Wendell Harrison was a club man with no ambition in life beyond making his small income pay his club fees, and leave enough for him to live in the manner peculiar to young men of his class. His one hope in life, as he often told his particular crony, was to find a rich wife, and it seemed to Harrison that chance had played into his hands when he received an invitation from old John Stiversant to join his party on a trip to the Grand Cañon in Northern Arizona.
Harrison had met old Stiversant on the yacht of a mutual friend a few weeks before, and knowing how to make himself agreeable he had done so to the best of his ability,with the result that he had been asked to make one of a party on this western trip in Mr. Stiversant's private car.
"Good luck to you, old man," said his chum as he was leaving the club on his way to the station. "Go in and win."
"Trust me for that," answered Harrison.
The trip out proved a delightful one. Miss Nellie Stiversant, the young lady who, Harrison had decided, was the most likely catch, did not prove as easy as he imagined. While charming and agreeable, she had evidently seen more or less of the world, and was not to be gathered in by the first man who made up his mind he would like to have her ornament his home. Likewise, she was a girl with common sense, and knowing her position and advantages did not lose her head when a man showed an inclination for her society. In fact, just before the party arrived in Flagstaff she had made it very evident that she did not carefor serious attentions from any one. She was, however, of a decidedly romantic nature, and Harrison pondered deep and long as to the best method of gaining her affections. Late that evening he was reading a sensational novel, when suddenly he laid it down and a far-away look came into his eyes.
"By Jove," he muttered, "the very thing—on this very road too. Whether the story is true or not, it is reasonable enough, although a trifle dramatic, but that is what is wanted to attract a girl like Nell. She don't care for me and never will, and all she wants is excitement and novelty, but if she thinks I saved her life or risked my own in protecting her, there might be a chance. In this story the chap had led rather a tough life, but had reformed, and the road-agents recognized him and knew he meant business. He got pretty well shot up, but the whole thing cast a halo around him,which would undoubtedly attract any romantic girl. Damn it, why couldn't I do it? It is that or nothing, the trip will be over in two weeks, and it is pretty evident that I am not in it unless something extraordinary happens."
The saloon was pretty well filled with a sprinkling of miners, Mexicans, and ranchers. Men in blue overalls, flannel shirts, and wide-brimmed hats were playing the different games of chance or standing in groups in front of the bar. A harsh brass-sounding piano on a raised platform at the end of the room was being played by a short-haired individual in a dress suit, and a young lady who evidently did not object to the calsomining process to aid nature was singing a topical song. In the corner stood Wendell Harrison surrounded by four rough-looking men, who seemed very much interested in what he was saying.
"Now I think you understand thoroughly what is required," said Harrison. "I am to pay you five dollars each now, and twenty dollars each when the job is done, likewise if it comes off successfully and the bluff works I am to give you twenty dollars more upon our return to Flagstaff. Don't forget to carry out the plan exactly as we have agreed. When I spring from the coach waving my pistol and firing blank cartridges, one of you is to shout, 'Fighting Harrison, by God!' and shoot two or three times as you run. The thing is easy, but requires a little judgment. I do not care where you stop the stage. Stop it any old place, but not too near Flagstaff. I shall be alone in the coach with an old man and two young girls, so there is not the slightest danger, and I will see that the old man is unarmed."
"Say, Jimmie, I must tell yer something, but let me larf first. Say, I nearly fell down in a fit. I am going to tell yer all about it, but don't call me a liar, or I'll kill yer. What do yer think? Oh, Lord, how my stomach aches!—whatdoyer think? Wait a minute—I'll tell yer in a minute, let me larf it out now, or I shall drop down right here!
"Say, I sat in that booth over there having a quiet drink, and what do yer think? A dude in the next booth commenced putting up a job with four ducks; one of them is Mexican John and the other is Brady, our assistant bar-keeper here. As far as I can make it out Brady got the three other ducks. Say, wait a minute! I don't believe I ever will stop larfin'. What do yer think? this dude is going up to the Cañon on my next trip, and is going to have thesefour fellers stop the stage to put up a bluff on his girl to show what a fighter he is, and he is to give um twenty dollars each. He is going to jump out and pull his gun and clean out the crowd, and then go back and bask in the sunshine and admiration of the young girls. Oh, Lord! The skunk don't care how much he scares the girls and the old man who are goin' along, but all he wants is to pose as a fighter from away back. But say, Jimmie, what do yer think? I have been thinkin' this thing over, and I don't believe his little picnic will transpire. He calculates to blow in eighty dollars to make a monkey of himself, and I am thinkin' that we can use that eighty dollars in our business and teach the fellow a good lesson all ter wonce. What breaks me up more than anythin' is that he told Brady to hunt me up and tell me on the quiet that there was a reformed desperado going with me who used to be known by the name of'Fightin' Harrison.' Worked me into the job too, see? What do yer think?"
The stage was slowly toiling up a dusty hill some five miles from Flagstaff. The road was rough and the day was warm. The stage-driver let the horses take things easy, and from time to time shook with suppressed emotion. "I hope I may die," said he to himself, "if this ain't the damndest."
In the back seats the two young girls, the old man, and the would-be hero were enjoying the scenery and the novelty of the trip in spite of the dust. Suddenly three men sprang into the road, and a loud voice commanded the stage to "hold up."
"What is the matter?" asked Nellie excitedly.
"Don't be afraid," said Wendell, pressing her hand, "remember I am with you."
A rough-looking man appeared at the side of the stage.
"Is your name Harrison?" he said, addressing Wendell.
"It is," answered Harrison boldly; "what do you want?"
"I have a bill here for eighty dollars against you, which will have to be paid or you will have to get out and go back to town with me."
"What do you mean?" gasped Harrison.
"Just what I say, young man; your name is Wendell Harrison, isn't it? You used to be known here by the name of 'Fighting Harrison,' didn't you?"
"Certainly not, you have the wrong party," answered Harrison indignantly.
"Well, I don't know about that; didn't somebody tell you that this fellow was 'Fighting Harrison,' Bill?"
"They certainly did," answered the stage-driver.
"It is all a mistake," said Harrison.
"Mistake or not, you will have to pay or go back to town with us; that is all there is to it. I believe you are the Harrison I want."
"Oh, Mr. Harrison," said Nell, "do pay this man and let us go on; you can easily recover the money when you go back to town."
"Yes," said Mr. Stiversant, "that certainly is the best way to settle the matter; it is, undoubtedly, a case of mistaken identity, but this man is evidently acting in good faith, and you will have no difficulty in straightening matters upon your return at Flagstaff."
Harrison's face was very red, and he looked and acted ugly; but this man evidently meant business, and there was no way out of it but to pay the money, which he did with a very bad grace, taking a receipt made out to Wendell Harrison, alias "Fighting Harrison of Arizona."
"An exciting incident," said Nell, as the party rode away.
"Yes," said Harrison, "but one that might just as well have been left out of the programme."
The stage moved on, but Harrison seemed uneasy; every few minutes he mopped his face with his handkerchief and pressed his hand to his head as if in pain. Visions of the little reception committee some few miles ahead were constantly in his mind. What would he say and do when the stage was stopped, and he received his cue to spring out and fire off his six-shooter, especially as he had only fifteen dollars left in his pocket. What would these pseudo-gentlemen of the road do to him, if, after his little exhibit of bravery, he failed to wind up the melodrama by settling with the actors? He didn't care to find out, and his mind was bent now in deciding the best way to get back to Flagstaff. He continuedmopping his face, and once or twice he groaned.
"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Stiversant; "are you ill?"
"I fear so," answered Harrison faintly. "I have a dull pain in my head and I feel faint."
"Oh, let us go back," said Nell, "it is only five miles, and we can start again to-morrow just as well."
"Perhaps it would be as well," said Harrison weakly; "I fear I am going to be ill."
In the privacy of a room at the hotel Harrison hastily manufactured an urgent telegram calling him at once to San Francisco to see a sick uncle, and had barely time to explain matters and express his deep regret at being forced to leave the party at such short notice.
An hour later he lay back in a luxurious chair in the smoking compartment of the California Limited, and gazed out of thewindows at the vast desert plains through which they passed. His eyes had a far-away look in them, and ever and anon he sighed.
Far up the Grand Cañon road late that evening Brady and his three companions still sat watching sadly for the stage which came not. There they had sat in the burning sun without food or water since ten o'clock that morning. They did not speak to each other, but occasionally they cursed, sometimes the birds, sometimes the inanimate things about them. At times they thought of Harrison—but what their thoughts were no one will ever know.
"Pretty good cigar this," remarked the Cowboy.
The Eastern man nodded.
"Nowadays we can buy good ones out where I live, but 'twa'n't very long ago when good cigars were as rare out there as buffaloes are now round Kansas City."
"The enormous increase in population in some of your Western cities is astonishing," remarked the Eastern man.
The Cowboy glanced at him with an amused smile. The Eastern man smiled back good-naturedly.
"What's the joke?" he asked.
Resting his head on the Cowboy's knee.
"Oh, nothin'," answered the Cowboy,"only I was thinkin' maybe you didn't live out West."
"No, I am a New Yorker," answered the Eastern man.
"Well, I guess they raise pretty good men in both places," remarked the Cowboy.
"Our late war proved that, I think."
The train had stopped, but there were no signs of a station, although two or three rather dilapidated houses and a typical Western saloon could be seen a short distance ahead.
"Wonder what we are stopping here for," remarked the Cowboy; "it strikes me we've been here a pretty long time."
Just then the porter passed the door of the smoking compartment, and the Cowboy called to him:
"Say, porter, what's the matter? Seems to me we have been stoppin' here a whole lot. What's the name of this metropolis?"
"It's mighty lucky you've got whole necks," answered the porter. "The eccentric, or something about the engine, is broke, and we came mighty near having a bad accident. They've sent on for another engine."
"That's pleasant," remarked the Eastern man. "How long do you think we shall have to stay here before the other engine arrives?"
"Give it up," said the porter. "Maybe an hour, maybe two; can't tell exactly. The train conductor will be along pretty soon and he will know all about it."
"Guess I'll have to appoint myself a committee of one to investigate," remarked the Cowboy.
He arose and went out on the platform of the car, followed by the Eastern man. They climbed down and walked forward to where they saw a crowd gathered about the engine. The eccentric rod had brokenshort off, and had the engine not been slowing up at the time, the result might have been serious.
The two men strolled down the track for a short distance, and the Cowboy discovered a small colony of prairie dogs. Several of the comical little creatures were sitting on their hind legs on the mounds beside their holes ready to disappear at the least sign of danger. Occasionally one would run from one hole to another a short distance away, usually diving out of sight, to reappear again in a few moments when satisfied that there was no immediate cause for alarm.
The Cowboy amused himself by listlessly throwing small stones at the little animals. After a few moments of this he turned to the Eastern man and said:
"Say, I am goin' to take a little stroll over yonder towards that luxurious mansion and get a drink from the well. Want to go along?"
"With pleasure," answered the Eastern man.
The two strolled slowly towards the house, which was decidedly in need of repair. The fence surrounding it was broken down in many places, weeds and grass filled the little yard in which there were still evidences of some past attempts at ornamentation in the way of flower-beds, and the whole place gave evidence of poverty and lack of care. On the porch was seated a girl apparently between twelve and fourteen years of age. She was hugging an immense shaggy dog and crying as if her heart would break.
"What's the matter, sis?" sympathetically inquired the Cowboy.
"Oh, sir (sob), Jake's goin' to kill my Rover."
"What for?"
The sobs subsided a little and the girl looked up, wiping her eyes on her torn apron.
"Why, he bited Jake because he tried to kiss me and I didn't—want him to—and they are goin' to come and kill him."
"Who is goin' to come and kill him?"
"The feller he bited—Jake."
"There, don't cry, little un; seems to me the purp did the proper caper. What do you think, pardner?"
"In my opinion," answered the Eastern man, "the dog's action was decidedly laudatory."
"And yer think same as I do that the pup hadn't ought to be killed for doin' it?"
"Decidedly not."
"Say, sis, ain't yer got any friends to sort of stand off the feller as allows to do the killin'?"
"No, sir, nobody except father, and he—drinks sometimes and don't care for Rover, and he says he don't want no trouble."
"Ain't yer got no one else?"
"No, sir; nobody but Rover. Mother's dead and I ain't got nobody but Rover. Oh, dear me!"
The girl buried her face in the shaggy coat of her friend and sobbed.
The Cowboy sat down on the step beside her; the dog eyed him inquiringly, but evidently decided he was a friend and wagged his tail slightly.
"Don't cry, my girl; brace up, now; perhaps they won't kill him after all."
"Oh, yes, they will. Jake is over in the saloon now; I saw him go in. He'll do it sure; he hates Rover."
"May I speak to your lap-dog? Will he tear me up much if I pat him?" inquired the Cowboy.
"I wouldn't fool with him, sir; Rover don't like strangers."
The Cowboy snapped his fingers at the dog and called to him:
"Come here, Rover."
The splendid animal walked solemnly to him and, resting his head on his knee, looked up steadily into his face.
"Don't seem to be too savage nor nothin'—pretty decent sort of dog."
"Oh, he is, sir; he is just the sweetest, lovingest dog that ever lived. I had him when he wa'n't no bigger than a coon, and couldn't eat nothin' but milk, and he loves me, don't you, Rover? and I love him, and he's all I've got to love in the world, and they're goin' to kill him. Oh, Rover, Rover, what shall I do? what shall I do?"
"Now, sis, tell us about the row—did the dog begin the trouble?"
"Oh, no, sir; Jake came along this morning and I was settin' here playin' with Rover, and Jake he grabbed me and tried to kiss me, and I put up a holler and Rover bited him in the leg. Jake swore and wanted to kill him, but he didn't darst to, and he didn't have no gun; so he's gonehome to get his gun and he'll be back pretty quick and he's goin' to kill him."
The girl had stopped crying, but little hysterical sobs choked her from time to time as she talked.
The Cowboy pulled the dog's ears gently and the animal responded by licking his hand.
"Seems to me, pardner, that Jake ain't actin' quite white in this deal."
"It's an outrage," warmly responded the Eastern man.
"I see two fellers," continued the Cowboy, gently stroking the dog's head, "comin' around the corner of the house; maybe we'd better ask 'um please not to hurt the dog."
"I agree with you, most decidedly."
The girl caught sight of the men and uttered a cry of fear. Seizing Rover by the collar, she attempted to drag him inside the house, but the dog braced himself and growled savagely, facing the newcomers.
"Say, pard," remarked the Cowboy quietly, "suppose they are impolite?"
"Well."
"Can you fight?"
"I can try."
"Bully for you, pard; that's the stuff! Shake."
The two men shook hands warmly. Jake and his companion were now very near, and as they came up Jake pulled a large revolver from its holster.
"Now, girl, get away from that dog; I'm goin' to shoot him and I don't want to hurt yer."
The girl turned white, but she placed herself in front of Rover, shielding him as much as she could with her slender body.
"Hold on, my friend," interposed the Cowboy; "you mus'n't shoot that dog."
"Who's goin' to stop me?" sneered Jake.
"I am."
"You are, are you? Well, I'm goin' to shoot him just the same."
"If you shoot that dog I'll give you such a beating yer own mother won't know yer. Sabby?"
"Won't, hey? Perhaps you notice I've got a gun?" said Jake, with an evil look in his eyes.
"I've got one, too, but I ain't pulled it yet," answered the Cowboy slowly.
"See here, now," interposed Jake's companion, "where do I come in? What'll I be doin' all the time when you're smashin' up my pard here?"
"I will try and occupy your attention," quietly said the Eastern man.
"The hell you will!"
"I will."
"Now, gentlemen," said the Cowboy, "we don't want no trouble, but there is a peck of it around here if you fellers try to hurt that dog. The dog bit yer because yertried to kiss the girl, and he served you damn well right!"
"It's a lie!" interrupted Jake sullenly.
How it was done the Eastern man never knew, but Jake went staggering backward, and when he recovered himself and stood with the blood trickling from a cut under his eye, the Cowboy had him covered with a big Colt's 45, and the eyes which looked at him over the barrel were ugly enough to make a gamer man than Jake feel uneasy.
"Drop yer gun."
Jake dropped it.
"Now move away from it."
Jake did so.
The Cowboy handed his big pistol to the Eastern man and walked straight up to Jake, who looked decidedly uncomfortable.
"Now take it back, or I'll smash yer face," said the Cowboy savagely.
"All right, but, damn you, if it warn'tthat my leg is sore where the dog bit me I'd fight yer till I couldn't see!"
The Cowboy smiled grimly.
"Good enough! Now get out of here."
"Wait a minute," interposed the Eastern man; "may I make a suggestion?"
"Cert, pard,—why, sure!" answered the Cowboy.
"Well, it seems to me this matter had better be settled amicably if possible; if not, after we are gone something might happen to the dog. After what has happened the gentleman naturally feels an animosity towards the animal. Now, I would suggest that he name a sum of money which he would consider sufficient to compensate him for injuries received. I would be glad to pay a reasonable amount—say ten dollars—in settlement of all damages, if the gentleman will agree not to attempt to injure the dog in any way."
"I'll agree to that," cried Jake eagerly.
"Very well, here is the money." The Eastern man held out a ten-dollar gold piece, which was seized upon by Jake, and without a word he and his companion started in a straight line for the saloon.
The Cowboy shouted after them: "Remember, I'll be back here next week, and if the dog isn't all right there'll be trouble." Then, turning to the girl, he said:
"Well, sis, the show's over; the dog's all right, so I guess I'll get aboard the train. So, so long."
"Please tell me your name, sir, and you, too, sir," turning to the Eastern man.
"Why, sis, what do you want to know my name for?"
"To pray for you, sir; mother's dead, but I pray every night just the same, and I ask God to bless Rover—he's all I've got now, you know. Is that wrong, sir? and to-night and every night I'm goin' to ask God to bless both o' you for bein' so kind ter Rover and me."
"Oh, that's all right, sis; don't think of it;" the Cowboy's voice was husky. "Good-by; good-by, Rover, old boy."
He seized the big dog in his arms and turned him over on his back, holding him down. The dog caught one of the man's hands in his huge mouth and chewed it gently, while the Cowboy poked him playfully in the ribs with the other. Then the man jumped up and ran for the car, with Rover leaping and romping about him, uttering great deep barks of joy. The Eastern man followed more slowly; a cinder or something had got into his eye, and he was ostentatiously wiping it out with the corner of his handkerchief.
That night, in the darkness of her room, the girl knelt by the side of her rough bed, and whispered softly her little prayer:
"God bless mamma,God bless papa,God bless Rover, and bless the two fellersthat was good to me and Rover—I dunno their names, God, but you do."
The sounds of a slight figure getting into bed were followed by "'Scuse me, Rover, I didn't mean to step on yer foot; goodnight, Rover, dear." Several heavy blows on the floor answered her, and then for a time there was silence. The wind moaned faintly in the chimney and a rat squeaked and scampered across the floor; then a board creaked,—the child slept on oblivious to it all,—but at each new sound the dark form on the floor stirred slightly, a shaggy head was raised, and wide-open, faithful eyes gazed in the direction from whence it came, intent, alert, and watchful.
Transcriber's Note:If your browser does not support Hebrew fonts, hovering your mouse over the Hebrew word on p. 180 will reveal the names of each letter.Spelling variants and dialect have been left as they appear in the original (e.g. purp, p. 223; damndest, p. 212; and almightly, p. 195). Two misspellings of foreign words have also been retained. (matats for metates, p. 81; sapodillias for sapodillas, p. 194).The following corrections and changes were made:p. 19: pocket knife to pocket-knifep. 87: " to ' (will say, 'Haven't you got any real good blankets?)p. 121: is'nt to isn't (Nonsense, man, there isn't any dog.)p. 135: thought-transferrence to thought-transference (what is called telepathy or thought-transference)p. 143: is to was (It was a very cold day)p. 145: meetting to meeting (attending a corporation meeting)p. 176-177: duplicate text removed (original read: "dressed in the ordinary European costume. There [Page Break] in the ordinary European costume. There was nothing striking about him")p. 180: etc, to etc., ("Verily, out of the mouths of babes, etc.,")p. 196: Mellissuga minima to Mellisuga minimap. 202: ugly looking to ugly-lookingp. 205: Heading for section added (I.)Also, commas were changed to question marks in the following sentences:p. 104: "Were you a doctor when alive?" I asked.p. 178: "What is this hieroglyphic affair at the top here?" he asked.p. 187: 'How did your brother procure it?' I asked.
Transcriber's Note:
If your browser does not support Hebrew fonts, hovering your mouse over the Hebrew word on p. 180 will reveal the names of each letter.
Spelling variants and dialect have been left as they appear in the original (e.g. purp, p. 223; damndest, p. 212; and almightly, p. 195). Two misspellings of foreign words have also been retained. (matats for metates, p. 81; sapodillias for sapodillas, p. 194).
The following corrections and changes were made:
Also, commas were changed to question marks in the following sentences: