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diff --git a/29638-h/29638-h.htm b/29638-h/29638-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ab7e94 --- /dev/null +++ b/29638-h/29638-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12584 @@ +<!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 The Twins of Suffering Creek, by Ridgewell Cullum.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + @media screen { + hr.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.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + a {text-decoration: none;} + p.cg {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-align: left !important; width: 101%;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + hr.p20 {width: 20%; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both; margin: 1em auto;} + td.chalgn {text-align:right; margin-top:0; padding-right:1em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + span.rindent2 {margin-left: 0; padding-left:0; width: 0.8em; padding-right: 0; margin-right: 0; display: block; float: right;} + p.ralign {text-align: right !important;} + hr.toprule {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;} + hr.tb {border: none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 33%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + span.rindent4 {margin-left: 0; padding-left:0; width: 1.6em; padding-right: 0; margin-right: 0; display: block; float: right;} + p.center {text-align: center !important;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps} + span.rindent6 {margin-left: 0; padding-left:0; width: 2.4em; padding-right: 0; margin-right: 0; display: block; float: right;} + h3 {font-size:1.0em;} + h1,h2,h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + blockquote {display: block; margin: .75em 5%; font-size: 90%;} + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Twins of Suffering Creek, by Ridgwell Cullum + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Twins of Suffering Creek + +Author: Ridgwell Cullum + +Release Date: August 8, 2009 [EBook #29638] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK</h1> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='center'><span style='font-weight:bold'>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</span></p> +<hr class='p20' /> +<p class='cg'>THE ONE-WAY TRAIL<br /> +THE TRAIL OF THE AXE<br /> +THE SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE<br /> +THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/f0004-img.jpg' alt='' title='' width='386' height='567' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“Say––Jessie,” he breathed hotly, “you’re––you’re fine!”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.2em;margin-bottom:40px;margin-top:40px;'>THE TWINS OF<br />SUFFERING CREEK</p> +<p class='tp' >BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:larger;margin-bottom:10px;'>RIDGWELL CULLUM</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>AUTHOR OF<br />“THE ONE-WAY TRAIL,” “THE WATCHERS OF THE PLAINS,” ETC.</p> +<div style='margin:40px auto 70px auto; text-align:center;'><img alt='emblem' src='images/f0005-img.jpg' /></div> +<p class='tp' >PHILADELPHIA<br /><span style='font-size:larger;margin-bottom:40px;'>GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.</span><br />PUBLISHERS</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='center'><span class='smcap'>Copyright, 1912, by<br /> +George W. Jacobs & Company</span></p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:40px;'>TO<br />MY TWO LITTLE CHUMS</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:20px;margin-bottom:20px;'><span style='font-size:larger;'>CHRIS</span> AND <span style='font-size:larger;'>RIDGE</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;'>THIS BOOK<br />IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>POTTER’S CLAY</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_I_POTTERS_CLAY'>9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE HARVEST OF PASSION</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_II_THE_HARVEST_OF_PASSION'>23</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_III_THE_AWAKENING_OF_SCIPIO'>37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IV_SCIPIO_BORROWS_A_HORSE'>54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>HUSBAND AND LOVER</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_V_HUSBAND_AND_LOVER'>69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>SUNNY OAK PROTESTS</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VI_SUNNY_OAK_PROTESTS'>87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VII_SUNNY_OAK_TRIES_HIS_HAND'>94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>WILD BILL THINKS HARD––AND HEARS NEWS</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VIII_WILD_BILL_THINKS_HARDAND_HEARS_NEWS'>108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE FORERUNNER OF THE TRUST</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IX_THE_FORERUNNER_OF_THE_TRUST'>116</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE TRUST</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_X_THE_TRUST'>124</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>STRANGERS IN SUFFERING CREEK</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XI_STRANGERS_IN_SUFFERING_CREEK'>136</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE WOMAN</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XII_THE_WOMAN'>142</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>BIRDIE AND THE BOYS</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIII_BIRDIE_AND_THE_BOYS'>154</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIV_BIRDIE_GIVES_MORE_ADVICE'>167</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE TRUST AT WORK</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XV_THE_TRUST_AT_WORK'>177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>ZIP’S GRATITUDE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVI_ZIPS_GRATITUDE'>188</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>JESSIE’S LETTER</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVII_JESSIES_LETTER'>196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>ON THE ROAD</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVIII_ON_THE_ROAD'>205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIX_A_FINANCIAL_TRANSACTION'>216</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>HOW THE TRUST BOUGHT MEDICINE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XX_HOW_THE_TRUST_BOUGHT_MEDICINE'>225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>SCIPIO MAKES PREPARATIONS</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXI_SCIPIO_MAKES_PREPARATIONS'>236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>SUNDAY MORNING IN SUFFERING CREEK</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXII_SUNDAY_MORNING_IN_SUFFERING_CREEK'>240</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A BATH AND––</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXIII_A_BATH_AND'>247</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>––A BIBLE TALK</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXIV_A_BIBLE_TALK'>259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>WILD BILL FIRES A BOMB</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXV_WILD_BILL_FIRES_A_BOMB'>267</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>WILD BILL INSPECTS HIS CLAIM</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXVI_WILD_BILL_INSPECTS_HIS_CLAIM'>274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>SUSPENSE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXVII_SUSPENSE'>285</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>JAMES</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXVIII_JAMES'>296</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE GOLD-STAGE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXIX_THE_GOLDSTAGE'>304</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>ON THE SPAWN CITY TRAIL</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXX_ON_THE_SPAWN_CITY_TRAIL'>316</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE BATTLE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXXI_THE_BATTLE'>325</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A MAN’S LOVE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXXII_A_MANS_LOVE'>335</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE REASON WHY</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXXIII_THE_REASON_WHY'>346</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE LUCK OF SCIPIO</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXXIV_THE_LUCK_OF_SCIPIO'>353</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>HOME</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXXV_HOME'>363</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h1>THE<br />TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK</h1> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I_POTTERS_CLAY' id='CHAPTER_I_POTTERS_CLAY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>POTTER’S CLAY</h3> +</div> +<p>Scipio moved about the room uncertainly. It was +characteristic of him. Nature had given him an expression +that suggested bewilderment, and, somehow, this expression +had got into his movements.</p> +<p>He was swabbing the floor with a rag mop; a voluntary +task, undertaken to relieve his wife, who was lounging over +the glowing cookstove, reading a cheap story book. Once +or twice he paused in his labors, and his mild, questioning +blue eyes sought the woman’s intent face. His stubby, +work-soiled fingers would rake their way through his straw-colored +hair, which grew sparsely and defiantly, standing +out at every possible unnatural angle, and the mop would +again flap into the muddy water, and continue its process of +smearing the rough boarded floor.</p> +<p>Now and again the sound of children’s voices floated in +through the open doorway, and at each shrill piping the +man’s pale eyes lit into a smile of parental tenderness. But +his work went on steadily, for such was the deliberateness +of his purpose.</p> +<p>The room was small, and already three-quarters of it had +been satisfactorily smeared, and the dirt spread to the necessary +consistency. Now he was nearing the cookstove +where the woman sat.</p> +<p>“I’d hate to worry you any, Jess,” he said, in a gentle, +apologetic voice, “but I’m right up to this patch. If you’d +kind of lift your feet, an’ tuck your skirts around you some, +guess you could go right on reading your fiction.”</p> +<p>The woman looked up with a peevish frown. Then +something like a pitying smile warmed her expression. She +was a handsome creature, of a large, somewhat bold type, +with a passionate glow of strong youth and health in every +feature of her well-shaped face. She was taller than her +diminutive husband, and, in every detail of expression, his +antithesis. She wore a dress with some pretensions to +display, and suggesting a considerable personal vanity. But +it was of the tawdry order that was unconvincing, and lacked +both refinement and tidiness.</p> +<p>Scipio followed up his words with a glance of smiling +amiability.</p> +<p>“I’m real sorry––” he began again.</p> +<p>But she cut him short.</p> +<p>“Oh, bother!” she exclaimed; and, thrusting her slippered +feet upon the stove, tucked her skirts about her. +Then, utterly ignoring him, she buried herself once more +in her book.</p> +<p>The mop flapped about her chair legs, the water splashed +the stove. Scipio was hurrying, and consequently floundering. +It was his endeavor not to disturb his wife more than +was necessary.</p> +<p>Finally he wrung out his mop and stood it outside the +door in the sun. He emptied his bucket upon the few +anæmic cabbages which grew in an untidy patch at the side +of the hut, and returned once more to the room.</p> +<p>He glanced round it with feeble appreciation. It was a +hopeless sort of place, yet he could not detect its shortcomings. +The rough, log-built walls, smeared with a mud +plaster, were quite unadorned. There was one solitary +opening for a window, and in the center of the room was a +roughly manufactured table, laden with the remains of +several repasts. Breakfast was the latest, and the smell of +coffee and fried pork still hung about the room. There were +two Windsor chairs, one of which his wife was occupying, +and a ramshackle food cupboard. Then there were the +cookstove and a fuel box, and two or three iron pots hanging +about the walls.</p> +<p>Out of this opened a bedroom, and the rough bedstead, +with its tumbled blankets, was in full view where Scipio +stood. Although the morning was well advanced the bed +was still unmade. Poor as the place was, it might, in the +hands of a busy housewife, have presented a very different +appearance. But Jessie was not a good housewife. She +hated the care of her little home. She was not a bad woman, +but she had no sympathy with the harshnesses of life. +She yearned for the amplitude to which she had been +brought up, and detested bitterly the pass to which her husband’s +incapacity had brought her.</p> +<p>When she had married Scipio he had money––money +that had been left to him for the purpose of embarking in +business, a purpose he had faithfully carried out. But his +knowledge of business was limited to the signing of checks +in favor of anyone who wanted one, and, as a consequence, +by the time their twins were three years old he had received +an intimation from the bank that he must forthwith put +them in credit for the last check he had drawn.</p> +<p>Thus it was that, six months later, the thirty or forty +inhabitants of Job’s Flat on Suffering Creek––a little mining +camp stowed away in the southwest corner of Montana, +almost hidden amongst the broken foothills of the +Rocky Mountains––basking in the sunshine of a Sunday +afternoon haze, were suddenly startled by the apparition of +a small wagon, driven by a smaller man with yellow hair, +bearing down upon them. But that which stirred them most +surely was the additional sight of a handsome girl, sitting +at his side, and, crowded between them on the seat, a pair of +small children.</p> +<p>Scipio, in a desperate effort to restore his fortunes, and +set his precious family once more on a sound financial basis, +had come in search of the gold which report said was to be +had on Suffering Creek for the trouble of picking it up.</p> +<p>This vision startled Suffering Creek, which, metaphorically, +sat up and rubbed its eyes. Here was something quite +unaccustomed. The yellow-haired fragment of humanity at +the end of the reins was like nothing they had ever seen; +the children were a source of wondering astonishment; but +the woman––ah! There was one woman, and one woman +only, on Suffering Creek until Jessie’s arrival, and she was +only the “hash-slinger” at Minky’s store.</p> +<p>The newcomer’s face pleased them. Her eyes were fine, +and full of coquetry. Her figure was all that a woman’s +should be. Yes, the camp liked the look of her, and so it +set out to give Scipio a hearty welcome.</p> +<p>Now a mining camp can be very cordial in its rough way. +It can be otherwise, too. But in this case we have only to +do with its cordiality. The men of Suffering Creek were +drawn from all sorts and conditions of society. The majority +of them lived like various grades of princes when +money was plentiful, and starved when Fortune frowned. +There were men amongst them who had never felt the softer +side of life, and men who had been ruthlessly kicked from +that downy couch. There were good men and scoundrels, +workers and loafers; there were men who had few scruples, +and certainly no morals whatever. But they had met on a +common ground with the common purpose of spinning fortune’s +wheel, and the sight of a woman’s handsome face set +them tumbling over each other to extend the hand of friendship +to her husband.</p> +<p>And the simple-minded Scipio quickly fell into the fold. +Nor was it long before his innocence, his mildness, his never-failing +good-nature got hold of this cluster of ruffians. +They laughed at him––he was a source of endless amusement +to them––but they liked him. And in such men liking +meant a great deal.</p> +<p>But from the first Scipio’s peculiar nature, and it was +peculiar, led him into many grievous mistakes. His mind +was full of active purpose. He had an enormous sense of +responsibility and duty to those who belonged to him. But +somehow he seemed to lack any due sense of proportion in +those things which were vital to their best interests. Ponderous +thought had the effect of turning his ideas upside +down, leaving him with but one clear inspiration. He must +do. He must act––and at once.</p> +<p>Thus it was he gave much consideration to the selection +of the site of his house. He wanted a southern aspect, it +must be high up, it must not be crowded amongst the other +houses. The twins needed air. Then the nearer he was to +the creek, where the gold was to be found, the better. And +again his prospecting must tap a part of it where the diggers +had not yet “claimed.” There were a dozen and one things +to be considered, and he thought of them all until his gentle +mind became confused and his sense of proportion completely +submerged.</p> +<p>The result was, he settled desperately upon the one site +that common sense should have made him avoid. Nor was +it until the foundations of the house had been laid, and the +walls were already half their full height, that he realized, +from the desolation of refuse and garbage strewn everywhere +about him, that his home was overlooking the camp +“dumps.”</p> +<p>However, it was too late to make any change, and, with +characteristic persistence, he completed his work and went +into residence with his wife and the twins.</p> +<p>The pressure of work lessened, he had a moment in +which to look around. And with the thought of his twins +on his mind, and all his wife had once been accustomed to, +he quickly realized the necessity of green vegetables in his +<i>ménage</i>. So he promptly flew to the task of arranging a +cabbage patch. The result was a foregone conclusion. He +dug and planted his patch. Nor was it until the work was +completed that it filtered through to his comprehension that +he had selected the only patch in the neighborhood with a +heavy underlay of gravel and lime stone.</p> +<p>But his crowning effort was his search for gold. There +are well-established geological laws governing the prospector’s +craft which no experienced gold-seeker ever departs +from. These were all carefully explained to him by willing +tongues. Then, after poring over all he had learned, and +thought and searched for two days and two nights, he finally +discovered a spot where no other prospector had staked the +ground.</p> +<p>It was a curious, gloomy sort of patch, nearly half-a-mile +up the creek from the camp, and further in towards the +mountains. Just at this spot the banks of the creek were +high, there was an unusual blackness about the soil, and it +gave out a faint but unrecognizable odor, that, in the bright +mountain air, was quite pleasant. For several hundred +yards the ground of this flat was rankly spongy, with an +oozy surface. Then, beyond, lay a black greasy-looking +marsh, and further on again the hills rose abruptly with the +facets of auriferous-looking soil, such as the prospector loves +to contemplate.</p> +<p>Scipio pondered. And though the conditions outraged all +he had been told of the craft he was embarking upon, he +plunged his pick into this flat, and set to work with characteristic +good-will.</p> +<p>The men of the camp when they discovered his venture +shook their heads and laughed. Then their laugh died out +and their hard eyes grew serious. But no one interfered. +They were all seeking gold.</p> +<p>This was Scipio’s position on Suffering Creek, but it does +not tell half of what lay somewhere in the back of his +quaintly-poised mind. No one who knew him failed to +realize his worship for his wife. His was a love such as +rarely falls to the lot of woman. And his devotion to his +girl and boy twins was something quite beyond words. +These things were the mainspring of his life, and drove +him to such superlative degrees of self-sacrifice that could +surely only have been endured by a man of his peculiar +mind.</p> +<p>No matter what the toil of his claim, he always seemed +to find leisure and delight in saving his wife from the +domestic cares of their home. And though weary to the +breaking-point with his toil, and consumed by a hunger +that was well-nigh painful, when food was short he never +seemed to realize his needs until Jessie and the children had +eaten heartily. And afterwards no power on earth could +rob him of an hour’s romp with the little tyrants who ruled +and worshiped him.</p> +<p>Now, as he stood before the littered table, he glanced out +at the sun. The morning was advancing all too rapidly. +His eyes drifted across to his wife. She was still reading. +A light sigh escaped him. He felt he should be out on his +claim. However, without further thought he took the boiler +of hot water off the stove and began to wash up.</p> +<p>It was the clatter of the plates that made Jessie look +up.</p> +<p>“For goodness’ sake!” she exclaimed, with exasperation. +“You’ll be bathing the children next. Say, you can just +leave those things alone. I’ve only got a bit more to read +to the end of the chapter.”</p> +<p>“I thought maybe it ’ud help you out some. I––”</p> +<p>“You give me a pain, you sure do,” Jessie broke in. +“You get right out and hustle gold, and leave things of that +sort to others.”</p> +<p>“But I don’t mind doing it, truth I don’t,” Scipio expostulated +mildly. “I just thought it would save you––”</p> +<p>Jessie gave an artificial sigh.</p> +<p>“You tire me. Do you think I don’t know my work? +I’m here to do the chores––and well I know it. You’re +here to do a man’s work, same as any other man. You get +out and find the gold, I can look after the house––if you +can call it a house,” she added contemptuously.</p> +<p>Her eyes were quite hopeless as she let them wander +over the frowsiness in the midst of which she sat. She was +particularly discontented this morning. Not only had her +thoughts been rudely dragged back from the seductive contemplation +of the doings of the wealthy ones as the dime +fiction-writer sees them, but there was a feeling of something +more personal. It was something which she hugged +to her bosom as a priceless pearl of enjoyment in the midst +of a barren, rock-bound life of squalor.</p> +<p>The sight of him meandering about the room recalled +these things. Thoughts, while they troubled her, yet had +power to stimulate and excite her; thoughts which she +almost dreaded, but which caused her exquisite delight. +She must get rid of him.</p> +<p>But as she looked about the room something very like +dismay assailed her. There were the hated household duties +confronting her; duties she was longing to be free of, +duties which she was tempted to abandon altogether, with +everything else that concerned her present sordid life.</p> +<p>But Scipio knew none of this. His unsuspicious nature +left him utterly blinded to the inner workings of her indolent, +selfish spirit, and was always ready to accept blame for +her ill-humors. Now he hurriedly endeavored to make +amends.</p> +<p>“Of course you can, Jess,” he said eagerly. “I don’t +guess there’s another woman around who can manage things +like you. You don’t never grumble at things, and goodness +knows I couldn’t blame you any, if you did. But––but +ther’ seems such a heap to be done––for you to do,” he went +on, glancing with mild vengefulness at the litter. “Say,” +he cried, with a sudden lightening and inspiration, “maybe +I could buck some wood for you before I go. You’ll need +a good fire to dry the kiddies by after you washened ’em. +It sure wouldn’t kep me long.”</p> +<p>But the only effect of his persistent kindliness was to +further exasperate his wife. Every word, every gentle intention +on his part made her realize her own shortcomings +more fully. In her innermost heart she knew that she had +no desire to do the work; she hated it, she was lazy. She +knew that he was far better than she; good, even noble, +in spite of his mental powers being so lamentably at fault. +All this she knew, and it weakly maddened her because +she could not rise above herself and show him all the woman +that was so deeply hidden under her cloak of selfishness.</p> +<p>Then there was that other thought, that something that +was her secret. She had that instinct of good that made it +a guilty secret. Yet she knew that, as the world sees +things, she had as yet done no great harm.</p> +<p>And therein lay the mischief. Had she been a vicious +woman nothing would have troubled her, but she was not +vicious. She was not even less than good in her moral +instincts. Only she was weak, hopelessly weak, and so +all these things drove her to a shrewish discontent and +peevishness.</p> +<p>“Oh, there’s no peace where you are,” she cried, passionately +flinging her book aside and springing to her feet. +“Do you think I can’t look to this miserable home you’ve +given me? I hate it. Yes, I hate it all. Why I married +you I’m sure I don’t know. Look at it. Look round you, +and if you have any idea of things at all what can you see +but a miserable hog pen? Yes, that’s it, a hog pen. And +we are the hogs. You and me, and––and the little ones. +Why haven’t you got some ‘get up’ about you? Why +don’t you earn some money, get some somehow so we can +live as we’ve been used to living? Why don’t you do something, +instead of pottering around here trying to do chores +that aren’t your work, an’ you can’t do right anyway? You +make me mad––you do indeed. But there! There’s no +use talking to you, none whatever!”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, Jess. I’m real sorry you feel like this.”</p> +<p>Scipio left the table and moved to the cupboard, into which +he mechanically began to stow the provender. It was an +unconscious action and almost pathetic in its display of that +kindly purpose, which, where his wife was concerned, was +never-failing. Jessie saw, angry as she was, and her fine +eyes softened. Perhaps it was the maternal instinct underlying +the selfishness that made her feel something akin to a +pitying affection for her little husband.</p> +<p>She glanced down at the boiler of water, and mechanically +gathered some of the tin plates together and proceeded to +wash them.</p> +<p>“I’m kind of sorry, Zip,” she said. “I just didn’t mean +all that. Only––only it makes me feel bad seeing all this +around, and you––you always trying to do both a man’s and +a woman’s work. Things are bad with us, so bad they seem +hopeless. We’re right here with two kiddies and––and +ourselves, and there’s practically no money and no prospects +of there being any. It makes me want to cry. It makes +me want to do something desperate. It makes me hate +things––even those things I’ve no right to hate. No, no,” +as the man tried to stop her, “don’t you say anything. Not +a word till I’ve done. You see, I mayn’t feel like talking of +these things again. Maybe I shan’t never have a chance of +talking them again.”</p> +<p>She sighed and stared out of window.</p> +<p>“I want you to understand things as I see them, and +maybe you’ll not blame me if I see them wrong. You’re +too good for me, and I––I don’t seem grateful for your +goodness. You work and think of others as no other man +would do. You don’t know what it is to think of yourself. +It’s me, and the children first with you, and, Zip––and +you’ve no call to think much of me. Yes, I know what +you’d say. I’m the most perfect woman on earth. I’m not. +I’m not even good. If I were I’d be glad of all you try to +do; I’d help you. But I don’t, and––and I just don’t seem +able to. I’m always sort of longing and longing for the +old days. I long for those things we can never have. I +think––think always of folks with money, their automobiles, +their grand houses, with lots and lots of good things to +eat. And it makes me hate––all––all this. Oh, Zip, I’m +sorry. I’m sorry I’m not good. But I’m not, and I––I––”</p> +<p>She broke off and dashed the back of her hand across her +eyes in time to wipe away the great tears that threatened to +roll down her rounded cheeks. In a moment Scipio was +at her side, and one arm was thrust about her waist, and he +seized one of her hands.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t to cry,” he said tenderly, as though she +were a child. “You mustn’t, Jess––truth. You ain’t what +you’re saying. You ain’t nothing like it. You’re dear and +good, and it’s ’cause you’re that good and honest you’re +saying all these things. Do you think I don’t know just +how you’re suffering? Do you? Why, Jess, I know just +everything about you, and it nigh breaks my heart to think +of all I’ve brought you to. It ain’t you, Jess, it’s me who’s +bad. It’s me who’s a fool. I hain’t no more sense than a +buck rabbit, and I ain’t sure a new-littered pup couldn’t +put me to sleep for savvee. Now don’t you go to crying. +Don’t you indeed. I just can’t bear to see those beautiful +eyes o’ yours all red and running tears. And, say, we sure +have got better prospects than you’re figgering. You see, +I’ve got a claim there’s no one else working on. And sure +there’s minerals on it. Copper––or leastways it looks like +copper, and there’s mica, an’ lots––an’ lots of stuff. I’ll +sure find gold in that claim. It’s just a matter of keepin’ +on. And I’m going to. And then, when we find it, what +a blow-out we’ll have. We’ll get automobiles and houses, +and––and we’ll have a bunch of sweet corn for supper, +same as we had at a hotel once, and then––”</p> +<p>But the woman had suddenly drawn away from his +embrace. She could stand no more of her little husband’s +pathetic hopes. She knew. She knew, with the rest of the +camp, the hopelessness of his quest, and even in her worst +moments she had not the heart to destroy his illusions. It +was no good, the hopelessness of it all came more than ever +upon her.</p> +<p>“Zip dear,” she said, with a sudden, unwonted tenderness +that had something strangely nervous in it, “don’t you +get staying around here or I’ll keep right on crying. You +get out to your work. I’m feeling better now, and you’ve––you’ve +made things look kind of brighter,” she lied.</p> +<p>She glanced out of window, and the height of the sun +seemed suddenly to startle her. Her more gentle look suddenly +vanished and one of irritability swiftly replaced it.</p> +<p>“Now, won’t you let me help you with all these things?” +Scipio coaxed.</p> +<p>But Jessie had seemingly quite forgotten her moment of +tenderness.</p> +<p>“No,” she said sharply. “You get right out to work.” +Then after a pause, with a sudden warming in her tone, +“Think of Jamie and Vada. Think of them, and not of +me. Their little lives are just beginning. They are quite +helpless. You must work for them, and work as you’ve +never done before. They are ours, and we love them. I +love them. Yes”––with a harsh laugh––“better than myself. +Don’t you think of me, Zip. Think of them, and +work for them. Now be off. I don’t want you here.”</p> +<p>Scipio reluctantly enough accepted his dismissal. His +wife’s sudden nervousness of manner was not hidden from +him. He believed that she was seriously upset, and it pained +and alarmed his gentle heart. But the cause of her condition +did not enter into his calculations. How should it? +The reason of things seemed to be something which his mind +could neither grasp nor even inquire into. She was troubled, +and he––well, it made him unhappy. She said go and +work, work for the children. Ah, yes, her thoughts were +for the children, womanly, unselfish thoughts just such as a +good mother should have. So he went, full of a fresh enthusiasm +for his work and for his object.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Jessie went on with her work. And strangely +enough her nervousness increased as the moments went by, +and a vague feeling of apprehension took hold of her. She +hurried desperately. To get the table cleared was her chief +concern. How she hated it. The water grew cold and +greasy, and every time she dipped her cloth into it she shuddered. +Again and again her eyes turned upon the window +surveying the bright sunlight outside. The children playing +somewhere beyond the door were ignored. She was even +trying to forget them. She heard their voices, and they set +her nerves jangling with each fresh peal of laughter, or +shrill piping cry.</p> +<p>At last the last plate and enameled cup was washed and +dried. The boiler was emptied and hung upon the wall. +She swabbed the table carelessly and left it to dry. Then, +with a rush, she vanished into the inner room.</p> +<p>The moments passed rapidly. There was no sound beyond +the merry games of the twins squatting out in the sun, +digging up the dusty soil with their fat little fingers. Jessie +did not reappear.</p> +<p>At last a light, decided step sounded on the creek side of +the house. It drew nearer. A moment or two later a +shadow flitted across the window. Then suddenly a man’s +head and shoulders filled up the opening. The head bent +forward, craning into the room, and a pair of handsome +eyes peered curiously round.</p> +<p>“Hi!” he cried in a suppressed tone. “Hi! Jessie!”</p> +<p>The bedroom curtain was flung aside, and Jessie, arrayed +carefully in her best shirtwaist and skirt, suddenly appeared +in the doorway. Her eyes were glowing with excitement +and fear. But her rich coloring was alight with warmth, +and the man stared in admiration. Yes, she was very good +to look upon.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_II_THE_HARVEST_OF_PASSION' id='CHAPTER_II_THE_HARVEST_OF_PASSION'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>THE HARVEST OF PASSION</h3> +</div> +<p>For one passionate moment the woman’s radiant face held +the gaze of the man. He was swayed with an unwholesome +hunger at the sight of her splendid womanhood. The +beautiful, terrified eyes, so full of that allurement which +ever claims all that is vital in man; the warm coloring of her +delicately rounded cheeks, so soft, so downy; the perfect +undulations of her strong young figure––these things +caught him anew, and again set raging the fire of a reckless, +vicious passion. In a flash he had mounted to the sill of the +window-opening, and dropped inside the room.</p> +<p>“Say––Jessie,” he breathed hotly. “You’re––you’re +fine.”</p> +<p>His words were almost involuntary. It was as though +they were a mere verbal expression of what was passing +through his mind, and made without thought of addressing +her. He was almost powerless in his self-control before her +beauty. And Jessie’s conscience in its weakly life could not +hold out before the ardor of his assault. Her eyelids lowered. +She stood waiting, and in a moment the bold invader +held her crushed in his arms.</p> +<p>She lay passive, yielding to his caresses for some moments. +Then of a sudden she stirred restlessly. She struggled +weakly to free herself. Then, as his torrential kisses +continued, sweeping her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, her hair, +something like fear took hold of her. Her struggles suddenly +became real, and at last she stood back panting, but +with her young heart mutely stirred to a passionate response.</p> +<p>Nor was it difficult, as they stood thus, to understand how +nature rose dominant over all that belonged to the higher +spiritual side of the woman. The wonderful virility in her +demanded life in the full flood of its tide, and here, standing +before her, was the embodiment of all her natural, if baser, +ideals.</p> +<p>The man was a handsome, picturesque creature bred on +lines of the purer strains. He had little enough about him +of the rough camp in which she lived. He brought with +him an atmosphere of cities, an atmosphere she yearned for. +It was in his dress, in his speech, in the bold daring of his +handsome eyes. She saw in his face the high breeding of +an ancient lineage. There was such a refinement in the +delicate chiseling of his well-molded features. His brows +were widely expressive of a strong intellect. His nose possessed +that wonderful aquilinity associated with the highest +type of Indian. His cheeks were smooth, and of a delicacy +which threw into relief the perfect model of the frame beneath +them. His clean-shaven mouth and chin suggested all +that which a woman most desires to behold in a man. His +figure was tall and muscular, straight-limbed and spare; +while in his glowing eyes shone an irresistible courage, a fire +of passion, and such a purpose as few women could +withstand. And so the wife of Scipio admitted her defeat +and yielded the play of all her puny arts, that she might +appear sightly in his eyes.</p> +<p>But she only saw him as he wished her to see him. He +showed her the outward man. The inner man was something +not yet for her to probe. He was one of Nature’s +anachronisms. She had covered a spirit which was of the +hideous stock from which he sprang with a gilding of +superlative manhood.</p> +<p>His name was James, a name which, in years long past, +the Western world of America had learned to hate with a +bitterness rarely equaled. But all that was almost forgotten, +and this man, by reason of his manner, which was +genial, open-handed, even somewhat magnificent, rarely +failed, at first, to obtain the good-will of those with whom +he came into contact.</p> +<p>It was nearly nine months since he first appeared on +Suffering Creek. Apparently he had just drifted there in +much the same way that most of the miners had drifted, +possibly drawn thither out of curiosity at the reports of the +gold strike. So unobtrusive had been his coming that even +in that small community he at first passed almost unobserved. +Yet he was full of interest in the place, and contrived +to learn much of its affairs and prospects. Having +acquired all the information he desired, he suddenly set out +to make himself popular. And his popularity was brought +about by a free-handed dispensation of a liberal supply of +money. Furthermore, he became a prominent devotee at +the poker table in Minky’s store, and, by reason of the fact +that he usually lost, as most men did who joined in a game +in which Wild Bill was taking a hand, his popularity increased +rapidly, and the simple-minded diggers dubbed him +with the dazzling sobriquet of “Lord James.”</p> +<p>It was during this time that he made the acquaintance of +Jessie and her husband, and it was astonishing how swiftly +his friendship for the unsuspicious little man ripened.</p> +<p>This first visit lasted just three weeks. Then, without +warning, and in the same unobtrusive way as he had come, +he vanished from the scene. For the moment Suffering +Creek wondered; then, as is the way of such places, it ceased +to wonder. It was too busy with its own affairs to concern +itself to any great extent with the flotsam that drifted its +way. Scipio wondered a little more than the rest, but his +twins and his labors occupied him so closely that he, too, +dismissed the matter from his mind. As for Jessie, she said +not a word, and gave no sign except that her discontent +with her lot became more pronounced.</p> +<p>But Suffering Creek was not done with James yet. The +next time he came was nearly a month later, just as the +monthly gold stage was preparing for the road, carrying +with it a shipment of gold-dust bound for Spawn City, the +nearest banking town, eighty miles distant.</p> +<p>He at once took up his old position in the place, stayed +two weeks, staked out a claim for himself, and pursued his +intimacy with Scipio and his wife with redoubled ardor.</p> +<p>Before those two weeks were over somehow his popularity +began to wane. This intimacy with Scipio began to +carry an ill-flavor with the men of the place. Somehow it +did not ring pleasantly. Besides, he showed a fresh side to +his character. He drank heavily, and when under the influence +of spirits abandoned his well-polished manners, and +displayed a coarseness, a savage truculence, such as he had +been careful never to show before. Then, too, his claim remained +unworked.</p> +<p>The change in public opinion was subtle, and no one +spoke of it. But there was no regret when, finally, he +vanished again from their midst in the same quiet manner +in which he had gone before.</p> +<p>Then came the catastrophe. Two weeks later a gold +stage set out on its monthly journey. Sixty miles out it +was held up and plundered. Its two guards were shot dead, +and the driver mortally wounded. But fortunately the +latter lived long enough to tell his story. He had been attacked +by a gang of eight well-armed horsemen. They +were all masked, and got clear away with nearly thirty +thousand dollars’ worth of gold.</p> +<p>In the first rush of despairing rage Suffering Creek was +unable to even surmise at the identity of the authors of the +outrage. Then Wild Bill, the gambler, demanded an accounting +for every man of the camp on the day of the +tragedy. In a very short time this was done, and the process +turned attention upon Lord James. Where was he? +The question remained unanswered. Suspicions grew into +swift conviction. Men asked each other who he was, and +whence he came. There was no answer to any of their inquiries +at first. Then, suddenly, news came to hand that +the gang, no longer troubling at concealment, was riding +roughshod over the country. It was a return to the régime +of the “bad man,” and stock-raiding and “hold-ups,” of +greater or less degree, were being carried on in many directions +with absolute impunity; and the man James was at the +head of it.</p> +<p>It was a rude awakening. All the old peace and security +were gone. The camp was in a state of ferment. Every +stranger that came to the place was eyed askance, and unless +he could give a satisfactory account of himself he had a +poor chance with the furious citizens. The future dispatch +of gold became a problem that exercised every mind, and +for two months none left the place. And this fact +brought about a further anxiety. The gang of robbers was +a large one. Was it possible they might attempt a raid +on the place? And, if so, what were their chances of +success?</p> +<p>Such was the position at Suffering Creek, and the nature +of the threat which hung over it. One man’s name was in +everybody’s mind. His personality and doings concerned +them almost as nearly as their search for the elusive gold +which was as the breath of life to them.</p> +<p>And yet Lord James was in no way deterred from visiting +the neighborhood. He knew well enough the position +he was in. He knew well enough all its possibilities. Yet +he came again and again. His visits were paid in daylight, +carefully calculated, even surreptitiously made. He sought +the place secretly, but he came, careless of all consequences +to himself. His contempt for the men of Suffering Creek +was profound and unaffected. He probably feared no man.</p> +<p>And the reason of his visits was not far to seek. There +was something infinitely more alluring to him at the house +on the dumps than the gold which held the miners––an +inducement which he had neither wish nor intention to resist. +He reveled in the joy and excitement of pursuing this wife +of another man, and had the camp bristled with an army of +fighting men, and had the chances been a thousand to one +against him, with him the call of the blood would just as +surely have been obeyed. This was the man, savage, crude, +of indomitable courage and passionate recklessness.</p> +<p>And Jessie was dazzled, even blinded. She was just a +weak, erring woman, thrilling with strong youthful life, and +his dominating nature played upon her vanity with an ease +that was quite pitiful. She was only too ready to believe +his denials of the accusations against him. She was only too +ready to––love. The humility, devotion, the goodness of +Scipio meant nothing to her. They were barren virtues, too +unexciting and uninteresting to make any appeal. Her passionate +heart demanded something more stimulating. And +the stimulant she found in the savage wooing of his unscrupulous +rival.</p> +<p>Now the man’s eyes contemplated the girl’s ripe beauty, +while he struggled for that composure necessary to carry +out all that was in his mind. He checked a further rising +impulse, and his voice sounded almost harsh as he put a +sharp question.</p> +<p>“Where’s Zip?” he demanded.</p> +<p>The girl’s eyelids slowly lifted. The warm glow of her +eyes made them limpid and melting.</p> +<p>“Gone out to his claim,” she said in a low voice.</p> +<p>The other nodded appreciatively.</p> +<p>“Good.”</p> +<p>He turned to the window. Out across the refuse-heaps +the rest of the camp was huddled together, a squalid collection +of huts, uninspiring, unpicturesque. His glance satisfied +him. There was not a living soul in view; not a sound +except the prattle of the children who were still playing +outside the hut. But the latter carried no meaning to him. +In the heat of the moment even their mother was dead to +the appeal of their piping voices.</p> +<p>“You’re coming away now, Jess,” the man went on, +making a movement towards her.</p> +<p>But the girl drew back. The directness of his challenge +was startling, and roused in her a belated defensiveness. +Going away? It sounded suddenly terrible to her, and +thrilled her with a rush of fear which set her shivering. +And yet she knew that all along this––this was the end +towards which she had been drifting. The rich color faded +from her cheeks and her lips trembled.</p> +<p>“No, no,” she whispered in a terrified tone. For the +moment all that was best in her rose up and threatened to +defeat his end.</p> +<p>But James saw his mistake. For a second a flash of +anger lit his eyes, and hot resentment flew to his lips. But it +found no expression. Instead, the anger died out of his +eyes, and was replaced by a fire of passion such as had always +won its way with this girl. He moved towards her +again with something subtly seductive in his manner, and his +arms closed about her unresisting form in a caress she was +powerless to deny. Passive yet palpitating she lay pressed +in his arms, all her woman’s softness, all her subtle perfume, +maddening him to a frenzy.</p> +<p>“Won’t you? I love you, Jessie, so that nothing else on +earth counts. I can’t do without you––I can’t––I can’t!”</p> +<p>His hot lips crushed against hers, which yielded themselves +all too willingly. Presently he raised his head, and +his eyes held hers. “Won’t you come, Jess? There’s +nothing here for you. See, I can give you all you wish for: +money, a fine home, as homes go hereabouts. My ranch is +a dandy place, and,” with a curious laugh, “stocked with +some of the best cattle in the country. You’ll have horses +to ride, and dresses––See! You can have all you want. +What is there here? Nothing. Say, you don’t even get +enough to eat. Scipio hasn’t got more backbone in him +than to gather five cents when it’s raining dollars.” He +kissed her upturned face again, and the warm responsive +movement of her lips told him how easy his task really was.</p> +<p>But again she pressed him back, so that he held her only +at arms’ length. Her swimming eyes gazed long and ardently +into his.</p> +<p>“It isn’t that, Jim,” she said earnestly; “it isn’t that. +Those things don’t count. It’s––it’s you. I––I don’t want +dresses. I don’t want the money. I––I––want you.”</p> +<p>Then she started, terrified again.</p> +<p>“But, Jim, why did you come up to this hut?” she +cried. “Why didn’t you wait for me down in the bush at +the river, as usual? Oh, Jim, if anybody sees you they’ll +shoot you down like a dog––”</p> +<p>“Dog, eh?” cried the man, with a ringing laugh. “Let +’em try. But don’t you worry, Jess. No one saw me. +Anyway, I don’t care a curse if they did.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Jim!”</p> +<p>Then she nestled closer to him for a moment of passionate +silence, while he kissed her, prolonging the embrace with all +the fire with which he was consumed. And after that she +spoke again. But now it was the mother that would no +longer be denied, even in the midst of her storm of emotion.</p> +<p>“But I––I can’t leave them––the little ones. I can’t, I +can’t!” she cried piteously. “Jim, I love you. God knows +how badly I love you, but I––I love them, too. They are +mine. They are part of me, and––and I can’t do without +them. No––no. I can’t go––I won’t go,” she hurried on, +without conviction. “I can’t. I want my babies––my little +boy and girl. You say you love me. I know you love me. +Then take them with us, and––and I’ll do as you wish. +Oh, I’m wicked, I know. I’m wicked, and cruel, and vile +to leave Scipio. And I don’t want to, but––but––oh, Jim, +say you’ll take them, too. I can never be happy without +them. You can never understand. You are a man, and so +strong.” He drew her to him again, and she nestled close +in his arms. “You don’t know what it is to hear a child’s +voice, and know that it is part of you, your life, one little +tiny atom beginning all over again. No, no––I must have +them.”</p> +<p>She slowly drew herself away, watching his handsome +face, half fearfully, half eagerly. She knew in her heart +that she was waiting for his verdict, and, whatever it might +be, she would have to abide by it. She knew she must do +as he wished, and that very knowledge gladdened her, even +in spite of her maternal dread of being parted from her +babies.</p> +<p>She saw his expression change. She saw the look of +perplexity in the sudden drawing together of his finely +marked brows, she saw the half-angry impatience flash into +his eyes, she saw this again replaced with a half-derisive +smile. And each emotion she read in her own way, molding +it to suit and fall in with her own desires, yet with a +willing feeling that his decision should be paramount, that +she was there to obey him.</p> +<p>He slowly shook his head, and a curious hardness set +itself about his strong mouth.</p> +<p>“Not now,” he said. “I would, but it can’t be done. +See here, Jess, I’ve got two horses hidden away down there +in the bush beside the creek––one for you, and one for me. +We can’t fetch those kiddies along with us now. It wouldn’t +be safe, anyhow. We’ve got sixty-odd miles to ride +through the foothills. But see, I’ll fetch ’em one day, after, +if you must have ’em. How’s that?”</p> +<p>“But they’ll never let you,” cried Jessie. “The whole +camp will be up in arms when they know I’ve gone. You +don’t know them, Jim. They’re fond of Zip, and they’ll +stand by him.”</p> +<p>James laughed contemptuously.</p> +<p>“Say, Jess,” he cried, “you come right along with me +now. And if you need those kiddies, not all Suffering Creek––no, +nor hell itself––shall stop me bringing ’em along to +you.” Then he chuckled in an unpleasant manner. “Say, +it would tickle me to death to set these mutton-headed +gophers jumping around. You’ll get those kiddies if you +need ’em, if I have to blow hell into this mud-heap of a +city.”</p> +<p>Jessie’s eyes glowed at the man’s note of savage strength +and confidence. She knew he could and would do as he +said, and this very fact yielded her to him more surely than +any other display could have done. It was this wonderful +daring, this reckless, savage manhood that had originally +won her. He was so different from all others, from her +puny husband. He swept her along and dazzled her. Her +own virility cried out for such a mate, and no moral scruples +could hope to stay so strong a tide of nature.</p> +<p>“You’ll do it?” she cried fervently. Then she nodded +joyously. “Yes, yes, you’ll do it. I know it. Oh, how +good you are to me. I love you, Jim.”</p> +<p>Again she was in his arms. Again his kisses fell hot and +fast upon her glowing face. Nature was rushing a strong +flood tide. It was a moment that could have no repetition +in their lives.</p> +<p>They stood thus, locked in each other’s arms, borne along +by a passion that was beyond their control––lost to all the +world, lost to all those things which should have mattered +to them. It was the fervid outpouring of two natures which +had nothing that was spiritual in them. They demanded +the life of the senses, and so strong was the desire that they +were lost to all else.</p> +<p>Then suddenly in the midst of their dream came the disturbing +patter of small feet and the joyous, innocent laughter +of infantile glee. Two tiny mud-stained figures rushed +at the doorway and fell sprawling into the hut. They were +on their feet again in a moment, laughing and crowing out +their delight. Then, as the man and woman sprang apart, +they stood round-eyed, wondering and gaping.</p> +<p>Jamie and Vada paused only till the grown-up eyes were +turned in their direction, then their chorus broke out in one +breath.</p> +<p>“We got fi’ ’piders––”</p> +<p>“An’ two bugs!”</p> +<p>The important information was fairly shrieked, to the +accompaniment of dancing eyes and flushed cheeks.</p> +<p>Jessie gasped. But her emotion was not at the news so +rudely broken. It was the breaking of the spell which had +held her. Just for one horrific moment she stood staring +helplessly at the innocent picture of her four-year-old twins, +beautiful in spite of their grimy exterior, beautiful as a +Heaven-inspired picture to the mother.</p> +<p>The man smiled. Nor was it an unpleasant smile. Perhaps, +somewhere in his savage composition, he had a +grain of humor; perhaps it was only the foolish smile of +a man whose wits are not equal to so incongruous a situation.</p> +<p>“They’re most ev’ry color,” piped Vada, with added +excitement.</p> +<p>“Uh!” grunted Jamie in agreement. “An’ the bugs has +horns.”</p> +<p>But the man had recovered himself. The interruption +had brought with it a realization of the time he had spent in +the hut.</p> +<p>“You’d best go and find more,” he said. “There’s heaps +outside.” Then he turned to Jessie. “Come on. We +must be going. Have you got the things you need ready?”</p> +<p>But the mother’s eyes were on the small intruders. +Something was gripping at her heart, and somehow it felt +like four small and dirty hands.</p> +<p>“Wher’ you goin’?” demanded Vada, her childish +curiosity roused, and all her beautiful spiders forgotten for +the moment.</p> +<p>Her question remained unanswered, leaving the room in +ominous silence. Then Jamie’s treble blundered into its +midst, dutifully echoing his sister’s inquiry.</p> +<p>“’Es, wher’ you doin’?”</p> +<p>The man’s eyes were narrowly watching the woman’s +face. He noted the tremulous lips, the yearning light in her +eyes. In a moment he was answering the children, lest their +innocent words should upset his plans.</p> +<p>“Say, your momma’s going for a horse-ride. She’s just +going right out, and I’m going to show her a dandy place +where she can fetch you, so you can catch heaps an’ heaps +of bugs and spiders. She’s just wanting you to stop right +here and catch more bugs, till I come along and fetch you.”</p> +<p>“O––oh!” cried Vada, prolonging her exclamation +gleefully. “Say, can’t us go now?”</p> +<p>“Me do too,” murmured her faithful shadow.</p> +<p>One quick glance at the mother’s face and the man spoke +again.</p> +<p>“Not now, kiddies. I’ll come and fetch you. Run +along.” Then he turned swiftly upon Jessie. “Where’s +your bundle?” he asked in his usual masterful manner.</p> +<p>And her reply came in a tone of almost heart-broken +submission.</p> +<p>“In there,” she said, with a glance at the inner room.</p> +<p>The man gave her no time to add anything more. He +felt the ground he was treading was more than shaky. He +knew that with the coming of these children a tremendous +power was militating against him––a power which would +need all his wits to combat. He passed into the inner room, +and returned in a moment with the girl’s bundle. And with +his return one glance showed him how nearly his plans were +upset. Jessie was clasping Jamie in her arms, kissing him +hungrily, tears streaming down her cheeks, while, out of +sheer sympathy, little Vada was clinging to her mother’s +skirts, her small face buried in amongst them, sobbing as +though her heart would break.</p> +<p>In a moment he was at her side. This was not a time +when any drastic methods could serve him, and he adopted +the only course which his shrewd sense told him would be +likely to avail. Gently but firmly he took the boy out of +her arms.</p> +<p>“You want him to go with us?” he said kindly. “Very +well. Maybe we’re doing wrong––I mean, for his sake. +Anyhow, I’ll carry him, and then I’ll come back for Vada. +It’s not good. It’s too hard on him, carrying him all that +distance––too dangerous. Still, I want you to be happy, +Jess. I’d do anything for that, even––even at his expense. +So––”</p> +<p>“No––no!” cried the mother, carried away by the fear +he expressed so subtly, and warmed by his carefully expressed +sympathy. “Don’t take any notice of me. I’m +foolish––silly. You’re right––he––he couldn’t make the +journey with us. No, no, we––won’t––take him now. +Set him down, Jim. I’ll go now, and you’ll––you’ll come +back for them. Yes, yes, let’s go now. I––I can’t stay +any––longer. I’ve left a letter for Zip. Swear I shall +have them both. You’ll never––never break your word? +I think I’d––die without them.”</p> +<p>“You shall have them. I swear it.” The man spoke +readily enough. It was so easy to promise anything, so long +as he got her.</p> +<p>But his oath brought neither expression of gratitude nor +comment. The woman was beyond mere words. She felt +that only flight could save her from breaking down altogether. +And, thus impelled, she tore herself from the +presence of the children and rushed out of the hut. The +horses were down at the creek, and thither she sped, lest her +purpose should fail her.</p> +<p>James followed her. He felt that she must not be left +by herself to think. But at the door he paused and glanced +keenly around him. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. +Not a living soul was to be seen anywhere. It was good; +his plans had worked out perfectly.</p> +<p>He set Jamie down, and, all unconscious of the little +drama being played round his young life, the child stretched +out a chubby hand in the direction of the soap-box he and +his sister had been playing with.</p> +<p>“’Piders,” he observed laconically.</p> +<p>Vada rushed past him to inspect their treasures, her tears +already dried into streaks on her dirty little cheeks.</p> +<p>“An’ bugs,” she cried gleefully, squatting beside the box.</p> +<p>They had forgotten.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The man hurried away down towards the creek, bearing +the pitiful bundle of woman’s raiment. The girl was ahead, +and, as she again came into his view, one thought, and one +thought only, occupied his mind. Jessie was his whole +world––at that moment.</p> +<p>He, too, had forgotten.</p> +<p>“They’ve runned away,” cried Vada, peering into the box.</p> +<p>“Me don’t like ’piders,” murmured Jamie definitely.</p> +<p>Vada’s great brown eyes filled with tears. Fresh rivulets +began to run down the muddy channels on her downy cheeks. +Her disappointment found vent in great sobbing gulps.</p> +<p>Jamie stared at her in silent speculation. Then one little +fat hand reached out and pushed her. She rolled over and +buried her wet face in the dusty ground and howled heart-brokenly. +Then Jamie crawled close up beside her, and, +stretching himself out, wept his sympathy into the back of +her gaping frock.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_III_THE_AWAKENING_OF_SCIPIO' id='CHAPTER_III_THE_AWAKENING_OF_SCIPIO'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>THE AWAKENING OF SCIPIO</h3> +</div> +<p>At noon the camp began to rouse. The heavy eyes, the +languid stretch, the unmeaning contemplation of the noontide +sunlight, the slow struggles of a somnolent brain. +These things were suggested in the gradual stirring of the +place to a ponderous activity. The heavy movement of +weary diggers as they lounged into camp for their dinner +had no suggestion of the greedy passion which possessed +them. They had no lightness. Whatever the lust for gold +that consumed them, all their methods were characterized +by a dogged endeavor which took from them every particle +of that nervous activity which belongs to the finely tempered +business man.</p> +<p>The camp was a single row of egregious dwellings, squat, +uncouth, stretching away on either side of the veranda-fronted +store and “gambling hell” which formed a sort of +center-piece around which revolved the whole life of the +village. It was a poor, mean place, shapeless, evil-smelling +in that pure mountain air. It was a mere shelter, a rough +perch for the human carrion lusting for the orgy of gold +which the time-worn carcass of earth should yield. What +had these people to do with comfort or refinement? What +had they to do with those things calculated to raise the human +mind to a higher spiritual plane? Nothing. All that +might come later, when, their desires satisfied, the weary +body sick and aching, sends fearful thoughts ahead towards +the drab sunset awaiting them. For the moment the full +tide of youth is still running strong. Sickness and death +have no terrors. The fine strength of powerful bodies will +not allow the mind to focus such things.</p> +<p>Out of the rugged hills backing the camp the gold-seekers +struggle to their resting-place. Here, one man comes clambering +over the rough bowlder-strewn path at the base of a +forest-clad hill. Here, an atom of humanity emerges from +the depths of a vast woodland that dwarfs all but the towering +hills. Another toils up a steep hillside from the sluggish +creek. Another slouches along a vague, unmade trail. Yet +another scrambles his way through a low, dense-growing +scrub which lines the sides of a vast ravine, the favored +locality of the gold-seeker.</p> +<p>So they come, one by one, from every direction radiating +about the building, which is Minky’s store. Their faces +are hard. Their skin is tanned to a leathery hue, and is of +a texture akin to hide. They are silent, thoughtful men, +too. But their silence is of the vast world in which they +delve, and their thought is the thought of men absorbed in +their quest. No, there is no lightness, even in their happiest +moments. To be light, an intelligent swiftness of brain is +needed. And these derelicts have little of such. Although, +when Minky’s spirit has circulated its poison through +their veins, they are sometimes apt to assume a burlesque +of it.</p> +<p>Now the camp is wide awake. But it is only the wakefulness +of the mother who is roused by the hungry crying +of her infant. It will slumber again when appetites have +been duly appeased.</p> +<p>The milk of human kindness is soured by the intense +summer heat. The men are “grouchy.” They jostle +harshly as they push up to Minky’s counter for the +“appetizers” they do not need. Their greetings are few, +and mostly confined to the abrupt demand, “Any luck?” +Then, their noon-day drink gulped down, they slouch off +into the long, frowsy dining-room at the back of the store, +and coarsely devour the rough fare provided by the buxom +Birdie Mason, who is at once the kindliest and worst caterer +imaginable.</p> +<p>This good-natured soul’s position was not as enviable as +one might reasonably have supposed. The only woman in +a camp of men, any one of whom might reasonably strike a +fortune in five minutes. The situation suggests possibilities. +But, alas, Birdie was just a woman, and, in consequence, +from a worldly point of view, her drawbacks were many. +She was attractive––a drawback. She was given to a natural +desire to stand first with all men––another drawback. She +was eminently sentimental––a still greater drawback. But +greatest of all she was a sort of public servant in her position +as caterer, and, as such, of less than no account from +the moment the “beast” had been satisfied.</p> +<p>She had her moments, moments when the rising good-nature +of her customers flattered her, when she was fussed +over, and petted, as men are ever ready to treat an attractive +member of the opposite sex. But these things led nowhither, +from a point of view of worldly advantage, and, +being just a woman, warm-hearted, uncalculating and profoundly +illogical, she failed to realize the pitfalls that lay +before her, the end which, all unsuspecting, she was steadily +forging towards.</p> +<p>Scipio, like the rest, came into camp for his dinner. His +way lay along the bank of the creek. It was cooler here, +and, until he neared his home, there were no hills up which +to drag his weary limbs. He had had, as usual, an utterly +unprofitable morning amidst the greasy ooze of his claim. +Yet the glitter of the mica-studded quartz on the hillside, +the bright-green and red-brown shading of the milky-white +stone still dazzled his mental sight. There was no wavering +in his belief. These toilsome days were merely the +necessary probation for the culminating achievement. He +assured himself that gold lay hidden there. And it was only +waiting for the lucky strike of his pick. He would find it. +It was just a matter of keeping on.</p> +<p>In his simple mind he saw wonderful visions of all that +final discovery. He dreamt of the day when he should be +able to install his beautiful Jessie in one of those up-town +palaces in New York; when an army of servants should +anticipate her every desire; when the twins should be +launched upon the finest academies the country possessed, +to gorge their young minds to the full with all that which +the minds of the children of earth’s most fortunate must be +stored. He saw his Jessie clad in gowns which displayed +and enhanced all those beauties with which his devoted +mind endowed her. She should not only be his queen, but +the queen of a social world, which, to his mind, had no +rival. And the happiness of such dreams was beyond compare. +His labor became the work of a love which +stimulated his puny muscles to a pitch which carried him +beyond the feeling of any weariness. For himself he +wanted nothing. For Jessie and the twins the world was +not great enough as a possession.</p> +<p>And was she not worth it? Were they not worth it? +Look at her, so splendid! How she bore with him and all +his petty, annoying ways! Her disposition was not of this +earth, he told himself. Would any other woman put up +with his ill-humors, his shortcomings? He realized how +very trying he must be to any bright, clever woman. He +was not clever, and he knew it, and it made him pity Jessie +for the lot he had brought her to.</p> +<p>And the twins. Vada was the image of her mother. The +big, round, brown eyes, the soft, childish mouth, the waving +brown hair. And Jamie. He had her eyes, too, and her +nose, and her beautiful coloring. What a mercy of +Providence neither of them resembled him. But, then, how +could they, with such a mother? How it delighted him to +think that he was working for them, for her. A thrill of +delight swept over him, and added a spring to his jaded step. +What mattered anything else in the world. He was to give +them all that which the world counted as good. He, alone.</p> +<p>But it was not yet. For a moment a shadow crossed +his radiant face as he toiled up the hill to his hut. It was +gone in a moment, however. How could it stay there with +his thought gilded with such high hopes? It was not yet, +but it would come––must come. His purpose was invincible. +He must conquer and wrench this wealth which +he demanded from the bosom of the hard old earth. And +then––and then––</p> +<p>“Hello, kiddies,” he cried cheerily, as his head rose above +the hilltop and his hut and the two children, playing outside +it, came into his view.</p> +<p>“Pop-pa!” shrieked Vada, dropping a paper full of loose +dirt and stones upon her sprawling brother’s back, in her +haste to reach her diminutive parent.</p> +<p>“Uh!” grunted Jamie, scrambling to his feet and tottering +heavily in the same direction.</p> +<p>There was a curious difference in the size and growth of +these twins. Probably it utterly escaped the adoring eyes +of their father. He only saw the reflected glory of their +mother in them. Their resemblance to her was all that +really mattered to him, but, as a matter of fact, this resemblance +lay chiefly in Vada. She was like her mother in an +extraordinary degree. She was well-grown, strong, and +quite in advance of her years, in her speech and brightness +of intellect. Little Jamie, while he possessed much of his +mother in his face, in body was under-sized and weakly, and +his mind and speech, backward of development, smacked of +his father. He was absolutely dominated by his sister, and +followed her lead in everything with adoring rapture.</p> +<p>Vada reached her father and scrambled agilely up into his +work-soiled arms. She impulsively hugged his yellow head +to her cheeks with both her arms, so that when Jamie came +up he had to content himself by similarly hugging the little +man’s left knee, and kissing the mud-stains on his trousers +into liquid patches.</p> +<p>But Scipio was impartial. He sat Vada down and picked +her brother up. Then, taking the former’s hand in his +horny clasp, bore the boy towards the house.</p> +<p>“You found any gold?” inquired Vada, repeating a question +she had so often heard her mother put.</p> +<p>“’Es any––dold?” echoed Jamie, from his height above +Scipio’s head.</p> +<p>“No, kiddies,” the man replied, with a slight sigh.</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Vada. But his answer had little significance +for her.</p> +<p>“Where’s your momma?” inquired Scipio, after a pause.</p> +<p>“Momma do hoss-ridin’,” replied Jamie, forestalling his +sister for once.</p> +<p>“Yes,” added Vada. “She gone ridin’. An’ they’ll +come an’ take us wher’ ther’s heaps an’ heaps o’ ’piders, an’––an’ +bugs an’ things. He said so––sure.”</p> +<p>“He? Who?”</p> +<p>They had reached the hut and Scipio set Jamie on the +ground as he put his question.</p> +<p>“The dark man,” said Vada readily, but wrinkling her +forehead struggling for the name.</p> +<p>“Uh!” agreed Jamie. “Mister Dames.”</p> +<p>Just for a moment a sharp question lit Scipio’s pale eyes. +But the little ones had no understanding of it. And the +next moment, as their father passed in through the doorway, +they turned to the sand and stone castle they had been +laboriously and futilely attempting to mold into some shape.</p> +<p>“Now you bring up more stones,” cried Vada authoritatively. +“Run along, dear,” she added patronizingly, as +the boy stood with his small hands on his hips, staring +vacantly after his father.</p> +<p>Scipio gazed stupidly about the living-room. The slop-stained +table was empty. The cookstove fire was out. +And, just for a second, the thought flashed through his mind––had +he returned too early for his dinner? No, he knew +he had not. It was dinner-time all right. His appetite told +him that.</p> +<p>For the moment he had forgotten what the children had +told him. His simple nature was not easily open to suspicion, +therefore, like all people of slow brain, this startling +break in the routine of his daily life simply set him wondering. +He moved round the room, and, without being aware +of his purpose, lifted the curtain of turkey red, which +served as a door to the rough larder, and peered in. Then, +as he let the curtain fall again, something stirred within +him. He turned towards the inner room, and his mild voice +called––</p> +<p>“Jess.”</p> +<p>His answer was a hollow echo that somehow jarred his +nerves. But he called again––</p> +<p>“Jess.”</p> +<p>Again came the echo. Then Vada’s small face appeared +round the door-casing.</p> +<p>“Mom-ma gone hoss-ridin’,” she reminded him.</p> +<p>For an instant Scipio’s face flushed. Then it paled icily +under its tan. His brain was struggling to grasp something +which seemed to be slowly enveloping him, but which his +honest heart would not let him believe. He stared stupidly +at Vada’s dirty face. Then, as the child withdrew to her +play, he suddenly crossed the room to the curtained bedroom +doorway. He passed through, and the flimsy covering fell to +behind him.</p> +<p>For a space the music of childish voices was the only +sound to break the stillness. The hum of buzzing insects +seemed to intensify the summer heat. For minutes no +movement came from the bedroom. It was like the dread +silence before a storm.</p> +<p>A strange sound came at last. It was something between +a moan and the pained cry of some mild-spirited animal +stricken to death. It had no human semblance, and yet––it +came from behind the dingy print curtain over the bedroom +doorway.</p> +<p>A moment later the curtain stirred and the ghastly face +of Scipio suddenly appeared. He moved out into the living-room +and almost fell into the Windsor chair which had last +been occupied by his wife. A sheet of notepaper was in his +shaking hand, and his pale eyes were staring vacantly at it. +He was not reading. He had read. And that which he had +read had left him dazed and scarcely comprehending. He +sat thus for many minutes. And not once did he stir a +muscle, or lift his eyes from their fixed contemplation.</p> +<p>A light breeze set the larder curtain fluttering. Scipio +started. He stared round apprehensively. Then, as though +drawn by a magnet, his eyes came back to the letter in his +hand, and once more fixed themselves upon the bold handwriting. +But this time there was intelligence in his gaze. +There was intelligence, fear, despair, horror; every painful +emotion was struggling for uppermost place in mind and +heart. He read again carefully, slowly, as though trying +to discover some loophole from the horror of what was +written there. The note was short––so short––there was +not one spark of hope in it for the man who was reading it, +not one expression of feeling other than selfishness. It was +the death-blow to all his dreams, all his desire.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“I’ve gone away. I shall never come back. I can’t +stand this life here any longer. Don’t try to find me, for +it’s no use. Maybe what I’m doing is wicked, but I’m +glad I’m doing it. It’s not your fault––it’s just me. I +haven’t your courage, I haven’t any courage at all. I just +can’t face the life we’re living. I’d have gone before when +he first asked me but for my babies, but I just couldn’t part +with them. Zip, I want to take them with me now, but I +don’t know what Jim’s arrangements are going to be. I +must have them. I can’t live without them. And if they +don’t go with us now you’ll let them come to me after, +won’t you? Oh, Zip, I know I’m a wicked woman, but I +feel I must go. You won’t keep them from me? Let me +have them. I love them so bad. I do. I do. Good-by +forever.</p> +<p class='ralign'>“<span class='smcap'>Jessie.</span>”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mechanically Scipio folded the paper again and sat +grasping it tightly in one clenched hand. His eyes were +raised and gazing through the doorway at the golden sunlight +beyond. His lips were parted, and there was a strange +dropping of his lower jaw. The tanning of his russet +face looked like a layer of dirt upon a super-whited skin. +He scarcely seemed to breathe, so still he sat. As yet +his despair was so terrible that his mind and heart were +numbed to a sort of stupefaction, deadening the horror of +his pain.</p> +<p>He sat on for many minutes. Then, at last, his eyes +dropped again to the crushed paper, and a quavering sigh +escaped him. He half rose from his seat, but fell back in it +again. Then a sudden spasm seized him, and flinging himself +round he reached out his slight, tanned arms upon the +dirty table, and, his head dropping upon them, he moaned +out the full force of his despair.</p> +<p>“I want her!” he cried. “Oh, God, I want her!”</p> +<p>But now his slight body was no longer still. His back +heaved with mute sobs that had no tears. All his gentle +soul was torn and bleeding. He had not that iron in his +composition with which another man might have crushed +down his feelings and stirred himself to a harsh defense. +He was just a warm, loving creature of no great strength +beyond his capacity for human affection and self-sacrifice. +And for the time at least, his sufferings were beyond his +control.</p> +<p>In the midst of his grief two little faces, and two pairs +of round, wondering eyes appeared in the doorway. Two +small infantile minds worked hard at the sight they beheld. +Vada, whose quickness of perception was so much in advance +of her brother’s, murmured in his ear––</p> +<p>“Sleep.”</p> +<p>“Uh, seep,” nodded the faithful boy.</p> +<p>Then four little bare feet began to creep into the room. +Four big brown eyes shone with gleeful anticipation. Four +chubby arms were outstretched as though claiming the victim +of their childish prank. Vada led, but Jamie was close +behind. They stole in, their small feet making not the +slightest sound as they tiptoed towards the stricken man. +Each, thrilling with excitement, was desperately intent upon +frightening him.</p> +<p>“Boo-h!” cried Vada, her round eyes sparkling as she +reached Scipio’s side.</p> +<p>“Bo-oh!” echoed Jamie a second later, chuckling and +gurgling a delight he had no other means of expressing at +the moment.</p> +<p>Scipio raised his haggard face. His unsmiling eyes, so +pale and unmeaning, stared stupidly at the children. And +suddenly the merry smile died out of the young faces, and +an odd contraction of their brows suggested a dawning sympathy +which came wholly from the heart.</p> +<p>“You’se cryin’, poppa,” cried Vada impulsively.</p> +<p>“Uh,” nodded the boy.</p> +<p>And thereupon great tears welled up into their sympathetic +eyes, and the twins wept in chorus. And somehow +the tears, which had thus far been denied the man, now +slowly and painfully flooded his eyes. He groped the two +children into his arms, and buried his face in the soft wavy +hair which fell in a tangle about the girl’s head.</p> +<p>For some moments he sat thus, something of his grief +easing in the flood of almost womanish tears. Until, finally, +it was Jamie who saved the situation. His sobs died out +abruptly, and the boy in him stirred.</p> +<p>“Me want t’ eat,” he protested, without preamble.</p> +<p>The man looked up.</p> +<p>“Eat?” he echoed vaguely.</p> +<p>“Yes. Dinner,” explained Vada, whose tears were still +flowing, but who never failed as her little brother’s +interpreter.</p> +<p>There was a moment’s pause while Scipio stared down at +the two faces lifted so appealingly to his. Then a change +came into his expressionless eyes. A smoldering fire began +to burn, which seemed to deepen their weakly coloring. +His drawn face seemed to gather strength. And somehow +even his straw-colored hair, so scanty, ill-grown and +disheveled, looked less like the stubble it so much resembled. +It was almost as though a latent, unsuspected strength were +rousing within him, lifting him from the slough of despair +by which he was so nearly submerged. It was as though +the presence of his twins had drawn from him an acknowledgment +of his duty, a sense which was so strongly and +incongruously developed in his otherwise uncertain character, +and demanded of him a sacrifice of all personal inclination. +They were her children. Yes, and they were his. +Her children––her children. And she was gone. They +had no one to look to, no one to care for them now, but––him.</p> +<p>He sprang to his feet.</p> +<p>“Why, yes, kiddies,” he said, with a painful assumption +of lightness. “You’re needing food sure. Say, I guess we +won’t wait for your momma. We’ll just hand her an +elegant surprise. We’ll get dinner ourselves.”</p> +<p>Jamie gurgled his joyous approval, but Vada was more +intelligible.</p> +<p>“Bully!” she cried. “We’ll give her a surprise.” Then +she turned to Jamie. “Surprise is when folks do things +that other folks don’t guess you’re going to, dear,” she +explained, to his utter confusion.</p> +<p>Scipio went to the larder and gathered various scraps of +food, and plates, and anything that seemed to him as being +of any possible use in a meal. He re-kindled the fire in the +cookstove and made some coffee. That he understood. +There was no sign of his despair about him now. Perhaps +he was more than usually silent, but otherwise, for the time +at least, he had buried his trouble sufficiently deeply out of +sight, so that at any rate the inquiring eyes of the happy +children could see nothing of it.</p> +<p>They, too, busied themselves in the preparation. Vada +dictated to her father with never flagging tongue, and Jamie +carried everything he could lift to and fro, regardless of +whether he was bringing or taking away. Vada chid him +in her childishly superior way, but her efforts were quite +lost on his delicious self-importance. Nor could there be +any doubt that, in his infantile mind, he was quite assured +that his services were indispensable.</p> +<p>At last the meal was ready. There was nearly everything +of which the household consisted upon the table or in close +proximity to it. Then, when at last they sat down, and +Scipio glanced over the strange conglomeration, his conscience +was smitten.</p> +<p>“Seems to me you kiddies need bread and milk,” he said +ruefully. “But I don’t guess there’s any milk.”</p> +<p>Vada promptly threw herself into the breach.</p> +<p>“On’y Jamie has bread an’ milk, pop-pa. Y’see his new +teeth ain’t through. Mine is. You best cut his up into +wee bits.”</p> +<p>“Sure, of course,” agreed Scipio in relief. “I’ll get +along down to Minky’s for milk after,” he added, while he +obediently proceeded to cut up the boy’s meat.</p> +<p>It was a strange meal. There was something even tragic +in it. The children were wildly happy in the thought that +they had shared in this wonderful surprise for their mother. +That they had assisted in those things which childhood ever +yearns to share in––the domestic doings of their elders.</p> +<p>The man ate mechanically. His body told him to eat, +and so he ate without knowing or caring what. His distraught +mind was traveling swiftly through the barren paths +of hopelessness and despair, while yet he had to keep his +children in countenance under their fire of childish prattle. +Many times he could have flung aside his mask and given +up, but the babyish laughter held him to an effort such as +he had never before been called upon to make.</p> +<p>When the meal was finished Scipio was about to get +up from his chair, but Vada’s imperious tongue stayed +him.</p> +<p>“We ain’t said grace,” she declared complainingly.</p> +<p>And the man promptly dropped back into his seat.</p> +<p>“Sure,” he agreed helplessly.</p> +<p>At once the girl put her finger-tips together before her +nose and closed her eyes.</p> +<p>“Thank God for my good dinner, Amen, and may we +help fix up after?” she rattled off.</p> +<p>“Ess,” added Jamie, “tank Dod for my dood dinner, +Amen, me fix up, too.”</p> +<p>And with this last word both children tumbled almost +headlong from the bench which they were sharing. Nor +had their diminutive parent the heart to deny their request.</p> +<p>The next hour was perhaps one of the hardest in Scipio’s +life. Nothing could have impressed his hopeless position +upon him more than the enthusiastic assistance so cordially +afforded him. While the children had no understanding of +their father’s grief, while with every heart-beat they glowed +with a loving desire to be his help, their every act was an +unconscious stab which drove him until he could have cried +aloud in agony.</p> +<p>And it was a period of catastrophe. Little Vada scalded +her hand and had to be petted back to her normal condition +of sunny smiles. Jamie broke one of the few plates, and +his tears had to be banished by assurances that it did not +matter, and that he had done his father a kindness by ridding +him of such an ugly plate. Then Vada stumbled into +the garbage pail and had to be carefully wiped, while Jamie +smeared his sparse hair with rancid dripping and insisted he +was “Injun,” vociferously proclaiming his desire to “talp” +his sister.</p> +<p>But the crowning disaster came when he attempted to +put his threat into execution. He seized a bunch of her hair +in his two chubby hands and began to drag her round the +room. Her howls drew Scipio’s attention from his work, +and he turned to find them a struggling heap upon the floor. +He dashed to part them, kicked over a bucket of drinking +water in his well-meant hurry, and, finally, had to rescue +them, both drenched to the skin, from the untimely bath.</p> +<p>There was nothing for it but to strip off all their clothes +and dress them up in their nightgowns, for as yet he had +no knowledge of their wardrobe, and send them out to get +warm in the sun, while he dried their day-clothes at the +cookstove.</p> +<p>It was the climax. The man flung himself into a chair +and buried his face in his hands. The mask had dropped +from him. There was no longer any need for pretense. +Once more the grief and horror of his disaster broke through +his guard and left him helpless. The whole world, his life, +everything was engulfed in an abyss of black despair.</p> +<p>He was dry-eyed and desperate. But now somehow his +feelings contained an emotion that the first shock of his loss +had not brought him. He was no longer a prey to a weak, +unresisting submission, the grief of a tortured gentle heart. +There was another feeling. A feeling of anger and resentment +which slowly grew with each moment, and sent +the hot blood surging furiously to his brain. Nor was this +feeling directed against Jessie. How could it be? He loved +her so that her cruel desertion of him appeared to be a matter +for which he was chiefly to blame. Yes, he understood. +He was not the husband for her. How could it be otherwise? +He had no cleverness. He had always been a +failure. No, his anger was not against Jessie. It was the +other. It was the man who had robbed him of all he cared +for in the world.</p> +<p>His anger grew hotter and hotter. And with this growing +passion there came an absolute revulsion of the motive force +that had always governed him. He wanted to hurt. He +wanted to hurt this man, Lord James. And his simple mind +groped for a means to carry out his desire. He began to +think more quickly and clearly, and the process brought him +a sort of cold calmness. Again his grief was thrust out +of his focus, and all his mental energy was concentrated +upon his desire. And he conjured up a succession of +pictures of the tortures and sufferings he desired for this +villain who had so wronged him.</p> +<p>But the pictures were too feeble and wholly inadequate +to satisfy. So gentle was his nature, that, even stirred as +he was, he could not conceive a fitting punishment for so +great an offense. He felt his own inadequacy, his own +feebleness to cope with the problem before him, and so he +sat brooding impotently.</p> +<p>It was all useless. And as the minutes slipped by his +anger began to die out, merging once more into the all-absorbing +grief that underlay it. He was alone. Alone! +He would never see her again. The thought chilled him to +a sudden nervous dread. No, no, it was not possible. She +would come back. She must come back. Yes, yes. She +was his Jessie. His beautiful Jessie. She belonged to him. +And the children. She loved them. How she loved them. +They were theirs. Yes, she would come back. Maybe she +would come back at supper-time. She would understand by +then. Because she was good, and––and kind, and––No, +no, Fate could never be so cruel as to take her from him.</p> +<p>He rose and paced the floor with nervous, uneven strides. +He plunged his hand into his coat pocket and drew out the +letter again. He re-read it, with hot eyes and straining +thought. Every word seemed to sear itself upon his poor +brain, and drive him to the verge of distraction. Why? +Why? And he raised his bloodshot eyes to the roof of his +hut, and crushed the paper in one desperate hand.</p> +<p>Then suddenly he started. His pale eyes took on a +furtive frightened expression. He glanced fearfully round +the room as though someone was in hiding to surprise his +inspiration. Yes, that was it. Why not? He was not +afraid. He was afraid of no one. Yes, yes, he had the +means. He must make the opportunity. She was his. No +one else had a right to her. It was justifiable. It was no +more than justice.</p> +<p>He moved towards the inner room. He was less furtive +now. His purpose had startled him at first, but now he was +convinced it was right. To a man of his character his +resolve once taken there was only one thing to do––to carry +it out.</p> +<p>He passed into the bedroom, and, in a few moments, +reappeared. Now he was bearing something in his hand. +He held it carefully, and in his eyes was something like +terror of what he held. The thing he carried was an old-fashioned +revolver. It was rusty. But it had a merciless +look about it. He turned it up gingerly. Then he opened +the breach, and loaded all the six chambers. Then he +carefully bestowed it in his coat pocket, where it bulged +obtrusively.</p> +<p>Now he moved to the open doorway, and somehow his +original furtiveness had returned to him. Here he paused +as the voice of the twins reached and held him. They were +still playing in the sun, banking up the sand and stones in +their futile attempt at castle building. He breathed hard, +as though summoning up all his decision. Then he spoke.</p> +<p>“Say, kiddies,” he said firmly. “I’ll be right back at +supper.”</p> +<p>And he moved out without another look in their direction, +and walked off in the direction of Minky’s store.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV_SCIPIO_BORROWS_A_HORSE' id='CHAPTER_IV_SCIPIO_BORROWS_A_HORSE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE</h3> +</div> +<p>Scipio found an almost deserted camp after floundering +his way over the intricate paths amongst the refuse-heaps.</p> +<p>The miners had departed to their claims with a punctuality +that suggested Trades Union principles. Such was their +existence. They ate to live; they lived to work, ever tracking +the elusive metal to the earth’s most secret places. The +camp claimed them only when their day’s work was done; +for the rest, it supported only their most urgent needs.</p> +<p>Sunny Oak, lounging on a rough bench in the shadiest +part of the veranda facing Minky’s store, raised a pair of +heavy eyelids, to behold a dejected figure emerge from +amidst the “dumps.” The figure was bearing towards the +store in a dusty cloud which his trailing feet raised at every +step. His eyes opened wider, and interested thought stirred +in his somnolent brain. He recognized the figure and wondered. +Scipio should have been out on his claim by this +time, like the rest.</p> +<p>The lean long figure of the lounger propped itself upon +its elbow. Curiously enough, lazy as he was, the smallest +matter interested him. Had he suddenly discovered a beetle +moving on the veranda he would have found food for reflection +in its doings. Such was his mind. A smile stole +into his indolent eyes, a lazy smile which spoke of tolerant +good-humor. He turned so that his voice might carry in +through the window which was just behind him.</p> +<p>“Say, Bill,” he cried, “here’s Zip comin’ down the trail.”</p> +<p>As though his announcement were sufficient to rouse an +equal interest in those inside the store, he returned again to +his contemplation of the approaching figure.</p> +<p>“What’s he doin’ around camp this hour?” inquired a +harsh voice from beyond the window.</p> +<p>“Guess I ain’t a lightnin’ calc’lator,” observed Sunny, +without withdrawing his gaze.</p> +<p>“Nope,” came the prompt retort from the invisible +speaker; “guess it ’ud keep you busy trackin’ a fun’ral.”</p> +<p>“Which don’t need contradiction! I’m kind o’ makin’ +holiday these times. Guess you ain’t never heerd tell o’ the +‘rest cure’?”</p> +<p>A rough laugh broke on the drowsy atmosphere.</p> +<p>“Sunny’s overworked just now,” said another voice, +amidst the rattle of poker chips.</p> +<p>“Wher’ you bin workin’, Sunny?” inquired the harsh +voice of the man addressed as Bill.</p> +<p>“Workin’!” cried the loafer, with good-natured scorn. +“Say, I don’t never let a hobby interfere with the bizness +of life.”</p> +<p>A half-smothered laugh answered him. Even the exigencies +of a poker hand could not quite crush out the natural +humor of these men, who always followed on the golden +trail of the pioneers.</p> +<p>“Say, what’s your bizness?” demanded another voice +presently.</p> +<p>“Restin’!” the man on the veranda answered easily.</p> +<p>The shuffle of cards and rattle of chips came with a +snigger. And the answering lazy smile of Sunny Oak was +good to see. It lit his unshaven face from his unwashed +brow to his chin. And to an onlooker it might well have +appeared a pity that an intense bodily indolence should so +dominate his personality. He looked vastly capable, both +mentally and physically.</p> +<p>But his eyes never left the on-coming Scipio. The little +man moved with bowed head and trailing footsteps. The +utter dispiritedness of his gait stirred even the self-centered +watcher. But Scipio saw nothing of Sunny Oak. He saw +nothing of anything but the despairing picture in his own +mind. The ramshackle shanties which lined one side of the +trail were passed unheeded. The yapping of the camp dogs +at the unusual sight of so deplorable a figure at this hour of +the day was quite unnoticed by him. The shelving rise of +attenuated grassland which blocked the view of Suffering +Creek on his left never for a moment came into his focus. +His eyes were on the trail ahead of him, and never more +than a few feet from where he trod. And those eyes were +hot and staring, aching with their concentration upon the +hideous picture which filled his brain.</p> +<p>As Scipio drew near Sunny Oak further bestirred himself, +which was a concession not often yielded by that individual +to anyone. He sat up, and his smile broadened. +Then it faded out as he beheld the usually mild expression +of the yellow-haired prospector now so set and troubled.</p> +<p>“Gee!” he murmured in an undertone. Then, with an +evident effort, he offered a greeting.</p> +<p>“Ho, you, Zip! Drawn a blank way up ther’ on your +mudbank?”</p> +<p>Scipio looked up in a dazed fashion. Then he halted and +seemed to pull himself together. Finally he spoke.</p> +<p>“Howdy?” he said in a mechanical sort of way.</p> +<p>“Guess I’m a heap better,” responded Sunny, with +twinkling eyes.</p> +<p>Scipio gazed up at the store in a bewildered way. He +saw the great letters in which Minky’s name and occupation +were inscribed on its pretentious front, and it seemed to +bring back his purpose to his distracted mind. Instantly the +other’s words became intelligible to him, and his native +kindliness prompted him.</p> +<p>“You been sick?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“Wal, not rightly sick, but––ailin’.” Sunny’s smile +broadened till a mouthful of fairly decent teeth showed +through the fringe of his ragged mustache.</p> +<p>“Ailin’?”</p> +<p>“Yep. Guess I bin overdoin’ it.”</p> +<p>“It don’t do, working too hard in the heat,” said Scipio +absently.</p> +<p>“Sure,” replied Sunny. “It’s been a hard job avoidin’ it. +Ther’s allus folk ready to set me workin’. That’s just the +way o’ things. What I need is rest. Say, you ain’t +workin’?”</p> +<p>Scipio started.</p> +<p>“No. I’m looking for Wild Bill.”</p> +<p>Sunny Oak jerked his head backwards in the direction of +the window.</p> +<p>“Guess he’s at work––in ther’.”</p> +<p>“Thanks.”</p> +<p>Scipio mounted the veranda and passed along to the door +of the store. Sunny’s eyes followed him, but he displayed +no other interest. With ears and brain alert, however, he +waited. He knew that all he required to know would reach +him through a channel that was quite effortless to himself. +Again he stretched himself out on the bench, and his twinkling +eyes closed luxuriously.</p> +<p>Minky’s store was very little different from other places of +its kind. He sold everything that could possibly be needed +in a newly started mining camp. He did not confine himself +to hardware and clothing and canned goods, but carried a +supply of drugs, stationery and general dry goods, besides +liquor in ample quantities, if of limited quality. There was +rye whisky, there was gin, and there was some sort of +French brandy. The two latter were in the smallest +quantities. Rye was the staple drink of the place.</p> +<p>The walls of the store were lined with shelves on every +side, and the shelves were full, even overflowing to a piled-up +confusion of goods which were stacked around on the +floor. In the somewhat limited floor-space there were tables +and benches which could be used for the dual purpose of +drink and cards. But wherein Minky’s store was slightly +out of the usual was the fact that he was not a Jew, and +adopted no Jewish methods of trading. He was scrupulously +honest with his customers, and fairly moderate in his +charges, relying on this uncommon integrity and temperateness +of disposition to make personal liking the basis of his +commercial success.</p> +<p>It was perhaps a much further-sighted policy than one +would suppose. Several men had endeavored to start in the +store business in opposition to him, but in each case their +enterprise had proved an utter failure. Not a man in the +place would trade elsewhere. Minky was just “Minky,” +whom they liked and trusted. And, what was much more +to the point, who was ever ready to “trust” them.</p> +<p>Wild Bill was at the poker table with Minky, Sandy Joyce +and Toby Jenks when Scipio entered the place. He was a +gambler out and out. It was his profession. He was +known as Wild Bill of Abilene, a man whose past was never +inquired into by even the most youthful newcomer, whose +present was a thing that none ever saw sufficient reason to +question, and whose future suggested nothing so much as +the general uncertainty of things human. He was a man of +harsh exterior and, apparently, harsh purpose. His eyes +were steely and his tongue ironical; he possessed muscles of +iron and a knowledge of poker and all its subtleties that had +never yet failed him. He was a dead shot with a pistol, and, +in consequence, fear and respect were laid at his feet by his +fellow-townsmen. He was also Minky’s most treasured +friend.</p> +<p>Sandy Joyce had to his credit a married past, which somehow +gave him a certain authority in the place. He was +expected to possess a fund of wisdom in matters worldly, +and he did his best to live up to this demand. He was also, +by the way, an ex-cowpuncher suffering from gold fever, +and between whiles played poker with Wild Bill until he had +lost the result of his more regular labors. He was a slight, +tall, bright-eyed man of thirty, with an elaborate flow of +picturesque language. He was afraid of no man, but all +women.</p> +<p>Toby Jenks was as short and squat as his friends were +long and thin. He was good-tempered, and spent large +remittances which reached him at regular intervals in the +lulls which occurred in his desultory search for gold.</p> +<p>Minky, a plain, large man of blunt speech and gruff manners, +looked up swiftly as Scipio entered, and a moment +later three more pairs of eyes were fixed inquiringly upon +the newcomer.</p> +<p>“Struck color?” inquired Minky, with his gruffest +cordiality.</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>Scipio’s entire attitude had distinctly undergone a change +since Sunny Oak’s lazy eyes first discovered his approach. +Where before the hopelessness of despair had looked out +from every line of his mild face, now his mouth was set +obstinately, and a decided thrust to his usually retiring chin +became remarkable. Even his wispy hair had an aggression +in the manner in which it obtruded from under the brim of +his slouch hat. His eyes were nearly defiant, yet there was +pleading in them, too. It was as if he were sure of the +rightness of his purpose, but needed encouragement in its +execution.</p> +<p>For the moment the poker game was stopped, a fact which +was wholly due to the interest of the steely eyes of Wild +Bill.</p> +<p>“Layin’ off?” inquired the gambler, without a moment’s +softening.</p> +<p>“Guess you’re passin’ on that mud lay-out of yours,” suggested +Sandy, with a laugh.</p> +<p>Scipio shook his head, and his lips tightened.</p> +<p>“No. I want to borrow a good horse from Bill here.”</p> +<p>The gambler set down the cards he had been shuffling. +The statement seemed to warrant his action. He sat back +in his chair and bit a chew of tobacco off a black plug. +Minky and the others sat round and stared at the little man +with unfeigned interest.</p> +<p>“You’re needin’ a hoss?” demanded Bill, without attempting +to disguise his surprise. “What for?”</p> +<p>Scipio drew a hand across his brow; a beady sweat had +broken out upon it.</p> +<p>“Oh, nothing to bother folk with,” he said, with a painful +attempt at indifference. “I’ve got to hunt around and find +that feller, ‘Lord’ James.”</p> +<p>A swift glance flashed round the table from eye to eye. +Then Sunny Oak’s voice reached them from beyond the +window––</p> +<p>“Guess you’ve a goodish ways to travel.”</p> +<p>“Time enough,” said Scipio doggedly.</p> +<p>“What you need to find him for?” demanded Wild +Bill, and there was a change in the glitter of his fierce +eyes. It was not that they softened, only now they had the +suggestion of an ironical smile, which, in him, implied curiosity.</p> +<p>Scipio shifted his feet uneasily. His pale eyes wandered +to the sunlit window. One hand was thrust in his jacket +pocket, and the fingers of it fidgeted with the rusty metal of +the gun that bulged its sides. This pressure of interrogation +was upsetting the restraint he was putting on himself. All +his grief and anger were surging uppermost again. With a +big effort, which was not lost upon his shrewd audience, he +choked down his rising emotion.</p> +<p>“Oh, I––I’d like to pay him a ‘party call,’” he blurted +out.</p> +<p>Minky was about to speak, but Wild Bill kept him silent +with a sharp glance. An audible snigger came from beyond +the window.</p> +<p>“Guess you know jest wher’ you’ll locate him?” inquired +the gambler.</p> +<p>“No, but I’m going to find him, sure,” replied Scipio +doggedly. Then he added, with his eyes averted, “Guess I +shan’t let up till I do.”</p> +<p>There was a weak sparkle in the little man’s eyes.</p> +<p>“What’s your game?” rasped Bill curiously.</p> +<p>“Oh, just nothin’.”</p> +<p>The reply caused a brief embarrassed pause. Then the +gambler broke it with characteristic force.</p> +<p>“An’ fer that reason you’re––carryin’ a gun,” he said, +pointing at the man’s bulging pocket.</p> +<p>Sandy Joyce ceased stacking his “chips”; Toby squared +his broad shoulders and drained an already empty glass. +Minky blinked his astonishment, while Wild Bill thrust his +long legs out and aggressively pushed his hat back on his +head. It was at that moment that curiosity overcame Sunny +Oak’s habitual indolence, and his face appeared over the +window-sill.</p> +<p>“He’s stole from me,” said Scipio in a low tone.</p> +<p>“What’s he stole?” demanded the gambler savagely.</p> +<p>“My wife.”</p> +<p>The stillness of the room remained unbroken for some +moments. Actions came far easier to these men than mere +words. Scipio’s words had a paralyzing effect upon their +powers of speech, and each was busy with thoughts which +they were powerless to interpret into words. “Lord” +James was a name they had reason to hate. It was a name +synonymous with theft, and even worse––to them. He had +stolen from their community, which was unforgivable, but +this––this was something new to them, something which +did not readily come into their focus. Wild Bill was the +first to recover himself.</p> +<p>“How d’you know?” he asked.</p> +<p>“She wrote telling me.”</p> +<p>“She went ’cos she notioned it?” inquired Sandy.</p> +<p>“He’s stole her––he’s stole my Jessie,” said Scipio sullenly.</p> +<p>“An’ you’re goin’ to fetch her back?” Bill’s question +whipped the still air.</p> +<p>“Sure––she’s mine.”</p> +<p>Scipio’s simplicity and single-mindedness brought forth a +sigh of intense feeling from his hearers.</p> +<p>“How?” Wild Bill’s method of interrogation had a +driving effect.</p> +<p>“She’s mine, an’––I’m going to get her back.” There +was pity at the man’s obstinate assertion in every eye except +Wild Bill’s.</p> +<p>“Say, Zip, he’ll kill you,” said the gambler, after a +pause.</p> +<p>“She’s my wife. She’s mine,” retorted Scipio intensely. +“An’ I’ll shoot him dead if he refuses to hand her +over.”</p> +<p>“Say,” the gambler went on, ignoring the man’s protest––the +idea of Scipio shooting a man like James was too ludicrous––“you’re +up agin a bad proposition, sure. James has +stole your––wife. He’s stole more. He’s a stage-robber.”</p> +<p>“A cattle-thief,” broke in Sandy.</p> +<p>“A ‘bad man’ of the worst,” nodded Minky.</p> +<p>“He’s all these, an’ more,” went on Bill, scowling. +“He’s a low-down skunk, he’s a pestilence, he’s a murderer. +You’re goin’ to hunt him back ther’ to his own shack in +the foothills with his gang of toughs around him, an’ you’re +goin’ to make him hand back your wife. Say, you’re sure +crazy. He’ll kill you. He’ll blow your carkis to hell, an’ +charge the devil freightage for doin’ it.”</p> +<p>There was a look of agreement in the eyes that watched +Scipio’s mild face. There was more: there was sympathy +and pity for him, feelings in these men for which there was +no other means of expression.</p> +<p>But Scipio was unmoved from his purpose. His underlip +protruded obstinately. His pale eyes were alight with +purpose and misery.</p> +<p>“He’s stole my––Jessie,” he cried, “an’ I want her back.” +Then, in a moment, his whole manner changed, and his +words came with an irresistible pleading. Hard as was the +gambler, the pathos of it struck a chord in him the existence +of which, perhaps, even he was unaware.</p> +<p>“You’ll lend me a horse, Bill?” the little man cried. +“You will, sure? I got fifty dollars saved for the kiddies’ +clothes. Here it is,” he hurried on, pulling out a packet of +bills from his hip pocket. “You take ’em and keep ’em +against the horse. It ain’t sufficient, but it’s all I got. I’ll +pay the rest when I’ve made it, if your horse gets hurted. +I will, sure. Say,” he added, with a happy inspiration, “I’ll +give you a note on my claim––ha’f of it. You’ll do it? +You––”</p> +<p>Bill’s face went suddenly scarlet. Something made him +lower his eyelids. It was as though he could not look on +that eager face unmoved any longer. Somehow he felt in a +vague sort of way that poor Scipio’s spirit was altogether too +big for his body. Bigger by far than that of those sitting +there ready to deride his purpose, and crush it to a weak +yielding such as, in their minds, was the only possible thing +for a man of his like.</p> +<p>“You set them bills right back in your dip,” he cried, +with a savageness that was only a mask to his real feelings; +“I don’t need ’em. You ken get right out to the barn an’ +have your pick o’ my plugs, an’ anythin’ you need else. +Guess you best take the black mare. She’ll carry you all +day for a week, sure, an’ then laff at you. Get right on, an’––an’––good +luck!”</p> +<p>There are actions performed in every man’s life for which +he can never account, even to himself. Such was the act +Wild Bill performed at that moment. Gambling was his +living, but his horses were a passion with him. He possessed, +perhaps, some of the finest in the country, and he +worshiped them. He had never been known to lend a +horse to his best friend, and no one but himself had ever +been allowed to feed or groom them. He was prouder of +them than a father might be of his firstborn son, and as +careful of them as any doting mother. Therefore his assent +to Scipio’s request was quite staggering to his companions. +Nor did he know why he did it, and a furious anger followed +immediately upon this unusual outburst of good-nature.</p> +<p>Scipio was profuse in his thanks. But he was cut short +with a violence that seemed quite unnecessary. For the +moment, at least, Bill hated the little man almost as much +as he hated this “Lord” James he was setting out in +search of.</p> +<p>After that no word passed until Scipio had left the store +for the barn. Bill sat wrapt in moody thought, his fierce +eyes lowered in contemplation of his well-shod feet. His +cards were forgotten, the men around him were forgotten. +Sandy and the storekeeper were watching his harsh face in +wonder, while Toby’s head was turned in the direction of +the departing man. It was Sunny Oak from his post at the +window who finally broke the silence.</p> +<p>“Guess you gone plumb ‘bug,’ Bill,” he said, with an +amiable grin. Then, as only a flicker of a smile from the +others answered him, and Bill ignored his charge altogether, +he hurried on, “You’re helpin’ that misguided feller to a +dose of lead he’ll never have time to digest. If ever Zip +runs foul of James, he’ll blow him to hell as sure––as ther’s +allus work for those as don’t need it. An’, wot’s more, +you’ll never set eyes on your black mare agin, ’less it’s +under James’ saddle. You’re sure ‘bug.’ You oughter be +seen to.”</p> +<p>It was only Sunny Oak who would have dared to say so +much to the gambler. But then, for some unstated reason, +Sunny was a privileged person on Suffering Creek. Nobody +paid much attention to the manner in which he allowed his +tongue to run on, and, besides, he was too lazy to be afraid +of anybody.</p> +<p>Bill looked round.</p> +<p>“You’re side-tracked,” he observed contemptuously. +“James won’t shoot Jessie’s husband. Maybe he’ll kick +him out, maybe he’ll roast him bad, and tongue-lash him. +Anyways, every man’s got to play his own hand. An’––it’s +good to see him playin’ hard, win or lose. But Zip’ll git +back, sure. An’ he’ll bring my mare with him. Go to +sleep, Sunny; your thinkin’-pan’s nigh hatched out.”</p> +<p>“I don’t guess he’ll ever get alongside James,” observed +Minky thoughtfully. “We’ve all looked for him a piece. +We know he’s got a shanty back in the foothills, but I don’t +seem to remember hearin’ of anybody findin’ it. I don’t +guess Zip’s wise to where it is.”</p> +<p>Bill’s eyes lit with a curious fire.</p> +<p>“Guess Zip’ll find him,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’ll +take him time––”</p> +<p>“An’,” cried Sunny, “how’s them pore kiddies to live +meanwhiles?”</p> +<p>The loafer fired his little bomb with the desired effect. +The men had no answer for some moments. And gradually +all eyes fixed themselves upon Bill’s face, as though acknowledging +his leadership. He answered the challenge in characteristic +fashion.</p> +<p>“Guess we’ll turn Sunny loose to wet-nurse ’em.”</p> +<p>An announcement which set Sunny plunging headlong to +his own defense.</p> +<p>“Say, ain’t ther’ no sort o’ peace for a feller as needs +rest? You’re all mighty smart settin’ folks to work. But +this is your game, Bill, an’ it’s up to you to put it thro’. +I ’low you’d make an elegant wet-nurse––so soft and +motherish.”</p> +<p>But Bill had had enough, and turned upon the face at the +window in his most savage manner.</p> +<p>“See here,” he cried, with fierce irony, “we’ve all know’d +you since Sufferin’ Creek was Sufferin’ Creek, an’ nobody +ain’t never kicked. But it’s kind o’ ne’ssary for every feller +around these parts to justify ’emselves. Get me? You +need ‘justifyin’.’ Wal, I guess you’ll see to them kiddies +till Zip comes back. It’s going to be your work seein’ they +don’t get fixed into any sort o’ trouble, an’ when Zip gets +back you’ll hand ’em over clean an’ fixed right. Get that? +I’m payin’ for their board, an’ I’m payin’ you a wage. An’ +you’re goin’ to do it, or light right out o’ here so quick your +own dust’ll choke you.”</p> +<p>“Here, here!” cried Toby, with a delighted laugh.</p> +<p>Sandy grinned into the loafer’s angry face, while Minky +nodded an unsmiling approval.</p> +<p>“Gee, you beat hell for nerve!” cried Sunny.</p> +<p>“Guess I ken do better. I ken beat you,” retorted Bill +contemptuously. “You’ll do it, or––you ken start gettin’ +out now,” he added.</p> +<p>Sunny realized his position by the expression of the other +men’s faces, and, quickly resuming his good-humored plaint, +he acquiesced with a grumble.</p> +<p>“Gee! but it’s a tough world,” he complained, dropping +back on to his bench hurriedly, lest fresh demands should be +made upon him, and just in time to witness Scipio leading a +beautiful black mare up to the tying-post.</p> +<p>The men in the store turned out at the sound of horse’s +hoofs, and stood gathered on the veranda. Bill’s keen eyes +were fixed regretfully on the shining sides of his favorite +animal. She was a picture of lean muscle and bone, with a +beautiful small head, and ears that looked little larger than +well-polished mussel-shells. She stood pawing the ground +impatiently while Scipio tied her to the post, and she nuzzled +his ribs playfully with her twitching lips in the most friendly +spirit. But Bill’s eyes were suddenly arrested by the manner +in which she was saddled and bridled. Poor Scipio had +blundered in a hopeless fashion.</p> +<p>Other eyes, too, had seen the blunder, and Sandy Joyce +suddenly pointed.</p> +<p>“Mackinaw! Jest get that,” he cried.</p> +<p>“By Gee!” laughed Sunny.</p> +<p>But Wild Bill cut them all short in a surprising manner.</p> +<p>“Say, guess you fellers ain’t never made no sort o’ mistakes––any +o’ you. You’re laffin’ a heap. Quit it, or––” +His eyes flashed dangerously. Then, as the men became +silent, he darted across to where Scipio was still fumbling +with the neck rope.</p> +<p>The little man’s attempt at saddling, under any other +circumstances, would have brought forth Bill’s most scathing +contempt. The saddle was set awry upon an ill-folded +blanket. It was so far back from the mare’s withers that +the twisted double cinchas were somewhere under her belly, +instead of her girth. Then the bit was reversed in her +mouth, and the curb-strap was hanging loose.</p> +<p>Bill came to his rescue in his own peculiar way.</p> +<p>“Say, Zip,” he cried in a voice that nothing could soften, +“I don’t guess you altered them stirrups to fit you. I’ll jest +fix ’em.” And the little man stood humbly by while he set +to work. He quickly unfastened the cinchas, and set the +blanket straight. Then he shifted the saddle, and refastened +the cinchas. Then he altered the stirrups, and passed on +to the mare’s bridle––Scipio watching him all the while +without a word. But when the gambler had finished he +glanced up into his lean face with an almost dog-like gratitude.</p> +<p>“Thanks, Bill,” he said. “I never done it before.”</p> +<p>“So I guessed.” And the gambler’s words, though wholly +harsh, had no other meaning in them. Then he went on, +as Scipio scrambled into the saddle, “You don’t need to +worry any ’bout things here. Your kiddies’ll be seen to +proper till you get back, if you’re on the trail a month.”</p> +<p>Scipio was startled. He had forgotten his twins.</p> +<p>“Say––you––”</p> +<p>But Bill wanted no thanks or explanations.</p> +<p>“We’re seein’ to them things––us, an’ that all-fired lazy +slob, Sunny Oak. Ther’ won’t be no harm––” He flicked +the restive mare, which bounded off with the spring of a +gazelle. “Ease your hand to her,” he called out, so as +to drown Scipio’s further protestations of gratitude, “ease +your hand, you blamed little fule. That’s it. Now let her +go.”</p> +<p>And the mare raced off in a cloud of dust.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_V_HUSBAND_AND_LOVER' id='CHAPTER_V_HUSBAND_AND_LOVER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>HUSBAND AND LOVER</h3> +</div> +<p>Where all the trail-wise men of Suffering Creek and +the district had failed, Scipio, the incompetent, succeeded. +Such was the ironical pleasure of the jade Fortune. Scipio +had not the vaguest idea of whither his quest would lead +him. He had no ideas on the subject at all. Only had he +his fixed purpose hard in his mind, and, like a loadstone, it +drew him unerringly to his goal.</p> +<p>There was something absolutely ludicrous in the manner +of his search. But fortunately there are few ready to laugh +at disaster. Thus it was that wherever he went, wherever +he paused amongst his fellows in search of information he +was received perfectly seriously, even when he told the object +of his search, and the story of its reason.</p> +<p>An ordinary man would probably have hugged such a +story to himself. He would have resorted to covert probing +and excuse in extracting information. But then it is +doubtful if, under such circumstances, his purpose would +have been so strong, so absolutely invincible as Scipio’s. +As it was, with single-minded simplicity, Scipio saw no reason +for subterfuge, he saw no reason for disguising the tragedy +which had befallen him. And so he shed his story +broadcast amongst the settlers of the district until, by means +of that wonderful prairie telegraphy, which needs no instruments +to operate, it flew before him in every direction, +either belittled or exaggerated as individual temperament +prompted.</p> +<p>At one ranch the news was brought in from the trail by +a hard-faced citizen who had little imagination, but much +knowledge of the country.</p> +<p>“Say, fellers,” he cried, as he swung out of the saddle +at the bunkhouse door, “ther’s a tow-headed sucker on the +trail lookin’ fer the James outfit. Guess he wants to shoot +’em up. He’s a sawed-off mutt, an’ don’t look a heap like +scarin’ a jack-rabbit. I told him he best git back to hum, +an’ git busy fixin’ his funeral right, so he wouldn’t have no +trouble later.”</p> +<p>“Wher’s he from?” someone asked.</p> +<p>“Sufferin’ Creek,” replied the cowpuncher, “an’ seems +to me he’s got more grit than savvee.”</p> +<p>And this opinion was more or less the general one. The +little man rode like one possessed, and it was as well that of +all his six treasured horses Wild Bill had lent him his +black beauty, Gipsy. She was quite untiring, and, with +her light weight burden, she traveled in a spirit of sheer +delight.</p> +<p>At every homestead or ranch Scipio only paused to make +inquiries and then hurried on. The information he received +was of the vaguest. James or some of his gang were often +seen in the remoter parts of the lower foothills, but this was +all. At one farm he had a little better luck, however. +Here he was told that the farmer had received an intimation +that if he wished to escape being burnt out he must be +prepared to hand over four hundred dollars when called +upon by the writer to do so; and the message was signed +“James.”</p> +<p>“So ye see,” said the farmer––a man named Nicholls––despondently, +“he’s som’eres skulkin’ around hyar.”</p> +<p>“Seems like it,” acquiesced Scipio.</p> +<p>Then, of a sudden, a suspicion flashed through the other’s +mind, and the man-hunter spent an uncomfortable few +seconds.</p> +<p>“Say, you’re lookin’ fer him?” the farmer questioned +harshly. Then he leant forward, his eyes lighting with +sudden anger. “If I tho’t you was––”</p> +<p>But Scipio’s mild blue eyes, and his simple reply had a +pacific effect at once.</p> +<p>“I’m looking for him because he’s stole my wife. And +I’m goin’ on chasin’ till I find him.”</p> +<p>There was such mild sincerity in his visitor’s manner +that it was impossible for the farmer to retain his suspicion.</p> +<p>“What you goin’ to do about that four hundred?” +inquired Scipio later.</p> +<p>“He’ll get no dollars out o’ me. I ain’t got ’em,” replied +Nicholls hopelessly. Then his temper rose. “But I’m just +goin’ to sleep with a gun to my hand, an’ he’ll get it good +an’ plenty, if he shoots the life out of me, an’ burns every +stick I got, after.”</p> +<p>Scipio nodded sympathetically.</p> +<p>“I’d feel that ways,” he said. “Well, I guess I’ll be +gettin’ on. My mare’ll be fed an’ rested by this. Thanks +for the feed. Guess I’ll hunt around this district a piece. +Maybe I’ll find––”</p> +<p>But suddenly the farmer awoke from the contemplation +of his own troubles and eyed the diminutive figure of his +guest wonderingly, as he stood up to go.</p> +<p>“Say,” he observed critically, “guess you must be bustin’ +with grit chasin’ this feller.”</p> +<p>Scipio shook his head.</p> +<p>“No,” he said, with a wan smile. “But he’s got––my +wife.”</p> +<p>“Ah.”</p> +<p>And there was a world of understanding in the man’s +monosyllable.</p> +<p>Five minutes later the man-hunter was on the trail again. +It was the afternoon of the second day of his quest. He was +saddle-sore and weary, but his purpose knew no weakening. +Gipsy was going fresh and strong, and though she had already +traveled probably a hundred miles in her rider’s aimless +wanderings, she moved as though she was out for a +morning’s exercise on a liberal diet of oats.</p> +<p>True to his intention Scipio scoured the district with an +excess of enthusiasm which carried him far, and sundown +found him amongst the beehive hummocks which form the +approach to the greater hills. Up and down these wonderful +grassy dunes he roamed searching a resting-place for +himself and his mare. There was nothing of the sort in +sight, nothing but the endless series of grassy knolls, and +the dividing hollows which might conceal anything, from +a ranch house to an outlying cattle station. And finally +he abandoned all hope of shelter.</p> +<p>He had certainly lost himself. But, even so, he was not +greatly concerned. Why should he be? What did it matter? +He knew that if the worst came to the worst his +mare could eat her fill of grass, and, for himself, sleep in +the open had no terrors. Of food for himself he had not +even begun to think. So he rode on until the last blaze +of the setting sun dropped behind the sky-line.</p> +<p>He was descending into a hollow, something deeper than +usual. Hope ran high that it was one of those hidden +breaks, which, at intervals, cross the sea of grassy dunes, +and mark a mountain waterway. Nor was he disappointed. +A few moments later, to his delight, he found himself gazing +into the depths of one of the many rivulets trickling its +shallow way between low cut banks. Promptly he made +up his mind that it was the place for him to camp.</p> +<p>At the water’s edge he scrambled out of the saddle and +began to seek a place where his mare could drink. It was +a little difficult, for the banks were sharp, and the bushes +plentiful, and he had wandered at least a hundred yards in +his search for an opening when a human voice abruptly +hailed him from the far side of the stream. He looked +across without answering, and, to his intense surprise, beheld +a horseman on the opposite bank. The man, judging by +his appearance, was a cowpuncher, and, to Scipio’s simple +mind, was, like himself, benighted.</p> +<p>“Hello,” he replied at last, after a thoughtful stare.</p> +<p>The man was eyeing the yellow-headed figure with no +very friendly eyes, but this fact was lost upon Scipio, who +saw in him only a fellow man in misfortune. He saw the +lariat on the horn of the saddle, the man’s chapps, his hard-muscled +broncho pony gazing longingly at the water. The +guns at the man’s waist, the scowling brow and shifty eyes +passed quite unobserved.</p> +<p>“Wher’ you from?” demanded the man sharply.</p> +<p>“Suffering Creek,” replied Scipio readily.</p> +<p>“Guess you’ve come quite a piece,” said the other, after +a considering pause.</p> +<p>“I sure have.”</p> +<p>“What you doin’ here?”</p> +<p>The man’s inquiry rapped out smartly. But Scipio had +no suspicion of anybody, and answered quite without +hesitation.</p> +<p>“I’m huntin’ a man called James. You ain’t seen him?”</p> +<p>But the man countered his question with another.</p> +<p>“What’s your name?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Scipio––and yours?”</p> +<p>In the dying light the man’s saturnine features seemed to +relax for a moment into something like a smile. But he +spoke at once.</p> +<p>“Come right over,” he invited. “Guess my name’s Abe––Abe +Conroy. I’m out chasin’ cattle.” And the fact that +he finished up with a deliberate laugh had no meaning at all +for his companion.</p> +<p>Scipio gladly accepted the invitation, and, in response to +the man’s instructions, moved farther along the stream until +he came to a shelving in the bank where his mare could climb +down. He crossed over, letting his horse drink by the way, +and a few moments later was at his new acquaintance’s side.</p> +<p>The stranger’s mood seemed to have entirely changed +for the better by the time Scipio came up. His smile was +almost amiable, and his manner of speech was comparatively +jocular.</p> +<p>“So you’re chasin’ that crook, James,” he said easily. +“Queer, ain’t it?”</p> +<p>“What?”</p> +<p>“Why, he’s run off a bunch of our stock. Leastways, +that’s how I’m guessin’. I’m makin’ up to his place right +now to spy out things. I was jest waitin’ fer the sun to go. +Y’see we’re organizin’ a vigilance party to run––Say, I’d +a notion fer a moment you was one of his gang.”</p> +<p>But Scipio disclaimed the honor promptly.</p> +<p>“No. I just need to find him. I’m needin’ it bad.”</p> +<p>“Wot fer?”</p> +<p>For once the man-hunter hesitated. A quite unaccountable +feeling gave him a moment’s pause. But he finally +answered frankly, as he always answered, with a simple +directness that was just part of him.</p> +<p>“He’s stole my wife,” he said, his eyes directly gazing +into the other’s face.</p> +<p>“Gee, he’s a low-down skunk,” declared the other, with a +curse. But the ironical light in his eyes quite escaped his +companion’s understanding.</p> +<p>Scipio was full of his good fortune in falling in with a +man who knew of James’ whereabouts. A dozen questions +sprang into his mind, but he contented himself with stating +his intention.</p> +<p>“I’ll ride on with you,” he said.</p> +<p>“What, right up to James’ lay-out?”</p> +<p>“Sure. That’s wher’ I’m makin’.”</p> +<p>For a moment the man calling himself Conroy sat gazing +out at the afterglow of the setting sun. His whole appearance +was ill-favored enough to have aroused distrust in +anybody but a man like Scipio. Now he seemed to be +pondering a somewhat vexed question, and his brows were +drawn together in a way that suggested anything but a clear +purpose. But finally he seemed to make up his mind to a +definite course. He spoke without turning to his companion, +and perhaps it was for the purpose of hiding a lurking +derisive smile.</p> +<p>“If you’re set on makin’ James’ shanty, you best come +right along. Only”––he hesitated for the barest fraction +of a second––“y’see, I’m out after this cattle racket, an’ I +guess I owe it to my folks to git their bizness thro’ without +no chance of upset. See?”</p> +<p>Scipio nodded. He saw the man’s drift, and thought it +quite splendid of him.</p> +<p>“Now, I got to spy out things,” the man went on, “an’ +if you get right up ther’ first it’ll likely upset things fer me––you +goin’ ther’ to hold him up as it were.” His smile +was more pronounced. “Now I guess I’ll show you where +his lay-out is if you’ll sure give me your promise to let me +hunt around fer ha’f-an-hour around his corrals––’fore you +butt in. Then I’ll get right back to you an’ you can go +up, an’––shoot him to hell, if you notion that fancy.”</p> +<p>Scipio almost beamed his thanks. The man’s kindness +seemed a noble thing to him.</p> +<p>“You’re a real bully fellow,” he said. “Guess we’ll start +right now?”</p> +<p>The man turned and his shrewd eyes fixed themselves +piercingly on the little man’s face.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said shortly, “we’ll get on.”</p> +<p>He led the way, his horse slightly in advance of the mare, +and for some time he made no attempt to break the silence +that had fallen. The twilight was rapidly passing into the +deeper shadows of night, but he rode amongst the hills as +though he were traveling a broad open trail. There was no +hesitation, no questioning glance as to his direction. He +might have been traveling a trail that he had been accustomed +to all his life. At last, however, he glanced round at +his companion.</p> +<p>“Say, what you goin’ to do when––you get there?” he +asked.</p> +<p>“Fetch my wife back,” replied Scipio earnestly.</p> +<p>“What’ll James be doin’?”</p> +<p>“He can’t keep her––she’s mine.”</p> +<p>“That’s so. But––if he notions to keep her?”</p> +<p>Scipio was silent for some moments. His pale eyes were +staring straight ahead of him out into the growing darkness.</p> +<p>“Maybe, I’ll have to shoot him,” he said at last, as though +there could be no question about the matter.</p> +<p>The man nodded.</p> +<p>“Got useful guns?” he inquired casually.</p> +<p>“Got one.”</p> +<p>“Ah, what is it? Magazine?”</p> +<p>Scipio pulled his antique possession out of his pocket and +handed it over for the man’s inspection.</p> +<p>“It’s all right,” he said. “Guess the sights ain’t good +over a distance, but at close range it’ll make a nasty hole.”</p> +<p>Conroy took the weapon in his hand. His keen eyes +noted the age of the pattern. He also saw the battered +condition of the sights, and the clumsy, rusted, protruding +hammer. It was six-chambered, and he knew that it must +be all of forty years old. One of the earliest pattern +revolvers. The sight of it filled him with cruel amusement, +but he kept a serious face.</p> +<p>“I ’lows that should bring James to his senses,” he +observed, as he handed it back to its owner.</p> +<p>Scipio read his answer as approval, and warmed towards +him.</p> +<p>“I’d say so,” he said, returning his antiquity to his pocket. +“You see, a gun’s li’ble to rattle a feller like James. A +man who can get around when a feller’s back’s turned, an’ +make love to his wife, ain’t much of a man, is he? I mean +he hasn’t much grit. He’s a coward sure. If he’d got grit +he wouldn’t do it. Well, that’s how I figger ’bout this +James. He’s mean, an’ a cowardly dog. I don’t guess I’ll +have to use that gun, but I jest brought it along to scare him +to his senses, if he needs it. Maybe though he won’t need +it when he sees me come along––y’see, I’m Jessie’s husband––guess +that’ll fix him sure.”</p> +<p>“Guess you got James sized up good,” observed the man, +with his eyes fixed ahead. “No, I don’t see you’ll need +that gun.”</p> +<p>They rode on, Scipio’s spirits rising with every yard they +traveled. He knew he was nearing his wife with every +passing moment. He had no doubts, no fears. So long as +he could reach her side he felt that all would be well. In +spite of her letter it never entered his head that she cared +for the man she had gone off with. He blamed James, and +it was no mere figure of speech when he said that he believed +he had “stolen” her. He believed such to be the case. +He believed she had gone unwillingly. In his mind it was +a case of abduction. Again and again he thanked Providence +that he had fallen in with this man, Conroy. He was +a good fellow, he told himself, a good friend. And his ideas +were so coincident with his own about James.</p> +<p>They were approaching the higher hills. Towering, +broken crags loomed ahead darkly in the gathering gloom. +The vast riven facets cut the sky-line, and black patches +of pine forests, and spruce, gave a ghostly, threatening outlook. +They must have been riding over two hours when +Scipio realized they were passing over a narrow cattle track +on the summit of a wooded hill. Then presently their +horses began a steep shelving descent which required great +caution to negotiate. And as they proceeded the darkness +closed in upon them, until they appeared to be making an +almost precipitate descent into a vast black pit. There was +no light here at all except for the stars above, for the last +glow of twilight was completely shut off by the great wall +they were now leaving behind them.</p> +<p>No word was spoken. Each man was busy with his horse, +and the animals themselves were stumbling and floundering +as they picked their uncertain way. A quarter of an hour +of this went by, then, suddenly, ahead, still farther down +the slope, two or three dim lights shone up at them like will-o’-the-wisps. +They seemed to dance about before Scipio’s +eyes as they rode. Nor, as he pointed them out to his companion, +did he realize that this peculiarity was due to the +motion of his mare under him.</p> +<p>“Yep,” replied Conroy dryly. “Them’s James’ lights.”</p> +<p>“He’s got a large place,” said Scipio, with some awe in +his tone.</p> +<p>“He sure has,” agreed Conroy, smiling in the darkness. +“He’s got the biggest an’ best-stocked ranch in Montana.”</p> +<p>“You say he’s a––cattle thief?” Scipio was struggling +to get things into proper focus.</p> +<p>“He sure is.” And Conroy’s tone of satisfaction had the +effect of silencing further comment by his companion.</p> +<p>A few moments later the descent was completed, and the +soft grass under her feet set Gipsy dancing to get on, but +Conroy pulled up.</p> +<p>“Here,” he said authoritatively, “you set right here while +I get on an’ get thro’ with my business. I’ll come along +back for you.”</p> +<p>Without demur Scipio waited, and his companion vanished +in the darkness. The little man had entered into an +agreement, and had no desire, in spite of his eagerness to be +doing, of departing from the letter of it. So he possessed +himself in what patience he could until Conroy’s return.</p> +<p>The soft pad of the retiring horse’s hoofs on the thick +grass died away. And presently one of the twinkling lights +ahead was abruptly shut out. The horseman had intervened +on Scipio’s line of vision. Then the yellow gleam as suddenly +reappeared, and the last sign of Conroy passed. The +waiting man watched with every faculty alert. His ears and +eyes straining for the least unusual sound or sight. But +there was none forthcoming.</p> +<p>Then he began to think. He began to consider the +situation. He began to picture to himself something of the +scene that he hoped would shortly take place between himself +and the man James. It was the first time he had +thought of the matter deliberately, or attempted to estimate +its possibilities. Hitherto he had been too torn by his emotions +to consider anything in detail. And, even now, so +imbued was he with the right of his cause that he only saw +his own point of view, which somehow made James a mere +plaything in his hands.</p> +<p>He found himself dictating his will upon the thief in firm +tones. He demanded his wife without heat, but with the +knowledge of the power of his gun lying behind his words. +He felt the restraint he would use. He would not bully. +Who was he to bully after having had Jessie restored to +him? James should be dealt with as gently as his feelings +would permit him. Yes, thank God, he had no actual desire +to hurt this man who had so wronged him. The man was +foolish, and he could afford to be generous, having had +Jessie restored to him. No, he would try hard to forgive +him. It would be a tremendous struggle, he knew, yet he +felt, with Jessie restored to him, he ought to make the effort. +Somehow, even now, he almost felt sorry for so misguided +a––</p> +<p>But his reflections were suddenly cut short by the sound +of horses’ hoofs returning, and, a moment later, Conroy +loomed up in the darkness. He came quite close up before +he spoke, and then it was almost in a whisper.</p> +<p>“I’ve located things,” he said, with an air of deep satisfaction. +“Guess we’ll make Mr. ‘Lord’ James hunt his +hole ’fore we’re thro’ with him. I figger a rawhide fixed +neat about his neck’ll ’bout meet his case. An’ say, I’ve +news fer you. Ther’s some o’ his boys around. He’s jest +right in ther’ wher’ you ken see that biggish light,” he went +on, pointing at the illuminated square of a window. “I see +him through an open door round back. He’s lyin’ on a +heap o’ blankets readin’ a book. Ef you git along now +you’ll get him wher’ you need him, an’––an’ I wouldn’t take +no chances. Get a drop on him from outside the door, an’––wal, +guess a feller like you’ll know what to do after that. +I’m gettin’ back to home.”</p> +<p>Scipio glowed. He felt he could have hugged this good-natured +stranger. But he did not altogether agree with the +man’s suggestion of getting the drop on James. He felt it +would hardly be playing the game. However, he intended +to be guided by circumstances.</p> +<p>“Thanks, friend,” he said, in his simple fashion. “You +must let me call you that,” he went on eagerly. “You +see, you’ve done something for me to-night I can’t never +forget. Maybe you’ve got a wife of your own, and if so +you’ll sure understand.”</p> +<p>“Can’t rightly say I’ve got a––wife,” the man replied, +“but I ken understan’ all right. James is low––doggone +low,” he added. And his face was turned well away so +that he could grin comfortably without fear of the other +seeing it.</p> +<p>“Well, so long,” said Scipio hastily. “Seeing I shan’t +see you here when I get back, I’d just like to thank you +again.”</p> +<p>“So long,” replied the other. “An’ you needn’t to thank +me too much.”</p> +<p>Scipio urged his mare forward, and the man sat looking +after him. And somehow his face had lost something of its +satisfied expression. However, he sat there only a moment. +Presently he lifted his reins and set his horse at a canter in +the direction of one of the more distant lights.</p> +<p>“He’s a pore fule,” he muttered, “but it’s a lousy trick +anyways.” Thus he dismissed the matter from his mind +with a callous shrug.</p> +<p>In the meantime Scipio neared the house from which +shone the larger light. As he drew towards it he saw its +outline against the starlight. It was a large, two-storied +frame house of weather-boarding, with a veranda fronting +it. There were several windows on the hither side of it, but +light shone only in one of them. It was by this light the +horseman saw a tie-post some yards from the house. And +without hesitation he rode up to it, and, dismounting, secured +his mare. Then, following Conroy’s directions, he proceeded +on foot to the back of the house where he was to +find an open door. He turned the angle of the building. +Yes, the door was there all right, but whereas Conroy had +said that James was lying on his blankets reading, he now +discovered that the doorway was filled by that handsome +thief’s presence.</p> +<p>Before he realized what had happened, Scipio found himself +in the full glare of the light from the doorway, and +James was smiling down upon his yellow head with a +curious blending of insolence and curiosity.</p> +<p>“I was wondering when you’d get around,” he said, without +shifting his position. Then, as Scipio made no answer, +he bestirred himself. “Come right in,” he added, and, +lounging out of the doorway, he dropped back into the room. +“You’ll find things a bit untidy,” he went on calmly, “you +see I’m making changes in my domestic arrangements. +This is temporary, I guess. However, if you don’t just +mind that, why––come right in.”</p> +<p>The man’s whole manner was one of good-humored +indifference. There was an unruffled assurance about him +that was quite perfect, if studied. Scipio’s presence there +seemed the last thing of concern to him. And the effect of +his manner on his visitor entirely upset all the latter’s preconceived +intentions. Astonishment was his first feeling. +Then a sudden diffidence seized him, a diffidence that was +nearly akin to fear of his rival. But this passed in a moment, +and was instantly replaced by a hot rush of blood +through his small body. All his pictured interview died out +of his recollections, and, in place of that calmness with +which he had intended to meet the man, he found his pulses +hammering and hot anger mounting to his head. The +commonest of human passions stirred in him, and he felt +it would be good to hurt this man who had so wronged +him.</p> +<p>“Where’s my wife?” he demanded, with a sudden +fierceness.</p> +<p>“Oh––it’s that. Say, come right in?”</p> +<p>James was still smiling pleasantly. This time Scipio +accepted the invitation without thought of trap or anything +else. He almost precipitated himself into the room.</p> +<p>Nor in his fury did he observe his surroundings. He had +no eyes for the furnishings, the cheap comfort with which +he was surrounded. And though, as James had said, the +place was untidy, he saw nothing and none of it. His eyes +were on the man; angry, bloodshot eyes, such eyes as those +of a furiously goaded dog, driven into a corner by the cruel +lash of a bully’s whip.</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s it. Wher’s my wife?” Scipio demanded +threateningly. “You’ve stole her, and taken her from me. +I’ve come to take her back.”</p> +<p>The force of his demands was tinged with the simplicity +of a naturally gentle disposition. And maybe, in consequence, +something of their sting was lost. The forceful +bluster of an outraged man, determined upon enforcing his +demands, would probably have stirred James to active protest, +but, as it was, he only continued to smile his insolence +upon one whom he regarded as little better than a harmless +worm.</p> +<p>“One moment,” he said, with an exasperating patience, +“you say I stole her. To have stolen her suggests that she +was not willing to come along. She came with me. Well, +I guess she came because she fancied it. You say you’re +going to take her back. Well,” with a shrug, “I kind of +think she’ll have something to say about going back.”</p> +<p>For a moment Scipio stood aghast. He glanced about +him helplessly. Then, in a flash, his pale-blue eyes came +back to the other’s face.</p> +<p>“She’s mine, I tell you! Mine! Mine! Mine!” he +cried, in a frenzy of rage and despair. “She’s mine by the +laws of God an’ man. She’s mine by the love that has +brought our kiddies into the world. Do you hear? She’s +mine by every tie that can hold man and wife together. An’ +you’ve stole her. She’s all I’ve got. She’s all I want. She’s +just part of me, and I can’t live without her. Ther’s the +kiddies to home waitin’ for her, and she’s theirs, same as +they are hers––and mine. I tell you, you ain’t going to +keep her. She’s got to come back.” He drew a deep breath +to choke down his fury. “Say,” he went on, with a sudden +moderating of his tone and his manner, taking on a pitiful +pleading, “do you think you love her? You? Do you +think you know what love is? You don’t. You can’t. +You can’t love her same as I do. I love her honest. I love +her so I want to work for her till I drop. I love her so +there’s nothin’ on earth I wouldn’t do for her. My life is +hers. All that’s me is hers. I ain’t got a thought without +her. Man, you don’t know what it is to love my Jessie. +You can’t, ’cos your love’s not honest. You’ve taken her +same as you’d take any woman for your pleasure. If I was +dead, would you marry her? No, never, never, never. +She’s a pastime to you, and when you’ve done with her you’d +turn her right out on this prairie to herd with the cattle, +if ther’ wasn’t anywher’ else for her to go.” Then his voice +suddenly rose and his fury supervened again. “God!” he +cried fiercely. “Give me back my wife. You’re a thief. +Give her back to me, I say. She’s mine, d’you understand––mine!”</p> +<p>Not for an instant did the smile on James’ face relax. +Maybe it became more set, and his lips, perhaps, tightened, +but the smile was there, hard, unyielding in its very setness. +And when Scipio’s appeal came to an end he spoke with an +underlying harshness that did not carry its way to the little +man’s distracted brain.</p> +<p>“She wouldn’t go back to you, even if I let her––which +I won’t,” he said coldly.</p> +<p>The man’s words seemed to bite right into the heart of +his hearer. Nothing could have been better calculated to +goad him to extremity. In one short, harsh sentence he had +dashed every hope that the other possessed. And with a +rush the stricken man leapt at denial, which was heartrending +in its impotence.</p> +<p>“You lie!” he shouted. The old revolver was dragged +from his pocket and pointed shakingly at his tormentor’s +head. “Give her back to me! Give her back, or––”</p> +<p>James’ desperate courage never deserted him for an instant. +And Scipio was never allowed to complete his sentence. +The other’s hand suddenly reached out, and the +pistol was twisted from his shaking grasp with as little +apparent effort as though he had been a small child.</p> +<p>Scipio stared helpless and confused while James eyed the +pattern of the gun. Then he heard the man’s contemptuous +laugh and saw him pull the trigger. The hammer refused +to move. It was so rusted that the weapon was quite useless. +For a moment the desperado’s eyes sought the pale +face of his would-be slayer. A devilish smile lurked in their +depths. Then he held out the pistol for the other to take, +while his whole manner underwent a hideous change.</p> +<p>“Here, take it, you wretched worm,” he cried, with +sudden savagery. “Take it, you miserable fool,” he added, +as Scipio remained unheeding. “It wouldn’t blow even +your fool brains out. Take it!” he reiterated, with a command +the other could no longer resist. “And now get out +of here,” he went on mercilessly, as Scipio’s hand closed over +the wretched weapon, “or I’ll hand you over to the boys. +They’ll show you less mercy than I do. They’re waiting +out there,” he cried, pointing at the door, “for my orders. +One word from me and they’ll cut the liver out of you with +rawhides, and Abe Conroy’ll see it’s done right. Get you +right out of here, and if ever you come squealing around +my quarters again I’ll have you strung up by your wretched +neck till you’re dead––dead as a crushed worm––dead as +is your wife, Jessie, to you from now out. Get out of here, +you straw-headed sucker, get right out, quick!”</p> +<p>But the tide of the man’s fury seemed to utterly pass the +little man by. He made no attempt to obey. The pistol +hung in his tightly gripping hand, and his underlip protruded +obstinately.</p> +<p>“She’s mine, you thief!” he cried. “Give her back to +me.”</p> +<p>It was the cry of a beaten man whose spirit is +unquenchable.</p> +<p>But James had finished. All that was worst in him was +uppermost now. With eyes blazing he stepped to the door +and whistled. He might have been whistling up his dogs. +Perhaps those who responded were his dogs. Three men +came in, and the foremost of them was Abe Conroy.</p> +<p>“Here,” cried James, his cruel eyes snapping, “take him +out and set him on his horse, and send him racing to hell +after m’squitoes. And don’t handle him too easy.”</p> +<p>What happened to him after that Scipio never fully understood. +He had a vague memory of being seized and buffeted +and kicked into a state of semi-unconsciousness. Nor did he +rouse out of his stupor, until, sick and sore in every limb, +his poor yellow head aching and confused, he found himself +swaying dangerously about in the saddle, with Gipsy, racing +like a mad thing, under his helpless legs.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI_SUNNY_OAK_PROTESTS' id='CHAPTER_VI_SUNNY_OAK_PROTESTS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>SUNNY OAK PROTESTS</h3> +</div> +<p>Wild Bill was gazing out across the camp dumps. His +expression suggested the contemplation of a problem of life +and death, and a personal one at that. Sandy Joyce, too, +bore traces suggestive of the weightiest moments of his life. +Toby Jenks stood chewing the dirty flesh of a stubby forefinger, +while the inevitable smile on Sunny Oak’s face made +one think of a bright spring morning under cover of a yellow +fog.</p> +<p>“How am I to see to them pore kiddies?” the latter was +complaining. “I’ve had to do with cattle, an’ mules, an’ +even hogs in my time, but I sure don’t guess you ken set +them bits o’ mites in a brandin’ corral, nor feed ’em oats an’ +hay, nor even ladle ’em swill for supper, like hogs. Fer +other things, I don’t guess I could bile a bean right without +a lib’ry o’ cook-books, so how I’m to make ’em elegant pap +for their suppers ’ud beat the Noo York p’lice force. An’ +as fer fixin’ their clothes, an’ bathing ’em, why, it ’ud set +me feelin’ that fulish you wouldn’t know me from a patient +in a bug-house. It makes me real mad, folks is allus astin’ +me to get busy doin’ things. I’m that sick, the sight of a +ha’f-washened kid ’ud turn my stummick to bile, an’ set me +cacklin’ like a hen with a brood o’ ducklings she can’t no +ways account fer. You’se fellers are a happy lot o’ Jonahs +to a man as needs rest.”</p> +<p>“You’re sure doing the cacklin’ now,” observed Bill contemptuously.</p> +<p>“Maybe he’s layin’ eggs,” murmured Toby vaguely.</p> +<p>The men were standing on the veranda, gathered round +the bench on which Sunny Oak was still resting his indolent +body. And the subject of their discourse was Scipio’s two +children. The father had ridden off on his search for James, +and the responsibility of his twins was weighing heavily on +those left behind.</p> +<p>“Kind o’ handy ladlin’ it out to folks,” said Sunny, grinning +lazily. “But, with all your brightness, I don’t guess any +o’ you could mother them kiddies. No, it’s jest ’send Sunny +along to see to ’em.’ That bein’ said, you’ll git right back +to your poker with a righteous feelin’ which makes it come +good to rob each other all you know. Psha! You ain’t +no better’n them lousy birds as lays eggs sizes too big, an’ +blames ’em on to some moultin’ sparrer that ain’t got +feathers ’nuff to make it welcome at a scratchin’ bee.”</p> +<p>Sunny’s flow was a little overwhelming, and perhaps there +was just enough truth in his remarks to make it unadvisable +for the others to measure wits with him. Anyway, he received +no reply. Bill continued to gaze out at Scipio’s hut +in a way that suggested great absorption, while Toby had +not yet lunched sufficiently off his tattered forefinger. +Sandy was the only one of the three apparently alive to the +true exigencies of the case, and Sunny addressed himself +more exclusively to him.</p> +<p>“Say,” he went on, his good-humored eyes smiling cunningly +up into the widower’s face, “I’ve heerd tell that you +once did some pore unsuspicious female the dirty trick of +marryin’ her. Mebbe you’ll sure hev’ notions ’bout kiddies +an’ such things. Now, if Wild Bill had come along an’ +pushed a shootin’-iron into your map, an’ said you’ll handle +Zip’s kiddies––wal, I ask you, wot ’ud you ha’ done?”</p> +<p>“Told him to git his head cooled some,” retorted Sandy +promptly.</p> +<p>“Ah, guess you bin saved a heap o’ trouble,” murmured +Sunny. “But if you hadn’t said that––which you said you +would ha’ said––an’ you’d got busy as he suggested––wal, +what then?”</p> +<p>Sandy cleared his throat, and, in his sudden interest, Toby +deferred the rest of his meal.</p> +<p>“Wal, I’d ha’ gone right up to the shack an’ looked into +things.”</p> +<p>Sandy’s first effort seemed to please him, and, hitching his +moleskin trousers up deliberately, he proceeded with some +unction––</p> +<p>“Y’see, ther’ ain’t nothin’ like gettin’ a look around. +Then you kind o’ know wher’ you are. You sure need to +know wher’ you are ’fore you get busy proper. It’s most +like everything else. If you get on the wrong trail at the +start, it’s li’ble to lead you wher’ you don’t want to go. +What I says is, hit the right trail at the start, then you got +a chance o’ gettin’ thro’ right, which, I take it, is an elegant +way o’ doin’ most things. Wal, havin’ located the right +trail––”</p> +<p>“We’re talkin’ o’ Zip’s twins,” murmured Sunny gently.</p> +<p>“Sure, that’s where I’m gettin’ to––”</p> +<p>“By trail?” inquired Toby seriously.</p> +<p>“Say, you make me tired,” retorted Sandy angrily.</p> +<p>“Best quit the trail, then,” said Sunny.</p> +<p>“Go to blazes!” cried Sandy, and promptly relapsed into +moody silence.</p> +<p>At that moment Bill turned from his contemplation of the +house beyond the dumps and fixed his fierce eyes on Sunny’s +grinning face.</p> +<p>“Here, you miser’ble hoboe,” he cried, “get right up out +of that, and hump across to Zip’s shack. You’re doin’ +enough gassin’ fer a female tattin’ bee. Your hot air makes +me want to sweat. Now, them kiddies’ll need supper. +You’ll jest ast Minky fer all you need, an’ I pay. An’ you’ll +see things is fixed right for ’em.”</p> +<p>Sunny lurched reluctantly to his feet. He knew the +gambler far too well to debate the point further. He had +made his protest, which had been utterly ineffective, so there +was nothing left him but to obey the fiercely uttered mandate.</p> +<p>But Sandy Joyce felt that somehow his first effort on +behalf of the children had missed fire, and it was his duty +not to allow himself to be ousted from the council. So he +stayed the loafer with a word.</p> +<p>“Say, you’ll be knowin’ how to feed ’em?” he inquired +gravely.</p> +<p>Sunny’s eyes twinkled.</p> +<p>“Wal, mebbe you ken give me pointers,” he retorted, with +apparent sincerity.</p> +<p>“That’s how I was figgerin’,” said Sandy cordially. He +felt better now about his first effort. “Y’see, Minky’s stock +is limited some; ther’ ain’t a heap o’ variety, like. An’ kiddies +do need variety. Y’see, they’re kind o’ delicate feeders, +same as high-bred hosses, an’ dogs an’ things. Now, dogs +need diff’rent meat every day, if you’re goin’ to bring ’em +up right. A friend o’ mine sure once told me that meat, +good meat, was the best feed fer prize dogs, an’ he was a +feller that won a heap o’ prizes. He had one, Boston bull, +I––”</p> +<p>“’ll I need to git dog-biscuit for them kiddies?” inquired +Sunny sarcastically.</p> +<p>“Say, you make me sick,” cried Sandy, flushing +angrily.</p> +<p>“Guess that’s how you’ll make them kiddies,” interposed +Toby.</p> +<p>Sandy glanced viciously from one to the other. Then, +assuming a superiority that scarcely hid his chagrin, he +ignored the interruptions.</p> +<p>“You best ast Minky fer some dandy canned truck,” he +said decisively, deliberately turning his back on Toby Jenks. +“Mebbe a can o’ lobster an’ one o’ them elegant tongues +stewed in jelly stuff, an’ set in a glass bowl. Y’see, they +kids needs nourishin’, an’ that orter fix them ’bout right. I +don’t know ’bout them new sides o’ sow-belly Minky’s jest +had in. Seems to me they’ll likely need teeth eatin’ that. +Seein’ you ain’t a heap at fixin’ beans right, we best cut that +line right out––though I ’lows there’s elegant nourishin’ +stuff in ’em for bosses. Best get a can o’ crackers an’ some +cheese. I don’t guess they’ll need onions, nor pickles. But +a bit o’ butter to grease the crackers with, an’ some molasses +an’ fancy candy, an’ a pound o’ his best tea seems to me ’bout +right. After that––”</p> +<p>“Some hoss physic,” broke in Toby, recommencing the +chewing of his forefinger.</p> +<p>But Wild Bill’s fierce eyes were on Sandy, and the erstwhile +married man felt their contempt boring into his very +soul. He was held silent, in spite of his anger against the +broad-shouldered Toby, and was possessed of a feeling that +somehow his second effort had been no more successful than +his first. And forthwith the impression received confirmation +in a sudden explosion from Wild Bill.</p> +<p>“Jumpin’ mackinaw!” he cried, with a force calculated +to crush entirely the remnants of Sandy’s conceit. “You’d +sure shame a crazy sheep fer intellect.” Then he added, +with withering sarcasm, “Say, don’t you never leave your +mouth open more’n two seconds at a time, or you’ll get the +flies in it, an’––they’ll start nestin’.”</p> +<p>Then without pause he turned on Sunny and delivered +his ultimatum.</p> +<p>“Get busy,” he ordered in a tone there was no denying.</p> +<p>And somehow Sunny found himself stirring far more +rapidly than suited his indolent disposition.</p> +<p>Having thoroughly disturbed the atmosphere to his liking, +Bill left the veranda without another look in his companions’ +direction, and his way took him to the barn at the back of +the store.</p> +<p>The gambler was a man of so many and diverse peculiarities +that it would be an impossibility to catalogue them with +any degree of satisfactoriness. But, with the exception of +his wholesale piratical methods at cards––indeed, at any +kind of gambling––perhaps his most striking feature was +his almost idolatrous worship for his horses. He simply +lived for their well-being, and their evident affection for +himself was something that he treasured far beyond the gold +he so loved to take from his opponents in a gamble.</p> +<p>He possessed six of these horses, each in its way a jewel +in the equine crown. Wherever the vagaries of his gambler’s +life took him his horses bore him thither, harnessed to +a light spring cart of the speediest type. Each animal had +cost him a small fortune, as the price of horses goes, and for +breed and capacity, both in harness and under saddle, it +would have been difficult to find their match anywhere in the +State of Montana. He had broken and trained them himself +in everything, and, wherever he was, whatever other +claims there might be upon him, morning, noon and evening +he was at the service of his charges. He gloried in them. +He reveled in their satin coats, their well-nourished, muscular +bodies, in their affection for himself.</p> +<p>Now he sat on an oat-bin contemplating Gipsy’s empty +stall, with a regret that took in him the form of fierce anger. +It was the first time since she had come into his possession +that she had been turned over to another, the first time +another leg than his own had been thrown across her; and +he mutely upbraided himself for his folly, and hated Scipio +for having accepted her services. Why, he asked himself +again and again, had he been such an unearthly fool? Then +through his mind flashed a string of blasphemous invective +against James, and with its coming his regret at having lent +Gipsy lessened.</p> +<p>He sat for a long time steadily chewing his tobacco. And +somehow he lost all desire to continue his poker game in the +store. His whole mind had become absorbed by thoughts of +this James, and though he, personally, had never suffered +through the stage-robber’s depredations, he found himself +resenting the man’s very existence. There were no ethical +considerations in his mind. His inspiration was purely personal. +And though he did not attempt to reduce his hatred +to reason, nor to analyze it in any way, the truth of its +existence lay in the fact of a deadly opposition to this sudden +rise to notoriety of a man of strength, and force of character +similar, in so many respects, to his own. Perhaps it was +mere jealousy; perhaps, all unknown to himself, there was +some deeper feeling underlying it. Whatever it was, he had +a strong sympathy with Scipio, and an unconquerable desire +to have a hand in the smoothing out of the little man’s +troubles.</p> +<p>He did not leave the barn, and scarcely even took his eyes +off Gipsy’s empty stall, until nearly sundown. Then, as he +heard the voices of returning prospectors, he set to work on +his evening task of grooming, feeding, watering and bedding +down his children for the night.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII_SUNNY_OAK_TRIES_HIS_HAND' id='CHAPTER_VII_SUNNY_OAK_TRIES_HIS_HAND'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>SUNNY OAK TRIES HIS HAND</h3> +</div> +<p>In the meantime Sunny Oak was executing his orders +with a care for detail quite remarkable in a man of his excessive +indolence. It was a curious fact, and one that told a +great deal of his own character, as well as that of the gambler. +His implicit obedience to Wild Bill’s orders was born +of a deeper knowledge of that individual than was possessed +by most of his comrades in Suffering Creek. Maybe Minky, +who was Bill’s most intimate friend, would have understood. +But then Sunny Oak possessed no such privilege. He knew +Bill through sheer observation, which had taught him to +listen when the gambler spoke as he would listen to a man +in high authority over him––or to a man who, without +scruple, held him helpless under an irresistible threat. +Which power it was inspired his obedience he did not pause +to consider. He simply accepted the fact that when Bill +ordered he preferred to obey––it was so much easier.</p> +<p>“Hoboe”––the local term for one suffering from his +indolent malady––as he was, Sunny Oak was a man of some +character. Originally this cloak of indolence in which he +wrapped himself had been assumed for some subtle reason +of his own. It was not the actual man. But so long had he +worn it now that he had almost forgotten the real attributes +enshrouded in its folds. As a matter of fact, he was very +much a man, and a “live” man, too. He really possessed +an extraordinary energy when he chose to exercise it. But +it was generally his habit to push his interest aside for the +easier course of indifference. However, his capacity was +none the less there.</p> +<p>His other possessions, too, were excellent in their way, +although he had encouraged the germ of rust in a deplorable +degree. His good-nature would not be denied, and was +obvious to all. But an extremely alert mind, an infinite +resource of keen, well-trained thought, a profound love of +the beautiful, a more commonplace physical courage supported +by the rarer moral courage, he contrived to keep well +hidden from the vulgar gaze.</p> +<p>These were some of the features so long concealed under +the folds of his cloak of indolence that even he had almost +forgotten their existence. Thus it was, in all seriousness, he +cried out bitterly in protest when an attempt was made to +lift the covering and lay bare the man beneath it. And his +lamentations were perfectly genuine.</p> +<p>After leaving the store with a sack of provisions over his +shoulder he grumbled his way across the dumps to Scipio’s +house. He cursed the weight he was forced to carry, and +anathematized the man who had driven him to so bestir +himself. He lamented over this waste of his precious +energies, he consigned Scipio and his children to eternity, +and metaphorically hurled Jessie headlong to the depths of +the uttermost abyss of the nether-world. But he went on. +In spite of his foulest language and vilest epithets, it was +his full intention to do his best for the children.</p> +<p>What he found on entering Scipio’s hut set his small eyes +twinkling again. His unclean face creased up into a grin, +and, softly tiptoeing to a far corner of the room, he deposited +his sack with the greatest care. Then he stood up, +and his eyes fixed themselves on a curious heap under the +table. It was a tumbled pile of pale blue, dirty white, with +a four-legged dash of yellow. And out of the heap he made +the forms of two small sleeping children, each hugging in +their arms an extremity of a yellow cur pup, also sound +asleep, in the shaft of sunlight which flooded in through the +open doorway.</p> +<p>Sunny rubbed his eyes and thought hard, nor did he find +the process irksome. From the miserable camp pup he +glanced at the grubby face of Jamie. Then his eyes passed +on to Vada’s pretty but equally dirty features. And swift +action at once followed his thought. He glanced at the +dying fire in the cookstove, and saw the small clothes hanging +on the chair in front of it. He felt them; they were +quite dry. Then he tried the kettle on the stove; it still had +water in it. Then he went to the fuel-box; yes, there was +fuel.</p> +<p>Now with his fingers he replenished the fire, and noiselessly +re-filled the kettle. Then he removed the clothes +and put the chair aside. The children still slept on. He +further investigated the resources of Scipio’s <i>ménage</i>. He +found a wash-bowl and soap and a towel, three things he +rarely sought for any purposes of his own. Then, after +looking into the cupboard, he shook his head. It was deplorably +bare of all but uncleanliness. And it was the former +that caused his headshake, not the latter. With some +pride he re-stocked the shelves with the liberal purchases he +had made at Bill’s expense. He had provided everything +that a man’s mind could conceive as being necessary for the +interior of healthy childhood. True, he had made no provision +for a yellow pup.</p> +<p>By this time the kettle was boiling, and it served him as +a signal. In a harsh, untuneful voice he began to chant +an old coon-ditty. The effect of his music was instantaneous +as regards the more sensitive ears of the pup. Its +eyes opened, and it lifted its head alertly. Then, with a +quick wriggle, he sat up on his hind quarters, and, throwing +his lean, half-grown muzzle in the air, set up such a howl +of dismay that Sunny’s melody became entirely lost in a +jangle of discords. He caught up his empty sack and flung +it at the wailing pup’s head. It missed its aim, and in a +moment the twins had joined in their yellow friend’s lament.</p> +<p>Sunny never quite understood the real cause of that dismal +protest––whether it was the sight of him, his doleful +singing, or the flinging of the sack. All he knew was that it +was very dreadful, and must be stopped as quickly as possible. +So, to that end, he began to cajole the children, +while he surreptitiously let fly a kick at the pup.</p> +<p>“Say, you bonny kids, you ain’t scairt o’ poor Sunny +Oak,” he cried, while a streak of yellow flashed in the +sunlight and vanished through the door, a departure +which brought with it renewed efforts from the weeping +children. “It’s jest Sunny Oak wot nobody’ll let rest,” +he went on coaxingly. “He’s come along to feed you supper. +Say,” he cried, laboring hard for inspiration, “it’s +such a bully supper. Ther’s molasses, an’ candy, an’––an’ +lob-ster!”</p> +<p>Whether it was the smacking of his lips as he dwelt on +the last word, or whether it was merely the fact that their +fright was passing, matters little; anyhow, the cries of the +twins died out as suddenly as they began, and their eyes, +big and round, gazed wonderingly up at Sunny’s unkempt +face.</p> +<p>“Who’s you, ugly man?” asked Vada at last, her brain +working more quickly than her brother’s.</p> +<p>“’Ess––ug’y man,” added Jamie unmeaningly.</p> +<p>Sunny’s hand went up to his face, and he scratched +amongst his sparse beard as though to test the accuracy of +the accusation. Then he grinned sheepishly.</p> +<p>“Guess I’m jest an ugly fairy that wants to be kind to +two lonesome kiddies,” he beamed.</p> +<p>“O––oh! You’se a fairy?” said Vada doubtfully.</p> +<p>“’Ess,” nodded Jamie, thrilling with wonderment, and +eyeing him critically.</p> +<p>Elated with his success, Sunny went on warmly––</p> +<p>“Yep. Jest a fairy, an’ I bro’t a heap o’ good grub fer +you kiddies t’ eat.”</p> +<p>But Vada’s small brain was following out its own train +of thought, and passed the food question by.</p> +<p>“Awful ugly,” she said, half to herself.</p> +<p>“’Ess,” muttered Jamie abstractedly.</p> +<p>“Mebbe,” said Sunny, with a laugh. “Wal, if you crawl +right out o’ there an’ git around, I got things fixed so we’ll +hev’ a bully time.”</p> +<p>But his proposition hadn’t the effect he hoped. Instead +of moving, Jamie suddenly beat his head with his little +clenched fists.</p> +<p>“Me wants yaller pup,” he cried, and forthwith howled +afresh.</p> +<p>Again Sunny realized his helplessness, and, glancing about +for further inspiration, caught sight of an inquiring yellow +head peering furtively in through the doorway.</p> +<p>“Why, ther’ he is,” he cried, vainly hoping to pacify the +child. Then he began at once a clumsy encouragement of +the dog. “Here, you yeller feller,” he cried, flicking his +fingers coaxingly. “Come along! Gee, you’re a pretty +feller. Hi! come along here.”</p> +<p>But the dog made no attempt to move, and Sunny began +to lose patience. “Come along, pups,” he cried, with +increasing force. “Come on, you miser’ble rat. Don’t +stan’ ther’ waggin’ your fool tail like a whisk-broom. Say, +you yaller cur, I’ll––” He started to fetch the creature, +but in a twinkling it had fled, to the accompaniment of a +fresh outburst from Jamie.</p> +<p>“I tho’t you was a fairy,” protested Vada. “Fairies ken +do most anything. You’re jest an ugly ole man.”</p> +<p>Sunny stood up and drew the back of his hand across his +perspiring forehead. He was worried. The fairy business +was played out, and he felt that he must begin again. +Children were by no means as easy to handle as he had +thought. He racked his brains, and suddenly bethought him +of another move.</p> +<p>In spite of Jamie’s whimpering, he went to the cupboard +and produced a tin of molasses. This he carefully opened +in full view of Vada’s questioning eyes. Jamie had also +become silent, watching him intently. He dug his finger +into the sticky contents and drew it out. Then he licked +his finger with tremendous enjoyment.</p> +<p>“Bully,” he muttered, apparently ignoring the children.</p> +<p>Instantly Vada was on her knees, crawling from under +the table, followed closely by her faithful shadow. She +came cautiously up to Sunny’s side and stood up.</p> +<p>“M’lasses?” she inquired, and her eyes spoke volumes.</p> +<p>“O-oh!” muttered Jamie, scrambling to his feet beside +her holding up one fat hand.</p> +<p>Sunny, without replying, allowed them to dip their +fingers into the pot and taste the molasses. He felt that +the moment was critical, and he would not risk words +which might easily set them scuttling back to their stronghold.</p> +<p>His strategy was successful. Up came the hands again, +and he knew he had won their confidence. He allowed +them another dip into the pot, and then began the business +in hand.</p> +<p>“We’ll save the rest fer bimeby,” he said decidedly. +“Meanwhiles we’ll fix things right.”</p> +<p>“Wot things?” inquired Vada.</p> +<p>“M’lasses,” said Jamie, with tearful eyes.</p> +<p>Again Sunny felt the crisis, but he carried the situation +with a firm hand.</p> +<p>“Bimeby, laddie,” he said cheerfully. “Meanwhiles we’ll +jest have a wash all round.”</p> +<p>And forthwith he set the wash-bowl ready and filled it +with warm water. Then, after some consideration and +trouble, having discovered a rag which had been used in the +household “wash-up,” and a piece of soap, he prepared to +start on little Vada. But she instantly protested.</p> +<p>“You first, Mister Fairy,” she said cheerfully. “My +poppa allus washes first. Then we has his water.”</p> +<p>“’Ess,” agreed Jamie.</p> +<p>And, to his disgust, Sunny was forced to an unwilling +ablution, which, by strategy, he had hoped to escape. However, +the ordeal was manfully borne, and his reward was +quite worth his trouble. Vada promptly exclaimed when +she saw his face emerge from the dirty towel, shining with +grease off the house-flannel.</p> +<p>“You’se a fairy, sure,” she cried, clapping her hands and +dancing about gleefully. “On’y fairies can change theirselves. +You’se a pretty, pretty man––now. Now, Jamie +dear. You next,” she added, with feminine assurance. +And with clumsy but willing enough hands Sunny Oak contrived +to cleanse his charges.</p> +<p>By the time his task was accomplished perfect good-will +reigned all round, and the climax was reached when the +yellow pup returned of its own accord, and was promptly +hugged to Jamie’s affectionate little bosom.</p> +<p>The next thing was to prepare the children’s supper. +This was a far more serious matter for the loafer. But he +finally achieved it, having learnt, by the process of cross-questioning +the girl, what was usual and therefore expected. +However, it was not without some difficulty that he succeeded +in providing an adequate meal, which consisted of +bread and milk, with bread and molasses as a sort of dessert. +For himself, he was forced to fare off a tin of lobster +and tea. Still, his difficulties were not of much consequence +so long as the children were satisfied. And any bother to +himself was his own fault, in having relied for a moment +on Sandy Joyce’s ideas of a menu.</p> +<p>Supper over and the table cleared, he decided on further +catechizing little Vada on points that still were a mystery +to him. So, with Jamie busy on the floor endeavoring to +solve the mystery of the pup’s wagging tail, he lit his pipe +and took Vada on his knee. He endeavored to recall +incidents of his own childhood; to remember something +of his own early routine. But somehow nothing was very +clear.</p> +<p>He had washed the children and given them food. Those +things seemed to him to be perfectly sound. Well, what +next? It was a little difficult. He glanced at the sun. +Surely bed would be quite in order. Bed––ah, yes, that +was a happy thought. He remembered now, when he was +young he always used to get himself into trouble purposely +so they would send him to bed. But with this thought came +the regretful recollection that his predilection for bed was +quickly discovered, and his further penalties took the form +of the buckle end of his father’s waist-belt. However, he +put the proposition with much tact.</p> +<p>“Say, kiddies,” he began, “how soon does your momma +put you to bed?”</p> +<p>Vada shook her wise little head.</p> +<p>“Momma don’t. Poppa does.”</p> +<p>“And when’s that?” he inquired, driving at his point +deliberately.</p> +<p>“When momma says.”</p> +<p>Vada was fastening and unfastening the man’s dirty +waistcoat with great interest.</p> +<p>“An’ when does your momma say it?” Sunny persisted.</p> +<p>“When poppa’s done the chores.”</p> +<p>“Ah!”</p> +<p>He felt himself on the wrong tack, and cast about for a +fresh line of argument.</p> +<p>“Guess you kiddies like bed some,” he hazarded doubtfully.</p> +<p>“Me like m’lasses,” piped Jamie, who had managed to +get the pup’s tail over his shoulder, and was hanging on +to it with both hands. Vada shrieked as the pup began +to yelp.</p> +<p>“Oh, look at Jamie,” she cried. “He’s pulling Dougal’s +tail right out. You’re a naughty, naughty boy.”</p> +<p>“Not naughty,” protested Jamie, pulling harder.</p> +<p>Sunny reached down and released the mongrel, who +promptly turned round and licked the boy’s face. Jamie +fought him with his little clenched fists, and finally began +to cry.</p> +<p>Again Sunny went to the rescue, and with some difficulty +peace was restored. Then he went back to his subject.</p> +<p>“Guess we’ll hev to go to bed right now,” he suggested, +with an air of authority.</p> +<p>“Momma ain’t back,” said Vada, her eyes round and +wondering.</p> +<p>“She’ll be right along presently,” lied Sunny.</p> +<p>“’Ess,” declared Jamie, “an’––an’––we go find ’piders +an’––an’ bugs.”</p> +<p>Vada nodded.</p> +<p>“Lots an’ lots.”</p> +<p>“That’s to-morrow,” said Sunny, taking his cue wonderingly.</p> +<p>“Poppa ain’t back neither,” protested Vada.</p> +<p>“He’s gone visitin’,” said Sunny. “Maybe he’ll be late. +Guess he’s havin’ a hand at poker down at the store.”</p> +<p>Sunny was getting uncomfortably hot. Lies came easily +enough to him in the ordinary way, but with these poor +children it was somehow different.</p> +<p>“Poppa don’t play poker,” defended Vada. “On’y +wicked men does.”</p> +<p>“’Ess,” agreed Jamie.</p> +<p>“That’s so.” Sunny felt himself on dangerous ground.</p> +<p>He smoked on thoughtfully for some moments. He felt +that a desperate move was required, and considered how best +to make it. Finally he resolved that he must assert his +authority. So, setting Vada on the ground, he stood up.</p> +<p>“Bed,” he said, with a great assumption of finality.</p> +<p>Vada’s eyes rolled ominously, and a pucker came to her +little sunburnt brow. Jamie offered no preliminary, but +howled at once. And when, after the slightest hesitation, +Vada joined in his lament, Sunny’s distress became pitiable. +However, he managed to ease his feelings by several well-directed +mental curses at Wild Bill’s head, and all those +others concerned in reducing him to his present position. +And with this silently furious outburst there came a brain-wave +of great magnitude.</p> +<p>“First in bed sure gets most m’lasses,” he cried, darting +to the cupboard door and holding the well-smeared pot up +above his head.</p> +<p>The children’s cries ceased, and for a second they stood +staring up at him. Then, like a pair of rabbits, they turned +and ran for the bedroom, vanishing behind the curtain +amidst shrieking excitement. Sunny followed them with +the molasses and a handful of crackers.</p> +<p>They were both on the bed when he passed into the +room, huddling down under a couple of cotton blankets. +The man glanced round him. On the other side of the +room was the big bed where their father and mother +slept. Both beds were unmade, and the room was littered +with feminine garments in a manner that suggested the +mother’s hasty flight. Hardened as he was, the sight and +all it suggested depressed him. But he was not allowed +much time for reflection. Two childish voices shrieked at +him at once.</p> +<p>“Me first!” they cried in one breath.</p> +<p>And Sunny ladled them out molasses and crackers to their +hearts’ content. When they had eaten all he thought good +for them Vada scrambled to her knees.</p> +<p>“Prayers,” she said, and clasped her hands before her +face.</p> +<p>Jamie wobbled up to her side and imitated her. And +Sunny stood by listening wonderingly to something that +brought back a world of recollection to him. It brought +him more. It laid before him a mental picture of his present +manhood which somehow nauseated him. But he stood +his ground till the final “Amens,” then he hustled the twins +almost roughly into the blankets, and, having extracted a +promise from them not to leave the bed again until he +returned, hurried out of the room.</p> +<p>He stood for a moment in the living-room. He was in +a doubt that almost confused him. Mechanically he looked +at the stove. The fire was quite safe. The window was +secure. Then he moved to the door. There was a lock to +it and a key. He passed out, and, locking the door behind +him, removed the key.</p> +<p>“Gee!” he exclaimed, drinking in a breath of the evening +air, “five minutes more o’ that an’ I’d ’a’ bin singin’ funeral +hymns over my past life. Gee!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Ten minutes later he was in Wild Bill’s hut down at +the camp, and had finished his account of his adventures.</p> +<p>“Say,” he finished up peevishly, “ther’s things a feller +can do, an’ things he sure can’t. I tell you right here I ain’t +learned how to cluck to my chicks, an’ I ain’t never scratched +a worm in my life. I ’low I’m too old to git busy that ways +now. If you’re goin’ to raise them kids fer Zip while he’s +away, it’ll need a committee o’ us fellers. It’s more’n one +feller’s job––much more. It needs a wummin.”</p> +<p>Bill listened patiently until his deputy had aired his final +grievance. His fierce eyes had in them a peculiar twinkle +that was quite lost on Sunny in his present mood. However, +when the injured man had finished his tale of woe the +gambler stretched his long legs out, and lolled back in his +chair with a fresh chew of tobacco in his mouth.</p> +<p>“You ain’t done too bad,” he said judicially. “That +m’lasses racket was a heap smart. Though––say, you’ll get +around ther’ come sun-up to-morrer, an’ you’ll fix ’em right +all day. Maybe Zip’ll be back later. Anyways, you’ll fix +’em.”</p> +<p>“Not on your life––” began Sunny, in fierce rebellion. +But Bill cut him short.</p> +<p>“You’ll do it, Sunny,” he cried, “an’ don’t you make no +mistake.”</p> +<p>The man’s manner was irresistibly threatening, and Sunny +was beaten back into moody silence. But if looks could +have killed, Bill’s chances of life were small indeed.</p> +<p>“Guess you’re off duty now,” the gambler went on icily. +“You’re off duty till––sun-up. You’re free to get drunk, +or––what in hell you like.”</p> +<p>Sunny rose from his seat. His rebellious eyes were +fiercely alight as he regarded his master.</p> +<p>“May your soul rot!” he cried venomously. And with +this final impotent explosion he slouched out of the hut.</p> +<p>“Dessay it will,” Bill called after him amiably. “But +it ain’t started yet.”</p> +<p>But his jibe was quite lost on the angry Sunny, for he +had left him with the haste of a man driven to fear of +whither his anger might carry him.</p> +<p>Left alone, Wild Bill chuckled. He liked Sunny, but +despised his mode of life with all the arrogant superiority of +a man of great force, even if of indifferent morals. He +had no patience with a weakened manhood. With him it +was only strength that counted. Morality was only for +those who had not the courage to face a mysterious future +unflinchingly. The future concerned him not at all. He +had no fears of anybody or anything, either human or superhuman. +Death offered him no more terrors than Life. +And whichever was his portion he was ready to accept it +unquestioningly, unprotestingly.</p> +<p>He allowed the hoboe time to get well clear of his shack. +Then he stood up and began to pace the room thoughtfully. +A desperate frown depressed his brows until they met over +the bridge of his large thin nose. Something was working +swiftly, even passionately, in his brain, and it was evident +that his thoughts were more than unpleasant to himself. As +the moments passed his strides became more aggressive, +and his movements were accompanied by gesticulations of a +threatening nature with his clenched fists.</p> +<p>At last he paused in his walk, and dropped again into his +chair. Here he sat for a long while. Then, of a sudden, +he lifted his head and glanced swiftly about his bare room. +Finally he sprang to his feet and crushed his slouch hat +on his head, and, crossing over to the oil-lamp on the +table, blew it out. Then he passed out into the night, +slamming and locking the door behind him.</p> +<p>The night was dark, and the moon would not rise for at +least another hour. The air was still laden with the heat of +the long summer’s day, and it hummed with the music of +stirring insect life. He strode along the trail past the store. +He glanced at the lighted windows longingly, for he had +an appointment for a game in there that night. But he +passed on.</p> +<p>As he came to the camp dumps he paused for a moment +to take his bearings. Then he continued his way with long, +decided strides, and in a few minutes the dim outline of +Scipio’s house loomed up before him. He came close up, +and walked slowly round it. At one window he paused, +listening. There was not a sound to be heard outside. At +the window of the bedroom he listened a long time. No, he +could not even hear the children breathing.</p> +<p>At last he reached the door which Sunny had locked. He +cautiously tried the handle, and the sound brought a whimper +from the yellow pup within. He cursed the animal +softly under his breath and waited, hoping the wretched +creature would settle down again. He heard it snuff at the +foot of the door, and then the soft patter of its feet died +away, and he knew that the poor thing had satisfied itself +that all was well.</p> +<p>He smiled, and sat down at the foot of the door. And, +with his knees drawn up into his arms, he prepared for his +long vigil. It was the posting of the night sentry over +Scipio’s twins.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII_WILD_BILL_THINKS_HARDAND_HEARS_NEWS' id='CHAPTER_VIII_WILD_BILL_THINKS_HARDAND_HEARS_NEWS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>WILD BILL THINKS HARD––AND HEARS NEWS</h3> +</div> +<p>Wild Bill stretched himself drowsily. It was noon. He +knew that by the position of the patch of sunlight on the +floor, which he gazed at with blinking eyes. Presently he +reached out his long arms and clasped his hands behind his +head. He lay there on his stretcher bed, still very sleepy, +but with wakefulness gaining ascendancy rapidly. He had +completed two successive nights of “sentry-go” over Scipio’s +twins, never reaching his blankets until well after sun-up.</p> +<p>For some minutes he enjoyed the delicious idleness of a +still brain. Then, at last, it stirred to an activity which +once again set flowing all the busy thought of his long +night’s vigil. Further rest became impossible to a man of +his temperament, and he sprang from his blankets and +plunged his face into a bucket of fresh water which stood +on an adjacent bench. In five minutes he was ready for the +business of the day.</p> +<p>It was to be a day of activity. He felt that. Yet he had +made no definite plans. Only all his thoughts of the +previous night warned him that something must be done, +and that it was “up to him to get busy.”</p> +<p>A long wakeful night is apt to distort many things of +paramount interest. But the morning light generally reduces +them to their proper focus. Thus it is with people +who are considered temperamental. But Bill had no such +claims. He was hard, unimaginative, and of keen decision. +And overnight he had arrived at one considerable decision. +How he had arrived at it he hardly knew. Perhaps it was +one of those decisions that cannot be helped. Certain it +was that it had been arrived at through no definite course of +reasoning. It had simply occurred to him and received his +approval at once. An approval, which, once given, was +rarely, if ever, rescinded. This was the man.</p> +<p>He had first thought a great deal about Scipio. He felt +that the time had come when his fate must be closely +inquired into. The blundering efforts of Sunny Oak were +so hopelessly inadequate in the care of the children, that +only the return of their father could save them from some +dire domestic catastrophe.</p> +<p>Sunny apparently meant well by them. But Bill hated +well-meaning people who disguised their incompetence under +the excellence of their intentions. Besides, in this case +it was so useless. These two children were a nuisance, he +admitted, but they must not be allowed to suffer through +Sunny’s incompetence. No, their father must be found.</p> +<p>Then there was his mare, Gipsy; and when he thought of +her he went hot with an alarm which no threat to himself +could have inspired. This turn of thought brought James +into his focus. That personage was rarely far from it, and +he needed very little prompting to bring the outlaw into the +full glare of his mental limelight. He hated James. He +had seen him rarely, and spoken to him perhaps only a +dozen times, when he first appeared on Suffering Creek. +But he hated him as though he were his most bitter personal +enemy.</p> +<p>He had no reason to offer for this hatred, beyond the +outlaw’s known depredations and the constant threat of his +presence in the district. At least no reason he would have +admitted publicly. But then Wild Bill was not a man to +bother with reasons much at any time. And it was the +venomous hatred of the man which now drove him to a +decision of the first importance. And such was his satisfaction +in the interest of his decision, that, for the time being, +at least, poker was robbed of its charm, faro had become a +game of no consequence whatever, and gambling generally, +with all its subtleties as he understood them, was no longer +worth while. He had decided upon a game with a higher +stake than any United States currency could afford. It was +a game of life and death. James, “Lord” James, as he +contemptuously declared, must go. There was no room for +him in the same district as Wild Bill of Abilene.</p> +<p>It would be useless to seek the method by which this +decision was reached. In a man such as Bill the subtleties +of his motives were far too involved and deeply hidden. +The only possible chance of estimating the truth would be +to question his associates as to their opinion. And even +then such opinions would be biased by personal understanding +of the man, and so would be of but small account.</p> +<p>Thus Minky would probably have declared that his decision +was the result of his desire for the welfare of the community +in which he claimed his best friends. Sandy Joyce +would likely have shaken his head, and declared it +was the possibility of something having happened to his +mare Gipsy. Toby Jenks might have had a wild idea +that Bill had made his “pile” on the “crook” and was +“gettin’ religion.” Sunny Oak, whose shrewd mind spent +most of its time in studying the peculiarities of his fellows, +might have whispered an opinion to himself, when no one +was about, to the effect that Bill couldn’t stand for a rival +“boss” around Suffering Creek.</p> +<p>Any of these opinions might have been right, just as any +of them might have been very wide of the mark. Anyhow, +certain it is that no citizen of Suffering Creek would, even +when thoroughly drunk, have accused Bill of any leaning +towards sentimentalism or chivalry. The idea that he cared +two cents for what became of Scipio, or his wife, or his +children, it would have been impossible to have driven into +their heads with a sledge-hammer. And maybe they would +have been right. Who could tell?</p> +<p>His decision was taken without any definite argument, +without any heroics. He frankly declared to himself that +James must go. And having decided, he, equally frankly, +declared that “the proposition was up to him.” This was +his silent ultimatum, and, having delivered it, there was no +turning back. He would carry it out with as little mercy +to himself as he would show to any other concerned.</p> +<p>The men of Suffering Creek thought they knew this man. +But it is doubtful if anybody, even the man himself, knew +Wild Bill. Probably the nearest approach to a fair estimate +of him would have been to describe him as a sort of driving +force to a keen brain and hot, passionate heart. Whether +he possessed any of the gentler human feelings only his acts +could show, for so hard and unyielding was his manner, so +ruthless his purpose when his mind was made up, that it +left little room for the ordinary observer to pack in a belief +of the softer side to the man.</p> +<p>Ten minutes after performing his primitive ablutions +Wild Bill was eating breakfast in the dining-room at the +store, with Minky sitting opposite to him. The storekeeper +was telling him of something that happened the night before, +with a troubled expression in his honest eyes.</p> +<p>“I was wonderin’ when you’d get around,” he said, as +soon as Birdie Mason had withdrawn to the kitchen. “I’d +have given a deal for you to have been playin’ last night. I +would sure. There was three fellers, strangers, lookin’ for +a hand at poker. They’d got a fine wad o’ money, too, and +were ready for a tall game. They got one with Irish +O’Brien, an’ Slade o’ Kentucky, but they ain’t fliers, an’ +the strangers hit ’em good an’ plenty. Guess they must +ha’ took five hundred dollars out of ’em.”</p> +<p>Bill’s sharp eyes were suddenly lifted from his plate. He +was eating noisily.</p> +<p>“Did you locate ’em––the strangers?” he grated.</p> +<p>“That’s sure the pinch,” said Minky, wiping his broad +forehead with a colored handkerchief. The heat in the dining-room +was oppressive. “I’ve never see ’em before, an’ +they didn’t seem like talkin’ a heap. They were all three +hard-lookin’ citizens, an’––might ha’ been anything from +bum cowpunchers to––”</p> +<p>“Sharps,” put in Bill, between noisy sips at his coffee.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>Minky watched a number of flies settle on a greasy patch +on the bare table.</p> +<p>“Y’see,” he went on, after a thoughtful pause, “I don’t +like strangers who don’t seem ready tongued––none of us +do, since the stage-robbin’ set in.”</p> +<p>“You mean––” Bill set his cup down.</p> +<p>Minky nodded.</p> +<p>“We ain’t sent out a parcel of gold for months, an’ I’m +kind o’ full up with dust about now. Y’see, the boys has +got to cash their stuff, and I’m here to make trade, so––wal, +I jest got to fill myself with gold-dust, an’ take my chances. +I’m mighty full just now––an’ strangers worry me some.”</p> +<p>“You’re weakenin’,” said Bill sharply, but his eyes were +serious, and suggested a deep train of swift thought. +Presently he reached a piece of bread and spread molasses +on it.</p> +<p>“Guess you’re figgerin’ it ’ud be safer to empty out.”</p> +<p>Minky nodded.</p> +<p>“And these strangers?” Bill went on.</p> +<p>“They’ve lit out,” said Minky ruefully. “I ast a few +questions of the boys. They rode out at sun-up.”</p> +<p>“Where did they sleep?”</p> +<p>“Don’t know. Nobody seems to know.”</p> +<p>Minky sighed audibly. And Bill went on eating.</p> +<p>“Ain’t heerd nothing o’ Zip?” the storekeeper inquired +presently.</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“’Bout that mare o’ yours?”</p> +<p>Bill’s face suddenly flushed, and his fierce brows drew +together in an ominous frown, but he made no answer. +Minky saw the change and edged off.</p> +<p>“It’s time he was gettin’ around.”</p> +<p>Bill nodded.</p> +<p>“I was kind of wonderin’,” Minky went on thoughtfully, +“if he don’t turn up––wot’s to happen with them +kids?”</p> +<p>“I ain’t figgered.”</p> +<p>Bill’s interest was apparently wandering.</p> +<p>“He’ll need to be gettin’ around or––somethin’s got to +be done,” Minky drifted on vaguely.</p> +<p>“Sure.”</p> +<p>“Y’see, Sunny’s jest a hoboe.”</p> +<p>“Sure.”</p> +<p>“Don’t guess Zip’s claim amounts to pea-shucks neither,” +the storekeeper went on, his mind leaning towards the +financial side of the matter.</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Them kids’ll cost money, too.”</p> +<p>Bill nodded, but no one could have detected any interest +in his movement.</p> +<p>“How’d it be to get that claim worked for him––while +he’s away?”</p> +<p>Bill shrugged.</p> +<p>“Mebbe Zip’ll be gettin’ back,” he said.</p> +<p>“An’ if he don’t.”</p> +<p>“You mean?”</p> +<p>There was interest enough in Bill now. His interrogation +was full of suppressed force.</p> +<p>“Yes. James.”</p> +<p>Bill sprang to his feet and kicked back his chair. The +sudden rage in his eyes was startling, even to Minky, who +was used to the man. However, he waited, and in a +moment or two his friend was talking again in his usually +cold tone.</p> +<p>“I’ll jest git around an’ see how Sunny’s doin’,” he said.</p> +<p>Then he drew out a pipe and began to cut flakes of +tobacco from a black plug.</p> +<p>“See here, Minky,” he went on, after a moment’s pause. +“You need to do some thinkin’. How much dust have you +got in the store?”</p> +<p>“’Bout twenty thousand dollars.”</p> +<p>“Whew!” Bill whistled softly as he packed the tobacco +in his pipe. “An elegant parcel for strangers to handle.”</p> +<p>The storekeeper’s face became further troubled.</p> +<p>“It sure is––if they handle it.”</p> +<p>“Jest so.”</p> +<p>Bill’s pipe was alight now, and he puffed at it vigorously, +speaking between the puffs.</p> +<p>“Y’see, this feller James plays a big game. Cattle duffin’ +and ord’n’ry stage-robbin’ ain’t good enough, nor big enough, +to run his gang on. He needs gold stages, and we ain’t +sendin’ gold stages out. Wal, wot’s the conclusion? I ast +you?”</p> +<p>“He’ll hev to light out, or––”</p> +<p>“Jest so. Or he’ll get around here to––look into things. +Those strangers last night were mebbe ‘lookin’ into things.’ +You’ll need to stow that dust where the rats can’t gnaw it. +Later we’ll think things out. Meanwhile there’s one thing +sure, we don’t need strangers on Suffering Creek. There’s +enough o’ the boys around to work the gold, an’ when they +get it they mostly know what to do with it. Guess I’ll get +on up to Zip’s shack.”</p> +<p>The two men walked out into the store. Minky in a +pessimistic mood passed in behind his counter. This question +of gold had bothered him for some weeks. Since the +first stage-robbing, and James’ name had become a “terror” +in the district, he had opened a sort of banking business for +the prospectors. Commercially it appealed to him enormously. +The profits under his primitive methods of dealing +with the matter were dazzlingly large, and, in consequence, +the business became a dominant portion of his trade. Nor +was it until the quantity of gold he bought began to grow, +and mount into thousands of dollars’ worth, that the difficulties +of his traffic began to force themselves upon him. Then +it was that he realized that if it was insecure to dispatch a +gold stage laden with the property of the prospectors, how +was he to be able to hold his stock at the store with any +greater degree of security.</p> +<p>The more he thought of the matter the greater the difficulties +appeared. Of course he saw possibilities, but none of +them offered the security he needed. Then worry set in. +History might easily repeat itself on Suffering Creek. +James’ gang was reported to be a large one. Well, what if +he chose to sweep down upon the camp, and clean the place +out. Herein lay the trouble. And in consequence his days +and nights were none too easy.</p> +<p>He had never spoken of the matter before. It was not +a subject to be discussed with anybody. But Bill was +different from the rest, and, for several days, Minky had +sought an opportunity of unburdening himself to his friend. +Now, at last, he had done so, and, in return, had received +small enough comfort. Still he felt he had done the best +thing.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX_THE_FORERUNNER_OF_THE_TRUST' id='CHAPTER_IX_THE_FORERUNNER_OF_THE_TRUST'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>THE FORERUNNER OF THE TRUST</h3> +</div> +<p>Bill passed straight through the store and set out across +the town dumps. And it would have been impossible to +guess how far he was affected by Minky’s plaint. His face +might have been a stone wall for all expression it had of +what was passing behind it. His cold eyes were fixed upon +the hut ahead of him without apparent interest or meaning. +His thoughts were his own at all times.</p> +<p>As he drew near he heard Sunny’s voice raised in song, +and he listened intently, wondering the while if the loafer +had any idea of its quality. It was harsh, nasal and possessed +as much tune as a freshly sharpened “buzz-saw.” +But his words were distinct. Far too distinct Bill thought +with some irritation.</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'>“A farmer ast the other day if we wanted work.<br /> +Sez we, ‘Ol’ man, the labour?’ Sez he, ‘It’s binding wheat.’<br /> +Sez we, ‘Ol’ man, the figger?’ ‘A dollar an’ a ha’f the sum.’<br /> +Sez we, ‘Ol’ man, go an’ tickle yerself, we’d a durned sight sooner bum!’<br /> +<br /> +‘Anythin’ at all, marm, we’re nearly starvin’,<br /> +Anything to hel-l-lp the bummers on their wa-ay,<br /> +We are three bums an’ jolly good chums,<br /> +An’ we live like Royal Turks,<br /> +An’ with good luck we bum our chuck,<br /> +An’ it’s a fool of a man wot works.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>Just as Sunny was about to begin the next verse Bill +appeared in the doorway, and the vocalist was reduced to a +pained silence by his harsh criticism.</p> +<p>“You’d orter be rootin’ kebbeges on a hog ranch wi’ that +voice,” he said icily. “You’re sure the worst singer in +America.”</p> +<p>Then he glanced round for the children. They were +nowhere to be seen. Sunny was at the cookstove boiling +milk in a tin “billy.” His face was greasy with perspiration, +and, even to Bill’s accustomed eyes, he looked dirtier +than ever. He stood now with a spoon poised, just as he +had lifted it out of the pot at the moment of the other’s +entrance.</p> +<p>“Where’s the kids?” the latter demanded sharply.</p> +<p>Sunny shifted his feet a little uneasily and glanced round +the dirty room. The place looked as though it hadn’t been +cleaned for a month. There was a hideous accumulation +of unwashed utensils scattered everywhere. The floor was +unswept, let alone unwashed. And the smell of stale food +and general mustiness helped to add to the keenness of the +visitor’s nervous edge as he waited for the man’s reply.</p> +<p>“Guess they’re out on the dumps playin’ at findin’ gold,” +Sunny said, with a slightly forced laugh. “Y’see, little +Vada’s staked out a claim on a patch of elegant garbage, an’ +is digging fer worms. Them’s the gold. An’ Jamie’s +playin’ ‘bad man’ an’ swoopin’ down on her and sneakin’ +her worms. It’s a new game. Y’see, I thought it out and +taught ’em how to play it. They’re a heap struck on it, +too. I––”</p> +<p>But words somehow failed him under the baleful stare of +the other’s eyes. And turning back to the milk he fell into +a stupid silence.</p> +<p>“You’ll get right out an’ huyk them kiddies off’n those +dumps,” cried Bill sharply. “You got no more sense in +your idjot head than to slep when your eyes shut. Diggin’ +worms on the dumps! Gee! Say, if it ain’t enough to +give ’em bile and measles, an’––an’ spots, then I don’t know +a ‘deuce-spot’ from a hay-rake. Git right out, you loafin’ +bum, an’ fetch ’em in, an’ then get the muck off’n your face, +an’ clean this doggone shack up. I’d sure say you was a +travelin’ hospital o’ disease by the look of you. I’m payin’ +you a wage and a heap good one, so git out––an’ I’ll see to +that darn milk.”</p> +<p>Argument was out of the question, so Sunny adopted the +easier course of obedience to his employer’s orders. He +dropped the spoon into the milk with a suddenness that +suggested resentment, and shuffled out, muttering. But Bill +followed him to the door.</p> +<p>“How?” he inquired threateningly.</p> +<p>“I didn’t say nothin’,” lied Sunny.</p> +<p>“I didn’t jest guess you did,” retorted Bill sarcastically. +And he watched his man hurry out into the sunlight with +eyes that had somehow become less severe.</p> +<p>He waited where he was for some moments. Then he +turned back into the room and stared disgustedly about him.</p> +<p>“If a feller can’t fix two kiddies right an’ cook ’em pap +without mussin’ things till you feel like dying o’ colic at the +sight, he ain’t fit to rob hogs of rootin’ space,” he muttered. +“I’d––Gee-whiz! Ther’s that doggone milk raising blue +murder wi’––”</p> +<p>He rushed to the stove where the boiling milk was pouring +over the sides of the pot in a hissing, bubbling stream. He +clutched at the “billy,” scalding his fingers badly, jerked it +off the stove, upset the contents on the floor and flung the +pot itself across the room, where it fell with a clatter upon +a pile of dirty tin plates and pannikins. He swore violently +and sucked his injured fingers, while, in angry dismay, he +contemplated the additional mess his carelessness had caused. +And at that moment Sunny returned, leading two grubby-faced +infants by the hand.</p> +<p>“I got ’em back,” he cried cheerfully. Then his shrewd +eyes took in the situation at a glance, and they sparkled with +malicious glee.</p> +<p>“Gee,” he cried, releasing the youngsters and pointing at +the mess on the stove and floor. “Now ain’t that a real +pity? Say, how d’you come to do that? It sure ain’t a +heap of trouble heatin’ a drop o’ milk. Most any fule ken +do that. I tho’t you savvied that, I sure did, or I’d ha’ put +you wise. Y’see, you should jest let it ha’ come to the bile, +an’ then whip it off quick. My, but it’s real foolish! Ten +cents o’ milk wasted for want of a little sense.”</p> +<p>“Our dinner milk,” cried Vada in consternation. “All +gone.”</p> +<p>“All dorn,” echoed Jamie, flinging himself on the floor +and dipping his fingers into the mess and licking them with +grave appreciation.</p> +<p>In a moment he was joined by the inevitable yellow pup, +which burnt its tongue and set up a howl. Vada ran to the +animal’s assistance, fell over Jamie’s sprawling legs and +rolled heavily in the mess.</p> +<p>For some seconds confusion reigned. Sunny darted to +Vada’s rescue, sent the pup flying with a well-directed kick, +picked the weeping girl up, and tried to shake some of the +milk from her dirty clothing. While Bill grabbed Jamie out +of the way of any further mischief. The boy struggled +furiously to free himself.</p> +<p>“Me want dinner milk,” he shouted, and beat the +gambler’s chest with both his little fists.</p> +<p>“You kicked Dougal!” wailed Vada, from under Sunny’s +arm.</p> +<p>And at that moment a mild voice reached them from the +open doorway––</p> +<p>“Why, what’s happenin’?”</p> +<p>Bill and Sunny turned at once. And the next instant the +children were shrieking in quite a different tone.</p> +<p>“Pop-pa,” they shouted, with all the power of their +childish lungs. The men released them, and, with a rush, +they hurled themselves upon the small person of their father.</p> +<p>Scipio set a bundle he was carrying upon the floor and +scrambled Jamie into his arms and kissed him. Then he +kissed Vada. After that he stood up, and, in a peculiarly +dazed fashion gazed about him, out of a pair of blackened +and bloodshot eyes, while the children continued to cling +to him.</p> +<p>The two onlookers never took their eyes off him. Sunny +Oak gazed with unfeigned astonishment and alarm, but Bill +merely stared. The little man was a pitiable object. His +clothes were tattered. His face was bruised and cut, and +dry blood was smeared all round his mouth. Both eyes +were black, and in one of them the white was changed to a +bright scarlet.</p> +<p>James’ men had done their work all too well. They had +handled their victim with the brutality of the savages they +were.</p> +<p>Scipio let his eyes rest on Bill, and, after a moment’s +hesitation, as though gathering together his still scattered +wits, spoke his gratitude.</p> +<p>“It was real kind of you lendin’ me Gipsy. I set her +back in the barn. She’s come to no harm. She ain’t got +saddle-sore, nor––nor nothin’. Maybe she’s a bit tuckered, +but she’s none the worse, sure.”</p> +<p>Bill clicked his tongue, but made no other response. At +that moment it would have been impossible for him to have +expressed the thoughts passing through his fierce mind. +Sunny, however, was more superficial. Words were bursting +from his lips. And when he spoke his first remark was +a hopeless inanity.</p> +<p>“You got back?” he questioned.</p> +<p>Scipio’s poor face worked into the ghost of a smile.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said. And the awkwardness of the meeting +drove him to silently caressing his children.</p> +<p>Presently Sunny, who was not delicate-minded, pointed +at his face.</p> +<p>“You––you had a fall?”</p> +<p>Scipio shook his head.</p> +<p>“You see, I found him and––his boys got rough,” he +explained simply.</p> +<p>“Gee!”</p> +<p>There was no mistaking Sunny’s anger. He forgot his +usual lazy indifference. For once he was stirred to a rage +that was as active and volcanic as one of Wild Bill’s sudden +passions.</p> +<p>But the gambler at last found his tongue, and Sunny was +given no further opportunity.</p> +<p>“What you got there?” he asked, pointing at the parcel +Scipio had deposited on the floor.</p> +<p>The little man glanced down at it.</p> +<p>“That?” he said hazily. “Oh, that’s bacon an’ things. +I got ’em from Minky on my way up. He told me you’d +sure got grub up here, an’ I didn’t need to get things. But +I guessed I couldn’t let you do all this now I’m back. Say,” +he added, becoming more alert. “I want to thank you both, +you bin real good helping me out.”</p> +<p>Bill swallowed some tobacco juice, and coughed violently. +Sunny was eaten up with a rage he could scarcely restrain. +But Scipio turned to the children, who were now clinging +silently to his moleskin trousers.</p> +<p>“Guess we’ll get busy an’ fix things up,” he said, laying +caressing hands upon them. “You’ll need your dinners, +sure. Poppa’s got nice bacon. How’s that?”</p> +<p>“Bully,” cried Vada promptly. Now that she had her +father again everything was “bully.” But Jamie was +silently staring up at the man’s distorted features. He +didn’t understand.</p> +<p>Wild Bill recovered from his coughing, suddenly bestirred +himself.</p> +<p>“Guess we’d best git goin’, Sunny,” he said quietly. +“Zip’ll likely need to fix things up some. Y’see, Zip,” he +went on, turning to the father, “Sunny’s done his best to +kep things goin’ right. He’s fed the kiddies, which was the +most ne’ssary thing. As for keppin’ the place clean,”––he +pointed at the small sea of milk which still stood in pools +on the floor––“I don’t guess he’s much when it comes to +cleanin’ anything––not even hisself. I ’low he’s wrecked +things some. Ther’s a heap of milk wasted. Howsum––”</p> +<p>“Say!” cried the outraged Sunny. But Bill would allow +no interruption.</p> +<p>“We’ll git goin’,” he said, with biting coldness. “Come +right along. So long, Zip,” he added, with an unusual touch +of gentleness. “I’ll be along to see you later. We need +to talk some.”</p> +<p>He moved over to Sunny’s side, and his hand closed upon +his arm. And somehow his grip kept the loafer silent until +they passed out of the hut. Once outside the gambler threw +his shoulders back and breathed freely. But he offered no +word. Only Sunny was inclined to talk.</p> +<p>“Say, he’s had a desprit bad time,” he said, with eyes +ablaze.</p> +<p>But Bill still remained silent. Nor did another word pass +between them until they reached Minky’s store.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The moment they had departed Scipio glanced forlornly +round his home. It was a terrible home-coming. Three +days ago in spite of all set-backs and shortcomings, hope had +run high in his heart. Now––He left the twins standing +and walked to the bedroom door. He looked in. But the +curtains dropped from his nerveless fingers and he turned +back to the living room, sick in mind and heart. For one +moment his eyes stared unmeaningly at the children. Then +he sat down on the chair nearest the table and beckoned +them over to him. They came, thrilled with awe in their +small wondering minds. Their father’s distorted features +fascinated yet horrified them.</p> +<p>Jamie scrambled to one knee and Vada hugged one of +the little man’s arms.</p> +<p>“We’ll have to have dinner, kiddies,” he said, with +attempted lightness.</p> +<p>“Ess,” said Jamie absently. Then he reached up to the +wound on his father’s right cheek, and touched it gently +with one small finger. It was so sore that the man flinched, +and the child’s hand was withdrawn instantly.</p> +<p>“Oose’s hurted,” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>“Pore poppa’s all hurt up,” added Vada tearfully.</p> +<p>“Not hurt proper,” said Scipio, with a wan smile. +“Y’see, it was jest a game, an’––an’ the boys were rough. +Now we’ll git dinner.”</p> +<p>But Vada’s mind was running on with swift childish +curiosity, and she put a sudden question.</p> +<p>“When’s momma comin’ back?” she demanded.</p> +<p>The man’s eyes shifted to the open doorway. The golden +sunlight beyond was shining with all the splendor of a +summer noon. But for all his blackened eyes saw there +might have been a gray fog of winter outside.</p> +<p>“Momma?” he echoed blankly.</p> +<p>“Ess, momma,” cried Jamie. “When she comin’?”</p> +<p>Scipio shook his head and sighed.</p> +<p>“When she comin’?” insisted Vada.</p> +<p>The man lowered his eyes till they focused themselves +upon the yellow pup, now hungrily licking up the cold milk.</p> +<p>“She won’t come back,” he said at last, in a low voice. +Then with a despairing gesture, he added: “Never! never!” +And his head dropped upon Jamie’s little shoulder while he +hugged Vada more closely to his side as though he feared +to lose her too.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_X_THE_TRUST' id='CHAPTER_X_THE_TRUST'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>THE TRUST</h3> +</div> +<p>It was a blazing afternoon of the “stewing” type. The +flies in the store kept up a sickening hum, and tortured +suffering humanity––in the form of the solitary Minky––with +their persistent efforts to alight on his perspiring face +and bare arms. The storekeeper, with excellent forethought, +had showered sticky papers, spread with molasses +and mucilage, broadcast about the shelves, to ensnare the unwary +pests. But though hundreds were lured to their death +by sirupy drowning, the attacking host remained undiminished, +and the death-traps only succeeded in adding disgusting +odors to the already laden atmosphere. Fortunately, +noses on Suffering Creek were not over-sensitive, and the +fly, with all his native unpleasantness, was a small matter in +the scheme of the frontiersman’s life, and, like all other obstructions, +was brushed aside physically as well as mentally.</p> +<p>The afternoon quiet had set in. The noon rush had +passed, nor would the re-awakening of the camp occur until +evening. Ordinarily the quiet of the long afternoon would +have been pleasant enough to the hard-working storekeeper. +For surely there is something approaching delight in the +leisure moments of a day’s hard and prosperous work. But +just now Minky had little ease of mind. And these long +hours, when the camp was practically deserted, had become +a sort of nightmare to him. The gold-dust stored in the dim +recesses of his cellars haunted him. The outlaw, James, was +a constant dread. For he felt that his store held a bait +which might well be irresistible to that individual. Experienced +as he was in the ways of frontier life, the advent of +the strangers of the night before had started a train of alarm +which threatened quickly to grow into panic.</p> +<p>He was pondering this matter when Sunny Oak, accompanied +by the careless Toby Jenks, lounged into the store. +With a quick, almost furtive eye the storekeeper glanced +up to ascertain the identity of the newcomers. And, when +he recognized them, such was the hold his alarm had upon +him, that his first thought was as to their fitness to help in +case of his own emergency. But his fleeting hope received +a prompt negative. Sunny was useless, he decided. And +Toby––well, Toby was so far an unknown quantity in all +things except his power of spending on drink the money +he had never earned.</p> +<p>“Ain’t out on your claim?” he greeted the remittance +man casually.</p> +<p>“Too blamed hot,” Toby retorted, winking heavily.</p> +<p>Then he mopped his face and ordered two whiskies.</p> +<p>“That stuff won’t cool you down any,” observed Minky, +passing behind his counter.</p> +<p>“No,” Toby admitted doubtfully. Then with a bright +look of intelligence. “But it’ll buck a feller so it don’t +seem so bad––the heat, I mean.” His afterthought set +Sunny grinning.</p> +<p>Minky set out two glasses and passed the bottle. The +men helped themselves, and with a simultaneous “How!” +gulped their drinks down thirstily.</p> +<p>Minky re-corked the bottle and wiped a few drops of +water from the counter.</p> +<p>“So Zip’s around,” he said, as the glasses were returned +to the counter. And instantly Sunny’s face became unusually +serious.</p> +<p>“Say,” he cried, with a hard look in his good-natured +eyes. “D’you ever feel real mad about things? So mad, +I mean, you want to get right out an’ hurt somebody or +somethin’? So mad, folks is likely to git busy an’ string +you up with a rawhide? I’m sure mostly dead easy as a +man, but I feel that away jest about now. I’ve sed to myself +I’d do best settin’ my head in your wash-trough. I’ve +said it more’n oncet in the last half-hour. But I don’t guess +it’s any sort o’ use. So––so, I’ll cut out the wash-trough.”</p> +<p>“You most generally do,” said Toby pleasantly.</p> +<p>“You ain’t comic––’cep’ when you’re feedin’,” retorted +Sunny, nettled. Then he turned to Minky, just as the +doorway of the store was darkened by the advent of Sandy +Joyce. But he glanced back in the newcomer’s direction +and nodded. Then he went on immediately with his talk.</p> +<p>“Say, have you seen him?” he demanded of anybody. +“I’m talkin’ o’ Zip,” he added, for Sandy’s enlightenment. +“He found James. Located his ranch, an’––an’ nigh got +hammered to death for his pains. Gee!”</p> +<p>“We see him,” said Minky, after an awed pause. “But +he never said a word. He jest set Bill’s mare back in the +barn, an’ bo’t bacon, and hit off to hum.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t see him,” Sandy admitted. “How was he?”</p> +<p>“Battered nigh to death, I said,” cried Sunny, with +startling violence. “His eyes are blackened, an’ his pore +mean face is cut about, an’ bruised ter’ble. His clothes is +torn nigh to rags, an’––”</p> +<p>“Was it the James outfit did it?” inquired Minky +incredulously.</p> +<p>“They did that surely,” cried Sunny vehemently. “You +ain’t seen Bill, have you? He’s that mad you can’t git a +word out o’ him. I tell you right here somethin’s goin’ to +happen. Somethin’s got to happen,” he added, with a fresh +burst of rage. “That gang needs cleanin’ out. They need +shootin’ up like vermin, an’––”</p> +<p>“You’re goin’ to do it?” inquired Sandy sarcastically.</p> +<p>Sunny turned on him in a flash.</p> +<p>“I’ll take my share in it,” he cried, “an’ it’ll need to +be a big share to satisfy me,” he added, with such evident +sincerity and fiery determination that his companions stared +at him in wonder.</p> +<p>“Guess Sunny’s had his rest broke,” observed Toby, with +a grin.</p> +<p>“I have that sure. An’––an’ it makes me mad to git +busy,” the loafer declared. “Have you seen that pore feller +with his face all mussed? Gee! Say, Zip wouldn’t hurt a +louse; he’s that gentle-natured I’d say if ther’ was only a +baulky mule between him an’ starvation he’d hate to live. +He ain’t no more savvee than a fool cat motherin’ a china +dog, but he’s got the grit o’ ten men. He’s hunted out +James with no more thought than he’d use firin’ a cracker +on the 4th o’ July. He goes after him to claim his right, +as calm an’ foolish as a sheep in a butcherin’ yard. An’ +I’d say right here ther’ ain’t one of us in this store would +have had the grit chasin’ for his wife wher’ Zip’s bin +chasin’––”</p> +<p>“Not for a wife, sure,” interjected Sandy.</p> +<p>Toby smothered a laugh, but became serious under +Sunny’s contemptuous eye.</p> +<p>“That’s like you, Sandy,” he cried. “It’s sure like you. +But I tell you Zip’s a man, an’ a great big man to the marrer +of his small backbone. His luck’s rotten. Rotten every +ways. He’s stuck on his wife, an’ she’s gone off with a +tough like James. He works so he comes nigh shamin’ even +me, who hates work, on a claim that couldn’t show the +color o’ gold on it, if ther’ wa’an’t nothin’ to the earth but +gold. He’s jest got two notions in his silly head. It’s his +kids an’ his wife. Mackinaw! It makes me sick. It does +sure. Here’s us fellers without a care to our souls, while +that pore sucker’s jest strugglin’ an’ strugglin’ an’ everythin’s +wrong with him––wrong as––oh, hell!”</p> +<p>For once Sandy forgot his malicious jibe at the loafer’s +expense. And Toby, too, forgot his pleasantry. Sunny’s +outburst of feeling had struck home, and each man stood +staring thoughtfully at the mental picture he had conjured +for them. Each admitted to himself in his own way the +pity the other’s words had stirred, but none of them had +anything to add at the moment.</p> +<p>Sunny glanced from one to the other. His look was half +questioning and wholly angry. He glanced across at the +window and thrust his hands in his ragged trousers pockets.</p> +<p>And presently as he began to tap the floor with his foot +a fresh rush of fiery anger was mounting to his head. He +opened his lips as though about to continue his tirade, but +apparently changed his mind. And, instead, he drew a +dollar bill from his pocket, and flung it on the counter.</p> +<p>“Three more drinks,” he demanded roughly.</p> +<p>Minky in unfeigned surprise produced the glasses. +Sandy leant over, and, with face thrust forward, inspected +the bill. Toby contented himself with a low whistle of +astonishment.</p> +<p>Sunny glared at them contemptuously.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said roughly, “I’ve earned it. I’ve worked for +it, do you understand? Wild Bill set me to look after +Zip’s kids, an’ he’s paid me for it. But––but that money +burns––burns like hell, an’ I want to be quit of it. Oh, I +ain’t bug on no sort o’ charity racket, I’m jest about as soft +as my back teeth. But I’m mad––mad to git busy doin’ +anythin’ so we ken git Zip level with that low-down skunk, +James. An’ if ther’s fi’ cents’ worth o’ grit in you, Mister +Sandy Joyce, an’ an atom o’ savvee in your fool brain, Toby, +you’ll take a hand in the game.”</p> +<p>Minky looked on in silent approval. Anything directed +against James was bound to meet with his approval just +now. But Sandy cleared his throat, and lounged with his +back against the counter.</p> +<p>“An’ wot, I’d ast, is goin’ to hurt this tough?” he inquired, +with a dash of his usual sarcasm.</p> +<p>Sunny flew at his drink and gulped it down.</p> +<p>“How do I know?” he cried scornfully.</p> +<p>“Jest so.”</p> +<p>Toby grinned.</p> +<p>“You’re a bright one, Sunny. You’re so bright, you +dazzle my eyes,” he cried.</p> +<p>But Sunny was absorbed in a thought that was hazily +hovering in the back of his brain, and let the insult pass.</p> +<p>“How ken I tell jest wot we’re goin’ to do,” he cried. +“Wot we want to do is to kind o’ help that pore crittur Zip +out first. Ther’ he is wi’ two kids to see to, which is sure +more than one man’s work, an’ at the same time he’s got +to dig up that mudbank claim of his. He don’t see the +thing’s impossible, ’cos he’s that big in mind he can’t see +small things like that. But I ain’t big that aways, an’ I ken +see. If he goes on diggin’ wot’s his kids goin’ to do, an’ if +he don’t dig wot’s they goin’ to do anyways. We’ll hev to +form a committee––”</p> +<p>“Sort o’ trust,” grinned Toby.</p> +<p>But Sunny passed over his levity and seized upon his +suggestion.</p> +<p>“I ’lows your fool head’s tho’t somethin’ wiser than it +guessed,” he said. “That’s just wot we need. Ther’ +should be a trust to see after him. An’ after it’s got his +kids fixed right––”</p> +<p>Sunny broke off as the tall figure of Wild Bill threw its +shadow across the window of the store. The next moment +the man himself entered the room.</p> +<p>He nodded silently, and was about to fling himself into +one of the chairs, when Toby, in jocular anticipation, threw +Sunny’s proposition at him.</p> +<p>“Say, Sunny’s woke up an’ bin thinkin’,” he cried. “I +allow his brain is shockin’ wonderful. Guess he’s got sick +o’ restin’ an’ reckons he got a notion for makin’ a trust lay-out.”</p> +<p>“The Zip Trust,” added Sandy, with a laugh, in which +Toby joined heartily.</p> +<p>“Yes. He guesses Zip needs lookin’ after,” declared the +remittance man in the midst of his mirth, glancing round +for appreciation of the joke.</p> +<p>But the encouragement he received fell short of his expectations, +and his laugh died out quite abruptly. There was +no responsive smile on Minky’s face. Sunny was glowering +sulkily; while Bill’s fierce brows were drawn together in +an angry frown, and his gimlet eyes seemed to bore their +way into the speaker’s face.</p> +<p>“Wal?” he demanded coldly.</p> +<p>“Wal, I think he’s––”</p> +<p>But Bill cut him short in his coldest manner.</p> +<p>“Do you?” he observed icily. “Wal, I’d say you best +think ag’in. An’ when you done thinkin’ jest start right +over ag’in. An’ mebbe some day you’ll get wise––if you +don’t get took meanwhiles.”</p> +<p>Bill flung himself into the chair and crossed his long +legs.</p> +<p>“Sunny’s on the right lay,” he went on. “Ther’ ain’t +many men on Sufferin’ Creek, but Zip’s one of ’em. Say, +Toby, would you ride out to James’ outfit to call him all +you think of the feller whose stole your wife?”</p> +<p>“Not by a sight,” replied Toby seriously.</p> +<p>“Wal, Zip did. He’s big,” went on Bill in cold, harsh +tones. Then he paused in thought. But he went on almost +immediately. “We got to help him. I’m sure with +Sunny.” He turned on the loafer with a wintry smile. +“You best organize right away, an’––count me in.”</p> +<p>Sunny’s eyes glowed with triumph. He had feared the +man’s ridicule. He had expected to see his lean shoulders +go up in silent contempt. And then, he knew, would have +followed a storm of sarcasm and “jollying” from Sandy +and the others. With quick wit he seized his opportunity, +bent on using Bill’s influence to its utmost. He turned on +Minky with a well calculated abruptness.</p> +<p>“You’ll help this thing out––too?” he challenged +him.</p> +<p>And he got his answer on the instant––</p> +<p>“I sure will––to any extent.”</p> +<p>Sandy and Toby looked at the storekeeper in some doubt. +Bill was watching them with a curious intentness. And +before Sunny could challenge the two scoffers, his harsh +voice filled the room again.</p> +<p>“I don’t know we’ll need any more,” he said, abruptly +turning his gaze upon the open window, “otherwise we’d +likely hev ast you two fellers. Y’see, we’ll need folks as ken +do things––”</p> +<p>“Wot sort o’ things?” demanded Sandy, with a sudden +interest.</p> +<p>“Wal, that ain’t easy to say right now, but––”</p> +<p>“I ain’t much seein’ to kids,” cried Sandy, “but I ken do +most anythin’ else.”</p> +<p>A flicker of a smile crept into Bill’s averted eyes, while +Sunny grinned broadly to see the way the man was now +literally falling over himself to follow the leadership of Wild +Bill.</p> +<p>“Wal, it ain’t no use in saying things yet, but if you’re +dead set on joining this Zip Trust, I guess you can. But +get this, what you’re called upon to do you’ll need to do +good an’ hard, an’––without argument.”</p> +<p>Sandy nodded.</p> +<p>“I’m in,” he cried, as though a great privilege had been +bestowed upon him.</p> +<p>And at once Toby became anxious.</p> +<p>“Guess you ain’t no use for me, Bill?” he hazarded, +almost diffidently.</p> +<p>Bill turned his steely eyes on him in cold contemplation. +Minky had joined in Sunny’s grin at the other men’s expense. +Sandy, too, now that he was accepted as an active +member of the trust, was indulging in a superior smile.</p> +<p>“I don’t allow I have,” Bill said slowly. “Y’see, you +ain’t much else than a ‘remittance’ man, an’ they ain’t no +sort o’ trash anyway.”</p> +<p>“But,” protested Toby, “I can’t help it if my folks hand +me money?”</p> +<p>“Mebbe you can’t.” Bill was actually smiling. And this +fact so far influenced the other members of the trust that +an audible titter went round the room. Then the gambler +suddenly sat forward, and the old fierce gleam shone once +more in his cold eyes. “Say,” he cried suddenly. “If a +feller got the ‘drop’ on you with six bar’ls of a gun +well-loaded, an’––guessed you’d best squeal, wot ’ud you do?”</p> +<p>“Squeal,” responded the puzzled Toby, with alacrity.</p> +<p>“You ken join the Trust. You sure got more savvee +than I tho’t.”</p> +<p>Bill sat back grinning, while a roar of laughter concluded +the founding of the Zip Trust.</p> +<p>But like all ceremonials, the matter had to be prolonged +and surrounded with the frills of officialdom. Sunny called +it organization, and herein only copied people of greater +degree and self-importance. He plunged into his task with +whole-hearted enthusiasm, and, with every word he uttered, +preened himself in the belief that he was rapidly ascending +in the opinion of Wild Bill, the only man on Suffering Creek +for whose opinion he cared a jot.</p> +<p>He explained to his comrades, with all the vanity of a +man whose inspiration has met with public approval, that +in forming such a combine as theirs, it would be necessary +to allot certain work, which he called “departments,” +to certain individuals. He assured his fellow-members +that such was always done in “way-up concerns.” It saved +confusion, and ensured the work being adequately performed.</p> +<p>“Sort o’ like a noo elected gover’ment,” suggested Sandy +sapiently.</p> +<p>“Wal, I won’t say that,” said Sunny. “Them fellers +traipse around wi’ portyfolios hangin’ to ’em. I don’t guess +we need them things. It’s too hot doin’ stunts like that.”</p> +<p>“Portfolios?” questioned Toby artlessly. “Wot’s them +for?”</p> +<p>“Oh, jest nuthin’ o’ consequence. Guess it’s to make +folks guess they’re doin’ a heap o’ work. No, what we need +is to set each man his work this aways. Now Bill here +needs to be president sure. Y’see, we must hev a ‘pres.’ +Most everything needs a ‘pres.’ He’s got to sit on top, so +if any one o’ the members gits gay he ken hand ’em a daisy +wot’ll send ’em squealin’ an’ huntin’ their holes like gophers. +Wal, Bill needs to be our ‘pres.’ Then there’s the ‘general +manager.’ He’s the feller wot sets around an’ blames most +everybody fer everything anyway, an’ writes to the noospapers. +He’s got to have savvee, an’ an elegant way o’ shiftin’ the responsibility o’ things on them as can’t git +back at him. He’s got to be a bright lad––”</p> +<p>“That’s Sunny, sure,” exclaimed Toby. “He’s a dandy +at gettin’ out o’ things an’ leaving others in. Say––”</p> +<p>“Here, half-a-tick,” cried Joyce, with sudden inspiration. +“Who’s goin’ to be ‘fightin’ editor’?”</p> +<p>“Gee, what a brain!” cried Sunny derisively. “Say, we +ain’t runnin’ a mornin’ noos sheet. This is a trust. Sandy, +my boy, you need educatin’. A trust’s a corporation of +folks wot is so crooked, they got to git together, an’ pool +their cash, so’s to git enough dollars to kep ’em out o’ penitentiary. +That’s how they start. Later on, if they kep +clear o’ the penitentiary, they start in to fake the market till +the Gover’ment butts in. Then they git gay, buy up a vote +in Congress, an’ fake the laws so they’re fixed right fer +themselves. After that some of them git religion, some of +’em give trick feeds to their friends, some of ’em start in to +hang jewels on stage females. Some of ’em have been +known to shoot theirselves or git divorced. It ain’t no sort +o’ matter wot they do, pervided they’re civil to the noospaper +folk. That’s a trust, Sandy, an’ I don’t say but what the feller +as tho’t o’ that name must o’ bin a tarnation amusin’ +feller.”</p> +<p>“Say, you orter bin in a cirkis,” sneered Sandy, as the +loafer finished his disquisition.</p> +<p>“Wal, I’d say that’s better’n a museum,” retorted Sunny.</p> +<p>But Toby was impatient to hear how Sunny intended to +dispose of him.</p> +<p>“Wher’ do I figger in this lay-out?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“You?” Sunny’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t guess we’ll +need to give you hard work. You best be boss o’ the +workin’ staff.”</p> +<p>“But ther’ ain’t no workin’ staff,” protested Toby.</p> +<p>“Jest so. That’s why you’ll be boss of it.” Then Sunny +turned to Sandy.</p> +<p>“We’ll need your experience as a married man, tho’,” he +said slyly. “So you best be head o’ the advisory board. +You’ll need to kep us wise to the general principles of vittlin’ +a family of three, when the woman’s missin’. Then we’ll +need a treasurer.” Sunny turned to Minky, and his twinkling +eyes asked the question.</p> +<p>“Sure,” said Minky promptly, “I’ll be treasurer. Seems +to me I’ll be safer that ways.”</p> +<p>“Good,” cried Sunny, “that’s all fixed.” He turned to +Bill. “Say, pres,” he went on, “I’d like to pass a vote o’ +thanks fer the way you conducted this yer meetin’, an’ put +it to the vote, that we accept the treasurer’s invitation to +take wine. All in favor will––”</p> +<p>“Mine’s rye,” cried Sandy promptly.</p> +<p>“An’ mine,” added Toby.</p> +<p>“Rye for me,” nodded Sunny at Minky’s grinning face. +“Bill––?”</p> +<p>But Bill shook his head.</p> +<p>“Too early for me,” he said, “you fellers can git all you +need into you though. But see here, folks,” he went on, +with a quietness of purpose that promptly reduced every eye +to seriousness. “This ain’t no play game as Sunny may ha’ +made you think. It’s a proposition that needs to go thro’, +an’––I’m goin’ to see it thro’. Zip’s kids is our first trouble. +They ain’t easy handlin’. They got to be bro’t up reg’lar, +an’ their stummicks ain’t to be pizened with no wrong sort +o’ vittles. Ther’s such a heap o’ things to kids o’ that age +it makes me nigh sweat at the tho’t. Howsum, Zip’s down +an’ out, an’ we got to see him right someways. As ‘pres’ +of this lay-out, I tell you right here, every mother’s son of +us had best git out an’ learn all we ken about fixin’ kids +right. How to feed ’em, how to set their pretties on right, +how to clean ’em, how to––well, jest how to raise ’em. If +any o’ you got leddy friends I’d say git busy askin’ ’em. +So––”</p> +<p>At that moment the sound of footsteps on the veranda +came in through the window, and Bill looked round. The +next instant he spoke more rapidly, and with greater +authority.</p> +<p>“Git goin’,” he cried, “an’ we’ll meet after supper.”</p> +<p>There was no doubt of this man’s rule. Without a word +the men filed out of the store, each one with his thoughts +bent upon the possibilities of acquiring the knowledge +necessary.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI_STRANGERS_IN_SUFFERING_CREEK' id='CHAPTER_XI_STRANGERS_IN_SUFFERING_CREEK'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>STRANGERS IN SUFFERING CREEK</h3> +</div> +<p>Bill watched the men depart. The stolid Minky, too, +followed them with his eyes. But as they disappeared +through the doorway he turned to the gambler, and, in surprise, +discovered that he was reclining in a chair, stretched +out in an attitude of repose, with his shrewd eyes tightly +closed. He was about to speak when the swing-doors +opened, and two strangers strolled in.</p> +<p>Minky greeted them, “Howdy?” and received an amiable +response. The newcomers were ordinary enough to satisfy +even the suspicious storekeeper. In fact, they looked like +men from some city, who had possibly come to Suffering +Creek with the purpose of ascertaining the possibilities of +the camp as a place in which to try their fortunes. Both +were clad in store clothes of fair quality, wearing hats of the +black prairie type, and only the extreme tanning of their +somewhat genial faces belied the city theory.</p> +<p>Minky noted all these things while he served them the +drinks they called for, and, in the most approvedly casual +manner, put the usual question to them.</p> +<p>“Wher’ you from?” he inquired, as though the matter +were not of the least consequence.</p> +<p>He was told Spawn City without hesitation, and in response +to his remark that they had “come quite a piece,” +they equally amiably assured him that they had.</p> +<p>Then one of the men addressed his companion.</p> +<p>“Say, Joe,” he said, “mebbe this guy ken put us wise to +things.”</p> +<p>And Joe nodded and turned to the storekeeper.</p> +<p>“Say, boss,” he began, “we’ve heerd tell this lay-out is a +dead gut bonanza. There’s folks in Spawn City says ther’s +gold enough here to drown the United States Treasury department. +Guess we come along to gather some.” He +grinned in an ingratiating manner.</p> +<p>Minky thought before answering.</p> +<p>“Ther’ sure is a heap o’ gold around. But it ain’t easy. +I don’t guess you’d gather much in a shovel. You’ll get +pay dirt that aways, but––”</p> +<p>“Ah! Needs cap’tal,” suggested Joe.</p> +<p>“That’s jest how we figgered,” put in the other quietly.</p> +<p>Minky nodded. Many things were traveling swiftly +through his mind.</p> +<p>“Drove in?” he inquired.</p> +<p>“Sure,” replied Joe. “Unhooked down the trail a piece.”</p> +<p>Bill’s eyes opened and closed again. Then he shifted +noisily in his chair. The men turned round and eyed him +with interest. Then the man called Joe called back to the +storekeeper.</p> +<p>“My name’s Joe Manton,” he said, by way of introduction. +“An’ my friend’s called Sim Longley. Say,” he +went on, with a backward jerk of the head, “mebbe your +friend’ll take something?”</p> +<p>Minky glanced over at Wild Bill. The gambler drowsily +opened his eyes and bestirred himself.</p> +<p>“I sure will,” he said, rearing his great length up, and +moving across to the counter. “I’ll take Rye, mister, an’ +thank you. This is Mr. Minky, gents. My name’s Bill.”</p> +<p>The introduction acknowledged, talk flowed freely. Wild +Bill, in carefully toned down manner, engaged the strangers +in polite talk, answering their questions about the gold prospects +of the place, which were often pointed, in the most +genial and even loquacious manner. He told them a great +deal of the history of the place, warned them that Suffering +Creek was not the sinecure the outside world had been told, +endorsed Minky’s story that what Suffering Creek really +needed was capital to reach the true wealth of the place. +And, in the course of the talk, drink flowed freely.</p> +<p>Bill was always supplied with his drink from a different +bottle to that out of which the strangers were served. As +a matter of fact, he was probably the most temperate man +on Suffering Creek, and, by an arrangement with Minky, so +as not to spoil trade, drank from a bottle of colored water +when the necessity for refreshment arose. But just now +his manner suggested that he had drunk quite as much +whisky as the strangers. His spirits rose with theirs, and +his jocularity and levity matched theirs, step by step, as they +went on talking.</p> +<p>The man Longley had spoken of the settlement as being +“one-horsed,” and Billy promptly agreed.</p> +<p>“It sure is,” he cried. “We ain’t got nothing but this +yer canteen, with ol’ Minky doin’ his best to pizen us. Still, +we get along in a ways. Mebbe we could do wi’ a dancin’-hall––if +we had females around. Then I’d say a bank +would be an elegant addition to things. Y’see, we hev to +ship our gold outside. Leastways, that’s wot we used to do, +I’ve heard. Y’see, I ain’t in the minin’ business,” he +added, by way of accounting for his lack of personal +knowledge.</p> +<p>“Ah!” said Joe. “Maybe you’re ‘commercial’?”</p> +<p>Bill laughed so genially that the others joined in it.</p> +<p>“In a ways, mebbe I am. You see, I mostly sit around, +an’ when anything promisin’ comes along, why, I ain’t above +plankin’ a few dollars by way of––speculation.”</p> +<p>Joe grinned broadly.</p> +<p>“A few shares in a poker hand, eh?” he suggested +shrewdly.</p> +<p>“You’re kind o’ quick, mister,” Bill laughed. “I’m stuck +on ‘draw’ some.”</p> +<p>Then the talk drifted suddenly. It was Longley who +presently harked back to the commercial side of Suffering +Creek.</p> +<p>“You was sayin’ ther’ wasn’t no bank on Suffering +Creek,” he said interestedly. “What do folks do with their +dust now, then?”</p> +<p>A quick but almost imperceptible glance passed between +Bill and the storekeeper. And Bill’s answer came at once.</p> +<p>“Wal, as I sed, we used to pass it out by stage. But––”</p> +<p>Longley caught him up just a shade too quickly.</p> +<p>“Yes––but?”</p> +<p>“Wal,” drawled Bill thoughtfully, “y’see, we ain’t +shipped dust out for some time on account of a gang that’s +settin’ around waitin’. You comin’ from Spawn City’ll +likely have heard of this feller James an’ his gang. A most +ter’ble tough is James. I’ll allow he’s got us mighty nigh +wher’ he wants us––scairt to death. No, we ain’t sent out +no gold stage lately, but we’re goin’ to right soon. We’ll +hev to. We’ve ast for an escort o’ Gover’ment troops, but +I guess Sufferin’ Creek ain’t on the map. The Gover’ment +don’t guess they’ve any call to worry.”</p> +<p>“Then what you goin’ to do?” inquired Longley, profoundly +interested.</p> +<p>“Can’t say. The stage’ll hev to take its chances.”</p> +<p>“An’ when––” began Longley. But his comrade cut him +short.</p> +<p>“Say, I’ll allow the gold racket’s mighty int’restin’, but +it makes me tired this weather. You was speakin’ +‘draw’––”</p> +<p>“Sure,” responded Bill amiably. “We’re four here, if +you fancy a hand. Minky?”</p> +<p>The storekeeper nodded, and promptly produced cards and +‘chips.’ And in five minutes the game was in progress. +Used as he was to the vagaries of his gambling friend, +Minky was puzzled at the way he was discussing Suffering +Creek with these strangers. His talk about James and the +gold-stage was too rankly absurd for anything, and yet he +knew that some subtle purpose must be underlying his talk. +However, it was no time to question or contradict now, so +he accepted the situation and his share in the game.</p> +<p>And here again astonishment awaited him. Bill lost +steadily, if not heavily. He watched the men closely, but +could discover none of the known tricks common to the +game when sharps are at work. They not only seemed to +be playing straight, but badly. They were not good poker +players. Yet they got the hands and won. For himself, he +kept fairly level. It was only Bill who lost.</p> +<p>And all through the game the gambler allowed himself +to be drawn into talking of Suffering Creek by the interested +Longley, until it would have been obvious to the veriest +greenhorn that the stranger was pumping him.</p> +<p>The newcomers seemed to be enjoying themselves enormously, +and the greatest good-will prevailed. Nor was it +until nearly supper-time that Bill suddenly stood up and +declared he had had enough. He was a loser to the extent +of nearly a hundred dollars.</p> +<p>So the party broke up. And at Minky’s suggestion the +men departed to put their horses in the barn, while they +partook of supper under his roof. It was the moment they +had gone that the storekeeper turned on his friend.</p> +<p>“Say, I ain’t got you, Bill. Wot’s your game?” he demanded, +with some asperity.</p> +<p>But the gambler was quite undisturbed by his annoyance. +He only chuckled.</p> +<p>“Say,” he countered, “ever heerd tell of Swanny Long, +the biggest tough in Idaho?”</p> +<p>“Sure. But––”</p> +<p>“That’s him––that feller Sim Longley.”</p> +<p>The storekeeper stared.</p> +<p>“You sure?”</p> +<p>“Sure? Gee! I was after him fer nigh three––Say,” +he broke off––it was not his way to indulge in reminiscence––“I +guess he’s workin’ with James.” Then he laughed. +“Gee! I allow he was rigged elegant––most like some Bible-smashin’ +sky-pilot.”</p> +<p>Minky was still laboring hard to understand.</p> +<p>“But all that yarn of the gold-stage?” he said sharply.</p> +<p>“That?” Bill at once became serious. “Wal, that’s +pretty near right. You ain’t yearnin’ fer that gang to come +snoopin’ around Suffering Creek. So I’m guessin’ we’ll hev +to pass a gold-stage out o’ her some time.”</p> +<p>“You’re mad,” cried Minky in consternation.</p> +<p>“That’s as may be,” retorted Bill, quite unruffled. +“Anyways, I guess I spent a hundred dollars in a mighty +good deal this day––if it was rotten bad poker.”</p> +<p>And he turned away to talk to Slade of Kentucky, who +entered the store at that moment with his friend O’Brien.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII_THE_WOMAN' id='CHAPTER_XII_THE_WOMAN'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE WOMAN</h3> +</div> +<p>The woman turned from the window at the sound of +footsteps somewhere behind her. That was her way now. +She started at each fresh sound that suggested anyone approaching. +Her nerves were on edge for some reason she +could never have put into words. She did not fear, yet a +curious nervousness was hers which made her listen acutely +at every footstep, and breathe her relief if the sound died +away without further intrusion upon her privacy.</p> +<p>Presently she turned back to the window with just such +relief. The footstep had passed. She drew her feet up into +the ample seat of the rocking-chair, and, with her elbow +resting upon its arm, heavily pressed her chin into the palm +of her hand, and again stared at the rampart of mountains +beyond.</p> +<p>Nor had all the beauties spread out before her yearning +gaze the least appeal for her. How should they? Her +thoughts were roaming in a world of her own, and her eyes +were occupied in gazing upon her woman’s pictures as she +saw them in her mind. The wonders of that scene of natural +splendor laid out before her had no power to penetrate +the armor of her preoccupation. All her mind and heart +were stirred and torn by emotions such as only a woman can +understand, only a woman can feel. The ancient battle of +titanic forces, which had brought into existence that world +of stupendous might upon which her unseeing eyes gazed, +was as nothing, it seemed, to the passionate struggle going +on in her torn heart. To her there was nothing beyond her +own regretful misery, her own dread of the future, her +passionate revulsion at thoughts of the past.</p> +<p>The truth was, she had not yet found the happiness she +had promised herself, that had been promised to her. She +had left behind her all that life which, when it had been +hers, she had hated. Her passionate nature had drawn her +whither its stormy waves listed. And now that the tempest +was passed, and the driving forces had ceased to urge, leaving +her in a rock-bound pool of reflection, she saw the +enormity of the step she had taken, she realized the strength +of Nature’s tendrils which still bound her no less surely.</p> +<p>The mild face of Scipio haunted her. She saw in her +remorseful fancy his wondering blue eyes filled with the +stricken look of a man powerless to resent, powerless to +resist. She read into her thought the feelings of his simple +heart which she had so wantonly crushed. For she knew his +love as only a woman can. She had probed its depth and +found it fathomless––fathomless in its devotion to herself. +And now she had thrown him and his love, the great +legitimate love of the father of her children, headlong out +of her life.</p> +<p>A dozen times she bolstered her actions with the assurance +that she did not want his love, that he was not the man she +had ever cared for seriously, could ever care for. She told +herself that the insignificance of his character, his personality, +were beneath contempt. She desired a man of strength +for her partner, a man who could make himself of some +account in the world which was theirs.</p> +<p>No, she did not want Scipio. He was useless in the +scheme of life, and she did not wish to have to “mother” +her husband. Far rather would she be the slave of a man +whose ruthless domination extended even to herself. And +yet Scipio’s mild eyes haunted her, and stirred something in +her heart that maddened her, and robbed her of all satisfaction +in the step she had taken.</p> +<p>But this was only a small part of the cause of her present +mood. She had not at first had the vaguest understanding +of the bonds which really fettered her, holding her fast to +the life that had been hers for so long. Now she knew. +And the knowledge brought with it its bitter cost. Some +forewarning had been hers when she appealed to her lover +for the possession of her children. But although her +mother’s instinct had been stirred to alarm at parting, she +had not, at that time, experienced the real horror of what +she was doing in abandoning her children.</p> +<p>She was inconsolable now. With all her mind and heart +she was crying out for the warm, moist pressure of infant +lips. Her whole body yearned for those who were flesh of +her flesh, for the gentle beating hearts to which her body +had given life. They were hers––hers, and of her own +action she had put them out of her life. They were hers, +and she was maddened at the thought that she had left them +to another. They were hers, and––yes, she must have +them. Whatever happened, they must be restored to her. +Life would be intolerable without them.</p> +<p>She was in a wholly unreasoning state of mind. All the +mother in her was uppermost, craving, yearning, panting for +her own. For the time, at least, all else was lost in an +overwhelming regret, and such a power of love for her +offspring, that she had no room for the man who had +brought about the separation.</p> +<p>She was a selfish woman, and had always craved for the +best that life could give her, but now that her mother-love +was truly roused her selfishness knew no bounds. She had +no thought for anybody, no consideration. She could have +none until her desire was satisfied.</p> +<p>Her tortured heart grew angry against Scipio. She was +driven to fury against James. What mattered it that her +lover had so far fulfilled all his other promises to her, if he +did not procure the children and return them to her arms? +What mattered it that she was surrounded with luxury +uncommon on the prairie, a luxury she had not known for +so many years?</p> +<p>She had her own rooms, where no one intruded without +her consent. The spacious house had been ransacked to +make them all that she could desire. All the outlaw’s +associates were herded into the background, lest their presence +should offend her. Even James himself had refrained +from forcing his attentions upon her, lest, in the first rush of +feeling at her breaking with the old life, they should be +unwelcome. His patience and restraint were wonderful in +a man of his peculiar savagery. And surely it pointed his +love for her. Had it been simply the momentary passion of +an untamed nature, he would have waited for nothing, when +once she had become his possession.</p> +<p>It was a curious anachronism that she should be the +mistress of the situation with such a man as James. Yet so +far she was mistress of the situation. The question was, +how long would she remain so? It is possible that she had +no understanding of this at first. It is possible that she +would have resented such a question, had it occurred to +her when she first consented to break away from her old +life.</p> +<p>But now it was different. Now that she began to understand +all she had flung away for this man, when the mother +in her was at last fully aroused, and all her wits were driven +headlong to discover a way by which to satisfy her all-consuming +desire for her children, now the native cunning of +the woman asserted itself. She saw in one revealing flash +her position, she saw where lay her power at the moment, +and she clung to it desperately, determined to play the man +while she could to gain her ends.</p> +<p>Thus it was she was nervous, apprehensive, every time +she thought it likely that her lover was about to visit her. +She dreaded what might transpire. She dreaded lest her +power should be weakened before she had accomplished her +end. It was difficult; it was nerve-racking. She must keep +his love at fever-heat. It was her one chance.</p> +<p>Again she started. It was the sound of a fresh footstep +beyond the door. She glanced at the door with half-startled +eyes and sat listening. Then her lips closed decidedly and +a look of purpose crept into her eyes. A moment later she +stood up. She was pale, but full of purpose.</p> +<p>“Is that you, Jim?” she called.</p> +<p>“Sure,” came the ready response.</p> +<p>The next instant the door was flung open and the man +came in.</p> +<p>His bronzed face was smiling, and the savage in him was +hidden deep down out of sight. His handsome face was +good to look upon, and as the woman’s eyes surveyed his +carefully clad slim figure she felt a thrill of triumph at the +thought that he was hers at the raising of her finger.</p> +<p>But she faced him without any responsive smile. She had +summoned him with a very definite purpose in her mind, +and no display of anything that could be interpreted into +weakness must be made.</p> +<p>“I want to talk to you,” she said, pointing at the rocking-chair +she had just vacated.</p> +<p>James glanced at the chair. Then his eyes turned back +to her with a question in them. Finally he shrugged his +shoulders and flung himself into the seat, and stretched out +his long legs luxuriously.</p> +<p>Apparently Jessie had not noticed the shrug. It would +have been better had she done so. She might then have +understood more fully the man she was dealing with. However, +she turned to the window and spoke with her back to +him.</p> +<p>“It’s about––things,” she said a little lamely.</p> +<p>The man’s smile was something ironical, as his eyes +greedily devoured the beauty of her figure.</p> +<p>“I’m glad,” he said in a non-committing way. Then, as +no reply was immediately forthcoming, he added, “Get +going.”</p> +<p>But Jessie made no answer. She was thinking hard, and +somehow her thoughts had an uneasy confusion in them. +She was trying hard to find the best way to begin that which +she had to say, but every opening seemed inadequate. She +must not appeal, she must not dictate. She must adopt some +middle course. These things she felt instinctively.</p> +<p>The man shifted his position and glanced round the +room.</p> +<p>“Kind of snug here,” he said pleasantly, running his eyes +appreciatively over the simple decorations, the cheap bric-à-brac +which lined the walls and, in a world where all decoration +was chiefly conspicuous by its absence, gave to the place +a suggestion of richness. The red pine walls looked warm, +and the carpeted floor was so unusual as to give one a feeling +of extraordinary refinement. Then, too, the chairs, scattered +about, spoke of a strain after civilized luxury. The +whole ranch-house had been turned inside out to make +Jessie’s quarters all she could desire them.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he muttered, “it’s sure snug.” Then his eyes +came back to the woman. “Maybe there’s something I’ve +forgotten. Guess you’ve just got to fix a name to it.”</p> +<p>Jessie turned instantly. Her beautiful eyes were shining +with a sudden hope, but her face was pale with a hardly +controlled emotion.</p> +<p>“That’s easy,” she said. “I want my children. I want +little Vada. I––I must have her. You promised I should. +If you hadn’t, I should never have left. I must have her.” +She spoke breathlessly, and broke off with a sort of nervous +jolt.</p> +<p>In the pause that followed James’ expression underwent a +subtle change. It was not that there was any definite movement +of a single muscle. His smile remained, but, somehow, +through it peeped a hard look which had not been there +before.</p> +<p>“So you want––the kids,” he said at last, and a curious +metallic quality was in his voice. “Say,” he added thoughtfully, +“you women are queer ones.”</p> +<p>“Maybe we are,” retorted Jessie. She tried to laugh as +she spoke, but it was a dismal failure. Then she hurried +on. “Yes,” she cried a little shrilly, “it was part of our +bargain, and––so far you have not carried it out.”</p> +<p>“Bargain?” The man’s brows went up.</p> +<p>“Yes, bargain.”</p> +<p>“I don’t remember a––bargain.” James’ eyes had in +them an ominous glitter.</p> +<p>“Then you’ve got a bad memory.”</p> +<p>“I sure haven’t, Jess. I sure haven’t that. I generally +remember good. And what I remember now is that I promised +you those kids if you needed them. I swore that you +should have ’em. But I made no bargain. Guess women +don’t see things dead right. This is the first time you’ve +spoken to me of this, and you say I haven’t fulfilled my +bargain. When I refuse to give you them kiddies, it’s time +to take that tone. You want them kids. Well––go on.”</p> +<p>The change in her lover’s manner warned Jessie that +danger lay ahead. In the brief time she had spent under his +roof she had already learned that, as yet, she had only seen +the gentlest side of the man, and that the other side was +always perilously near the surface.</p> +<p>In the beginning this had been rather a delight to her to +think that she, of all people, was privileged to bask in the +sunny side of a man who habitually displayed the storm +clouds of his fiercer side to the world in general. But since +that time a change, which she neither knew nor understood, +had come over her, and, instead of rejoicing that he possessed +that harsher nature, she rather feared it, feared that +it might be turned upon her.</p> +<p>It was this change that had helped to bring her woman’s +cunning into play. It was this change which had brought +her her haunting visions of the old life. It was this change +which had prompted her that she must keep her lover at +arm’s length––as yet. It was this change, had she paused +to analyze it, which might have told her of the hideous mistake +she had made. That the passion which she had believed +to be an absorbing love for the man was merely a passion, +a base human passion, inspired in a weak, discontented +woman. But as yet she understood nothing of this. The +glamour of the man’s personality still had power to sway +her, and she acknowledged it in her next words.</p> +<p>“Don’t be angry, Jim dear,” she said, with a smile of +seductive sweetness which had immediate effect upon the +man. “You don’t understand us women. We’re sure unreasonable +where our love is concerned.”</p> +<p>Then a flush spread itself slowly over her handsome face, +and passion lit her eyes.</p> +<p>“But I must have my children,” she broke out suddenly. +“One of them, anyhow––little Vada. You––you can’t +understand all it means to be away from them. They are +mine. They are part of me. I––I feel I could kill anyone +who keeps them from me. You promised, Jim, you sure +did. Get her for me. My little girl––my little Vada.”</p> +<p>The man had risen from his chair and moved to the +window. He sat on the rough sill facing her. His eyes +were hot with passion, too, but it was passion of a very +different sort.</p> +<p>“And if I do?” he questioned subtly.</p> +<p>“If you do?” Jessie’s eyes widened with a world of +cunning simplicity.</p> +<p>“Yes, if I do?” The man’s face was nearer.</p> +<p>“You’ll have fulfilled your promise.”</p> +<p>Jessie had turned again to the window, and her eyes were +cold.</p> +<p>The man’s brows drew together sharply, and his dark eyes +watched the perfect outline of her oval cheek. Then he +drew a sharp breath, and biting words leapt to his lips. But +he held them back with a sudden grip that was perilously +near breaking. Jessie’s power was still enormous with him. +But this very power was maddening to a man of his nature, +and the two must not come into too frequent conflict.</p> +<p>He suddenly laughed, and the woman turned in alarm at +the note that sounded in it.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said tensely. “I’ll fulfill my promise. It’ll +amuse me, sure, getting back at that Sufferin’ Creek lay-out. +I owe them something for keepin’ back the gold-stages. +You shall have Vada, sure.”</p> +<p>He broke off for an instant and drew nearer. He leant +forward, and one arm reached out to encircle her waist. +But with an almost imperceptible movement the woman +stood beyond his reach.</p> +<p>“And––and after?” he questioned, his arm still outstretched +to embrace her.</p> +<p>The woman made no answer.</p> +<p>“And after?”</p> +<p>There was a hot glow in his tone. He waited. Then he +went on.</p> +<p>“Then I’ll have done everything,” he said––“all that a +man can do to make you happy. I’ll have fulfilled all my +promises. I’ll––And you?” he went on, coming close up +to her.</p> +<p>This time she did not repulse him. Instinct told her that +she must not. Before all things she wanted Vada. So his +arms closed about her, and a shower of hot, passionate kisses +fell upon her face, her hair, her lips.</p> +<p>At last she pushed him gently away. For the moment all +the old passion had been stirred, but now, as she released +herself, an odd shiver passed through her body, and a great +relief came to her as she stood out of his reach. It was the +first real, definite feeling of repulsion she had had, and as +she realized it a sudden fear gripped her heart, and she +longed to rush from his presence. But, even so, she did not +fully understand the change that was taking place in her. +Her predominating thought was for the possession of little +Vada, and she urged him with all the intensity of her +longing.</p> +<p>“You’ll get her for me?” she cried, with an excitement +that transfigured her. “You will. Oh, Jim, I can never +thank you sufficiently. You are good to me. And when +will you get her––now? Oh, Jim, don’t wait. You must do +it now. I want her so badly. I wonder how you’ll do it. +Will you take her? Or will you ask Zip for her? I––I +believe he would give her up. He’s such a queer fellow. I +believe he’d do anything I asked him. I sure do. How +are you going to get her?”</p> +<p>The man was watching her with all the fire of his love in +his eyes. It was a greedy, devouring gaze of which Jessie +must have been aware had she only been thinking less of her +child. Nor did he answer at once. Then slowly the passionate +light died out of his eyes, and they became thoughtful.</p> +<p>“Tell me,” the woman urged him.</p> +<p>Suddenly he looked into her face with a cruel grin.</p> +<p>“Sit down, Jess,” he said sharply, “and write a letter to +Zip asking him, in your best lingo, to let you have your kid. +An’ when you done that I’ll see he gets it, an’––I’ll see you +get the kid. But make the letter good an’ hot. Pile up the +agony biz. I’ll fix the rest.”</p> +<p>For a moment the woman looked into his face, now lit +with such a cruel grin. Something in her heart gave her +pause. Somehow she felt that what she was called upon to +do was intended to hurt Zip in some subtle way, and the +thought was not pleasant. She didn’t want to hurt Zip. +She tried in those few seconds to probe this man’s purpose. +But her mind was not equal to the task. Surely a letter +appealing to Zip could not really hurt him. And she wanted +little Vada so much. It was this last thought that decided +her. No, nothing should stand in her way. She steeled her +heart against her better feelings, but with some misgivings, +and sat down to write.</p> +<p>James watched her. She procured paper and pen, and he +watched her bending over the table. No detail of her face +and figure escaped his greedy eyes. She was very beautiful, +so beautiful to him that he stirred restlessly, chafing irritably +under the restraint he was putting upon himself. Again and +again he asked himself why he was fool enough to do as he +was doing. She was his. There was no one to stop him, +no one but––her.</p> +<p>Ah! There was the trouble. Such was the man’s temper +that nothing could satisfy him that gave him no difficulty of +attaining. His was the appetite of an epicure in all things. +Everything in its way must be of the best, and to be of the +best to him it must be the most difficult of achievement.</p> +<p>He waited with what patience he could until the letter +was written. Then he watched Jessie seal and address it. +Then she rose and stood staring down at the cruel missive. +She knew it was cruel now, for, trading on the knowledge +of the man who was to receive it, she had appealed +through the channel of her woman’s weakness to all that +great spirit which she knew to abide in her little husband’s +heart.</p> +<p>James understood something of what was passing in her +mind. And it pleased him to think of what he had forced +her to do––pleased him as cruelty ever pleases the truly +vicious.</p> +<p>At last she held the missive out to him.</p> +<p>“There it is,” she said. And as his hand closed upon it +her own was drawn sharply away, as though to avoid contact +with his.</p> +<p>“Good,” he said, with a peculiar grin.</p> +<p>For a moment the silence remained unbroken. Then the +woman raised appealing eyes to his face.</p> +<p>“You won’t hurt Zip?” she said in a voice that would +surely have heartened the object of her solicitude had he +heard it.</p> +<p>The man shook his head. His jaws were set, and his +smile was unpleasing.</p> +<p>“Guess any hurtin’ Zip gets’ll be done by you.”</p> +<p>“Ah, no, no!”</p> +<p>The woman reached out wildly for the letter, but James +had passed swiftly out of the room.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII_BIRDIE_AND_THE_BOYS' id='CHAPTER_XIII_BIRDIE_AND_THE_BOYS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>BIRDIE AND THE BOYS</h3> +</div> +<p>The derelicts of a mining camp must ever be interesting +to the student of human nature, so wide is the field for study. +But it were better to be a student, simply, when probing +amongst the refuse heaps of life’s débris. A sentimentalist, +a man of heart, would quickly have it broken with the pity +of it all. A city’s tragedies often require search to reveal +them, but upon the frontier tragedy stalks unsepulchered +in the background of nearly every life, ready to leap out +in all its naked horror and settle itself leech-like upon +the sympathetic heart, stifling it with the burden of its +misery.</p> +<p>No, it is not good to delve into the dark pages of such +folks’ lives too closely, unless armored with impenetrable +callousness. But one cannot help wondering whence all +those living tragedies come. Look at the men. For the +most part strong, able creatures, apparently capable of fighting +the lusty battle of life with undiminished ardor. Look +at the women. They are for the most part thinking women, +healthy, capable. And yet––well, nine-tenths of them are +not so cut off from their home cities, their friends and +relatives, without some more than ordinary reason.</p> +<p>It is a sad sight to see the women plunged headlong into +the fight for existence in such places, to witness the cruel +iron thrust upon them its searing brand, to watch all the +natural softness of their sex harden to the necessary degree +for a successful issue to the battle, to witness their frequent +unsexing and ultimate degradation. Such results are common +enough when a woman enters the lists. It is so often a +mere question of time. And when the end is achieved, how +awful, how revolting, but how natural.</p> +<p>How Birdie Mason came to find herself the one woman +on Suffering Creek––leaving out the later advent of Scipio’s +wife––it is not for us to ask. Whatever her little tragedy +it is hers alone, and does not concern us. All that we need +think of is her future, and the pity that so well-favored a +woman has not found her lot cast in places where her +womanhood has its best chances. However, she is there, +living the life of all such hired “helps,” drudging from +morning till night in one long round of sordid labor, in +an atmosphere stinking with the fetid breath of debased +humanity.</p> +<p>But as yet the life has made no inroads upon her moral +health. Her sunny good nature sets her singing over the +most grinding labors. Her smiling face, and ready tongue, +give her an air of happiness and joy of life which seems +well-nigh invincible. And her popularity contrives her +many thrilling moments and advantages which she is too +much a woman and a child to deny herself.</p> +<p>Her day’s work ends with the after supper “wash up,” a +dreary routine which might well crush the most ardent spirit. +Yet she bends over her tubs full of crockery dreaming her +sunny dreams, building her little castles to the clink of +enameled tin cups, weaving her romances to the clatter of +cutlery, smiling upon the mentally conjured faces of her +boys amidst the steaming odors of greasy, lukewarm water. +The one blot upon her existence is perhaps the Chinese cook, +with whom she has perforce to associate. She dislikes him +for no other reason than that he is a “yaller-faced doper that +ought to been set to herd with a menagerie of measly +skunks.” But even this annoyance cannot seriously damp +her buoyancy, and, with wonderful feminine philosophy, she +puts him out of her mind as a “no account feller, anyway.”</p> +<p>She was putting the finishing touches to the long dining-table, +making it ready for the next day’s breakfast. It was +not an elaborate preparation. She “dumped” a box of +knives and forks at each end of it, and then proceeded to +chase any odd bits of débris from the last meal on to the floor +with a duster. Then, with a hand-broom and pan, she took +these up and with them any other rubbish that might be +lying about. Finally, she set jugs of drinking water at +intervals down the center of the table, and her work was +done.</p> +<p>She looked about her, patting her fair hair with that +eminently feminine touch which is to be seen in every +woman from the millionaire’s wife down to the poorest +emigrant. Then, with less delicacy, she lifted her apron +and wiped the moisture from her round young face.</p> +<p>“Guess that’s ’most everything,” she murmured, her eyes +brightening at the contemplation of her completed task. +“I’ll just cut out them––”</p> +<p>She went to a cupboard and drew out a parcel of white +lawn and paper patterns, which she carefully spread out on +the table. And, in a few moments, she was bending +absorbedly over the stuff, lost in the intricacies of hewing +out an embryonic garment for her personal adornment.</p> +<p>It was at this task that Toby Jenks found her. He was +worried to death at the thought that, as a member of the +newly formed Zip Trust, it was his duty to gather information +concerning the management of children. However, in +the midst of his trouble he hit on the brilliant idea of consulting +the only woman of his acquaintance.</p> +<p>Toby wanted to do something startling in the interests +of the Trust. He felt that his membership had been conferred +in a rather grudging spirit. And, to his mildly resentful +way of thinking, it seemed it would be a good thing +if he could surprise his friends with the excellence of his +services in the general interests of the concern.</p> +<p>Birdie heard the door open, and raised a pair of startled +eyes at the intruder. It was not that such visits were out +of order, or even uncommon, but they generally occurred +after pre-arrangement, which gave her the opportunity of +“fixing herself right.”</p> +<p>With a wild grab she scrambled her material, and the +pattern, so that its identification would be quite impossible +to male eyes, and hugged it in her arms. Turning swiftly +she thrust it into the cupboard, and slammed the door. But +she had no resentment at the interruption. Toby was quite +a new visitor, and, well––the more the merrier.</p> +<p>She turned to him all smiles, and Toby returned her +welcome something sheepishly. He cut a quaint figure with +his broad, ungainly shoulders supporting his rather pumpkin +face. Then his arms were a little too long and terminated +in two “leg-of-mutton” hands.</p> +<p>“Evenin’, Birdie,” he said bashfully. “Guess you were +sewin’?”</p> +<p>“Guess again,” cried the girl readily, her eyes dancing at +the contemplation of a few moments’ badinage with a new +candidate for her favors.</p> +<p>“Well, you wa’an’t playin’ the pianner.”</p> +<p>But Birdie was quite equal to the best efforts of her +candidates.</p> +<p>“My, but ain’t you slick?” she cried, allowing her smiling +gaze to remain looking straight into his face in a way she +knew never failed to confuse her admirers on Suffering +Creek. She watched till the sturdy man’s eyes turned away, +and knew that he was groping for an adequate retort. This +effect was the result of practice with her, a practice she +thoroughly enjoyed.</p> +<p>The “leg-of-mutton” hands fumbled their way into the +tops of Toby’s trousers, and, with a sudden self-assertion, +which fitted him badly, he lurched over to the table, beyond +which Birdie was standing. It was his intention to seat +himself thereon, but his tormentor had not yet reached the +point where she could allow such intimacy.</p> +<p>“Say, I ain’t ast you to sit around,” she said, with an +alluring pout. “Men-folk don’t sit around in a lady’s’ +parlor till they’re ast. ’Sides, the table’s fixed fer breakfast. +And anyway it ain’t for settin’ on.”</p> +<p>Toby moved away quickly, his attempt at ease deserting +him with ludicrous suddenness. At sight of his blushing +face Birdie relaxed her austerity.</p> +<p>“Say, ain’t you soft?” she declared, with a demure +lowering of her lids. “I’ve allus heerd say, you only got +to tell a feller don’t, an’ he sure does it quick. Men-folk is +that contrary. Now––”</p> +<p>The encouragement brought its reward. Toby promptly +sat himself on the table and set it creaking.</p> +<p>“Well, I do declare!” cried Birdie, in pretended indignation. +“And I never ast you, neither. I don’t know, I’m +sure. Some folks has nerve.”</p> +<p>But this time Toby was not to be intimidated. Perhaps +it was the girl’s bright smile. Perhaps, with marvelous +inspiration, he saw through her flirtatious methods. Anyway, +he remained where he was, grinning sheepishly up into +her face.</p> +<p>“Guess you best push me off. I ain’t heavy,” he dared +her clumsily.</p> +<p>“I sure wouldn’t demean myself that way,” she retorted. +“Gee, me settin’ hands on a feller like you. It would need +a prize-fighter.”</p> +<p>The acknowledgment of his size and strength was a subtle +tribute which pleased the man, as it was intended to. He +preened himself and drew his knees up into his arms, in +an attitude intended to be one of perfect ease and to show +his confidence.</p> +<p>“I sure ain’t much of a feller for strength,” he said +modestly, eyeing his enormous arms and hands affectionately. +“You ought to see Wild Bill. He––he could eat +me, an’ never worry his digestion.”</p> +<p>Birdie laughed happily. She was always ready to laugh +at a man’s attempt at humor. That was her way.</p> +<p>“You are a queer one,” she said, seating herself on the +opposite edge of the table, so that she was sufficiently adjacent, +and at the requisite angle at which to carry on her +flirtation satisfactorily. “Say,” she went on, with a down +drooping of her eyelids, “why ain’t you in there playin’ +poker? Guess you’re missin’ heaps o’ fun. I wish I was +a ‘boy.’ I wouldn’t miss such fun by sitting around in +here.”</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t you?” Toby grinned, while his brains +struggled to find a happy reply. “Well, you see,” he +hazarded at last, “poker an’ whisky ain’t to be compared to +talkin’ to a dandy fine gal with yaller hair an’ elegant blue +eyes.”</p> +<p>He passed one of his great hands across his forehead as +though his attempt had made him perspire. But he had his +reward. Birdie contrived a blush of pleasure, and edged a +little nearer to him.</p> +<p>“Gee, you can talk pretty,” she declared, her lips parted +in an admiring smile. “It makes me kind o’ wonder how +you fellers learn it.” Then she added demurely, “But I +ain’t pretty, nor nothing like you fellers try to make out. +I’m jest an ord’nary sort of girl.”</p> +<p>“No you ain’t,” broke in Toby, feeling that his initial +success had put him on the top of the situation, and that he +had nothing now to fear. Besides, he really felt that Birdie +was an uncommonly nice girl, and, in a vague way, wondered +he had never noticed it before.</p> +<p>“That you ain’t,” he went on emphatically. Then he +added as though to clinch his statement, “not by a sight.”</p> +<p>This brought him to a sudden and uncomfortable stop. +He knew he ought to go on piling up compliment on compliment +to make good his point. But he had emptied his +brain cells by his threefold denial, and now found himself +groping in something which was little better than a vacuum. +And in his trouble he found himself wishing he was gifted +with Sunny’s wit. Wild Bill’s force would have carried him +through, or even Sandy Joyce’s overweening confidence +would have kept his head above water. As it was he was +stuck. Hopelessly, irretrievably at the end of his resources.</p> +<p>He perspired in reality now, and let his knees drop out of +his arms. This movement was his salvation. With the +relaxing of his physical effort the restraining grip upon +his thinking powers gave way. Inspiration leaped, and he +found himself talking again almost before he was aware +of it.</p> +<p>“You’re a real pretty gal, Birdie,” he heard himself saying. +“Now, maybe you got some kids?” he added, with an +automatic grin of ingratiation.</p> +<p>How the inquiry slipped out he never knew. How it had +been formulated in his brain remained a riddle that he was +never able to solve. But there it was, plain and decided. +There was no shirking it. It was out in all its naked +crudeness.</p> +<p>There was a moment’s pause which might have been +hours, it seemed so horribly long to the waiting man. He +became dimly aware of a sudden hardening in Birdie’s eyes, +a mounting flush to her cheeks and forehead, a sudden, astounding +physical movement, and then the work-worn palm +of her hand came into contact with his cheek with such +force as to prove the value to her physical development of +the strenuous labors which were hers.</p> +<p>He never thought a woman’s hand could sting so much. +He never thought that he could be made to feel so mean as +this girl’s sudden vehemence made him feel.</p> +<p>“How dare you, you bumming remittance feller?” she +cried, with eyes blazing and bosom heaving. “How dare +you––you––you––” And then she further punished him +with that worst of all feminine punishments––she burst +into tears.</p> +<p>The next few moments were never quite clear to the distracted +and unthinking Toby. He never really knew what +actually happened. He had a confused memory of saying +things by way of apology, of making several pacific overtures, +which met with physical rebuffs of no mean order, +and tearful upbraidings which were so mixed up with choking +sniffs as to be fortunately more or less unintelligible. +Finally, when he came to his ordinary senses, and the dead +level of his understanding was fully restored, he found himself +grasping the girl firmly by the waist, her golden head +lying snugly on his massive shoulder, and with a distinct +recollection of warm ripe lips many times pressed upon his +own. All of which was eminently pleasing.</p> +<p>When once these comfortable relations were thoroughly +established, he had no difficulty in clearing the clouds from +her horizon, and relegating her tears into the background. +Her nature was of a much too smiling order to need a great +deal of coaxing. But explanation was needed, and explanation +never came easily to this stalwart dullard.</p> +<p>“Y’see, what I meant was,” he said, with a troubled frown +of intense concentration, “maybe you know about kids. I +didn’t mean offense, I sure didn’t. Everybody knows our +Birdie to be jest a straight, up-standin’, proper gal, who +wouldn’t hurt nobody, nor nuthin’, ’cep’ it was a buzzin’ +fly around the supper hash. No feller don’t take no account +o’ her bein’ a pot-wallopin’, hash-slingin’ mutton rustler. It +sure ain’t no worse than ladlin’ swill to prize hogs. It’s jest +in the way o’ business. ’Sides, she don’t need to care what +no fellers thinks. She ain’t stuck on men-folk wuth a cent.”</p> +<p>“That I sure ain’t,” asserted a smothered voice from the +bosom of his dirty shirt.</p> +<p>“That you ain’t,” he reassured her. “You’re jest a +dandy gal as ’ud make any feller with a good patch o’ pay +dirt a real elegant sort o’ wife.”</p> +<p>The golden head snuggled closer into his shirt.</p> +<p>“You ain’t got no patch o’ pay dirt, Toby?” she inquired.</p> +<p>Toby shook his head all unsuspiciously.</p> +<p>“No sech luck,” he asserted. Then with a sudden burst +of gallantry, “If I had I don’t guess there’d be no Birdie +Mason chasin’ around these parts unbespoke.”</p> +<p>The girl’s eyes developed an almost childish simplicity as +they looked up into his foolish face.</p> +<p>“What d’you mean?”</p> +<p>“Mean? Why, jest nothin’, only––”</p> +<p>Toby laughed uneasily. And a shadow crossed Birdie’s +face.</p> +<p>“I don’t guess the patch o’ pay dirt matters a heap,” she +said, with subtle encouragement.</p> +<p>“That’s so,” agreed Toby.</p> +<p>“Y’see, a gal don’t marry a feller fer his patch o’ pay +dirt,” she went on, doing her best.</p> +<p>“Sure she don’t.”</p> +<p>But Toby’s enthusiasm was rapidly cooling. The girl +breathed a sigh of perfect content. And her heavy breathing +was fast making a moist patch amidst the gravel stains +on his shirt front.</p> +<p>“She jest loves a feller––”</p> +<p>Toby’s arm slipped from her waist, and a hunted look +crept into his foolish eyes.</p> +<p>“An’ she don’t care nothin’––”</p> +<p>The man was suddenly seized with a racking fit of +coughing, which somehow jolted the girl into an upright +position.</p> +<p>“Course she don’t,” he agreed, when his paroxysm had +passed. “Say, you don’t think I got newmony?” he inquired, +feeling the need for an abrupt change of subject. +“I was allus weak-chested as a kid. An’ talkin’ o’ kids,” +he hurried on, in his terror recalling the object of his visit, +“guess you ken put me wise.”</p> +<p>“Kids? I wasn’t talkin’ of kids,” protested the girl a +little angrily.</p> +<p>She was hurt. Cruelly hurt. All her best efforts had +gone for nothing. A moment before Toby had seemed so +nearly hers, and now––</p> +<p>“No. I didn’t guess you were. But––that is––you +see––”</p> +<p>The man floundered heavily and broke off. His look was +one of comical confusion and trouble. So much so that it +was too much for the girl’s good nature.</p> +<p>“Whose kids?” she demanded, the familiar smile creeping +back into her eyes, and her lips pursing dryly. “Yours?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no,” denied the man quickly. “Not mine. It’s +Zip’s. Y’see, since his wife’s lit out he’s kind o’ left with +’em. An’ he’s that fool-headed he don’t know how to raise +’em proper. So I guessed I’d help him. Now, if you put +me wise––”</p> +<p>“You help raise Zip’s kids? Gee!” The girl slid off +the table and stood eyeing him, her woman’s humor tickled +to the limit.</p> +<p>But Toby did not realize it. He was in deadly earnest +now.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said simply. Then, with a gleam of intelligence, +“How’d you raise ’em?”</p> +<p>The girl was suddenly stirred to a feeling of good-humored +malice.</p> +<p>“How’d I raise ’em? Why, it ain’t jest easy.”</p> +<p>“It sure ain’t,” agreed Toby heartily. “Now, how’d +you feed ’em?”</p> +<p>Birdie became judicially wise.</p> +<p>“Well,” she began, “you can’t jest feed ’em same as +ord’nary folks. They need speshul food. You’ll need to +give ’em boiled milk plain or with pap, you kin git fancy +crackers an’ soak ’em. Then ther’s beef-tea. Not jest +ord’nary beef-tea. You want to take a boilin’ o’ bones, an’ +boil for three hours, an’ then skim well. After that you +might let it cool some, an’ then you add flavorin’. Not +too much, an’ not too little, jest so’s to make it elegant +tastin’. Then you cook toasties to go with it, or give ’em +crackers. Serve it to ’em hot, an’ jest set around blowin’ it +so it don’t scald their little stummicks. Got that? You +can give ’em eggs, but not too much meat. Meat well done +an’ cut up wi’ vegetables an’ gravy, an’ make ’em eat it with +a spoon. Knives is apt to cut ’em. Eggs light boiled, an’ +don’t let ’em rub the yolk in their hair, nor slop gravy over +their bow-ties. Candy, some, but it ain’t good for their +teeth, which needs seein’ to by a dentist, anyway. Say, +if they’re cuttin’ teeth you ken let ’em chew the beef bones, +it helps ’em thro’. Fancy canned truck ain’t good ’less it’s +baked beans, though I ’lows beans cooked reg’lar is best. +You soak ’em twenty-four hours, an’ boil ’em soft, an’ see +the water don’t boil away. Fruit is good if they ain’t subjec’ +to colic, which needs poultices o’ linseed, an’ truck like +that. Don’t let ’em eat till they’re blown up like frogs, an’––you +got all that?”</p> +<p>“Ye-es,” replied the bewildered man a little helplessly.</p> +<p>“Well,” continued the smiling girl, “then there’s their +manners an’ things.”</p> +<p>Toby nodded vaguely.</p> +<p>“You’ll need to give ’em bed at sundown,” Birdie hurried +on. “An’ up at sunrise. Clothes needs washin’ at least +once a month––with soap. See they says their prayers, +an’ bath ’em once a week reg’lar––with soap. But do it +Sundays. An’ after that give ’em a Bible talk for an hour. +Then I dessay they’ll need physic once a week––best give +it Saturday nights. Don’t fix ’em that way same as a +horse, their stummicks ain’t made of leather. You got all +that?”</p> +<p>Toby gave a bewildered nod.</p> +<p>“How ’bout when they’re sick?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Sick? Why, see they don’t muss their clothes,” Birdie +answered cheerfully. “Guess that’s put you wise to most +everything.”</p> +<p>“Sure.” Toby slid from the table, feeling dazed. Nor +had he the courage to ask any more questions. He was +trying hard to fix the salient points of the information in his +whirling brain, but all he could remember was that all washing +must be done with soap, and the children must have +bones to keep their teeth right. He clung to these things +desperately, and felt that he must get away quickly before +they, too, should slip through the sieve of his memory.</p> +<p>“Guess I’ll git along an’––an’ see to things,” he murmured +vaguely, without glancing in Birdie’s direction. +“You said beef bones?” he added, passing a hand perplexedly +across his forehead.</p> +<p>“Sure,” smiled the girl.</p> +<p>“Good. Thanks.” Then he moved heavily off. “Beef +bones and soap––bath an’ Bible talk; beef bones an’ +soap––”</p> +<p>The girl watched him vanish behind the closing door, +muttering as he went to “see to things.”</p> +<p>She stood for some moments where he had left her. The +smile was still in her eyes, but its humor had died out. She +was unfeignedly sorry he had gone. He was such a good-natured +simpleton, she thought. A real good-hearted sort. +Just the sort to make a husband worth having. Ah, well, +he had gone! Better luck next time.</p> +<p>She turned away with a deep, sentimental sigh, and +crossed over to the cupboard. She drew out her work once +more and again spread out the crumpled paper pattern upon +the gossamer lawn.</p> +<p>Yes, Toby would have suited her well. She heaved another +sigh. He had remittances from home, too. And he +wouldn’t be difficult to manage. His head was rather a +funny shape, and his face didn’t suggest brightness, but +then––</p> +<p>She began to snip at the material with her rusty scissors. +But just as her mind had fully concentrated upon her task +a sudden sound startled her. She looked up, listening, and +the next moment the door was flung wide, and Sandy Joyce +stood framed in the opening.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV_BIRDIE_GIVES_MORE_ADVICE' id='CHAPTER_XIV_BIRDIE_GIVES_MORE_ADVICE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>BIRDIE GIVES MORE ADVICE</h3> +</div> +<p>The ordinary woman would probably have resented this +second interruption, taking into consideration the nature of +Birdie’s occupation, and the fact that Toby’s visit had hardly +proved a success from her point of view. But Birdie was +only partially ordinary. Her love and admiration for the +opposite sex was so much the chief part of her composition +that all other considerations gave way before it. Her heart +thrilled with a sickly sentiment at all times. To her men +were the gods of the universe, and, as such, must be propitiated, +at least in theory. In practice it might be necessary to +flout them, to tease them, even to snub them––on rare occasions. +But this would only come after intimacy had been +established. After that her attitude would be governed by +circumstances, and even then her snubs, her floutings, her +teasing, would only be done as a further lure, a further propitiation. +She loved them all with a wonderful devotion. +Her heart was large, so large that the whole race of men +could have been easily lost in its mysterious and obscure recesses.</p> +<p>Again her work was bundled into the cupboard, the poor +flimsy pattern further suffering. But beyond a casual wonder +if the garment would eventually be wearable, cut from +so mangled a pattern, she had no real care.</p> +<p>Her smiling eyes turned readily upon the newcomer the +moment her secret labors had been hidden from prying male +eyes. And there was no mistaking her cordiality for this +cold-eyed visitor.</p> +<p>“Sakes alive! but you do look fierce,” she cried challengingly. +“You sure must be in a bad temper.”</p> +<p>But Sandy’s expression was simply the outcome of long +and difficult consideration. As a matter of fact, in his hard +way, he was feeling very delighted. His past married +experience had brought him to the conviction that here was +the only person in Suffering Creek who could help him.</p> +<p>And, furthermore, he was well satisfied to think that only +his experience as a married man could have suggested to +him this means of gaining the information required by their +president, and so shown him the way to surpass his comrades +in his efforts on behalf of the Trust.</p> +<p>But his knowledge of womankind warned him that he +must not be too hasty. He must not show his hand until he +had established himself in a favorable position in the susceptible +Birdie’s heart. With this object in view he set himself +to offer his blandishments in characteristic fashion. He +did not suffer from Toby’s complaint of bashfulness. Married +life had cured him of that. In consequence, his +method, if crude, was direct.</p> +<p>“I can’t say the same of you, Birdie,” he declared unsmilingly. +“You’re bloomin’ as––as a kebbige.”</p> +<p>“Kebbige?” sniffed the girl.</p> +<p>“Kebbige, sure,” nodded the man of married experience. +“Guess mebbe it ain’t a bokay fer smell. But fer taste––with +corned beef? Gee!”</p> +<p>Birdie took no umbrage.</p> +<p>“You got to it––after awhiles,” she remarked slyly. +Then she added, with a gush, “D’you know, I’m allus most +scared to death of you men. You’re that big an’ strong, it +makes me feel you could well-nigh eat me.”</p> +<p>Sandy availed himself of the invitation.</p> +<p>“A tasty mouthful,” he declared. And without more ado +he passed round the table, caught her quickly in his arms, +and, without the smallest expression of interest, kissed her. +If interest were lacking, his movements were so swift that, +had the girl the least idea of avoiding the embrace––which +she hadn’t––she would have found it difficult to do so.</p> +<p>“You men are ones!” she declared, with a little gasp, as +his arms fell from about her.</p> +<p>“How’s that?”</p> +<p>“I never did––the cheek of some of you!”</p> +<p>“A feller needs cheek,” replied the self-satisfied widower. +“’Specially with pretty gals around,” he added condescendingly.</p> +<p>Birdie eyed him archly.</p> +<p>“Gals?” she inquired.</p> +<p>“I should have said ‘gal.’”</p> +<p>The laughing nod that rewarded him assured Sandy that +he was well on the right track, and at once he took the opportunity +of introducing the object of his visit.</p> +<p>“Say,” he began, “guess you never tho’t o’ gettin’ hitched +up to a feller?”</p> +<p>Birdie lowered her eyelids and struggled for a blush, which +somehow defied her best efforts. But her subtleties were +quite lost upon Sandy, and in his eagerness he waited for no +reply.</p> +<p>“No, course you hain’t. You got so many beaus to +choose from. ’Sides,” he added thoughtfully, “gettin’ married +sure needs special savvee. What I mean,” he explained, +seeing the amused wonder in the girl’s now wide +eyes, “you kind o’ need eddicatin’ to git married. Y’see, +when you get fixed that way you sort of, in a manner of +speakin’, got to unlearn things you never learnt, an’ learn +them things what can’t never be taught. What I mean is, +marriage is a sort of eddication of itself, wot don’t learn you +nuthin’ till you git––unmarried. Savee?”</p> +<p>The girl shook her head in bewilderment.</p> +<p>“That’s sure too bright fer me.”</p> +<p>“That’s ’cos you ain’t been married. Y’see, I have.”</p> +<p>“Can’t you put it easier––seein’ I ain’t been married?”</p> +<p>“Sure I can.” Sandy took up a position, on the edge of +the table with such a judicial air that the girl started to +giggle.</p> +<p>“See here,” he began largely. “Now what d’you know +’bout kids––raisin’ ’em, I mean?”</p> +<p>The girl’s eyes twinkled on the verge of laughing outright.</p> +<p>“Zip’s kids?” she inquired shrewdly.</p> +<p>Sandy started and frowned.</p> +<p>“What d’you mean––Zip’s kids?”</p> +<p>“Oh, just nothing,” said Birdie airily. “Seein’ kids was +in your mind, I naturally tho’t o’ Zip’s.”</p> +<p>Sandy nodded. But he was only half convinced. How +on earth, he wondered, did she know he was thinking of +Zip’s kids? He felt that it would be best to nip that idea in +the bud. It was undignified that he should appear to be +interested in Zip’s twins.</p> +<p>“I ain’t interested in no special kids,” he said, with some +dignity. “I was just theorizin’––like. Now, if you got +married, wot you know of raisin’ kids? Guess you’re that +ignorant of the subject maybe you’d feed ’em hay?”</p> +<p>Birdie laughed dutifully, but her retort was rather disconcerting.</p> +<p>“You bin married––how’d you feed ’em? I’m learning.”</p> +<p>“How’d I feed ’em?” Sandy eyed his tormentor severely. +“That ain’t the question. How’d you feed ’em?”</p> +<p>The girl thought for a moment, and then looked up +brightly.</p> +<p>“If they was Zip’s kids––”</p> +<p>“I said they ain’t.”</p> +<p>“Well, if they were, I’d say––”</p> +<p>“See here, cut Zip’s kids out. They ain’t in this shootin’ +match,” cried Sandy testily.</p> +<p>But Birdie persisted slyly.</p> +<p>“Y’see, I must get some kids in my eye if I’m to answer +you right,” she said. “I can see things better that way. +Now, if they were Zip’s kids––”</p> +<p>“Which they ain’t,” asseverated the man doggedly.</p> +<p>“Which they ain’t,” nodded Birdie, “I’d feed ’em cereals +an’ pap––”</p> +<p>Sandy’s face suddenly cleared. His whole being seemed +to expand.</p> +<p>“Say, you’re a bright gal,” he declared. “Cereals an’ +pap. That’s dead right. Say, you know more than––You’d +give ’em milk to drink––now?” he suggested.</p> +<p>“Oh no, nothing like that. Water.”</p> +<p>The man looked disappointed.</p> +<p>“Water?” he said. “You sure of that? But I guess +you’d give ’em banannys?”</p> +<p>Again the girl shook her head.</p> +<p>“Fruit gives ’em colic.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes, that’s so. They’d need physic then, wouldn’t +they?”</p> +<p>“You need to be easy with physic, too,” declared the girl, +with sparkling eyes. “Don’t give ’em physic ever unless +they’re real sick.”</p> +<p>The man’s crestfallen appearance set Birdie giggling. She +was enjoying the situation. She meant to upset all Sandy’s +preconceived ideas.</p> +<p>“Now, pork?” he suggested, but with less assurance.</p> +<p>But Birdie was obdurate.</p> +<p>“Never,” she declared emphatically. “Beans, yes. +There’s good nourishment in beans. Then ther’s fresh vegetables––heaps +of ’em.”</p> +<p>“Ah! Now, how ’bout fixin’ them right––the kids, I +mean? Guess they’ll need bathin’.”</p> +<p>But Birdie fell upon him with a strong denial.</p> +<p>“Bath?” she cried. “Gee! you do run on. Guess you +want to hand ’em newmony. Kids sure don’t never need +bathin’. Jest a lick with soap an’ hot water once a week. +An’ say,” she went on, suddenly remembering something +she had told Toby in a fit of mischief, “kep their food soft, +or you’ll break their young teeth.”</p> +<p>Sandy’s eyes lit, and in an unguarded moment he admitted +that the thought had occurred to him. Birdie caught him +up at once.</p> +<p>“I tho’t you was just astin’ me these questions to see if I +was right for gettin’ married?” she protested innocently.</p> +<p>“That’s so––course,” he said hastily. Then he wriggled +out of it. “But how’d I be able to say you was right if I +hadn’t tho’t on things some myself?”</p> +<p>“Ah! I didn’t just think of that.”</p> +<p>“Course not. Gals never see the fine points of good +argyment.”</p> +<p>Sandy’s superiority was overwhelming, but Birdie had +borne with him with amused patience until now. She +had known him a long time as a boarder, but never until now +had she realized the blundering conceit that was his. She +felt that she had given him rope enough, and it was time to +bring him up with a jerk.</p> +<p>“Thank you kindly, sir,” she mocked him, curtseying.</p> +<p>“You’re welcome, ma’am,” Sandy returned, with a +clumsy bow, failing to realize her change of attitude.</p> +<p>“If you guess I’m right for marryin’, maybe you’ll hand +me my diploma,” she said, with a demure down-drooping of +her eyelids.</p> +<p>She waited, and finally glanced up into his flushed face. +Her sarcasm had struck home at last, and without hesitation +she went on mercilessly––</p> +<p>“Say, if you ain’t goin’ to hand me a diploma, guess you +can let me get on with my sewin’. Havin’ been a married +man, maybe you’ll understand men-folk ain’t a heap of use +around when a woman’s sewin’. Guess they’re handy ladlin’ +out most things, but I’d say a man ain’t no more use round +the eye of a needle than a camel.”</p> +<p>Sandy’s dignity and temper were ruffled. It was inconceivable +that Birdie––or, as he mentally apostrophized her, +“this blamed hash-slinger”––should so flout him. How +dared she? He was so angry that words for once utterly +failed him, and he moved towards the door with gills as scarlet +as any blustering turkey-cock. But Birdie had no idea +of sparing him, and hurled her final sarcasm as she turned +again to her cupboard.</p> +<p>“I’d hate to be one o’ Zip’s kids with you gettin’ busy +around me,” she cried, chuckling in an infuriating manner.</p> +<p>It was too much for Sandy. He turned fiercely as he +reached the door.</p> +<p>“You’re ‘bug,’” he declared roughly. “I tell you, Zip’s +kids ain’t nothin’ to do with me––”</p> +<p>“Which, I’d say, was lucky for them,” cried Birdie airily.</p> +<p>“An’ I’d jest like to say that when a genelman gits around +to do the perlite by a no-account mutton-worrier, he figgers +to be treat right––”</p> +<p>Birdie turned on him with cold eyes.</p> +<p>“I’ll sure be treatin’ you right,” she said, “when I tell you +that door don’t need shuttin’ after you. It’s on the swing.”</p> +<p>She did not wait to witness her guest’s departure. She +felt it would not be graceful, under the circumstances. So, +pushing her head into the cupboard, she once more gathered +up her work.</p> +<p>When the soft swish of the swing-door told her that +Sandy’s departure had been taken, she emerged with her +bundle and spread it out on the table for the third time. +She was all smiles. She was not a bit angry with the foolish +widower. This dogmatic attitude of mind, this wonderful +self-satisfaction, were peculiar to the creature; he couldn’t +help it. But it had roused a mischievous spirit in her, and +the temptation was too great to resist. The only thing she +regretted was having let him kiss her, and she at once put +up her hand to wipe the spot where the operation had been +performed. At any rate, she had certainly taken him +down a peg or two, and the thought set her in high good-humor.</p> +<p>Nor could she help wondering at his stupidity in imagining +she couldn’t see through his desire for information about +children. It was laughable, coming after Toby’s. Oh, these +men! They were dear, foolish creatures. Poor kids, she +thought, her mind reverting to Zip’s twins. What had they +done to have this pack of foolish people worrying over +them? Were they all going to take a hand in bringing the +youngsters up? Well, anyhow, she pitied them.</p> +<p>She smiled at her thoughts as the busy scissors snipped +their way round the pattern. These men were too funny. +First Toby, now Sandy––who next?</p> +<p>She started and looked up, her scissors poised in the air. +The swing-door had swished open, and Wild Bill stood before +her.</p> +<p>“Good sakes!” she cried. “How you scared me!” +Then, realizing what lay before her, she grabbed up her +work, and was for returning it to the cupboard.</p> +<p>But Wild Bill was in a hurry. Besides, he had nothing of +the ingratiating ways of the other men about him. He saw +her object, and stayed her in his own peculiar authoritative +fashion.</p> +<p>“Say, you can quit huggin’ them fixin’s,” he cried. “I +ain’t come pryin’ around a leddy’s wardrobe. You ken jest +set down with paper an’ ink an’ things, an’ write down how +best Zip’s kids can be raised. I’ll git right back for it in +ha’f-an-hour.”</p> +<p>Nor did he wait for any reply. It was taken for granted +that his demands would be promptly acceded to, and he +vanished as abruptly as he came. The swing-door closed, +and Birdie gave a sigh.</p> +<p>“An’ him, too,” she murmured. “Well, I do declare. It +just licks creation.”</p> +<p>But this was a different proposition to either Toby or +Sandy. She sprang to her task for the great Wild Bill in a +way that spoke volumes for her sentimental heart. Wild +Bill? Well, she would never have owned it, but there was +just one man in the world that scared Birdie to death, and at +the same time made her think her path was a bed of roses, +and that was Wild Bill. In an astonishingly short time she +was sitting at the table poring over a writing-pad, and biting +the already well-chewed end of a pen.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Outside, in the smoke-laden atmosphere of the store, +amidst the busy click of poker chips and clink of glasses, +Wild Bill was talking earnestly to Minky, who was standing +behind the counter.</p> +<p>They had been talking for some time. Minky’s eyes frequently +wandered in the direction of a table where four +strangers were playing. But no one could have guessed, in +his quiet scrutiny, the anxiety that lay behind it.</p> +<p>“You <i>must</i> git out to-night?” he inquired of his hawk-visaged +friend.</p> +<p>“Sure,” responded Bill absently.</p> +<p>“High finance?”</p> +<p>Bill nodded, with the ghost of a smile.</p> +<p>“A gang of rich guys,” he said. “They’re gathering at +Spawn City for a financial descent on Suffering Creek. +They’re all minin’ folk. Guess they’ll be yearning for a big +game.”</p> +<p>“When’ll you git back?”</p> +<p>“Noon, day after to-morrow, maybe.”</p> +<p>Bill had turned away, and was abstractedly contemplating +the strangers. Suddenly he turned again, and his steely eyes +fixed themselves on the troubled Minky.</p> +<p>“Say, things is gettin’ on your nerves. It ain’t yet. +Those folks is only lookin’ fer pointers.”</p> +<p>“An’ findin’ ’em?”</p> +<p>“Mebbe. But it takes time. Say, we ain’t dead in Suffering +Creek yet. I’ll be around before––”</p> +<p>“Trouble gits busy.” Minky laughed hollowly.</p> +<p>“Sure. I’m most gener’ly around when trouble––gits +busy. I’m made like that.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad.”</p> +<p>Bill drank up the remains of his drink and began to move +away.</p> +<p>“Wher’ you going now?” inquired Minky.</p> +<p>“See my plugs fed an’ watered, and then gittin’ around +my shack. I’ve got to see some folks before I hit the trail. +Say, I ain’t got big enough wad. Best hand me a couple o’ +thousand.”</p> +<p>Minky dived under his counter, and, after fumbling for +some time, reappeared with the required sum in United +States currency.</p> +<p>“Good luck,” he said, as he passed it across the counter +cautiously.</p> +<p>“Thanks. An’, say––see the boys keep a close eye on +Zip––an’ the kids. So long.”</p> +<p>He moved away, but instead of passing out of the front +door he disappeared into the dining-room at the back.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV_THE_TRUST_AT_WORK' id='CHAPTER_XV_THE_TRUST_AT_WORK'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>THE TRUST AT WORK</h3> +</div> +<p>Wild Bill’s hut presented an unusually animated appearance. +The customary oil-lamp was receiving the support +of two vilely smelling yellow candles. The additional light +thus obtained was hardly in proportion to the offensiveness +of the added aroma. Still, the remoter corners of the place +were further lit up, and the rough faces of the four occupants +of the room were thrown into stronger relief.</p> +<p>But the animation of the scene was rather a matter of +visual illusion than actuality. For Wild Bill, in his right +of proprietorship, was lounging on his blanketed bunk, while +Toby’s inanimate form robbed him of the extreme foot of +it. Sunny Oak was hugging to himself what comfort there +was to be obtained from the broken chair, which usually +supported Bill’s wash bucket, set well within elbow-reach +of the table on which the illuminations had been placed. +Sandy Joyce with unusual humility––possibly the result of +his encounter with Birdie––was crouching on an upturned +cracker box.</p> +<p>There was a wonderful intentness, expectancy in every +eye except Bill’s. In Toby’s there was triumphal anticipation, +in Sandy’s a conscious assurance. Bill had just come +in from preparing his horses for their night journey, and, +with an hour and more to spare, and the prospect of a long +night before him, was anxious to take things as easy as +possible.</p> +<p>Reaching his arms above his head he pushed his hands +behind it for support, and opened the proceedings.</p> +<p>“You fellers been busy?” he inquired.</p> +<p>And promptly every mouth opened to give proud assurance. +But the gambler checked the impulse with grating +sarcasm.</p> +<p>“I ain’t got but one pair ears,” he said, “so you’ll each +wait till you’re ast questions. Bein’ president o’ this yer +Trust I’ll do most of the yappin’,” he added grimly. “I’m +goin’ away to-night fer a couple o’ days. That’s why this +meetin’s called. An’ the object of it is to fix things right +for Zip, an’ to ’range so he gits a chance to put ’em through. +Now, I seen enough of him––an’ others,” with a swift, +withering glance in Sunny’s direction, “to know he’s right +up again a proposition that ain’t no one man affair. Combination +is the only bluff to fix them kids of his right. +We’ve most of us got ideas, but like as not they ain’t all +we guess ’em to be. In some cases ther’ ain’t a doubt of it. +Without sayin’ nothin’ of anybody, I sure wouldn’t trust +Toby here to raise a crop of well-grown weeds––without +help. An’ Sandy, fer all he’s a married man, don’t seem +to have prospered in his knowledge of kids. As for Sunny, +well, the sight of him around a kid ain’t wholesome. An’ +as fer me, guess I may know a deal about cookin’ a jack-pot, +but I’d hate to raise the bet about any other kind o’ pot. +Seein’ things is that way with us we’ll git to work systematic. +Ther’ ain’t a gamble in life that ain’t worked the better fer +a system. So, before we get busy, I’ll ast you, Sunny, to +grab the grip under my bunk, an’ you’ll find in it, som’eres +under the card decks, paper an’ ink. You’ll jest fix them +right, an’ take things down, so we don’t make no sort o’ +mistake.”</p> +<p>He waited until Sunny had procured the necessary writing +materials and set them out on the table. Then he went on +in his strong, autocratic fashion.</p> +<p>“Now,” he said, fixing his eyes on Toby. “You’se fellers +has had time to make inquiries, an’ knowing you fer +bright boys I don’t guess you lost any time. The subject is +the raisin’ of kids. Mebbe Toby, you bein’ the youngest +member of this doggone Trust, an’ a real smart lad, mebbe +you’ll open your face an’ give us pointers.”</p> +<p>By the time he finished speaking every eye was turned +on the triumphantly grinning Toby.</p> +<p>“I sure will,” he said, with a confidence surprising in a +man who had been so bashful in his interview with Birdie. +Just for a moment one of his great hands went up to his +cheek, and he gently smoothed it, as though the recollection +of the slap he had received in the process of gathering information +was being used to inspire his memory. “Y’see,” +he began, “I got friends around Suffering Creek what knows +all about kids. So––so I jest asted ’em, Mr. President.”</p> +<p>He cleared his throat and stared up at the roof. He was +evidently struggling hard with memory.</p> +<p>Bill lolled over and drew a closely written document from +his pocket and began to peruse it. Sandy tapped the floor +impatiently with one foot. He was annoyed that his evidence +was not demanded first. Sunny sat with pen poised, +waiting for the word to write.</p> +<p>Toby’s eyes grew troubled.</p> +<p>“What they chiefly need,” he murmured, his face becoming +more and more intent, “what they––chiefly––need––is––” +He was laboring hard. Then suddenly his face +brightened into a foolish smile. “I got it,” he cried triumphantly, +“I got it. What kids need is beef bones an’ soap!”</p> +<p>In the deathly silence that followed his statement Toby +looked for approving glances. But he looked in vain. +Sunny had dropped his pen and made a blot on his paper. +Sandy’s annoyance had changed into malicious triumph. +But the president of the Trust made no move. He merely +let his small eyes emit a steely glance over the top of his +paper, directed with stern disapproval on the hopeful “remittance” +man.</p> +<p>“An’ what ‘bug-house,’” he inquired, with biting sarcasm, +“is your bright friends spendin’ their vacation at?”</p> +<p>Toby flushed to the roots of his unkempt hair. The +sudden death of his triumph was almost tragic. His face +fell, and his heavy jaw dropped in pathetic astonishment. +But it was not Bill’s sarcasm alone that so bit into his bones, +it was the jeering light he witnessed in Sandy’s eyes, combined +with the undisguised ridicule of Sunny’s open grin. +His blood began to rise; he felt it tingling in the great extremities +of his long arms. The obvious retort of the witless +was surging through his veins and driving him.</p> +<p>But the Trust president was talking, and the calm of +coming storm was held for a moment. But it is doubtful if +the object of his harangue grasped anything of his meaning, +so great was his anger against his grinning comrades.</p> +<p>“Beef bones an’ soap!” cried Bill harshly, at the unheeding +man. “If they was asses bones we’d sure only need to +open up your family mausoleum to git enough bones to +raise a farm o’ babbies on. I’d like to say right here, the +feller wot don’t know the natural use o’ soap is a danger +to the health an’ sanitary fixin’s o’ this yer camp. Beef +bones an’ soap!” he went on, as though the very combination +of the words was an offense to his gastronomical senses. +“You pumpkin-faced idjut, you mush-headed tank o’ wisdom, +you masterpiece of under-done mule brain, how in +sizzlin’ torment you’re figgerin’ to ladle soap into the vitals +of inoffendin’ babbies, an’ push beef bones through their +innercent stummicks, ’ud par’lize the brains of every science +society in this yer country to know, an’ drive the whole world +o’ physic dealers barkin’ like a pack o’ mangy coyotes wi’ +their bellies flappin’ in a nor’-east blizzard. Gosh-dang it, +you misfortunate offspring of Jonah parents, we’re settin’ +out to raise kids. We ain’t startin’ a patent manure fact’ry, +nor runnin’ a Chinese hand laundry––”</p> +<p>But the president’s picturesque flow was lost in a sudden +commotion. The calm was broken, and the storm burst. +The weight of ridicule in his comrades’ faces was too much +for Toby, and he leapt from the foot of the bunk on which +he was sitting. He projected himself with more force than +cunning in the direction of the grinning loafer, bent on +bodily hurt to his victim. But his leap fell short by reason +of Sunny’s agility. The latter snatched up the oil-lamp +and dodged behind the table, with the result that Toby’s +great body sent the candles flying, and itself fell amidst the +legs of the upset table. He was on his feet in an instant, +however, ready to continue with all his might his vengeful +pursuit. But the heavy hand of Bill fell upon his coat collar +with irresistible force, and, with a jerk, he was hurled across +the room out of harm’s way.</p> +<p>“Ther’s more hell to the back o’ that if you come ag’in, +Toby,” the gambler cried, with cold threat. “An’ as for +you, Sunny,” he went on, turning on the Trust secretary, +“I’ll set the boys to wash you clean in Minky’s trough if +you so much as smile ag’in till we’re through. Fix them +candles, an’ sit right down––the lot of you.”</p> +<p>He stood for a moment eyeing the lurid face of Toby. +Nor did he move until the burly remittance man had pulled +himself together. He watched him settle himself again on +the foot of the bunk, passive but inwardly raging. Then, +as the candles were once more replaced in the bottles and +lit, he calmly picked up his document and returned to his +couch. The whole episode passed in a few moments, and +outward equanimity was quickly restored. Such was the +hot, impulsive nature of these men.</p> +<p>The president lost no time in proceeding with the business +in hand. He addressed his friends generally.</p> +<p>“I ain’t goin’ to say a word ’bout the elegant information +gathered by our bright junior member,” he said slowly. +“You’ve all heard it, an’ I guess that’s sure all that’s needed. +Wher’ he got it, is his funeral––or should be. Leastways, +if it ain’t satisfact’ry it shows laudable enterprise on his part––which +is good for this yer Trust.”</p> +<p>He paused and referred to his document. And in that +moment, burning to further crush Toby, and add to his own +glorification by reason of the superiority of his information, +Sandy cleared his throat to speak. This was to be the moment +of his triumph. He meant to wipe out the memory +of past failures in one sweep.</p> +<p>“I consulted a lady friend of mine––” he began. But +Bill waved him to silence.</p> +<p>“You needn’t worry nothin’,” he said coldly. “I got it +all wrote down here.”</p> +<p>“How you got it?” cried Sandy. “I ain’t said it.”</p> +<p>Bill’s eyes met the other’s angry glance with that cold +irony that was so much a part of his nature.</p> +<p>“Guess your leddy friend wrote it,” he said. And, as he +heard the words, the last of Toby’s ill-humor vanished. His +stupid face wreathed itself into a broad grin as he watched +the blank look of disappointment spread itself over Sandy’s +face.</p> +<p>“Listen here, all of you,” the president went on, quite +undisturbed by the feelings he had stirred in the widower. +“This is wot the leddy says. She’s writ it all so ther’ can’t +be no mistake.”</p> +<p>Then he began to read from his document with careful +distinctness.</p> +<p>“‘Don’t take no notice of what I told Toby Jenks an’ +Sandy Joyce. I jest fooled ’em proper. Toby’s a nice boy, +but he ain’t got brains enough to kep himself warm on a +summer day, so I didn’t waste nothin’ on him, ’cep’ time. +As fer Sandy, he’s sech a con-se-quenshul––’ Have I +got that word right, Sunny?” Bill inquired blandly of the +secretary.</p> +<p>“You sure have,” grinned Sunny, enjoying himself.</p> +<p>“‘Sech a consequenshul fool of an idjut man,’” Bill read +on, with a glance into Sandy’s scarlet face, “‘that I hadn’t +no time but to push him out of this dinin’-room.’”</p> +<p>“The miser’ble hash-slinger,” exploded the exasperated +Sandy, springing to his feet, his eyes blazing with impotent +fury.</p> +<p>“Sit down,” commanded the president. “This yere is a +proper meetin’ of the Zip Trust, an’ don’t call fer no langwidge +ag’in a defenseless woman.”</p> +<p>“Then she ain’t no right to say things,” cried the outraged +man.</p> +<p>“She ain’t. She’s wrote ’em,” retorted Bill, in a manner +that left nothing more to be said. “‘Consequenshul,’ was +the word,” he went on, rolling it off his tongue as though +he enjoyed its flavor, “an’ I allow it must have took her +thinking some to be so elegant. You’ll set,” he added, +glancing up severely at the still standing man.</p> +<p>Sandy dropped back on his box, but he was anything but +appeased. His dignity was hurt sorely. He, who understood +women so well, to be treated like this. Then he tried +to console himself with the opinion that after all Birdie was +not exactly a woman, only a “pot-rustler.” But Bill was +pushing the business forward. He wanted to get the matter +in hand settled.</p> +<p>“Here,” he went on, “this is how she says of them kids: +‘You can’t jest lay down reg’lations fer feedin’. Jest feed +’em natural, an’ if they git a pain dose ’em with physic. +Ther’s some things you must kep ’em from gittin’ into their +stummicks. Kindlin’ wood is ridiculous fer them to chew, +ther’ ain’t no goodness in it, an’ it’s li’ble to run slivvers into +their vitals. Sulphur matches ain’t good fer ’em to suck. +I ain’t got nothing to say ’bout the sulphur, but the phospherus +is sure injurious, an’, anyway, it’s easy settin’ ’emselves +afire. Kids is ter’ble fond of sand, an’ gravel, an’ +mud, inside an’ out. Outside ain’t no harm, ’cep’ it keps you +washin’ ’em, but inside’s likely to give ’em colic. Don’t let +’em climb on tables an’ things. Ther’ never was a kid who +could climb on to a table but what could fall off. Don’t +let ’em lick stove-black off a hot cookstove. This don’t need +explainin’ to folk of ord’nary intelligence. Coal is for +makin’ a fire, an’ ain’t good eatin’. Boilin’ water has its +uses, but it ain’t good play fer kids. Guns an’ knives ain’t +needed fer kids playin’ Injun. These things is jest general +notions to kep in your head fer ord’nary guidance. Kids’ +clothes needs washin’ every Monday––with soap. Mebbe +you’ll need to wash every day if kids is frolicsome. Bow-ties +is for Sunday wear. Girl’s hair needs braidin’ every +night, an’ don’t leave chewin’ t’baccer around. Kids is sure +to eat it. Best give ’em physic every Saturday night, an’ +bath ’em Sunday mornin’. Don’t use no hand scrubber. If +you can’t git through the dirt by ord’nary washin’, best leave +it. Kids is tender-skinned anyway. After their bath set +’em out in the sun, an’ give ’em an elegant Bible talk. Ther’ +ain’t nothin’ like a Bible talk fer kids. It sets ’em wise to +religion early, an’ gives ’em a good impression o’ the folks +raisin’ ’em. Ef they ast too many questions you need to +answer ’em with discretion––’”</p> +<p>“Wot’s she mean by that?” asked Toby, all interest in +the mass of detail.</p> +<p>“Mean? Why––” Bill paused considering.</p> +<p>Sunny looked up from his writing.</p> +<p>“Why, don’t say fool things fer the sake of gassin’!” he +explained readily. “Everything you tell ’em needs a moral.”</p> +<p>“Moral?” murmured Toby vaguely.</p> +<p>“Yes, moral.”</p> +<p>But Sandy saw a chance of restoring his fallen prestige, +and promptly seized upon it.</p> +<p>“Moral,” he said, beaming with self-satisfaction, “is +handin’ a lesson all wrop up in fancy words so’s to set folks +cussin’ like mad they can’t understand it, an’ hatin’ themselves +when they’re told its meanin’. Now, if I was goin’ +to show you what a blamed idjut you was without jest +sayin’ so––”</p> +<p>“Shut up!” cried Bill. And without waiting for a reply +he read on, “‘––with discretion. If you treat kids proper +they mostly raise themselves, which is jest Natur’. Don’t +worry yourself, ’less they fall into a swill-barrel, or do +some ridiculous stunt o’ that natur’––an’ don’t worry <i>them</i>. +Ther’ ain’t no sense to anybody goin’ around with notions +they ken flap their wings, an’ cluck like a broody hen; an’ +scratchin’ worms is positive ridiculous. Help ’em when they +need help, otherwise let ’em fall around till they knock sense +into theirselves. Jest let ’em be kids as long as Natur’ fancies, +so’s when they git growed up, which they’re goin’ to +do anyways, they’ll likely make elegant men an’ women. +Ef you set ’em under glass cases they’ll sure get fixed into +things what glass cases is made to hold––that’s images. I +don’t guess I kin tell you nothin’ more ’bout kids, seein’ I +ain’t a mother, but jest a pot-wolloper.’”</p> +<p>Bill folded the paper as he finished reading, and silently +handed it across to the secretary. Somehow he seemed +impressed with the information the paper contained. The +whole meeting seemed impressed. Even Sandy had no +comment to offer, while Toby resorted to biting his forefinger +and gazing stupidly at the opposite wall. It was +Sunny who finally broke the silence.</p> +<p>“Guess I’ll jest writ’ out the chief points fer Zip’s guidance?” +he asked.</p> +<p>Bill nodded.</p> +<p>“That’s it, sure,” he agreed. “Jest the chief points. +Then you’ll hand it to Zip to-morrer mornin’, an’, ef he +needs it, you can explain wot he ain’t wise to. I’d like to +say right here that this hash-slinger has got savvee. Great +big savvee, an’ a heap of it. I ain’t a hell of a lot on the kid +racket, they mostly make me sick to death. In a manner o’ +speakin’, I don’t care a cuss for Zip nor his kids. Ef they +drown theirselves in a swill-bar’l it’s his funeral, an’ their +luck, an’ it don’t cut no ice with me. But, cuss me, ef I +ken stand to see a low-down skunk like this yer James come +it over a feller-citizen o’ Suffering Creek, an’ it’s our duty to +see Zip gits thro’. I’m sore on James. Sore as hell. I ain’t +no Bible-thumpin’, mush-hearted, push-me-amongst-the-angels +feller anyways. An’ you boys has got to git right +on to that, quick.” He glared round at his friends defiantly, +as though daring them to do otherwise. But as nobody gave +a sign of doubt on the subject, he had no alternative but to +continue. “I’m jest sore on James an’––” He hesitated +for the fraction of a second, but went on almost immediately. +“––ther’ may come a time when the play gits busy. Get +me? Wal,” as Sandy and Sunny nodded assent, and Toby +sat all eyes for the speaker, “this yere Trust is a goin’ concern, +an’, I take it, we mean business. So, though we ain’t +runnin’ a noospaper, maybe we’ll need a fightin’ editor after +all. If we need a fightin’ editor we’ll sure need a fightin’ +staff. That’s jest logic. I’ll ast you right here, is you boys +that fightin’ staff? If so, guess I’m fightin’ editor. How?”</p> +<p>His eyes were on Sunny Oak. And that individual’s +unwashed face broadened into a cheerful grin.</p> +<p>“Fightin’ don’t come under the headin’ of work––proper,” +he said. “Guess I’m in.”</p> +<p>Bill turned on Sandy.</p> +<p>“You ain’t got the modest beauty o’ the vi’let,” he said, +with saturnine levity. “How you feelin’?”</p> +<p>“Sure good,” exclaimed the widower. “But I’d feel +better lettin’ air into the carkis of James.”</p> +<p>“Good,” muttered Bill. “An’ you, Toby?” he went on, +turning on the “remittance” man. “You’re a heap fat, an’ +need somethin’ to get it down. How you fancy things?”</p> +<p>“I’d as lief scrap ’side these scalliwags as ag’in ’em,” he +replied, indicating his companions with an amiable grin.</p> +<p>Bill nodded.</p> +<p>“This yere Trust is a proper an’ well-found enterprise,” +he said gravely. “As fer Minky, I guess we can count him +in most anything that ain’t dishonest. So––wal, this is jest +precautions. Ther’s nuthin’ doin’ yet. But you see,” he +added, with a shadowy grin, “life’s mostly chock-full of +fancy things we don’t figger on, an’ anyway I can’t set +around easy when folks gets gay. I’ll be back to hum day +after to-morrer, or the next day, an’, meanwhiles, you’ll see +things are right with Zip. An’ don’t kep far away from +Minky’s store when strangers is around. Minky’s a good +friend o’ mine, an’ a good friend to most o’ you, so––well, +guns is good med’cine ef folks git gay, an’ are yearnin’ to +handle dust what ain’t theirs.”</p> +<p>“Them strangers?” suggested Sandy. “Is––?”</p> +<p>Bill shrugged.</p> +<p>“Strangers is strangers, an’ gold-dust is gold-dust,” he +said shrewdly. “An’ when the two git together ther’s +gener’ly a disease sets in that guns is the best med’cine for. +That’s ’bout all.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI_ZIPS_GRATITUDE' id='CHAPTER_XVI_ZIPS_GRATITUDE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>ZIP’S GRATITUDE</h3> +</div> +<p>What a complicated machinery human nature is! It +seems absurd that a strongly defined character should be just +as full of surprises as the weakest; that the fantastic, the +unexpected, even the illogical, are as surely found in the one +as in the other. It would be so nice, so simple and easy, to +sit down and foreshadow a certain course of action for a +certain individual under a given stress; and to be sure that, +in human psychology, two and two make precisely four, no +more and no less.</p> +<p>But such is not the case. In human psychology two and +two can just as easily make ten, or fifteen, or any other +number; and prophecy in the matter is about as great a +waste of time as worrying over the possibilities of the +weather. The constitution of the nervous system cannot be +estimated until put to the test. And when the first test has +revealed to us the long-awaited secret, it is just as likely to be +flatly contradicted by the second. The whole thing is the +very mischief.</p> +<p>Those who knew him would have been quite certain that +in Scipio’s case there could only be one result from the +addition of the two and two of his psychology. In a man +of his peculiar mental caliber it might well seem that there +could be no variation to the sum. And the resulting prophecy +would necessarily be an evil, or at least a pessimistic one. +He was so helpless, so lacking in all the practicalities of +human life. He seemed to have one little focus that was +quite incapable of expansion, of adaptability. That focus +was almost entirely filled by his Jessie’s image, with just a +small place in it reserved for his twins. Take the woman +out of it, and, to all intents and purposes, he looked out upon +a dead white blank.</p> +<p>Every thought in his inadequate brain was centered round +his wife. She was the mainspring of his every emotion. +His love for her was his whole being. It was something so +great and strong that it enveloped all his senses. She was +his, and he was incapable of imagining life without her. +She was his, and only death could alter so obvious a fact. +She was his vanguard in life’s battle, a support that shored +up his confidence and courage to face, with a calm determination, +whatever that battle had to offer him.</p> +<p>But with Jessie’s going all prophecy would have remained +unfulfilled. Scipio did not go under in the manner to have +been expected of him. After the first shock, outwardly at +least, there appeared to be no change in him. His apparently +colorless personality drifted on in precisely the same amiable, +inconsequent manner. What his moments of solitude +were, only he knew. The agony of grief through which he +passed, the long sleepless nights, the heartbreaking sense of +loss, these things lay hidden under his meaningless exterior, +which, however, defied the revelation of his secret.</p> +<p>After the passing of the first madness which had sent him +headlong in pursuit of his wife, a sort of mental evolution set +in. That unadaptable focus of his promptly became adaptable. +And where it had been incapable of expansion, it +slowly began to expand. It grew, and, whereas before his +Jessie had occupied full place, his twins now became the +central feature.</p> +<p>The original position was largely reversed, but it was +chiefly the growth of the images of his children, and not the +diminishing of the figure of his wife. And with this new +aspect came calmness. Nothing could change his great love +for his erring Jessie, nothing could wipe out his sense of +loss; his grief was always with him. But whereas, judged +by the outward seeming of his character, he should have been +crushed under Fate’s cruel blow, an inverse process seemed +to have set in. He was lifted, exalted to the almost sublime +heights where his beacon-fire of duty shone.</p> +<p>Yes, but the whole thing was so absurdly twisted. The +care of his children occupied his entire time now, so that his +work, in seeking that which was required to support them, +had to be entirely neglected. He had fifty dollars between +him and starvation for his children. Nor could he see his +way to earning more. The struggles of his unpractical mind +were painful. It was a problem quite beyond him. He +struggled nobly with it, but he saw no light ahead, and, with +that curious singleness of purpose that was his, he eventually +abandoned the riddle, and devoted his whole thought to the +children. Any other man would probably have decided to +hire himself out to work on the claims of other men, and so +hope to earn sufficient to hire help in the care of the twins, +but not so Scipio. He believed that their future well-being +lay in his claim. If that could not be worked, then there +was no other way.</p> +<p>He had just finished clearing up his hut, and the twins +were busy with their games outside in the sun, aided by their +four-legged yellow companion, whose voice was always to be +heard above their excited squabblings and laughter. So +Sunny Oak found things when he slouched up to the hut with +the result of the Trust’s overnight meeting in his pocket.</p> +<p>The loafer came in with a grin of good-nature on his +perspiring and dirty face. He was feeling very self-righteous. +It was pleasant to think he was doing a good work. +So much so that the effort of doing it did not draw the usual +protest from him.</p> +<p>He glanced about him with a tolerant eye, feeling that +henceforth, under the guidance of the Trust he represented, +Scipio’s condition would certainly be improved. But somehow +his mental patronage received a quiet set-back. The +hut looked so different. There was a wholesome cleanliness +about it that was quite staggering. Sunny remembered it as +it was when he had last seen it under his régime, and the +contrast was quite startling. Scipio might be incapable of +organization, but he certainly could scour and scrub.</p> +<p>Sunny raked at his beard with his unclean finger-nails. +Yes, Zip must have spent hours of unremitting labor on the +place since he had seen it last.</p> +<p>However, he lost no time in carrying out his mission.</p> +<p>“Kind o’ busy, Zip?” he greeted the little man pleasantly.</p> +<p>Scipio raised a pair of shadowed eyes from the inside of +the well-scoured fry-pan he was wiping.</p> +<p>“I’m mostly through fixin’ these chores––for awhiles,” +he replied quietly. Then he nodded in the direction of the +children’s voices. “Guess I’m goin’ to take the kiddies down +to the creek to clean ’em. They need cleanin’ a heap.”</p> +<p>Sunny nodded gravely. He was thinking of those things +he had so carefully written out.</p> +<p>“They sure do,” he agreed. “Bath oncet a week. But +not use a hand-scrubber, though,” he added, under a wave of +memory. “Kids is tender skinned,” he explained.</p> +<p>“Pore little bits,” the father murmured tenderly. Then +he went on more directly to his visitor. “But they do need +washin’. It’s kind o’ natural fer kids to fancy dirt. After +that,” he went on, his eyes drifting over to a pile of dirty +clothes stacked on a chair, “I’ll sure have to do a bit of +washing.” He set the frying-pan down beside the stove and +moved over to the clothes, picking up the smallest pair of +child’s knickers imaginable. They were black with dirt, and +he held them up before Sunny’s wondering eyes and smiled +pathetically. “Ridic’lous small,” he said, with an odd twist +of his pale lips. “Pore little gal.” Then his scanty eyebrows +drew together perplexedly, and that curious expression +of helplessness that was his crept into his eyes. “Them +frills an’ bits git me some,” he said in a puzzled way. +“Y’see, I ain’t never used an iron much, to speak of. It’s +kind of awkward using an iron.”</p> +<p>Sunny nodded. Somehow he wished he knew something +about using an iron. Birdie had said nothing about it.</p> +<p>“Guess you hot it on the stove,” he hazarded, after a +moment’s thought.</p> +<p>“Yes, I’d say you hot it,” agreed Scipio. “It’s after +that.”</p> +<p>“Yes.” Sunny found himself thinking hard. “You +got an iron?” he inquired presently.</p> +<p>“Sure––two.” Scipio laid the knickers aside. “You +hot one while you use the other.”</p> +<p>Sunny nodded again.</p> +<p>“You see,” the other went on, considering, “these pretties +needs washin’ first. Well, then I guess they need to dry. +Now, ’bout starch? ’Most everything needs starch. At +least, ther’ always seems to be starch around washing-time. +Y’see, I ain’t wise to starch.”</p> +<p>“Blamed if I am either,” agreed Sunny. Then his more +practical mind asserted itself. “Say, starch kind o’ fixes +things hard, don’t it?” he inquired.</p> +<p>“It sure does.”</p> +<p>Scipio was trying to follow out his companion’s train of +thought.</p> +<p>Sunny suddenly sat down on the edge of the table and +grinned triumphantly.</p> +<p>“Don’t use it,” he cried, with finality. “You need to +remember kiddies is tender skinned, anyway. Starch’ll +sure make ’em sore.”</p> +<p>Scipio brightened.</p> +<p>“Why, yes,” he agreed, with relief. “I didn’t jest think +about that. I’m a heap obliged, Sunny. You always seem +to help me out.”</p> +<p>The flush of pleasure which responded to the little man’s +tribute was quite distinguishable through the dirt on the +loafer’s face.</p> +<p>“Don’t mention it,” he said embarrassedly. “It’s easy, +two thinkin’ together. ’Sides, I’ve tho’t a heap ’bout things +since––since I started to fix your kiddies right. Y’see, it +ain’t easy.”</p> +<p>“No, it just ain’t. That is, y’see, I ain’t grumbling,” +Scipio went on hurriedly, lest his meaning should be mistaken. +“If you’re stuck on kiddies, like me, it don’t worry +you nuthin’. Kind of makes it pleasant thinkin’ how you +can fix things fer ’em, don’t it? But it sure ain’t easy doing +things just right. That’s how I mean. An’ don’t it make +you feel good when you do fix things right fer ’em? But I +don’t guess that comes often, though,” he added, with a sigh. +“Y’see, I’m kind of awkward. I ain’t smart, like you or +Bill.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Bill’s real smart,” Sunny began. Then he checked +himself. He was to keep Bill’s name out of this matter, and +he just remembered it in time. So he veered round quickly. +“But I ain’t smart,” he declared. “Anything I know I got +from a leddy friend. Y’see, women-folk knows a heap ’bout +kiddies, which, I ’lows, is kind o’ natural.”</p> +<p>He fumbled in his pocket and drew out several sheets of +paper. Arranging them carefully, he scanned the scrawling +writing on them.</p> +<p>“Guess you’re a scholar, so I won’t need to read what I +writ down here. Mebbe you’ll be able to read it yourself. +I sure ’low the spellin’ ain’t jest right, but you’ll likely understand +it. Y’see, the writin’s clear, which is the chief thing. +I was allus smart with a pen. Now, this yer is jest how our––my––leddy +frien’ reckons kids needs fixin’. It ain’t reasonable +to guess everything’s down ther’. They’re jest sort +o’ principles which you need to foller. Maybe they’ll help +you some. Guess if you foller them reg’lations your kids’ll +sure grow proper.”</p> +<p>He handed the papers across, and Scipio took them only +too willingly. His thanks, his delight, was in the sudden +lighting up of his whole face. But he did not offer a verbal +expression of his feelings until he had read down the +first page. Then he looked up with eyes that were almost +moist with gratitude.</p> +<p>“Say,” he began, “I can’t never tell you how ’bliged I am, +Sunny. These things have bothered me a whole heap. It’s +kind of you, Sunny, it is, sure. I’m that obliged I––”</p> +<p>“Say,” broke in the loafer, “that sort o’ talk sort o’ +worrits my brain. Cut it out.” Then he grinned. “Y’see, +I ain’t used to thinkin’ hard. It’s mostly in the natur’ o’ +work, an’––well, work an’ me ain’t been friends for years.”</p> +<p>But Scipio was devouring the elaborated information +Sunny had so laboriously set out. The loafer’s picturesque +mind had drawn heavily on its resources, and Birdie’s principles +had undergone a queer metamorphosis. So much so, +that she would now have had difficulty in recognizing them. +Sunny watched him reading with smiling interest. He was +looking for those lights and shades which he hoped his illuminating +phraseology would inspire. But Scipio was in +deadly earnest. Phraseology meant nothing to him. It was +the guidance he was looking for and devouring hungrily. +At last he looked up, his pale eyes glowing.</p> +<p>“That’s fine,” he exclaimed, with such a wonderful relief +that it was impossible to doubt his appreciation. Then he +glanced round the room. He found some pins and promptly +pinned the sheets on the cupboard door. Then he stood +back and surveyed them. “You’re a good friend, Sunny,” +he said earnestly. “Now I can’t never make a mistake. +There it is all wrote ther’. An’ when I ain’t sure ’bout nothing, +why, I only jest got to read what you wrote. I don’t +guess the kiddies can reach them there. Y’see, kiddies is +queer ’bout things. Likely they’d get busy tearing those +sheets right up, an’ then wher’d I be? I’ll start right in now +on those reg’lations, an’ you’ll see how proper the kiddies’ll +grow.” He turned and held out his hand to his benefactor. +“I’m ’bliged, Sunny; I sure can’t never thank you enough.”</p> +<p>Sunny disclaimed such a profusion of gratitude, but his +dirty face shone with good-natured satisfaction as he gripped +the little man’s hand. And after discussing a few details +and offering a few suggestions, which, since the acceptance +of his efforts, seemed to trip off his tongue with an easy confidence +which surprised even himself, he took his departure. +And he left the hut with the final picture of Scipio, still +studying his pages of regulations with the earnestness of a +divinity student studying his Bible, filling his strongly imaginative +brain. He felt good. He felt so good that he was +sorry there was nothing more to be done until Wild Bill’s +return.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII_JESSIES_LETTER' id='CHAPTER_XVII_JESSIES_LETTER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>JESSIE’S LETTER</h3> +</div> +<p>Scipio’s long day was almost over. The twins were in +bed, and the little man was lounging for a few idle moments +in the doorway of his hut. Just now an armistice in his +conflict of thought was declared. For the moment the +exigencies of his immediate duties left him floundering in +the wilderness of his desolate heart at the mercy of the pain +of memory. All day the claims of his children had upborne +him. He had had little enough time to think of anything +else, and thus, with his peculiar sense of duty militating +in his favor, he had found strong support for the burden +of his grief.</p> +<p>But now with thought and muscles relaxed, and the long +night stretching out its black wings before him, the gray +shadow had risen uppermost in his mind once more, and a +weight of unutterable loneliness and depression bore down +his spirit.</p> +<p>His faded eyes were staring out at the dazzling reflections +of the setting sun upon the silvery crests of the distant +mountain peaks. In every direction upon the horizon +stretched the wonderful fire of sunset. Tongues of flame, +steely, glowing, ruddy, shot up and athwart the picture in +ever-changing hues before his unseeing eyes. It was all +lost upon him. He stared mechanically, while his busy brain +struggled amongst a tangle of memories and thought pictures. +The shadows of his misfortune were hard besetting +him.</p> +<p>Amidst his other troubles had come a fresh realization +which filled him with something like panic. He had been +forced to purchase stores for his household. To do so he +had had to pay out the last of his fourth ten-dollar bill. His +exchequer was thus reduced to ten dollars. Ten dollars +stood between him and starvation for his children. Nor +could he see the smallest prospect of obtaining more. His +imagination was stirred. He saw in fancy the specter of +starvation looming, hungrily stretching out its gaunt arms, +clutching at his two helpless infants. He had no thought +for himself. It did not occur to him that he, too, must +starve. He only pictured the wasting of the children’s +round little bodies, he heard their weakly whimperings at the +ravages of hunger’s pangs. He saw the tottering gait as +they moved about, unconscious of the trouble that was theirs, +only knowing that they were hungry. Their requests for +food rang in his ears, maddening him with the knowledge of +his helplessness. He saw them growing weaker day by day. +He saw their wondering, wistful, uncomprehending eyes, so +bright and beautiful now, growing bigger and bigger as their +soft cheeks fell away. He––</p> +<p>He moved nervously. He shifted his position, vainly trying +to rid himself of the haunting vision. But panic was +upon him. Starvation––that was it. Starvation! God! +how terrible was the thought. Starvation! And yet, before––before +Jessie had gone he had been no better off. +He had had only fifty dollars. But somehow it was all +different then. She was there, and he had had confidence. +Now––now he had none. Then she was there to manage, +and he was free to work upon his claim.</p> +<p>Ah, his claim. That was it. The claim lay idle now +with all its hidden wealth. How he wanted that wealth +which he so believed to be there. No, he could not work +his claim. The children could not be left alone all day. +That was out of the question. They must be cared for. +How––how?</p> +<p>His brain grew hot, and he broke out into a sweat. His +head drooped forward until his unshaven chin rested upon +his sunken chest. His eyes were lusterless, his two rough +hands clenched nervously. Just for one weak moment he +longed for forgetfulness. He longed to shut out those +hideous visions with which he was pursued. He longed for +peace, for rest from the dull aching of his poor torn heart. +His courage was at a low ebb. Something of the nature of +the hour had got hold of him. It was sundown. There was +the long black night between him and the morrow. He felt +so helpless, so utterly incapable.</p> +<p>But his moment passed. He raised his head. He stood +erect from the door casing. He planted his feet firmly, and +his teeth gritted. The spirit of the man rose again. He +must not give way. He would not. The children should +not starve while there was food in the world. If he had +no money, he had two strong hands and––</p> +<p>He started. A sudden noise behind him turned him facing +about with bristling nerves. What was it? It sounded +like the falling of a heavy weight. And yet it did not sound +like anything big. The room was quite still, and looked, in +the growing dusk, just the same as usual.</p> +<p>Suddenly the children leapt into his thought, and he +started for the inner room. But he drew up short as he +passed behind the table. A large stone was lying at his feet, +and a folded paper was tied about it. He glanced round at +the window and––understood.</p> +<p>He stooped and picked the missile up. Then he moved +to the window and looked out. There was no one about. +The evening shadows were rapidly deepening, but he was +sure there was no one about. He turned back to the door +where there was still sufficient light for his purposes. He +sat down upon the sill with the stone in his hand. He was +staring at the folded paper.</p> +<p>Yes, he understood. And instinctively he knew that the +paper was to bring him fresh disaster. He knew it was a +letter. And he knew whence it came.</p> +<p>At last he looked up. The mystery of the letter remained. +It was there in his hand, waiting the severing of the string +that held it, but somehow as yet he lacked the courage to +read it. And so some moments passed. But at last he +sighed and looked at it again. Then he reached round to his +hip for his sheath-knife. The stone dropped to the ground, +and with it the outer covering of the letter. With trembling +fingers he unfolded the notepaper.</p> +<p>Yes, it was as he expected, as he knew, a letter from +Jessie. And as he read it his heart cried out, and the warm +blood in his veins seemed to turn to water. He longed for +the woman whose hand had penned those words as he had +never longed for anything in his life. All the old wound +was ruthlessly torn open, and it was as though a hot, searing +iron had been thrust into its midst. He cared nothing for +what she had done or was. He wanted her.</p> +<p>It was a letter full of pathetic pleading for the possession +of Vada. It was not a demand. It was an appeal. An +appeal to all that was his better nature. His honesty, his +manliness, his simple unselfishness. It was a letter thrilling +with the outpourings of a mother’s heart craving for possession +of the small warm life that she had been at such pains +to bestow. It was the mother talking to him as he had +never heard the wife and woman talk. There was a passion, +a mother love in the hastily scrawled words that drove +straight to the man’s simple heart. One little paragraph +alone set his whole body quivering with responsive emotion, +and started the weak tears to his troubled eyes.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“Let me have her, Zip. Let me have her. Maybe I’ve +lost my right, but I’m her mother. I brought her into the +world, Zip. And what that means you can never understand. +She’s my flesh and blood. She’s part of me. I +gave her the life she’s got. I’m her mother, Zip, and I’ll go +mad without her.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He read and re-read the letter. He would have read it a +third time, but the tears blinded his eyes and he crushed it +into his pocket. His heart yearned for her. It cried out +to him in a great pity. It tore him so that he was drawn +to words spoken aloud to express his feelings.</p> +<p>“Poor gal,” he murmured. “Poor gal. Oh, my Jessie, +what you done––what you done?”</p> +<p>He dashed a hand across his eyes to wipe away the mist +of tears that obscured his vision and stood up. He was face +to face with a situation that might well have confounded +him. But here, where only his heart and not his head was +appealed to, there was no confusion.</p> +<p>The woman had said he could not understand. She had +referred to her motherhood. But Scipio was a man who +could understand just that. He could understand with his +heart, where his head might have failed him. He read into +the distracted woman’s letter a meaning that perhaps no +other man could have read into it. He read a human soul’s +agony at the severing of itself from all that belonged to its +spiritual side. He read more than the loss of the woman’s +offspring. He read the despairing thought, perhaps unconscious, +of a woman upon whom repentance has begun its +work. And his simple heart went out to her, yearning, loving. +He knew that her appeal was granted even before he +acknowledged it to himself.</p> +<p>And strangely enough the coming of that letter––he did +not pause to think how it had come––produced a miraculous +change in him. His spirit rose thrilling with hope, and +filled with a courage which, but a few moments before, +seemed to have gone from him forever. He did not understand, +he did not pause to think. How could he? To him +she was still his Jessie, the love and hope of his life. It was +her hand that had penned that letter. It was her woman’s +heart appealing to his mercy.</p> +<p>“God in heaven,” he cried, appealing to the blue vault +above him in which the stars were beginning to appear. “I +can’t refuse her. I just can’t. She wants her so––my +poor, poor Jessie.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>It was late in the evening when Scipio returned from the +camp driving Minky’s buckskin mule and ancient buckboard. +His mind was made up. He would start out directly after +breakfast on the morrow. He had resorted to a pitiful +little subterfuge in borrowing Minky’s buckboard. He had +told the storekeeper that he had heard of a prospect some +distance out, and he wanted to inspect it. He said he intended +to take Vada with him, but wished to leave Jamie behind. +Minky, as a member of the Trust, had promptly lent +him the conveyance, and volunteered to have Jamie looked +after down at the store by Birdie until he returned. So +everything was made easy for him, and he came back to his +home beyond the dumps with the first feeling of contentment +he had experienced since his wife had deserted him.</p> +<p>Having made the old mule snug for the night on the leeward +side of the house, he prepared to go to bed. There +was just one remaining duty to perform, however, before he +was free to do so. He must set things ready for breakfast +on the morrow. To this end he lit the lamp.</p> +<p>In five minutes his preparations were made, and, after +one final look round, he passed over to the door to secure +it. He stood for a moment drinking in the cool night air. +Yes, he felt happier than he had done for days. Nor could +he have said why. It was surely something to do with +Jessie’s letter, and yet the letter seemed to offer little +enough for hope.</p> +<p>He was going to part with Vada, a thought which filled +him with dismay, and yet there was hope in his heart. But +then where the head might easily enough fail his heart had +accepted responsibility. There was a note in the woman’s +appeal which struck a responsive chord in his own credulous +heart, and somehow he felt that his parting with Vada was +not to be for long. He felt that Jessie would eventually +come back to him. He felt, though he did not put the +thought into words, that no woman could feel as she did +about her children, and be utterly dead to all the old affection +that had brought them into the world.</p> +<p>He turned away at last. The air was good to breathe to-night, +the world was good after all. Yes, it was better than +he had thought it. There was much to be done to-morrow, +so he would “turn in.”</p> +<p>It was at that moment that something white lying at his +feet caught his eye. Instantly he remembered it, and, stooping, +picked it up. How strange it was the difference of his +feelings as he lifted the outer wrapping of Jessie’s letter now. +There was something almost reverent in the way he handled +the paper.</p> +<p>He closed the door and secured it, and went across to the +lamp, where he stood looking down at the stained and dirty +covering. He turned it over, his thoughts abstracted +and busy with the woman who had folded it ready for +its journey to him. Yes, she had folded it, she had sent it, +she––</p> +<p>Suddenly his abstraction passed, and he bent over the disfiguring +finger-marks. There was writing upon the paper, +and the writing was not in Jessie’s hand. He raised it closer +to his eyes and began to read. And, with each word he +made out, his faculties became more and more angrily +concentrated.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“You’ll hand the kid over at once. I’ll be on the Spawn +City trail ten miles out. If you ain’t there with the kid noon +to-morrow there’s going to be bad trouble.</p> +<p class='ralign'><span class='smcap'>James</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“James! James!” Scipio almost gasped the name. +His pale eyes were hot and furious, and the blood surged to +his brain.</p> +<p>He had forgotten James until now. He had forgotten +the traitor responsible for his undoing. So much was Jessie +in his life that James had counted for little when he thought +of her. But now the scoundrel swept all other thoughts +pell-mell out of his head. He was suddenly ablaze with a +rage such as he had never before experienced. All that was +human in him was in a state of fierce resentment. He hated +James, and desired with all his small might to do him a bodily +hurt. Yes, he could even delight in killing him. He would +show him no mercy. He would revel in witnessing his death +agonies. This man had not only wronged him. He had +killed also the spiritual purity of the mother of his children. +Oh, how he hated him. And now––now he had dared to +threaten. He, stained to his very heart’s core with villainy, +had dared to interfere in a matter which concerned a +mother’s pure love for her children. The thought maddened +him, and he crushed the paper in his hand and ground +it under his heel.</p> +<p>He would not do it. He could not. He had forgotten +the association to which he was sending the innocent Vada. +No, no. Innocent little Vada. Jessie must do without her.</p> +<p>He flung himself into a chair and gave himself up to +passionate thought. For two hours he sat there raging, half +mad with his hideous feelings against James. But as the +long hours slipped away he slowly calmed. His hatred remained +for the man, but he kept it out of his silent struggle +with himself. In spite of his first heated decision he was +torn by a guiding instinct that left him faltering. He realized +that his hatred of the man, and nothing else, was really +responsible for his negative attitude. And this was surely +wrong. What he must really consider was the welfare of +Vada, and––Jessie. The whole thing was so difficult, so +utterly beyond him. He was drawn this way and that, +struggling with a brain that he knew to be incompetent. +But in the end it was again his heart that was victorious. +Again his heart would take no denial.</p> +<p>Confused, weary, utterly at a loss to finally decide, he +drew out Jessie’s letter again. He read it. And like a cloud +his confusion dispersed and his mind became clear. His +hatred of James was thrust once more into the background. +Jessie’s salvation depended on Vada’s going. Vada must go.</p> +<p>He sighed as he rose from his chair and blew out the +lamp.</p> +<p>“Maybe I’m wrong,” he murmured, passing into the bedroom. +“Maybe. Well, I guess God’ll have to judge me, +and––He knows.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII_ON_THE_ROAD' id='CHAPTER_XVIII_ON_THE_ROAD'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>ON THE ROAD</h3> +</div> +<p>Wild Bill had many things to think of on his way back +to Suffering Creek. He was a tremendously alert-minded +man at all times, so alert-minded that at no time was he given +to vain imaginings, and to be alone for long together chafed +and irritated him to a degree. His life was something more +than practicality; it was vigor in an extreme sense. He +must be doing; he must be going ahead. And it mattered +very little to him whether he was using vigor of mind or +body. Just now he was using the former to a purpose. +Possibilities and scheming flashed through his head in such +swift succession as to be enough to dazzle a man of lesser +mental caliber.</p> +<p>The expressed object of his visit to Spawn City was only +one of several purposes he had in hand. And though he +turned up at the principal hotel at the psychological moment +when he could drop into the big game of poker he had promised +himself, and though at that game he helped himself, +with all the calm amiability in the world, to several thousand +dollars of the “rich guys’” money, the rest of his visit to the +silver city was spent in moving about amongst the lower +haunts where congregated the human jackals which hunt on +the outskirts of such places.</p> +<p>And in these places he met many friends and acquaintances +with whom he fraternized for the time being. And +his sojourn cost him a good many dollars, dollars which he +shed unstintingly, even without counting. Nor was he the +man to part with his money in this casual manner without +obtaining adequate return, and yet all he had to show as a +result of his expedition was a word of information here and +there, a suggestion or two which would scarcely have revealed +to the outsider the interest which they held for him. +Yet he seemed satisfied. He seemed very well satisfied +indeed, and his reckless spirit warmed as he progressed in +his peregrinations.</p> +<p>Then, too, he “dined” the sheriff of the county at the +only restaurant worth while. He spent more than two hours +in this man’s company, and his wine bill was in due proportion +to the hardy official’s almost unlimited capacity for +liquid refreshment. Yet even to the most interested his +purpose would have needed much explanation. He asked +so few questions. He seemed to lead the conversation in +no particular direction. He simply allowed talk to drift +whither it would. And somehow it always seemed to drift +whither he most desired it.</p> +<p>Yes, his movements were quite curious during his visit, +and yet they were commonplace enough to suggest nothing +of the depth of subtlety which really actuated them. There +was even an absurd moment which found him in a candy-store +purchasing several pounds of the most sickly candy he +could buy in so rough a place as the new silver town.</p> +<p>However, the time came for him at last to get out on the +road again for home. And, having prepared his team for +the journey, he hitched them up to his spring-cart himself, +paid his bill, and, with a flourish of his whip, and a swagger +which only a team of six such magnificent horses as he possessed +could give him, left the hotel at a gallop, the steely +muscles of his arms controlling his fiery children as easily as +the harsh voice of a northern half-breed controls a racing +dog-train.</p> +<p>And on the journey home his thoughts were never idle for +a moment. So busy were they that the delicious calm of the +night, the wonders of the following dawn, the glory of a +magnificent sunrise over a green world of mountain, valley +and plain, were quite lost to his unpoetic soul. The only +things which seemed able to distract his concentrated +thoughts were the fiercely buzzing mosquitoes, and these he +cursed with whole-hearted enthusiasm which embraced a +perfect vocabulary of lurid blasphemy.</p> +<p>Twice on the journey he halted and unhitched his horses +for feed and drink and a roll. But the delays were short, +and his vigorous methods gave them but short respite. He +cared for his equine friends with all his might, and he drove +them in a similar manner. This was the man. A life on a +bed of roses would not have been too good for his horses, +but if he so needed it they would have to repay him by driving +over a red-hot trail.</p> +<p>Now the home stretch lay before him, some twenty miles +through a wonderful broken country, all spruce and pine +forests, crag and valley, threaded by a white hard trail which +wound its way amidst Nature’s chaos in a manner similar +to that in which a mountain stream cuts its course, percolating +along the path of the least resistance.</p> +<p>Through this splendid country the untiring team traveled, +hauling their feather-weight burden as though there was +nothing more joyous in life. In spite of the length of the +journey the gambler had to keep a tight pressure on the reins, +or the willing beasts would, at any moment, have broken into +a headlong gallop. Their barn lay ahead of them, and their +master sat behind them. What more could they want?</p> +<p>Up a sharp incline, and the race down the corresponding +decline. The wide stretch of valley bottom, and again a +steep ascent. There was no slackening of gait, scarcely a +hard breath. Only the gush of eager nostrils in the bright +morning air of the mountains. Now along a forest-bounded +stretch of level trail, winding, and full of protruding tree-stumps +and roots. There was no stumbling. The surefooted +thoroughbreds cleared each obstruction with mechanical +precision, and only the spring-cart bore the burden of +impact.</p> +<p>On, up out of the darkened valley to a higher level above, +where the high hills sloped away upwards, admitting the +dazzling daylight so that the whole scene was lit to a perfect +radiance, and the nip of mountain air filled the lungs with +an invigorating tonic.</p> +<p>At last the traveler dropped down into the wide valley, in +the midst of which he first came into touch with the higher +reaches of Suffering Creek. Here it flowed a sluggish, turgid +stream, so sullen, so heavy. It was narrow, and at points +curiously black in tone. There was none of the freshness, +the rushing, tumultuous flow of a mountain torrent about it +here. Its banks were marshy with a wide spread of oozy +soil, and miry reeds grew in abundance. The trail cut well +away from the bed of the creek, mounting the higher land +where the soil, in curious contrast, was sandy, and the surface +deep in a silvery dust. To an observer the curiosity of +the contrast must have been striking, but Wild Bill was not +in an observant mood. He was busy with his horses––and +his thoughts.</p> +<p>He was traveling now in a cloud of dust. And it was +this, no doubt, which accounted for the fact that he did not +see a buckboard drawn by an aged mule until he heard a +shout, and his horses swung off the trail of their own accord. +Quick as lightning he drew them up with a violent curse.</p> +<p>“What in hell––!” he roared. But he broke off suddenly +as the dust began to clear, and he saw the yellow-headed +figure of Scipio seated in the buckboard, with Vada +beside him, just abreast of him.</p> +<p>“Mackinaw!” he cried. “What you doin’ out here?”</p> +<p>So startled was the gambler at the unexpected vision that +he made no attempt to even guess at Scipio’s purpose. He +put his question without another thought behind it.</p> +<p>Scipio, whose mule had jumped at the opportunity of discontinuing +its laborious effort, and was already reaching out +at the grass lining the trail, passed a hand across his brow +before answering. It was as though he were trying to fix +in his mind the reason of his own presence there.</p> +<p>“Why,” he said hesitatingly, “why, I’m out after a––a +prospect I heard of. Want to get a peek at it.”</p> +<p>The latter was said with more assurance, and he smiled +vaguely into his friend’s face.</p> +<p>But Bill had gathered his scattered wits, and had had time +to think. He nodded at little Vada, who was interestedly +staring at the satin coats of his horses.</p> +<p>“An’ you takin’ her out to help you locate it?” he inquired, +with a raising of his shaggy brows.</p> +<p>“Not just that,” Scipio responded uncomfortably. He +found it curiously difficult to lie with Bill’s steady eyes fixed +on him. “Y’see––Say, am I near ten miles out from +the camp?”</p> +<p>“Not by three miles.” Bill was watching him intently. +He saw the pale eyes turn away and glance half fearfully +along the trail. Then they suddenly came back, and Scipio +gazed at the child beside him. He sighed and lifted his +reins.</p> +<p>“Guess I’ll get on then,” he said in the dogged tone of a +man who has made up his mind to an unpleasant task.</p> +<p>But Bill had no intention of letting him go yet. He +sat back in his seat, his hand holding his reins loosely in +his lap.</p> +<p>“That wher’ your prospect is?” he inquired casually.</p> +<p>Scipio nodded. He could not bring himself to frame any +further aggravation of the lie.</p> +<p>“Wher’ did you hear of the prospect?” Bill demanded +shrewdly.</p> +<p>“I––”</p> +<p>But little Vada broke in. Her interest had been diverted +by the word prospect.</p> +<p>“Wot’s ’prospect’?” she demanded.</p> +<p>Bill laughed without any change of expression.</p> +<p>“Prospect is wher’ you <i>expect</i> to find gold,” he explained +carefully.</p> +<p>The child’s eyes widened, and she was about to speak. +Then she hesitated, but finally she proceeded.</p> +<p>“That ain’t wot we’re goin’ for,” she said simply. +“Poppa’s goin’ to take me wher’ momma is. I’m goin’ to +momma, an’ she’s ever so far away. Pop told me. Jamie’s +goin’ to stay with him, an’ I’m goin’ to stay with momma, +an’––an’––I want Jamie to come too.” Tears suddenly +crowded her eyes, and slowly rolled down her sunburned +cheeks.</p> +<p>Just for a moment neither man spoke. Bill’s fierce eyes +were curiously alight, and they were sternly fixed on the +averted face of the father. At last Scipio turned towards +him; and with his first words he showed his relief that further +lying was out of the question.</p> +<p>“I forgot––somehow––she knew. Y’see––”</p> +<p>But Bill, who had just bitten off a fresh chew of tobacco, +gave him no chance to continue.</p> +<p>“Say,” he interrupted him, “ther’s lies I hate, an’ ther’s +lies that don’t make no odds. You’ve lied in a way I hate. +You’ve lied ’cos you had to lie, knowin’ you was doin’ wrong. +If you hadn’t know’d you was doin’ wrong you wouldn’t +have needed to lie––sure. Say, you’re not only handin’ +over that kiddie to her mother, you’re handin’ her over to +that feller. Now, get to it an’ tell me things. An’––you +needn’t to lie any.”</p> +<p>Scipio hung his head. These words coming from Wild +Bill suddenly put an entirely different aspect upon his action. +He saw something of the horror he was committing as Bill +saw it. He was seeing through another man’s eyes now, +where before he had only seen through his own simple heart, +torn by the emotions his Jessie’s letter had inspired.</p> +<p>He fumbled in his pocket and drew out his wife’s letter. +He looked at it, holding it a moment, his whole heart in +his eyes. Then he reached out and passed it to the +gambler.</p> +<p>“She’s got to have her,” he said, with a touch of his native +obstinacy and conviction. “She’s her mother. I haven’t a +right to keep her. I––”</p> +<p>But Bill silenced him without ceremony.</p> +<p>“Don’t yap,” he cried. “How ken I read this yer muck +with you throwin’ hot air?”</p> +<p>Scipio desisted, and sat staring vacantly at the long ears +of Minky’s mule. He was gazing on a mental picture of +Jessie as he considered she must have looked when writing +that letter. He saw her distress in her beautiful eyes. +There were probably tears in her eyes, too, and the thought +hurt him and made him shrink from it. He felt that her poor +heart must have been breaking when she had written. Perhaps +James had been cruel to her. Yes, he was sure to have +been cruel to her. Such a blackguard as he was sure to be +cruel to women-folk. No doubt she was longing to escape +from him. She was sure to be. She would never have willingly +gone away––</p> +<p>“Tosh!” cried Bill. And Scipio found the letter thrust +out for him to take back.</p> +<p>“Eh?”</p> +<p>“I said ‘tosh!’” replied the gambler. “How’d you get +that letter?”</p> +<p>“It was flung in through the window. It was tied to a +stone.”</p> +<p>“Yes?”</p> +<p>“There was a wrappin’ to it.” Then Scipio’s eyes began +to sparkle at the recollection. “It was wrote on by the +feller James,” he went on in a low voice.</p> +<p>Then suddenly he turned, and his whole manner partook +of an impotent heat.</p> +<p>“He’d wrote I was to hand her, Vada, over to him ten +miles out on this trail––or there’d be trouble.”</p> +<p>Wild Bill stirred and shifted his seat with a fierce dash of +irritation. His face was stern and his black eyes blazing. +He spat out his chew of tobacco.</p> +<p>“An’ you was scared to death, like some silly skippin’ +sheep. You hadn’t bowel enough to tell him to go to hell. +You felt like handin’ him any other old thing you’d got––‘Here, +go on, help yourself.’” He flung out his arms to +illustrate his meaning. “‘You got my wife; here’s my +kiddies. If you need anything else, you can sure get my +claim. Guess my shack’ll make you an elegant summer +palace.’ Gee!”</p> +<p>The gambler’s scorn was withering, and with each burst +of it he flourished his arms as though handing out possessions +to an imaginary James. And every word he spoke +smote Scipio, goading him and lashing up the hatred which +burnt deep down in his heart for the man who had ruined +his life.</p> +<p>But the little man’s thought of Jessie was not so easily set +aside, and he jumped to defend himself.</p> +<p>“You don’t understand––” he began. But the other cut +him short with a storm of scathing anger.</p> +<p>“No, I sure don’t understand,” he cried, “I don’t. I sure +don’t. Guess I’m on’y jest a man. I ain’t no sort o’ bum +angel, nor sanctimonious sky-bustin’ hymn-smiter. I’m on’y +a man. An’ I kind o’ thank them as is responsible that I ain’t +nuthin’ else. Say”––his piercing eyes seemed to bore their +way right down to the little man’s heart like red-hot needles––“I +ain’t got a word to say to you but you orter be herdin’ +wi’ a crowd o’ mangy gophers. Tchah! A crowd o’ maggots +’ud cut you off’n their visitin’ list in a diseased carkis. +Here’s a feller robs you in the meanest way a man ken be +robbed, an’ you’re yearnin’ to hand him more––a low-down +cur of a stage-robber, a cattle-thief, the lowest down bum +ever created––an’ you’d hand over this pore innercent little +kiddie to him. Was there ever sech a white-livered sucker? +Say, you’re responsible fer that pore little gal’s life, you’re +responsible fer her innercent soul, an’ you’d hand her over +to James, like the worstest cur in creation. Say, I ain’t got +words to tell you what you are. You’re a white-livered bum +that even hell won’t give room to. You’re––”</p> +<p>“Here, hold on,” cried Scipio, turning, with his pale eyes +mildly blazing. “You’re wrong, all wrong. I ain’t doing +it because I’m scared of James. I don’t care nothing for his +threats. I’m scared of no man––not even you. See? My +Jessie’s callin’ for her gal––my Jessie! Do you know what +that means to me? No, of course you don’t. You don’t +know my Jessie. You ain’t never loved a wife like my Jessie. +You ain’t never felt what a kiddie is to its mother. +You can’t see as I can see. This little gal,” he went on, tenderly +laying an arm about Vada’s small shoulders, “will, +maybe, save my pore Jessie. That pore gal has hit the wrong +trail, an’––an’ I’d sacrifice everything in the world to save +her. I’d––I’d sell my own soul. I’d give it to––save her.”</p> +<p>Scipio looked fearlessly into the gambler’s eyes. His +pale cheeks were lit by a hectic flush of intense feeling. +There was a light in his eyes of such honesty and devotion +that the other lowered his. He could not look upon it unmoved.</p> +<p>Bill sat back, for once in his life disconcerted. All his +righteous indignation was gone out of him. He was confronted +with a spectacle such as, in his checkered career, he +had never before been brought into contact with. It was +the meeting of two strangely dissimilar, yet perfectly human, +forces. Each was fighting for what he knew to be right. +Each was speaking from the bottom of a heart inspired by +his sense of human right and loyalty. While the gambler, +without subtlety of emotion, saw only with a sense of human +justice, with a hatred of the man who had so wronged +this one, with a desire to thwart him at every turn, the other +possessed a breadth of feeling sufficient to put out of his +thoughts all recollection of his personal wrong, if only he +could help the woman he loved.</p> +<p>It was a meeting of forces widely different, yet each in its +way thrilling with a wonderful honesty of purpose. And, +curiously enough, the purpose of Scipio, who lacked so much +of the other’s intellect and force, became, in a measure, the +dominating factor. It took hold of the gambler, and stirred +him as he had never been stirred before.</p> +<p>Suddenly Wild Bill leaned forward. Once more those +swift, relentless eyes focused and compelled the others.</p> +<p>“Zip,” he said in a tone that was strangely thrilling, +“maybe I didn’t get all you felt––all you got in that tow-head +of yours. That bein’ so, guess I owe you amends. +But I’m goin’ to ast you to sure fergit that gal’s letter––fer +awhiles. I’m goin’ to ast you to turn that bussock-headed +mule you’re drivin’ right around, and hit back for the Creek. +You do this, Zip, an’ I’ll tell you what I’m goin’ to do. I +ain’t no sentimental slob. I ain’t got the makin’s in me of +even a store-mussed angel. See? But if you do this I +swar to you right here I’m goin’ to see your Jessie right. +I swar to you I’ll rid her of this ‘Lord’ James, an’ it’ll jest +be up to you to do the rest. Git me?”</p> +<p>Scipio took a breath that was something like a gasp.</p> +<p>“You’ll––you’ll help me get her back?” he breathed, +with a glow of hope which almost shocked his companion.</p> +<p>“I’m not promisin’ that,” said Bill quickly. “That’s sure +up to you. But I give it you right here, I’ll––shift this +doggone skunk out of your way.”</p> +<p>Scipio made no verbal reply. Just for a moment he +looked into the gimlet eyes of the other. He saw the iron +purpose there. He saw the stern, unyielding compression of +the lean, muscular jaws. There was something tremendous +in the suggestion of power lying behind this ruffian’s exterior. +He turned away and gathered up the old mule’s +reins.</p> +<p>“You’ve allus been friendly to me, Bill, so––”</p> +<p>He pulled off the trail and turned the mule’s head in the +direction of home. And the rest of the gambler’s journey +was done in the wake of Minky’s buckboard.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX_A_FINANCIAL_TRANSACTION' id='CHAPTER_XIX_A_FINANCIAL_TRANSACTION'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>A FINANCIAL TRANSACTION</h3> +</div> +<p>Scipio was washing clothes down at the creek. So much +had happened to him that day, so many and various had been +the emotions through which he had passed, that there was +only one thing left him to do. He must work. He dared +not sit down and think. Hard physical labor was what +he required. And the rubbing out of the children’s small +clothes, and his own somewhat tattered garments, became a +sort of soothing drug which quieted his troubled mind, and +lulled his nerves into a temporary quiescence. The children +were with him, playing unconcernedly upon the muddy +banks of the creek, with all the usual childish zest for anything +so deliciously enticing and soft as liquid river mud.</p> +<p>Vada had forgotten her journey of that morning, it had +quite passed out of her little head in the usual way of such +trifling unpleasantnesses which go so frequently to make up +the tally of childhood’s days. Jamie had no understanding +of it. His Vada was with him again, hectoring, guiding him +as was her wont, and, in his babyish way, he was satisfied.</p> +<p>As for Scipio he gave no sign of anything. He was concentrating +all his mental energies on the work in hand, thus +endeavoring to shut out memory which possessed nothing +but pain for him. Every now and then a quick, sidelong +glance in the children’s direction kept him informed of their +doings and safety, otherwise his eyes were rarely raised from +the iron bath, filled to the brim with its frothing suds.</p> +<p>Striding down the slope from the hut where he had come +in search of Scipio, this was the picture Wild Bill discovered. +The little yellow-headed man was standing in the +midst of a small clearing in the bushes, a clearing long since +made for the purposes of his wife’s weekly wash. His back +was turned, and his small figure was bowed over the tub in +front of him. Every bush around him was decorated with +clothes laid out on their leafy surfaces, where the sun could +best operate its hygienic drying process. He saw the bobbing +heads of the mudlarking children a few yards away +where the low cut-bank hid their small bodies from view. +And somehow an unusual pity stirred his hard, world-worn +heart.</p> +<p>And yet no one could have called him a sentimental man. +At least, no one who knew his method of life. How would +it be possible to gild a man with humane leanings who would +sit in to a game at poker, and, if chance came his way, take +from any opponent his last cent of money, even if he knew +that a wife and children could be reduced to starvation +thereby? How could a kindliness of purpose be read into +the acts of a man who would have no scruple in taking life, +under provocation, without the least mercy or qualm of conscience? +He displayed no tenderness, he hated what he +considered such weakness. It was his studied practice to +avoid showing consideration for others, and he would have +bitterly resented those who considered him. He preferred +that his attitude towards the world should be one of unyielding +selfishness. Such was the game of life as he understood +it.</p> +<p>Yes, honestly enough, he hated sentiment, and for this +very reason he cursed himself bitterly that such a feeling +as he now experienced should so disturb him. He hurried +down the slope a shade quicker than there was any necessity +for. And it was as though he were endeavoring to outstrip +the feelings which pursued him.</p> +<p>Scipio heard him coming, and glanced round quickly. +When he beheld his visitor he nodded a greeting and continued +his work. In his heart was a curious feeling towards +the gambler. He could not have described it. It was too +complicated. He liked Wild Bill. He felt that for some +indefinite reason he was his friend. Yet he resented him, +too. He did not know he resented him. Only he felt that +this man dominated him, and he was forced to obey him +against his will. At sight of him his mind went back to +the events of that morning. He thought of Bill’s promise, +and a curious excitement stirred within him. He wondered +now what this visit portended.</p> +<p>For once the gambler did not display his usual readiness. +He did not speak for some moments, but took up a position +whence he could see the children at their play, and best watch +the little washerman, on whom he intended to thrust a proposition +that had been revolving in his mind some time. He +chewed his tobacco steadily, while his expression went +through many changes. At last he drew his shaggy brows +together and eyed his victim with shrewd suspicion.</p> +<p>“Say, you’re kind o’ smart, ain’t you?” he demanded +harshly.</p> +<p>The other looked up with a start, and his mildly inquiring +glance should have convinced the most skeptical to the contrary. +But apparently it had no such effect on his visitor.</p> +<p>“I’d never ha’ tho’t it,” Bill went on coldly. “To look +at you one ’ud sure think you was that simple a babby could +fool you. Howsum,” he sighed, “I don’t guess you ken +never rightly tell.”</p> +<p>A flush began to warm Scipio’s cheeks. He couldn’t understand. +He wondered hard, vainly endeavoring to grasp +wherein he had offended.</p> +<p>“I––I don’t get you,” he said, in a bewildered fashion, +dropping the garment he was washing back into the soapsuds.</p> +<p>Bill’s expression underwent another change as he caught +at the words.</p> +<p>“You don’t get me?” he said ironically. “You don’t get +me?” Then he shrugged as though he was not angry, but +merely deplored the other’s unsuspected cunning. “You +can’t strike it rich an’ guess you’re goin’ to blind folks. I’d +say it needs every sort of a man to do that around these +parts.”</p> +<p>Scipio gasped. He had no other feeling than blank astonishment.</p> +<p>“I ain’t struck it rich,” he protested.</p> +<p>And his denial was received with a forced peal of laughter.</p> +<p>“Say, you’re a heap shrewd,” cried Bill, when his laugh +had subsided. “I’d say you’re jest about slick. Gee! Wal, +I can’t blame you any fer holdin’ your face shut. Ther’s +a mint o’ dollars ken drop out of a feller’s mouth through +an unnatteral openin’. Ef you’d got busy gassin’, it’s a +million dollar bet all the folks around this lay-out ’ud be +chasin’ you clear to death. Say, it’s right, though? There’s +chunks of it stickin’ right out, fine, yaller, dandy gold. An’ +the quartz bank cuttin’ down wider an’ wider?”</p> +<p>But Scipio shook his head. His bewilderment had gone, +and in place of it was sad conviction.</p> +<p>“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet. I ain’t seen it, anyway. +I sure think there’s gold in plenty on that claim. I know +there is,” he added, with unusual force, his pulses beginning +to quicken, and a sudden hope stirring. Bill’s accusation +was aiding the effect. “But it ain’t on the surface. It +sure ain’t.”</p> +<p>He stood wondering, all his washing forgotten in this +newly raised hope so subtly stirred by the gambler. Had +someone else discovered what he had missed for so long? +He hadn’t been near his claim for some days. Had someone––?</p> +<p>“Who says about the gold?” he demanded, with sudden +inspiration.</p> +<p>“The folks.”</p> +<p>The gambler passed the point without committing himself.</p> +<p>Scipio shook his head, puzzling. Something must surely +have transpired, and yet––</p> +<p>“You got me beat, Bill. You have, sure.” The smile +that accompanied his words was good to see. But somehow +the gambler found the far horizon of more interest just then.</p> +<p>“You’re a wide one all right,” he said thoughtfully. +“There’s no gettin’ upsides with you. Give me them quiet, +simple sort o’ fellers every time. They got the gas machine +beat so far you couldn’t locate him with a forty-foot microscope. +Gee!” He chuckled, and turned again to contemplate +his companion, much as he would a newly discovered +wonder of the world.</p> +<p>But poor Scipio was really becoming distressed. He +hoped, merely because the other forced him to hope, by his +own evident sincerity. But the charge of shrewdness, of +conspiring to keep a secret he had never possessed, worried +him.</p> +<p>“I take my oath I don’t know a thing, Bill,” he declared +earnestly. “I sure don’t. You’ve got to believe me, because +I can’t say more. I seen my claim days back, an’ I +hadn’t a color. I ain’t seen it since. That’s fact.”</p> +<p>It was strange to see how readily the disbelief died out +of the other’s face. It was almost magical. It was as +though his previous expression had been nothing but acting +and his fresh attitude the result of studied preparation.</p> +<p>“Well, Zip,” he said seriously, almost dejectedly, “if you +put it that way, I sure got to b’lieve you. But it’s queer. It +sure is. There’s folks ready to swear ther’s rich gold on +your claim, an’ I’ll tell you right here I come along to git +in on it. Y’see, I’m a bizness man, an’ I don’t figger to +git a crop o’ weeds growin’ around my feet. I sez to myself, +I sez, directly I heerd tell, ‘Here’s Zip with an elegant +patch o’ pay dirt, an’ here am I with a wad of bills handy, +which I’d sure like to turn over some.’ Then I sez––I want +you to understand jest how I thought––I sez,‘Mebbe I’ve +kind o’ bin useful to Zip. Helped him out some, when he +was fixed awkward.’ You see, it ain’t my way to do things +for nothing. An’ I do allow I bin useful to you. Well, I +thought o’ these things, so I come along right smart to get +in on the plum. Sez I, ‘Zip, bein’ under obligation to me +some, mebbe he’ll let me buy ha’f share in his claim,’ me +handin’ him a thousand dollars. It ’ud be a spot cash deal, +an’ me puttin’ in a feller to work––an’ see things right fer +me––why, I guess there’d be no chance o’ you gettin’ gay––an’ +fakin’ the output. See? I don’t guess you’re on the +crook, but in bizness a feller don’t take chances. Y’see I’m +pretty bright when it gits to bizness, an’, anyway, I don’t +stand fer no play o’ that kind. Get me?”</p> +<p>The gambler’s manner was wholly severe as he explained +his proposition, and impressed his views of business. Scipio +listened without the slightest umbrage. He saw nothing +wrong, nothing unfriendly in the precautions the other had +intended to take. As a matter of fact, the one thing that +concerned him was the disappointment he must cause +him.</p> +<p>“There’s nothing like straight talk, Bill,” he said, cordially. +“I allus like straight talk. You kind of know just where +you are then. There’s not a doubt you’ve been real good +to me,” he went on, with evident feeling, “and I’ll +never be able to forget it––never. I tell you right here, if +there was anything in the world I could do in return, I’d +do it.”</p> +<p>He smiled quaintly and pushed his stubby fingers through +his sparse hair in his most helpless manner.</p> +<p>“If there was gold on my claim, I’d let you in all you +need, and I wouldn’t want your dollars. Dollars? No, +Bill, I don’t want dollars for doing anything for you. I sure +don’t. I mean that. Maybe you’ll understand, y’see I’m +not a business man––never was.”</p> +<p>The gambler averted his eyes. He could not look into +the other’s face so shining with honesty and gratitude.</p> +<p>“But there ain’t no gold found on that claim yet,” Scipio +went on. “Leastways, not that I know of, so what’s the +use deceivin’ you? An’ dollars, why, there’s no question of +’em between us. You can stand in ha’f my claim, Bill, an’ +welcome, but you ain’t going to pay me dollars for gold that +ain’t been found. Yes, you’re sure welcome to ha’f my +claim, an’ you ken set a man working for you. I’ll not say +but I’ll be glad of the help. But don’t make no mistake, +gold ain’t been found, as far as I know, an’ there may be +none there, so I’d be glad if you don’t risk a lot of dollars +in the work.”</p> +<p>The gambler felt mean as he listened to the quiet words +ringing with such simple honesty. Time and again his beady +eyes lifted to the steady blue ones, only to drop quickly before +their fearless sincerity. He stirred irritably, and a hot +impatience with himself drove him so that the moment Scipio +finished speaking he broke out at once.</p> +<p>“Here,” he cried, without the least gentleness, “you’re +talkin’ a heap o’ foolishness. I’m a bizness man offerin’ a +bizness proposition. I don’t want nuthin’ given. I’m out +to make a deal. You say there’s no gold there. Wal, I say +there sure is. That bein’ so I’d be a low down skunk takin’ +ha’f your claim fer nix, jest because you guess you owe me +things––which I ’low you sure do, speakin’ plain. I got a +thousand dollars right here,”––he pulled out a packet of bills +from his hip pocket, and held them up for the other’s +inspection––“an’ them dollars says ther’s gold on your claim. +An’ I’m yearnin’ to touch ha’f that gold. But I’m takin’ no +chances. I want it all wrote down reg’lar so folks can’t +say I sneaked around you, an’ got it for nix. Gee, I’d look +mighty small if you turned around on me afterwards. No, +sir, you don’t get me that way. I’m only soft around my +teeth. If you’re the man I take you for, if you’re honest +as you’re guessin’, if you feel you want to pay me fer anything +I done for you, why, cut the gas an’ take my dollars’ +an’ I’ll get the papers made out by a Spawn City lawyer. +They’re all that crooked they couldn’t walk a chalk-line, but +I guess they know how to bind a feller good an’ tight, an’ +I’ll see they bind you up so ther’ won’t be no room for fool +tricks. That’s bizness.”</p> +<p>Scipio shook his head. And Bill flushed angrily.</p> +<p>“It ain’t square,” the little man protested. “Maybe +you’ll lose your money.”</p> +<p>“That’s up to me,” the gambler began fiercely. Then he +checked himself, and suddenly became quite grieved. +“Wal, Zip, I wouldn’t ha’ b’lieved it. I sure wouldn’t. But +ther’––life’s jest self. It’s all self. You’re like all the rest. +I’ve been chasin’ a patch o’ good pay dirt ever since I bin +around Sufferin’ Creek, an’ it’s only now I’ve found one to +suit me. I sure thought you’d let me in on it. I sure did. +Howsum, you won’t. You want it all yourself. Wall, go +ahead. An’ you needn’t worry about what I told you this +morning. My word goes every time. This ain’t going to +make no difference. I’m not goin’ to squeal on that jest +because you won’t ’blige me.”</p> +<p>He made as though to return his dollars to his pocket. +He had turned away, but his shrewd eyes held his companion +in their focus. He saw the flush of shame on Scipio’s face. +He saw him open his mouth to speak. Then he saw it shut +as he left his tub and came towards him. Bill waited, his +cunning telling him to keep up his pretense. Scipio did not +pause till he laid a hand on his arm, and his mild eyes were +looking up into his keen, hard face.</p> +<p>“Bill,” he said, “you can have ha’f my claim and––and +I’ll take your dollars. I jest didn’t guess I was bein’ selfish +about it––I didn’t, truth. I was thinkin’ o’ you. I was +thinkin’ you might lose your bills. Y’see, I haven’t had the +best of luck––I––”</p> +<p>But the gambler’s face was a study as he pushed his hand +off and turned on him. There was a fine struggle going on +in his manner between the harshness he wished to display +and the glad triumph he really felt.</p> +<p>“Don’t slob,” he cried. “Here’s the bills. Stuff ’em +right down in your dip. Ha’f that claim is mine, an’ I’ll +have the papers wrote reg’lar. I didn’t think you was mean, +an’ I’m glad you ain’t.”</p> +<p>Scipio took the money reluctantly enough, and pushed it +into his pocket with a sigh. But Bill had had enough of the +matter. He turned to go, moving hastily. Then, of a +sudden, he remembered. Thrusting his hand into a side +pocket of his jacket he produced a paper parcel.</p> +<p>“Say, Zip, I come nigh forgettin’,” he cried cheerfully. +“The hash-slinger down at Minky’s ast me to hand you +this. It’s for the kiddies. It’s candy. I’d say she’s sweet +on your kiddies. She said I wasn’t to let you know she’d +sent ’em. So you ken jest kep your face closed. So long.”</p> +<p>He hurried away like a man ashamed. Scipio had such +a way of looking into his eyes. But once out of sight he +slackened his pace. And presently a smile crept into his +small eyes, that set them twinkling.</p> +<p>“Guess I’m every kind of a fule,” he muttered. “A +thousand dollars! Gee! An’ ther’ ain’t gold within a mile +of the doggone claim––’cep’ when Zip’s ther’,” he added +thoughtfully.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX_HOW_THE_TRUST_BOUGHT_MEDICINE' id='CHAPTER_XX_HOW_THE_TRUST_BOUGHT_MEDICINE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>HOW THE TRUST BOUGHT MEDICINE</h3> +</div> +<p>Wild Bill ate his supper that evening because it was his +custom to do so. He had no inclination for it, and it gave +him no enjoyment. He treated the matter much as he would +have treated the stoking of a stove on a winter’s night. So +long as he was filled up he cared little for the class of the +fuel.</p> +<p>Birdie waited on him with an attention and care such as +she never bestowed upon any other boarder at the store, +and the look in her bright eyes as she forestalled his wishes, +compared with the air with which she executed the +harshly delivered orders of the rest of the men, was quite +sufficient to enlighten the casual onlooker as to the state of +her romantic heart. But her blandishments were quite lost +upon our hero. He treated her with much the same sort of +indifference he might have displayed towards one of the +camp dogs.</p> +<p>To-night, particularly, nothing she could do or say seemed +to give him the least satisfaction. He ignored her as he +ignored all the rest of the boarders, and devoured his meal +in absolute silence––in so far as any speech went––wrapt +in an impenetrable moroseness which had a damping effect +upon the entire company.</p> +<p>Truth to tell, he was obsessed with his thoughts and feelings +against the man James. With every passing day his +resentment against him piled up, till now he could think of +nothing much else but a possible way to dislodge him from +the pinnacle of his local notoriety, and so rid the district of +the threat of his presence.</p> +<p>How much of this feeling was purely personal, inspired by +the natural antagonism of a strong, even violent, nature +against a man whose very existence was an everlasting challenge +to him, and how far it was the result of an unadmitted +sympathy for Scipio, it would have been impossible to tell in +a man like Wild Bill. Reason was not in such things with +him. He never sought reasons where his feelings were concerned. +James must go. And so his whole mind and force +was given up to a search for adequate means to accomplish +his purpose.</p> +<p>The problem was not easy. And when things were not +easy to him, Bill’s temper invariably suffered. Besides, +scheming was never pleasant to him. He was so essentially +a man of action. An open battle appealed to him as nothing +else in the world appealed to him. Force of arms––that +was his conception of the settlement of human differences.</p> +<p>He admitted to himself that the events of the day had +stirred his “bile.” He felt that he must hit out to ease +himself, and the one direction to hit out in which would +have given him any satisfaction was not yet available. So +he brooded on, a smoldering volcano which his acquaintances +avoided with a care inspired by past experience.</p> +<p>But his mood was bound to find an outlet somehow. It +is always so. If the opportunity does not come naturally, +ill-temper will make one. It was this way with the gambler. +A devilish impulse caught him just as supper was nearing its +finish.</p> +<p>The thought occurred with the entrance of Sandy Joyce, +who took the empty place at the table on Bill’s right. Birdie +was hovering near, and, as Sandy took his seat, she suddenly +dumped a fresh cup of coffee before the gambler. She giggled +coyly as the cup clattered on the bare table.</p> +<p>“I ain’t set sugar in it, Bill,” she said sweetly, and reached +towards the sugar-bowl.</p> +<p>But the man pushed her arm roughly aside.</p> +<p>“Oh, skip!” he cried. “You make me sick.”</p> +<p>His bearishness in no way disconcerted the girl. She persisted, +and dropped two spoonfuls of granulated sugar into +his cup.</p> +<p>“Some folks need sugar,” she remarked, with another +giggle, as she moved away. And somehow it was Bill who +had suffered loss of dignity.</p> +<p>This only helped to aggravate his mood, and he turned his +small eyes sharply on Sandy.</p> +<p>“I’m needin’ someone to work a claim fer me,” he said +in a voice intended to reach every ear, and as he spoke a +curious look came into his eyes. It was half a grin, half a +challenge, and wholly meant mischief.</p> +<p>The effect was exactly as he had calculated. The entire +attention of the room was on him at once, and he warmed +as he waited for Sandy’s reply.</p> +<p>“You––you got a claim?” the widower inquired blankly.</p> +<p>Bill licked his lips after devouring a mouthful of pie.</p> +<p>“An’ why in hell not?” he retorted.</p> +<p>Before Sandy could gather an adequate reply, the matter +was taken up by a young miner further down the table.</p> +<p>“Wher’ you got it, Bill?” he inquired, with genuine +interest.</p> +<p>The gambler swallowed another mouthful of pie, and +rammed the rim of crust into his cheek with his thumb, and +leisurely devoured it before replying.</p> +<p>“I don’t see that my claim has anything to do wi’ the +company present,” he said at last, with a dangerous look in +his half-grinning eyes. “But, seein’ Mr. Joe Brand is kind +o’ curious, guess he may as well know first as last.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t mean no offense, Bill,” apologized the miner, +flushing and speaking hurriedly.</p> +<p>Bill promptly became sarcastic.</p> +<p>“Course you didn’t. Folks buttin’ in never don’t mean no +offense. Howsum, guess my claim’s on the banks o’ Sufferin’ +Creek. Maybe you feel better now?” He glared down the +table, but finally turned again to Sandy. “You ain’t pertickler +busy ’bout now, so––ther’s thirty dollars a week says +you ken hev the job. An’ I’ll give you a percentage o’ the +gold you wash up,” he added dryly. “You on?”</p> +<p>Sandy nodded. He didn’t quite understand his friend’s +game. This was the first he had heard of Bill having +acquired a claim––and on the river, too. There was only +one other man on the river, and––well, Zip’s claim was the +joke of the camp.</p> +<p>He had just formulated a question in his mind, when the +words were taken out of his mouth by a heavy-faced prospector +further down the table.</p> +<p>“Wher’ ’bouts on the Creek, Bill?” he inquired.</p> +<p>The gambler eyed him intently.</p> +<p>“Quite a piece up,” he said shortly.</p> +<p>A half-smile spread over the prospector’s face.</p> +<p>“Not nigh––Zip’s?” he suggested.</p> +<p>The half-grin in Bill’s eyes was becoming more savage.</p> +<p>“Yep––an’ I bought it.”</p> +<p>His information increased the interest with a bound. +Every man there knew, or believed, that Zip’s claim was the +only one on the Creek.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know there was any other but Zip’s,” said Joe +Brand, his interest outrunning his discretion.</p> +<p>“Ah, you buttin’ in again,” sneered Bill. “Guess you +know right, too. Ther’ ain’t.”</p> +<p>It was curious to glance down at the double row of faces +lining the table and note the perplexity which suddenly +gathered on them. Bill saw it and enjoyed it. It suited his +mood. Finally the heavy-faced prospector blurted out the +question that was in everybody’s mind, yet which the others +dared not ask.</p> +<p>“You––you bought Zip’s claim?” he asked incredulously.</p> +<p>“Ha’f of it. Me an’ Zip’s partners. You got anything +to say?”</p> +<p>Bill’s words rapped out with biting force, and Sandy, +knowing the man, waited, solemn-eyed. Just for one moment +astonishment held his audience breathless. Then some +one sniggered, and it became the cue for an instantaneous +and general guffaw of derision. Every face was wreathed +in a broad grin. The humor of this thing was too much. +Zip’s claim! Bill, the keen, unscrupulous gambler, had fallen +for Zip’s mud-hole on the banks of Suffering Creek!</p> +<p>Bill waited. The laugh was what he needed, so he waited +till it died out. As it did so he kicked back his chair and +stood up, his tall figure and hard face a picture of cold +challenge.</p> +<p>“You’re that merry, folks,” he said, his teeth clipping each +word, “that maybe some o’ you got something to say. I’d +like to hear it. No?” as he waited. But no one seemed +anxious to comment. “Joe Brand kind o’ seems fond o’ +buttin’ in––mebbe he’ll oblige.”</p> +<p>But the young miner was not to be drawn. Bill shrugged +his lean shoulders, his fierce eyes alight with a dangerous +fire.</p> +<p>“Wal,” he went on, “I don’t guess I ken make folks talk +if they don’t notion it. But I want to say right here I bought +ha’f o’ Zip’s claim fer good dollars, an’ I’m goin’ to pay +Sandy Joyce a tiptop wage fer workin’ my share. An’”––he +paused and glanced swiftly and defiantly at the faces +which were no longer smiling––“an’ I want to say I bought +the richest lay-out in this bum camp. Any feller who ain’t +o’ the same opinion ken git right up on to his hind legs an’ +call me a ‘liar’––an’ I’m jest yearnin’ fer some feller to git +around an’ call me that. Jest turn it over in your fool heads. +You don’t need to hurry any. Ther’s days an’ days to come, +an’ at any time I’ll be glad fer all o’ you to come along an’ +tell me I’m––a liar.”</p> +<p>He paused, his fierce eyes gleaming. He felt good. His +outburst had relieved his pent feelings. It was a safety-valve +which had worked satisfactorily at the right moment. +But as he received no answer to his challenge he turned +to Sandy.</p> +<p>“Ther’ don’t seem to be nuthin’ doin’,” he said, with a +grim smile. “So ef you’ll come right along we’ll fix +things out in the store. Guess you ken finish your hash +after.”</p> +<p>Sandy rose. For a moment Bill did not attempt to move. +It was as though he were giving the rest of the boarders one +last chance of accepting his challenge. But as no one offered +any comment or made any attempt to stay him, he turned +away at last with a sigh which was probably of disappointment, +and led the way out into the store.</p> +<p>But if the men had made no comment in his presence, it +was a different matter after his departure. Loud indignation +broke out, and fierce, if impotent, protest passed from +lip to lip. It was only for a few moments, however, and +presently anger gave place to a realization of the absurdity +of the whole thing.</p> +<p>The humor of these men was tickled. The whole thing +was too ludicrous for words. To think that Wild Bill, the +renowned sharp, the shrewdest, the wisest man on Suffering +Creek, had fallen for such a proposition! It was certainly +the funniest, the best joke that had ever come their way. +How had it happened? they asked each other. Had Zip +been clever enough to “salt” his claim? It was hardly +likely. Only they knew he was hard up, and it was just +possible, with his responsibilities weighing heavily on him, +he had resorted to an illicit practice to realize on his property. +They thought of and discussed every possible means +they could think of by which Bill could have been lured to +the hook––and caught––and landed. That was the joke. +It was astounding. It was too good. To-morrow the whole +camp would be ringing with laughter at the news, but––but +the laughter was not likely to reach the gambler’s +ears.</p> +<p>In the meantime it was quite a different man who was +lounging over Minky’s counter talking to Sandy and the +storekeeper. Bill had relieved the pressure of his mood for +the moment, and now, like a momentarily exhausted volcano, +he was enjoying the calm of reaction.</p> +<p>“I’ll need you to start work right away,” he was saying, +“an’ you ken draw on me fer all the supplies you need. It’s +a dandy claim,” he went on grimly, “but I don’t know fer +sure what you’ll likely find on it. Maybe you’ll find suthin’––if +you work long enough. Anyways, you’ll start by +sinkin’ a shaft; an’ you’ll kep on sinkin’ it till––till I tell you +to quit.”</p> +<p>“But that ain’t the regular way gold––”</p> +<p>“Say, whose claim is it? Am I payin’ you or not?” +demanded the gambler sharply.</p> +<p>“Sure you are, but you said it was the richest––”</p> +<p>“That was back ther’ at supper,” said Bill coldly. +“Guess supper’s over.”</p> +<p>Sandy had no quickness of understanding. He did not +appreciate the fineness of the distinction. He shook his +head solemnly.</p> +<p>“Maybe I ain’t jest bright enuff to foller––”</p> +<p>“You ain’t,” agreed Bill shortly.</p> +<p>He winked at Minky, who was listening interestedly. +Then he turned abruptly and pointed at the array of patent +medicines adorning one of the shelves.</p> +<p>“Say,” he cried, “’bout them physics.”</p> +<p>Minky turned and gazed affectionately at the shelf. It +was the pride of his store. He always kept it well dusted +and dressed. The delicate wrappings and fancy labels always +had a strong fascination for him. Then there were the +curative possibilities of the contents of the inviting packages +as set forth by the insistent “drummer” who sold them to +him.</p> +<p>“An elegant stock,” he murmured. “Sort of concentrated +health.” Then he glanced round anxiously. “Your +hosses ain’t ailin’?” he inquired. “I got most everything +fer hosses. Ther’s embrocation, hoss iles, every sort of lin’ments. +Hoss balls? Linseed?”</p> +<p>The gambler shook his head.</p> +<p>“You ain’t got physic fer men-folk?” he inquired.</p> +<p>“I sure have. But––but you ain’t sick?” Minky eyed +his friend narrowly.</p> +<p>Bill’s mouth twisted wryly.</p> +<p>“I ain’t jest sick,” he replied. “But,” he added hopefully, +“you can’t never be sure.”</p> +<p>Minky nodded.</p> +<p>“That’s so. I’d say you don’t look a heap sick, though.”</p> +<p>“You sure don’t,” agreed Sandy. “But, as you sez, +you can’t never tell. Now, you buyin’ ha’f Zip’s claim +makes––” His words died down to a thoughtful murmur. +Bill’s look was somehow discouraging as he pointed at the +medicine.</p> +<p>“What you got?” he demanded abruptly.</p> +<p>“Why, most everything,” said Minky. “Ther’, you see +that longish bottle? That’s a dandy cough cure. Guess +you ain’t needin’ that? No? Ah!” as Bill shook his head, +“I didn’t guess you’d a cough. Corns? Now, this yer +packet is an elegant fixin’ fer corns, soft an’ hard. It jest +kills ’em stone dead, sure. It’s bully stuff, but ’tain’t good +fer eatin’. You ain’t got corns?” he inquired, as Bill again +shook his head. “Ah, seems a pity.” He turned again to +the shelf, determined, if possible, to suit his customer, and +lifted down a number of packets and sealed bottles. “Now, +here,” he cried, holding up a dainty box tied up with a +delicate-colored ribbon. For a moment his audience believed +it to be candy, but he quickly undeceived them. “Now this +yer is dandy truck, though I don’t guess ther’s a heap o’ use +fer it on Suffering Creek. It’s fer softening alkali water. +When the drummer told me that, I guessed to him ther +wa’an’t a heap o’ water drunk in this camp. But he said it +wa’an’t fer drinkin’ water; it was fer baths. I kind o’ told +him that wouldn’t help the sale any, so he said it could be +used fer washin’. Seein’ he couldn’t sell me any that way +neither, he got riled an’ give me a present of it, an’ said he +guessed Sufferin’ Creek <i>did</i> use water fer washing gold. +Y’see, its price is a dollar an’ a ha’f, but, seein’ it’s kind o’ +dead stock, you ken have it a present.”</p> +<p>Bill took it.</p> +<p>“It’s mine,” he said. And Sandy watched him with some +concern.</p> +<p>“You––you ain’t takin’ a bath?” he inquired nervously.</p> +<p>“Don’t talk foolish,” cried Bill, and turned again to his +scrutiny of the shelf. “What else you got? Any stummick +physic?”</p> +<p>“Sure.” Minky held up a small bottle of tabloids. +“Camel-hell,” he said, with the assurance of a man who +knows the worth of the article he is offering for sale. +“Now this yer is Camel-hell––C-a-l-o-m-e-l. And I’d sure +say the name is appropriate. That doggone ‘drummer’ feller +said ther’ was enough in one o’ them bottles to kep the +stummicks of a whole blamed menagerie right fer six +months. It’s real dandy––”</p> +<p>He broke off suddenly, and his look of enthusiasm was +abruptly replaced by one of anxious interest that bordered +closely on apprehension. His audience realized the change, +and both men glanced swiftly in the direction whence the +storekeeper’s gaze had become so suddenly concentrated. +Instantly they became aware that two strangers had quietly +entered the store, and had taken their places at one of the +tables under the open window.</p> +<p>Bill thought he recognized one of the men, but was not +sure where he had seen him. Sandy saw nothing remarkable +in their presence, and at once turned back to the counter.</p> +<p>“More of ’em,” said Minky in a low tone, when finally +Bill turned back to him.</p> +<p>“Yes. Many while I bin away?”</p> +<p>“Four or five. All––come along fer a game––it seems.” +Minky’s eyes were brooding.</p> +<p>Suddenly a light of intelligence sprang into Bill’s thoughtful +face.</p> +<p>“Ah, I remember one o’ them. I see him in Spawn City––in +a bum gamblin’ dive.”</p> +<p>Sandy suddenly roused to a keen interest.</p> +<p>“Them strangers,” he said––“that ’minds me I was +talkin’ to one last night. He was askin’ me when a stage +was running from here.”</p> +<p>“What d’you tell him?” demanded Bill quickly, and +Minky’s eyes asked the question too.</p> +<p>Sandy laughed conceitedly.</p> +<p>“I sure said ther’ wa’an’t no stages runnin’, with James’ +gang around. I wa’an’t goin’ to give nuthin’ away to +strangers. Y’see, if I’d pretended we was sendin’ out stages, +we’d have that gang hangin’ around waitin’. ’Tain’t no use +in gatherin’ wasps around a m’lasses-pot.”</p> +<p>“No. You didn’t tell him nuthin’ else?” Bill inquired, +eyeing him shrewdly.</p> +<p>“I did that,” said Sandy triumphantly. “I filled him up +good. I jest told him we was wise to James an’ his gang, +an’ was takin’ no chances, seein’ Sufferin’ Creek was such a +rich lay-out. I told him we was bankin’ up the gold right +here, an’ holdin’ it till the pile was so big we could claim a +Gover’ment escort that could snap their fingers at James an’ +his lay-out.”</p> +<p>A swift exchange of glances passed between the gambler +and the storekeeper. And then, in a quiet voice, Bill demanded––</p> +<p>“Anything else?”</p> +<p>“Nothing o’ consequence,” replied Sandy, feeling he had +acquitted himself well. “He jest asted if Minky here +banked the stuff, an’ I ’lowed he did.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” There was an ominous sparkle in Bill’s eyes as +he breathed his ejaculation. Then, with a quiet sarcasm +quite lost on the obtuse widower, “You’d make an elegant +sheriff’s officer. You’d raise hell with the crooks.”</p> +<p>Sandy appeared pleased with what he took for praise.</p> +<p>“I’d show ’em some––”</p> +<p>But Bill had turned to the storekeeper.</p> +<p>“We’ve got to git doin’. I’ve heerd a heap in Spawn +City. Anyway, it was bound to git around. What he’s +said don’t matter a heap. What I’ve heerd tells me we’ve +got to git busy quick. We’ve got to clean you out of––stuff, +or ther’s goin’ to be a most outrageous unhealthy time +on Sufferin’ Creek. We’ll fix things to-morrer. Bein’ Sunday,” +he added grimly, “it’ll be an elegant day fer settin’ +things right. Meanwhiles, I’ll ast you to fix me a parcel o’ +them physics, jest some of each, an’ you ken git Sunny Oak +to pass ’em right on to Zip fer his kids. Guess they’ll worry +out how best to dose ’em right.”</p> +<p>Minky nodded, but his eyes were gloomily watching the +two strangers sitting under the window. Sandy, however, +suddenly brightened into a wide smile.</p> +<p>“Sure,” he cried delightedly, slapping his thigh in his +exuberance. “That’s it. Course. It’s all writ in the reg’lations +fer raisin’ them kids. Gee! you had me beat clear to +death. Physic ev’ry Saturday night. Blamed if this ain’t +Saturday––an’ t’-morrer’s Sunday. An’ I tho’t you was +sufferin’ and needed physic. Say––”</p> +<p>But Bill, too, was watching the strangers with interested +eyes. He was paying no sort of attention to this wonderful +discovery of his bright friend.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI_SCIPIO_MAKES_PREPARATIONS' id='CHAPTER_XXI_SCIPIO_MAKES_PREPARATIONS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>SCIPIO MAKES PREPARATIONS</h3> +</div> +<p>Scipio’s impulses were, from his own point of view, +entirely practical. Whatever he did, he did with his whole +heart. And if his results somehow missed coming out as +he intended them, it was scarcely his fault. Rather was it +the misfortune of being burdened with a superfluous energy, +supported by inadequate thought.</p> +<p>And he felt something of this as he sat in his living-room +and glanced round him at the unaccountable disorder that +maintained. It was Sunday morning, and all his spare time +in his home on Saturday had been spent in cleaning and +scrubbing and putting straight, and yet––and yet––He +passed a stubby hand across his forehead, as though to brush +aside the vision of the confusion he beheld.</p> +<p>He knew everything was wrong, and a subconscious feeling +told him that he had no power to put things right. It +was curious, too. Every utensil, every stick of furniture, +the floor, the stove, everything had been scrubbed and +garnished at a great expense of labor. Everything had been +carefully bestowed in the place which, to his mind, seemed +most suited for its disposal. Yet now, as he gazed about +him at the result, he knew that only a cleanly untidiness +prevailed, and he felt disheartened.</p> +<p>Look at the children’s clean clothes, carefully folded with +almost painful exactness; yet they were like a pile of rags +just thrown together. And their unironed condition added +to the illusion. Every cooking-pot and pan had been cleaned +and polished, yet, to his eyes, the litter of them suggested +one of the heaps of iron scraps out on the dumps. How +was it every piece of china looked forlornly suggestive of +a wanderer without a home? No, he did not know. He +had done his very best, and yet everything seemed to need +just that magic touch to give his home the requisite well-cared-for +air.</p> +<p>He was disappointed, and his feelings were plainly to be +perceived in the regretful glance of his pale eyes. For some +moments his optimistic energy rose and prompted him to begin +all over again, but he denied himself this satisfaction as +he glanced through the window at the morning sun. It was +too high up in the sky. There was other work yet before +him, with none too much time for its performance before +the midday meal.</p> +<p>Instead, he turned to the “regulations” which Sunny Oak +had furnished him with, and, with an index finger following +out the words, he read down the details of the work for +Sunday––in so far as his twins were concerned.</p> +<p>“Ah,” he murmured, “I got the wash done yesterday. +It says here Monday. That’s kind of a pity.” Then he +brightened into hopefulness. “Guess I kin do those things +again Monday. I sort o’ fancy they could do with another +wash ’fore the kiddies wear them. I never could wash +clothes right, first time. Now, Sunday.” His finger passed +slowly from one detail to another. “Breakfast––yes. +Bath. Ah, guess that comes next. Now, ’bout that bath.” +He glanced anxiously round him. Then he turned back to +the regulations. “It don’t say whether hot or cold,” he +muttered disappointedly.</p> +<p>For a moment he stood perplexed. Then he began to +reason the matter out with himself. It was summer. For +grown-ups it would naturally be a cold bath, but he was not +so sure about children. They were very young, and it +would be so easy for them to take cold, he thought. No, it +had best be hot. He would cook some water. This thought +prompting him, he set the saucepan on the stove and stirred +the fire.</p> +<p>He was turning back to his regulations, when it occurred +to him that he must now find something to bathe the children +in. Glancing about amongst the few pots he possessed, he +realized that the largest saucepan, or “billy,” in the house +would not hold more than a gallon of water. No, these +were no use, for though he exercised all his ingenuity he +could see no way of bathing the children in any of them. +Once during his cogitations he was very nearly inspired. It +flashed through his mind that he might stand each child outside +of a couple of pots and wash them all over that way. +But he quickly negatived the thought. That wasn’t his idea +of a bath. They must sit <i>in</i> the water.</p> +<p>He was about to give the matter up in despair, when, in a +moment of inspiration, he remembered the washing-tub. Of +course, that was the very thing. They could both sit in that +together. It was down at the river, but he could easily fetch +it up.</p> +<p>So he turned again in relief to the regulations. What +next? He found his place, and read the directions out +slowly.</p> +<p>“‘After their bath kids needs an hour’s Bible talk.’”</p> +<p>He read it again. And then a third time, so as to make +quite sure. Then he turned thoughtfully to the door, staring +out at the bright sunlight beyond. He could hear the children’s +voices as they played outside, but he was not heeding +them. He was delving around in a hazy recollection of +Bible subjects, which he vaguely remembered having studied +when a child.</p> +<p>It was difficult––very difficult. But he was not beaten. +There were several subjects that occurred to him in scraps. +There was Noah. Then there was Moses. He recalled +something of Solomon, and he knew that David slew a giant.</p> +<p>But none of these subjects amounted to more than a dim +recollection. Of details he knew none. Worked into a +thorough muddle with his worry, he was almost despairing +again when suddenly he remembered that Jessie possessed +a Bible. Perhaps it was still in the bedroom. He would go +and see. It would surely help him. So he promptly went +in search of it, and, in a few moments, was sitting down +beside the table poring over it and studiously preparing +himself for his forthcoming tutelary duties.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII_SUNDAY_MORNING_IN_SUFFERING_CREEK' id='CHAPTER_XXII_SUNDAY_MORNING_IN_SUFFERING_CREEK'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>SUNDAY MORNING IN SUFFERING CREEK</h3> +</div> +<p>On the veranda of the store was the usual Sunday morning +gathering of the citizens of Suffering Creek, an impromptu +function which occurred as regularly as the sun rose +and set. Some of the men were clad in their best black +broadcloth, resplendent, if shiny at the seams, and bespotted +with drink and tobacco stains. But the majority had made +no such effort to differentiate between the seventh day of the +week and the other six. The only concession that everyone +yielded, and then with bad enough grace in many instances, +was to add to the boredom of their day of rest by performing +a scanty ablution in the washing trough at the back of the +store.</p> +<p>Minky was one of the few who clung to the customs of +his up-bringing. He was there, ample, and gayly beaming, +in “boiled” shirt, and a highly colored vest, which clashed +effusively with his brilliantly variegated bow-tie, but of +which he was inordinately proud.</p> +<p>It was the custom at these meetings to discuss any matters +which affected the well-being of the community, to listen +to any item of interest pointing the prosperity of the local +gold industry, to thresh out complaints. In fact, it became +a sort of Local Government Board, of which the storekeeper +was president, and such men as Wild Bill, Sandy Joyce and +one or two of the more successful miners formed the +governing committee.</p> +<p>But it was yet comparatively early, and many sore heads +were still clinging to their rough pillows. Saturday night +was always a heavy occasion, and the Sunday morning +sleep was a generally acknowledged necessity. However, +this did not prevent discussion amongst those already +assembled.</p> +<p>Wild Bill was not there. Sandy Joyce was still absent, +although both had been long since stirring. Someone sarcastically +suggested that they had gone off to inspect the +gambler’s rich strike before Sandy got to work on it on the +morrow. This drew a great laugh at Wild Bill’s expense. +And it was only the loyal Minky’s voice that checked it.</p> +<p>“You’se fellers are laffin’,” he said, in good-humored +reproval. “Wal, laff. I can’t say I know why Bill’s bo’t +that claim, but I’ll say this: I’d a heap sooner foller his +money than any other man’s. I’ve sure got a notion we best +do our laffin’ right now.”</p> +<p>“That’s so,” agreed Joe Brand reluctantly. “Bill’s a +cur’us feller. He’s so mighty cur’us I ain’t got much use +for him––personal. But I’ll say right here, he’s wide +enough to beat most any feller at any bluff he’s got savvee to +put up. Howsum, every ‘smart’ falls fer things at times. +Y’see, they get lookin’ fer rich strikes that hard, an’ are so +busy keppin’ other folks out o’ them, it’s dead easy gettin’ +’em trippin’. Guess that tow-headed sucker, Zip, ’s got him +trippin’ about now, sure.”</p> +<p>Minky shook his head. He did not believe it. If Bill +had been caught napping, he must have willfully gone to +sleep. He knew the man too well. However, he had no +intention of arguing the matter with these people. So he +turned away and stood staring out at the far distance beyond +the creek.</p> +<p>In a few moments the whole matter was dismissed from +his mind, and his thoughts filled with a something that lately +had become a sort of obsession to him. It was the safety of +his gold-dust that troubled, and as each day passed his apprehensions +grew. He felt that trouble was threatening in the +air of Suffering Creek, and the thought of how easily he +might be taken at a disadvantage worried him terribly. He +knew that it was imperative for him to unload his gold. +But how? How could it be done in safety, in the light of +past events? It was suicidal to send it off to Spawn City +on a stage, with the James gang watching the district. And +the Government––?</p> +<p>Suddenly his eyes lit excitedly. He pointed out across the +creek with startling abruptness, in a direction where the land +sloped gradually upwards towards the more distant foothills, +in a broken carpet of pine woods. He was indicating a rift +in the forest, where, for a long stretch, a wide clearing had +been made by the axes of the pioneers of the camp.</p> +<p>“Ho, fellers!” he cried. “Get a peek yonder. Who’s +that?”</p> +<p>In an instant every eye followed the direction of his outstretched +arm. And the men stood silently watching the +progress of a horseman racing headlong through the clearing +and making for the creek in front of them as fast as his +horse could lay legs to the ground. So silent and intent +did the group on the veranda become, that faint, yet sharply +distinct, even at that distance, the thrashing of the horse’s +hoofs floated to their straining ears on the still morning air, +and set them wondering.</p> +<p>On came the man at a furious pace. He was leaning far +over his horse’s neck, so that the whole weight of his body +was well clear of the saddle. And as he came the waiting +men could plainly see the rise and fall of his arm, as he +mercilessly flogged his straining beast. It was Joe Brand +who first broke the silence.</p> +<p>“Looks like Sid Morton,” he hazarded. “I kind o’ +seem to mind his sorrel with four white legs. He’s comin’ +from the right direction, too. Guess his ranch is ten miles +up yonder. Say, he’s makin’ a hell of a bat.”</p> +<p>“He sure is.” Jim Wright, the oldest miner in the camp, +blinked his red-rimmed eyes as they watered with the strain +of watching, “It’s trouble that’s chasin’ him,” he added, +with conviction. “Trouble o’ some kind.”</p> +<p>“What sort o’ trouble?” Minky spoke half to himself. +Just now there was only one idea of trouble in his +mind.</p> +<p>Somebody laughed foolishly.</p> +<p>“There ain’t many sorts o’ trouble sets a man chasin’ +like that,” said a voice in the background.</p> +<p>Minky glanced round.</p> +<p>“What are they, Van?” he inquired, and turned back +again to his scrutiny of the on-coming horseman.</p> +<p>“Sickness, an’––guns,” replied the man addressed as +Van, with another foolish laugh. “If it’s Sid he ain’t got +anybody out on his ranch to be sick, ’cep’ his two ’punchers. +An’ I don’t guess he’d chase for them. Must be ‘guns.’”</p> +<p>No one answered him. Everybody was too intent on the +extraordinary phenomenon. The man was nearing the +creek. In a few seconds he would be hidden from view, +for the opposite bank lay far below them, cut off from +sight by the height of the rising ground intervening on the +hither side.</p> +<p>A moment later a distinct movement amongst the +watchers, which had something almost of relief in it, told +that this had happened. Minky turned to Jim Wright, who +chanced to be nearest him.</p> +<p>“It’s Sid,” he declared definitely.</p> +<p>The old man nodded.</p> +<p>“An’ I guess Van’s right,” he agreed.</p> +<p>“He’ll be along up in a minute,” said Joe Brand.</p> +<p>Minky remained where he was watching the point at +which he expected to see the horseman reappear. This sudden +apparition had fastened itself upon his general apprehension +and become part of it. What was the news the man +was bringing?</p> +<p>Some of the men moved off the veranda to meet the horseman +when he came up, but the majority remained where +they were. In spite of their interest, these people were +rarely carried away by their feelings in a matter of this sort. +Time would tell them all they wanted to know. Perhaps +a good deal more than they cared to hear. So they preferred +to wait.</p> +<p>Their patience was quickly rewarded. In less than five +minutes a bobbing head rose above the brow of the incline. +Then came the man. He was still leaning forward to ease +his panting horse, whose dilated nostrils and flattened ears +told the onlookers of its desperate journey. The leg-weary +beast floundered up the steep under quirt and spur––and, +in a moment, stood tottering, gasping and steaming before +the eager crowd.</p> +<p>Sid Morton almost fell out of the saddle. And as his feet +came to the ground he reeled. But Minky caught him, and +he steadied himself.</p> +<p>“I’m beat,” the horseman cried desperately. “For +mercy’s sake hand me a horn o’ whisky.”</p> +<p>He flung himself down on the edge of the veranda, leaving +his jaded beast to anyone’s care. He was too far spent to +think of anything or anybody but himself. Falling back +against the post he closed his eyes while the silent crowd +looked on stupidly.</p> +<p>Minky seemed to be the only one who fully grasped the +situation. He passed the foundered horse on to his +“choreman,” and then himself procured a stiff drink of rye +whisky for the exhausted man. This he administered +without a moment’s delay, and the ranchman opened his +eyes.</p> +<p>The next instant he sat up, and, in doing so, disclosed a +large dark-red patch on the post he had leaned against. +Minky saw the ominous stain.</p> +<p>“Wounded?” he inquired sharply.</p> +<p>“Some.” Then he added, after a moment’s hesitation, +“Yes, guess I’m done.”</p> +<p>The ranchman spoke rapidly. For the moment at least +his weakness seemed to have passed, and the weariness to +have gone out of his eyes and voice. He strained eagerly, +his eyes alight and bloodshot. The whisky had given him +momentary courage, momentary strength; the drawn lines of +rapidly draining life had smoothed out of his young cheeks.</p> +<p>“Here, listen,” he cried, almost fiercely. “I’m beat. I +know. But––but I want to tell you things. You needn’t +to notice that hole in my back.” He writhed painfully. +“Guess they––they got my lung or––or somethin’. Y’see, +it’s the James gang. Some of ’em are”––a spasm of pain +shot athwart his face as he hesitated––“’bout three miles +back ther’––”</p> +<p>At this point a terrible fit of coughing interrupted him, +and blood trickled into the corners of his mouth. Minky +understood. He dispatched one of the bystanders for some +brandy, while he knelt down to the man’s support. At once +the drooping body sagged heavily upon his arm; but when +the paroxysm had passed the weight lightened, and the dying +man hurried on with his story, although his voice had lost +more than half of its former ring.</p> +<p>“Ther’ ain’t much time,” he said, with something like a +gasp. “He’s run off my stock, an’ set my hay an’ the corrals +afire. He––he got us when we was roundin’––roundin’ +up a bunch o’ steers. Y’see––y’see, we was in––in +the saddle.”</p> +<p>Again he paused. This time his breath came in gasps and +deep-throated gurglings. He struggled on, however, stumbling +and gasping with almost every second word.</p> +<p>“We put up a––scrap––good. An’––an’ both––my +boys was––was dropped cold. After I––I emptied––my +gun––I––I hit––the trail for here. Then I––got it good. +Say––”</p> +<p>Once more he was interrupted by a fit of terrible coughing. +And the moment it eased the storekeeper held the +brandy, which one of the boys had brought, to his blood-flecked +lips. The poor fellow’s end was not far off. The +onlookers knew it. Minky knew there was practically nothing +to be done for him. All these men had witnessed the +approach of death in this form too often before. A lung +pierced by a bullet! They could do nothing but look on +curiously, helplessly and listen carefully to the story he was +trying to tell.</p> +<p>The man struggled with himself for some moments. The +strong young body was yielding reluctantly enough to the +death-grip. And at last his words gasped haltingly upon the +still air.</p> +<p>“Their plugs––wasn’t––fresh. Mine––was. That +give––me––the––legs––of ’em. But––they––rode––hard, +an’––”</p> +<p>His voice died down to a whistling gasp and his eyes +closed. He was sinking fast. Minky forced more brandy +between his lips. And presently the drooping eyelids +widened, and a momentary strength lifted the weakening +body.</p> +<p>“They follered,” he mumbled, “but––I––don’t––know––how––many. +’Bout––three. Three––miles––back––I––I––lost––’em––”</p> +<p>His eyes were glazing and staring painfully. And as his +last words hovered on his lips they were drowned by the +gurgling and rattling in his throat. Suddenly a shudder +passed through his frame. He started, his eyes staring +wildly.</p> +<p>“I’m––done!” he gasped. His arms shot up convulsively, +his legs flung out. And then all his weight dropped +back on to the storekeeper’s supporting arm. The next +moment his body seemed to heave as with a deep, restful +sigh, and his head lolled helplessly forward. He was dead.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII_A_BATH_AND' id='CHAPTER_XXIII_A_BATH_AND'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<h3>A BATH AND––</h3> +</div> +<p>Scipio started and looked up as a joyous greeting from +the children outside warned him of the approach of a visitor. +He was rather glad of the interruption, too. He found the +Bible offered him such an enormous field of research. It +was worse than enormous; it was overwhelming. The +Bible was really more than he could study in the few minutes +he had allowed himself. As yet he had not found even +one single mention of the few subjects he still retained a +vague recollection of.</p> +<p>As he glanced at the doorway it was darkened by a familiar +figure. Sunny Oak, as ragged, disreputable and unclean +as usual, smiled himself into the room.</p> +<p>“Howdy, Zip?” he greeted genially. “Guessed I’d git +around, seem’ it was Sunday. Y’see, folks don’t work any +Sunday. I’d sure say it’s a real blessin’ folks is ’lowed to +rest one day in seven. Talkin’ o’ work, I heerd tell you’ve +took a pardner to your claim. Wild Bill’s smart. He ain’t +bluffed you any?”</p> +<p>The loafer seated himself in the other chair with an air +of utter weariness. He might just have finished a spell of +the most arduous labor, instead of having merely strolled +across the dumps. Scipio smiled faintly.</p> +<p>“He hasn’t bluffed me any,” he said gently. “Seems to +me he wouldn’t bluff me. Yes, he’s in on ha’f my claim. +Y’see, he thinks ther’s gold in sight, an’––an’ I know ther’ +ain’t. That’s what’s troubling me. I kind of feel mean +some.”</p> +<p>Sunny yawned luxuriously.</p> +<p>“Don’t you worry any,” he said easily. “Bill’s mighty +wide. If he’s come in on your claim he’s––needin’ to bad. +Say––”</p> +<p>He broke off and turned alertly to the door. A sound of +voices reached them, and a moment later Sandy Joyce and +Toby stood grinning in the doorway.</p> +<p>“Gee!” cried Sunny. “Gettin’ quite a party.”</p> +<p>“I’m real pleased you folks come along,” Scipio declared +warmly. He stood up and looked round uncertainly. +“Say,” he went on, his pale face flushing a little ruefully, +“come right in, boys. I don’t see jest where you’re goin’ to +sit. Maybe the table’s good an’ strong. This chair’ll +do for one.”</p> +<p>But Toby would have none of it.</p> +<p>“Set you down, Zip,” he cried. “I got this doorway. +Guess the table’ll fit Sandy. He’s kind o’ high in his notions. +I jest see Bill comin’ along up from the river. +Looked like he was comin’ this way. How’s the kids?”</p> +<p>“Why, bully,” said Scipio amiably. “Y’see, I got ’em +fixed right all right since Sunny wrote out those regulations +for me. Those regulations are jest dandy, and I’m desperate +obliged to him. A feller would need to be a bum +sort of fool, anyhow, who couldn’t fix kids right with it all +set out so careful. There sure are things set down there I’d +never have thought of––an’ I’m their father, too.” He +paused and glanced nervously round at the friendly faces. +Then, with evident anxiety, he hurried on. “I was just +thinkin’,” he exclaimed, “maybe some hot coffee wouldn’t +come amiss. Y’see, I ain’t no rye. Guess I’ll make that +coffee right away. I got water cooking on the stove. I +was goin’ to use it for bathin’ the kids, but––”</p> +<p>His visitors exchanged swift glances, and Sunny broke in. +“Don’t do it, Zip,” he said with an amiable grin. “These +boys don’t figger to unpickle their vitals with no sech truck +as coffee. Say”––his eyes wandered to where his carefully +written regulations were posted, “talkin’ o’ baths, have you +physicked the kids right?”</p> +<p>Scipio, feeling somewhat relieved, returned to his chair +and lodged himself upon its edge. He could not settle himself +at his ease. Somehow he felt that these men were entirely +his superior in all those things which count for manhood; +and the kindness of such a visit rather overwhelmed +him. Then, too, he was sincerely regretting his inadequate +hospitality. Now he became nervously enthusiastic.</p> +<p>“I sure did,” he cried eagerly. “Those physics were real +elegant. If you’ll tell me what they cost you, Sunny, I’ll +square up now. How––”</p> +<p>He pulled out some money, but the loafer waved it aside +with ridiculous dignity.</p> +<p>“Thievin’ doctors needs pay. I ain’t no bum doc. What +you give ’em––the kids?”</p> +<p>Scipio bundled his money back into his pocket, flushing +at the thought that he had unintentionally insulted his benefactor.</p> +<p>“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “I didn’t give ’em no corn +cure. Y’see,” he added apologetically, “I couldn’t find no +corns on ’em to speak of. But,” he went on more hopefully, +“I give ’em the cough cure. They ain’t got no coughs, +neither of ’em, but, seein’ they was to take a bath, I guessed +it ’ud be a kind of precaution. Then there were them powders. +How were they called? Why––Lick––Lick––well, +they were called Lick––something. Anyways, I give +’em one each. They didn’t take ’em easy, an’ was nigh sick, +but they got ’em down after awhile. Then, seein’ they got +bruises on their legs, playin’, I rubbed ’em good with hoss +lin’ment. After that I give ’em some o’ that tonic––quinine +an’ something. An’ then, seein’ they couldn’t eat food this +mornin’, an’ had got sick headaches, I give ’em one o’ them +fizzy Seidlitz fellers between ’em. Jamie bein’ the smallest +I give him the thin white packet, an’ the other, the blue one, +I give to Vada. That seemed to fix them good, an I guess +they’re most ready fer their baths by now.”</p> +<p>“I guessed you’d treat ’em right,” approved Sunny +seriously. “Ther’ ain’t nothin’ like physic. You’re sure a +wise guy, Zip.”</p> +<p>Sandy Joyce agreed, too.</p> +<p>“You was dead right,” he said impressively. “It don’t +never do takin’ chances with kids o’ that age. Chances is +bum things, anyway. Y’see, kids ken ketch such a heap o’ +things. Ther’s bile, an’ measles, an’ dropsy, an’ cancer, an’ +hydryfoby, an’ all kinds o’ things. They’s li’ble to ketch ’em +as easy as gettin’ flies wi’ molasses. An’ some o’ them is +ter’ble bad. Ever had hydryfoby? No? Wal, I ain’t +neither, but I see a feller with it oncet, an’ he jest went +around barkin’ like a camp dog chasin’ after swill bar’ls, an’ +was scared to death o’ water––”</p> +<p>“Some folks don’t need hydryfoby fer that,” put in Toby, +with a grin.</p> +<p>“Ther’ ain’t no call fer you buttin’ in,” flashed Sandy +angrily. “Guess I’m talkin’ o’ things you ain’t heerd tell +of. You ain’t out o’ your cradle yet.”</p> +<p>He turned back to his host and prepared to continue his +list of horrors, but Sunny forestalled him.</p> +<p>“Talkin’ o’ water,” he said, “you ain’t bathed the kids +yet?”</p> +<p>Scipio shook his head.</p> +<p>“The water’s cookin’.”</p> +<p>“Cookin’?” Toby whistled.</p> +<p>Sunny sat up, all interest.</p> +<p>“Hot bath?” he inquired, with wide eyes. “You ain’t +givin’ ’em a <i>hot</i> bath?” he exclaimed incredulously.</p> +<p>A troubled look came into Scipio’s pale eyes. He doubted +his purpose in face of his friends’ astonishment.</p> +<p>“Why, yes. That’s how I <i>was</i> thinking,” he said weakly. +“Y’see, I guessed it would soften the dirt quicker, and make +it easy wipin’ it off.”</p> +<p>“But ain’t you scared o’ them––peelin’?” inquired +Sandy, refusing to be left out of the discussion.</p> +<p>Scipio looked perplexed.</p> +<p>“Peelin’?” he said. “I––I don’t think I get you.”</p> +<p>“Why,” explained Sandy readily, “peelin’ their skins off +’em. You allus sets potatoes in b’ilin’ water to git their +skins peeled quick. Same with hogs. Same with most anything. +I call that a fool chance to take.”</p> +<p>Scipio’s perplexity merged into a mild smile.</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t jest set ’em into boilin’ water,” he explained; +“kind of warm, with a bit o’ soda.”</p> +<p>Sunny approved.</p> +<p>“That sure don’t sound too bad,” he declared. “But wot +about ’em gettin’ cold? Takin’ all that dirt off sudden, +y’see––”</p> +<p>“He’s dosed ’em wi’ cough cure,” broke in Toby.</p> +<p>“Sure,” agreed Sunny. “I’d fergot––Say”––he +turned to the doorway and craned towards it––“here’s––here’s +Wild Bill coming along.”</p> +<p>Toby promptly scrambled up from the door-sill and made +way for the Trust president. He strode into the room with +a quick glance round and a short, harsh “Howdy?” for the +lesser members of his corporation. His manner towards +Scipio was no less unbending.</p> +<p>And, curiously enough, his coming silenced all further +discussion. Scipio had nothing to say whatever, and the +others felt that here was their leader from whom they must +take their cue.</p> +<p>Nor was it long in coming. Scipio rose and offered his +chair to the newcomer, but the gambler promptly kicked the +proffered seat aside, and took up his position on the fuel-box. +He glared into the little man’s face for a few seconds, +and then opened his lips.</p> +<p>“Wal?” he drawled.</p> +<p>Scipio stirred uneasily.</p> +<p>“I’m real glad to see you, Bill,” he managed to mumble +out. “I ain’t got no rye––”</p> +<p>“Rye––hell!” The gambler was not a patient man, and +the laws of hospitality interested him not in the least. +“Say”––he pointed at the open Bible on the table beside +Sandy––“takin’ on psalm-smitin’?”</p> +<p>Scipio hurled himself into the breach.</p> +<p>“It’s them regulations Sunny give me for raisin’ the kids. +They need a Bible talk after their bath. I bin readin’ up +some.”</p> +<p>A momentary twinkle flashed into the gambler’s eyes.</p> +<p>“Have you give ’em their bath?” he demanded.</p> +<p>Scipio pointed at the stove, on which the water was already +boiling.</p> +<p>“The water’s cookin’,” he said. “Guess it’s most +ready.” The gambler glanced round the room severely.</p> +<p>“Then why the devil is you’se fellers settin’ around? +Wher’s the tub?”</p> +<p>“Down at the creek. It’s the wash-tub,” Scipio explained, +bestirring himself. The other men stood up ready.</p> +<p>There was no doubt that Bill had taken possession of the +situation. He always seemed to dominate his fellows. +Now he caught Scipio’s eye and held him.</p> +<p>“Jest gather the things up quick,” he said authoritatively, +“an’ we’ll get busy.”</p> +<p>And as Scipio heaped up the necessary articles for the +bath on the table, he looked on with the keenest interest. +Finally the little man paused beside the heap, holding in his +hand the box of water-softener, which he was eyeing somewhat +doubtfully. Bill’s eyes still twinkled.</p> +<p>“Wot’s that?” he demanded in his savage way, as though +he had never seen the box before.</p> +<p>“That? Why, that’s for bathin’,” said Scipio doubtfully. +“Y’see, it’s a fixin’ swell ladies in Noo York an’ such places +use for makin’ their baths soft an’ dandy. Sunny brought it +along last night. He guessed it would be elegant for the +kids. Y’see, his mother sent it a present to him. He didn’t +reckon he had use for it, seein’ he took his bath in the creek +every mornin’. He guessed natural water was best for +him.”</p> +<p>Bill snorted.</p> +<p>“Sunny’s a bright lad,” he said, while Toby softly exploded +with laughter in the doorway.</p> +<p>But the gambler was bent on the purpose in hand, and +promptly dismissed the loafer’s fairy-story from his mind.</p> +<p>“Here, get around and bear a hand,” he cried, indicating +the pile on the table. “You, Toby, quit laffin’ an’ git a holt +on them clean laundry. An’ say, don’t you muss ’em any. +Sunny, you best pile up them washin’ fixin’s––that hand-scrubber, +the soap, that wash-flannel an’ the towels. Guess +that’s the nighest you’ll ever come to bathin’ yourself. +Sandy Joyce ken carry the hot water, an’, if Zip’s yaller pup +gets around, see you don’t scald him any. Guess I’ll handle +these yer dippers. That way Zip’ll be free to take the kids +along. After they’re bathed they ken set around in the +sun, while Zip gives ’em a real elegant Bible talk.”</p> +<p>The whole thing was simplicity itself in the capable hands +of a man of Bill’s energy. But for his advent the bath +might have been delayed until the water on the cookstove +had boiled away. What with Sandy’s love of debate and +Sunny’s indolence, the visit of these men might have been +prolonged for hours. As it was, in five minutes after Bill’s +appearance upon the scene the cortége was ready to set out +for the water’s edge; and not only ready, but more than +willing to submit the all-unconscious twins to the combination +of their inexperienced efforts in matters ablutionary. +The one saving clause for the poor little creatures was the +presence of their father and a man of practical intelligence +such as the gambler. How they might have fared at the +hands of the others is a matter best not contemplated too +closely.</p> +<p>At a word from Wild Bill the procession set out. Scipio +headed it, with a child clinging to each hand, doddling along +at his side all blissfully unconscious, but delighted at going +whither their elders led them. Vada babbled with delight, +and kept up a fire of chattering questions in a truly feminine +manner, while little Jamie, stolid but no less joyous, devoured +everything with hungry, thoughtful eyes, and punctuated +his sister’s remarks with characteristic grunts, and an +occasional emphatic ejaculation and protest at the yellow +pup, who would lick his dirty legs.</p> +<p>Behind these came Sandy Joyce, the picture of absurd +dignity, as he vainly strove to carry the boiler of water without +scalding himself. Toby came immediately behind him, +with the bundle of laundry, a tumbled mass in his arms, +crushed firmly to his stout chest, lest, by any ill-fate, he +should drop any of the strange garments, which looked so +absurdly small in his ignorant eyes.</p> +<p>Next came Sunny with the cleansing properties, which he +carried gingerly, as though the very nature of them were +repugnant to him, and the labor of carrying them an offense +to his creed of life. The soap particularly troubled him. +Its slippery nature made him drop it several times, till it +seemed almost as though it resented him personally, and was +trying to escape from the insult of such association. Wild +Bill brought up the rear of the column, bearing the bright +tin dippers, which clattered violently as they swung together +on their string loops. He suggested nothing so much as a +herder driving before him his unusual flock by the aid of a +violent rattling on tin cans.</p> +<p>Solemnly the procession wound its way down the hill. +Only the voices of the children, the yapping of the pup and +the clatter of tinware enlivened the journey. The men’s +minds were engrossed with their various charges. It was +serious––desperately serious. But then, a bath in any +form, much less a bath of two small children, was an affair +of the gravest importance to these men. Then, too, there +was nervousness with it. Everybody felt responsible, from +the father to the desperate instigator of what was, in their +minds, something almost amounting to an outrage.</p> +<p>However, the windings and roughnesses of the path, as it +twisted its way through the scrubby bushes lining the creek +bank, were finally negotiated more or less satisfactorily. +The mishaps were not as great as might have been anticipated. +Sandy only scalded himself twice, and his curses +had to be stifled by a sharp reprimand from the gambler. +Toby skidded down the slope once, and only saved the +laundry at the personal expense of a torn shirt and a grazed +elbow. Sunny, except for his difference of opinion with the +soap, enjoyed no other mishap, and Bill’s only transgression +was to send one of the dippers, amidst a volley of curses, +hurtling at the yellow pup, who at one time threatened to upset +all Sandy’s dignity, and incidentally the boiling water, by +getting mixed up with that worthy widower’s legs.</p> +<p>The halt was made beside the wash-tub, and childish +curiosity promptly asserted itself.</p> +<p>“You ain’t washin’ more clothes, poppa?” demanded +Vada, with wide questioning eyes. “Ain’t this Sunday?”</p> +<p>“Pop-pa wash tothes,” mumbled Jamie.</p> +<p>Sunny took it upon himself to put the matter right in the +small minds. He beamed upon the children.</p> +<p>“Poppa’s going to wash <i>you</i>,” he said, with unction.</p> +<p>“Wot for?” demanded Vada. “We ain’t done nothin’.”</p> +<p>“’Cos you needs it,” replied the loafer, uncomfortably +avoiding the blandly questioning eyes.</p> +<p>“Ugh!” interjected Jamie.</p> +<p>“We ain’t as dirty as you,” said Vada, after a thoughtful +pause.</p> +<p>Sunny busied himself laying out the utensils on the grassiest +spot he could find. Toby glanced round after depositing +the laundry department. He guffawed loudly, and went on +with his work. Sunny’s face went a dirty scarlet, but he refrained +from retort. And promptly little Vada went on.</p> +<p>“I don’t want bath,” she protested plaintively. And +Jamie chorused in with a grunt of agreement, while he +busied himself trying to climb up the sides of the tub.</p> +<p>Scipio snatched him away, and looked round weakly for +support. It came in a sharp command from Bill, who had +seated himself on a fallen tree-trunk.</p> +<p>“Git busy,” he ordered. “Set that doggone water in the +tub, an’ Sunny ken dip the boiler full of cold. You boys +ken do that while Zip gets the kids ready. Guess he’ll likely +know best wher’ the strings an’ buttons is.”</p> +<p>His orders were silently executed by the men. But the +children had no awe of the gambler, and their protests were +many and querulous. However, the tub was filled satisfactorily, +and Scipio finally succeeded in fumbling the clothes +off the children.</p> +<p>It was a curious scene. Scipio moved about with an air +of the mildest perplexity. Sunny slouched through his +work as though it were the hardest of labor, although he was +really enjoying himself. Toby was grinning all over his +face with huge enjoyment, while Sandy performed his share +with such an aspect of care that his labors might have been +of an absolutely epoch-making nature. Bill suggested +simple authority. The “kids” must be bathed, and he was +going to see it done.</p> +<p>When all preparations had been made, Scipio became the +chief operator, and each man took up his position where best +he could witness the process. There was something so +mildly stimulating to these ruffians in observing the clumsy +lavering of two small children. They all appreciated cleanliness +in theory; it was only the practice that they were unaccustomed +to, and here it was being demonstrated before +their interested eyes. They watched Scipio’s efforts for +some moments in silence, while he, with gentle persuasion, +overcame each childish protest. He did it in such a kindly, +patient way that very soon these small atoms of humanity, +sitting facing each other cross-legged in the tub, gained +ample confidence, and gave expression to infantile delight by +splashing each other with water, and incidentally treating +their father to an even less welcome bath.</p> +<p>They laughed and crowed and chattered while their father +plied the house-flannel, and only were their piping voices +quiet at such moments as their small round faces were +smothered with soapsuds, or lost in the embracing folds of +the none too savory cloth.</p> +<p>But on the part of the spectators, their interest would not +permit of long silence. And it was Sandy Joyce, quite irrepressible +where advice was concerned, who found it necessary +to interfere.</p> +<p>“Ain’t you rubbin’ ’em too hard?” he questioned, after +prolonged cogitation.</p> +<p>Scipio turned to reply in the midst of swabbing Jamie’s +lower limbs. He was holding one foot dangerously high in +the air, and the movement caused him to upset the child’s +balance, so that his upper part promptly disappeared beneath +the frothing suds. A wild splashing and yell from Vada +warned her father of the threatened tragedy, and Jamie was +hauled up, coughing and spluttering. The little man, with +scared face, sought at once to pacify the frightened child, +while Sunny withered the interfering widower with a few +well-chosen words.</p> +<p>“Say, you’d butt in an’ tell folk they wasn’t nailin’ up your +coffin right,” he cried angrily. “Will you kep that instrument +o’ foolishness o’ yours quiet fer ten minutes?”</p> +<p>Sandy flushed.</p> +<p>“They ain’t got hides like hogs,” he grumbled. “They +needs handlin’ easy. Say, jest look what he’s doin’ now. +What’s––”</p> +<p>He broke off, and all eyes watched Scipio’s movements as +he turned Jamie over, and, supporting his dripping body +in the crook of his arm, plied the flannel upon the boy’s +back. The moment was a tense one. Then a sigh of relief +went up as the child dropped back in the water with a +splash.</p> +<p>“I ain’t never see kids handled that way,” cried the disgusted +Sandy, unable to keep silence any longer. Then, as +no one seemed inclined to question his statement, he went +on, “Wot I sez is, kids needs women-folk to do they things +right. Zip’s handlin’ ’em like raw beef.” Then he turned +on Sunny, whose rebuke was still rankling. “Guess you’ll +say he ain’t––bein’ contrary. Now, ef I was washin’ ’em, +I’d––”</p> +<p>“Shut up,” cried Wild Bill harshly. Then he added, +with biting sarcasm, “I ain’t surprised you’re a widder-man.”</p> +<p>Toby made no attempt to disguise his laughter, and it +maddened the unfortunate Sandy; and if a look could have +killed, Sunny would have died grinning. However, the +widower sheltered himself in the silence demanded of him +until the children were lifted out of the tub and dried by +their patient father. Nor did he even attempt to further +interfere while their parent struggled them into their little +woolen undershirts.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV_A_BIBLE_TALK' id='CHAPTER_XXIV_A_BIBLE_TALK'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>––A BIBLE TALK</h3> +</div> +<p>It was with a sigh of relief that Scipio now turned to +Wild Bill. Somehow, he naturally looked to him for +guidance. Nor did he quite know why.</p> +<p>“’Bout that Bible talk?” he inquired. “Guess you said +they best set around in the sun.”</p> +<p>Bill nodded.</p> +<p>“I sure did. Guess they kind o’ need airin’ some. +’Tain’t no use in settin’ in their clothes damp; they’ll be +gettin’ sick, sure. Ther’s a dandy bit o’ grass right here. +Best set ’em down, an’ get around an’ hand ’em your talk.”</p> +<p>But the worried father pushed his weedy hair off his +forehead with a troubled air.</p> +<p>“I haven’t read up a deal,” he apologized.</p> +<p>The gambler promptly swept his objection aside.</p> +<p>“That don’t figger any. Once you get goin’ you won’t +find no trouble. It’s dead easy after you’re started. That’s +the way it is with passons. They jest get a holt of a notion, +an’ then––why, they jest yarn.”</p> +<p>“I see,” replied Scipio doubtfully, while the other men +gathered round. “But,” he went on more weakly still, +“’bout that notion?”</p> +<p>Bill stirred impatiently.</p> +<p>“That’s it. You start right in with the notion.”</p> +<p>“Course,” cried Sandy. “The notion’s easy. Why, +ther’s heaps o’ things you ken take as a notion. Say, wa’an’t +ther’ a yarn ’bout some blamed citizen what took to a cave, +an’ the checkens an’ things got busy feedin’ him?”</p> +<p>“Ravens,” said Sunny.</p> +<p>“Ravens nuthin’,” cried the indignant Sandy. +“Checkens of the air, they was.”</p> +<p>Sunny shrugged.</p> +<p>“That ain’t no sort o’ Bible talk, anyway,” he protested. +“You need suthin’ what gives ’em a lesson. Now, ther’s +Nore an’ his floatin’ ranch––”</p> +<p>“That wa’an’t a ranch neither,” contradicted Sandy +promptly. “It was jest a barn.”</p> +<p>“Ark,” said Toby.</p> +<p>“Wal, ark then,” admitted Sandy. He didn’t mind +Toby’s interference.</p> +<p>But the discussion was allowed to go no further. Bill’s +impatience manifested itself promptly.</p> +<p>“Say, it don’t matter a cuss whether it was an ark or a +barn or a ranch. Sunny’s yarn goes. Now, jest set around +an’ git the kids in the middle, an’ you, Zip, git busy with +this Nore racket.”</p> +<p>The last authority had given its decision. There was no +more to be said, and the matter was promptly proceeded +with. The expectant children, who had stood by listening +to the discussion of their elders, were now seated on the +grass, and before them sat the board of Scriptural instruction. +Bill remained in his position on the tree-trunk. On +the ground, cross-legged, sat Scipio, on his right. Sunny +lounged full length upon the ground next to him. Sandy +and Toby formed the other horn of the half-circle on the +gambler’s left.</p> +<p>It was a quaint picture upon which the warm noon sun +shone down. The open grass clearing, surrounded with +tall dense bushes. On one side the wash-tub and the various +appurtenances of the bath, with the creek a little way +beyond. And in the open, sitting alone, side by side, their +little pink bodies bare of all but their coarse woolen undershirts, +their little faces shining with wholesome soap, their +eyes bright with expectancy for the story that was to come, +the two pretty children of a lonely father. Then, in a +semicircle about them, the members of the Trust, with their +hard, unclean faces, their rough clothes and rougher manners, +and their uncultured minds driven by hearts that were––well, +just human.</p> +<p>“Git busy,” ordered Bill, when the Trust had finally +settled itself.</p> +<p>And promptly Scipio, with more determination than discretion, +cleared his throat and plunged into his peroration.</p> +<p>His mild face beamed. Gentleness and affection shone in +every line of it. And somehow his diffidence, the realization +of his ignorance of the work demanded of him, were +absorbed and lost to his consciousness in the wonderful +parental delight of teaching his offspring.</p> +<p>“Say, kiddies,” he began, with that soft inflection that +seems so much a part of some men of rough manners, “I +want you to listen careful to a yarn I’m goin’ to tell you +about. Y’see––”</p> +<p>He hesitated, and unconsciously one hand was lifted and +passed across his brow with a movement that suggested +puzzlement. It was as though he were not quite sure +whither his story were going to lead him.</p> +<p>The gambler nodded encouragingly.</p> +<p>“Bully,” he murmured, turning his eyes just for one +moment in the little man’s direction. But it was only for +a moment. The next he was staring absorbedly out at the +bush opposite, like a man lost in some train of thought far +removed from the matter in hand. His beady eyes stared +unsmilingly, but with curious intentness.</p> +<p>However, Scipio was far too much concerned with what +lay before him to think of anything else. But the sharply +spoken encouragement spurred him, and he went ahead.</p> +<p>“Now, maybe you both heard tell how God made this +funny old world for us to live in,” he went on, endeavoring +to give lightness to his manner. “He made Sufferin’ +Creek, too––”</p> +<p>Toby coughed, and Sandy whispered audibly to him.</p> +<p>“I don’t guess Zip ought to run Sufferin’ Creek in this +yarn,” he said seriously. “Sufferin’ Creek don’t seem +right in a Bible talk.”</p> +<p>Scipio waited, and then, ignoring the comment, labored +clumsily on.</p> +<p>“Now, I’m goin’ to tell you a yarn about it. Y’see, +kiddies––y’see, ther’ weren’t a heap o’ folk around when +God first fixed things right––”</p> +<p>“Jest one man an’ a snake,” interrupted Sandy in his +informative way.</p> +<p>“Shut up,” whispered Toby, prodding him with his elbow. +Sandy scowled, but remained silent.</p> +<p>“Wal,” continued Scipio, “as I was sayin’, He jest made +one sort o’ sample man an’ a snake. An’,” he added, suddenly +brightening under inspiration, “He sot ’em in a +garden, an’ called it the Garden of Eden.”</p> +<p>Little Vada suddenly clapped her hands.</p> +<p>“Yes, an’ it was all flowers an’––an’ fruit,” she cried +ecstatically.</p> +<p>Jamie’s eyes were dancing with delight, too, but he remained +silent, waiting for developments.</p> +<p>The members of the Trust looked on with the deepest +interest. Each man’s face wore a half-smile––that is, all +except the gambler’s, who still appeared to be absorbed in +his own thought––and the bush opposite. But the interest +of these men was less in the little man’s story than in a +speculation as to when he was going to break down, and +yield his tutelary attitude before a battery of infantile questions.</p> +<p>However, Scipio was still in a fairly strong position.</p> +<p>“Well,” he agreed, “I do guess ther’ was fruit ther’, but +I don’t guess it was a fruit ranch exactly. Maybe it was +sort of mixed farmin’. Howsum, that don’t matter a heap. +Y’see, ther’ was heaps an’ heaps of animals, an’ bugs, an’ +spiders, an’ things––an’ jest one man.”</p> +<p>“Ther’ was a woman,” corrected the irrepressible Sandy. +“That’s dead sure. They got busy on one of the man’s +ribs an’ made her. Ain’t that so, Toby?”</p> +<p>He turned to the squat figure beside him for corroboration, +but Sunny took up the matter from across the semicircle.</p> +<p>“You’re a wise guy,” he exclaimed scornfully. “Can’t +you kep from buttin’ in? Say, I’d hate to know sech a heap +as you.”</p> +<p>Just for an instant Wild Bill turned his sharp eyes on his +companions.</p> +<p>“Shut up you’se all,” he cried. And promptly Scipio +was allowed to continue his story.</p> +<p>“Now, ’bout that garden,” he said thoughtfully. “Y’see, +God told that feller he wasn’t to pick no fruit. Y’see, I +guess it was needed fer cannin’ or preservin’. Maybe it +was needed for makin’ elegant candy. I don’t know +rightly––”</p> +<p>“You’re talkin’ foolish,” exclaimed Sandy, jumping up +excitedly. “Cannin’?” he cried scornfully. “They didn’t +can fruit them days.”</p> +<p>“Maybe you’re right,” said Scipio apologetically.</p> +<p>“I know I am,” snorted Sandy.</p> +<p>“Then shut up,” cried Bill, without turning his head.</p> +<p>“Anyhow,” went on Scipio, when all argument had +ceased, “it was jest up to that feller not to pick that fruit. +An’ he didn’t mean to neither, only he got kind o’ friendly +with that snake––”</p> +<p>Little Vada jumped up.</p> +<p>“I know––I know,” she cried, in the wildest excitement. +“The snake made him eat an apple, an’ then the rain came +down, an’ poured an’ poured––”</p> +<p>“Poured an’ poured,” echoed Jamie, jumping to his feet +and dancing around his sister.</p> +<p>“That’s so,” admitted Scipio, in relief.</p> +<p>“Poured nothin’,” murmured Sandy under his breath. +“He’s messin’ up the whole yarn.”</p> +<p>But as his comment didn’t reach the father’s ears he went +on placidly.</p> +<p>“Wal, the rain poured down,” he said, “so they was nigh +drownded––”</p> +<p>“Why’d the rain tum?” suddenly inquired Jamie with +interest.</p> +<p>“Ah!” murmured Scipio. Then he added brightly, +“Because he picked the fruit.”</p> +<p>“Y’see,” explained Vada, with sisterly patronage, “he +didn’t orter picked the apple.”</p> +<p>Jamie nodded without understanding.</p> +<p>“’Ess.”</p> +<p>“Wal,” went on Scipio, taking advantage of the pause, +“he was nigh drownded, an’ he had to swim an’ swim, an’ +then he built himself a ranch.”</p> +<p>“Barn,” cried Sandy, unable to keep quiet any longer. +“It was a barn to kep his stock in.”</p> +<p>“Ark,” said Toby decidedly. “He built a Nore’s Ark––same +as toys kiddies plays with.”</p> +<p>“But Bill said Sunny’s yarn goes,” protested the troubled +Scipio. And, receiving an affirmatory nod from the preoccupied +gambler, he went on. “Wal, he set that ranch +afloat, an’ put out a boat an’ rescued all the other animals, +an’ bugs, an’ spiders, an’ things, an’ then set out a duck to +see how things was going––”</p> +<p>“Not a duck, Zip,” said Sunny, shaking his head sorrowfully.</p> +<p>“Course not,” agreed Sandy scornfully.</p> +<p>“Pigeon,” suggested Toby.</p> +<p>But little Vada saved the situation. She jumped to her +feet, dragging Jamie with her. Her dark eyes were shining, +and her round little cheeks were scarlet with excitement.</p> +<p>“It wasn’t a duck, nor a pigeon, nor nothin’ but a parrot,” +she declared. “Momma told us. He sent out a parrot; an’ +it flew, an’ flew, an’ flew. An’ then it come back to the +ark, carryin’ a tree in its beak. An’ then Nore knew there +wasn’t no more rain, nor nothing, an’ they turned his wife +into a pillow o’ salt ’cos she’d made him eat the apple. An’, +pop-pa, tell us another.”</p> +<p>“’Ess, a nudder,” cried Jamie, his chubby fat legs +wabbling under him as he danced about––“a nudder––a +nudder––a nud––”</p> +<p>But his lisping request was never completed, for, without +a word of warning, Wild Bill suddenly leapt from his seat, +and, with a wave of his arm, swept the two children sprawling +into their father’s lap, while he charged across the +clearing. Just for a fraction of a second he paused as he +closed on the bush he had so long contemplated, and his +friends heard his voice in a furious oath.</p> +<p>“You son of a––!” he roared; and simultaneously there +was a flash and a sharp report from his gun––another, and +yet another. Then he vanished into the bush, his smoking +revolver still in his hand ready for use, followed, with no +less speed, by Toby and Sandy Joyce.</p> +<p>For a moment Scipio stared; but Sunny Oak seemed to +grasp something of the situation. He flung himself before +the two children, his right hand gripping a revolver which +he always carried concealed amongst his rags. And at the +same moment the gambler’s voice came back to him.</p> +<p>“Huyk them kids right back to the store, an’ kep ’em +there!” it cried. And instantly the indolent loafer, with a +movement almost electrical in its swiftness, seized Vada in +his arms and dashed off up the hill, followed by the little +father, bearing the screaming Jamie in his.</p> +<p>Inside the bush the three men searched, with eyes and +ears alert in the fashion of furious terriers. The branches +and inner leaves were spattered with blood, showing that +the gambler’s shots had taken some effect. The ground, +too, was covered with footprints.</p> +<p>With a rush Bill set off trailing the latter, and so soft was +the ground that he had little or no difficulty in the matter. +The trail took them along the creek bank, and here and +there a splash of blood warned them that their quarry was +severely wounded.</p> +<p>But, even so, they were doomed to disappointment. +Thirty yards from the clearing they came to a spot where +the moist soil was well beaten with horse’s hoofs, and here +the human footprints ended. All three men stared out +down the creek. And then it was that another furious oath +escaped the gambler’s lips, as he beheld a racing horseman +making good his escape, more than a hundred yards below +them.</p> +<p>For some moments Wild Bill stood raging impotently. +Then he turned on his companions, with a perfect devil +glaring out of his ferocious eyes.</p> +<p>“God’s curse light on ’em!” he roared. “It’s James’ +gang. May his soul rot. I’ll get ’em! I’ll get ’em! +They’re after those kids. But, by the wall-eyed Mackinaw, +they shan’t touch a hair o’ their heads as long as I’m a livin’ +man. It’s war, boys! D’ye hear? It’s him an’ me. Me––an’ +James! An’ I swar to God he’ll go down an’ out as +sure as my name’s Wild Bill!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXV_WILD_BILL_FIRES_A_BOMB' id='CHAPTER_XXV_WILD_BILL_FIRES_A_BOMB'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>WILD BILL FIRES A BOMB</h3> +</div> +<p>When Wild Bill returned to his hut later on in the afternoon +he was consumed by a cold, hard rage, such as comes +but rarely in the life of any man. There was no demonstrativeness: +he had no words to give it expression. It was +the rage of a man who coldly, calmly collects every faculty +of brain and body into one great concentration for harm to +its object. It was a moment when every evil thought and +feeling was drawn into a cruel longing for harm––harm +calculated to be of the most merciless description.</p> +<p>Neither of the companions who had joined him in the +pursuit of the man they had discovered lurking down at the +river had any real understanding of what lay in the back of +the gambler’s mind. His outburst there had been the first +volcanic rage which had lit the fires of hate now burning +so deep down in his intolerant heart. That outburst they +had understood. That was the man as they knew him. +But this other man they knew nothing of. This was the +real man who returned to his hut, silent and ghastly, with +implacable hatred burning in his heart.</p> +<p>All three had hurriedly and silently returned to the store +from their futile chase. Bill offered no explanation, and his +manner was so forbidding that even the intrepid Sandy had +found no use for the questions he would so gladly have +put.</p> +<p>When they arrived, Scipio and Sunny, with the twins, had +reached the place just before them. But they were lost +sight of in the rush that was made to tell the gambler of the +happenings at Sid Morton’s ranch. Nor had he any choice +but to listen to the luridly narrated facts. However, his +choice did fall in with their desires, and, after the first +brief outline, told with all the imagination this varied collection +of beings was capable of, he found himself demanding, +as eagerly as they were waiting to tell, every detail of the +matter, and even went so far as to examine the body of the +dead rancher, roughly laid out in the barn on a bed of hay. +He listened almost without comment, which was unusual in +him. His manner displayed no heat. He was cold, critical, +and his only words were to ask sharp and definitely pointed +questions. Then, having given Minky instructions for the +safeguarding of the children, he departed without even mentioning +his own adventure down at the river.</p> +<p>But if he neglected to do so, it was otherwise with his +friends, the other members of the Trust. The moment his +back was turned they shed the story broadcast, each man +competing with the other in his endeavor to make it thoroughly +palatable to the sensation-loving ears of their fellow-townsmen. +And probably of them all Sandy was the most +successful.</p> +<p>In half-an-hour, loyally supported by his friends, he had +the whole of Suffering Creek strung to such a pitch of nervous +excitement that every man was set looking to his firearms, +and all talk was directed towards the most adequate +means of defending their homes and property.</p> +<p>In the briefest possible time, from a peaceful, industrious +camp, Suffering Creek was transformed into a war base, +every citizen stirred not only to defense of his own, but +with a longing to march out to the fray, to seek these land +pirates in the open and to exterminate them, as they would +willingly exterminate any other vermin.</p> +<p>Men talked war. Brains were feverishly racked for +strategy, and for historical accounts of a similar situation in +which a town rose to arms and took the law into its own +hands. Stories flew from lip to lip, and, as is usual under +such stress, so did the convivial glass.</p> +<p>And the result which followed was quite in keeping with +the occasion. Quarrels and bickerings occurred, which kept +the place at fever-heat until the store closed down for the +night and the supply of liquor was cut off. Then slumber +brought its beneficent opiate to distracted nerves.</p> +<p>Throughout it all Minky kept his head level. Whatever +he felt and thought, he had nothing to offer on the altar of +public suggestion. He knew that of all these irresponsible +debaters he had the most to lose. Nor did he feel inclined +to expose anything of the risk at which he stood. It was a +depressing time for him, so depressing that he could see very +little hope. His risk was enormous. He felt that the probability +was that this raiding gang were well enough posted +as to the store of gold he held in his cellars. He felt that, +should James or any of his people decide upon a coup, the +attack would be well timed, when the miners were out at +their work, and he and the camp generally were left defenseless.</p> +<p>What could he do? He must rid himself of the “dust” +somehow. He must dispose of it secretly. A hiding––that +seemed to him, amidst his trouble, to be the only thing. +But where? That was the thing. He must consult Bill. +To his mind Bill was the only man upon whom he could +place any real reliance, upon whose judgment he could depend. +So, with his shrewd eyes ever on the watch for +strangers amongst his customers, he longed for the hours to +pass until he could close his store and seek the gambler in +his hut.</p> +<p>In the meantime Wild Bill had cut himself off from his +fellows, spending the long evening hours in the solitude of +his humble dwelling. The man was strangely calm, but his +fierce eyes and pale face told of an enormous strain of +thought driving him. His mind was sweeping along over a +series of vivid pictures of past events, mixed up with equally +vivid and strongly marked scenes of possible events to come. +He was reviewing silently, sternly, a situation which, by +some extraordinary kink in his vanity, he felt it was for him +to assume the responsibility of. He felt, although with no +feeling of pride, that he, and he alone, could see it +through.</p> +<p>The fact of the matter was that, by some strange mental +process, James’ doings––his approach to the camp, in fact +his very existence––had somehow become a direct individual +challenge to him. Without acknowledging it to +himself, he in some subtle way understood that everything +this desperado did was a challenge to him––a sneering, +contemptuous challenge to him. James was metaphorically +snapping his fingers under his very nose.</p> +<p>That these were his feelings was undeniable. That the +thoughts of the possibilities of an attack on the camp were +the mainspring of his antagonism to the man, that this voluntary +guardianship of Scipio and his twins was the source of +his rage against him, it was impossible to believe. They +may have influenced him in a small degree, but only in a +small degree. The man was cast in a very different mold +from that of a simple philanthropist. It was the man’s +vanity, the headstrong vanity of a strong and selfish man, +that drove him. And as he sat silently raging under his +thoughts of the happenings of that day, had he put his paramount +feelings into words he would have demanded how +James dared to exist in a district which he, Wild Bill of +Abilene, had made his own.</p> +<p>He spent the evening sitting on his bed or pacing his little +hut, his thoughts tumbling headlong through his brain. He +found himself almost absently inspecting his armory, and +loading and unloading his favorite weapons. There was no +definite direction in anything he thought or did, unless it +were in the overwhelming hatred against James which +colored his every feeling. Without realizing it, every force +of mind and body was seeking inspiration.</p> +<p>And the evening was well-nigh spent before inspiration +came. Careless of time, of everything but his feelings, he +had finally flung himself full length upon his bed, brain-weary +and resourceless. Then came the change. As his +head touched the pillow it almost seemed to rebound; and +he found himself sitting up again glaring at the opposite +wall with the desired inspiration in his gimlet eyes.</p> +<p>“Gee!” he breathed, with a force that sent the exclamation +hissing through the room.</p> +<p>And for an hour his attitude remained unchanged. His +legs were drawn up and his long arms were clasped about +his knees. His eyes were fiercely focused upon a cartridge-belt +hanging upon the wall, and there they remained, seemingly +a fixture, while thought, no longer chaotic, flew +through his revivified brain. He gave no sign; he uttered +no word. But his face told its story of a fiendish joy which +swept from his head to his heart, and thrilled his whole body.</p> +<p>It was in the midst of this that he received a visit from +his friend Minky. And the moment the door opened in +response to his summons the look in his eyes, when he saw +who his visitor was, was a cordial welcome. He swung +round and dropped his legs over the side of his bunk.</p> +<p>“What’s the time?” he demanded.</p> +<p>Minky pointed to the alarm-clock on the gambler’s table.</p> +<p>“Nigh one o’clock,” he said, with a faint smile.</p> +<p>But Bill ignored the quiet sarcasm.</p> +<p>“Good,” he cried. Then he brought his eyes to the +other’s face. They were literally blazing with suppressed +excitement. There was something in them, too, that lifted +Minky out of his desperate mood. Somehow they suggested +hope to him. Somehow the very presence of this +man had a heartening effect.</p> +<p>“Say,” cried the gambler in a tone that thrilled with +power, “this is Sunday. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,” +he counted the days off on his lean, muscular fingers. +“That’s it, sure. Wednesday we send out a ‘stage,’ an’ +you’re goin’ to ship your gold-dust on it. You’ll ship it +to Spawn City. Meanwhiles you’ll buy up all you feel like. +Clean the camp out of ‘dust,’ an’ ship it by that stage.”</p> +<p>The storekeeper stared. For a moment he thought his +friend had taken leave of his senses. A scathing refusal +hovered on his lips. But the words never matured. He +was looking into the man’s burning eyes, and he realized +that a big purpose lay behind his words.</p> +<p>“An’,” he inquired, with a smile from which he could +not quite shut out the irony, “an’ who’s goin’ to––drive it +through?”</p> +<p>“I am.”</p> +<p>The storekeeper jumped and his eyes widened. He +started forward. Then he checked himself. He struggled +with a sudden emotion.</p> +<p>“You?” he cried in a sharp whisper. “I––I don’t get +you.”</p> +<p>The gambler leapt to his feet. He strode down the length +of the hut and came back again. He finally paused before +his bewildered friend.</p> +<p>“No, o’ course you don’t,” he cried hotly; “course you +don’t. Here, how much ‘dust’ ken you ship?”</p> +<p>“Maybe we’d need to ship sixty thousand dollars’ worth. +That is, if we rake around among the boys.”</p> +<p>Minky watched his man closely as he spoke. He was +still doubting, but he was ready enough to be convinced. +He knew it was no use asking too many questions. Wild +Bill hated questions. He watched the latter plunge a +hand into the inside pocket of his coat and draw out a book. +He had no difficulty in recognizing it as the gambler flung it +on the table with a force that set the lamp rattling.</p> +<p>“There it is,” he cried, with a fierce oath. “Ther’s my +bank-book. Ther’s seventy odd thousand dollars lyin’ in +the Spawn City bank to my dogasted credit. See?” He +glared; then he drew a step nearer and bent forward. “I’m +handin’ you a check fer your dust,” he went on. “I’ve +seventy thousand dollars says I’m a better man than James +an’ all his rotten scum, an’ that I’m goin’ to shoot him to +hell before the week’s out. <i>Now</i> d’ye get me?”</p> +<p>Minky gasped. He had always believed he had long +since fathomed the depths of his wild friend. He had always +believed that the gambler had no moods which were +not well known to him. He had seen him under almost +every condition of stress. Yet here was a side to his character +he had never even dreamed of, and he was flabbergasted.</p> +<p>For a moment he had no words with which to adequately +reply, and he merely shook his head. Instantly the other +flew into one of his savage paroxysms by which it was so +much his habit to carry through his purpose when obstructed.</p> +<p>“You stand there shakin’ your fool head like some mosey +old cow,” he cried, with a ruddy flush suddenly mounting +to his temples. “An’ you’ll go on shakin’ it till ther’ ain’t +‘dust’ enuff in your store to bury a louse. You’ll go on +shakin’ it till James’ gun rips out your vitals. Gee!” He +threw his arms above his head appealing. “Give me a +man,” he cried. Then he brought one fist crashing down +upon the table and shouted his final words: “Say, you’ll +get right out an’ post the notices. I’m buyin’ your ‘dust,’ +an’ I’m driving the stage.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVI_WILD_BILL_INSPECTS_HIS_CLAIM' id='CHAPTER_XXVI_WILD_BILL_INSPECTS_HIS_CLAIM'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<h3>WILD BILL INSPECTS HIS CLAIM</h3> +</div> +<p>Suffering Creek awoke on the Monday morning laboring +under a hideous depression of nightmare. There was +no buoyancy in the contemplation of the day’s “prospect.” +It was as though that wholesome joy of life which belongs +to the “outdoor” man had suddenly been snatched away, +and only the contemplation of a dull round of unprofitable +labor had been left for the burdened mind to dwell upon.</p> +<p>It was in this spirit that Joe Brand rubbed his eyes and +pulled on his moleskin trousers. It was in this spirit that +the miner, White, slouching along to the store for breakfast, +saw and greeted him.</p> +<p>“Nuthin’ doin’ in the night,” he said, in something like +the tone of a disappointed pessimist.</p> +<p>“No.” Joe Brand did not feel a great deal like talking. +Besides the nightmare depression that held him he had +drunk a good deal of rye whisky overnight.</p> +<p>White stared out across the creek, whither his thoughts +were still wandering.</p> +<p>“Maybe we––was scairt some,” he observed, with a +hollow laugh.</p> +<p>“Maybe.”</p> +<p>Joe’s manner was discouraging.</p> +<p>“Gettin’ breakfast?” the other inquired presently.</p> +<p>“Guess so.”</p> +<p>And the rest of the journey to the store was made in +morose silence.</p> +<p>Others were already astir when they reached their destination. +And at some distance they beheld a small group of +men clustering at one point on the veranda. But such was +their mood that the matter had no interest whatever for +them until they came within hailing distance. Then it was +that they were both startled into new life. Then it was +that all depression was swept away and active interest leapt. +Then it was that sore heads and troubled thoughts gave way +before an excitement almost equal to the previous day’s, +only that it carried with it a hope which the latter had almost +killed.</p> +<p>“Say, don’t it beat hell?” demanded a burly prospector +as they came up, pointing back at the wall of the store where +the group was clustering like a swarm of bees.</p> +<p>“Don’t what?” inquired Brand, with only partial interest.</p> +<p>“Why, that,” cried the man, still pointing. “Ther’ it is, +all writ up ther’. It’s in Minky’s writin’, too. They’re +sendin’ out a stage, Wednesday. Git a peek at it.”</p> +<p>But Brand and his companion did not wait for his final +suggestion. They, too, had already joined the cluster, and +stood craning on the outskirts of it. Yes, there it was, well +chalked out in Minky’s bold capitals––an invitation to all +his customers to trade all the gold they chose to part with +to him at the usual rates, or to ship direct to the bank at +Spawn City by a stage that was to leave Suffering Creek at +eight o’clock on Wednesday morning, its safe delivery insured, +at special rates, by the storekeeper himself.</p> +<p>It was the most astounding notice, under the circumstances, +ever seen on Suffering Creek, and as the citizens +read it excitement surged to a tremendous pitch.</p> +<p>The man called Van expressed something of the thought +in every mind as he turned to Brand, who happened to be +at his side.</p> +<p>“Gee!” he cried, with ironical levity. “Old Minky’s +plum ‘bug.’ He’s waited to ‘unload’ till James’ gang has +got the camp held up three miles out. Wal, I ain’t shippin’. +Guess I’ll trade my dust at a discount. It’s a sight easier +carryin’ United States currency.”</p> +<p>“But he’s guaranteein’ delivery at the bank,” protested +Brand.</p> +<p>“That’s what it sez, sure,” observed White doubtfully.</p> +<p>“It beats me,” said the burly miner perplexedly, again +drawn to the notice by the apparent recklessness of its purport. +“It beats me sure,” he reiterated. Then, after a +thoughtful pause, he went back to his original statement as +something that expressed the limit of his understanding. +“It sure do beat hell.”</p> +<p>So it was throughout the morning. And by noon every +soul in the camp had seen or heard of Minky’s contemplated +recklessness. The place was wild with excitement, and, +instead of setting out for their various claims for the usual +day’s work, every man went out to scrape together any +“dust” he possessed, and brought it in to trade.</p> +<p>And Minky bought with perfect good-humor, discounting +at the recognized tariff, but always with solemn eyes, and a +mind still wondering at his overnight interview with Wild +Bill. He had obeyed him implicitly, knowing that he was +making a liberal profit for himself, whatever the gambler +might be risking. All his transactions were guaranteed for +him by the small fortune which Bill possessed safely deposited +in the Spawn City bank. Well, it was not for him +to hesitate.</p> +<p>But his trading was not carried on without comment and +questioning. Besides which, there was a heap of rough +sarcasm and satire to put up with from his customers. But +he put up with it. He could afford to. And to the closest +questioning he had always one answer, and no enlightenment +could they drag out of him.</p> +<p>“The stage goes, boys,” he told them. “An’ personal, +I ain’t scairt a cent’s-worth of James an’ his gang. Though, +to see the way you’se fellers are fallin’ over yourselves to +make trade with me, I guess I know some folks as is.”</p> +<p>The marvel of the whole thing confounded the public +mind. But the selfishness of human nature demanded that +advantage should be taken of the situation. If Minky, who +recently had jibbed at trading gold, had suddenly eased the +market, well, it was “up to him.” It was his “funeral.” +The public jumped at the chance of realizing, and so relieving +themselves of the cloud of trouble threatening them. +James could come along with a whole army of desperadoes, +once they had rid themselves of their “dust.” They then +would no longer have anything to lose except their lives, and +those they were always prepared to risk in anything so +enterprising as a little honest gun-play.</p> +<p>It was noon when Wild Bill was stirring. And he listened +to the news which greeted him on every hand with a +calmly non-committal air. Nor, when he found it necessary +to comment, did he hesitate to do so in his usual sharp, +decided fashion.</p> +<p>“Minky’s good grit,” he declared on one occasion to a +puzzled miner. “I don’t guess ther’s many folks around as +’ud take his chances. I allow Sufferin’ Creek needs to be +proud of sech a feller.”</p> +<p>And his attitude promptly set up a new feeling in the +camp. Minky’s heroic pose had not struck the people before. +But now the full force of it struck home in a manner +which suddenly raised him to a great pinnacle of +popularity. The storekeeper of Suffering Creek was standing +between the camp and possible financial disaster. It +was noble. It was splendid. Yes, they had reason to be +very thankful to him.</p> +<p>Bill contemplated the notice long and earnestly when his +attention was first called to it. And his narrow eyes lit and +twinkled as he read down the carefully chalked capitals. +Minky had certainly done it well. But then Minky did +most things well. He read it down a second time, and then +pushed his way into the store. It was some time before he +could reach his friend, but finally he got him to himself as he +was poring over a big cash-book. The storekeeper looked +up. Nor had he any greeting for his visitor. He was still +dazed at the gambler’s purpose. And somehow it was the +latter who had to speak first.</p> +<p>“You done it good, Minky,” he said amiably.</p> +<p>“Ther’ll be sixty thousand dollars,” the storekeeper +mumbled doubtfully.</p> +<p>“Good.”</p> +<p>“Good?”</p> +<p>“Sure.” Bill turned and gazed out of the window. “It +needs to be a big pile. Makes things surer.”</p> +<p>“Surer? I don’t get you.”</p> +<p>“No; that’s so.” The gambler turned back to the other +abruptly. “Say, you get busy an’ gas. Gas till you got the +camp yappin’ like coyotes. Tell ’em the stage is sure carryin’ +sixty thousand dollars’ worth o’ good red gold.” Then +his manner suddenly changed and he laughed. “Say, I’m +jest goin’ out to get a peek at my claim. I sure guess I +bought a dandy rich claim o’ Zip.”</p> +<p>“You orter know,” said Minky, with a shake of the head. +“I sure don’t seem to understand––”</p> +<p>“Course you don’t,” cried Bill, with strange good-nature. +Then his eyes became curiously reflective. “Wher’s Zip?”</p> +<p>“Zip? Guess he’s around with the kids. Y’see, the +Bird’s helpin’ him fix things. Maybe they’re back in the +dinin’-room.”</p> +<p>Bill stood for a moment in deep thought. Then he turned +suddenly, and his fierce little eyes fixed themselves on his +friend’s face.</p> +<p>“Them kids,” he said sharply. “Maybe I’ll get you to +kep ’em safe right here fer three days an’ more. After that +we’ll see.” Then in a moment his expression lightened and +he laughed. “Guess I’ll get Zip to come along an’ show +me the claim.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Half-an-hour later the gambler was striding down the +river bank, with Scipio hurrying along at his side. Several +times the little man had endeavored to engage his companion +in amiable conversation. He wanted to talk about the episode +at the river, but Bill would have none of it. Nor was +it until he was nearly half-way to their destination, where +Sandy Joyce was already at work, that he broke the silence +in which he had wrapped himself.</p> +<p>They had just emerged from a narrow cattle-track where +they had been forced to walk in single file on account of the +bush which grew in such abundance on either side of it. Bill +was leading, and as the path widened into a clearing, in +which lay several fallen trees rooted out of the ground by +some long-passed flood of the creek, he suddenly turned +about and faced his diminutive friend.</p> +<p>“Here,” he said, “we’ll set here a piece. Guess we need +to talk some.” He glanced quickly about, and finally flung +himself upon the nearest tree-trunk. “Set,” he cried, pointing +at another trunk lying opposite to him.</p> +<p>Scipio wonderingly complied. He stood in considerable +awe of the gambler, and now he was ransacking his brain to +discover the object of this desire for a talk. He could find +no adequate reason, except it might be that Bill was repenting +of his bargain in purchasing a half-share in his claim. +Yes, it might be that. It probably was that. He had no +doubt bought on inaccurate information. Scipio knew how +misleading and how wild many of the reports which flew +about Suffering Creek were. Besides, he was certain that +Bill’s information about his claim, wherever he had got it +from, was inaccurate. Yes, no doubt this was what he +wanted to talk about, and the honest-minded man promptly +decided that the gambler should have no cause to blame him. +He need have no doubts. He would by no means hold him +to the bargain. He would return the money––</p> +<p>Suddenly he remembered. He had already spent five +dollars of it, and he went hot and cold at the thought. He +had nothing with which to replace it.</p> +<p>However, he took no further thought, and, as Bill still +remained silent, he plunged into the matter at once.</p> +<p>“I got most all the money with me,” he began, in his +vague way expecting the other to understand his meaning. +“That is, all but fi’ dollars. Y’see, the kids needed––”</p> +<p>Bill’s sharp eyes reached his face with a jump.</p> +<p>“Wot in the name o’ blazes––” he cried.</p> +<p>But Scipio did not let him continue.</p> +<p>“I knew ther’ wa’n’t no gold showin’ on my claim,” he +hurriedly explained. “So I’ll jest hand you back your +dollars.”</p> +<p>“Square-toed mackinaw!” the gambler cried, his face +scarlet. Then he broke out into one of his harsh laughs. +“Say,” he went on, with pretended severity, “you can’t +squeal that way. I’m in ha’f your claim, an’ I ain’t lettin’ +up my holt on it fer––fer nobody an’ nuthin’. Get that +right here. You can’t bluff me.”</p> +<p>Scipio flushed. He somehow felt very small. The last +thing he wanted Bill to think was that he was trying to do +him an injury.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry,” he said helplessly. “Y’see, I thought, you +needing to talk to me so bad, you wanted, maybe, to quit +my claim.”</p> +<p>He turned away, gazing down the wood-lined river. +Somehow he could not face the gambler’s stern eyes. Had +he seen the sudden softening in them the moment the other +was sure he was unobserved, he might have been less troubled. +But the gambler had no soft side when men’s eyes +were upon him.</p> +<p>“’Tain’t about your claim I need to talk,” Bill said, after +a brief pause. His voice was less harsh, and there was an +unusual thoughtfulness in its tone. “It’s––it’s––Say, +Zip, I ain’t fergot our talk out there on the trail.” He +nodded his head out in the direction of Spawn City. “You +mind that talk when you was puttin’ up that fool proposition +o’ handin’ James that kid?”</p> +<p>Scipio’s eyes had come back to his companion, and their +expression had suddenly dropped to one of hopeless regret. +His heart was stirred to its depths by the reference to the past +trouble which lay like a cankerous sore so deep down in it.</p> +<p>He nodded. But otherwise he had no words.</p> +<p>“You’re needin’ your wife?” Bill went on brusquely.</p> +<p>Again Scipio nodded. But this time words came, too.</p> +<p>“But you was right,” he said. “I saw it all after. I +was plumb wrong. An’––an’ I ain’t holding you to––what +you said. You jest wanted to put me right. I understood +that––after.”</p> +<p>Bill stirred uneasily, and kicked a protruding limb of the +tree on which he sat.</p> +<p>“You’re a heap ready to let me out,” he cried, with a +return to his harshest manner. “Who in blazes are you to +say I don’t need to do the––things I said I’d do? Jest wait +till you’re ast to.” He turned away, and Scipio was left +troubled and wondering.</p> +<p>But suddenly the lean body swung round again, and the +little prospector felt the burning intensity of the man’s eyes +as they concentrated on his flushing face.</p> +<p>“You’re needin’ your wife?” he jerked out.</p> +<p>“More’n all the world,” the little man cried, with emotion.</p> +<p>“Would you put up a––a scrap fer her?”</p> +<p>“With anybody.”</p> +<p>The corners of Bill’s mouth wrinkled, but his eyes remained +hard and commanding. Whatever feelings of an +appreciative nature lay behind his lean face they were well +hidden.</p> +<p>“You’d face James an’ all his gang––again? You’d face +him if it sure meant––death?”</p> +<p>“The chance o’ death wouldn’t stop me if I could get her +back.”</p> +<p>The quiet of the little man’s tone carried a conviction far +greater than any outburst could have done.</p> +<p>“An’ she’s been––his?”</p> +<p>Scipio took a deep breath. His hands clenched. Just for +a moment the whites of his eyes became bloodshot with +some rush of tremendous feeling. It seemed as though he +were about to break out into verbal expression of his agony +of heart. But when he finally did speak it was in the same +even tone, though his breath came hard and deep.</p> +<p>“I want her––whatever she is,” he said quietly.</p> +<p>Bill rose to his feet, and a passionate light shone in his +sparkling eyes.</p> +<p>“Then take Minky’s mule an’ buckboard. Start right out +fer James’ ranch before sun-up Wednesday mornin’, an’––you’ll +sure get her. Come on.”</p> +<p>Scipio sprang to his feet, and a dozen hot questions +leapt to his mind. An ocean of gratitude was struggling to +pour from his inadequate tongue, but Bill would have none +of it. He waved him aside and set off for their destination, +and the other could only follow. But at the farther edge of +the clearing again the gambler paused. This time a sudden +thought had changed his plans. He turned abruptly, and +without one particle of softening in his manner he ordered +him back.</p> +<p>“Say,” he cried, “ther’ ain’t no use fer you to get around +further. You ken jest light back to the store, an’ see to +them kids. Don’t you never let ’em out o’ your sight till +Wednesday come. Then hit out fer James’ ranch.”</p> +<p>When Wild Bill eventually reached the claim, he found +Sandy sitting on an upturned bucket amidst the most deplorable +surroundings in which a gold prospector in quest of the +precious metal could ever hope to find himself.</p> +<p>The creek bank was some two hundred yards away, with +a pronounced rising ground between him and it. Behind +him was a great cut-faced rock of ironstone that certainly +looked auriferous. The base of it lay in a definite hollow, +reed-grown and oozy. Beyond him, to the right, following +the river bank, the ground declined gradually towards a +black-looking, turgid and overgrown swamp. While, from +the direction in which the gambler approached, a low, dense, +thorny bush grew, made up of branches almost skeleton in +their lack of leaves. It was a forlorn and uninviting spot, +calculated to dishearten anybody with a heart less big and +an enthusiasm less vital than Scipio’s.</p> +<p>Bill stood for a moment surveying the scene before Sandy +realized his presence. And that first glance set him snorting +contemptuously.</p> +<p>“Well, say––” he began. But words failed him, and he +hurried across to his “hired” man.</p> +<p>Sandy jumped up as he came near, and before the other +could stop him had poured out his opinion of things in general, +and that claim in particular, in a few well-chosen and +effective words.</p> +<p>“Say, Zip orter sure be shot or hanged,” he cried angrily, +“an’ this doggone claim o’ mud needs to be boosted through +a dogasted volcany an’ blowed out the other side o’ no sort +o’ place at all. Ther’ sure ain’t nuthin’ worse in the world +than the foolishness of a tow-headed fool.”</p> +<p>But Bill ignored the outburst.</p> +<p>“How much gold you found?” he inquired coldly.</p> +<p>Sandy’s indignant eyes blazed.</p> +<p>“Gold? Pea-shucks!” he roared, with a furious oath. +“An’ I tell you right here I ain’t to be made no fool of. +You ken take this mule-headed job an’––an’––well, you ken +take it. I quit right here.”</p> +<p>But again Bill ignored his outburst. There was not a +vestige of expression in his face as he moved across to the +mouth of a shaft Scipio had been sinking before his work +had been interrupted by the going of his wife. He looked +into it and pointed.</p> +<p>“Guess you best get right on makin’ this hole deeper. +Ther’ ain’t nuthin’ like diggin’ to find out. Zip’s sure a +wise guy. I don’t guess I know what you’ll likely find––but––you +best kep diggin’. That’s sure his notion.”</p> +<p>Sandy went purple in the face, and spluttered violently +in his attempt to speak. Finally, when he did get his words +out, it was only to repeat his decision.</p> +<p>“It’s jest a mud swamp,” he cried, “an’ I quit.”</p> +<p>Bill turned swiftly. His movements were almost cat-like +as he came up and peered into Sandy’s face.</p> +<p>“You’ll kep right on diggin’ that hole,” he said, with an +icy threat. “An’ come Wednesday you’ll quit diggin’ an’ +hit the trail on Zip’s track––you an’ Sunny an’ Toby––an’ +you’ll sure see no harm comes to him. But he ain’t to see +you, nor to know you’re chasin’ him. An’ you ain’t to stop +him, no matter what fool trick he gets playin’. Get me?”</p> +<p>Sandy’s choler died out before the other’s purpose. He +suddenly realized that his work on the claim was not of any +great consequence to his employer, that Bill had other +thoughts, other schemes in his head, and that he, Sandy, +was to have his place in them. He nodded.</p> +<p>“I get you,” he said. “But––”</p> +<p>“Ther’ ain’t no ‘buts,’” interrupted Bill. “You’re goin’ +to do as I sez. Meanwhiles you’re goin’ right on diggin’ +that hole, to earn your dollars.”</p> +<p>And without another word he turned and hurried away +towards the mouth of the trail whence he had appeared.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVII_SUSPENSE' id='CHAPTER_XXVII_SUSPENSE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<h3>SUSPENSE</h3> +</div> +<p>It was nearly sundown. A chilly mist was stealing down +the slopes of the surrounding hills. It densified to a ruddy +fog as it caught the glow of the evening sun, and finally +settled upon the valley. And with each passing moment the +hills seemed to recede, their outlines to grow more indistinct +and ghostly. And gradually the whole prospect took on the +depressing aspect of a day dying wearily.</p> +<p>Had Jessie been less preoccupied as she stood at the door +of the ranch-house she might have felt something of all this. +But she heeded nothing of the hour, and saw nothing of the +picture before her. Her eyes only visualized the scenes that +a world of troubled and apprehensive thought yielded her. +Her mind and heart were full of a great terror, a terror +which left her helpless and dazed.</p> +<p>She stirred restlessly. Time and again she changed her +position. Now she was leaning against one casing of the +doorway, now against the other. A nervous glance over her +shoulder, as some sound in the darkness of the room behind +her set her shivering, told of the state of her nerves, as also, +with ears ever on the alert, her fearful glances at a definite +spot in the rapidly dimming hills told of a straining, harassed +expectancy. Her nerves were almost at breaking-point. +Her handsome face was drawn and haggard. All the youthful +freshness seemed to have vanished from it forever, leaving +her radiant eyes shadowed and hopeless. It was a +painful change. But the outward and visible signs were +nothing to the changes that had taken place within her.</p> +<p>Thirty yards away a decrepit choreman was making pretense +of some work upon a corral fence. But it was only +pretense. His real occupation was espionage. His red-rimmed +eyes never for a moment lost sight of his master’s +woman when she showed herself in the open. A curious-looking +dog of immense proportions, half mastiff, half Newfoundland, +squatted on its haunches at his side, alternating +his green-eyed attention between a watchful regard for the +hand that fed and thrashed it and the woman at the doorway. +There was not much to choose between the faces of these +wardens of the ranch. Both were cruel, both were intensely +vicious. In neither pair of eyes was there any friendliness +for the woman. And it needed little imagination to understand +that both possessed to the full all the instincts of the +savage watch-dog.</p> +<p>But Jessie had no thought for either. Her own terrible +thoughts and feelings held her. It is doubtful if she was +even aware of their presence at all. Just now one thought +stood out dominant in her mind. She was expecting the +return of––James. And the return of James meant––She +shuddered.</p> +<p>He was returning from his expedition in the neighborhood +of Suffering Creek, and this knowledge brought with it the +remembrance that his object was to give her possession of +at least one of her children. Distracted as she was with +her mother’s desire for possession of her offspring, although +the man was now only obeying her expressed wishes, she +dreaded the child’s coming almost as much as she dreaded +her lover’s return. The thought of seeing Vada in this +man’s arms maddened her to such a degree that she was +well-nigh beside herself.</p> +<p>For two whole days now had she brooded under a cloud +of despair. She had scarcely stirred out of her room; she +had eaten scarcely enough to sustain life. She had shut herself +up, a prey to harrowing remorse and terror––a remorse +which she knew to be as useless as her terror was nerve-racking. +Her awakening had come, sudden, awful. And, +like all such awakenings, it had come too late, so that the +horror of her future was written in letters of fire before her +mental eyes, a fire which burnt into her broken heart and +left her in the depths of an unutterable despair.</p> +<p>It was on the morning of her lover’s departure for the +region of Suffering Creek that the awakening had come. It +had come with an overwhelming rush of horror which, in +the midst of her dressing, had sent her reeling and fainting +upon the bed from which she had only just risen, and where +for two hours she had subsequently lain in a state of +collapse.</p> +<p>She was brushing her hair, her mind busy with the pleasant +thought that shortly she was to have one of her children +with her again. She knew that her appeal to her husband +had failed, but James had sworn to keep his promise, and +now he was setting out for that expressed purpose. And +such was her foolish woman’s blind faith that she had no +doubts. When he returned he was to bring, at least, little +Vada with him. The fresh mountain air was doubly pleasant +to her that morning. The brilliant sunlight raised her +spirits. All qualms of conscience were thrust into the background, +and she was as nearly happy as earthly interest +could make her.</p> +<p>She could see the crowded corrals from where she stood. +She could hear the bellowing of the restless cattle as they +pushed and horned each other in their forceful, bovine desire +to get out to the succulent grass of their beloved pastures. +All the men were astir, preparing for their lawless expedition. +The saddle-horses, ready for the trail, were hitched to +the corral fences. Through the open window she could hear +her lover ordering and hectoring, as was his way of dealing +with the ruffians who served under his leadership; and a +thrill of excitement, a subtle sympathy, stirred her. She +moved to the window, leaving her beautiful hair flowing in +the bright air, and stood watching for the departure.</p> +<p>Then came that hideous thing which was to shadow all her +future life. It came almost without warning. In a flash, it +seemed, the last tinge of romance was swept from her +thoughts, and the hideous skeleton of reality was laid bare.</p> +<p>The men had tightened up the cinchas of their saddles, +and passed the reins over their horses’ heads, ready to +mount. She watched them all with something very like admiration +in her blinded eyes. Their hard, desperate faces +did not appear so to her. These things, in her foolish mind, +were the hall-mark of reckless courage, of strong, virile manhood. +They were men who feared nothing, who cared no +more for their own lives than they would care for the life of +an enemy. And somehow this seemed to her just as it +should be.</p> +<p>She waited to see them mount their raw-boned bronchos. +But somehow there was a delay; and in this delay a change +came over the scene. The men drifted away from their +horses and gathered into groups. They stood whispering +together with faces averted from their leader. A feeling of +apprehension somehow caught hold of her. She did not +understand why, but she felt that all was not right. She +turned to James, and saw that he was moving round his +horse all unconcernedly, and she wondered if he were aware +of the change in his men.</p> +<p>But all further speculation was abruptly checked, for at +that moment she heard the leader issue one of his sharp +orders. She did not quite catch his words, but she noticed +that no one moved or attempted to comply. Only talk +ceased instantly. Then she saw the handsome face of her +lover flush, as he glanced about him at this unusual phenomenon, +and in a moment she recognized the sudden savage +anger that flashed into his eyes. Simultaneously his hand +dropped to the butt of one of his guns.</p> +<p>Then she heard his words, as they were shouted to the +accompaniment of a string of vicious oaths.</p> +<p>“Ho, you, Ned, an’ you, too, Sully!” he cried fiercely, +“get your ears flappin’. Huyk that rotten skunk Conroy +out. I ain’t tellin’ you again.”</p> +<p>The woman had thrilled at his words. There was such +command, such fearlessness in them, in his whole poise. +She felt, too, that there was trouble looming. There was +rebellion in the air. Her excitement rose, and her sympathies +were all for this one man.</p> +<p>The two men indicated suddenly bestirred themselves, and +moved off under their leader’s eye. The rest drifted together––eight +of them, she found herself counting. And +as they drew together a murmur arose.</p> +<p>Instantly James’ gun flew from its holster; and he stood, +the personification of cold authority.</p> +<p>“Another word an’ I empty this into your lousy hides!” +she heard him cry. And instantly the murmur died out.</p> +<p>But the threatening weapon did not return to its holster. +James stood there waiting. And presently she beheld the +two men he had despatched returning, bringing in their custody, +tottering awkwardly between them, the man Abe Conroy, +with his arms tightly fastened behind his back, and a +pair of horse-hobbles securing his ankles. They came +slowly, for the hobbles allowed but little play, and halted +less than five yards away from their leader.</p> +<p>As they paused the woman shivered. Some premonition +of what was about to happen got hold of her, and struck +terror to her heart. She stood staring now, unable to move. +A hideous fascination seemed to paralyze her.</p> +<p>The next thing that reached her comprehension was that +James was speaking in a harsh metallic voice. She had +never heard him speak like that before, and her fears swiftly +increased as his words floated in through the open window.</p> +<p>“Now, you skunk,” he was saying, “you guess you’re +man enough to run this lay-out. You guess you’re a bigger +man than me. You guess you got me squealin’ around like +a suckin’ kid. You! An’ I took you out o’ jail, wher’ they +was goin’ to set you swingin’. Gee! I could tell you a +heap, but I ain’t no time talkin’ to bastards of your kidney. +Swingin’s too good fer sech as you. Anyway, when I got +work to do I do it myself. Here, you, Ned, an’ you, Sully, +stand aside!”</p> +<p>She saw the two men withdraw. She wanted to scream, +without quite knowing why. But no sound came. Her eyes +were starting out of her head with the horror of what she +knew to be about to happen. But she had no power to stir +hand or foot.</p> +<p>She saw James move forward. She saw the bloodless, +horror-stricken face of the prisoner. She saw him stumble +as he attempted to move away. There was no escape.</p> +<p>James moved forward with body crouching, and strides +that covered the intervening space with almost feline stealth.</p> +<p>He came right up to the man, his gun leading. She heard +a report and one dreadful cry of terror and pain. She saw +Conroy crumple and fall writhing upon the ground. She +saw the blood streaming from his stomach. Then the further +horror came to her staring eyes as she saw James stand +over his victim and fire shot after shot into the hideous, +writhing heap.</p> +<p>But the limit was reached. With one wild scream she +turned away and flung herself upon her bed; and the next +moment everything mercifully became a blank to her.</p> +<p>That was on the Sunday morning. She saw nothing of +what followed. She knew nothing until she awoke some +two hours later to the haunting vision of the scene she had +witnessed. And ever since it had clung to her––clung like +an obsession, a mental parasite sapping her nerve, her very +reason. Nor had she power to disassociate herself from it.</p> +<p>And now she was waiting in an agony of mind for the +murderer’s return. Not only was she waiting for his return, +but she expected to see him bearing in his arms one of her +own innocent children. The thought of little Vada in his +arms drove her frantic. Her innocent little Vada in the +arms of this cold-blooded assassin!</p> +<p>She knew him now for all he was. The scales had fallen +from her foolish eyes. All the romance of his hideous calling +had passed in a flash, and she saw it as it was. She had +no words to express her feelings of horror and revolting. +In her weakness and wickedness she had torn herself out of +the life of a good man to fling herself upon the bosom of +this black-hearted villain. She loathed him; she loathed his +very name. But more than all else she loathed herself. +Her punishment was terrible. She was so helpless, so +powerless. She knew it, and the knowledge paralyzed her +thought. What could she do? She knew she was watched, +and any move to get away would be at once frustrated. +She could do nothing––nothing.</p> +<p>No longer able to remain in her room, she had come out +to breathe air which she vainly hoped was less contaminated +with the crimes of the man whose home she had elected to +share. But inside or out it made no difference. The haunting +was not of the place. It was in her mind; it had enveloped +her whole consciousness.</p> +<p>But through it all there was one longing, one yearning for +all that she had lost, all she had wantonly thrown away. +Suffering Creek, with its poverty-stricken home on the +dumps, suggested paradise to her now. She yearned as only +a mother can yearn for the warm caresses of her children. +She longed for the honest love of the little man whom, in the +days of her arrogant womanhood, she had so mercilessly +despised. All his patient kindliness came back to her now. +All his tremendous, if misdirected, effort on her behalf, his +never-failing loyalty and courage, were things which to her, +in her misery, were the most blessed of all blessings. She +wanted home––home. And in that one bitter cry of her +heart was expressed the awakening of her real womanhood.</p> +<p>But it had come too late––too late. There was no home +now for her but the home of this man. There was no +husband for her, only the illicit love of this man. Her children––she +could only obtain them by a theft. And as this +last thought came to her she remembered who it was who +must commit the theft.</p> +<p>The thought brought a fresh terror. How would he +accomplish his end? Had not Scipio tacitly refused to yield +up her children? Then how––how? She shivered. She +knew the means James would readily, probably only too +gladly, adopt. Her husband, the little harmless man who +had always loved her, would be swept aside like anyone else +who stood in the way. James would shoot him down as he +had shot Conroy down; even, she fancied, he would shoot +him down for the wanton amusement of destroying his +life.</p> +<p>Oh no, no! It was too horrible. He was her husband, +the first man she had ever cared for. She thought of all +they had been to each other. Her mind sped swiftly over +past scenes which had so long been forgotten. She remembered +his gentleness, his kindly thought for her, his self-effacement +where her personal comforts were in question, +his devotion both to herself and her children. Every detail +of their disastrous married life sped swiftly before her +straining mental vision, leaving the man standing out something +greater than a hero to her yearning heart. And she +had flung it all away in a moment of passion. She had +blinded herself in the arrogance of her woman’s vanity. +Gone, gone. And now she was the mistress of a common +assassin.</p> +<p>So she lashed herself with the torture of repentance and +regret as the darkness fell. She did not stir from her post. +The damp of the mist was unnoticed, the chill of the air. +She was waiting for that return which was to claim her to +an earthly hell, than which she could conceive no greater––waiting +like the condemned prisoner, numb, helpless, fearful +lest the end should come unobserved.</p> +<p>The ranch wardens waited, too. The man cursed his +charge with all the hatred of an evil nature, as the damp +penetrated to his mean bones. The dog, too, grew restless, +but where his master was, there was his place. He had long +since learned that––to his cost.</p> +<p>The night crept on, and there was no change in the position, +except that the man sought the sheltering doorway of +one of the barns, and covered his damp shirt with a jacket. +But the woman did not move. She was beyond all conception +of time. She was beyond any thought of personal comfort +or fatigue. All she knew was that she must wait––wait +for the coming of her now hated lover, that at least she +might snatch her child from his contaminating arms. And +after that––well, after that––She had no power to think +of the afterwards.</p> +<p>The moon rose amidst the obscurity of the fog. It +mounted, and at last reached a height where its silvery light +could no longer be denied by the low-lying mists. But its +reign was brief. Its cold splendor rapidly began to shrink +before the pink dawn, and in less than two hours it was but +a dim white circle set in the azure of the new-born day.</p> +<p>Still the woman remained at her post, her dark eyes straining +with her vigil. She was drenched to the skin with the +night-mists, but the chill of her body was nothing to the chill +of her heart. The spy was still at his post in the barn doorway, +but he was slumbering, as was his canine servitor, lying +curled up at his feet. The sun rose, the mists cleared. And +now the warming of day stirred the cattle in the corrals.</p> +<p>Suddenly the waiting woman started. Her attention had +never once relaxed. She moved out with stiffened joints, +and, shading her eyes with her hand, stared into the gleaming +sunlight. Her ears had caught the distant thud of +horses’ hoofs, and now her eyes confirmed. Away down +the valley she could see the dim outline of a number of +horsemen riding towards the ranch.</p> +<p>Her heart began to thump in her bosom, and her limbs +quaked under her. What could she do? What must she do? +Every thought, every idea that her long vigil had suggested +was swept from her mind. A blank helplessness held her in +its grip. She could only wait for what was to come.</p> +<p>The pounding of hoofs grew louder, the figures grew +bigger. They were riding out of the sun, and her eyes were +almost blinded as she looked for that which she trembled to +behold. She could not be certain of anything yet, except +that the return of her lover was at hand.</p> +<p>Nearer, nearer they came. Nearer, nearer still. Then +suddenly a sharp exclamation broke from the watcher. It +was a cry which had in it a strange thrill. It might have +been the gasp of the condemned man at the sound of the +word “reprieve.” It might have been the cry of one momentarily +relieved from years of suffering.</p> +<p>She could see them plainly. For now the figures were +no longer silhouetted against the sun. They had changed +their course as they neared the ranch, and the rising sun was +well clear. She could even recognize them by their horses. +She counted. There were ten of them. One was missing. +Who? But her interest was only momentary. She recognized +the leader, and after that nothing else concerned her.</p> +<p>She could not mistake him. He sat his dark brown horse +differently to anybody else. He looked to be part of it. +But there was no admiration in her eyes. And yet there +was an expression in them that had not been in them since +his departure. There was hope in her eyes, and something +akin to joy in her whole attitude. James was riding empty-handed!</p> +<p>Hence her cry. But now she glanced swiftly at each +horseman, to be sure that they, too, were empty-handed. +Yes, each man was riding with the loose swinging arms of +the prairie man. And with a sigh that contained in it every +expression of an unbounded relief she turned and vanished +into the house. For the time, at least, Vada was safe.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVIII_JAMES' id='CHAPTER_XXVIII_JAMES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<h3>JAMES</h3> +</div> +<p>James clattered into the empty sitting-room and stared +about him. His dark face was flushed with excitement. +The savage in him was stirred to its best mood, but it was +still the savage. He grinned as he realized that the room +was empty, and it was a grin of amusement. Some thought +in his mind gave him satisfaction, in spite of the fact that +there was no one to greet him.</p> +<p>The grin passed and left him serious. Even his excitement +had abated. He had remembered Jessie’s scream at +the scene she must have witnessed. He remembered that he +had left her fainting. With another quick glance round he +stood and called––</p> +<p>“Ho, you! Jess!”</p> +<p>There was no answer; and he called again, this time his +handsome face darkening. He had seen her from a distance +outside the house, so there was no doubt of her being about.</p> +<p>Still he received no answer.</p> +<p>An oath followed. But just as he was about to call again +he heard the sound of a skirt beyond the inner door. Instantly +he checked his impulse, and where before his swift-rising +anger had shone in his eyes a smile now greeted Jessie +as she opened the door and entered the room.</p> +<p>For a moment no verbal greeting passed between them. +The man was taking in every detail of her face and figure, +much as a connoisseur may note the points of some precious +purchase he is about to make, or a glutton may contemplate +a favorite dish. He saw nothing in her face of the effects +of the strain through which she had passed. To him her +eyes were the same wonderful, passionate depths that had +first drawn his reckless manhood to flout every risk in hunting +his quarry down. Her lips were the same rich, moist, +enticing lips he had pressed to his in those past moments of +passion. The rounded body was unchanged. Yes, she was +very desirable.</p> +<p>But he was too sure of his ground to notice that there was +no responsive admiration in the woman’s eyes. And perhaps +it was as well. She was looking at him with eyes wide open +to what he really was, and all the revolting of her nature +was uppermost. She loathed him as she might some venomous +reptile. She loathed him and feared him. His body +might have been the body of an Apollo, his face the most +perfect of God’s creations. She knew him now for the cold-blooded +murderer he was, and so she loathed and feared him.</p> +<p>There were stains upon his cotton shirt-sleeves, upon the +bosom of it showing between the fronts of his unbuttoned +waistcoat. There were stains upon his white moleskin +trousers.</p> +<p>“Blood,” she said, pointing. And something of her feelings +must have been plain to any but his infatuated ears.</p> +<p>He laughed. It was a cruel laugh.</p> +<p>“Sure,” he cried. “It was a great scrap. We took +nigh a hundred head of Sid Morton’s cattle and burnt him +out.”</p> +<p>“And the blood?”</p> +<p>“Guess it must be his, or––Luke Tedby’s.” His face +suddenly darkened. “That mutton-headed gambler over on +Suffering Creek did him up. I had to carry him to shelter––after +he got away.”</p> +<p>But Jessie paid little attention. She was following up her +own thought.</p> +<p>“It isn’t––Conroy’s?”</p> +<p>James’ eyes grew cold.</p> +<p>“That seems to worry you some,” he cried coldly. Then +he put the thing aside with a laugh. “You’ll get used to +that sort of talk after you’ve been here awhile. Say, Jes––”</p> +<p>“I can never get used to––murder.”</p> +<p>The woman’s eyes were alight with a somber fire. She +had no idea of whither her words and feelings were carrying +her. All her best feelings were up in arms, and she, too, was +touched now with the reckless spirit which drove these people. +There was no hope for her future. There was no +hope whithersoever she looked. And now that she had seen +her children were still safe from the life she had flung herself +into, she cared very little what happened to her.</p> +<p>But the cruel despot, to whom life and death were of no +account whatsoever, was not likely to deal tenderly long with +the woman he desired did she prove anything but amenable. +Now her words stung him as they were meant to sting, and +his mouth hardened.</p> +<p>“You’re talking foolish,” he cried in that coldly metallic +way she had heard him use before. “Conroy got all he +needed. Maybe he deserved more. Anyhow, ther’s only +one man running this lay-out, and I’m surely that man. +Say––” again he changed. This time it was a change back +to something of the lover she knew, and at once he became +even more hateful to her––“things missed fire at––the +Creek. I didn’t get hands on your kids. I––”</p> +<p>“I’m glad.” Jessie could have shouted aloud her joy, but +the man’s look of surprise brought caution, and she qualified +her words. “No; we’d best leave them, after all,” she said. +“You see, these men––”</p> +<p>She looked fearlessly into his face. She was acting as +only a woman can act when the object of her affections is +threatened.</p> +<p>And her lover warmed all unsuspiciously. It would have +been better for her had she only realized her power over him. +But she was not clever. She was not even brave.</p> +<p>James nodded.</p> +<p>“Sure,” he said; and with that monosyllable dismissed +the subject from his mind for matters that gave him savage +delight. “Say, we’ve had a good round-up,” he went on––“a +dandy haul. But we’re going to do better––Oh yes, +much better.” Then his smile died out. He had almost +forgotten the woman in the contemplation of what he had in +his mind. This man was wedded to his villainies. They +came before all else. Jessie was his; he was sure of her. +She was his possession, and he took her for granted now. +The excitement of his trade had once again become paramount.</p> +<p>“Guess Sufferin’ Creek has gone plumb crazy,” he went +on delightedly. “I’ve had boys around to keep me posted. +They been spotting things. Old Minky has been sittin’ so +tight I guessed I’d have to raid the store for his gold; an’ +now they’ve opened out. That buzzy-headed old fool’s goin’ +to send out a stage loaded down with dust. It starts +Wednesday morning, an’ he guesses it’s to win through to +Spawn City. Gee! An’ they’re shoutin’ about it. Say, +Jess, they say it’s to carry sixty thousand dollars. Well, it +won’t carry it far. That’s why I’m back here now. That’s +why I quit worrying with your kids when Wild Bill did up +Luke. We hustled home to change our plugs, an’ are hittin’ +the trail again right away. Sixty thousand dollars! Gee! +what a haul! Say, when I’ve taken that”––he moved a +step nearer and dropped his voice––“we’re goin’ to clear +out of this––you an’ me. Those guys out there ain’t never +going to touch a cent. You leave that to me. We’ll hit for +New Mexico, and to hell with the north country. Say, Jess, +ain’t that fine? Fine?” he went on, with a laugh. “It’s +fine as you are.”</p> +<p>She had no answer for him. And he went on quite heedlessly, +lost in admiration of his own scheme, and joy at the +prospect.</p> +<p>“We’ll settle down to an elegant little ranch, most respectable +like. You can go to church. Ha, ha! Yes, you can +go to church all reg’lar. You can make clothes fer the poor, +an’ go to sociables an’ things. An’ meanwhiles I can slip +across the border and gather up a few things––just to keep +my hand in––”</p> +<p>“What time are we gettin’ out?”</p> +<p>James swung round with the alertness of a panther. One +of the men was standing in the doorway, a burly ruffian +whose face was turned to his leader, but whose cruel eyes +were rudely fixed on the woman.</p> +<p>“In ha’f-an-hour,” cried James, with a swift return to his +harsh command. “Tell the boys to vittle for three days an’ +roll a blanket. We’ll need ’em fer sleep. An’, say,” he +cried, with sudden threat, “don’t you git around here again +till I call you. Get me?”</p> +<p>There was no mistaking his anger at the interruption. +There was no mistaking his meaning. The man slunk away. +But as James turned back to the woman his previous lightness +had gone, and his ill-humor found savage expression.</p> +<p>“There’s someone else needing a lesson besides Conroy,” +he snarled.</p> +<p>Jessie shivered.</p> +<p>“He didn’t mean harm,” she protested weakly.</p> +<p>“Harm? Harm? He was staring at you. You ain’t fer +sech scum as him to stare at. I’ll have to teach him.”</p> +<p>The man was lashing himself to that merciless fury Jessie +had once before witnessed, and now she foolishly strove to +appease him. She laughed. It was a forced laugh, but it +served her purpose, for the man’s brow cleared instantly, +and his thoughts diverted to a full realization of her presence, +and all she meant to him.</p> +<p>“You can laugh,” he said, his eyes darkening with sudden +lustful passion. “But I can’t have folks––starin’ at you. +Say, Jess, you don’t know, you can’t think, how I feel about +you. You’re jest mine––mine.” His teeth clipped together +with the force of his emotion. The brute in him +urged him as madly in his desire as it did in his harsher tempers. +“I just don’t care for nothing else but you. An’––I +got you now. Here, you haven’t kissed me since I came +back. I’d forgot, thinking of that sixty thousand of gold-dust. +I’m off again in ha’f-an-hour––an’ I won’t be back +for three days. Here––”</p> +<p>His arms were held out and he drew nearer. But now +the woman drew back in unmistakable horror.</p> +<p>“Say,” he cried in a voice still passionate, yet half angry, +“you don’t need to get away. Ther’s a wall back of you.” +Then, as she still shrank back, and he saw the obvious terror +in her eyes, his swift-changing mood lost its warmth of passion +and left it only angry. “Ther’s three other walls an’ a +door to this room, an’ I can easy shut the door.”</p> +<p>He reached out and caught her by one arm. He swung +her to him as though she were a child. There was no escape. +She struggled to free herself, but her strength was as +the strength of a babe to his, and in a moment she was +caught in his arms and hugged to his breast. She writhed to +free herself, but her efforts made no impression. And, having +possession of her, the man laughed. It was not a pleasant +laugh. He looked down at her. Her head was thrown +back to avoid him. His hot eyes grinned tantalizingly into +her face.</p> +<p>“It’s no use,” he said. “You got to kiss me. You’re +mine. No, no, don’t you bother to kick any. You can’t get +away. Now, Jess, kiss me. Kiss me good––good an’ +plenty.” His arms crushed her closer. “What, you won’t? +You won’t kiss me? Ha, ha! Maybe that’s why you ran +back into the house when I come along. Maybe that’s why +you wouldn’t answer when I called. What’s come to you?”</p> +<p>He held her, waiting for a reply. But the woman was +beyond speech in her horror and rage. She was no longer +terrified. She was beside herself with fury and revolting. +She hated the crushing arms about her––the arms of a murderer. +That one word stood out in her mind, maddening +her. She would not kiss him. She could not. She gasped +and struggled. She wanted to shriek for help, but that, she +knew, was useless.</p> +<p>“Let me go!” she cried, her voice hoarse with a fury +equal to anything he was capable of.</p> +<p>But she only held her the tighter; he only grinned the more. +He, too, was furious. He, too, meant to have his way. He +was determined she should submit.</p> +<p>Submission, however, was the farthest from her thoughts. +He bent his head forward. It came nearer to her up-thrown +chin.</p> +<p>“Let me go! Let me go, you––you––murderer!”</p> +<p>It was out. She had no longer any power of restraint. +And as the word hissed upon the air the man’s whole body +seemed to suddenly stiffen. His arms tightened, and she +felt her ribs bend under their terrific pressure.</p> +<p>“Murderer, eh?” she heard him cry, with an oath. +“Murderer, eh? Now you shall kiss me. Kiss me, you +wild-cat––kiss me!”</p> +<p>As he spoke one hand was lifted to the back of her head. +He pressed it forward, and she was forced slowly, slowly, +fighting every inch of the way to keep her face out of reach +of his lips. His face drew nearer hers. She felt his hot +breath upon her cheeks. She shut her eyes to keep the sight +of his hated, terrifying eyes out, but ever his lips came +nearer.</p> +<p>“What’s come over you, you little fool?” he cried +fiercely. “What is it? Now, by hell! whatever it is, you +shall––you shall kiss me.”</p> +<p>With a sudden exertion of his great strength he crushed +her face to his, and the next instant flung her from him with +a fierce cry of pain and rage.</p> +<p>“You––!” he shouted, as she fell in a heap against the +wall.</p> +<p>The blood was streaming from his cheek where her strong +teeth had bitten deep into the flesh. His hand went up to +the mauled flesh, and murder glared out of his eyes as he +contemplated her huddled figure lying motionless where +he had flung her. And for one second it looked as though +he intended to complete the work he had begun, and kill her +where she lay, in the same manner in which he had treated +the luckless Conroy.</p> +<p>He stared insanely at her for some moments. Then a +change came over him, and he turned to the door.</p> +<p>“When I come back, my girl! When I come back!” he +muttered threateningly.</p> +<p>At the door he paused and looked back. But his look was +mercifully hidden from his victim by unconsciousness.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIX_THE_GOLDSTAGE' id='CHAPTER_XXIX_THE_GOLDSTAGE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<h3>THE GOLD-STAGE</h3> +</div> +<p>Two days of excitement were quite sufficient to upset the +nerves of Suffering Creek. The only excitement it was used +to was the sudden discovery of an extra good find of gold. +The camp understood that. It was like an inspiration to the +creative worker. It stimulated the energies, it uplifted. +Any other sort of excitement had a paralyzing effect. And +thus the excitement of the present Sunday and Monday entirely +upset the rest of the week’s work.</p> +<p>Everybody felt that the happenings of those days were +merely the forerunners of something yet to come, of something +even more startling. And the restlessness of uncertainty +as to its nature kept the population hanging about the +camp, fearful that, in their absence, things might occur, and +they would miss participation in them.</p> +<p>The inhabitants of Suffering Creek were a virile race, +strongly human, full of interest in passing events, and men +of appetite for any slices of life that might come their way. +So, having “cashed in” to the “limit” all the gold-dust they +possessed, they felt they were entitled to spend a few days in +watching events, and a few dollars in passing the time +until such events, if any, should come within their range of +vision.</p> +<p>What events were expected it is doubtful if the most +inventive could have put into words. The general opinion +expressed––out of Minky’s hearing, of course, but to the +accompaniment of deep libations of his most execrable +whisky––was that, personally, that astute trader was, for +some unaccountable reason, rapidly qualifying for the “bug-house,” +and that the only thing due from them was to display +their loyalty to him by humoring him to the extent of discounting +all the “dust” they could lay hands on, and wishing +him well out of the trouble he seemed bent on laying up for +himself. Meanwhile they would take a holiday on the proceeds +of their traffic, and, out of sheer good-fellowship, +stand by to help, or at least applaud, when the <i>dénouement</i> +came.</p> +<p>Many of the shrewder men looked to Wild Bill to give a +key to the situation. They knew him to be Minky’s closest +friend. Besides that, he was a man intensely “wide” and +far-seeing in matters pertaining to such a situation as at +present existed.</p> +<p>But Wild Bill, in this case, was the blankest of blanks in +the lottery of their draw for information. Whether this +blankness was real or affected men could not make up their +minds. The gambler was so unlike his usual self. The +hard, rough, autocratic manner of the man seemed to have +undergone a subtle change. He went about full of geniality +and a lightness his fellow-citizens had never before observed +in him. And, besides, he had suddenly become the only man +in the place who seemed to lack interest in the doings of the +James gang. Even beyond the bare facts of the outrage +down by the river on Sunday morning, he could not be +cajoled into discussing that individual or his doings.</p> +<p>No, his immediate interest apparently lay in his newly purchased +half-claim. He spent the Monday afternoon there +watching the unwilling Sandy sweating at his labors. And +on the Tuesday he even passed him a helping hand. It did +not occur to these men that Bill kept away to avoid their +cross-questionings. It only seemed to them that his new toy +had a greater fascination for him than those things which +made for the welfare of the community; that his inexperienced +eyes were blinded to the facts which were patent +enough to them: namely, that he had bought the most worthless +property in the district.</p> +<p>So they laughed, behind his back, and shrugged their great +shoulders pityingly, and their pity was also touched with +resentment that his interest in Suffering Creek could be so +easily diverted. It was Joe Brand who handed them a most +excellent laugh on the subject, though the laugh was rather +<i>at</i> than <i>with</i> him.</p> +<p>He was talking to Van and White and several other men +at one of the tables in the store. Whisky had brightened his +eyes, which had been quietly smiling for some time as the +talk of Bill went round. Then he suddenly bent forward +and arrested the general attention.</p> +<p>“Say, boys,” he cried, “here’s a good one for you. +What’s the diff’rence between Wild Bill and Minky?”</p> +<p>Van promptly guffawed.</p> +<p>“Gee!” he cried, “ther’ ain’t none. They’re sure both +‘bug.’”</p> +<p>A great laugh greeted the retort, but Joe shook his head.</p> +<p>“That sure ain’t the answer, but it’s real bright,” he +admitted reluctantly, while Van preened himself.</p> +<p>“Guess they’re both that wise they don’t know if they’re +comin’ down or goin’ up,” he went on, seeking to add to the +score he felt he had made.</p> +<p>But Joe felt he was being robbed of the fruits of his effort, +and promptly insisted upon his riddle.</p> +<p>“What’s the diff’rence between Wild Bill an’ Minky?” +he asked again, this time with added emphasis.</p> +<p>He waited impatiently until one of the men shook his head, +when he snatched at the opportunity of firing his quip.</p> +<p>“Why,” he cried, with a shout of delight, “Bill’s put his +gold into a mudbank, an’ Minky’s jest yearnin’ to set his gold +into any old bank,” and fell back laughing furiously.</p> +<p>But he had his merriment to himself. Van, feeling he +had the company with him, sneered.</p> +<p>“Gee! that’s the worst ever,” he cried witheringly.</p> +<p>White spat out a chew of tobacco.</p> +<p>“I’d say you’re that bright you’d orter write comic Bible +trac’s,” he declared.</p> +<p>But even in his failure as a humorist Joe Brand gave +expression to the general opinion of the two men who, up +till that time, had been accounted, to use a local expression, +the “wisest guys west o’ Spawn City.”</p> +<p>Certainly, for the time being, the mighty had fallen, and +their associates, in the persons of Sunny Oak, Toby Jenks +and Sandy Joyce, had to stand by listening to remarks +against their fellow Trust members which, though distinctly +offensive, they yet, in justice, had to admit were perfectly +warranted on the face of things. Even Scipio, mild little +man as he was, had to endure considerable chaff, which worried +and annoyed him, as to the way in which he had succeeded +in bluffing so shrewd a “guy” as Wild Bill into +purchasing half his claim.</p> +<p>But these things were only sidelights on the feelings of +the moment. Expectancy was at fever-heat, and each and +every man was wondering what was about to happen. For +though their belief in Bill and Minky had received a jolt, +long months of experience had sown in them an appreciation +that took a power of uprooting.</p> +<p>The Monday and Tuesday passed without development of +any sort. There were several conferences between the members +of the Trust, but these were really only meetings at +which the lesser members received more minute instructions +for the carrying out of their duties on the Wednesday. No +information otherwise was forthcoming for them from either +Minky or the president, and all attempt to extort any was +promptly nipped in the bud by the latter without the least +compunction or courtesy.</p> +<p>Sandy resented this attitude. Sunny complained of the +lack of confidence. But Toby sat back immensely enjoying +the chagrin of his two friends, and cordially swore that both +Minky and Bill knew a large-meshed sieve when they saw +one.</p> +<p>Tuesday night was a memorable one on Suffering Creek. +Never had there been such a gathering in Minky’s store; and +his heart must have been rejoiced to see the manner in which +so many of the dollars he had expended in the purchase of +gold-dust came fluttering back to their nest in his till. The +camp appeared to have made up its mind to an orgy of the +finest brand. Drink flowed and overflowed. The store that +night fairly swam in whisky. The flood set in the moment +supper was finished, and from that time until two o’clock in +the morning the lusty storekeeper never had a moment’s rest.</p> +<p>Men drank themselves drunk, and drank themselves sober +again. There was no poker or faro. No one wanted to +gamble. There was sufficient gamble in their minds on the +subject of to-morrow’s stage to satisfy them for the moment. +Would it get through? That was the question. And the +general opinion was an emphatic denial.</p> +<p>How could it? Had not scouts been sent out inquiring +of outlying settlers as to the prospect of a clear road? Had +not information come in that James was abroad, had been +seen in a dozen different places in the district? Had not the +belief become general that the Spawn City trail was being +carefully watched, and even patrolled, by this common +enemy? Everybody knew that these things were so. The +whole of this stage business was simply flying in the face of +Providence.</p> +<p>And amidst all the comment and talk Minky served the +requirements of his customers, wrapped in sphinx-like reserve. +His geniality never failed him. He had a pleasant +word for everybody. And at every gibe, at every warning, +he beamed and nodded, but otherwise could not be drawn +into controversy. One remark, and one only, had he for all +and sundry who chose him as a butt for their pleasantries.</p> +<p>“Wal,” he declared easily, “if I ladled out good United +States currency, to feed that bum tough James an’ his crew o’ +hawks, seems to me its findin’ its way home right smart.”</p> +<p>It was quite true. He stood to win in every direction. +Sooner or later every cent of money he had paid out in the +purchase of gold would find its way back to him, and go to +help swell the fortune which was the effort of his life. +These men had not the commercial instinct of Minky. And, +furthermore, his meeting at night with the gambler, and its +resulting compact, was still a secret.</p> +<p>The popular laugh was for the moment against him, but +he continued to smile. And he knew that his smile would +last the longer. He would still be smiling when even the +ghost of their laugh had been laid to rest.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Sore heads were no deterrent next morning. Pillows +were deserted at an early hour. And those who had found +it convenient to pass the brief remainder of the night in their +heavy, clay-soiled boots had the advantage of breakfasting +at the first hot rush of Birdie’s ministrations. And Birdie, +with the understanding of her kind, had bestowed special attention +upon the quantity and quality of the coffee, leaving +the solid side of the meal almost unconsidered. It was her +duty to sooth parching throats, and she knew her duty.</p> +<p>It was a glorious morning. The sun rose radiant in a +cloudless sky. The air was still, so still. But the mountain +chill began to give way from the first moment that the great +arc of daylight lifted its dazzling crown above the horizon. +The quiet of the morning was perfect. It almost seemed as +if Nature itself had hushed to an expectant silence. The +woe of the night-prowling coyote at the sight of the dawn +found no voice. The frogs upon the creek had not yet begun +their morning song. Even the camp dogs, whose ceaseless +“yap” made hideous all their waking hours, for some +subtle reason moved about in quest of their morning meal as +though their success depended upon the stealth of their +movements.</p> +<p>Blear-eyed men appeared in their doorways half awake, +and only just recovering from their overnight orgy. They +stood for some moments voiceless and thoughtful. Then +the concentration upon the store began. It was strange to +look upon. It was an almost simultaneous movement. +These half-dazed, wholly sick creatures moved with the precision +of a universally impelling force. The store might +have been one huge magnet––perhaps it was––and these +dejected early risers mere atoms of steel.</p> +<p>But the store reached, that wonderfully revivifying hair +of the tail, etc., partaken of, and a rapid change supervened. +Quarts of coffee and some trifling solid further stimulated +jaded energies, and in less than an hour the memory that the +day was Wednesday, and that the gold-stage was to set out +upon its eventful journey, became the chief thought in every +mind. Curiosity and excitement ran riot, and questions flew +from lip to lip. How had Minky provided for the safeguarding +of his gold? Had he arranged for an adequate escort? +To whom was the gold to be entrusted?</p> +<p>The store was full of men. The veranda overflowed with +them. There were men of almost every nationality––from +half-breed Mexicans, popularly dubbed “gorl-durned Dagos,” +to the stolid Briton, the virile New Yorker, the square-headed +Teuton, the lithe, graceful prairie man from the +Southern States. But the usual noisy discussion of the +world’s affairs, as viewed from the hidden valley in which +lay Suffering Creek, had no vital interest just now. And, +after the first rush of burning questions, a hush fell upon +the assembly, and it quickly composed itself, in various attitudes +and positions of advantage, to await, in what patience +it could, the satisfying of its curiosity.</p> +<p>Soon the hush became oppressive. It almost became a +burden. Men stirred uneasily under it; they chafed. And +at last Joe Brand found himself voicing something of the +feelings of everybody. He spoke in a whisper which, for +the life of him, he could not have raised to full voice. He +was standing next to White, and he took him confidentially +by the shoulder and spoke, leaning over till his lips were on +a level with his ear.</p> +<p>“I allow funerals is joyous things an’ nigger lynchin’s is +real comic,” he declared hoarsely. “But fer real rollickin’ +merriment I never see the equal o’ this yer gatherin’. I sure +don’t think it ’ud damp things any ef I was to give ’em a +Doxology.”</p> +<p>The miner responded with a pensive smile.</p> +<p>“Mebbe you’re right ’bout funerals an’ nigger lynchin’s,” +he whispered back, “but they’s jest a matter o’ livin’ an’ +dyin’. Y’see, Minky’s gamblin’ sixty thousand dollars o’ +good red gold.”</p> +<p>Brand nodded. And somehow he appreciated the point +and became easier.</p> +<p>Later on Minky appeared in the store, and almost automatically +every eye was turned expectantly upon him. But +he had only come to ascertain if Wild Bill was about.</p> +<p>No, the gambler had not been seen. Someone jocularly +suggested that he and Zip were out visiting Sandy Joyce +upon their claim. None of the three had been seen that +morning. But the levity was allowed to pass without a +smile, and Minky disappeared again into the back regions of +his store.</p> +<p>After that the time passed even more slowly. The store +emptied; the men moved out into the sunlight to await the +first sight of the stage. There was nothing else to do. +Such was their saturation of the previous night that even +drink had no attraction at this early hour. So they sat or +lounged about, gazing out at the distant upland across the +river. There lay the vanishing-point of the Spawn City +trail, and beyond that they knew the danger-zone to lie. It +was a danger-zone they all understood, and, hardy as they +were, they could not understand anyone mad enough to risk +a fortune of gold within its radius. Not one of them would +have faced it singly with so little as twenty dollars in his +pocket, much less laboring under the burden of sixty thousand +dollars. And yet somebody was going to do so to-day.</p> +<p>A pounding of hoofs and crunching of wheels suddenly +swept all apathy away. Every eye lit; every head turned. +And in a moment Suffering Creek was on its feet, agog with +the intensest interest. For one brief moment the rattle and +clatter continued. Then, from round the corner, with bits +champing and satin coats gleaming in the sun, their silver-mounted +harness sparkling, Wild Bill’s treasured team of six +horses swept into view. Round they swung, hitched to his +well-known spring-cart, and in a second had drawn up with +a flourish in front of the veranda.</p> +<p>A gasp of astonishment greeted this unexpected vision. +Men stood gaping at the beaming choreman sitting perched +up on the driving-seat. It was the first time in his life he +had ever been allowed to handle the gambler’s equine children, +and his joy and pride were written in every furrow of +his age-lined features.</p> +<p>The man sat waiting, while the thoroughbreds pawed the +ground and reached restively at their bits. But they were +like babes to handle, for their manners were perfect. They +had been taught by a master-hand whose lessons had been +well learned. And the picture they made was one that inspired +admiration and envy in every eye and heart of those +who now beheld them.</p> +<p>But these were not the only emotions the sight provoked. +Blank astonishment and incredulous wonder stirred them, +too. Bill’s horses! Bill’s cart! Where––where was the +gambler himself? Was this the stage? Was Bill––?</p> +<p>The talk which had been so long suppressed now broke +out afresh. Everybody asked questions, but nobody answered +any. They crowded about the cart. They inspected +the horses with eyes of admiration and wonder. No man +could have withstood the sight of the rope-like veins standing +out through their velvet skin. They fondled them, and +talked to them as men will talk to horses. And it was only +when Minky suddenly appeared in their midst, bearing in +his arms an iron-clamped case which he deposited in the +body of the cart, that their attention was diverted, and they +remembered the purpose in hand.</p> +<p>The gold-chest deposited and made secure, the storekeeper +turned to the crowd about him.</p> +<p>“Well, boys,” he said, with an amiable smile, “any more +mail? Any you fellers got things you need to send to your +sisters––or somebody else’s sisters? You best get it ready +sharp. We’re startin’ at eight o’clock. After that you’ll +sure be too late. Y’see,” he added humorously, “we ain’t +figgered when the next stage goes.” He pulled out his +nickel silver timepiece. “It’s needin’ five minutes to schedule,” +he went on officially, glancing keenly down the trail. +Anyone sufficiently observant, and had they been quick +enough, might have detected a shade of anxiety in his glance. +He moved round to the side of the cart and spoke to the +man in the driving-seat.</p> +<p>“It’s nigh eight. He ain’t here?” he said questioningly.</p> +<p>“Guess he’ll be right along, boss,” the little man returned +in a low voice.</p> +<p>Again the storekeeper glanced anxiously down the trail. +Then he turned away with a slight sigh.</p> +<p>“Well, boys,” he said, with another attempt at jocularity, +“if ther’ ain’t nuthin’ doin’, guess this mail’s sure closed.”</p> +<p>Passing again to the back of the cart, he gazed affectionately +upon the gold-chest. Then he lifted his eyes just as +Van voiced the question in everybody’s mind.</p> +<p>“You sure ain’t sendin’ pore old Danny with that stage?” +he cried incredulously. “You sure ain’t sendin’ him fer +James to sift lead through? You ain’t lettin’ him drive +Bill’s horses?”</p> +<p>“He sure ain’t. Him drive my plugs? Him? Gee! +Ther’ ain’t no one but me drives them hosses––not if Congress +passed it a law.”</p> +<p>The harsh, familiar voice of Wild Bill grated contemptuously. +He had come up from his hut all unnoticed just in +time to hear Van’s protesting inquiry. Now he stood with +eyes only for his horses.</p> +<p>Daylight at last shone through the mist of doubt and +puzzlement which had kept the citizens of Suffering Creek +in darkness so long. They looked at this lean, harsh figure +and understood. Here was the driver of the stage, and, +curiously, with this realization their doubts of its welfare +lessened. All along they had been blaming Bill for his lack +of interest in the affairs of the camp, and now––</p> +<p>They watched him with keen, narrowing eyes. What +mad game was he contemplating? They noted his dress. It +was different to that which he usually wore. His legs were +encased in sheepskin chaps. He was wearing a belt about +his waist from which hung a heavy pair of guns. And +under his black, shiny, short coat he was wearing a simple +buckskin shirt.</p> +<p>They watched him as he moved round his horses, examining +the fit of the bridles and the fastenings of the harness. +He looked to the buckles of the reins. He smoothed the +satin coats of his children with affectionate hand. Then in +a moment they saw him spring into the cart.</p> +<p>Taking the reins from the choreman, he settled himself +into the driving-seat, while the deposed charioteer clambered +stiffly to the ground.</p> +<p>Minky was at the wheel nearest to his friend. The +horses, under the master-hand, had suddenly become restive. +Bill bent over, and the storekeeper craned up towards him.</p> +<p>“Ther’ was two fellers hit the trail this morning,” the +gambler said, with a short laugh. “I see ’em when I was +with Zip––’fore daylight.”</p> +<p>“You––you best quit it,” said Minky in serious, anxious +tones. “We kin, maybe, hold the gold up against him here. +It ain’t too late. It ain’t, sure.”</p> +<p>Bill’s face suddenly darkened. All the lightness which +the prospect before him had inspired suddenly left it. His +words came so full of bitter hatred that the other was +startled.</p> +<p>“Not for a million-dollar halo!” he cried, reaching out +for his long whip.</p> +<p>With a dexterous swing he set it cracking over his horses’ +backs. The high-strung beasts plunged at their bits, and the +leaders started to rear. Again he swung out his whip, and +this time it flicked the plunging leaders. Instantly there +was a rush of feet and a scrunch of wheels. The “tugs” +pulled taut, and the gush of eager nostrils hissed like steam +upon the still air. There was a shout of farewell from the +onlookers, and the gambler turned in his seat.</p> +<p>“So long, fellers,” he cried. “I’m makin’ Spawn City +by daylight to-morrer––sure.”</p> +<p>The next moment he was lost in a cloud of dust, as the +horses raced down the hill.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXX_ON_THE_SPAWN_CITY_TRAIL' id='CHAPTER_XXX_ON_THE_SPAWN_CITY_TRAIL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<h3>ON THE SPAWN CITY TRAIL</h3> +</div> +<p>Wild Bill’s lean hands clawed the reins with muscles of +steel. For the moment his six horses occupied his every +thought. They were pulling with the madness of high-bred +racehorses. The trail lay before them, their master sat behind. +What more could they want, but that liberty to +stretch their willing bodies?</p> +<p>Down the hill and along the wood-lined trail that ran +parallel to the sluggish creek they raced. The dust rose +under their feet, and the wheels of the cart left a fog behind +them. It rose in swirling clouds as though to shut off +all retreat. Presently the road narrowed to a mere track, +and the dark woods closed in. But there was no slackening +under the hand of the gambler. Nor had the horses any +desire to slacken their headlong rush. The woods broke +and gave to a low bush, and in a moment the track opened +upon Scipio’s claim.</p> +<p>Now, for the first time since the start as they swept across +it, Bill permitted his gaze to wander from his charges. He +looked away at the mouth of the tunnel Sandy had spent so +much labor and such bitter cursing in the process of constructing; +and a half-smile flitted across his hard face as he +beheld the oozy débris, the idle tools, the winch and buckets. +The sight seemed to afford him amusement. There was a +softening, too, in his hard face. Maybe it was the result of +his amusement. Maybe it was due to some thought of the +little man with whom he was partners. But he seemed to +freeze up again as the claim passed, and the horses floundered +over the heavy trail beside the black, oily swamp beyond. +It was bad driving here, and he steadied the racing +creatures down with voice and hand.</p> +<p>“Easy, Gipsy. Easy you, Pete. Now Maisie. So! +Steady, boys. Easy!”</p> +<p>The harsh voice was hushed and gentle. He was speaking +to creatures that were not merely horses to him, but +something nearer, perhaps even dearer.</p> +<p>And the well-trained creatures responded at once, slowing +to an easy trot, a pace which they kept until the ford of the +creek was reached. Here they dropped to a walk as they +splashed their way through the turgid stream. But the +moment the wheels of the cart topped the opposite bank, +they once more resumed their headlong gait.</p> +<p>At once the gambler sat up. He straightened his lean body +as a man who opens his lungs to breathe in deep draughts of +fresh, bracing air. His narrow eyes stared out aside of him +and beyond. His nostrils expanded, and his thin lips were +tightly shut.</p> +<p>The camp was behind him. The trail, a hard, wide sand +trail, lay ahead. The wide, wild world was about him on +every hand, reminding him of days long gone by, reminding +him that to-day his instincts were still the same. The same +fiery, militant spirit that had driven him from one end of his +country to the other still left him yearning for the ruthless +battle of wild places and wilder men. The long months of +inactivity, the long days of peace, the longer nights of his +gambler’s craft, were for the moment gone. He was setting +out, as in the old days, surrounded by all in life he cared for, +offering a challenge to all the world, ready to grapple with +whatsoever the gods of war might choose to thrust in his +way.</p> +<p>The man’s spirits rose. The swift-flashing eyes brightened. +His body felt to be bursting with a ravishing joy of +life. His purpose was his own. The joy was his alone. +He had found excuse for satisfying his own greedy lust, +a lust for battle which no overwhelming odds could diminish. +He was a savage. He knew it; he gloried in it. +Peace to him was a wearisome burden of which at all times +he was ready to rid himself. So he was born. So he had +always lived. So, he knew, he would die.</p> +<p>The trail rose with the upland. It rose with that gradation +which so wears down the ardor of almost any horse. +But the creatures Wild Bill was driving were made of unusual +mettle. Their courage was the courage of the man +behind them. And only when his courage failed him would +their spirit falter. They swept up the long stretch as +though the effort were a pastime. With ears pricked forward, +nostrils gushing, their veins standing out like whipcord +through their satin coats, they moved as though every +stride were an expression of the joy of living. And the +man’s steel muscles were held at tension to keep their gait +within the bounds of reason.</p> +<p>As they neared the hill-top he turned and glanced back +over his shoulder. There lay the camp nestling on the far +side of the creek. There stood Minky’s store, lording it +over its lesser fellows with the arrogance of successful +commerce. He could see a small patch of figures standing +about its veranda, and he knew that many eyes were +watching for a final sight of him at the moment when he +should vanish over the hill.</p> +<p>They were friendly eyes, too, he knew. They were the +eyes of men who wished him well. But he doubted if those +good wishes were for his own sake. He knew he was not a +man whom men loved. And he smiled grimly as he glanced +down at the chest of gold in the body of the cart.</p> +<p>In a moment his eyes were looking out ahead again, and +all thought of those he was leaving behind left his mind.</p> +<p>The hill-top passed, the horses swung down into a deep, +long valley. It was in this valley, some six or seven miles +farther on, he had encountered Scipio in Minky’s buckboard. +He thought of that meeting now, and remembered +many things; and as recollection stirred his teeth shut tight +till his jaw muscles stood out like walnuts through his lean +cheeks. He had promised Scipio that day. Well, his mind +was easier than his feelings. He was confident. But he +was stirred to a nervous desire to be doing.</p> +<p>Nothing escaped his watchful eyes. Every tree, every +bush, every rise and hollow passed under his closest scrutiny. +But this was simply his way, a way that had long +since been forced into a habit. He did not anticipate any +developments yet. The battle-cry was yet to be sounded. +He knew the men he was likely to deal with better than any +other class. He knew their ways, their subtleties. Who +should know them better? Had not years of his life been +spent––?</p> +<p>He laughed aloud, but his laughter rang without mirth. +And his horses, taking the sound to be a command, broke +suddenly into a gallop. It was the sympathy between man +and beast asserting itself. They, too, possessed that nervous +desire to be doing. Something of the significance of the +journey was theirs, and their nerves were braced with the +temper of fine steel.</p> +<p>He steadied them down with the patience of a devoted +father for a pack of boisterous children. No harsh words +disturbed their sensitive ears. The certainty of their obedience +made it unnecessary to exert any display of violence. +They promptly fell again into their racing trot, and the cart +once more ran smoothly over the hard beaten trail.</p> +<p>The higher reaches of the creek cut into the valley from +the right, and the trail deviated to a rise of sandy ground. +He had reached the point of his meeting with Scipio. Nor +did he slacken his pace over the dust-laden patch. It was +passed in a choking cloud, and in a moment the rise was +topped and a wild, broken country spread out before him.</p> +<p>Five miles farther on he halted beside a small mountain +stream and breathed his horses.</p> +<p>But his halt was of the briefest. He simply let the horses +stand in their harness. It was not time to feed, but he +removed their bits and let them nip up the bunches of sweet +grass about their feet. And as he did so he paused a moment +at the head of each animal, muttering words of encouragement, +and administering caresses with a hand which +bore in its touch an affection that no words of his could +have conveyed.</p> +<p>Then he went back to the cart and made a few simple +dispositions. One was to securely lash the gold-chest in its +place; but its place he changed to the front of the cart. +Another was to leave the lid of the foot-box, built against +the dashboard, wide open, and to so secure it that it could +not close again. Another was to adjust the lowered hood +of the cart in a certain way that it was raised head-high as +he sat in his driving-seat.</p> +<p>Then, with a grim satisfaction in his small eyes as he +glanced over his simple preparations, he jumped to the +ground and replaced the bits in his horses’ mouths. In two +minutes he was again rushing over the trail, but this time +through a world of crag and forest as primitive and rugged +as was his own savage soul.</p> +<p>So the journey went on, over mountainous hills, and deep +down into valleys as dark as only mountain forests of +spruce and pine could make them. Over a broken road +that set the light cart perilously bumping, speeding along the +edges of precipices, with little more than inches to spare, at +a pace that might well set the nerves jangling with every +jolt. Later a halt for feed and water, and on again, the +willing horses taking their rest only as the difficulties of the +trail reduced their pace to a laborious walk.</p> +<p>The man sat alert through it all. There was no question +in his mind. He knew what lay ahead of him somewhere in +those vast depths. He knew that what he looked for was +coming just as surely as the Day of Doom. He did not ask +when or where. That was not his way. It might come +when it chose, for his part. He was ready and even yearning +for the moment of its coming.</p> +<p>So his eyes never rested for a moment. Scarce a glance +or thought did he give to his horses. Theirs it was to keep +to the trail. Theirs it was to keep their pace. His was all +other responsibility.</p> +<p>The sun was leaning towards the western crags, where, in +the distance, they raised their snow-crowned heads towards +the heavens. The ruddy daylight was deepening to that +warmth of color which belongs to day’s old age. The forest +shadows appeared to deepen, those dark forests so far below +him in the valleys. Here, where he was racing along at a +high level, all was bright, the air was joyous. Below him +lay the brooding stillness where lurked a hundred unknown +dangers. There were only about fifteen more miles of this +broken solitude, and beyond that stretched a world of waving, +gracious grassland right on to the prairie city whither +he was bound.</p> +<p>He stirred; his roving eyes abruptly concentrated. One +distant spot on the rugged landscape held him. He craned +forward. The movement caused him to ease his hand upon +the reins. Instantly the horses sprang into a gallop. So +intent was he that for the moment the change passed unnoticed. +He seemed only to have eyes and thought for that +distant hill-top. Then of a sudden he realized the dangerous +breakneck speed, and turned his attention upon his +team.</p> +<p>The animals once more reduced to a sober pace, he turned +again to the spot which held his interest; and his eyes grew +bright with a smile that had nothing pleasant in it. He was +grinning with a savage joy more fierce, more threatening, +than the cruellest frown. The next time he bestirred himself +it was to swing his gun-holsters more handy to the +front of his body.</p> +<p>Later on his interest seemed to lessen. No longer was +there that watchfulness in his eyes. Perhaps it was he +deemed there was no longer the necessity for it. Perhaps +what he had seen had satisfied his restless searching. Anyway, +he now sat contemplating the shining backs of his +horses as they sped down the hill, and his eyes were friendly +as he watched the rolls of muscle writhing under their satin +coats.</p> +<p>But when next he looked up his moment of gentleness had +passed. His easier moods were never of long duration. +One swift glance again at the distant hill, and then he +turned from it and sat gazing at the dank, oozy prospect of +the low-lying flat he was just entering with no sort of +friendliness. The sharp hoofs of his team were flinging +mud in every direction, and the rattle of the wheels had +deadened to a thick sucking as they sank into the black +mud. It was a heavy pull, but the speed was not checked. +It only needed an extra effort, and this the willing team +readily applied. He knew the spot well; and he knew that +beyond lay the hill, the crest of which had so held his attention +a few minutes before.</p> +<p>His thoughts traveled no farther than that hill. For the +time at least there was nothing beyond. Later it would be +for him to consider that. Just ahead of him lay the chances +and changes which went to make up such a life as his. +This he knew. And somehow the thought stimulated his +pulses to a fuller appreciation of things.</p> +<p>In a few moments he was nearing the far boundary of the +flat, and the ascent of the hill was about to commence. He +smiled. Yes, it was well calculated. The hill would have +to be taken at a walk. It was by far the steepest of the +journey. He remembered, too, that the crest of it was +reached by a final climb that became almost precipitous. +He remembered, too, that the black woods that crowded its +sides at the crest gave place to the skeleton trunks left by +some long-forgotten forest fire. Yes, it was the one spot on +the whole journey best calculated for what was to come.</p> +<p>The team no longer labored in the ooze. The ascent was +begun. With heads held high, with ears pricked and nostrils +distended they faced the big effort unflinchingly.</p> +<p>And the driver’s mind was calculating many things. It +was moving with the swiftness of an able general’s in the +midst of a big action. He glanced at the sky. Already the +sun was hidden behind the western hills. Already the shadows +were lengthening and the gray of evening was falling. +The profound woods, dense and ghostly, had closed in. +The trail was so narrow that the dreary, weeping foliage +often swept the sides of the cart. But these things did not +occur to him. His mind was ahead, amongst those aged +skeletons left by the raging fire-fiend.</p> +<p>Progress was slow. It was almost too slow for the man’s +eager nerves. He wanted to reach his goal. His lean body +thrilled with a profound joy. He lusted for the battle +which he knew to lie ahead of him. But, even so, he gave +no outward sign. His face was set and harsh. His small +eyes bored through the gloom, thrusting to penetrate beyond +every bend in the winding road. Nothing escaped them. +Each small fur that fled in terror at his approach was carefully +noted, for they told him things he wanted to know.</p> +<p>Now the final steep was reached. It was truly precipitous. +The sharp hoofs of the team clawed their way up. +Such was the struggle that even the man found himself +leaning forward, instinctively desiring to help the laboring +animals. The bends in the trail were sudden and at brief +intervals. It was as though those responsible for the original +clearing of the road had realized the impossibility of a +direct ascent, and had chosen the zigzag path as the only +means of surmounting the hill.</p> +<p>The moments passed. Bend followed bend. The man in +the cart found himself mechanically counting them. Two +more. One more. The summit was almost reached. And +beyond? He sighed. Maybe it was the sigh of a man +whose nerves are relieved from their tension, knowing that +beyond this last bend lay his goal. Maybe it was inspired +by sympathy for his struggling horses. Anyway, his +whole manner underwent a change. The watchfulness +seemed to have gone from his eyes, his muscles to have relaxed. +He leant back in his seat like a man full of weariness, +and securely fastened his reins to an iron rail on +the side of the cart.</p> +<p>He was at the bend now. The leaders were abreast of it. +They were past it. He––</p> +<p>There was a sharp rattle of firearms, and half-a-dozen +bullets swept pinging their way over his head. A hoarse +voice shouted a command to halt. His horses plunged forward. +But, quick as lightning, his hands flew to the reins, +and he drew them up to a standstill in the open.</p> +<p>“Hands up!” shouted the same voice; and a horseman +appeared on each side of the team.</p> +<p>Then came an exhibition of the gambler as he was, as in +the old days he had always been known. It was all done in +the fraction of a second. Simultaneously his two guns +leapt from his holsters and two shots rang out. There was +an ominous echo from the woods. One horseman reeled in +his saddle, and the horse of the other man stumbled and +finally fell.</p> +<p>The next moment the man in the cart was crouching +down, all but the crown of his head and his gleaming eyes +well sheltered by the loose-hanging canvas hood.</p> +<p>“I’m ’most allus ready to put my hands up!” he snarled. +“Come on!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXI_THE_BATTLE' id='CHAPTER_XXXI_THE_BATTLE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> +<h3>THE BATTLE</h3> +</div> +<p>A shout of fury. A wild chorus of meaningless blasphemy. +A thundering of hoofs. A shriek of pain––an +appalling death-cry. The fight has begun––such a fight, in +its wanton savagery, as might shame even the forest beasts. +In a moment the human lusting for the blood of its fellows +is let loose, than which there is no more terrible madness on +earth.</p> +<p>Yet there was a difference. There was a difference of +motive widely separating the combatants; and it was a difference +that left the balance of offense doubtful.</p> +<p>To analyze the mental attitude of these people adequately +would be well-nigh impossible. Their outlook possessed +distortions which changed with chameleon-like rapidity. +On the one hand was a band of lawless ruffians, steeped to +their very souls in every sort of crime, in whose minds all +law was anathema, in whose understanding all possession +was a deliberate challenge, in whose hearts was no pity, +no mercy, no feeling which belongs to the gentler side of +human life; to whose comprehension death has no meaning +until its relentless grip is fixed, and they feel the last spark +of life crushing out of their own bodies. Then––But the +analysis becomes hopelessly chaotic.</p> +<p>On the other hand motive is perhaps even more difficult +still, though a shade less hopeless. The gambler was a man +of strong thought, of strong forces. Nor was he devoid of +the gentler feelings of life. Yet here lies the difficulty of +associating the various sides of his character with his actions. +He had set out for this encounter. He had yearned +for it, as a child might yearn for a plaything. The contemplation +of it gave him ecstasy. With an inhuman joy he +desired the lives of these men. Not one, but all; and one +even more than all. Then, too, his purpose was in face of +overwhelming odds––in face of almost a certainty of death +for himself. Such actions have been performed before in +noble cases, but here––?</p> +<p>Was it simply his purpose to yield himself a martyr to the +public welfare? Was it that he truly desired to avenge a +wronged man? Was he setting himself up as the avenger +of Sid Morton’s cruel death, a man in whom he had no +interest whatever? No. It would be absurd to believe that +these things were the promptings responsible for his present +actions. Some hideous psychological twist was driving him. +Some passion swayed him over which he had no control +whatever. Some degeneracy was upsetting his mental balance, +and forcing him against his better instincts. But, +even so, his whole attitude was that of a man of clear, alert +mind, of iron purpose, of a courage invincible.</p> +<p>Calm and cold Wild Bill crouched while, in the first rush +of battle, the shots hailed about him. He reserved his fire, +too, waiting for the effective moment with the patience of +a skillful general. His every shot must tell, and tell desperately.</p> +<p>Three times he was hit in as many seconds, but beyond +hugging his flimsy shelter more closely he gave no sign. +His purpose rose above all physical hurt or sense of pain. +He was watching the movements of one man––of one man +only. His gleaming eyes pursued the figure of the outlaw +leader to the exclusion of all else. James was his quarry. +The rest––well, the rest were merely incidental.</p> +<p>And, emboldened by his intended victim’s silence, James +suddenly changed his tactics. A long-ranged battle was little +enough to his savage taste. He ceased the ineffective +fire of his men and brought them together. Then in a moment, +with the reckless abandon of his class, he headed +them and charged. They came, as before, with a brazen +shout, and the air was hideous with a fresh outburst of blasphemy, +while a rush of lead searched the fragile cart in +every direction.</p> +<p>But the din of voices, the crash of woodwork as the +panels of the cart were riddled by the wildly flung shots, +was powerless to draw the defender. His guns were +ready. He was ready for the purpose in his mind. That +was all. His fierce eyes lit with a murderous intent as he +calculated with certainty and exactness.</p> +<p>On they came. They drove their maddened horses with +savage spurs right up to the cart. It was the moment the +gambler awaited. He leapt, and in a flash his tall figure +was confronting the leader of the attack. And as he rose +his arms were outstretched and his great guns belched their +murderous fire. Two men rolled from their saddles with a +death-scream that died down to a hideous gurgle, as the racing +hoofs trod the last atom of life out of their bodies. His +guns belched a second time, and James’ throat was plowed +open, and the rich red blood spurted in a ghastly tide. Another +shot and another man fell forward, clutching his +horse’s mane while he was borne from the battle-field to the +dim recesses of the forest by his uncontrolled and affrighted +beast.</p> +<p>But the gambler paid a high price for these successes––far +higher than he could really afford. Four times more he +was badly hit. Four times the hot slither of burning lead +plowed its way amidst the life-channels of his body. +And his retreat to cover was something almost in the nature +of collapse.</p> +<p>But the spirit of the man admitted of no weakening. It +rose dominant over all physical sensation. He thrust aside +the cognizance of his hurts, and abandoned himself solely to +his purpose. James was still in the saddle, and the sight of +his hated personality consumed him with rage and disgust at +the failure of his first attempt.</p> +<p>“Still around. Still around,” he muttered. And in a +moment the battle was surging once more.</p> +<p>No longer was the leader of the attack moved by the irresponsible +bravado of his first attack. He was a raging +savage, goaded by the desperate wounds he had received, and +the knowledge that he and all his force were being held at +bay by one man. So he charged again, a headlong rush, +howling as he came at the head of his four remaining supporters.</p> +<p>They came like an avalanche, their voices making hideous +the rapidly falling night, while the wounded defender +waited, waited, all his purpose concentrated, husbanding his +ebbing strength as a starving man might husband the last +crumbs of food. He knew that not only his strength, but +his very life was slowly ebbing in the red tide that was fast +saturating every shred of his clothing.</p> +<p>Again they reached the cart. Again the maddened horses +were driven head on to the dreaded fortress. And instantly +their quarry rose to his full height, a grim specter +thrilling with a murderous purpose, his arms outstretched, +his guns held low, that there should be no mistake this time.</p> +<p>The crash of battle was appalling. The scene was almost +lost in the smoke cloud which hung over it. There was fire +and cross-fire. There were exultant shouts and cries of +pain. And through it all the scuttling of rushing hoofs and +champing bits. A moment and the defender dropped. But +instantly he rose again, gripping in his nervous hands the +butts of a pair of fresh guns snatched from his foot-box. +Nor did he stir foot again, nor relax a muscle, till every +one of the twelve chambers was emptied.</p> +<p>Then, with an oath that carried with it all the pent-up +hatred of a bitter heart, he flung both weapons in the direction +whither his last shot had gone, and, staggering back, +dropped helplessly into the driving-seat behind him.</p> +<p>The smoke hung heavily and drifted slowly away upon +the still air. The sound of rushing hoofs receded and died +away in the distance, and in a while a profound quiet +settled upon the scene. The man lolled heavily in his seat, +and his eyes closed. His face was a ghastly gray, his eyes +were sunken and his blackened lips hung agape. His arms +hung helplessly at his side, and his legs were stretched out +in a pitiable attitude of uselessness.</p> +<p>The moments passed drearily. For a long time there was +no movement of any sort but the restless fidgeting of the +horses. They had stood through all the turmoil as their +master had long since trained them to stand. But now that +it was over their eager spirits were demanding the joy of the +trail again. It almost seemed as though, in their equine +minds, they had a full realization of the meaning of that +battle in the wild, as though sympathy between master and +beast had held them during that fierce ten minutes still and +passive, lest through any act of theirs they should cross the +will of the one being whom they acknowledged their lord. +And now that it was over and the crisis passed, it seemed as +if they understood that victory had been achieved, and their +duty once more lay upon the trail ahead of them.</p> +<p>At last the eyes of the man opened. The chafing of his +horses had penetrated to his numbing brain. Their fierce +depths were dull and lusterless as they rolled vaguely +around. Yet there was intelligence in them, although it was +the intelligence of a weary, fainting mind. They closed +again, as though the will behind them lacked in its support. +And then followed a sigh, a deep, long sigh of exhaustion.</p> +<p>There was another pause, and presently there came a +bodily movement. The man stirred uneasily, in the manner +of one gathering his weakening forces for a supreme effort +from which his whole body shrank. Again his eyes opened, +and this time their depths were full of purpose. Suddenly +his legs gathered under him and his arms drew up, and in a +moment he staggered to his feet, his hands clutching support +upon the back of the seat.</p> +<p>He stared about him doubtfully, and his uncertainty was +pitiful to behold. His eyes were only half open, as though +the effort of sustaining their lids was too great for his failing +powers. They wandered on over the scene, however, +until they suddenly fixed themselves upon a spot where two +figures were stretched upon the ground. One was lying +upon its side with its knees drawn up as though asleep; the +other was stretched upon its back, its arms flung out and its +legs lying across the other’s body. The dead eyes were +staring up at the darkened sky, glazed and motionless.</p> +<p>He stared down upon these figures for some time, and the +sight seemed to put fresh strength into him; and at last, +when he turned away, a pitiful attempt at triumph shone in +his dull eyes, and a ghostly smile flitted about the corners +of his sagging lips.</p> +<p>He had seen all he wanted to see. His work was done. +James was dead. He knew death when he saw it, and he +had seen it shining in those staring eyes. James had passed +over the one-way trail, and his had been the hand that had +sped him upon his journey.</p> +<p>Now he took a deep breath and stood swaying. Then he +glanced with measuring eye at the foot-box at his feet. He +changed his support, and, bending slowly, dragged a rawhide +rope from inside it. The next moment he fell back upon +the seat. But his work had only begun. For some time he +fumbled with the rope, passing it about his body and the +iron stanchions of the back of the seat, and after awhile had +succeeded in knotting it securely. Then, after a moment +of hard breathing, he reached out and untied the reins from +the rail of the cart and gathered them into his hands. And +as he did so his lips moved and his voice croaked brokenly.</p> +<p>“Come on, Gyp,” he mumbled hoarsely. “Come, gal. +Hey––you, Pete. You, too––Maisie. Come on. Get on.”</p> +<p>It was the word his faithful friends had awaited.</p> +<p>Chilled and eager, they leapt at their bits, and the traces +snapped taut. They were off; and in their eager rush the +reins were almost torn from the driver’s numbing fingers. +Again he spoke, and in his halting words was a world of affection +and encouragement.</p> +<p>“Easy, children,” he said. “Easy, boys an’ gals. Ther’ +sure ain’t no hurry now. They’re dead––all––dead. +Dead as––mutton.”</p> +<p>He clawed full possession of the reins again. And in a +moment the cart was speeding down the long gradient that +was to bear them on the prairie world beyond.</p> +<p>The man was lolling forward, straining on the rope that +held his helpless body to the seat, and his eyes closed +wearily. The speed of the team, the direction, these things +meant nothing to him now. The trail was well marked +right in to Spawn City. There were no turnings. That +was all that mattered. These children of his would faithfully +keep on their way to the end. He knew these things +without thinking, and the knowledge left him indifferent. +His only concern now was the gold. It was in the cart, and +it must reach Spawn City. To that his honor was pledged.</p> +<p>The reins slipped through his fingers. He stirred uneasily. +Then his eyes opened again. For a moment his +sagging lips closed. He was summoning all his failing +strength. He clutched the reins in one hand, and with the +other knotted them about his wrist. Then, with a gasp, his +left hand dropped from his task, while his right arm was +held outstretched by the strain of the pulling horses upon +the reins.</p> +<p>There was now no longer any demand for further effort, +and the drooping body lolled over against the side of the +cart as though the man were seeking his rest. His head +hung away at a helpless angle, and his legs straggled. And +thus the speeding team raced clear of the mountain world +and plunged through the darkness to the prairie beyond.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The moon rose in all its cold splendor. The stars dimmed +before its frigid smile. The black vault of the heavens lit +with a silvery sheen, embracing the prairie world beneath its +bejeweled pall.</p> +<p>The sea of grass lay shadowed in the moonlit dusk. But, +in sharp relief, a white ribbon-like trail split it from end to +end, like some forlorn creature with white outspread arms +yearning in desolation––yearning for the bustle and rush of +busy life which it is denied, yearning to be relieved from so +desperate a solitude.</p> +<p>The vastness and silence dwarfs even thought. The +things which are great, which have significance, which have +meaning to the human mind are lost in such a world. Life +itself becomes infinitesimal.</p> +<p>There is something moving in a tiny ebullition of dust +along the white trail. It looks so small. It moves so +slowly, crawling, seemingly, at a snail’s pace. It is almost +microscopical in the vastness.</p> +<p>Yet it is only these things by comparison. It is neither +small, nor is it traveling at a snail’s pace. It is a cart drawn +by six horses, racing as though pursued by all the demons of +the nether world.</p> +<p>And in the driving-seat is a curious, stiffly swaying figure. +It is strangely inanimate. Yet it suggests something that no +ordinary human figure could suggest. It is in its huddled +attitude, its ghastly face, its staring, unseeing eyes, which +gaze out in every direction, as the jolting of the cart turns +and twists the body from side to side. There is something +colossal, something strangely stirring in the suggestion of +purpose in the figure. There is something to inspire wonder +in the most sluggish mind. It tells a story of some sort +of heroism. It tells a story of a master mind triumphing +over bodily weakness and suffering. It tells a story of +superlative defiance––the defiance of death.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The early risers of Spawn City were gathered in a stupefied +crowd outside the principal hotel in the place. Six +jaded horses, drawing a light spring-cart, had just pulled up. +The poor creatures were utterly spent, and stood with +drooping heads and distended nostrils, gasping and steaming, +their weary legs tottering beneath them. Their great +eyes were yearning and sunken, and their small ears lay +back, indifferent to every sound or movement about them. +Their last buoyancy has been expended. They have run +their mad race till their hearts are nigh bursting.</p> +<p>But the horses were of the least interest to the onlookers. +It was the dusty spring-cart that interested their curious +minds––the cart, and the still and silent driver, who made +no attempt to leave his seat. They stood gaping, not daring +to disturb the ghastly figure, not daring even to approach it +too closely. Their minds were thrilling with a morbid +horror which held them silent.</p> +<p>But at last there came a diversion. A burly, rough-clad +man pushed his way through the crowd, and his keen eyes +flashed a quick look over the whole outfit. He was the +sheriff, and had been hurriedly summoned.</p> +<p>“Wild Bill!” he muttered. “Them’s sure his plugs, +too,” he added, as though seeking corroboration.</p> +<p>There was certainly doubt in his tone, and surprise, too; +and he came to the side of the cart and gazed up into the +awful face drooping forward over the outstretched arm to +further convince himself. What he beheld caused him to +click his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It was his +only means of giving expression to the wave of horror that +swept over him.</p> +<p>With a leap he sprang into the seat, and began releasing +the knotted reins from the stiffened arm. So tight had the +knots been drawn that it took some moments. Then he +turned, and with difficulty removed the rawhide from about +the middle of the huddled figure. Then he hailed some of +the onlookers.</p> +<p>“Ho, you, Joe! You, too, Lalor, an’ Ned! Stand by, +lads, an’ bear a hand,” he cried authoritatively. “Guess +I’ll pass it out.”</p> +<p>Then he stood up, staring down at the stiffened body; and +wonder looked out of his puzzled eyes.</p> +<p>“Gee! if it ain’t Wild Bill the gambler, an’––an’ he must +ha’ bin dead nigh six hours.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXII_A_MANS_LOVE' id='CHAPTER_XXXII_A_MANS_LOVE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> +<h3>A MAN’S LOVE</h3> +</div> +<p>It was with strangely mixed feelings that Scipio drove +Minky’s old mule down the shelving trail leading into the +secret valley where stood James’ ranch-house. The recollection +of his first visit to the place was a sort of nightmare +which clung desperately in the back cells of memory. The +dreadful incidents leading up to it and surrounding it could +never be forgotten. Every detail of his headlong journey in +quest of the man who had wronged him, every detail of his +terrible discomfiture, would cling in his memory so long +as he had life.</p> +<p>But, in spite of memory, in spite of his wrongs, his heart-burnings, +the desolation of the past weeks, his heart rose +buoyantly as he came within sight of the place in which he +still persisted in telling himself that his Jessie was held a +prisoner against her will. That was his nature. No +optimism was too big for him. No trouble was so great +that hope could altogether be crushed out of his heart.</p> +<p>He looked out over the splendid valley extending for +miles on either hand of him, and somehow he was glad. +Somehow the glorious sunlight, so softened by the shadowed +forest which covered the hillsides, so gentle beneath the +crowding hills which troughed in the bed of waving grass, +sent his simple spirit soaring to heights of anticipatory delight +which, a few days back, had seemed beyond his reach.</p> +<p>At that moment, in spite of all that had gone before, the +place was very, very beautiful to him, life was wonderful, +his very existence was a joy. For was not Jessie waiting +for him beyond, in that ranch-house? Was not she waiting +for his coming, that she might return with him to their +home? Was she not presently to be seated beside him upon +the rickety old seat of Minky’s buckboard? And his final +thought caused him to glance regretfully down at the frayed +cushion, wishing cordially that he could have afforded her +greater comfort.</p> +<p>Ah, well, perhaps she would not mind just for this once. +And, after all, she would be with him, which was the great +thing. Wild Bill had promised him that; and he had every +confidence in Wild Bill.</p> +<p>Then he suddenly thought of something he might have +done. Surely he might have brought Vada with him. +What a pity he didn’t think of it before he started out. It +was foolish of him, very foolish. But he had been so full +of Jessie. The thought of winning her back had quite put +everything else out of his head. Yes, it was a pity. The +presence of Vada would certainly have added to her happiness, +she was so fond of her children.</p> +<p>Then he remembered his instructions. Bill had said he +must go alone. He must go alone––and be prepared to +fight for her. Bill was a wonderful man. He seemed to +be able to do anything he chose. And somehow he felt +sorry he had bluffed him into buying half his claim. He +could feel the roll of bills, the result of that transaction, in +his hip pocket, and the pressure of them impressed itself unpleasantly +upon his conscience. He felt sure he had no right +to them. He must really give them back to the gambler later. +He felt that his attitude was a swindle on a good man. +Bill was certainly a good man, a brave man, but he was no +business man. He, Scipio, had the advantage of him there.</p> +<p>The buckboard rumbled down to the grassy trail which +stretched from the foot of the hillside to the ranch-house. +And now the pale-eyed little man bethought him of the fight +Bill had promised him.</p> +<p>Quite unperturbed he looked down at the fierce pair of +revolvers hanging at his waist. He was taking no chances +this time. He had borrowed these guns from Minky, the +same as he had borrowed the mule and buckboard. They +were fine weapons, too. He had tried them. Oh, no, if it +came to shooting he would give a different account of himself +this time. Mr. James must look to himself. So must +Abe Conroy. He would have no mercy. And he frowned +darkly down at the gigantic weapons.</p> +<p>Now he considered carefully the buildings ahead. The +ranch was certainly a fine place. He found it in his heart +to admire it, and only felt pity that it was the house of such +a pitiable scoundrel as James. And yet he really felt sorry +for James. Perhaps, after all, he ought not to be too hard +on the man. Of course, he was a wicked scoundrel, but +that might be merely misfortune. And, anyway, Jessie, his +Jessie, was a very beautiful woman.</p> +<p>His eyes wandered on to the distant hills, catching up the +smaller details of interest as they traveled. There were +hundreds of cattle grazing about, and horses, too. Then +there were the fenced-in pastures and the branding corrals. +James must certainly be an excellent rancher, even if he +were a scoundrel.</p> +<p>But the place was very still. Strangely still, he thought. +There was not even one of the usual camp dogs to offer him +its hostile welcome. He could see none of the “hands” +moving about. Perhaps they were––</p> +<p>Of course. For the moment he had forgotten that they +were not simple ranchers. He had forgotten they were +man-hunters. They were probably out on the trail pursuing +their nefarious calling. And, of course, Bill knew it. +That was why he had told him to drive out on this particular +morning. Wonderful man, Bill!</p> +<p>Suddenly the distant neighing of a horse startled him, and +he looked across the woods beyond the house, the direction, +he calculated, whence the sound came. But there was no +horse to be seen. Nothing except the darkling cover of pine +woods. It was strange. He was sure the sound came from +that direction. No; there was certainly nothing in the +shape of a horse out there. There wasn’t even a cow. +Perhaps it was a “stray” amongst the trees. So he dismissed +the matter from his mind and chirruped at the old +mule.</p> +<p>And now he came up to the ranch; and the stillness of +the place became even more pronounced. It really was +astonishing. Surely there must be somebody about. He +pushed his guns well to the front, and drew his prairie hat +forward so that the brim shaded his pale eyes. He further +shifted his reins into his left hand, and sat with his right on +the butt of one of his weapons. Whatever was to come he +was ready for it. One thing he had made up his mind to; +he would stand no nonsense from anybody––certainly not +from James or Conroy.</p> +<p>The old mule plodded on, and, with the instinct of its +kind, headed in the direction of the nearest corral. And +Scipio was forced to abandon his warlike attitude, and with +both hands drag him away into the direction of the house +door. But somehow in those last moments he entirely forgot +that his mission was a fighting one, and sat shaking the +reins and chirruping noisily in the approved manner of any +farmer on a visit.</p> +<p>He stared up at the house as he came. His eyes were +filled with longing. He forgot the barns, the corrals as possible +ambushes. He forgot every thought of offense or defense. +There was the abode of his beloved Jessie, and all +he wondered was in which part of it lay her prison. He +was overflowing with a love so great that there was no +room in either brain or body for any other thought or feeling.</p> +<p>But Jessie was nowhere to be seen, and a shadow of disappointment +clouded his face as he halted the only too willing +beast and clambered down between the spidery wheels. +Nor did he wait to secure his faithful servitor, or to think +of anything practical at all. He hustled up to the open +doorway, and, pushing his head in through it, called till +the echoes of the place rang––</p> +<p>“Ho, Jess! Ho, you, Jess! It’s me––Zip! I come to +fetch you to home.”</p> +<p>The echoes died away and the place became still again. +And somehow the quiet of it set him bristling. His hands +flew to his guns and remained there while he stood listening. +But no answer came, and his redundant hope slowly ebbed, +leaving a muddy shore of apprehension.</p> +<p>Then, with one glance back over his shoulder, he moved +into the building with much the stealth of a thief. In the +living-room he stood and stared about him uncertainly. It +was the same room he had been in before, and he remembered +its every detail. Suddenly he pushed the evil of those +recollections aside and called again––</p> +<p>“Ho, Jess! Ho-o-o!”</p> +<p>But the confidence had gone from his tone, and his call +suggested an underlying doubt.</p> +<p>Again came the echoes. Again they died. Then––yes––there +was a sound that had nothing to do with echoes. +Again––yes––sure. It was the sound of someone moving +in an upper room. He listened attentively, and again his +eyes brightened with ready hope.</p> +<p>“Jess! Jess!” he called.</p> +<p>And this time there was an answer.</p> +<p>Without a moment’s hesitation, without a second’s +thought, he dashed through an open doorway and ran up the +narrow flight of stairs beyond.</p> +<p>At last, at last! His Jessie! He had heard her voice. +He had heard the music he had longed for, craved for, +prayed for. Was there anything in the world that mattered +else? Was there anything in the world that could keep +him from her now? No, not now. His love permeated +his whole being. There was no thought in his mind of +what she had done. There was no room in his simple heart +for anything but the love he could not help, and would not +have helped if he could. There was no obstacle now, be +it mountain or stream, that he could not bridge to reach his +Jessie. His love was his life, and his life belonged to––Jessie.</p> +<p>He reached the top of the stairs, and a door stood open +before him. He did not pause to consider what lay beyond. +His instinct guided him. His love led him whither +it would, and it led him straight into the presence he +desired more than all the world. It led him straight to +Jessie.</p> +<p>For the fraction of a second he became aware of a vision +of womanhood, to him the most perfect in all the world. +He saw the well-loved face, now pale and drawn with suffering +and remorse. He saw the shadowed eyes full of an +affrighted, hunted expression. And, with a cry that bore in +its depth all the love of a heart as big as his small body, he +ran forward to clasp her in his arms.</p> +<p>But Jessie’s voice arrested him half-way. It thrilled with +hysterical denial, with suffering, regret, horror. And so +commanding was it that he had no power to defy its mandate.</p> +<p>“No, no,” she shrilled. “Keep back––back. You +must not come near me. I am not fit for you to touch.”</p> +<p>“Not fit––?”</p> +<p>Scipio stared helplessly at her, his eyes settling uncertainly +upon her hands as though he expected to find upon +them signs of some work she might have been engaged +upon––some work that left her, as she had said, unfit to +touch. His comprehension was never quick. His imagination +was his weakest point.</p> +<p>Then his eyes came to her well-loved face again, and he +shook his head.</p> +<p>“You––you got me beat, Jess. I––”</p> +<p>“Ah, Zip, Zip!” Suddenly Jessie’s hands went up to +her face and her eyes were hidden. It was the movement +of one who fears to witness the hatred, the loathing, the +scorn which her own accusing mind assures her she merits. +It was the movement of one whose heart was torn by remorse +and shame, whose eyes were open to her sins, and +who realizes that earthly damnation is her future lot. Her +bosom heaved, and dry sobs choked her. And the little +man, who had come so far to claim her, stood perplexed and +troubled.</p> +<p>At last he struggled out a few words, longing to console, +but scarcely understanding how to go about it. All he +understood was that she was ill and suffering.</p> +<p>“Say, Jess, you mustn’t to cry,” he said wistfully. +“Ther’ ain’t nothin’ to set you cryin’. Ther’ sure ain’t––”</p> +<p>But a woman’s hysteria was a thing unknown to him, and +his gentle attempt was swept aside in a torrent of insensate +denial.</p> +<p>“No, no! Don’t come near me,” she cried in a harsh, +strident tone. “Leave me. Leave me to my misery. +Don’t dare to come here mocking me. Don’t dare to accuse +me. Who are you to accuse? You are no better than +me. You have no right to come here as my judge. You, +with your smooth ways, your quiet sneers. Don’t you dare! +Don’t you dare! I’m no longer your wife, so you have no +right. I’m his––his. Do you understand? I’m his. I +shall live the life I choose, and you shall not molest me. +I know you. You’ve come to accuse me, to tell me all I +am, to tax me with my shame. It’s cruel––cruel. Oh, +God, help me––help me!”</p> +<p>The woman’s voice died out in a piteous wail that smote +straight to the heart of the little man who stood shaking +before her hysterical outbreak. He knew not what to do. +His love prompted him to go to her and crush her to his +simple, loving heart, but somehow he found himself unable +to do anything but gaze with longing eyes upon the heart-broken +figure, as she leant upon the foot-rail of the bed.</p> +<p>He stirred. And in the moments that passed while his +eyes were fixed upon her rich, heaving bosom, his mind +groping vaguely, he became aware of everything about him. +He knew he was in her bedroom. He knew that the furnishings +were good. He knew that the sunlight was pouring +in through the open window, and that a broad band of +dazzling light was shining upon her lustrous dark hair. He +knew all these things in the same way that he knew she was +suffering so that she came near breaking his own sympathetic +heart.</p> +<p>But though his intellect failed him, and he had no idea of +what he ought to say or do, words came at last and tumbled +headlong from his lips, just as they were inspired, all unconsidered, +by his heart.</p> +<p>“Say, Jessie gal,” he cried in a softly persuasive tone, +“won’t you come to home––an’––an’ help me out? +Won’t you, gal?”</p> +<p>But he was given no time to complete his appeal. The +woman suddenly raised her face, and once more broke out in +hysterical fury.</p> +<p>“Home? Home? With you?” she cried. “Ha, ha! +That’s too good! Home, with you to forever remind me +what I am? For you to sneer at me, and point me to your +friends for what I am? Never, never! Go you back where +you came from. I’m not a wife. Do you hear? God help +me, I’m––” And she buried her face again upon her arms.</p> +<p>“Won’t you come to home, gal?” the man persisted. +“Won’t you? I’m so desp’rit lonesome. An’ the kids, too. +Gee! they’re jest yearnin’ an’ yearnin’ for you––nigh as bad +as me.”</p> +<p>He took a step towards her with his arms outstretched. +All his soul was in his mild eyes. And presently Jessie +raised her head again. She stood staring at the wall opposite +her. It was as though she dared not face him. Her eyes +were burning, but they were less wild, and a sudden hope +thrilled the man’s heart. He hurried on, fearful lest the old +storm should break out again––</p> +<p>“Y’see, Jess, ther’ ain’t nuthin’ to our pore little shack +on the ‘dumps’ without you. Ther’ sure ain’t. Then ther’s +my claim. I sold ha’f. An’––an’ I got money now––I––”</p> +<p>The woman’s eyes turned slowly upon him. They were +red with unshed tears. Their expression was curious. +There was doubt and shrinking in them. It almost seemed +as if she were wondering if all the past days of regret and +longing had turned her brain, and she were listening to words +conjured by a distorted fancy, some insane delusion. She +could not believe. But Scipio continued, and his voice was +real enough.</p> +<p>“I––know I ain’t much of a feller for the likes of you, +Jess,” he said earnestly. “I ain’t quick. I ain’t jest bright. +But I do love you, my dear. I love you so I can’t think +nothin’ else. I want you to home, Jess, that bad, I thank +God ev’ry day He give you to me. I want you so bad it +don’t seem you ever bin away from me. I want you that bad +I can’t remember the last week or so. You’ll come––to +home, gal––now? Think––jest think o’ them bits o’ twins. +You wait till you see ’em laff when they get eyes on you. +Say, they’re that bonny an’ bright. They’re jest like you, +wi’ their eyes all a-sparklin’, an’ their cheeks that rosy. +Gee! they’re jest a-yearnin’ an’ a-callin’ fer their mam––same +as me.”</p> +<p>The little man had moved another step nearer. His arms +were still outstretched, and his quaint face was all aglow +with the warmth and love that stirred him. Somewhere in +the back of his dull head he knew that he was pleading for +something more than his life. He had no subtlety in his +manner or his words. It was just his heart talking for him +and guiding him.</p> +<p>And in the woman had risen a sudden hope. It was a +struggling ray of light in the blackness of her despair. It +was a weak struggling flicker––just a flicker. And even as +it rose its power was dashed again in the profundity of her +suffering. She could not grasp the hand held out––she could +not see it. She could not believe the words her ears heard.</p> +<p>“No, no, don’t mock at me,” she cried, with a sudden +return to her old wildness. “It is cruel, cruel! Leave me. +For pity’s sake go. How can you stand there taunting me +so? How can I go with you? How can I face my children +now? Do you know what I am? No, no, of course you +don’t. You could never understand. You, with your foolish, +simple mind. Shall I tell you what I am? Shall I say +it? Shall I––”</p> +<p>But the man’s hand went up and held her silent.</p> +<p>“You don’t need to say nothing, Jess,” he said in his +mildest tone. “You don’t need to, sure. Whatever you +are, you’re all the world to me––jest all.”</p> +<p>With a sudden cry the woman’s head dropped upon her +outspread arms, and the merciful tears, so long denied her, +gushed forth. Her body heaved, and it seemed to the distraught +man that her poor heart must be breaking. He did +not know what those tears meant to her. He did not know +that the victory of his love was very, very near. Only he +saw her bowed in passionate distress, and he had no thought +of how to comfort her.</p> +<p>He waited, waited. But the flood once broken loose must +needs spend itself. Such is the way with women, of whom +he had so small an understanding. He turned away to the +window. He stared with unseeing eyes at the fair picture +of the beautiful valley. The moments passed––long, dreary +moments rapidly changing to minutes. And then at last the +storm began to die down, and he turned again towards her +and drew a step nearer.</p> +<p>“Jess––Jess,” he murmured.</p> +<p>Then he took another hesitating step.</p> +<p>But his words seemed to have started her tears afresh, and +into his eyes came that painful perplexity again.</p> +<p>Again he ventured, and his step this time brought him +close to her side.</p> +<p>“Jess, gal––Jess,” he pleaded, with infinite tenderness.</p> +<p>And as the woman continued to sob he stole one arm gently +about her waist. She made no move. Only her shaking +body calmed, and her tears became more silent.</p> +<p>He strove to draw her towards him, but she clung to the +bed-rail with almost child-like persistence, as though she +dared not permit herself the hope his encircling arms inspired. +But she had not rebuffed him, so with some assertion +he thrust his other arm about her, and, exerting force, +deliberately turned her towards him.</p> +<p>“Say, don’t you to cry, lass,” he whispered softly. +“Don’t you, now. It jest makes me sore right through. It +jest makes me feel all of a choke, an’––an’ I want to cry, too. +Say, gal, I love you good. I do, Jess––I sure do. Ther’ +ain’t nothin’ in the world I wouldn’t do to stop them tears. +Come to home, gal––come to home.”</p> +<p>And as he finished speaking he drew her dark head down +to his breast, and laid his thin cheek against her wealth of +hair. And, pressing her to the home that was for all time +hers, his own eyes filled with tears which slowly rolled down +his cheeks and mingled themselves with hers.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXIII_THE_REASON_WHY' id='CHAPTER_XXXIII_THE_REASON_WHY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> +<h3>THE REASON WHY</h3> +</div> +<p>When Scipio turned his back upon the valley it was with +the intention of resting his old mule at the place of the +friendly farmer whom he had encountered on his first memorable +visit to James’ secret abode. From thence, after a +night’s rest, he would start late next day, and make the creek +soon after sundown. For the sake of Jessie he had no desire +to make a daylight entry into the camp.</p> +<p>The old mule certainly needed rest. And, besides, it was +pleasant to prolong the journey. Moments such as the present +were scarce enough in life. And though Jessie was with +him for all time now, he greedily hugged to himself these +hours alone with her, when there was nothing but the fair +blue sky and waving grass, the hills and valleys, to witness +his happiness, none of the harshness of life to obtrude upon +his perfect joy; nothing, not even the merest duties of daily +life, to mar the delicious companionship which his wife’s +long-desired presence afforded him. The whole journey was +to be a sort of honeymoon, a thousand times sweeter for the +misery and unhappiness through which they had both passed.</p> +<p>He thought of nothing else. The very existence of James +and his gang had passed from his recollection. He had no +mind for dangers of any sort. He had no mind for anything +or anybody but his Jessie, his beautiful Jessie––his wife.</p> +<p>Had he had the least curiosity or interest in other matters, +there were many things, strange things, about the recovery +of his wife which might have set him wondering. For instance, +he might have speculated as to the desertion of the +ranch––the absence of dogs, the absence of all those signs +which tell of a busy enterprise––things which could not be +adequately accounted for by the mere absence of the head of +it, even though he were accompanied by his fighting men. +He might have glanced about among the barns and corrals, +or––he might even have questioned his Jessie.</p> +<p>Had he done either of these things a certain amount of +enlightenment would undoubtedly have penetrated to his +unsuspicious mind. He must inevitably have detected the +hand or hands of his earthly guardian angels in the manner +in which his path had been cleared of all obstructions.</p> +<p>Had he been less occupied with his own happiness, with +the joy of having Jessie once more beside him, and chanced +to look back into the valley as he left it forever, he would +certainly have received enlightenment. But he never knew +what had been done for him, he never knew the subtle +working for his welfare.</p> +<p>Thus it was, all unobserved by him, the moment he was +at sufficient distance from the ranch, three horsemen suddenly +appeared from amidst the most adjacent point of the +forest on the far side of the valley and galloped across to the +house. They ran their horses to cover amongst the buildings +and dismounted, immediately vanishing into one of the barns.</p> +<p>And as they disappeared a good deal of laughter, a good +deal of forceful talk, came from the place which had swallowed +them up. Then, after awhile, the three reappeared +in the open, and with them came an old choreman, whose +joints ached, and whose villainous temper had seriously suffered +under the harsh bonds which had held him secure from +interference with Scipio for so long.</p> +<p>The men herded him out before them, quite heedless of +his bitter vituperation and blasphemy. And when they had +driven him forth Sunny Oak pointed out to him the retreating +buckboard as it vanished over the far hillside.</p> +<p>“Ther’ they go, you miser’ble old son of a moose,” he +cried with a laugh. “Ther’ they go. An’ I guess when +James gits around ag’in you’ll likely pay a mighty fine +reck’nin’. An’ I’ll sure say I won’t be a heap sorry neither. +You’ve give me a power o’ trouble comin’ along out here. +I ain’t had no sort o’ rest fer hours an’ hours, an’ I hate folks +that sets me busy.”</p> +<p>“You’re a pizenous varmint, sure,” added Sandy, feeling +that Sunny must not be allowed all the talk. “An’ your +langwidge is that bad I’ll need to git around a Bible-class +ag’in to disinfect my ears.”</p> +<p>“You sure will,” agreed Toby, with one of his fatuous +grins. “I never see any feller who needed disinfectin’ +more.” Then he turned upon the evil-faced choreman and +added his morsel of admonition. “Say, old man, as you +hope to git buried yourself when James gits around ag’in, I +guess you best go an’ dig that miser’ble cur o’ yours under, +’fore he gits pollutin’ the air o’ this yer valley, same as you +are at the moment. He’s cost me a goodish scrap, but I +don’t grudge it him noways. Scrappin’s an elegant pastime, +sure––when you come out right end of it.”</p> +<p>After that, cowed but furious, the old man was allowed to +depart, and the three guardians of Scipio’s person deliberately +returned to their charge. Their instructions were +quite clear, even though they only partially understood the +conditions making their work necessary. Scipio must be +safeguarded. They were to form an invisible escort, clearing +his road for him and making his journey safe. So they +swung into the saddle and rode hot-foot on the trail of their +unconscious charge.</p> +<p>For the most part they rode silently. Already the journey +had been long and tiresomely uneventful, and Sunny Oak +particularly reveled in an impotent peevishness which held +him intensely sulky. The widower, too, was feeling anything +but amiable. What with his recent futile work on a +claim which was the ridicule of the camp, and now the discomfort +of a dreary journey, his feelings towards Wild Bill +were none too cordial. Perhaps Toby was the most cheerful +of the three. The matters of the Trust had been a pleasant +break in the daily routine of dispossessing himself of remittances +from his friends in the East. And the unusual +effort made him feel good.</p> +<p>They had reached the crown of the hill bordering the +valley, where the trail debouched upon the prairie beyond, +and the effort of easing his horse, as the struggling beast +clawed its way up the shelving slope, at last set loose the +tide of the loafer’s ill-temper. He suddenly turned upon his +companions, his angry face dirty and sweating.</p> +<p>“Say,” he cried, “of all the blamed fules I’d say we three +was the craziest ever pupped.”</p> +<p>Sandy turned inquiring, contemptuous eyes in his direction. +He always adopted a defensive attitude when Sunny +opened out. Toby only grinned and waited for what was +to come.</p> +<p>“Meanin’?” inquired Sandy in his coldest manner.</p> +<p>“Meanin’? Gee! it don’t need a mule’s intellec’ to get +my meanin’,” said the loafer witheringly. “Wot, in the +name o’ glory, would I mean but this doggone ride we’re +takin’? Say, here’s us three muttons chasin’ glory on the +tail o’ two soppy lambs that ain’t got savvee enough between +’em to guess the north end of a hoss when he’s goin’ south. +An’, wot’s more, we’re doin’ it like a lot o’ cluckin’ hens +chasin’ a brood o’ fule chicks. I tell you it jest makes me +sick. An’ ef I don’t git six weeks’ rest straight on end after +this is thro’ I’ll be gettin’ plumb ‘bug,’ or––or the colic, or +suthin’ ornery bum. I’ve done. Sufferin’ Creek ain’t no +place fer a peace-lovin’ feller like me, whose doin’ all he +knows to git thro’ life easy an’ without breakin’ up a natterally +delicate constitootion. I’m done. I quit.”</p> +<p>Sandy’s face was a study in sneers. Not because he did +not agree with the sentiments, but Sunny always irritated +him. But Toby only grinned the harder, and for once, while +the widower was preparing an adequate retort, contrived to +forestall him.</p> +<p>“Seems to me, Sunny, you ain’t got a heap o’ kick comin’ +to you,” he said in his slow way. “I allow you come in +this racket because you notioned it. Mebbe you’ll say why +you did it, else?”</p> +<p>This unexpected challenge from Toby had the effect of +diverting the widower’s thoughts. He left the consideration +of the snub he had been preparing for the loafer for some +future time, and waited for the other’s reply. But Sunny +was roused, and stared angrily round upon the grinning face +of his questioner.</p> +<p>“Guess that ain’t no affair of yours, anyway,” he snorted. +“I don’t stand fer questions from no remittance guy. Gee! +things is gittin’ pretty low-down when it comes to that.”</p> +<p>“Maybe a remittance man ain’t a first-class callin’,” said +Toby, his grin replaced by a hot flush. “But if it comes to +that I’d say a lazy loafin’ bum ain’t a heap o’ credit noways +neither. Howsum, them things don’t alter matters any. +An’ I, fer one, is sick o’ your grouse––’cos that’s all it is. +Say, you’re settin’ ther’ on top o’ that hoss like a badly sculptured +image that needs a week’s bathin’, an’ talkin’ like the +no-account fule most fellers guess you to be. Wal, show us +you ain’t none o’ them things, show us you got some sort of +a man inside your hide, an’ tell us straight why you’re out on +this doggone trail when you’re yearnin’ fer your blankets.”</p> +<p>The attack was so unexpected that for once Sunny had no +reply ready. And Sandy positively beamed upon the challenger. +And so they rode on for a few moments. Then +Toby broke the silence impatiently.</p> +<p>“Wal?” he inquired, his face wreathed in a grin that had +none of the amiability usual to it.</p> +<p>Sunny turned; and it was evident all his good-nature was +restored. He had suddenly realized that to be baited by the +fatuous Toby was almost refreshing, and he spoke without +any sort of animosity. It would certainly have been different +had the challenge come from the hectoring widower.</p> +<p>“Why for do I do it––an’ hate it? Say, that’s jest one o’ +them things a feller can’t tell. Y’see, a feller grouses thro’ +life, a-worritin’ hisself ’cos things don’t seem right by his +way o’ thinkin’. That’s natteral. He guesses he wants to +do things one way, then sudden-like, fer no reason he ken +see, he gits doin’ ’em another. That’s natteral, too. Y’see, +ther’s two things, it seems to me, makes a feller act. One’s +his fool head, an’ the other––well, I don’t rightly know what +the other is, ’cep’ it’s his stummick. Anyways, that’s how it +is. My head makes me want to go one way, an’ my feet gits +me goin’ another. So it is with this lay-out. An’ I guess, +ef you was sure to git to rock-bottom o’ things, I’d say we’re +all doin’ this thing ’cos Wild Bill said so.”</p> +<p>He finished up with a chuckle that thoroughly upset the +equilibrium of the widower, and set him jumping at the +chance of retort.</p> +<p>“Guess you’re scairt to death o’ Wild Bill,” he sneered.</p> +<p>“Wal,” drawled Sunny easily, “I guess he’s a feller wuth +bein’ scairt of––which is more than you are.”</p> +<p>Sandy snorted defiantly. But a further wordy war was +averted by the remittance man.</p> +<p>“Ther’s more of a man to you than I allowed, Sunny,” he +said sincerely. “There sure is. Bill’s a man, whatever else +he is. He’s sure the best man I’ve seen on Sufferin’ Creek. +But you’re wrong ’bout him bein’ the reason of us worritin’ +ourselves sick on this yer trail. It ain’t your head which +needs re-decoratin’, neither. Nor it ain’t your stummick, +which, I allow, ain’t the most wholesome part of you. +Neither it ain’t your splay feet. You missed it, Sunny, an’ +I allus tho’t you was a right smart guy. The reason you’re +on this doggone trail chasin’ glory wot don’t never git +around, is worryin’ along in a buckboard ahead of us, behind +ole Minky’s mule, an’ he’s hoofin’ to home at an express +slug’s gait. That’s the reason you’re on the trail, an’ nothin’ +else. You’re jest a lazy, loafin’, dirty bum as ’ud make mud +out of a fifty-gallon bath o’ boilin’ soapsuds if you was set +in it, but you was mighty sore seein’ pore Zip kicked to death +by his rotten luck. An’ feelin’ that always you kind o’ fergot +to be tired. That’s why you’re on this doggone trail. ’Cos +your fool heart ain’t as dirty as your carkis.”</p> +<p>And as he fired his last word Toby dashed his spurs into +the flanks of his jaded horse, and galloped out of reach of the +tide of vituperation he knew full well to be flowing in his +wake.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXIV_THE_LUCK_OF_SCIPIO' id='CHAPTER_XXXIV_THE_LUCK_OF_SCIPIO'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> +<h3>THE LUCK OF SCIPIO</h3> +</div> +<p>Suffering Creek was again in a state of ferment. It +seemed as if there were nothing but one excitement after +another in the place now. No sooner was the matter of the +gold-stage passed than a fresh disturbance was upon them. +And again the established industry of the place was completely +at a standstill. Human nature could no more withstand +the infection that was ravaging the camp than keep +cool under a political argument. The thing that had happened +now was tremendous.</p> +<p>Staid miners, old experienced hands whose lives were +wedded to their quest of gold, whose interest in affairs was +only taken from a standpoint of their benefit, or otherwise, +to the gold interest, were caught in the feverish tide, and +sent hurtling along with the rushing flood. Men whose +pulses usually only received a quickening from the news of a +fresh gold discovery now found themselves gaping with the +wonder of it all, and asking themselves how it was this thing +had happened, and if, indeed, it had happened, or were they +dreaming.</p> +<p>The whole thing was monstrous, stupendous, and here, +happening in their midst, practically all Suffering Creek were +out of it. But in spite of this the fever of excitement raged, +and no one was wholly impervious to it. Opinions ran riot––opinions +hastily conceived and expressed without consideration, +which is the way of people whose nerves have been +suddenly strung tight by a matter of absorbing interest. +Men who knew nothing of the nature of things which could +produce so astonishing a result found themselves dissecting +causes and possibilities which did not exist, and never could +exist. They hastily proceeded to lay down their own law +upon the subject with hot emphasis. They felt it necessary +to do this to disguise their lack of knowledge and restore +their personal standing. For the latter, they felt, had been +sorely shaken by this sudden triumph of those whom they +had so lately ridiculed.</p> +<p>And what was this wonderful thing that had happened? +What was it that had set these hardened men crazy with +excitement? It had come so suddenly, so mysteriously. It +had come during the hours of darkness, when weary men +hugged their blankets, and dreamed their dreams of the craft +which made up their whole world.</p> +<p>There was no noise, no epoch-making upheaval, no blatant +trumpetings to herald its coming. And the discovery was +made by a single man on his way to his work just after the +great golden sun had risen.</p> +<p>He was trailing his way along the creek bank over the road +which led eventually to Spawn City. He was slouching +along the wood-lined track at that swinging, laborious gait +of a heavy-booted man. And his way lay across the oozy +claim of Scipio.</p> +<p>But he never reached the claim. Long before he came in +view of it he found himself confronted with a sluggish +stream progressing slowly along the beaten sand of the trail. +For a moment he believed that the creek had, for some +freakish reason, suddenly overflowed its banks. But this +thought was swiftly swept aside, and he stood snuffing the +air like some warhorse, and gaping at the stream as it +lapped about his feet.</p> +<p>It came on slowly but irresistibly. And ahead of him, and +amongst the trailside bush, he beheld nothing but this rising +flood. Then of a sudden something of its meaning penetrated +his dazed comprehension, and, turning abruptly, he +started to run for the higher ground. He sped swiftly +through the surrounding bush, dodging tree-trunks, and +threading his way circuitously in the direction where stood +the great cut bank of quartz which backed Scipio’s claim. +The smell of the air had told him its tale, and he knew that +he had made a wonderful, an astounding discovery. And +with this knowledge had come the thought of his own possible +advantage. Eagerly he began to seek the source of the +flood.</p> +<p>But his hopes were completely dashed the moment he +reached the bank overlooking Scipio’s claim. There lay the +source of the flood, right in the heart of the little man’s +despised land. A great gusher of coal-oil was belching from +the mouth of the shaft which Sandy Joyce had been at work +upon, and the whole clearing, right from the oozy swamp +beyond to the higher ground of the river bank, stealing its +way along trail and through bush, lay a vast shallow lake of +raw coal-oil.</p> +<p>The disappointed man waited just sufficiently long to +realize the magnitude of Scipio’s luck, and then set off at a +run for the camp.</p> +<p>And in half-an-hour the camp was in a raging fever. In +half-an-hour nearly the whole of Suffering Creek had set out +for the claim, that they might see for themselves this wonderful +thing that had happened. In half-an-hour the whole +thing was being explained in theory by everybody to everybody +else. In half-an-hour everybody was inquiring for +Scipio, and each and all were desirous of being first to convey +the news.</p> +<p>And when it was discovered that Scipio was from home, +and knew nothing of his good fortune, a fresh thought came +to every mind. What had become of him? They learned +that he had borrowed Minky’s buckboard, and had driven +away. And immediately in the public mind crept an unexpressed +question. Had Zip abandoned the place in the +face of his ill-luck, and, if so, what about this gigantic oil +find?</p> +<p>However, there was nothing to be done at present but wait. +The flow of oil could not be checked, and the tremendous +waste must go on. The gusher would flow on until the +pressure below lessened, and after that it would die down, +and require pumps to further exhaust it.</p> +<p>So the camp resigned itself to a contemplation of this +wonderful new industry that had sprung up unsought in their +midst; and the luck of Scipio was upon everybody’s lips. +Nor was there only the wonder of it in every mind, for, after +the first feelings of envy and covetousness had passed away, +the humor of the thing became apparent. And it was Joe +Brand, in the course of discussing the matter with Minky, +who first drew attention to the queer pranks which fortune +sometimes plays.</p> +<p>“Say, don’t it lick creation?” he cried. “Can you beat +it? No, sirree. It’s the best ever––it sure is. Say, here’s +the worstest mule-head ever got foothold on this yer continent +sets out to chase gold in a place no one outside a bug-house +would ever find time to git busy, an’ may I be skinned +alive an’ my bones grilled fer a cannibal’s supper if he don’t +find sech a fortune in ile as ’ud set all the whole blamed +world’s ile market hatin’ itself. Gee!”</p> +<p>And Minky nodded his head. He also smiled slyly upon +those who stood about him.</p> +<p>“Ther’ sure is elegant humor to most things in this +yer life,” he said dryly. “Which ’minds me Wild Bill +bo’t ha’f o’ that claim o’ Zip’s ’fore he set out fer Spawn +City.”</p> +<p>And at his words somehow a curious thoughtfulness fell +upon his hearers. Nor was there any responsive smile +among them. The humor he spoke of seemed to have passed +them by, leaving them quite untouched by its point. And +presently they drifted away, joining other groups, where the +reminder that Bill had been derided by the whole camp for +his absurd purchase had an equally damping effect.</p> +<p>But the day was to be more eventful even than the promise +of the morning had suggested. And the second surprise +came about noon.</p> +<p>Excitement was still raging. Half the camp was down at +Zip’s claim watching the miracle of the oil gusher, and the +other half was either on their way thither or returning from +it. Some of them were gathering the raw oil in cans and +tubs, others were hurrying to do so. And none of them +quite knew why they were doing it, or what, if any, the use +they could put the stuff to. They were probably inspired by +the fact that there was the stuff going to waste by the hundreds +of gallons, and they felt it incumbent upon them to +save what they could. Anyway, it was difficult to tear themselves +away from the fascinations of Nature’s prodigal outburst, +and so, as being the easiest and most pleasurable +course, they abandoned themselves to it.</p> +<p>So it was that Minky found his store deserted. He +lounged idly out on to the veranda and propped himself +against one of the posts. And, standing there, his thoughtful +eyes roamed, subtly attracted to the spot where Zip’s luck +had demonstrated itself.</p> +<p>He stood there for some time watching the hurrying figures +of the miners as they moved to and fro, but his mind +was far away. Somehow Zip’s luck, in spite of the excessive +figures which extravagant minds had estimated it at, only +took second place with him. He was thinking of the man +who had journeyed to Spawn City. He was worrying about +him, his one and only friend.</p> +<p>He had understood something of that self-imposed task +which the gambler had undertaken, though its full significance +had never quite been his. Now he felt that in some +way he was responsible. Now he felt that the journey +should never have been taken. He felt that he should have +refused to ship his gold. And yet he knew full well that his +refusal would have been quite useless. Wild Bill was a man +whom opposition only drove the harder, and he would have +contrived a means of carrying out his purpose, no matter +what barred his way.</p> +<p>However, even with this assurance he still felt uncomfortably +regretful. His responsibility was no less, and for the +life of him he could not rise to enthusiasm over this luck of +Scipio’s. It would have been different if Bill had been there +to discuss the matter with him.</p> +<p>And as the moments passed his spirits fell lower and +lower, until at last a great depression weighed him down.</p> +<p>It was in the midst of this depression, when, for the hundredth +time, he had wished that his friend had never started +out on his wild enterprise, that he suddenly found himself +staring out across the river at the Spawn City trail. He +stared for some moments, scarcely comprehending that at +which he looked. Then suddenly he became aware of a +horseman racing down the slope towards the river, and +in a moment mind and body were alert, and he stood +waiting.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Minky was still standing on his veranda. But he was no +longer leaning against the post; he was holding a letter in his +hand which he had just finished reading. It was a painful-looking +document for all its neat, clear writing. It was +stained with patches of dark red that were almost brown, +and the envelope he held in his other hand was almost +unrecognizable for the same hideous stain that completely +covered it.</p> +<p>The man who had delivered it was resting on the edge of +the veranda. He had told his story; and now he sat chewing, +and watching his weary horse tethered at the hitching-post +a few yards away.</p> +<p>“An’ he drove that cart fer six hours––dead?” Minky +asked, without removing his eyes from the blood-stained +letter.</p> +<p>“That’s sure how I sed,” returned the messenger, and +went stolidly on with his chewing. The other breathed +deeply.</p> +<p>Then he read the letter over again. He read it slowly, so +as to miss no word or meaning it might contain. And, +curiously, as he read a feeling of wonder filled him at the +excellence of the writing and composition. He did not seem +to remember having seen Bill’s writing before. And here +the rough, hard-living gambler was displaying himself a man +of considerable education. It was curious. All the years +of their friendship had passed without him discovering that +his gambling friend was anything but an illiterate ruffian of +the West, with nothing but a great courage, a powerful +personality and a moderately honest heart to recommend +him.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class='smcap'>My Dear Minky,</span></p> +<p>“I’m dead––dead as mutton. Whether I’m cooked +mutton, or raw, I can’t just say. Anyway, I’m dead––or +you wouldn’t get this letter.</p> +<p>“Now this letter is not to express regrets, or to sentimentalize. +You’ll agree that’s not my way. Death doesn’t +worry me any. No, this letter is just a ‘last will and testament,’ +as the lawyers have it. And I’m sending it to you because +I know you’ll see things fixed right for me. You see, +I put everything into your hands for two reasons: you’re +honest, and you’re my friend. Now, seeing you’re rich and +prosperous I leave you nothing out of my wad. But I’d like +to hand you a present of my team––if they’re still alive––team +and harness and cart. And you’ll know, seeing I always +had a notion the sun, moon and stars rose and set in my +horses, the spirit in which I give them to you, and the regard +I had for our friendship. Be good to them, old friend.</p> +<p>For the rest, my dollars, and anything else I’ve got, I’d +like Zip’s kids to have. They’re bright kids, and I’ve got +a notion for them. And, seeing Zip’s their father, maybe +dollars will be useful to them. You can divide things +equally between them.</p> +<p>“And in conclusion you can tell Zip if he can do a good +turn, which I don’t suppose he’ll be able to, to either Sunny +Oak, or Sandy Joyce, or Toby Jenks, he’d best do it. +Because he owes them something he’ll probably never hear +about.</p> +<p>“This is the last will and testament, as the lawyers say, of</p> +<p class='ralign'>“Your old friend,<span class='rindent6'> </span><br /> +“<span class='smcap'>Wild Bill.</span><span class='rindent2'> </span><br /> +“(A no-account gambler, late of Abilene.)”<span class='rindent4'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Minky looked up from the letter again, and his eyes were +shadowed. He felt that that letter contained more of the +gambler’s heart than he would ever have allowed himself to +display in life.</p> +<p>And into his mind came many memories––memories that +stirred him deeply. He was thinking of the days when he +had first encountered Bill years ago, when the name of Wild +Bill was a terror throughout Texas and the neighboring +States. And he smiled as he remembered how a perturbed +Government had been forced, for their own peace of mind, +and for the sake of the peace of the country, to put this +“terror” on the side of law and order, and make him a +sheriff of the county. And then, too, he remembered the +trouble Bill was always getting into through mixing up his +private feuds with his public duties. Still, he was a great +sheriff, and never was such order kept in the county.</p> +<p>He turned again to the man at his side.</p> +<p>“An’ he got thro’ with the gold?” he inquired slowly.</p> +<p>“Jest as I sed,” retorted the weary messenger. “Guess I +helped sheriff to deposit it in the bank.”</p> +<p>“And he’s dead?”</p> +<p>The man stirred impatiently and spat.</p> +<p>“Dead––as mutton.”</p> +<p>Minky sighed.</p> +<p>“An’ you come along the Spawn City trail?” he asked +presently.</p> +<p>“I ain’t got wings.”</p> +<p>“An’ you saw––?”</p> +<p>“The birds flappin’ around––nigh chokin’ with human +meat.”</p> +<p>The man laughed cynically.</p> +<p>“Did you recognize––?”</p> +<p>“I see James. He was dead––as mutton, too––an’ all +his gang. Gee! It must ’a’ bin a hell of a scrap.”</p> +<p>The man spat out a stream of tobacco juice and rubbed +his hands.</p> +<p>“It sure must,” agreed Minky. And he passed into the +store.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>It was dark when Scipio urged the old mule up the bank +at the fork of the creek. He was very weary, and Jessie +was asleep beside him, with her head pillowed upon his +shoulder. His arm was about her, supporting her, and he +sat rigid, lest the bumping of the rattling vehicle should +waken her. The position for him was trying, but he never +wavered. Cramped and weary as he was, he strove by every +means in his power to leave her undisturbed.</p> +<p>And as he passed the river three ghostly figures ambled +down to the bank, and, after drinking their horses, likewise +passed over. But while Scipio kept to the trail, they vanished +amidst the woods. Their task was over, and they +sought the shortest route to their homes.</p> +<p>And so Scipio came to his claim. And such was his state +of mind, so was he taken up with the happiness which the +presence of his wife beside him gave him, and such was his +delight in looking forward to the days to come, that he saw +nothing of that which lay about him.</p> +<p>The air to him was sweet with all the perfumes his thankful +heart inspired in his thoughts. His road was a path of +roses. The reek of oil was beyond his simple ken. Nor did +he heed the slush, slush of his mule’s feet, as the old beast +floundered through the lake of oil spread out on all sides +about him. The gurgling, the sadly bubbling gusher, even, +might have been one of the fairy sounds of night, for all +thought he gave to it.</p> +<p>No; blind to all things practical as he always was, how was +it possible that Scipio, leaving Suffering Creek a poor, struggling +prospector, should realize by these outward signs that +he had returned to it, possibly, a millionaire?</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXXV_HOME' id='CHAPTER_XXXV_HOME'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> +<h3>HOME</h3> +</div> +<p>Scipio stood in the doorway of his hut with a hopelessly +dazed look in his pale eyes and a perplexed frown upon his +brow. He had just returned from Minky’s store, whither +he had been to fetch his twins home. He had brought them +with him, leading them, one in each hand. And at sight of +their mother they had torn themselves free from their +father’s detaining hands and rushed at her.</p> +<p>Jessie, strangely subdued, but with a wonderful light of +happiness in her eyes, was in the midst of “turning out” the +bedroom. She had spent the whole morning cleaning and +garnishing with a vigor, with a heartwhole enjoyment, such +as never in all her married life had she displayed before. +And now, as the children rushed at her, their piping voices +shrieking their joyous greeting, she hugged them to her +bosom as though she would squeeze their precious lives out +of them. She laughed and cried at the same time in a way +that only women in the throes of unspeakable joy can. Her +words, too, were incoherent, as incoherent as the babble of +the children themselves. It was a sight of mother-love +rarely to be witnessed, a sight which, under normal conditions, +must have filled the simple heart of Scipio with a joy +and happiness quite beyond words.</p> +<p>But just now it left him untouched, and as he silently +looked on he passed one hand helplessly across his forehead. +He pushed his hat back so that his stubby fingers could rake +amongst his yellow hair. And Jessie, suddenly looking up +from the two heads nestling so close against her bosom, +realized the trouble in her husband’s face. Her realization +came with a swiftness that would have been impossible in +those old days of discontent.</p> +<p>“Why, Zip,” she cried, starting to her feet and coming +quickly towards him, “what––what’s the matter? What’s +wrong?”</p> +<p>But the little man only shook his head dazedly, and his +eyes wandered from her face to the two silently staring children, +and then to the table so carefully laid for the midday +meal.</p> +<p>“Here, sit down,” Jessie hurried on, darting towards a +chair and setting it for him beside the stove. “You’re sick, +sure,” she declared, peering into his pale face, as he silently, +almost helplessly, obeyed her. “It’s the sun,” she went on. +“That’s what it is––driving in the sun all yesterday. It’s––it’s +been too much for you.”</p> +<p>Again the man passed a hand across his brow. But this +time he shook his head.</p> +<p>“’Tain’t the sun, Jess,” he said vaguely. “It’s––it’s +oil!”</p> +<p>For a moment the woman stared. Then she turned to the +gaping twins, and hustled them out of the room to play. +Poor Zip’s head had suddenly gone wrong, she believed, +and––</p> +<p>But as she came back from the door she found that he had +risen from the chair in which she had set him, and was standing +looking at her, and through her, and beyond her, as +though she were not there at all. And in an instant she was +at his side, with an arm thrown protectingly about his +shoulders.</p> +<p>“Tell me, Zip––oh, tell me, dear, what’s wrong? Surely––surely, +after all that has gone––Oh, tell me! Don’t +keep me in suspense. Is––is it James?” she finished up in +a terrified whisper.</p> +<p>The mention of that detested name had instant effect. +Scipio’s face cleared, and the dazed look of his eyes vanished +as if by magic. He shook his head.</p> +<p>“James is dead,” he said simply. And Jessie breathed a +sigh of such relief that even he observed it, and it gladdened +him. “Yes,” he went on, “James is sure dead. Wild Bill +done him up and his whole gang. But Bill’s gone, too.”</p> +<p>“Bill, too?” Jessie murmured.</p> +<p>Scipio nodded; and perplexity stole over his face again.</p> +<p>“Yes. I––I don’t seem to understand. Y’see, he done +James up, an’––an’ James done him up––sort o’ mutual. +Y’see, they told me the rights of it, but––but ther’s so many +things I––I don’t seem to got room for them all in my +head. It seems, too, that Bill had quite a piece of money. +An’ he’s kind of given it to the kids. I––I don’t––”</p> +<p>“How much?” demanded the practical feminine.</p> +<p>“Seventy thousand dollars,” replied the bewildered man.</p> +<p>“Seventy thou––Who told you?”</p> +<p>“Why––Minky. Said he’d got it all. But––but that +ain’t the worst.”</p> +<p>“Worst?”</p> +<p>Jessie was smiling now––smiling with that motherly, protecting +confidence so wonderfully womanly.</p> +<p>Scipio nodded; and his eyes sought hers for encouragement.</p> +<p>“Ther’s the oil, millions an’ millions of it––gallons, I +mean.”</p> +<p>“Oil? Millions of gallons? Oh, Zip, do––do be sensible.”</p> +<p>Jessie stood before him, and his worried look seemed to +have found a reflection upon her handsome face.</p> +<p>“It isn’t me. It ain’t my fault. It sure ain’t, Jess,” he +declared wistfully. “I’ve seen it. It’s there. My pore +claim’s jest drowned with it. I’ll never find that gold now––not +if I was to pump a year. It’s just bubbling up an’ up +out o’ the bowels of the earth, an’––an’ Minky says I’ll have +to set up pumps an’ things, an’ he’s goin’ to help me. So is +Sunny Oak, an’ Toby, an’ Sandy, an’ he sez we’ll find the +gold sure if we pump the oil. Sez it’s there, an’ I’ll be rich +as Rockefeller an’ all them millionaires. But I can’t seem to +see it, if the gold’s drownded in that messy, smelly oil. +Maybe you ken see. You’re quicker’n me. You––”</p> +<p>But Jessie never let him finish.</p> +<p>“Oil?” she cried, her eyes swimming with tears of joy +and gentle affection for the simple soul so incapable of grasping +anything but his own single purpose. “Oil?” she cried. +“Oh, Zip, don’t you understand? Don’t you see? It’s oil––coal-oil. +You’ve been searching for gold and found oil. +And there’s millions of dollars in coal-oil.”</p> +<p>But the little man’s face dropped.</p> +<p>“Seems a pity,” he said dispiritedly. “I could ’a’ swore +ther’ was gold there––I sure could. I’d have found it, too––if +the oil hadn’t washed us out. Bill thought so, too; an’ +Bill was right smart. Guess we’ll find it, though, after we +pumped the oil.”</p> +<p>Suddenly the woman reached out both arms and laid her +hands upon his diminutive shoulders. Her eyes had grown +very tender.</p> +<p>“Zip,” she cried gently, “Zip, I think God has been very +good to me. He’s been kinder to me than He has been to +you. You deserve His goodness; I don’t. And yet He’s +given me a man with a heart of––of gold. He’s given me +a man whose love I have trampled under-foot and flung +away. He’s given me a man who, by his own simple honesty, +his goodness, has shown me the road to perfect happiness. +He’s given me all this in return for a sin that can +never be wiped out––”</p> +<p>But suddenly Scipio freed himself from the gentle grasp +of her restraining hands, and caught her in his arms.</p> +<p>“Don’t you––don’t you to say it, Jess,” he cried, all his +great love shining in his eyes. His perplexity and regret +were all gone now, and only had he thought of his love. +“Don’t you to say nuthin’ against yourself. You’re my wife––my +Jessie. An’ as long as I’ve got life I don’t want +nothin’ else––but my Jessie. Say, gal, I do love you.”</p> +<p>“And––and––oh, if you can only believe me, Zip, I love +you.”</p> +<p>The man reached up and drew the woman’s face down to +his, and kissed her on the lips.</p> +<p>“It don’t matter ’bout not finding that gold now,” he +cried, and kissed her again.</p> +<p>“No, it––”</p> +<p>“Say, momma, ain’t it dinner yet?”</p> +<p>“Ess, me want din-din.”</p> +<p>The man and woman sprang guiltily apart before the +wondering eyes of their children, and the next moment both +of the small creatures were caught up and hugged in loving +arms.</p> +<p>“Why, sure, kiddies,” cried Scipio, his face wreathed in +happy smiles. “Momma’s got dinner all fixed––so come +right along.”</p> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE END</p> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: ppg0804 --> +<!-- timestamp: Sat Aug 08 11:04:32 -0600 2009 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Twins of Suffering Creek, by Ridgwell Cullum + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWINS OF SUFFERING CREEK *** + +***** This file should be named 29638-h.htm or 29638-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/6/3/29638/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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