“‘In that moment I say most truly that the spirit of life, which hath its dwelling in the most secret chambers of the heart, began to tremble so violentlythat the least pulse of my body shook herewith, and in the trembling it said these words: “Here is a deity stronger than I who, coming shall rule over me.”’”
At that the Girl let the book fall and, going down on her knees and taking both his hands in hers, she raised to him a look so full of adoring worship that he felt himself awed before it.
“That ’ere Dante ain’t so far off after all. I know jest how he feels. Oh, I ain’t fit to read to you, to talk to you, to kiss you.”
Nevertheless, he saw to it that she did.
After this he told her about the Inferno, and she listened eagerly to his description of the unfortunate characters, though she declared, when he explained some of the crimes that they had committed, that they “Got only what was rightly comin’ to them.”
The patient could hardly suppress his amusement. Dante was discarded and instead they told each other how much love there was in that little cabin on Cloudy Mountain.
The days that followed were all much like this one. Food was brought up from The Polka and, by degrees, the patient’s strength came back. And it was but natural that he became so absorbed in his newly-found happiness that he gradually was losing all sense of danger. Late one night, however, whenhe was asleep, an incident happened that warned the Girl that it was necessary to get her lover away just as soon as he was able to ride a horse.
Lying on the rug in front of the fire she had been thinking of him when, suddenly, her quick ear, more than ever alert in these days, caught the sound of a stealthy footstep outside the cabin. With no fear whatever except in relation to the discovery of her lover, the Girl went noiselessly to the window and peered out into the darkness. A man was making signs that he wished to speak with her. For a moment she stood watching in perplexity, but almost instantly her instinct told her that one of that race, for she believed the man to be a Mexican, would never dare to come to her cabin at that time of night unless it was on a friendly errand. So putting her face close to the pane to reassure herself that she had not been mistaken in regard to his nationality, she then went to the door and held it wide open for the man to enter, at the same time putting her finger to her lips as a sign that he should be very still.
“What are you doin’ here? What do you want?” she asked in a low voice, at the same time leading him to the side of the room further away from her lover.
Jose Castro’s first words were in Spanish, but immediately perceiving that he failed to make her understand, he nodded comprehendingly, and said:
“All righta—I espeak Engleesh—I am Jose Castro too well known to theMaestro. I want to see ’im.”
The Girl’s intuition told her that a member of the band stood before her, and she regarded him suspiciously. Not that she believed that he was disloyal and had come there with hostile intent, but because she felt that she must be absolutely sure of her ground before she revealed the fact that Johnson was in the cabin. She let some moments pass before she replied:
“I don’t know nothin’ about your master. Who is he?”
An indulgent smile crossed the Mexican’s face.
“That ver’ good to tella other peoples; but I know ’im here too much. You trusta me—me quita safe.”
All this was said with many gestures and an air that convinced the Girl that he was speaking the truth. But since she deemed it best that the invalid should be kept from any excitement, she resolved to make the Mexican divulge to her the nature of his important errand.
“How do you know he’s here?” she began warily. “What do you want ’im for?”
The Mexican’s shifty eyes wandered all over the room as if to make certain that no inimical ears were listening; then he whispered:
“I tella you something—you lika theMaestro?”
Unconsciously the Girl nodded, which evidently satisfied the Mexican, for he went on:
“You thinka well of him—yees. Now I tella you something. The man Pedro ’e no good. ’E wisha the reward—the money for Ramerrez. ’E and the woman—woman no good—tell Meester Ashby they thinka ’im ’ere.”
The Girl felt the colour leave her cheeks, though she made a gesture for him to proceed.
“Pedro not ’ere any longer,” smiled the Mexican. “Me senda ’im to the devil. Serva ’im right.”
“An’ the woman?” gasped the Girl.
“She gone—got away—Monterey by this time,” replied Castro with evident disappointment. “But Meester Ashby ’e know too much—’ees men everywhere searched the camp—no safa ’ere now. To-morrow—” Castro stopped short; the next instant with a joyful gleam in his eyes he cried out: “Maestro!”
“Castro’s right, Girl,” said Johnson, who had waked and heard the Mexican’s last words; “it is not safe a moment more here, and I must go.”
With a little cry of loving protest the Girl abruptly left the men to talk over the situation and sought the opposite side of the room. There, her eyes half-closed and her lips pressed tightly togethershe gave herself up to her distressing fears. After a while it was made plain to her that she was being brought into the conversation, for every now and then Castro would look curiously at her; at length, as if it had been determined by them that nothing should be undertaken without her advice, Johnson, followed by his subordinate, came over to her and related in detail all the startling information that Castro had brought.
Quietly the Girl listened and, in the end, it was agreed between them that it would be safer for the men not to leave the cabin together, but that Castro should go at once with the understanding that he should procure horses and wait for the master at a given point across the ravine. It was decided, too, that there was not a moment to be lost in putting their plan into execution. In consequence, Castro immediately took his departure.
The hour that passed before the time set for Johnson to leave the cabin was a most trying one for both of them. It was not so hard on the man, of course, for he was excited over the prospect of escaping; but the Girl, whose mind was filled with the dread of what might happen to him, had nothing to sustain her. Despite his objection, she had stipulated that, with Jackrabbit as a companion, she should accompany him to the outskirts of the camp. And so, at the moment of departure, throwing about hera cloak of some rough material, she went up to her lover and said with a quiver in her voice:
“I’m ready, Dick, but I’m a-figurin’ that I can’t let you go alone—you jest got to take me below with you, an’ that’s all there is to it.”
The man shook his head.
“There’s very little risk, believe me. I’ll join Castro and ride all through the night. I’ll be down below in no time at all. But we must be going, dear.”
The man passed through the door first. But when it came the Girl’s turn she hesitated, for she had seen a dark shadow flit by the window. It was as if someone had been stealthily watching there. In another moment, however, it turned out to be Jackrabbit and, greatly relieved, the Girl whispered to Johnson that he was to descend the trail between the Indian and herself, and that on no account was he to utter a word until she gave him permission.
For another moment or so they stood in silence; Johnson, appreciating fully what were the Girl’s feelings, did not dare to whisper even a word of encouragement to her. At last, she ordered the Indian to lead the way, and they started.
The trail curved and twisted around the mountain, and in places they had to use the greatest care lest a misstep should carry them over a precipice with a drop of hundreds of feet. It was a perilousdescent, inasmuch as the path was covered with snow. Moreover, it was necessary that as little noise as possible should be made while they were making their way past the buildings of the camp below, for the Mexican had not been wrong when he stated that Ashby’s men were quartered at, or in the immediate vicinity of, The Palmetto. Fortunately, they passed through without meeting anyone, and before long they came to the edge of the plateau beneath which was the ravine which Johnson had to cross to reach the spot where it had been agreed that Castro should be waiting with horses for his master. It was also the place where the Girl was to leave her lover to go on alone, and so they halted. A few moments passed without either of them speaking; at length, the man said in as cheery a voice as he could summon:
“I must leave you here. I remember the way well. All danger is past.”
The Girl’s lips were quivering; she asked:
“An’ when will you be back?”
The man noted her emotion, and though he himself was conscious of a choking sensation he contrived to say in a most optimistic tone:
“In two weeks—not more than two weeks. It will take all that time to arrange things at the rancho. As it is, I hardly see my way clear to dismissing my men—you see, they belong to me, almost, and—but I’ll do so, never fear. No power on earth could make me take up the old life again.”
The Girl said nothing in reply; instead she put both her arms around his neck and remained a long time in his embrace. At last, summoning up all her fortitude she put him resolutely from her, and whispered:
“When you are ready, come. You must leave me now.” And with a curt command to the Indian she fled back into the darkness.
For an instant the road agent’s eyes followed the direction that she had taken; then, his spirits rising at the thought that his escape was now well-nigh assured, he turned and plunged down the ravine.
Ashas been said, it was a custom of the miners, whenever a storm made it impossible for them to work in the mines, to turn the dance-hall of the Polka Saloon into an Academy, the post of teacher being filled by the Girl. It happened, therefore, that early the following morning the men of Cloudy Mountain Camp assembled in the low, narrow room with its walls of boards nailed across inside upright beams—a typical miners’ dance-hall of the late Forties—which they had transformed into a veritable bower, so eager were they to please their lovely teacher. Everyone was in high spirits, Rance alone refraining from taking any part whatsoever in the morning’s activities; dejectedly, sullenly, he sat tilted back in an old, weather-beaten, lumber chair before the heavily-dented, sheet-iron stove in a far corner of the room, gazing abstractedly up towards the stove’s rusty pipe that ran directly through the ceiling; and what with his pale, waxen countenance, his eyes red and half-closed for the want of sleep, his hair ruffled, his necktie awry, his waistcoat unfastened, his boots unpolished, and the burnt-out cigar which he held between his white, emaciated fingers, he was not the immaculate-looking Rance of old, but presented a very sad spectacle indeed.
Outside, through the windows,—over which had been hung curtains of red and yellow cotton,—could be seen the green firs on the mountain, their branches dazzling under their burden of snow crystals; and stretching out seemingly interminably until the line of earth and sky met were the great hills white with snow except in the spots where the wind had swept it away. But within the little, low dance-hall, everywhere were evidences of festivity and good cheer, the walls being literally covered with pine boughs and wreaths of berries, while here and there was an eagle’s wing or an owl’s head, a hawk or a vulture, a quail or a snow-bird, not to mention the big, stuffed game cock that was mounted on a piece of weather-beaten board, until it would seem as if every variety of bird native to the Sierra Mountains was represented there.
Grouped together on one side of the wall were twelve buck horns, and these served as a sort of rack for the miners to hang their hats and coats during the school session. Several mottoes, likewise upon the wall, were intended to attract the students’ attention, the most conspicuous being: “Live and Learn” and “God Bless Our School.” A great bear’s skin formed a curtain between the dance-hall and the saloon, while upon the door-frame was a large hand rudely painted, the index-finger out-stretched and pointing to the next room. It said: “To The Bar.”
It was, however, upon the teacher’s desk—a whittled-up, hand-made affair which stood upon a slightly-raised platform—that the boys had outdone themselves in the matter of decoration. Garlanded both on top and around the sides with pine boughs and upon the centre of which stood a tall glass filled with red and white berries, it looked not unlike a sacrificial altar which, in a way, it certainly was. A box that was intended for a seat for the teacher was also decorated with pine branches; while several cheap, print flags adorned the primitive iron holder of the large lamp suspended from the ceiling in the centre of the room. Altogether it was a most festive-looking Academy that was destined to meet the teacher’s eye on this particular morning.
For some time Nick had been standing near the window gazing in the direction of the Girl’s cabin. Turning, suddenly, to Rance, the only other occupant of the room, he remarked somewhat sadly:
“I’d be willin’ to lose the profits of the bar if we could git back to a week ago—before Johnson walked into this room.”
At the mention of the road agent’s name Rance’s eyes dropped to the floor. It required no flash of inspiration to tell him that things would never be what they had been.
“Johnson,” he muttered, his face ashen white and a sound in his throat that was something like a groan. “A week—a week in her cabin—nursed and kissed....” he finished shortly.
Nick had been helping himself to a drink; he wheeled swiftly round, confronting him.
“Oh, say, Rance, she—”
Rance took the words out of his mouth.
“Never kissed him! You bet she kissed him! It was all I could do to keep from telling the whole camp he was up there.” His eyes blazed and his hands tightened convulsively.
“But you didn’t....” Nick broke in on him quickly. “If I hadn’t been let into the game by the Girl I’d a thought you were a level Sheriff lookin’ for him. Rance, you’re my ideal of a perfect gent.”
Rance braced up in his chair.
“What did she see in that Sacramento shrimp, will you tell me?” presently he questioned, contempt showing on every line of his face.
The little barkeeper did not answer at once, but filled a glass with whisky which he handed to him.
“Well, you see, I figger it out this way, boss,” at last he answered, meeting him face to face frankly, earnestly, his foot the while resting on the other’s chair. “Love’s like a drink that gits a hold on you an’ you can’t quit. It’s a turn of the head or atouch of the hands, or it’s a half sort of smile, an’ you’re doped, doped, doped with a feelin’ like strong liquor runnin’ through your veins, an’ there ain’t nothin’ on earth can break it up once you’ve got the habit. That’s love.”
Touched by the little barkeeper’s droll philosophy, the Sheriff dropped his head on his breast, while the hand which held the glass unconsciously fell to his side.
“I’ve got it,” went on Nick with enthusiasm; “you’ve got it; the boy’s got it; the Girl’s got it; the whole damn world’s got it. It’s all the heaven there is on earth, an’ in nine cases out of ten it’s hell.”
Rance opened his lips to speak, but quickly drew them in tightly. The next instant Nick touched him lightly on the shoulder and pointed to the empty glass in his hand, the contents having run out upon the floor.
With a mere glance at the empty glass Rance returned it to Nick. Presently, then, he took out his watch and fell to studying its face intently, and only when he had finally returned the watch to his pocket did he voice what was in his mind.
“Well, Nick,” he said, “her road agent’s got off by now.”
Whereupon, the barkeeper, too, took out his watch and consulted it.
“Left Cloudy at three o’clock this morning—five hours off....” was his brief comment.
Once more a silence fell upon the room. Then, all of a sudden, the sound of horses’ hoofs and the murmur of rough voices came to their ears, and almost instantly a voice was heard to cry out:
“Hello!”
“Hello!” came from an answering voice.
“Why, it’s The Pony Express got through at last!” announced Nick, incredulously; and so saying he took up the whisky bottle and glasses which lay on the teacher’s desk and dashed into the saloon. He had barely left, however, than The Pony Express, muffled up to his ears and looking fit to brave the fiercest of storms, entered the room, hailing the boys with:
“Hello, boys! Letter for Ashby!”
The Deputy—who with Trinidad and Sonora had come running in, the latter carrying a boot-leg and a stove-polishing brush in his hand—took the letter and started in search of the Wells Fargo Agent who, Rance had told them, had gone to sleep.
“Well, boys, how d’you like bein’ snowed in for a week?” asked The Pony Express, warming himself by the stove; and then without waiting for an answer he rattled on: “There’s a rumour at The Ridge that you all let Ramerrez freeze an’ missed a hangin’. Say, they’re roarin’ at you, chaps!” And with a “So long, boys!” he strode out of the room.
Sonora started in hot pursuit after him, hollering out:
“Wait! Wait!” And when The Pony Express halted, he added: “Says you to the boys at The Ridge as you ride by, the Academy at Cloudy is open to-day full blast!”
“Whoopee! Whoop!” chimed in Trinidad and began to execute apas seulin the middle of the room, dropping into a chair just in time to avoid running into Nick, who hurriedly returned with two glasses and a bottle.
“Help yourselves, boys,” he said; which they did to the accompaniment of a succession of joyous yells from Trinidad.
Meantime Rance had relighted the burnt-out cigar which he had been holding for some time between his fingers, and was sending curls of smoke upwards towards the ceiling.
“Academy,” he sneered.
Sonora surveyed him critically for some moments; at length he said:
“Say, Rance, what’s the matter with you? We began this Academy game together—we boys an’ the Girl—an’ there’s a damn pretty piece of sentiment back of it. She’s taught some of us our letters, and—”
“He’s a wearin’ mournin’ because Johnson didn’t fall alive into his hands,” interposed Trinidad with a laugh.
“Is that it?” queried Sonora.
“Ain’t it enough, Rance, that he must be lyin’ dead down some canyon, with his mouth full of snow?” A mocking smile was on Trinidad’s face as he asked the question.
“You done all you could to git ’im,” went on Sonora as if there had been no interruption. “The boys is all satisfied he’s dead.”
“Dead?” Rance fairly picked up the word. “Dead? Yes, he’s dead,” he declared tensely, and unconsciously arose and went over to the window where he stood motionless, gazing through the parted curtains at the snow-covered hills. Presently the boys saw a cynical smile spread over his face, and a moment later, he added: “The matter with me is that I’m a Chink.”
This depreciation of himself was so thoroughly un-Rance like, that it brought forth great bursts of laughter from the men, but notwithstanding which, Rance went on to admit, in the same sullen tone, that it was all up with him and the Girl.
“Throwed ’im!” whispered Trinidad to Sonora with a pleased look on his face.
Sonora, likewise, was beaming with joy when almost instantly he turned to Nick with:
“As sure’s you live she’s throwed ’im for me!”
Nick, among his other accomplishments, had a faculty for dumbness and said nothing; but a smile which approached a grin formed on his face as he stood eyeing quizzically first one and then the other. Finally, picking up the empty glasses, he left the room.
“Will old dog Tray remember me”—immediately sung out Trinidad, gleefully. While Sonora, in the seventh heaven of delight, began to caper about the room. Of a sudden Nick poked his head in through the door to inquire into the cause of their hilarity, but they ignored him completely. At the bar-room door, however, Sonora halted and, glancing over his shoulder in the Sheriff’s direction, he added in a most tantalising manner:
“ ... for me!”
But while Trinidad and Sonora were going out through one door the Deputy was entering through another. He was greatly agitated and carried in his hand the letter which The Pony Express had entrusted to his keeping for Ashby.
“Why, Ashby’s skipped!” he announced uneasily. “Got off just after three this morning—posse and all.”
A question was in Nick’s eyes as he turned upon the speaker with the interjection:
“What!” And then as the Deputy made a dashfor the bar-room, he added with a swift change of manner: “Help yourself, Dep.”
But if Nick was slow to realise the situation, not so the Sheriff, who instantly awoke to the fact that the Wells Fargo Agent was on Johnson’s trail. His lips drew quickly back in a half-grin.
“Ashby’s after Johnson,” presently he said with a savage little laugh. “Nick, he was watchin’ that greaser.... Took him ten minutes to saddle up—Johnson has ten minutes’ start”—He broke off abruptly and ended impatiently with: “Oh, Lord, they’ll never get him! He’s a wonder on the road—you’ve got to take your hat off to the damn cuss!” And with a dig at the other’s ribs that was half-playful, half-serious, he was off in pursuit of Ashby.
A moment later the miners began to pile in for school, whooping and yelling, their feet covered with snow. Sonora lead with an armful of wood, which he deposited on the floor beside the stove; then came Handsome Charlie and Happy Halliday, together with Old Steady and Bill Crow, who immediately dropped on all fours and began to play leapfrog.
“Boys gatherin’ for school,” observed Trinidad, hurriedly opening the door; and while the men proceeded to flock in, he got into his jacket which lay on a chair beside the teacher’s desk.
“Here, Trin, here’s the book!” cried out Happy Halliday; and the book, which was securely tied in a red cotton handkerchief, went flying through the air.
In those few words the signal was given; the fun was on in earnest. Instantly the miners—veritable school-boys they were, so genuine was their merriment—braced themselves for a catch of the book, which had landed safely in Trinidad’s hands. Now it was aimed at Sonora, who caught it on the fly; from Sonora it travelled to Old Steady, who sent it whizzing over to Handsome. Now the Deputy made ready to receive it; but instead it landed once more in Sonora’s hands amidst cheers of “Come on, Sonora! Whoopee! Whoop!”
“Sh-sh-sh, boys!” warned the Deputy as Sonora was about to send the book on another expedition through the air; “here comes the noo scholar from Watson’s.”
An ominous hush fell upon the room. One could have heard a pin drop as the school settled itself down with anticipatory grins that said, “What won’t we do to Bucking Billy!” Therefore, there was not an eye that was not upon the new pupil when with dinner-pail swinging on one arm and the other holding tightly onto a small slate, he slowly advanced towards them.
“Did you ever play Lame Soldier, m’ friend?” was Sonora’s greeting, while the miners crowded around them.
“No,” replied the big, raw-boned, gullible-looking fellow with a grin.
“We’ll play it after school; you’ll be the stirrup,” promised Sonora; then turning to his mates with a laugh, which was unobserved by Bucking Billy, he added: “We’ll initiate ’im.”
Presently the miners began to move away and Trinidad, picking up a chip which he espied under a bench, put it on his shoulder and stood in the centre of the room, thereby indirectly challenging the new pupil to a scrimmage.
“Don’t do it!” cried Old Steady as he hung up his hat upon a buck’s horn on the wall.
“Go on! Go on!” encouraged Bill Crow, hanging up his hat beside Old Steady’s.
The boys took up his words in chorus.
“Go on! Go on!”
Whereupon, Sonora made a dash for the chip and knocked it off of Trinidad’s shoulder, blazing huskily into his face as he did so:
“You do, do you?”
In the twinkling of an eye Trinidad’s jacket was off and the two men were engaged in a hand-to-hand scuffle.
“Soak him!” came from a voice somewhere in the crowd.
“Hit him!” urged another.
“Bat him in the eye!” shrieked Handsome Charlie.
Finally Sonora succeeded in throwing down his opponent and sent him rolling along the floor, the contents of his pockets marking his trail.
The rafters of The Polka shook to a storm of cheering, and there is no telling when the men would have ceased had not Nick interfered at that moment by yelling out:
“Boys, boys, here she is!”
“Here comes the Girl!” came simultaneously from Happy Halliday, who had got a glimpse of her coming down the trail.
None the worse for his defeat and fall, Trinidad sprang to his feet; while Sonora made a dash for a seat. They had not been placed; whereupon he cried out excitedly:
“The seats, boys, where’s the seats?”
For the few minutes that preceded the Girl’s entrance into the room no men were ever known to work more rapidly or more harmoniously. They fairly flew in and out of the room, now bringing in the great whittled-up, weather-beaten benches and placing them in school-room fashion, and then rolling in boxes and casks which served as a ground-hold for the planks which were stretched across them for desks. It was in the midst of these pilgrimagesthat Trinidad rushed over to Nick to ask whether he did not think to-day a good time to put the question to the Girl.
Nick’s eyes twinkled up with merriment; nevertheless, his face took on a dubious look when presently he answered:
“I wouldn’t rush her, Trin—you’ve got plenty of time....” And when he proceeded to put up the blackboard he almost ran into Sonora, who stood by the teacher’s desk getting into his frock coat.
“Hurry up, boys, hurry up!” urged Trinidad, though he himself smilingly looked on.
A moment later the Girl, carrying a small book of poems, walked quietly into their midst. She was paler and not as buoyant as usual, but she managed to appear cheerful when she said:
“Hello, boys!”
The men were all smiles and returned her greeting with:
“Hello, Girl!”
Then followed the presentation of their offerings—mere trifles, to be sure, but given out of the fulness of their hearts. Sonora led with a bunch of berries, which was followed by Trinidad with an orange.
“From ’Frisco,” he said simply, watching the effect of his words with pride.
A bunch of berries was also Happy’s contribution, which he made with a stiff little bow and the one word:
“Regards.”
Meantime Nick, faithful friend that he was, went down on his knees and began to remove the Girl’s moccasins. The knowledge of his proximity encouraged the Girl to glance about her to see if she could detect any signs on the men’s faces which would prove that they suspected the real truth concerning her absence. Needless to say adoration and love was all that she saw; nevertheless, she felt ill-at-ease and, unconsciously, repeated:
“Hello, boys!” And then added, a little more bravely: “How’s everythin’?”
“Bully!” spoke up Handsome Charlie, who was posing for her benefit, as was his wont, beside one of the desks.
“Say, we missed you,” acknowledged Sonora with a world of tenderness in his voice. “Never knew you to desert The Polka for a whole week before.”
“No, I—I ...” stammered guiltily, and with their little gifts turned abruptly towards her desk lest she should meet their gaze.
“Academy’s opened,” suddenly announced Happy, “and—”
“Yes, I see it is,” quickly answered the Girl, brushing away a tear that persisted in clinging toher eyelids; slowly, now, she drew off her gloves and laid them on the desk.
“I guess I’m kind o’ nervous to-day, boys,” she began.
“No wonder,” observed Sonora. “Road agent’s been in camp an’ we missed a hangin’. I can’t git over that.”
All a-quiver and not daring to meet the men’s gaze, much less to discuss the road agent with them, the Girl endeavoured to hide her confusion by asking Nick to help her off with her cape. Turning presently she said in a strained voice:
“Well, come on, boys—come, now!”
Immediately the boys fell in line for the opening exercises, which consisted of an examination by the Girl of their general appearance.
“Let me see your hands,” she said to the man nearest to her; a glance was sufficient, and he was expelled from her presence. “Let me see yours, Sonora,” she commanded.
Holding his hands behind his back the man addressed moved towards her slowly, for he was conscious of the grime that was on them. Before he had spoken his apology she ordered him none too gently to go and wash them, ending with an emphatic:
“Git!”
“Yes’m,” was his meek answer, though he called back as he disappeared: “Been blackenin’ my boots.”
The Girl took up the word quickly.
“Boots! Yes, an’ look at them boots!” And as each man came up to her, “An’ them boots! an’ them boots! Get in there the whole lot o’ you an’ be sure that you leave your whisky behind.”
When all had left the room save Nick, who stood with her cape on his arm near the desk she suddenly became conscious that she still had her hood on, and at once began to remove it—a proceeding which brought out clearly the extraordinary pallor of her face which, generally, had a bright, healthy colouring. Now she beckoned to Nick to draw near. No need for her to speak, for he had caught the questioning look in her eyes, and it told him plainer than any words that she was anxious to hear of her lover. He was about to tell her the little he knew when with lips that trembled she finally whispered:
“Have you heard anythin’? Do you think he got through safe?”
Nick nodded in the affirmative.
“I saw ’im off, you know,” she went on in the same low voice; then, before Nick could speak, she concluded anxiously: “But s’pose he don’t git through?”
“Oh, he’ll git through sure! We’ll hear he’s outof this country pretty quick,” consoled the little barkeeper just as Rance, unperceived by them, quietly entered the room and went over to a chair by the stove.
Noman had more of a dread of the obvious than the Sheriff. His position, he felt, was decidedly an unpleasant one. Nevertheless, in the silence that followed the Girl’s discovery of his presence, he struggled to appear his old self. He was by no means unconscious of the fact that he had omitted his usual cordial greeting to her, and he felt that she must be scrutinising him, feature by feature. When, therefore, he shot a covert glance at her, it was with surprise that he saw an appealing look in her eyes.
“Oh, Jack, I want to thank you—” she began, but stopped quickly, deterred by the hard expression that instantly spread itself over the Sheriff’s face. Resentment, all the more bitter because he believed it to be groundless, followed hard on the heels of her words which he thought to be inspired solely by a delicate tactfulness.
“Oh, don’t thank me that he got away,” he said icily. “It was the three aces and the pair you held—”
This was the Girl’s opportunity; she seized it.
“About the three aces, I want to say that—”
It was Rance’s turn to interrupt, which he did brutally.
“He’d better keep out of my country, that’s all.”
“Yes, yes.”
To the Girl, any reference to her lover was a stab. Her face was pale with her terrible anxiety; notwithstanding, the contrast of her pallid cheeks and masses of golden hair gave her a beauty which Rance, as he met her eyes, found so extraordinarily tempting that he experienced a renewed fury at his utter helplessness. At the point, however, when it would seem from his attitude that all his self-control was about to leave him, the Girl picked up the bell on the desk and rang it vigorously.
Began then the long procession of miners walking around the room before taking their seats on the benches. At their head was Happy Halliday, who carried in his hands a number of slates, the one on the top having a large sponge attached. These were all more or less in bad condition, some having no frames, while others were mere slits of slate, but all had slate-pencils fastened to them by strings.
“Come along, boys, get your slates!” sang out Happy as he left the line and let the others file past him.
“Whoop!” vociferated Trinidad in a burst of enthusiasm.
“Trin, you’re out o’ step there!” reprimanded the teacher a little sharply; and then addressing Happyshe ordered him to take his place once more in the line.
In a little while they were all seated, and now, at last, it seemed to the barkeeper as if the air of the room had been freed of its tension. No longer did he experience a sense of alertness, a feeling that something out of the ordinary was going to happen, and it was with immense relief that he heard the Girl take up her duties and ask:
“What books were left from last year?”
At first no one was able to give a scrap of information on this important matter; maybe it was because all lips were too dry to open; in the end, however, when the silence was becoming embarrassing, Happy moistened his lips with his tongue, and answered:
“Why, we scared up jest a whole book left. The name of it is—is—is—” The effort was beyond his mental powers and he came to a helpless pause.
Swelling with importance, and drawing forth the volume in question from his pocket, Sonora stood up and finished:
“—is ‘Old Joe Miller’s Jokes.’”
“That will do nicely,” declared the Girl and seated herself on the pine-decorated box.
“Now, boys,” continued Sonora, ever the most considerate of pupils, “before we begin I propose nodrawin’ of weppings, drinkin’ or swearin’ in school hours. The conduct of certain members wore on teacher last term. I don’t want to mention no names, but I want Handsome an’ Happy to hear what I’m sayin’.” And after a sweeping glance at his mates, who, already, had begun to disport themselves and jeer at the unfortunate pair, he wound up with: “Is that straight?”
“You bet it is!” yelled the others in chorus; whereupon Sonora dropped into his seat.
In time order was restored and now the Girl, looking at Rance out of her big, frightened, blue eyes, observed:
“Rance, last year you led off with an openin’ address, an’—”
“Yes, yes, go on Sheriff!” cried the boys, hailing her suggestion with delight.
Nevertheless, the Sheriff hesitated, seeing which, Trinidad contributed:
“Let ’er go, Jack!”
At length, fixing a look upon the Girl, Rance rose and said significantly:
“I pass.”
“Oh, then, Sonora,” suggested the Girl, covering up her embarrassment as best she could, “won’t you make a speech?”
“Me—speak?” exploded Sonora; and again; “Me—speak? Oh, the devil!”
“Sh-sh!” came warningly from several of the boys.
“Why, I didn’t mean that, o’ course,” apologised Sonora, colouring, and incidentally expectorating on Bucking Billy’s boots. But to his infinite sorrow no protest worthy of the word was forthcoming from the apparently insensible Bucking Billy.
“Go on! Go on!” urged the school.
Sonora coughed behind his hand; then he began his address.
“Gents, I look on this place as something more ’n a place to sit around an’ spit on—the stove. I claim that there’s culture in the air o’ Californay an’ we’re here to buck up again it an’ hook on.”
“Hear! Hear! Hear!” voiced the men together, while their fists came down heavily upon the improvised desks before them.
“With these remarks,” concluded Sonora, “I set.” And suiting the action to the word he plumped himself down heavily upon the bench, but only to rise again quickly with a cry of pain and strike Trinidad a fierce blow, who, he rightly suspected, was responsible for the pin that had found a lodging-place in the seat of his trousers.
At that not even the Girl’s remonstrances prevented the boys, who had been silent as mice all the time that the instrument of torture was being adjusted, from giving vent to roars of laughter; andfor a moment things in the school-room were decidedly boisterous.
“Sit down, boys, sit down!” ordered the Girl again and again; but it was some moments before she could get the school under control. When, finally, the skylarking had ceased, the Girl said in a voice which, despite its strange weariness, was music to their ears:
“Once more we meet together. There’s ben a lot happened o’ late that has learned me that p’r’aps I don’t know as much as I tho’t I did, an’ I can’t teach you much more. But if you’re willin’ to take me for what I am—jest a woman who wants things better, who wants everybody all they ought to be, why I’m willin’ to rise with you an’ help reach out—” She stopped abruptly, for Handsome was waving his hand excitedly at her, and asked a trifle impatiently: “What is it, Handsome?”
Handsome rose and hurriedly went over to her.
“Whisky, teacher, whisky! I want it so bad—”
The school rose to its feet as one man.
“Teacher! Teacher!” came tumultuously from all, their hands waving frantically in the air. And then without waiting for permission to speak the cry went up: “Whisky! Whisky!”
“No, no whisky,” she denied them flatly.
Gradually the commotion subsided, for all knewthat she meant what she said, at least for the moment.
“An’ now jest a few words more on the subject o’ not settin’ judgment on the errin’—a subject near my heart.”
This remark of the Girl’s brought forth murmurs of wonder, and in the midst of them the door was pushed slowly inward and The Sidney Duck, wearing the deuce of spades which the Sheriff had pinned to his jacket when he banished him from their presence for cheating at cards, stood on the threshold, looking uncertainly about him. At once all eyes were focused upon him.
“Git! Git!” shouted the men, angrily. This was followed by a general movement towards him, which so impressed The Sidney Duck that he turned on his heel and was fleeing for his life when a cry from the Girl stopped him.
“Boys, boys,” said the Girl in a reproving voice, which silenced them almost instantly; then, beckoning to Sid to approach, she went on in her most gentle tones: “I was jest gittin’ to you, Sid, as I promised. You can stay.”
Looking like a whipped dog The Sidney Duck advanced warily towards her.
Sonera’s brow grew thunderous.
“What, here among gentlemen?”
And that his protest met with instantaneous approval was shown by the way the miners shifted uneasily in their seats and shouted threateningly:
“Git! Git!”
“Why, the fellow’s a—” began Trinidad, but got no further, for the Girl stopped him by exclaiming:
“I know, I know, Trin—I’ve tho’t it all over!”
For the next few minutes the Girl stood strangely still and her face became very grave. Never before had the men seen her in a mood like this, and they exchanged wondering glances. Presently she said:
“Boys, of late a man in trouble has been on my mind—” She paused, her glance having caught the peculiar light which her words had caused to appear in Rance’s eyes, and lest he should misunderstand her meaning, she hastened to add: “Sid, o’ course,—an’ I fell to thinkin’ o’ the Prodigal Son. He done better, didn’t he?”
“But a card sharp,” objected Sonora from the depths of his big voice.
“Yes, that’s what!” interjected Trinidad, belligerently.
The Girl’s eyebrows lifted and a shade of resentment was in the answering voice:
“But s’pose there was a moment in his life when he was called upon to find a extra ace—can’t we forgive ’im? He says he’s sorry—ain’t you, Sid?”
All the while the Girl had been speaking The Sidney Duck kept his eyes lowered and was swallowing nervously. Now he raised them and, with a feeble attempt to simulate penitence, he acknowledged that he had done wrong. Nevertheless, he declared:
“But if I ’adn’t got caught things would ’a’ been different. Oh, yes, I’m sorry.”
In an instant the Girl was at his side removing the deuce of spades from his coat.
“Sid, you git your chance,” she said with trembling lips. “Now go an’ sit down.”
A broad smile was creeping over The Sidney Duck’s countenance as he moved towards the others; but Happy took it upon himself to limit its spread.
“Take that!” he blazed, striking the man in the face. “And git out of here!”
“Happy, Happy!” cried the Girl. Her voice was so charged with reproach that The Sidney Duck was allowed by the men to pass on without any further molestation. Nevertheless, when he attempted to sit beside them, they moved as far away as possible from him and compelled him to take a stool that stood apart from the benches which held them together in friendly proximity.
At this point Trinidad inquired of the Girl whether she meant to infer that honesty was not the best policy, and by way of illustration, he went on to say:
“S’posin’ my watch had no works an’ I was to sell it to the Sheriff for one hundred dollars. Would you have much respect for me?”
For the briefest part of a second the Girl seemed to be reflecting.
“I’d have more respect for you than for the Sheriff,” she answered succinctly.
“Hurrah! Whoopee! Whoop!” yelled the men, who were delighted both with what she said as well as her pert way of saying it.
It was in the midst of these shouts that Billy Jackrabbit and Wowkle, unobserved by the others, quietly stole into the room and squatted themselves down under the blackboard. When the merriment had subsided Rance rose and took the floor. His face was paler than usual, though his voice was calm when presently he said:
“Well, bein’ Sheriff, I’m careful about my company—I’ll sit in the bar. Cheats and road agents”—and here he paused meaningly and glanced from The Sidney Duck to the Girl—“ar’n’t jest in my line. I walk in the open road with my head up and my face to the sun, and whatever I’ve pulled up, you’ll remark I’ve always played square and stood by the cyards.”
“I know, I know,” observed the Girl and fell wearily into her seat; the next instant she went on more confidently: “An’ that’s the way to travel—in the straight road. But if ever I don’t travel that road, or you—”
“You always will, you bet,” observed Nick with feeling.
“You bet she will!” shouted the others.
“But if I don’t,” continued the Girl, insistently, “I hope there’ll be someone to lead me back—back to the right road. ’Cause remember, Rance, some of us are lucky enough to be born good, while others have to be ’lected.”
“That’s eloquence!” cried Sonora, moved almost to tears; while Rance took a step forward as if about to make some reply; but the next instant, his head held no longer erect and his face visibly twitching, he passed into the bar-room.
A silence reigned for a time, which was broken at last by the Girl announcing with great solemnity:
“If anybody can sing ‘My Country ’Tis,’ Academy’s opened.”
At this request, really of a physical nature, and advanced in a spirit of true modesty, all present, curiously enough, seemed to have lost their voices and nudged one another in an endeavour to get the hymn started. Someone insisted that Sonora should go ahead, but that worthy pupil objected giving as his excuse, obviously a paltry one and trumped up for the occasion, that he did not know the words. There was nothing to it, therefore, but that the Indians should render the great American anthem. And so, standing stolidly facing the others, their high-pitched, nasal voices presently began: