THE JIMMYJOHN BOSS AND OTHER STORIES

By Owen Wister

To Messrs. Harper & Bothers and Henry Mills Alden whose friendliness andfair dealing I am glad of this chance to record

Owen Wister

Preface

 It's very plain that if a thing's the fashion-- Too much the fashion--if the people leap To do it, or to be it, in a passion Of haste and crowding, like a herd of sheep, Why then that thing becomes through imitation Vulgar, excessive, obvious, and cheap. 

 No gentleman desires to be pursuing

 What every Tom and Dick and Harry's doing. 

 Stranger, do you write books? I ask the question, Because I'm told that everybody writes That what with scribbling, eating, and digestion, And proper slumber, all our days and nights

 Are wholly filled. It seems an odd suggestion-- But if you do write, stop it, leave the masses, Read me, and join the small selected classes. 

The Jimmyjohn Boss

I

One day at Nampa, which is in Idaho, a ruddy old massive jovial manstood by the Silver City stage, patting his beard with his left hand, and with his right the shoulder of a boy who stood beside him. He hadcome with the boy on the branch train from Boise, because he was acareful German and liked to say everything twice--twice at least when itwas a matter of business. This was a matter of very particular business, and the German had repeated himself for nineteen miles. Presently theeast-bound on the main line would arrive from Portland; then the SilverCity stage would take the boy south on his new mission, and the manwould journey by the branch train back to Boise. From Boise no one couldsay where he might not go, west or east. He was a great and pervasivecattle man in Oregon, California, and other places. Vogel and Lex--evento-day you may hear the two ranch partners spoken of. So the veteranVogel was now once more going over his notions and commands to hisyouthful deputy during the last precious minutes until the east-boundshould arrive. 

"Und if only you haf someding like dis, " said the old man, as he tappedhis beard and patted the boy, "it would be five hoondert more dollarssalary in your liddle pants. "

The boy winked up at his employer. He had a gray, humorous eye; he wasslim and alert, like a sparrow-hawk--the sort of boy his father openlyrejoices in and his mother is secretly in prayer over. Only, this boyhad neither father nor mother. Since the age of twelve he had looked outfor himself, never quite without bread, sometimes attaining champagne, getting along in his American way variously, on horse or afoot, acrossregions of wide plains and mountains, through towns where not a soulknew his name. He closed one of his gray eyes at his employer, andbeyond this made no remark. 

"Vat you mean by dat vink, anyhow?" demanded the elder. 

"Say, " said the boy, confidentially--"honest now. How about you and me?Five hundred dollars if I had your beard. You've got a record and I'vegot a future. And my bloom's on me rich, without a scratch. How manydollars you gif me for dat bloom?" The sparrow-hawk sailed into afreakish imitation of his master. 

"You are a liddle rascal!" cried the master, shaking with entertainment. "Und if der peoples vas to hear you sass old Max Vogel in dis style theywould say, 'Poor old Max, he lose his gr-rip. ' But I don't lose it. " Hisgreat hand closed suddenly on the boy's shoulder, his voice cut cleanand heavy as an axe, and then no more joking about him. "Haf youunderstand that?" he said. 

"Yes, sir. "

"How old are you, son?"

"Nineteen, sir. "

"Oh my, that is offle young for the job I gif you. Some of dose man yougo to boss might be your father. Und how much do you weigh?"

"About a hundred and thirty. "

"Too light, too light. Und I haf keep my eye on you in Boise. You arenot so goot a boy as you might be. "

"Well, sir, I guess not. "

"But you was not so bad a boy as you might be, neider. You don't lieabout it. Now it must be farewell to all that foolishness. Haf youunderstand? You go to set an example where one is needed very bad. Ifthose men see you drink a liddle, they drink a big lot. You forbid them, they laugh at you. You must not allow one drop of whiskey at the wholeplace. Haf you well understand?"

"Yes, sir. Me and whiskey are not necessary to each other's happiness. "

"It is not you, it is them. How are you mit your gun?"

Vogel took the boy's pistol from its holster and aimed at an emptybottle which was sticking in the thin Deceiver snow. "Can you do this?"he said, carelessly, and fired. The snow struck the bottle, but theunharming bullet was buried half an inch to the left. 

The boy took his pistol with solemnity. "No, " he said. "Guess I can't dothat. " He fired, and the glass splintered into shapelessness. "Told youI couldn't miss as close as you did, " said he. 

"You are a darling, " said Mr. Vogel. "Gif me dat lofely weapon. "

A fortunate store of bottles lay, leaned, or stood about in the whitesnow of Nampa, and Mr. Vogel began at them. 

"May I ask if anything is the matter?" inquired a mild voice from thestage. 

"Stick that lily head in-doors, " shouted Vogel; and the face andeye-glasses withdrew again into the stage. "The school-teacher he willbe beautifool virtuous company for you at Malheur Agency, " continuedVogel, shooting again; and presently the large old German destroyed abottle with a crashing smack. "Ah!" said he, in unison with the smack. "Ah-ha! No von shall say der old Max lose his gr-rip. I shoot it efrytime now, but the train she whistle. I hear her. "

The boy affected to listen earnestly. 

"Bah! I tell you I hear de whistle coming. "

"Did you say there was a whistle?" ventured the occupant of the stage. The snow shone white on his glasses as he peered out. 

"Nobody whistle for you, " returned the robust Vogel. "You listen to me, "he continued to the boy. "You are offle yoong. But I watch you plentythis long time. I see you work mit my stock on the Owyhee and theMalheur; I see you mit my oder men. My men they say always more andmore, 'Yoong Drake he is a goot one, ' und I think you are a goot onemine own self. I am the biggest cattle man on the Pacific slope, und Iam also an old devil. I have think a lot, und I like you. "

"I'm obliged to you, sir. "

"Shut oop. I like you, und therefore I make you my new sooperintendentat my Malheur Agency r-ranch, mit a bigger salary as you don't getbefore. If you are a sookcess, I r-raise you some more. "

"I am satisfied now, sir. "

"Bah! Never do you tell any goot business man you are satisfied mit vathe gif you, for eider he don't believe you or else he think you are afool. Und eider ways you go down in his estimation. You make those menat Malheur Agency behave themselves und I r-raise you. Only I do vish, Ido certainly vish you had some beard on that yoong chin. "

The boy glanced at his pistol. 

"No, no, no, my son, " said the sharp old German. "I don't want gunpowderin dis affair. You must act kviet und decisif und keep your liddle shirton. What you accomplish shootin'? You kill somebody, und then, pop!somebody kills you. What goot is all that nonsense to me?"

"It would annoy me some, too, " retorted the boy, eyeing the capitalist. "Don't leave me out of the proposition. "

"Broposition! Broposition! Now you get hot mit old Max for nothing. "

"If you didn't contemplate trouble, " pursued the boy, "what was yourpoint just now in sampling my marksmanship?" He kicked some snow in thedirection of the shattered bottle. "It's understood no whiskey comes onthat ranch. But if no gunpowder goes along with me, either, let's callthe deal off. Buy some other fool. "

"You haf not understand, my boy. Und you get very hot because I happento make that liddle joke about somebody killing you. Was you thinkingmaybe old Max not care what happen to you?"

A moment of silence passed before the answer came: "Suppose we talkbusiness?"

"Very well, very well. Only notice this thing. When oder peoples talkoop to me like you haf done many times, it is not they who does thegetting hot. It is me--old Max. Und when old Max gets hot he slings themout of his road anywheres. Some haf been very sorry they get so slung. You invite me to buy some oder fool? Oh, my boy, I will buy no oder foolexcept you, for that was just like me when I was yoong Max!" Again theruddy and grizzled magnate put his hand on the shoulder of the boy, whostood looking away at the bottles, at the railroad track, at anythingsave his employer. 

The employer proceeded: "I was afraid of nobody und noding in thosedays. You are afraid of nobody and noding. But those days was different. No Pullman sleepers, no railroad at all. We come oop the Columbia inthe steamboat, we travel hoonderts of miles by team, we sleep, we eatnowheres in particular mit many unexpected interooptions. There wasIndians, there was offle bad white men, und if you was not offleyourself you vanished quickly. Therefore in those days was Max Vogelhell und repeat. "

The magnate smiled a broad fond smile over the past which he had kicked, driven, shot, bled, and battled through to present power; and the boywinked up at him again now. 

"I don't propose to vanish, myself, " said he. 

"Ah-ha! you was no longer mad mit der old Max! Of coorse I care whathappens to you. I was alone in the world myself in those lofely wickeddays. "

Reserve again made flinty the boy's face. 

"Neider did I talk about my feelings, " continued Max Vogel, "but I nefershow them too quick. If I was injured I wait, and I strike to kill. Weall paddles our own dugout, eh? We ask no favors from nobody; we mustwin our spurs! Not so? Now I talk business with you where you interrooptme. If cow-boys was not so offle scarce in the country, I would long agohaf bounce the lot of those drunken fellows. But they cannot be spared;we must get along so. I cannot send Brock, he is needed at Harper's. Thedumb fellow at Alvord Lake is too dumb; he is not quickly courageous. They would play high jinks mit him. Therefore I send you. Brock he sayto me you haf joodgement. I watch, and I say to myself also, this boyhaf goot joodgement. And when you look at your pistol so quick, I tellyou quick I don't send you to kill men when they are so scarce already!My boy, it is ever the moral, the say-noding strength what getsthere--mit always the liddle pistol behind, in case--joost in case. Hafyou understand? I ask you to shoot. I see you know how, as Brock toldme. I recommend you to let them see that aggomplishment in a friendlyway. Maybe a shooting-match mit prizes--I pay for them--pretty soonafter you come. Und joodgement--und joodgement. Here comes that train. Haf you well understand?"

Upon this the two shook hands, looking square friendship in each other'seyes. The east-bound, long quiet and dark beneath its flowing clots ofsmoke, slowed to a halt. A few valises and legs descended, ascended, herding and hurrying; a few trunks were thrown resoundingly in and outof the train; a woolly, crooked old man came with a box and a bandannabundle from the second-class car; the travellers of a thousand mileslooked torpidly at him through the dim, dusty windows of their Pullman, and settled again for a thousand miles more. Then the east-bound, shooting heavier clots of smoke laboriously into the air, drew its slowlength out of Nampa, and away. 

"Where's that stage?" shrilled the woolly old man. "That's what I'mafter. "

"Why, hello!" shouted Vogel. "Hello, Uncle Pasco! I heard you was dead. "

Uncle Pasco blinked his small eyes to see who hailed him. "Oh!" said he, in his light, crusty voice. "Dutchy Vogel. No, I ain't dead. You guessedwrong. Not dead. Help me up, Dutchy. "

A tolerant smile broadened Vogel's face. "It was ten years since I seeyou, " said he, carrying the old man's box. 

"Shouldn't wonder. Maybe it'll be another ten till you see me next. " Hestopped by the stage step, and wheeling nimbly, surveyed his old-timeacquaintance, noting the good hat, the prosperous watch-chain, the big, well-blacked boots. "Not seen me for ten years. Hee-hee! No. Usen't tohave a cent more than me. Twins in poverty. That's how Dutchy and mestarted. If we was buried to-morrow they'd mark him 'Pecunious' and me'Impecunious. ' That's what. Twins in poverty. "

"I stick to von business at a time, Uncle, " said good-natured, successful Max. 

A flicker of aberration lighted in the old man's eye. "H'm, yes, " saidhe, pondering. "Stuck to one business. So you did. H'm. " Then, suddenlysly, he chirped: "But I've struck it rich now. " He tapped his box. "Jewelry, " he half-whispered. "Miners and cow-boys. "

"Yes, " said Vogel. "Those poor, deluded fellows, they buy such stuff. "And he laughed at the seedy visionary who had begun frontier lifewith him on the bottom rung and would end it there. "Do you play thatconcertina yet, Uncle?" he inquired. 

"Yes, yes. I always play. It's in here with my tooth-brush and socks. "Uncle Pasco held up the bandanna. "Well, he's getting ready to start. Iguess I'll be climbing inside. Holy Gertrude!"

This shrill comment was at sight of the school-master, patient withinthe stage. "What business are you in?" demanded Uncle Pasco. 

"I am in the spelling business, " replied the teacher, and smiled, faintly. 

"Hell!" piped Uncle Pasco. "Take this. "

He handed in his bandanna to the traveller, who received it politely. Max Vogel lifted the box of cheap jewelry; and both he and the boy camebehind to boost the old man up on the stage step. But with a nettledlook he leaped up to evade them, tottered half-way, and then, light as ahusk of grain, got himself to his seat and scowled at the schoolmaster. 

After a brief inspection of that pale, spectacled face, "Dutchy, " hecalled out of the door, "this country is not what it was. "

But old Max Vogel was inattentive. He was speaking to the boy, DeanDrake, and held a flask in his hand. He reached the flask to his newsuperintendent. "Drink hearty, " said he. "There, son! Don't be shy. Hafyou forgot it is forbidden fruit after now?"

"Kid sworn off?" inquired Uncle Pasco of the school-master. 

"I understand, " replied this person, "that Mr. Vogel will not allowhis cow-boys at the Malheur Agency to have any whiskey brought there. Personally, I feel gratified. " And Mr. Bolles, the new school-master, gave his faint smile. 

"Oh, " muttered Uncle Pasco. "Forbidden to bring whiskey on the ranch?H'm. " His eyes wandered to the jewelry-box. "H'm, " said he again; andbecoming thoughtful, he laid back his moth-eaten sly head, and spoke nofurther with Mr. Bolles. 

Dean Drake climbed into the stage and the vehicle started. 

"Goot luck, goot luck, my son!" shouted the hearty Max, and opened andwaved both his big arms at the departing boy: He stood looking after thestage. "I hope he come back, " said he. "I think he come back. If he comeI r-raise him fifty dollars without any beard. "

II

The stage had not trundled so far on its Silver City road but that awhistle from Nampa station reached its three occupants. This was thebranch train starting back to Boise with Max Vogel aboard; and the boylooked out at the locomotive with a sigh. 

"Only five days of town, " he murmured. "Six months more wilderness now. "

"My life has been too much town, " said the new school-master. "I amlooking forward to a little wilderness for a change. "

Old Uncle Pasco, leaning back, said nothing; he kept his eyes shut andhis ears open. 

"Change is what I don't get, " sighed Dean Drake. In a few miles, however, before they had come to the ferry over Snake River, the recentleave-taking and his employer's kind but dominating repression liftedfrom the boy's spirit. His gray eye wakened keen again, and he beganto whistle light opera tunes, looking about him alertly, like thesparrow-hawk that he was. "Ever see Jeannie Winston in 'Fatinitza'?" heinquired of Mr. Bolles. 

The school-master, with a startled, thankful countenance, stated that hehad never. 

"Ought to, " said Drake. 

 "You a man? that can't be true! Men have never eyes like you. "

"That's what the girls in the harem sing in the second act. Golly whiz!"The boy gleamed over the memory of that evening. 

"You have a hard job before you, " said the school-master, changing thesubject. 

"Yep. Hard. " The wary Drake shook his head warningly at Mr. Bolles tokeep off that subject, and he glanced in the direction of slumberingUncle Pasco. Uncle Pasco was quite aware of all this. "I wouldn't takeanother lonesome job so soon, " pursued Drake, "but I want the money. I've been working eleven months along the Owyhee as a sort of juniorboss, and I'd earned my vacation. Just got it started hot in Portland, when biff! old Vogel telegraphs me. Well, I'll be saving instead ofsquandering. But it feels so good to squander!"

"I have never had anything to squander, " said Bolles, rather sadly. 

"You don't say! Well, old man, I hope you will. It gives a man a lothe'll never get out of spelling-books. Are you cold? Here. " And despitethe school-master's protest, Dean Drake tucked his buffalo coat roundand over him. "Some day, when I'm old, " he went on, "I mean to liverespectable under my own cabin and vine. Wife and everything. But not, anyway, till I'm thirty-five. "

He dropped into his opera tunes for a while; but evidently it wasnot "Fatinitza" and his vanished holiday over which he was chieflymeditating, for presently he exclaimed: "I'll give them a shooting-matchin the morning. You shoot?"

Bolles hoped he was going to learn in this country, and exhibited aSmith & Wesson revolver. 

Drake grieved over it. "Wrap it up warm, " said he. "I'll lend you areal one when we get to the Malheur Agency. But you can eat, anyhow. Christmas being next week, you see, my programme is, shoot all A. M. Andeat all P. M. I wish you could light on a notion what prizes to give mybuccaroos. "

"Buccaroos?" said Bolles. 

"Yep. Cow-punchers. Vaqueros. Buccaroos in Oregon. Bastard Spanish word, you see, drifted up from Mexico. Vogel would not care to have me give'em money as prizes. "

At this Uncle Pasco opened an eye. 

"How many buccaroos will there be?" Bolles inquired. 

"At the Malheur Agency? It's the headquarters of five of our ranches. There ought to be quite a crowd. A dozen, probably, at this time ofyear. "

Uncle Pasco opened his other eye. "Here, you!" he said, dragging at hisbox under the seat. "Pull it, can't you? There. Just what you're after. There's your prizes. " Querulous and watchful, like some aged, ricketyape, the old man drew out his trinkets in shallow shelves. 

"Sooner give 'em nothing, " said Dean Drake. 

"What's that? What's the matter with them?"

"Guess the boys have had all the brass rings and glass diamonds theywant. "

"That's all you know, then. I sold that box clean empty through thePalouse country last week, 'cept the bottom drawer, and an outfit onMeacham's hill took that. Shows all you know. I'm going clean throughyour country after I've quit Silver City. I'll start in by Baker Cityagain, and I'll strike Harney, and maybe I'll go to Linkville. I knowwhat buccaroos want. I'll go to Fort Rinehart, and I'll go to the IslandRanch, and first thing you'll be seeing your boys wearing my stuff allover their fingers and Sunday shirts, and giving their girls my stuffright in Harney City. That's what. "

"All right, Uncle. It's a free country. "

"Shaw! Guess it is. I was in it before you was, too. You were wet behindthe ears when I was jammin' all around here. How many are they up atyour place, did you say?"

"I said about twelve. If you're coming our way, stop and eat with us. "

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't. " Uncle Pasco crossly shoved his boxback. 

"All right, Uncle. It's a free country, " repeated Drake. 

Not much was said after this. Uncle Pasco unwrapped his concertina fromthe red handkerchief and played nimbly for his own benefit. At SilverCity he disappeared, and, finding he had stolen nothing from them, theydid not regret him. Dean Drake had some affairs to see to here beforestarting for Harper's ranch, and it was pleasant to Bolles to find howDrake was esteemed through this country. The school-master was to boardat the Malheur Agency, and had come this way round because the newsuperintendent must so travel. They were scarcely birds of a feather, Drake and Bolles, yet since one remote roof was to cover them, thein-door man was glad this boy-host had won so much good-will fromhigh and low. That the shrewd old Vogel should trust so much in anineteen-year-old was proof enough at least of his character; but whenBrock, the foreman from Harper's, came for them at Silver City, Bolleswitnessed the affection that the rougher man held for Drake. Brock shookthe boy's hand with that serious quietness and absence of words whichshows the Western heart is speaking. After a look at Bolles and a silentbestowing of the baggage aboard the team, he cracked his long whip andthe three rattled happily away through the dips of an open country whereclear streams ran blue beneath the winter air. They followed the Jordan(that Idaho Jordan) west towards Oregon and the Owyhee, Brock oftenturning in his driver's seat so as to speak with Drake. He had a long, gradual chapter of confidences and events; through miles he unburdenedthese to his favorite:

The California mare was coring well in harness. The eagle over atWhitehorse ranch had fought the cat most terrible. Gilbert had got amule-kick in the stomach, but was eating his three meals. They had a newboy who played the guitar. He used maple-syrup an his meat, and claimedhe was from Alabama. Brock guessed things were about as usual in mostways. The new well had caved in again. Then, in the midst of his gossip, the thing he had wanted to say all along came out: "We're pleased aboutyour promotion, " said he; and, blushing, shook Drake's hand again. 

Warmth kindled the boy's face, and next, with a sudden severity, hesaid: "You're keeping back something. "

The honest Brock looked blank, then labored in his memory. 

"Has the sorrel girl in Harney married you yet?" said Drake. Brockslapped his leg, and the horses jumped at his mirth. He was mostlygrave-mannered, but when his boy superintendent joked, he rejoiced withthe same pride that he took in all of Drake's excellences. 

"The boys in this country will back you up, " said he, next day; andDrake inquired: "What news from the Malheur Agency?"

"Since the new Chinaman has been cooking for them, " said Brock, "theyhave been peaceful as a man could wish. "

"They'll approve of me, then, " Drake answered. "I'm feeding 'em hyasChristmas muck-a-muck. "

"And what may that be?" asked the schoolmaster. 

"You no kumtux Chinook?" inquired Drake. "Travel with me and you'lllearn all sorts of languages. It means just a big feed. All whiskey isbarred, " he added to Brock. 

"It's the only way, " said the foreman. "They've got those Pennsylvaniamen up there. "

Drake had not encountered these. 

"The three brothers Drinker, " said Brock. "Full, Half-past Full, andDrunk are what they call them. Them's the names; they've brought themfrom Klamath and Rogue River. "

"I should not think a Chinaman would enjoy such comrades, " ventured Mr. Bolles. 

"Chinamen don't have comrades in this country, " said Brock, briefly. "They like his cooking. It's a lonesome section up there, and a Chinamancould hardly quit it, not if he was expected to stay. Suppose they kickabout the whiskey rule?" he suggested to Drake. 

"Can't help what they do. Oh, I'll give each boy his turn in Harney Citywhen he gets anxious. It's the whole united lot I don't propose to havecut up on me. "

A look of concern for the boy came over the face of foreman Brock. Several times again before their parting did he thus look at hisfavorite. They paused at Harper's for a day to attend to some matters, and when Drake was leaving this place one of the men said to him: "We'llstand by you. " But from his blithe appearance and talk as the slim boyjourneyed to the Malheur River and Headquarter ranch, nothing seemedto be on his mind. Oregon twinkled with sun and fine white snow. Theycrossed through a world of pines and creviced streams and exhilaratingsilence. The little waters fell tinkling through icicles in theloneliness of the woods, and snowshoe rabbits dived into the brush. EastOregon, the Owyhee and the Malheur country, the old trails of GeneralCrook, the willows by the streams, the open swales, the high woodswhere once Buffalo Horn and Chief E-egante and O-its the medicine-manprospered, through this domain of war and memories went Bolles theschool-master with Dean Drake and Brock. The third noon from Harper'sthey came leisurely down to the old Malheur Agency, where once thehostile Indians had drawn pictures on the door, and where Castle Rockfrowned down unchanged. 

"I wish I was going to stay here with you, " said Brock to Drake. "ByIndian Creek you can send word to me quicker than we've come. "

"Why, you're an old bat!" said the boy to his foreman, and clapped himfarewell on the shoulder. 

Brock drove away, thoughtful. He was not a large man. His face wasclean-cut, almost delicate. He had a well-trimmed, yellow mustache, andit was chiefly in his blue eye and lean cheek-bone that the frontiersmanshowed. He loved Dean Drake more than he would ever tell, even tohimself. 

The young superintendent set at work to ranch-work this afternoon ofBrock's leaving, and the buccaroos made his acquaintance one by one andstared at him. Villany did not sit outwardly upon their faces; they werenot villains; but they stared at the boy sent to control them, and theyspoke together, laughing. Drake took the head of the table at supper, with Bolles on his right. Down the table some silence, some staring, much laughing went on--the rich brute laugh of the belly untroubled bythe brain. Sam, the Chinaman, rapid and noiseless, served the dishes. 

"What is it?" said a buccaroo. 

"Can it bite?" said another. 

"If you guess what it is, you can have it, " said a third. 

"It's meat, " remarked Drake, incisively, helping himself; "and tougherthan it looks. "

The brute laugh rose from the crowd and fell into surprised silence; butno rejoinder came, and they ate their supper somewhat thoughtfully. TheChinaman's quick, soft eye had glanced at Dean Drake when they laughed. He served his dinner solicitously. In his kitchen that evening he andBolles unpacked the good things--the olives, the dried fruits, thecigars--brought by the new superintendent for Christmas; and findingBolles harmless, like his gentle Asiatic self, Sam looked cautiouslyabout and spoke:

"You not know why they laugh, " said he. "They not talk about my meatthen. They mean new boss, Misser Dlake. He velly young boss. "

"I think, " said Bolles, "Mr. Drake understood their meaning, Sam. I havenoticed that at times he expresses himself peculiarly. I also think theyunderstood his meaning. "

The Oriental pondered. "Me like Misser Dlake, " said he. And drawingquite close, he observed, "They not nice man velly much. "

Next day and every day "Misser Dlake" went gayly about his business, athis desk or on his horse, vigilant, near and far, with no sign save asteadier keenness in his eye. For the Christmas dinner he providedstill further sending to the Grande Ronde country for turkeys and otherthings. He won the heart of Bolles by lending him a good horse; but thebuccaroos, though they were boisterous over the coming Christmas joy, did not seem especially grateful. Drake, however, kept his worries tohimself. 

"This thing happens anywhere, " he said one night in the office toBolles, puffing a cigar. "I've seen a troop of cavalry demoralize itselfby a sort of contagion from two or three men. "

"I think it was wicked to send you here by yourself, " blurted Bolles. 

"Poppycock! It's the chance of my life, and I'll jam her through orbust. "

"I think they have decided you are getting turkeys because you areafraid of them, " said Bolles. 

"Why, of course! But d' you figure I'm the man to abandon my Christmasturkey because my motives for eating it are misconstrued?"

Dean Drake smoked for a while; then a knock came at the door. Fivebuccaroos entered and stood close, as is the way with the guilty whofeel uncertain. 

"We were thinking as maybe you'd let us go over to town, " said Half-pastFull, the spokesman. 

"When?"

"Oh, any day along this week. "

"Can't spare you till after Christmas. "

"Maybe you'll not object to one of us goin'?"

"You'll each have your turn after this week. "

A slight pause followed. Then Half-past Full said: "What would you do ifI went, anyway?"

"Can't imagine, " Drake answered, easily. "Go, and I'll be in a positionto inform you. "

The buccaroo dropped his stolid bull eyes, but raised them again andgrinned. "Well, I'm not particular about goin' this week, boss. "

"That's not my name, " said Drake, "but it's what I am. "

They stood a moment. Then they shuffled out. It was an orderlyretreat--almost. 

Drake winked over to Bolles. "That was a graze, " said he, and smoked fora while. "They'll not go this time. Question is, will they go next?"

III

Drake took a fresh cigar, and threw his legs over the chair arm. 

"I think you smoke too much, " said Bolles, whom three days had madefamiliar and friendly. 

"Yep. Have to just now. That's what! as Uncle Pasco would say. They area half-breed lot, though, " the boy continued, returning to the buccaroosand their recent visit. "Weaken in the face of a straight bluff, yousee, unless they get whiskey-courageous. And I've called 'em down onthat. "

"Oh!" said Bolles, comprehending. 

"Didn't you see that was their game? But he will not go after it. "

"The flesh is all they seem to understand, " murmured Bolles. 

Half-past Full did not go to Harney City for the tabooed whiskey, nordid any one. Drake read his buccaroos like the children that they were. After the late encounter of grit, the atmosphere was relieved of storm. The children, the primitive, pagan, dangerous children, forgot all aboutwhiskey, and lusted joyously for Christmas. Christmas was coming! Nowork! A shooting-match! A big feed! Cheerfulness bubbled at the MalheurAgency. The weather itself was in tune. Castle Rock seemed no longerto frown, but rose into the shining air, a mass of friendly strength. Except when a rare sledge or horseman passed, Mr. Bolles's journeys tothe school were all to show it was not some pioneer colony in a new, white, silent world that heard only the playful shouts and songs of thebuccaroos. The sun overhead and the hard-crushing snow underfoot filledevery one with a crisp, tingling hilarity. 

Before the sun first touched Castle Rock on the morning of the feastthey were up and in high feather over at the bunk-house. They racedacross to see what Sam was cooking; they begged and joyfully swallowedlumps of his raw plum-pudding. "Merry Christmas!" they wished him, and"Melly Clismas!" said he to them. They played leap-frog over by thestable, they put snow down each other's backs. Their shouts rang roundcorners; it was like boys let out of school. When Drake gathered themfor the shooting-match, they cheered him; when he told them there wereno prizes, what did they care for prizes? When he beat them all thefirst round, they cheered him again. Pity he hadn't offered prizes! Hewasn't a good business man, after all!

The rounds at the target proceeded through the forenoon, Drake theacclaimed leader; and the Christmas sun drew to mid-sky. But as itssplendor in the heavens increased, the happy shoutings on earth beganto wane. The body was all that the buccaroos knew; well, the flesh comespretty natural to all of us--and who had ever taught these men aboutthe spirit? The further they were from breakfast the nearer they wereto dinner; yet the happy shootings waned! The spirit is a strange thing. Often it dwells dumb in human clay, then unexpectedly speaks out of theclay's darkness. 

It was no longer a crowd Drake had at the target. He became aware thatquietness had been gradually coming over the buccaroos. He looked, andsaw a man wandering by himself in the lane. Another leaned by the stablecorner, with a vacant face. Through the windows of the bunk-househe could see two or three on their beds. The children were tired ofshouting. Drake went in-doors and threw a great log on the fire. Itblazed up high with sparks, and he watched it, although the sun shownbright on the window-sill. Presently he noticed that a man had come inand taken a chair. It was Half-past Full, and with his boots stretchedto the warmth, he sat gazing into the fire. The door opened and anotherbuckaroo entered and sat off in a corner. He had a bundle of oldletters, smeared sheets tied trite a twisted old ribbon. While hislarge, top-toughened fingers softly loosened the ribbon, he sat with hisback to the room and presently began to read the letters over, oneby one. Most of the men came in before long, and silently joined thewatchers round the treat fireplace. Drake threw another log on, and ina short time this, too, broke into ample flame. The silence was long;a slice of shadow had fallen across the window-sill, when a young manspoke, addressing the logs:

"I skinned a coon in San Saba, Texas, this day a year. "

At the sound of a voice, some of their eyes turned on the speaker, butturned back to the fire again. The spirit had spoken from the clay, aloud; and the clay was uncomfortable at hearing it. 

After some more minutes a neighbor whispered to a neighbor, "Play you agame of crib. "

The man nodded, stole over to where the board was, and brought it acrossthe floor on creaking tip-toe. They set it between them, and now andthen the cards made a light sound in the room. 

"I treed that coon on Honey, " said the young man, after a while--"HoneyCreek, San Saba. Kind o' dry creek. Used to flow into Big Brady when itrained. "

The flames crackled on, the neighbors still played their cribbage. Stillwas the day bright, but the shrinking wedge of sun had gone entirelyfrom the window-sill. Half-past Full had drawn from his pocket amouthorgan, breathing half-tunes upon it; in the middle of "SuwaneeRiver" the man who sat in the corner laid the letter he was beginningupon the heap on his knees and read no more. The great genial logs layglowing, burning; from the fresher one the flames flowed and forked;along the embered surface of the others ran red and blue shivers ofiridescence. With legs and arms crooked and sprawled, the buccaroosbrooded, staring into the glow with seldom-winking eyes, while deepinside the clay the spirit spoke quietly. Christmas Day was passing, but the sun shone still two good hours high. Outside, over the snowand pines, it was only in the deeper folds of the hills that the blueshadows had come; the rest of the world was gold and silver; and fromfar across that silence into this silence by the fire came a tinklingstir of sound. Sleighbells it was, steadily coming, too early for Bollesto be back from his school festival. 

The toy-thrill of the jingling grew clear and sweet, a spirit ofenchantment that did not wake the stillness, but cast it into a deeperdream. The bells came near the door and stopped, and then Drake openedit. 

"Hello, Uncle Pasco!" said he. "Thought you were Santa Claus. "

"Santa Claus! H'm. Yes. That's what. Told you maybe I'd come. "

"So you did. Turkey is due in--let's see--ninety minutes. Here, boys!some of you take Uncle Pasco's horse. "

"No, no, I won't. You leave me alone. I ain't stoppin' here. I ain'thungry. I just grubbed at the school. Sleepin' at Missouri Pete'sto-night. Got to make the railroad tomorrow. " The old man stopped hisprecipitate statements. He sat in his sledge deeply muffled, blinkingat Drake and the buccaroos, who had strolled out to look at him, "Done abig business this trip, " said he. "Told you I would. Now if you was onlygivin' your children a Christmas-tree like that I seen that feller yerschoolmarm doin' just now--hee-hee!" From his blankets he revealed thewell-known case. "Them things would shine on a tree, " concluded UnclePasco. 

"Hang 'em in the woods, then, " said Drake. 

"Jewelry, is it?" inquired the young Texas man. 

Uncle Pasco whipped open his case. "There you are, " said he. "All what'sleft. That ring'll cost you a dollar. "

"I've a dollar somewheres, " said the young man, fumbling. 

Half-past Full, on the other side of the sleigh, stood visiblyfascinated by the wares he was given a skilful glimpse of down among theblankets. He peered and he pondered while Uncle Pasco glibly spoke tohim. 

"Scatter your truck out plain!" the buccaroo exclaimed, suddenly. "I'mnot buying in the dark. Come over to the bunk-house and scatter. "

"Brass will look just the same anywhere, " said Drake. 

"Brass!" screamed Uncle. "Brass your eye!"

But the buccaroos, plainly glad for distraction, took the woolly oldscolding man with them. Drake shouted that if getting cheated cheeredthem, by all means to invest heavily, and he returned alone to his fire, where Bolles soon joined him. They waited, accordingly, and by-and-bythe sleigh-bells jingled again. As they had come out of the silence, so did they go into it, their little silvery tinkle dancing away in thedistance, faint and fainter, then, like a breath, gone. 

Uncle Pasco's trinkets had audibly raised the men's spirits. Theyremained in the bunkhouse, their laughter reaching Drake and Bolles moreand more. Sometimes they would scuffle and laugh loudly. 

"Do you imagine it's more leap-frog?" inquired the school-master. 

"Gambling, " said Drake. "They'll keep at it now till one of them winseverything the rest have bought. "

"Have they been lively ever since morning?"

"Had a reaction about noon, " said Drake. "Regular home-sick spell. Ifelt sorry for 'em. "

"They seem full of reaction, " said Bolles. "Listen to that!"

It was now near four o'clock, and Sam came in, announcing dinner. 

"All ready, " said the smiling Chinaman. 

"Pass the good word to the bunk-house, " said Drake, "if they can hearyou. "

Sam went across, and the shouting stopped. Then arose a thick volley ofscreams and cheers. 

"That don't sound right, " said Drake, leaping to his feet. In the nextinstant the Chinaman, terrified, returned through the open door. Behindhim lurched Half-past Full, and stumbled into the room. His boot caught, and he pitched, but saved himself and stood swaying, heavily looking atDrake. The hair curled dense over his bull head, his mustache was spreadwith his grin, the light of cloddish humor and destruction burned in hisbig eye. The clay had buried the spirit like a caving pit. 

"Twas false jewelry all right!" he roared, at the top of his voice. "Agood old jimmyjohn full, boss. Say, boss, goin' to run our jimmyjohn offthe ranch? Try it on, kid. Come over and try it on!" The bull beat onthe table. 

Dean Drake had sat quickly down in his chair, his gray eye upon thehulking buccaroo. Small and dauntless he sat, a sparrow-hawk caught in atrap, and game to the end--whatever end. 

"It's a trifle tardy to outline any policy about your demijohn, " saidhe, seriously. "You folks had better come in and eat before you'rebeyond appreciating. "

"Ho, we'll eat your grub, boss. Sam's cooking goes. " The buccaroolurched out and away to the bunk-house, where new bellowing was set up. 

"I've got to carve this turkey, friend, " said the boy to Bolles. 

"I'll do my best to help eat it, " returned the school-master, smiling. 

"Misser Dlake, " said poor Sam, "I solly you. I velly solly you. "

IV

"Reserve your sorrow, Sam, " said Dean Drake. "Give us your soup for astarter. Come, " he said to Bolles. "Quick. "

He went into the dining-room, prompt in his seat at the head of thetable, with the school-master next to him. 

"Nice man, Uncle Pasco, " he continued. "But his time is not now. We havenothing to do for the present but sit like every day and act perfectlynatural. "

"I have known simpler tasks, " said Mr. Bolles, "but I'll begin byspreading this excellently clean napkin. "

"You're no schoolmarm!" exclaimed Drake; "you please me. "

"The worst of a bad thing, " said the mild Bolles, "is having time tothink about it, and we have been spared that. "

"Here they come, " said Drake. 

They did come. But Drake's alert strategy served the end he had triedfor. The drunken buccaroos swarmed disorderly to the door and halted. Once more the new superintendent's ways took them aback. Here was thedecent table with lights serenely burning, with unwonted good thingsarranged upon it--the olives, the oranges, the preserves. Neat as paradedrill were the men's places, all the cups and forks symmetrical alongthe white cloth. There, waiting his guests at the far end, sat the slimyoung boss talking with his boarder, Mr. Bolles, the parts in theirsmooth hair going with all the rest of this propriety. Even the dailytin dishes were banished in favor of crockery. 

"Bashful of Sam's napkins, boys?" said the boss. "Or is it thebald-headed china?"

At this bidding they came in uncertainly. Their whiskey was ashamedinside. They took their seats, glancing across at each other in atransient silence, drawing their chairs gingerly beneath them. Thusceremony fell unexpected upon the gathering, and for a while theyswallowed in awkwardness what the swift, noiseless Sam brought them. He in a long white apron passed and re-passed with his things from hiskitchen, doubly efficient and civil under stress of anxiety forhis young master. In the pauses of his serving he watched from thebackground, with a face that presently caught the notice of one of them. 

"Smile, you almond-eyed highbinder, " said the buccaroo. And the Chinamansmiled his best. 

"I've forgot something, " said Half-past Full, rising. "Don't let 'emskip a course on me. " Half-past left the room. 

"That's what I have been hoping for, " said Drake to Bolles. 

Half-past returned presently and caught Drake's look of expectancy. "Ohno, boss, " said the buccaroo, instantly, from the door. "You're on tome, but I'm on to you. " He slammed the door with ostentation and droppedwith a loud laugh into his seat. 

"First smart thing I've known him do, " said Drake to Bolles. "I amdisappointed. "

Two buccaroos next left the room together. 

"They may get lost in the snow, " said the humorous Half-past. "I'll justshow 'em the trail. " Once more he rose from the dinner and went out. 

"Yes, he knew too much to bring it in here, " said Drake to Bolles. "Heknew none but two or three would dare drink, with me looking on. "

"Don't you think he is afraid to bring it in the same room with you atall?" Bolles suggested. 

"And me temperance this season? Now, Bolles, that's unkind. "

"Oh, dear, that is not at all what--"

"I know what you meant, Bolles. I was only just making a little merryover this casualty. No, he don't mind me to that extent, except whenhe's sober. Look at him!"

Half-past was returning with his friends. Quite evidently they had allfound the trail. 

"Uncle Pasco is a nice old man!" pursued Drake. "I haven't got my gunon. Have you?"

"Yes, " said Bolles, but with a sheepish swerve of the eye. 

Drake guessed at once. "Not Baby Bunting? Oh, Lord! and I promisedto give you an adult weapon!--the kind they're wearing now by way offull-dress. "

"Talkin' secrets, boss?" said Half-past Full. 

The well-meaning Sam filled his cup, and this proceeding shifted thebuccaroo's truculent attention. 

"What's that mud?" he demanded. 

"Coffee, " said Sam, politely. 

The buccaroo swept his cup to the ground, and the next man howleddismay. 

"Burn your poor legs?" said Half-past. He poured his glass over thevictim. They wrestled, the company pounded the table, betting hoarsely, until Half-past went to the floor, and his plate with him. 

"Go easy, " said Drake. "You're smashing the company's property. "

"Bald-headed china for sure, boss!" said a second of the brothersDrinker, and dropped a dish. 

"I'll merely tell you, " said Drake, "that the company don't pay for thischina twice. "

"Not twice?" said Half-past Full, smashing some more. "How aboutthrice?"

"Want your money now?" another inquired. 

A riot of banter seized upon all of them, and they began to laugh anddestroy. 

"How much did this cost?" said one, prying askew his three-tined fork. 

"How much did you cost yourself?" said another to Drake. 

"What, our kid boss? Two bits, I guess. "

"Hyas markook. Too dear!"

They bawled at their own jokes, loud and ominous; threat sounded beneaththeir lightest word, the new crashes of china that they threw on thefloor struck sharply through the foreboding din of their mirth. Thespirit that Drake since his arrival had kept under in them day by day, but not quelled, rose visibly each few succeeding minutes, swellingupward as the tide does. Buoyed up on the whiskey, it glittered in theireyes and yelled mutinously in their voices. 

"I'm waiting all orders, " said Bolles to Drake. 

"I haven't any, " said Drake. "New ones, that is. We've sat down to seethis meal out. Got to keep sitting. "

He leaned back, eating deliberately, saying no more to the buccaroos;thus they saw he would never leave the room till they did. As he hadtaken his chair the first, so was the boy bound to quit it the last. Thegame of prying fork-tines staled on them one by one, and they took tosongs, mostly of love and parting. With the red whiskey in their eyesthey shouted plaintively of sweethearts, and vows, and lips, and meetingin the wild wood. From these they went to ballads of the cattle-trailand the Yuba River, and so inevitably worked to the old coast song, madeof three languages, with its verses rhymed on each year since the firstbeginning. Tradition laid it heavy upon each singer in his turn to keepthe pot a-boiling by memory or by new invention, and the chant wentforward with hypnotic cadence to a tune of larkish, ripping gayety. Hewho had read over his old stained letters in the homesick afternoon hadwaked from such dreaming and now sang:

 "Once jes' onced in the year o' 49, I met a fancy thing by the name o' Keroline; I never could persuade her for to leave me be; She went and she took and she married me. "

His neighbor was ready with an original contribution:

 "Once, once again in the year o' '64, By the city of Whatcom down along the shore-- I never could persuade them for to leave me be-- A Siwash squaw went and took and married me. "

"What was you doin' between all them years?" called Half-past Full. 

"Shut yer mouth, " said the next singer:

 "Once, once again in the year o' 71 ('Twas the suddenest deed that I ever done)-- I never could persuade them for to leave me be-- A rich banker's daughter she took and married me. "

"This is looking better, " said Bolles to Drake. 

"Don't you believe it, " said the boy. 

Ten or a dozen years were thus sung. 

"I never could persuade them for to leave me be" tempestuously broughtdown the chorus and the fists, until the drunkards could sit no more, but stood up to sing, tramping the tune heavily together. Then, just asthe turn came round to Drake himself, they dashed their chairs down andherded out of the room behind Half-past Full, slamming the door. 

Drake sat a moment at the head of his Christmas dinner, the fallenchairs, the lumpy wreck. Blood charged his face from his hair to hiscollar. "Let's smoke, " said he. They went from the dinner through theroom of the great fireplace to his office beyond. 

"Have a mild one?" he said to the schoolmaster. 

"No, a strong one to-night, if you please. " And Bolles gave his mildsmile. 

"You do me good now and then, " said Drake. 

"Dear me, " said the teacher, "I have found it the other way. "

All the rooms fronted on the road with doors--the old-time agency doors, where the hostiles had drawn their pictures in the days before peace hadcome to reign over this country. Drake looked out, because the singinghad stopped and they were very quiet in the bunk-house. He saw theChinaman steal from his kitchen. 

"Sam is tired of us, " he said to Bolles. 

"Tired?"

"Running away, I guess. I'd prefer a new situation myself. That's whereyou're deficient, Bolles. Only got sense enough to stay where you happento be. Hello. What is he up to?"

Sam had gone beside a window of the bunkhouse and was listening there, flat like a shadow. Suddenly he crouched, and was gone among the sheds. Out of the bunk-house immediately came a procession, the buccaroos stillquiet, a careful, gradual body. 

Drake closed his door and sat in the chair again. "They're escortingthat jug over here, " said he. "A new move, and a big one. "

He and Bolles heard them enter the next room, always without much noiseor talk--the loudest sound was the jug when they set it on the floor. Then they seemed to sit, talking little. 

"Bolles, " said Drake, "the sun has set. If you want to take after Sam--"

But the door of the sitting-room opened and the Chinaman himself camein. He left the door a-swing and spoke clearly. "Misser Dlake, " said he, "slove bloke" (stove broke). 

The superintendent came out of his office, following Sam to the kitchen. He gave no look or word to the buccaroos with their demijohn; he merelyheld his cigar sidewise in his teeth and walked with no hurry throughthe sitting-room. Sam took him through to the kitchen and round to ahind corner of the stove, pointing. 

"Misser Dlake, " said he, "slove no bloke. I hear them inside. They goingkill you. "

"That's about the way I was figuring it, " mused Dean Drake. 

"Misser Dlake, " said the Chinaman, with appealing eyes, "I velly sollyyou. They no hurtee me. Me cook. "

"Sam, there is much meat in your words. Condensed beef don't class withyou. But reserve your sorrows yet a while. Now what's my policy?" hedebated, tapping the stove here and there for appearances; somebodymight look in. "Shall I go back to my office and get my guns?"

"You not goin' run now?" said the Chinaman, anxiously. 

"Oh yes, Sam. But I like my gun travelling. Keeps me kind of warm. Nowif they should get a sight of me arming--no, she's got to stay here tillI come back for her. So long, Sam! See you later. And I'll have time tothank you then. "

Drake went to the corral in a strolling manner. There he roped thestrongest of the horses, and also the school-master's. In the midst ofhis saddling, Bolles came down. 

"Can I help you in any way?" said Bolles. 

"You've done it. Saved me a bothering touch-and-go play to get you outhere and seem innocent. I'm going to drift. "

"Drift?"

"There are times to stay and times to leave, Bolles; and this is a caseof the latter. Have you a real gun on now?"

Poor Bolles brought out guiltily his. 22 Smith & Wesson. "I don't seem tothink of things, " said he. 

"Cheer up, " said Drake. "How could you thought-read me? Hide BabyBunting, though. Now we're off. Quietly, at the start. As if we weremerely jogging to pasture. "

Sam stood at his kitchen door, mutely wishing them well. The horses werewalking without noise, but Half-past Full looked out of the window. 

"We're by, anyhow, " said Drake. "Quick now. Burn the earth. " Thehorse sprang at his spurs. "Dust, you son of a gun! Rattle your hocks!Brindle! Vamoose!" Each shouted word was a lash with his quirt. "Duck!"he called to Bolles. 

Bolles ducked, and bullets grooved the spraying snow. They rounded acorner and saw the crowd jumping into the corral, and Sam's door emptyof that prudent Celestial. 

"He's a very wise Chinaman!" shouted Drake, as they rushed. 

"What?" screamed Bolles. 

"Very wise Chinaman. He'll break that stove now to prove his innocence. "

"Who did you say was innocent?" screamed Bolles. 

"Oh, I said you were, " yelled Drake, disgusted; and he gave over thiseffort at conversation as their horses rushed along. 

V

It was a dim, wide stretch of winter into which Drake and Bollesgalloped from the howling pursuit. Twilight already veiled the base ofCastle Rock, and as they forged heavily up a ridge through the cakingsnow, and the yells came after them, Bolles looked seriously at DeanDrake; but that youth wore an expression of rising merriment. Bolleslooked back at the dusk from which the yells were sounding, then forwardto the spreading skein of night where the trail was taking him and theboy, and in neither direction could he discern cause for gayety. 

"May I ask where we are going?" said he. 

"Away, " Drake answered. "Just away, Bolles. It's a healthy resort. "

Ten miles were travelled before either spoke again. The drunkenbuccaroos yelled hot on their heels at first, holding more obstinatelyto this chase than sober ruffians would have attempted. Ten cold, darkmiles across the hills it took to cure them; but when their shootings, that had followed over heights where the pines grew and down throughthe open swales between, dropped off, and died finally away among thewillows along the south fork of the Malheur, Drake reined in his horsewith a jerk. 

"Now isn't that too bad!" he exclaimed. 

"It is all very bad, " said Bolles, sorry to hear the boy's tone ofdisappointment. 

"I didn't think they'd fool me again, " continued Drake, jumping down. 

"Again?" inquired the interested Bolles. 

"Why, they've gone home!" said the boy, in disgust. 

"I was hoping so, " said the school-master. 

"Hoping? Why, it's sad, Bolles. Four miles farther and I'd have had themlost. "

"Oh!" said Bolles. 

"I wanted them to keep after us, " complained Drake. "Soon as we had agood lead I coaxed them. Coaxed them along on purpose by a trail theyknew, and four miles from here I'd have swung south into the mountainsthey don't know. There they'd have been good and far from home in thesnow without supper, like you and me, Bolles. But after all my troublethey've gone back snug to that fireside. Well, let us be as cosey as wecan. "

He built a bright fire, and he whistled as he kicked the snow from hisboots, busying over the horses and the blankets. "Take a rest, " he saidto Bolles. "One man's enough to do the work. Be with you soon to shareour little cottage. " Presently Bolles heard him reciting confidentiallyto his horse, "Twas the night after Christmas, and all in thehouse--only we are not all in the house!" He slapped the belly of hishorse Tyee, who gambolled away to the limit of his picket-rope. 

"Appreciating the moon, Bolles?" said he, returning at length to thefire. "What are you so gazeful about, father?"

"This is all my own doing, " lamented the school-master. 

"What, the moon is?"

"It has just come over me, " Bolles continued. "It was before you got inthe stage at Nampa. I was talking. I told Uncle Pasco that I was glad nowhiskey was to be allowed on the ranch. It all comes from my folly!"

"Why, you hungry old New England conscience!" cried the boy, clappinghim on the shoulder. "How in the world could you foresee the crookednessof that hoary Beelzebub?"

"That's all very well, " said Bolles, miserably. "You would never havementioned it yourself to him. "

"You and I, Bolles, are different. I was raised on miscellaneouswickedness. A look at my insides would be liable to make you say yourprayers. "

The school-master smiled. "If I said any prayers, " he replied, "youwould be in them. "

Drake looked moodily at the fire. "The Lord helps those who helpthemselves, " said he. "I've prospered. For a nineteen-year-old I'vehooked my claw fairly deep here and there. As for to-day--why, that'sin the game too. It was their deal. Could they have won it on their ownplay? A joker dropped into their hand. It's my deal now, and I have somejokers myself. Go to sleep, Bolles. We've a ride ahead of us. "

The boy rolled himself in his blanket skillfully. Bolles heard him sayonce or twice in a sort of judicial conversation with the blanket--"andall in the house--but we were not all in the house. Not all. Not a fullhouse--" His tones drowsed comfortably into murmur, and then to quietbreathing. Bolles fed the fire, thatched the unneeded wind-break (forthe calm, dry night was breathless), and for a long while watched themoon and a tuft of the sleeping boy's hair. 

"If he is blamed, " said the school-master, "I'll never forgive myself. I'll never forgive myself anyhow. "

A paternal, or rather maternal, expression came over Bolles's face, andhe removed his large, serious glasses. He did not sleep very well. 

The boy did. "I'm feeling like a bird, " said he, as they crossed throughthe mountains next morning on a short cut to the Owybee. "Breakfast willbrace you up, Bolles. There'll be a cabin pretty soon after we strikethe other road. Keep thinking hard about coffee. "

"I wish I could, " said poor Bolles. He was forgiving himself less andless. 

Their start had been very early; as Drake bid the school-master observe, to have nothing to detain you, nothing to eat and nothing to pack, is agreat help in journeys of haste. The warming day, and Indian Creek wellbehind them, brought Drake to whistling again, but depression sat uponthe self-accusing Bolles. Even when they sighted the Owyhee road belowthem, no cheerfulness waked in him; not at the nearing coffee, noryet at the companionable tinkle of sleigh-bells dancing faintly upwardthrough the bright, silent air. 

"Why, if it ain't Uncle Pasco!" said Drake, peering down through a gapin the foot-hill. "We'll get breakfast sooner than I expected. Quick!Give me Baby Bunting!"

"Are you going to kill him?" whispered the school-master, with a beamingcountenance. And he scuffled with his pocket to hand over his hithertobelittled weapon. 

Drake considered him. "Bolles, Bolles, " said he, "you have got theNew England conscience rank. Plymouth Rock is a pudding to your heart. Remind me to pray for you first spare minute I get. Now follow me close. He'll be much more useful to us alive. "

They slipped from their horses, stole swiftly down a shoulder of thehill, and waited among some brush. The bells jingled unsuspectinglyonward to this ambush. 

"Only hear 'em!" said Drake. "All full of silver and Merry Christmas. Don't gaze at me like that, Bolles, or I'll laugh and give the wholesnap away. See him come! The old man's breath streams out so calm. He'snot worried with New England conscience. One, two, three" Just beforethe sleigh came opposite, Dean Drake stepped out. "Morning, Uncle!" saidhe. "Throw up your hands!"

Uncle Pasco stopped dead, his eyes blinking. Then he stood up in thesleigh among his blankets. "H'm, " said he, "the kid. "

"Throw up your hands! Quit fooling with that blanket!" Drake spokedangerously now. "Bolles, " he continued, "pitch everything out of thesleigh while I cover him. He's got a shot-gun under that blanket. Slingit out. "

It was slung. The wraps followed. Uncle Pasco stepped obediently down, and soon the chattels of the emptied sleigh littered the snow. The oldgentleman was invited to undress until they reached the six-shooter thatDrake suspected. Then they ate his lunch, drank some whiskey that he hadnot sold to the buccaroos, told him to repack the sleigh, allowed himto wrap up again, bade him take the reins, and they would use hissix-shooter and shot-gun to point out the road to him. 

He had said very little, had Uncle Pasco, but stood blinking, obedientand malignant. "H'm, " said he now, "goin' to ride with me, are you?"

He was told yes, that for the present he was their coachman. Theirhorses were tired and would follow, tied behind. "We're weary, too, "said Drake, getting in. "Take your legs out of my way or I'll kick offyour shins. Bolles, are you fixed warm and comfortable? Now start her upfor Harper ranch, Uncle. "

"What are you proposing to do with me?" inquired Uncle Pasco. 

"Not going to wring your neck, and that's enough for the present. Faster, Uncle. Get a gait on. Bolles, here's Baby Bunting. Much obligedto you for the loan of it, old man. "

Uncle Pasco's eye fell on the 22-caliber pistol. "Did you hold me upwith that lemonade straw?" he asked, huskily. 

"Yep, " said Drake. "That's what. "

"Oh, hell!" murmured Uncle Pasco. And for the first time he seemeddispirited. 

"Uncle, you're not making time, " said Drake after a few miles. "I'llthank you for the reins. Open your bandanna and get your concertina. Jerk the bellows for us. "

"That I'll not!" screamed Uncle Pasco. 

"It's music or walk home, " said the boy. "Take your choice. "

Uncle Pasco took his choice, opening with the melody of "The Last Roseof Summer. " The sleigh whirled up the Owyhee by the winter willows, andthe levels, and the meadow pools, bright frozen under the blue sky. Late in this day the amazed Brock by his corrals at Harper's beheldarrive his favorite, his boy superintendent, driving in with theschoolmaster staring through his glasses, and Uncle Pasco throwingout active strains upon his concertina. The old man had been bidden tobellows away for his neck. 

Drake was not long in explaining his need to the men. "This thing mustbe worked quick, " said he. "Who'll stand by me?"

All of them would, and he took ten, with the faithful Brock. Brock wouldnot allow Gilbert to go, because he had received another mule-kick inthe stomach. Nor was Bolles permitted to be of the expedition. To allhis protests, Drake had but the single word: "This is not your fight, old man. You've done your share with Baby Bunting. "

Thus was the school-master in sorrow compelled to see them start backto Indian Creek and the Malheur without him. With him Uncle Pasco wouldhave joyfully exchanged. He was taken along with the avengers. Theywould not wring his neck, but they would play cat and mouse with him andhis concertina; and they did. But the conscience of Bolles still toiled. When Drake and the men were safe away, he got on the wagon going for themail, thus making his way next morning to the railroad and Boise, whereMax Vogel listened to him; and together this couple hastily took trainand team for the Malheur Agency. 

The avengers reached Indian Creek duly, and the fourth day after hisChristmas dinner Drake came once more in sight of Castle Rock. 

"I am doing this thing myself, understand, " he said to Brock. "I amresponsible. "

"We're here to take your orders, " returned the foreman. But as theagency buildings grew plain and the time for action was coming, Brock'sanxious heart spoke out of its fulness. "If they start in to--to--theymight--I wish you'd let me get in front, " he begged, all at once. 

"I thought you thought better of me, " said Drake. 

"Excuse me, " said the man. Then presently: "I don't see how anybodycould 'a' told he'd smuggle whiskey that way. If the old man [Brockmeant Max Vogel] goes to blame you, I'll give him my opinion straight. "

"The old man's got no use for opinions, " said Drake. "He goes onresults. He trusted me with this job, and we're going to have resultsnow. "

The drunkards were sitting round outside the ranch house. It wasevening. They cast a sullen inspection on the new-comers, who returnedthem no inspection whatever. Drake had his men together and took themto the stable first, a shed with mangers. Here he had them unsaddle. "Because, " he mentioned to Brock, "in case of trouble we'll be sure oftheir all staying. I'm taking no chances now. "

Soon the drunkards strolled over, saying good-day, hazarding a fewcomments on the weather and like topics, and meeting sufficient answers. 

"Goin' to stay?"

"Don't know. "

"That's a good horse you've got. "

"Fair. "

But Sam was the blithest spirit at the Malheur Agency. "Hiyah!" heexclaimed. "Misser Dlake! How fashion you come quick so?" And theexcellent Chinaman took pride in the meal of welcome that he prepared. 

"Supper's now, " said Drake to his men. "Sit anywhere you feel like. Don't mind whose chair you're taking--and we'll keep our guns on. "

Thus they followed him, and sat. The boy took his customary perch at thehead of the table, with Brock at his right. "I miss old Bolles, " he toldhis foreman. "You don't appreciate Bolles. "

"From what you tell of him, " said Brock, "I'll examine him morecareful. "

Seeing their boss, the sparrow-hawk, back in his place, flanked withsupporters, and his gray eye indifferently upon them, the buccaroos grewpolite to oppressiveness. While Sam handed his dishes to Drake andthe new-comers, and the new-comers eat what was good before the oldinhabitants got a taste, these latter grew more and more solicitous. They offered sugar to the strangers, they offered their beds; Half-pastFull urged them to sit companionably in the room where the fire wasburning. But when the meal was over, the visitors went to another roomwith their arms, and lighted their own fire. They brought blankets fromtheir saddles, and after a little concertina they permitted the nearlyperished Uncle Pasco to slumber. Soon they slumbered themselves, withthe door left open, and Drake watching. He would not even share vigilwith Brock, and all night he heard the voices of the buccaroos, holdinggrand, unending council. 

When the relentless morning came, and breakfast with the visitors againin their seats unapproachable, the drunkards felt the crisis to be astrain upon their sobered nerves. They glanced up from their plates, anddown; along to Dean Drake eating his hearty porridge, and back at oneanother, and at the hungry, well-occupied strangers. 

"Say, we don't want trouble, " they began to the strangers. 

"Course you don't. Breakfast's what you're after. "

"Oh, well, you'd have got gay. A man gets gay. "

"Sure. "

"Mr. Drake, " said Half-past Full, sweating with his effort, "we weresorry while we was a-fogging you up. "

"Yes, " said Drake. "You must have been just overcome by contrition. "

A large laugh went up from the visitors, and the meal was finishedwithout further diplomacy. 

"One matter, Mr. Drake, " stammered Half-past Full, as the party rose. "Our jobs. We're glad to pay for any things what got sort of broke. "

"Sort of broke, " repeated the boy, eyeing him. "So you want to hold yourjobs?"

"If--" began the buccaroo, and halted. 

"Fact is, you're a set of cowards, " said Drake, briefly. "I noticeyou've forgot to remove that whiskey jug. " The demijohn still stoodby the great fireplace. Drake entered and laid hold of it, the crowdstanding back and watching. He took it out, with what remained in itscapacious bottom, set it on a stump, stepped back, levelled his gun, andshattered the vessel to pieces. The whiskey drained down, wetting thestump, creeping to the ground. 

Much potency lies in the object-lesson, and a grin was on the faces ofall present, save Uncle Pasco's. It had been his demijohn, and when theshot struck it he blinked nervously. 

"You ornery old mink!" said Drake, looking at him. "You keep to thejewelry business hereafter. "

The buccaroos grinned again. It was reassuring to witness wrath turnupon another. 

"You want to hold your jobs?" Drake resumed to them. "You can trustyourselves?"

"Yes, sir, " said Half-past Full. 

"But I don't trust you, " stated Drake, genially; and the buccaroos'hopeful eyes dropped. "I'm going to divide you, " pursued the newsuperintendent. "Split you far and wide among the company's ranches. Stir you in with decenter blood. You'll go to White-horse ranch, justacross the line of Nevada, " he said to Half-past Full. "I'm tired of thebrothers Drinker. You'll go--let's see--"

Drake paused in his apportionment, and a sleigh came swiftly round theturn, the horse loping and lathery. 

"What vas dat shooting I hear joost now?" shouted Max Vogel, before hecould arrive. He did not wait for any answer. "Thank the good God!" heexclaimed, at seeing the boy Dean Drake unharmed, standing with a gun. And to their amazement he sped past them, never slacking his horse'slope until he reached the corral. There he tossed the reins to theplacid Bolles, and springing out like a surefooted elephant, counted hissaddle-horses; for he was a general. Satisfied, he strode back to thecrowd by the demijohn. "When dem men get restless, " he explained toDrake at once, "always look out. Somebody might steal a horse. "

The boy closed one gray, confidential eye at his employer. "Just myidea, " said he, "when I counted 'em before breakfast. "

"You liddle r-rascal, " said Max, fondly, "What you shoot at?"

Drake pointed at the demijohn. "It was bigger than those bottles atNampa, " said he. "Guess you could have hit it yourself. "

Max's great belly shook. He took in the situation. It had a flavor thathe liked. He paused to relish it a little more in silence. 

"Und you have killed noding else?" said he, looking at Uncle Pasco, whoblinked copiously. "Mine old friend, you never get rich if you changeyour business so frequent. I tell you that thirty years now. " Max's handfound Drake's shoulder, but he addressed Brock. "He is all what you tellme, " said he to the foreman. "He have joodgement. "

Thus the huge, jovial Teuton took command, but found Drake had leftlittle for him to do. The buccaroos were dispersed at Harper's, at FortRinehart, at Alvord Lake, towards Stein's peak, and at the Island Ranchby Harney Lake. And if you know east Oregon, or the land where ChiefE-egante helped out Specimen Jones, his white soldier friend, when thehostile Bannocks were planning his immediate death as a spy, you willknow what wide regions separated the buccaroos. Bolles was taken intoMax Vogel's esteem; also was Chinese Sam. But Max sat smoking in theoffice with his boy superintendent, in particular satisfaction. 

"You are a liddle r-rascal, " said he. "Und I r-raise you fifty dollars. "

A Kinsman of Red Cloud

I

It was thirty minutes before a June sundown at the post, and the firstcall had sounded for parade. Over in the barracks the two companiesand the single troop lounged a moment longer, then laid their policeliterature down, and lifted their stocking feet from the beds to getready. In the officers' quarters the captain rose regretfully fromafter-dinner digestion, and the three lieutenants sought their helmetswith a sigh. Lieutenant Balwin had been dining an unconventional andimpressive guest at the mess, and he now interrupted the anecdote whichthe guest was achieving with frontier deliberation. 

"Make yourself comfortable, " he said. "I'll have to hear the rest aboutthe half-breed when I get back. "

"There ain't no more--yet. He got my cash with his private poker deckthat onced, and I'm fixing for to get his'n. "

Second call sounded; the lines filed out and formed, the sergeant ofthe guard and two privates took their station by the flag, and whenbattalion was formed the commanding officer, towering steeple-stiffbeneath his plumes, received the adjutant's salute, ordered him to hispost, and began drill. At all this the unconventional guest looked oncomfortably from Lieutenant Balwin's porch. 

"I doubt if I could put up with that there discipline all the week, " hemused. "Carry--arms! Present--Arms! I guess that's all I know of it. "The winking white line of gloves stirred his approval. "Pretty goodthat. Gosh, see the sun on them bayonets!"

The last note of retreat merged in the sonorous gun, and the flagshining in the light of evening slid down and rested upon the earth. The blue ranks marched to a single bugle--the post was short of men andofficers--and the captain, with the released lieutenants, again soughtdigestion and cigars. Balwin returned to his guest, and together theywatched the day forsake the plain. Presently the guest rose to take hisleave. He looked old enough to be the father of the young officer, buthe was a civilian, and the military man proceeded to give him excellentadvice. 

"Now don't get into trouble, Cutler. "

The slouch-shouldered scout rolled his quid gently, and smiled at hissuperior with indulgent regard. 

"See here, Cutler, you have a highly unoccupied look about you thisevening. I've been studying the customs of this population, and I'venoted a fact or two. "

"Let 'em loose on me, sir. "

"Fact one: When any male inhabitant of Fort Laramie has a few sparemoments, he hunts up a game of cards. "

"Well, sir, you've called the turn on me. "

"Fact two: At Fort Laramie a game of cards frequently ends indiscussion. "

"Fact three: Mr. Calvin, in them discussions Jarvis Cutler has the lastword. You put that in your census report alongside the other two. "

"Well, Cutler, if somebody's gun should happen to beat yours in anargument, I should have to hunt another wagon-master. "

"I'll not forget that. When was you expecting to pull out north?"

"Whenever the other companies get here. May be three days--may be threeweeks. "

"Then I will have plenty time for a game to-night. "

With this slight dig of his civilian independence into the lieutenant'smilitary ribs, the scout walked away, his long, lugubrious frockcoat(worn in honor of the mess) occasionally flapping open in the breeze, and giving a view of a belt richly fluted with cartridges, and the ivoryhandle of a pistol looking out of its holster. He got on his horse, crossed the flat, and struck out for the cabin of his sociable friends, Loomis and Kelley, on the hill. The open door and a light inside showedthe company, and Cutler gave a grunt, for sitting on the table was thehalf-breed, the winner of his unavenged dollars. He rode slower, inorder to think, and arriving at the corral below the cabin, tied hishorse to the stump of a cottonwood. A few steps towards the door, and hewheeled on a sudden thought, and under cover of the night did a craftysomething which to the pony was altogether unaccountable. He unloosedboth front and rear cinch of his saddle, so they hung entirely free inwide bands beneath the pony's belly. He tested their slackness with hishand several times, stopping instantly when the more and more surprisedpony turned his head to see what new thing in his experience might begoing on, and, seeing, gave a delicate bounce with his hind-quarters. 

"Never you mind, Duster, " muttered the scout. "Did you ever see askunk-trap? Oughts is for mush-rats, and number ones is mostly usedfor 'coons and 'possums, and I guess they'd do for a skunk. But you andwe'll call this here trap a number two, Duster, for the skunk I'm afteris a big one. All you've to do is to act natural. "

Cutler took the rope off the stump by which Duster had been tiedsecurely, wound and strapped it to the tilted saddle, and instead ofthis former tether, made a weak knot in the reins, and tossed them overthe stump. He entered the cabin with a countenance sweeter than honey. 

"Good-evening, boys, " he said. "Why, Toussaint, how do you do?"

The hand of Toussaint had made a slight, a very slight, movement towardshis hip, but at sight of Cutler's mellow smile resumed its clasp uponhis knee. 

"Golly, but you're gay-like this evening, " said Kelley. 

"Blamed if I knowed he could look so frisky, " added Loomis. 

"Sporting his onced-a-year coat, " Kelley pursued. "That ain't for ourbenefit, Joole. "

"No, we're not that high in society. " Both these cheerful waifs haddrifted from the Atlantic coast westward. 

Cutler looked from them to his costume, and then amiably surveyed thehalf-breed. 

"Well, boys, I'm in big luck, I am. How's yourn nowadays, Toussaint?"

"Pretty good sometime. Sometime heap hell. " The voice of the half-breedcame as near heartiness as its singularly false quality would allow, andas he smiled he watched Cutler with the inside of his eyes. 

The scout watched nobody and nothing with great care, looked about himpleasantly, inquired for the whiskey, threw aside hat and gloves, satdown, leaning the chair back against the wall, and talked with artfulcandor. "Them sprigs of lieutenants down there, " said he, "they're asurprising lot for learning virtue to a man. You take Balwin. Why, heain't been out of the Academy only two years, and he's been telling mehow card-playing ain't good for you. And what do you suppose he's beenand offered Jarvis Cutler for a job? I'm to be wagon-master. " Hepaused, and the half-breed's attention to his next words increased. "Wagon-master, and good pay, too. Clean up to the Black Hills; and thetroops'll move soon as ever them reinforcements come. Drinks on it, boys! Set 'em up, Joole Loomis. My contract's sealed with some of UncleSam's cash, and I'm going to play it right here. Hello! Somebody comingto join us? He's in a hurry. "

There was a sound of lashing straps and hoofs beating the ground, andCutler looked out of the door. As he had calculated, the saddle hadgradually turned with Duster's movements and set the pony bucking. 

"Stampeded!" said the scout, and swore the proper amount called for bysuch circumstances. "Some o' you boys help me stop the durned fool. "

Loomis and Kelley ran. Duster had jerked the prepared reins from thecottonwood, and was lurching down a small dry gulch, with the saddlebouncing between his belly and the stones. 

Cutler cast a backward eye at the cabin where Toussaint had stayedbehind alone. "Head him off below, boys, and I'll head him off above, "the scout sang out. He left his companions, and quickly circled roundbehind the cabin, stumbling once heavily, and hurrying on, anxious lestthe noise had reached the lurking half-breed. But the ivory-handledpistol, jostled from its holster, lay unheeded among the stones where hehad stumbled. He advanced over the rough ground, came close to the logs, and craftily peered in at the small window in the back of the cabin. Itwas evident that he had not been heard. The sinister figure within stillsat on the table, but was crouched, listening like an animal to theshouts that were coming from a safe distance down in the gulch. Cutler, outside of the window, could not see the face of Toussaint, but he sawone long brown hand sliding up and down the man's leg, and its movementput him in mind of the tail of a cat. The hand stopped to pull out apistol, into which fresh cartridges were slipped. Cutler had alreadydone this same thing after dismounting, and he now felt confident thathis weapon needed no further examination. He did not put his hand to hisholster. The figure rose from the table, and crossed the room to a setof shelves in front of which hung a little yellow curtain. Behind itwere cups, cans, bottles, a pistol, counters, red, white, and blue, andtwo fresh packs of cards, blue and pink, side by side. Seeing these, Toussaint drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and unwrapped two furtherpacks, both blue; and at this Cutler's intent face grew into plain shapeclose to the window, but receded again into uncertain dimness. From downin the gulch came shouts that the runaway horse was captured. Toussaintlistened, ran to the door, and quickly returning, put the blue packfrom the shelf into his pocket, leaving in exchange one of his own. Hehesitated about altering the position of the cards on the shelf, butKelley and Loomis were unobservant young men, and the half-breed placedthe pink cards on top of his blue ones. The little yellow curtain againhung innocently over the shelves, and Toussaint, pouring himself a drinkof whiskey, faced round, and for the first time saw the window that hadbeen behind his back. He was at it in an instant, wrenching its rustypin, that did not give, but stuck motionless in the wood. Cursing, he turned and hurried out of the door and round the cabin. No one wasthere. Some hundred yards away the noiseless Cutler crawled fartheramong the thickets that filled the head of the gulch. Toussaint whippedout a match, and had it against his trousers to strike and look if therewere footprints, when second thoughts warned him this might be seen, andwas not worth risking suspicion over, since so many feet came and wentby this cabin. He told himself no one could have been there to see him, and slowly returned inside, with a mind that fell a hair's breadth shortof conviction. 

The boys, coming up with the horse, met Cutler, who listened to howDuster had stood still as soon as he had kicked free of his saddle, making no objection to being caught. They suggested that he would nothave broken loose had he been tied with a rope; and hearing this, Cutlerbit off a piece of tobacco, and told them they were quite right: ahorse should never be tied by his bridle. For a savory moment the scoutcuddled his secret, and turned it over like the tobacco lump under histongue. Then he explained, and received serenely the amazement of Loomisand Kelley. 

"When you kids have travelled this Western country awhile you'll keepyour cards locked, " said he. "He's going to let us win first. You'llsee, he'll play a poor game with the pink deck. Then, if we don't callfor fresh cards, why, he'll call for 'em himself. But, just for the funof the thing, if any of us loses steady, why, we'll call. Then, when hegets hold of his strippers, watch out. When he makes his big play, andis stretchin' for to rake the counters in, you grab 'em, Joole; for bythen I'll have my gun on him, and if he makes any trouble we'll feed himto the coyotes. I expect that must have been it, boys, " he continued, ina new tone, as they came within possible ear-shot of the half-breed inthe cabin. "A coyote come around him where he was tied. The fool horsehas seen enough of 'em to git used to 'em, you'd think, but he don't. There; that'll hold him. I guess he'll have to pull the world along withhim if he starts to run again. "

The lamp was placed on the window-shelf, and the four took seats, Cutlerto the left of Toussaint, with Kelley opposite. The pink cards fellharmless, and for a while the game was a dull one to see. Holding a pairof kings, Cutler won a little from Toussaint, who remarked that luckmust go with the money of Uncle Sam. After a few hands, the half-breedbegan to bet with ostentatious folly, and, losing to one man andanother, was joked upon the falling off of his game. In an hour's timehis blue chips had been twice reinforced, and twice melted from the neatoften-counted pile in which he arranged them; moreover, he had lost ahorse from his string down on Chug Water. 

"Lend me ten dollar, " he said to Cutler. "You rich man now. "

In the next few deals Kelley became poor. "I'm sick of this luck, " saidhe. 

"Then change it, why don't you? Let's have a new deck. " And Loomis rose. 

"Joole, you always are for something new, " said Cutler. "Now I'm doingpretty well with these pink cards. But I'm no hog. Fetch on your freshones. "

The eyes of the half-breed swerved to the yellow curtain. He was bya French trapper from Canada out of a Sioux squaw, one of Red Cloud'ssisters, and his heart beat hot with the evil of two races, and none oftheir good. He was at this moment irrationally angry with the men whohad won from him through his own devices, and malice undisguised shonein his lean flat face. At sight of the blue cards falling in the firstdeal, silence came over the company, and from the distant parade-groundthe bugle sounded the melancholy strain of taps. Faint, far, solemn, melodious, the music travelled unhindered across the empty night. 

"Them men are being checked off in their bunks now, " said Cutler. 

"What you bet this game?" demanded Toussaint. 

"I've heard 'em play that same music over a soldier's grave, " saidKelley. 

"You goin' to bet?" Toussaint repeated. 

Cutler pushed forward the two necessary white chips. No one's hand washigh, and Loomis made a slight winning. The deal went its round severaltimes, and once, when it was Toussaint's, Cutler suspected that specialcards had been thrown to him by the half-breed as an experiment. Hetherefore played the gull to a nicety, betting gently upon his threekings; but when he stepped out boldly and bet the limit, it was notToussaint but Kelley who held the higher hand, winning with three aces. Why the coup should be held off longer puzzled the scout, unless it wasthat Toussaint was carefully testing the edges of his marked cards tosee if he controlled them to a certainty. So Cutler played on calmly. Presently two aces came to him in Toussaint's deal, and he wondered howmany more would be in his three-card draw. Very pretty! One only, and helost to Loomis, who had drawn three, and held four kings. The handswere getting higher, they said. The game had "something to it now. " ButToussaint grumbled, for his luck was bad all this year, he said. Cutlerhad now made sure that the aces and kings went where the half-breedwished, and could be slid undetected from the top or the middle or thebottom of the pack; but he had no test yet how far down the scale themarking went. At Toussaint's next deal Cutler judged the time had come, and at the second round of betting he knew it. The three white menplayed their parts, raising each other without pause, and again therewas total silence in the cabin. Every face bent to the table, watchingthe turn repeat its circle with obstinate increase, until new chips andmore new chips had been brought to keep on with, and the heap in themiddle had mounted high in the hundreds, while in front of Toussaintlay his knife and a match-box--pledges of two more horses which he hadstaked. He had drawn three cards, while the others took two, exceptCutler, who had a pair of kings again, and drawing three, picked up twomore. Kelley dropped out, remarking he had bet more than his hand wasworth, which was true, and Loomis followed him. Their persistence hadsurprised Toussaint a little. He had not given every one suspicioushands: Cutler's four kings were enough. He bet once more, was raised bythe scout, called, and threw down his four aces. 

"That beats me, " said Cutler, quietly, and his hand moved under hisfrock-coat, as the half-breed, eyeing the central pile of counters intriumph, closed his fingers over it. They were dashed off by Kelley, wholooked expectantly across at Cutler, and seeing the scout's face witherinto sudden old age, cried out, "For God's sake, Jarvis, where's yourgun?" Kelley sprang for the yellow curtain, and reeled backward at theshot of Toussaint. His arm thrashed along the window-sill as he fell, sweeping over the lamp, and flaring channels of oil ran over his bodyand spread on the ground. But these could no longer hurt him. Thehalf-breed had leaped outside the cabin, enraged that Cutler should havegot out during the moment he had been dealing with Kelley. The scout wasgroping for his ivory-handled pistol off in the darkness. He foundit, and hurried to the little window at a second shot he heard inside. Loomis, beating the rising flame away, had seized the pistol from theshelf, and aimlessly fired into the night at Toussaint. He fired again, running to the door from the scorching heat. Cutler got round the houseto save him if he could, and saw the half-breed's weapon flash, and thebody pitch out across the threshold. Toussaint, gaining his horse, shotthree times and missed Cutler, whom he could not clearly see; and heheard the scout's bullets sing past him as his horse bore him rushingaway. 

II

Jarvis Cutler lifted the dead Loomis out of the cabin. He made a tryfor Kelley's body, but the room had become a cave of flame, and he wasdriven from the door. He wrung his hands, giving himself bitter blamealoud, as he covered Loomis with his saddle-blanket, and jumped barebackupon Duster to go to the post. He had not been riding a minute whenseveral men met him. They had seen the fire from below, and on their wayup the half-breed had passed them at a run. 

"Here's our point, " said Cutler. "Will he hide with the Sioux, orwill he take to the railroad? Well, that's my business more than beingwagon-master. I'll get a warrant. You tell Lieutenant Balwin--andsomebody give me a fresh horse. "

A short while later, as Cutler, with the warrant in his pocket, rodeout of Fort Laramie, the call of the sentinels came across the night:"Number One. Twelve o'clock, and all's well. " A moment, and the refrainsounded more distant, given by Number Two. When the fourth took it up, far away along the line, the words were lost, leaving something like thefaint echo of a song. The half-breed had crossed the Platte, as if hewere making for his kindred tribe, but the scout did not believe in thistoo plain trail. 

"There's Chug Water lying right the other way from where he went, andI guess it's there Mr. Toussaint is aiming for. " With this idea Cutlerswung from north to southwest along the Laramie. He went slowly overhis shortcut, not to leave the widely circling Toussaint too much in hisrear. The fugitive would keep himself carefully far on the other side ofthe Laramie, and very likely not cross it until the forks of Chug Water. Dawn had ceased to be gray, and the doves were cooing incessantly amongthe river thickets, when Cutler, reaching the forks, found a bottomwhere the sage-brush grew seven and eight feet high, and buried himselfand his horse in its cover. Here was comfort; here both rivers could besafely watched. It seemed a good leisure-time for a little fire and somebreakfast. He eased his horse of the saddle, sliced some bacon, and puta match to his pile of small sticks. As the flame caught, he stood up toenjoy the cool of a breeze that was passing through the stillness, andhe suddenly stamped his fire out. The smell of another fire had comeacross Chug Water on the wind. It was incredible that Toussaint shouldbe there already. There was no seeing from this bottom, and if Cutlerwalked up out of it the other man would see too. If it were Toussaint, he would not stay long in the vast exposed plain across Chug Water, butwould go on after his meal. In twenty minutes it would be the thingto swim or wade the stream, and crawl up the mud bank to take a look. Meanwhile, Cutler dipped in water some old bread that he had and suckedit down, while the little breeze from opposite hook the cottonwoodleaves and brought over the smell of cooking meat. The sun grew warmer, and the doves ceased. Cutler opened his big watch, and clapped it shutas the sound of mud heavily slopping into the other river reachedhim. He crawled to where he could look at the Laramie from among hissagebrush, and there was Toussaint leading his horse down to the water. The half-breed gave a shrill call, and waved his hat. His call wasanswered, and as he crossed the Laramie, three Sioux appeared, riding tothe bank. They waited till he gained their level, when all four rode upthe Chug Water, and went out of sight opposite the watching Cutler. Thescout threw off some of his clothes, for the water was still high, andwhen he had crossed, and drawn himself to a level with the plain, therewere the four squatted among the sage-brush beside a fire. They sattalking and eating for some time. One of them rose at last, pointedsouth, and mounting his horse, dwindled to a dot, blurred, andevaporated in the heated, trembling distance. Cutler at the edge of thebank still watched the other three, who sat on the ground. A faint shotcame, and they rose at once, mounted, and vanished southward. There wasno following them now in this exposed country, and Cutler, feeling surethat the signal had meant something about Toussaint's horses, made hisfire, watered his own horse, and letting him drag a rope where the feedwas green, ate his breakfast in ease. Toussaint would get a fresh mount, and proceed to the railroad. With the comfort of certainty and tobacco, the scout lolled by the river under the cottonwood, and even slept. Inthe cool of the afternoon he reached the cabin of an acquaintance twentymiles south, and changed his horse. A man had passed by, he was told. Looked as if bound for Cheyenne. "No, " Cutler said, "he's known there";and he went on, watching Toussaint's tracks. Within ten miles theyveered away from Cheyenne to the southeast, and Cutler struck out on atrail of his own more freely. By midnight he was on Lodge-Pole Creek, sleeping sound among the last trees that he would pass. He slepttwelve hours, having gone to bed knowing he must not come into townby daylight. About nine o'clock he arrived, and went to the railroadstation; there the operator knew him. The lowest haunt in the town hada tent south of the Union Pacific tracks; and Cutler, getting his irons, and a man from the saloon, went there, and stepped in, covering the roomwith his pistol. The fiddle stopped, the shrieking women scattered, andToussaint, who had a glass in his hand, let it fly at Cutler's head, forhe was drunk. There were two customers besides himself. 

"Nobody shall get hurt here, " said Cutler, above the bedlam that wasnow set up. "Only that man's wanted. The quieter I get him, the quieterit'll be for others. "

Toussaint had dived for his pistol, but the proprietor of thedance-hall, scenting law, struck the half-breed with the butt ofanother, and he rolled over, and was harmless for some minutes. Thenhe got on his legs, and was led out of the entertainment, which resumedmore gayly than ever. Feet shuffled, the fiddle whined, and truculenttreble laughter sounded through the canvas walls as Toussaint walkedbetween Cutler and the saloon-man to jail. He was duly indicted, andupon the scout's deposition committed to trial for the murder of Loomisand Kelley. Cutler, hoping still to be wagon-master, wrote to LieutenantBalwin, hearing in reply that the reinforcements would not arrive fortwo months. The session of the court came in one, and Cutler was theTerritory's only witness. He gave his name and age, and hesitated overhis occupation. 

"Call it poker-dealer, " sneered Toussaint's attorney. 

"I would, but I'm such a fool one, " observed the witness. "Put me downas wagon-master to the military outfit that's going to White River. "

"What is your residence?"

"Well, I reside in the section that lies between the Missouri River andthe Pacific Ocean. "

"A pleasant neighborhood, " said the judge, who knew Cutler perfectly, and precisely how well he could deal poker hands. 

"It's not a pleasant neighborhood for some. " And Cutler looked atToussaint. 

"You think you done with me?" Toussaint inquired, upon which silence wasordered in the court. 

Upon Cutler's testimony the half-breed was found guilty, and sentencedto be hanged in six weeks from that day. Hearing this, he looked at thewitness. "I see you one day agin, " he said. 

The scout returned to Fort Laramie, and soon the expected troopsarrived, and the expedition started for White River to join CaptainBrent. The captain was stationed there to impress Red Cloud, and hadwritten to headquarters that this chief did not seem impressed verydeeply, and that the lives of the settlers were insecure. Reinforcementswere accordingly sent to him. On the evening before these soldiers leftLaramie, news came from the south. Toussaint had escaped from jail. Thecountry was full of roving, dubious Indians, and with the authentic newswent a rumor that the jailer had received various messages. These wereto the effect that the Sioux nation did not desire Toussaint to bekilled by the white man, that Toussaint's mother was the sister of RedCloud, and that many friends of Toussaint often passed the jailer'shouse. Perhaps he did get such messages. They are not a nice sort toreceive. However all this may have been, the prisoner was gone. 

III

Fort Robinson, on the White River, is backed by yellow bluffs that breakout of the foot-hills in turret and toadstool shapes, with stunt pinesstarving between their torrid bastions. In front of the fort the landslants away into the flat unfeatured desert, and in summer the sky is ablue-steel covet that each day shuts the sun and the earth and mankindinto one box together, while it lifts at night to let in the cool of thestars. The White River, which is not wide, runs in a curve, and aroundthis curve below the fort some distance was the agency, and beyond ita stockade, inside which in those days dwelt the settlers. All this wasstrung out on one side of the White River, outside of the curve; and ata point near the agency a foot-bridge of two cottonwood trunks crossedto the concave of the river's bend--a bottom of some extent, filled withgrowing cottonwoods, and the tepees of many Sioux families. Along theriver and on the plain other tepees stood. 

One morning, after Lieutenant Balwin had become established at FortRobinson, he was talking with his friend Lieutenant Powell, when Cutlerknocked at the wire door. The wagon-master was a privileged character, and he sat down and commented irrelevantly upon the lieutenant'spictures, Indian curiosities, and other well-meant attempts to concealthe walk:

"What's the trouble, Cutler?"

"Don't know as there's any trouble. "

"Come to your point, man; you're not a scout now. "

"Toussaint's here. "

"What! in camp?"

"Hiding with the Sioux. Two Knives heard about it. " (Two Knives was afriendly Indian. ) "He's laying for me, " Cutler added. 

"You've seen him?"

"No. I want to quit my job and go after him. "

"Nonsense!" said Powell. 

"You can't, Cutler, " said Balwin. "I can't spare you. "

"You'll be having to fill my place, then, I guess. "

"You mean to go without permission?" said Powell, sternly. 

"Lord, no! He'll shoot me. That's all. "

The two lieutenants pondered. 

"And it's to-day, " continued Cutler, plaintively, "that he should begettin' hanged in Cheyenne. "

Still the lieutenants pondered, while the wagon-master inspected aphotograph of Marie Rose as Marguerite. 

"I have it!" exclaimed Powell. "Let's kill him. "

"How about the commanding officer?"

"He'd back us--but we'll tell him afterwards. Cutler, can you findToussaint?"

"If I get the time. "

"Very well, you're off duty till you do. Then report to me at once. "

Just after guard-mounting two days later, Cutler came in withoutknocking. Toussaint was found. He was down on the river now, beyond thestockade. In ten minutes the wagon-master and the two lieutenants wererattling down to the agency in an ambulance, behind four tall bluegovernment mules. These were handily driven by a seventeen-year-old boywhom Balwin had picked up, liking his sterling American ways. He hadcome West to be a cow-boy, but a chance of helping to impress Red Cloudhad seemed still dearer to his heart. They drew up at the agency store, and all went in, leaving the boy nearly out of his mind with curiosity, and pretending to be absorbed with the reins. Presently they came out, Balwin with field-glasses. 

"Now, " said he, "where?"

"You see the stockade, sir?"

"Well?" said Powell, sticking his chin on Cutler's shoulder to lookalong his arm as he pouted. But the scout proposed to be deliberate. 

"Now the gate of the stockade is this way, ain't it?"

"Well, well?"

"You start there and follow the fence to the corner--the left corner, towards the river. Then you follow the side that's nearest the riverdown to the other corner. Now that corner is about a hundred yards fromthe bank. You take a bee-line to the bank and go down stream, maybethirty yards. No; it'll be forty yards, I guess. There's a lonepine-tree right agin the edge. " The wagon-master stopped. 

"I see all that, " said Lieutenant Balwin, screwing the field-glasses. "There's a buck and a squaw lying under the tree. "

"Naw, sir, " drawled Cutler, "that ain't no buck. That's him lying in hisInjun blanket and chinnin' a squaw. "

"Why, that man's an Indian, Cutler. I tell you I can see his braids. "

"Oh, he's rigged up Injun fashion, fust rate, sir. But them braids ofhis ain't his'n. False hair. "

The lieutenants passed each other the fieldglasses three times, andglared at the lone pine and the two figures in blankets. The boy on theambulance was unable to pretend any longer, and leaned off his seat tillhe nearly fell. 

"Well, " said Balwin, "I never saw anything look more like a buck Sioux. Look at his paint. Take the glasses yourself, Cutler. "

But Cutler refused. "He's like an Injun, " he said. "But that's just whathe wants to be. " The scout's conviction bore down their doubt. 

They were persuaded. "You can't come with us, Cutler, " said Powell. "Youmust wait for us here. "

"I know, sir; he'd spot us, sure. But it ain't right. I started thiswhole business with my poker scheme at that cabin, and I ought to staywith it clear through. "

The officers went into the agency store and took down two rifles hangingat the entrance, always ready for use. "We're going to kill a man, " theyexplained, and the owner was entirely satisfied. They left the ruefulCutler inside, and proceeded to the gate of the stockade, turning thereto the right, away from the river, and following the paling round thecorner down to the farther right-hand corner. Looking from behind it, the lone pine-tree stood near, and plain against the sky. The stripedfigures lay still in their blankets, talking, with their faces to theriver. Here and there across the stream the smoke-stained peak of atepee showed among the green leaves. 

"Did you ever see a more genuine Indian?" inquired Baldwin. 

"We must let her rip now, anyhow, " said Powell, and they stepped outinto the open. They walked towards the pine till it was a hundred yardsfrom them, and the two beneath it lay talking all the while. Balwincovered the man with his rifle and called. The man turned his head, andseeing the rifle, sat up in his blanket. The squaw sat up also. Againthe officer called, keeping his rifle steadily pointed, and the mandived like a frog over the bank. Like magic his blanket had left hislimbs and painted body naked, except for the breech-clout. Balwin'stardy bullet threw earth over the squaw, who went flapping andscreeching down the river. Balwin and Powell ran to the edge, whichdropped six abrupt feet of clay to a trail, then shelved into the swiftlittle stream. The red figure was making up the trail to the foot-bridgethat led to the Indian houses, and both officers fired. The mancontinued his limber flight, and they jumped down and followed, firing. They heard a yell on the plain above, and an answer to it, and thenconfused yells above and below, gathering all the while. The figure ranon above the river trail below the bank, and their bullets whizzed afterit. 

"Indian!" asserted Balwin, panting. 

"Ran away, though, " said Powell. 

"So'd you run. Think any Sioux'd stay when an army officer comes gunningfor him?"

"Shoot!" said Powell. "'S getting near bridge, " and they went on, running and firing. The yells all over the plain were thickening. Theair seemed like a substance of solid flashing sound. The naked runnercame round the river curve into view of the people at the agency store. 

"Where's a rifle?" said Cutler to the agent. 

"Officers got 'em, " the agent explained. 

"Well, I can't stand this, " said the scout, and away he went. 

"That man's crazy, " said the agent. 

"You bet he ain't!" remarked the ambulance boy. 

Cutler was much nearer to the bridge than was the man in thebreech-clout, and reaching the bank, he took half a minute's keenpleasure in watching the race come up the trail. When the figurewas within ten yards Cutler slowly drew an ivory-handled pistol. Thelieutenants below saw the man leap to the middle of the bridge, swaysuddenly with arms thrown up, and topple into White River. The currentswept the body down, and as it came it alternately lifted and turned andsank as the stream played with it. Sometimes it struck submerged stumpsor shallows, and bounded half out of water, then drew under with nothingbut the back of the head in sight, turning round and round. The din ofIndians increased, and from the tepees in the cottonwoods the red Siouxbegan to boil, swarming on the opposite bank, but uncertain what hadhappened. The man rolling in the water was close to the officers. 

"It's not our man, " said Balwin. "Did you or I hit him?"

"We're gone, anyhow, " said Powell, quietly. "Look!"

A dozen rifles were pointing at their heads on the bank above. TheIndians still hesitated, for there was Two Knives telling them theseofficers were not enemies, and had hurt no Sioux. Suddenly Cutler pushedamong the rifles, dashing up the nearest two with his arm, and theirexplosion rang in the ears of the lieutenants. Powell stood grinning atthe general complication of matters that had passed beyond his control, and Balwin made a grab as the head of the man in the river washed by. The false braid came off in his hand!

"Quick!" shouted Cutler from the bank. "Shove him up here!"

Two Knives redoubled his harangue, and the Indians stood puzzled, whilethe lieutenants pulled Toussaint out, not dead, but shot through thehip. They dragged him over the clay and hoisted him, till Cutler caughthold and jerked him to the level, as a new noise of rattling descendedon the crowd, and the four blue mules wheeled up and halted. The boy haddone it himself. Massing the officers' need, he had pelted down amongthe Sioux, heedless of their yells, and keeping his gray eyes on histeam. In got the three, pushing Toussaint in front, and scoured away forthe post as the squaw arrived to shriek the truth to her tribe--what RedCloud's relation had been the victim. 

Cutler sat smiling as the ambulance swung along. "I told you I belongedin this here affair, " he said. And when they reached the fort he wassaying it still, occasionally. 

Captain Brent considered it neatly done. "But that boy put the finishingtouches, " he said. "Let's have him in. "

The boy was had in, and ate a dinner with the officers in glumembarrassment, smoking a cigar after it without joy. Toussaint was giveninto the doctor's hands, and his wounds carefully dressed. 

"This will probably cost an Indian outbreak, " said Captain Brent, looking down at the plain. Blanketed riders galloped over it, andyelling filled the air. But Toussaint was not destined to cause thisfurther harm. An unexpected influence intervened. 

All afternoon the cries and galloping went on, and next morning (worsesign) there seemed to be no Indians in the world. The horizon wasempty, the air was silent, the smoking tepees were vanished from thecottonwoods, and where those in the plain had been lay the lodge-poles, and the fires were circles of white, cold ashes. By noon an interpretercame from Red Cloud. Red Cloud would like to have Toussaint. If thewhite man was not willing, it should be war. 

Captain Brent told the story of Loomis and Kelley. "Say to Red Cloud, "he ended, "that when a white man does such things among us, he iskilled. Ask Red Cloud if Toussaint should live. If he thinks yes, lethim come and take Toussaint. "

The next day with ceremony and feathers of state, Red Cloud came, bringing his interpreter, and after listening until every word had beentold him again, requested to see the half-breed. He was taken to thehospital. A sentry stood on post outside the tent, and inside layToussaint, with whom Cutler and the ambulance-boy were playingwhiskey-poker. While the patient was waiting to be hanged, he might aswell enjoy himself within reason. Such was Cutler's frontier philosophy. We should always do what we can for the sick. At sight of Red Cloudlooming in the doorway, gorgeous and grim as Fate, the game wassuspended. The Indian took no notice of the white men, and walked to thebed. Toussaint clutched at his relation's fringe, but Red Cloud lookedat him. Then the mongrel strain of blood told, and the half-breed pouredout a chattering appeal, while Red Cloud by the bedside waited till ithad spent itself. Then he grunted, and left the room. He had not spoken, and his crest of long feathers as it turned the corner was the lastvision of him that the card-players had. 

Red Cloud came back to the officers, and in their presence formallyspoke to his interpreter, who delivered the message: "Red Cloud saysToussaint heap no good. No Injun, anyhow. He not want him. White manhunt pretty hard for him. Can keep him. "

Thus was Toussaint twice sentenced. He improved under treatment, playedmany games of whiskey-poker, and was conveyed to Cheyenne and hanged. 

These things happened in the early seventies; but there are Siouxstill living who remember the two lieutenants, and how they pulled thehalf-breed out of White River by his false hair. It makes them laugh tothis day. Almost any Indian is full of talk when he chooses, and when hegets hold of a joke he never lets go. 

Sharon's Choice

Under Providence, a man may achieve the making of many things--ships, books, fortunes, himself even, quite often enough to encourageothers; but let him beware of creating a town. Towns mostly happen. Noreal-estate operator decided that Rome should be. Sharon was an intendedtown; a one man's piece of deliberate manufacture; his whim, his pet, his monument, his device for immortally continuing above ground. Heplanned its avenues, gave it his middle name, fed it with his railroad. But he had reckoned without the inhabitants (to say nothing of nature), and one day they displeased him. Whenever you wish, you can see Sharonand what it has come to as I saw it when, as a visitor without localprejudices, they asked me to serve with the telegraph-operator and theticket-agent and the hotel-manager on the literary committee ofjudges at the school festival. There would be a stage, and flags, and elocution, and parents assembled, and afterwards ice-cream withstrawberries from El Paso. 

"Have you ever awarded prizes for school speaking?" inquired thetelegraph-operator, Stuart. 

"Yes, " I told him. "At Concord in New Hampshire. "

"Ever have a chat afterwards with a mother whose girl did not get theprize?"

"It was boys, " I replied. "And parents had no say in it. "

"It's boys and girls in Sharon, " said he. "Parents have no say in ithere, either. But that don't seem to occur to them at the moment. We'llall stick together, of course. "

"I think I had best resign. " said I. "You would find me no hand atpacifying a mother. "

"There are fathers also, " said Stuart. "But individual parents are smalltrouble compared with a big split in public opinion. We've missed thatso far, though. "

"Then why have judges? Why not a popular vote?" I inquired. 

"Don't go back on us, " said Stuart. "We are so few here. And you knoweducation can't be democratic or where will good taste find itself?Eastman knows that much, at least. " And Stuart explained that Eastmanwas the head of the school and chairman of our committee. "He is fromMassachusetts, and his taste is good, but he is total abstinence. Won'tallow any literature with the least smell of a drink in it, not evenin the singing-class. Would not have 'Here's a health to King Charles'inside the door. Narrowing, that; as many of the finest classics speakof wine freely. Eastman is useful, but a crank. Now take 'Lochinvar. 'We are to have it on strawberry night; but say! Eastman kicked about it. Told the kid to speak something else. Kid came to me, and I--"

A smile lurked for one instant in the corner of Stuart's eye, anddisappeared again. Then he drew his arm through mine as we walked. 

"You have never seen anything in your days like Sharon, " said he. "Youcould not sit down by yourself and make such a thing up. Shakespearemight have, but he would have strained himself doing it. Well, Eastmansays 'Lochinvar' will go in my expurgated version. Too bad Sir Waltercannot know. Ever read his Familiar Letters, Great grief! but he was agood man. Eastman stuck about that mention of wine. Remember?

 'So now am I come with this lost love of mine To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. '

'Well, ' thought I, 'Eastman would agree to water. Water and daughterwould go, but is frequently used, and spoils the meter. ' So I fiddledwith my pencil down in the telegraph office, and I fixed the thing up. How's this?

 'So now am I come with this beautiful maid To lead but one measure, drink one lemonade. '

Eastman accepts that. Says it's purer. Oh, it's not all sadness here!"

"How did you come to be in Sharon?" I asked my exotic acquaintance. 

"Ah, how did I? How did all our crowd at the railroad? Somebody has gotto sell tickets, somebody has got to run that hotel, and telegraphs havegot to exist here. That's how we foreigners came. Many travellers changecars here, and one train usually misses the other, because the twocompanies do not love each other. You hear lots of language, especiallyin December. Eastern consumptives bound for southern California get lefthere, and drummers are also thick. Remarks range from 'How provoking!'to things I would not even say myself. So that big hotel and depot hasto be kept running, and we fellows get a laugh now and then. Our lot isbetter than these people's. " He made a general gesture at Sharon. 

"I should have thought it was worse, " said I. "No, for we'll betransferred some day. These poor folks are shipwrecked. Though it istheir own foolishness, all this. "

Again my eye followed as he indicated the town with a sweep of his hand;and from the town I looked to the four quarters of heaven. I may haveseen across into Old Mexico. No sign labels the boundary; the vacuumof continent goes on, you might think, to Patagonia. Symptoms ofneighboring Mexico basked on the sand heaps along Sharon's spaciousavenues--little torpid, indecent gnomes in sashes and open rags, withcrowning-steeple straw hats, and murder dozing in their small blackeyes. They might have crawled from holes in the sand, or hatched outof brown cracked pods on some weeds that trailed through the brokenbottles, the old shoes, and the wire fences. Outside these rampartsbegan the vacuum, white, gray, indigo, florescent, where all the yearthe sun shines. Not the semblance of any tree dances in the heat; onlyrocks and lumps of higher sand waver and dissolve and reappear in theshaking crystal of mirage. Not the scar of any river-bed furrows thevoid. A river there is, flowing somewhere out of the shiny violetmountains to the north, but it dies subterraneously on its way toSharon, misses the town, and emerges thirty miles south across thesunlight in a shallow, futile lake, a cienaga, called Las Palomas. Thenit evaporates into the ceaseless blue sky. 

The water you get in Sharon is dragged by a herd of wind-wheels fromthe bowels of the sand. Over the town they turn and turn--Sharon's upperstory--a filmy colony of slats. In some of the homes beneath them youmay go up-stairs--in the American homes, not in the adobe Mexicancaves of song, woman, and knives; and brick and stone edifices occur. Monuments of perished trade, these rise among their flatter neighborscubical and stark; under-shirts, fire-arms, and groceries for salein the ground-floor, blind dust-windows above. Most of the mansions, however, squat ephemerally upon the soil, no cellar to them, and nostaircase, the total fragile box ready to bounce and caracole should thewind drive hard enough. Inside them, eating, mending, the newspaper, andmore babies, eke out the twelvemonth; outside, the citizens loiter totheir errands along the brief wide avenues of Sharon that empty intospace. Men, women, and children move about in the town, sparse andcasual, and over their heads in a white tribe the wind-wheels on theirrudders veer to the breeze and indolently revolve above the gapingobsoleteness. Through the dumb town the locomotive bell tollspervadingly when a train of freight or passengers trundles in from thehorizon or out along the dwindling fence of telegraph poles. No matterwhere you are, you can hear it come and go, leaving Sharon behind, anairy carcass, bleached and ventilated, sitting on the sand, with the sunand the hot wind pouring through its bones. 

This town was the magnate's child, the thing that was to keep his memorygreen; and as I took it in on that first walk of discovery, Stuart toldme its story: how the magnate had decreed the railroad shops should behere; how, at that, corner lots grew in a night; how horsemen gallopedthe streets, shooting for joy, and the hasty tents rose while thehouses were hammered together; how they had song, dance, cards, whiskey, license, murder, marriage, opera--the whole usual thing--regular as theclock in our West, in Australia, in Africa, in every virgin cornerof the world where the Anglo-Saxon rushes to spend his animalspirits--regular as the clock, and in Sharon's case about fifteenminutes long. For they became greedy, the corner-lot people. They ranup prices for land which the railroad, the breath of their nostrils, wanted. They grew ugly, forgetting they were dealing with a magnate, andthat a railroad from ocean to ocean can take its shops somewhere elsewith appalling ease. Thus did the corner lots become sand again in anight. "And in the words of the poet, " concluded Stuart, "Sharon has animmense future behind it. "

Our talk was changed by the sight of a lady leaning and calling over afence. 

"Mrs. Jeffries, " said she. "Oh, Mrs. Jeffries!"

"Well?" called a voice next door. 

"I want to send Leola and Arvasita into your yard. "

"Well?" the voice repeated. 

"Our tool-house blew over into your yard last night. It's jammed behindyour tank. "

"Oh, indeed!"

A window in the next house was opened, a head put out, and thisoccasioned my presentation to both ladies. They were Mrs. Matternand Mrs. Jeffries, and they fell instantly into a stiff caution ofdeportment; but they speedily found I was not worth being cautiousover. Stuart whispered to me that they were widows of high standing, andmothers of competing favorites for the elocution prize; and I hastenedto court their esteem. Mrs. Mattern was in body more ample, standinghigh and yellow and fluffy; but Mrs. Jeffries was smooth and small, andbehind her spectacles she had an eye. 

"You must not let us interrupt you, ladies, " said I, after somecivilities. "Did I understand that something was to be carriedsomewhere?"

"You did, " said Mrs. Jeffries (she had come out of her house); "and I ampleased to notice no damage has been done to our fence--this time. "

"It would have been fixed right up at my expense, as always, Mrs. Jeffries, " retorted her neighbor, and started to keep abreast of Mrs. Jeffries as that lady walked and inspected the fence. Thus the twomarched parallel along the frontier to the rear of their respectiveterritories. 

"You'll not resign?" said Stuart to me. "It is 'yours till death, ' ain'tit?"

I told him that it was. 

"About once a month I can expect this, " said Mrs. Jeffries, returningalong her frontier. 

"Well, it's not the only case in Sharon, Mrs. Jeffries, " said Mrs. Mattern. "I'll remind you of them three coops when you kept poultry, andthey got away across the railroad, along with the barber's shop. "

"But cannot we help you get it out?" said I, with a zealous wish forpeace. 

"You are very accommodating, sir, " said Mrs. Mattern. 

"One of the prize-awarding committee, " said Stuart. "An elegant judge oforatory. Has decided many contests at Concord, the home of Emerson. "

"Concord, New Hampshire, " I corrected; but neither lady heard me. 

"How splendid for Leola!" cried Mrs. Mattern, instantly. "Leola! Oh, Leola! Come right out here!"

Mrs. Jeffries has been more prompt. She was already in her house, andnow came from it, bringing a pleasant-looking boy of sixteen, itmight be. The youth grinned at me as he stood awkwardly, brought inshirtsleeves from the performance of some household work. 

"This is Guy, " said his mother. "Guy took the prize last year. Guyhopes--"

"Shut up, mother, " said Guy, with entire sweetness. "I don't hopetwice--"

"Twice or a dozen times should raise no hard feelings if my son isSharon's best speaker, " cried Mrs. Jeffries, and looked across the fenceviciously. 

"Shut up, mother; I ain't, " said Guy. 

"He is a master of humor recitations, " his mother now said to me. "Perhaps you know, or perhaps you do not know, how high up that isreckoned. "

"Why, mother, Leola can speak all around me. She can, " Guy added to me, nodding his head confidentially. 

I did not believe him, I think because I preferred his name to that ofLeola. 

"Leola will study in Paris, France, " announced Mrs. Mattern, arrivingwith her child. "She has no advantages here. This is the gentleman, Leola. "

But before I had more than noted a dark-eyed maiden who would not lookat me, but stood in skirts too young for her figure, black stockings, and a dangle of hair that should have been up, her large parent hadthrust into my hand a scrap-book. 

"Here is what the Santa Fe Observer says;" and when I would have read, she read aloud for me. "The next is the Los Angeles Christian Home. Andhere's what they wrote about her in El Paso: 'Her histrionic genius forone so young'--it commences below that picture. That's Leola. " I nowrecognized the black stockings and the hair. "Here's what a literarylady in Lordsburg thinks, " pursued Mrs. Mattern. 

"Never mind that, " murmured Leola. 

"I shall. " And the mother read the letter to me. "Leola has spoke infive cultured cities, " she went on. "Arvasita can depict how she wasencored at Albuquerque last Easter-Monday. "

"Yes, sir, three recalls, " said Arvasita, arriving at our group by thefence. An elder sister, she was, evidently. "Are you acquainted with'Camill'?" she asked me, with a trifle of sternness; and upon myhesitating, "the celebrated French drayma of 'Camill', " she repeated, with a trifle more of sternness. "Camill is the lady in it who dies ofconsumption. Leola recites the letter-and-coughing scene, Act Third. Mr. Patterson of Coloraydo Springs pronounces it superior to Modjeska. "

"That is Leola again, " said Mrs. Mattern, showing me another newspapercut--hair, stockings, and a candle this time. 

"Sleep-walking scene, 'Macbeth, '" said Arvasita. "Leola's great nightat the church fair and bazar, El Paso, in Shakespeare's acknowledgedmasterpiece. Leola's repetwar likewise includes 'Catherine the Queenbefore her Judges, ' 'Quality of Mercy is not Strained, ' 'Death of LittleNell, ' 'Death of Paul Dombey, ' 'Death of the Old Year, ' 'Burial of SirJohn Moore, ' and other standard gems suitable for ladies. "

"Leola, " said her mother, "recite 'When the British Warrior Queen' tothe gentleman. "

"No, momma, please not, " said Leola, and her voice made me look at her;something of appeal sounded in it. 

"Leola is that young you must excuse her, " said her mother--and Ithought the girl winced. 

"Come away, Guy, " suddenly snapped little Mrs. Jeffries. "We are wastingthe gentleman's time. You are no infant prodigy, and we have no picturesof your calves to show him in the papers. "

"Why, mother!" cried the boy, and he gave a brotherly look to Leola. 

But the girl, scarlet and upset, now ran inside the house. 

"As for wasting time, madam, " said I, with indignation, "you are wastingyours in attempting to prejudice the judges. "

"There!" said Guy. 

"And, Mrs. Mattern, " continued, "if I may say so without offense, the age (real or imaginary) of the speakers may make a difference inAlbuquerque, but with our committee not the slightest. "

"Thank you, I'm sure, " said Mrs. Mattern, bridling. 

"Eastern ideas are ever welcome in Sharon, " said Mrs. Jeffries. "Good-morning. " And she removed Guy and herself into her house, whileMrs. Mattern and Arvasita, stiffly ignoring me, passed into their owndoor. 

"Come have a drink, " said Stuart to me. "I am glad you said it. OldMother Mattern will let down those prodigy skirts. The poor girl hasbeen ashamed of them these two years, but momma has bulldozed her intostaying young for stage effect. The girl's not conceited, for a wonder, and she speaks well. It is even betting which of the two widows you havemade the maddest. "

Close by the saloon we were impeded by a rush of small boys. They ranbefore and behind us suddenly from barrels and unforeseen places, andwedging and bumping between us, they shouted: "Chicken-legs! Ah, look atthe chicken-legs!"

For a sensitive moment I feared they were speaking of me; but thefolding slat-doors of the saloon burst open outward, and a giantbarkeeper came among the boys and caught and shook them to silence. 

"You want to behave, " was his single remark; and they dispersed like aSunday-school. 

I did not see why they should thus describe him. He stood and nodded tous, and jerked big thumb towards the departing flock. "Funny how a boywill never think, " said he, with amiability. "But they'll grow up to beabout as good as the rest of us, I guess. Don't you let them monkey withyou, Josey!" he called. 

"Naw, I won't, " said a voice. I turned and saw, by a barrel, a youth inknee-breeches glowering down the street at his routed enemies. Hewas possibly eight, and one hand was bound in a grimy rag. This wasChickenlegs. 

"Did they harm you, Josey?" asked the giant. 

"Naw, they didn't. "

"Not troubled your hand any?"

"Naw, they didn't. "

"Well, don't you let them touch you. We'll see you through. " And aswe followed him in towards our drink through his folding slat-doors hecontinued discoursing to me, the newcomer. "I am against interferingwith kids. I like to leave 'em fight and fool just as much as they seefit. Now them boys ain't malicious, but they're young, you see, they'reyoung, and misfortune don't appeal to them. Josey lost his father lastspring, and his mother died last month. Last week he played with afreight car and left two of his fingers with it. Now you might thinkthat was enough hardship. "

"Indeed yes, " I answered. 

"But the little stake he inherited was gambled away by his stinking oldaunt. "

"Well!" I cried. 

"So we're seeing him through. "

"You bet, " said a citizen in boots and pistol, who was playingbilliards. 

"This town is not going to permit any man to fool with Josey, " statedhis opponent in the game. 

"Or women either, " added a lounger by the bar, shaggy-bearded and alsowith a pistol. 

"Mr. Abe Hanson, " said the barkeeper, presenting me to him. "Josey'sfather's partner. He's took the boy from the aunt and is going to seehim through. "

"How 'r' ye?" said Mr. Hanson, hoarsely, and without enthusiasm. 

"A member of the prize-awarding committee, " explained Stuart, and waveda hand at me. 

They all brightened up and came round me. 

"Heard my boy speak?" inquired one. "Reub Gadsden's his name. "

I told him I had heard no speaker thus far; and I mentioned Leola andGuy. 

"Hope the boy'll give us 'The Jumping Frog' again, " said one. "I nearbust. "

"What's the heifer speakin' this trip?" another inquired. 

"Huh! Her!" said a third. 

"You'll talk different, maybe, this time, " retorted the other. 

"Not agin 'The Jumping Frog, ' he won't, " the first insisted. "I nearbust, " he repeated. 

"I'd like for you to know my boy Reub, " said Mr. Gadsden to me, insinuatingly. 

"Quit fixing' the judge, Al, " said Leola's backer. "Reub forgets hiswords, an' says 'em over, an' balks, an' mires down, an' backs out, anstarts fresh, en' it's confusin' to foller him. "

"I'm glad to see you take so much interest, gentlemen, " said I. 

"Yes, we're apt to see it through, " said the barkeeper. And Stuart and Ibade them a good-morning. 

As we neared the school-master's house, where Stuart was next taking me, we came again upon the boys with Josey, and no barkeeper at hand to "seehim through. " But Josey made it needless. At the word "Chicken-legs" heflew in a limber manner upon the nearest, and knocking him immediatelyflat, turned with spirit upon a second and kicked him. At this they setup a screeching and fell all together, and the school-master came out ofhis door. 

"Boys, boys!" said he. "And the Sabbath too!"

As this did not immediately affect them, Mr. Eastman made a charge, andthey fled from him then. A long stocking of Josey's was torn, and hungin two streamers round his ankles; and his dangling shoe-laces weretrodden to fringe. 

"If you want your hand to get well for strawberry night--" began Mr. Eastman. 

"Ah, bother strawberry night!" said Josey, and hopped at one of hisplaymates. But Mr. Eastman caught him skilfully by the collar. 

"I am glad his misfortunes have not crushed him altogether, " said I. 

"Josey Yeatts is an anxious case, sir, " returned the teacher. "Severalinfluences threaten his welfare. Yesterday I found tobacco on him. Chewing, sir. "

"Just you hurt me, " said Josey, "and I'll tell Abe. "

"Abe!" exclaimed Mr. Eastman, lifting his brow. "He means a man oldenough to be his father, sir. I endeavor to instill him with some fewnotions of respect, but the town spoils him. Indulges him completely, Imay say. And when Sharon's sympathies are stirred sir, it will espouse acause very warmly--Give me that!" broke off the schoolmaster, and therefollowed a brief wrestle. "Chewing again to-day, sir, " he added to me. 

"Abe lemme have it, " shrieked Josey. "Lemme go, or he'll come over andfix you. "

But the calm, chilly Eastman had ground the tobacco under his heel. "Youcan understand how my hands are tied, " he said to me. 

"Readily, " I answered. 

"The men give Josey his way in everything. He has a--I may say anunworthy aunt. "

"Yes, " said I. "So I have gathered. "

At this point Josey ducked and slid free, and the united flock vanishedwith jeers at us. Josey forgot they had insulted him, they forgot he hadbeaten them; against a common enemy was their friendship cemented. 

"You spoke of Sharon's warm way of espousing causes, " said I to Eastman. 

"I did, sir. No one could live here long without noticing it. "

"Sharon is a quiet town, but sudden, " remarked Stuart. "Apt to besudden. They're beginning about strawberry night, " he said to Eastman. "Wanted to know about things down in the saloon. "

"How does their taste in elocution chiefly lie?" I inquired. 

Eastman smiled. He was young, totally bald, the moral dome of his skullrising white above visionary eyes and a serious auburn beard. Hewas clothed in a bleak, smooth slate-gray suit, and at any climax ofemphasis he lifted slightly upon his toes and relaxed again, shuttinghis lips tight on the finished sentence. "Your question, " said he, "hasoften perplexed me. Sometimes they seem to prefer verse; sometimes prosestirs them greatly. We shall have a liberal crop of both this year. I amproud to tell you I have augmented our number of strawberry speakers bynearly fifty per cent. "

"How many will there be?" said I. 

"Eleven. You might wish some could be excused. But I let them speak tostimulate their interest in culture. Will you not take dinner with me, gentlemen? I was just sitting down when little Josey Yeatts brought meout. "

We were glad to do this, and he opened another can of corned beef forus. "I cannot offer you wine, sir, " said he to me, "though I am aware itis a general habit in luxurious homes. " And he tightened his lips. 

"General habit wherever they don't prefer whiskey, " said Stuart. 

"I fear so, " the school-master replied, smiling. "That poison shallnever enter my house, gentlemen, any more than tobacco. And as I cannotreform the adults of Sharon, I am doing what I can for their children. Little Hugh Straight is going to say his 'Lochinvar' very pleasingly, Mr. Stuart. I went over it with him last night. I like them to be wordperfect, " he continued to me, "as failures on exhibition night elicitunfavorable comment. "

"And are we to expect failures also?" I inquired. 

"Reuben Gadsden is likely to mortify us. He is an earnest boy, butnervous; and one or two others. But I have limited their length. ReubenGadsden's father declined to have his boy cut short, and he will giveus a speech of Burke's; but I hope for the best. It narrows down, itnarrows down. Guy Jeffries and Leola Mattern are the two. "

"The parents seem to take keen interest, " said I. 

Mr. Eastman smiled at Stuart. "We have no reason to suppose they havechanged since last year, " said he. "Why, sir, " he suddenly exclaimed, "if I did not feel I was doing something for the young generationhere, I should leave Sharon to-morrow! One is not appreciated, notappreciated. "

He spoke fervently of various local enterprises, his failures, hishopes, his achievements; and I left his house honoring him, butamazed--his heart was so wide and his head so narrow; a man who wouldpurify with simultaneous austerity the morals of Lochinvar and ofSharon. 

"About once a month, " said Stuart, "I run against a new side he is blindon. Take his puzzlement as to whether they prefer verse or prose. Queerand dumb of him that, you see. Sharon does not know the differencebetween verse and prose. "

"That's going too far, " said I. 

"They don't, " he repeated, "when it comes to strawberry night. If thepiece is about something they understand, rhymes do not help or hinder. And of course sex is apt to settle the question. "

"Then I should have thought Leola--" I began. 

"Not the sex of the speaker. It's the listeners. Now you take women. Women generally prefer something that will give them a good cry. We menwant to laugh mostly. "

"Yes, " said I; "I would rather laugh myself, I think. "

"You'd know you'd rather if you had to live in Sharon. The laugh is oneof the big differences between women and men, and I would give you myviews about it, only my Sunday-off time is up, and I've got to go totelegraphing. "

"Our ways are together, " said I. "I'm going back to the railroad hotel. "

"There's Guy, " continued Stuart. "He took the prize on 'The JumpingFrog. ' Spoke better than Leola, anyhow. She spoke 'The Wreck ofthe Hesperus. ' But Guy had the back benches--that's where the mensit--pretty well useless. Guess if there had been a fire, some ofthe fellows would have been scorched before they'd have got strengthsufficient to run out. But the ladies did not laugh much. Said they sawnothing much in jumping a frog. And if Leola had made 'em cry good andhard that night, the committee's decision would have kicked up more of afuss than it did. As it was, Mrs. Mattern got me alone; but I worked usaround to where Mrs. Jeffries was having her ice-cream, and I left themto argue it out. "

"Let us adhere to that policy, " I said to Stuart; and he repliednothing, but into the corner of his eye wandered that lurking smilewhich revealed that life brought him compensations. 

He went to telegraphing, and I to revery concerning strawberry night. I found myself wishing now that there could have been two prizes; Idesired both Leola and Guy to be happy; and presently I found the matterwould be very close, so far at least as my judgment went. For boy andgirl both brought me their selections, begging I would coach them, andthis I had plenty of leisure to do. I preferred Guy's choice--the storyof that blue-jay who dropped nuts through the hole in a roof, expectingto fill it, and his friends came to look on and discovered the hole wentinto the entire house. It is better even than "The Jumping Frog"--betterthan anything, I think--and young Guy told it well. But Leola brought apotent rival on the tearful side of things. "The Death of Paul Dombey"is plated pathos, not wholly sterling; but Sharon could not know this;and while Leola most prettily recited it to me I would lose my recentopinion in favor of Guy, and acknowledge the value of her performance. Guy might have the men strong for him, but this time the women weregoing to cry. I got also a certain other sort of entertainment out ofthe competing mothers. Mrs. Jeffries and Mrs. Mattern had a way of beingin the hotel office at hours when I passed through to meals. They nevercame together, and always were taken by surprise at meeting me. 

"Leola is ever so grateful to you, " Mrs. Mattern would say. 

"Oh, " I would answer, "do not speak of it. Have you ever heard Guy's'Blue-Jay' story?"

"Well, if it's anything like that frog business, I don't want to. " Andthe lady would leave me. 

"Guy tells me you are helping him so kindly, " said Mrs. Jeffries. 

"Oh yes, I'm severe, "' I answered, brightly. "I let nothing pass. I onlywish I was as careful with Leola. But as soon as she begins 'Paul hadnever risen from his little bed, ' I just lose myself listening to her. "

On the whole, there were also compensations for me in these mothers, andI thought it as well to secure them in advance. 

When the train arrived from El Paso, and I saw our strawberries and ourice-cream taken out, I felt the hour to be at hand, and that whateverour decision, no bias could be laid to me. According to his prudenthabit, Eastman had the speakers follow each other alphabetically. Thishappened to place Leola after Guy, and perhaps might give her the lastword, as it were, with the people; but our committee was there, andsuperior to such accidents. The flags and the bunting hung gay aroundthe draped stage. While the audience rustled or resoundingly trod toits chairs, and seated neighbors conferred solemnly together over theprogramme, Stuart, behind the bunting, played "Silver Threads among theGold" upon a melodeon. 

"Pretty good this, " he said to me, pumping his feet. 

"What?" I said. 

"Tune. Sharon is for free silver. "

"Do you think they will catch your allusion?" I asked him. 

"No. But I have a way of enjoying a thing by myself. " And he pumpedaway, playing with tasteful variations until the hall was full and thesinging-class assembled in gloves and ribbons. 

They opened the ceremonies for us by rendering "Sweet and Low" veryhappily; and I trusted it was an omen. 

Sharon was hearty, and we had "Sweet and Low" twice. Then the speakingbegan, and the speakers were welcomed, coming and going, with mild andfriendly demonstrations. Nothing that one would especially mark wentwrong until Reuben Gadsden. He strode to the middle of the boards, andthey creaked beneath his tread. He stood a moment in large glitteringboots and with hair flat and prominently watered. As he straightenedfrom his bow his suspender-buttons came into view, and remained so forsome singular internal reason, while he sent his right hand down intothe nearest pocket and began his oratory. 

"It is sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, " hesaid, impressively, and stopped. 

We waited, and presently he resumed:

"It is sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France. " Hetook the right hand out and put the left hand in. 

"It is sixteen or seventeen years, " said he, and stared frowning at hisboots. 

I found the silence was getting on my nerves. I felt as if it weremyself who was drifting to idiocy, and tremulous empty sensations beganto occur in my stomach. Had I been able to recall the next sentence, Ishould have prompted him. 

"It is sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, " saidthe orator, rapidly. 

And down deep back among the men came a voice, "Well, I guess it mustbe, Reub. "

This snapped the tension. I saw Reuben's boots march away; Mr. Eastmancame from behind the bunting and spoke (I suppose) words of protest. Icould not hear them, but in a minute, or perhaps two, we grew calm, andthe speaking continued. 

There was no question what they thought of Guy and Leola. He conqueredthe back of the room. They called his name, they blessed him withendearing audible oaths, and even the ladies smiled at his pleasant, honest face--the ladies, except Mrs. Mattern. She sat near Mrs. Jeffries, and throughout Guy's "Blue-Jay" fanned herself, exhibiting awell-sustained inattention. She might have foreseen that Mrs. Jeffrieswould have her turn. When the "Death of Paul Dombey" came, andhandkerchiefs began to twinkle out among the audience, and variousnoises of grief were rising around us, and the men themselves murmuredin sympathy, Mrs. Jeffries not only preserved a suppressed-hilaritycountenance, but managed to cough twice with a cough that visibly bitinto Mrs. Mattern's soul. 

But Leola's appealing cadences moved me also. When Paul was dead, she made her pretty little bow, and we sat spellbound, then gave herapplause surpassing Guy's. Unexpectedly I found embarrassment of choicedazing me, and I sat without attending to the later speakers. Was notsuccessful humor more difficult than pathos? Were not tears more cheaplyraised than laughter? Yet, on the other hand, Guy had one prize, andwhere merit was so even--I sat, I say, forgetful of the rest of thespeakers, when suddenly I was aware of louder shouts of welcome, and Iawaked to Josey Yeatts bowing at us. 

"Spit it out, Josey!" a large encouraging voice was crying in the backof the hall. "We'll see you through. "

"Don't be scared, Josey!" yelled another. 

Then Josey opened his mouth and rhythmically rattled the following:

"I love little pussy her coat is so warm And if I don't hurt her she'lldo me no harm I'll sit by the fi-yer and give her some food And pussywill love me because I am good. "

That was all. It had come without falter or pause, even for breath. Josey stood, and the room rose to him. 

"Again! again!" they roared. "He ain't a bit scared!" "Go it, Josey!""You don't forgit yer piece!" And a great deal more, while they poundedwith their boots. 

"I love little pussy, " began Josey. 

"Poor darling!" said a lady next me. "No mother. "

"I'll sit by the fi-yer. "

Josey was continuing. But nobody heard him finish. The room was a Babel. 

"Look at his little hand!" "Only three fingers inside them rags!""Nobody to mend his clothes any more. " They all talked to each other, and clapped and cheered, while Josey stood, one leg slightly advancedand proudly stiff, somewhat after the manner of those militaryengravings where some general is seen erect upon an eminence at themoment of victory. 

Mr. Eastman again appeared from the bunting, and was telling us, I haveno doubt, something of importance; but the giant barkeeper now shoutedabove the din, "Who says Josey Yeatts ain't the speaker for this night?"

At that striking of the common chord I saw them heave, promiscuous andunanimous, up the steps to the stage. Josey was set upon Abe Hanson'sshoulder, while ladies wept around him. What the literary committeemight have done I do not know, for we had not the time even to resign. Guy and Leola now appeared, bearing the prize between them--a picture ofWashington handing the Bible out of clouds to Abraham Lincoln--and veryimmediately I found myself part of a procession. Men and women we were, marching about Sharon. The barkeeper led; four of Sharon's fathersfollowed him, escorting Josey borne aloft on Abe Hanson's shoulder, and rigid and military in his bearing. Leola and Guy followed with thepicture; Stuart walked with me, whistling melodies of the war--Dixieand others. Eastman was not with us. When the ladies found themselvesconducted to the saloon, they discreetly withdrew back to theentertainment we had broken out from. Josey saw them go, and shrillyspoke his first word:

"Ain't I going to have any ice-cream?"

This presently caused us to return to the ladies, and we finished theevening with entire unity of sentiment. Eastman alone took the incidentto heart; inquired how he was to accomplish anything with hands tied, and murmured his constant burden once more: "One is not appreciated, notappreciated. "

I do not stop over in Sharon any more. My ranch friend, whose presencethere brought me to visit him, is gone away. But such was my virginexperience of the place; and in later days fate led me to be concernedwith two more local competitions--one military and one civil--whichgreatly stirred the population. So that I never pass Sharon on my longtravels without affectionately surveying the sandy, quivering, bleachedtown, unshaded by its twinkling forest of wind-wheels. Surely the heartalways remembers a spot where it has been merry! And one thing I shouldlike to know--shall know, perhaps: what sort of citizen in our republicJosey will grow to be. For whom will he vote? May he not himself come tosit in Washington and make laws for us? Universal suffrage holds so manypossibilities. 

Napoleon Shave-Tail

Augustus Albumblatt, young and new and sleek with the latestbook-knowledge of war, reported to his first troop commander at FortBrown. The ladies had watched for him, because he would increase thenumber of men, the officers because he would lessen the number ofduties; and he joined at a crisis favorable to becoming speedily knownby them all. Upon that same day had household servants become anextinct race. The last one, the commanding officer's cook, had told thecommanding officer's wife that she was used to living where she couldsee the cars. She added that there was no society here "fit for man orbaste at all. " This opinion was formed on the preceding afternoon whenCasey, a sergeant of roguish attractions in G troop, had told her thathe was not a marrying man. Three hours later she wedded a gambler, and this morning at six they had taken the stage for Green River, twohundred miles south, the nearest point where the bride could see thecars. 

"Frank, " said the commanding officer's wife, "send over to H troop forYork. "

"Catherine, " he answered, "my dear, our statesmen at Washington sayit's wicked to hire the free American soldier to cook for you. It's toomenial for his manhood. "

"Frank, stuff!"

"Hush, my love. Therefore York must be spared the insult of twentymore dollars a month, our statesmen must be re-elected, and you and I, Catherine, being cookless, must join the general mess. "

Thus did all separate housekeeping end, and the garrison began unitedlyto eat three times a day what a Chinaman set before them, when thelong-expected Albumblatt stepped into their midst, just in time forsupper. 

This youth was spic-and-span from the Military Academy, with atop-dressing of three months' thoughtful travel in Germany. "I wasdeeply impressed with the modernity of their scientific attitude, " hepleasantly remarked to the commanding officer. For Captain Duane, silentusually, talked at this first meal to make the boy welcome in thisforlorn two-company post. 

"We're cut off from all that sort of thing here, " said he. "I've notbeen east of the Missouri since '69. But we've got the railroad across, and we've killed some Indians, and we've had some fun, and we're gladwe're alive--eh, Mrs. Starr?"

"I should think so, " said the lady. 

"Especially now we've got a bachelor at the post!" said Mrs. Bainbridge. "That has been the one drawback, Mr. Albumblatt. "

"I thank you for the compliment, " said Augustus, bending solemnly fromhis hips; and Mrs. Starr looked at him and then at Mrs. Bainbridge. 

"We're not over-gay, I fear, " the Captain continued; "but the flat'sfull of antelope, and there's good shooting up both canyons. "

"Have you followed the recent target experiments at Metz?" inquiredthe traveller. "I refer to the flattened trajectory and the obuscontroversy. "

"We have not heard the reports, " answered the commandant, with becominggravity. "But we own a mountain howitzer. "

"The modernity of German ordnance--" began Augustus. 

"Do you dance, Mr. Albumblatt?" asked Mrs. Starr. 

"For we'll have a hop and all be your partners, " Mrs. Bainbridgeexclaimed. 

"I will be pleased to accommodate you, ladies. "

"It's anything for variety's sake with us, you see, " said Mrs. Starr, smoothly smiling; and once again Augustus bent blandly from his hips. 

But the commanding officer wished leniency. "You see us all, " hehastened to say. "Commissioned officers and dancing-men. Prettyshabby--"

"Oh, Captain!" said a lady. 

"And pretty old. "

"Captain!" said another lady. 

"But alive and kicking. Captain Starr, Mr. Bainbridge, the Doctor andme. We are seven. "

Augustus looked accurately about him. "Do I understand seven, Captain?"

"We are seven, " the senior officer repeated. 

Again Mr. Albumblatt counted heads. "I imagine you include the ladies, Captain? Ha! ha!"

"Seven commissioned males, sir. Our Major is on sick-leave, and two ofour Lieutenants are related to the President's wife. She can't bear themto be exposed. None of us in the church-yard lie--but we are seven. "

"Ha! ha, Captain! That's an elegant double entendre on Wordsworth'spoem and the War Department. Only, if I may correct your addition--ha!ha!--our total, including myself, is eight. " And Augustus grew ashilarious as a wooden nutmeg. 

The commanding officer rolled an intimate eye at his wife. 

The lady was sitting big with rage, but her words were cordial still:"Indeed, Mr. Albumblatt, the way officers who have influence inWashington shirk duty here and get details East is something Ican't laugh about. At one time the Captain was his own adjutant andquartermaster. There are more officers at this table to-night thanI've seen in three years. So we are doubly glad to welcome you at FortBrown. "

"I am fortunate to be on duty where my services are so required, thoughI could object to calling it Fort Brown. " And Augustus exhaled a newsmile. 

"Prefer Smith?" said Captain Starr. 

"You misunderstand me. When we say Fort Brown. Fort Russell, Fort EtCetera, we are inexact. They are not fortified. "

"Cantonment Et Cetera would be a trifle lengthy, wouldn't it?" put inthe Doctor, his endurance on the wane. 

"Perhaps; but technically descriptive of our Western posts. The Germanscriticise these military laxities. "

Captain Duane now ceased talking, but urbanely listened; and from timeto time his eye would scan Augustus, and then a certain sublimatedlaugh, to his wife well known; would seize him for a single voicelessspasm, and pass. The experienced Albumblatt meanwhile continued, "By-the-way, Doctor, you know the Charite, of course?"

Doctor Guild had visited that great hospital, but being now a goaded manhe stuck his nose in his plate, and said, unwisely: "Sharrity? What'sthat?" For then Augustus told him what and where it was, and thatKrankenhaus is German for hospital, and that he had been deeplyimpressed with the modernity of the ventilation. "Thirty-five cubicmetres to a bed in new wards, " he stated. "How many do you allow, Doctor?"

"None, " answered the surgeon. 

"Do I understand none, Doctor?"

"You do, sir. My patients breathe in cubic feet, and swallow their dosesin grains, and have their inflation measured in inches. "

"Now there again!" exclaimed Augustus, cheerily. "More antiquity to beswept away! And people say we young officers have no work cut out forus!"

"Patients don't die then under the metric system?" said the Doctor. 

"No wonder Europe's overcrowded, " said Starr. 

But the student's mind inhabited heights above such trifling. "Death, "he said, "occurs in ratios not differentiated from our statistics. " Andhe told them much more while they booked at him over their plates. Hemanaged to say 'modernity' and 'differentiate' again, for he came fromour middle West, where they encounter education too suddenly, and itwould take three generations of him to speak clean English. But withall his polysyllabic wallowing, he showed himself keen-minded, pat withauthorities, a spruce young graduate among these dingy Rocky Mountaincampaigners. They had fought and thirsted and frozen; the books that heknew were not written when they went to school; and so far as war is tobe mastered on paper, his equipment was full and polished while theirswas meagre and rusty. 

And yet, if you know things that other and older men do not, it is aswell not to mention them too hastily. These soldiers wished that theycould have been taught what he knew; but they watched young Augustusunfolding himself with a gaze that might have seemed chill to a lesshighly abstract thinker. He, however, rose from the table pleasantlyedified by himself, and hopeful for them. And as he left them, "Good-night, ladies and gentlemen, " he said; "we shall meet again. "

"Oh yes, " said the Doctor. "Again and again. "

"He's given me indigestion, " said Bainbridge. 

"Take some metric system, " said Starr. 

"And lie flat on your trajectory, " said the Doctor. 

"I hate hair parted in the middle for a man, " said Mrs. Guild. 

"And his superior eye-glasses, " said Mrs. Bainbridge. 

"His staring conceited teeth, " hissed Mrs. Starr. 

"I don't like children slopping their knowledge all over me, " said theDoctor's wife. 

"He's well brushed, though, " said Mrs. Duane, seeking the bright side. "He'll wipe his feet on the mat when he comes to call. "

"I'd rather have mud on my carpet than that bandbox in any of mychairs, " said Mrs. Starr. 

"He's no fool, " mused the Doctor. "But, kingdom come, what an ass!"

"Well, gentlemen, " said the commanding officer (and they perceived aflavor of the official in his tone), "Mr. Albumblatt is just twenty-one. I don't know about you; but I'll never have that excuse again. "

"Very well, Captain, we'll be good, " said Mrs. Bainbridge. 

"And gr-r-ateful, " said Mrs. Starr, rolling her eyes piously. "Iprophecy he'll entertain us. "

The Captain's demeanor remained slightly official; but walking home, hisCatherine by his side in the dark was twice aware of that laugh of his, twinkling in the recesses of his opinions. And later, going to bed, alittle joke took him so unready that it got out before he could suppressit. "My love, " said he, "my Second Lieutenant is grievously mislaid inthe cavalry. Providence designed him for the artillery. "

It was wifely but not right in Catherine to repeat this strictconfidence in strictest confidence to her neighbor, Mrs. Bainbridge, over the fence next morning before breakfast. At breakfast Mrs. Bainbridge spoke of artillery reinforcing the post, and her husbandgiggled girlishly and looked at the puzzled Duane; and at dinner Mrs. Starr asked Albumblatt, would not artillery strengthen the garrison?

"Even a light battery, " pronounced Augustus, promptly, "would be absurdand useless. "

Whereupon the mess rattled knives, sneezed, and became variouslydisturbed. So they called him Albumbattery, and then Blattery, which ismore condensed; and Captain Duane's official tone availed him nothingin this matter. But he made no more little military jokes; he dislikedgarrison personalities. Civilized by birth and ripe from weather-beatenyears of men and observing, he looked his Second Lieutenant over, andremembered to have seen worse than this. He had no quarrel with themetric system (truly the most sensible), and thinking to leaven it witha little rule of thumb, he made Augustus his acting quartermaster. Buthe presently indulged his wife with the soldier-cook she wanted at home, so they no longer had to eat their meals in Albumblatt's society; andMrs. Starr said that this showed her husband dreaded his quartermasterworse than the Secretary of War. 

Alas for the Quartermaster's sergeant, Johannes Schmoll, that routinedand clock-work German! He found Augustus so much more German than hehad ever been himself, that he went speechless for three days. Upon hislists, his red ink, and his ciphering, Augustus swooped like a birdof prey, and all his fond red-tape devices were shredded to the winds. Augustus set going new quadratic ones of his own, with an index andcross-references. It was then that Schmoll recovered his speech andwalked alone, saying, "Mein Gott!" And often thereafter, wandering amongthe piled stores and apparel, he would fling both arms heavenward andrepeat the exclamation. He had rated himself the unique human soul atFort Brown able to count and arrange underclothing. Augustus rejectedhis laborious tally, and together they vigiled after hours, verifyingsocks and drawers. Next, Augustus found more horseshoes than his paperscalled for. 

"That man gif me der stomach pain efry day, " wailed Schmoll to SergeantCasey. "I tell him, 'Lieutenant, dose horseshoes is expendable. We don'tacgount for efry shoe like they was men's shoes, und oder dings dot isissued. ' 'I prefer to cake them cop!' says Baby Bismarck. Und he smilemit his two beaver teeth. "

"Baby Bismarck!" cried, joyfully, the rosy-faced Casey. "Yo-hanny, takea drink. "

"Und so, " continued the outraged Schmoll, "he haf a Board of Soorvey ondree-pound horseshoes, und I haf der stomach pain. "

"It was buckles the next month. The allowance exceeded the expenditure, Augustus's arithmetic came out wrong, and another board sat on buckles. 

"Yo-hanny, you're lookin' jaded under Colonel Safetypin. " said Casey. "Have something?"

"Safetypin is my treat, " said Schmoll; "und very apt. "

But Augustus found leisure to pervade the post with his modernity. Heset himself military problems, and solved them; he wrote an essay on"The Contact Squadron"; he corrected Bainbridge for saying "throw backthe left flank" instead of "refuse the left flank"; he had reading-roomideas, canteen' ideas, ideas for the Indians and the Agency, andrecruit-drill ideas, which he presented to Sergeant Casey. Casey gavehim, in exchange, the name of Napoleon Shave-Tail, and had his whiskeyagain paid for by the sympathetic Schmoll. 

"But bless his educated heart, " said Casey, "he don't learn me nothingthat'll soil my innercence!"

Thus did the sunny-humored Sergeant take it, but not thus the mess. Had Augustus seen himself as they saw him, could he have heard Mrs. Starr--But he did not; the youth was impervious, and to remove hiscomplacency would require (so Mrs. Starr said) an operation, probablyfatal. The commanding officer held always aloof from gibing, yet oftenwhen Augustus passed him his gray eye would dwell upon the Lieutenant'sback, and his voiceless laugh would possess him. That is the picture Iretain of these days--the unending golden sun, the wide, gentle-coloredplain, the splendid mountains, the Indians ambling through the flat, clear distance; and here, close along the parade-ground, eye-glassedAugustus, neatly hastening, with the Captain on his porch, asleep youmight suppose. 

One early morning the agent, with two Indian chiefs, waited on thecommanding officer, and after their departure his wife found himbreakfasting in solitary mirth. 

"Without me, " she chided, sitting down. "And I know you've had some goodnews. "

"The best, my love. Providence has been tempted at last. The wholesomeirony of life is about to function. "

"Frank, don't tease so! And where are you rushing now before the cakes?"

"To set our Augustus a little military problem, dearest. Plain livingfor to-day, and high thinking be jolly well--"

"Frank, you're going to swear, and I must know!"

But Frank had sworn and hurried out to the right to the Adjutant'soffice, while his Catherine flew to the left to the fence. 

"Ella!" she cried. "Oh, Ella!"

Mrs. Bainbridge, instantly on the other side of the fence, broughtscanty light. A telegram had come, she knew, from the Crow Agency inMontana. Her husband had admitted this three nights ago; and CaptainDuane (she knew) had given him some orders about something; and couldit be the Crows? "Ella, I don't know, " said Catherine. "Frank talked allabout Providence in his incurable way, and it may be anything. " So thetwo ladies wondered together over the fence, until Mrs. Duane, seeingthe Captain return, ran to him and asked, were the Crows on thewar-path? Then her Frank told her yes, and that he had detailedAlbumblatt to vanquish them and escort them to Carlisle School to learnGerman and Beethoven's sonatas. 

"Stuff, stuff, stuff! Why, there he does go!" cried the unsettledCatherine. "It's something at the Agency!" But Captain Duane was goneinto the house for a cigar. 

Albumblatt, with Sergeant Casey and a detail of six men, was in truthhastening over that broad mile which opens between Fort Brown and theAgency. On either side of them the level plain stretched, gray withits sage, buff with intervening grass, hay-cocked with the smoky, mellow-stained, meerschaum-like canvas tepees of the Indians, quiet as apainting; far eastward lay long, low, rose-red hills, half dissolved inthe trembling mystery of sun and distance; and westward, close at handand high, shone the great pale-blue serene mountains through the vasterserenity of the air. The sounding hoofs of the troops brought theIndians out of their tepees to see. When Albumblatt reached the Agency, there waited the agent and his two chiefs, who pointed to one lodgestanding apart some three hundred yards, and said, "He is there. " Sothen Augustus beheld his problem, the military duty fallen to him fromProvidence and Captain Duane. 

It seems elementary for him who has written of "The Contact Squadron. "It was to arrest one Indian. This man, Ute Jack, had done a murder amongthe Crows, and fled south for shelter. The telegram heralded him, butwith boundless miles for hiding he had stolen in under the cover ofnight. No welcome met him. These Fort Brown Indians were not his friendsat any time, and less so now, when he arrived wild drunk among theirfamilies. Hounded out, he sought this empty lodge, and here he was, at bay, his hand against every man's, counting his own life worthlessexcept for destroying others before he must himself die. 

"Is he armed?" Albumblatt inquired, and was told yes. 

Augustus considered the peaked cone tent. The opening was on this side, but a canvas drop closed it. Not much of a problem--one man inside asack with eight outside to catch him! But the books gave no rule forthis combination, and Augustus had met with nothing of the sort inGermany. He considered at some length. Smoke began to rise through themeeting poles of the tepee, leisurely and natural, and one of the chiefssaid:

"Maybe Ute Jack cooking. He hungry. "

"This is not a laughing matter, " said Augustus to the by-standers, whowere swiftly gathering. "Tell him that I command him to surrender, " headded to the agent, who shouted this forthwith; and silence followed. 

"Tell him I say he must come out at once, " said Augustus then; andreceived further silence. 

"He eat now, " observed the chief. "Can't talk much. "

"Sergeant Casey, " bellowed Albumblatt, "go over there and take him out!"

"The Lootenant understands, " said Casey, slowly, "that Ute Jack has gotthe drop on us, and there ain't no getting any drop on him. "

"Sergeant, you will execute your orders without further comment. "

At this amazing step the silence fell cold indeed; but Augustus was incommand. 

"Shall I take any men along, sir?" said Casey in his soldier's machinevoice. 

"Er--yes. Er--no. Er--do as you please. "

The six troopers stepped forward to go, for they loved Casey; but heordered them sharply to fall back. Then, looking in their eyes, hewhispered, "Good-bye, boys, if it's to be that way, " and walked to thelodge, lifted the flap, and fell, shot instantly dead through the heart. "Two bullets into him, " muttered a trooper, heavily breathing as thesounds rang. "He's down, " another spoke to himself with fixed eyes; anda sigh they did not know of passed among them. The two chiefs looked atAugustus and grunted short talk together; and one, with a sweeping liftof his hand out towards the tepee and the dead man by it, said, "MaybeUte Jack only got three--four--cartridges--so!" (his fingers countedit). "After he kill three--four--men, you get him pretty good. " TheIndian took the white man's death thus; but the white men could not yetbe even saturnine. 

"This will require reinforcement, " said Augustus to the audience. "Theplace must be attacked by a front and flank movement. It must be knockeddown. I tell you I must have it knocked down. How are you to see wherehe is, I'd like to know, if it's not knocked down?" Augustus's voice wasgetting high. 

"I want the howitzer, " he screeched generally. 

A soldier saluted, and Augustus chattered at him. 

"The howitzer, the mountain howitzer, I tell you. Don't you hear me? Toknock the cursed thing he's in down. Go to Captain Duane and give him mycompliments, and--no, I'll go myself. Where's my horse? My horse, I tellyou! It's got to be knocked down. "

"If you please, Lieutenant, " said the trooper, "may we have the RedCross ambulance?"

"Red Cross? What's that for? What's that?"

"Sergeant Casey, sir. He's a-lyin' there. "

"Ambulance? Certainly. The howitzer--perhaps they're only flesh wounds. I hope they are only flesh wounds. I must have more men--you'll comewith me. "

From his porch Duane viewed both Augustus approach and the man stopat the hospital, and having expected a bungle, sat to hear; but atAlbumblatt's mottled face he stood up quickly and said, "What's thematter?" And hearing, burst out: "Casey! Why, he was worth fifty of--Goon, Mr. Albumblatt. What next did you achieve, sir?" And as the tale wastold he cooled, bitter, but official. 

"Reinforcements is it, Mr. Albumblatt?"

"The howitzer, Captain. "

"Good. And G troop?"

"For my double flank movement I--"

"Perhaps you'd like H troop as reserve?"

"Not reserve, Captain. I should establish--"

"This is your duty, Mr. Albumblatt. Perform it as you can, with whatforce you need. "

"Thank you, sir. It is not exactly a battle, but with a, so-to-speak, intrenched--"

"Take your troops and go, sir, and report to me when you have arrestedyour man. "

Then Duane went to the hospital, and out with the ambulance, hoping thatthe soldier might not be dead. But the wholesome irony of life reckonsbeyond our calculations; and the unreproachful, sunny face of hisSergeant evoked in Duane's memory many marches through long heat andcold, back in the rough, good times. 

"Hit twice, I thought they told me, " said he; and the steward surmisedthat one had missed. 

"Perhaps, " mused Duane. "And perhaps it went as intended, too. What'sall that fuss?"

He turned sharply, having lost Augustus among his sadder thoughts; andhere were the operations going briskly. Powder-smoke in three directionsat once! Here were pickets far out-lying, and a double line ofskirmishers deployed in extended order, and a mounted reserve, and menstanding to horse--a command of near a hundred, a pudding of pompous, incompetent, callow bosh, with Augustus by his howitzer, scientificallyraising and lowering it to bear on the lone white tepee that shone inthe plain. Four races were assembled to look on--the mess Chinaman, twoblack laundresses, all the whites in the place (on horse and foot, somewith their hats left behind), and several hundred Indians in blankets. Duane had a thought to go away and leave this galling farce under theeye of Starr for the officers were at hand also. But his second thoughtbade him remain; and looking at Augustus and the howitzer, his laughwould have returned to him; but his heart was sore for Casey. 

It was an hour of strategy and cannonade, a humiliating hour, which FortBrown tells of to this day; and the tepee lived through it all. For itstood upon fifteen slender poles, not speedily to be chopped down byshooting lead from afar. When low bullets drilled the canvas, the chiefsuggested to Augustus that Ute Jack had climbed up; and when the bulletsflew high, then Ute Jack was doubtless in a hole. Nor did Augustuscontrive to drop a shell from the howitzer upon Ute Jack and explodehim--a shrewd and deadly conception; the shells went beyond, except one, that ripped through the canvas, somewhat near the ground; and Augustus, dripping, turned at length, and saying, "It won't go down, " stoodvacantly wiping his white face. Then the two chiefs got his leave tostretch a rope between their horses and ride hard against the tepee. Itwas military neither in essence nor to see, but it prevailed. The tepeesank, a huge umbrella wreck along the earth, and there lay Ute Jackacross the fire's slight hollow, his knee-cap gone with the howitzershell. But no blood had flown from that; blood will not run, you know, when a man has been dead some time. One single other shot had struckhim--one through his own heart. It had singed the flesh. 

"You see, Mr. Albumblatt, " said Duane, in the whole crowd's hearing, "he killed himself directly after killing Casey. A very rare act foran Indian, as you are doubtless aware. But if your manoeuvres with hiscorpse have taught you anything you did not know before, we shall all begainers. "

"Captain, " said Mrs. Starr, on a later day, "you and Ute Jack have endedour fun. Since the Court of Inquiry let Mr. Albumblatt off, he has notsaid Germany once--and that's three months to-morrow. "

Twenty Minutes for Refreshments

Upon turning over again my diary of that excursion to the Pacific, Ifind that I set out from Atlantic waters on the 30th day of a backwardand forlorn April, which had come and done nothing towards making itsshare of spring, but had gone, missing its chance, leaving the trees asbare as it had received them from the winds of March. It was not bleakweather alone, but care, that I sought to escape by a change of sky;and I hoped for some fellow-traveller who might begin to interest mythoughts at once. No such person met me in the several Pullmans whichI inhabited from that afternoon until the forenoon of the followingFriday. Through that long distance, though I had slanted southwestwardacross a multitude of States and vegetations, and the Mississippi layeleven hundred miles to my rear, the single event is my purchasingsome cat's-eyes of the news-agent at Sierra Blanca. Save this, my diarycontains only neat additions of daily expenses, and moral reflectionsof a delicate and restrained melancholy. They were Pecos cat's-eyes, hetold me, obtained in the rocky canyons of that stream, and destined tobe worth little until fashion turned from foreign jewels to become awareof these fine native stones. And I, glad to possess the jewels of mycountry, chose two bracelets and a necklace of them, paying but twentydollars for fifteen or sixteen cat's-eyes, and resolved to give thema setting worthy of their beauty. The diary continues with moralreflections upon the servility of our taste before anything European, and the handwriting is clear and deliberate. It abruptly becomeshurried, and at length well-nigh illegible. It is best, I think, that you should have this portion as it comes, unpolished, unamended, unarranged--hot, so to speak, from my immediate pencil, instead of coldfrom my subsequent pen. I shall disguise certain names, but that is all. 

Friday forenoon, May 5. --I don't have to gaze at my cat's-eyes to killtime any more. I'm not the only passenger any more. There's a lady. She got in at El Paso. She has taken the drawing-room, but sits outsidereading newspaper cuttings and writing letters. She is sixty, I shouldsay, and has a cap and one gray curl. This comes down over her left earas far as a purple ribbon which suspends a medallion at her throat. Shecame in wearing a sage-green duster of pongee silk, pretty nice, onlythe buttons are as big as those largest mint-drops. "You porter, " shesaid, "brush this. " He put down her many things and received it. Herdress was sage green, and pretty nice too. "You porter, " said she, "openevery window. Why, they are, I declare! What's the thermometer in thiscar?" "Ninety-five, ma'am. Folks mostly travelling--" "That will do, porter. Now you go make me a pitcher of lemonade right quick. " She wentinto the state-room and shut the door. When she came out she was dressedin what appeared to be chintz bedroom curtains. They hang and flowloosely about her, and are covered with a pattern of pink peonies. Shehas slippers--Turkish--that stare up in the air, pretty handsome andcomfortable. But I never before saw any one travel with fly-paper. Itmust be hard to pack. But it's quite an idea in this train. Fully adozen flies have stuck to it already; and she reads her clippings, and writes away, and sips another glass of lemonade, all with the mostextreme appearance of leisure, not to say sloth. I can't imagine how shemanages to produce this atmosphere of indolence when in reality she issteadily occupied. Possibly the way she sits. But I think it's partlythe bedroom curtains. 

These notes were interrupted by the entrance of the new conductor. "If you folks have chartered a private car, just say so, " he shoutedinstantly at the sight of us. He stood still at the extreme end andremoved his hat, which was acknowledged by the lady. "Travel is surelyvery light, Gadsden, " she assented, and went on with her writing. Buthe remained standing still, and shouting like an orator: "Sprinkle thefloor of this car, Julius, and let the pore passengers get a breath ofcool. My lands!" He fanned himself sweepingly with his hat. He seemedbut little larger than a red squirrel, and precisely that color. Sorrelhair, sorrel eyebrows, sorrel freckles, light sorrel mustache, thinaggressive nose, receding chin, and black, attentive, prominent eyes. He approached, and I gave him my ticket, which is as long as a neck-tie, and has my height, the color of my eyes and hair, and my generaldescription, punched in the margin. "Why, you ain't middle-aged!"he shouted, and a singular croak sounded behind me. But the lady waswriting. "I have been growing younger since I bought that ticket, " Iexplained. "That's it, that's it, " he sang; "a man's always as old as hefeels, and a woman--is ever young, " he finished. "I see you are true tothe old teachings and the old-time chivalry, Gadsden, " said the lady, continuously busy. "Yes, ma'am. Jacob served seven years for Leah andseven more for Rachel. " "Such men are raised today in every worthyLouisiana home, Gadsden, be it ever so humble. " "Yes, ma'am. Give afresh sprinkle to the floor, Julius, soon as it goes to get dry. Excuseme, but do you shave yourself, sir?" I told him that I did, but withoutexcusing him. "You will see that I have a reason for asking, " heconsequently pursued, and took out of his coat-tails a round tin boxhandsomely labelled "Nat. Fly Paper Co. , " so that I supposed it wasthus, of course, that the lady came by her fly-paper. But this was purecoincidence, and the conductor explained: "That company's me and a manat Shreveport, but he dissatisfies me right frequently. You know whatheaven a good razor is for a man, and what you feel about a bad one. Vaseline and ground shells, " he said, opening the box, "and I'm notsaying anything except it will last your lifetime and never hardens. Rubthe size of a pea on the fine side of your strop, spread it to an inchwith your thumb. May I beg a favor on so short a meeting? Join me inthe gentlemen's lavatory with your razorstrop in five minutes. I haveto attend to a corpse in the baggage-car, and will return at once. ""Anybody's corpse I know, Gadsden?" said the lady. "No, ma'am. Just acorpse. "

When I joined him, for I was now willing to do anything, he wasapologetic again. "'Tis a short acquaintance, " he said, "but may I alsobeg your razor? Quick as I get out of the National Fly I am going toregister my new label. First there will be Uncle Sam embracing theworld, signifying this mixture is universal, then my name, then theword Stropine, which is a novelty and carries copyright, and I shallwin comfort and doubtless luxury. The post barber at Fort Bayard took adozen off me at sight to retail to the niggers of the Twenty-fourth, andas he did not happen to have the requisite cash on his person I chargedhim two roosters and fifty cents, and both of us done well. He's aftermore Stropine, and I got Pullman prices for my roosters, the buffet-carbeing out of chicken a la Marengo. There is your razor, sir, and Iappreciate your courtesy. " It was beautifully sharpened, and I boughta box of the Stropine and asked him who the lady was. "Mrs. PorcherBrewton!" he exclaimed. "Have you never met her socially? Why she--whyshe is the most intellectual lady in Bee Bayou. " "Indeed!" I said. "Whyshe visits New Orleans, and Charleston, and all the principal centres ofrefinement, and is welcomed in Washington. She converses freely with ourstatesmen and is considered a queen of learning. Why she writes po'try, sir, and is strong-minded. But a man wouldn't want to pick her up for afool, all the samey. " "I shouldn't; I don't, " said I. "Don't you do it, sir. She's run her plantation all alone since the Colonel was killed insixty-two. She taught me Sunday-school when I was a lad, and she used tocatch me at her pecan-trees 'most every time in Bee Bayou. "

He went forward, and I went back with the Stropine in my pocket. Thelady was sipping the last of the lemonade and looking haughtily over thetop of her glass into (I suppose) the world of her thoughts. Her eyesmet mine, however. "Has Gadsden--yes, I perceive he has been tellingabout me, " she said, in her languid, formidable voice. She set her glassdown and reclined among the folds of the bedroom curtains, consideringme. "Gadsden has always been lavish, " she mused, caressingly. "He seemsdestined to succeed in life, " I hazarded. "ah n--a!" she sighed, withdecision. "He will fail. " As she said no more and as I began to resentthe manner in which she surveyed me, I remarked, "You seem rather sureof his failure. " "I am old enough to be his mother, and yours, " saidMrs. Porcher Brewton among her curtains. "He is a noble-hearted fellow, and would have been a high-souled Southern gentleman if born tothat station. But what should a conductor earning $103. 50 a month bedispersing his attention on silly patents for? Many's the time I'vetold him what I think; but Gadsden will always be flighty. " No furtherobservations occurring to me, I took up my necklace and bracelets fromthe seat and put them in my pocket. "Will you permit a meddlesome oldwoman to inquire what made you buy those cat's-eyes?" said Mrs. Brewton. "Why--" I dubiously began. "Never mind, " she cried, archly. "If you werethinking of some one in your Northern home, they will be prized becausethe thought, at any rate, was beautiful and genuine. 'Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, my heart, untravelled, fondly turns to thee. 'Now don't you be embarrassed by an old woman!" I desired to inform herthat I disliked her, but one can never do those things; and, anxiousto learn what was the matter with the cat's-eyes, I spoke amiably andpolitely to her. "Twenty dollars!" she murmured. "And he told you theycame from the Pecos!" She gave that single melodious croak I had heardonce before. Then she sat up with her back as straight as if she wastwenty. "My dear young fellow, never do you buy trash in these trains. Here you are with your coat full of--what's Gadsden's absurd razorconcoctions--strut--strop--bother! And Chinese paste buttons. Lastsummer, on the Northern Pacific, the man offered your cat's-eyes to meas native gems found exclusively in Dakota. But I just sat and mentionedto him that I was on my way home from a holiday in China, and he wentright out of the car. The last day I was in Canton I bought a box ofthose cat's-eyes at eight cents a dozen. " After this we spoke a littleon other subjects, and now she's busy writing again. She's on businessin California, but will read a paper at Los Angeles at the annualmeeting of the Golden Daughters of the West. The meal station is coming, but we have agreed to--

Later, Friday afternoon. --I have been interrupted again. Gadsdenentered, removed his hat, and shouted: "Sharon. Twenty minutes fordinner. " I was calling the porter to order a buffet lunch in the carwhen there tramped in upon us three large men of such appearance thata flash of thankfulness went through me at having so little ready-moneyand only a silver watch. Mrs. Brewton looked at them and said, "Well, gentlemen?" and they took off their embroidered Mexican hats. "We've gota baby show here, " said one of them, slowly, looking at me, "and we'dbe kind of obliged if you'd hold the box. " "There's lunch put up ina basket for you to take along, " said the next, "and a bottle ofwine--champagne. So losing your dinner won't lose you nothing. " "We'relooking for somebody raised East and without local prejudice, " said thethird. "So we come to the Pullman. " I now saw that so far from purposingto rob us they were in a great and honest distress of mind. "But I amno judge of a baby, " said I; "not being mar--" "You don't have to be, "broke in the first, more slowly and earnestly. "It's a fair and secretballot we're striving for. The votes is wrote out and ready, and allwe're shy of is a stranger without family ties or business interests tohold the box and do the counting. " His deep tones ceased, and he wipedheavy drops from his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "We'd be kind ofawful obliged to you, " he urged. "The town would be liable to make ittwo bottles, " said the second. The third brought his fist down on theback of a seat and said, "I'll make it that now. " "But, gentlemen, " saidI, "five, six, and seven years ago I was not a stranger in Sharon. If myfriend Dean Drake was still here--" "But he ain't. Now you might as wellhelp folks, and eat later. This town will trust you. And if you quitus--" Once more he wiped the heavy drops away, while in a voice full ofappeal his friend finished his thought: "If we lose you, we'll likelyhave to wait till this train comes in to-morrow for a man satisfactoryto this town. And the show is costing us a heap. " A light hand tappedmy arm, and here was Mrs. Brewton saying: "For shame! Show yourenterprise. " "I'll hold this yere train, " shouted Gadsden, "ifnecessary. " Mrs. Brewton rose alertly, and they all hurried me out. "Myslippers will stay right on when I'm down the steps, " said Mrs. Brewton, and Gadsden helped her descend into the blazing dust and sun of Sharon. "Gracious!" said she, "what a place! But I make it a point to seeeverything as I go. " Nothing had changed. There, as of old, lay theflat litter of the town--sheds, stores, and dwellings, a shapelesscongregation in the desert, gaping wide everywhere to the glassy, quivering immensity; and there, above the roofs, turned the slattedwind-wheels. But close to the tracks, opposite the hotel, was anedifice, a sort of tent of bunting, from which brass music issued, while about a hundred pink and blue sun-bonnets moved and mixed nearthe entrance. Little black Mexicans, like charred toys, lounged and laystaring among the ungraded dunes of sand. "Gracious!" said Mrs. Brewtonagain. Her eye lost nothing; and as she made for the tent the chintzpeonies flowed around her, and her step was surprisingly light. Wepassed through the sunbonnets and entered where the music played. "Theprecious blessed darlings!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "Thiswill do for the Golden Daughters, " she rapidly added; "yes, this willdistinctly do. " And she hastened away from me into the throng. 

I had no time to look at much this first general minute. I could seethere were booths, each containing a separate baby. I passed a wholesection of naked babies, and one baby farther along had on golden wingsand a crown, and was bawling frightfully. Their names were over thebooths, and I noticed Lucille, Erskine Wales, Banquo Lick Nolin, Cuba, Manilla, Ellabelle, Bosco Grady, James J. Corbett Nash, and Aqua Marine. There was a great sign at the end, painted "Mrs. Eden's Manna in theWilderness, " and another sign, labelled "Shot-gun Smith's twins. " In themidst of these first few impressions I found myself seated behind a baretable raised three feet or so, with two boxes on it, and a quantityof blank paper and pencils, while one of the men was explaining methe rules and facts. I can't remember them all now, because I couldn'tunderstand them all then, and Mrs. Brewton was distant among thesun-bonnets, talking to a gathering crowd and feeling in the mouths ofbabies that were being snatched out of the booths and brought to her. The man was instructing me steadily all the while, and it occurred to meto nod silently and coldly now and then, as if I was doing this sort ofthing every day. But I insisted that some one should help me count, andthey gave me Gadsden. 

Now these facts I do remember very clearly, and shall never forget them. The babies came from two towns--Sharon, and Rincon its neighbor. Alone, neither had enough for a good show, though in both it was every family'spride to have a baby every year. The babies were in three classes: Sixmonths and under, one prize offered; eighteen months, two prizes; threeyears, two prizes. A three-fourths vote of all cast was necessary toa choice. No one entitled to vote unless of immediate family of acompeting baby. No one entitled to cast more than one vote. There wererules of entry and fees, but I forget them, except that no one couldhave two exhibits in the same class. When I read this I asked, how abouttwins? "Well, we didn't kind of foresee that, " muttered my instructor, painfully; "what would be your idea?" "Look here, you sir, " interposedMrs. Brewton, "he came in to count votes. " I was very glad to have herback. "That's right, ma'am, " admitted the man; "he needn't to say athing. We've only got one twins entered, " he pursued, "which we're gladof. Shot-gun--", "Where is this Mr. Smith?" interrupted Mrs. Brewton. "Uptown, drinking, ma'am. " "And who may Mr. Smith be?" "Most popularcitizen of Rincon, ma'am. We had to accept his twins because--well, he come down here himself, and most of Rincon come with him, and as weaimed to have everything pass off pleasant-like--" "I quite comprehend, "said Mrs. Brewton. "And I should consider twins within the rule; or anynumber born at one time. But little Aqua Marine is the finest singlechild in that six months class. I told her mother she ought to take thatsplurgy ring off the poor little thing's thumb. It's most unsafe. ButI should vote for that child myself. " "Thank you for your valuableendorsement, " said a spruce, slim young man. "But the public is notallowed to vote here, " he added. He was standing on the floor andresting his elbows on the table. Mrs. Brewton stared down at him. "Areyou the father of the child?" she inquired. "Oh no! I am the agent. I--""Aqua Marine's agent?" said Mrs. Brewton, sharply. "Ha, ha!" went theyoung man. "Ha, ha! Well, that's good too. She's part of our exhibit. I'm in charge of the manna-feds, don't you know?" "I don't know, " saidMrs. Brewton. "Why, Mrs. Eden's Manna in the Wilderness! Nourishes, strengthens, and makes no unhealthy fat. Take a circular, and welcome. I'm travelling for the manna. I organized this show. I've conductedtwenty-eight similar shows in two years. We hold them in every Stateand Territory. Second of last March I gave Denver--you heard of it, probably?" "I did not, " said Mrs. Brewton. "Well! Ha, ha! I thoughtevery person up to date had heard of Denver's Olympic Offspring Olio. ""Is it up to date to loll your elbows on the table when you're speakingto a lady?" inquired Mrs. Brewton. He jumped, and then grew scarletwith rage. "I didn't expect to learn manners in New Mexico, " said he. "I doubt if you will, " said Mrs. Brewton, and turned her back on him. Hewas white now; but better instincts, or else business, prevailed in hisinjured bosom. "Well, " said he, "I had no bad intentions. I was goingto say you'd have seen ten thousand people and five hundred babies atDenver. And our manna-feds won out to beat the band. Three first medals, and all exclusively manna-fed. We took the costume prize also. Of coursehere in Sharon I've simplified. No special medal for weight, beauty, costume, or decorated perambulator. Well, I must go back to our exhibit. Glad to have you give us a call up there and see the medals we'reoffering, and our fifteen manna-feds, and take a package away with you. "He was gone. 

The voters had been now voting in my two boxes for some time, and Ifound myself hoping the manna would not win, whoever did; but it seemedthis agent was a very capable person. To begin with, every familyentering a baby drew a package of the manna free, and one packagecontained a diamond ring. Then, he had managed to have the finest babiesof all classes in his own exhibit. This was incontestable, Mrs. Brewtonadmitted, after returning from a general inspection; and it seemed to usextraordinary. "That's easy, ma'am, " said Gadsden; "he came around herea month ago. Don't you see?" I did not see, but Mrs. Brewton saw atonce. He had made a quiet selection of babies beforehand, and thenintroduced the manna into those homes. And everybody in the room wasremarking that his show was very superior, taken as a whole they alladded, "taken as a whole"; I heard them as they came up to vote forthe 3-year and the 18-month classes. The 6-month was to wait tilllast, because the third box had been accidentally smashed by Mr. Smith. Gadsden caught several trying to vote twice. "No, you don't!" he wouldshout. "I know faces. I'm not a conductor for nothing. " And the victimwould fall back amid jeers from the sun-bonnets. Once the passengerssent over to know when the train was going. "Tell them to step over hereand they'll not feel so lonesome!" shouted Gadsden; and I think a goodmany came. The band was playing "White Wings, " with quite a numbersinging it, when Gadsden noticed the voting had ceased, and announcedthis ballot closed. The music paused for him, and we could suddenly hearhow many babies were in distress; but for a moment only; as we beganour counting, "White Wings" resumed, and the sun-bonnets outsang theirprogeny. There was something quite singular in the way they had voted. Here are some of the 3-year-old tickets: "First choice, Ulysses GrantBlum; 2d choice, Lewis Hendricks. " "First choice, James Redfield; 2d, Lewis Hendricks. " "First, Elk Chester; 2d, Lewis Hendricks. " "Canit be?" said the excited Gadsden. "Finish these quick. I'll open the18-monthers. " But he swung round to me at once. "See there!" he cried. "Read that! and that!" He plunged among more, and I read: "First choice, Lawrence Nepton Ford, Jr. ; 2d, Iona Judd. " "First choice, Mary LouiseKenton; 2d, Iona Judd. " "Hurry up!" said Gadsden; "that's it!" And as wecounted, Mrs. Brewton looked over my shoulder and uttered her melodiouscroak, for which I saw no reason. "That young whipper-snapper will gofar, " she observed; nor did I understand this. But when they stopped theband for me to announce the returns, one fact did dawn on me evenwhile I was reading: "Three-year-olds: Whole number of votes cast, 300;necessary to a choice, 225. Second prize, Lewis Hendricks, receiving300. First prize, largest number of votes cast, 11, for Salvisa vanMeter. No award. Eighteen-month class: Whole number of votes cast, 300;necessary to a choice, 225. Second prize, Iona Judd, receiving 300. Lillian Brown gets 15 for 1st prize. None awarded. " There was a veryfeeble applause, and then silence for a second, and then the sun-bonnetsrushed together, rushed away to others, rushed back; and talk swept likehail through the place. Yes, that is what they had done. They had allvoted for Lewis Hendricks and Iona Judd for second prize, and everyfamily had voted the first prize to its own baby. The Browns and vanMeters happened to be the largest families present. "He'll go far! he'llgo far!" repeated Mrs. Brewton. Sport glittered in her eye. She gatheredher curtains, and was among the sun-bonnets in a moment. Then it fullydawned on me. The agent for Mrs. Eden's Manna in the Wilderness wasindeed a shrewd strategist, and knew his people to the roots of thegrass. They had never seen a baby-show. They were innocent. He cameamong them. He gave away packages of manna and a diamond ring. Heoffered the prizes. But he proposed to win some. Therefore he made thatrule about only the immediate families voting. He foresaw what theywould do; and now they had done it. Whatever happened, two prizes wentto his manna-feds. "They don't see through it in the least, which isjust as well, " said Mrs. Brewton, returning. "And it's little matterthat only second prizes go to the best babies. But what's to be donenow?" I had no idea; but it was not necessary that I should. 

"You folks of Rincon and Sharon, " spoke a deep voice. It was the firstman in the Pullman, and drops were rolling from his forehead, and hiseyes were the eyes of a beleaguered ox. "You fathers and mothers, " hesaid, and took another breath. They grew quiet. "I'm a father myself, as is well known. " They applauded this. "Salvisa is mine, and she gotmy vote. The father that will not support his own child is not--doesnot--is worse than if they were orphans. " He breathed again, while theyloudly applauded. "But, folks, I've got to get home to Rincon. I'vegot to. And I'll give up Salvisa if I'm met fair. " "Yes, yes, you'llbe met, " said voices of men. "Well, here's my proposition: Mrs. Eden'smanna has took two, and I'm satisfied it should. We voted, and will stayvoted. " "Yes, yes!" "Well, now, here's Sharon and Rincon, two of thefinest towns in this section, and I say Sharon and Rincon has equalrights to get something out of this, and drop private feelings, andeverybody back their town. And I say let this lady and gentleman, whowill act elegant and on the square, take a view and nominate the finestRincon 3-year-old and the finest Sharon 18-month they can cut out of theherd. And I say let's vote unanimous on their pick, and let each townhold a first prize and go home in friendship, feeling it has beentreated right. "

Universal cheers endorsed him, and he got down panting. The band played"Union Forever, " and I accompanied Mrs. Brewton to the booths. "You'llremember!" shouted the orator urgently after us; "one apiece. " Wenodded. "Don't get mixed, " he appealingly insisted. We shook our heads, and out of the booths rushed two women, and simultaneously dashed theirinfants in our faces. "You'll never pass Cuba by!" entreated one. "Thisis Bosco Grady, " said the other. Cuba wore an immense garment made ofthe American flag, but her mother whirled her out of it in a second. "See them dimples; see them knees!" she said. "See them feet! Only feelof her toes!" "Look at his arms!" screamed the mother of Bosco. "Doubledhis weight in four months. " "Did he indeed, ma'am?" said Cuba's mother;"well, he hadn't much to double. " "Didn't he, then? Didn't he indeed?""No at you; he didn't indeed and indeed! I guess Cuba is known toSharon. I guess Sharon'll not let Cuba be slighted. " "Well, and I guessRincon'll see that Bosco Grady gets his rights. " "Ladies, " said Mrs. Brewton, towering but poetical with her curl, "I am a mother myself, andraised five noble boys and two sweet peerless girls. " This stopped themimmediately; they stared at her and her chintz peonies as she put thecurl gently away from her medallion and proceeded: "But never did Ithink of myself in those dark weary days of the long ago. I thought ofmy country and the Lost Cause. " They stared at her, fascinated. "Yes, m'm, " whispered they, quite humbly. "Now, " said Mrs. Brewton, "what ismore sacred than an American mother's love? Therefore let her not shameit with anger and strife. All little boys and girls are precious gems tome and to you. What is a cold, lifeless medal compared to one of them?Though I would that all could get the prize! But they can't, you know. ""No, m'm. " Many mothers, with their children in their arms, were nowdumbly watching Mrs. Brewton, who held them with a honeyed, convincingsmile. "If I choose only one in this beautiful and encouraging harvest, it is because I have no other choice. Thank you so much for lettingme see that little hero and that lovely angel, " she added, with a yetsweeter glance to the mothers of Bosco and Cuba. "And I wish them allluck when their turn comes. I've no say about the 6-month class, youknow. And now a little room, please. "

The mothers fell back. But my head swam slightly. The 6-month class, tobe sure! The orator had forgotten all about it. In the general joy overhis wise and fair proposition, nobody had thought of it. But they wouldpretty soon. Cuba and Bosco were likely to remind them. Then we shouldstill be face to face with a state of things that--I cast a glancebehind at those two mothers of Sharon and Rincon following us, and Iasked Mrs. Brewton to look at them. "Don't think about it now, " saidshe, "it will only mix you. I always like to take a thing when it comes, and not before. " We now reached the 18-month class. They were thenaked ones. The 6-month had stayed nicely in people's arms; these werecrawling hastily everywhere, like crabs upset in the market, andthey screamed fiercely when taken upon the lap. The mother of ThomasJefferson Brayin Lucas showed us a framed letter from the statesman forwhom her child was called. The letter reeked with gratitude, andsaid that offspring was man's proudest privilege; that a souvenirsixteen-to-one spoon would have been cheerfully sent, but 428 babies hadbeen named after Mr. Brayin since January. It congratulated the swellingarmy of the People's Cause. But there was nothing eminent about littleThomas except the letter; and we selected Reese Moran, a vigorous Sharonbaby, who, when they attempted to set him down and pacify him, stiffenedhis legs, dashed his candy to the floor, and burst into lamentation. Wewere soon on our way to the 3-year class, for Mrs. Brewton was rapidand thorough. As we went by the Manna Exhibit, the agent among hispackages and babies invited us in. He was loudly declaring that he wouldvote for Bosco if he could. But when he examined Cuba, he became surethat Denver had nothing finer than that. Mrs. Brewton took no notice ofhim, but bade me admire Aqua Marine as far surpassing any other 6-monthchild. I proclaimed her splendid (she was a wide-eyed, contented thing, with a head shaped like a croquet mallet), and the agent smiled modestlyand told the mothers that as for his babies two prizes was luck enoughfor them; they didn't want the earth. "If that thing happened to bebrass, " said Mrs. Brewton, bending over the ring that Aqua was stillsucking; and again remonstrating with the mother for this imprudence, she passed on. The three-year-olds were, many of them, in costume, withextraordinary arrangements of hair; and here was the child with goldwings and a crown I had seen on arriving. Her name was Verbena M. , andshe personated Faith. She had colored slippers, and was drinkingtea from her mother's cup. Another child, named Broderick McGowan, represented Columbus, and joyfully shouted "Ki-yi!" every half-minute. One child was attired as a prominent admiral; another as a prominentgeneral; and one stood in a boat and was Washington. As Mrs. Brewtonexamined them and dealt with the mothers, the names struck meafresh--not so much the boys; Ulysses Grant and James J. Corbettexplained themselves; but I read the names of five adjacent girls--Lula, Ocilla, Nila, Cusseta, and Maylene. And I asked Mrs. Brewton how theygot them. "From romances, " she told me, "in papers that we of the upperclasses never see. " In choosing Horace Boyd, of Rincon, for his hair, his full set of front teeth well cared for, and his general beauty, Ithink both of us were also influenced by his good sensible name, and hisgood clean sensible clothes. With both our selections, once they weresettled, were Sharon and Rincon satisfied. We were turning back to thetable to announce our choice when a sudden clamor arose behind us, and we saw confusion in the Manna Department. Women were running andshrieking, and I hastened after Mrs. Brewton to see what was the matter. Aqua Marine had swallowed the ring on her thumb. "It was gold! it waspure gold!" wailed the mother, clutching Mrs. Brewton. "It cost a wholedollar in El Paso. " "She must have white of egg instantly, " said Mrs. Brewton, handing me her purse. "Run to the hotel--" "Save your money, "said the agent, springing forward with some eggs in a bowl. "Lord! youdon't catch us without all the appliances handy. We'd run behind thetrade in no time. There, now, there, " he added, comfortingly to themother. "Will you make her swallow it? Better let me--better let me--Andhere's the emetic. Lord! why, we had three swallowed rings at the DenverOlio, and I got 'em all safe back within ten minutes after time ofswallowing. " "You go away, " said Mrs. Brewton to me, "and tell them ournominations. " The mothers sympathetically surrounded poor little Aqua, saying to each other: "She's a beautiful child!" "Sure indeed she is!""But the manna-feds has had their turn. " "Sure indeed they've beenrecognized, " and so forth, while I was glad to retire to the votingtable. The music paused for me, and as the crowd cheered my smallspeech, some one said, "And now what are you going to do about me?" Itwas Bosco Grady back again, and close behind him Cuba. They had escapedfrom Mrs. Brewton's eye and had got me alone. But I pretended in thenoise and cheering not to see these mothers. I noticed a woman hurryingout of the tent, and hoped Aqua was not in further trouble--she wasstill surrounded, I could see. Then the orator made some silence, thanked us in the names of Sharon and Rincon, and proposed ourcandidates be voted on by acclamation. This was done. Rincon voted forSharon and Reese Moran in a solid roar, and Sharon voted for Rincon andHorace Boyd in a roar equally solid. So now each had a prize, and thewhole place was applauding happily, and the band was beginning again, when the mothers with Cuba and Bosco jumped up beside me on theplatform, and the sight of them produced immediate silence. 

"There's a good many here has a right to feel satisfied, " said Mrs. Grady, looking about, "and they're welcome to their feelings. But ifthis meeting thinks it is through with its business, I can tell it thatit ain't--not if it acts honorable, it ain't. Does those that have hadtheir chance and those that can take home their prizes expect us 6-monthmothers come here for nothing? Do they expect I brought my Bosco fromRincon to be insulted, and him the pride of the town?" "Cuba is knownto Sharon, " spoke the other lady. "I'll say no more. " "Jumping Jeans!"murmured the orator to himself. "I can't hold this train much longer, "said Gadsden; "she's due at Lordsburg now. " "You'll have made it up byTucson, Gadsden, " spoke Mrs. Brewton, quietly, across the whole assemblyfrom the Manna Department. "As for towns, " continued Mrs. Grady, "thatthink anything of a baby that's only got three teeth--" "Ha! Ha!"laughed Cuba's mother, shrilly. "Teeth! Well, we're not proud of baldbabies in Sharon. " Bosco was certainly bald. All the men were lookingwretched, and all the women were growing more and more like eagles. Moreover, they were separating into two bands and taking their husbandswith them--Sharon and Rincon drawing to opposite parts of the tent--andwhat was coming I cannot say; for we all had to think of something else. A third woman, bringing a man, mounted the platform. It was she Ihad seen hurry out. "My name's Shot-gun Smith, " said the man, verycarefully, "and I'm told you've reached my case. " He was extremelygood-looking, with a blue eye and a blond mustache, not above thirty, and was trying hard to be sober, holding himself with dignity. "Are youthe judge?" said he to me. "Hell--" I began. "N-not guilty, your honor, "said he. At this his wife looked anxious. "S-self-defence, " he slowlycontinued; "told you once already. " "Why, Rolfe!" exclaimed his wife, touching his elbow. "Don't you cry, little woman, " said he; "this'llcome out all right. Where 're the witnesses?" "Why, Rolfe! Rolfe!" Sheshook him as you shake a sleepy child. "Now see here, " said he, andwagged a finger at her affectionately, "you promised me you'd not cryif I let you come. " "Rolfe, dear, it's not that to-day; it's the twins. ""It's your twins, Shot-gun, this time, " said many men's voices. "Weacquitted you all right last month. " "Justifiable homicide, " saidGadsden. "Don't you remember?" "Twins?" said Shotgun, drowsily. "Oh yes, mine. Why--" He opened on us his blue eyes that looked about as innocentas Aqua Marine's, and he grew more awake. Then he blushed deeply, faceand forehead. "I was not coming to this kind of thing, " he explained. "But she wanted the twins to get something. " He put his hand on hershoulder and straightened himself. "I done a heap of prospecting beforeI struck this claim, " said he, patting her shoulder. "We got marriedlast March a year. It's our first--first--first"--he turned to me with aconfiding smile--"it's our first dividend, judge. " "Rolfe! I never! Youcome right down. " "And now let's go get a prize, " he declared, with hisconfiding pleasantness. "I remember now! I remember! They claimed twinswas barred. And I kicked down the bars. Take me to those twins. They'renot named yet, judge. After they get the prize we'll name them finenames, as good as any they got anywhere--Europe, Asia, Africa--anywhere. My gracious! I wish they was boys. Come on, judge! You and me'll go give'em a prize, and then we'll drink to 'em. " He hugged me suddenly andaffectionately, and we half fell down the steps. But Gadsden as suddenlycaught him and righted him, and we proceeded to the twins. Mrs. Smithlooked at me helplessly, saying: "I'm that sorry, sir! I had no ideahe was going to be that gamesome. " "Not at all, " I said; "not at all!"Under many circumstances I should have delighted in Shot-gun's society. He seemed so utterly sure that, now he had explained himself, everybodywould rejoice to give the remaining-medal to his little girls. ButBosco and Cuba had not been idle. Shotgun did not notice the spread ofwhispers, nor feel the divided and jealous currents in the air as hesat, and, in expanding good-will, talked himself almost sober. To enticehim out there was no way. Several of his friends had tried it. Butbeneath his innocence there seemed to lurk something wary, and I grewapprehensive about holding the box this last time. But Gadsden relievedme as our count began. "Shot-gun is a splendid man, " said he, "and hehas trailed more train-robbers than any deputy in New Mexico. But he hasseen too many friends to-day, and is not quite himself. So when he felldown that time I just took this off him. " He opened the drawer, andthere lay a six-shooter. "It was touch and go, " said Gadsden; "but he'sthinking that hard about his twins that he's not missed it yet. 'Twouldhave been the act of an enemy to leave that on him to-day. --Well, d'yousay!" he broke off. "Well, well, well!" It was the tickets we took outof the box that set him exclaiming. I began to read them, and saw thatthe agent was no mere politician, but a statesman. His Aqua Marine had asolid vote. I remembered his extreme praise of both Bosco and Cuba. Thishad set Rincon and Sharon bitterly against each other. I remembered hismodesty about Aqua Marine. Of course. Each town, unable to bear theidea of the other's beating it, had voted for the manna-fed, who had 299votes. Shot-gun and his wife had voted for their twins. I looked towardsthe Manna Department, and could see that Aqua Marine was placid oncemore, and Mrs. Brewton was dancing the ring before her eyes. I hope Iannounced the returns in a firm voice. "What!" said Shot-gun Smith; andat that sound Mrs. Brewton stopped dancing the ring. He strode to ourtable. "There's the winner, " said Gadsden, quickly pointing to theManna Exhibit. "What!" shouted Smith again; "and they quit me for thathammer-headed son-of-a-gun?" He whirled around. The men stood ready, andthe women fled shrieking and cowering to their infants in the booths. "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" cried Gadsden, "don't hurt him! Look here!" Andfrom the drawer he displayed Shot-gun's weapon. They understood in asecond, and calmly watched the enraged and disappointed Shot-gun. But hewas a man. He saw how he had frightened the women, and he stood in themiddle of the floor with eyes that did not at all resemble Aqua Marine'sat present. "I'm all right now, boys, " he said. "I hope I've harmed noone. Ladies, will you try and forget about me making such a break? Itgot ahead of me, I guess; for I had promised the little woman--" Hestopped himself; and then his eye fell upon the Manna Department. "Iguess I don't like one thing much now. I'm not after prizes. I'd notaccept one from a gold-bug-combine-trust that comes sneaking aroundstuffing wholesale concoctions into our children's systems. My twins arenot manna-fed. My twins are raised as nature intended. Perhaps if theywere swelled out with trash that acts like baking-powder, they wouldhave a medal too--for I notice he has made you vote his way pretty oftenthis afternoon. " I saw the agent at the end of the room look very queer. "That's so!" said several. "I think I'll clear out his boxes, " saidShot-gun, with rising joy. "I feel like I've got to do something beforeI go home. Come on, judge!" He swooped towards the manna with a yell, and the men swooped with him, and Gadsden and I were swooped with them. Again the women shrieked. But Mrs. Brewton stood out before the boxeswith her curl and her chintz. 

"Mr. Smith, " said she, "you are not going to do anything like that. Youare going to behave yourself like the gentleman you are, and not likethe wild beast that's inside you. " Never in his life before, probably, had Shot-gun been addressed in such a manner, and he too becamehypnotized, fixing his blue eyes upon the strange lady. "I do notbelieve in patent foods for children, " said Mrs. Brewton. "We agreeon that, Mr. Smith, and I am a grandmother, and I attend to what mygrandchildren eat. But this highly adroit young man has done you noharm. If he has the prizes, whose doing is that, please? And who paidfor them? Will you tell me, please? Ah, you are all silent!" And shecroaked melodiously. "Now let him and his manna go along. But I haveenjoyed meeting you all, and I shall not forget you soon. And, Mr. Smith, I want you to remember me. Will you, please?" She walked to Mrs. Smith and the twins, and Shot-gun followed her, entirely hypnotized. Shebeckoned to me. "Your judge and I, " she said, "consider not only yourbeautiful twins worthy of a prize, but also the mother and fatherthat can so proudly claim them. " She put her hand in my pocket. "Thesecat's-eyes, " she said, "you will wear, and think of me and the judgewho presents them. " She placed a bracelet on each twin, and the necklaceupon Mrs. Smith's neck. "Give him Gadsden's stuff, " she whispered to me. "Do you shave yourself, sir?" said I, taking out the Stropine. "Vaselineand ground shells, and will last your life. Rub the size of a pea onyour strop and spread it to an inch. " I placed the box in Shot-gun'smotionless hand. "And now, Gadsden, we'll take the train, " said Mrs. Brewton. "Here's your lunch! Here's your wine!" said the orator, forcinga basket upon me. "I don't know what we'd have done without you and yourmother. " A flash of indignation crossed Mrs. Brewton's face, but changedto a smile. "You've forgot to name my girls!" exclaimed Shot-gun, suddenly finding his voice. "Suppose you try that, " said Mrs. Brewton tome, a trifle viciously. "Thank you, " I said to Smith. "Thank you. I--" "Something handsome, " he urged. "How would Cynthia do for one?" Isuggested. "Shucks, no! I've known two Cynthias. You don't want that?"he asked Mrs. Smith; and she did not at all. "Something extra, somethingfine, something not stale, " said he. I looked about the room. There wasno time for thought, but my eye fell once more upon Cuba. This remindedme of Spain, and the Spanish; and my brain leaped. "I have them!"I cried. "'Armada' and 'Loyola. '" "That's what they're named!" saidShot-gun; "write it for us. " And I did. Once more the band played, andwe left them, all calling, "Good-bye, ma'am. Good-bye, judge, " happyas possible. The train was soon going sixty miles an hour through thedesert. We had passed Lordsburg, San Simon, and were nearly at Bensonbefore Mrs. Brewton and Gadsden (whom she made sit down with us) and Ifinished the lunch and champagne. "I wonder how long he'll remember me?"mused Mrs. Brewton at Tucson, where we were on time. "That woman is notworth one of his boots. "

Saturday afternoon, May 6. --Near Los Angeles. I have been writing allday, to be sure and get everything in, and now Sharon is twenty-fourhours ago, and here there are roses, gardens, and many nice houses atthe way-stations. Oh, George Washington, father of your country, what abrindled litter have you sired!

But here the moral reflections begin again, and I copy no more diary. Mrs. Brewton liked my names for the twins. "They'll pronounce itLoyo'la, " she said, "and that sounds right lovely. " Later she sent meher paper for the Golden Daughters. It is full of poetry and sentimentand all the things I have missed. She wrote that if she had been surethe agent had helped Aqua Marine to swallow the ring, she would have letthem smash his boxes. And I think she was a little in love with Shot-gunSmith. But what a pity we shall soon have no more Mrs. Brewtons! Thecauses that produced her--slavery, isolation, literary tendencies, adversity, game blood--that combination is broken forever. I shall speakto Mr. Howells about her. She ought to be recorded. 

The Promised Land

Perhaps there were ten of them--these galloping dots were hard tocount--down in the distant bottom across the river. Their swiftly movingdust hung with them close, thinning to a yellow veil when they haltedshort. They clustered a moment, then parted like beads, and went wideasunder on the plain. They veered singly over the level, merged in twosand threes, apparently racing, shrank together like elastic, and brokeranks again to swerve over the stretching waste. From this visionedpantomime presently came a sound, a tiny shot. The figures were toofar for discerning which fired it. It evidently did no harm, and wasrepeated at once. A babel of diminutive explosions followed, while thehorsemen galloped on in unexpected circles. Soon, for no visible reason, the dots ran together, bunching compactly. The shooting stopped, thedust rose thick again from the crowded hoofs, cloaking the group, and sopassed back and was lost among the silent barren hills. 

Four emigrants had watched this from the high bleak rim of the Big Bend. They stood where the flat of the desert broke and tilted down in groovesand bulges deep to the lurking Columbia. Empty levels lay opposite, narrowing up into the high country. 

"That's the Colville Reservation across the river from us, " said theman. 

"Another!" sighed his wife. 

"The last Indians we'll strike. Our trail to the Okanagon goes over acorner of it. "

"We're going to those hills?" The mother looked at her little girl andback where the cloud had gone. 

"Only a corner, Liza. The ferry puts us over on it, and we've got togo by the ferry or stay this side of the Columbia. You wouldn't want tostart a home here?"

They had driven twenty-one hundred miles at a walk. Standing by themwere the six horses with the wagon, and its tunneled roof of canvasshone duskily on the empty verge of the wilderness. A dry windlessair hung over the table-land of the Big Bend, but a sound rose fromsomewhere, floating voluminous upon the silence, and sank again. 

"Rapids!" The man pointed far up the giant rut of the stream to where astreak of white water twinkled at the foot of the hills. "We've struckthe river too high, " he added. 

"Then we don't cross here?" said the woman, quickly. 

"No. By what they told me the cabin and the ferry ought to be five milesdown. "

Her face fell. "Only five miles! I was wondering, John--Wouldn't therebe a way round for the children to--"

"Now, mother, " interrupted the husband, "that ain't like you. We'vecrossed plenty Indian reservations this trip already. "

"I don't want to go round, " the little girl said. "Father, don't make mego round. "

Mart, the boy, with a loose hook of hair hanging down to his eyes fromhis hat, did not trouble to speak. He had been disappointed in thewestward journey to find all the Indians peaceful. He knew which wayhe should go now, and he went to the wagon to look once again down theclean barrel of his rifle. 

"Why, Nancy, you don't like Indians?" said her mother. 

"Yes, I do. I like chiefs. "

Mrs. Clallam looked across the river. "It was so strange, John, the waythey acted. It seems to get stranger, thinking about it. "

"They didn't see us. They didn't have a notion--"

"But if we're going right over?"

"We're not going over there, Liza. That quick water's the Mahkin Rapids, and our ferry's clear down below from this place. "

"What could they have been after, do you think?"

"Those chaps? Oh, nothing, I guess. They weren't killing anybody. "

"Playing cross-tag, " said Mart. 

"I'd like to know, John, how you know they weren't killing anybody. Theymight have been trying to. "

"Then we're perfectly safe, Liza. We can set and let 'em kill us allday. "

"Well, I don't think it's any kind of way to behave, running aroundshooting right off your horse. "

"And Fourth of July over too, " said Mart from the wagon. He was puttingcartridges into the magazine of his Winchester. His common-sense toldhim that those horsemen would not cross the river, but the notion of anight attack pleased the imagination of young sixteen. 

"It was the children, " said Mrs. Clallam. "And nobody's getting me anywood. How am I going to cook supper? Stir yourselves!"

They had carried water in the wagon, and father and son went for wood. Some way down the hill they came upon a gully with some dead brush, andclimbed back with this. Supper was eaten on the ground, the horses werewatered, given grain, and turned loose to find what pickings they mightin the lean growth; and dusk had not turned to dark when the emigrantswere in their beds on the soft dust. The noise of the rapids dominatedthe air with distant sonority, and the children slept at once, the boywith his rifle along his blanket's edge. John Clallam lay till the moonrose hard and brilliant, and then quietly, lest his wife should hearfrom her bed by the wagon, went to look across the river. Where thedownward slope began he came upon her. She had been watching for sometime. They were the only objects in that bald moonlight. No shrub grewanywhere that reached to the waist, and the two figures drew together onthe lonely hill. They stood hand in hand and motionless, except that theman bent over the woman and kissed her. When she spoke of Iowa they hadleft, he talked of the new region of their hopes, the country that laybehind the void hills opposite, where it would not be a struggle tolive. He dwelt on the home they would make, and her mood followed hisat last, till husband and wife were building distant plans together. TheDipper had swung low when he remarked that they were a couple of fools, and they went back to their beds. Cold came over the ground, and theirmusings turned to dreams. Next morning both were ashamed of their fears. 

By four the wagon was on the move. Inside, Nancy's voice was hearddiscussing with her mother whether the school-teacher where they weregoing to live now would have a black dog with a white tail, that couldswim with a basket in his mouth. They crawled along the edge of the vastdescent, making slow progress, for at times the valley widened and theyreceded far from the river, and then circuitously drew close again wherethe slant sank abruptly. When the ferryman's cabin came in sight, thecanvas interior of the wagon was hot in the long-risen sun. The lay ofthe land had brought them close above the stream, but no one seemed tobe at the cabin on the other side, nor was there any sign of a ferry. Groves of trees lay in the narrow folds of the valley, and the waterswept black between untenanted shores. Nothing living could be seenalong the scant levels of the bottom-land. Yet there stood the cabin asthey had been told, the only one between the rapids and the Okanagon;and bright in the sun the Colville Reservation confronted them. Theycame upon tracks going down over the hill, marks of wagons and horses, plain in the soil, and charred sticks, with empty cans, lying wherecamps had been. Heartened by this proof that they were on the rightroad, John Clallam turned his horses over the brink. The slant steepenedsuddenly in a hundred yards, tilting the wagon so no brake or shoe wouldhold it if it moved farther. 

"All out!" said Clallam. "Either folks travel light in this countryor they unpack. " He went down a little way. "That's the trail too, " hesaid. "Wheel marks down there, and the little bushes are snapped off. "

Nancy slipped out. "I'm unpacked, " said she. "Oh, what a splendid hillto go down! We'll go like anything. "

"Yes, that surely is the trail, " Clallam pursued. "I can see away downwhere somebody's left a wheel among them big stones. But where does hekeep his ferry-boat? And where does he keep himself?"

"Now, John, if it's here we're to go down, don't you get to studyingover something else. It'll be time enough after we're at the bottom. Nancy, here's your chair. " Mrs. Clallam began lifting the lighter thingsfrom the wagon. 

"Mart, " said the father, "we'll have to chain lock the wheels afterwe're empty. I guess we'll start with the worst. You and me'll take thestove apart and get her down somehow. We're in luck to have open countryand no timber to work through. Drop that bedding mother! Yourself is allyou're going to carry. We'll pack that truck on the horses. "

"Then pack it now and let me start first. I'll make two trips whileyou're at the stove. "

"There's the man!" said Nancy. 

A man--a white man--was riding up the other side of the river. Near thecabin he leaned to see something on the ground. Ten yards more and hewas off the horse and picked up something and threw it away. He loiteredalong, picking up and throwing till he was at the door. He pushed itopen and took a survey of the interior. Then he went to his horse, andwhen they saw him going away on the road he had come, they set up ashouting, and Mart fired a signal. The rider dived from his saddle andmade headlong into the cabin, where the door clapped to like a trap. Nothing happened further, and the horse stood on the bank. 

"That's the funniest man I ever saw, " said Nancy. 

"They're all funny over there, " said Mart. "I'll signal him again. " Butthe cabin remained shut, and the deserted horse turned, took a few firststeels of freedom, then trotted briskly down the river. 

"Why, then, he don't belong there at all, " said Nancy. 

"Wait, child, till we know something about it. "

"She's liable to be right, Liza. The horse, anyway, don't belong, orhe'd not run off. That's good judgment, Nancy. Right good for a littlegirl. "

"I am six years old, " said Nancy, "and I know lots more than that. "

"Well, let's get mother and the bedding started down. It'll be noonbefore we know it. "

There were two pack-saddles in the wagon, ready against such straits asthis. The rolls were made, balanced as side packs, and circled with theswing-ropes, loose cloths, clothes, frying-pans, the lantern, and theaxe tossed in to fill the gap in the middle, canvas flung over thewhole, and the diamond-hitch hauled taut on the first pack, when asecond rider appeared across the river. He came out of a space betweenthe opposite hills, into which the trail seemed to turn, and he wasleading the first man's horse. The heavy work before them was forgotten, and the Clallams sat down in a row to watch. 

"He's stealing it, " said Mrs. Clallam. 

"Then the other man will come out and catch him, " said Nancy. 

Mart corrected them. "A man never steals horses that way. He drives themup in the mountains, where the owner don't travel much. "

The new rider had arrived at the bank and came steadily along tillopposite the door, where he paused and looked up and down the river. 

"See him stoop, " said Clallam the father. "He's seen the tracks don't gofurther. "

"I guess he's after the other one, " added Clallam the son. 

"Which of them is the ferry-man?" said Mrs. Clallam. 

The man had got off and gone straight inside the cabin. In the black ofthe doorway appeared immediately the first man, dangling in the grip ofthe other, who kicked him along to the horse. There the victim mountedhis own animal and rode back down the river. The chastiser was returningto the cabin, when Mart fired his rifle. The man stopped short, saw theemigrants, and waved his hand. He dismounted and came to the edge of thewater. They could hear he was shouting to them, but it was too far forthe words to carry. From a certain reiterated cadence, he seemed to besaying one thing. John and Mart tried to show they did not understand, and indicated their wagon, walking to it and getting aboard. On that thestranger redoubled his signs and shootings, ran to the cabin, where heopened and shut the door several times, came back, and pointed to thehills. 

"He's going away, and can't ferry us over, " said Mrs. Clallam. 

"And the other man thought he'd gone, " said Nancy, "and he came andcaught him in his house. "

"This don't suit me, " Clallam remarked. "Mart, we'll go to the shore andtalk to him. "

When the man saw them descending the hill, he got on his horse and swamthe stream. It carried him below, but he was waiting for them when theyreached the level. He was tall, shambling, and bony, and roved over themwith a pleasant, restless eye. 

"Good-morning, " said he. "Fine weather. I was baptized Edward Wilson, but you inquire for Wild-Goose Jake. Them other names are retired andpensioned. I expect you seen me kick him?"

"Couldn't help seeing. "

"Oh, I ain't blamin' you, son, not a bit, I ain't. He can't bile waterwithout burnin' it, and his toes turns in, and he's blurry round thefinger-nails. He's jest kultus, he is. Hev some?" With a furtive smilethat often ran across his lips, he pulled out a flat bottle, and alltook an acquaintanceship swallow, while the Clallams explained theirjourney. "How many air there of yu' slidin' down the hill?" he inquired, shifting his eye to the wagon. 

"I've got my wife and little girl up there. That's all of us. "

"Ladies along! Then I'll step behind this bush. " He was dragging hisfeet from his waterlogged boots. "Hear them suck now?" he commented. "Didn't hev to think about a wetting onced. But I ain't young any more. There, I guess I ain't caught a chill. " He had whipped his breeches offand spread them on the sand. "Now you arrive down this here hill fromIoway, and says you: 'Where's that ferry? 'Ain't we hit the rightspot?' Well, that's what you hev hit. You're all right, and the spot ishunky-dory, and it's the durned old boat hez made the mistake, begosh!A cloud busted in this country, and she tore out fer the coast, and thejoke's on her! You'd ought to hev heerd her cable snap! Whoosh, if thatwire didn't screech! Jest last week it was, and the river come round thecorner on us in a wave four feet high, same as a wall. I was up hereon business, and seen the whole thing. So the ferry she up and bid usgood-bye, and lit out for Astoria with her cargo. Beggin' pardon, hev you tobacco, for mine's in my wet pants? Twenty-four hogs and thedriver, and two Sheeny drummers bound to the mines with brass jew'lry, all gone to hell, for they didn't near git to Astoria. They sank in thesight of all, as we run along the bank. I seen their arms wave, and themhogs rolling over like 'taters bilin' round in the kettle. " Wild-GooseJake's words came slow and went more slowly as he looked at the riverand spoke, but rather to himself. "It warn't long, though. I expect itwarn't three minutes till the water was all there was left there. Mystars, what a lot of it! And I might hev been part of that cargo, easyas not. Freight behind time was all that come between me and them thatwent. So, we'd hev gone bobbin' down that flood, me and my piah-chuck. "

"Your piah-chuck?" Mart inquired. 

The man faced the boy like a rat, but the alertness faded instantly fromhis eye, and his lip slackened into a slipshod smile. "Why, yes, sonny, me and my grub-stake. You've been to school, I'll bet, but they didn'tlearn yu' Chinook, now, did they? Chinook's the lingo us white folkstrade in with the Siwashes, and we kinder falls into it, talking along. I was thinkin' how but for delay me and my grubstake--provisions, yeknow--that was consigned to me clear away at Spokane, might hev beendrownded along with them hogs and Hebrews. That's what the good folkscalls a dispensation of the Sauklee Tyee!--Providence, ye know, inChinook. 'One shall be taken and the other left. ' And that's what beatsme--they got left; and I'm a bigger sinner than them drummers, for I'mten years older than they was. And the poor hogs was better than any ofus. That can't be gainsaid. Oh no! oh no!"

Mart laughed. 

"I mean it, son. Some day such thoughts will come to you. " He stared atthe river unsteadily with his light gray eyes. 

"Well, if the ferry's gone, " said John Clallam, getting on his legs, "we'll go on down to the next one. "

"Hold on! hold on! Did you never hear tell of a raft? I'll put you folksover this river. Wait till I git my pants on, " said he, stalking nimblyto where they lay. 

"It's just this way, " Clallam continued; "we're bound for the upperOkanagon country, and we must get in there to build our cabin beforecold weather. "

"Don't you worry about that. It'll take you three days to the nextferry, while you and me and the boy kin build a raft right here byto-morrow noon. You hev an axe, I expect? Well, here is timber close, and your trail takes over to my place on the Okanagon, where you've gotanother crossin' to make. And all this time we're keeping the ladieswaitin' up the hill! We'll talk business as we go along; and, see here, if I don't suit yu', or fail in my bargain, you needn't to pay me acent. "

He began climbing, and on the way they came to an agreement. Wild-GooseJake bowed low to Mrs. Clallam, and as low to Nancy, who held hermother's dress and said nothing, keeping one finger in her mouth. All began emptying the wagon quickly, and tins of baking-powder, withrocking-chairs and flowered quilts, lay on the hill. Wild-Goose Jakeworked hard, and sustained a pleasant talk by himself. His fluency wasof an eagerness that parried interruption or inquiry. 

"So you've come acrosst the Big Bend! Ain't it a cosey place? Reminds meof them medicine pictures, 'Before and After Using. ' The Big Bend's theway this world looked before using--before the Bible fixed it up, yeknow. Ever seen specimens of Big Bend produce, ma'am? They send'em East. Grain and plums and such. The feller that gathered themcuriosities hed hunt forty square miles apiece for 'em. But it'sgood-payin' policy, and it fetches lots of settlers to the Territory. They come here hummin' and walks around the wilderness, and 'Where's theplums?' says they. 'Can't you see I'm busy?' says the land agent; andout they goes. But you needn't to worry, ma'am. The country where you'regoin' ain't like that. There's water and timber and rich soil and mines. Billy Moon has gone there--he's the man run the ferry. When she wrecked, he pulled his freight for the new mines at Loop Loop. "

"Did the man live in the little house?" said Nancy. 

"Right there, miss. And nobody lives there any more, so you take it ifyou're wantin' a place of your own. "

"What made you kick the other man if it wasn't your house?"

"Well, now, if it ain't a good one on him to hev you see that! I'll tellhim a little girl seen that, and maybe he'll feel the disgrace. Onlyhe's no account, and don't take any experience the reg'lar way. He'snigh onto thirty, and you'll not believe me, I know, but he ain't nevereven learned to spit right. "

"Is he yours?" inquired Nancy. 

"Gosh! no, miss--beggin' pardon. He's jest workin' for me. "

"Did he know you were coming to kick him when he hid?"

"Hid? What's that?" The man's eyes narrowed again into points. "Youfolks seen him hide?" he said to Clallam. 

"Why, of course; didn't he say anything?"

"He didn't get much chance, " muttered Jake. "What did he hide at?"

"Us. "

"You, begosh!"

"I guess so, " said Mart. "We took him for the ferry-man, and when hecouldn't hear us--"

"What was he doin'?"

"Just riding along. And so I fired to signal him, and he flew into thedoor. "

"So you fired, and he flew into the door. Oh, h'm. " Jake continued topack the second horse, attending carefully to the ropes. "I never knowedhe was that weak in the upper story, " he said, in about five minutes. "Knew his brains was tenas, but didn't suspect he were that weak in theupper story. You're sure he didn't go in till he heerd your gun?"

"He'd taken a look and was going away, " said Mart. 

"Now ain't some people jest odd! Now you follow me, and I'll tell youfolks what I'd figured he'd been at. Billy Moon he lived in that cabin, yu' see. And he had his stuff there, yu, see, and run the ferry, and akind of a store. He kept coffee and canned goods and star-plug and thisand that to supply the prospectin' outfits that come acrosst on hisferry on the trail to the mines. Then a cloud-burst hits his boat andhis job's spoiled on the river, and he quits for the mines, takin' hisstuff along--do you follow me? But he hed to leave some, and he give methe key, and I was to send the balance after him next freight team thatcome along my way. Leander--that's him I was kickin'--he knowed aboutit, and he'll steal a hot stove he's that dumb. He knowed there wasstuff here of Billy Moon's. Well, last night we hed some horses stray, and I says to him, 'Andy, you get up by daylight and find them. ' And hegits. But by seven the horses come in all right of theirselves, andMr. Leander he was missin'; and says I to myself, 'I'll ketch you, yu'blamed hobo. ' And I thought I had ketched him, yu' see. Weren't thatreasonable of me? Wouldn't any of you folks hev drawed that conclusion?"The man had fallen into a wheedling tone as he studied their faces. "Jest put yourselves in my place, " he said. 

"Then what was he after?" said Mart. 

"Stealin'. But he figured he'd come again. "

"He didn't like my gun much. "

"Guns always skeers him when he don't know the parties shootin'. That's his dumbness. Maybe he thought I was after him; he's jest thatdistrustful. Begosh! we'll have the laugh on him when he finds he runfrom a little girl. "

"He didn't wait to see who he was running from, " said Mart. 

"Of course he didn't. Andy hears your gun and he don't inquire further, but hits the first hole he kin crawl into. That's Andy! That's the kindof boy I hev to work for me. All the good ones goes where you're goin', where the grain grows without irrigation and the blacktail deer comesout on the hill and asks yu' to shoot 'em for dinner. Who's ready forthe bottom? If I stay talkin' the sun'll go down on us. Don't yu' letme get started agin. Just you shet me off twiced anyway each twenty-fourhours. "

He began to descend with his pack-horse and the first load. Allafternoon they went up and down over the hot bare face of the hill, until the baggage, heavy and light, was transported and droppedpiecemeal on the shore. The torn-out insides of their home littered thestones with familiar shapes and colors, and Nancy played among them, visiting each parcel and folded thing. 

"There's the red table-cover!" she exclaimed, "and the bigcoffee-grinder. And there's our table, and the hole Mart burned in it. "She took a long look at this. "Oh, how I wish I could see our pump!" shesaid, and began to cry. 

"You talk to her, mother, " said Clallam. "She's tuckered out. "

The men returned to bring the wagon. With chain-locked wheels, andtilted half over by the cross slant of the mountain, it came heavilydown, reeling and sliding on the slippery yellow weeds, and grindingdeep ruts across the faces of the shelving beds of gravel. Jake guidedit as he could, straining back on the bits of the two hunched horseswhen their hoofs glanced from the stones that rolled to the bottom;and the others leaned their weight on a pole lodged between the spokes, making a balance to the wagon, for it leaned the other way so far thatat any jolt the two wheels left the ground. When it was safe at thelevel of the stream, dusk had come and a white flat of mist lay alongthe river, striping its course among the gaunt hills. They slept withoutmoving, and rose early to cut logs, which the horses dragged to theshore. The outside trunks were nailed and lashed with ropes, and sankalmost below the surface with the weight of the wood fastened crosswiseon top. But the whole floated dry with its cargo, and crossed clumsilyon the quick-wrinkled current. Then it brought the wagon; and the sixhorses swam. The force of the river had landed them below the cabin, and when they had repacked there was too little left of day to go on. Clallam suggested it was a good time to take Moon's leavings over tothe Okanagon, but Wild-Goose Jake said at once that their load was heavyenough; and about this they could not change his mind. He made a journeyto the cabin by himself, and returned saying that he had managed to lockthe door. 

"Father, " said Mart, as they were harnessing next day, "I've been upthere. I went awful early. There's no lock to the door, and the cabin'sempty. "

"I guessed that might be. "

"There has been a lock pried off pretty lately. There was a lot ofbroken bottles around everywheres, inside and out. "

"What do you make out of it?" said Mart. 

"Nothing yet. He wants to get us away, and I'm with him there. I want toget up the Okanagon as soon as we can. "

"Well, I'm takin' yu' the soonest way, " said Wild-Goose Jake, behindthem. From his casual smile there was no telling what he had heard. "I'll put your stuff acrosst the Okanagon to-morrow mornin'. Butto-night yourselves'll all be over, and the ladies kin sleep in myroom. "

The wagon made good time. The trail crossed easy valleys and overthe yellow grass of the hills, while now and then their guide tooka short-cut. He wished to get home, he said, since there could be noestimating what Leander might be doing. While the sun was still well upin the sky they came over a round knob and saw the Okanagon, blue in thebright afternoon, and the cabin on its further bank. This was a roomierbuilding to see than common, and a hay-field was by it, and a bitof green pasture, fenced in. Saddle-horses were tied in front, headshanging and feet knuckled askew with long waiting, and from inside anuneven, riotous din whiffled lightly across the river and interveningmeadow to the hill. 

"If you'll excuse me, " said Jake, "I'll jest git along ahead, and seewhat game them folks is puttin' up on Andy. Likely as not he's weighin''em out flour at two cents, with it costin' me two and a half onfreightin' alone. I'll hev supper ready time you ketch up. "

He was gone at once, getting away at a sharp pace, till presently theycould see him swimming the stream. When he was in the cabin the soundschanged, dropping off to one at a time, and expired. But when the riderscame out into the air, they leaned and collided at random, whirled theirarms, and, screaming till they gathered heart, charged with waveringmenace at the door. The foremost was flung from the sill, and he shotalong toppling and scraped his length in the dust, while the owner ofthe cabin stood in the entrance. The Indian picked himself up, and atsome word of Jake's which the emigrants could half follow by the fiercelift of his arm, all got on their horses and set up a wailing, likevultures driven off. They went up the river a little and crossed, butdid not come down this side, and Mrs. Clallam was thankful when theirevil noise had died away up the valley. They had seen the wagon coming, but gave it no attention. A man soon came over the river from thecabin, and was lounging against a tree when the emigrants drew up at themargin. 

"I don't know what you know, " he whined defiantly from the tree, "butI'm goin' to Cornwall, Connecticut, and I don't care who knows it. " Hesent a cowed look at the cabin across the river. 

"Get out of the wagon, Nancy, " said Clallam. "Mart, help her down. "

"I'm going back, " said the man, blinking like a scolded dog. "I ain'tstayin' here for nobody. You can tell him I said so, too. " Again his eyeslunk sidewise towards the cabin, and instantly back. 

"While you're staying, " said Mart, "you might as well give a hand here. "

He came with alacrity, and made a shift of unhitching the horses. "I wasbetter off coupling freight cars on the Housatonic, " he soon remarked. His voice came shallow, from no deeper than his throat, and a peevishapprehension rattled through it. "That was a good job. And I've hadbetter, too; forty, fifty, sixty dollars better. "

"Shall we unpack the wagon?" Clallam inquired. 

"I don't know. You ever been to New Milford? I sold shoes there. Thirty-five dollars and board. "

The emigrants attended to their affairs, watering the horses and drivingpicket stakes. Leander uselessly followed behind them with conversation, blinking and with lower lip sagged, showing a couple of teeth. "Mybrother's in business in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, " said he, "and I canget a salary in Bridgeport any day I say so. That a Marlin?"

"No, " said Mart. "It's a Winchester. "

"I had a Marlin. He's took it from me. I'll bet you never got shot at. "

"Anybody want to shoot you?" Mart inquired. 

"Well and I guess you'll believe they did day before yesterday"

"If you're talking about up at that cabin, it was me. "

Leander gave Mart a leer. "That won't do, " said he. "He's put you up totelling me that, and I'm going to Cornwall, Connecticut. I know what'sgood for me, I guess. "

"I tell you we were looking for the ferry, and I signalled you acrossthe river. "

"No, no, " said Leander. "I never seen you in my life. Don't you be likehim and take me for a fool. "

"All right. Why did they want to murder you?"

"Why?" said the man, shrilly. "Why? Hadn't they broke in and filledthemselves up on his piah-chuck till they were crazy-drunk? And when Icame along didn't they--"

"When you came along they were nowhere near there, " said Mart. 

"Now you're going to claim it was me drunk it and scattered all thembottles of his, " screamed Leander, backing away. "I tell you I didn't. I told him I didn't, and he knowed it well, too. But he's just that meanwhen he's mad he likes to put a thing on me whether or no, when he neverseen me touch a drop of whiskey, nor any one else, neither. They wereriding and shooting loose over the country like they always do on adrunk. And I'm glad they stole his stuff. What business had he to keepit at Billy Moon's old cabin and send me away up there to see it was allright? Let him do his own dirty work. I ain't going to break the laws onthe salary he pays me. "

The Clallam family had gathered round Leander, who was stricken withvolubility. "It ain't once in a while, but it's every day and everyweek, " he went on, always in a woolly scream. "And the longer he ain'tcaught the bolder he gets, and puts everything that goes wrong on to me. Was it me traded them for that liquor this afternoon? It was his squaw, Big Tracks, and he knowed it well. He lets that mud-faced baboon run thehouse when he's off, and I don't have the keys nor nothing, and neverdid have. But of course he had to come in and say it was me just becausehe was mad about having you see them Siwashes hollering around. And hecome and shook me where I was sittin', and oh, my, he knowed well thelie he was acting. I bet I've got the marks on my neck now. See any redmarks?" Leander exhibited the back of his head, but the violence donehim had evidently been fleeting. "He'll be awful good to you, for he'sthat scared--"

Leander stood tremulously straight in silence, his lip sagging, asWild-Goose Jake called pleasantly from the other bank. "Come to supper, you folks, " said he. "Why, Andy, I told you to bring them across, andyou've let them picket their horses. Was you expectin' Mrs. Clallam totake your arm and ford six feet of water?" For some reason his voicesounded kind as he spoke to his assistant. 

"Well, mother?" said Clallam. 

"If it was not for Nancy, John--"

"I know, I know. Out on the shore here on this side would be apleasanter bedroom for you, but" (he looked up the valley) "I guess ourfriend's plan is more sensible to-night. "

So they decided to leave the wagon behind and cross to the cabin. Thehorses put them with not much wetting to the other bank, where Jake, most eager and friendly, hovered to meet his party, and when they weresafe ashore pervaded his premises in their behalf. 

"Turn them horses into the pasture, Andy, " said he, "and first feed 'ema couple of quarts. " It may have been hearing himself say this, buttone and voice dropped to the confidential and his sentences came with achuckle. "Quarts to the horses and quarts to the Siwashes and a skookumpack of trouble all round, Mrs. Clallam! If I hedn't a-came to stop it awhile ago, why about all the spirits that's in stock jest now was bein'traded off for some blamed ponies the bears hev let hobble on the rangeunswallered ever since I settled here. A store on a trail like thishere, ye see, it hez to keep spirits, of course; and--well, well! here'smy room; you ladies'll excuse, and make yourselves at home as well asyou can. "

It was of a surprising neatness, due all to him, they presently saw; thelog walls covered with a sort of bunting that was also stretched acrossto make a ceiling below the shingles of the roof; fresh soap and towels, china service, a clean floor and bed, on the wall a print of some whiteand red village among elms, with a covered bridge and the water runningover an apron-dam just above; and a rich smell of whiskey everywhere. "Fix up as comfortable as yu' can, " the host repeated, "and I'll see howMrs. Jake's tossin' the flapjacks. She's Injun, yu' know, and five yearsof married life hadn't learned her to toss flapjacks. Now if I was you"(he was lingering in the doorway) "I wouldn't shet that winder so quick. It don't smell nice yet for ladies in here, and I'd hev liked to git thetime to do better for ye; but them Siwashes--well, of course, you folkssee how it is. Maybe it ain't always and only white men that patronizesour goods. Uncle Sam is a long way off, and I don't say we'd ought to, but when the cat's away, why the mice will, ye know--they most alwayswill. "

There was a rattle of boards outside, at which he shut the door quickly, and they heard him run. A light muttering came in at the window, and themother, peeping out, saw Andy fallen among a rubbish of crates and emptycans, where he lay staring, while his two fists beat up and down like adisordered toy. Wild-Goose Jake came, and having lifted him with greattenderness, was laying him flat as Elizabeth Clallam hurried to hishelp. 

"No, ma'am, " he sighed, "you can't do nothing, I guess. "

"Just let me go over and get our medicines. "

"Thank you, ma'am, " said Jake, and the pain on his face was miserable tosee; "there ain't no medicine. We're kind of used to this, Andy and me. Maybe, if you wouldn't mind stayin' till he comes to--Why, a sick mantakes comfort at the sight of a lady. "

When the fit had passed they helped him to his feet, and Jake led himaway. 

Mrs. Jake made her first appearance upon the guests sitting down totheir meal, when she waited on table, passing busily forth from thekitchen with her dishes. She had but three or four English words, andher best years were plainly behind her; but her cooking was good, fried and boiled with sticks of her own chopping, and she served withindustry. Indeed, a squaw is one of the few species of the domestic wifethat survive today upon our continent. Andy seemed now to keep allhis dislike for her, and followed her with a scowling eye, while hefrequented Jake, drawing a chair to sit next him when he smoked by thewall after supper, and sometimes watching him with a sort of cloudedaffection upon his face. He did not talk, and the seizure had evidentlyjarred his mind as well as his frame. When the squaw was about lightinga lamp he brushed her arm in a childish way so that the match went out, and set him laughing. She poured out a harangue in Chinook, showing thedead match to Jake, who rose and gravely lighted the lamp himself, Andylaughing more than ever. When Mrs. Clallam had taken Nancy with herto bed, Jake walked John Clallam to the river-bank, and looking up anddown, spoke a little of his real mind. 

"I guess you see how it is with me. Anyway, I don't commonly hev usefor stranger-folks in this house. But that little girl of yourn startedcryin' about not havin' the pump along that she'd been used to seein' inthe yard at home. And I says to myself, 'Look a-here, Jake, I don't careif they do ketch on to you and yer blamed whiskey business. They're notthe sort to tell on you. ' Gee! but that about the pump got me! And Isays, 'Jake, you're goin' to give them the best you hev got. ' Why, thatBig Bend desert and lonesome valley of the Columbia hez chilled my heartin the days that are gone when I weren't used to things; and the littlegirl hed came so fur! And I knowed how she was a-feelin'. "

He stopped, and seemed to be turning matters over. 

"I'm much obliged to you, " said Clallam. 

"And your wife was jest beautiful about Andy. You've saw me wicked toAndy. I am, and often, for I rile turruble quick, and God forgive me!But when that boy gits at his meanness--yu've seen jest a touch ofit--there's scarcely livin' with him. It seems like he got reg'larinspired. Some days he'll lie--make up big lies to the fust man comesin at the door. They ain't harmless, his lies ain't. Then he'll trick mywoman, that's real good to him; and I believe he'd lick whiskey up offthe dirt. And every drop is poison for him with his complaint. But I'dought to remember. You'd surely think I could remember, and forbear. Most likely he made a big talk to you about that cabin. "

John Clallam told him. 

"Well, that's all true, for onced. I did think he'd been up to stealin'that whiskey gradual, 'stead of fishin', the times he was out all day. And the salary I give him"--Jake laughed a little--"ain't enough tojustify a man's breaking the law. I did take his rifle away when hetried to shoot my woman. I guess it was Siwashes bruck into that cabin. "

"I'm pretty certain of it, " said Clallam. 

"You? What makes you?"

John began the tale of the galloping dots, and Jake stopped walking tolisten the harder. "Yes, " he said; "that's bad. That's jest bad. Theyhev carried a lot off to drink. That's the worst. "

He had little to say after this, but talked under his tongue as theywent to the house, where he offered a bed to Clallam and Mart. Theywould not turn him out, so he showed them over to a haystack, where theycrawled in and went to sleep. 

Most white men know when they have had enough whiskey. Most Indiansdo not. This is a difference between the races of which governmenthas taken notice. Government says that "no ardent spirits shall beintroduced under any presence into the Indian country. " It also saysthat the white man who attempts to break this law "shall be punished byimprisonment for not more than two years and by a fine of not more thanthree hundred dollars. " It further says that if any superintendent ofIndian affairs has reason to suspect a man, he may cause the "boats, stores, packages, wagons, sleds, and places of deposit" of such personto be searched, and if ardent spirits be found it shall be forfeit, together with the boats and all other substances with it connected, onehalf to the informer and the other half to the use of the United States. The courts and all legal machines necessary for trial and punishment ofoffenders are oiled and ready; two years is a long while in jail; threehundred dollars and confiscation sounds heavy; altogether the penaltylooks severe on the printed page--and all the while there's no briskersuccess in our far West than selling whiskey to Indians. Very few peopleknow what the whiskey is made of, and the Indian does not care. Hedrinks till he drops senseless. If he has killed nobody and nobody himduring the process, it is a good thing, for then the matter ends withhis getting sober and going home to his tent till such happy time whenhe can put his hand on some further possession to trade away. The whiteoffender is caught now and then; but Okanagon County lies pretty snugfrom the arm of the law. It's against Canada to the north, and the emptycounty of Stevens to the east; south of it rushes the Columbia, withthe naked horrible Big Bend beyond, and to its west rises a domainof unfooted mountains. There is law up in the top of it at Conconullysometimes, but not much even to-day, for that is still a new country, where flow the Methow, the Ashinola, and the Similikameen. 

Consequently a cabin like Wild-Goose Jake's was a holiday place. Theblanketed denizens of the reservation crossed to it, and the citizenswho had neighboring cabins along the trail repaired here to spend whatmoney they had. As Mrs. Clallam lay in her bed she heard customersarrive. Two or three loud voices spoke in English, and several Indiansand squaws seemed to be with the party, bantering in Chinook. Thevisitors were in too strong force for Jake's word about coming someother night to be of any avail. 

"Open your cellar and quit your talk, " Elizabeth heard, and next sheheard some door that stuck, pulled open with a shriek of the warpedtimber. Next they were gambling, and made not much noise over it atfirst; but the Indians in due time began to lose to the soberer whites, becoming quarrelsome, and raising a clumsy disturbance, though it wasplain the whites had their own way and were feared. The voices rose, andsoon there was no moment that several were not shouting curses at once, till Mrs. Clallam stopped her ears. She was still for a time, hearingonly in a muffled way, when all at once the smell of drink and tobacco, that had sifted only a little through the cracks, grew heavy in theroom, and she felt Nancy shrink close to her side. 

"Mother, mother, " the child whispered, "what's that?"

It had gone beyond card-playing with the company in the saloon; theyseemed now to be having a savage horse-play, those on their feettramping in their scuffles upon others on the floor, who bellowedincoherently. Elizabeth Clallam took Nancy in her arms and told her thatnobody would come where they were. 

But the child was shaking. "Yes, they will, " she whispered, in terror. "They are!" And she began a tearless sobbing, holding her mother withher whole strength. 

A little sound came close by the bed, and Elizabeth's senses stopped sothat for half a minute she could not stir. She stayed rigid beneath thequilt, and Nancy clung to her. Something was moving over the floor. Itcame quite near, but turned, and its slight rustle crawled away towardsthe window. 

"Who is that?" demanded Mrs. Clallam, sitting up. 

There was no answer, but the slow creeping continued, always close alongthe floor, like the folds of stuff rubbing, and hands feeling their wayin short slides against the boards. She had no way to find where herhusband was sleeping, and while she thought of this and whether or notto rush out at the door, the table was gently shaken, there was a draweropened, and some object fell. 

"Only a thief, " she said to herself, and in a sort of sharp joy criedout her question again. 

The singular broken voice of a woman answered, seemingly in fear. "Match-es, " it said; and "Match-es" said a second voice, pronouncingwith difficulty, like the first. She knew it was some of the squaws, andsprang from the bed, asking what they were doing there. "Match-es, "they murmured; and when she had struck a light she saw how the two werecringing, their blankets huddled round them. Their motionless black eyeslooked up at her from the floor where they lay sprawled, making no offerto get up. It was clear to her from the pleading fear in the one wordthey answered to whatever she said, that they had come here to hide fromthe fury of the next room; and as she stood listening to this she wouldhave let them remain, but their escape had been noticed. A man burstinto the room, and at sight of her and Nancy stopped, and was blunderingexcuses, when Jake caught his arm and had dragged him almost out, but hesaw the two on the floor; at this, getting himself free, he half sweptthe crouching figures with his boot as they fled out of the room, andthe door was swung shut. Mrs. Clallam heard his violent words to thesquaws for daring to disturb the strangers, and there followed the heavylashing of a quirt, with screams and lamenting. No trouble came from theIndian husbands, for they were stupefied on the ground, and when theirintelligences quickened enough for them to move, the punishment waslong over and no one in the house awake but Elizabeth and Nancy, seatedtogether in their bed, watching for the day. Mother and daughter heardthem rise to go out one by one, and the hoof-beats of their horses grewdistant up and down the river. As the rustling trees lighted and turnedtransparent in the rising sun, Jake roused those that remained and gotthem away. Later he knocked at the door. 

"I hev a little raft fixed this morning, " said he, "and I guess we canswim the wagon over here. "

"Whatever's quickest to take us from this place, " Elizabeth answered. 

"Breakfast'll be ready, ma'am, whenever you say. "

"I am ready now. I shall want to start ferrying our things--Where's Mr. Clallam? Tell him to come here. "

"I will, ma'am. I'm sorry--"

"Tell Mr. Clallam to come here, please. "

John had slept sound in his haystack, and heard nothing. "Well, " hesaid, after comforting his wife and Nancy, "you were better off in theroom, anyway. I'd not blame him so, Liza. How was he going to help it?"

But Elizabeth was a woman, and just now saw one thing alone: if sellingwhiskey led to such things in this country, the man who sold it was muchworse than any mere law-breaker. John Clallam, being now a long timemarried, made no argument. He was looking absently at the open drawer ofa table. "That's queer, " he said, and picked up a tintype. 

She had no curiosity for anything in that room, and he laid it in thedrawer again, his thoughts being taken up with the next step of theirjourney, and what might be coming to them all. 

During breakfast Jake was humble about the fright the ladies hadreceived in his house, explaining how he thought he had acted for thebest; at which Clallam and Mart said that in a rough country folks mustlook for rough doings, and get along as well as they can; but Elizabethsaid nothing. The little raft took all but Nancy over the river to thewagon, where they set about dividing their belongings in loads thatcould be floated back, one at a time, and Jake returned to repair someof the disorder that remained from the night at the cabin. John and Martpoled the first cargo across, and while they were on the other side, Elizabeth looked out of the wagon, where she was working alone, and sawfive Indian riders coming down the valley. The dust hung in the air theyhad rushed through, and they swung apart and closed again as she hadseen before; so she looked for a rifle; but the firearms had gone overthe Okanagon with the first load. She got down and stood at the frontwheel of the wagon, confronting the riders when they pulled up theirhorses. One climbed unsteadily from his saddle and swayed towards her. 

"Drink!" said he, half friendly, and held out a bottle. 

Elizabeth shook her head. 

"Drink, " he grunted again, pushing the bottle at her. "Piah-chuck!Skookurn!" He had a slugglish animal grin, and when she drew back, tipped the bottle into his mouth, and directly choked, so that hisfriends on their horses laughed loud as he stood coughing. "Heap good, "he remarked, looking at Elizabeth, who watched his eyes swim with theplot of the drink. "Where you come back?" he inquired, touching thewagon. "You cross Okanagon? Me cross you; cross horses; cross all. Heapcheap. What yes?"

The others nodded. "Heap cheap, " they said. 

"We don't want you, " said Elizabeth. 

"No cross? Maybe he going cross you? What yes?"

Again Elizabeth nodded. 

"Maybe he Jake?" pursued the Indian. 

"Yes, he is. We don't want you. "

"We cross you all same. He not. "

The Indian spoke loud and thick, and Elizabeth looked over the riverwhere her husband was running with a rifle, and Jake behind him, holdinga warning hand on his arm. Jake called across to the Indians, wholistened sullenly, but got on their horses and went up the river. 

"Now, " said Jake to Clallam, "they ain't gone. Get your wife over hereso she kin set in my room till I see what kin be done. "

John left him at once, and crossed on the raft. His wife was stepping onit, when the noise and flight of riders descended along the other bank, where Jake was waiting. They went in a circle, with hoarse shouts, roundthe cabin as Mart with Nancy came from the pasture. The boy no soonersaw them than he caught his sister up and carried her quickly away amongthe corrals and sheds, where the two went out of sight. 

"You stay here, Liza, " her husband said. "I'll go back over. "

But Mrs. Clallam laughed. 

"Get ashore, " he cried to her. "Quick!"

"Where you go, I go, John. "

"What good, what good, in the name--"

"Then I'll get myself over, " said she. And he seized her as she wouldhave jumped into the stream. 

While they crossed, the Indians had tied their horses and rambled intothe cabin. Jake came from it to stop the Clallams. 

"They're after your contract, " said he, quietly. "They say they're goingto have the job of takin' the balance of your stuff that's left acrosstthe Okanagon over to this side. "

"What did you say?" asked Mrs. Clallam. 

"I set 'em up drinks to gain time. "

"Do you want me there?" said Clallam. 

"Begosh, no! That would mix things worse. "

"Can't you make them go away?" Elizabeth inquired. 

"Me and them, ye see, ma'am, we hev a sort of bargain they're to gitcertain ferryin'. I can't make 'em savvy how I took charge of you. Ifyou want them--" He paused. 

"We want them!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "If you're joking, it's a poorjoke. "

"It ain't no joke at all, ma'am. " Jake's face grew brooding. "Of coursefolks kin say who they'll be ferried by. And you may believe I'd ratherdo it. I didn't look for jest this complication; but maybe I kin steerthrough; and it's myself I've got to thank. Of course, if them Siwashesdid git your job, they'd sober up gittin' ready. And--"

The emigrants waited, but he did not go on with what was in his mind. "It's all right, " said he, in a brisk tone. "Whatever's a-comin'sa-comin'. " He turned abruptly towards the door. "Keep yerselves awayjest now, " he added, and went inside. 

The parents sought their children, finding Mart had concealed Nancy inthe haystack. They put Mrs. Clallam also in a protected place, as aloud altercation seemed to be rising at the cabin; this grew as theylistened, and Jake's squaw came running to hide herself. She could tellthem nothing, nor make them understand more than they knew; but shetouched John's rifle, signing to know if it were loaded, and wasgreatly relieved when he showed her the magazine full of cartridges. The quarrelling had fallen silent, but rose in a new gust of fierceness, sounding as if in the open air and coming their way. No Indian appeared, however, and the noise passed to the river, where the emigrants sooncould hear wood being split in pieces. 

John risked a survey. "It's the raft, " he said. "They're smashing it. Now they're going back. Stay with the children, Liza. "

"You're never going to that cabin?" she said. 

"He's in a scrape, mother. "

John started away, heedless of his wife's despair. At his coming theIndians shouted and surrounded him, while he heard Jake say, "Drop yourgun and drink with them. "

"Drink!" said Andy, laughing with the same screech he had made at thematch going out. "We re all going to Canaan, Connecticut. "

Each Indian held a tin cup, and at the instant these were emptiedthey were thrust towards Jake, who filled them again, going and comingthrough a door that led a step or two down into a dark place which washalf underground. Once he was not quick, or was imagined to be refusing, for an Indian raised his cup and drunkenly dashed it on Jake's head. Jake laughed good-humoredly, and filled the cup. 

"It's our one chance, " said he to John as the Indian, propping himselfby a hand on the wall, offered the whiskey to Clallam. 

"We cross you Okanagon, " he said. "What yes?"

"Maybe you say no?" said another, pressing the emigrant to the wall. 

A third interfered, saying something in their language, at which theother two disagreed. They talked a moment with threatening rage tillsuddenly all drew pistols. At this the two remaining stumbled among thegroup, and a shot went into the roof. Jake was there in one step witha keg, that they no sooner saw than they fell upon it, and the liquorjetted out as they clinched, wrestling over the room till one lay onhis back with his mouth at the open bung. It was wrenched from him, anddirectly there was not a drop more in it. They tilted it, and when noneran out, flung the keg out of doors and crowded to the door of the darkplace, where Jake barred the way. "Don't take to that yet!" he said toClallam, for John was lifting his rifle. 

"Piah-chuck!" yelled the Indians, scarcely able to stand. All otherthought had left them, and a new thought came to Jake. He reached for afresh keg, while they held their tin cups in the left hand and pistolsin the right, pushing so it was a slow matter to get the keg opened. They were fast nearing the sodden stage, and one sank on the floor. Jakeglanced in at the door behind him, and filled the cups once again. Whileall were drinking he went in the store-room and set more liquor open, beckoning them to come as they looked up from the rims to which theirlips had been glued. They moved round behind the table, grasping it tokeep on their feet, with the one on the floor crawling among the legsof the rest. When they were all inside, Jake leaped out and locked thedoor. 

"They kin sleep now, " said he. "Gunpowder won't be needed. Keep wideaway from in front. "

There was a minute of stillness within, and then a groveling noise andstruggle. A couple of bullets came harmless through the door. Thoseinside fought together as well as they could, while those outsidelistened as it grew less, the bodies falling stupefied without furthersound of rising. One or two, still active, began striking at the boardswith what heavy thing they could find, until suddenly the blade of anaxe crashed through. 

"Keep away!" cried Jake. But Andy had leaped insanely in front of thedoor, and fell dead with a bullet through him. With a terrible scream, Jake flung himself at the place, and poured six shots through the panel;then, as Clallam caught him, wrenched at the lock, and they saw inside. Whiskey and blood dripped together, and no one was moving there. Itwas liquor with some, and death with others, and all of it lay upon theguilty soul of Jake. 

"You deserve killing yourself, " said Clallam. 

"That's been attended to, " replied Jake, and he reeled, for during hisfire some Indian had shot once more. 

Clallam supported him to the room where his wife and Nancy had passedthe night, and laid him on the bed. "I'll get Mrs. Clallam, " said he. 

"If she'll be willin' to see me, " said the wounded man, humbly. 

She came, dazed beyond feeling any horror, or even any joy, and she didwhat she could. 

"It was seein' 'em hit Andy, " said Jake. "Is Andy gone? Yes, I kin tellhe's gone from your face. " He shut his eyes, and lay still so long atime that they thought he might be dying now; but he moved at length, and looked slowly round the wall till he saw the print of the villageamong the elms and the covered bridge. His hand lifted to show themthis. "That's the road, " said he. "Andy and me used to go fishin'acrosst that bridge. Did you ever see the Housatonic River? I've fisheda lot there. Cornwall, Connecticut. The hills are pretty there. ThenAndy got worse. You look in that drawer. " John remembered, and when hegot out the tintype, Jake stretched for it eagerly. "His mother and him, age ten, " he explained to Elizabeth, and held it for her to see, thenstudied the faces in silence. "You kin tell it's Andy, can't yu'?" Shetold him yes. "That was before we knowed he weren't--weren't goin' togrow up like the other boys he played with. So after a while, when shewas gone, I got ashamed seein' Andy's friends makin' their way whenhe couldn't seem to, and so I took him away where nobody hed ever beenacquainted with us. I was layin' money by to get him the best doctor inEurope. I 'ain't been a good man. "

A faintness mastered him, and Elizabeth would have put the pictureon the table, but his hand closed round it. They let him lie so, andElizabeth sat there, while John, with Mart, kept Nancy away till thehorror in the outer room was made invisible. They came and went quietly, and Jake seemed in a deepening torpor, once only rousing suddenly tocall his son's name, and then, upon looking from one to the other, herecollected, and his eyes closed again. His mind wandered, but verylittle, for torpor seemed to be overcoming him. The squaw had stolen in, and sat cowering and useless. Towards sundown John's heart sickened atthe sound of more horsemen; but it was only two white men, a sheriff andhis deputy. 

"Go easy, " said John. "He's not going to resist. "

"What's up here, anyway? Who are you?"

Clallam explained, and was evidently not so much as half believed. 

"If there are Indians killed, " said the sheriff, "there's still anothermatter for the law to settle with him. We're sent to search for whiskey. The county's about tired of him. "

"You'll find him pretty sick, " said John. 

"People I find always are pretty sick, " said the sheriff, and pushedhis way in, stopping at sight of Mrs. Clallam and the figure on the bed. "I'm arresting that man, madam, " he said, with a shade of apology. "Thecounty court wants him. "

Jake sat up and knew the sheriff. "You're a little late, Proctor, " saidhe. "The Supreme Court's a-goin' to call my case. " Then he fell back, for his case had been called. 

Hank's Woman

I

Many fish were still in the pool; and though luck seemed to have leftme, still I stood at the end of the point, casting and casting my vainline, while the Virginian lay and watched. Noonday's extreme brightnesshad left the river and the plain in cooling shadow, but spread andglowed over the yet undimmed mountains. Westward, the Tetons liftedtheir peaks pale and keen as steel through the high, radiant air. Deepdown between the blue gashes of their canons the sun sank long shafts oflight, and the glazed laps of their snow-fields shone separate and whiteupon their lofty vastness, like handkerchiefs laid out to dry. Opposite, above the valley, rose that other range, the Continental Divide, notsharp, but long and ample. It was bare in some high places, and belowthese it stretched everywhere, high and low, in brown and yellow parks, or in purple miles of pine a world of serene undulations, a great sweetcountry of silence. 

A passing band of antelope stood herded suddenly together at sight ofus; then a little breeze blew for a moment from us to them, andthey drifted like phantoms away, and were lost in the levels of thesage-brush. 

"If humans could do like that, " said the Virginian, watching them go. 

"Run, you mean?" said I. 

"Tell a foe by the smell of him, " explained the cow-puncher; "at fiftyyards--or a mile. "

"Yes, " I said; "men would be hard to catch. "

"A woman needs it most, " he murmured. He lay down again in his loungingsprawl, with his grave eyes intently fixed upon my fly-casting. 

The gradual day mounted up the hills farther from the floor of earth. Warm airs eddied in its wake slowly, stirring the scents of the plaintogether. I looked at the Southerner; and there was no guessing whathis thoughts might be at work upon behind that drowsy glance. Then for amoment a trout rose, but only to look and whip down again into the poolthat wedged its calm into the riffle from below. 

"Second thoughts, " mused the Virginian; and as the trout came no more, "Second thoughts, " he repeated; "and even a fish will have them soonerthan folks has them in this mighty hasty country. " And he rolled overinto a new position of ease. 

At whom or what was he aiming these shafts of truth? Or did he moralizemerely because health and the weather had steeped him in that serenitywhich lifts us among the spheres? Well, sometimes he went on from thesebeginnings and told me wonderful things. 

"I reckon, " said he, presently, "that knowing when to change your mindwould be pretty near knowledge enough for plain people. "

Since my acquaintance with him--this was the second summer of it--I hadcome to understand him enough to know that he was unfathomable. Still, for a moment it crossed my thoughts that perhaps now he was discoursingabout himself. He had allowed a jealous foreman to fall out with him atSunk Creek ranch in the spring, during Judge Henry's absence. The man, having a brief authority, parted with him. The Southerner had chosenthat this should be the means of ultimately getting the foremandismissed and himself recalled. It was strategic. As he put it to me:"When I am gone, it will be right easy for the Judge to see which ofus two he wants. And I'll not have done any talking. " All of which dulybefell in the autumn as he had planned: the foreman was sent off, his assistant promoted, and the Virginian again hired. But this wasmeanwhile. He was indulging himself in a several months' drifting, andwhile thus drifting he had written to me. That is how we two came to beon our way from the railroad to hunt the elk and the mountain-sheep, and were pausing to fish where Buffalo Fork joins its waters with SnakeRiver. In those days the antelope still ran there in hundreds, theYellowstone Park was a new thing, and mankind lived very far away. Sincemeeting me with the horses in Idaho the Virginian had been silent, evenfor him. So now I stood casting my fly, and trusting that he was nottroubled with second thoughts over his strategy. 

"Have yu' studded much about marriage?" he now inquired. His seriouseyes met mine as he lay stretched along the ground. 

"Not much, " I said; "not very much. "

"Let's swim, " he said. "They have changed their minds. "

Forthwith we shook off our boots and dropped our few clothes, andheedless of what fish we might now drive away, we went into the cool, slow, deep breadth of backwater which the bend makes just there. Ashe came up near me, shaking his head of black hair, the cowpuncher wassmiling a little. 

"Not that any number of baths, " he remarked, "would conceal a man'sobjectionableness from an antelope--not even a she-one. "

Then he went under water, and came up again a long way off. 

We dried before the fire, without haste. To need no clothes is betterthan purple and fine linen. Then he tossed the flap-jacks, and I servedthe trout, and after this we lay on our backs upon a buffalo-hide tosmoke and watch the Tetons grow more solemn, as the large stars openedout over the sky. 

"I don't care if I never go home, " said I. 

The Virginian nodded. "It gives all the peace o' being asleep with allthe pleasure o' feeling the widest kind of awake, " said he. "Yu' mightsay the whole year's strength flows hearty in every waggle of yourthumb. " We lay still for a while. "How many things surprise yu' anymore?" he next asked. 

I began considering; but his silence had at length worked round tospeech. 

"Inventions, of course, " said he, "these hyeh telephones an' truck yu'see so much about in the papers--but I ain't speaking o' such thingsof the brain. It is just the common things I mean. The things that alivin', noticin' man is liable to see and maybe sample for himself. Howmany o' them kind can surprise yu' still?"

I still considered. 

"Most everything surprised me onced, " the cow-puncher continued, in hisgentle Southern voice. "I must have been a mighty green boy. Till Iwas fourteen or fifteen I expect I was astonished by ten o'clock everymorning. But a man begins to ketch on to folks and things after a while. I don't consideh that when--that afteh a man is, say twenty-five, it iscreditable he should get astonished too easy. And so yu've not examinedyourself that-away?"

I had not. 

"Well, there's two things anyway--I know them for sure--that I expectwill always get me--don't care if I live to thirty-five, or forty-five, or eighty. And one's the ways lightning can strike. " He paused. Thenhe got up and kicked the fire, and stood by it, staring at me. "And theother is the people that other people will marry. "

He stopped again; and I said nothing. 

"The people that other people will marry, " he repeated. "That willsurprise me till I die. "

"If my sympathy--" I began. 

But the brief sound that he gave was answer enough, and more than enoughcure for my levity. 

"No, " said he, reflectively; "not any such thing as a fam'ly for me, yet. Never, it may be. Not till I can't help it. And that woman hasnot come along so far. But I have been sorry for a woman lately. I keepthinking what she will do. For she will have to do something. Do yu'know Austrians? Are they quick in their feelings, like I-talians? Orare they apt to be sluggish, same as Norwegians and them otherDutch-speakin' races?"

I told him what little I knew about Austrians. 

"This woman is the first I have ever saw of 'em, " he continued. "Ofcourse men will stampede into marriage in this hyeh Western country, where a woman is a scanty thing. It ain't what Hank has done thatsurprises me. And it is not on him that the sorrow will fall. For she isgood. She is very good. Do yu' remember little black Hank? From Texas heclaims he is. He was working on the main ditch over at Sunk Creek lastsummer when that Em'ly hen was around. Well, seh, yu' would not havepleasured in his company. And this year Hank is placer-mining on GalenaCreek, where we'll likely go for sheep. There's Honey Wiggin and a youngfello' named Lin McLean, and some others along with the outfit. ButHank's woman will not look at any of them, though the McLean boy is alikely hand. I have seen that; for I have done a right smart o' businessthat-a-way myself, here and there. She will mend their clothes for them, and she will cook lunches for them any time o' day, and her conduct gavethem hopes at the start. But I reckon Austrians have good religion. "

"No better than Americans, " said I. 

But the Virginian shook his head. "Better'n what I've saw any Americanshave. Of course I am not judging a whole nation by one citizen, andespecially her a woman. And of course in them big Austrian towns thefolks has shook their virtuous sayin's loose from their daily doin's, same as we have. I expect selling yourself brings the quickest returnsto man or woman all the world over. But I am speakin' not of towns, butof the back country, where folks don't just merely arrive on the cyars, but come into the world the natural way, and grow up slow. Onced a weekanyway they see the bunch of old grave-stones that marks their fam'ly. Their blood and name are knowed about in the neighborhood, and it's notoften one of such will sell themselves. But their religion ain't to themlike this woman's. They can be rip-snortin' or'tn'ary in ways. Now sheis getting naught but hindrance and temptation and meanness from herhusband and every livin' thing around her--yet she keeps right along, nor does she mostly bear any signs in her face. She has cert'nly comefrom where they are used to believing in God and a hereafter mightyhard, and all day long. She has got one o' them crucifixes, and Hankcan't make her quit prayin' to it. But what is she going to do?"

"He will probably leave her, " I said. 

"Yes, " said the Virginian--"leave her. Alone; her money all spent;knowin' maybe twenty words of English; and thousands of miles awayfrom everything she can understand. For our words and ways is all alikestrange to her. "

"Then why did he want such a person?" I exclaimed. 

There was surprise in the grave glance which the cow-puncher gave me. "Why, any man would, " he answered. "I wanted her myself, till I foundshe was good. "

I looked at this son of the wilderness, standing thoughtful and splendidby the fire, and unconscious of his own religion that had unexpectedlyshone forth in these last words. But I said nothing; for words toointimate, especially words of esteem, put him invariably to silence. 

"I had forgot to mention her looks to yu'. " he pursued, simply. "She isfit for a man. " He stopped again. 

"Then there was her wages that Hank saw paid to her, " he resumed. "Andso marriage was but a little thing to Hank--agaynst such a heap ofadvantages. As for her idea in takin' such as him--maybe it was that hewas small and she was big; tall and big. Or maybe it was just his whiteteeth. Them ridiculous reasons will bring a woman to a man, haven'tyu' noticed? But maybe it was just her sorrowful, helpless state, leftstranded as she was, and him keeping himself near her and sober for aweek. 

"I had been seein' this hyeh Yellowstone Park, takin' in its geysers, and this and that, for my enjoyment; and when I found what they claimedabout its strange sights to be pretty near so, I landed up at GalenaCreek to watch the boys prospectin'. Honey Wiggin, yu' know, and McLean, and the rest. And so they got me to go down with Hank to Gardner forflour and sugar and truck, which we had to wait for. We lay around theMammoth Springs and Gardner for three days, playin' cyards with friends. And I got plumb interested in them tourists. For I had partly forgotabout Eastern people. And hyeh they came fresh every day to remind a manof the great size of his country. Most always they would talk to yu' ifyu' gave 'em the chance; and I did. I have come mighty nigh regrettin'that I did not keep a tally of the questions them folks asked me. Andas they seemed genu-winely anxious to believe anything at all, and theworser the thing the believinger they'd grow, why I--well, there's timeswhen I have got to lie to keep in good health. 

"So I fooled and I fooled. And one noon I was on the front poach of thebig hotel they have opened at the Mammoth Springs for tourists, and thehotel kid, bein' on the watchout, he sees the dust comin' up the hill, and he yells out, 'Stage!'

"Yu've not saw that hotel yet, seh? Well, when the kid says 'Stage, ' theconsequences is most sudden. About as conspicuous, yu' may say, as whenOld Faithful Geyser lets loose. Yu' see, one batch o' tourists pullsout right after breakfast for Norris Basin, leavin' things empty andyawnin'. By noon the whole hotel outfit has been slumberin' in itschairs steady for three hours. Maybe yu' might hear a fly buzz, butmaybe not. Everything's liable to be restin', barrin' the kid. He'sa-watchin' out. Then he sees the dust, and he says 'Stage!' and ittouches the folks off like a hot pokeh. The Syndicate manager he lopesto a lookin'glass, and then organizes himself behind the book; and theyoung photograph chap bounces out o' his private door like one o' themcuckoo clocks; and the fossil man claws his specimens and curiositiesinto shape, and the porters line up same as parade, and away goes thepiano and fiddles up-stairs. It is mighty conspicuous. So Hank he comerennin' out from somewheres too, and the stage drives up. 

"Then out gets a tall woman, and I noticed her yello' hair. She waskind o' dumb-eyed, yet fine to see. I reckon Hank noticed her too, rightaway. And right away her trouble begins. For she was a lady's maid, andher lady was out of the stage and roundin' her up quick. And it's'Where have you put the keys, Willomene?' The lady was rich and stinkin'lookin', and had come from New Yawk in her husband's private cyar. 

"Well, Willomene fussed around in her pockets, and them keys was notthere. So she started explaining in tanglefoot English to her lady howher lady must have took them from her before leavin' the cyar. But thelady seemed to relish hustlin' herself into a rage. She got tolerableconspicuous, too. And after a heap o' words, 'You are discharged, ' shesays; and off she struts. Soon her husband came out to Willomene, stillstandin' like statuary, and he pays her a good sum of cash, and he goesaway, and she keeps a standing yet for a spell. Then all of a suddenshe says something I reckon was 'O, Jesus, ' and sits down and starts acryin'. 

"I would like to have given her comfort. But we all stood around on thehotel poach, and the right thing would not come into my haid. Then thebaggage-wagon came in from Cinnabar, and they had picked the keys up onthe road between Cinnabar and Gardner. So the lady and her toilet wasrescued, but that did no good to Willomene. They stood her trunk downalong with the rest--a brass-nailed little old concern--and there wasWillomene out of a job and afoot a long, long ways from her own range;and so she kept sitting, and onced in a while she'd cry some more. Wegot her a room in the cheap hotel where the Park drivers sleeps whenthey're in at the Springs, and she acted grateful like, thanking theboys in her tanglefoot English. Next mawnin' her folks druv off in aprivate team to Norris Basin, and she seemed dazed. For I talked withher then, and questioned her as to her wishes, but she could not saywhat she wished, nor if it was East or West she would go; and I reckonshe was too stricken to have wishes. 

"Our stuff for Galena Creek delayed on the railroad, and I got to knowher, and then I quit givin' Hank cause for jealousy. I kept myself withthe boys, and I played more cyards, while Hank he sca'cely played atall. One night I came on them--Hank and Willomene--walkin' among thepines where the road goes down the hill. Yu' should have saw that pairo' lovers. Her big shape was plain and kind o' steadfast in the moon, and alongside of her little black Hank! And there it was. Of course itain't nothing to be surprised at that a mean and triflin' man tries toseem what he is not when he wants to please a good woman. But why doesshe get fooled, when it's so plain to other folks that are not givin'it any special thought? All the rest of the men and women at the Mammothunderstood Hank. They knowed he was a worthless proposition. And Icert'nly relied on his gettin' back to his whiskey and openin' her eyesthat way. But he did not. I met them next evening again by the LibertyCap. Supposin' I'd been her brother or her mother, what use was it mewarning her? Brothers and mothers don't get believed. 

"The railroad brought the stuff for Galena Creek, and Hank wouldnot look at it on account of his courtin'. I took it alone myself byYancey's and the second bridge and Miller Creek to the camp, norI didn't tell Willomene good-bye, for I had got disgusted at herblindness. "

The Virginian shifted his position, and jerked his overalls to a morecomfortable fit. Then he continued:

"They was married the Tuesday after at Livingston, and Hank musthave been pow'ful pleased at himself. For he gave Willomene a weddingpresent, with the balance of his cash, spending his last nickel onbuying her a red-tailed parrot they had for sale at the First NationalBank. The son-of-a-gun hollad so freely at the bank, the presidentawde'd the cashier to get shed of the out-ragious bird, or he wouldwring its neck. 

"So Hank and Willomene stayed a week up in Livingston on her money, andthen he fetched her back to Gardner, and bought their grub, and brideand groom came up to the camp we had on Galena Creek. 

"She had never slep' out before. She had never been on a hawss, neither. And she mighty near rolled off down into Pitchstone Canyon, comin' up bythe cut-off trail. Why, seh, I would not willingly take you through thatplace, except yu' promised me yu' would lead your hawss when I saidto. But Hank takes the woman he had married, and he takes heavy-loadedpack-hawsses. 'Tis the first time such a thing has been known of in thecountry. Yu' remember them big tall grass-topped mountains over in theHoodoo country, and how they descends slam down through the cross-timberthat yu' can't scatcely work through afoot, till they pitches over intolots an' lots o' little canyons, with maybe two inches of water runnin'in the bottom? All that is East Fork water, and over the divide isClark's Fork, or Stinkin' Water, if yu' take the country yondeh to thesoutheast. But any place yu' go is them undesirable steep slopes, andthe cut-off trail takes along about the worst in the business. 

"Well, Hank he got his outfit over it somehow, and, gentlemen, hush!but yu'd ought t've seen him and that poor girl pull into our camp. Yu'dcert'nly never have conjectured them two was a weddin' journey. He wasleadin', but skewed around in his saddle to jaw back at Willomene forriding so ignorant. Suppose it was a thing she was responsible for, yu'dnot have talked to her that-a-way even in private; and hyeh was thecamp a-lookin', and a-listenin', and some of us ashamed. She was settingstraddleways like a mountain, and between him and her went the threepackanimals, plumb shiverin' played out, and the flour--they had twohundred pounds--tilted over hellwards, with the red-tailed parrotshoutin' landslides in his cage tied on top o' the leanin' sacks. 

"It was that mean to see, that shameless and unkind, that even athoughtless kid like the McLean boy felt offended, and favorable to somesort of remonstrance. 'The son-of-a--!' he said to me. 'The son-of-a--!If he don't stop, let's stop him. ' And I reckon we might have. 

"But Hank he quit. 'Twas plain to see he'd got a genu-wine scare comin'through Pitchstone Canyon, and it turned him sour, so he'd hardly talkto us, but just mumbled 'How!' kind o' gruff, when the boys come up tocongratulate him as to his marriage. 

"But Willomene, she says when she saw me, 'Oh, I am so glad!' and weshook hands right friendly. And I wished I'd told her good-bye thatday at the Mammoth. For she bore no spite, and maybe I had forgot herfeelings in thinkin' of my own. I had talked to her down at theMammoth at first, yu' know, and she said a word about old friends. Our friendship was three weeks old that day, but I expect her newexperiences looked like years to her. And she told me how near she cometo gettin' killed. 

"Yu' ain't ever been over that trail, seh? Yu' cert'nly must seePitchstone Canyon. But we'll not go there with packs. And we will getoff our hawsses a good ways back. For many animals feels that there'ssomething the matter with that place, and they act very strange aboutit. 

"The Grand Canyon is grand, and makes yu' feel good to look at it, anda geyser is grand and all right, too. But this hyeh Pitchstone hole, if Willomene had went down into that--well, I'll tell yu', that you mayjudge. 

"She seen the trail a-drawin' nearer and nearer the aidge, between thetimber and the jumpin'-off place, and she seen how them little loosestones and the crumble stuff would slide and slide away under thehawss's feet. She could hear the stuff rattlin' continually from hissteps, and when she turned her haid to look, she seen it goin' downclose beside her, but into what it went she could not see. Only, therewas a queer steam would come up now and agayn, and her hawss trembled. So she tried to get off and walk without sayin' nothin' to Hank. He kep'on ahaid, and her hawss she had pulled up started to follo' as she washalf off him, and that gave her a tumble, but there was an old crookeddead tree. It growed right out o' the aidge. There she hung. 

"Down below is a little green water tricklin', green as the stuff thatgets on brass, and tricklin' along over soft cream-colored formation, like pie. And it ain't so far to fall but what a man might not betoo much hurt for crawlin' out. But there ain't no crawlin' out o'Pitchstone Canyon, they say. Down in there is caves that yu' cannot see. 'Tis them that coughs up the stream now and agayn. With the wind yu'can smell 'em a mile away, and in the night I have been layin' quiet andheard 'em. Not that it's a big noise, even when a man is close up. It's a fluffy kind of a sigh. But it sounds as if some awful thingwas a-makin' it deep down in the guts of the world. They claim there'spoison air comes out o' the caves and lays low along the water. Theyclaim if a bear or an elk strays in from below, and the caves sets uptheir coughin', which they don't regular every day, the animals die. Ihave seen it come in two seconds. And when it comes that-a-way risin'upon yu' with that fluffy kind of a sigh, yu' feel mighty lonesome, seh. 

"So Hank he happened to look back and see Willomene hangin' at the aidgeo' them black rocks. And his scare made him mad. And his mad stayedwith him till they come into camp. She looked around, and when she seenHank's tent that him and her was to sleep in she showed surprise. And heshowed surprise when he see the bread she cooked. 

"'What kind of a Dutch woman are yu', ' says he, strainin' for a joke, 'if yu' can't use a Dutch-oven?'

"'You say to me you have a house to live in, ' says Willomene. 'Where isthat house?'

"'I did not figure on gettin' a woman when I left camp, ' says Hank, grinnin', but not pleasant, 'or I'd have hurried up with the shack I'm abuildin'. '

"He was buildin' one. When I left Galena Creek and come away from thatcountry to meet you, the house was finished enough for the couple tomove in. I hefted her brass-nailed trunk up the hill from their tentmyself, and I watched her take out her crucifix. But she would not letme help her with that. She'd not let me touch it. She'd fixed it upagaynst the wall her own self her own way. But she accepted some flowersI picked, and set them in a can front of the crucifix. Then Hank he comein, and seein', says to me, 'Are you one of the kind that squats beforethem silly dolls?' 'I would tell yu', I answered him; 'but it would notinter-est yu'. ' And I cleared out, and left him and Willomene to begintheir housekeepin'. 

"Already they had quit havin' much to say to each other down in theirtent. The only steady talkin' done in that house was done by the parrot. I've never saw any go ahaid of that bird. I have told yu' about Hank, and how when he'd come home and see her prayin' to that crucifix he'dalways get riled up. He would mention it freely to the boys. Not thatshe neglected him, yu' know. She done her part, workin' mighty hard, forshe was a willin' woman. But he could not make her quit her religion;and Willomene she had got to bein' very silent before I come away. Sheused to talk to me some at first, but she dropped it. I don't knowwhy. I expect maybe it was hard for her to have us that close in camp, witnessin' her troubles every day, and she a foreigner. I reckon if shegot any comfort, it would be when we was off prospectin' or huntin', andshe could shut the cabin door and be alone. "

The Virginian stopped for a moment. 

"It will soon be a month since I left Galena Creek, " he resumed. "But Icannot get the business out o' my haid. I keep a studyin' over it. "

His talk was done. He had unburdened his mind. Night lay deep and quietaround us, with no sound far or near, save Buffalo Fork plashing overits riffle. 

II

We left Snake River. We went up Pacific Creek, and through Two OceanPass, and down among the watery willow-bottoms and beaverdams of theUpper Yellowstone. We fished; we enjoyed existence along the lake. Thenwe went over Pelican Creek trail and came steeply down into the giantcountry of grasstopped mountains. At dawn and dusk the elk had begun tocall across the stillness. And one morning in the Hoodoo country, where we were looking for sheep, we came round a jut of the strange, organ-pipe formation upon a longlegged boy of about nineteen, alsohunting. 

"Still hyeh?" said the Virginian, without emotion. 

"I guess so, " returned the boy, equally matter-of-fact. "Yu' seem to bearound yourself, " he added. 

They might have been next-door neighbors, meeting in a town street forthe second time in the same day. 

The Virginian made me known to Mr. Lin McLean, who gave me a brief nod. 

"Any luck?" he inquired, but not of me. 

"Oh, " drawled the Virginian, "luck enough. "

Knowing the ways of the country, I said no word. It was bootless tointerrupt their own methods of getting at what was really in both theirminds. 

The boy fixed his wide-open hazel eyes upon me. "Fine weather, " hementioned. 

"Very fine, " said I. 

"I seen your horses a while ago, " he said. "Camp far from here?" heasked the Virginian. 

"Not specially. Stay and eat with us. We've got elk meat. "

"That's what I'm after for camp, " said McLean. "All of us is out on ahunt to-day--except him. "

"How many are yu' now?"

"The whole six. "

"Makin' money?"

"Oh, some days the gold washes out good in the pan, and others it's thatfine it'll float off without settlin'. "

"So Hank ain't huntin' to-day?"

"Huntin'! We left him layin' out in that clump o'brush below theircabin. Been drinkin' all night. "

The Virginian broke off a piece of the Hoodoo mud-rock from the weirderoded pillar that we stood beside. He threw it into a bank of lastyear's snow. We all watched it as if it were important. Up through themountain silence pierced the long quivering whistle of a bull-elk. Itwas like an unearthly singer practising an unearthly scale. 

"First time she heard that, " said McLean, "she was scared. "

"Nothin' maybe to resemble it in Austria, " said the Virginian. 

"That's so, " said McLean. "That's so, you bet! Nothin' just like Hankover there, neither. "

"Well, flesh is mostly flesh in all lands, I reckon, " said theVirginian. "I expect yu' can be drunk and disorderly in every language. But an Austrian Hank would be liable to respect her crucifix. "

"That's so!"

"He ain't made her quit it yet?"

"Not him. But he's got meaner. "

"Drunk this mawnin', yu' say?"

"That's his most harmless condition now. "

"Nobody's in camp but them two? Her and him alone?"

"Oh, he dassent touch her. "

"Who did he tell that to?"

"Oh, the camp is backin' her. The camp has explained that to him severaltimes, you bet! And what's more, she has got the upper hand of himherself. She has him beat. "

"How beat?"

"She has downed him with her eye. Just by endurin' him peacefully; andwith her eye. I've saw it. Things changed some after yu' pulled out. Wehad a good crowd still, and it was pleasant, and not too lively nor yettoo slow. And Willomene, she come more among us. She'd not stay shutin-doors, like she done at first. I'd have like to've showed her how topunish Hank. "

"Afteh she had downed yu' with her eye?" inquired the Virginian. 

Young McLean reddened, and threw a furtive look upon me, the stranger, the outsider. "Oh, well, " he said, "I done nothing onusual. But that'sall different now. All of us likes her and respects her, and makesallowances for her bein' Dutch. Yu' can't help but respect her. And sheshows she knows. "

"I reckon maybe she knows how to deal with Hank, " said the Virginian. 

"Shucks!" said McLean, scornfully. "And her so big and him so puny! She'dought to lift him off the earth with one arm and lam him with a baste ortwo with the other, and he'd improve. "

"Maybe that's why she don't, " mused the Virginian, slowly; "becauseshe is so big. Big in the spirit, I mean. She'd not stoop to hislevel. Don't yu' see she is kind o' way up above him and camp andeverything--just her and her crucifix?"

"Her and her crucifix!" repeated young Lin McLean, staring at thisinterpretation, which was beyond his lively understanding. "Her and hercrucifix. Turruble lonesome company! Well, them are things yu' don'tknow about. I kind o' laughed myself the first time I seen her at it. Hank, he says to me soft, 'Come here, Lin, ' and I peeped in where shewas a-prayin'. She seen us two, but she didn't quit. So I quit, and Hankcame with me, sayin' tough words about it. Yes, them are things yu'sure don't know about. What's the matter with you camping with us boystonight?"

We had been going to visit them the next day. We made it to-day, instead. And Mr. McLean helped us with our packs, and we carried ourwelcome in the shape of elk meat. So we turned our faces down thegrass-topped mountains towards Galena Creek. Once, far through anopen gap away below us, we sighted the cabin with the help of ourfield-glasses. 

"Pity we can't make out Hank sleepin' in that brush, " said McLean. 

"He has probably gone into the cabin by now, " said I. 

"Not him! He prefers the brush all day when he's that drunk, you bet!"

"Afraid of her?"

"Well--oneasy in her presence. Not that she's liable to be in therenow. She don't stay inside nowadays so much. She's been comin' roundthe ditch, silent-like but friendly. And she'll watch us workin' for aspell, and then she's apt to move off alone into the woods, singin' themDutch songs of hern that ain't got no toon. I've met her walkin' thatway, tall and earnest, lots of times. But she don't want your company, though she'll patch your overalls and give yu' lunch always. Nor shewon't take pay. "

Thus we proceeded down from the open summits into the close pines;and while we made our way among the cross-timber and over the littlestreams, McLean told us of various days and nights at the camp, and howHank had come to venting his cowardice upon his wife's faith. 

"Why, he informed her one day when he was goin' take his dust to town, that if he come back and found that thing in the house, he'd do it upfor her. 'So yu' better pack off your wooden dummy somewheres, ' says he. And she just looked at him kind o' stone-like and solemn. For she don'tcare for his words no more. 

"And while he was away she'd have us all in to supper up at the shack, and look at us eatin' while she'd walk around puttin' grub on yourplate. Day time she'd come around the ditch, watchin' for a while, andmove off slow, singin' her Dutch songs. And when Hank comes back fromspendin' his dust, he sees the crucifix same as always, and he says, 'Didn't I tell yu' to take that down?' 'You did, ' says Willomene, lookin' at him very quiet. And he quit. 

"And Honey Wiggin says to him, 'Hank, leave her alone. ' And Hank, bein'all trembly from spreein' in town, he says, 'You're all agin me!' likeas if he were a baby. "

"I should think you would run him out of camp, " said I. 

"Well, we've studied over that some, " McLean answered. "But what's to bedone with Willomene?"

I did not know. None of us seemed to know. 

"The boys got together night before last, " continued McLean, "and afterholdin' a unanimous meetin', we visited her and spoke to her about goin'back to her home. She was slow in corrallin' our idea on account of herbein' no English scholar. But when she did, after three of us takin'their turn at puttin' the proposition to her, she would not acceptany of our dust. And though she started to thank us the handsomest sheknowed how, it seemed to grieve her, for she cried. So we thought we'dbetter get out. She's tried to tell us the name of her home, but yu'can't pronounce such outlandishness. "

As we went down the mountains, we talked of other things, but alwayscame back to this; and we were turning it over still when the sun haddeparted from the narrow cleft that we were following, and shone onlyon the distant grassy tops which rose round us into an upper world oflight. 

"We'll all soon have to move out of this camp, anyway, " said McLean, unstrapping his coat from his saddle and drawing it on. "It gets chillnow in the afternoons. D' yu' see the quakin'-asps all turned yello', and the leaves keeps fallin' without no wind to blow 'em down? We'reliable to get snowed in on short notice in this mountain country. If thewater goes to freeze on us we'll have to quit workin'. There's camp. "

We had rounded a corner, and once more sighted the cabin. I suppose itmay have been still half a mile away, upon the further side of a ravineinto which our little valley opened. But field-glasses were not needednow to make out the cabin clearly, windows and door. Smoke rose from it;for supper-time was nearing, and we stopped to survey the scene. As wewere looking, another hunter joined us, coming from the deep woods tothe edge of the pines where we were standing. This was Honey Wiggin. Hehad killed a deer, and he surmised that all the boys would be back soon. Others had met luck besides himself; he had left one dressing an elkover the next ridge. Nobody seemed to have got in yet, from appearances. Didn't the camp look lonesome?

"There's somebody, though, " said McLean. 

The Virginian took the glasses. "I reckon--yes, that's Hank. The coldhas woke him up, and he's comin' in out o' the brush. "

Each of us took the glasses in turn; and I watched the figure go up thehill to the door of the cabin. It seemed to pause and diverge to thewindow. At the window it stood still, head bent, looking in. Then itreturned quickly to the door. It was too far to discern, even throughthe glasses, what the figure was doing. Whether the door was locked, whether he was knocking or fumbling with a key, or whether he spokethrough the door to the person within--I cannot tell what it was thatcame through the glasses straight to my nerves, so that I jumped at asudden sound; and it was only the distant shrill call of an elk. I washanding the glasses to the Virginian for him to see when the figureopened the door and disappeared in the dark interior. As I watched thesquare of darkness which the door's opening made, something seemed tohappen there--or else it was a spark, a flash, in my own straining eyes. 

But at that same instant the Virginian dashed forward upon his horse, leaving the glasses in my hand. And with the contagion of his act therest of us followed him, leaving the pack animals to follow us as theyshould choose. 

"Look!" cried McLean. "He's not shot her. "

I saw the tall figure of a woman rush out of the door and pass quicklyround the house. 

"He's missed her!" cried McLean, again. "She's savin' herself. "

But the man's figure did not appear in pursuit. Instead of this, the woman returned as quickly as she had gone, and entered the darkinterior. 

"She had something, " said Wiggin. "What would that be?"

"Maybe it's all right, after all, " said McLean. "She went out to getwood. "

The rough steepness of our trail had brought us down to a walk, andas we continued to press forward at this pace as fast as we could, wecompared a few notes. McLean did not think he saw any flash. Wigginthought that he had heard a sound, but it was at the moment when theVirginian's horse had noisily started away. 

Our trail had now taken us down where we could no longer look across andsee the cabin. And the half-mile proved a long one over this ground. Atlength we reached and crossed the rocky ford, overtaking the Virginianthere. 

"These hawsses, " said he, "are played out. We'll climb up to camp afoot. And just keep behind me for the present. "

We obeyed our natural leader, and made ready for whatever we might begoing into. We passed up the steep bank and came again in sight of thedoor. It was still wide open. We stood, and felt a sort of silence whichthe approach of two new-comers could not break. They joined us. Theyhad been coming home from hunting, and had plainly heard a shot here. We stood for a moment more after learning this, and then one of themen called out the names of Hank and Willomene. Again we--or I atleast--felt that same silence, which to my disturbed imagination seemedto be rising round us as mists rise from water. 

"There's nobody in there, " stated the Virginian. "Nobody that's alive, "he added. And he crossed the cabin and walked into the door. 

Though he made no gesture, I saw astonishment pass through his body, ashe stopped still; and all of us came after him. There hung the crucifix, with a round hole through the middle of it. One of the men went to itand took it down; and behind it, sunk in the log, was the bullet. Thecabin was but a single room, and every object that it contained could beseen at a glance; nor was there hiding-room for anything. On the floorlay the axe from the wood-pile; but I will not tell of its appearance. So he had shot her crucifix, her Rock of Ages, the thing which enabledher to bear her life, and that lifted her above life; and she--but therewas the axe to show what she had done then. Was this cabin really empty?I looked more slowly about, half dreading to find that I had overlookedsomething. But it was as the Virginian had said; nobody was there. 

As we were wondering, there was a noise above our heads, and I was notthe only one who started and stared. It was the parrot; and we stoodaway in a circle, looking up at his cage. Crouching flat on the floor ofthe cage, his wings huddled tight to his body, he was swinging his headfrom side to side; and when he saw that we watched him, he began a lowcroaking and monotonous utterance, which never changed, but remainedrapid and continuous. I heard McLean whisper to the Virginian, "You bethe knows. "

The Virginian stepped to the door, and then he bent to the graveland beckoned us to come and see. Among the recent footprints at thethreshold the man's boot-heel was plain, as well as the woman's broadtread. But while the man's steps led into the cabin, they did not leadaway from it. We tracked his course just as we had seen it through theglasses: up the hill from the brush to the window, and then to the door. But he had never walked out again. Yet in the cabin he was not; we toreup the half-floor that it had. There was no use to dig in the earth. Andall the while that we were at this search the parrot remained crouchedin the bottom of his cage, his black eye fixed upon our movements. 

"She has carried him, " said the Virginian. "We must follow upWillomene. "

The latest heavy set of footprints led us from the door along the ditch, where they sank deep in the softer soil; then they turned off sharplyinto the mountains. 

"This is the cut-off trail, " said McLean to me. "The same he brought herin by. "

The tracks were very clear, and evidently had been made by a personmoving slowly. Whatever theories our various minds were now shaping, noone spoke a word to his neighbor, but we went along with a hush over us. 

After some walking, Wiggin suddenly stopped and pointed. 

We had come to the edge of the timber, where a narrow black canyonbegan, and ahead of us the trail drew near a slanting ledge, where thefooting was of small loose stones. I recognized the odor, the volcanicwhiff, that so often prowls and meets one in the lonely woods of thatregion, but at first I failed to make out what had set us all running. 

"Is he looking down into the hole himself?" some one asked; and thenI did see a figure, the figure I had looked at through the glasses, leaning strangely over the edge of Pitchstone Canyon, as if indeed hewas peering to watch what might be in the bottom. 

We came near. But those eyes were sightless, and in the skull the storyof the axe was carved. By a piece of his clothing he was hooked in thetwisted roots of a dead tree, and hung there at the extreme verge. Iwent to look over, and Lin McLean caught me as I staggered at the sightI saw. He would have lost his own foothold in saving me had not one ofthe others held him from above. 

She was there below; Hank's woman, brought from Austria to the NewWorld. The vision of that brown bundle lying in the water will neverleave me, I think. She had carried the body to this point; but had sheintended this end? Or was some part of it an accident? Had she meant totake him with her? Had she meant to stay behind herself? No word camefrom these dead to answer us. But as we stood speaking there, a giantpuff of breath rose up to us between the black walls. 

"There's that fluffy sigh I told yu' about, " said the Virginian. 

"He's talkin' to her! I tell yu' he's talkin' to her!" burst out McLean, suddenly, in such a voice that we stared as he pointed at the man in thetree. "See him lean over! He's sayin', 'I have yu' beat after all. '" AndMcLean fell to whimpering. 

Wiggin took the boy's arm kindly and walked him along the trail. He didnot seem twenty yet. Life had not shown this side of itself to him soplainly before. 

"Let's get out of here, " said the Virginian. 

It seemed one more pitiful straw that the lonely bundle should beleft in such a vault of doom, with no last touches of care from itsfellow-beings, and no heap of kind earth to hide it. But whether theplace is deadly or not, man dares not venture into it. So they took Hankfrom the tree that night, and early next morning they buried him nearcamp on the top of a little mound. 

But the thought of Willomene lying in Pitchstone Canyon had kept sleepfrom me through that whole night, nor did I wish to attend Hank'sburial. I rose very early, while the sunshine had still a long way tocome down to us from the mountain-tops, and I walked back along thecut-off trail. I was moved to look once more upon that frightful place. And as I came to the edge of the timber, there was the Virginian. He didnot expect any one. He had set up the crucifix as near the dead tree asit could be firmly planted. 

"It belongs to her, anyway, " he explained. 

Some lines of verse came into my memory, and with a change or two Iwrote them as deep as I could with my pencil upon a small board that hesmoothed for me. 

"Call for the robin redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves theyhover, And with flowers and leaves do cover The friendless bodies ofunburied men. Call to this funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, andthe mole To rear her hillocks that shall keep her warm. 

"That kind o' quaint language reminds me of a play I seen onced in SayntPaul, " said the Virginian. "About young Prince Henry. "

I told him that another poet was the author. 

"They are both good writers, " said the Virginian. And as he wasfinishing the monument that we had made, young Lin McLean joined us. He was a little ashamed of the feelings that he had shown yesterday, alittle anxious to cover those feelings with brass. 

"Well, " he said, taking an offish, man-of-the-world tone, "all this fussjust because a woman believed in God. "

"You have put it down wrong, " said the Virginian; "it's just because aman didn't. "

Padre Ignazio

At Santa Ysabel del Mar the season was at one of its moments when theair hangs quiet over land and sea. The old breezes had gone; the newones were not yet risen. The flowers in the mission garden opened wide, for no wind came by day or night to shake the loose petals from theirstems. Along the basking, silent, many-colored shore gathered andlingered the crisp odors of the mountains. The dust floated golden andmotionless long after the rider was behind the hill, and the Pacific laylike a floor of sapphire, on which to walk beyond the setting sun intothe East. One white sail shone there. Instead of an hour, it had beenfrom dawn till afternoon in sight between the short headlands; and thepadre had hoped that it might be his ship. But it had slowly passed. Now from an arch in his garden cloisters he was watching the last of it. Presently it was gone, and the great ocean lay empty. The padre put hisglasses in his lap. For a short while he read in his breviary, but soonforgot it again. He looked at the flowers and sunny ridges, then atthe huge blue triangle of sea which the opening of the hills let intosight. "Paradise, " he murmured, "need not hold more beauty and peace. ButI think I would exchange all my remaining years of this for one sightagain of Paris or Seville. May God forgive me such a thought!"

Across the unstirred fragrance of oleanders the bell for vespers beganto ring. Its tones passed over the padre as he watched the sea in hisgarden. They reached his parishioners in their adobe dwellings nearby. The gentle circles of sound floated outward upon the smooth immensesilence--over the vines and pear-trees; down the avenues of the olives;into the planted fields, whence women and children began to return; thenout of the lap of the valley along the yellow uplands, where the menthat rode among the cattle paused, looking down like birds at the mapof their home. Then the sound widened, faint, unbroken, until it metTemptation riding towards the padre from the south, and cheered thesteps of Temptation's jaded horse. 

"For a day, one single day of Paris!" repeated the padre, gazing throughhis cloisters at the empty sea. 

Once in the year the mother-world remembered him. Once in the year abarkentine came sailing with news and tokens from Spain. It was in1685 that a galleon had begun such voyages up to the lower country fromAcapulco, where she loaded the cargo that had come across Tehuantepec onmules from Vera Cruz. By 1768 she had added the new mission of San Diegoto her ports. In the year that we, a thin strip of colonists away overon the Atlantic edge of the continent, declared ourselves an independentnation, that Spanish ship, in the name of Saint Francis, was unloadingthe centuries of her own civilization at the Golden Gate. Then, slowly, as mission after mission was planted along the soft coast wilderness, she made new stops--at Santa Barbara, for instance; and by Point SanLuis for San Luis Obispo, that lay inland a little way up the gorgewhere it opened among the hills. Thus the world reached these placesby water; while on land, through the mountains, a road came to lead tothem, and also to many more that were too distant behind the hillsfor ships to serve--a long, lonely, rough road, punctuated with churchtowers and gardens. For the fathers gradually so stationed theirsettlements that the traveller might each morning ride out from onemission and by evening of a day's fair journey ride into the next. Along, rough road; and in its way pretty to think of now. 

So there, by-and-by, was our continent, with the locomotive whistlingfrom Savannah to Boston along its eastern edge, and on the other thescattered chimes of Spain ringing among the unpeopled mountains. Thusgrew the two sorts of civilization--not equally. We know what hashappened since. To-day the locomotive is whistling also from the GoldenGate to San Diego; but the old mission road goes through the mountainsstill, and on it the steps of vanished Spain are marked with roses, andwhite cloisters, and the crucifix. 

But this was 1855. Only the barkentine brought the world that he lovedto the padre. As for the new world which was making a rude noise to thenorthward, he trusted that it might keep away from Santa Ysabel, and hewaited for the vessel that was overdue with its package containing hissingle worldly indulgence. 

As the little, ancient bronze bell continued its swinging in the tower, its plaintive call reached something in the padre's memory. Withoutknowing, he began to sing. He took up the slow strain not quitecorrectly, and dropped it, and took it up again, always in cadence withthe bell:

[Musical Score Appears Here]

At length he heard himself, and glancing at the belfry, smiled a little. "It is a pretty tune, " he said, "and it always made me sorry for poorFra Diavolo. Auber himself confessed to me that he had made it sadand put the hermitage bell to go with it because he too was grieved athaving to kill his villain, and wanted him to die, if possible, in areligious frame of mind. And Auber touched glasses with me and said--howwell I remember it!--'Is it the good Lord, or is it merely the devil, that makes me always have a weakness for rascals?' I told him it was thedevil. I was not a priest then. I could not be so sure with my answernow. " And then Padre Ignazio repeated Auber's remark in French: "'Est-cele bon Dieu, on est-ce bien le diable, qui me fait tonjours aimer lescoquins?' I don't know! I don't know! I wonder if Auber has composedanything lately? I wonder who is singing Zerlina now?"

He cast a farewell look at the ocean, and took his steps between themonastic herbs and the oleanders to the sacristy. "At least, " he said, "if we cannot carry with us into exile the friends and the places thatwe have loved, music will go where we go, even to such an end of theworld as this. Felipe!" he called to his organist. "Can they sing themusic I taught them for the Dixit Dominus to-night?"

"Yes, father, surely. "

"Then we will have that. And, Felipe--" The padre crossed the chancel tothe small shabby organ. "Rise, my child, and listen. Here is somethingyou can learn. Why, see now if you cannot learn it with a singlehearing. "

The swarthy boy of sixteen stood watching his master's fingers, delicateand white, as they played. So of his own accord he had begun to watchthem when a child of six; and the padre had taken the wild, half-scared, spellbound creature and made a musician of him. 

"There, Felipe!" he said now. "Can you do it? Slower, and more softly, muchacho. It is about the death of a man, and it should go with ourbell. "

The boy listened. "Then the father has played it a tone too low, " saidhe; "for our bell rings the note of sol, or something very near it, asthe father must surely know. " He placed the melody in the right key--aneasy thing for him; but the padre was delighted. 

"Ah, my Felipe, " he exclaimed, "what could you and I not do if we had abetter organ! Only a little better! See! above this row of keys would bea second row, and many more stops. Then we would make such music as hasnever been heard in California yet. But my people are so poor and sofew! And some day I shall have passed from them, and it will be toolate. "

"Perhaps, " ventured Felipe, "the Americanos--"

"They care nothing for us, Felipe. They are not of our religion--or ofany religion, from what I can hear. Don't forget my Dixit Dominus. "And the padre retired once more to the sacristy, while the horse thatcarried Temptation came over the hill. 

The hour of service drew near; and as he waited, the padre once againstepped out for a look at the ocean; but the blue triangle of water laylike a picture in its frame of land, empty as the sky. "I think, fromthe color, though, " said he, "that a little more wind must have begunout there. "

The bell rang a last short summons to prayer. Along the road from thesouth a young rider, leading one pack-animal, ambled into the missionand dismounted. Church was not so much in his thoughts as food and, indue time after that, a bed; but the doors stood open, and as everybodywas going into them, more variety was to be gained by joining thiscompany than by waiting outside alone until they should return fromtheir devotions. So he seated himself at the back, and after a brief, jaunty glance at the sunburnt, shaggy congregation, made himself ascomfortable as might be. He had not seen a face worth keeping his eyesopen for. The simple choir and simple fold gathered for even-song, andpaid him no attention on their part--a rough American bound for themines was no longer anything but an object of aversion to them. 

The padre, of course, had been instantly aware of the stranger'spresence. For this is the sixth sense with vicars of every creed andheresy; and if the parish is lonely and the worshippers few and seldomvarying, a newcomer will gleam out like a new book to be read. And atrained priest learns to read shrewdly the faces of those who assembleto worship under his guidance. But American vagrants, with no thoughtssave of gold-digging, and an overweening illiterate jargon for theirspeech, had long ceased to interest this priest, even in his starvationfor company and talk from the outside world; and therefore after theintoning, he sat with his homesick thoughts unchanged, to draw both painand enjoyment from the music that he had set to the Dixit Dominus. Helistened to the tender chorus that opens "William Tell"; and as theLatin psalm proceeded, pictures of the past rose between him and thealtar. One after another came these strains which he had taken from theoperas famous in their day, until at length the padre was murmuring tosome music seldom long out of his heart--not the Latin verse which thechoir sang, but the original French words:

 "Ah, voile man envie, Voila mon seul desir: Rendez moi ma patrie, Ou laissez moi mourir. "

Which may be rendered:

 But one wish I implore, One wish is all my cry: Give back my native land once more, Give back, or let me die. 

Then it happened that he saw the stranger in the back of the churchagain, and forgot his Dixit Dominus straightway. The face of the youngman was no longer hidden by the slouching position he had at firsttaken. "I only noticed his clothes before, " thought the padre. Restlessness was plain upon the handsome brow, and in the mouth therewas violence; but Padre Ignazio liked the eyes. "He is not saying anyprayers, " he surmised, presently. "I doubt if he has said any for a longwhile. And he knows my music. He is of educated people. He cannot beAmerican. And now--yes, he has taken--I think it must be a flower, fromhis pocket. I shall have him to dine with me. " And vespers ended withrosy clouds of eagerness drifting across the padre's brain. 

But the stranger made his own beginning. As the priest came from thechurch, the rebellious young figure was waiting. "Your organist tellsme, " he said, impetuously, "that it is you who--"

"May I ask with whom I have the great pleasure of speaking?" said thepadre, putting formality to the front and his pleasure out of sight. 

The stranger reddened, and became aware of the padre's features, mouldedby refinement and the world. "I beg your lenience, " said he, with agraceful and confident utterance, as of equal to equal. "My name isGaston Villere, and it was time I should be reminded of my manners. "

The padre's hand waved a polite negative. 

"Indeed yes, padre. But your music has astonished me to pieces. If youcarried such associations as--Ah! the days and the nights!" he brokeoff. "To come down a California mountain, " he resumed, "and find Parisat the bottom! 'The Huguenots, ' Rossini, Herold--I was waiting for 'IlTrovatore. "'

"Is that something new?" said the padre, eagerly. 

The young man gave an exclamation. "The whole world is ringing with it, "he said. 

"But Santa Ysabel del Mar is a long way from the whole world, " saidPadre Ignazio. 

"Indeed it would not appear to be so, " returned young Gaston. "I thinkthe Comedie Francaise must be round the corner. "

A thrill went through the priest at the theatre's name. "And have youbeen long in America?" he asked. 

"Why, always--except two years of foreign travel after college. "

"An American!" said the surprised padre, with perhaps a flavor ofdisappointment in his voice. "But no Americans who have yet come thisway have been--have been"--he veiled the too blunt expression of histhought--"have been familiar with 'The Huguenots, '" he finished, makinga slight bow. 

Villere took his under-meaning. "I come from New Orleans, " he returned. "And in New Orleans there live many of us who can recognize a--who canrecognize good music wherever we meet it. " And he made a slight bow inhis turn. 

The padre laughed outright with pleasure, and laid his hand upon theyoung man's arm. "You have no intention of going away tomorrow, Itrust?" said he. 

"With your leave, " answered Gaston, "I will have such an intention nolonger. "

It was with the air and gait of mutual understanding that the two nowwalked on together towards the padre's door. The guest was twenty-five, the host sixty. 

"And have you been in America long?" inquired Gaston. 

"Twenty years. "

"And at Santa Ysabel how long?"

"Twenty years. "

"I should have thought, " said Gaston, looking lightly at the emptymountains, "that now and again you might have wished to travel. "

"Were I your age, " murmured Padre Ignazio, "it might be so. "

The evening had now ripened to the long after-glow of sunset. The seawas the purple of grapes, and wine colored hues flowed among the highshoulders of the mountains. 

"I have seen a sight like this, " said Gaston, "between Granada andMalaga. "

"So you know Spain!" said the padre. 

Often he had thought of this resemblance, but never heard it told tohim before. The courtly proprietor of San Fernando, and the otherpatriarchal rancheros with whom he occasionally exchanged visits acrossthe wilderness, knew hospitality and inherited gentle manners, sendingto Europe for silks and laces to give their daughters; but their eyeshad not looked upon Granada, and their ears had never listened to"William Tell. "

"It is quite singular, " pursued Gaston, "how one nook in the world willsuddenly remind you of another nook that may be thousands of miles away. One morning, behind the Quai Voltaire, an old yellow house with rustybalconies made me almost homesick for New Orleans. "

"The Quai Voltaire!" said the padre. 

"I heard Rachel in 'Valerie' that night, " the young man went on. "Did you know that she could sing too? She sang several verses by anastonishing little Jew musician that has come up over there. "

The padre gazed down at his blithe guest. "To see somebody, somebody, once again, " he said, "is very pleasant to a hermit. "

"It cannot be more pleasant than arriving at an oasis, " returned Gaston. 

They had delayed on the threshold to look at the beauty of the evening, and now the priest watched his parishioners come and go. "How can onemake companions--" he began; then, checking himself, he said: "Theirsouls are as sacred and immortal as mine, and God helps me to helpthem. But in this world it is not immortal souls that we choose forcompanions; it is kindred tastes, intelligences, and--and so I and mybooks are growing old together, you see, " he added, more lightly. "Youwill find my volumes as behind the times as myself. "

He had fallen into talk more intimate than he wished; and while theguest was uttering something polite about the nobility of missionarywork, he placed him in an easy-chair and sought aguardiente for hisimmediate refreshment. Since the year's beginning there had been noguest for him to bring into his rooms, or to sit beside him in the highseats at table, set apart for the gente fina. 

Such another library was not then in California; and though GastonVillere, in leaving Harvard College, had shut Horace and Sophoclesforever at the earliest instant possible under academic requirements, heknew the Greek and Latin names that he now saw as well as he knew thoseof Shakespeare, Dante, Moliere, and Cervantes. These were here also; norcould it be precisely said of them, either, that they made a part of theyoung man's daily reading. As he surveyed the padre's august shelves, it was with a touch of the florid Southern gravity which his Northerneducation had not wholly schooled out of him that he said:

"I fear that I am no scholar, sir. But I know what writers everygentleman ought to respect. "

The subtle padre bowed gravely to this compliment. 

It was when his eyes caught sight of the music that the young man feltagain at ease, and his vivacity returned to him. Leaving his chair, hebegan enthusiastically to examine the tall piles that filled one side ofthe room. The volumes lay richly everywhere, making a pleasantdisorder; and as perfume comes out of a flower, memories of singers andchandeliers rose bright from the printed names. "Norma, " "Tancredi, ""Don Pasquale, " "La Vestale"--dim lights in the fashions ofto-day--sparkled upon the exploring Gaston, conjuring the radianthalls of Europe before him. "'The Barber of Seville!'" he presentlyexclaimed. "And I happened to hear it in Seville. "

But Seville's name brought over the padre a new rush of home thoughts. "Is not Andalusia beautiful?" he said. "Did you see it in April, whenthe flowers come?"

"Yes, " said Gaston, among the music. "I was at Cordova then. "

"Ah, Cordova!" murmured the padre. 

"'Semiramide!'" cried Gaston, lighting upon that opera. "That was aweek! I should like to live it over, every day and night of it!"

"Did you reach Malaga from Marseilles or Gibraltar?" said the padre, wistfully. 

"From Marseilles. Down from Paris through the Rhone Valley, you know. "

"Then you saw Provence! And did you go, perhaps, from Avignon to Nismesby the Pont du Gard? There is a place I have made here--a little, littleplace--with olive-trees. And now they have grown, and it looks somethinglike that country, if you stand in a particular position. I will takeyou there to-morrow. I think you will understand what I mean. "

"Another resemblance!" said the volatile and happy Gaston. "We both seemto have an eye for them. But, believe me, padre, I could never stay hereplanting olives. I should go back and see the original ones--and thenI'd hasten up to Paris. " And, with a volume of Meyerbeer open in hishand, Gaston hummed: "'Robert, Robert, toi que j'aime. ' Why, padre, I think that your library contains none of the masses and all of theoperas in the world!"

"I will make you a little confession, " said Padre Ignazio, "and then youshall give me a little absolution. "

"With a penance, " said Gaston. "You must play over some of these thingsto me. "

"I suppose that I could not permit myself this indulgence, " began thepadre, pointing to his operas; "and teach these to my choir, if thepeople had any worldly associations with the music. But I have reasonedthat the music cannot do them harm--"

The ringing of a bell here interrupted him. "In fifteen minutes, " hesaid, "our poor meal will be ready for you. " The good padre wasnot quite sincere when he spoke of a poor meal. While getting theaguardiente for his guest he had given orders, and he knew how well suchorders could be carried out. He lived alone, and generally supped simplyenough, but not even the ample table at San Fernando could surpass hisown on occasions. And this was for him an occasion indeed!

"Your half-breeds will think I am one of themselves, " said Gaston, showing his dusty clothes. "I am not fit to be seated with you. " He, too, was not more sincere than his host. In his pack, which an Indianhad brought from his horse, he carried some garments of civilization. And presently, after fresh water and not a little painstaking with brushand scarf, there came back to the padre a young guest whose elegance andbearing and ease of the great world were to the exiled priest as sweetas was his traveled conversation. 

They repaired to the hall and took their seats at the head of the longtable. For the stately Spanish centuries of custom lived at Santa Ysabeldel Mar, inviolate, feudal, remote. 

They were the only persons of quality present; and between themselvesand the gente de razon a space intervened. Behind the padre's chairstood an Indian to wait upon him, and another stood behind the chair ofGaston Villere. Each of these servants wore one single white garment, and offered the many dishes to the gente fina and refilled theirglasses. At the lower end of the table a general attendant waited uponthe mesclados--the half-breeds. There was meat with spices, and roastedquail, with various cakes and other preparations of grain; also theblack fresh olives, and grapes, with several sorts of figs and plums, and preserved fruits, and white and red wine--the white fifty yearsold. Beneath the quiet shining of candles, fresh-cut flowers leaned fromvessels of old Mexican and Spanish make. 

There at one end of this feast sat the wild, pastoral, gaudy company, speaking little over their food; and there at the other the pale padre, questioning his visitor about Rachel. The mere name of a street wouldbring memories crowding to his lips; and when his guest would tell himof a new play, he was ready with old quotations from the same author. Alfred de Vigny they had, and Victor Hugo, whom the padre disliked. Longafter the dulce, or sweet dish, when it was the custom for the vaquerosand the rest of the retainers to rise and leave the gente fina tothemselves, the host sat on in the empty hall, fondly telling the guestof his bygone Paris, and fondly learning of the Paris that was to-day. And thus the two lingered, exchanging their fervors, while the candleswaned, and the long-haired Indians stood silent behind the chairs. 

"But we must go to my piano, " the host exclaimed. For at length they hadcome to a lusty difference of opinion. The padre, with ears criticallydeaf, and with smiling, unconvinced eyes, was shaking his head, whileyoung Gaston sang "Trovatore" at him, and beat upon the table with afork. 

"Come and convert me, then, " said Padre Ignazio, and he led the way. "Donizetti I have always admitted. There, at least, is refinement. If the world has taken to this Verdi, with his street-band music--Butthere, now! Sit down and convert me. Only don't crush my poor littleErard with Verdi's hoofs. I brought it when I came. It is behind thetimes too. And, oh, my dear boy, our organ is still worse. So old, soold! To get a proper one I would sacrifice even this piano of mine in amoment--only the tinkling thing is not worth a sou to anybody except itsmaster. But there! Are you quite comfortable?" And having seen to hisguest's needs, and placed spirits and cigars and an ash-tray within hisreach, the padre sat himself luxuriously in his chair to hear and exposethe false doctrine of "Il Trovatore. "

By midnight all of the opera that Gaston could recall had been playedand sung twice. The convert sat in his chair no longer, but stoodsinging by the piano. The potent swing and flow of tunes, the torrid, copious inspiration of the South, mastered him. "Verdi has grown, " hecried. "Verdi has become a giant. " And he swayed to the beat of themelodies, and waved an enthusiastic arm. He demanded every crumb. Whydid not Gaston remember it all? But if the barkentine would arrive andbring the whole music, then they would have it right! And he made Gastonteach him what words he knew. "'Non ti scordar, "' he sang--"'non tiscordar di me. ' That is genius. But one sees how the world; moves whenone is out of it. 'A nostri monti ritorneremo'; home to our mountains. Ah, yes, there is genius again. " And the exile sighed and his spiritwent to distant places, while Gaston continued brilliantly with themusic of the final scene. 

Then the host remembered his guest. "I am ashamed of my selfishness, " hesaid. "It is already to-morrow. "

"I have sat later in less good company, " answered the pleasant Gaston. "And I shall sleep all the sounder for making a convert. "

"You have dispensed roadside alms, " said the padre, smiling. "And thatshould win excellent dreams. "

Thus, with courtesies more elaborate than the world has time for at thepresent day, they bade each other good-night and parted, bearing theirlate candles along the quiet halls of the mission. To young Gaston inhis bed easy sleep came without waiting, and no dreams at all. Outsidehis open window was the quiet, serene darkness, where the stars shoneclear, and tranquil perfumes hung in the cloisters. And while the guestlay sleeping all night in unchanged position like a child, up and downbetween the oleanders went Padre Ignazio, walking until dawn. 

Day showed the ocean's surface no longer glassy, but lying like a mirrorbreathed upon; and there between the short headlands came a sail, gray and plain against the flat water. The priest watched through hisglasses, and saw the gradual sun grow strong upon the canvas of thebarkentine. The message from his world was at hand, yet to-day hescarcely cared so much. Sitting in his garden yesterday he could neverhave imagined such a change. But his heart did not hail the barkentineas usual. Books, music, pale paper, and print--this was all that wascoming to him, and some of its savor had gone; for the siren voice oflife had been speaking with him face to face, and in his spirit, deepdown, the love of the world was restlessly answering that call. YoungGaston showed more eagerness than the padre over this arrival of thevessel that might be bringing "Trovatore" in the nick of time. Now hewould have the chance, before he took his leave, to help rehearse thenew music with the choir. He would be a missionary too. A perfectly newexperience. 

"And you still forgive Verdi the sins of his youth?" he said to hishost. "I wonder if you could forgive mine?"

"Verdi has left his behind him, " retorted the padre. 

"But I am only twenty-five, " explained Gaston, pathetically. 

"Ah, don't go away soon!" pleaded the exile. It was the plainest burstthat had escaped him, and he felt instant shame. 

But Gaston was too much elated with the enjoyment of each new day tounderstand. The shafts of another's pain might scarcely pierce thebright armor of his gayety. He mistook the priest's exclamation foranxiety about his own happy soul. 

"Stay here under your care?" he said. "It would do me no good, padre. Temptation sticks closer to me than a brother!" and he gave that laughof his which disarmed severer judges than his host. "By next week Ishould have introduced some sin or other into your beautiful Garden ofIgnorance here. It will be much safer for your flock if I go and jointhe other serpents at San Francisco. "

Soon after breakfast the padre had his two mules saddled, and he and hisguest set forth down the hills together to the shore. And beneath thespell and confidence of pleasant, slow riding, and the loveliness ofeverything, the young man talked freely of himself. 

"And, seriously, " said he, "if I missed nothing else at Santa Ysabel, Ishould long to hear the birds. At home our gardens are full of them, andone smells the jasmine, and they sing and sing! When our ship fromthe Isthmus put into San Diego, I decided to go on by land and seeCalifornia. Then, after the first days, I began to miss something. Allthat beauty seemed empty, in a way. And suddenly I found it was thebirds. For these little scampering quail are nothing. There seems a sortof death in the air where no birds ever sing. "

"You will not find any birds at San Francisco, " said the padre. 

"I shall find life!" exclaimed Gaston. "And my fortune at the mines, Ihope. I am not a bad fellow, father. You can easily guess all the thingsthat I do. I have never, to my knowledge, harmed any one. I did not eventry to kill my adversary in an affair of honor. I gave him a mere fleshwound, and by this time he must be quite recovered. He was my friend. But as he came between me--"

Gaston stopped; and the padre, looking keenly at him, saw the violencethat he had noticed in church pass like a flame over the young man'shandsome face. 

"There's nothing dishonorable, " said Gaston, answering the priest'slook. 

"I have not thought so, my son. "

"I did what every gentleman would do, " said Gaston. 

"And that is often wrong!" cried the padre. "But I'm not yourconfessor. "

"I've nothing to confess, " said Gaston, frankly. "I left New Orleans atonce, and have travelled an innocent journey straight to you. And when Imake my fortune I shall be in a position to return and--"

"Claim the pressed flower!" put in the padre, laughing. 

"Ah, you remember how those things are!" said Gaston; and he laughedalso and blushed. 

"Yes, " said the padre, looking at the anchored barkentine, "I rememberhow those things are. " And for a while the vessel and its cargo and thelanded men and various business and conversations occupied them. But thefreight for the mission once seen to, there was not much else to hangabout here for. 

The barkentine was only a coaster like many others which now had begunto fill the sea a little more of late years, and presently host andguest were riding homeward. And guessing at the two men from theiroutsides, any one would have got them precisely wrong; for within theturbulent young figure of Gaston dwelt a spirit that could not be moreat ease, while revolt was steadily smouldering beneath the schooled andplacid mask of the padre. 

Yet still the strangeness of his being at such a place came back asa marvel into the young man's lively mind. Twenty years in prison, hethought, and hardly aware of it! And he glanced at the silent priest. A man so evidently fond of music, of theatres, of the world, to whompressed flowers had meant something once--and now contented to bleachupon these wastes! Not even desirous of a brief holiday, but findingan old organ and some old operas enough recreation! "It is his age, Isuppose, " thought Gaston. And then the notion of himself when he shouldbe sixty occurred to him, and he spoke. 

"Do you know, I do not believe, " said he, "that I should ever reach suchcontentment as yours. "

"Perhaps you will, " said Padre Ignazio, in a low voice. 

"Never!" declared the youth. "It comes only to the few, I am sure. "

"Yes. Only to the few, " murmured the padre. 

"I am certain that it must be a great possession, " Gaston continued;"and yet--and yet--dear me! life is a splendid thing!"

"There are several sorts of it, " said the padre. 

"Only one for me!" cried Gaston. "Action, men, women, things--to bethere, to be known, to play a part, to sit in the front seats; to havepeople tell each other, 'There goes Gaston Villere!' and to deserveone's prominence. Why, if I were Padre of Santa Ysabel del Mar fortwenty years--no! for one year--do you know what I should have done?Some day it would have been too much for me. I should have left thesesavages to a pastor nearer their own level, and I should have riddendown this canyon upon my mule, and stepped on board the barkentine, andgone back to my proper sphere. You will understand, sir, that I am farfrom venturing to make any personal comment. I am only thinking what aworld of difference lies between men's natures who can feel alike as wedo upon so many subjects. Why, not since leaving New Orleans have Imet any one with whom I could talk, except of the weather and the bruteinterests common to us all. That such a one as you should be here islike a dream. "

"But it is not a dream, " said the padre. 

"And, sir--pardon me if I do say this--are you not wasted at SantaYsabel del Mar? I have seen the priests at the other missions Theyare--the sort of good men that I expected. But are you needed to savesuch souls as these?"

"There is no aristocracy of souls, " said the padre, almost whisperingnow. 

"But the body and the mind!" cried Gaston. "My God, are they nothing? Doyou think that they are given to us for nothing but a trap? You cannotteach such a doctrine with your library there. And how about allthe cultivated men and women away from whose quickening society thebrightest of us grow numb? You have held out. But will it be for long?Do you not owe yourself to the saving of higher game henceforth? Are nottwenty years of mesclados enough? No, no!" finished young Gaston, hotwith his unforeseen eloquence; "I should ride down some morning and takethe barkentine. "

Padre Ignazio was silent for a space. 

"I have not offended you?" said the young man. 

"No. Anything but that. You are surprised that I should--choose--to stayhere. Perhaps you may have wondered how I came to be here at all?"

"I had not intended any impertinent--"

"Oh no. Put such an idea out of your head, my son. You may remember thatI was going to make you a confession about my operas. Let us sit down inthis shade. "

So they picketed the mules near the stream and sat down. 

"You have seen, " began Padre Ignazio, "what sort of a man I--was once. Indeed, it seems very strange to myself that you should have been herenot twenty-four hours yet, and know so much of me. For there has comeno one else at all"--the padre paused a moment and mastered theunsteadiness that he had felt approaching in his voice--"there has beenno one else to whom I have talked so freely. In my early days I hadno thought of being a priest. My parents destined me for a diplomaticcareer. There was plenty of money and--and all the rest of it; for byinheritance came to me the acquaintance of many people whose namesyou would be likely to have heard of. Cities, people of fashion, artists--the whole of it was my element and my choice; and by-and-by Imarried, not only where it was desirable, but where I loved. Thenfor the first time Death laid his staff upon my enchantment, and Iunderstood many things that had been only words to me hitherto. Lookingback, it seemed to me that I had never done anything except for myselfall my days. I left the world. In due time I became a priest and livedin my own country. But my worldly experience and my secular educationhad given to my opinions a turn too liberal for the place where my workwas laid. I was soon advised concerning this by those in authority overme. And since they could not change me and I could not change them, yet wished to work and to teach, the New World was suggested, and Ivolunteered to give the rest of my life to missions. It was soon foundthat some one was needed here, and for this little place I sailed, andto these humble people I have dedicated my service. They are pastoralcreatures of the soil. Their vineyard and cattle days are apt to be likethe sun and storm around them--strong alike in their evil and intheir good. All their years they live as children--children with men'spassions given to them like deadly weapons, unable to measure the harmtheir impulses may bring. Hence, even in their crimes, their hearts willgenerally open soon to the one great key of love, while civilizationmakes locks which that key cannot always fit at the first turn. Andcoming to know this, " said Padre Ignazio, fixing his eyes steadily uponGaston, "you will understand how great a privilege it is to help suchpeople, and hour the sense of something accomplished--under God--shouldbring contentment with renunciation. "

"Yes, " said Gaston Villere. Then, thinking of himself, "I can understandit in a man like you. "

"Do not speak of me at all!" exclaimed the padre, almost passionately. "But pray Heaven that you may find the thing yourself some day--contentment with renunciation--and never let it go. "

"Amen!" said Gaston, strangely moved. 

"That is the whole of my story, " the priest continued, with no moreof the recent stress in his voice. "And now I have talked to you aboutmyself quite enough. But you must have my confession. " He had nowresumed entirely his half-playful tone. "I was just a little mistaken, you see too self-reliant, perhaps--when I supposed, in my firstmissionary ardor, that I could get on without any remembrance of theworld at all. I found that I could not. And so I have taught the oldoperas to my choir--such parts of them as are within our compass andsuitable for worship. And certain of my friends still alive at home aregood enough to remember this taste of mine, and to send me each yearsome of the new music that I should never hear of otherwise. Then westudy these things also. And although our organ is a miserable affair, Felipe manages very cleverly to make it do. And while the voices aresinging these operas, especially the old ones, what harm is thereif sometimes the priest is thinking of something else? So there's myconfession! And now, whether 'Trovatore' has come or not, I shallnot allow you to leave us until you have taught all you know of it toFelipe. "

The new opera, however, had duly arrived. And as he turned its pagesPadre Ignazio was quick to seize at once upon the music that could betaken into his church. Some of it was ready fitted. By that afternoonFelipe and his choir could have rendered "Ah! se l'error t' ingombra"without slip or falter. 

Those were strange rehearsals of "Il Trovatore" upon this Californiashore. For the padre looked to Gaston to say when they went too fastor too slow, and to correct their emphasis. And since it was hot, thelittle Erard piano was carried each day out into the mission garden. There, in the cloisters among the oleanders, in the presence of the tallyellow hills and the blue triangle of sea, the "Miserere" was slowlylearned. The Mexicans and Indians gathered, swarthy and black-haired, around the tinkling instrument that Felipe played; and presiding overthem were young Gaston and the pale padre, walking up and down thepaths, beating time, or singing now one part and now another. And so itwas that the wild cattle on the uplands would hear "Trovatore" hummed bya passing vaquero, while the same melody was filling the streets of thefar-off world. 

For three days Gaston Villere remained at Santa Ysabel del Mar; andthough not a word of the sort came from him, his host could read SanFrancisco and the gold-mines in his countenance. No, the young man couldnot have stayed here for twenty years! And the padre forbore urging hisguest to extend his visit. 

"But the world is small, " the guest declared at parting. "Some day itwill not be able to spare you any longer. And then we are sure to meet. And you shall hear from me soon, at any rate. "

Again, as upon the first evening, the two exchanged a few courtesies, more graceful and particular than we, who have not time, and fight noduels, find worth a man's while at the present day. For duels are gone, which is a very good thing, and with them a certain careful politeness, which is a pity; but that is the way in the general profit and loss. Soyoung Gaston rode northward out of the mission, back to the world andhis fortune; and the padre stood watching the dust after the rider hadpassed from sight. Then he went into his room with a drawn face. Butappearances at least had been kept up to the end; the youth would neverknow of the old man's discontent. 

Temptation had arrived with Gaston, but was going to make a longer stayat Santa Ysabel del Mar. Yet it was something like a week before thepriest knew what guest he had in his house now. The guest was not alwayspresent--made himself scarce quite often. 

Sail away on the barkentine? That was a wild notion, to be sure, although fit enough to enter the brain of such a young scapegrace. Thepadre shook his head and smiled affectionately when he thought of GastonVillere. The youth's handsome, reckless countenance would come beforehim, and he repeated Auber's old remark, "Is it the good Lord, or is itmerely the devil, that always makes me have a weakness for rascals?"

Sail away on the barkentine! Imagine taking leave of the people here--ofFelipe! In what words should he tell the boy to go on industriously withhis music? No, this could not be imagined. The mere parting alone wouldmake it forever impossible that he should think of such a thing. "Andthen, " he said to himself each new morning, when he looked out at theocean, "I have given my life to them. One does not take back a gift. "

Pictures of his departure began to shine and melt in his drifting fancy. He saw himself explaining to Felipe that now his presence was wantedelsewhere; that there would come a successor to take care of SantaYsabel--a younger man, more useful, and able to visit sick people at adistance. "For I am old now. I should not be long here in any case. " Hestopped and pressed his hands together; he had caught his temptation inthe very act. Now he sat staring at his temptation's face, close to him, while there in the triangle two ships went sailing by. 

One morning Felipe told him that the barkentine was here on its returnvoyage south. "Indeed?" said the padre, coldly. "The things are ready togo, I think. " For the vessel called for mail and certain boxes thatthe mission sent away. Felipe left the room, in wonder at the padre'smanner. But the priest was laughing alone inside to see how little itwas to him where the barkentine was, or whether it should be comingor going. But in the afternoon, at his piano, he found himself saying, "Other ships call here, at any rate. " And then for the first time heprayed to be delivered from his thoughts. Yet presently he left his seatand looked out of the window for a sight of the barkentine; but it wasgone. 

The season of the wine-making passed, and the putting up of allthe fruits that the mission fields grew. Lotions and medicines weredistilled from the garden herbs. Perfume was manufactured from thepetals of the flowers and certain spices, and presents of it despatchedto San Fernando and Ventura, and to friends at other places; for thepadre had a special receipt. As the time ran on, two or three visitorspassed a night with him; and presently there was a word at variousmissions that Padre Ignazio had begun to show his years. At Santa Ysabeldel Mar they whispered, "The padre is getting sick. " Yet he rode a greatdeal over the hills by himself, and down the canyon very often, stoppingwhere he had sat with Gaston, to sit alone and look up and down, now atthe hills above, and now at the ocean below. Among his parishionershe had certain troubles to soothe, certain wounds to heal; a home fromwhich he was able to drive jealousy; a girl whom he bade her lover setright. But all said, "The padre is sick. " And Felipe told them thatthe music seemed nothing to him any more; he never asked for his DixitDominus nowadays. Then for a short time he was really in bed, feverishwith the two voices that spoke to him without ceasing. "You have givenyour life, " said one voice. "And therefore, " said the other, "haveearned the right to go home and die. " "You are winning better rewards inthe service of God, " said the first voice. "God can be served in otherplaces than this, " answered the second. As he lay listening he sawSeville again, and the trees of Aranhal, where he had been born. Thewind was blowing through them; and in their branches he could hear thenightingales. "Empty! Empty!" he said, aloud. "He was right about thebirds. Death does live in the air where they never sing. " And he lay fortwo days and nights hearing the wind and the nightingales in the treesof Aranhal. But Felipe, watching, heard only the padre crying throughthe hours: "Empty! Empty!"

Then the wind in the trees died down, and the padre could get out ofbed, and soon could be in the garden. But the voices within him stilltalked all the while as he sat watching the sails when they passedbetween the headlands. Their words, falling forever the same way, beathis spirit sore, like bruised flesh. If he could only change what theysaid, he could rest. 

"Has the padre any mail for Santa Barbara?" said Felipe. "The ship boundsouthward should be here to-morrow. "

"I will attend to it, " said the priest, not moving. And Felipe stoleaway. 

At Felipe's words the voices had stopped, a clock done striking. Silence, strained like expectation, filled the padre's soul. But inplace of the voices came old sights of home again, the waving trees atAranhal; then would be Rachel for a moment, declaiming tragedy while ahouseful of faces that he knew by name watched her; and through all thepanorama rang the pleasant laugh of Gaston. For a while in the eveningthe padre sat at his Erard playing "Trovatore. " Later, in his sleeplessbed he lay, saying now a then: "To die at home! Surely I may grantedat least this. " And he listened for the inner voices. But they were notspeaking any more, and the black hole of silence grew more dreadful tohim than their arguments. Then the dawn came in at his window, and helay watching its gray grow warm into color, us suddenly he sprang fromhis bed and looked the sea. The southbound ship was coming. People wereon board who in a few weeks would be sailing the Atlantic, while hewould stand here looking out of the same window. "Merciful God!" hecried, sinking on knees. "Heavenly Father, Thou seest this evil in myheart. Thou knowest that my weak hand cannot pluck it out. My strengthis breaking, and still Thou makest my burden heavier than I can bear. "He stopped, breathless and trembling. The same visions were flittingacross his closed eyes; the same silence gaped like a dry crater in hissoul. "There is no help in earth or heaven, " he said, very quietly; andhe dressed himself. 

It was so early still that none but a few of the Indians were stirring, and one of them saddled the padre's mule. Felipe was not yet awake, andfor a moment it came in the priest's mind to open the boy's door softly, look at him once more, and come away. But this he did not do, noreven take a farewell glance at the church and organ. He bade nothingfarewell, but, turning his back upon his room and his garden, rode downthe caution. 

The vessel lay at anchor, and some one had landed from her and wastalking with other men on the shore. Seeing the priest slowly coming, this stranger approached to meet him. 

"You are connected with the mission here?" he inquired. 

"I--am. "

"Perhaps it is with you that Gaston Villere stopped?"

"The young man from New Orleans? Yes. I am Padre Ignazio. "

"Then you will save me a journey. I promised him to deliver these intoyour own hands. "

The stranger gave them to him. 

"A bag of gold-dust, " he explained, "and a letter. I wrote it from hisdictation while he was dying. He lived scarcely an hour afterwards. "

The stranger bowed his head at the stricken cry which his news elicitedfrom the priest, who, after a few moments vain effort to speak, openedthe letter and read:

"MY DEAR FRIEND, --It is through no man's fault but mine that I have cometo this. I have had plenty of luck, and lately have been counting thedays until I should return home. But last night heavy news from NewOrleans reached me, and I tore the pressed flower to pieces. Under thefirst smart and humiliation of broken faith I was rendered desperate, and picked a needless quarrel. Thank God, it is I who have thepunishment. My dear friend, as I lie here, leaving a world that no manever loved more, I have come to understand you. For you and your missionhave been much in my thoughts. It is strange how good can be done, notat the time when it is intended, but afterwards; and you have done thisgood to me. I say over your words, Contentment with renunciation, andbelieve that at this last hour I have gained something like what youwould wish me to feel. For I do not think that I desire it otherwisenow. My life would never have been of service, I am afraid. You are thelast person in this world who has spoken serious words to me, and I wantyou to know that now at length I value the peace of Santa Ysabel as Icould never have done but for seeing your wisdom and goodness. You spokeof a new organ for your church. Take the gold-dust that will reach youwith this, and do what you will with it. Let me at least in dying havehelped some one. And since there is no aristocracy in souls--you saidthat to me; do you remember?--perhaps you will say a mass for thisdeparting soul of mine. I only wish, since my body must go undergroundin a strange country, that it might have been at Santa Ysabel del Mar, where your feet would often pass. "

"'At Santa Ysabel del Mar, where your feet would often pass. '" Thepriest repeated this final sentence aloud, without being aware of it. 

"Those are the last words he ever spoke, " said the stranger, "exceptbidding good-bye to me. "

"You knew him well, then?"

"No; not until after he was hurt. I'm the man he quarrelled with. "

The priest looked at the ship that would sail onward this afternoon. Then a smile of great beauty passed over his face, and he addressed thestranger. "I thank you, " said he. "You will never know what you havedone for me. "

"It is nothing, " answered the stranger, awkwardly. "He told me you setgreat store on a new organ. "

Padre Ignazio turned away from the ship and rode back through thegorge. When he reached the shady place where once he had sat with GastonVillere, he dismounted and again sat there, alone by the stream, formany hours. Long rides and outings had been lately so much his custom, that no one thought twice of his absence; and when he returned to themission in the afternoon, the Indian took his mule, and he went to hisseat in the garden. But it was with another look that he watched thesea; and presently the sail moved across the blue triangle, and soon ithad rounded the headland. Gaston's first coming was in the padre'smind; and as the vespers bell began to ring in the cloistered silence, afragment of Auber's plaintive tune passed like a sigh across his memory:

[Musical Score Appears Here]

But for the repose of Gaston's soul they sang all that he had taughtthem of "Il Trovatore. "

Thus it happened that Padre Ignazio never went home, but remainedcheerful master of the desires to do so that sometimes visited him, until the day came when he was called altogether away from this world, and "passed beyond these voices, where is peace. "