53CHAPTER III
On the following evening, just as early as the rules of propriety would permit, Mr. McGowan turned into the private road that led up to the Fox estate. He walked slowly along the wide avenue beneath the spreading elms and stately chestnuts. He had dined with the Elder many times during the few months he had been in the village, but on those other occasions Elizabeth had been absent. The house had always seemed cold and forbidding both outside and inside. As he came out of the shaded roadway into the sweeping semicircle described before the main entrance to the house, he caught himself wondering if the stiff interior would seem softened by the presence of the girl. He began at once to chide himself for entertaining such a sentimental notion, but before he could finish the rebuke the door swung back, and Elizabeth Fox stood in the opening. She was dressed in a simple blue frock of clinging stuff, which54set off the perfect lines of her athletic body. The blue of her eyes took on a deeper hue as though to harmonize with the shade of her gown.
“Good evening, Mr. McGowan. We are so glad you could come. Father will be right down.”
The minister’s emotions played leap-frog with his heart, and he stumbled awkwardly on the upper step. He made some stupidly obvious observation concerning the condition of the weather as he followed his hostess into the library. He realized that he was acting strangely for one who had reached the supposedly practical view of life where all sentiment is barred from social intercourse with the fair sex, but he also realized that he was powerless to check the surge of what he now felt within. With kaleidoscopic rapidity there flashed through his mind every occasion when he had been with Miss Fox, from the first meeting beneath the elm-tree in the Captain’s yard to the present time, and he recognized what it was that had sent scurrying his practical views of life. He was in love, not55with the beauty of this girl, but with her. That love had come like the opening strains of a grand symphony, subtly and gently disturbing his emotional equilibrium, but with accumulative effect the transitions had come with the passing weeks, till now every interest in his life seemed to be pouring out into the one emotion he felt.
Elizabeth had preceded him into the library, and was standing motionless before the mantel. She became suddenly aware of what was going on within the mind of Mr. McGowan, and a shy embarrassment crept into her eyes.
Simultaneously, an unreasoning determination took possession of the minister. Unconsciously, he began to move in her direction, unmindful of the sound of footfalls on the stair. Only one step remained between Mr. McGowan and Elizabeth when Elder Fox entered the room.
“I trust I’m not intruding–––”
The Elder began nervously to stroke his chops. His breath came heavily, shutting off his words. A hunted look leaped into his eyes56as he studied the tense face of the eager young man. Could it be possible that the fears of the Reverend Mr. Means––privately made known to the Elder after the installation service––had foundation in fact? Or had the suggestion of Mr. Means lodged in the Elder’s mind, playing havoc with his imagination?
Mr. McGowan drew off to the far end of the mantel, and began, figuratively, to kick himself. He had often declared that a man in love was the biggest mule on earth, and now here he was, the king of them all, a genuine descendant ofBalaam’smount with all his asinine qualities, but lacking his common mule sense.
“I––I beg your pardon,” he stammered.
“There is no occasion for excuses,” graciously replied the girl. “Father, Mr. McGowan and I were–––” She paused, blushing in confusion. “Really, Mr. McGowan, what were we saying?”
She laughed, and it was so infectious that the men forgot to look serious, and joined with her.
“I should say––er––that you have put the57matter in a very diplomatic way,” observed the Elder, apparently once more himself. “No explanations are necessary––er––I assure you. I was once a young man, and have not forgotten that fact. I apologize, Mr. McGowan, if by my attitude I appeared––er––to misjudge you. The trouble was with me, not with you. An odd fancy momentarily got the upper hand of me, and upset me for an instant. Make yourself quite at home, sir.”
It was not long till they were called to table, and in the discussion of parish matters the strangeness of the Elder’s action was for the time being relegated to the background.
“You have doubtless heard a hundred times to-day how proud we all were of the way you answered the questions yesterday,” commented the Elder enthusiastically. “You showed a fine spirit, too, sir, one––er––which some of the older men might well emulate.”
“I feel greatly indebted to you, Mr. Fox, for the final outcome.”
The Elder waved his hand as though lightly to brush aside such words of praise, and yet in the same movement he modestly acknowledged58that without his aid the young minister could have done nothing.
“I might also add, that we are delighted with the work you are doing at the church,” continued the Elder magnanimously. “It is––er––very good. Though I am still a little dubious about your associations down at the club, still–––”
“Father’s ambition is to have all the pews filled,” broke in Elizabeth, attempting to divert her father from a delicate topic.
“No, my dear. That is hardly my position. There must never be a sacrificing of principle, even for the sake of full pews. A full church––er––is not the most important part of parish work. Am I not right, Mr. McGowan?”
“Quite right, if that is the end sought in itself.”
“I am convinced from what you said yesterday that you will furnish us––er––with both. I am confidently looking forward to one of our most prosperous years.”
“Both?” queried the minister.
“Yes. I am old-fashioned enough to believe in the need of––er––the saving power of59the gospel. Full pews without that would make our church the sounding of brass and the tinkling of cymbal. We must have the old-time power in our churches to-day, Mr. McGowan.”
“You think Little River needs reforming, Father?”
“That is exactly the point I make: it is more than reformation we need, it is conversion. Take the Athletic Club, for example. Will reform stop them? No, sir, no more than a straw-stack would stop a tornado. They need––er––a mighty thunderbolt from heaven, and I hope that you will let God use you, sir, as the transmitting agency.”
A picture of himself occupying the place of Zeus, holding in his hand the lightnings of heaven, flitted through the minister’s mind. He smiled faintly. Elizabeth evidently caught what was in the young man’s mind, for she met his glance with a merry twinkle.
“Really, Father, don’t you think Mr. McGowan would look out of place as a lightning-rod, even on Little River Church?”
“I was speaking figuratively, my dear,”60he replied, somewhat crestfallen that his reference should be thus irreverently treated. “The boys in that club are a reckless lot, and they are doing the work––er––of the devil. They must be brought to repentance.”
“I don’t think that is fair, Father. The church is not wholly without blame for what those boys have done,” declared Elizabeth emphatically. “What did we do to keep them from going out and organizing as they have?”
“No doubt we did make mistakes in the beginning, but our errors do not atone for their sins.”
“But, Father–––”
“There, Beth, never mind. We can never agree on that point, and we should not entangle Mr. McGowan in our differences. I only hope he will do all in his power to make them see the sinfulness of their ways.”
Conversation turned into other channels under the direction of Elizabeth. They were discussing modern fiction when the door at the end of the hall swung back with a bang and a loud halloo echoed through the house.61Elizabeth sprang up from her place and ran to the dining-room door just as a tall young man bounded through. He came up erect at sight of the stranger.
“Harold!” cried Elizabeth. “When did you come?”
“Just now. Didn’t my war-whoop announce me?”
“But how did you get over from Little River station?”
“Walked.”
“Why didn’t you telephone? I’d have come over to meet you.”
“Needed the exercise. Hello, Dad.”
The Elder greeted the young man with a cold nod. His hand trembled slightly as he stiffly extended it.
“We are just a short time at table. Will you join us?”
“Be glad to, Dad. I’m starved,” he declared, eyeing the minister as he drew up a chair.
“Oh, Mr. McGowan, please excuse us!” cried Elizabeth. “This is my brother. Harold, this is our new minister, Reverend Mr.62McGowan. Harold comes home so seldom that I fear his unexpected arrival demoralized our manners.”
“Delighted to meet you, Mr. McGowan,” cordially greeted Harold. “Heard of you before I got in sight of the house.”
The young men gripped each other’s hands. Consternation took possession of the Elder. Had his son fully understood?
“Mr. McGowan is the minister at our little church,” he said significantly.
“That’s what Beth just said. Didn’t I say the right thing to him, Dad? Want me to start all over again like I had to when I was a kid?”
He eyed the minister with a curious expression as they took their seats about the table.
“Maybe Dad wants me to repeat some verses to you. Used to do it and get patted on the head.”
Mr. McGowan laughed heartily, but the Elder showed his displeasure.
“That will do, Harold,” he commanded sternly. “I shall not allow profane jesting about sacred things in my house.”
63
“Closet next, is it? Never mind, Dad, I’ll try not to shock you again. Haven’t had much hankering for closets since I got shut up in that hole over in Sydney. They called it a prison, but it was more like a potato-pit than anything else.”
“Sydney?” questioned the minister.
“Yes, Australia. You see, Mr. McGowan, I was a real prodigal for more than two years. Chased out to California after I graduated from Yale, and got mixed up out there in another fellow’s scrape. To save my skin I shipped on a freighter to Australia. Over there I tried to save another poor devil from the lock-up, and got in bad with the authorities. Yes, I was a real prodigal, always trying to help the other fellow out of trouble and getting the worst end of it every time. The only difference between me and the Bible chap was that Father did not heap treasure on me when I left, and didn’t kill the fatted calf when I returned.”
During this recital the Elder had fidgeted to the end of his chair. “I cannot see, son, why you persist in telling of your wickedness64to everybody. It’s a thing rather to be ashamed of.”
“I acknowledge that, Dad, but the closet idea suggested it to my mind. Then, perhaps, it’s not a bad idea for Mr. McGowan to know the worst side of me first. I spent about a week in that hole they called a prison,” he said turning to the minister, “and seven days there couldn’t be very easily effaced from my memory unless I went bugs and had an awful lapse. But the result was not so bad, for that place proved to be my swine-pen where I came to myself. It was just about as much like a pig-sty as any place I ever didn’t sleep in.... Do you happen to know anything about Sydney, Mr. McGowan?”
“Not much. I know it’s quite a trading center, but most of my information is second-hand.”
“It is the best trading center on the Australian coast. An odd case came to the office from there last week. You know, perhaps, that I’m a member of the Starr and Jordan law firm in New York. Well, our branch office in Sydney referred this case to our office65in London, and they, in turn, sent it over here. The reason it was transferred here is that the documents say the client now lives in America. I happened to be put on the case because I knew a little about Sydney. The same case has been up several times, it seems, for some woman over there keeps pounding away at it. The queer part of it is that the trail has been followed up to a certain point and then lost at that point every time. It is the same old story of what is happening every day. Relatives of a wealthy trader left Sydney several years ago, the trader died, and the heirs to his fortune can’t be found. The strange part of it is that these people can be traced as far as America without the slightest trouble, and then, without any apparent reason, they suddenly drop out of existence as completely as though they had been kidnapped and carried to a desolate island. So little data has been collected from the other side that the firm has decided to send me over to Sydney. It promises to be quite an adventure. That’s why I came home to-night, Dad. I’m leaving in the morning.”
66
Elder Fox had been listening intently, and at mention of the proposed trip he grew pale.
“I––er––should not go if I were you, Harold. They may arrest you again. The police of Australia have a way of remembering things against former prisoners.”
“How do you know so much about the police of Australia?”
“I’ve read it, sir,” hastily explained the Elder.
“But I’ve got to go, Dad. They’ll not pinch me. They found the right chap before they let me go, and couldn’t do enough for me when they discovered their mistake.... You say you’ve never visited Sydney, Mr. McGowan?”
“I was born there. But I don’t remember anything about the place, as we moved away when I was a mere lad. I’ve often heard my father speak about it. He was a trader there in the early days.”
“May I see your father to-night?” asked Harold eagerly. “He may be able to save me a trip over. Where does he live?”
“He is not living. He and Mother both67died a few years after coming to America. The climate was too severe for them.”
“I beg your pardon,” apologized Harold. “I didn’t know. I’m so anxious to get news of this man that I rush in where angels would fear to tread.”
“That is perfectly all right. It’s no more than natural that you should think he would be able to help you in your search.”
“Yes. He could have doubtless given me valuable information concerning the traders of his day, and thus have put me on the trail of my client. This man was arrested on some charge trumped up by two scamps, but was later released and exonerated. They’d arrest a man over there for looking at his own watch if he happened to cross his eyes while doing it. At the time when my client was in trouble the convict-ships were in business.”
The Elder dropped back from the edge of his chair which he had held since the beginning of the conversation. He gave his son a look of dumb appeal. With an effort he straightened and glared vacantly across the table.
68
“I was aboard the convict-shipSuccesswhile she was in the New York harbor this spring,” commented the minister. “I don’t see how civilized men could think out so many different modes of torture and remain civilized, let alone human.”
“Nor I. I was aboard the old tub, too. That was the ship my client was on. It was when she first came out.”
The Elder was acting queerly.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” asked Harold, with concern.
“Nothing,––er––nothing. Only I do wish you would not take this trip. Can’t you send some one else?”
“I’m afraid not. You see, I’m not my own boss. No, Dad, I can’t get out of it.”
Harold had never seen his father so concerned for his welfare, and it greatly affected him.
“They won’t trouble me, not in the least. To ease your mind I’ll go under an assumed name, if you say so. But I must get my data at the source concerning this man Adoniah Phillips, if–––”
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The Elder was sipping his coffee, and his cup fell into the saucer with a crash, breaking both fragile pieces into fragments. The contents were sprayed over the linen, and drops stained the Elder’s white waistcoat.
“Father!” cried Elizabeth. “What is the matter? You are ill!”
He did not answer. He turned an ashen face toward Mr. McGowan, and with a wild stare studied that young man’s face. The two men sprang to the old man’s assistance, but as the minister reached out his hand Mr. Fox gave a startled cry and threw up his arm as though to ward off a blow.
“Go back to your seats!” ordered the Elder thickly. “Do not mind me. I’m all right, or shall be in a few seconds.”
He fought helplessly for self-control.
“Come, Dad, you must go to your room,” declared Harold, taking his father tightly by the arm.
“I’m not ill, sir,” answered the father, stubbornly. “But it might be as well for me to retire from the table. You need not trouble,70Mr. McGowan. I shall get on quite well with my son’s assistance,” he affirmed, waving the minister back.
Mr. Fox drew his handkerchief across his perspiring forehead, and dazedly eyed the stained cloth. “I’m sorry, Beth, very sorry I was so awkward.”
“Don’t mind the cloth, Father,” begged the girl tearfully.
“You remain with Mr. McGowan, Beth. I shall soon be quite myself. Fainting spell, I guess.”
Harold led his father from the room. Elizabeth turned to the minister.
“Oh, Mr. McGowan! Is it––do you think–––Oh! I can’t say it! It’s too awful!”
“We must telephone for the doctor at once. It may be serious.”
“Then, you do think it’s a stroke! What shall we do!”
Mr. McGowan telephoned for the doctor, and when he arrived he sent him at once to the Elder’s room. The physician entered unannounced, stopped short on the threshold, and71stared at the two men who were in the midst of a heated discussion.
Elizabeth met the doctor as he came down the stair.
“Miss Fox, will you be kind enough to tell me if your father has had bad news, or sudden grief?”
“Not that I know of, Doctor. Harold had just told him that he must start for Australia to-morrow when Father nearly fainted. That is all that happened.”
“Then, I see no occasion for this. There is nothing organically wrong so far as I can discover. But I shall take his blood pressure to-morrow just to be on the safe side. Call me any time during the night if anything out of the ordinary happens. Keep him perfectly quiet. Good night.”
Harold called Elizabeth from the head of the stair.
“Excuse me, Mr. McGowan. I shall send my brother right down.”
“Please, don’t do that. Your father will need you both. I shall be going.”
“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, offering her72hand. “You will come again, very soon, won’t you?”
“I shall call in the morning to inquire about your father.”
“Thank you. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Mr. McGowan took his hat from the hall-tree and left the house. As he walked very slowly through the avenue of trees a strange passage from the Bible kept tantalizing his attention. “Behold, a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone.... Then there was no breath in them.... Then from the four winds the breath came into them, and they lived.”
Half provoked for allowing these words to arouse suspicion, he tried to cast them out. But the effect of them remained. He had witnessed the coming together of the dry bones of a past. Were the four winds from the four corners of the earth to give them life? Had he unwittingly helped to furnish the dry bones with breath?
He had gone but a short distance when he heard footsteps behind him.
73CHAPTER IV
“One minute, Mr. McGowan,” called Harold Fox. “Come with me, please.”
He drew the minister aside into the path that led into the lower gardens. Once in the deeper shadows, Harold stopped.
“What have you to do with this man Phillips?” he demanded.
“What’s that? Why, Mr. Fox–––”
“I’d no sooner got Dad to his room than he began to mumble that you were to blame for his condition,” cut in the lawyer. “He connected you in no favorable way with some woman in Australia. This man Phillips was involved, too, from what I could gather. I was questioning him when the doctor arrived, and after he was gone I could get nothing more out of him. I hate to go to Australia with him like this, and I have every reason to surmise that I won’t need to go if you tell me all you know.”
“I’m very sorry for your father’s condition,74but I see no way to help you. I don’t see why he should connect me with his condition. How long ago did all this happen to your client?”
“About twenty-five years ago.”
“Then it’s ridiculous to associate me with any such trouble. I was not more than born, if, indeed, that. In what way does it all affect your father, anyway?”
“That I don’t know. It’s a mystery to me.”
“I should gladly give you aid if it were possible.”
“I’m only asking that you tell me all you know.”
“All an infant in arms would know would be of little value, I fear.”
“But you must know something by hearsay. Father would not take this turn out of a clear sky. There must be a little moisture where there are so many clouds.”
“But, Mr. Fox, I’ve told you–––”
“See here, Mr. McGowan,” broke in Harold impatiently, “don’t think me thickheaded. I’ve been practising law long enough75to smell a rat when it’s round. Father knows something, and he knows you know something. In some way it involves him. His trouble to-night was purely mental.”
“Suppose I am connected with all this mystery in some way, how on earth can a man call on a child’s empty memory–––”
“You’re stalling, Mr. McGowan. Don’t try that alibi stuff with me. It simply won’t go.”
“You refuse to accept my statement of ignorance concerning this man?”
“I most certainly do. You and Dad are passing the buck. I thought from all reports that you would stand up to any proposition like a man, no matter how unpleasant.”
“There is nothing for me to stand up to, Mr. Fox.”
“You absolutely refuse to tell me what you know?”
“I absolutely refuse, for I know absolutely nothing.”
Harold Fox studied the set features of the minister in the dim light of the moon. He then cordially extended his hand.
76
“Pardon me, sir. I believe you. But there’s something damned crooked somewhere, and I intend to ferret it out. If Dad’s in it–––Well, I hope to the Lord he isn’t. You’d better watch your p’s and q’s pretty close, for Dad mentioned the fact that Mr. Means has it in for you, and the two of them can make it hell for you. I’m sorry to say that, but it’s God’s truth. I wouldn’t trust Means with a pet skunk. I never have liked the fellow. I’ve said too much. Good night, and good luck.”
Harold abruptly left, and Mr. McGowan walked slowly and heavily from the garden into the road that led toward the sea.
Following that night, things began to happen with lightning-like rapidity. A spirit of distrust and suspicion sprang up among the members of the little church over night. The congregations dwindled down, till within a month they were not one-half their original size. But in spite of the friction that was grinding at the religious machinery, Mr. McGowan went on steadily about his work. He77visited the Inn more frequently, and won no little renown among the members of the club. But here he also had his enemies, and they were becoming bolder in proportion as the church grew more hostile toward its minister. Sim Hicks, the keeper of the Inn, began an open fight against Mr. McGowan’s intrusions, declaring he would make good a former threat to oust the “Psalm-singer” from the village.
One evening Mr. McGowan returned to his study deeply perplexed. What was the meaning in the unjust persecution? Not that he complained; his difficulty was rather his inability to get at the bottom of it all. He stood before his window gazing absently out into the gathering dusk, when Captain Pott quietly opened the door and entered.
“Can I come in, Mack?”
“I’d love to have you. I need company.”
“Anything special wrong? I’ve been noticing you’re getting awful thin of late. Ain’t Eadie’s cooking agreeing with you?”
“I’m afraid that food cooked to the queen’s taste wouldn’t agree with me these days.”
78
“Ain’t in love, be you? I’ve heard tell how it affects people like that.”
The young man turned toward his friend. The wry smile with which he tried to divert the seaman did not hide the hurt expression in his eyes. The Captain caught the expression.
“Thought likely,” he observed, pulling at his moustache. “But that ain’t no reason for you losing sleep and flesh over, unless she ain’t in love with you.”
“There’s no reason why she should be.”
“Tush, tush, son. Don’t ever try to hurry ’em. Let her take all the time she wants. Women are funny that way.”
“Cap’n,” said the minister in tense earnestness, “there is something vitally wrong in this town, and I can’t seem to find out what it is.”
“I know,” nodded the Captain.
“Then I wish you would enlighten me.”
“I cal’late I can’t do that, Mack. All I can see is that there’s something like mutiny brewing aboard your salvation sloop, and mutiny is a mighty funny thing. You can’t put your finger on it and say, ‘Lo, here, or lo,79there,’ according to scripture. Ain’t that right?”
“You have certainly stated the situation much better than I could hope to.”
“I was only hoping you wouldn’t see it.”
“I don’t see it, and that’s my whole trouble. I can only see the results. I can’t say that this one or that one is to blame, for the thing seems to be in the very air.”
“I know just how you feel, Mack. That’s where a skipper is hog-tied against taking any action. You just sort of feel that there’s something devilish afoot, but you don’t know enough what it is to be ready to meet it. Puts me in mind of a song I heard once aboard one of my ships. One of the new mates sang it, and called it the microbe song. I ain’t got any idea where he picked it up, but it went like this:
“‘Johnnie, don’t you see ’em on my head and chin,All them powerful microbes, both outside and in?Johnnie, up and smite ’em, counting every one,With the strength that cometh with the pork and bun.“‘Johnnie, don’t you feel ’em, how they work within,Striving, crowding, pulling, kicking just like sin?80Johnnie, don’t you tremble, never be downcast,Gird ye for the battle, we’ll kill ’em while it lasts.“‘Johnnie, don’t you hear ’em, how they speak ye fair:“All of us are shipmates, not a bunk is bare!”Johnnie, answer boldly: “While we breathe we smite!”And peace shall follow battle, day shall end in night.’”
Mr. McGowan laughed heartily as the Captain brought his song to an unmusical close.
“That song ain’t got much music in it, leastwise not as I sung it, but it’s got a heap of truth. Fact is, Mack, I’m as chuck full of them damn microbes as you be, and I ain’t able to smite ’em. They are right in here,”––he tapped his head,––“and though I ain’t able to say for sure, yet I’ve got a purty good idea that they’re outside, too, and making a heap of trouble in this here burg.
“Now, take those pirates down to the Inn,” continued the seaman. “There’s something brewing down there, and it smells like hell-fire to me that’s doing the boiling. Sim Hicks and his gang are whooping it up a mite too81lively for comfort. That’s microbe army number one. Then, there’s Harry Beaver. He says they won’t board you after your month is up.”
“May army number two quickly advance! I shall gladly and willingly surrender.”
“Hey? What’s that? Where in the name of the ship’s cook would you go, I’d like to know?”
“Right here.”
“Right where? You board with me?”
“Why not?”
The old seaman’s face slowly lighted up with appreciation as he fully grasped the meaning of Mr. McGowan’s words, and then suddenly clouded.
“No, Mack. There ain’t no sense in that,” he declared, shaking his head emphatically. “I can keep soul and body together, but what I get on with would kill you. There’s worse things in the world than Eadie’s biscuits. No, I ain’t going to listen to any such out-and-out murder as my cooking would commit.”
“Don’t you think we could hire some one82to come in and get our meals?” asked the minister.
“I’m ’feared that ain’t possible. And even if it was it would cause more talk about town. There’s enough gossip aboard the old salvation craft to sink her now, beam-fust.”
“Why should it cause talk for some one to take care of the house for us, and get our meals?”
“Why should any of this gab be floating round at all? There ain’t no sense in it, but that don’t stop it. Mack,”––the Captain leaned eagerly toward his young friend,––“don’t tell me nothing you don’t want to, but what happened up to Jim Fox’s house that night you ate there the last time? Things ain’t been going smooth since then. I hear he acted mighty queer. Was you to blame for it in any way?”
“Did Harold Fox talk to you before he left?”
“No. Harold ain’t the gossiping kind.”
“Some one has evidently been talking to you.”
“Ain’t denying that, Mack. There’s plenty83of ’em in this burg that’s ready to talk, and I’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind, not to get some of the gab. The doctor told more than he ought, I guess.”
“It might pay him to take a few lessons in keeping his mouth closed,” impatiently commented Mr. McGowan.
“I know, Mack. I reckon he was pumped pretty hard.”
“That doesn’t excuse him for–––”
“There, Mack, don’t get mad. I was asking you for your own good. There’s something mighty mysterious about that affair, and I thought if you’d tell me just what took place that we’d be able to do something before that gang of rough-necks down to the Inn get the bits in their teeth.”
“I don’t see what the men at the Inn have to do with all this.”
“They ain’t got much to do with it, except to use it for a lever to pry you loose from the fellers who do like you. There’s real trouble of some sort being hatched down there, but I ain’t sure just what it’s like. Maybe there ain’t no use my worrying you with these suspicions,84but watch them skunks at the Inn, and don’t give ’em the inside of the track. Cal’late you’d best go over to supper, and see if Harry’s going to shut off the rations.”
Three days after this conversation Mr. McGowan’s month was up, and the hammer of Mr. Beaver’s authority came down. Captain Pott stood in his door, watching the pantomime as Mr. Beaver pumped, backed, stuttered, and blinked out the minister’s dismissal from his wife’s table. The Captain had an extra griddle on the stove when Mr. McGowan returned. Without question or comment he indicated a chair, and the minister smiled like a schoolboy as he drew it up before the place at the Captain’s table which he was to occupy from now on.
“Best eat ’em while they’re sizzling hot,” invited the Captain, dumping a turnerful of cakes on the empty plate.
When the men had divided the last flapjack, the minister announced that he was going for a stroll along the beach.
He was no sooner out of sight than over came Mrs. Beaver, carrying a large tin filled85with biscuits. Captain Pott took them to the pantry, and returned with the empty pan.
“Thanks, Eadie. Mr. McGowan will sure appreciate them.”
“Oh, Josiah! I hope he won’t blame me for what’s happened.”
“Cal’late he won’t blame you,” said the seaman sympathetically.
“Why are things so upset in town against him?”
“I ain’t able to answer that, Eadie. It does seem that the old ark is going through quite a squall, don’t it?”
“Has Harry said anything to you?”
“Not yet, he ain’t, and if I sight him fust he ain’t going to say anything. I ain’t got time for him to get his pumps working on me.”
“You mark my word, he will say something, and don’t you believe one word when he does. I don’t see what’s got into him. Somebody has bewitched him.”
The Captain stared at her. Here were signs of a new kind of microbe, and he could make neither head nor tail of it. It was next86to the miraculous for Mrs. Beaver to espouse an unpopular cause when there was interesting gossip to repeat.
“You don’t say!” exclaimed the seaman.
“I do say. Hank Simpson is the only man in this town beside you who’s got back-bone enough to stand by himself! He’d struck Harry last night if that Hicks hadn’t held him off. I wish he had hit him hard, maybe it would have brought him to his senses.”
“Are you trying to tell me that Harry’s got the gossiping fever?”
“Not only that, but what he’s saying is pure lies. I can’t see why he wants to do other people’s dirty work,” complained the unhappy woman.
“I cal’late you’d best give me some idea about this here yarn he’s spinning, so’s I can lay for him with a spike.”
“It’s about Mr. McGowan, and what he’s telling ain’t true, and I know it!” Her voice broke into short dry sobs. “He says our minister is doing things down to the Inn that ain’t right. And, then, that Reverend Mr. Means was up again the other day, and told Mr. Fox87something. Harry won’t tell me what it was, but he keeps saying it’s awful scandalous.”
“Well, Eadie, if I was you I’d quit spilling all that brine, for it ain’t wuth it.”
“But, Josiah, it is worth it. They’re trying to ruin Mr. McGowan, and he’s such a fine man. Won’t you stop Harry’s talking in some way? Won’t you go to Mr. Fox?”
“Me go to Jim? What in tarnation would you have me say to him?”
“I don’t care what you say, but make him understand that he’s to leave Harry alone, and stop him telling what ain’t so.”
“Maybe he’s the one who has made Harry believe it is so. In that case, I’m ’feared my views on the subject might set off some real fireworks.”
“But you must make him believe you! Can’t you say something?”
“I ain’t sartin but I might say a thing or two, and they won’t be words fit for a prayer-meeting, either.”
“Then, you will speak to him?” she asked eagerly.
“We’ll see, Eadie. Maybe I’ll do something,88too. But I cal’late we’d best begin as Scripture says, right here at home.”
“You mean you’ll speak to Harry? What will you say?”
“I ain’t got it all figured out yet being as we’re camped on this here sand-heap. If I was aboard ship I’d kick him down the deck and up again, then into the hatches for a little tonic for disobeying orders. Beyond that, I ain’t able to say right offhand.”
Mrs. Beaver clutched the back of a chair. “Oh, don’t hurt my Harry! He’s all I’ve got!”
“He ain’t wuth boasting about, Eadie. But being as he is all you’ve got in the way of earthly possession, and being as we’re on land, I cal’late I won’t do harm. But if I was you I’d steer him clear of these channels for a spell till I calm down a mite.”
“O dear! I’ve made a mistake coming to you, and I hoped you’d help me. I shouldn’t have told you!”
“We won’t argue that p’int.”
“Whatever shall I do!”
“The fust thing I’d do,”––suggested the89Captain, slowly nodding his head for emphasis,––“would be to use a little discipline on your fust mate.”
“But I can’t make Harry mind any more!”
The pitiful figure gave the Captain an uneasy feeling as he tried to return her pathetic gaze. He replied kindly:
“Eadie, you’ve always held a purty tight rein over that husband of yours, about the best I ever see drawn over a prancing colt. You’d best tighten up a mite on them reins, right sudden-like.”
“But I haven’t any power over him now. He’s that worked up that I can’t even talk to him. He shuts me right up.”
“What’s that? You can’t handle that little shrimp?”
She uttered a cry, and looked past the Captain, through the dining-room door, into the hall. The seaman turned in the direction of her wild and distracted gaze. Mr. Beaver, more wild and distracted than his spouse, stood in the door, the incarnation of burning passion and pent up fury.
90
“W-What are you d-doing in this m-man’s house?” he shouted, his shrill voice breaking into a ferocious shriek, as he blinked and pointed at his frightened wife.
Captain Pott was so surprised that he merely gaped at the infuriated little man.
“Harry, please don’t!” pleaded Mrs. Beaver, drawing back against the wainscoting.
“C-Come out of h-here!” hissed her husband. He brought his heel down with such vehemence that he chipped off a splinter from the threshold.
“Best stand back, Eadie, and be careful not to touch him,” advised the Captain, eyeing the human cyclone with amusement and amazement. “Looks mighty dangerous, and sort as if he might go off.”
Harry met these words with a blazing glare.
“Cal’late you’d best come in and cool off a mite, Harry. You seem sort of het up.”
“W-Woman, c-come w-with m-me!” spluttered Mr. Beaver.
He strutted round the room, well out of the91Captain’s reach, and back again toward the door, looking for the world like a young barnyard fowl. But his wife did not follow.
“She ain’t going just yet. We was having a quiet-like chat when you busted in here, and I cal’late we’d best make it three-sided, that is, if you ain’t got no reasonable objection to raise. Come, you ain’t in that rush.”
Harry bounded toward the door. So, also, did the Captain. A heavy hand fell on the shoulder of the little man and spun him about.
“It’s real nice of you to come in like this for a friendly conflab,” said the seaman, dangerously pleasant.
“M-Man, t-take your h-hand off m-me! H-How dare y-you a-assault m-me! I’ll h-have the law on y-you!”
“That’s all right, Harry.” The expression on the Captain’s face contrasted sharply with his quiet words. “There’ll be plenty of time for that. I’ve been feeling real slighted because you ain’t been to see me for some time. Cal’late a little conversation will do us both a heap of good, and clear up the air a mite.”