat—a poor +apology, to my notion, for good beef. Antelope +steak, on the contrary, was of far finer flavor than the +best mutton.</p> +<p>At Grand Island a number of wretched native Indians +drew my attention, for the time being, from +quest of My Lady of the Blue Eyes. However, she +was still escorted by the conductor, who in his brass +buttons and officious air began to irritate me. Such +a persistent squire of dames rather overstepped the +duties of his position. Confound the fellow! He +surely would come to the end of his run and his rope +before we went much farther.</p> +<p>“Now, young man, if you get shet of your foolishness +and decide to try North Platte instead of some +fly-by-night town on west,” my seat companion addressed, +“you jest follow me when I leave. We get +to North Platte after plumb dark, and you hang onto +my skirts right up town, till I land you in a good +place. For if you don’t, you’re liable to be skinned +alive.”</p> +<p>“If I decide upon North Platte I certainly will take +advantage of your kindness,” I evaded. Forsooth, +she had a mind to kidnap me!</p> +<p>“Now you’re talkin’ sensible,” she approved. +“My sakes alive! Benton!” And she sniffed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +“Why, in Benton they’ll snatch you bald-headed ’fore +you’ve been there an hour.”</p> +<p>She composed herself for another nap.</p> +<p>“If that pesky brakeman don’t remember to wake +me, you give me a poke with your elbow. I wouldn’t +be carried beyond North Platte for love or money.”</p> +<p>She gurgled, she snored. The sunset was fading +from pink to gold—a gold like somebody’s hair; and +from gold to lemon which tinted all the prairie and +made it beautiful. Pursuing the sunset we steadily +rumbled westward through the immensity of unbroken +space.</p> +<p>The brakeman came in, lighting the coal-oil lamps. +Outside, the twilight had deepened into dusk. Numerous +passengers were making ready for bed: the +men by removing their boots and shoes and coats and +galluses and stretching out; the women by loosening +their stays, with significant clicks and sighs, and laying +their heads upon adjacent shoulders or drooping +against seat ends. Babies cried, and were hushed. +Final night-caps were taken, from the prevalent bottles.</p> +<p>The brakeman, returning, paused and inquired +right and left on his way through. He leaned to me.</p> +<p>“You for North Platte?”</p> +<p>“No, sir. Benton, Wyoming Territory.”</p> +<p>“Then you’d better move up to the car ahead. +This car stops at North Platte.”</p> +<p>“What time do we reach North Platte?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></p> +<p>“Two-thirty in the morning. If you don’t want to +be waked up, you’d better change now. You’ll find +a seat.”</p> +<p>At that I gladly followed him out. He indicated a +half-empty seat.</p> +<p>“This gentleman gets off a bit farther on; then +you’ll have the seat to yourself.”</p> +<p>The arrangement was satisfactory, albeit the +“gentleman” with whom I shared appeared, to nose +and eyes, rather well soused, as they say; but fortune +had favored me—across the aisle, only a couple of +seats beyond, I glimpsed the top of a golden head, +securely low and barricaded in by luggage.</p> +<p>Without regrets I abandoned my former seat-mate +to her disappointment when she waked at North +Platte. This car was the place for me, set apart by +the salient presence of one person among all the +others. That, however, is apt to differentiate city +from city, and even land from land.</p> +<p>Eventually I, also, slept—at first by fits and starts +concomitant with railway travel by night, then more +soundly when the “gentleman,” my comrade in adventure, +had been hauled out and deposited elsewhere. +I fully awakened only at daylight.</p> +<p>The train was rumbling as before. The lamps had +been extinguished—the coach atmosphere was heavy +with oil smell and the exhalations of human beings +in all stages of deshabille. But the golden head was +there, about as when last sighted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p> +<p>Now it stirred, and erected a little. I felt the unseemliness +of sitting and waiting for her to make her +toilet, so I hastily staggered to achieve my own by +aid of the water tank, tin basin, roller towel and small +looking-glass at the rear—substituting my personal +comb and brush for the pair hanging there by +cords.</p> +<p>The coach was the last in the train. I stepped out +upon the platform, for fresh air.</p> +<p>We were traversing the real plains of the Great +American Desert, I judged. The prairie grasses had +shortened to brown stubble interspersed with bare +sandy soil rising here and there into low hills. It +was a country without north, south, east, west, save +as denoted by the sun, broadly launching his first +beams of the day. Behind us the single track of +double rails stretched straight away as if clear to the +Missouri. The dull blare of the car wheels was the +only token of life, excepting the long-eared rabbits +scampering with erratic high jumps, and the prairie +dogs sitting bolt upright in the sunshine among their +hillocked burrows. Of any town there was no sign. +We had cut loose from company.</p> +<p>Then we thundered by a freight train, loaded with +still more ties and iron, standing upon a siding +guarded by the idling trainmen and by an operator’s +shack. Smoke was welling from the chimney of the +shack—and that domestic touch gave me a sense of +homesickness. Yet I would not have been home, even +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +for breakfast. This wide realm of nowhere fascinated +with the unknown.</p> +<p>The train and shack flattened into the landscape. +A bevy of antelope flashed white tails at us as they +scudded away. Two motionless figures, horseback, +whom I took to be wild Indians, surveyed us from a +distant sand-hill. Across the river there appeared a +fungus of low buildings, almost indistinguishable, +with a glimmer of canvas-topped wagons fringing it. +That was the old emigrant road.</p> +<p>While I was thus orienting myself in lonesome +but not entirely hopeless fashion the car door opened +and closed. I turned my head. The Lady of the +Blue Eyes had joined me. As fresh as the morning +she was.</p> +<p>“Oh! You? I beg your pardon, sir.” She apologized, +but I felt that the diffidence was more politic +than sincere.</p> +<p>“You are heartily welcome, madam,” I assured. +“There is air enough for us both.”</p> +<p>“The car is suffocating,” she said. “However, the +worst is over. We shall not have to spend another +such a night. You are still for Benton?”</p> +<p>“By all means.” And I bowed to her. “We are +fellow-travelers to the end, I believe.”</p> +<p>“Yes?” She scanned me. “But I do not like +that word: the end. It is not a popular word, in the +West. Certainly not at Benton. For instance——”</p> +<p>We tore by another freight waiting upon a siding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +located amidst a wide débris of tin cans, scattered +sheet-iron, stark mud-and-stone chimneys, and barren +spots, resembling the ruins from fire and quake.</p> +<p>“There is Julesburg.”</p> +<p>“A town?” I gasped.</p> +<p>“The end.” She smiled. “The only inhabitants +now are in the station-house and the graveyard.”</p> +<p>“And the others? Where are they?”</p> +<p>“Farther west. Many of them in Benton.”</p> +<p>“Indeed? Or in North Platte!” I bantered.</p> +<p>“North Platte!” She laughed merrily. “Dear +me, don’t mention North Platte—not in the same +breath with Benton, or even Cheyenne. A town of +hayseeds and dollar-a-day clerks whose height of +sport is to go fishing in the Platte! A young man +like you would die of ennui in North Platte. Julesburg +was a good town while it lasted. People <i>lived</i>, +there; and moved on because they wished to keep +alive. What is life, anyway, but a constant shuffle +of the cards? Oh, I should have laughed to see you +in North Platte.” And laugh she did. “You might +as well be dead underground as buried in one of those +smug seven-Sabbaths-a-week places.”</p> +<p>Her free speech accorded ill with what I had been +accustomed to in womankind; and yet became her +sparkling eyes and general dash.</p> +<p>“To be dead is past the joking, madam,” I reminded.</p> +<p>“Certainly. To be dead is the end. In Benton we +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +live while we live, and don’t mention the end. So I +took exception to your gallantry.” She glanced behind +her, through the door window into the car. +“Will you,” she asked hastily, “join me in a little +appetizer, as they say? You will find it a superior +cognac—and we breakfast shortly, at Sidney.”</p> +<p>From a pocket of her skirt she had extracted a +small silver flask, stoppered with a tiny screw cup. +Her face swam before me, in my astonishment.</p> +<p>“I rarely drink liquor, madam,” I stammered.</p> +<p>“Nor I. But when traveling—you know. And in +high and—dry Benton liquor is quite a necessity. +You will discover that, I am sure. You will not decline +to taste with a lady? Let us drink to better +acquaintance, in Benton.”</p> +<p>“With all my heart, madam,” I blurted.</p> +<p>She poured, while swaying to the motion of the +train; passed the cup to me with a brightly challenging +smile.</p> +<p>“Ladies first. That is the custom, is it not?” I +queried.</p> +<p>“But I am hostess, sir. I do the honors. Pray do +you your duty.”</p> +<p>“To our better acquaintance, then, madam,” I accepted. +“In Benton.”</p> +<p>The cognac swept down my throat like a stab of +hot oil. She poured for herself.</p> +<p>“A vôtre santé, monsieur—and continued beginnings, +no ends.” She daintily tossed it off. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span></p> +<p>We had consummated our pledges just in time. +The brakeman issued, stumping noisily and bringing +discord into my heaven of blue and gold and comfortable +warmth.</p> +<p>“Howdy, lady and gent? Breakfast in twenty +minutes.” He grinned affably at her; yes, with a trace +of familiarity. “Sleep well, madam?”</p> +<p>“Passably, thank you.” Her voice held a certain +element of calm interrogation as if to ask how far he +intended to push acquaintance. “We’re nearing Sidney, +you say? Then I bid you gentlemen good-morning.”</p> +<p>With a darting glance at him and a parting smile +for me she passed inside. The brakeman leaned +for an instant’s look ahead, up the track, and lingered.</p> +<p>“Friend of yours, is she?”</p> +<p>“I met her at Omaha, is all,” I stiffly informed.</p> +<p>“Considerable of a dame, eh?” He eyed me. +“You’re booked for Benton, too?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Never been there, myself. She’s another hell-roarer, +they say.”</p> +<p>“Sir!” I remonstrated.</p> +<p>“Oh, the town, the town,” he enlightened. “I’m +saying nothing against it, for that matter—nor +against her, either. They’re both O. K.”</p> +<p>“You are acquainted with the lady, yourself?”</p> +<p>“Her? Sure. I know about everybody along the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +line between Platte and Cheyenne. Been running on +this division ever since it opened.”</p> +<p>“She lives in Benton, though, I understand,” I +proffered.</p> +<p>“Why, yes; sure she does. Moved there from +Cheyenne.” He looked at me queerly. “Naturally. +Ain’t that so?”</p> +<p>“Probably it is,” I admitted. “I see no reason to +doubt your word.”</p> +<p>“Yep. Followed her man. A heap of people +moved from Cheyenne to Benton, by way of Laramie.”</p> +<p>“She is married, then?”</p> +<p>“Far as I know. Anyway, she’s not single, by a +long shot.” And he laughed. “But, Lord, that cuts +no great figger. People here don’t stand on ceremony +in those matters. Everything’s aboveboard. +Hands on the table until time to draw—then draw +quick.”</p> +<p>His language was a little too bluff for me.</p> +<p>“Her husband is in business, no doubt?”</p> +<p>“Business?” He stared unblinking. “I see.” +He laid a finger alongside his nose, and winked +wisely. “You bet yuh! And good business. Yes, +siree. Are you on?”</p> +<p>“Am I on?” I repeated. “On what? The +train?”</p> +<p>“Oh, on your way.”</p> +<p>“To Benton; certainly.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span></p> +<p>“Do you see any green in my eye, friend?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“I do not.”</p> +<p>“Or in the moon, maybe?”</p> +<p>“No, nor in the moon,” I retorted. “But what is +all this about?”</p> +<p>“I’ll be damned!” he roundly vouchsafed. And—“You’ve +been having a quiet little smile with her, +eh?” He sniffed suspiciously. “A few swigs of +that’ll make a pioneer of you quicker’n alkali. She’s +favoring you—eh? Now if she tells you of a system, +take my advice and quit while your hair’s long.”</p> +<p>“My hair is my own fashion, sir,” I rebuked. +“And the lady is not for discussion between gentlemen, +particularly as my acquaintance with her is only +casual. I don’t understand your remarks, but if they +are insinuations I shall have to ask you to drop the +subject.”</p> +<p>“Tut, tut!” he grinned. “No offense intended, +Mister Pilgrim. Well, you’re all right. We can’t be +young more than once, and if the lady takes you in +tow in Benton you’ll have the world by the tail as long +as it holds. She moves with the top-notchers; she’s a +knowing little piece—no offense. Her and me are +good enough friends. There’s no brace game in that +deal. I only aim to give you a steer. Savvy?” And +he winked. “You’re out to see the elephant, yourself.”</p> +<p>“I am seeking health, is all,” I explained. “My +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +physician had advised a place in the Far West, high +and dry; and Benton is recommended.”</p> +<p>His response was identical with others preceding.</p> +<p>“High and dry? By golly, then Benton’s the +ticket. It’s sure high, and sure dry. You bet yuh! +High and dry and roaring.”</p> +<p>“Why ’roaring’?” I demanded at last. The word +had been puzzling me.</p> +<p>“Up and coming. Pop goes the weasel, at Benton. +Benton? Lord love you! They say it’s got Cheyenne +and Laramie backed up a tree, the best days they ever +seen. When you step off at Benton step lively and +keep an eye in the back of your head. There’s money +to be made at Benton, by the wise ones. Watch out +for ropers and if you get onto a system, play it. +There ain’t any limit to money or suckers.”</p> +<p>“I may not qualify as to money,” I informed. +“But I trust that I am no sucker.”</p> +<p>“No green in the eye, eh?” he approved. “Anyhow, +you have a good lead if your friend in black +cottons to you.” Again he winked. “You’re not a +bad-looking young feller.” He leaned over the side +steps, and gazed ahead. “Sidney in sight. Be there +directly. We’re hitting twenty miles and better +through the greatest country on earth. The engineer +smells breakfast.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_I_RISE_IN_FAVOR' id='III_I_RISE_IN_FAVOR'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>I RISE IN FAVOR</h3> +</div> + +<p>With that he went forward. So did I; but the +barricade at the end of My Lady’s seat was intact, +and I sat down in my own seat, to keep expectant +eye upon her profile—a decided relief amidst that +crude mélange of people in various stages of hasty +dressing after a night of cramped postures.</p> +<p>The brakeman’s words, although mysterious in +part, had concluded reassuringly. My Lady, he said, +would prove a valuable friend in Benton. A friend +at hand means a great deal to any young man, +stranger in a strange land.</p> +<p>The conductor came back—a new conductor; +stooped familiarly over the barricade and evidently +exchanged pleasantries with her.</p> +<p>“Sidney! Sidney! Twenty minutes for breakfast!” +the brakeman bawled, from the door.</p> +<p>There was the general stir. My Lady shot a glance +at me, with inviting eyes, but arose in response to the +proffered arm of the conductor, and I was late. The +aisle filled between us as he ushered her on and the +train slowed to grinding of brakes and the tremendous +clanging of a gong. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></p> +<p>Of Sidney there was little to see: merely a station-house +and the small Railroad Hotel, with a handful +of other buildings forming a single street—all squatting +here near a rock quarry that broke the expanse +of uninhabited brown plains. The air, however, was +wonderfully invigorating; the meal excellent, as usual; +and when I emerged from the dining-room, following +closely a black figure crowned with gold, I found her +strolling alone upon the platform.</p> +<p>Therefore I caught up with her. She faced me +with ready smile.</p> +<p>“You are rather slow in action, sir,” she lightly +accused. “We might have breakfasted together; but +it was the conductor again, after all.”</p> +<p>“I plead guilty, madam,” I admitted. “The trainmen +have an advantage over me, in anticipating +events. But the next meal shall be my privilege. We +stop again before reaching Benton?”</p> +<p>“For dinner, yes; at Cheyenne.”</p> +<p>“And after that you will be home.”</p> +<p>“Home?” she queried, with a little pucker between +her brows.</p> +<p>“Yes. At Benton.”</p> +<p>“Of course.” She laughed shortly. “Benton is +now home. We have moved so frequently that I +have grown to call almost no place home.”</p> +<p>“I judge then that you are connected, as may happen, +with a flexible business,” I hazarded. “If you +are in the army I can understand.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></p> +<p>“No, I’m not an army woman; but there is money +in following the railroad, and that is our present life,” +she said frankly. “A town springs up, you know, at +each terminus, booms as long as the freight and passengers +pile up—and all of a sudden the go-ahead +business and professional men pull stakes for the +next terminus as soon as located. That has been +the custom, all the way from North Platte to Benton.”</p> +<p>“Which accounts for your acquaintance along the +line. The trainmen seem to know you.”</p> +<p>“Trainmen and others; oh, yes. It is to be expected. +I have no objections to that. I am quite able +to take care of myself, sir.”</p> +<p>We were interrupted. A near-drunken rowdy +(upon whom I had kept an uneasy corner of an eye) +had been careening over the platform, a whiskey bottle +protruding from the hip pocket of his sagging +jeans, a large revolver dangling at his thigh, his +slouch hat cocked rakishly upon his tousled head. His +language was extremely offensive—he had an ugly +mood on, but nobody interfered. The crowd stood +aside—the natives laughing, the tourists like myself +viewing him askance, and several Indians watching +only gravely.</p> +<p>He sighted us, and staggered in.</p> +<p>“Howdy?” he uttered, with an oath. “Shay—hello, +stranger. Have a smile. Take two, one for +lady. Hic!” And he thrust his bottle at me. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p> +<p>My Lady drew back. I civilly declined the +“smile.”</p> +<p>“Thank you. I do not drink.”</p> +<p>“What?” He stared blearily. His tone stiffened. +“The hell you say. Too tony, eh? Too—’ic! Have +a smile, I ask you, one gent to ’nother. Have a smile, +you (unmentionable) pilgrim; fer if you don’t——”</p> +<p>“Train’s starting, Jim,” she interposed sharply. +“If you want to get aboard you’d better hurry.”</p> +<p>The engine tooted, the bell was ringing, the passengers +were hurrying, incited by the conductor’s +shout: “All ’board!”</p> +<p>Without another word she tripped for the car steps. +I gave the fellow one firm look as he stood stupidly +scratching his thatch as if to harrow his ideas; and +perforce left him. By the cheers he undoubtedly +made in the same direction. I was barely in time +myself. The train moved as I planted foot upon the +steps of the nearest car—the foremost of the two. +The train continued; halted again abruptly, while +cheers rang riotous; and when I crossed the passageway +between this car and ours the conductor and +brakeman were hauling the tipsy Jim into safety.</p> +<p>My Lady was ensconced.</p> +<p>“Did they get him?” she inquired, when I paused.</p> +<p>“By the scruff of the neck. The drunken fellow, +you mean.”</p> +<p>“Yes; Jim.”</p> +<p>“You know him?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></p> +<p>“He’s from Benton. I suppose he’s been down +here on a little pasear, as they say.”</p> +<p>“If you think he’ll annoy you——?” I made +bold to suggest, for I greatly coveted the half of her +seat.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’m not afraid of Jim. But yes, do sit down. +You can put these things back in your seat. Then we +can talk.”</p> +<p>I had no more than settled triumphantly, when the +brakeman ambled through, his face in a broad grin. +He also paused, to perch upon the seat end, his arm +extended friendlily along the back.</p> +<p>“Well, we got him corralled,” he proclaimed needlessly. +“That t’rantular juice nigh broke his neck for +him.”</p> +<p>“Did you take his bottle away, Jerry?” she +asked.</p> +<p>“Sure thing. He’ll be peaceable directly. Soused +to the guards. Reckon he’s inclined to be a trifle ugly +when he’s on a tear, ain’t he? They’d shipped him +out of Benton on a down train. Now he’s going back +up.”</p> +<p>“He’s safe, you think?”</p> +<p>“Sewed tight. He’ll sleep it off and be ready +for night.” The brakeman winked at her. “You +needn’t fear. He’ll be on deck, right side up with +care.”</p> +<p>“I’ve told this gentleman that I’m not afraid,” she +answered quickly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></p> +<p>“Of course. And he knows what’s best for him, +himself.” The brakeman slapped me on the shoulder +and good-naturedly straightened. “So does this +young gentleman, I rather suspicion. I can see his +fortune’s made. You bet, if he works it right. I +told him if you cottoned to him——”</p> +<p>“Now you’re talking too much, Jerry,” she reproved. +“The gentleman and I are only traveling acquaintances.”</p> +<p>“Yes, ma’am. To Benton. Let ’er roar. Cheyenne’s +the closest I can get, myself, and Cheyenne’s a +dead one—blowed up, busted worse’n a galvanized +Yank with a pocket full o’ Confed wall-paper.” He +yawned. “Guess I’ll take forty winks. Was up all +night, and a man can stand jest so much, Injuns or +no Injuns.”</p> +<p>“Did you expect to meet with Indians, sir, along +the route?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Hell, yes. Always expect to meet ’em between +Kearney and Julesburg. It’s about time they were +wrecking another train. Well, so long. Be good to +each other.” With this parting piece of impertinence +he stumped out.</p> +<p>“A friendly individual, evidently,” I hazarded, to +tide her over her possible embarrassment.</p> +<p>Her laugh assured me that she was not embarrassed +at all, which proved her good sense and elevated her +even farther in my esteem.</p> +<p>“Oh, Jerry’s all right. I don’t mind Jerry, except +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +that his tongue is hung in the middle. He probably +has been telling you some tall yarns?”</p> +<p>“He? No, I don’t think so. He may have tried +it, but his Western expressions are beyond me as yet. +In fact, what he was driving at on the rear platform +I haven’t the slightest idea.”</p> +<p>“Driving at? In what way, sir?”</p> +<p>“He referred to the green in his eye and in the +moon, as I recall; and to a mysterious ‘system’; and +gratuitously offered me a ‘steer.’”</p> +<p>Her face hardened remarkably, so that her chin set +as if tautened by iron bands. Those eyes glinted with +real menace.</p> +<p>“He did, did he? Along that line of talk! The +clapper-jaw! He’s altogether too free.” She surveyed +me keenly. “And naturally you couldn’t understand +such lingo.”</p> +<p>“I was not curious enough to try, my dear madam. +He talked rather at random; likely enjoyed bantering +me. But,” I hastily placated in his behalf, “he recommended +Benton as a lively place, and you as a friend +of value in case that you honored me with your patronage.”</p> +<p>“My patronage, for you?” she exclaimed. “Indeed? +To what extent? Are you going into business, +too? As one of—us?”</p> +<p>“If I should become a Bentonite, as I hope,” I gallantly +replied, “then of course I should look to permanent +investment of some nature. And before my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +traveling funds run out I shall be glad of light employment. +The brakeman gave me to understand +merely that by your kindly interest you might be disposed +to assist me.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” Her face lightened. “I dare say Jerry +means well. But when you spoke of ‘patronage’—— +That is a current term of certain import +along the railroad.” She leaned to me; a glow emanated +from her. “Tell me of yourself. You have red +blood? Do you ever game? For if you are not +afraid to test your luck and back it, there is money to +be made very easily at Benton, and in a genteel way.” +She smiled bewitchingly. “Or are you a Quaker, to +whom life is deadly serious?”</p> +<p>“No Quaker, madam.” How could I respond +otherwise to that pair of dancing blue eyes, to that +pair of derisive lips? “As for gaming—if you mean +cards, why, I have played at piquet and romp, in a +social way, for small stakes; and my father brought +Old Sledge back from the army, to the family table.”</p> +<p>“You are lucky. I can see it,” she alleged.</p> +<p>“I am, on this journey,” I asserted.</p> +<p>She blushed.</p> +<p>“Well said, sir. And if you choose to make use of +your luck, in Benton, by all means——”</p> +<p>Whether she would have shaped her import clearly +I did not know. There was a commotion in the forward +part of the car. That same drunken wretch +Jim had appeared; his bottle (somehow restored to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +him) in hand, his hat pushed back from his flushed +greasy forehead.</p> +<p>“Have a smile, ladies an’ gents,” he was bellowing +thickly. “Hooray! Have a smile on me. Great an’ +gloryus ’casion—’ic! Ever’body smile. Drink to +op’nin’ gloryus Pac’fic—’ic—Railway. Thash it. +Hooray!” Thus he came reeling down the aisle, +thrusting his bottle right and left, to be denied with +shrinkings or with bluff excuses.</p> +<p>It seemed inevitable that he should reach us. I +heard My Lady utter a little gasp, as she sat more +erect; and here he was, espying us readily enough +with that uncanny precision of a drunken man, his +bottle to the fore.</p> +<p>“Have a smile, you two. Wouldn’t smile at station; +gotto smile now. Yep. ’Ic! ’Ray for Benton! +All goin’ to Benton. Lesh be good fellers.”</p> +<p>“You go back to your seat, Jim,” she ordered +tensely. “Go back, if you know what’s good for +you.”</p> +<p>“Whash that? Who your dog last year? Shay! +You can’t come no highty-tighty over me. Who your +new friend? Shay!” He reeled and gripped the +seat, flooding me with his vile breath. “By Gawd, +I got the dead-wood on you, you——!” and he had +loosed such a torrent of low epithets that they are +inconceivable.</p> +<p>“For that I’d kill you in any other place, Jim,” +she said. “You know I’m not afraid of you. Now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +get, you wolf!” Her voice snapped like a whip-lash +at the close; she had made sudden movement of hand—it +was extended and I saw almost under my nose +the smallest pistol imaginable; nickeled, of two barrels, +and not above three inches long; projecting from her +palm, the twin hammers cocked; and it was as steady +as a die.</p> +<p>Assuredly My Lady did know how to take care of +herself. Still, that was not necessary now.</p> +<p>“No!” I warned. “No matter. I’ll tend to +him.”</p> +<p>The fellow’s face had convulsed with a snarl of +redder rage, his mouth opened as if for fresh abuse—and +half rising I landed upon it with my fist.</p> +<p>“Go where you belong, you drunken whelp!”</p> +<p>I had struck and spoken at the same time, with a +rush of wrath that surprised me; and the result surprised +me more, for while I was not conscious of having +exerted much force he toppled backward clear +across the aisle, crashed down in a heap under the opposite +seat. His bottle shattered against the ceiling. +The whiskey spattered in a sickening shower over the +alarmed passengers.</p> +<p>“Look out! Look out!” she cried, starting +quickly. Up he scrambled, cursing, and wrenching at +his revolver. I sprang to smother him, but there was +a flurry, a chorus of shouts, men leaped between us, +the brakeman and conductor both had arrived, in a +jiffy he was being hustled forward, swearing and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +blubbering. And I sank back, breathless, a degree +ashamed, a degree rather satisfied with my action and +my barked knuckles.</p> +<p>Congratulations echoed dully.</p> +<p>“The right spirit!”</p> +<p>“That’ll l’arn him to insult a lady.”</p> +<p>“You sartinly rattled him up, stranger. Squar’ on +the twitter!”</p> +<p>“Shake, Mister.”</p> +<p>“For a pilgrim you’re consider’ble of a hoss.”</p> +<p>“If he’d drawn you’d have give him a pill, I reckon, +lady. I know yore kind. But he won’t bother you +ag’in; not he.”</p> +<p>“Oh, what a terrible scene!”</p> +<p>To all this I paid scant attention. I heard her, as +she sat composedly, scarcely panting. The little pistol +had disappeared.</p> +<p>“The play has been made, ladies and gentlemen,” +she said. And to me: “Thank you. Yes,” she continued, +with a flash of lucent eyes and a dimpling +smile, “Jim has lost his whiskey and has a chance to +sober up. He’ll have forgotten all about this before +we reach Benton. But I thank you for your promptness.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t want you to shoot him,” I stammered. +“I was quite able to tend to him myself. Your pistol +is loaded?”</p> +<p>“To be sure it is.” And she laughed gaily. Her +lips tightened, her eyes darkened. “And I’d kill him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +like a dog if he presumed farther. In this country we +women protect ourselves from insult. I always carry +my derringer, sir.”</p> +<p>The brakeman returned with a broom, to sweep up +the chips of broken bottle. He grinned at us.</p> +<p>“There’s no wind in him now,” he communicated. +“Peaceful as a baby. We took his gun off him. I’ll +pass the word ahead to keep him safe, on from Cheyenne.”</p> +<p>“Please do, Jerry,” she bade. “I’d prefer to have +no more trouble with him, for he might not come out +so easily next time. He knows that.”</p> +<p>“Surely ought to, by golly,” the brakeman agreed +roundly. “And he ought to know you go heeled. +But that there tanglefoot went to his head. Looks +now as if he’d been kicked in the face by a mule. +Haw haw! No offense, friend. You got me plumb +buffaloed with that fivespot o’ yourn.” And finishing +his job he retired with dust-pan and broom.</p> +<p>“You’re going to do well in Benton,” she said suddenly, +to me, with a nod. “I regret this scene—I +couldn’t help it, though, of course. When Jim’s sober +he has sense, and never tries to be familiar.”</p> +<p>She was amazingly cool under the epithets that he +had applied. I admired her for that as she gazed at +me pleadingly.</p> +<p>“A drunken man is not responsible for words or +actions, although he should be made so,” I consoled +her. “Possibly I should not have struck him. In the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +Far West you may be more accustomed to these episodes +than we are in the East.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know. There is a limit. You did right. +I thank you heartily. Still”—and she mused—“you +can’t always depend on your fists alone. You carry +no weapon, neither knife nor gun?”</p> +<p>“I never have needed either,” said I. “My teaching +has been that a man should be able to rely upon +his fists.”</p> +<p>“Then you’d better get ’heeled,’ as we say, when +you reach Benton. Fists are a short-range weapon. +The men generally wear a gun somewhere. It is the +custom.”</p> +<p>“And the women, too, if I may judge,” I smiled.</p> +<p>“Some of us. Yes,” she repeated, “you’re likely +to do well, out here, if you’ll permit me to advise you +a little.”</p> +<p>“Under your tutelage I am sure I shall do well,” +I accepted. “I may call upon you in Benton? If you +will favor me with your address——?”</p> +<p>“My address?” She searched my face in manner +startled. “You’ll have no difficulty finding me; not +in Benton. But I’ll make an appointment with you in +event”—and she smiled archly—“you are not afraid +of strange women.”</p> +<p>“I have been taught to respect women, madam,” +said I. “And my respect is being strengthened.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” I seemed to have pleased her. “You have +been carefully brought up, sir.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></p> +<p>“To fear God, respect woman, and act the man as +long as I breathe,” I asserted. “My mother is a +saint, my father a nobleman, and what I may have +learned from them is to their credit.”</p> +<p>“That may go excellently in the East,” she answered. +“But we in the West favor the Persian +maxim—to ride, to shoot, and to tell the truth. With +those three qualities even a tenderfoot can establish +himself.”</p> +<p>“Whether I can ride and shoot sufficient for the +purpose, time will show,” I retorted. “At least,” and +I endeavored to speak with proper emphasis, “you +hear the truth when I say that I anticipate much pleasure +as well as renewed health, in Benton.”</p> +<p>“Were we by ourselves we would seal the future +in another ’smile’ together,” she slyly promised. +“Unless that might shock you.”</p> +<p>“I am ready to fall in with the customs of the +country,” I assured. “I certainly am not averse to +smiles, when fittingly proffered.”</p> +<p>So we exchanged fancies while the train rolled over +a track remarkable for its smoothness and leading +ever onward across the vast, empty plains bare save +for the low shrubs called sage-brush, and rising here +and there into long swells and abrupt sandstone pinnacles.</p> +<p>We stopped near noon at the town of Cheyenne, in +Wyoming Territory. Cheyenne, once boasting the +title (I was told) “The Magic City of the Plains,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +was located upon a dreary flatness, although from it +one might see, far southwest, the actual Rocky Mountains +in Colorado Territory, looking, at this distance +of one hundred miles, like low dark clouds. The up +grade in the west promised that we should soon cross +over their northern flanks, of the Black Hills.</p> +<p>Last winter, Cheyenne, I was given to understand, +had ten thousand inhabitants; but the majority had +followed the railroad west, so that now there remained +only some fifteen hundred. After dinner we, +too, went west.</p> +<p>We overcame the Black Hills Mountains about two +o’clock, having climbed to the top with considerable +puffing of the engine but otherwise almost imperceptibly +to the passengers. When we were halted, upon +the crown, at Sherman Station, to permit us to alight +and see for ourselves, I scarcely might believe that we +were more than eight thousand feet in air. There was +nothing to indicate, except some little difficulty of +breath; not so much as I had feared when in Cheyenne, +whose six thousand feet gave me a slightly +giddy sensation.</p> +<p>My Lady moved freely, being accustomed to the +rarity; and she assured me that although Benton was +seven thousand feet I would soon grow wonted to the +atmosphere. The habitués of this country made light +of the spot; the strangers on tour picked flowers and +gathered rocks as mementoes of the “Crest of the +Continent”—which was not a crest but rather a level +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +plateau, wind-swept and chilly while sunny. Then +from this Sherman Summit of the Black Hills of +Wyoming the train swept down by its own momentum +from gravity, for the farther side.</p> +<p>The fellow Jim had not emerged, as yet, much to +my relief. The scenery was increasing in grandeur +and interest, and the play of my charming companion +would have transformed the most prosaic of journeys +into a trip through Paradise.</p> +<p>I hardly noted the town named Laramie City, at the +western base of the Black Hills; and was indeed annoyed +by the vendors hawking what they termed +“mountain gems” through the train. Laramie, according +to My Lady, also once had been, as she styled +it, “a live town,” but had deceased in favor of Benton. +From Laramie we whirled northwest, through a +broad valley enlivened by countless antelope scouring +over the grasses; thence we issued into a wilder, +rougher country, skirting more mountains very +gloomy in aspect.</p> +<p>However, of the panorama outside I took but casual +glances; the phenomenon of blue and gold so close +at hand was all engrossing, and my heart beat high +with youth and romance. Our passage was astonishingly +short, but the sun was near to setting beyond +distant peaks when by the landmarks that she knew +we were approaching Benton at last.</p> +<p>We crossed a river—the Platte, again, even away +in here; briefly paused at a military post, and entered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +upon a stretch of sun-baked, reddish-white, dusty desert +utterly devoid of vegetation.</p> +<p>There was a significant bustle in the car, among +the travel-worn occupants. The air was choking with +the dust swirled through every crevice by the stir of +the wheels—already mobile as it was from the efforts +of the teams that we passed, of six and eight +horses tugging heavy wagons. Plainly we were +within striking distance of some focus of human +energies.</p> +<p>“Benton! Benton in five minutes. End o’ track,” +the brakeman shouted.</p> +<p>“My valise, please.”</p> +<p>I brought it. The conductor, who like the other +officials knew My Lady, pushed through to us and +laid hand upon it.</p> +<p>“I’ll see you out,” he announced. “Come ahead.”</p> +<p>“Pardon. That shall be my privilege,” I interposed. +But she quickly denied.</p> +<p>“No, please. The conductor is an old friend. I +shall need no other help—I’m perfectly at home. +You can look out for yourself.”</p> +<p>“But I shall see you again—and where? I don’t +know your address; fact is, I’m even ignorant of your +name,” I pleaded desperately.</p> +<p>“How stupid of me.” And she spoke fast and +low, over her shoulder. “To-night, then, at the Big +Tent. Remember.”</p> +<p>I pressed after. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>“The Big Tent! Shall I inquire there? And for +whom?”</p> +<p>“You’ll not fail to see me. Everybody knows the +Big Tent, everybody goes there. So au revoir.”</p> +<p>She was swallowed in the wake of the conductor, +and I fain must gather my own belongings before following. +The Big Tent, she said? I had not misunderstood; +and I puzzled over the address, which impinged +as rather bizarre, whether in West or East.</p> +<p>We stopped with a jerk, amidst a babel of cries.</p> +<p>“Benton! All out!” Out we stumbled. Here I +was, at rainbow’s end.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_I_MEET_FRIENDS' id='IV_I_MEET_FRIENDS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>I MEET FRIENDS</h3> +</div> + +<p>What shall I say of a young man like myself, fresh +from the green East of New York and the Hudson +River, landed expectant as just aroused from a dream +of rare beauty, at this Benton City, Wyoming Territory? +The dust, as fine as powder and as white, but +shot through with the crimson of sunset, hung like a +fog, amidst which swelled a deafening clamor from +figures rushing hither and thither about the platform +like half-world shades. A score of voices dinned into +my ears as two score hands grabbed at my valise and +shoved me and dragged me.</p> +<p>“The Desert Hotel. Best in the West. This way, +sir.”</p> +<p>“Buffalo Hump Corral! The Buffalo Hump! +Free drinks at the Buffalo Hump.”</p> +<p>“Vamos, all o’ you. Leave the gent to me. I’ve +had him before. Mike’s Place for you, eh? Come +along.”</p> +<p>“The Widow’s Café! That’s yore grub pile, gent. +All you can eat for two bits.”</p> +<p>A deep voice boomed, stunning me.</p> +<p>“The Queen, the Queen! Bath for every room. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +Individual towels. The Queen, the Queen, she’s +clean, she’s clean.”</p> +<p>It was a magnificent bass, full toned as an organ, +issuing, likewise as out of a reed, from a swart dwarf +scarcely higher than my waist. The word “bath,” +with the promise of “individual towels,” won me +over. Something must be done, anyway, to get rid +of these importunate runners. Thereupon I acquiesced, +“All right, my man. The Queen,” and surrendering +my bag to his hairy paw I trudged by his +guidance. The solicitations instantly ceased as if in +agreement with some code.</p> +<p>We left the station platform and went ploughing +up a street over shoetops with the impalpable dust +and denoted by tents and white-coated shacks sparsely +bordering. The air was breezeless and suffocatingly +loaded with that dust not yet deposited. The noises +as from a great city swelled strident: shouts, hammerings, +laughter, rumble of vehicles, cracking of +lashes, barkings of dogs innumerable—betokening a +thriving mart of industry. But although pedestrians +streamed to and fro, the men in motley of complexions +and costumes, the women, some of them fashionably +dressed, with skirts eddying furiously; and +wagons rolled, horses cantered, and from right and +left merchants and hawksters seemed to be calling +their wares, of city itself I could see only the veriest +husk.</p> +<p>The majority of the buildings were mere +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +canvas-faced up for a few feet, perhaps, with sheet iron or +flimsy boards; interspersed there were a few wooden +structures, rough and unpainted; and whereas several +of the housings were large, none was more than two +stories—and when now and again I thought that I +had glimpsed a substantial stone front a closer inspection +told me that the stones were imitation, forming a +veneer of the sheet iron or of stenciled pine. Indeed, +not a few of the upper stories, viewed from an unfavorable +angle, proved to be only thin parapets upstanding +for a pretense of well-being. Behind them, +nothing at all!</p> +<p>In the confusion of that which I took to be the main +street because of the stores and piles of goods and the +medley of signs, what with the hubbub from the many +barkers for saloons and gambling games, the constant +dodging among the pedestrians, vehicles and horses +and dogs, in a thoroughfare that was innocent of +sidewalk, I really had scant opportunity to gaze; certainly +no opportunity as yet to get my bearings. My +squat guide shuttled aside; a group of loafers gave us +passage, with sundry stares at me and quips for him; +and I was ushered into a widely-open tent-building +whose canvas sign depending above a narrow veranda +declared: “The Queen Hotel. Beds $3. Meals $1 +each.”</p> +<p>Now as whitely powdered as any of the natives I +stumbled across a single large room bordered at one +side by a bar and a number of small tables (all well +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +patronized), and was brought up at the counter, under +the alert eyes of a clerk coatless, silk-shirted, diamond-scarfed, +pomaded and slick-haired, waiting with register +turned and pen extended.</p> +<p>My gnome heavily dropped my bag.</p> +<p>“Gent for you,” he presented.</p> +<p>“I wish a room and bath,” I said, as I signed.</p> +<p>“Bath is occupied. I’ll put you down, Mr.——” +and he glanced at the signature. “Four dollars and +four bits, please. Show the gentleman to Number +Six, Shorty. That drummer’s gone, isn’t he?”</p> +<p>“You bet.”</p> +<p>“The bath is occupied?” I expostulated. “How +so? I wish a private bath.”</p> +<p>“Private? Yes, sir. All you’ve got to do is to +close the door while you’re in. Nobody’ll disturb you. +But there are parties ahead of you. First come, first +served.”</p> +<p>I persisted.</p> +<p>“Your runner—this gentleman, if I am not mistaken +(and I indicated the gnome, who grinned from +dusty face), distinctly said ‘A bath for every +room.’”</p> +<p>Bystanders had pushed nearer, to examine the register +and then me. They laughed—nudged one another. +Evidently I had a trace of green in my +eye.</p> +<p>“Quite right, sir,” the clerk assented. “So there +is. A bath for every room and the best bath in town. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +Entirely private; fresh towel supplied. Only one dollar +and four bits. That, with lodging, makes four +dollars and a half. If you please, sir.”</p> +<p>“In advance?” I remonstrated—the bath charge +alone being monstrous.</p> +<p>“I see you’re from the East. Yes, sir; we have +to charge transients in advance. That is the rule, sir. +You stay in Benton City for some time?”</p> +<p>“I am undetermined.”</p> +<p>“Of course, sir. Your own affair. Yes, sir. But +we shall hope to make Benton pleasant for you. The +greatest city in the West. Anything you want for +pleasure or business you’ll find right here.”</p> +<p>“The greatest city in the West—pleasure or business!” +A bitter wave of homesickness welled into +my throat as, conscious of the enveloping dust, the +utter shams, the tawdriness, the alien unsympathetic +onlookers, the suave but incisive manner of the clerk, +the sense of having been “done” and through my own +fault, I peeled a greenback from the folded packet in +my purse and handed it over. Rather foolishly I intended +that this display of funds should rebuke the +finicky clerk; but he accepted without comment and +sought for the change from the twenty.</p> +<p>“And how is old New York, suh?”</p> +<p>A hearty, florid, heavy-faced man, with singularly +protruding fishy eyes and a tobacco-stained yellowish +goatee underneath a loosely dropping lower lip, had +stepped forward, his pudgy hand hospitably outstretched +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +to me: a man in wide-brimmed dusty black +hat, frayed and dusty but, in spots, shiny, black broadcloth +frock coat spattered down the lapels, exceedingly +soiled collar and shirt front and greasy flowing +tie, and trousers tucked into cowhide boots.</p> +<p>I grasped the hand wonderingly. It enclosed mine +with a soft pulpy squeeze; and lingered.</p> +<p>“As usual, when I last saw it, sir,” I responded. +“But I am from Albany.”</p> +<p>“Of course. Albany, the capital, a city to be +proud of, suh. I welcome you, suh, to our new West, +as a fellow-citizen.”</p> +<p>“You are from Albany?” I exclaimed.</p> +<p>“Bohn and raised right near there; been there +many a time. Yes, suh. From the grand old Empire +State, like yourself, suh, and without apologies. +Whenever I meet with a New York State man I cotton +to him.”</p> +<p>“Have I your name, sir?” I inquired. “You +know of my family, perhaps.”</p> +<p>“Colonel Jacob B. Sunderson, suh, at your service. +Your family name is familiar to me, suh. I hark +back to it and to the grand old State with pleasure. +Doubtless I have seen you befoh, sur. Doubtless in the +City—at Johnny Chamberlain’s? Yes?” His fishy +eyes beamed upon me, and his breath smelled strongly +of liquor. “Or the Astor? I shall remember. Meanwhile, +suh, permit me to do the honors. First, will +you have a drink? This way, suh. I am partial to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +a brand particularly to be recommended for clearing +this damnable dust from one’s throat.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir, but I prefer to tidy my person, +first,” I suggested.</p> +<p>“Number Six for the gentleman,” announced the +clerk, returning to me my change from the bill. I +stuffed it into my pocket—the Colonel’s singular eyes +followed it with uncomfortable interest. The gnome +picked up my bag, but was interrupted by my new +friend.</p> +<p>“The privilege of showing the gentleman to his +quarters and putting him at home shall be mine.”</p> +<p>“All right, Colonel,” the clerk carelessly consented. +“Number Six.”</p> +<p>“And my trunk. I have a trunk at the depot,” I +informed.</p> +<p>“The boy will tend to it.”</p> +<p>I gave the gnome my check.</p> +<p>“And my bath?” I pursued.</p> +<p>“You will be notified, sir. There are only five +ahead of you, and one gentleman now in. Your turn +will come in about two hours.”</p> +<p>“This way, suh. Kindly follow me,” bade the +Colonel. As he strode before, slightly listed by the +weight of the bag in his left hand, I remarked a peculiar +bulge elevating the portly contour of his right +coat-skirt.</p> +<p>We ascended a flight of rude stairs which quivered +to our tread, proceeded down a canvas-lined corridor +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +set at regular intervals on either hand with numbered +deal doors, some open to reveal disorderly interiors; +and with “Here you are, suh,” I was importantly +bowed into Number Six.</p> +<p>We were not to be alone. There were three double +beds: one well rumpled as if just vacated; one (the +middle) tenanted by a frowsy headed, whiskered man +asleep in shirt-sleeves and revolver and boots; the +third, at the other end, recently made up by having its +blanket covering hastily thrown against a distinctly +dirty pillow.</p> +<p>“Your bed yonduh, suh, I reckon,” prompted the +Colonel (whose accents did not smack of New York +at all), depositing my bag with a grunt of relief. +“Now, suh, as you say, you desire to freshen the +outer man after your journey. With your permission +I will await your pleasure, suh; and your toilet +being completed we will freshen the inner man also +with a glass or two of rare good likker.”</p> +<p>I gazed about, sickened. Item, three beds; item, +one kitchen chair; item, one unpainted board washstand, +supporting a tin basin, a cake of soap, a tin +ewer, with a dingy towel hanging from a nail under +a cracked mirror and over a tin slop-bucket; item, +three spittoons, one beside each bed; item, a row of +nails in a wooden strip, plainly for wardrobe purposes; +item, one window, with broken pane.</p> +<p>The board floor was bare and creaky, the partition +walls were of once-white, stained muslin through +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +which sifted unrebuked a mixture of sounds not thoroughly +agreeable.</p> +<p>The Colonel had seated himself upon a bed; the +bulge underneath his skirts jutted more pronouncedly, +and had the outlines of a revolver butt.</p> +<p>“But surely I can get a room to myself,” I stammered. +“The clerk mistakes me. This won’t do at +all.”</p> +<p>“You are having the best in the house, suh,” asserted +the Colonel, with expansive wave of his thick +hand. He spat accurately into the convenient spittoon. +“It is a front room, suh. Number Six is +known as very choice, and I congratulate you, suh. I +myself will see to it that you shall have your bed to +yourself, if you entertain objections to doubling up. +We are, suh, a trifle crowded in Benton City, just at +present, owing to the unprecedented influx of new +citizens. You must remember, suh, that we are less +than one month old, and we are accommodating from +three to five thousand people.”</p> +<p>“Is this the best hotel?” I demanded.</p> +<p>“It is so reckoned, suh. There are other hostelries, +and I do not desire, suh, to draw invidious comparisons, +their proprietors being friends of mine. +But I will go so far as to say that the Queen caters +only to the élite, suh, and its patronage is gilt +edge.”</p> +<p>I stepped to the window, the lower sash of which +was up, and gazed out—down into that dust-fogged, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +noisy, turbulent main street, of floury human beings +and grime-smeared beasts almost within touch, boiling +about through the narrow lane between the placarded +makeshift structures. I lifted my smarting +eyes, and across the hot sheet-iron roofs I saw the +country south—a white-blotched reddish desert +stretching on, desolate, lifeless under the sunset, to a +range of stark hills black against the glow.</p> +<p>“There are no private rooms, then?” I asked, +choking with a gulp of despair.</p> +<p>“You are perfectly private right here, suh,” assured +the Colonel. “You may strip to the hide or +you may sleep with your boots on, and no questions +asked. Gener’ly speaking, gentlemen prefer to retain +a layer of artificial covering—but you ain’t troubled +much with the bugs, are you, Bill?”</p> +<p>He leveled this query at the frowsy, whiskered +man, who had awakened and was blinking contentedly.</p> +<p>“I’m too alkalied, I reckon,” Bill responded. +“Varmints will leave me any time when there’s fresh +bait handy. That’s why I likes to double up. That +there Saint Louee drummer carried off most of ’em +from this gent’s bed, so he’s safe.”</p> +<p>“You are again to be congratulated, suh,” addressed +the Colonel, to me. “Allow me to interdeuce +you. Shake hands with my friend Mr. Bill Brady. +Bill, I present to you a fellow-citizen of mine from +grand old New York State.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></p> +<p>The frowsy man struggled up, shifted his revolver +so as not to sit on it, and extended his hand.</p> +<p>“Proud to make yore acquaintance, sir. Any +friend of the Colonel’s is a friend o’ mine.”</p> +<p>“We will likker up directly,” the Colonel informed. +“But fust the gentleman desires to attend to his person. +Mr. Brady, suh,” he continued, for my benefit, +“is one of our leading citizens, being proprietor of—what +is it now, Bill?”</p> +<p>“Wall,” said Mr. Brady, “I’ve pulled out o’ the +Last Chance and I’m on spec’. The Last Chance got +a leetle too much on the brace for healthy play; and +when that son of a gun of a miner from South Pass +City shot it up, I quit.”</p> +<p>“Naturally,” conceded the Colonel. “Mr. Brady,” +he explained, “has been one of our most distinguished +bankers, but he has retired from that industry and is +considering other investments.”</p> +<p>“The bath-room? Where is it, gentlemen?” I +ventured.</p> +<p>“If you will step outside the door, suh, you can +hear the splashing down the hall. It is the custom, +however, foh gentlemen at tub to keep the bath-room +door closed, in case of ladies promenading. You will +have time foh your preliminary toilet and foh a little +refreshment and a pasear in town. I judge, with five +ahead of you and one in, the clerk was mighty near +right when he said about two hours. That allows +twenty minutes to each gentleman, which is the limit. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +A gentleman who requires more than twenty minutes +to insure his respectability, suh, is too dirty foh such +accommodations. He should resort to the river. +Ain’t that so, Bill?”</p> +<p>“Perfectly correct, Colonel. I kin take an all-over, +myself, in fifteen, whenever it’s healthy.”</p> +<p>“But a dollar and a half for a twenty minutes’ bath +in a public tub is rather steep, seems to me,” said I, +as I removed my coat and opened my bag.</p> +<p>“Not so, suh, if I may question your judgment,” +the Colonel reproved. “The tub, suh, is private to +the person in it. He is never intruded upon unless he +hawgs his time or the water disagrees with him. The +water, suh, is hauled from the river by a toilsome +journey of three miles. You understand, suh, that +this great and growing city is founded upon the sheer +face of the Red Desert, where the railroad stopped—the +river being occupied by a Government reservation +named Fort Steele. The Government—the United +States Government, suh—having corralled the river +where the railroad crosses, until we procure a nearer +supply by artesian wells or by laying a pipe line we +are public spirited enough to haul our water bodily, +for ablution purposes, at ten dollars the barrel, or ten +cents, one dime, the bucket. A bath, suh, uses up +consider’ble water, even if at a slight reduction you +are privileged to double up with another gentleman.”</p> +<p>I shuddered at the thought of thus “doubling up.” +God, how my stomach sank and my gorge rose as I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +rummaged through that bag, and with my toilet articles +in hand faced the washstand!</p> +<p>They two intently watched my operations; the +Colonel craned to peer into my valise—and presently +I might interpret his curiosity.</p> +<p>“The prime old bourbon served at the fust-class +New York bars still maintains its reputation, I dare +hope, suh?” he interrogated.</p> +<p>“I cannot say, I’m sure,” I replied.</p> +<p>“No, suh,” he agreed. “Doubtless you are partial +to your own stock. That bottle which I see doesn’t +happen to be a sample of your favorite preservative?”</p> +<p>“That?” I retorted. “It is toilet water. I am +sorry to say I have no liquor with me.”</p> +<p>“The deficiency will soon be forgotten, suh,” the +Colonel bravely consoled. “Bill, we shall have to +personally conduct him and provide him with the +proper entertainment.”</p> +<p>“What is your special line o’ business, if you don’t +mind my axin’?” Bill invited.</p> +<p>“I am out here for my health, at present,” said I, +vainly hunting a clean spot on the towel. “I have +been advised by my physician to seek a place in the +Far West that is high and dry. Benton”—and I +laughed miserably, “certainly is dry.” For now I +began to appreciate the frankly affirmative responses +to my previous confessions. “And high, judging by +the rates.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></p> +<p>“Healthily dry, suh, in the matter of water,” the +Colonel approved. “We are not cursed by the humidity +of New York State, grand old State that she +is. Foh those who require water, there is the Platte +only three miles distant. The nearer proximity of +water we consider a detriment to the robustness of a +community. Our rainy weather is toler’bly infrequent. +The last spell we had—lemme see. There +was a brief shower, scurcely enough to sanction a +parasol by a lady, last May, warn’t it, Bill? When +we was camped at Rawlins’ Springs, shooting antelope.”</p> +<p>“Some’ers about that time. But didn’t last long—not +more’n two minutes,” Bill responded.</p> +<p>“As foh fluids demanded by the human system, we +are abundantly blessed, suh. There is scurcely any +popular brand that you can’t get in Benton, and I hold +that we have the most skillful mixtologists in history. +There are some who are artists; artists, suh. But +mainly we prefer our likker straight.”</p> +<p>“We’re high, too,” Bill put in. “Well over seven +thousand feet, ’cordin’ to them railroad engineers.”</p> +<p>“Yes, suh, you are a mile and more nearer Heaven +here in Benton than you were when beside the noble +Hudson,” supplemented the Colonel. “And the prices +of living are reasonable; foh money, suh, is cheap and +ready to hand. No drink is less than two bits, and a +man won’t tote a match across a street foh less than a +drink. Money grows, suh, foh the picking. Our +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +merchants are clearing thirty thousand dollars a +month, and the professional gentleman who tries to +limit his game is considered a low-down tin-horn. +Yes, suh. This is the greatest terminal of the greatest +railroad in the known world. It has Omaha, No’th +Platte, Cheyenne beat to a frazzle. You cannot fail +to prosper.” They had been critically watching me +wash and rearrange my clothing. “You are not +heeled, suh, I see?”</p> +<p>“Heeled?” I repeated.</p> +<p>“Equipped with a shooting-iron, suh. Or do you +intend to remedy that deficiency also?”</p> +<p>“I have not been in the habit of carrying arms.”</p> +<p>“’Most everybody packs a gun or a bowie,” Bill +remarked. “Gents and ladies both. But there’s no +law ag’in not.”</p> +<p>I had finished my meager toilet, and was glad, for +the espionage had been annoying.</p> +<p>“Now I am at your service during a short period, +gentlemen,” I announced. “Later I have an engagement, +and shall ask to be excused.”</p> +<p>The Colonel arose with alacrity. Bill stood, and +seized his hat hanging at the head of the bed.</p> +<p>“A little liquid refreshment is in order fust, I +reckon,” quoth the Colonel. “I claim the privilege, +of course. And after that—you have sporting blood, +suh? You will desire to take a turn or two foh the +honor of the Empire State?”</p> +<p>The inference was not quite clear. To develop it I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +replied guardedly, albeit unwilling to pose as a milksop.</p> +<p>“I assuredly am not averse to any legitimate +amusement.”</p> +<p>“That’s it,” Bill commended. “Nobody is, who +has red in him; and a fellow kin see you’ve cut yore +eye-teeth. What might you prefer, in line of a pass-the-time, +on spec’?”</p> +<p>“What is there, if you please?” I encouraged.</p> +<p>He and the Colonel gravely contemplated each +other. Bill scratched his head, and slowly closed one +eye.</p> +<p>“There’s a good open game of stud at the North +Star,” he proffered. “I kin get the gentleman a seat. +No limit.”</p> +<p>“Maybe our friend’s luck don’t run to stud,” hazarded +the Colonel. “Stud exacts the powers of concentration, +like faro.” And he also closed one eye. +“It’s rather early in the evening foh close quarters. +Are you particularly partial to the tiger or the +cases, suh?” he queried of me. “Or would you be +able to secure transient happiness in short games, foh +a starter, while we move along, like a bee from flower +to flower, gathering his honey?”</p> +<p>“If you are referring to card gambling, sir,” I answered, +“you have chosen a poor companion. But I +do not intend to be a spoil sport, and I shall be glad +to have you show me whatever you think worth while +in the city, so far as I have the leisure.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p> +<p>“That’s it, that’s it, suh.” The Colonel appeared +delighted. “Let us libate to the gods of chance, gentlemen; +and then take a stroll.”</p> +<p>“My bag will be safe here?” I prompted, as we +were about to file out.</p> +<p>“Absolutely, suh. Personal property is respected +in Benton. We’d hang the man who moved that bag +of yours the fraction of one inch.”</p> +<p>This at least was comforting. As much could not +be said of New York City. The Colonel led down +the echoing hall and the shaking stairs, into the lobby, +peopled as before by men in all modes of attire and +clustered mainly at the bar. He led directly to the +bar itself.</p> +<p>“Three, Ed. Name your likker, gentlemen. A +little Double X foh me, Ed.”</p> +<p>“Old rye,” Bill briefly ordered.</p> +<p>The bartender set out bottle and whiskey glasses, +and looked upon me. I felt that the bystanders were +waiting. My garb proclaimed the “pilgrim,” but I +was resolved to be my own master, and for liquor I +had no taste.</p> +<p>“Lemonade, if you have it,” I faltered.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.” The bartender cracked not a smile, +but a universal sigh, broken by a few sniggers, voiced +the appraisal of the audience. Some of the loafers +eyed me amusedly, some turned away.</p> +<p>“Surely, suh, you will temper that with a dash of +fortifiah,” the Colonel protested. “A pony of brandy, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +Ed—or just a dash to cut the water in it. To me, +suh, the water in this country is vile—inimical to the +human stomick.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said I, “but I prefer plain lemonade.”</p> +<p>“The gent wants his pizen straight, same as the +rest of you,” calmly remarked the bartender.</p> +<p>My lemonade being prepared, the Colonel and Bill +tossed off full glasses of whiskey, acknowledged with +throaty “A-ah!” and smack of lips; and I hastily +quaffed my lemonade. From the dollar which the +Colonel grandly flung upon the bar he received no +change—by which I might figure that whereas whiskey +was twenty-five cents the glass, lemonade was +fifty cents.</p> +<p>We issued into the street and were at once engulfed +by a ferment of sights and sounds extraordinary.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_ON_GRAND_TOUR' id='V_ON_GRAND_TOUR'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>ON GRAND TOUR</h3> +</div> + +<p>The sun had set and all the golden twilight was +hazy with the dust suspended in swirl and strata over +the ugly roofs. In the canvas-faced main street the +throng and noise had increased rather than diminished +at the approach of dusk. Although clatter of +dishes mingled with the cadence, the people acted as if +they had no thought of eating; and while aware of +certain pangs myself, I felt a diffidence in proposing +supper as yet.</p> +<p>My two companions hesitated a moment, spying up +and down, which gave me opportunity to view the +scene anew. Surely such an hotch-potch never before +populated an American town: Men flannel +shirted, high booted, shaggy haired and bearded, +stumping along weighted with excess of belts and formidable +revolvers balanced, not infrequently, by +sheathed butcher-knives—men whom I took to be +teamsters, miners, railroad graders, and the like; +other men white skinned, clean shaven except perhaps +for moustaches and goatees, in white silk shirts or +ruffled bosoms, broadcloth trousers and trim footgear, +unarmed, to all appearance, but evidently respected; +men of Eastern garb like myself—tourists, maybe, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +or merchants; a squad of surveyors in picturesque +neckerchiefs, and revolver girted; trainmen, grimy +engineers and firemen; clerks, as I opined, dapper and +bustling, clad in the latest fashion, with diamonds in +flashy ties and heavy gold watch chains across their +fancy waistcoats; soldiers; men whom I took to be +Mexicans, by their velvet jackets, slashed pantaloons +and filagreed hats; darkly weathered, leathery faced, +long-haired personages, no doubt scouts and trappers, +in fringed buckskins and beaded moccasins; blanket +wrapped Indians; and women.</p> +<p>Of the women a number were unmistakable as to +vocation, being lavishly painted, strident, and bold, +and significantly dressed. I saw several in amazing +costumes of tightly fitting black like ballet girls, low +necked, short skirted, around the smooth waists snake-skin +belts supporting handsome little pistols and dainty +poignards. Contrasted there were women of other +class and, I did not doubt, of better repute; some in +gowns and bonnets that would do them credit anywhere +in New York, and some, of course, more commonly +attired in calico and gingham as proper to the +humbler station of laundresses, cooks, and so forth.</p> +<p>The uproar was a jargon of shouts, hails, music, +hammering, barking, scuff of feet, trample of horses +and oxen, rumble of creaking wagons and Concord +stages.</p> +<p>“Well, suh,” spoke the Colonel, pulling his hat +over his eyes, “shall we stroll a piece?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></p> +<p>“Might better,” assented Bill. “The gentleman +may find something of interest right in the open. +How are you on the goose, sir?” he demanded of me.</p> +<p>“The goose?” I uttered.</p> +<p>“Yes. Keno.”</p> +<p>“I am a stranger to the goose,” said I.</p> +<p>He grunted.</p> +<p>“It gives a quick turn for a small stake. So do the +three-card and rondo.”</p> +<p>Of passageway there was not much choice between +the middle of the street and the borders. +Seemed to me as we weaved along through groups of +idlers and among busily stepping people that every +other shop was a saloon, with door widely open and +bar and gambling tables well attended. The odor of +liquor saturated the acrid dust. Yet the genuine +shops, even of the rudest construction, were piled +from the front to the rear with commodities of all +kinds, and goods were yet heaped upon the ground in +front and behind as if the merchants had no time for +unpacking. The incessant hammering, I ascertained, +came from amateur carpenters, including mere boys, +here and there engaged as if life depended upon their +efforts, in erecting more buildings from knocked-down +sections like cardboard puzzles and from lumber +already cut and numbered.</p> +<p>My guides nodded right and left with “Hello, +Frank,” “How are you, Dan?” “Evening, Charley,” +and so on. Occasionally the Colonel swept off +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +his hat, with elaborate deference, to a woman, but I +looked in vain for My Lady in Black. I did not see +her—nor did I see her peer, despite the fact that now +and then I observed a face and figure of apparent attractiveness.</p> +<p>Above the staccato of conversation and exclamation +there arose the appeals of the barkers for the +gambling resorts.</p> +<p>“This way. Shall we see what he’s got?” the +Colonel invited. Forthwith veering aside he crossed +the street in obedience to a summons of whoops and +shouts that set the very dust to vibrating.</p> +<p>A crowd had gathered before a youth—a perspiring, +red-faced youth with a billy-cock hat shoved back +upon his bullet head—a youth in galluses and soiled +shirt and belled pantaloons, who, standing upon a +box for elevation, was exhorting at the top of his +lungs.</p> +<p>“Whoo-oop! This way, this way! Everybody +this way! Come on, you rondo-coolo sports! Give +us a bet! A bet! Rondo coolo-oh! Rondo coolo-oh! +Here’s your easy money! Down with your +soap! Let her roll! Rondo coolo-oh!”</p> +<p>“It’s a great game, suh,” the Colonel flung back +over his shoulder.</p> +<p>We pushed forward, to the front. The center for +the crowd was a table not unlike a small billiard table +or, saving the absence of pins, a tivoli table such as +enjoyed by children. But across one end there were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +several holes, into which balls, ten or a dozen, resembling +miniature billiard balls, might roll.</p> +<p>The balls had been banked, in customary pyramid +shape for a break as in pool, at the opposite end; and +just as we arrived they had been propelled all forward, +scattering, by a short cue rapidly swept across +their base.</p> +<p>“Rondo coolo, suh,” the Colonel was explaining, +“as you see, is an improvement on the old rondo, foh +red-blooded people. You may place your bets in various +ways, on the general run, or the odd or the even; +and as the bank relies, suh, only on percentage, the +popular game is strictly square. There is no chance +foh a brace in rondo coolo. Shall we take a turn, foh +luck?”</p> +<p>The crowd was craning and eyeing the gyrating +balls expectantly. A part of the balls entered the +pockets; the remainder came to rest.</p> +<p>“Rondo,” announced the man with the short cue, +amidst excited ejaculations from winners and losers. +And according to a system which I failed to grasp, +except that it comprised the number of balls pocketed, +he deftly distributed from one collection of checks +and coins to another, quickly absorbed by greedy +hands.</p> +<p>“She rolls again. Make your bets, ladies and +gents,” he intoned. “It’s rondo coolo—simple rondo +coolo.” And he reassembled the balls.</p> +<p>“I prefer not to play, sir,” I responded to the heavily +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +breathing Colonel. “I am new here and I cannot +afford to lose until I am better established.”</p> +<p>“Never yet seen a man who couldn’t afford to win, +though,” Bill growled. “Easy pickin’, too. But +come on, then. We’ll give you a straight steer +some’rs else.”</p> +<p>So we left the crowd—containing indeed women as +well as men—to their insensate fervor over a childish +game under the stimulation of the raucous, sweating +barker. Of gambling devices, in the open of the +street, there was no end. My conductors appeared to +have the passion, for our course led from one method +of hazard to another—roulette, chuck-a-luck where +the patrons cast dice for prizes of money and valuables +arrayed upon numbered squares of an oilcloth +covered board, keno where numbered balls were decanted +one at a time from a bottle-shaped leather receptacle +called, I learned, the “goose,” and the players +kept tab by filling in little cards as in domestic lotto; +and finally we stopped at the simplest apparatus of +all.</p> +<p>“The spiel game for me, gentlemen,” said the +Colonel. “Here it is. Yes, suh, there’s nothing like +monte, where any man is privileged to match his eyes +against fingers. Nobody but a blind man can lose at +monte, by George!”</p> +<p>“And this spieler’s on the level,” Bill pronounced, +sotto voce. “I vote we hook him for a gudgeon, and +get the price of a meal. Our friend will join us in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +the turn. He can see for himself that he can’t lose. +He’s got sharp eyes.”</p> +<p>The bystanders here were stationed before a man +sitting at a low tripod table; and all that he had was +the small table—a plain cheap table with folding legs—and +three playing cards. Business was a trifle +slack. I thought that his voice crisped aggressively +as we elbowed through, while he sat idly skimming the +three cards over the table, with a flick of his hand.</p> +<p>“Two jacks, and the ace, gentlemen. There they +are. I have faced them up. Now I gather them +slowly—you can’t miss them. Observe closely. The +jack on top, between thumb and forefinger. The ace +next—ace in the middle. The other jack bottommost.” +He turned his hand, with the three cards in +a tier, so that all might see. “The ace is the winning +card. You are to locate the ace. Observe closely +again. It’s my hand against your eyes. I am going +to throw. Who will spot the ace? Watch, everybody. +Ready! Go!” The backs of the cards were +up. With a swift movement he released the three, +spreading them in a neat row, face down, upon the +table. He carelessly shifted them hither and thither—and +his fingers were marvelously nimble, lightly +touching. “Twenty dollars against your twenty that +you can’t pick out the ace, first try. I’ll let the cards +lie. I shan’t disturb them. There they are. If +you’ve watched the ace fall, you win. If you haven’t, +you lose unless you guess right.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p> +<p>“Just do that trick again, will you, for the benefit +of my friend here?” bade the Colonel.</p> +<p>The “spieler”—a thin-lipped, cadaverous individual, +his soft hat cavalierly aslant, his black hair +combed flatly in a curve down upon his damp forehead, +a pair of sloe eyes, and a flannel shirt open upon +his bony chest—glanced alert. He smiled.</p> +<p>“Hello, sir. I’m agreeable. Yes, sir. But as +they lie, will you make a guess? No? Or you, sir?” +And he addressed Bill. “No? Then you, sir?” +He appealed to me. “No? But I’m a mind-reader. +I can tell by your eyes. They’re upon the right-end +card. Aha! Correct.” He had turned up the card +and shown the ace. “You should have bet. You +would have beaten me, sir. You’ve got the eyes. I +think you’ve seen this game before. No? Ah, but +you have, or else you’re born lucky. Now I’ll try +again. For the benefit of these three gentlemen I will +try again. Kindly reserve your bets, friends all, and +you shall have your chance. This game never stops. +I am always after revenge. Watch the ace. I pick +up the cards. Ace first—blessed ace; <i>and</i> the jacks. +Watch close. There you are.” He briefly exposed +the faces of the cards. “Keep your eyes upon the +ace. Ready—go!”</p> +<p>He spread the cards. As he had released he had +tilted them slightly, and I clearly saw the ace land. +The cards fell in the same order as arranged. To +that I would have sworn. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></p> +<p>“Five dollars now that any one card is not the +ace,” he challenged. “I shall not touch them. A +small bet—just enough to make it interesting. Five +dollars from you, sir?” He looked at me direct. I +shook my head; I was sternly resolved not to be over +tempted. “What? No? You will wait another +turn? Very well. How about you, sir?” to the +Colonel.</p> +<p>“I’ll go halvers with you, Colonel,” Bill proposed.</p> +<p>“I’m on,” agreed the Colonel. “There’s the soap. +And foh the honor of the grand old Empire State we +will let our friend pick the ace foh us. I have faith +in those eyes of his, suhs.”</p> +<p>“But that is scarcely fair, sir, when I am risking +nothing,” I protested.</p> +<p>“Go ahead, suh; go ahead,” he urged. “It is just +a sporting proposition foh general entertainment.”</p> +<p>“And I’ll bet you a dollar on the side that you don’t +spot the ace,” the dealer baited. “Come now. Make +it interesting for yourself.”</p> +<p>“I’ll not bet, but since you insist, there’s the ace.” +And I turned up the right-end card.</p> +<p>“By the Eternal, he’s done it! He has an eye like +an eagle’s,” praised the dealer, with evident chagrin. +“I lose. Once again, now. Everybody in, this time.” +He gathered the cards. “I’ll play against you all, +this gentleman included. And if I lose, why, that’s +life, gentleman. Some of us win, some of us lose. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +Watch the ace and have your money ready. You can +follow this gentleman’s tip. I’m afraid he’s smarter +than me, but I’m game.”</p> +<p>He was too insistent. Somehow, I did not like him, +anyway, and I was beginning to be suspicious of my +company. Their minds trended entirely toward +gambling; to remain with them meant nothing +farther than the gaming tables, and I was hungry.</p> +<p>“You’ll have to excuse me, gentleman,” I pleaded. +“Another time, but not now. I wish to eat and to +bathe, and I have an engagement following.”</p> +<p>“Gad, suh!” The Colonel fixed me with his fishy +eyes. “Foh God’s sake don’t break your winning +streak with eatin’ and washin’. Fortune is a fickle +jade, suh; she’s hostile when slapped in the face.”</p> +<p>Bill glowered at me, but I was firm.</p> +<p>“If you will give me the pleasure of taking supper +with me at some good place——” I suggested, as +they pursued me into the street.</p> +<p>“We can’t talk this over while we’re dry,” the +Colonel objected. “That is a human impossibility. +Let us libate, suhs, in order to tackle our provender +in proper spirit.”</p> +<p>“And no lemonade goes this time, either,” Bill declared. +“That brand of a drink is insultin’ to good +victuals.”</p> +<p>We were standing, for the moment, verging upon +argument much to my distaste, when on a sudden who +should come tripping along but My Lady of the Blue +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +Eyes—yes, the very flesh and action of her, her face +shielded from the dust by a little sunshade.</p> +<p>She saw me, recognized me in startled fashion, and +with a swift glance at my two companions bowed. +My hat was off in a twinkling, with my best manner; +the Colonel barely had time to imitate ere, leaving me +a quick smile, she was gone on.</p> +<p>He and Bill stared after; then at me.</p> +<p>“Gad, suh! You know the lady?” the Colonel +ejaculated.</p> +<p>“I have the honor. We were passengers upon the +same train.”</p> +<p>“Clean through, you mean?” queried Bill.</p> +<p>“Yes. We happened to get on together, at +Omaha.”</p> +<p>“I congratulate you, suh,” affirmed the Colonel. +“We were not aware, suh, that you had an acquaintance +of that nature in this city.”</p> +<p>Again congratulation over my fortune! It +mounted to my head, but I preserved decorum.</p> +<p>“A casual acquaintance. We were merely travelers +by the same route at the same time. And now if +you will recommend a good eating place, and be my +guests at supper, after that, as I have said, I must be +excused. By the way, while I think of it,” I carelessly +added, “can you direct me how to get to the +Big Tent?”</p> +<p>“The Big Tent? If I am not intruding, suh, does +your engagement comprise the Big Tent?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></p> +<p>“Yes. But I failed to get the address.”</p> +<p>The Colonel swelled; his fishy eyes hardened upon +me as with righteous indignation.</p> +<p>“Suh, you are too damned innocent. You come +here, suh, imposing as a stranger, suh, and throwing +yourself on our goodness, suh, to entertain you; and +you conceal your irons in the fiah under your hat, +suh. Do we look green, suh? What is your vocation, +suh? I believe, by gad, suh, that you are a common +capper foh some infernal skinning game, or that +you are a professional. Suh, I call your hand.”</p> +<p>I was about to retort hotly that I had not requested +their chaperonage, and that my affair with My Lady +and the Big Tent, howsoever they might take it, was +my own; when Mr. Brady, who likewise had been +glaring at me, growled morosely.</p> +<p>“She’s waitin’ for you. You can square with us +later, and if there’s something doin’ on the table we +want a show.”</p> +<p>The black-clad figure had lingered beyond; ostensibly +gazing into a window but now and again darting +a glance in our direction. I accepted the glances +as a token of inclination on her part; without saying +another word to my ruffled body-guards I approached +her.</p> +<p>She received me with a quick turn of head as if not +expecting, but with a ready smile.</p> +<p>“Well, sir?”</p> +<p>“Madam,” I uttered foolishly, “good-evening.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></p> +<p>“You have left your friends?”</p> +<p>“Very willingly. Whether they are really my +friends I rather question. They have seen fit to escort +me about, is all.”</p> +<p>“And I have rescued you?” She smiled again. +“Believe me, sir, you would be better off alone. I +know the gentlemen. They have been paid for their +trouble, have they not?”</p> +<p>“They have won a little at gambling, but in that I +had no hand,” I replied. “So far they have asked +nothing more.”</p> +<p>“Certainly not. And you put up no stakes?”</p> +<p>“Not a penny, madam. Why should I?”</p> +<p>“To make it interesting, as they doubtless said. +The Colonel, as all the town knows, is a notorious +capper and steerer, and the fellow Brady is no better, +no worse. Had you stayed with them and suffered +them to persuade you into betting, you would soon +have been fleeced as clean as a shaved pig. The little +gains they are permitted to make, to draw you on, is +their pay. Their losses if any would have been restored +to them, but not yours to you.”</p> +<p>“Strange to say, they have just accused me of being +a ‘capper,’” I answered, nettled as I began to +comprehend.</p> +<p>“From what cause, sir?”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +<img src='images/illus-084.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 367px; height: 499px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 367px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“Madam,” I Uttered Foolishly, “Good Evening.”</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>“They seemed to think that I am smarter than to +my actual credit, for one thing.” I, of course, could +not involve her in the subject, and indeed could not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +understand why she should have been held responsible, +anyway. “And probably they were peeved because +I insisted upon eating supper and then following +my own bent.”</p> +<p>“You were about to leave them?” Her face +brightened. “That is good. They were disappointed +in finding you no gudgeon to be hooked by such raw +methods. And you’ve not had supper yet? Promise +me that you will take up with no more strangers or, +I assure you, you may wake in the morning with +your pockets turned inside out and your memory at +fault. This is Benton.”</p> +<p>“Yes, this is Benton, is it?” I rejoined; and perhaps +bitterly.</p> +<p>“Benton, Wyoming Territory; of three thousand +people in two weeks; in another month, who knows +how many? And the majority of us live on one another. +The country furnishes nothing else. Still, +you will find it not much different from what I told +you.”</p> +<p>“I have found it high and dry, certainly,” said I.</p> +<p>“Where are you stopping?”</p> +<p>“At the Queen—with a bath for every room. I am +now awaiting the turn of my room, at the end of another +hour.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” She laughed heartily. “You are fortunate, +sir. The Queen may not be considered the best +in all ways, but they say the towels for the baths are +more than napkin size. Meanwhile, let me advise +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +you. Outfit while you wait, and become of the country. +You look too much the pilgrim—there is Eastern +dust showing through our Benton dust, and that +spells of other ’dust’ in your pockets. Get another +hat, a flannel shirt, some coarser trousers, a pair of +boots, don a gun and a swagger, say little, make few +impromptu friends, win and lose without a smile or +frown, if you play (but upon playing I will advise you +later), pass as a surveyor, as a railroad clerk, as a +Mormon—anything they choose to apply to you; and +I shall hope to see you to-night.”</p> +<p>“You shall,” I assured, abashed by her raillery. +“And if you will kindly tell me——”</p> +<p>“The meals at the Belle Marie Café are as good as +any. You can see the sign from here. So adios, sir, +and remember.” With no mention of the Big Tent +she flashed a smile at me and mingled with the other +pedestrians crossing the street on diagonal course. +As I had not been invited to accompany her I stood, +gratefully digesting her remarks. When I turned for +a final word with my two guides, they had vanished.</p> +<p>This I interpreted as a confession of jealous fear +that I had been, in slang phrasing, “put wise.” And +sooth to say, I saw them again no more.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI__HIGH_AND_DRY' id='VI__HIGH_AND_DRY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>“HIGH AND DRY”</h3> +</div> + +<p>The counsel to don a garb smacking less of the recent +East struck me as sound; for although I was not +the only person here in Eastern guise, nevertheless +about the majority of the populace there was an easy +aggressiveness that my appearance evidently lacked.</p> +<p>So I must hurry ere the shops closed.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon. What time do the stores +close, can you tell me?” I asked of the nearest bystander.</p> +<p>He surveyed me.</p> +<p>“Close? Hell!” he said. “They don’t close for +even a dog fight, pardner. Business runs twenty-five +hours every day, seven days the week, in these +diggin’s.”</p> +<p>“And where will I find a haberdashery?”</p> +<p>“A what? Talk English. What you want?”</p> +<p>“I want a—an outfit; a personal outfit.”</p> +<p>“Blanket to moccasins? Levi’s, stranger. Levi’ll +outfit you complete and throw in a yellow purp under +the wagon.”</p> +<p>“And where is Levi’s?”</p> +<p>“There.” And he jerked his head aside. “You +could shut your eyes and spit in the doorway.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></p> +<p>With that he rudely turned his back upon me. But +sure enough, by token of the large sign “Levi’s +Mammoth Emporium: Liquors, Groceries and General +Merchandise,” I was standing almost in front of +the store itself.</p> +<p>I entered, into the seething aisle flanked by heaped-up +counters and stacked goods that bulged the partially +boarded canvas walls. At last I gained position +near one of the perspiring clerks and caught his eye.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. You, sir? What can I do for you, +sir?” He rubbed his hands alertly, on edge with a +long day.</p> +<p>“I wish a hat, flannel shirt, a serviceable ready-made +suit, boots, possibly other matters.”</p> +<p>“We have exactly the things for you, sir. This +way.”</p> +<p>“Going out on the advance line, sir?” he asked, +while I made selections.</p> +<p>“That is not unlikely.”</p> +<p>“They’re doing great work. Three miles of track +laid yesterday; twelve so far this week. Averaging +two and one-half miles a day and promising better.”</p> +<p>“So I understand,” I alleged.</p> +<p>“General Jack Casement is a world beater. If he +could get the iron as fast as he could use it he’d build +through to California without a halt. But looks now +as if somewhere between would have to satisfy him. +You are a surveyor, I take it?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I am surveying on the line along with the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +others,” I answered. And surveying the country I +was.</p> +<p>“You are the gentlemen who lay out the course,” +he complimented. “Now, is there something else, +sir?”</p> +<p>“I need a good revolver, a belt and ammunition.”</p> +<p>“We carry the reliable—the Colt’s. That’s the +favorite holster gun in use out here. Please step +across, sir.”</p> +<p>He led.</p> +<p>“If you’re not particular as to shine,” he resumed, +“we have a second-hand outfit that I can sell you +cheap. Took it in as a deposit, and the gentleman +never has called for it. Of course you’re broken in +to the country, but as you know a new belt and holster +are apt to be viewed with suspicion and a gentleman +sometimes has to draw when he’d rather not, +to prove himself. This gun has been used just enough +to take the roughness off the trigger pull, and it employs +the metallic cartridges—very convenient. The +furniture for it is O. K. And all at half price.”</p> +<p>I was glad to find something cheap. The boots had +been fifteen dollars, the hat eight, shirt and suit in +proportion, and the red silk handkerchief two dollars +and a half. Yes, Benton was “high.”</p> +<p>With my bulky parcel I sought the Belle Marie +Café, ate my supper, thence hastened through the +gloaming to the hotel for bath and change of costume. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></p> +<p>I had yet time to array myself, as an experiment +and a lark; and that I sillily did, hurriedly tossing +my old garments upon bed and floor, in order to invest +with the new. The third bed was occupied when +I came in; occupied on the outside by a plump, round-faced, +dust-scalded man, with piggish features accentuated +by his small bloodshot eyes; dressed in Eastern +mode but stripped to the galluses, as was the custom. +He lay upon his back, his puffy hands folded +across his spherical abdomen where his pantaloons +met a sweaty pink-striped shirt; and he panted +wheezingly through his nose.</p> +<p>“Hell of a country, ain’t it!” he observed in a moment. +“You a stranger, too?”</p> +<p>“I have been here a short time, sir.”</p> +<p>“Thought so. Jest beginnin’ to peel, like me. I +been here two days. What’s your line?”</p> +<p>“I have a number of things in view,” I evaded.</p> +<p>“Well, you don’t have to tell ’em,” he granted. +“Thought you was a salesman. I’m from Saint +Louie, myself. Sell groceries, and pasteboards on the +side. Cards are the stuff. I got the best line of sure-thing +stock—strippers, humps, rounds, squares, briefs +and marked backs—that ever were dealt west of the +Missouri. Judas Priest, but this is a roarer of a burg! +What <i>it</i> ain’t got I never seen—and I ain’t no spring +goslin’, neither. I’ve plenty sand in my craw. You +ain’t been plucked yet?”</p> +<p>“No, sir. I never gamble.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span></p> +<p>“Wish I didn’t, but my name’s Jakey and I’m a +good feller. Say, I’m supposed to be wise, too, but +they trimmed me two hundred dollars. Now I’m +gettin’ out.” He groaned. “Take the train in a few +minutes. Dasn’t risk myself on the street again. +Sent my baggage down for fear I’d lose that. Say,” +he added, watching me, “looks like you was goin’ out +yourself. One of them surveyor fellers, workin’ for +the railroad?”</p> +<p>“It might be so, sir,” I replied.</p> +<p>He half sat up.</p> +<p>“You’ll want to throw a leg, I bet. Lemme tell +you. It’s a hell of a town but it’s got some fine +wimmen; yes, and a few straight banks, too. You’re +no crabber or piker; I can see that. You go to the +North Star. Tell Frank that Jakey sent you. They’ll +treat you white. You be sure and say Jakey sent you. +But for Gawd’s sake keep out of the Big Tent.”</p> +<p>“The Big Tent?” I uttered. “Why so?”</p> +<p>“They’ll sweat you there,” he groaned lugubriously. +“Say, friend, could you lend me twenty dollars? +You’ve still got your roll. I ain’t a stivver. I’m +busted flat.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry that I can’t accommodate you, sir,” +said I. “I have no more money than will see me +through—and according to your story perhaps not +enough.”</p> +<p>“I’ve told you of the North Star. You mention +Jakey sent you. You’ll make more than your twenty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +back, at the North Star,” he urged inconsistent. “If +it hadn’t been for that damned Big Tent——” and he +flopped with a dismal grunt.</p> +<p>By this time, all the while conscious of his devouring +eyes, I had changed my clothing and now I stood +equipped cap-a-pie, with my hat clapped at an angle, +and my pantaloons in my boots, and my red silk handkerchief +tastefully knotted at my throat, and my six-shooter +slung; and I could scarcely deny that in my +own eyes, and in his, I trusted, I was a pretty figure +of a Westerner who would win the approval, as +seemed to me, of My Lady in Black or of any other +lady.</p> +<p>His reflection upon the Big Tent, however, was the +fly in my ointment. Therefore, preening and adjusting +with assumed carelessness I queried, in real concern:</p> +<p>“What about the Big Tent? Where is it? Isn’t +it respectable?”</p> +<p>“Respectable? Of course it’s respectable. You +don’t ketch your Jakey in no place that ain’t. I’ve a +family to think of. You ain’t been there? Say! +There’s where they all meet, in that Big Tent; all the +best people, too, you bet you. But I tell you, +friend——”</p> +<p>He did not finish. An uproar sounded above the +other street clamor: a pistol shot, and another—a +chorus of hoarse shouts and shrill frightened cries, +the scurrying rush of feet, all in the street; and in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +hall of the hotel, and the lobby below, the rush of still +more feet, booted, and the din of excited voices.</p> +<p>My man on the bed popped with the agility of a +jack-in-the-box for the window.</p> +<p>“A fight, a fight! Shootin’ scrape!” In a single +motion grabbing coat and hat he was out through the +door and pelting down the hall. Overcome by the +zest of the moment I pelted after, and with several +others plunged as madly upon the porch. We had +left the lobby deserted.</p> +<p>The shots had ceased. Now a baying mob ramped +through the street, with jangle “Hang him! Hang +him! String him up!” Borne on by a hysterical +company I saw, first a figure bloody-chested and inert +flat in the dust, with stooping figures trying to raise +him; then, beyond, a man bareheaded, whiskered, but +as white as death, hustled to and fro from clutching +hands and suddenly forced in firm grips up the street, +while the mob trailed after, whooping, cursing, +shrieking, flourishing guns and knives and ropes. +There were women as well as men in it.</p> +<p>All this turned me sick. From the outskirts of the +throng I tramped back to my room and the bath. +The hotel was quiet as if emptied; my room was vacant—and +more than vacant, for of my clothing not +a vestige remained! My bag also was gone. Worse +yet, prompted by an inner voice that stabbed me like +an icicle I was awakened to the knowledge that every +cent I had possessed was in those vanished garments. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></p> +<p>For an instant I stood paralyzed, fronting the +calamity. I could not believe. It was as if the floor +had swallowed my belongings. I had been absent not +more than five minutes. Surely this was the room. +Yes, Number Six; and the beds were familiar, their +tumbled covers unaltered.</p> +<p>Now I held the bath-room responsible. The scoundrel +in the bath had heard, had taken advantage, made +a foray and hidden. Out I ran, exploring. Every +room door was wide open, every apartment blank; +but there was a splashing, from the bath—I listened +at the threshold, gently tried the knob—and received +such a cry of angry protest that it sent me to the +right-about, on tiptoe. The thief was not in the +bath.</p> +<p>My heart sank as I bolted down for the office. The +clerk had reinstated himself behind the counter. He +composedly greeted me, with calm voice and with eyes +that noted my costume.</p> +<p>“You can have your bath as soon as the porter +gets back from the hanging, sir,” he said. “That is, +unless you’d prefer to hurry up by toting your own +water. The party now in will be out directly.”</p> +<p>“Never mind the bath,” I uttered, breathless, in a +voice that I scarcely recognized, so piping and aghast +it was. “I’ve been robbed—of money, clothes, baggage, +everything!”</p> +<p>“Well, what at?” he queried, with a glimmer of a +smile. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p> +<p>“What at? In my room, I tell you. I had just +changed to try on these things; the street fight +sounded; I was gone not five minutes and nevertheless +the room was sacked. Absolutely sacked.”</p> +<p>“That,” he commented evenly, “is hard luck.”</p> +<p>“Hard luck!” I hotly rejoined. “It’s an outrage. +But you seem remarkably cool about it, sir. What +do you propose to do?”</p> +<p>“I?” He lifted his brows. “Nothing. They’re +not my valuables.”</p> +<p>“But this is a respectable hotel, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Perfectly; and no orphan asylum. We attend +strictly to our business and expect our guests to attend +to theirs.”</p> +<p>“I was told that it was safe for me to leave my +things in my room.”</p> +<p>“Not by me, sir. Read that.” And he called my +attention to a placard that said, among other matters: +“We are not responsible for property of any nature +left by guests in their rooms.”</p> +<p>“Where’s the chief of police?” I demanded. +“You have officers here, I hope.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. The marshal is the chief of police, and +he’s the whole show. The provost guard from the +post helps out when necessary. But you’ll find the +marshal at the mayor’s office or else at the North +Star gambling hall, three blocks up the street. I don’t +think he’ll do you any good, though. He’s not likely +to bother with small matters, especially when he’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +dealing faro bank. He has an interest in the North +Star. You’ll never see your property again. Take +my word for it.”</p> +<p>“I won’t? Why not?”</p> +<p>“You’ve played the gudgeon for somebody; that’s +all. Easiest thing in the world for a smart gentleman +to slip into your room while you were absent, go +through it, and make his getaway by the end of the +hall, out over the kitchen roof. It’s been done many +a time.”</p> +<p>“A traveling salesman saw me dressing. He went +out before me but he might have doubled,” I gasped. +“He had one of the beds—who is he?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know him, sir.”</p> +<p>“A round-bellied, fat-faced man—sold groceries +and playing cards.”</p> +<p>“There is no such guest in your room, sir. You +have bed Number One, bed Number Two is assigned +to Mr. Bill Brady, who doubtless will be in soon. +Number Three is temporarily vacant.”</p> +<p>“The man said he was about to catch the train +east,” I pursued desperately. “A round-bellied, fat-faced +man in pink striped shirt——”</p> +<p>“If he was to catch any train, that train has just +pulled out.”</p> +<p>“And who was in the bath, ten or fifteen minutes +ago?”</p> +<p>“My wife, sir; and still there. She has to take her +chances like everybody else. No, sir; you’ve been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +done. You may find your clothes, but I doubt it. +You are next upon the bath list.” And he became +all business. “The porter will carry up the water +and notify you. You are allowed twenty minutes. +That is satisfactory?”</p> +<p>A bath, now!</p> +<p>“No, certainly not,” I blurted. “I have no time +nor inclination for a bath, at present. And,” I faltered, +ashamed, “I’ll have to ask you to refund me +the dollar and a half. I haven’t a cent.”</p> +<p>“Under the circumstances I can do that, although +it is against our rules,” he replied. “Here it is, sir. +We wish to accommodate.”</p> +<p>“And will you advance me twenty dollars, say, +until I shall have procured funds from the East?” I +ventured.</p> +<p>A mask fell over his face. He slightly smiled.</p> +<p>“No, sir; I cannot. We never advance money.”</p> +<p>“But I’ve got to have money, to tide me over, +man,” I pleaded. “This dollar and a half will barely +pay for a meal. I can give you references——”</p> +<p>“From Colonel Sunderson, may I ask?” His +voice was poised tentatively.</p> +<p>“No. I never saw the Colonel before. My references +are Eastern. My father——”</p> +<p>“As a gentleman the Colonel is O. K.,” he smoothly +interrupted. “I do not question his integrity, nor +your father’s. But we never advance money. It is +against the policy of the house.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></p> +<p>“Has my trunk come up yet?” I queried.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. If you’d rather have it in your +room——”</p> +<p>“In my room!” said I. “No! Else it might walk +out the hall window, too. You have it safe?”</p> +<p>“Perfectly, except in case of burglary or fire. It +is out of the weather. We’re not responsible for +theft or fire, you understand. Not in Benton.”</p> +<p>“Good Lord!” I ejaculated, weak. “You have +my trunk, you say? Very good. Will you advance +me twenty dollars and keep the trunk as security? +That, I think, is a sporting proposition.”</p> +<p>He eyed me up and down.</p> +<p>“Are you a surveyor? Connected with the +road?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“What is your business, then?”</p> +<p>“I’m a damned fool,” I confessed. “I’m a gudgeon—I’m +a come-on. In fact, as I’ve said before, +I’m out here looking for health, where it’s high and +dry.” He smiled. “And high and dry I’m landed in +short order. But the trunk’s not empty. Will you +keep it and lend me twenty dollars? I presume that +trunk and contents are worth two hundred.”</p> +<p>“I’ll speak with the porter,” he answered.</p> +<p>By the lapse of time between his departure and his +return he and the gnome evidently had hefted the +trunk and viewed it at all angles. Now he came back +with quick step. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></p> +<p>“Yes, sir; we’ll advance you twenty dollars on +your trunk. Here is the money, sir.” He wrote, and +passed me a slip of paper also. “And your receipt. +When you pay the twenty dollars, if within thirty +days, you can have your trunk.”</p> +<p>“And if not?” I asked uncomfortably.</p> +<p>“We shall be privileged to dispose of it. We are +not in the pawn business, but we have trunks piled to +the ceiling in our storeroom, left by gentlemen in +embarrassed circumstances like yours.”</p> +<p>I never saw that trunk again, either. However, of +this, more anon. At that juncture I was only too glad +to get the twenty dollars, pending the time when I +should be recouped from home; for I could see that +to be stranded “high and dry” in Benton City of +Wyoming Territory would be a dire situation. And +I could not hope for much from home. It was a bitter +dose to have to ask for further help. Three years +returned from the war my father had scarcely yet +been enabled to gather the loose ends of his former +affairs.</p> +<p>“Now if you will direct me to the telegraph office——?” +I suggested.</p> +<p>“The telegraph into Benton is the Union Pacific +Railroad line,” he informed; “and that is open to only +Government and official business. If you wish to +send a private dispatch you should forward it by post +to Cheyenne, one hundred and seventy-five miles, +where it will be put on the Overland branch line for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +the East by way of Denver. The rate to New York +is eight dollars, prepaid.”</p> +<p>I knew that my face fell. Eight dollars would +make a large hole in my slender funds—I had been +foolish not to have borrowed fifty dollars on the +trunk. So I decided to write instead of telegraph; +and with him watching me I endeavored to speak +lightly.</p> +<p>“Thank you. Now where will I find the place +known as the Big Tent?”</p> +<p>He laughed with peculiar emphasis.</p> +<p>“If you had mentioned the Big Tent sooner you’d +have got no twenty dollars from me, sir. Not that +I’ve anything against it, understand. It’s all right, +everybody goes there; perfectly legitimate. I go +there myself. And you may redeem your trunk to-morrow +and be buying champagne.”</p> +<p>“I am to meet a friend at the Big Tent,” I stiffly +explained. “Further than that I have no business +there. I know nothing whatever about it.”</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir. No offense intended. +The Big Tent is highly regarded—a great place to +spend a pleasant evening. All Benton indulges. I +wish you the best of luck, sir. You are heeled, I see. +No one will take you for a pilgrim.” Despite the assertion +there was a twinkle in his eye. “You will +find the Big Tent one block and a half down this +street. You cannot miss it.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_I_GO_TO_RENDEZVOUS' id='VII_I_GO_TO_RENDEZVOUS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>I GO TO RENDEZVOUS</h3> +</div> + +<p>The hotel lamps were being lighted by the gnome +porter. When I stepped outside twilight had deepened +into dusk, the air was almost frosty, and this +main street had been made garish by its nightly illumination.</p> +<p>It was a strange sight, as I paused for a moment +upon the plank veranda. The near vicinity resembled +a fair. As if inspired by the freshness and coolness +of the new air the people were trooping to and fro +more restlessly than ever, and in greater numbers. +All up and down the street coal-oil torches or flambeaus, +ruddily embossing the heads of the players and +onlookers, flared like votive braziers above the open-air +gambling games; there were even smoked-chimney +lamps, and candles, set on pedestals, signalizing +other centers. The walls of the tent store-buildings +glowed spectral from the lights to be glimpsed +through doorways and windows, and grotesque, gigantic +figures flitted in silhouette. While through the +interstices between the buildings I might see other +structures, ranging from those of tolerable size to +simple wall tents and makeshift shacks, eerily shadowed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p> +<p>The noise had, if anything, redoubled. To the exclamations, +the riotous shouts and whoops, the general +gay vociferations and the footsteps of a busy people, +the harangues of the barkers, the more distant +puffing and shrieking of the locomotives at the railroad +yards, the hammering where men and boys +worked by torchlight, and now and then a revolver +shot, there had been added the inciting music of +stringed instruments, cymbals, and such—some in +dance measures, some solo, while immediately at hand +sounded the shuffling stamp of waltz, hoe-down and +cotillion.</p> +<p>Night at Benton plainly had begun with a gusto. +It stirred one’s blood. It called—it summoned with +such a promise of variety, of adventure, of flotsam +and jetsam and shuttlecock of chances, that I, a youth +with twenty-one dollars and a half at disposal, all his +clothes on his back, a man’s weapon at his belt, and +an appointment with a lady as his future, forgetful +of past and courageous in present, strode confidently, +even recklessly down, as eager as one to the manners +of the country born.</p> +<p>The mysterious allusions to the Big Tent now +piqued me. It was a rendezvous, popular, I deemed, +and respectable, as assured. An amusement place, +judging by the talk; superior, undoubtedly, to other +resorts that I may have noted. I was well equipped +to test it out, for I had little to lose, even time was of +no moment, and I possessed a friend at court, there, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +whom I had interested and who very agreeably interested +me. This single factor would have glorified +with a halo any tent, big or little, in Benton.</p> +<p>There was no need for me to inquire my way to the +Big Tent. Upon pushing along down the street, beset +upon my course by many sights and proffered allurements, +and keenly alive to the romance of that +hurly-burly of pleasure and business combined here +two thousand miles west of New York, always expectant +of my goal I was attracted by music again, +just ahead, from an orchestra. I saw a large canvas +sign—The Big Tent—suspended in the full shine of +a locomotive reflector. Beneath it the people were +streaming into the wide entrance to a great canvas +hall.</p> +<p>Quickening my pace in accord with the increased +pace of the throng, presently I likewise entered, unchallenged +for any admission fee. Once across the +threshold, I halted, taken all aback by the hubbub and +the kaleidoscopic spectacle that beat upon my ears and +eyes.</p> +<p>The interior, high ceilinged to the ridged roof, was +unbroken by supports. It was lighted by two score +of lamps and reflectors in brackets along the walls and +hanging as chandeliers from the rafters. The floor, +of planed boards, already teemed with men and +women and children—along one side there was an ornate +bar glittering with cut glass and silver and +backed by a large plate mirror that repeated the lights, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +the people, the glasses, decanters and pitchers, and +the figures of the white-coated, busy bartenders.</p> +<p>At the farther end of the room a stringed orchestra +was stationed upon a platform, while to the bidding +of the music women, and men with hats upon their +heads and cigars in mouths, and men together, +whirled in couples, so that the floor trembled to the +boot heels. Scattered thickly over the intervening +space there were games of chance, every description, +surrounded by groups looking on or playing. +Through the atmosphere blue with the smoke +women, many of them lavishly costumed as if for a +ball, strolled risking or responding to gallantries. +The garb of the men themselves ran the scale: from +the comme il faut of slender shoes, fashionably cut +coats and pantaloons, and modish cravats, through the +campaign uniforms of army officers and enlisted men, +to the frontier corduroy and buckskin of surveyors +and adventurers, the flannel shirts, red, blue and gray, +the jeans and cowhide boots of trainmen, teamsters, +graders, miners, and all.</p> +<p>From nearly every waist dangled a revolver. I remarked +that not a few of the women displayed little +weapons as in bravado.</p> +<p>What with the music, the stamp of the dancers, the +clink of glasses and the ice in pitchers, the rattle of +dice, the slap of cards and currency, the announcements +of the dealers, the clap-trap of barkers and +monte spielers, the general chatter of voices, one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +such as I, a newcomer, scarcely knew which way to +turn.</p> +<p>Altogether this was an amusement palace which, +though rough of exterior, eclipsed the best of the +Bowery and might be found elsewhere, I imagined, +not short of San Francisco.</p> +<p>From the jostle of the doorway to pick out upon +the floor any single figure and follow it was well-nigh +impossible. Not seeing my Lady in Black, at +first sight—not being certain of her, that is, for there +were a number of black dresses—I moved on in. It +might be that she was among the dancers, where, as +I could determine by the vista, beauty appeared to be +whirling around in the embrace of the whiskered +beast.</p> +<p>Then, as I advanced resolutely among the gaming +tables, I felt a cuff upon the shoulder and heard a +bluff voice in my ear.</p> +<p>“Hello, old hoss. How are tricks by this +time?”</p> +<p>Facing about quickly with apprehension of having +been spotted by another capper, if not Bill Brady himself +(for the voice was not Colonel Sunderson’s unctuous +tones) I saw Jim of the Sidney station platform +and the railway coach fracas.</p> +<p>He was grinning affably, apparently none the worse +for wear save a slightly swollen lower lip; he seemed +in good humor.</p> +<p>“Shake,” he proffered, extending his hand. “No +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +hard feelin’s here. I’m no Injun. You knocked the +red-eye out o’ me.”</p> +<p>I shook hands with him, and again he slapped me +upon the shoulder. “Hardly knowed you in that +new rig. Now you’re talkin’. That’s sense. Well; +how you comin’ on?”</p> +<p>“First rate,” I assured, not a little nonplussed by +this greeting from a man whom I had knocked down, +tipsy drunk, only a few hours before. But evidently +he was a seasoned customer.</p> +<p>“Bucked the tiger a leetle, I reckon?” And he +leered cunningly.</p> +<p>“No; I rarely gamble.”</p> +<p>“Aw, tell that to the marines.” Once more he +jovially clapped me. “A young gent like you has to +take a fling now and then. Hell, this is Benton, +where everything goes and nobody the worse for it. +You bet yuh! Trail along with me. Let’s likker. +Then I’ll show you the ropes. I like your style. Yes, +sir; I know a man when I see him.” And he swore +freely.</p> +<p>“Another time, sir,” I begged off. “I have an engagement +this evening——”</p> +<p>“O’ course you have. Don’t I know that, too, by +Gawd? The when, where and who? Didn’t she tell +me to keep my eyes skinned for you, and to cotton to +you when you come in? We’ll find her, after we +likker up.”</p> +<p>“She did?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></p> +<p>“Why not? Ain’t I a friend o’ hern? You bet! +Finest little woman in Benton. Trail to the trough +along with me, pardner, and name your favor-ite. +I’ve got a thirst like a Sioux buck with a robe to +trade.”</p> +<p>“I’d rather not drink, thank you,” I essayed; but +he would have none of it. He seized me by the arm +and hustled me on.</p> +<p>“O’ course you’ll drink. Any gent I ax to drink +has gotto drink. Name your pizen—make it champagne, +if that’s your brand. But the drinks are on +me.”</p> +<p>So willy-nilly I was brought to the bar, where the +line of men already loafing there made space.</p> +<p>“Straight goods and the best you’ve got,” my self-appointed +pilot blared. “None o’ your agency whiskey, +either. What’s yourn?” he asked of me.</p> +<p>“The same as yours, sir,” I bravely replied.</p> +<p>With never a word the bartender shoved bottle and +glasses to us. Jim rather unsteadily filled; I emulated, +but to scanter measure.</p> +<p>“Here’s how,” he volunteered. “May you never +see the back of your neck.”</p> +<p>“Your health,” I responded.</p> +<p>We drank. The stuff may have been pure; at least +it was stout and cut fiery way down my unwonted +throat; the one draught infused me with a swagger +and a sudden rosy view of life through a temporary +mist of watering eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span></p> +<p>“A-ah! That puts guts into a man,” quoth Jim. +“Shall we have another? One more?”</p> +<p>“Not now. The next shall be on me. Let’s look +around,” I gasped.</p> +<p>“We’ll find her,” he promised. “Take a stroll. +I’ll steer you right. Have a seegar, anyway.”</p> +<p>As smoking vied with drinking, here in the Big +Tent where even the dancers cavorted with lighted +cigars in their mouths, I saw fit to humor him.</p> +<p>“Cigars it shall be, then. But I’ll pay.” And to +my nod the bartender set out a box, from which we +selected at twenty-five cents each. With my own +“seegar” cocked up between my lips, and my revolver +adequately heavy at my belt, I suffered the +guidance of the importunate Jim.</p> +<p>We wended leisurely among games of infinite variety: +keno, rondo coolo, poker, faro, roulette, monte, +chuck-a-luck, wheels of fortune—advertised, some, by +their barkers, but the better class (if there is such a +distinction) presided over by remarkably quiet, white-faced, +nimble-fingered, steady-eyed gentry in irreproachable +garb running much to white shirts, black +pantaloons, velvet waistcoats, and polished boots, and +diamonds and gold chains worn unaffectedly; low-voiced +gentry, these, protected, it would appear, +mainly by their lookouts perched at their sides with +eyes alert to read faces and to watch the play.</p> +<p>We had by no means completed the tour, interrupted +by many jests and nods exchanged between +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +Jim and sundry of the patrons, when we indeed met +My Lady. She detached herself, as if cognizant of +our approach, from a little group of four or five +standing upon the floor; and turned for me with hand +outstretched, a gratifying flush upon her spirited +face.</p> +<p>“You are here, then?” she greeted.</p> +<p>I made a leg, with my best bow, not omitting to +remove hat and cigar, while agreeably conscious of +her approving gaze.</p> +<p>“I am here, madam, in the Big Tent.”</p> +<p>Her small warm hand acted as if unreservedly +mine, for the moment. About her there was a tingling +element of the friendly, even of the intimate. +She was a haven in a strange coast.</p> +<p>“Told you I’d find him, didn’t I?” Jim asserted—the +bystanders listening curiously. “There he was, +lookin’ as lonesome as a two-bit piece on a poker table +in a sky-limit game. So we had a drink and a seegar, +and been makin’ the grand tower.”</p> +<p>“You got your outfit, I see,” she smiled.</p> +<p>“Yes. Am I correct?”</p> +<p>“You have saved yourself annoyance. You’ll do,” +she nodded. “Have you played yet? Win, or +lose?”</p> +<p>“I did not come to play, madam,” said I. “Not +at table, that is.” Whereupon I must have returned +her gaze so glowingly as to embarrass her. Yet she +was not displeased; and in that costume and with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +that liquor still coursing through my veins I felt equal +to any retort.</p> +<p>“But you should play. You are heeled?”</p> +<p>“The best I could procure.” I let my hand rest +casually upon my revolver butt.</p> +<p>She laughed merrily. There were smiles aside.</p> +<p>“Oh, no; I didn’t mean that. You are heeled for +all to see. I meant, you have funds? You didn’t +come here too light, did you?”</p> +<p>“I am prepared for all emergencies, madam, certainly,” +I averred with proper dignity. Not for the +world would I have confessed otherwise. Sooth to +say, I had the sensation of boundless wealth. The +affair at the hotel did not bother me, now. Here in +the Big Tent prosperity reigned. Money, money, +money was passing back and forth, carelessly shoved +out and carelessly pocketed or piled up, while the +band played and the people laughed and drank and +danced and bragged and staked, and laughed again.</p> +<p>“That is good. Shall we walk a little? And when +you play—come here.” We stepped apart from the +listeners. “When you play, follow the lead of Jim. +He’ll not lose, and I intend that you shan’t, either. +But you must play, for the sport of it. Everybody +games, in Benton.”</p> +<p>“So I judge, madam,” I assented. “Under your +chaperonage I am ready to take any risks, the gaming +table being among the least.”</p> +<p>“Prettily said, sir,” she complimented. “And you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +won’t lose. No,” she repeated suggestively, “you +won’t lose, with me looking out for you. Jim bears +you no ill will. He recognizes a man when he meets +him, even when the proof is uncomfortable.”</p> +<p>“For that little episode on the train I ask no reward, +madam,” said I.</p> +<p>“Of course not.” Her tone waxed impatient. +“However, you’re a stranger in Benton and strangers +do not always fare well.” In this she spoke the truth. +“As a resident I claim the honors. Let us be old acquaintances. +Shall we walk? Or would you rather +dance?”</p> +<p>“I’d cut a sorry figure dancing in boots,” said I. +“Therefore I’d really prefer to walk, if all the same +to you.”</p> +<p>“Thank you for having mercy on my poor feet. +Walk we will.”</p> +<p>“May I get you some refreshment?” I hazarded. +“A lemonade—or something stronger?”</p> +<p>“Not for you, sir; not again,” she laughed. “You +are, as Jim would say, ’fortified.’ And I shall need +all my wits to keep you from being tolled away by +greater attractions.”</p> +<p>With that, she accepted my arm. We promenaded, +Jim sauntering near. And as she emphatically was +the superior of all other women upon the floor I did +not fail to dilate with the distinction accorded me: +felt it in the glances, the deference and the ready +make-way which attended upon our progress. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +Frankly to say, possibly I strutted—as a young man +will when “fortified” within and without and elevated +from the station of nondescript stranger to that +of favored beau.</p> +<p>Whereas an hour before I had been crushed and +beggarly, now I turned out my toes and stepped +bravely—my twenty-one dollars in pocket, my six-shooter +at belt, a red ’kerchief at throat, the queen of +the hall on my arm, and my trunk all unnecessary to +my well-being.</p> +<p>Thus in easy fashion we moved amidst eyes and +salutations from the various degrees of the company. +She made no mention of any husband, which might +have been odd in the East but did not impress me as +especially odd here in the democratic Far West. The +women appeared to have an independence of action.</p> +<p>“Shall we risk a play or two?” she proposed. +“Are you acquainted with three-card monte?”</p> +<p>“Indifferently, madam,” said I. “But I am green +at all gambling devices.”</p> +<p>“You shall learn,” she encouraged lightly. “In +Benton as in Rome, you know. There is no disgrace +attached to laying down a dollar here and there—we +all do it. That is part of our amusement, in Benton.” +She halted. “You are game, sir? What is life but a +series of chances? Are you disposed to win a little +and flout the danger of losing?”</p> +<p>“I am in Benton to win,” I valiantly asserted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +“And if under your direction, so much the quicker. +What first, then? The three-card monte?”</p> +<p>“It is the simplest. Faro would be beyond you yet. +Rondo coolo is boisterous and confusing—and as for +poker, that is a long session of nerves, while chuck-a-luck, +though all in the open, is for children and fools. +You might throw the dice a thousand times and never +cast a lucky combination. Roulette is as bad. The +percentage in favor of the bank in a square game is +forty per cent. better than stealing. I’ll initiate you +on monte. Are your eyes quick?”</p> +<p>“For some things,” I replied meaningly.</p> +<p>She conducted me to the nearest monte game, +where the “spieler”—a smooth-faced lad of not +more than nineteen—sat behind his three-legged little +table, green covered, and idly shifting the cards +about maintained a rather bored flow of conversational +incitement to bets.</p> +<p>As happened, he was illy patronized at the moment. +There were not more than three or four onlookers, +none risking but all waiting apparently upon +one another.</p> +<p>At our arrival the youth glanced up with the most +innocent pair of long-lashed brown eyes that I ever +had seen. A handsome boy he was.</p> +<p>“Hello, Bob.”</p> +<p>He smiled, with white teeth.</p> +<p>“Hello yourself.”</p> +<p>My Lady and he seemed to know each other. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></p> +<p>“How goes it to-night, Bob?”</p> +<p>“Slow. There’s no nerve or money in this camp +any more. She’s a dead one.”</p> +<p>“I’ll not have Benton slandered,” My Lady gaily +retorted. “We’ll buck your game, Bob. But you +must be easy on us. We’re green yet.”</p> +<p>Bob shot a quick glance at me—in one look had +read me from hat to boots. He had shrewder eyes +than their first languor intimated.</p> +<p>“Pleased to accommodate you, I’m sure,” he answered. +“The greenies stand as good a show at this +board as the profesh.”</p> +<p>“Will you play for a dollar?” she challenged.</p> +<p>“I’ll play for two bits, to-night. Anything to start +action.” He twisted his mouth with ready chagrin. +“I’m about ripe to bet against myself.”</p> +<p>She fumbled at her reticule, but I was beforehand.</p> +<p>“No, no.” And I fished into my pocket. “Allow +me. I will furnish the funds if you will do the playing.”</p> +<p>“I choose the card?” said she. “That is up to +you, sir. You are to learn.”</p> +<p>“By watching, at first,” I protested. “We should +be partners.”</p> +<p>“Well,” she consented, “if you say so. Partners +it is. A lady brings luck, but I shall not always do +your playing for you, sir. That kind of partnership +comes to grief.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></p> +<p>“I am hopeful of playing on my own score, in due +time,” I responded. “As you will see.”</p> +<p>“What’s the card, Bob? We’ve a dollar on it, as +a starter.”</p> +<p>He eyed her, while facing the cards up.</p> +<p>“The ace. You see it—the ace, backed by ten and +deuce. Here it is. All ready?” He turned them +down, in order; methodically, even listlessly moved +them to and fro, yet with light, sure, well-nigh bewildering +touch. Suddenly lifted his hands. “All +set. A dollar you don’t face up the ace at first try.”</p> +<p>She laughed, bantering.</p> +<p>“Oh, Bob! You’re too easy. I wonder you aren’t +broke. You’re no monte spieler. Is this your best?”</p> +<p>And I believed that I myself knew which card was +the ace.</p> +<p>“You hear me, and there’s my dollar.” He coolly +waited.</p> +<p>“Not yours; ours. Will you make it five?”</p> +<p>“One is my limit on this throw. You named it.”</p> +<p>“Oho!” With a dart of hand she had turned up +the middle card, exposing the ace spot, as I had anticipated. +She swept the two dollars to her.</p> +<p>“Adios,” she bade.</p> +<p>He smiled, indulgent.</p> +<p>“So soon? Don’t I get my revenge? You, sir.” +And he appealed to me. “You see how easy it is. +I’ll throw you a turn for a dollar, two dollars, five +dollars—anything to combine business and pleasure. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +Whether I win or lose I don’t care. You’ll follow +the lead of the lady? What?”</p> +<p>I was on fire to accept, but she stayed me.</p> +<p>“Not now. I’m showing him around, Bob. You’ll +get your revenge later. Good-bye. I’ve drummed up +trade for you.”</p> +<p>As if inspired by the winning several of the bystanders, +some newly arrived, had money in their +hands, to stake. So we strolled on; and I was conscious +that the youth’s brown eyes briefly flicked after +us with a peculiar glint.</p> +<p>“Yours,” she said, extending the coins to me.</p> +<p>I declined.</p> +<p>“No, indeed. It is part of my tuition. If you will +play I will stake.”</p> +<p>She also declined.</p> +<p>“I can’t have that. You will at least take your +own money back.”</p> +<p>“Only for another try, madam,” I assented.</p> +<p>“In that case we’ll find a livelier game yonder,” +said she. “Bob’s just a lazy boy. His game is a +piker game. He’s too slow to learn from. Let us +watch a real game.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_I_STAKE_ON_THE_QUEEN' id='VIII_I_STAKE_ON_THE_QUEEN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>I STAKE ON THE QUEEN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Jim had disappeared; until when we had made way +to another monte table there he was, his hands in his +pockets, his cigar half smoked.</p> +<p>More of a crowd was here; the voice of the spieler +more insistent, yet low-pitched and businesslike. He +was a study—a square-shouldered, well set-up, wiry +man of olive complexion, finely chiseled features save +for nose somewhat cruelly beaked, of short black +moustache, dead black long wavy hair, and, placed +boldly wide, contrastive hard gray eyes that lent atmosphere +of coldness to his face. His hat was pulled +down over his forehead, he held an unlighted cigar +between his teeth while he mechanically spoke and +shifted the three cards (a diamond flashing from a +finger) upon the baize-covered little table.</p> +<p>Money had been wagered. He had just raked in a +few notes, adding them to his pile. His monotone +droned on.</p> +<p>“Next, ladies and gentlemen. Sometimes I win, +sometimes I lose. That is my business. The play is +yours. You may think I have two chances to your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +one; that is not so. You make the choice. Always +the queen, always the queen. You have only to watch +the queen, one card. I have to watch three cards. +You have your two eyes, I have my two hands. You +spot the card only when you think you can. I meet +all comers. It is an even gamble.”</p> +<p>Jim remarked us as we joined.</p> +<p>“How you comin’ now?” he greeted of me.</p> +<p>“We won a dollar,” My Lady responded.</p> +<p>“Not I. She did the choosing,” I corrected.</p> +<p>“But you would have chosen the same card, you +said,” she prompted. “You saw how easy it was.”</p> +<p>“Easy if you know how,” Jim asserted. “Think +to stake a leetle here? I’ve been keepin’ cases and +luck’s breaking ag’in the bank to-night, by gosh. +Made several turns, myself, already.”</p> +<p>“We’ll wait a minute till we get his system,” she +answered.</p> +<p>“Are you watching, ladies and gentlemen?” bade +the dealer, in that even tone. “You see the eight of +clubs, the eight of spades, the queen of hearts. The +queen is your card. My hand against your eyes, then. +You are set? There you are. Pick the queen, some +one of you. Put your money on the queen of hearts. +You can turn the card yourself. What? Nobody? +Don’t be pikers. Let us have a little sport. Stake a +dollar. Why, you’d toss a dollar down your throat—you’d +lay a dollar on a cockroach race—you’d bet that +much on a yellow dog if you owned him, just to show +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +your spirit. And here I’m offering you a straight +proposition.”</p> +<p>With a muttered “I’ll go you another turn, Mister,” +Jim stepped closer and planked down a dollar. +The dealer cast a look up at him as with pleased surprise.</p> +<p>“You, sir? Very good. You have spirit. Money +talks. Here is my dollar. Now, to prove to these +other people what a good guesser you are, which is +the queen?”</p> +<p>“Here,” Jim said confidently; and sure enough he +faced up the queen of hearts.</p> +<p>“The money’s yours. You never earned a dollar +quicker, I’ll wager, friend,” the dealer acknowledged, +imperturbable—for he evidently was one who never +evinced the least emotion, whether he won or lost. +“Very good. Now——”</p> +<p>From behind him a man—a newcomer to the spot, +who looked like any respectable Eastern merchant, +being well dressed and grave of face—touched him +upon the shoulder. He turned ear; while he inclined +farther they whispered together, and I witnessed an +arm steal swiftly forward at my side, and a thumb +and finger slightly bend up the extreme corner of the +queen. The hand and arm vanished; when the dealer +fronted us again the queen was apparently just as before. +Only we who had seen would have marked the +bent corner.</p> +<p>The act had been so clever and so audacious that I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +fairly held my breath. But the gambler resumed his +flow of talk, while he fingered the cards as if totally +unaware that they had been tampered with.</p> +<p>“Now, again, ladies and gentlemen. You see how +it is done. You back your eyes, and you win. I find +that I shall have to close early to-night. Make your +hay while the sun shines. Who’ll be in on this turn? +Watch the queen of hearts. I place her here. I coax +the three cards a little——” he gave a swift flourish. +“There they are.”</p> +<p>His audience hesitated, as if fearful of a trick, for +the bent corner of the queen, raising this end a +little, was plain to us who knew. It was absurdly +plain.</p> +<p>“I’ll go you another, Mister,” Jim responded. +“I’ll pick out the queen ag’in for a dollar.”</p> +<p>The gambler smiled grimly and shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“Oh, pshaw, sir. These are small stakes. You’ll +never get rich at that rate and neither shall I.”</p> +<p>“I reckon I can set my own limit,” Jim grumbled.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. But let’s have action. Who’ll join this +gentleman in his guess? Who’ll back his luck? He’s +a winner, I admit that.”</p> +<p>The gray eyes dwelt upon face and face of our +half circle; and still I, too, hesitated, although my dollar +was burning a hole in my pocket.</p> +<p>My Lady whispered to me.</p> +<p>“All’s fair in love and war. Here—put this on, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +with yours, for me.” She slipped a dollar of her own +into my hand.</p> +<p>Another man stepped forward. He was, I judged, +a teamster. His clothes, of flannel shirt, belted +trousers and six-shooter and dusty boots, so indicated. +And his beard was shaggy and unkempt, almost +covering his face underneath his drooping +slouch hat.</p> +<p>“I’ll stake you a dollar,” he said.</p> +<p>“Two from me,” I heard myself saying, and I saw +my hand depositing them.</p> +<p>“You’re all on this gentleman’s card, remember?”</p> +<p>We nodded. The bearded man tipped me a wink.</p> +<p>“You, sir, then, turn the queen if you can,” the +gambler challenged of Jim.</p> +<p>With quick movement Jim flopped the bent-corner +card, and the queen herself seemed to wink jovially +at us.</p> +<p>The gambler exclaimed.</p> +<p>“By God, gentlemen, but you’ve skinned me again. +I’m clumsy to-night. I’d better quit.” And he +scarcely varied his level tone despite the chuckles of +the crowd. “You must let me try once more. But I +warn you, I want action. I’m willing to meet any +sum you stack up against me, if it’s large enough to +spell action. Shall we go another round or two before +I close up?” He gathered the three cards. +“You see the queen—my unlucky queen of hearts. +Here she is.” He stowed the card between thumb and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +finger. “Here are the other two.” He held them up +in his left hand—the eight of clubs, the eight of +spades. He transferred them—with his rapid motion +he strewed the three. “Choose the queen. I put the +game to you fair and square. There are the cards. +Maybe you can read their backs. That’s your privilege.” +He fixed his eyes upon the teamster. “You, +sir; where’s your money, half of which was mine?” +He glanced at Jim. “And you, sir? You’ll follow +your luck?” Lastly he surveyed me with a flash of +steely bravado. “And you, young gentleman. You +came in before. I dare you.”</p> +<p>The bent corner was more pronounced than ever, +as if aggravated by the manipulations. It could not +possibly be mistaken by the knowing. And a sudden +shame possessed me—a glut of this crafty advantage +to which I was stooping; an advantage gained not +through my own wit, either, but through the dishonorable +trick of another.</p> +<p>“There’s your half from me, if you want it,” said +Jim, slapping down two dollars. “This is my night +to howl.”</p> +<p>The teamster backed him.</p> +<p>“I’m on the same card,” said he.</p> +<p>And not to be outdone—urged, I thought, by a +pluck at my sleeve—I boldly followed with my own +two dollars, reasoning that I was warranted in partially +recouping, for Benton owed me much.</p> +<p>The gambler laughed shortly. His gaze, cool and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +impertinent, enveloped our front. He leaned back, +defiant.</p> +<p>“Give me a chance, gentlemen. I shall not proceed +with the play for that picayune sum before me. +This is my last deal and I’ve been loser. It’s make or +break. Who else will back that gentleman’s luck? +I’ve placed the cards the best I know how. But six +or eight dollars is no money to me. It doesn’t pay for +floor space. Is nobody else in? What? Come, +come; let’s have some sport. I dare you. This time +is my revenge or your good fortune. Play up, gentlemen. +Don’t be crabbers.” He smiled sarcastically; +his words stung. “This isn’t pussy-in-a-corner. It’s +a game of wits. You wouldn’t bet unless you felt +cock-sure of winning. I’ll give you one minute, +gentlemen, before calling all bets off unless you make +the pot worth while.”</p> +<p>The threat had effect. Nobody wished to let the +marked card get away. That was not human nature. +Bets rained in upon the table—bank notes, silver half +dollars, the rarer dollar coins, and the common greenbacks. +He met each wager, while he sat negligent and +half smiled and chewed his unlighted cigar.</p> +<p>“This is the last round, gentlemen,” he reminded. +“Are you all in? Don’t leave with regrets. You,” +he said, direct to me. “Are you in such short circumstances +that you have no spunk? Why did you +come here, sir, if not to win? Why, the stakes you +play would not buy refreshment for the lady!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></p> +<p>That was too much. I threw scruples aside. He +had badgered me—he was there to win if he could; I +now was hot with the same design. I extracted my +twenty-dollar note, and deaf to a quickly breathed +“Wait the turn” from My Lady I planked it down +before him. She should know me for a man of decision.</p> +<p>“There, sir,” said I. “I am betting twenty-two +dollars in all, which is my limit to-night, on the same +right-end card as I stand.”</p> +<p>I thought that I had him. Forthwith he straightened +alertly, spoke tartly.</p> +<p>“The game is closed, gentlemen. Remember, you +are wagering on the first turn. There are no splits in +monte. Not at this table. Our friend says the right-end +card. You, sir,” and he addressed Jim. “They +are backing you. Which do you say is the queen? +Lay your finger on her.”</p> +<p>Jim so did, with a finger stubby, and dirty under +the nail.</p> +<p>“That is the card, is it? You are agreed?” he +queried us, sweeping his cold gray eyes from face to +face. “We’ll have no crabbing.”</p> +<p>We nodded, intently eying the card, fearful yet, +some of us, that it might be denied us.</p> +<p>“You, sir, then.” And he addressed me. “You +are the heaviest better. Suppose you turn the card +for yourself and those other gentlemen.”</p> +<p>I obediently reached for it. My hand trembled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +There were sixty or seventy dollars upon the table, +and my own contribution was my last cent. As I +fumbled I felt the strain of bodies pressing against +mine, and heard the hiss of feverish breaths, and a +foolish laugh or two. Nevertheless the silence +seemed overpowering.</p> +<p>I turned the card—the card with the bent corner, +of which I was as certain as of my own name; I faced +it up, confidently, my capital already doubled; and +amidst a burst of astonished cries I stared dumbfounded.</p> +<p>It was the eight of clubs! My fingers left it as +though it were a snake. It was the eight of clubs! +Where I had seen, in fancy, the queen of hearts, there +lay like a changeling the eight of clubs, with corner +bent as only token of the transformation.</p> +<p>The crowd elbowed about me. With rapid movement +the gambler raked in the bets—a slender hand +flashed by me—turned the next card. The queen that +was, after all.</p> +<p>The gambler darkened, gathering the pasteboards.</p> +<p>“We can’t both win, gentlemen,” he said, tone passionless. +“But I am willing to give you one more +chance, from a new deck.”</p> +<p>What the response was I did not know, nor care. +My ears drummed confusedly, and seeing nothing I +pushed through into the open, painfully conscious +that I was flat penniless and that instead of having +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +played the knave I had played the fool, for the queen +of hearts.</p> +<p>The loss of some twenty dollars might have been a +trivial matter to me once—I had at times cast that +sum away as vainly as Washington had cast a dollar +across the Potomac; but here I had lost my all, +whether large or small; and not only had I been bilked +out of it—I had bilked myself out of it by sinking, +in pretended smartness, below the level of a more artful +dodger.</p> +<p>I heard My Lady speaking beside me.</p> +<p>“I’m so sorry.” She laid hand upon my sleeve. +“You should have been content with small sums, or +followed my lead. Next time——”</p> +<p>“There’ll be no next time,” I blurted. “I am +cleaned out.”</p> +<p>“You don’t mean——?”</p> +<p>“I was first robbed at the hotel. Now here.”</p> +<p>“No, no!” she opposed. Jim sidled to us. “That +was a bungle, Jim.”</p> +<p>He ruefully scratched his head.</p> +<p>“A wrong steer for once, I reckon. I warn’t slick +enough. Too much money on the table. But it +looked like the card; I never took my eyes off’n it. +We’ll try ag’in, and switch to another layout. By +thunder, I want revenge on this joint and I mean to +get it. So do you, don’t you, pardner?” he appealed +to me.</p> +<p>As with mute, sickly denial I turned away it seemed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +to me that I sensed a shifting of forms at the monte +table—caught the words “You watch here a moment”; +and close following, a slim white hand fell +heavily upon My Lady’s shoulder. It whirled her +about, to face the gambler. His smooth olive countenance +was dark with a venom of rage incarnate that +poisoned the air; his syllables crackled.</p> +<p>“You devil! I heard you, at the table. You meddle +with my come-ons, will you?” And he slapped +her with open palm, so that the impact smacked. +“Now get out o’ here or I’ll kill you.”</p> +<p>She flamed red, all in a single rush of blood.</p> +<p>“Oh!” she breathed. Her hand darted for the +pocket in her skirt, but I sprang between the two. +Forgetful of my revolver, remembering only what I +had witnessed—a woman struck by a man—with a +blow I sent him reeling backward.</p> +<p>He recovered; every vestige of color had left his +face, except for the spot where I had landed; his hat +had sprung aside from the shock—his gray eyes, +contrasted with his black hair, fastened upon my eyes +almost deliberately and his upper lip lifted over set +white teeth. With lightning movement he thrust the +fingers of his right hand into his waistcoat pocket.</p> +<p>I heard a rush of feet, a clamor of voices; and all +the while, which seemed interminable, I was tugging, +awkward with deadly peril, at my revolver. His fingers +had whipped free of the pocket, I glimpsed as +with second sight (for my eyes were held strongly by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +his) the twin little black muzzles of a derringer concealed +in his palm; a spasm of fear pinched me; they +spurted, with ringing report, but just at the instant a +flanneled arm knocked his arm up, the ball had sped +ceiling-ward and the teamster of the gaming table +stood against him, revolver barrel boring into his very +stomach.</p> +<p>“Stand pat, Mister. I call you.”</p> +<p>In a trice all entry of any unpleasant emotion vanished +from my antagonist’s handsome face, leaving it +olive tinted, cameo, inert. He steadied a little, and +smiled, surveying the teamster’s visage, close to his.</p> +<p>“You have me covered, sir. My hand is in the +discard.” He composedly tucked the derringer into +his waistcoat pocket again. “That gentleman struck +me; he was about to draw on me, and by rights I +might have killed him. My apologies for this little +disturbance.”</p> +<p>He bestowed a challenging look upon me, a hard +unforgiving look upon the lady; with a bow he turned +for his hat, and stepping swiftly went back to his +table.</p> +<p>Now in the reaction I fought desperately against a +trembling of the knees; there were congratulations, a +hubbub of voices assailing me—and the arm of the +teamster through mine and his bluff invitation:</p> +<p>“Come and have a drink.”</p> +<p>“But you’ll return. You must. I want to speak +with you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></p> +<p>It was My Lady, pleading earnestly. I still could +scarcely utter a word; my brain was in a smother. +My new friend moved me away from her. He answered +for me.</p> +<p>“Not until we’ve had a little confab, lady. We’ve +got matters of importance jest at present.”</p> +<p>I saw her bite her lips, as she helplessly flushed; her +blue eyes implored me, but I had no will of my own +and I certainly owed a measure of courtesy to this +man who had saved my life.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_I_ACCEPT_AN_OFFER' id='IX_I_ACCEPT_AN_OFFER'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>I ACCEPT AN OFFER</h3> +</div> + +<p>We found a small table, one of the several devoted +to refreshments for the dancers, in a corner and unoccupied. +The affair upon the floor was apparently +past history—if it merited even that distinction. The +place had resumed its program of dancing, playing +and drinking as though after all a pistol shot was of +no great moment in the Big Tent.</p> +<p>“You had a narrow shave,” my friend remarked as +we seated ourselves—I with a sigh of gratitude for +the opportunity. “If you can’t draw quicker you’d +better keep your hands in your pockets. Let’s have a +dose of t’rant’lar juice to set you up.” Whereupon +he ordered whiskey from a waiter.</p> +<p>“But I couldn’t stand by and see him strike a +woman,” I defended.</p> +<p>“Wall, fists mean guns, in these diggin’s. Where +you from?”</p> +<p>“Albany, New York State.”</p> +<p>“I sized you up as a pilgrim. You haven’t been +long in camp, either, have you?”</p> +<p>“No. But plenty long enough,” I miserably replied. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></p> +<p>“Long enough to be plucked, eh?”</p> +<p>We had drunk the whiskey. Under its warming +influence my tongue loosened. Moreover there was +something strong and kindly in the hearty voice and +the rough face of this rudely clad plainsman, black +bearded to the piercing black eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes; of my last cent.”</p> +<p>“All at gamblin’, mebbe?”</p> +<p>“No. Only a little, but that strapped me. The +hotel had robbed me of practically everything else.”</p> +<p>“Had, had it? Wall, what’s the story?”</p> +<p>I told him of the hotel part; and he nodded.</p> +<p>“Shore. You can’t hold the hotel responsible. +You can leave stuff loose in regular camp; nobody +enters flaps without permission. But a room is a different +proposition. I’d rather take chances among +Injuns than among white men. Why, you could +throw in with a Sioux village for a year and not be +robbed permanent if the chief thought you straight; +but in a white man’s town—hell! Now, how’d you +get tangled up with this other outfit?”</p> +<p>“Which?” I queried.</p> +<p>“That brace outfit I found you with.”</p> +<p>“The fellow is a stranger to me, sir,” said I. “I +simply was foolish enough to stake what little I had +on a sure thing—I was bamboozled into following the +lead of the rest of you,” I reminded. “Now I see +that there was a trick, although I don’t yet understand. +After that the fellow assaulted the lady, my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +companion, and you stepped in—for which, sir, I owe +you more thanks than I can utter.”</p> +<p>“A trick, you think?” He opened his hairy mouth +for a gust of short laughter. “My Gawd, boy! We +were nicely took in, and we desarved it. When you +buck the tiger, look out for his claws. But I reckoned +he’d postpone the turn till next time. He would +have, if you fellers hadn’t come down so handsome +with the dust. I stood pat, at that. So, you notice, +did the capper, your other friend.”</p> +<p>“The capper? Which was he, sir?”</p> +<p>“Why, Lord bless you, son. You’re the greenest +thing this side of Omyha. A capper touched him on +the shoulder, a capper bent that there card, a capper +tolled you all on with a dollar or two, and another +capper fed the come-ons to his table. Aye, she’s a +purty piece. Where’d you meet up with her?”</p> +<p>“With her?” I gasped.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes. The woman; the main steerer. That +purty piece who damn nigh lost you your life as well +as losin’ you your money.”</p> +<p>“You mean the lady with the blue eyes, in black?”</p> +<p>“Yes, the golden hair. Lady! Oh, pshaw! +Where’d she hook you? At the door?”</p> +<p>“You shall not speak of her in that fashion, sir,” I +answered. “We were together on the train from +Omaha. She has been kindness itself. The only part +she has played to-night, as far as I can see, was to +chaperon me here in the Big Tent; and whatever +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +small winnings I had made, for amusement, was +due to her and the skill of an acquaintance named +Jim.”</p> +<p>“Jim Daily, yep. O’ course. And she befriended +you. Why, d’you suppose?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps because I was of some assistance to her +on the way out West. I had a little setto with Mr. +Daily, when he annoyed her while he was drunk. +But sobered up, he seemed to wish to make +amends.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Lord!” My friend’s mouth gaped. “Amends? +Yep. That’s his nature. Might call it mendin’ his +pocket and his lip. And you don’t yet savvy that your +’lady’ ’s Montoyo’s wife—his woman, anyhow?”</p> +<p>“Montoyo? Who’s Montoyo?”</p> +<p>“The monte thrower. That same spieler who +trimmed us,” he rapped impatiently.</p> +<p>The light that broke upon me dazed. My heart +pounded. I must have looked what I felt: a fool.</p> +<p>“No,” I stammered in my thin small voice of the +hotel. “I imagined—I had reason to suspect that +she might be married. But I didn’t know to whom.”</p> +<p>“Married? Wall, mebbe. Anyhow, she’s bound +to Montoyo. He’s a breed, some Spanish, some +white, like as not some Injun. A devil, and as slick +as they make ’em. She’s a power too white for him, +herself, but he uses her and some day he’ll kill her. +You’re not the fust gudgeon she’s hooked, to feed to +him. Why, she’s known all back down the line. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +They two have been followin’ end o’ track from +North Platte, along with Hell on Wheels. Had a +layout in Omyha, and in Denver. They’re not the +only double-harness outfit hyar, either. You can +meet a friendly woman any time, but this one got +hold you fust.”</p> +<p>I writhed to the words.</p> +<p>“And that fellow Jim?” I asked.</p> +<p>“He’s jest a common roper. He alluz wins, to encourage +suckers like you. ’Tisn’t his money he plays +with; he’s on commish. Beginnin’ to understand, +ain’t you?”</p> +<p>“But the bent card?” I insisted. “That is the +mystery. It was the queen. What became of the +queen?”</p> +<p>“Ho ho!” And again he laughed. “A cute trick, +shore. That’s what we got for bein’ so plumb crooked +ourselves. Why, o’ course it was the queen, once. +You see ’twas this way. That she-male and the capper +in cahoots with her tolled you on straight for +Montoyo’s table; teased you a leetle along the trail, +no doubt, to keep you interested.” I nodded. “They +promised you winnin’s, easy winnin’s. Then at Montoyo’s +table the game was a leetle slack; so one capper +touched him on the shoulder and another marked the +card. O’ course a gambler like him wouldn’t be up to +readin’ his own cards. Oh, no! You sports were the +smart ones.”</p> +<p>“How about yourself?” I retorted, nettled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span></p> +<p>“Me? I know them tricks, but I reckoned I was +smart, too. Then that capper Jim led out and we all +made a small winnin’, to prove the system. And +Montoyo, he gets tired o’ losin’—but still he’s blind +to a card that everybody else can see, and he calls for +real play so he can go broke or even up. I didn’t look +for much of a deal on that throw myself. Usu’ly it +comes less promisc’yus, with the gudgeon stakin’ the +big roll, and then I pull out. But you-all slapped +down the stuff in a stampede, sartin you had him +buffaloed. On his last shuffle he’d straightened the +queen and turned down the eight, usin’ an extra finger +or two. Them card sharps have six fingers on each +hand and several in their sleeve, and he was slicker’n +I thought. He might have refused all bets and got +your mad up for the next pass; but you’d come down +as handsome as you would, he figgered. So he let go. +’Twas fair and squar’, robber eat robber, and we none +of us have any call to howl. But you mind my word: +Don’t aim to put something over on a professional +gamblin’ sharp. It can’t be done. As for me, I +broke even and I alluz expect to lose. When I look +to be skinned I leave most my dust behind me where I +can’t get at it.”</p> +<p>Now I saw all, or enough. I had received no more +than I deserved. Such a wave of nausea surged into +my mouth—but he was continuing.</p> +<p>“Jest why he struck his woman I don’t know. Do +you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></p> +<p>“Yes. She had cautioned me and he must have +heard her. And she showed which was the right card. +I don’t understand that.”</p> +<p>“To save her face, and egg you on. Shore! Your +twenty dollars was nothin’. She didn’t know you +were busted. Next time she’d have steered you to +the tune of a hundred or two and cleaned you proper. +You hadn’t been worked along, yet, to the right pitch +o’ smartness. Montoyo must ha’ mistook her. She +encouraged you, didn’t she?”</p> +<p>“Yes, she did.” I arose unsteadily, clutching the +table. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I think I’d better go. +I—I—I thank you. I only wish I’d met you before. +You are at liberty to regard me as a saphead. Good-night, +sir.”</p> +<p>“No! Hold on. Sit down, sit down, man. Have +another drink.”</p> +<p>“I have had enough. In fact, since arriving in +Benton I’ve had more than enough of everything.” +But I sat down.</p> +<p>“Where were you goin’?”</p> +<p>“To the hotel. I am privileged to stay there until +to-morrow. Thank Heaven I was obliged to pay in +advance.”</p> +<p>“Alluz safer,” said he. “And then what?”</p> +<p>“To-morrow?”</p> +<p>“Yes. To-morrow.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know. I must find employment, and earn +enough to get home with.” To write for funds was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +now impossible through very shame. “Home’s the +only place for a person of my greenness.”</p> +<p>“Why did you come out clear to end o’ track?” +he inquired.</p> +<p>“I was ordered by my physician to find a locality +in the Far West, high and dry.” I gulped at his smile. +“I’ve found it and shall go home to report.”</p> +<p>“With your tail between your legs?” He clapped +me upon the shoulder. “Stiffen your back. We all +have to pay for eddication. You’re not wolf meat +yet, by a long shot. You’ve still got your hair, and +that’s more than some men I know of. You look +purty healthy, too. Don’t turn for home; stick it +out.”</p> +<p>“I shall have to stick it out until I raise the transportation,” +I reminded. “My revolver should tide +me over, for a beginning.”</p> +<p>“Sell it?” said he. “Sell your breeches fust. +Either way you’d be only half dressed. No!”</p> +<p>“It would take me a little way. I’ll not stay in +Benton—not to be pointed at as a dupe.”</p> +<p>“Oh, pshaw!” he laughed. “Nobody’ll remember +you, specially if you’re known to be broke. +Busted, you’re of no use to the camp. Let me make +you a proposition. I believe you’re straight goods. +Can’t believe anything else, after seein’ your play and +sizin’ you up. Let me make you a proposition. I’m +on my way to Salt Lake with a bull outfit and I’m in +need of another man. I’ll give you a dollar and a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +half a day and found, and it will be good honest work, +too.”</p> +<p>“You are teaming west, you mean?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. Freightin’ across. Mule-whackin’.”</p> +<p>“But I never drove spans in my life; and I’m not +in shape to stand hardships,” I faltered. “I’m here +for my health. I have——”</p> +<p>“Stow all that, son,” he interrupted more tolerantly +than was my due. “Forget your lungs, lights +and liver and stand up a full-size man. In my opinion +you’ve had too much doctorin’. A month with a +bull train, and a diet of beans and sowbelly will put a +linin’ in your in’ards and a heart in your chest. When +you’ve slept under a wagon to Salt Lake and l’arned +to sling a bull whip and relish your beans burned, you +can look anybody in the eye and tell him to go to hell, +if you like. This roarin’ town life—it’s no life for +you. It’s a bobtail, wide open in the middle. I’ll be +only too glad to get away on the long trail myself. +So you come with me,” and he smiled winningly. “I +hate to see you ruined by women and likker. Mule-skinnin’ +ain’t all beer and skittles, as they say; but this +job’ll tide you over, anyhow, and you’ll come out at +the end with money in your pocket, if you choose, and +no doctor’s bill to pay.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” I said gratefully, “may I think it over to-night, +and let you know in the morning? Where will +I find you?”</p> +<p>“The train’s camped near the wagon trail, back at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +the river. You can’t miss it. It’s mainly a Mormon +train, that some of us Gentiles have thrown in with. +Ask for Cap’n Hyrum Adams’ train. My name’s +Jenks—George Jenks. You’ll find me there. I’ll +hold open for you till ten o’clock—yes, till noon. I +mean that you shall come. It’ll be the makin’ of +you.”</p> +<p>I arose and gave him my hand; shook with him.</p> +<p>“And I hope to come,” I asserted with glow of +energy. “You’ve set me upon my feet, Mr. Jenks, +for I was desperate. You’re the first honest man I’ve +met in Benton.”</p> +<p>“Tut, tut,” he reproved. “There are others. +Benton’s not so bad as you think it. But you were +dead ripe; the buzzards scented you. Now you go +straight to your hotel, unless you’ll spend the night +with me. No? Then I’ll see you in the mornin’. I’ll +risk your gettin’ through the street alone.”</p> +<p>“You may, sir,” I affirmed. “At present I’m not +worth further robbing.”</p> +<p>“Except for your gun and clothes,” he rejoined. +“But if you’ll use the one you’ll keep the other.”</p> +<p>Gazing neither right nor left I strode resolutely for +the exit. Now I had an anchor to windward. Sometimes +just one word will face a man about when for +lack of that mere word he was drifting. Of the +games and the people I wished only to be rid forever; +but at the exit I was halted by a hand laid upon my +arm, and a quick utterance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></p> +<p>“Not going? You will at least say good-night.”</p> +<p>I barely paused, replying to her.</p> +<p>“Good-night.”</p> +<p>Still she would have detained me.</p> +<p>“Oh, no, no! Not this way. It was a mistake. +I swear to you I am not to be blamed. Please let me +help you. I don’t know what you’ve heard—I don’t +know what has been said about me—you are angry——”</p> +<p>I twitched free, for she should not work upon me +again. With such as she, a vampire and yet a woman, +a man’s safety lay not in words but in unequivocal +action.</p> +<p>“Good-night,” I bade thickly, half choked by that +same nausea, now hot. Bearing with me a satisfying +but somehow annoyingly persistent imprint of moist +blue eyes under shimmering hair, and startled white +face plashed on one cheek with vivid crimson, and +small hand left extended empty, I roughly stalked on +and out, free of her, free of the Big Tent, her lair.</p> +<p>All the way to the hotel, through the garish street, +I nursed my wrath while it gnawed at me like the fox +in the Spartan boy’s bosom; and once in my room, +which fortuitously had no other tenants at this hour, +I had to lean out of the narrow window for sheer relief +in the coolness. Surely pride had had a fall this +night.</p> +<p>There “roared” Benton—the Benton to which, as +to prosperity, I had hopefully purchased my ticket +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +ages ago. And here cowered I, holed up—pillaged, +dishonored, worthless in even this community: a +young fellow in jaunty frontier costume, new and +brave, but really reduced to sackcloth and ashes; a +young fellow only a husk, as false in appearance as +the Big Tent itself and many another of those canvas +shells.</p> +<p>The street noises—shouts, shots, music, songs, +laughter, rattle of dice, whirr of wheel and clink of +glasses—assailed me discordant. The scores of tents +and shacks stretching on irregularly had become +pocked with dark spots, where lights had been extinguished, +but the street remained ablaze and the desert +without winked at the stars. There were moving +gleams at the railroad yards where switch engines +puffed back and forth; up the grade and the new +track, pointing westward, there were sparks of camp-fires; +and still in other directions beyond the town +other tokens redly flickered, where overland freighters +were biding till the morning.</p> +<p>Two or three miles in the east (Mr. Jenks had +said) was his wagon train, camped at the North +Platte River; and peering between the high canopy of +stars and the low stratum of spectrally glowing, +earthy—yes, very earthy—Benton, I tried to focus +upon the haven, for comfort.</p> +<p>I had made up my mind to accept the berth. Anything +to get away. Benton I certainly hated with the +rage of the defeated. So in a fling I drew back, wrestled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +out of coat and boots and belt and pantaloons, +tucked them in hiding against the wall at the head of +my bed and my revolver underneath my stained pillow; +and tried to forget Benton, all of it, with the +blanket to my ears and my face to the wall, for sleep.</p> +<p>When once or twice I wakened from restless +dreaming the glow and the noise of the street seemed +scarcely abated, as if down there sleep was despised. +But when I finally aroused, and turned, gathering wits +again, full daylight had paled everything else.</p> +<p>Snores sounded from the other beds; I saw tumbled +coverings, disheveled forms and shaggy heads. In +my own corner nothing had been molested. The +world outside was strangely quiet. The trail was +open. So with no attention to my roommates I hastily +washed and dressed, buckled on my armament, +and stumped freely forth, down the somnolent hall, +down the creaking stairs, and into the silent lobby.</p> +<p>Even the bar was vacant. Behind the office counter +a clerk sat sunk into a doze. At my approach he +unclosed blank, heavy eyes.</p> +<p>“I’m going out,” I said shortly. “Number Three +bed in Room Six.”</p> +<p>“For long, sir?” he stammered. “You’ll be back, +or are you leaving?”</p> +<p>“I’m leaving. You’ll find I’m paid up.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” He rallied to the +problem. “Just a moment. Number Three, Room +Six, you say. Pulling your freight, are you?” He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +scanned the register. “You’re the gentleman from +New York who came in yesterday and met with misfortune?”</p> +<p>“I am,” said I.</p> +<p>“Well, better luck next time. We’ll see you +again?” He quickened. “Here! One moment. +Think I have a message for you.” And reaching +behind him into a pigeonhole he extracted an envelope, +which he passed to me. “Yours, sir?” +I stared at the fine slanting script of the address:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto; font-style:italic;'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Please deliver to</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Frank R. Beeson, Esqr.,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>At the Queen Hotel.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Arrived from Albany, N. Y.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_I_CUT_LOOSE' id='X_I_CUT_LOOSE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>I CUT LOOSE</h3> +</div> + +<p>I nodded; rebuffing his attentive eyes I stuffed the +envelope into my pantaloons pocket.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, sir.”</p> +<p>“Good luck. When you come back remember the +Queen.”</p> +<p>“I’ll remember the Queen,” said I; and with the +envelope smirching my flesh I stepped out, holding +my head as high as though my pockets contained +something of more value.</p> +<p>The events of yesterday had hardened, thank +Heaven; and so had I, into an obstinacy that defied +this mocking Western country. I was down to the +ground and was going to scratch. To make for home +like a whipped dog, there to hang about, probably become +an invalid and die resistless, was unthinkable. +Already the Far West air and vigor had worked a +change in me. In the fresh morning I felt like a +fighting cock, or a runner recruited by a diet of unbolted +flour and strong red meat.</p> +<p>The falsity of the life here I looked upon as only +an incident. The gay tawdry had faded; I realized +how much more enduring were the rough, uncouth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +but genuine products like my friend Mr. Jenks and +those of that ilk, who spoke me well instead of merely +fair. Health of mind and body should be for me. +Hurrah!</p> +<p>But the note! It could have been sent by only one +person—the superscription, dainty and feminine, betrayed +it. That woman was still pursuing me. How +she had found out my name I did not know; perhaps +from the label on my bag, perhaps through the hotel +register. I did not recall having exchanged names +with her—she never had proffered her own name. At +all events she appeared determined to keep a hold +upon me, and that was disgusting.</p> +<p>Couldn’t she understand that I was no longer a fool—that +I had wrenched absolutely loose from her and +that she could do nothing with me? So in wrath renewed +by her poor estimate of my common sense I +was minded to tear the note to fragments, unread, and +contemptuously scatter them. Had she been present +I should have done so, to show her.</p> +<p>Being denied the satisfaction I saw no profit in +wasting that modicum of spleen, when I might double +it by deliberately reading her effusion and knowingly +casting it into the dust. One always can make excuses +to oneself, for curiosity. Consequently I halted, +around a corner in this exhausted Benton; tore the +envelope open with gingerly touch. The folded paper +within contained a five-dollar bank note.</p> +<p>That was enough to pump the blood to my face +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +with a rush. It was an insult—a shame, first hand. +A shoddy plaster, applied to me—to me, Frank Beeson, +a gentleman, whether to be viewed as a plucked +greenhorn or not. With cheeks twitching I managed +to read the lines accompanying the dole:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sir</span>:</p> +<p>You would not permit me to explain to you +to-night, therefore I must write. The recent affair +was a mistake. I had no intention that you should +lose, and I supposed you were in more funds. I insist +upon speaking with you. You shall not go away +in this fashion. You will find me at the Elite Café, +at a table, at ten o’clock in the morning. And in case +you are a little short I beg of you to make use of the +enclosed, with my best wishes and apologies. You +may take it as a loan; I do not care as to that. I am +utterly miserable.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p>E.</p> +</div> + +<p> <i>To Frank Beeson, Esquire.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Faugh! Had there been a sewer near I believe +that I should have thrown the whole enclosure in, and +spat. But half unconsciously wadding both money +and paper in my hand as if to squeeze the last drop of +rancor from them I swung on, seeing blindly, ready to +trample under foot any last obstacle to my passage +out.</p> +<p>Then, in the deserted way, from a lane among the +straggling shacks, a figure issued. I disregarded it, +only to hear it pattering behind me and its voice:</p> +<p>“Mr. Beeson! Wait! Please wait.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></p> +<p>I had to turn about to avoid the further degradation +of acting the churl to her, an inferior. And as I +had suspected, she it was, arriving breathless and +cloak inwrapped, only her white face showing.</p> +<p>“You have my note?” she panted.</p> +<p>There were dark half circles under her eyes, pinch +lines about her mouth, all her face was wildly strained. +She simulated distress very well indeed.</p> +<p>“Here it is, and your money. Take them.” And +I thrust my unclosed fist at her.</p> +<p>“No! And you were going? You didn’t intend +to reply?”</p> +<p>“Certainly not. I am done with you, and with +Benton, madam. Good-morning. I have business.”</p> +<p>She caught at my sleeve.</p> +<p>“You are angry. I don’t blame you, but you have +time to talk with me and you shall talk.” She spoke +almost fiercely. “I demand it, sir. If not at the +café, then here and now. Will you stand aside, +please, where the whole town shan’t see us; or do you +wish me to follow you on? I’m risking already, but +I’ll risk more.”</p> +<p>I sullenly stepped aside, around the corner of a +sheet-iron groggery (plentifully punctured, I noted, +with bullet holes) not yet open for business and faced +by the blank wall of a warehouse.</p> +<p>“I’ve been waiting since daylight,” she panted, +“and watching the hotel. I knew you were still +there; I found out. I was afraid you wouldn’t answer +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +my note, so I slipped around and cut in on you. +Where are you going, sir?”</p> +<p>“That, madam, is my private affair,” I replied. +“And all your efforts to influence me in the slightest +won’t amount to a row of pins. And as I am in +a hurry, I again bid you good-morning. I advise +you to get back to your husband and your beauty +sleep, in order to be fresh for your Big Tent to-night.”</p> +<p>“My husband? You know? Oh, of course you +know.” She gazed affrightedly upon me. “To Montoyo, +you say? Him? No, no! I can’t! Oh, I can’t, +I can’t.” She wrung her hands, she held me fast. +“And I know where you’re going. To that wagon +train. Mr. Jenks has engaged you. You will bull-whack +to Salt Lake? You? Don’t! Please don’t. +There’s no need of it.”</p> +<p>“I am done with Benton, and with Benton’s society, +madam,” I insisted. “I have learned my lesson, +believe me, and I’m no longer a ‘gudgeon.’”</p> +<p>“You never were,” said she. “Not that. And +you don’t have to turn bull-whacker or mule-skinner +either. It’s a hard life; you’re not fitted for it—never, +never. Leave Benton if you will. I hate it +myself. And let us go together.”</p> +<p>“Madam!” I rapped; and drew back, but she clung +to me.</p> +<p>“Listen, listen! Don’t mistake me again. Last +night was enough. I want to go. I must go. We +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +can travel separately, then; I will meet you anywhere—Denver, +Omaha, Chicago, New York, anywhere you +say—anywhere——”</p> +<p>“Your husband, madam,” I prompted. “He +might have objections to parting with you.”</p> +<p>“Montoyo? That snake—you fear that snake? +He is no husband to me. I could kill him—I will do +it yet, to be free from him.”</p> +<p>“My good name, then,” I taunted. “I might fear +for my good name more than I’d fear a man.”</p> +<p>“I have a name of my own,” she flashed, “although +you may not know it.”</p> +<p>“I have been made acquainted with it,” I answered +roundly.</p> +<p>“No, you haven’t. Not the true. You know only +another.” Her tone became humbler. “But I’m not +asking you to marry me,” she said. “I’m not asking +you to love me as a paramour, sir. Please understand. +Treat me as you will; as a sister, a friend, but +anything human. Only let me have your decent regard +until I can get ’stablished in new quarters. I +can help you,” she pursued eagerly. “Indeed I can +help you if you stay in the West. Yes, anywhere, for +I know life. Oh, I’m so tired of myself; I can’t run +true, I’m under false colors. You saw how the trainmen +curried favor all along the line, how familiar +they were, how I submitted—I even dropped that coin +a-purpose in the Omaha station, for <i>you</i>, just to test +you. Those things are expected of me and I’ve felt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +obliged to play my part. Men look upon me as a tool +to their hands, to make them or break them. All they +want is my patronage and the secrets of the gaming +table. And there is Montoyo—bullying me, cajoling +me, watching me. But you were different, after I +had met you. I foolishly wished to help you, and last +night the play went wrong. Why did I take you to +his table? Because I think myself entitled, sir,” she +said on, bridling a little, defiant of my gaze, “to promote +my friends when I have any. I did not mean +that you should wager heavily for you. Montoyo is +out for large stakes. There is safety in small and I +know his system. You remember I warned you? I +did warn you. I saw too late. You shall have all +your money back again. And Montoyo struck me—<i>me</i>, +in public! That is the end. Oh, why couldn’t I +have killed him? But if you stayed here, so should I. +Not with him, though. Never with him. Maybe +I’m talking wildly. You’ll say I’m in love with you. +Perhaps I am—quién sabe? No matter as to that. I +shall be no hanger-on, sir. I only ask a kind of partnership—the +encouragement of some decent man near +me. I have money; plenty, till we both get a footing. +But you wouldn’t live on me; no! I don’t fancy that +of you for a moment. I would be glad merely to tide +you over, if you’d let me. And I—I’d be willing to +wash floors in a restaurant if I might be free of insult. +You, I’m sure, would at least protect me. Wouldn’t +you? You would, wouldn’t you? Say something, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +sir.” She paused, out of breath and aquiver. “Shall +we go? Will you help me?”</p> +<p>For an instant her appeal, of swimming blue eyes, +upturned face, tensed grasp, breaking voice, swayed +me. But what if she were an actress, an adventuress? +And then, my parents, my father’s name! I had already +been cozened once, I had resolved not to be +snared again. The spell cleared and I drew exultant +breath.</p> +<p>“Impossible, madam,” I uttered. “This is final. +Good-morning.”</p> +<p>She staggered and with magnificent but futile last +flourish clapped both hands to her face. Gazing back, +as I hastened, I saw her still there, leaning against +the sheet-iron of the groggery and ostensibly weeping.</p> +<p>Having shaken her off and resisted contrary temptation +I looked not again but paced rapidly for the +clean atmosphere of the rough-and-honest bull train. +As a companion, better for me Mr. Jenks. When my +wrath cooled I felt that I might have acted the cad but +I had not acted the simpleton.</p> +<p>The advance of the day’s life was stirring all along +the road, where under clouds of dust the four and six +horse-and-mule wagons hauled water for the town, +pack outfits of donkeys and plodding miners wended +one way or the other, soldiers trotted in from the military +post, and Overlanders slowly toiled for the last +supply depot before creaking onward into the desert.</p> +<p>Along the railway grade likewise there was activity, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +of construction trains laden high with rails, ties, +boxes and bales, puffing out, their locomotives belching +pitchy black smoke that extended clear to the ridiculous +little cabooses; of wagon trains ploughing on, +bearing supplies for the grading camps; and a great +herd of loose animals, raising a prodigious spume as +they were driven at a trot—they also heading westward, +ever westward, under escort of a protecting detachment +of cavalry, riding two by two, accoutrements +flashing.</p> +<p>The sights were inspiring. Man’s work at empire +building beckoned me, for surely the wagoning of +munitions to remote outposts of civilization was very +necessary. Consequently I trudged best foot forward, +although on empty stomach and with empty +pockets; but glad to be at large, and exchanging good-natured +greetings with the travelers encountered.</p> +<p>Nevertheless my new boots were burning, my thigh +was chafed raw from the swaying Colt’s, and my face +and throat were parched with the dust, when in about +an hour, the flag of the military post having been my +landmark, I had arrived almost at the willow-bordered +river and now scanned about for the encampment +of my train.</p> +<p>Some dozen white-topped wagons were standing +grouped in a circle upon the trampled dry sod to the +south of the road. Figures were busily moving +among them, and the thin blue smoke of their fires +was a welcoming signal. I marked women, and children. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +The whole prospect—they, the breakfast +smoke, the grazing animals, the stout vehicles, a line +of washed clothing—was homy. So I veered aside +and made for the spot, to inquire my way if nothing +more.</p> +<p>First I addressed a little girl, tow-headed and barelegged, +in a single cotton garment.</p> +<p>“I am looking for the Captain Adams wagon train. +Do you know where it is?”</p> +<p>She only pointed, finger of other hand in her +mouth; but as she indicated this same camp I pressed +on. Mr. Jenks himself came out to meet me.</p> +<p>“Hooray! Here you are. I knew you’d do it. +That’s the ticket. Broke loose, have you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. I accept your offer if it’s still open,” I +said.</p> +<p>We shook hands.</p> +<p>“Wide open. Could have filled it a dozen times. +Come in, come on in and sit. You fetched all your +outfit?”</p> +<p>“What you see,” I confessed. “I told you my +condition. They stripped me clean.”</p> +<p>He rubbed his beard.</p> +<p>“Wall, all you need is a blanket. Reckon I can +rustle you that. You can pay for it out of your +wages or turn it in at the end of the trip. Fust I’d +better make you acquainted to the wagon boss. There +he is, yonder.”</p> +<p>He conducted me on, along the groups and fires and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +bedding outside the wagon circle, and halted where a +heavy man, of face smooth-shaven except chin, sat +upon a wagon-tongue whittling a stick.</p> +<p>“Mornin’, Cap’n. Wall, I’m filled out. I’ve hired +this lad and can move whenever you say the word. +You——” he looked at me. “What’s your name, +you say?”</p> +<p>“Frank Beeson,” I replied.</p> +<p>“Didn’t ketch it last night,” he apologized. +“Shake hands with Cap’n Hyrum Adams, Frank. +He’s the boss of the train.”</p> +<p>Captain Adams lazily arose—a large figure in his +dusty boots, coarse trousers and flannel shirt, and +weather-beaten black slouch hat. The inevitable revolver +hung at his thigh. His pursed lips spurted a +jet of tobacco juice as he keenly surveyed me with +small, shrewd, china-blue eyes squinting from a broad +flaccid countenance. But the countenance was unemotional +while he offered a thick hand which proved +singularly soft and flatulent under the callouses.</p> +<p>“Glad to meet you, stranger,” he acknowledged in +slow bass. “Set down, set down.”</p> +<p>He waved me to the wagon-tongue, and I thankfully +seated myself. All of a sudden I seemed utterly +gone; possibly through lack of food. My sigh must +have been remarked.</p> +<p>“Breakfasted, stranger?” he queried passively.</p> +<p>“Not yet, sir. I was anxious to reach the train.”</p> +<p>“Pshaw! I was about to ask you that,” Mr. Jenks +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +put in. “Come along and I’ll throw together a mess +for you.”</p> +<p>“Nobody goes hungry from the Adams wagon, +stranger,” Captain Adams observed. He slightly +raised his voice, peremptory. “Rachael! Fetch our +guest some breakfast.”</p> +<p>“But as Mr. Jenks has invited me, Captain, and I +am in his employ——” I protested. He cut me +short.</p> +<p>“I have said that nobody, man, woman or child, or +dog, goes hungry from the Adams wagon. The flesh +must be fed as well as the soul.”</p> +<p>There were two women in view, busied with domestic +cares. I had sensed their eyes cast now and then +in my direction. One was elderly, as far as might be +judged by her somewhat slatternly figure draped in a +draggled snuff-colored, straight-flowing gown, and by +the merest glimpse of her features within her faded +sunbonnet. The other promptly moved aside from +where she was bending over a wash-board, ladled food +from a kettle to a platter, poured a tin cupful of coffee +from the pot simmering by the fire, and bore them to +me; her eyes down, shyly handed them.</p> +<p>I thanked her but was not presented. To the Captain’s +“That will do, Rachael,” she turned dutifully +away; not so soon, however, but that I had seen a +fresh young face within the bonnet confines—a round +rosy face according well with the buxom curves of her +as she again bent over her wash-board. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<p>“Our fare is that of the tents of Abraham, stranger,” +spoke the Captain, who had resumed his whittling. +“Such as it is, you are welcome to. We are a +plain people who walk in the way of the Lord, for that +is commanded.”</p> +<p>His sonorous tones were delivered rather through +the nose, but did not fail of hospitality.</p> +<p>“I ask nothing better, sir,” I answered. “And if I +did, my appetite would make up for all deficiencies.”</p> +<p>“A healthy appetite is a good token,” he affirmed. +“Show me a well man who picks at his victuals and I +will show you a candidate for the devil. His thoughts +will like to be as idle as his knife.”</p> +<p>The mess of pork and beans and the black unsweetened +coffee evidently were what I needed, for I began +to mend wonderfully ere I was half through the +course. He had not invited me to further conversation—only, +when I had drained the cup he called +again: “Rachael! More coffee,” whereupon the +same young woman advanced, without glancing at +me, received my cup, and returned it steaming.</p> +<p>“You are from the East, stranger?” he now inquired.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. I arrived in Benton only yesterday.”</p> +<p>“A Sodom,” he growled harshly. “A tented sepulcher. +And it will perish. I tell you, you do well +to leave it, you do well to yoke yourself with the appointed +of this earth, rather than stay in that sink-pit +of the eternally damned.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></p> +<p>“I agree with you, sir,” said I. “I did not find +Benton to be a pleasant place. But I had not known, +when I started from Omaha.”</p> +<p>“Possibly not,” he moodily assented. “The devil +is attentive; he is present in the stations, and on the +trains; he will ride in those gilded palaces even to the +Jordan, but he shall not cross. In the name of the +Lord we shall face him. What good there shall come, +shall abide; but the evil shall wither. Not,” he added, +“that we stand against the railroad. It is needed, +and we have petitioned without being heard. We are +strong but isolated, we have goods to sell, and the +word of Brigham Young has gone forth that a railroad +we must have. Against the harpies, the gamblers, +the loose women and the lustful men and all the +Gentile vanities we will stand upon our own feet by +the help of Almighty God.”</p> +<p>At this juncture, when I had finished my platter of +pork and beans and my second cup of coffee, a tall, +double-jointed youth of about my age, carrying an +ox goad in his hand, strolled to us as if attracted by +the harangue. He was clad in the prevalent cowhide +boots, linsey-woolsey pantaloons tucked in, red flannel +shirt, and battered hat from which untrimmed flaxen +hair fell down unevenly to his shoulder line. He +wore at his belt butcher-knife and gun.</p> +<p>By his hulk, his light blue eyes, albeit a trifle +crossed, and the general lineaments of his stolid, +square, high-cheeked countenance I conceived him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +to be a second but not improved edition of the Captain.</p> +<p>A true raw-bone he was; and to me, as I casually +met his gaze, looked to be obstinate, secretive and +small minded. But who can explain those sudden antagonisms +that spring up on first sight?</p> +<p>“My son Daniel,” the Captain introduced. “This +stranger travels to Zion with us, Daniel, in the employ +of Mr. Jenks.”</p> +<p>The youth had the grip of a vise, and seemed to enjoy +emphasizing it while cunningly watching my face.</p> +<p>“Haowdy?” he drawled. With that he twanged a +sentence or two to his father. “I faound the caow, +Dad. Do yu reckon to pull aout to-day?”</p> +<p>“I have not decided. Go tend to your duties, +Daniel.”</p> +<p>Daniel bestowed upon me a parting stare, and +lurched away, snapping the lash of his goad.</p> +<p>“And with your permission I will tend to mine, +sir,” I said. “Mr. Jenks doubtless has work for me. +I thank you for your hospitality.”</p> +<p>“We are commanded by the prophet to feed the +stranger, whether friend or enemy,” he reproved. +“We are also commanded by the Lord to earn our +bread by the sweat of our brow. As long as you are +no trifler you will be welcome at my wagon. Good-day +to you.”</p> +<p>As I passed, the young woman, Rachael—whom I +judged to be his daughter, although she was evidently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +far removed from parent stock—glanced quickly up. +I caught her gaze full, so that she lowered her eyes +with a blush. She was indeed wholesome if not absolutely +pretty. When later I saw her with her sunbonnet +doffed and her brown hair smoothly brushed +back I thought her more wholesome still.</p> +<p>Mr. Jenks received me jovially.</p> +<p>“Got your belly full, have you?”</p> +<p>“I’m a new man,” I assured.</p> +<p>“Wall, those Mormons are good providers. +They’ll share with you whatever they have, for no +pay, but if you rub ’em the wrong way or go to dickerin’ +with ’em they’re closer’n the hide on a cold mule. +You didn’t make sheep’s eyes at ary of the women?”</p> +<p>“No, sir. I am done with women.”</p> +<p>“And right you are.”</p> +<p>“However, I could not help but see that the Captain’s +daughter is pleasing to look upon. I should be +glad to know her, were there no objections.”</p> +<p>“How? His daughter?”</p> +<p>“Miss Rachael, I believe. That is the name he +used.”</p> +<p>“The young one, you mean?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. The one who served me with breakfast. +Rosy-cheeked and plump.”</p> +<p>“Whoa, man! She’s his wife, and not for Gentiles. +They’re both his wives; whether he has more +in Utah I don’t know. But you’d best let her alone. +She’s been j’ined to him.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p> +<p>This took me all aback, for I had no other idea than +that she was his daughter, or niece—stood in that +kind of relation to him. He was twice her age, apparently. +Now I could only stammer:</p> +<p>“I’ve no wish to intrude, you may be sure. And +Daniel, his son—is he married?”</p> +<p>“That whelp? Met him, did you? No, he ain’t +married, yet. But he will be, soon as he takes his pick +’cordin’ to law and gospel among them people. You +bet you: he’ll be married plenty.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_WE_GET_A__SUPER' id='XI_WE_GET_A__SUPER'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>WE GET A “SUPER”</h3> +</div> + +<p>What with assorting and stowing the bales of +cloth and the other goods in the Jenks two wagons, +watering the animals and staking them out anew, tinkering +with the equipment and making various essays +with the bull whip, I found occupation enough; nevertheless +there were moments of interim, or while passing +to and fro, when I was vividly aware of the scenes +and events transpiring in this Western world around +about.</p> +<p>The bugles sounded calls for the routine at Fort +Steele—a mere cantonment, yet, of tents and rough +board buildings squatting upon the bare brown soil +near the river bank, north of us, and less than a month +old. The wagon road was a line of white dust from +the river clear to Benton, and through the murk plodded +the water haulers and emigrants and freighters, +animals and men alike befloured and choked. The +dust cloud rested over Benton. It fumed in another +line westward, kept in suspense by on-traveling stage +and wagon—by wheel, hoof and boot, bound for Utah +and Idaho. From the town there extended northward +a third dust line, marking the stage and freighting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +road through the Indian country to the mining +settlements of the famous South Pass of the old Oregon +Trail; yes, and with branches for the gold regions +of Montana.</p> +<p>The railroad trains kept thundering by us—long +freights, dusty and indomitable, bringing their loads +from the Missouri River almost seven hundred miles +in the east. And rolling out of Benton the never-ceasing +construction trains sped into the desert as if +upon urgent errands in response to some sudden demand +of More, More, More.</p> +<p>Upon all sides beyond this business and energy the +country stretched lone and uninhabited; a great waste +of naked, hot, resplendent land blotched with white +and red, showing not a green spot except the course +of the Platte; with scorched, rusty hills rising above +its fantastic surface, and, in the distance, bluish mountain +ranges that appeared to float and waver in the +sun-drenched air.</p> +<p>The sounds from Benton—the hammering, the +shouting, the babbling, the puffing of the locomotives—drifted +faintly to us, merged into the cracking of +whips and the oaths and songs by the wagon drivers +along the road. Of our own little camp I took gradual +stock.</p> +<p>It, like the desert reaches, evinced little of feverishness, +for while booted men busied themselves at +tasks similar to mine, others lolled, spinning yarns and +whittling; the several women, at wash-boards and at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +pots and pans and needles, worked contentedly in sun +and shade; children played at makeshift games, dogs +drowsed underneath the wagons, and outside our circle +the mules and oxen grazed as best they might, their +only vexation the blood-sucking flies. The flies were +kin of Benton.</p> +<p>Captain Adams loped away, as if to town. Others +went in. While I was idle at last and rather enjoying +the hot sun as I sat resting upon a convenient wagon-tongue +Daniel hulked to me, still snapping his ox +goad.</p> +<p>“Haowdy?” he addressed again; and surveyed, eying +every detail of my clothing.</p> +<p>“Howdy?” said I.</p> +<p>“Yu know me?”</p> +<p>“Your name is Daniel, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“No, ’tain’t. It’s Bonnie Bravo on the trail.”</p> +<p>“All right, sir,” said I. “Whichever you prefer.”</p> +<p>“I ’laow we pull out this arternoon,” he volunteered +farther.</p> +<p>“I’m agreeable,” I responded. “The sooner the +better, where I’m concerned.”</p> +<p>“I ’laow yu (and he pronounced it, nasally, yee-ou) +been seein’ the elephant in Benton an’ it skinned yu.”</p> +<p>“I saw all of Benton I wish to see,” I granted. +“You’ve been there?”</p> +<p>“I won four bits, an’ then yu bet I quit,” he greedily +proclaimed. “I was too smart for ’em. I ’laow +yu’re a greenie, ain’t yu?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></p> +<p>“In some ways I am, in some ways I’m not.”</p> +<p>“I ’laow yu aim to go through with this train to +Salt Lake, do yu?”</p> +<p>“That’s the engagement I’ve made with Mr. +Jenks.”</p> +<p>“Don’t feel too smart, yoreself, in them new +clothes?”</p> +<p>“No. They’re all I have. They won’t be new +long.”</p> +<p>“Yu bet they won’t. Ain’t afeared of peterin’ +aout on the way, be yu? I ’laow yu’re sickly.”</p> +<p>“I’ll take my chances,” I smiled, although he was +irritating in the extreme.</p> +<p>“It’s four hunderd mile, an’ twenty mile at a +stretch withaout water. Most the water’s pizen, too, +from hyar to the mountings.”</p> +<p>“I’ll have to drink what the rest drink, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“I ’laow the Injuns are like to get us. They’re +powerful bad in that thar desert. Ain’t afeared o’ +Injuns, be yu?”</p> +<p>“I’ll have to take my chances on that, too, won’t +I?”</p> +<p>“They sculped a whole passel o’ surveyors, month +ago,” he persisted. “Yu’ll sing a different tyune +arter yu’ve been corralled with nothin’ to drink.” He +viciously snapped his whip, the while inspecting me as +if seeking for other joints in my armor. “Yu aim to +stay long in Zion?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t planned anything about that.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>“Reckon yu’re wise, Mister. We don’t think +much o’ Gentiles, yonder. We don’t want ’em, nohaow. +They’d all better git aout. The Saints settled +that country an’ it’s ourn.”</p> +<p>“If you’re a sample, you’re welcome to live there,” +I retorted. “I think I’d prefer some place else.”</p> +<p>“Haow?” he bleated. “Thar ain’t no place as +good. All the rest the world has sold itself to the +devil.”</p> +<p>“How much of the world have you seen?” I asked.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen a heap. I’ve been as fur east as Cheyenne—I’ve +teamed acrost twice, so I know. An’ I +know what the elders say; they come from the East +an’ some of ’em have been as fur as England. Yu +can’t fool me none with yore Gentile lies.”</p> +<p>As I did not attempt, we remained in silence for a +moment while he waited, provocative.</p> +<p>“Say, Mister,” he blurted suddenly. “Kin yu +shoot?”</p> +<p>“I presume I could if I had to. Why?”</p> +<p>“Becuz I’m the dangest best shot with a Colt’s in +this hyar train, an’ I’ll shoot ye for—I’ll shoot ye for +(he lowered his voice and glanced about furtively)—I’ll +shoot ye for two bits when my paw ain’t ’raound.”</p> +<p>“I’ve no cartridges to waste at present,” I informed. +“And I don’t claim to be a crack shot.”</p> +<p>“Damn ye, I bet yu think yu are,” he accused. +“Yu set thar like it. All right, Mister; any time yu +want to try a little poppin’ yu let me know.” And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +with this, which struck me as a veiled threat, he +lurched on, snapping that infernal whip.</p> +<p>He left me with the uneasy impression that he and +I were due to measure strength in one way or another.</p> +<p>Wagon Boss Adams returned at noon. The word +was given out that the train should start during the +afternoon, for a short march in order to break in the +new animals before tackling the real westward trail.</p> +<p>After a deal of bustle, of lashing loads and tautening +covers and geeing, hawing and whoaing, about +three o’clock we formed line in obedience to the commands +“Stretch out, stretch out!”; and with every +cask and barrel dripping, whips cracking, voices urging, +children racing, the Captain Adams wagon in the +lead (two pink sunbonnets upon the seat), the valorous +Daniel’s next, and Mormons and Gentiles ranging +on down, we toiled creaking and swaying up the Benton +road, amidst the eddies of hot, scalding dust.</p> +<p>It was a mixed train, of Gentile mules and the more +numerous Mormon oxen; therefore not strictly a +“bull” train, but by pace designated as such. And +in the vernacular I was a “mule-whacker” or even +“mule-skinner” rather than a “bull-whacker,” if +there is any appreciable difference in rôle. There is +none, I think, to the animals.</p> +<p>Trudging manfully at the left fore wheel behind +Mr. Jenks’ four span of mules, trailing my eighteen-foot +tapering lash and occasionally well-nigh cutting +off my own ear when I tried to throw it, I played the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +teamster—although sooth to say there was little of +play in the job, on that road, at that time of the day.</p> +<p>The sun was more vexatious, being an hour lower, +when we bravely entered Benton’s boiling main street. +We made brief halt for the finishing up of business; +and cleaving a lane through the pedestrians and vehicles +and animals there congregated, the challenges +of the street gamblers having assailed us in vain, we +proceeded—our Mormons gazing straight ahead, +scornful of the devil’s enticements, our few Gentiles +responding in kind to the quips and waves and salutations.</p> +<p>Thus we eventually left Benton; in about an hour’s +march or some three miles out we formed corral for +camp on the farther side of the road from the railroad +tracks which we had been skirting.</p> +<p>Travel, except upon the tracks (for they were +rarely vacant) ceased at sundown; and we all, having +eaten our suppers, were sitting by our fires, smoking +and talking, with the sky crimson in the west and the +desert getting mysterious with purple shadows, when +as another construction train of box cars and platform +cars clanked by I chanced to note a figure spring +out asprawl, alight with a whiffle of sand, and staggering +up hasten for us.</p> +<p>First it accosted the hulk Daniel, who was temporarily +out on herd, keeping the animals from the +tracks. I saw him lean from his saddle; then he rode +spurring in, bawling like a calf: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p> +<p>“Paw! Paw! Hey, yu-all! Thar’s a woman +yonder in britches an’ she ’laows to come on. She’s +lookin’ for Mister Jenks.”</p> +<p>Save for his excited stuttering silence reigned, a +minute. Then in a storm of rude raillery—“That’s +a hoss on you, George!” “Didn’t know you owned +one o’ them critters, George,” “Does she wear the +britches, George?” and so forth—my friend Jenks +arose, peering, his whiskered mouth so agape that he +almost dropped his pipe. And we all peered, with the +women of the caravan smitten mute but intensely +curious, while the solitary figure, braving our stares, +came on to the fires.</p> +<p>“Gawd almighty!” Mr. Jenks delivered.</p> +<p>Likewise straightening I mentally repeated the +ejaculation, for now I knew her as well as he. Yes, +by the muttered babble others in our party knew her. +It was My Lady—formerly My Lady—clad in embroidered +short Spanish jacket, tightish velvet pantaloons, +booted to the knees, pulled down upon her yellow +hair a black soft hat, and hanging from the just-revealed +belt around her slender waist, a revolver +trifle.</p> +<p>She paused, small and alone, viewing us, her eyes +very blue, her face very white.</p> +<p>“Is Mr. Jenks there?” she hailed clearly.</p> +<p>“Damn’ if I ain’t,” he mumbled. He glowered at +me. “Yes, ma’am, right hyar. You want to speak +with me?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></p> +<p>“By gosh, it’s Montoyo’s woman, ain’t it?” were +the comments.</p> +<p>“I do, sir.”</p> +<p>“You can come on closer then, ma’am,” he +growled. “There ain’t no secrets between us.”</p> +<p>Come on she did, with only an instant’s hesitation +and a little compression of the lips. She swept our +group fearlessly—her gaze crossed mine, but she betrayed +no sign.</p> +<p>“I wish to engage passage to Salt Lake.”</p> +<p>“With this hyar train?” gasped Jenks.</p> +<p>“Yes. You are bound for Salt Lake, aren’t +you?”</p> +<p>“For your health, ma’am?” he stammered.</p> +<p>She faintly smiled, but her eyes were steady and +wide.</p> +<p>“For my health. I’d like to throw in with your +outfit. I will cook, keep camp, and pay you well besides.”</p> +<p>“We haven’t no place for a woman, ma’am. You’d +best take the stage.”</p> +<p>“No. There’ll be no stage out till morning. I +want to make arrangements at once—with you. +There are other women in this train.” She flashed a +glance around. “And I can take care of myself.”</p> +<p>“If you aim to go to Salt Lake your main holt is +Benton and the stage. The stage makes through in +four days and we’ll use thirty,” somebody counseled.</p> +<p>“An’ this bull train ain’t no place for yore kind, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +anyhow,” grumbled another. “We’ve quit roarin’—we’ve +cut loose from that hell-hole yonder.”</p> +<p>“So have I.” But she did not turn on him. “I’m +never going back. I—I can’t, now; not even for the +stage. Will you permit me to travel with you, sir?”</p> +<p>“No, ma’am, I won’t,” rasped Mr. Jenks. “I can’t +do it. It’s not in my line, ma’am.”</p> +<p>“I’ll be no trouble. You have only Mr. Beeson. +I don’t ask to ride. I’ll walk. I merely ask protection.”</p> +<p>“So do we,” somebody sniggered; and I hated him, +for I saw her sway upon her feet as if the words had +been a blow.</p> +<p>“No, ma’am, I’m full up. I wouldn’t take on even +a yaller dog, ’specially a she one,” Jenks announced. +“What your game is now I can’t tell, and I don’t propose +to be eddicated to it. But you can’t travel along +with me, and that’s straight talk. If you can put anything +over on these other fellers, try your luck.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” she cried, wincing. Her hands clenched +nervously, a red spot dyed either cheek as she appealed +to us all. “Gentlemen! Won’t one of you +help me? What are you afraid of? I can pay my +way—I ask no favors—I swear to you that I’ll give +no trouble. I only wish protection across.”</p> +<p>“Where’s Pedro? Where’s Montoyo?”</p> +<p>She turned quickly, facing the jeer; her two eyes +blazed, the red spots deepened angrily.</p> +<p>“He? That snake? I shot him.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>“What! You? Killed him?” Exclamations +broke from all quarters.</p> +<p>She stamped her foot.</p> +<p>“No. I didn’t have to. But when he tried to +abuse me I defended myself. Wasn’t that right, gentlemen?”</p> +<p>“Right or wrong, he’ll be after you, won’t he?”</p> +<p>The question held a note of alarm. Her lip curled.</p> +<p>“You needn’t fear. I’ll meet him, myself.”</p> +<p>“By gosh, I don’t mix up in no quarrel ’twixt a +man and his woman.” And—“’Tain’t our affair. +When he comes he’ll come a-poppin’.” Such were +the hasty comments. I felt a peculiar heat, a revulsion +of shame and indignation, which made the present +seem much more important than the past. And +there was the recollection of her, crying, and still the +accents of her last appeals in the early morning.</p> +<p>“I thought that I might find men among you,” she +disdainfully said—a break in her voice. “So I came. +But you’re afraid of <i>him</i>—of that breed, that vest-pocket +killer. And you’re afraid of me, a woman +whose cards are all on the table. There isn’t a one of +you—even you, Mr. Beeson, sir, whom I tried to befriend +although you may not know it.” And she +turned upon me. “You have not a word to say. I +am never going back, I tell you all. You won’t take +me, any of you? Very well.” She smiled wanly. +“I’ll drift along, gentlemen. I’ll play the lone hand. +Montoyo shall never seize me. I’d rather trust to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +wolves and the Indians. There’ll be another wagon +train.”</p> +<p>“I am only an employee, madam,” I faltered. “If +I had an outfit of my own I certainly would help +you.”</p> +<p>She flushed painfully; she did not glance at me direct +again, but her unspoken thanks enfolded me.</p> +<p>“Here’s the wagon boss,” Jenks grunted, and spat. +“Mebbe you can throw in with him. When it comes +to supers, that’s his say-so. I’ve all I can tend to, myself, +and I don’t look for trouble. I’ve got no love +for Montoyo, neither,” he added. “Damned if I +ain’t glad you give him a dose.”</p> +<p>Murmurs of approval echoed him, as if the tide +were turning a little. All this time—not long, however—Daniel +had been sitting his mule, transfixed and +gaping, his oddly wry eyes upon her. Now the large +form of Captain Adams came striding in contentious, +through the gathering dusk.</p> +<p>“What’s this?” he demanded harshly. “An ungodly +woman? I’ll have no trafficking in my train. +Get you gone, Delilah. Would you pursue us even +here?”</p> +<p>“I am going, sir,” she replied. “I ask nothing +from you or these—gentlemen.”</p> +<p>“Them’s the two she’s after, paw: Jenks an’ that +greenie,” Daniel bawled. “They know her. She’s +follered ’em. She aims to travel with ’em. Oh, gosh! +She’s shot her man in Benton. Gosh!” His voice +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +trailed off. “Ain’t she purty, though! She’s dressed +in britches.”</p> +<p>“Get you gone,” Captain Adams thundered. +“And these your paramours with you. For thus +saith the Lord: There shall be no lusting of adultery +among his chosen. And thus say I, that no brazen +hussy in men’s garments shall travel with this train +to Zion—no, not a mile of the way.”</p> +<p>Jenks stiffened, bristling.</p> +<p>“Mind your words, Adams. I’m under no Mormon +thumb, and I’ll thank you not to connect me and +this—lady in ary such fashion. As for your brat on +horseback, he’d better hold his yawp. She came of +her own hook, and damned if I ain’t beginnin’ to +think——”</p> +<p>I sprang forward. Defend her I must. She +should not stand there, slight, lovely, brave but drooping, +aflame with the helplessness of a woman alone +and insulted.</p> +<p>“Wait!” I implored. “Give her a chance. You +haven’t heard her story. All she wants is protection +on the road. Yes, I know her, and I know the cur +she’s getting away from. I saw him strike her; so +did Mr. Jenks. What were you intending to do? +Turn her out into the night? Shame on you, sir. +She says she can’t go back to Benton, and if you’ll +be humane enough to understand why, you’ll at least +let her stay in your camp till morning. You’ve got +women there who’ll care for her, I hope.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span></p> +<p>I felt her instant look. She spoke palpitant.</p> +<p>“You have one man among you all. But I am going. +Good-night, gentlemen.”</p> +<p>“No! Wait!” I begged. “You shall not go by +yourself. I’ll see you into safety.”</p> +<p>Daniel cackled.</p> +<p>“Haw haw! What’d I tell yu, paw? Hear +him?”</p> +<p>“By gum, the boy’s right,” Jenks declared. “Will +you go back to Benton if we take you?” he queried +of her. “Are you ’feared of Montoyo? Can he +shoot still, or is he laid out?”</p> +<p>“I’ll not go back to Benton, and I’m not afraid of +that bully,” said she. “Yes, he can shoot, still; but +next time I should kill him. I hope never to see him +again, or Benton either.”</p> +<p>The men murmured.</p> +<p>“You’ve got spunk, anyhow,” said they. And by +further impulse: “Let her stay the night, Cap’n. It’ll +be plumb dark soon. She won’t harm ye. Some o’ +the woman folks can take care of her.”</p> +<p>Captain Adams had been frowning sternly, his +heavy face unsoftened.</p> +<p>“Who are you, woman?”</p> +<p>“I am the wife of a gambler named Montoyo.”</p> +<p>“Why come you here, then?”</p> +<p>“He has been abusing me, and I shot him.”</p> +<p>“There is blood on your hands? Are you a murderess +as well as a harlot?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></p> +<p>“Shame!” cried voices, mine among them. +“That’s tall language.”</p> +<p>Strangely, and yet not strangely, sentiment had +veered. We were Americans—and had we been English +that would have made no difference. It was the +Anglo-Saxon which gave utterance.</p> +<p>She crimsoned, defiant; laughed scornfully.</p> +<p>“You would not dare bait a man that way, sir. +Blood on my hands? Not blood; oh, no! He +couldn’t pan out blood.”</p> +<p>“You killed him, woman?”</p> +<p>“Not yet. He’s likely fleecing the public in the +Big Tent at this very moment.”</p> +<p>“And what did you expect here, in my train?”</p> +<p>“A little manhood and a little chivalry, sir. I +am going to Salt Lake and I knew of no safer +way.”</p> +<p>“She jumped off a railway train, paw,” bawled +Daniel. “I seen her. An’ she axed for Mister Jenks, +fust thing.”</p> +<p>“I’ll give you something to stop that yawp. Come +mornin’, we’ll settle, young feller,” my friend Jenks +growled.</p> +<p>“I did,” she admitted. “I have seen Mr. Jenks; I +have also seen Mr. Beeson; I have seen others of you +in Benton. I was glad to know of somebody here. I +rode on the construction train because it was the +quickest and easiest way.”</p> +<p>“And those garments!” Captain Adams accused. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +“You wish to show your shape, woman, to tempt +men’s eyes with the flesh?”</p> +<p>She smiled.</p> +<p>“Would you have me jump from a train in skirts, +sir? Or travel far afoot in crinoline? But to soothe +your mind I will say that I wore these clothes under +my proper attire and cloak until the last moment. +And if you turn me away I shall cut my hair and continue +as a boy.”</p> +<p>“If you are for Salt Lake—where we are of the +Lord’s choosing and wish none of you—there is the +stage,” he prompted shrewdly. “Go to the stage. +You cannot make this wagon train your instrument.”</p> +<p>“The stage?” She slowly shook her head. +“Why, I am too well known, sir, take that as you +will. And the stage does not leave until morning. +Much might happen between now and morning. I +have nobody in Benton that I can depend upon—nobody +that I dare depend upon. And by railway, for +the East? No. That is too open a trail. I am running +free of Benton and Pedro Montoyo, and stage +and train won’t do the trick. I’ve thought that out.” +She tossed back her head, deliberately turned. +“Good-night, ladies and gentlemen.”</p> +<p>Involuntarily I started forward to intercept. The +notion of her heading into the vastness and the gloom +was appalling; the inertness of that increasing group, +formed now of both men and women collected from +all the camp, maddened. So I would have besought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +her, pleaded with her, faced Montoyo for her—but a +new voice mediated.</p> +<p>“She shall stay, Hyrum? For the night, at least? +I will look after her.”</p> +<p>The Captain’s younger wife, Rachael, had stepped +to him; laid one hand upon his arm—her smooth hair +touched ashine by the firelight as she gazed up into +his face. Pending reply I hastened directly to My +Lady herself and detained her by her jacket sleeve.</p> +<p>“Wait,” I bade.</p> +<p>Whereupon we both turned. Side by side we +fronted the group as if we might have been partners—which, +in a measure, we were, but not wholy according +to the lout Daniel’s cackle and the suddenly +interrogating countenances here and there.</p> +<p>“You would take her in, Rachael?” the Captain +rumbled. “Have you not heard what I said?”</p> +<p>“We are commanded to feed the hungry and shelter +the homeless, Hyrum.”</p> +<p>“Verily that is so. Take her. I trust you with +her till the morning. The Lord will direct us further. +But in God’s name clothe her for the daylight in decency. +She shall not advertise her flesh to men’s +eyes.”</p> +<p>“Quick!” I whispered, with a push. Rachael, +however, had crossed for us, and with eyes brimming +extended her hand.</p> +<p>“Will you come with me, please?” she invited.</p> +<p>“You are not afraid of me?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p> +<p>“I? No. You are a woman, are you not?” The +intonation was gentle, and sweet to hear—as sweet as +her rosy face to see.</p> +<p>“Yes,” sighed My Lady, wearily. “Good-night, +sir.” She fleetingly smiled upon me. “I thank you; +and Mr. Jenks.”</p> +<p>They went, Rachael’s arm about her; other women +closed in; we heard exclamations, and next they were +supporting her in their midst, for she had crumpled +in a faint.</p> +<p>Captain Adams walked out a piece as if musing. +Daniel pressed beside him, talking eagerly. His voice +reached me.</p> +<p>“She’s powerful purty, ain’t she, paw! Gosh, I +never seen a woman in britches before. Did yu? +Paw! She kin ride in my wagon, paw. Be yu goin’ +to take her on, paw? If yu be, I got room.”</p> +<p>“Go. Tend to your stock and think of other +things,” boomed his father. “Remember that the +Scriptures say, beware of the scarlet woman.”</p> +<p>Daniel galloped away, whooping like an idiot.</p> +<p>“Wall, there she is,” my friend Jenks remarked +non-committally. “What next’ll happen, we’ll see in +the mornin’. Either she goes on or she goes back. I +don’t claim to read Mormon sign, myself. But she +had me jumpin’ sideways, for a spell. So did that +young whelp.”</p> +<p>There was some talk, idle yet not offensive. The +men appeared rather in a judicial frame of mind: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +laid a few bets upon whether her husband would turn +up, in sober fashion nodded their heads over the hope +that he had been “properly pinked,” all in all sided +with her, while admiring her pluck roundly denied +responsibility for women in general, and genially but +cautiously twitted Mr. Jenks and me upon our alleged +implication in the affair.</p> +<p>Darkness, still and chill, had settled over the desert—the +only discernible horizon the glow of Benton, +down the railroad track. The ashes of final pipes +were rapped out upon our boot soles. Our group dispersed, +each man to his blanket under the wagons or +in the open.</p> +<p>“Wall,” friend Jenks again broadly uttered, in +last words as he turned over with a grunt, for easier +posture, near me, “hooray! If it simmers down to +you and Dan’l, I’ll be there.”</p> +<p>With that enigmatical comment he was silent save +for stertorous breathing. Vaguely cogitating over +his promise I lay, toes and face up, staring at the +bright stars; perplexed more and more over the immediate +events of the future, warmly conscious of +her astonishing proximity in this very train, prickled +by the hope that she would continue with us, irritated +by the various assumptions of Daniel, and somehow +not at all adverse to the memory of her in “britches.”</p> +<p>That phase of the matter seemed to have affected +Daniel and me similarly. Under his hide he was human.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_DANIEL_TAKES_POSSESSION' id='XII_DANIEL_TAKES_POSSESSION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>DANIEL TAKES POSSESSION</h3> +</div> + +<p>I was more than ever convinced of her wisdom in +choice of garb when in early morning I glimpsed her +with the two other women at the Adams fire; for, +bright-haired and small, she had been sorrily dulled +by the plain ill-fitting waist and long shapeless skirt +in one garment, as adopted by the feminine contingent +of the train. In her particular case these were +worse fitting and longer than common—an artifice +that certainly snuffed a portion of her charms for +Gentile and Mormon eyes alike.</p> +<p>What further disposition of her was to be made +we might not yet know. We all kept to our own tasks +and our own fires, with the exception that Daniel +gawked and strutted in the manner of a silly gander, +and made frequent errands to his father’s household.</p> +<p>It was after the red sun-up and the initial signaling +by dust cloud to dust cloud announcing the commencement +of another day’s desert traffic, and in response +to the orders “Ketch up!” we were putting +animals to wagons (My Lady still in evidence forward), +when a horseman bored in at a gallop, over +the road from the east. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></p> +<p>“Montoyo, by Gawd!” Jenks pronounced, in a +grumble of disgust rather than with any note of +alarm. “Look alive.” And—“He don’t hang up +my pelt; no, nor yourn if I can help it.”</p> +<p>I saw him give a twitch to his holster and slightly +loosen the Colt’s. But I was unburthened by guilt in +past events, and I conceived no reason for fearing +the future—other than that now I was likely to +lose her. Heaven pity her! Probably she would +have to go, even if she managed later to kill him. +The delay in our start had been unfortunate.</p> +<p>It was dollars to doughnuts that every man in the +company had had his eye out for Montoyo, since daylight; +and the odds were that every man had sighted +him as quickly as we. Notwithstanding, save by an +occasional quick glance none appeared to pay attention +to his rapid approach. We ourselves went right +along hooking up, like the others.</p> +<p>As chanced, our outfit was the first upon his way +in. I heard him rein sharply beside us and his +horse fidget, panting. Not until he spoke did we lift +eyes.</p> +<p>“Howdy, gentlemen?”</p> +<p>“Howdy yourself, sir,” answered Mr. Jenks, +straightening up and meeting his gaze. I paused, to +gaze also. Montoyo was pale as death, his lips hard +set, his peculiar gray eyes and his black moustache the +only vivifying features in his coldly menacing countenance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p> +<p>He was in white linen shirt, his left arm slung; fine +riding boots encasing his legs above the knees and +Spanish spurs at their heels—his horse’s flanks reddened +by their jabs. The pearl butt of a six-shooter +jutted from his belt holster. He sat jaunty, excepting +for his lips and eyes.</p> +<p>He looked upon me, with a trace of recognition less +to be seen than felt. His glance leaped to the wagon—traveled +swiftly and surely and returned to Mr. +Jenks.</p> +<p>“You’re pulling out, I believe.”</p> +<p>“Yes, you bet yuh.”</p> +<p>“This is the Adams train?”</p> +<p>“It is.”</p> +<p>“I’m looking for my wife, gentlemen. May I ask +whether you’ve seen her?”</p> +<p>“You can.”</p> +<p>“You have seen her?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. We’ll not beat around any bush over +that.”</p> +<p>He meditated, frowning a bit, eying us narrowly.</p> +<p>“I had the notion,” he said. “If you have staked +her to shelter I thank you; but now I aim to play the +hand myself. This is a strictly private game. Where +is she?”</p> +<p>“I call yuh, Pedro,” my friend answered. “We +ain’t keepin’ cases on her, or on you. You don’t find +her in my outfit, that’s flat. She spent the night with +the Adams women. You’ll find her waitin’ for you, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +on ahead.” He grinned. “She’ll be powerful glad +to see you.” He sobered. “And I’ll say this: I’m +kinder sorry I ain’t got her, for she’d be interestin’ +company on the road.”</p> +<p>“The road to hell, yes,” Montoyo coolly remarked. +“I’d guarantee you quick passage. Good-day.”</p> +<p>With sudden steely glare that embraced us both he +jumped his mount into a gallop and tore past the +team, for the front. He must have inquired, once or +twice, as to the whereabouts of the Captain’s party; +I saw fingers pointing.</p> +<p>“Here! You’ve swapped collars on your lead +span, boy,” Mr. Jenks reproved—but he likewise +fumbling while he gazed.</p> +<p>I could hold back no longer.</p> +<p>“Just a minute, if you please,” I pleaded; and +hastened on up, half running in my anxiety to face +the worst; to help, if I might, for the best.</p> +<p>A little knot of people had formed, constantly increasing +by oncomers like myself and friend Jenks +who had lumbered behind me. Montoyo’s horse +stood heaving, on the outskirts; and ruthlessly pushing +through I found him inside, with My Lady at +bay before him—her eyes brilliant, her cheeks hot, +her two hands clenched tightly, her slim figure dangerously +tense within her absurd garment, and the +arm of the brightly flushed but calm Rachael resting +restraintfully around her. The circling faces peered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></p> +<p>Captain Adams, at one side apart, was replying +to the gambler. His small china-blue eyes had begun +to glint; otherwise he maintained an air of stolidity +as if immune to the outcome.</p> +<p>“You see her,” he said. “She has had the care +of my own household, for I turn nobody away. She +came against my will, and she shall go of her will. +I am not her keeper.”</p> +<p>“You Mormons have the advantage of us white +men, sir,” Montoyo sneered. “No one of the sex +seems to be denied bed and board in your establishments.”</p> +<p>“By the help of the Lord we of the elect can manage +our establishments much better than you do +yours,” big Hyrum responded; and his face sombered. +“Who are you? A panderer to the devil, a +thief with painted card-boards, a despoiler of the ignorant, +and a feeder to hell—yea, a striker of women +and a trafficker in flesh! Who are you, to think the +name of the Lord’s anointed? There she is, your +chattel. Take her, or leave her. This train starts on +in ten minutes.”</p> +<p>“I’ll take her or kill her,” Montoyo snarled. +“You call me a feeder, but she shall not be fed to +your mill, Adams. You’ll get on that horse pronto, +madam,” he added, stepping forward (no one could +question his nerve), “and we’ll discuss our affairs in +private.”</p> +<p>She cast about with swift beseeching look, as if for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +a friendly face or sign of rescue. And that agonized +quest was enough. Whether she saw me or not, here +I was. With a spring I had burst in.</p> +<p>But somebody already had drawn fresh attention. +Daniel Adams was standing between her and her husband.</p> +<p>“Say, Mister, will yu fight?” he drawled, breathing +hard, his broad nostrils quivering.</p> +<p>A silence fell. Singularly, the circle parted right +and left in a jostle and a scramble.</p> +<p>Montoyo surveyed him.</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>“For her, o’ course.”</p> +<p>The gambler smiled—a slow, contemptuous smile +while his gray eyes focused watchfully.</p> +<p>“It’s a case where I have nothing to gain,” said he. +“And you’ve nothing to lose. I never bet in the teeth +of a pat hand. Sabe? Besides, my young Mormon +cub, when did you enter this game? Where’s your +ante? For the sport of it, now, what do you think of +putting up, to make it interesting? One of your +mammies? Tut, tut!”</p> +<p>Daniel’s freckled bovine face flushed muddy red; +in the midst of it his faulty eyes were more pronounced +than ever—beady, twinkling, and so at cross +purposes that they apparently did not center upon the +gambler at all. But his right hand had stiffened at +his side—extended there flat and tremulous like the +vibrant tail of a rattlesnake. He blurted harshly: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></p> +<p>“I ’laow to kill yu for that. Draw, yu——!”</p> +<p>We caught breath. Montoyo’s hand had darted +down, and up, with motion too smooth and elusive for +the eye, particularly when our eyes had to be upon +both. His revolver poised half-way out of the scabbard, +held there rigidly, frozen in mid course; for +Daniel had laughed loudly over leveled barrel.</p> +<p>How he had achieved so quickly no man of us +knew. Yet there it was—his Colt’s, out, cocked, +wicked and yearning and ready.</p> +<p>He whirled it with tempting carelessness, butt first, +muzzle first, his discolored teeth set in a yellow grin. +The breath of the spectators vented in a sigh.</p> +<p>“Haow’ll yu take it, Mister?” he gibed. “I +could l’arn an old caow to beat yu on the draw. Aw, +shucks! I ’laow yu’d better go back to yore pasteboards. +Naow git!”</p> +<p>Montoyo, his eyes steady, scarcely changed expression. +He let his revolver slip down into its scabbard. +Then he smiled.</p> +<p>“You have a pretty trick,” he commented, relaxing. +“Some day I’d like to test it out again. Just +now I pass. Madam, are you coming?”</p> +<p>“You know I’m not,” she uttered clearly.</p> +<p>“Your choice of company is hardly to your credit,” +he sneered. “Or, I should say, to your education. +Saintliness does not set well upon you, madam. +Your clothes are ill-fitting already. Of your two +champions——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span></p> +<p>And here I realized that I was standing out, one +foot advanced, my fists foolishly doubled, my presence +a useless factor.</p> +<p>“—I recommend the gentleman from New York as +more to your tastes. But you are going of your own +free will. You will always be my wife. You can’t +get away from that, you devil. I shall expect you in +Benton, for I have the hunch that your little flight +will fetch you back pretty well tamed, to the place +where damaged goods are not so heavily discounted.” +He ignored Daniel and turned upon me. “As for +you,” he said, “I warn you you are playing against +a marked deck. You will find fists a poor hand. +Ladies and gentlemen, good-morning.” With that he +strode straight for his horse, climbed aboard (a trifle +awkwardly by reason of his one arm disabled) and +galloped, granting us not another glance.</p> +<p>Card shark and desperado that he was, his consummate +aplomb nobody could deny, except Daniel, +now capering and swaggering and twirling his revolver.</p> +<p>“I showed him. I made him take water. I ’laow +I’m ’bout the best man with a six-shooter in these +hyar parts.”</p> +<p>“Ketch up and stretch out,” Captain Adams ordered, +disregarding. “We’ve no more time for foolery.”</p> +<p>My eyes met My Lady’s. She smiled a little ruefully, +and I responded, shamed by the poor rôle I had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +borne. With that still jubilating lout to the fore, certainly +I cut small figure.</p> +<p>This night we made camp at Rawlins’ Springs, +some twelve miles on. The day’s march had been, so +to speak, rather pensive; for while there were the +rough jokes and the talking back and forth, it seemed +as though the scene of early morning lingered in our +vista. The words of Montoyo had scored deeply, and +the presence of our supernumerary laid a kind of incubus, +like an omen of ill luck, upon us. Indeed the +prophecies darkly uttered showed the current of +thought.</p> +<p>“It’s a she Jonah we got. Sure a woman the likes +o’ her hain’t no place in a freightin’ outfit. We’re off +on the wrong fut,” an Irishman declared to wagging +of heads. “Faith, she’s enough to set the saints +above an’ the saints below both by the ears.” He +paused to light his dudeen. “There’ll be a Donnybrook +Fair in Utah, if belike we don’t have it along +the way.”</p> +<p>“No Mormon’ll need another wife if he takes her,” +laughed somebody else.</p> +<p>“She’ll be promised to Dan’l ’fore ever we cross +the Wasatch.” And they all in the group looked slyly +at me. “Acts as if she’d been sealed to him already, +he does.”</p> +<p>This had occurred at our nooning hour, amidst the +dust and the heat, while the animals drooped and +dozed and panted and in the scant shade of the hooded +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +wagons we drank our coffee and crunched our hardtack. +Throughout the morning My Lady had ridden +upon the seat of Daniel’s wagon, with him sometimes +trudging beside, in pride of new ownership, cracking +his whip, and again planted sidewise upon one +of the wheel animals, facing backward to leer at +her.</p> +<p>Why I should now have especially detested him I +would not admit to myself. At any rate the dislike +dated before her arrival. That was one sop to +conscience when I remembered that she was a +wife.</p> +<p>Friend Jenks must have read my thoughts, inasmuch +as during the course of the afternoon he had +uttered abruptly:</p> +<p>“These Mormons don’t exactly recognize Gentile +marriages. Did you know that?” He flung me a +look from beneath shaggy brows.</p> +<p>“What?” I exclaimed. “How so?”</p> +<p>“Meanin’ to say that layin’ on of hands by the +Lord’s an’inted is necessary to reel j’inin’ in marriage.”</p> +<p>“But that’s monstrous!” I stammered.</p> +<p>“Dare say,” said he. “It’s the way white gospelers +look at Injuns, ain’t it? Anyhow, to convert her +out of sin, as they’d call it, and put her over into the +company of the saints wouldn’t be no bad deal, by +their kind o’ thinkin’. It’s been done before, I reckon. +Jest thought I’d warn you. She’s made her own bed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +and if it’s a Mormon bed she’s well quit of Montoyo, +that’s sartin. Did you ever see the beat of that young +feller on the draw?”</p> +<p>“No,” I admitted. “I never did.”</p> +<p>“And you never will.”</p> +<p>“He says his name’s Bonnie Bravo. Where did he +find that?”</p> +<p>“Haw haw.” Friend Jenks spat. “Must ha’ +heard it in a play-house or got it read to him out a +book. Sounds to him like he was some punkins. +Anyhow, if you’ve any feelin’s in the matter keep +’em under your hat. I don’t know what there’s been +between you and her, but the Mormon church is between +you now and it’s got the dead-wood on you. +It’s either that for her, or Montoyo. He knows; he’s +no fool and he’ll take his time. So you’d better stick +to mule-whacking and sowbelly.”</p> +<p>Still it was only decent that I should inquire after +her. No Daniel and no “Bonnie Bravo” was going +to shut me from my duty. Therefore this evening +after we had formed corral, watered our animals at +the one good-water spring, staked them out in the +bottoms of the ravine here, and eaten our supper, I +went with clean hands and face and, I resolved, a +clean heart, to pay my respects at the Hyrum Adams +fire.</p> +<p>A cheery sight it was, too, for one bred as I had +been to the company of women. Whereas during the +day and somewhat in the evenings we Gentiles and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +the Mormon men fraternized without conflict of sect +save by long-winded arguments, at nightfall the main +Mormon gathering centered about the Adams quarters, +where the men and women sang hymns in praise +of their pretensions, and listened to homilies by Hyrum +himself.</p> +<p>They were singing now, as I approached—every +woman busy also with her hands. The words were +destined to be familiar to me, being from their favorite +lines:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto; '><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Cheer, saints, cheer! We’re bound for peaceful Zion!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Cheer, saints, cheer! For that free and happy land!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Cheer, saints, cheer! We’ll Israel’s God rely on;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>We will be led by the power of His hand.</p> +<br /> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Away, far away to the everlasting mountains,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Away, far away to the valley in the West;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Away, far away to yonder gushing fountains,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Where all the faithful in the latter days are blest.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Into this domestic circle I civilly entered just as +they had finished their hymn. She was seated beside +the sleek-haired Rachael, with Daniel upon her other +hand. I sensed her quickly ready smile; and with the +same a surly stare from him, disclosing that by one +person at least I was not welcomed.</p> +<p>“Anything special wanted, stranger?” Hyrum demanded. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span></p> +<p>“No, sir. I was attracted by your singing,” I replied. +“Do I intrude?”</p> +<p>“Not at all, not at all.” He was more hospitable. +“Set if you like, in the circle of the Saints. You’ll +get no harm by it, that’s certain.”</p> +<p>So I seated myself just behind Rachael. A moment +of constraint seemed to fall upon the group. I +broke it by my inquiry, addressed to a clean profile.</p> +<p>“I came also to inquire after Mrs. Montoyo,” I +carefully said. “You have stood the journey well, +this far, madam?”</p> +<p>Daniel turned instantly.</p> +<p>“Thar’s no ’Mrs. Montoyo’ in this camp, Mister. +And I’ll thank yu it’s a name yu’d best leave alone.”</p> +<p>“How so, sir?”</p> +<p>“Cause that’s the right of it. I ’laow I’ve told +yu.”</p> +<p>“I’m called Edna now, by my friends,” she vouchsafed, +coloring. “Yes, thank you, I’ve enjoyed the +day.”</p> +<p>Rachael spoke softly, in her gentle English accents. +I learned later that she was an English girl, convert +to Mormonism.</p> +<p>“We Latter Day Saints know that the marriage +rites of Gentiles are not countenanced by the Lord. +If you would see the light you would understand. +Sister Edna is being well cared for. Whatever we +have is hers.”</p> +<p>“You will take her on with you to Salt Lake?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></p> +<p>“That is as Hyrum says. He has spoken of putting +her on the stage at the next crossing. He will +decide.”</p> +<p>“I think I’d rather stay with the train,” My Lady +murmured.</p> +<p>“Yu will, too, by gum,” Daniel pronounced. “I’ll +talk with paw. Yu’re goin’ to travel on to Zion ’long +with me. I ’laow I’m man enough to look out for ye +an’ I got plenty room. The hull wagon’s yourn. +Guess thar won’t nobody have anything to say ag’in +that.” His tone was pointed, unmistakable, and I sat +fuming with it.</p> +<p>My Lady drily acknowledged.</p> +<p>“You are very kind, Daniel.”</p> +<p>“Wall, yu see I’m the best man on the draw in this +hyar train. I’m a bad one, I am. My name’s Bonnie +Bravo. That gambler—he ’laowed to pop me but I +could ha’ killed him ’fore his gun was loose. I kin +ride, wrastle, drive a bull team ag’in ary man from +the States, an’ I got the gift o’ tongues. Ain’t afeared +o’ Injuns, neither. I’m elected. I foller the Lord an’ +some day I’ll be a bishop. I hain’t been more’n middlin’ +interested in wimmen, but I’m gittin’ old enough, +an’ yu an’ me’ll be purty well acquainted by the time +we reach Zion. Thar’s a long spell ahead of us, but +I aim to look out for yu, yu bet.”</p> +<p>His blatancy was arrested by the intonation of another +hymn. They all chimed in, except My Lady +and me. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span></p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto; '><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>There is a people in the West, the world calls Mormonites</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>in jest,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The only people who can say, we have the truth, and</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>own its sway.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Away in Utah’s valleys, away in Utah’s valleys,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Away in Utah’s valleys, the chambers of the Lord.</p> +<br /> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And all ye saints, where’er you be, from bondage try to</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>be set free,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Escape unto fair Zion’s land, and thus fulfil the Lord’s</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>command,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And help to build up Zion, and help to build up Zion,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And help to build up Zion, before the Lord appear.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>They concluded; sat with heads bowed while Hyrum, +standing, delivered himself of a long-winded +blessing, through his nose. It was the signal for +breaking up. They stood. My Lady arose lithely; +encumbered by her trailing skirt she pitched forward +and I caught her. Daniel sprang in a moment, with +a growl.</p> +<p>“None o’ that, Mister. I’m takin’ keer of her. +Hands off.”</p> +<p>“Don’t bully me, sir,” I retorted, furious. “I’m +only acting the gentleman, and you’re acting the +boor.”</p> +<p>I would willingly have fought him then and there, +probably to my disaster, but Hyrum’s heavy voice +cut in.</p> +<p>“Who quarrels at my fire? Mark you, I’ll have +no more of it. Stranger, get you where you belong. +Daniel, get you to bed. And you, woman, take yourself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +off properly and thank God that you are among +his chosen and not adrift in sin.”</p> +<p>“Good-night, sir,” I answered. And I walked +easily away, a triumphant warmth buoying me, for +ere releasing her strong young body I had felt a note +tucked into my hand.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_SOMEONE_FEARS' id='XIII_SOMEONE_FEARS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>SOMEONE FEARS</h3> +</div> + +<p>A note from a pretty woman always is a potential +thing, no matter in what humor it may have been +received. The mere possession titillates; and although +the contents may be most exemplary to the +eye, the mind is apt to go hay-making between the +lines and no offense intended.</p> +<p>All the fatuousness that had led me astray to the +lure of her blue eyes, upon the train and in hollow +Benton, surged anew now—perhaps seasoned to present +taste by my peppery defiance of Daniel. A man +could do no less than bristle a little, under the circumstances; +could do no less than challenge the torpedoes, +like Farragut in Mobile Bay. Whether the +game was worth the candle, I was not to be bullied +out of my privileges by a clown swash-buckler who +aped the characteristics of a pouter pigeon.</p> +<p>Mr. Jenks was just going to bed under the wagon. +With pretext of warming up the coffee I kicked the +fire together; while squatting and sipping I managed +to unfold the note and read it by the flicker, my back +to the camp.</p> +<p>All that it said, was: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>If you are not disgusted with me I will walk +a stretch with you on the trail, during the morning.</p> +</div> +<p>The engagement sent me to my blanket cogitating. +When a woman proposes, one never knows precisely +the reason. Anyway, I was young enough so to +fancy. For a long time I lay outside the wagons, +apart in the desert camp, gazing up at the twinkling +stars, while the wolves whimpered around, and somewhere +she slept beside the gentle Rachael, and somewhere +Daniel snored, and here I conned her face and +her words, elatedly finding them very pleasing.</p> +<p>Salt Lake was far, the Big Tent farther by perspective +if not by miles. I recognized the legal rights +of her husband, but no ruffling Daniel should quash +the undeniable rights of Yours Truly. I indeed felt +virtuous and passing valorous, with that commonplace +note in my pocket.</p> +<p>We all broke camp at sunrise. She rode for a distance +upon the seat of Daniel’s wagon—he lustily +trudging alongside. Then I marked her walking, +herself; she had shortened her skirt; and presently +lingering by the trail she dropped behind, leaving the +wagon to lumber on, with Daniel helplessly turning +head over shoulder, bereft.</p> +<p>“Bet you the lady up yonder is aimin’ to pay you a +visit,” quoth friend Jenks the astute. “And Dan’l, +he don’t cotton to it. You ain’t great shakes with a +gun, I reckon?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p> +<p>“I’ve never had use for one,” said I. “But her +whereabouts in the train is not a matter of shooting, +is it?”</p> +<p>“A feller quick on the draw, like him, is alluz +wantin’ to practice, to keep his hand in. Anyhow I’d +advise you to stay clear of her, else watch him mighty +sharp. He’s thinkin’ of takin’ a squaw.”</p> +<p>We rolled on, in the dust, while the animals +coughed and the teamsters chewed and swore. And +next, here she was, idling until our outfit drew +abreast.</p> +<p>“Mornin’,” Jenks grunted, with a shortness that +bespoke his disapproval; whereupon he fell back and +left us.</p> +<p>She smiled at me.</p> +<p>“Will you offer me a ride, sir?”</p> +<p>My response was instant: a long “Whoa-oa!” in +best mule-whacker. The eight-team hauled negligent, +their mulish senses steeped in the drudgery of +the trail; only the wheel pair flopped inquiring ears. +When I hailed again, Jenks came puffing.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter hyar?” He ran rapid eye +over wagon and animals and saw nothing amiss.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Montoyo wishes to ride.”</p> +<p>“The hell, man!” He snatched whip and +launched it, up the faltering team. The cracker +popped an inch above the off lead mule’s cringing +haunch twenty feet before. “You can’t stop hyar! +Can’t hold the rest of the train. Joe! Baldy! Hep +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +with you!” The team straightened out; he restored +me the whip. His wrath subsided, for in less dudgeon +he addressed her.</p> +<p>“Want to ride, do ye?”</p> +<p>“I did, sir.”</p> +<p>“Wall, in Gawd’s name ride, then. But we don’t +stop for passengers.”</p> +<p>With that, in another white heat he had picked her +up bodily, swung her upon the nearest mule; so that +before she knew (she scarce had time to utter an +astonished little ejaculation as she yielded to his +arms) there she was, perched, breathless, upon the +sweaty hide. I awaited results.</p> +<p>Jenks chuckled.</p> +<p>“What you need is an old feller, lady. These +young bucks ain’t broke to the feed canvas. Now +when you want to get off you call me. You don’t +weigh more’n a peck of beans.”</p> +<p>With a bantering wink at me he again fell back. +Once more I had been forestalled. There should be +no third time.</p> +<p>My Lady sat clinging, at first angry-eyed, but in a +moment softened by my discomfiture.</p> +<p>“Your partner is rather sudden,” she averred. +“He asked permission of neither me nor the +mule.”</p> +<p>“He meant well. He isn’t used to women,” I +apologized.</p> +<p>“More used to mules, I judge.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></p> +<p>“Yes. If he had asked the mule it would have +objected, whereas it’s delighted.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps he knows there’s not much difference between +a woman and a mule, in that respect,” she +proffered. “You need not apologize for him.”</p> +<p>“I apologize for myself,” I blurted. “I see I’m a +little slow for this country.”</p> +<p>“You?” She soberly surveyed me as I ploughed +through the dust, at her knees. “I think you’ll catch +up. If you don’t object to my company, yourself, +occasionally, maybe I can help you.”</p> +<p>“I certainly cannot object to your company whenever +it is available, madam,” I assured.</p> +<p>“You do not hold your experience in Benton +against me?”</p> +<p>“I got no more than I deserved, in the Big Tent,” +said I. “I went in as a fool and I came out as a fool, +but considerably wiser.”</p> +<p>“You reproached me for it,” she accused. “You +hated me. Do you hate me still, I wonder? I tell +you I was not to blame for the loss of your money.”</p> +<p>“The money has mattered little, madam,” I informed. +“It was only a few dollars, and it turned +me to a job more to my liking and good health than +fiddling my time away, back there. I have you to +thank for that.”</p> +<p>“No, no! You are cruel, sir. You thank me for +the good and you saddle me with the bad. I accept +neither. Both, as happened, were misplays. You +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +should not have lost money, you should not have +changed vocation. You should have won a little +money and you should have pursued health in Benton.” +She sighed. “And we all would have been +reasonably content. Now here you and I are—and +what are we going to do about it?”</p> +<p>“We?” I echoed, annoyingly haphazard. “Why +so? You’re being well cared for, I take it; and I’m +under engagement for Salt Lake myself.”</p> +<p>The answer did sound rude. I was still a cad. She +eyed me, with a certain whiteness, a certain puzzled +intentness, a certain fugitive wistfulness—a mute estimation +that made me too conscious of her clear +appraising gaze and rack my brain for some disarming +remark.</p> +<p>“You’re not responsible for me, you would say?”</p> +<p>“I’m at your service,” I corrected. The platitude +was the best that I could muster to my tongue.</p> +<p>“That is something,” she mused. “Once you were +not that—when I proposed a partnership. You are +afraid of me?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Why should I be?” I parried. But I was beginning; +or continuing. I had that curious inward +quiver, not unpleasant, anticipatory of possible +events.</p> +<p>“You are a cautious Yankee. You answer one +question with another.” She laughed lightly. “Yes, +why should you be? I cannot run away with you; +not when Daniel and your Mr. Jenks are watching us +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +so closely. And you have no desire to be run away +with. And Pedro must be considered. Altogether, +you are well protected, even if your conscience slips. +But tell me: Do you blame me for running away +from Montoyo?”</p> +<p>“Not in the least,” I heartily assured.</p> +<p>“You would have helped me, at the last?”</p> +<p>“I think I should have felt fully warranted.” +Again I floundered.</p> +<p>“Even to stowing me with a bull train?”</p> +<p>“Anywhere, madam, for your betterment, to free +you from that brute.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” She clapped her hands. “But you didn’t +have to. I only embarrassed you by appearing on +my own account. You have some spirit, though. +You came to the Adams circle, last night. You did +your duty. I expected you. But you must not do it +again.”</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“There are objections, there.”</p> +<p>“From you?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“From Hyrum?”</p> +<p>“Not yet.”</p> +<p>“From that Daniel, then. Well, I will come to +Captain Adams’ camp as often as I like, if with the +Captain’s permission. And I shall come to see you, +whether with his permission or not.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” she faltered. “I—you would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +have helped me once, you say? And once you refused +me. Would you help me next time?”</p> +<p>“As far as I could,” said I—another of those +damned hedging responses that for the life of me I +could not manipulate properly.</p> +<p>“Oh!” she cried. “Of course! The queen deceived +you; now you are wise. You are afraid. But +so am I. Horribly afraid. I have misplayed again.” +She laughed bitterly. “I am with Daniel—it is to be +Daniel and I in the Lion’s den. You know they call +Brigham Young the Lion of the Lord. I doubt if +even Rachael is angel enough.” She paused. +“They’re going to make nooning, aren’t they? I +mustn’t stay. Good-bye.”</p> +<p>I sprang to lift her, but with gay shake of head she +slipped off of herself and landed securely.</p> +<p>“I can stand alone. I have to. Men are always +ready to do what I don’t ask them to do, as long as I +can serve as a tool or a toy. You will be very, very +careful. Good-day, sir.”</p> +<p>She flashed just the trace of a smile; gathering her +skirt she ran on, undeterred by the teamsters applauding +her spryness.</p> +<p>“Swing out!” shouted Jenks, from rear. “We’re +noonin’.” The lead wagons had halted beside the +trail and all the wagons following began to imitate.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_I_TAKE_A_LESSON' id='XIV_I_TAKE_A_LESSON'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>I TAKE A LESSON</h3> +</div> + +<p>From this hour’s brief camp, early made, we +should have turned southward, to leave the railroad +line and cross country for the Overland Stage trail +that skirted the southern edge of the worse desert +before us. But Captain Hyrum was of different +mind. With faith in the Lord and bull confidence in +himself he had resolved to keep straight on by the +teamster road which through league after league ever +extended fed supplies to the advance of the builders.</p> +<p>Under its adventitious guidance we should strike +the stage road at Bitter Creek, eighty or one hundred +miles; thence trundle, veering southwestward, for the +famed City of the Saints, near two hundred miles +farther.</p> +<p>Therefore after nooning at a pool of stagnant, +scummy water we hooked up and plunged ahead, +creaking and groaning and dust enveloped, constantly +outstripped by the hurrying construction +trains thundering over the newly laid rails, we ourselves +the tortoise in the race.</p> +<p>My Lady did not join me again to-day, nor on the +morrow. She abandoned me to a sense of dissatisfaction +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +with myself, of foreboding, and of a void in +the landscape.</p> +<p>Our sorely laden train went swaying and pitching +across the gaunt face of a high, broad plateau, bleak, +hot, and monotonous in contour; underfoot the reddish +granite pulverized by grinding tire and hoof, +over us the pale bluish fiery sky without a cloud, distant +in the south the shining tips of a mountain +range, and distant below in the west the slowly +spreading vista of a great, bared ocean-bed, simmering +bizarre with reds, yellows and deceptive whites, +and ringed about by battlements jagged and rock +hewn.</p> +<p>Into this enchanted realm we were bound; by token +of the smoke blotches the railroad line led thither. +The teamsters viewed the unfolding expanse phlegmatically. +They called it the Red Basin. But to me, +fresh for the sight, it beckoned with fantastic issues. +Even the name breathed magic. Wizard spells hovered +there; the railroad had not broken them—the +cars and locomotives, entering, did not disturb the +brooding vastness. A man might still ride errant into +those slumberous spaces and discover for himself; +might boldly awaken the realm and rule with a princess +by his side.</p> +<p>But romance seemed to have no other sponsor in +this plodding, whip-cracking, complaining caravan. +So I lacked, woefully lacked, kindred companionship.</p> +<p>Free to say, I did miss My Lady, perched upon the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +stoic mule while like an Arab chief I convoyed her. +The steady miles, I admitted, were going to be as +disappointing as tepid water, when not aërated by her +counsel and piquant allusions, by her sprightly readiness +and the essential elements of her blue eyes, her +facile lips, and that bright hair which no dust could +dim.</p> +<p>After all she was distinctly feminine—bravely +feminine; and if she wished to flirt as a relief from +the cock-sure Daniel and the calm methods of her +Mormon guardians, why, let us beguile the way. I +should second with eyes open. That was accepted.</p> +<p>Moreover, something about her weighed upon me. +A consciousness of failing her, a woman, in emergency, +stung my self-respect. She had twitted me with +being “afraid”; afraid of her, she probably meant. +That I could pass warily. But she had said that she, +too, was afraid: “horribly afraid,” and an honest +shudder had attended upon the words as if a real +danger hedged. She had an intuition. The settled +convictions of my Gentile friends coincided. “With +Daniel in the Lion’s den”—that phrase repeated itself +persistent. She had uttered it in a fear accentuated +by a mirthless laugh. Could such a left-handed +wooer prove too much for her? Well, if she was +afraid of Daniel I was not and she should not think +so.</p> +<p>I could see her now and then, on before. She +rode upon the wagon seat of her self-appointed executor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +And I might see him and his paraded impertinences.</p> +<p>Except for the blowing of the animals and the +mechanical noises of the equipment the train subsided +into a dogged patience, while parched by the dust and +the thin dry air and mocked by the speeding construction +crews upon the iron rails it lurched westward at +two and a half miles an hour, for long hours outfaced +by the blinding sun.</p> +<p>Near the western edge of the plateau we made an +evening corral. After supper the sound of revolver +shots burst flatly from a mess beyond us, and startled. +Everything was possible, here in this lone horizon-land +where rough men, chafed by a hard day, were +gathered suddenly relaxed and idle. But the shots +were accompanied by laughter.</p> +<p>“They’re only tryin’ to spile a can,” Jenks reassured. +“By golly, we’ll go over and l’arn ’em a lesson.” +He glanced at me. “Time you loosened up +that weepon o’ yourn, anyhow. Purty soon it’ll stick +fast.”</p> +<p>I arose with him, glad of any diversion. The circle +had not yet formed at Hyrum’s fire.</p> +<p>“It strikes me as a useless piece of baggage,” said +I. “I bought it in Benton but I haven’t needed it. +I can kill a rattlesnake easier with my whip.”</p> +<p>“Wall,” he drawled, “down in yonder you’re liable +to meet up with a rattler too smart for your whip, +account of his freckles. ’Twon’t do you no harm to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +spend a few ca’tridges, so you’ll be ready for business.”</p> +<p>The men were banging, by turn, at a sardine can +set up on the sand about twenty paces out. Their +shadows stretched slantwise before them, grotesquely +lengthened by the last efforts of the disappearing sun. +Some aimed carefully from under pulled-down hat +brims; others, their brims flared back, fired quickly, +the instant the gun came to the level. The heavy +balls sent the loose soil flying in thick jets made golden +by the evening glow. But amidst the furrows the can +sat untouched by the plunging missiles.</p> +<p>We were greeted with hearty banter.</p> +<p>“Hyar’s the champeens!”</p> +<p>“Now they’ll show us.”</p> +<p>“Ain’t never see that pilgrim unlimber his gun yit, +but I reckon he’s a bad ’un.”</p> +<p>“Jenks, old hoss, cain’t you l’an that durned can +manners?”</p> +<p>“I’ll try to oblige you, boys,” friend Jenks smiled. +“What you thinkin’ to do: hit that can or plant a +lead mine?”</p> +<p>“Give him room. He’s made his brag,” they cried. +“And if he don’t plug it that pilgrim sure will.”</p> +<p>Mr. Jenks drew and took his stand; banged with +small preparation and missed by six inches—a fact +that brought him up wide awake, so to speak, badgered +by derision renewed. A person needs must have +a bull hide, to travel with a bull train, I saw. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span></p> +<p>“Gimme another, boys, and I’ll hit it in the nose,” +he growled sheepishly; but they shoved him aside.</p> +<p>“No, no. Pilgrim’s turn. Fetch on yore shootin’-iron, +young feller. Thar’s yore turkey. Show us +why you’re packin’ all that hardware.”</p> +<p>Willy-nilly I had to demonstrate my greenness; so +in all good nature I drew, and stood, and cocked, and +aimed. The Colt’s exploded with prodigious blast +and wrench—jerking, in fact, almost above head; +and where the bullet went I did not see, nor, I +judged, did anybody else.</p> +<p>“He missed the ’arth!” they clamored.</p> +<p>“No; I reckon he hit Montany ’bout the middle. +That’s whar he scored center!”</p> +<p>“Shoot! Shoot!” they begged. “Go ahead. +Mebbe you’ll kill an Injun unbeknownst. They’s a +pack o’ Sioux jest out o’ sight behind them hills.”</p> +<p>And I did shoot, vexed; and I struck the ground, +this time, some fifty yards beyond the can. Jenks +stepped from amidst the riotous laughter.</p> +<p>“Hold down on it, hold down, lad,” he urged. +“To hit him in the heart aim at his feet. Here! +Like this——” and taking my revolver he threw it +forward, fired, the can plinked and somersaulted, +lashed into action too late.</p> +<p>“By Gawd,” he proclaimed, “when I move like it +had a gun in its fist I can snap it. But when I think +on it as a can I lack guts.”</p> +<p>The remark was pat. I had seen several of the men +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +snip the head from a rattlesnake with a single offhand +shot—yes, they all carried their weapons easily +and wontedly. But the target of an immobile can +lacked in stimulation to concord of nerve and eye.</p> +<p>Now I shot again, holding lower and more firmly, +out of mere guesswork, and landed appreciably +closer although still within the zone of ridicule. And +somebody else shot, and somebody else, and another, +until we all were whooping and laughing and jesting, +and the jets flew as if from the balls of a mitrailleuse, +and the can rocked and gyrated, spurring us to haste +as it constantly changed the range. Presently it was +merely a twist of ragged tin. Then in the little silence, +as we paused, a voice spoke irritatingly.</p> +<p>“I ’laow yu fellers ain’t no great shucks at +throwin’ lead.”</p> +<p>Daniel stood by, with arms akimbo, his booted legs +braggartly straddled and his freckled face primed +with an intolerant grin at our recent efforts. My +Lady had come over with him. Raw-boned, angular, +cloddish but as strong as a mule, he towered over her +in a maddening atmosphere of proprietorship.</p> +<p>She smiled at me—at all of us: at me, swiftly; at +them, frankly. And I knew that she was still afraid.</p> +<p>“Reckon we don’t ask no advice, friend,” they answered. +Again a constraint enfolded, fastened upon +us by an unbidden guest. “Like as not you can do +better.”</p> +<p>Daniel laughed boisterously, his mouth widely open. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></p> +<p>“I couldn’t do wuss. I seen yu poppin’ at that can. +Hadn’t but one hole in it till yu all turned loose an’ +didn’t give it no chance. Haw haw! I ’laow for a +short bit I’d stand out in front o’ that greenie from +the States an’ let him empty two guns at me.”</p> +<p>“S’pose you do it,” friend Jenks promptly challenged. +“By thunder, I’ll hire ye with the ten cents, +and give him four bits if he hits you.”</p> +<p>“He wouldn’t draw on me, nohaow,” scoffed Daniel. +“I daren’t shoot for money, but I’ll shoot for +fun. Anybody want to shoot ag’in me?”</p> +<p>“Wasted powder enough,” they grumbled.</p> +<p>“Ever see me shoot?” He was eager. “I’ll show +ye somethin’. I don’t take back seat for ary man. +Yu set me up a can. That thar one wouldn’t jump to +a bullet.”</p> +<p>In sullen obedience a can was produced.</p> +<p>“How fur?”</p> +<p>“Fur as yu like.”</p> +<p>It was tossed contemptuously out; and watching it, +to catch its last roll, I heard Daniel gleefully yelp +“Out o’ my way, yu-all!”—half saw his hand dart +down and up again, felt the jar of a shot, witnessed +the can jump like a live thing; and away it went, with +spasm after spasm, to explosion after explosion, tortured +by him into fruitless capers until with the final +ball peace came to it, and it lay dead, afar across the +twilight sand.</p> +<p>Verily, by his cries and the utter savagery and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +malevolence of his bombardment, one would have +thought that he took actual lust in fancied cruelty.</p> +<p>“I ’laow thar’s not another man hyar kin do that,” +he vaunted.</p> +<p>There was not, judging by the silence again ensuing. +Only—</p> +<p>“A can’s a different proposition from a man, as I +said afore,” Jenks coolly remarked. “A can don’t +shoot back.”</p> +<p>“I don’t ’laow any man’s goin’ to, neither.” Daniel +reloaded his smoking revolver, bolstered it with a +flip; faced me in turning away. “That’s somethin’ +for yu to l’arn on, ag’in next time, young feller,” he +vouchsafed.</p> +<p>If he would have eyed me down he did not succeed. +His gaze shifted and he passed on, swaggering.</p> +<p>“Come along, Edna,” he bade. “We’ll be goin’ +back.”</p> +<p>A devil—or was it he himself?—twitted me, incited +me, and in a moment, with a gush of assertion, there I +was, saying to her, my hat doffed:</p> +<p>“I’ll walk over with you.”</p> +<p>“Do,” she responded readily. “We’re to have +more singing.”</p> +<p>The men stared, they nudged one another, grinned. +Daniel whirled.</p> +<p>“I ’laow yu ain’t been invited, Mister.”</p> +<p>“If Mrs. Montoyo consents, that’s enough,” I informed, +striving to keep steady. “I’m not walking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +with you, sir; I am walking with her. The only +ground you control is just in front of your own +wagon.”</p> +<p>“Yu’ve been told once thar ain’t no ‘Mrs. Montoyo,’” +he snarled. “And whilst yu’re l’arnin’ to +shoot yu’d better be l’arnin’ manners. Yu comin’ +with me, Edna?”</p> +<p>“As fast as I can, and with Mr. Beeson also, if he +chooses,” said she. “I have my manners in mind, +too.”</p> +<p>“By gosh, I don’t walk with ye,” he jawed. And +in a huff, like the big boy that he was, he flounced +about, vengefully striding on as though punishing her +for a misdemeanor.</p> +<p>She dropped the grinning group a little curtsy. A +demure sparkle was in her eyes.</p> +<p>“The entertainment is concluded, gentlemen. I +wish you good-night.”</p> +<p>Yet underneath her raillery and self-possession +there lay an appeal, the stronger because subtle and +unvoiced. It seemed to me every man must appreciate +that as a woman she invoked protection by him +against an impending something, of which she had +given him a glimpse.</p> +<p>So we left them somewhat subdued, gazing after +us, their rugged faces sobered reflectively.</p> +<p>“Shall we stroll?” she asked.</p> +<p>“With pleasure,” I agreed.</p> +<p>Daniel was angrily shouldering for the Mormon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +wagons, his indignant figure black against the western +glow. She laughed lightly.</p> +<p>“You’re not afraid, after all, I see.”</p> +<p>“Not of him, madam.”</p> +<p>“And of me?”</p> +<p>“I think I’m more afraid for you,” I confessed. +“That clown is getting insufferable. He sets out to +bully you. Damn him,” I flashed, with pardonable +flame, “and he ruffles at me on every occasion. In +fact, he seems to seek occasion. Witness this evening.”</p> +<p>“Witness this evening,” she murmured. “I’m +afraid, too. Yes,” she breathed, confronted by a portent, +“I’m afraid. I never have been afraid before. +I didn’t fear Montoyo. I’ve always been able to take +care of myself. But now, here——”</p> +<p>“You have your revolver?” I suggested.</p> +<p>“No, I haven’t. It’s gone. Mormon women don’t +carry revolvers.”</p> +<p>“They took it from you?”</p> +<p>“It’s disappeared.”</p> +<p>“But you’re not a Mormon woman.”</p> +<p>“Not yet.” She caught quick breath. “God forbid. +And sometimes I fear God willing. For I do +fear. You can’t understand. Those other men do, +though, I think. Do you know,” she queried, with +sudden glance, “that Daniel means to marry me?”</p> +<p>“He?” I gasped. “How so? With your—consent, +of course. But you’re not free; you have a husband.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +My gorge rose, regardless of fact. “You +scarcely expect me to congratulate you, madam. Still +he may have points.”</p> +<p>“Daniel?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I cannot +say. Pedro did. Most men have. Oh!” she +cried, impulsively stopping short. “Why don’t you +learn to shoot? Won’t you?”</p> +<p>“I’ve about decided to,” I admitted. “That appears +to be the saving accomplishment of everybody +out here.”</p> +<p>“Of everybody who stays. You must learn to +draw and to shoot, both. The drawing you will have +to practice by yourself, but I can teach you to +shoot. So can those men. Let me have your pistol, +please.”</p> +<p>I passed it to her. She was all in a flutter.</p> +<p>“You must grasp the handle firmly; cover it with +your whole palm, but don’t squeeze it to death; just +grip it evenly—tuck it away. And keep your elbow +down; and crook your wrist, in a drop, until your +trigger knuckle is pointing very low—at a man’s feet +if you’re aiming for his heart.”</p> +<p>“At his feet, for his heart?” I stammered. The +words had an ugly sound.</p> +<p>“Certainly. We are speaking of shooting now, +and not at a tin can. You have to allow for the jump +of the muzzle. Unless you hold it down with your +wrist, you over shoot; and it’s the first shot that +counts. Of course, there’s a feel, a knack. But +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +don’t aim with your eyes. You won’t have time. +Men file off the front sight—it sometimes catches, in +the draw. And it’s useless, anyway. They fire as +they point with the finger, by the feel. You see, they +<i>know</i>.”</p> +<p>“Evidently you do, too, madam,” I faltered, +amazed.</p> +<p>“Not all,” she panted. “But I’ve heard the talk; +I’ve watched—I’ve seen many things, sir, from +Omaha to Benton. Oh, I wish I could tell you more; +I wish I could help you right away. I meant, a dead-shot +with the revolver knows beforehand, in the draw, +where his bullet shall go. Some men are born to +shoot straight; some have to practice a long, long +while. I wonder which you are.”</p> +<p>“If there is pressing need in my case,” said I, “I +shall have to rely upon my friends to keep me from +being done for.”</p> +<p>“You?” she uttered, with a touch of asperity. +“Oh, yes. Pish, sir! Friends, I am learning, have +their own hides to consider. And those gentlemen of +yours are Gentiles with goods for Salt Lake Mormons. +Are they going to throw all business to the +winds?”</p> +<p>“You yourself may appeal to his father, and to the +women, for protection if that lout annoys you,” I ventured.</p> +<p>“To them?” she scoffed. “To Hyrum Adams’ +outfit? Why, they’re Mormons and good Mormons, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +and why should I not be made over? I’m under their +teachings; I am Edna, already; it’s time Daniel had a +wife—or two, for replenishing Utah. Rachael calls +me ’sister,’ and I can’t resent it. Good at heart as she +is, even she is convinced. Why,” and she laughed +mirthlessly, “I may be sealed to Hyrum himself, if +nothing worse is in store. Then I’ll be assured of a +seat with the saints.”</p> +<p>“You can depend upon me, then. I’ll protect you, +I’ll fight for you, and I’ll kill for you,” I was on the +point of roundly declaring; but didn’t. Her kind, I +remembered, had spelled ruin upon the pages of men +more experienced than I. Therefore out of that super-caution +born of Benton, I stupidly said nothing.</p> +<p>She had paused, expectant. She resumed.</p> +<p>“But no matter. Here I am, and here you are. +We were speaking of shooting. This is a lesson in +shooting, not in marrying, isn’t it? As to the pressing +need, you must decide. You’ve seen and heard +enough for that. I like you, sir; I respect your spirit +and I’m sorry I led you into misadventure. Now if +I may lend you a little something to keep you from +being shot like a dog, I’ll feel as though I had wiped +out your score against me. Take your gun.” I took +it, the butt warm from her clasp. “There he is. +Cover him!”</p> +<p>“Where?” I asked. “Who?”</p> +<p>“There, before you. Oh, anybody! Think of his +heart and cover him. I want to see you hold.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></p> +<p>I aimed, squinting.</p> +<p>“No, no! You’ll not have time to close an eye; +both eyes are none too many. And you are awkward; +you are stiff.” She readjusted my arm and +fingers. “That’s better. You see that little rock? +Hit it. Cock your weapon, first. Hold firmly, not +too long. There; I think you’re going to hit it, but +hold low, low, with the wrist. Now!”</p> +<p>I fired. The sand obscured the rock. She clapped +her hands, delighted.</p> +<p>“You would have killed him. No—he would have +killed you. Quick! Give it to me!”</p> +<p>And snatching the revolver she cocked, leveled and +fired instantly. The rock split into fragments.</p> +<p>“I would have killed him,” she murmured, gazing +tense, seeing I knew not what. Wrenching from the +vision she handed back the revolver to me. “I think +you’re going to do, sir. Only, you must learn to +draw. I can tell you but I can’t show you. The men +will. You must draw swiftly, decisively, without a +halt, and finger on trigger and thumb on hammer and +be ready to shoot when the muzzle clears the scabbard. +It’s a trick.”</p> +<p>“Like this?” I queried, trying.</p> +<p>“Partly. But it’s not a sword you’re drawing; it’s +a gun. You may draw laughing, if you wish to dissemble +for a sudden drop; they do, when they have +iron in their heart and the bullet already on its way, in +their mind. I mustn’t stay longer. Shall we go to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +the fire now? I am cold.” She shivered. “Daniel +is waiting. And when you’ve delivered me safe you’d +better leave me, please.”</p> +<p>“Why so?”</p> +<p>She smiled, looking me straight in the eyes.</p> +<p>“Quién sabe? To avoid a scene, perhaps; perhaps, +to postpone. I have an idea that it is better so. +You’ve baited Daniel far enough for to-night.”</p> +<p>We walked almost without speaking, to the Hyrum +Adams fire. Daniel lifted upper lip at me as we entered; +his eyes never wandered from my face. I +marked his right hand quivering stiffly; and I disregarded +him. For if I had challenged him by so much +as an overt glance he would have burst bonds.</p> +<p>Rachael’s eyes, the older woman’s eyes, the eyes of +all, men and women, curious, admonitory, hostile and +apprehensive, hot and cold together—these I felt also +amidst the dusk. I was distinctly unwelcome. Accordingly +I said a civil “Good-evening” to Hyrum +(whose response out of compressed lips was scarce +more than a grunt) and raising my hat to My Lady +turned my back upon them, for my own bailiwick.</p> +<p>The other men were waiting en route.</p> +<p>“Didn’t kill ye, did he?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Wall,” said one, “if you can swing a rattler by +the tail, all right. But watch his haid.”</p> +<p>Friend Jenks paced on with me to our fire.</p> +<p>“We were keepin’ cases on you, and so was he. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +He saw that practice—damn, how he did crane! She +was givin’ you pointers, eh?”</p> +<p>“Yes; she wanted amusement.”</p> +<p>“It’ll set Bonnie Bravo to thinkin’—it’ll shorely set +him to thinkin’,” Jenks chuckled, mouthing his pipe. +“She’s a smart one.” He comfortably rocked to and +fro as we sat by the fire. “Hell! Wall, if you got +to kill him you got to kill him and do it proper. For +if you don’t kill him he’ll kill you; snuff you out like +a—wall, you saw that can travel.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to kill him,” I pleaded. “Why +should I?”</p> +<p>Jenks sat silent; and sitting silent I foresaw that +kill Daniel I must. I was being sucked into it, +irrevocably willed by him, by her, by them all. If I +did not kill him in defense of myself I should kill him +in defense of her. Yet why I had to, I wondered; +but when I had bought my ticket for Benton I had +started the sequence, to this result. Here I was. As +she had said, here I was, and here she was. I might +not kill for love—no, not that; I was going to kill for +hate. And while I never had killed a man, and in +my heart of hearts did not wish to kill a man, since I +had to kill one, named Daniel, even though he was a +bully, a braggart and an infernal over-stepper it was +pleasanter to think that I should kill him in hot blood +rather than in cold.</p> +<p>Jenks spat, and yawned.</p> +<p>“I can l’arn you a few things; all the boys’ll help +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +you out,” he proffered, “When you git him you’ll +have to git him quick; for if you don’t—adios. But +we’ll groom ye.”</p> +<p>Could this really be I? Frank Beeson, not a fortnight +ago still living at jog-trot in dear Albany, New +York State? It was puzzling how detached and how +strong I felt.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_THE_TRAIL_NARROWS' id='XV_THE_TRAIL_NARROWS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>THE TRAIL NARROWS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Again we broke camp. We rolled down from the +plateau into that wizard basin lying all beautiful and +slumberous and spell-locked like some land of heart’s +desire. We replenished our water casks from the +tank cars, we swapped for a little feed, we occasionally +exchanged greetings with contractor outfits, +and with grading crews. In due time we passed end +o’ track, where a bevy of sweated men were moiling +like mad, clanging down the rails upon the hasty ties +and ever calling for more, more. I witnessed little +General “Jack” Casement of Ohio—a small man +with full russet beard and imperative bold blue eyes—teetering +and tugging at his whiskers and rampantly +swearing while he drove the work forward. And +we left end o’ track, vainly reaching out after us, +until the ring of the rails and the staccato of the +rapid sledges faded upon our ears.</p> +<p>Now we were following the long line of bare grade, +upturned reddish by the plows and scrapers and picks +and shovels; sometimes elevated, for contour, sometimes +merged with the desert itself. There the navvies +digged and delved, scarcely taking time to glance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +at us. And day by day we plodded in the interminable +clouds of desert dust raised by the supply +wagons.</p> +<p>Captain Hyrum fought shy of their camps. The +laborers were mainly Irish, trans-shipped from steerage, +dock, and Bowery, and imported from Western +mining centers; turbulent in their relaxations and +plentifully supplied with whiskey: companies, they, +not at all to the Mormon mind. Consequently we +halted apart from them—and well so, for those were +womanless camps and the daily stint bred strong appetites.</p> +<p>There were places where we made half circuit out +from the grade and abandoned it entirely. In this +way we escaped the dust, the rough talk, and the +temptations; now and again obtained a modicum of +forage in the shape of coarse weedy grasses at the +borders of sinks.</p> +<p>But it was a cruel country on men and beasts. Our +teamsters who had been through by the Overland +Trail said that the Bitter Creek desert was yet worse: +drier, barer, dustier and uglier. Nevertheless this was +our daily program:</p> +<p>To rise after a shivery night, into the crisp dawn +which once or twice glinted upon a film of ice formed +in the water buckets; to herd the stiffened animals and +place them convenient; to swallow our hot coffee and +our pork and beans, and flapjacks when the cooks +were in the humor; to hook the teams to the wagons +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +and break corral, and amidst cracking of lashes stretch +out into column, then to lurch and groan onward, at +snail’s pace, through the constantly increasing day until +soon we also were wrung and parched by a relentless +heat succeeding the frosty night.</p> +<p>The sleeping beauties of the realm were ever +farther removed. In the distances they awaited, luring +with promise of magic-invested azure battlements, +languid reds and yellows like tapestry, and patches of +liquid blue and dazzling snowy white, canopied by a +soft, luxurious sky. But when we arrived, near spent, +the battlements were only isolated sandstone outcrops +inhabited by rattlesnakes, the reds and yellows were +sun-baked soil as hard, the liquid blue was poisonous, +stagnant sinks, the snow patches were soda and bitter +alkali, the luxurious sky was the same old white-hot +dome, reflecting the blazing sun upon the fuming +earth.</p> +<p>Then at sunset we made corral; against theft, when +near the grade; against Indians and pillage when out +from the grade, with the animals under herd guard. +There were fires, there was singing at the Mormon +camp, there was the heavy sleep beneath blanket and +buffalo robe, through the biting chill of a breezeless +night, the ground a welcomed bed, the stars vigilant +from horizon to horizon, the wolves stalking and bickering +like avid ghouls.</p> +<p>So we dulled to the falsity of the desert and the +drudgery of the trail; and as the grading camps +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +became less frequent the men grew riper for any diversion. +That My Lady and Daniel and I were to furnish +it seemed to be generally accepted. Here were +the time-old elements: two men, one woman—elements +so constituted that in other situation they might +have brought comedy but upon such a trail must and +should pronounce for tragedy, at least for true melodrama.</p> +<p>Besides, I was expected to uphold the honor of our +Gentile mess along with my own honor. That was +demanded; ever offered in cajolery to encourage my +pistol practice. I was, in short, “elected,” by an obsession +equal to a conviction; and what with her insistently +obtruded as a bonus I never was permitted +to lose sight of the ghastly prize of skill added to +merit.</p> +<p>At first the matter had disturbed and horrified me +mightily, to the extent that I anticipated evading the +issue while preparing against it. Surely this was the +current of a prankish dream. And dreams I had—frightfully +tumultuous dreams, of red anger and redder +blood, sometimes my own blood, sometimes another’s; +dreams from which I awakened drenched in +cold nightmare sweat.</p> +<p>To be infused, even by bunkum and banter, with +the idea of killing, is a sad overthrow of sane balance. +I would not have conceived the thing possible to me a +month back. But the monotonous desert trail, the +close companying with virile, open minds, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +strict insistence upon individual rights—yes, and the +irritation of the same faces, the same figures, the same +fare, the same labor, the same scant recreations, all +worked as poison, to depress and fret and stimulate +like alternant chills and fever.</p> +<p>Practice I did, if only in friendly emulation of the +others, as a pass-the-time. I improved a little in +drawing easily and firing snap-shot. The art was +good to know, bad to depend upon. In the beginnings +it worried me as a sleight-of-hand, until I saw +that it was the established code and that Daniel himself +looked to no other.</p> +<p>In fact, he pricked me on, not so much by word as +by manner, which was worse. Since that evening +when, in the approving parlance of my friends, I had +“cut him out” by walking with her to the Adams fire, +we had exchanged scarcely a word; he ruffled about at +his end of the train and mainly in his own precincts, +and I held myself in leash at mine, with self-consciousness +most annoying to me.</p> +<p>But his manner, his manner—by swagger and covert +sneer and ostentatious triumph of alleged possession +emanating an unwearied challenge to my manhood. +My revolver practice, I might mark, moved +him to shrugs and flings; when he hulked by me he did +so with a stare and a boastful grin, but without other +response to my attempted “Howdy?”; now and again +he assiduously cleaned his gun, sitting out where I +should see even if I did not straightway look; in this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +he was most faithful, with sundry flourishes babying +me by thinking to intimidate.</p> +<p>Withal he gave me never excuse of ending him or +placating him, but shifted upon me the burden of +choosing time and spot.</p> +<p>Once, indeed, we near had it. That was on an +early morning. He was driving in a yoke of oxen +that had strayed, and he stopped short in passing +where I was busied with gathering our mules.</p> +<p>“Say, Mister, I want a word with yu,” he demanded.</p> +<p>“Well, out with it,” I bade; and my heart began to +thump. Possibly I paled, I know that I blinked, the +sun being in my eyes.</p> +<p>He laughed, and spat over his shoulder, from the +saddle.</p> +<p>“Needn’t be skeered. I ain’t goin’ to hurt ye. I +’laow yu expected to make up to that woman, didn’t +yu, ’fore this?”</p> +<p>“What woman?” I encouraged; but I was wondering +if my revolver was loose.</p> +<p>“Edna. ’Cause if yu did, ’tain’t no use, Mister. +Why,” indulgently, “yu couldn’t marry her—yu +couldn’t marry her no more’n yu could kill me. Yu’re +a Gentile, an’ yu’d be bustin’ yore own laws. But +thar ain’t no Gentile laws for the Lord’s an’inted; so +I thought I’d tell yu I’m liable to marry her myself. +Yu’ve kep’ away from her consider’ble; this is to tell +yu yu mought as well keep keepin’ away.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span></p> +<p>“I sha’n’t discuss Mrs. Montoyo with you, sir,” I +broke, cold, instead of hot, watching him very narrowly +(as I had been taught to do), my hand nerved +for the inevitable dart. “But I am her friend—her +friend, mind you; and if she is in danger of being imposed +upon by you, I stand ready to protect her. For +I want you to know that I’m not afraid of you, day or +night. Why, you low dog——!” and I choked, itching +for the crisis.</p> +<p>He gawked, reddening; his right hand quivered; +and to my chagrin he slowly laughed, scanning +me.</p> +<p>“I seen yu practicin’. Go ahead. I wouldn’t kill +yu <i>naow</i>. Or if yu want practice in ’arnest, start to +draw.” He waited a moment, in easy insolence. I +did not draw. “Let yore dander cool. Thar’s no use +yu tryin’ to buck the Mormons. I’ve warned ye.” +And he passed on, cracking his lash.</p> +<p>Suddenly I was aware that, as seemed, every eye in +the camp had been fastened upon us two. My fingers +shook while with show of nonchalance I resumed adjusting +the halters.</p> +<p>“Gosh! Looked for a minute like you and him +was to have it out proper,” Jenks commented, matter +of fact, when I came in. “Hazin’ you a bit, was he? +What’d he say?”</p> +<p>“He warned me to keep away from Mrs. Montoyo. +Went so far as to lay claim to her himself, the whelp. +Boasted of it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span></p> +<p>“Throwed it in your face, did he? Wall, you +goin’ to let him cache her away?”</p> +<p>“Look here,” I said desperately, still a-tremble: +“Why do you men put that up to me? Why do you +egg me on to interfere? She’s no more to me than +she is to you. Damn it, I’ll take care of myself but +I don’t see why I should shoulder her, except that +she’s a woman and I won’t see any woman mistreated.”</p> +<p>He pulled his whiskers, and grinned.</p> +<p>“Dunno jest how fur you’re elected. Looks like +there was something between you and her—though I +don’t say for shore. But she’s your kind; she may be +a leetle devil, but she’s your kind—been eddicated and +acts the lady. She ain’t our kind. Thunderation! +What’d we do with her? She’d be better off marryin’ +Dan’l. He’d give her a home. If you hadn’t been +with this train I don’t believe she’d have follered in. +That’s the proposition. You got to fight him anyway; +he’s set out to back you down. It’s your fracas, +isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“I know it,” I admitted. “He’s been ugly toward +me from the first, without reason.”</p> +<p>“Reckoned to amuse himself. He’s one o’ them +fellers that think to show off by ridin’ somebody they +think they can ride. The boys hate to see you lay +down to that; for you’d better call him and eat lead +or else quit the country. So you might as well give +him a full dose and take the pot.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></p> +<p>“What pot?”</p> +<p>“The woman, o’ course.”</p> +<p>“I tell you, Mrs. Montoyo has nothing to do with +it, any more than any woman. It’s a matter between +him and me—he began it by jeering at me before she +appeared. I want her left out of it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, pshaw!” Jenks scoffed. “That can’t be did. +He’s fetched her into it. What do you aim to do, +then? Dodge her? When you’re dodgin’ her you’re +dodgin’ him, or so he’ll take it.”</p> +<p>“I’ll not dodge him, you can bet on that,” I vowed. +“I don’t seek her, nor him; but I shall not go out of +my way to avoid either of them.”</p> +<p>“And when you give him his dose, what’ll you +do?”</p> +<p>“If that is forced upon me, nothing. It will be in +defense of my rights, won’t it? But I don’t want any +further trouble with him. I hope to God I won’t +have.”</p> +<p>“Shore,” Jenks soothed. “You’re not a killer. +All the same, you’re elected; he began it and you’ll +have to finish it. Then you’ll needs look out for +yourself and her too, for he’s made her the stakes.”</p> +<p>“Why will I?”</p> +<p>“Got to. The hull train thinks so, one way or +t’other, and you’re white.”</p> +<p>“She can stay with the Mormons, if she wants +to.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes; if she wants to. But do you reckon she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +does? Not much! She’s lookin’ to you—she’s +lookin’ to you. She’s a smart leetle piece—knows +how to play her cards, and she’s got you and Dan’l +goin’.”</p> +<p>“But she’s married. You can’t expect——”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” he wagged again, interrupting. “Shore. +There’s Montoyo. I don’t envy you your job, but +damn’ if you mightn’t work harder and do wuss. +She’s a clipper, and I never did hear anything +’specially bad of her, beyond cappin’. Whoa, +Jinny!”</p> +<p>I wrathfully cogitated. Now I began to hate her. +I was a tool to her hand, once more, was I? And +how had it come about? She had not directly besought +me to it—not by word. Daniel had decreed, +and already our antagonism had been on. And I had +defied him—naturally. He should not bilk me of +free movement. But the issue might, on the face of +it, appear to be she. As I tugged at the harness, under +breath I cursed the scurvy turn of events; and in +seeking to place the blame found amazing cleverness +in her. Just the same, I was not going to kill him for +her account; never, never! And I wished to the deuce +that she’d kept clear of me.</p> +<p>Jenks was speaking.</p> +<p>“So the fust chance you get you might as well walk +straight into him, call him all the names you can lay +tongue to, and when he makes a move for his gun +beat him to the draw and come up shootin’. Then +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +it’ll be over with. The longer it hangs, the less peace +you’ll have; for you’ve got to do it sooner or later. +It’s you or him.”</p> +<p>“Not necessarily,” I faltered. “There may be another +way.”</p> +<p>“There ain’t, if you’re a he critter on two legs,” +snapped Jenks. “Not in this country or any other +white man’s country; no, nor in red man’s country +neither. What you do back in the States, can’t say. +Trust in pray’r, mebbe.”</p> +<p>Nevertheless I determined to make a last effort +even at the risk of losing caste. In the reaction from +the pressure of that recent encounter when I might +have killed, but didn’t, I again had a spell of fierce, +sick protest against the rôle being foisted upon me—foisted, +I could see, by her machinations as well as by +his animosity. The position was too false to be +borne. There was no joy in it, no zest, no adequate +reward. Why, in God’s name, should I be sentenced +to have blood upon my hands and soul? Surely I +might be permitted to stay clean.</p> +<p>Therefore this evening immediately after corral +was formed I sought out Captain Adams, as master +of the train; and disregarding the gazes that followed +me and that received me I spoke frankly, here at his +own wagon, without preliminary.</p> +<p>“Daniel and I appear to be at outs, sir,” I said. +“Why, I do not know, except that he seems to have +had a dislike for me from the first day. If he’ll let +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +me alone I’ll let him alone. I’m not one to look for +trouble.”</p> +<p>His heavy face, with those thick pursed lips and +small china blue eyes, changed not a jot.</p> +<p>“Daniel will take care of himself.”</p> +<p>“That is his privilege,” I answered. “I am not +here to question his rights, Captain, as long as he +keeps within them; but I don’t require of him to take +care of me also. If he will hold to his own trail I’ll +hold to mine, and I assure you there’ll be no trouble.”</p> +<p>“Daniel will take care of himself, I say,” he reiterated. +“Yes, and look after all that belongs to him, +stranger. There’s no use threatening Daniel. What +he does he does as servant of the Lord and he fears +naught.”</p> +<p>“Neither do I, sir,” I retorted hotly. “One may +wish to avoid trouble and still not fear it. I have not +come to you with complaint. I merely wish to explain. +You are captain of the train and responsible +for its conduct. I give you notice that I shall defend +myself against insult and annoyance.”</p> +<p>I turned on my heel—sensed poised forms and inquiring +faces; and his booming voice stayed me.</p> +<p>“A moment, stranger. Your talk is big. What +have you to do with this woman Edna?”</p> +<p>“With Mrs. Montoyo? What I please, if it pleases +her, sir. If she claims your protection, very good. +Should she claim mine, she’ll have it.” And there, +confound it, I had spoken. “But with this, Daniel +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +has nothing to do. I believe that the lady you mention +is simply your present guest and my former acquaintance.”</p> +<p>“You err,” he thundered, darkening. “You cannot +be expected to see the light. But I say to you, +keep away, keep away. I will have no gallivanting, +no cozening and smiling and prating and distracting. +She must be nothing to you. Never can be, never +shall be. Her way is appointed, the instrument +chosen, and as a sister in Zion she shall know you not. +Now get you gone——” a favorite expression of his. +“Get you gone, meddle not hereabouts, and I’ll see to +it that you are spared from harm.”</p> +<p>Surprising myself, and perhaps him, I gazed full at +him and laughed without reserve or irritation.</p> +<p>“Thank you, Captain,” I heard myself saying. “I +am perfectly capable of self-protection. And I expect +to remain a friend of Mrs. Montoyo as long as +she permits me. For your bluster and Daniel’s I care +not a sou. In fact, I consider you a pair of damned +body-snatchers. Good-evening.”</p> +<p>Then out I stormed, boiling within, reckless of opposition—even +courting it; but met none, Daniel least +of all (for he was elsewhere), until as I passed on +along the lined-up wagons I heard my name uttered +breathlessly.</p> +<p>“Mr. Beeson.”</p> +<p>It was not My Lady; her I had not glimpsed. The +gentle English girl Rachael had intercepted me. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +stood between two wagons, whither she had hastened.</p> +<p>“You will be careful?”</p> +<p>“How far, madam?”</p> +<p>“Of yourself, and for her. Oh, be careful. You +can gain nothing.”</p> +<p>Her face and tone entreated me. She was much in +earnest, the roses of her round cheeks paled, her hands +clasped.</p> +<p>“I shall only look out for myself,” said I. “That +seems necessary.”</p> +<p>“You should keep away from our camp, and from +Daniel. There is nothing you can do. You—if you +could only understand.” Her hands tightened upon +each other. “Won’t you be careful? More careful? +For I know. You cannot interfere; there is no way. +You but run great risk. Sister Edna will be happy.”</p> +<p>“Did she send you, madam?” I asked.</p> +<p>“N-no; yes. Yes, she wishes it. Her place has +been found. The Lord so wills. We all are happy +in Zion, under the Lord. Surely you would not try +to interfere, sir?”</p> +<p>“I have no desire to interfere with the future happiness +of Mrs. Montoyo,” I stiffly answered. “She +is not the root of the business between Daniel and me, +although he would have it appear so. And you yourself, +a woman, are satisfied to have her forced into +Mormonism?”</p> +<p>“She has been living in sin, sir. The truth is appointed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +only among the Latter Day Saints. We have +the book and the word—the Gentile priests are not +ordained of the Lord for laying on of hands. In +Zion Edna shall be purged and set free; there she +shall be brought to salvation. Our bishops, perhaps +Brigham Young himself, will show her the way. But +no woman in Zion is married without consent. The +Lord directs through our prophets. Oh, sir, if you +could only see!”</p> +<p>An angel could not have pleaded more sweetly. To +have argued with her would have been sacrilege, for +I verily believed that she was pure of heart.</p> +<p>“There is nothing for me to say, madam,” I responded. +“As far as I can do so with self-respect I +will avoid Daniel. I certainly shall not intrude upon +your party, or bother Mrs. Montoyo. But if Daniel +brings trouble to me I will hand it back to him. +That’s flat. He shall not flout me out of face. It +rests with him whether we travel on peacefully or not. +And I thank you for your interest.”</p> +<p>“I will pray for you,” she said simply. “Good-bye, +sir.”</p> +<p>She withdrew, hastening again, sleek haired, round +figured, modest in her shabby gown. I proceeded to +the outfit with a new sense of disease. If she—if +Mrs. Montoyo really had yielded, if she were out of +the game—but she never had been in it; not to me. +And still I conned the matter over and over, vainly +convincing myself that the situation had cleared. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +Notwithstanding all my effort, I somehow felt that an +incentive had vanished, leaving a gap. The affair +now had simmered down to plain temper and tit for +tat. I championed nothing, except myself.</p> +<p>Why, with her submissive, in a fracas I might be +working hurt to her, beyond the harm to him. But +she be hanged, as to that phase of it. I had been led +on so far that there was no solution save as Daniel +turned aside. Heaven knows that the matter would +have been sordid enough had it focused upon a gambler’s +wife; and here it looked only prosaic. Thus +viewing it I fought an odd disappointment in myself, +coupled with a keener disappointment in her.</p> +<p>“You talked to Hyrum, I see,” Jenks commented.</p> +<p>“I did.”</p> +<p>“’Bout Dan’l, mebbe?”</p> +<p>“I wanted to make plain that the business is none +of my seeking. Hyrum is wagon master.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t get any satisfaction, I’ll bet.”</p> +<p>“No. On the contrary.”</p> +<p>“I could have told you you’d be wastin’ powder.”</p> +<p>“At any rate,” I informed, “Mrs. Montoyo is entirely +out of the matter. She never was in it except +as she was entitled to protection, but now she requires +no further notice.”</p> +<p>“How so?”</p> +<p>“That is her wish. She sent me word by Rachael.”</p> +<p>“She did? Wall?” He eyed me. “You swaller that?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></p> +<p>“Willingly.” And I swallowed my bitterness also.</p> +<p>“Means to marry him, does she?”</p> +<p>“Rachael did not say as to that. Rather, she gave +me to understand that a way would be found to release +Mrs. Montoyo from Benton connections, but +that no woman in Utah is obliged to marry. Is that +true?”</p> +<p>“Um-m.” Jenks rubbed his beard. “Wall, they +do say Brigham Young is ag’in promisc’yus swappin’, +and things got to be done straight, ’cordin’ to the +faith. But an unjined female in the church is a powerful +lonely critter. Sticks out like a sore thumb. +They read the Bible at her plenty. Um-m,” mused +he. “I don’t put much stock in that yarn you bring +me. There’s a nigger in the wood-pile, but he ain’t +black. What you goin’ to do about it?”</p> +<p>“Nothing. It’s not my concern. Now if Daniel +will mind his affairs I’ll continue to mind mine.”</p> +<p>“Wall, Zion’s a long way off yet,” quoth friend +Jenks. “I don’t look to see you or she get there—nor +Dan’l either.”</p> +<p>He being stubborn, I let him have the last word; +did not seek to develop his views. But his contentious +harping shadowed like an omen.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_I_DO_THE_DEED' id='XVI_I_DO_THE_DEED'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>I DO THE DEED</h3> +</div> + +<p>We had camped well beyond a last bunch of the +red-shirted graders, so that the thread of a trail +wended before, lonely, sand-obscured, leading apparently +nowhere, through this desert devoid of human +life. Line stakes of the surveyors denoted the grade; +but the surveyors’ work was done, here. Rush orders +from headquarters had sent them all westward still, +to set their final stakes across other deserts and across +the mountains, clear to Ogden at the north end of the +Salt Lake itself.</p> +<p>Seemingly we had cut loose and were more than +ever a world to ourselves. The country had grown +sterile beneath ordinary, if possible; and our thoughts +and talk would have been sterile also were it not for +that one recurrent topic which kept them quick. In +these journeyings men seize upon little things and +magnify them; discuss and rediscuss a phase until +launched maybe as an empty joke it returns freighted +with tragedy.</p> +<p>However, now that once My Lady had eliminated +herself from my field I did not see but that Daniel and +I might taper off into at least an armed neutrality. +If he continued to nag me, it would be wholly of his +own free will. He had no grievance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></p> +<p>Then in case that I did kill him—if kill him I must +(and that eventuality hung over me like the sword of +Damocles) I should be not ashamed to tell even my +mother. In this I took what small comfort I might.</p> +<p>I had not spoken at length with Mrs. Montoyo for +several days. We had exchanged merely civil greetings. +To-day I did not see her during the march; +did not attempt to see her—did not so much as curiously +glance her way, being content to let well enough +alone, although aware that my care might be misinterpreted +as a token of fear. But as to proving the case +against me, Daniel was at liberty to experiment with +the status in quo.</p> +<p>Toward evening we climbed a second wide, flat +divide. We were leaving the Red Basin, they said, +and about to cross into the Bitter Creek Plains, which, +according to the talk, were “a damned sight wuss!” +Somewhere in the Bitter Creek Plains our course met +the course of the Overland Stage road, trending up +from the south for the passage of the Green River at +the farther edge of the Plains.</p> +<p>I had only faint hope that Mrs. Montoyo would be +delivered over to the stage there. It scarcely would +be her wish. We were destined to travel on to Salt +Lake City together—she, Daniel and I.</p> +<p>If the Red Basin had been bad and if the Bitter +Creek Plains were to be worse, assuredly this plateau +was limbo: a gray, bleak, wind-swept elevation fairly +level and extending, in elevation perceptible mainly by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +the vista, as far as eye might see, northward and +southward, separating basin from basin—one Hell, as +Jenks declared, from the other.</p> +<p>Nevertheless there was a wild grandeur in the site, +flooded all with crimson as the sun sank in the clear +western sky beyond the Plains themselves, so that our +plateau was still bathed in ruddy color when the Red +Basin upon the one hand had deepened to purple and +the white blotches of soda and alkali down in the +Plains upon the other hand gleamed evilly in a tenuous +gloaming.</p> +<p>We had corralled adjacent to another tainted pond, +of which the animals refused to drink but which furnished +a little rank forage for them and an oasis for a +half dozen ducks. A pretty picture these made, too, +as they lightly sat the open water, burnished to brass +by the sunset so that the surface shimmered iridescent, +its ripples from the floating bodies flowing molten +in all directions.</p> +<p>After supper I took the notion to go over there, in +the twilight, on idle exploration. Water of any kind +had an appeal; a solitary pond always has; the ducks +brought thoughts of home. Many a teal and widgeon +and canvasback had fallen to my double-barreled +Manton, back on the Atlantic coast—very long ago, +before I had got entangled in this confounded web of +misadventure and homicidal tendencies.</p> +<p>To the pond I went, mood subdued. It set slightly +in a cup; and when I had emerged from a little swale +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +or depression that I had followed, attracted by the +laughter of children playing at the marge, whom +should I see, approaching on line diagonal, but Mrs. +Montoyo—her very hair and form—coming in likewise, +perhaps with errand similar to mine: simple inclination.</p> +<p>And that (again perhaps) was a mutual surprise, +indeed awkward to me, for we both were in plain +sight from the camp. Certainly I could not turn off, +nor turn back. Not now. It was make or break. +Hesitate I did, with involuntary action of muscles; I +thought that she momentarily hesitated; then I drove +on, defiant, and so did she. The fates were resolved +that there should be no dilly-dallying by the principals +chosen for this drama that they had staged.</p> +<p>Our obstinate paths met at the base of a small point +white with alkali, running shortly into the sedges. +Had we timed by agreement beforehand we could not +have acted with more precision. So here we halted, +in narrow quarters, either willing but unable to yield +to the other.</p> +<p>She smiled. I thought that she looked thinner.</p> +<p>“An unexpected pleasure, Mr. Beeson. At least, +for me. It has been some days.”</p> +<p>“I believe it has,” I granted. “Shall I pass +on?”</p> +<p>“You might have turned aside.”</p> +<p>“And so,” I reminded, “might you.”</p> +<p>“But I didn’t care to.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></p> +<p>“Neither did I, madam. The pond is free to all.”</p> +<p>I was conscious that a hush seemed to have gripped +the whole camp, so that even the animals had ceased +bawling. The children near us stared, eyes and +mouths open.</p> +<p>“You have kept away from me purposely?” she +asked. “I do not blame your discretion.”</p> +<p>“I am not courting trouble. And as long as you +are contented yonder——”</p> +<p>“I contented?” She drew up, paling. “Why do +you say that, when you must know.” She laughed +weakly. “I am still for the Lion’s den.”</p> +<p>“You have become more reconciled—I’ve been requested +not to interfere.”</p> +<p>“You? Without doubt. By Daniel, by Captain +Adams, likely by others. More than requested, I +fancy. And you do perfectly right to avoid trouble +if possible. In fact, you can leave me now and continue +your walk, sir, with no reproaches. Believe me, +I shall not drag you farther into my affairs.”</p> +<p>“Daniel and Captain Adams have no weight with +me, madam,” I stammered. “But when you yourself +requested——”</p> +<p>“That was merely for the time being. I asked you +to leave me at the fire because I felt sure that Daniel +would kill you.”</p> +<p>“But yesterday evening—I refer to yesterday,” I +corrected. “You sent me word, following my talk +with Hyrum.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span></p> +<p>“I did not.”</p> +<p>“Not by Rachael?”</p> +<p>“No, sir.”</p> +<p>“I so understood. I thought that she intimated as +much. She said that you were to be happy; were already +content. And that I would only be making +you trouble if I continued our acquaintance.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Rachael.” She smiled with sudden softness. +“Rachael cannot understand, either. I’m sure +she intended well, poor soul. Were they all like +Rachael—— But I had no knowledge of her talk +with you. Anyway, please leave me if you feel disposed. +Whether I marry Daniel or not should be no +concern of yours. I shall have to find my own trail +out. Look! There go the ducks. I came down to +watch them. Now neither of us has any excuse for +staying. Good——”</p> +<p>The hush had tightened into a strange pent stillness +like the poise of earth and sky and beast and bird just +before the breaking of a great and lowering storm. +The quick clatter of the ducks’ wings somehow +alarmed me—the staring of the children, their eyes +directed past us, sharpened my senses for a new +focus. And glancing, I witnessed Daniel nearing—striding +rapidly, straight for the point, a figure portentous +in the fading glow, bringing the storm with +him.</p> +<p>She saw, too. Her eyes widened, startled, surveying +not him, but me. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span></p> +<p>“Please go. At once! I’ll keep him.”</p> +<p>“It is too late now,” I asserted, in voice not mine. +“I am here first and I’ll go when I get ready.”</p> +<p>“You mean to face him?”</p> +<p>“I mean to hear what he has to say, and learn what +he intends to do. I don’t see any other way—unless +you really wish me to go?”</p> +<p>“No, no!” cried My Lady. “I don’t want you to +be harmed; but oh, how I have suffered.” All her +countenance was suffused—with anger, with shame, +and even with hope. She trembled, gazing at me, and +fluctuant.</p> +<p>“So have I, madam,” said I, grimly.</p> +<p>“I think,” she remarked in quiet tone, “that in a +show-down you will best him. I’m sure of it; yes, I +know it. You will play the man. You act cool. +Good! Watch him very close. He’ll give you little +grace, this time. But remember this: I’ll never, +never, never marry him. Rather than be bound to +him I’ll deal with him myself.”</p> +<p>“It won’t be necessary, madam,” said I—a catch +in my throat; for while I was all iciness and clamminess, +my hands cold and my tongue dry, I felt that I +was going to kill him at last. Something told me; the +sheer horror of it struck through; the inevitable +loomed grisly and near indeed.</p> +<p>A panoramic lifetime crowds the brain of a +drowning man; that same crowded my brain during +the few moments which swung in to us Daniel, scowling, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +masterful, his raw bulk and his long shambling +stride never before so insolent.</p> +<p>From New York and home and peace I traveled +clear here to desert, outlawry and blood—and thence +on through a second life as a marked man; but while +I knew very well where I should shoot him (right +through the heart), I turned over and over the one +doubtful pass: where would he shoot me? Shoot me +he would—chest, shoulder, arm, head; I could not escape, +did not hope to escape. Yet no matter where +his ball ploughed (and I poignantly felt it enter and +sear me) my final bullet would end the match. Also, +I argued my rights in the business; argued them before +my father and mother, before the camp, before +the world.</p> +<p>These thoughts which precede a certain duel to the +death are not inspiring thoughts; since then I have +learned that other men, even practiced gun-men, have +had the same trepidation to the instant of pulling +weapon.</p> +<p>Daniel charged in for us. I did not touch revolver +butt; he did not. My Lady lifted chin, to receive +him. My eyes, fastened upon him, noted her, and +noted, beyond us, the spying visages of the camp folk, +all turned our way, transfixed and agog.</p> +<p>He barked first at her.</p> +<p>“Go whar yu belong, yu Jezebel! Then I’ll tend +to this——” The rabid epithet leveled at me I +shall not repeat. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></p> +<p>She straightened whitely.</p> +<p>“Be careful what you say, Daniel. No man on +this earth can speak to me like that.”</p> +<p>All his face flushed livid with a sneer, merging together +yellow freckles and tanned skin.</p> +<p>“Can’t, can’t he? I kin an’ I do. Why yu—yu—yu +reckon yu kin shame me ’fore that hull train? Yu +sneak out this-away, meetin’ this spindle-shank, no-’count +States greenie who hain’t sense enough to +swing a bull whip an’ ain’t man enough to draw a +gun? I’ve told yu an’ I’m done tellin’ yu. Now yu +git. I’ve stood yore fast an’ loose plenty. I mean +business. Git! Whar yu’ll be safe. I’ll not hold +off much longer.”</p> +<p>“You threaten <i>me</i>?”</p> +<p>Her blue eyes were blazing above a spot of color in +either cheek—with a growl he took a step, so that she +shrank from his clutching hand, its scarred, burly fingers +outcurved. And the time, perhaps the very moment +had arrived. I must, I must.</p> +<p>“No more of that, you brute,” I uttered, while my +pounding heart flooded me with a cold, tingling +stream. “If you have anything to say, say it to me.”</p> +<p>He whirled.</p> +<p>“Yu! Why, yu leetle piece o’ nothin’—yu shut +up!” By sudden reach he gripped her arm; to her +sharp, short scream he thrust her about.</p> +<p>“Git! I’m boss hyar.” And at me: “What yu +goin’ to do? She’s promised to me. I’m takin’ keer +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +of her; she’s rode on my wagon; an’ naow yu think to +toll her off? Yu meet her ag’in right under my nose +arter I’ve warned yu? Git, yoreself, or I’ll stomp on +yu like on a louse.”</p> +<p>Absolutely, hot tears of mortification, of bitter +injury, showed in his glaring eyes. He was but a big +boy, after all.</p> +<p>“Our meeting here was entirely by accident,” I answered. +“Mrs. Montoyo had no expectation of seeing +me, nor I of seeing her. You’re making a fool of +yourself.”</p> +<p>He burst, red, quivering, insensate.</p> +<p>“Yu’re a liar! Yu’re a sneakin’, thievin’ liar, like +all Gentiles. Yu’re both o’ yu liars. What’s she?” +And he spoke it, raving with insult. “But I’ll tame +her. She’ll be snatched from yu an’ yore kind. We’ll +settle naow. Yu’re a liar, I say. Yu gonna draw on +me? Draw, yu Gentile dog; for if I lay hands on yu +once——”</p> +<p>“Look out!” she gasped tensely. But she had +spoken late. That cold blood which had kept me in a +tremor and a wonderment, awaiting his pistol muzzle, +exploded into a seethe of heat almost blinding me. I +forgot instructions, I disregarded every movement +preliminary to the onset, I remembered only the criminations +and recriminations culminating here at last. +Bullets were too slow and easy. I did not see his revolver, +I saw but the hulk of him and the intolerable +sneer of him, and that his flesh was ready to my fingers. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +And quicker than his hand I was upon him, +into him, climbing him, clinging to him, arms binding +him, legs twining around his, each ounce of me greedy +to crush him down and master him.</p> +<p>The shock drove him backward. Again My Lady +screamed shortly; the children screamed. He proved +very strong. Swelling and tugging and cursing he +broke one grip, but I was fast to him, now with guard +against his holstered gun. We swayed and staggered, +grappling hither and thither. I had his arms pinioned +once more, to bend him. He spat into my face; and +shifting, set his teeth into my shoulder so that they +champed like the teeth of a horse, through shirt and +hide to the flesh. I raised him; his boots hammered +at my shins, his knee struck me in the stomach and for +an instant I sickened. Now I tripped him; we toppled +together, came to the ground with a thump. +Here we churned, while he flung me and still I stuck. +The acrid dust of the alkali enveloped us. Again he +spat, fetid—I sprawled upon him, smothering his +flailing arms; gave him all my weight and strength; +smelled the sweat of him, snarled into his snarling +face, close beneath mine.</p> +<p>Once he partially freed himself and buffeted me in +the mouth with his fist, but I caught him—while +struggling, tossed and upheaved, dimly saw that as +by a miracle we were surrounded by a ring of people, +men and women, their countenances pale, alarmed, +intent. Voices sounded in a dull roar. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span></p> +<p>Presently I had him crucified: his one outstretched +arm under my knees, his other arm tethered by my +two hands, my body across his chest, while his legs +threshed vainly. I looked down into his bulging +crooked eyes, glaring back presumably into my eyes, +and might draw breath.</p> +<p>“’Nuf? Cry ‘’Nuf,’” I bade.</p> +<p>“’Nuf! Say ‘’Nuf,’” echoed the crowd.</p> +<p>He strained again, convulsive; and relaxed.</p> +<p>“’Nuf!” he panted through bared teeth. “Lemme +up, Mister.”</p> +<p>“This settles it?”</p> +<p>“I said ‘’Nuf,’” he growled.</p> +<p>With quick movement I sprang clear of him, to my +feet. He lay for a moment, baleful, and slowly +scrambled up. On a sudden, as he faced me, his hand +shot downward—I heard the surge and shout of men +and women, to the stunning report of his revolver +ducked aside, felt my left arm jerk and sting—felt +my own gun explode in my hand (and how it came +there I did not know)—beheld him spin around and +collapse; an astonishing sight.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_THE_TRAIL_FORKS' id='XVII_THE_TRAIL_FORKS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>THE TRAIL FORKS</h3> +</div> + +<p>So there I stood, amidst silence, gaping foolishly, +breathing hard, my revolver smoking in my fingers +and my enemy in a shockingly prone posture at my +feet, gradually reddening the white of the torn soil. +He was upon his face, his revolver hand outflung. +He was harmless. The moment had arrived and +passed. I was standing here alive, I had killed him.</p> +<p>Then I heard myself babbling.</p> +<p>“Have I killed him? I didn’t want to. I tell you, +I didn’t want to.”</p> +<p>Figures rushed in between. Hands grasped me, +impelled me away, through a haze; voices spoke in my +ear while I feebly resisted, a warm salty taste in my +throat.</p> +<p>“I killed him. I didn’t want to kill him. He +made me do it. He shot first.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” they said, soothing gruffly. “Shore he +did; shore you didn’t. It’s all right. Come along, +come along.”</p> +<p>Then——</p> +<p>“Pick him up. He’s bad hurt, himself. See that +blood? No, ’tain’t his arm, is it? He’s bleedin’ internal. +Whar’s the hole? Wait! He’s busted +something.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></p> +<p>They would have carried me.</p> +<p>“No,” I cried, while their bearded faces swam. +“He said ‘’Nuf’—he shot me afterward. Not bad, +is it? I can walk.”</p> +<p>“Not bad. Creased you in the arm, if that’s all. +What you spittin’ blood for?”</p> +<p>As they hustled me onward I wiped my swollen +lips; the back of my hand seemed to be covered with +thin blood.</p> +<p>“Where he struck me, once,” I wheezed.</p> +<p>“Yes, mebbe so. But come along, come along. +We’ll tend to you.”</p> +<p>The world had grown curiously darkened, so that +we moved as through an obscuring veil; and I dumbly +wondered whether this was night (had it been morning +or evening when I started for the pond?) or +whether I was dying myself. I peered and again +made out the sober, stern faces hedging me, but they +gave me no answer to my mutely anxious query. +Across a great distance we stumbled by the wagons +(the same wagons of a time agone), and halted at a +fire.</p> +<p>“Set down. Fetch a blanket, somebody. Whar’s +the water? Set down till we look you over.”</p> +<p>I let them sit me down.</p> +<p>“Wash your mouth out.”</p> +<p>That was done, pinkish; and a second time, clearer.</p> +<p>“You’re all right.” Jenks apparently was ministering +to me. “Swaller this.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span></p> +<p>The odor of whiskey fumed into my nostrils. I +obediently swallowed, and gasped and choked. Jenks +wiped my face with a sopping cloth. Hands were +rummaging at my left arm; a bandage being wound +about.</p> +<p>“Nothin’ much,” was the report. “Creased him, +is all. Lucky he dodged. It was comin’ straight for +his heart.”</p> +<p>“He’s all right,” Jenks again asserted.</p> +<p>Under the bidding of the liquor the faintness from +the exertion and reaction was leaving me. The slight +hemorrhage from the strain to my weak lungs had +ceased. I would live, I would live. But he—Daniel?</p> +<p>“Did I kill him?” I besought. “Not that! I +didn’t aim—I don’t know how I shot—but I had to. +Didn’t I?”</p> +<p>“You did. He’ll not bother you ag’in. She’s +yourn.”</p> +<p>That hurt.</p> +<p>“But it wasn’t about her, it wasn’t over Mrs. Montoyo. +He bullied me—dared me. We were man to +man, boys. He made me fight him.”</p> +<p>“Yes, shore,” they agreed—and they were not believing. +They still linked me with a woman, whereas +she had figured only as a transient occasion.</p> +<p>Then she herself, My Lady, appeared, running in +breathless and appealing.</p> +<p>“Is Mr. Beeson hurt? Badly? Where is he? Let +me help.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></p> +<p>She knelt beside me, her hand grasped mine, she +gazed wide-eyed and imploring.</p> +<p>“No, he’s all right, ma’am.”</p> +<p>“I’m all right, I assure you,” I mumbled thickly, +and helpless as a babe to the clinging of her cold fingers.</p> +<p>“How’s the other man?” they abruptly asked.</p> +<p>“I don’t know. He was carried away. But I +think he’s dead. I hope so—oh, I hope so. The +coward, the beast!”</p> +<p>“There, there,” they quieted. “That’s all over +with. What he got is his own business now. He +hankered for it and was bound to have it. You’d +best stay right hyar a spell. It’s the place for you at +present.”</p> +<p>They grouped apart, on the edge of the flickering +fire circle. The dusk had heightened apace (for +nightfall this really was), the glow and flicker barely +touched their blackly outlined forms, the murmur of +their voices sounded ominous. In the circle we two +sat, her hand upon mine, thrilling me comfortably yet +abashing me. She surveyed me unwinkingly and +grave—a triumph shining from her eyes albeit there +were seamy shadows etched into her white face. It +was as though she were welcoming me through the +outposts of hell.</p> +<p>“You killed him. I knew you would—I knew +you’d have to.”</p> +<p>“I knew it, too,” I miserably faltered. “But I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +didn’t want to—I shot without thinking. I might +have waited.”</p> +<p>“Waited! How could you wait? ’Twas either +you or he.”</p> +<p>“Then I wish it had been I,” I attempted.</p> +<p>“What nonsense,” she flashed. “We all know +you did your best to avoid it. But tell me: Do you +think I dragged you into it? Do you hate me for +it?”</p> +<p>“No. It happened when you were there. That’s +all. I’m sorry; only sorry. What’s to be done +next?”</p> +<p>“That will be decided, of course,” she said. “You +will be protected, if necessary. You acted in self-defense. +They all will swear to that and back you +up.”</p> +<p>“But you?” I asked, arousing from this unmanly +despair which played me for a weakling. “You must +be protected also. You can’t go to that other camp, +can you?”</p> +<p>She laughed and withdrew her hand; laughed +hardly, even scornfully.</p> +<p>“I? Above all things, don’t concern yourself +about me, please. I shall take care of myself. He +is out of the way. You have freed me of that much, +Mr. Beeson, whether intentionally or not. And you +shall be free, yourself, to act as your friends advise. +You must leave me out of your plans altogether. +Yes, I know; you killed him. Why not? But he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +wasn’t a man; he was a wild animal. And you’ll find +there are matters more serious than killing even a +man, in this country.”</p> +<p>“You! You!” I insisted. “You shall be looked +out for. We are partners in this. He used your +name; he made that an excuse. We shall have +to make some new arrangements for you—put +you on the stage as soon as we can. And meanwhile——”</p> +<p>“There is no partnership, and I shall require no +looking after, sir,” she interrupted. “If you are +sorry that you killed him, I am not; but you are entirely +free.”</p> +<p>The group at the edge of the fire circle dissolved. +Jenks came and seated himself upon his hams, beside +us.</p> +<p>“Wall, how you feelin’ now?” he questioned of +me.</p> +<p>“I’m myself again,” said I.</p> +<p>“Your arm won’t trouble you. Jest a flesh wound. +There’s nothin’ better than axle grease. And you, +ma’am?”</p> +<p>“Perfectly well, thank you.”</p> +<p>“You’re the coolest of the lot, and no mistake,” he +praised admiringly. “Wall, there’ll be no more fracas +to-night. Anyhow, the boys’ll be on guard ag’in +it; they’re out now. You two can eat and rest a bit, +whilst gettin’ good and ready; and if you set out ’fore +moon-up you can easy get cl’ar, with what help we +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +give you. We’ll furnish mounts, grub, anything you +need. I’ll make shift without Frank.”</p> +<p>“Mounts!” I blurted, with a start that waked my +arm to throbbing. “‘Set out,’ you say? Why? +And where?”</p> +<p>“Anywhar. The stage road south’ard is your best +bet. You didn’t think to stay, did you? Not after +that—after you’d plugged a Mormon, the son of the +old man, besides! We reckoned you two had it arranged, +by this time.”</p> +<p>“No! Never!” I protested. “You’re crazy, man. +I’ve never dreamed of any such thing; nor Mrs. Montoyo, +either. You mean that I—we—should run +away? I’ll not leave the train and neither shall she, +until the proper time. Or do I understand that you +disown us; turn your backs upon us; deliver us +over?”</p> +<p>“Hold on,” Jenks bade. “You’re barkin’ up the +wrong tree. ’Tain’t a question of disownin’ you. +Hell, we’d fight for you and proud to do it, for you’re +white. But I tell you, you’ve killed one o’ that party +ahead, you’ve killed the wagon boss’s son; and Hyrum, +he’s consider’ble of a man himself. He stands +well up, in the church. But lettin’ that alone, he’s +captain of this train, he’s got a dozen and more men +back of him; and when he comes in the mornin’ demandin’ +of you for trial by his Mormons, what can +we do? Might fight him off; yes. Not forever, +though. He’s nearest to the water, sech as it is, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +our casks are half empty, critters dry. We sha’n’t +surrender you; if we break with him we break ourselves +and likely lose our scalps into the bargain. +Why, we hadn’t any idee but that you and her were +all primed to light out, with our help. For if you +stay you won’t be safe anywhere betwixt here and +Salt Lake; and over in Utah they’ll vigilant you, +shore as kingdom. As for you, ma’am,” he bluntly +addressed, “we’d protect you to the best of ability, +o’ course; but you can see for yourself that Hyrum +won’t feel none too kindly toward you, and that if +you’ll pull out along with Beeson as soon as convenient +you’ll avoid a heap of unpleasantness. We’ll +take the chance on sneakin’ you both away, and facin’ +the old man.”</p> +<p>“Mr. Beeson should go,” she said. “But I +shall return to the Adams camp. I am not afraid, +sir.”</p> +<p>“Tut, tut!” he rapped. “I know you’re not +afraid; nevertheless we won’t let you do it.”</p> +<p>“They wouldn’t lay hands on me.”</p> +<p>“Um-m,” he mused. “Mebbe not. No, reckon +they wouldn’t. I’ll say that much. But by thunder +they’d make you wish they did. They’d claim you +trapped Dan’l. You’d suffer for that, and in place +of this boy, and a-plenty. Better foller your new +man, lady, and let him stow you in safety. Better go +back to Benton.”</p> +<p>“Never to Benton,” she declared. “And he’s not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +my ’new man.’ I apologize to him for that, from +you, sir.”</p> +<p>“If you stay, I stay, then,” said I. “But I think +we’d best go. It’s the only way.” And it was. We +were twain in menace to the outfit and to each other +but inseparable. We were yoked. The fact appalled. +It gripped me coldly. I seemed to have bargained +for her with word and fist and bullet, and won her; +now I should appear to carry her off as my booty: a +wife and a gambler’s wife. Yet such must be.</p> +<p>“You shall go without me.”</p> +<p>“I shall not.”</p> +<p>With a little sob she buried her face in her hands.</p> +<p>“If you don’t hate me now you soon will,” she +uttered. “The cards don’t fall right—they don’t, +they don’t. They’ve been against me from the first. +I’m always forcing the play.”</p> +<p>Whereupon I knew that go together we should, or +I was no man.</p> +<p>“Pshaw, pshaw,” Jenks soothed. “Matters ain’t +so bad. We’ll fix ye out and cover your trail. +Moon’ll be up in a couple o’ hours. I’d advise you +to take an hour’s start of it, so as to get away easier. +If you travel straight south’ard you’ll strike the stage +road sometime in the mornin’. When you reach a +station you’ll have ch’ice either way.”</p> +<p>“I have money,” she said; and sat erect.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_VOICES_IN_THE_VOID' id='XVIII_VOICES_IN_THE_VOID'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>VOICES IN THE VOID</h3> +</div> + +<p>The directions had been plain. With the North +Star and the moon as our guides we scarcely could +fail to strike the stage road where it bore off from +the mountains northward into the desert.</p> +<p>For the first half mile we rode without a word +from either of us to violate the truce that swathed us +like the night. What her thoughts were I might not +know, but they sat heavy upon her, closing her throat +with the torture of vain self-reproach. That much I +sensed. But I could not reassure her; could not volunteer +to her that I welcomed her company, that she +was blameless, that I had only defended my honor, +that affairs would have reduced to pistol work without +impulse from her—that, in short, the responsibility +had been wholly Daniel’s. My own thoughts +were so grievous as to crush me with aching woe that +forebade civil utterance.</p> +<p>This, then, was I: somebody who had just killed +a man, had broken from the open trail and was riding, +he knew not where, through darkness worse than +night, himself an outlaw with an outlawed woman—at +the best a chance woman, an adventuring woman, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +and as everybody could know, a claimed woman, +product of dance hall and gaming resort, wife of a +half-breed gambler, and now spoil of fist and revolver.</p> +<p>But that which burned me almost to madness, like +hot lava underneath the deadening crust, was the +thought that I had done a deed and a defensible deed, +and was fleeing from it the same as a criminal. Such +a contingency never had occurred to me or I might +have taken a different course, still with decency; although +what course I could not figure.</p> +<p>We rode, our mules picking their way, occasionally +stumbling on rocks and shrubs. At last she spoke in +low, even tones.</p> +<p>“What do you expect to do with me, please?”</p> +<p>“We shall have to do whatever is best for yourself,” +I managed to answer. “That will be determined +when we reach the stage line, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“Thank you. Once at the stage line and I shall +contrive. You must have no thought of me. I understand +very well that we should not travel far in +company—and you may not wish to go in my direction. +You have plans of your own?”</p> +<p>“None of any great moment. Everything has +failed me, to date. There is only the one place left: +New York State, where I came from. I probably can +work my way back—at least, until I can recoup by +telegraph message and the mails.”</p> +<p>“You have one more place than I,” she replied. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +She hesitated. “Will you let me lend you some +money?”</p> +<p>“I’ve been paid my wages due,” said I. “But,” I +added, “you have a place, you have a home: Benton.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Benton!” She laughed under breath. +“Never Benton. I shall make shift without Benton.”</p> +<p>“You will tell me, though?” I urged. “I must +have your address, to know that you reach safety.”</p> +<p>“You are strictly business. I believe that I accused +you before of being a Yankee.” And I read +sarcasm in her words.</p> +<p>Her voice had a quality of definite estimation +which nettled, humbled, and isolated me, as if I lacked +in some essential to a standard set.</p> +<p>“So you are going home, are you?” she resumed. +“With the clothes on your back, or will you stop at +Benton for your trunk?”</p> +<p>“With the clothes on my back,” I asserted bitterly. +“I’ve no desire to see Benton. The trunk can be +shipped to me.”</p> +<p>She said on, in her cool impersonal tone.</p> +<p>“That is the easiest way. You will live warm and +comfortably. You will need to wear no belt weapon. +The police will protect you. If a man injures you, +you can summon him at law and wash your hands of +him. Instead of staking on your luck among new +people, you can enter into business among your +friends and win from them. You can marry the girl +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +next door—or even take the chance of the one across +the street, her parentage being comme il faut. You +can tell stories of your trip into the Far West; your +children will love to hear of the rough mule-whacker +trail—yes, you will have great tales but you will not +mention that you killed a man who tried to kill you +and then rode for a night with a strange woman alone +at your stirrup. Perhaps you will venture to revisit +these parts by steam train, and from the windows of +your coach point out the places where you suffered +those hardships and adventures from which you escaped +by leaving them altogether. Your course is the +safe course. By all means take it, Mr. Beeson, and +have your trunk follow you.”</p> +<p>“That I shall do, madam,” I retorted. “The West +and I have not agreed; and, I fear, never shall.”</p> +<p>“By honest confession, it has bested you; and in +short order.”</p> +<p>“In short order, since you put it that way. Only +a fool doesn’t know when to quit.”</p> +<p>“The greatest fool is the one who fools himself, +in the quitting as in other matters. But you will have +no regrets—except about Daniel, possibly.”</p> +<p>“None whatever, save the regret that I ever tried +this country. I wish to God I had never seen it—I +did not conceive that I should have to take a human +life—should be forced to that—become like an outlaw +in the night, riding for refuge——” And I +choked passionately. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></p> +<p>“You deserve much sympathy,” she remarked, in +that even tone.</p> +<p>I lapsed into a turbulence of voiceless rage at myself, +at her, at Daniel’s treachery, at all the train, at +Benton, and again at this damning predicament +wherein I had landed. When I was bound to wrest +free after having done my utmost, she appeared to +be twitting me because I would not submit to farther +use by her. I certainly had the right to extricate myself +in the only way left.</p> +<p>So I conned over and over, and my heart gnawed, +and the acid of vexation boiled in my throat, and +despite the axle grease my arm nagged; while we rode +unspeaking, like some guilty pair through purgatory.</p> +<p>My lip had subsided; the pistol wound was superficial. +Under different circumstances the way would +have been full of beauty. The high desert stretched +vastly, far, far, far before, behind, on either side, the +parched gauntness of its daytime aspect assuaged +and evanescent. For the moon, now risen, although +on the wane, shed a light sufficient, whitening the +rocks and the scattered low shrubs, painting the land +with sharp black shadows, and enclosing us about +with the mystery of great softly illumined spaces +into which silent forms vanished as if tempting us +aside. Of these—rabbits, wolves, animals only to be +guessed—there were many, like potential phantoms +quickened by the touch of the moonbeams. Mule-back, +we twain towered, the sole intruders visible between +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +the two elysians of glorified earth and beatific +sky.</p> +<p>The course was southward. After a time it seemed +to me that we were descending from the plateau; +craunching gradually down a flank until, in a mile or +so, we were again upon the level, cutting through another +basin formed by the dried bed of an ancient +lake whose waters had evaporated into deposits of salt +and soda.</p> +<p>At first the mules had plodded with ears pricked +forward, and with sundry snorts and stares as if they +were seeing portents in the moonshine. Eventually +their imaginings dulled, so that they now moved careless +of where or why, their heads drooped, their +minds devoted to achieving what rest they might in +the merely mechanical setting of hoof before hoof.</p> +<p>I could not but be aware of my companion. Her +hair glinted paly, for she rode bareheaded; her gown, +tightened under her as she sat astride, revealed the +lines of her boyish limbs. She was a woman, in any +guise; and I being a man, protect her I should, as far +as necessary. I found myself wishing that we could +upturn something pleasant to talk about; it was ungracious, +even wicked, to ride thus side by side +through peace and beauty, with lips closed and war +in the heart, and final parting as the main desire.</p> +<p>But her firm pose and face steadily to the fore invited +with no sign; and after covertly stealing a +glance or two at her clear unresponsive profile I still +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +could manage no theme that would loosen my tongue. +Thereby let her think me a dolt. Thank Heaven, +after another twenty-four hours at most it might not +matter what she thought.</p> +<p>The drooning round of my own thoughts revolved +over and over, and the scuffing gait of the mules upon +way interminable began to numb me. Lassitude +seemed to be enfolding us both; I observed that she +rode laxly, with hand upon the horn and a weary +yielding to motion. Words might have stirred us, +but no words came. Presently I caught myself dozing +in the saddle, aroused only by the twitching of my +wounded arm. Then again I dozed, and kept dozing, +fairly dead for sleep, until speak she did, her voice +drifting as from afar but fetching me awake and +blinking.</p> +<p>“Hadn’t we better stop?” she repeated.</p> +<p>That was a curious sensation. When I stared +about, uncomprehending, my view was shut off by a +whiteness veiling the moon above and the earth below +except immediately underneath my mule’s hoofs. +She herself was a specter; the weeds that we brushed +were spectral; every sound that we made was muffled, +and in the intangible, opaquely lucent shroud which +had enveloped us like the spirit of a sea there was no +life nor movement.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” I propounded.</p> +<p>“The fog. I don’t know where we are.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I hadn’t noticed.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></p> +<p>“No,” she said calmly. “You’ve been asleep.”</p> +<p>“Haven’t you?”</p> +<p>“Not lately. But I don’t think there’s any use in +riding on. We’ve lost our bearings.”</p> +<p>She was ahead; evidently had taken the lead while +I slept. That realization straightened me, shamed, in +my saddle. The fog, fleecy, not so wet as impenetrable—when +had it engulfed us?</p> +<p>“How long have we been in it?” I asked, thoroughly +vexed.</p> +<p>“An hour, maybe. We rode right into it. I +thought we might leave it, but we don’t. It’s as thick +as ever. We ought to stop.”</p> +<p>“I suppose we ought,” said I.</p> +<p>And at the moment we entered into a sudden clearing +amidst the fog enclosure: a tract of a quarter of +an acre, like a hollow center, with the white walls +held apart and the stars and moon faintly glimmering +down through the mist roof overhead.</p> +<p>She drew rein and half turned in the saddle. I +could see her face. It was dank and wan and heavy-eyed; +her hair, somewhat robbed of its sheen, +crowned with a pallid golden aureole.</p> +<p>“Will this do? If we go on we’ll only be riding +into the fog again.”</p> +<p>I was conscious of the thin, apparently distant piping +of frogs.</p> +<p>“There seems to be a marsh beyond,” she uttered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p> +<p>“Yes, we’d better stop where we are,” I agreed. +“Then in the morning we can take stock.”</p> +<p>“In the morning, surely. We may not be far +astray.” She swung off before I had awkwardly dismounted +to help her. Her limbs failed—my own +were clamped by stiffness—and she staggered and +collapsed with a little laugh.</p> +<p>“I’m tired,” she confessed. “Wait just a moment.”</p> +<p>“You stay where you are,” I ordered, staggering +also as I hastily landed. “I’ll make camp.”</p> +<p>But she would have none of that; pleaded my one-handedness +and insisted upon coöperating at the +mules. We seemed to be marooned upon a small +rise of gravel and coarsely matted dried grasses. The +animals were staked out, fell to nibbling. I sought a +spot for our beds; laid down a buffalo robe for her +and placed her saddle as her pillow. She sank with a +sigh, tucking her skirt under her, and I folded the +robe over.</p> +<p>Her face gazed up at me; she extended her hand.</p> +<p>“You are very kind, sir,” she said, in a smile that +pathetically curved her lips. There, at my knees, she +looked so worn, so slight, so childish, so in need of +encouragement that all was well and that she had a +friend to serve her, that with a rush of sudden sympathy +I would—indeed I could have kissed her, upon +the forehead if not upon the lips themselves. It was +an impulse well-nigh overmastering; an impulse that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +must have dazed me so that she saw or felt, for a +tinge of pink swept into her skin; she withdrew her +hand and settled composedly.</p> +<p>“Good-night. Please sleep. In the morning we’ll +reach the stage road and your troubles will be near +the end.”</p> +<p>Under my own robe I lay for a long time reviewing +past and present and discussing with myself the +future. Strangely enough the present occupied me +the most; it incorporated with that future beyond the +fog, and when I put her out back she came as if she +were part and parcel of my life. There was a sense +of balance; we had been associates, fellow tenants—in +fact, she was entwined with the warp and woof of +all my memories dating far back to my entrance, +fresh and hopeful, into the new West. It rather flabbergasted +me to find myself thinking that the future +was going to be very tame; perhaps, as she had suggested, +regretful. I had not apprehended that the +end should be so drastic.</p> +<p>And whether the regrets would center upon my +slinking home defeated, or in having definitely cast +her away, puzzled me as sorely as it did to discover +that I was well content to be here, with her, in our +little clearing amidst the desert fog, listening to her +soft breathing and debating over what she might have +done had I actually kissed her to comfort her and assure +her that I was not unmindful of her really brave +spirit. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></p> +<p>Daniel had been disposed of, Montoyo did not deserve +her; I had won her, she could inspire and guide +me if I stayed; and I saw myself staying, and I saw +myself going home, and I already regretted a host of +things, as a man will when at the forking of the trails.</p> +<p>The fog gently closed in during the night. When +I awakened we were again enshrouded by the fleece +of it, denser than when we had ridden through it, but +now whiter with the dawn. As I gazed sleepily about +I could just make out the forms of the two mules, +standing motionless and huddled; I could see her +more clearly, at shorter distance—her buffalo robe +moist with the semblance of dew that had beaded also +upon her massy hair.</p> +<p>Evidently she had not stirred all night; might be +still asleep. No; her eyes were open, and when I +stiffly shifted posture she looked across at me.</p> +<p>“Sh!” she warned, with quick shake of head. The +same warning bade me listen. In a moment I heard +voices.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX_I_STAKE_AGAIN' id='XIX_I_STAKE_AGAIN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>I STAKE AGAIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>They were indistinguishable except as vocal +sounds deadened by the impeding fog; but human +voices they certainly were. Throwing off her robe +she abruptly sat up, seeking, her features tensed with +the strain. She beckoned to me. I scuttled over, as +anxious as she. The voices might be far, they might +be near; but it was an eerie situation, as if we were +neighboring with warlocks.</p> +<p>“I’ve been hearing them some little while,” she +whispered.</p> +<p>“The Captain Adams men may be trailing us?”</p> +<p>“I hope not! Oh, I hope not,” she gasped, in sheer +agony. “If we might only know in time.”</p> +<p>Suddenly the fog was shot with gold, as the sun +flashed in. In obedience to the command a slow and +stately movement began, by all the troops of mist. +The myriad elements drifted in unison, marching and +countermarching and rearranging, until presently, +while we crouched intent to fathom the secrets of +their late camp, a wondrously beautiful phenomenon +offered.</p> +<p>The great army rose for flight, lifting like a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +blanket. Gradually the earth appeared in glimpses +beneath their floating array, so that whereas our plot +of higher ground was still invested, stooping low and +scanning we could see beyond us by the extent of a +narrow thinning belt capped with the heavier white.</p> +<p>“There!” she whispered, pointing. “Look! +There they are!”</p> +<p>Feet, legs, moving of themselves, cut off at the +knees by the fog layer, distant not more than short +rifle range: that was what had been revealed. A peculiar, +absurd spectacle of a score or two of amputated +limbs now resurrected and blindly in quest of +bodies.</p> +<p>“The Mormons!” I faltered.</p> +<p>“No! Leggins! Moccasins! They are Indians. +We must leave right away before they see us.”</p> +<p>With our stuff she ran, I ran, for the mules. We +worked rapidly, bridling and saddling while the fog +rose with measured steadiness.</p> +<p>“Hurry!” she bade.</p> +<p>The whole desert was a golden haze when having +packed we climbed aboard—she more spry than I, so +that she led again.</p> +<p>As we urged outward the legs, behind, had taken to +themselves thighs. But the mist briefly eddied down +upon us; our mules’ hoofs made no sound appreciable, +on the scantily moistened soil; we lost the legs, +and the voices, and pressing the pace I rode beside +her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span></p> +<p>“Where?” I inquired.</p> +<p>“As far as we can while the fog hangs. Then we +must hide in the first good place. If they don’t strike +our trail we’ll be all right.”</p> +<p>The fog lingered in patches. From patch to patch +we threaded, with many a glance over shoulder. But +time was traveling faster. I marked her searching +about nervously. Blue had already appeared above, +the sun found us again and again, and the fog remnants +went spinning and coiling, in last ghostly dance +like that of frenzied wraiths.</p> +<p>Now we came to a rough outcrop of red sandstone, +looming ruddily on our right. She quickly swerved +for it.</p> +<p>“The best chance. I see nothing else,” she muttered. +“We can tie the mules under cover, and wait. +We’ll surely be spied if we keep on.”</p> +<p>“Couldn’t we risk it?”</p> +<p>“No. We’ve not start enough.”</p> +<p>In a moment we had gained the refuge. The +sculptured rock masses, detached one from another, +several jutting ten feet up, received us. We tied the +mules short, in a nook at the rear; and we ourselves +crawled on, farther in, until we lay snug amidst the +shadowing buttresses, with the desert vista opening +before us.</p> +<p>The fog wraiths were very few; the sun blazed +more vehemently and wiped them out, so that through +the marvelously clear air the expanse of lone, weird +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +country stood forth clean cut. No moving object +could escape notice in this watchful void. And we +had been just in time. The slight knoll had been left +not a mile to the southwest. I heard My Lady catch +breath, felt her hand find mine as we lay almost +touching. Rounding the knoll there appeared a file of +mounted figures; by their robes and blankets, their +tufted lances and gaudy shields, yes, by the very way +they sat their painted ponies, Indians unmistakably.</p> +<p>“They must have been camped near us all night.” +And she shuddered. “Now if they only don’t cross +our trail. We mustn’t move.”</p> +<p>They came on at a canter, riding bravely, glancing +right and left—a score of them headed by a scarlet-blanketed +man upon a spotted horse. So transparent +was the air, washed by the fog and vivified by the +sun, that I could decipher the color pattern of his +shield emblazonry: a checkerboard of red and black.</p> +<p>“A war party. Sioux, I think,” she said. “Don’t +they carry scalps on that first lance? They’ve been +raiding the stage line. Do you see any squaws?”</p> +<p>“No,” I hazarded, with beating heart. “All warriors, +I should guess.”</p> +<p>“All warriors. But squaws would be worse.”</p> +<p>On they cantered, until their paint stripes and +daubs were hideously plain; we might note every detail +of their savage muster. They were paralleling +our outward course; indeed, seemed to be diverging +from our ambush and making more to the west. And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +I had hopes that, after all, we were safe. Then her +hand clutched mine firmly. A wolf had leaped from +covert in the path of the file; loped eastward across +the desert, and instantly, with a whoop that echoed +upon us like the crack of doom, a young fellow darted +from the line in gay pursuit.</p> +<p>My Lady drew quick breath, with despairing exclamation.</p> +<p>“That is cruel, cruel! They might have ridden +past; but now—look!”</p> +<p>The stripling warrior (he appeared to be scarcely +more than a boy) hammered in chase, stringing his +bow and plucking arrow. The wolf cast eye over plunging +shoulder, and lengthened. Away they tore, while +the file slackened, to watch. Our trail of flight bore +right athwart the wolf’s projected route. There was +just the remote chance that the lad would overrun it, +in his eagerness; and for that intervening moment of +grace we stared, fascinated, hand clasping hand.</p> +<p>“He’s found it! He’s found it!” she announced, +in a little wail.</p> +<p>In mid-career the boy had checked his pony so +shortly that the four hoofs ploughed the sand. He +wheeled on a pivot and rode back for a few yards, +scanning the ground, letting the wolf go. The stillness +that had settled while we gazed and the file of +warriors, reining, gazed, gripped and fairly hurt. I +cursed the youth. Would to God he had stayed at +home—God grant that mangy wolf died by trap or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +poison. Our one chance made the sport of an accidental +view-halloo, when all the wide desert was +open.</p> +<p>The youth had halted again, leaning from his saddle +pad. He raised, he flung up glad hand and commenced +to ride in circles, around and around and +around. The band galloped to him.</p> +<p>“Yes, he has found it,” she said. “Now they will +come.”</p> +<p>“What shall we do?” I asked her.</p> +<p>And she answered, releasing my hand.</p> +<p>“I don’t know. But we must wait. We can stand +them off for a while, I suppose——”</p> +<p>“I’ll do my best, with the revolver,” I promised.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she murmured. “But after that——?”</p> +<p>I had no reply. This contingency—we two facing +Indians—was outside my calculations.</p> +<p>The Indians had grouped; several had dismounted, +peering closely at our trail, reading it, timing it, accurately +estimating it. They had no difficulty, for +the hoof prints were hardly dried of the fog moisture. +The others sat idly, searching the horizons +with their eyes, but at confident ease. In the wide +expanse this rock fortress of ours seemed to me to +summon imperatively, challenging them. They surely +must know. Yet there they delayed, torturing us, +playing blind, emulating cat and mouse; but of course +they were reasoning and making certain.</p> +<p>Now the dismounted warriors vaulted ahorse; at a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +gesture from the chief two men rode aside, farther to +the east, seeking other sign. They found none, and +to his shrill hail they returned.</p> +<p>There was another command. The company had +strung bows, stripped their rifles of the buckskin +sheaths, had dropped robe and blanket about their +loins; they spread out to right and left in close skirmish +order; they advanced three scouts, one on the +trail, one on either flank; and in a broadened front +they followed with a discipline, an earnestness, a precision +of purpose and a deadly anticipation that +drowned every fleeting hope.</p> +<p>This was unbearable: to lie here awaiting an inevitable +end.</p> +<p>“Shall we make a break for it?” I proposed. +“Ride and fight? We might reach the train, or a +stage station. Quick!”</p> +<p>In my wild desire for action I half arose. Her +hand restrained me.</p> +<p>“It would be madness, Mr. Beeson. We’d stand +no show at all in the open; not on these poor mules.” +She murmured to herself. “Yes, they’re Sioux. +That’s not so bad. Were they Cheyennes—dog-soldiers—— Let +me think. I must talk with +them.”</p> +<p>“But they’re coming,” I rasped. “They’re getting +in range. We’ve the gun, and twenty cartridges. +Maybe if I kill the chief——”</p> +<p>She spoke, positive, under breath. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span></p> +<p>“Don’t shoot! Don’t! They know we’re here—know +it perfectly well. I shall talk with them.”</p> +<p>“You? How? Why? Can you persuade them? +Would they let us go?”</p> +<p>“I’ll do what I can. I have a few words of Sioux; +and there’s the sign language. See,” she said. +“They’ve discovered our mules. They know we’re +only two.”</p> +<p>The scouts on either flanks had galloped outward +and onward, in swift circle, peering at our defenses. +Lying low they scoured at full speed; with mutual +whoop they crisscrossed beyond and turned back for +the main body halted two hundred yards out upon the +flat plain.</p> +<p>There was a consultation; on a sudden a great +chorus of exultant cries rang, the force scattered, +shaking fists and weapons, preparing for a tentative +charge; and ere I could stop her My Lady had sprung +upright, to mount upon a rock and all in view to hold +open hand above her head. The sunshine glinted +upon her hair; a fugitive little breeze bound her +shabby gown closer about her slim figure.</p> +<p>They had seen her instantly. Another chorus +burst, this time in astonishment; a dozen guns were +leveled, covering her and our nest while every visage +stared. But no shot belched; thank God, no shot, +with me powerless to prevent, just as I was powerless +to intercept her. The chief rode forward, at a walk, +his hand likewise lifted.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +<img src='images/illus-278.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 366px; height: 501px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 366px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Scouts Galloped Onward</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span></div> +<p>“Keep down! Keep down, please,” she directed +to me, while she stood motionless. “Let me try.”</p> +<p>The chief neared until we might see his every lineament—every +item of his trappings, even to the black-tipped +eagle feather erect at the part in his braids. +And he rode carelessly, fearlessly, to halt within easy +speaking distance; sat a moment, rifle across his leggined +thighs and the folds of his scarlet blanket—a +splendid man, naked from the waist up, his coppery +chest pigment-daubed, his slender arms braceleted with +metal, his eyes devouring her so covetously that I felt +the gloating thoughts behind them.</p> +<p>He called inquiringly: a greeting and a demand in +one, it sounded. She replied. And what they two +said, in word and sign, I could not know, but all the +time I held my revolver upon him, until to my relief +he abruptly wheeled his horse and cantered back to +his men, leaving me with wrist aching and heart +pounding madly.</p> +<p>She stepped lightly down; answered my querying +look.</p> +<p>“It’s all right. I’m going, and so are you,” she +said, with a faint smile, oddly subtle—a tremulous +smile in a white face.</p> +<p>About her there was a mystery which alarmed +me; made me sit up, chilled, to eye her and accuse.</p> +<p>“Where? We are free, you mean? What’s the +bargain?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></p> +<p>“I go to them. You go where you choose—to the +stage road, of course. I have his promise.”</p> +<p>This brought me to my feet, rigid; more than scandalized, +for no word can express the shock.</p> +<p>“You go to them? And then where?”</p> +<p>She answered calmly, flushing a little, smiling a little, +her eyes sincere.</p> +<p>“It’s the best way and the only way. We shall +neither of us be harmed, now. The chief will provide +for me and you yourself are free. No, no,” she +said, checking my first indignant cry. “Really I +don’t mind. The Indians are about the only persons +left to me. I’ll be safe with them.” She laughed +rather sadly, but brightened. “I don’t know but that +I prefer them to the whites. I told you I had no +place. And this saves you also, you see. I got you +into it—I’ve felt that you blamed me, almost hated +me. Things have been breaking badly for me ever +since we met again in Benton. So it’s up to me to +make good. You can go home, and I shall not be unhappy, +I think. Please believe that. The wife of a +great chief is quite a personage—he won’t inquire +into my past. But if we try to stay here you will +certainly be killed, and I shall suffer, and we shall +gain nothing. You must take my money. Please do. +Then good-bye. I told him I would come out, under +his promise.”</p> +<p>She and the rocks reeled together. That was my +eyes, giddy with a rush of blood, surging and hot. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span></p> +<p>“Never, never, never!” I was shouting, ignoring +her hand. How she had misjudged me! What a +shame she had put upon me! I could not credit. +“You shall not—I tell you, you sha’n’t. I won’t +have it—it’s monstrous, preposterous. You sha’n’t +go, I sha’n’t go. But wherever we go we’ll go together. +We’ll stand them off. Then if they can take +us, let ’em. You make a coward of me—a dastard. +You’ve no right to. I’d rather die.”</p> +<p>“Listen,” she chided, her hand grasping my sleeve. +“They would take me anyway—don’t you see? +After they had killed you. It would be the worse for +both of us. What can you do, with one arm, and a +revolver, and an unlucky woman? No, Mr. Beeson +(she was firm and strangely formal); the cards are +faced up. I have closed a good bargain for both of +us. When you are out, you need say nothing. Perhaps +some day I may be ransomed, should I wish to +be. But we can talk no further now. He is impatient. +The money—you will need the money, and I +shall not. Please turn your back and I’ll get at my +belt. Why,” she laughed, “how well everything is +coming. You are disposed of, I am disposed +of——”</p> +<p>“Money!” I roared. “God in Heaven! You disposed +of? I disposed of? And my honor, madam! +What of that?”</p> +<p>“And what of mine, Mr. Beeson?” She stamped +her foot, coloring. “Will you turn your back, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +or——? Oh, we’ve talked too long. But the belt +you shall have. Here——” She fumbled within her +gown. “And now, adios and good luck. You shall +not despise me.”</p> +<p>The chief was advancing accompanied by a warrior. +Behind him his men waited expectant, gathered +as an ugly blotch upon the dun desert. Her honor? +The word had double meaning. Should she sacrifice +the one honor in this crude essay to maintain the +other which she had not lost, to my now opened eyes? +I could not deliver her tender body over to that +painted swaggerer—any more than I could have delivered +it over to Daniel himself. At last I knew, I +knew. History had written me a fool, and a cad, +but it should not write me a dastard. We were together, +and together we should always be, come weal +or woe, life or death.</p> +<p>The money belt had been dropped at my feet. She +had turned—I leaped before her, thrust her to rear, +answered the hail of the pausing chief.</p> +<p>“No!” I squalled. And I added for emphasis: +“You go to hell.”</p> +<p>He understood. The phrase might have been familiar +English to him. I saw him stiffen in his saddle; +he called loudly, and raised his rifle, threatening; +with a gasp—a choked “Good-bye”—she darted by +me, running on for the open and for him. She and +he filled all my landscape. In a stark blinding rage +of fear, chagrin, rancorous jealousy, I leveled revolver +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +and pulled trigger, but not at her, though even +that was not beyond me in the crisis.</p> +<p>The bullet thwacked smartly; the chief uttered a +terrible cry, his rifle was tossed high, he bowed, +swayed downward, his comrade grabbed him, and +they were racing back closely side by side and she was +running back to me and the warriors were shrieking +and brandishing their weapons and bullets spatted the +rocks—all this while yet my hand shook to the recoil +of the revolver and the smoke was still wafting from +the poised muzzle.</p> +<p>What had I done? But done it was.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_THE_QUEEN_WINS' id='XX_THE_QUEEN_WINS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>THE QUEEN WINS</h3> +</div> + +<p>She arrived breathless, distraught, instantly to +drag me down beside her, from where I stood stupidly +defiant.</p> +<p>“Keep out of sight,” she panted. And—“Oh, +why did you do it? Why did you? I think you +killed him—they’ll never forgive. They’ll call it +treachery. You’re lost, lost.”</p> +<p>“But he sha’n’t have you,” I gabbled. “Let them +kill me if they can. Till then you’re mine. Mine! +Don’t you understand? I want you.”</p> +<p>“I don’t understand,” she faltered. She turned +frightened face upon me. “You should have let me +go. Nothing can save you now; not even I. You’ve +ruined the one chance you had. I wonder why. It +was my own choice—you had no hand in it, and it +was my own chance, too.” Her voice broke, her eyes +welled piteously. “But you fired on him.”</p> +<p>“That was the only answer left me,” I entreated. +“You misjudged me, you shamed me. I tell +you——”</p> +<p>Her lips slightly curled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span></p> +<p>“Misjudged you? Shamed you? Was that all? +You’ve misjudged and shamed me for so long——” +A burst of savage hoots renewed interrupted. +“They’re coming!” She knelt up, to peer; I peered. +The Indians had deployed, leaving the chief lying +upon the ground, their fierce countenances glaring at +our asylum. How clear their figures were, in the +sunshine, limned against the lazy yellowish sand, +under the peaceful blue! “They’ll surround us. I +might parley for myself, but I can do nothing for +you.”</p> +<p>“Parley, then,” I bade. “Save yourself, any way +you can.”</p> +<p>She drew in, whitening as if I had struck her.</p> +<p>“And you accuse me of having misjudged you! +I save myself—merely myself? What do you intend +to do? Fight?”</p> +<p>“As long as you are with me; and after. They’ll +never take me alive; and take you they shall not +if I can prevent it. Damn them, if they get you +I mean to make them pay for you. You’re all I +have.”</p> +<p>“You’d rather I’d stay? You need me? Could I +help?”</p> +<p>“Need you!” I groaned. “I’m just finding out, +too late.”</p> +<p>“And help? How? Quick! Could I?”</p> +<p>“By staying; by not surrendering yourself—your +honor, my honor. By saying that you’d rather stay +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +with me, for life, for death, here, anywhere—after +I’ve said that I’m not deaf, blind, dumb, ungrateful. +I love you; I’d rather die for you than live without +you.”</p> +<p>Such a glory glowed in her haggard face and shone +from her brimming eyes.</p> +<p>“We will fight, we will fight!” she chanted. +“Now I shall not leave you. Oh, my man! Had +you kissed me last night we would have known this +longer. We have so little time.” She turned from +my lips. “Not now. They’re coming. Fight first; +and at the end, then kiss me, please, and we’ll go together.”</p> +<p>The furious yells from that world outside vibrated +among our rocks. The Sioux all were in motion, except +the prostrate figure of the chief. Straight onward +they charged, at headlong gallop, to ride over +us like a grotesquely tinted wave, and the dull drumming +of their ponies’ hoofs beat a diapason to the +shrill clamor of their voices. It was enough to cow, +but she spoke steadily.</p> +<p>“You must fire,” she said. “Hurry! Fire once, +maybe twice, to split them. I don’t think they’ll rush +us, yet.”</p> +<p>So I rose farther on my knees and fired once—and +again, pointblank at them with the heavy Colt’s. +It worked a miracle. Every mother’s son of them +fell flat upon his pony; they all swooped to right and +to left as if the bullets had cleaved them apart in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +center; and while I gaped, wondering, they swept +past at long range, half on either flank, pelting in +bullet and near-spent arrow.</p> +<p>She forced me down.</p> +<p>“Low, low,” she warned. “They’ll circle. They +hold their scalps dearly. We can only wait. That +was three. You have fifteen shots left, for them; +then, one for me, one for you. You understand?”</p> +<p>“I understand,” I replied. “And if I’m disabled——?”</p> +<p>She answered quietly.</p> +<p>“It will be the same. One for you, one for me.”</p> +<p>The circle had been formed: a double circle, to +move in two directions, scudding ring reversed within +scudding ring, the bowmen outermost. Around and +’round and ’round they galloped, yelling, gibing, taunting, +shooting so malignantly that the air was in a constant +hum and swish. The lead whined and smacked, +the shafts streaked and clattered——</p> +<p>“Are you sorry I shot the chief?” I asked. Amid +the confusion my blood was coursing evenly, and I +was not afraid. Of what avail was fear?</p> +<p>“I’m glad, glad,” she proclaimed. But with sudden +movement she was gone, bending low, then crawling, +then whisking from sight. Had she abandoned +me, after all? Had she—no! God be thanked, here +she came back, flushed and triumphant, a canteen in +her hand.</p> +<p>“The mules might break,” she explained, short of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +breath. “This canteen is full. We’ll need it. The +other mule is frantic. I couldn’t touch her.”</p> +<p>At the moment I thought how wise and brave and +beautiful she was! Mine for the hour, here—and +after? Montoyo should never have her; not in life +nor in death.</p> +<p>“You must stop some of those fiends from sneaking +closer,” she counseled. “See? They’re trying us +out.”</p> +<p>More and more frequently some one of the scurrying +enemy veered sharply, tore in toward us, hanging +upon the farther side of his horse; boldly jerked erect +and shot, and with demi-volt of his mount was away, +whooping.</p> +<p>I had been desperately saving the ammunition, to +eke out this hour of mine with her. Every note from +the revolver summoned the end a little nearer. But +we had our game to play; and after all, the end was +certain. So under her prompting (she being partner, +commander, everything), when the next painted ruffian—a +burly fellow in drapery of flannel-fringed cotton +shirt, with flaunting crimson tassels on his pony’s +mane—bore down, I guessed shrewdly, arose and let +him have it.</p> +<p>She cried out, clapping her hands.</p> +<p>“Good! Good!”</p> +<p>The pony was sprawling and kicking; the rider had +hurtled free, and went jumping and dodging like a +jack-rabbit. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span></p> +<p>“To the right! Watch!”</p> +<p>Again I needs must fire, driving the rascals aside +with the report of the Colt’s. That was five. Not +sparing my wounded arm I hastily reloaded, for by +custom of the country the hammer had rested over +an empty chamber. I filled the cylinder.</p> +<p>“They’re killing the mules,” she said. “But we +can’t help it.”</p> +<p>The two mules were snorting and plunging; their +hoofs rang against the rocks. Sioux to rear had dismounted +and were shooting carefully. There was +exultant shout—one mule had broken loose. She galloped +out, reddened, stirrups swinging, canteen +bouncing, right into the waiting line; and down she +lunged, abristle with feathered points launched into +her by sheer spiteful joy.</p> +<p>The firing was resumed. We heard the other mule +scream with note indescribable; we heard him flounder +and kick; and again the savages yelled.</p> +<p>Now they all charged recklessly from the four +sides; and I had to stand and fire, right, left, before, +behind, emptying the gun once more ere they scattered +and fled. I sensed her fingers twitching at my +belt, extracting fresh cartridges. We sank, breathing +hard. Her eyes were wide, and bluer than any deepest +summer sea; her face aflame; her hair of purest +gold—and upon her shoulder a challenging oriflamme +of scarlet, staining a rent in the faded calico.</p> +<p>“You’re hurt!” I blurted, aghast. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span></p> +<p>“Not much. A scratch. Don’t mind it. And +you?”</p> +<p>“I’m not touched.”</p> +<p>“Load, sir. But I think we’ll have a little space. +How many left? Nine.” She had been counting. +“Seven for them.”</p> +<p>“Seven for them,” I acknowledged. I tucked +home the loads; the six-shooter was ready.</p> +<p>“Now let them come,” she murmured.</p> +<p>“Let them come,” I echoed. We looked one upon +the other, and we smiled. It was not so bad, this +place, our minds having been made up to it. In fact, +there was something sweet. Our present was assured; +we faced a future together, at least; we were +in accord.</p> +<p>The Sioux had retired, mainly to sit dismounted in +close circle, for a confab. Occasionally a young +brave, a vidette, exuberantly galloped for us, dared +us, shook hand and weapon at us, no doubt spat at us, +and gained nothing by his brag.</p> +<p>“What will they do next?” I asked.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” said she. “We shall see, +though.”</p> +<p>So we lay, gazing, not speaking. The sun streamed +down, flattening the desert with his fervent beams until +the uplifts cringed low and in the horizons the +mountain peaks floated languidly upon the waves of +heat. And in all this dispassionate land, from horizon +to horizon, there were only My Lady and I, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +the beleaguering Sioux. It seemed unreal, a fantasy; +but the rocks began to smell scorched, a sudden thirst +nagged and my wounded arm pained with weariness +as if to remind that I was here, in the body. Yes, and +here she was, also, in the flesh, as much as I, for she +stirred, glanced at me, and smiled. I heard her, +saw her, felt her presence. I placed my hand over +hers.</p> +<p>“What is it?” she queried.</p> +<p>“Nothing. I wanted to make sure.”</p> +<p>“Of yourself?”</p> +<p>“Of you, me—of everything.”</p> +<p>“There can be no doubt,” she said. “I wish there +might, for your sake.”</p> +<p>“No,” I thickly answered. “If you were only out +of it—if we could find some way.”</p> +<p>“I’d rather be in here, with you,” said she.</p> +<p>“And I, with you, then,” I replied honestly. The +thought of water obsessed. She must have read, for +she inquired:</p> +<p>“Aren’t you thirsty?”</p> +<p>“Are you?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Why don’t we drink?”</p> +<p>“Should we?”</p> +<p>“Why not? We might as well be as comfortable +as we can.” She reached for the canteen lying in a +fast dwindling strip of rock shade. We drank sparingly. +She let me dribble a few drops upon her +shoulder. Thenceforth by silent agreement we moistened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +our tongues, scrupulously turn about, wringing +the most from each brief sip as if testing the bouquet +of exquisite wine. Came a time when we regretted +this frugalness; but just now there persisted within +us, I suppose, that germ of hope which seems to be +nourished by the soul.</p> +<p>The Sioux had counciled and decided. They faced +us, in manner determined. We waited, tense and +watchful. Without even a premonitory shout a pony +bolted for us, from their huddle. He bore two riders, +naked to the sun, save for breech clouts. They +charged straight in, and at her mystified, alarmed +murmur I was holding on them as best I could, finger +crooked against trigger, coaxing it, praying for luck, +when the rear rider dropped to the ground, bounded +briefly and dived headlong, worming into a little hollow +of the sand.</p> +<p>He lay half concealed; the pony had wheeled to a +shrill, jubilant chorus; his remaining rider lashed him +in retreat, leaving the first digging lustily with hand +and knife.</p> +<p>That was the system, then: an approach by rushes.</p> +<p>“We mustn’t permit it,” she breathed. “We must +rout him out—we must keep them all out or they’ll +get where they can pick you off. Can you reach +him?”</p> +<p>“I’ll try,” said I.</p> +<p>The tawny figure, prone upon the tawny sand, was +just visible, lean and snakish, slightly oscillating as it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +worked. And I took careful aim, and fired, and saw +the spurt from the bullet.</p> +<p>“A little lower—oh, just a little lower,” she +pleaded.</p> +<p>The same courier was in leash, posted to bring another +fellow; all the Sioux were gazing, statuesque, +to analyze my marksmanship. And I fired again—“Too +low,” she muttered—and quickly, with a curse, +again.</p> +<p>She cried out joyfully. The snake had flopped +from its hollow, plunged at full length aside; had +started to crawl, writhing, dragging its hinder parts. +But with a swoop the pony arrived before we were +noting; the recruit plumped into the hollow; and +bending over in his swift circle the courier snatched +the snake from the ground; sped back with him.</p> +<p>The Sioux seized upon the moment of stress. +They cavorted, scouring hither and thither, yelling, +shooting, and once more our battered haven seethed +with the hum and hiss and rebound of lead and shaft. +That, and my eagerness, told. The fellow in the +foreground burrowed cleverly; he submerged farther +and farther, by rapid inches. I fired twice—we could +not see that I had even inconvenienced him. My +Lady clutched my revolver arm.</p> +<p>“No! Wait!” The tone rang dismayed.</p> +<p>Trembling, blinded with heat and powder smoke, +and heart sick, I paused, to fumble and to reload the +almost emptied cylinder. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span></p> +<p>“I can’t reach him,” said I. “He’s too far in.”</p> +<p>Her voice answered gently.</p> +<p>“No matter, dear. You’re firing too hastily. +Don’t forget. Please rest a minute, and drink. You +can bathe your eyes. It’s hard, shooting across the +hot sand. They’ll bring others. We’ve no need to +save water, you know.”</p> +<p>“I know,” I admitted.</p> +<p>We niggardly drank. I dabbled my burning eyes, +cleared my sight. Of the fellow in the rifle pit there +was no living token. The Sioux had ceased their +gambols. They sat steadfast, again anticipative. A +stillness, menaceful and brooding, weighted the landscape.</p> +<p>She sighed.</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>The pregnant truce oppressed. What was hatching +out, now? I cautiously shifted posture, to stretch and +scan; instinctively groped for the canteen, to wet my +lips again; a puff of smoke burst from the hollow, the +canteen clinked, flew from my hand and went clattering +among the rocks.</p> +<p>“Oh!” she cried, aghast. “But you’re not hurt?” +Then—“I saw him. He’ll come up again, in a moment. +Be ready.”</p> +<p>The Sioux in the background were shrieking. +They had accounted for our mules; by chance shot +they had nipped our water. Yet neither event affected +us as they seemed to think it should. Mules, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +water—these were inconsequentials in the long-run +that was due to be short, at most. We husbanded +other relief in our keeping.</p> +<p>Suddenly, as I craned, the fellow fired again; he +was a good shot, had discovered a niche in our rampart, +for the ball fanned my cheek with the wings of +a vicious wasp. On the instant I replied, snapping +quick answer.</p> +<p>“I don’t think you hit him,” she said. “Let me +try. It may change the luck. You’re tired. I’ll hold +on the spot—he’ll come up in the same place, head +and shoulders. You’ll have to tempt him. Are you +afraid, sir?” She smiled upon me as she took the +revolver.</p> +<p>“But if he kills me——?” I faltered.</p> +<p>“What of that?”</p> +<p>“You.”</p> +<p>“I?” Her face filled. “I should not be long.”</p> +<p>She adjusted the revolver to a crevice a little removed +from me—“They will be hunting you, not +me,” she said—and crouched behind it, peering earnestly +out, intent upon the hollow. And I edged +farther, and farther, as if seeking for a mark, but +with all my flesh a-prickle and my breath fast, like +any man, I assert, who forces himself to invite the +striking capabilities of a rattlesnake.</p> +<p>Abruptly it came—the strike, so venomous that it +stung my face and scalded my eyes with the spatter +of sandstone and hot lead; at the moment her Colt’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +bellowed into my ears, thunderous because even unexpected. +I could not see; I only heard an utterance +that was cheer and sob in one.</p> +<p>“I got him! Are you hurt? Are you hurt?”</p> +<p>“No. Hurrah!”</p> +<p>“Hurrah, dear.”</p> +<p>The air rocked with the shouts of the Sioux; +shouts never before so welcome in their tidings, for +they were shouts of rage and disappointment. They +flooded my eyes with vigor, wiped away the daze of +the bullet impact; the hollow leaped to the fore—upon +its low parapet a dull shade where no shade +should naturally be, and garnished with crimson.</p> +<p>He had doubled forward, reflexing to the blow. +He was dead, stone dead; his crafty spirit issued +upon the red trail of ball through his brain.</p> +<p>“Thank God,” I rejoiced.</p> +<p>She had sunk back wearily.</p> +<p>“That is the last.”</p> +<p>“Won’t they try again, you think?”</p> +<p>“The last spare shot, I mean. We have only our +two left. We must save those.” She gravely surveyed +me.</p> +<p>“Yes, we must save those,” I assented. The realization +broke unbelievable across a momentary hiatus; +brought me down from the false heights, to face it +with her.</p> +<p>A dizzy space had opened before me. I knew that +she moved aside. She exclaimed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span></p> +<p>“Look!”</p> +<p>It was the canteen, drained dry by a jagged gash +from the sharpshooter’s lead.</p> +<p>“No matter, dear,” she said.</p> +<p>“No matter,” said I.</p> +<p>The subject was not worth pursuing.</p> +<p>“We have discouraged their game, again. And in +case they rush us——”</p> +<p>This from her.</p> +<p>“In case they rush us——” I repeated. “We can +wait a little, and see.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXI_WE_WAIT_THE_SUMMONS' id='XXI_WE_WAIT_THE_SUMMONS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>WE WAIT THE SUMMONS</h3> +</div> + +<p>The Sioux had quieted. They let the hollow alone, +tenanted as it was with death; there was for us a satisfaction +in that tribute to our defense. Quite methodically, +and with cruel show of leisure they distributed +themselves by knots, in a half-encircling +string around our asylum; they posted a sentry, +ahorse, as a lookout; and lolling upon the bare +ground in the sun glare they chatted, laughed, rested, +but never for an instant were we dismissed from their +eyes and thoughts.</p> +<p>“They will wait, too. They can afford it,” she +murmured. “It is cheaper for them than losing +lives.”</p> +<p>“If they knew we had only the two cartridges——?”</p> +<p>“They don’t, yet.”</p> +<p>“And they will find out too late,” I hazarded.</p> +<p>“Yes, too late. We shall have time.” Her voice +did not waver; it heartened with its vengeful, determined +mien.</p> +<p>Occasionally a warrior invoked us by brandishing +arm or weapon in surety of hate and in promise of +fancied reprisal. What fools they were! Now and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +again a warrior galloped upon the back trail; returned +gleefully, perhaps to flourish an army canteen at us.</p> +<p>“There probably is water where we heard the +frogs last night,” she remarked.</p> +<p>“I’m glad we didn’t try to reach it, for camp,” said +I.</p> +<p>“So am I,” said she. “We might have run +right into them. We are better here. At least, I +am.”</p> +<p>“And I,” I confirmed.</p> +<p>Strangely enough we seemed to have little to say, +now in this precious doldrums where we were becalmed, +between the distant past and the unlogged future. +We had not a particle of shade, not a trace of +coolness: the sun was high, all our rocky recess was a +furnace, fairly reverberant with the heat; the flies +(and I vaguely pondered upon how they had existed, +previously, and whence they had gathered) buzzed +briskly, attracted by the dead mule, unseen, and captiously +diverted to us also. We lay tolerably bolstered, +without much movement; and as the Sioux +were not firing upon us, we might wax careless of +their espionage.</p> +<p>Her eyes, untroubled, scarcely left my face; I +feared to let mine leave hers. Of what she was thinking +I might not know, and I did not seek to know—was +oddly yielding and content, for our decisions had +been made. And still it was unreal, impossible: we, +in this guise; the Sioux, watching; the desert, waiting; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +death hovering—a sudden death, a violent death, +the end of that which had barely begun; an end suspended +in sight like the Dionysian sword, with the +single hair already frayed by the greedy shears of +the Fate. A snap, at our own signal; then presto, +change!</p> +<p>It simply could not be true. Why, somewhere my +father and mother busied, mindless; somewhere Benton +roared, mindless; somewhere the wagon train +toiled on, mindless; the stage road missed us not, nor +wondered; the railroad graders shoveled and scraped +and picked as blithely as if the same desert did not +contain them, and us; cities throbbed, people worked +and played, and we were of as little concern to them +now as we would be a year hence.</p> +<p>Then it all pridefully resolved to this, like the +warming tune of a fine battle chant: That I was here, +with my woman, my partner woman, the much desirable +woman whom I had won; which was more than +Daniel, or Montoyo, or the Indian chief, or the wide +world of other men could boast.</p> +<p>Soon she spoke, at times, musingly.</p> +<p>“I did make up to you, at first,” she said. “In +Omaha, and on the train.”</p> +<p>“Did you?” I smiled. She was so childishly +frank.</p> +<p>“But that was only passing. Then in Benton I +knew you were different. I wondered what it was; +but you were different from anybody that I had met +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +before. There’s always such a moment in a woman’s +life.”</p> +<p>I soberly nodded. Nothing could be a platitude in +such a place and such an hour.</p> +<p>“I wished to help you. Do you believe that now?”</p> +<p>“I believe you, dear heart,” I assured.</p> +<p>“But it was partly because I thought you could +help me,” she said, like a confession. And she added: +“I had nothing wrong in mind. You were to be a +friend, not a lover. I had no need of lovers; no, no.”</p> +<p>We were silent for an interval. Again she spoke.</p> +<p>“Do you care anything about my family? I suppose +not. That doesn’t matter, here. But you +wouldn’t be ashamed of them. I ran away with Montoyo. +I thought he was something else. How could +I go home after that? I tried to be true to him, we +had plenty of money, he was kind to me at first, but +he dragged me down and my father and mother don’t +know even yet. Yes, I tried to help him, too. I +stayed. It’s a life that gets into one’s blood. I +feared him terribly, in time. He was a breed, and a +devil—a gentleman devil.” She referred in the past +tense, as to some fact definitely bygone. “I had to +play fair with him, or—— And when I had done +that, hoping, why, what else could I do or where could +I go? So many people knew me.” She smiled. +“Suddenly I tied to you, sir. I seemed to feel—I +took the chance.”</p> +<p>“Thank God you did,” I encouraged. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span></p> +<p>“But I would not have wronged myself, or you, +or him,” she eagerly pursued. “I never did wrong +him.” She flushed. “No man can convict me. You +hurt me when you refused me, dear; it told me that +you didn’t understand. Then I was desperate. I had +been shamed before you, and by you. You were going, +and not understanding, and I couldn’t let you. +So I did follow you to the wagon train. You were +my star. I wonder why. I did feel that you’d get me +out—you see, I was so madly selfish, like a drowning +person. I clutched at you; might have put you under +while climbing up, myself.”</p> +<p>“We have climbed together,” said I. “You have +made me into a man.”</p> +<p>“But I forced myself on you. I played you against +Daniel. I foresaw that you might have to kill him, to +rid me of him. You were my weapon. And I used +you. Do you blame me that I used you?”</p> +<p>“Daniel and I were destined to meet, just as you +and I were destined to meet,” said I. “I had to +prove myself on him. It would have happened anyway. +Had I not stood up to him you would not have +loved me.”</p> +<p>“That was not the price,” she sighed. “Maybe +you don’t understand yet. I’m so afraid you don’t +understand,” she pleaded. “At the last I had resigned +you, I would have left you free, I saw how +you felt; but, oh, it happened just the same—we were +fated, and you showed that you hated me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span></p> +<p>“I never hated you. I was perplexed. That was +a part of love,” said I.</p> +<p>“You mean it? You are holding nothing back?” +she asked, anxious.</p> +<p>“I am holding nothing back,” I answered. “As +you will know, I think, in time to come.”</p> +<p>Again we reclined, silent, at peace: a strange peace +of mind and body, to which the demonstrations by +the waiting Sioux were alien things.</p> +<p>She spoke.</p> +<p>“Are we very guilty, do you think?”</p> +<p>“In what, dearest?”</p> +<p>“In this, here. I am already married, you +know.”</p> +<p>“That is another life,” I reasoned. “It is long +ago and under different law.”</p> +<p>“But if we went back into it—if we escaped?”</p> +<p>“Then we should—but don’t let’s talk of that.”</p> +<p>“Then you should forget and I should return to +Benton,” she said. “I have decided. I should return +to Benton, where Montoyo is, and maybe find +another way. But I should not live with him; never, +never! I should ask him to release me.”</p> +<p>“I, with you,” I informed. “We should go together, +and do what was best.”</p> +<p>“You would? You wouldn’t be ashamed, or +afraid?”</p> +<p>“Ashamed or afraid of what?”</p> +<p>She cried out happily, and shivered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span></p> +<p>“I hope we don’t have to. He might kill you. +Yes, I hope we don’t have to. Do you mind?”</p> +<p>I shook my head, smiling my response. There were +tears in her eyes, repaying me.</p> +<p>Our conversation became more fitful. Time sped, +I don’t know how, except that we were in a kind of +lethargy, taking no note of time and hanging fast to +this our respite from the tempestuous past.</p> +<p>Once she dreamily murmured, apropos of nothing, +yet apropos of much:</p> +<p>“We must be about the same age. I am not old, +not really very old.”</p> +<p>“I am twenty-five,” I answered.</p> +<p>“So I thought,” she mused.</p> +<p>Then, later, in manner of having revolved this idea +also, more distinctly apropos and voiced with a certain +triumph:</p> +<p>“I’m glad we drank water when we might; aren’t +you?”</p> +<p>“You were so wise,” I praised; and I felt sorry for +her cracked lips. It is astonishing with what swiftness, +even upon the dry desert, amid the dry air, under +the dry burning sun, thirst quickens into a consuming +fire scorching from within outward to the +skin.</p> +<p>We lapsed into that remarkable patience, playing +the game with the Sioux and steadily viewing each +other; and she asked, casually:</p> +<p>“Where will you shoot me, Frank?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></p> +<p>This bared the secret heart of me.</p> +<p>“No! No!” I begged. “Don’t speak of that. It +will be bad enough at the best. How can I? I don’t +know how I can do it!”</p> +<p>“You will, though,” she soothed. “I’d rather +have it from you. You must be brave, for yourself +and for me; and kind, and quick. I think it should +be through the temple. That’s sure. But you won’t +wait to look, will you? You’ll spare yourself +that?”</p> +<p>This made me groan, craven, and wipe my hand +across my forehead to brush away the frenzy. The +fingers came free, damp with cold sticky sweat—a +prodigy of a parchment skin which puzzled me.</p> +<p>We had not exchanged a caress, save by voice; had +not again touched each other. Sometimes I glanced +at the Sioux, but not for long; I dreaded to lose sight +of her by so much as a moment. The Sioux remained +virtually as from the beginning of their vigil. +They sat secure, drank, probably ate, with time their +ally: sat judicial and persistent, as though depending +upon the progress of a slow fuse, or upon the workings +of poison, which indeed was the case.</p> +<p>Thirst and heat tortured unceasingly. The sun had +passed the zenith—this sun of a culminating summer +throughout which he had thrived regal and lustful. +It seemed ignoble of him that he now should stoop +to torment only us, and one of us a small woman. +There was all his boundless domain for him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span></p> +<p>But stoop he did, burning nearer and nearer. She +broke with sudden passion of hoarse appeal.</p> +<p>“Why do we wait? Why not now?”</p> +<p>“We ought to wait,” I stammered, miserable and +pitying.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she whispered, submissive, “I suppose we +ought. One always does. But I am so tired. I +think,” she said, “that I will let my hair down. I +shall go with my hair down. I have a right to, at the +last.”</p> +<p>Whereupon she fell to loosening her hair and braiding +it with hurried fingers.</p> +<p>Then after a time I said:</p> +<p>“We’ll not be much longer, dear.”</p> +<p>“I hope not,” said she, panting, her lips stiff, her +eyes bright and feverish. “They’ll rush us at sundown; +maybe before.”</p> +<p>“I believe,” said I, blurring the words, for my +tongue was getting unmanageable, “they’re making +ready now.”</p> +<p>She exclaimed and struggled and sat up, and we +both gazed. Out there the Sioux, in that world of +their own, had aroused to energy. I fancied that they +had palled of the inaction. At any rate they were +upon their feet, several were upon their horses, others +mounted hastily, squad joined squad as though by +summons, and here came their outpost scout, galloping +in, his blanket streaming from one hand like a +banner of an Islam prophet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span></p> +<p>They delayed an instant, gesticulating.</p> +<p>“It will be soon,” she whispered, touching my arm. +“When they are half-way, don’t fail. I trust you. +Will you kiss me? That is only the once.”</p> +<p>I kissed her; dry cracked lips met dry cracked lips. +She laid herself down and closed her eyes, and +smiled.</p> +<p>“I’m all right,” she said. “And tired. I’ve +worked so hard, for only this. You mustn’t look.”</p> +<p>“And you must wait for me, somewhere,” I entreated. +“Just a moment.”</p> +<p>“Of course,” she sighed.</p> +<p>The Sioux charged, shrieking, hammering, lashing, +all of one purpose: that, us; she, I; my life, her body; +and quickly kneeling beside her (I was cool and firm +and collected) I felt her hand guide the revolver +barrel. But I did not look. She had forbidden, and +I kept my eyes upon them, until they were half-way, +and in exultation I pulled the trigger, my hand already +tensed to snatch and cock and deliver myself +under their very grasp. That was a sweetness.</p> +<p>The hammer clicked. There had been no jar, no +report. The hammer had only clicked, I tell you, +shocking me to the core. A missed cartridge? An +empty chamber? Which? No matter. I should +achieve for her, first; then, myself. I heard her gasp, +they were very near, how they shouted, how the bullets +and arrows spatted and hissed, and I had convulsively +cocked the gun, she had clutched it—when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +looking through them, agonized and blinded as I was—looking +through them as if they were phantasms I +sensed another sound and with sight sharpened I saw.</p> +<p>Then I wrested the revolver from her. I fired pointblank, +I fired again (the Colt’s did not fail); they +swept by, hooting, jostling; they thudded on; and rising +I screeched and waved, as bizarre, no doubt, as +any animated scarecrow.</p> +<p>It had been a trumpet note, and a cavalry guidon +and a rank of bobbing figures had come galloping, +galloping over an imperceptible swell.</p> +<p>She cried to me, from my feet.</p> +<p>“You didn’t do it! You didn’t do it!”</p> +<p>“We’re saved,” I blatted. “Hurrah! We’re +saved! The soldiers are here.”</p> +<p>Again the trumpet pealed, lilting silvery. She tottered +up, clinging to me. She stared. She released +me, and to my gladly questing gaze her face was very +white, her eyes struggling for comprehension, like +those of one awakened from a dream.</p> +<p>“I must go back to Benton,” she faltered. “I +shall never get away from Benton.”</p> +<p>We stood mute while the blue-coats raced on with +hearty cheers and brave clank of saber and canteen. +We were sitting composedly when the lieutenant +scrambled to us, among our rocks; the troopers followed, +curiously scanning.</p> +<p>His stubbled red face, dust-smeared, queried us +keenly; so did his curt voice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></p> +<p>“Just in time?”</p> +<p>“In time,” I croaked. “Water! For her—for +me.”</p> +<p>There was a canteen apiece. We sucked.</p> +<p>“You are the two from the Mormon wagon +train?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. You know?” I uttered.</p> +<p>“We came on as fast as we could. The Sioux are +raiding again. By God, you had a narrow squeak, +sir,” he reproved. “You were crazy to try it—you +and a woman, alone. We’ll take you along as soon +as my Pawnees get in from chasing those beggars.”</p> +<p>Distant whoops from a pursuit drifted in to us, +out of the desert.</p> +<p>“Captain Adams sent you?” I inquired.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“I will go back,” I agreed. “I will go back, but +there’s no need of Mrs. Montoyo. If you could see +her safely landed at a stage station, and for Benton——?”</p> +<p>“We’ll land you both. I have to report at Bridger. +The train is all right. It has an escort to Bitter +Creek.”</p> +<p>“I can overtake it, or join it,” said I. “But the +lady goes to Benton.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” he snapped. “That’s nothing to me, +of course. But you’ll do better to wait for the train +at Bridger, Mr. ——? I don’t believe I have your +name?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span></p> +<p>“Beeson,” I informed, astonished.</p> +<p>“And the lady’s? Your sister? Wife?”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Montoyo,” I informed. And I repeated, +that there should be no misunderstanding. “Mrs. +Montoyo, from Benton. No relative, sir.”</p> +<p>He passed it over, as a gentleman should.</p> +<p>“Well, Mr. Beeson, you have business with the +train?”</p> +<p>“I have business with Captain Adams, and he with +me,” I replied. “As probably you know. Since he +sent you, I shall consider myself under arrest; but I +will return of my own free will as soon as Mrs. +Montoyo is safe.”</p> +<p>“Under arrest? For what?” He blankly eyed +me.</p> +<p>“For killing that man, sir. Captain Adams’ son. +But I was forced to it—I did it in self-defense. I +should not have left, and I am ready to face the matter +whenever possible.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said he, with a shrug, tossing the idea +aside. “If that’s all! I did hear something about +that, from some of my men, but nothing from +Adams. You didn’t kill him, I understand; merely +laid him out. I saw him, myself, but I didn’t ask +questions. So you can rest easy on that score. His +old man seemed to have no grudge against you for +it. Fact is, he scarcely allowed me time to warn him +of the Sioux before he told me you and a woman were +out and were liable to lose your scalps, if nothing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span> +worse. I think,” the lieutenant added, narrowing +upon me, “that you’ll find those Mormons are as just +as any other set, in a show down. The lad, I gathered +from the talk, drew on you after he’d cried +quits.” He turned hastily. “You spoke, madam? +Anything wanted?”</p> +<p>The trumpeter orderly plucked me by the sleeve. +He was a squat, sun-scorched little man, and his red-rimmed +blue eyes squinted at me with painful interest. +He whispered harshly from covert of bronzed +hand.</p> +<p>“Beg your pardon, sorr. Mrs. Montoyo, be it—that +lady?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“From Benton City, sorr, ye say?”</p> +<p>“From Benton City.”</p> +<p>“Sure, I know the name. It’s the same of a gambler +the vigilantes strung up last week; for I was +there to see.”</p> +<p>I heard a gusty sigh, an exclamation from the +lieutenant. My Lady had fainted again.</p> +<p>“The reaction, sir,” I apologized, to the lieutenant, +as we worked.</p> +<p>“Naturally,” answered he. “You’ll both go back +to Benton?”</p> +<p>“Certainly,” said I.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXII_STAR_SHINE' id='XXII_STAR_SHINE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>STAR SHINE</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was six weeks later, with My Lady all recovered +and I long since healed, and Fort Bridger pleasant in +our memories, when we two rode into Benton once +more, by horse from the nearest stage point. And +here we sat our saddles, silent, wondering; for of +Benton there was little significant of the past, very +little tangible of the present, naught promising of its +future.</p> +<p>Roaring Benton City had vanished, you might say, +utterly. The iron tendrils of the Pacific Railway +glistened, stretching westward into the sunset, and +Benton had followed the lure, to Rawlins (as had +been told us), to Green River, to Bryan—likely now +still onward, for the track was traveling fast, charging +the mountain slopes of Utah. The restless dust +had settled. The Queen Hotel, the Big Tent, the +rows of canvas, plank, tin, sheet metal, what-not +stores, saloons, gambling dens, dance halls, human +habitations—the blatant street and the station itself +had subsided into this: a skeleton company of hacked +and weazened posts, a fantastic outcrop of coldly +blackened clay chimneys, a sprinkling of battered +cans. The fevered populace who had ridden high +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +upon the tide of rapid life had remained only as +ghosts haunting a potter’s field, and the turmoil of +frenzied pleasure had dwindled to a coyote’s yelp +mocking the twilight.</p> +<p>“It all, all is wiped out, like he is,” she said. “But +I wished to see.”</p> +<p>“All, all is wiped out, dear heart,” said I. “All of +that. But here are you and I.”</p> +<p>Through star shine we cantered side by side eastward +down the old, empty freighting road, for the +railway station at Fort Steele.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p style='margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:2em;'>THE END</p> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.58 --> +<!-- timestamp: Sun Dec 07 10:13:58 -0700 2008 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Desert Dust, by Edwin L. 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