36CHAPTER IIII RISE IN FAVOR
With that he went forward. So did I; but the barricade at the end of My Lady’s seat was intact, and I sat down in my own seat, to keep expectant eye upon her profile—a decided relief amidst that crude mélange of people in various stages of hasty dressing after a night of cramped postures.
The brakeman’s words, although mysterious in part, had concluded reassuringly. My Lady, he said, would prove a valuable friend in Benton. A friend at hand means a great deal to any young man, stranger in a strange land.
The conductor came back—a new conductor; stooped familiarly over the barricade and evidently exchanged pleasantries with her.
“Sidney! Sidney! Twenty minutes for breakfast!” the brakeman bawled, from the door.
There was the general stir. My Lady shot a glance at me, with inviting eyes, but arose in response to the proffered arm of the conductor, and I was late. The aisle filled between us as he ushered her on and the train slowed to grinding of brakes and the tremendous clanging of a gong.37
Of Sidney there was little to see: merely a station-house and the small Railroad Hotel, with a handful of other buildings forming a single street—all squatting here near a rock quarry that broke the expanse of uninhabited brown plains. The air, however, was wonderfully invigorating; the meal excellent, as usual; and when I emerged from the dining-room, following closely a black figure crowned with gold, I found her strolling alone upon the platform.
Therefore I caught up with her. She faced me with ready smile.
“You are rather slow in action, sir,” she lightly accused. “We might have breakfasted together; but it was the conductor again, after all.”
“I plead guilty, madam,” I admitted. “The trainmen have an advantage over me, in anticipating events. But the next meal shall be my privilege. We stop again before reaching Benton?”
“For dinner, yes; at Cheyenne.”
“And after that you will be home.”
“Home?” she queried, with a little pucker between her brows.
“Yes. At Benton.”
“Of course.” She laughed shortly. “Benton is now home. We have moved so frequently that I have grown to call almost no place home.”
“I judge then that you are connected, as may happen, with a flexible business,” I hazarded. “If you are in the army I can understand.”38
“No, I’m not an army woman; but there is money in following the railroad, and that is our present life,” she said frankly. “A town springs up, you know, at each terminus, booms as long as the freight and passengers pile up—and all of a sudden the go-ahead business and professional men pull stakes for the next terminus as soon as located. That has been the custom, all the way from North Platte to Benton.”
“Which accounts for your acquaintance along the line. The trainmen seem to know you.”
“Trainmen and others; oh, yes. It is to be expected. I have no objections to that. I am quite able to take care of myself, sir.”
We were interrupted. A near-drunken rowdy (upon whom I had kept an uneasy corner of an eye) had been careening over the platform, a whiskey bottle protruding from the hip pocket of his sagging jeans, a large revolver dangling at his thigh, his slouch hat cocked rakishly upon his tousled head. His language was extremely offensive—he had an ugly mood on, but nobody interfered. The crowd stood aside—the natives laughing, the tourists like myself viewing him askance, and several Indians watching only gravely.
He sighted us, and staggered in.
“Howdy?” he uttered, with an oath. “Shay—hello, stranger. Have a smile. Take two, one for lady. Hic!” And he thrust his bottle at me.39
My Lady drew back. I civilly declined the “smile.”
“Thank you. I do not drink.”
“What?” He stared blearily. His tone stiffened. “The hell you say. Too tony, eh? Too—’ic! Have a smile, I ask you, one gent to ’nother. Have a smile, you (unmentionable) pilgrim; fer if you don’t——”
“Train’s starting, Jim,” she interposed sharply. “If you want to get aboard you’d better hurry.”
The engine tooted, the bell was ringing, the passengers were hurrying, incited by the conductor’s shout: “All ’board!”
Without another word she tripped for the car steps. I gave the fellow one firm look as he stood stupidly scratching his thatch as if to harrow his ideas; and perforce left him. By the cheers he undoubtedly made in the same direction. I was barely in time myself. The train moved as I planted foot upon the steps of the nearest car—the foremost of the two. The train continued; halted again abruptly, while cheers rang riotous; and when I crossed the passageway between this car and ours the conductor and brakeman were hauling the tipsy Jim into safety.
My Lady was ensconced.
“Did they get him?” she inquired, when I paused.
“By the scruff of the neck. The drunken fellow, you mean.”
“Yes; Jim.”
“You know him?”40
“He’s from Benton. I suppose he’s been down here on a little pasear, as they say.”
“If you think he’ll annoy you——?” I made bold to suggest, for I greatly coveted the half of her seat.
“Oh, I’m not afraid of Jim. But yes, do sit down. You can put these things back in your seat. Then we can talk.”
I had no more than settled triumphantly, when the brakeman ambled through, his face in a broad grin. He also paused, to perch upon the seat end, his arm extended friendlily along the back.
“Well, we got him corralled,” he proclaimed needlessly. “That t’rantular juice nigh broke his neck for him.”
“Did you take his bottle away, Jerry?” she asked.
“Sure thing. He’ll be peaceable directly. Soused to the guards. Reckon he’s inclined to be a trifle ugly when he’s on a tear, ain’t he? They’d shipped him out of Benton on a down train. Now he’s going back up.”
“He’s safe, you think?”
“Sewed tight. He’ll sleep it off and be ready for night.” The brakeman winked at her. “You needn’t fear. He’ll be on deck, right side up with care.”
“I’ve told this gentleman that I’m not afraid,” she answered quickly.41
“Of course. And he knows what’s best for him, himself.” The brakeman slapped me on the shoulder and good-naturedly straightened. “So does this young gentleman, I rather suspicion. I can see his fortune’s made. You bet, if he works it right. I told him if you cottoned to him——”
“Now you’re talking too much, Jerry,” she reproved. “The gentleman and I are only traveling acquaintances.”
“Yes, ma’am. To Benton. Let ’er roar. Cheyenne’s the closest I can get, myself, and Cheyenne’s a dead one—blowed up, busted worse’n a galvanized Yank with a pocket full o’ Confed wall-paper.” He yawned. “Guess I’ll take forty winks. Was up all night, and a man can stand jest so much, Injuns or no Injuns.”
“Did you expect to meet with Indians, sir, along the route?” I asked.
“Hell, yes. Always expect to meet ’em between Kearney and Julesburg. It’s about time they were wrecking another train. Well, so long. Be good to each other.” With this parting piece of impertinence he stumped out.
“A friendly individual, evidently,” I hazarded, to tide her over her possible embarrassment.
Her laugh assured me that she was not embarrassed at all, which proved her good sense and elevated her even farther in my esteem.
“Oh, Jerry’s all right. I don’t mind Jerry, except42that his tongue is hung in the middle. He probably has been telling you some tall yarns?”
“He? No, I don’t think so. He may have tried it, but his Western expressions are beyond me as yet. In fact, what he was driving at on the rear platform I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Driving at? In what way, sir?”
“He referred to the green in his eye and in the moon, as I recall; and to a mysterious ‘system’; and gratuitously offered me a ‘steer.’”
Her face hardened remarkably, so that her chin set as if tautened by iron bands. Those eyes glinted with real menace.
“He did, did he? Along that line of talk! The clapper-jaw! He’s altogether too free.” She surveyed me keenly. “And naturally you couldn’t understand such lingo.”
“I was not curious enough to try, my dear madam. He talked rather at random; likely enjoyed bantering me. But,” I hastily placated in his behalf, “he recommended Benton as a lively place, and you as a friend of value in case that you honored me with your patronage.”
“My patronage, for you?” she exclaimed. “Indeed? To what extent? Are you going into business, too? As one of—us?”
“If I should become a Bentonite, as I hope,” I gallantly replied, “then of course I should look to permanent investment of some nature. And before my43traveling funds run out I shall be glad of light employment. The brakeman gave me to understand merely that by your kindly interest you might be disposed to assist me.”
“Oh!” Her face lightened. “I dare say Jerry means well. But when you spoke of ‘patronage’—— That is a current term of certain import along the railroad.” She leaned to me; a glow emanated from her. “Tell me of yourself. You have red blood? Do you ever game? For if you are not afraid to test your luck and back it, there is money to be made very easily at Benton, and in a genteel way.” She smiled bewitchingly. “Or are you a Quaker, to whom life is deadly serious?”
“No Quaker, madam.” How could I respond otherwise to that pair of dancing blue eyes, to that pair of derisive lips? “As for gaming—if you mean cards, why, I have played at piquet and romp, in a social way, for small stakes; and my father brought Old Sledge back from the army, to the family table.”
“You are lucky. I can see it,” she alleged.
“I am, on this journey,” I asserted.
She blushed.
“Well said, sir. And if you choose to make use of your luck, in Benton, by all means——”
Whether she would have shaped her import clearly I did not know. There was a commotion in the forward part of the car. That same drunken wretch Jim had appeared; his bottle (somehow restored to44him) in hand, his hat pushed back from his flushed greasy forehead.
“Have a smile, ladies an’ gents,” he was bellowing thickly. “Hooray! Have a smile on me. Great an’ gloryus ’casion—’ic! Ever’body smile. Drink to op’nin’ gloryus Pac’fic—’ic—Railway. Thash it. Hooray!” Thus he came reeling down the aisle, thrusting his bottle right and left, to be denied with shrinkings or with bluff excuses.
It seemed inevitable that he should reach us. I heard My Lady utter a little gasp, as she sat more erect; and here he was, espying us readily enough with that uncanny precision of a drunken man, his bottle to the fore.
“Have a smile, you two. Wouldn’t smile at station; gotto smile now. Yep. ’Ic! ’Ray for Benton! All goin’ to Benton. Lesh be good fellers.”
“You go back to your seat, Jim,” she ordered tensely. “Go back, if you know what’s good for you.”
“Whash that? Who your dog last year? Shay! You can’t come no highty-tighty over me. Who your new friend? Shay!” He reeled and gripped the seat, flooding me with his vile breath. “By Gawd, I got the dead-wood on you, you——!” and he had loosed such a torrent of low epithets that they are inconceivable.
“For that I’d kill you in any other place, Jim,” she said. “You know I’m not afraid of you. Now45get, you wolf!” Her voice snapped like a whip-lash at the close; she had made sudden movement of hand—it was extended and I saw almost under my nose the smallest pistol imaginable; nickeled, of two barrels, and not above three inches long; projecting from her palm, the twin hammers cocked; and it was as steady as a die.
Assuredly My Lady did know how to take care of herself. Still, that was not necessary now.
“No!” I warned. “No matter. I’ll tend to him.”
The fellow’s face had convulsed with a snarl of redder rage, his mouth opened as if for fresh abuse—and half rising I landed upon it with my fist.
“Go where you belong, you drunken whelp!”
I had struck and spoken at the same time, with a rush of wrath that surprised me; and the result surprised me more, for while I was not conscious of having exerted much force he toppled backward clear across the aisle, crashed down in a heap under the opposite seat. His bottle shattered against the ceiling. The whiskey spattered in a sickening shower over the alarmed passengers.
“Look out! Look out!” she cried, starting quickly. Up he scrambled, cursing, and wrenching at his revolver. I sprang to smother him, but there was a flurry, a chorus of shouts, men leaped between us, the brakeman and conductor both had arrived, in a jiffy he was being hustled forward, swearing and46blubbering. And I sank back, breathless, a degree ashamed, a degree rather satisfied with my action and my barked knuckles.
Congratulations echoed dully.
“The right spirit!”
“That’ll l’arn him to insult a lady.”
“You sartinly rattled him up, stranger. Squar’ on the twitter!”
“Shake, Mister.”
“For a pilgrim you’re consider’ble of a hoss.”
“If he’d drawn you’d have give him a pill, I reckon, lady. I know yore kind. But he won’t bother you ag’in; not he.”
“Oh, what a terrible scene!”
To all this I paid scant attention. I heard her, as she sat composedly, scarcely panting. The little pistol had disappeared.
“The play has been made, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. And to me: “Thank you. Yes,” she continued, with a flash of lucent eyes and a dimpling smile, “Jim has lost his whiskey and has a chance to sober up. He’ll have forgotten all about this before we reach Benton. But I thank you for your promptness.”
“I didn’t want you to shoot him,” I stammered. “I was quite able to tend to him myself. Your pistol is loaded?”
“To be sure it is.” And she laughed gaily. Her lips tightened, her eyes darkened. “And I’d kill him47like a dog if he presumed farther. In this country we women protect ourselves from insult. I always carry my derringer, sir.”
The brakeman returned with a broom, to sweep up the chips of broken bottle. He grinned at us.
“There’s no wind in him now,” he communicated. “Peaceful as a baby. We took his gun off him. I’ll pass the word ahead to keep him safe, on from Cheyenne.”
“Please do, Jerry,” she bade. “I’d prefer to have no more trouble with him, for he might not come out so easily next time. He knows that.”
“Surely ought to, by golly,” the brakeman agreed roundly. “And he ought to know you go heeled. But that there tanglefoot went to his head. Looks now as if he’d been kicked in the face by a mule. Haw haw! No offense, friend. You got me plumb buffaloed with that fivespot o’ yourn.” And finishing his job he retired with dust-pan and broom.
“You’re going to do well in Benton,” she said suddenly, to me, with a nod. “I regret this scene—I couldn’t help it, though, of course. When Jim’s sober he has sense, and never tries to be familiar.”
She was amazingly cool under the epithets that he had applied. I admired her for that as she gazed at me pleadingly.
“A drunken man is not responsible for words or actions, although he should be made so,” I consoled her. “Possibly I should not have struck him. In the48Far West you may be more accustomed to these episodes than we are in the East.”
“I don’t know. There is a limit. You did right. I thank you heartily. Still”—and she mused—“you can’t always depend on your fists alone. You carry no weapon, neither knife nor gun?”
“I never have needed either,” said I. “My teaching has been that a man should be able to rely upon his fists.”
“Then you’d better get ’heeled,’ as we say, when you reach Benton. Fists are a short-range weapon. The men generally wear a gun somewhere. It is the custom.”
“And the women, too, if I may judge,” I smiled.
“Some of us. Yes,” she repeated, “you’re likely to do well, out here, if you’ll permit me to advise you a little.”
“Under your tutelage I am sure I shall do well,” I accepted. “I may call upon you in Benton? If you will favor me with your address——?”
“My address?” She searched my face in manner startled. “You’ll have no difficulty finding me; not in Benton. But I’ll make an appointment with you in event”—and she smiled archly—“you are not afraid of strange women.”
“I have been taught to respect women, madam,” said I. “And my respect is being strengthened.”
“Oh!” I seemed to have pleased her. “You have been carefully brought up, sir.”49
“To fear God, respect woman, and act the man as long as I breathe,” I asserted. “My mother is a saint, my father a nobleman, and what I may have learned from them is to their credit.”
“That may go excellently in the East,” she answered. “But we in the West favor the Persian maxim—to ride, to shoot, and to tell the truth. With those three qualities even a tenderfoot can establish himself.”
“Whether I can ride and shoot sufficient for the purpose, time will show,” I retorted. “At least,” and I endeavored to speak with proper emphasis, “you hear the truth when I say that I anticipate much pleasure as well as renewed health, in Benton.”
“Were we by ourselves we would seal the future in another ’smile’ together,” she slyly promised. “Unless that might shock you.”
“I am ready to fall in with the customs of the country,” I assured. “I certainly am not averse to smiles, when fittingly proffered.”
So we exchanged fancies while the train rolled over a track remarkable for its smoothness and leading ever onward across the vast, empty plains bare save for the low shrubs called sage-brush, and rising here and there into long swells and abrupt sandstone pinnacles.
We stopped near noon at the town of Cheyenne, in Wyoming Territory. Cheyenne, once boasting the title (I was told) “The Magic City of the Plains,”50was located upon a dreary flatness, although from it one might see, far southwest, the actual Rocky Mountains in Colorado Territory, looking, at this distance of one hundred miles, like low dark clouds. The up grade in the west promised that we should soon cross over their northern flanks, of the Black Hills.
Last winter, Cheyenne, I was given to understand, had ten thousand inhabitants; but the majority had followed the railroad west, so that now there remained only some fifteen hundred. After dinner we, too, went west.
We overcame the Black Hills Mountains about two o’clock, having climbed to the top with considerable puffing of the engine but otherwise almost imperceptibly to the passengers. When we were halted, upon the crown, at Sherman Station, to permit us to alight and see for ourselves, I scarcely might believe that we were more than eight thousand feet in air. There was nothing to indicate, except some little difficulty of breath; not so much as I had feared when in Cheyenne, whose six thousand feet gave me a slightly giddy sensation.
My Lady moved freely, being accustomed to the rarity; and she assured me that although Benton was seven thousand feet I would soon grow wonted to the atmosphere. The habitués of this country made light of the spot; the strangers on tour picked flowers and gathered rocks as mementoes of the “Crest of the Continent”—which was not a crest but rather a level51plateau, wind-swept and chilly while sunny. Then from this Sherman Summit of the Black Hills of Wyoming the train swept down by its own momentum from gravity, for the farther side.
The fellow Jim had not emerged, as yet, much to my relief. The scenery was increasing in grandeur and interest, and the play of my charming companion would have transformed the most prosaic of journeys into a trip through Paradise.
I hardly noted the town named Laramie City, at the western base of the Black Hills; and was indeed annoyed by the vendors hawking what they termed “mountain gems” through the train. Laramie, according to My Lady, also once had been, as she styled it, “a live town,” but had deceased in favor of Benton. From Laramie we whirled northwest, through a broad valley enlivened by countless antelope scouring over the grasses; thence we issued into a wilder, rougher country, skirting more mountains very gloomy in aspect.
However, of the panorama outside I took but casual glances; the phenomenon of blue and gold so close at hand was all engrossing, and my heart beat high with youth and romance. Our passage was astonishingly short, but the sun was near to setting beyond distant peaks when by the landmarks that she knew we were approaching Benton at last.
We crossed a river—the Platte, again, even away in here; briefly paused at a military post, and entered52upon a stretch of sun-baked, reddish-white, dusty desert utterly devoid of vegetation.
There was a significant bustle in the car, among the travel-worn occupants. The air was choking with the dust swirled through every crevice by the stir of the wheels—already mobile as it was from the efforts of the teams that we passed, of six and eight horses tugging heavy wagons. Plainly we were within striking distance of some focus of human energies.
“Benton! Benton in five minutes. End o’ track,” the brakeman shouted.
“My valise, please.”
I brought it. The conductor, who like the other officials knew My Lady, pushed through to us and laid hand upon it.
“I’ll see you out,” he announced. “Come ahead.”
“Pardon. That shall be my privilege,” I interposed. But she quickly denied.
“No, please. The conductor is an old friend. I shall need no other help—I’m perfectly at home. You can look out for yourself.”
“But I shall see you again—and where? I don’t know your address; fact is, I’m even ignorant of your name,” I pleaded desperately.
“How stupid of me.” And she spoke fast and low, over her shoulder. “To-night, then, at the Big Tent. Remember.”
I pressed after.53
“The Big Tent! Shall I inquire there? And for whom?”
“You’ll not fail to see me. Everybody knows the Big Tent, everybody goes there. So au revoir.”
She was swallowed in the wake of the conductor, and I fain must gather my own belongings before following. The Big Tent, she said? I had not misunderstood; and I puzzled over the address, which impinged as rather bizarre, whether in West or East.
We stopped with a jerk, amidst a babel of cries.
“Benton! All out!” Out we stumbled. Here I was, at rainbow’s end.
54CHAPTER IVI MEET FRIENDS
What shall I say of a young man like myself, fresh from the green East of New York and the Hudson River, landed expectant as just aroused from a dream of rare beauty, at this Benton City, Wyoming Territory? The dust, as fine as powder and as white, but shot through with the crimson of sunset, hung like a fog, amidst which swelled a deafening clamor from figures rushing hither and thither about the platform like half-world shades. A score of voices dinned into my ears as two score hands grabbed at my valise and shoved me and dragged me.
“The Desert Hotel. Best in the West. This way, sir.”
“Buffalo Hump Corral! The Buffalo Hump! Free drinks at the Buffalo Hump.”
“Vamos, all o’ you. Leave the gent to me. I’ve had him before. Mike’s Place for you, eh? Come along.”
“The Widow’s Café! That’s yore grub pile, gent. All you can eat for two bits.”
A deep voice boomed, stunning me.
“The Queen, the Queen! Bath for every room.55Individual towels. The Queen, the Queen, she’s clean, she’s clean.”
It was a magnificent bass, full toned as an organ, issuing, likewise as out of a reed, from a swart dwarf scarcely higher than my waist. The word “bath,” with the promise of “individual towels,” won me over. Something must be done, anyway, to get rid of these importunate runners. Thereupon I acquiesced, “All right, my man. The Queen,” and surrendering my bag to his hairy paw I trudged by his guidance. The solicitations instantly ceased as if in agreement with some code.
We left the station platform and went ploughing up a street over shoetops with the impalpable dust and denoted by tents and white-coated shacks sparsely bordering. The air was breezeless and suffocatingly loaded with that dust not yet deposited. The noises as from a great city swelled strident: shouts, hammerings, laughter, rumble of vehicles, cracking of lashes, barkings of dogs innumerable—betokening a thriving mart of industry. But although pedestrians streamed to and fro, the men in motley of complexions and costumes, the women, some of them fashionably dressed, with skirts eddying furiously; and wagons rolled, horses cantered, and from right and left merchants and hawksters seemed to be calling their wares, of city itself I could see only the veriest husk.
The majority of the buildings were mere56canvas-faced up for a few feet, perhaps, with sheet iron or flimsy boards; interspersed there were a few wooden structures, rough and unpainted; and whereas several of the housings were large, none was more than two stories—and when now and again I thought that I had glimpsed a substantial stone front a closer inspection told me that the stones were imitation, forming a veneer of the sheet iron or of stenciled pine. Indeed, not a few of the upper stories, viewed from an unfavorable angle, proved to be only thin parapets upstanding for a pretense of well-being. Behind them, nothing at all!
In the confusion of that which I took to be the main street because of the stores and piles of goods and the medley of signs, what with the hubbub from the many barkers for saloons and gambling games, the constant dodging among the pedestrians, vehicles and horses and dogs, in a thoroughfare that was innocent of sidewalk, I really had scant opportunity to gaze; certainly no opportunity as yet to get my bearings. My squat guide shuttled aside; a group of loafers gave us passage, with sundry stares at me and quips for him; and I was ushered into a widely-open tent-building whose canvas sign depending above a narrow veranda declared: “The Queen Hotel. Beds $3. Meals $1 each.”
Now as whitely powdered as any of the natives I stumbled across a single large room bordered at one side by a bar and a number of small tables (all well57patronized), and was brought up at the counter, under the alert eyes of a clerk coatless, silk-shirted, diamond-scarfed, pomaded and slick-haired, waiting with register turned and pen extended.
My gnome heavily dropped my bag.
“Gent for you,” he presented.
“I wish a room and bath,” I said, as I signed.
“Bath is occupied. I’ll put you down, Mr.——” and he glanced at the signature. “Four dollars and four bits, please. Show the gentleman to Number Six, Shorty. That drummer’s gone, isn’t he?”
“You bet.”
“The bath is occupied?” I expostulated. “How so? I wish a private bath.”
“Private? Yes, sir. All you’ve got to do is to close the door while you’re in. Nobody’ll disturb you. But there are parties ahead of you. First come, first served.”
I persisted.
“Your runner—this gentleman, if I am not mistaken (and I indicated the gnome, who grinned from dusty face), distinctly said ‘A bath for every room.’”
Bystanders had pushed nearer, to examine the register and then me. They laughed—nudged one another. Evidently I had a trace of green in my eye.
“Quite right, sir,” the clerk assented. “So there is. A bath for every room and the best bath in town.58Entirely private; fresh towel supplied. Only one dollar and four bits. That, with lodging, makes four dollars and a half. If you please, sir.”
“In advance?” I remonstrated—the bath charge alone being monstrous.
“I see you’re from the East. Yes, sir; we have to charge transients in advance. That is the rule, sir. You stay in Benton City for some time?”
“I am undetermined.”
“Of course, sir. Your own affair. Yes, sir. But we shall hope to make Benton pleasant for you. The greatest city in the West. Anything you want for pleasure or business you’ll find right here.”
“The greatest city in the West—pleasure or business!” A bitter wave of homesickness welled into my throat as, conscious of the enveloping dust, the utter shams, the tawdriness, the alien unsympathetic onlookers, the suave but incisive manner of the clerk, the sense of having been “done” and through my own fault, I peeled a greenback from the folded packet in my purse and handed it over. Rather foolishly I intended that this display of funds should rebuke the finicky clerk; but he accepted without comment and sought for the change from the twenty.
“And how is old New York, suh?”
A hearty, florid, heavy-faced man, with singularly protruding fishy eyes and a tobacco-stained yellowish goatee underneath a loosely dropping lower lip, had stepped forward, his pudgy hand hospitably outstretched59to me: a man in wide-brimmed dusty black hat, frayed and dusty but, in spots, shiny, black broadcloth frock coat spattered down the lapels, exceedingly soiled collar and shirt front and greasy flowing tie, and trousers tucked into cowhide boots.
I grasped the hand wonderingly. It enclosed mine with a soft pulpy squeeze; and lingered.
“As usual, when I last saw it, sir,” I responded. “But I am from Albany.”
“Of course. Albany, the capital, a city to be proud of, suh. I welcome you, suh, to our new West, as a fellow-citizen.”
“You are from Albany?” I exclaimed.
“Bohn and raised right near there; been there many a time. Yes, suh. From the grand old Empire State, like yourself, suh, and without apologies. Whenever I meet with a New York State man I cotton to him.”
“Have I your name, sir?” I inquired. “You know of my family, perhaps.”
“Colonel Jacob B. Sunderson, suh, at your service. Your family name is familiar to me, suh. I hark back to it and to the grand old State with pleasure. Doubtless I have seen you befoh, sur. Doubtless in the City—at Johnny Chamberlain’s? Yes?” His fishy eyes beamed upon me, and his breath smelled strongly of liquor. “Or the Astor? I shall remember. Meanwhile, suh, permit me to do the honors. First, will you have a drink? This way, suh. I am partial to60a brand particularly to be recommended for clearing this damnable dust from one’s throat.”
“Thank you, sir, but I prefer to tidy my person, first,” I suggested.
“Number Six for the gentleman,” announced the clerk, returning to me my change from the bill. I stuffed it into my pocket—the Colonel’s singular eyes followed it with uncomfortable interest. The gnome picked up my bag, but was interrupted by my new friend.
“The privilege of showing the gentleman to his quarters and putting him at home shall be mine.”
“All right, Colonel,” the clerk carelessly consented. “Number Six.”
“And my trunk. I have a trunk at the depot,” I informed.
“The boy will tend to it.”
I gave the gnome my check.
“And my bath?” I pursued.
“You will be notified, sir. There are only five ahead of you, and one gentleman now in. Your turn will come in about two hours.”
“This way, suh. Kindly follow me,” bade the Colonel. As he strode before, slightly listed by the weight of the bag in his left hand, I remarked a peculiar bulge elevating the portly contour of his right coat-skirt.
We ascended a flight of rude stairs which quivered to our tread, proceeded down a canvas-lined corridor61set at regular intervals on either hand with numbered deal doors, some open to reveal disorderly interiors; and with “Here you are, suh,” I was importantly bowed into Number Six.
We were not to be alone. There were three double beds: one well rumpled as if just vacated; one (the middle) tenanted by a frowsy headed, whiskered man asleep in shirt-sleeves and revolver and boots; the third, at the other end, recently made up by having its blanket covering hastily thrown against a distinctly dirty pillow.
“Your bed yonduh, suh, I reckon,” prompted the Colonel (whose accents did not smack of New York at all), depositing my bag with a grunt of relief. “Now, suh, as you say, you desire to freshen the outer man after your journey. With your permission I will await your pleasure, suh; and your toilet being completed we will freshen the inner man also with a glass or two of rare good likker.”
I gazed about, sickened. Item, three beds; item, one kitchen chair; item, one unpainted board washstand, supporting a tin basin, a cake of soap, a tin ewer, with a dingy towel hanging from a nail under a cracked mirror and over a tin slop-bucket; item, three spittoons, one beside each bed; item, a row of nails in a wooden strip, plainly for wardrobe purposes; item, one window, with broken pane.
The board floor was bare and creaky, the partition walls were of once-white, stained muslin through62which sifted unrebuked a mixture of sounds not thoroughly agreeable.
The Colonel had seated himself upon a bed; the bulge underneath his skirts jutted more pronouncedly, and had the outlines of a revolver butt.
“But surely I can get a room to myself,” I stammered. “The clerk mistakes me. This won’t do at all.”
“You are having the best in the house, suh,” asserted the Colonel, with expansive wave of his thick hand. He spat accurately into the convenient spittoon. “It is a front room, suh. Number Six is known as very choice, and I congratulate you, suh. I myself will see to it that you shall have your bed to yourself, if you entertain objections to doubling up. We are, suh, a trifle crowded in Benton City, just at present, owing to the unprecedented influx of new citizens. You must remember, suh, that we are less than one month old, and we are accommodating from three to five thousand people.”
“Is this the best hotel?” I demanded.
“It is so reckoned, suh. There are other hostelries, and I do not desire, suh, to draw invidious comparisons, their proprietors being friends of mine. But I will go so far as to say that the Queen caters only to the élite, suh, and its patronage is gilt edge.”
I stepped to the window, the lower sash of which was up, and gazed out—down into that dust-fogged,63noisy, turbulent main street, of floury human beings and grime-smeared beasts almost within touch, boiling about through the narrow lane between the placarded makeshift structures. I lifted my smarting eyes, and across the hot sheet-iron roofs I saw the country south—a white-blotched reddish desert stretching on, desolate, lifeless under the sunset, to a range of stark hills black against the glow.
“There are no private rooms, then?” I asked, choking with a gulp of despair.
“You are perfectly private right here, suh,” assured the Colonel. “You may strip to the hide or you may sleep with your boots on, and no questions asked. Gener’ly speaking, gentlemen prefer to retain a layer of artificial covering—but you ain’t troubled much with the bugs, are you, Bill?”
He leveled this query at the frowsy, whiskered man, who had awakened and was blinking contentedly.
“I’m too alkalied, I reckon,” Bill responded. “Varmints will leave me any time when there’s fresh bait handy. That’s why I likes to double up. That there Saint Louee drummer carried off most of ’em from this gent’s bed, so he’s safe.”
“You are again to be congratulated, suh,” addressed the Colonel, to me. “Allow me to interdeuce you. Shake hands with my friend Mr. Bill Brady. Bill, I present to you a fellow-citizen of mine from grand old New York State.”64
The frowsy man struggled up, shifted his revolver so as not to sit on it, and extended his hand.
“Proud to make yore acquaintance, sir. Any friend of the Colonel’s is a friend o’ mine.”
“We will likker up directly,” the Colonel informed. “But fust the gentleman desires to attend to his person. Mr. Brady, suh,” he continued, for my benefit, “is one of our leading citizens, being proprietor of—what is it now, Bill?”
“Wall,” said Mr. Brady, “I’ve pulled out o’ the Last Chance and I’m on spec’. The Last Chance got a leetle too much on the brace for healthy play; and when that son of a gun of a miner from South Pass City shot it up, I quit.”
“Naturally,” conceded the Colonel. “Mr. Brady,” he explained, “has been one of our most distinguished bankers, but he has retired from that industry and is considering other investments.”
“The bath-room? Where is it, gentlemen?” I ventured.
“If you will step outside the door, suh, you can hear the splashing down the hall. It is the custom, however, foh gentlemen at tub to keep the bath-room door closed, in case of ladies promenading. You will have time foh your preliminary toilet and foh a little refreshment and a pasear in town. I judge, with five ahead of you and one in, the clerk was mighty near right when he said about two hours. That allows twenty minutes to each gentleman, which is the limit.65A gentleman who requires more than twenty minutes to insure his respectability, suh, is too dirty foh such accommodations. He should resort to the river. Ain’t that so, Bill?”
“Perfectly correct, Colonel. I kin take an all-over, myself, in fifteen, whenever it’s healthy.”
“But a dollar and a half for a twenty minutes’ bath in a public tub is rather steep, seems to me,” said I, as I removed my coat and opened my bag.
“Not so, suh, if I may question your judgment,” the Colonel reproved. “The tub, suh, is private to the person in it. He is never intruded upon unless he hawgs his time or the water disagrees with him. The water, suh, is hauled from the river by a toilsome journey of three miles. You understand, suh, that this great and growing city is founded upon the sheer face of the Red Desert, where the railroad stopped—the river being occupied by a Government reservation named Fort Steele. The Government—the United States Government, suh—having corralled the river where the railroad crosses, until we procure a nearer supply by artesian wells or by laying a pipe line we are public spirited enough to haul our water bodily, for ablution purposes, at ten dollars the barrel, or ten cents, one dime, the bucket. A bath, suh, uses up consider’ble water, even if at a slight reduction you are privileged to double up with another gentleman.”
I shuddered at the thought of thus “doubling up.” God, how my stomach sank and my gorge rose as I66rummaged through that bag, and with my toilet articles in hand faced the washstand!
They two intently watched my operations; the Colonel craned to peer into my valise—and presently I might interpret his curiosity.
“The prime old bourbon served at the fust-class New York bars still maintains its reputation, I dare hope, suh?” he interrogated.
“I cannot say, I’m sure,” I replied.
“No, suh,” he agreed. “Doubtless you are partial to your own stock. That bottle which I see doesn’t happen to be a sample of your favorite preservative?”
“That?” I retorted. “It is toilet water. I am sorry to say I have no liquor with me.”
“The deficiency will soon be forgotten, suh,” the Colonel bravely consoled. “Bill, we shall have to personally conduct him and provide him with the proper entertainment.”
“What is your special line o’ business, if you don’t mind my axin’?” Bill invited.
“I am out here for my health, at present,” said I, vainly hunting a clean spot on the towel. “I have been advised by my physician to seek a place in the Far West that is high and dry. Benton”—and I laughed miserably, “certainly is dry.” For now I began to appreciate the frankly affirmative responses to my previous confessions. “And high, judging by the rates.”67
“Healthily dry, suh, in the matter of water,” the Colonel approved. “We are not cursed by the humidity of New York State, grand old State that she is. Foh those who require water, there is the Platte only three miles distant. The nearer proximity of water we consider a detriment to the robustness of a community. Our rainy weather is toler’bly infrequent. The last spell we had—lemme see. There was a brief shower, scurcely enough to sanction a parasol by a lady, last May, warn’t it, Bill? When we was camped at Rawlins’ Springs, shooting antelope.”
“Some’ers about that time. But didn’t last long—not more’n two minutes,” Bill responded.
“As foh fluids demanded by the human system, we are abundantly blessed, suh. There is scurcely any popular brand that you can’t get in Benton, and I hold that we have the most skillful mixtologists in history. There are some who are artists; artists, suh. But mainly we prefer our likker straight.”
“We’re high, too,” Bill put in. “Well over seven thousand feet, ’cordin’ to them railroad engineers.”
“Yes, suh, you are a mile and more nearer Heaven here in Benton than you were when beside the noble Hudson,” supplemented the Colonel. “And the prices of living are reasonable; foh money, suh, is cheap and ready to hand. No drink is less than two bits, and a man won’t tote a match across a street foh less than a drink. Money grows, suh, foh the picking. Our68merchants are clearing thirty thousand dollars a month, and the professional gentleman who tries to limit his game is considered a low-down tin-horn. Yes, suh. This is the greatest terminal of the greatest railroad in the known world. It has Omaha, No’th Platte, Cheyenne beat to a frazzle. You cannot fail to prosper.” They had been critically watching me wash and rearrange my clothing. “You are not heeled, suh, I see?”
“Heeled?” I repeated.
“Equipped with a shooting-iron, suh. Or do you intend to remedy that deficiency also?”
“I have not been in the habit of carrying arms.”
“’Most everybody packs a gun or a bowie,” Bill remarked. “Gents and ladies both. But there’s no law ag’in not.”
I had finished my meager toilet, and was glad, for the espionage had been annoying.
“Now I am at your service during a short period, gentlemen,” I announced. “Later I have an engagement, and shall ask to be excused.”
The Colonel arose with alacrity. Bill stood, and seized his hat hanging at the head of the bed.
“A little liquid refreshment is in order fust, I reckon,” quoth the Colonel. “I claim the privilege, of course. And after that—you have sporting blood, suh? You will desire to take a turn or two foh the honor of the Empire State?”
The inference was not quite clear. To develop it I69replied guardedly, albeit unwilling to pose as a milksop.
“I assuredly am not averse to any legitimate amusement.”
“That’s it,” Bill commended. “Nobody is, who has red in him; and a fellow kin see you’ve cut yore eye-teeth. What might you prefer, in line of a pass-the-time, on spec’?”
“What is there, if you please?” I encouraged.
He and the Colonel gravely contemplated each other. Bill scratched his head, and slowly closed one eye.
“There’s a good open game of stud at the North Star,” he proffered. “I kin get the gentleman a seat. No limit.”
“Maybe our friend’s luck don’t run to stud,” hazarded the Colonel. “Stud exacts the powers of concentration, like faro.” And he also closed one eye. “It’s rather early in the evening foh close quarters. Are you particularly partial to the tiger or the cases, suh?” he queried of me. “Or would you be able to secure transient happiness in short games, foh a starter, while we move along, like a bee from flower to flower, gathering his honey?”
“If you are referring to card gambling, sir,” I answered, “you have chosen a poor companion. But I do not intend to be a spoil sport, and I shall be glad to have you show me whatever you think worth while in the city, so far as I have the leisure.”70
“That’s it, that’s it, suh.” The Colonel appeared delighted. “Let us libate to the gods of chance, gentlemen; and then take a stroll.”
“My bag will be safe here?” I prompted, as we were about to file out.
“Absolutely, suh. Personal property is respected in Benton. We’d hang the man who moved that bag of yours the fraction of one inch.”
This at least was comforting. As much could not be said of New York City. The Colonel led down the echoing hall and the shaking stairs, into the lobby, peopled as before by men in all modes of attire and clustered mainly at the bar. He led directly to the bar itself.
“Three, Ed. Name your likker, gentlemen. A little Double X foh me, Ed.”
“Old rye,” Bill briefly ordered.
The bartender set out bottle and whiskey glasses, and looked upon me. I felt that the bystanders were waiting. My garb proclaimed the “pilgrim,” but I was resolved to be my own master, and for liquor I had no taste.
“Lemonade, if you have it,” I faltered.
“Yes, sir.” The bartender cracked not a smile, but a universal sigh, broken by a few sniggers, voiced the appraisal of the audience. Some of the loafers eyed me amusedly, some turned away.
“Surely, suh, you will temper that with a dash of fortifiah,” the Colonel protested. “A pony of brandy,71Ed—or just a dash to cut the water in it. To me, suh, the water in this country is vile—inimical to the human stomick.”
“Thank you,” said I, “but I prefer plain lemonade.”
“The gent wants his pizen straight, same as the rest of you,” calmly remarked the bartender.
My lemonade being prepared, the Colonel and Bill tossed off full glasses of whiskey, acknowledged with throaty “A-ah!” and smack of lips; and I hastily quaffed my lemonade. From the dollar which the Colonel grandly flung upon the bar he received no change—by which I might figure that whereas whiskey was twenty-five cents the glass, lemonade was fifty cents.
We issued into the street and were at once engulfed by a ferment of sights and sounds extraordinary.