CHAPTER VI
AN HONEST MAN AND A ROGUE
How to do it? That was the question that hammered incessantly at Dave'sbrain until he actually dreamed of it. Dreaming of it was the onlysatisfactory solution, for in his dreams matters arranged themselveswith the least possible effort on his part and with little or nodanger--though, to do him justice, danger was the consideration whichhad the least weight. But the dreams presented lamentable gaps whichDave, in his waking moments, found it impossible to bridge. Winter hadgiven way to Spring and Buck Peters, aided by the indefatigable Ned, wasrounding the ranch into a shape that already cut a figure in the countyand would do so in the Territory before long.
The Double Y owed nothing to Dave. His animosity was confined strictlyto Buck; but he knew that Karl was resolved to usurp ownership of therange he had come to look upon as his own. And Dave had become imbuedwith the idea that his own interests demanded the realization of Karl'swishes.
Why the German had become interested in this handsome idler, so manyyears younger than himself, Karl could not have explained. True, he wasalone in the world, he was a red fox where the other was a black one,while Dave's present sinfulness and inclinations were such as the elderman understood and sympathized with. Yet these were hardly reasons;Karl himself never would have advanced them as such. Perhaps he had itin mind to use him as a cat's-paw. Few of our likes or dislikes havetheir origin in a single root.
If only they could "eat up" the Double Y! Dave cursed the obsessionwhich threatened his fortunes; he cursed the energetic Buck who wasrearing obstacles in his way with every week that passed; and he cursedhis own barren imagination which balked at the riddle.
No heat of the inward furnace showed in the cool gravity of his face.Sitting at a table in the crowded bar-room of the Sweet-Echo, he seemedintent on mastering the difficulties of a particularly intricate game ofsolitaire. From time to time some of those at the same table wouldbecome interested, only to turn away again, baffled by their lack ofknowledge.
The usual class of patrons was present, augmented in number, since thespring round-up was at hand and strangers were dropping in every day.Later in the evening, most of those present would gravitate to the lowerend of the town where forms of amusement which Sandy McQueen did notcountenance, were common. To none of these did Dave give any attention,though he looked with interest at Tex Ewalt when he entered; theincreased hum of voices and several loud greetings had taken his mindmomentarily from his thoughts. Tex's reputation had lost nothing inforce since the excitement of his advent.
Suddenly and for the first time Dave hesitated in his play. He lookedfixedly at the Jack of Spades and removed it from the pile where it lay.He paused with it in his hand. The Jack of Spades was in doubt--so wasDave.
A querulous voice was damning Buck Peters. "_Donner und Blitzen_! Vasit my fault _der verruchter_ bull break loose _und ist hinaus gegangen_?'_Yah!_' says Buck, '_Yah!_' loud, like dat. Mad?--_mein gracious_! Votfor is a bull, anyhow? 'Gimme my time,' I say; 'I go.' 'Gif you a gootkick,' says Buck; 'here, dake dis und get drunk und come back _morgen_.'I get drunk und go back und break his d--n neck--only for leetle Fritz."
"Leetle Fritz" sat swinging his legs, on the bar. He looked at hisfather with plain disapproval. "Ah, cheese it, Pap!" was his advice."What's th' good o' gittin' drunk? Why can't you hol' y' likker like aman?"
A roar of laughter greeted this appeal, at which even Gerken smiledgleefully. He was glad that Fritz was smart, "_une seine Mutter_."
Dave pushed the Jack of Spades back into the pack. He arose andsauntered over to the bar. "That's th' way to talk, Pickles," heendorsed, tickling the boy playfully in the ribs. "Yo 're a-going tohold yore likker like a man, ain't you?"
"No sirree! Ther' ain't goin' to be any likker in mine. I promisedmother."
"Bully for you!" Dave's admiration was genuine and the boy blushed atthe compliment. Like many other rascals, Dave was easily admitted intothe hearts of children and simple folk and women and dogs. Bruce, thecollie, was nuzzling his hand at that moment and the broad, foolish faceof Gottleib was beaming on him. "Hi, Slick! Pickles 'll have alemonade. I 'll have a lemonade, too; better put a stick in mine, I 'ma-gettin' so 's I need one. An' Pap 'll have a lemonade, too--oh! witha stick, Pap, with a stick--I would n't go for to insult your stomach."
They drank their lemonades, Gottleib's face expressive of splinters, anda minute later Pickles sat alone while his father endeavored to win someof Dave's money and Dave endeavored to let him. Tex tilted his chairand with a fine disregard for alien fastidiousness, stuck his feet onthe edge of the table and smiled. He almost crashed over backward atsight of a figure that entered the room from the hall. "God bless ourQueen!" murmured Tex, "he 's a long way from 'ome. Must be a remittanceman come over the line to call on Sandy."
H. Whitby Booth swept an appraising glance over the company and, withouta pause, chose a seat next to Tex. "Surprisin' fine weather, isn't it?"he observed, taking a cigar-case from his pocket.
"_My word!_" agreed Tex, succinctly.
Whitby looked at him with suspicion. "Try a weed?" he invited.
"I don't mind if I do, old chap," and Tex selected one with a gravity hewas far from feeling.
Whitby looked hard at him while Tex lit the cigar. It was a good one.Tex noted it with satisfaction.
"I say, are you chaffing me?" asked Whitby, smilingly.
It was a very good cigar. Tex had not enjoyed one as good in aregrettably long time. He blew the smoke lingeringly through hisnostrils and laughed. "I 'm afraid I was," he admitted, "but you mustn't mind that. It's what you 're here for, the boys 'll think--that is,if you don't stop long enough to get used to it."
"Oh, I don't mind in the least. And I expect to stop if the climateagrees with me."
"What's the matter--lunger? You don't look it."
"Not likely. But they tell me it's rather cold out here in winter."
"Some cold. You get used to it. You feel it more in the East, wherethe air 's damp."
"I 'm delighted to hear it. And the West is becoming quite civilized, Ibelieve, compared with what it was."
"Oh, my, yes!" Tex choked on a mouthful of cigar smoke in his haste toassure Whitby of the engaging placidity of the population. "Why, no onehas been killed about here since--well, not since I came to Twin River."Tex did not consider it necessary to state how short a time that hadbeen. "Civilized! Well, I should opinionate. Tame as sheep.Nowadays, a man has to show a pretty plain case of self-defence if heexpects to avoid subsequent annoyance."
"Ah, so I was informed. They seem quiet enough here."
"Yes, Sandy won't stand any disturbance. He's away to-night but Slick'sgot his orders. Know Sandy?"
"No. Is he the proprietor?"
"That's him: Sandy McQueen, proprietor, boss, head-bouncer, the only--"
"I say, what's the row?"
Tex's feet hit the floor with a bang. Gottleib Gerken was shaking hisfist in Dave's face, Dave sitting very still, intently watchful. "_Duverdammter Schuft!_" shouted Gerken, "_Mein Meister verrathen, was!_"He sent the table flying, with a violent thrust of his foot: "I showyou!"
Watchful as he was, Dave did not anticipate what was coming. As thetable toppled over he sprang to his feet, the forward thrust of his headin this action moving in contrary direction to the hurtling fist ofGottleib, which stopped very suddenly against his nose. Dave staggeredbackward, stumbled over his chair and went crashing to the floor, wherehe lay for an instant dazed.
"By Jove! that was a facer," cried the appreciative Whitby. The otherswere ominously quiet.
The next moment Dave was on his feet, white with murderous rage. Therewas more than fallen dignity to revenge: Gottleib knew too much.Without the least hesitation his gun slanted and the roar of thedischarge was echoed by Gottleib's plunging fall. A frenzied scream,feminine in shrillness, rang through the room. Dave's gun dropped fr
omhis hand and he sank to the floor; a whiskey bottle, flying the lengthof the room, had struck him on the head, and Boomerang, struggling withmaniacal fury in the arms of several men, strove to follow his missile.At the other end of the bar the numbed Pickles suddenly came to life andleaped to the floor. Caught and stopped in his frantic rush across theroom he kicked and struck at his captor. "Lemme go!" he shrieked,"lemme go! I 'll kill the ---- ----" The men holding Boomerang ran himto the open hall door and gave him forcible exit and the stern commandto "Git! an' keep a-goin'."
A sullen murmur swelling to low growls of anger formed an undertone tothe boy's hysterical cries, as the men looked on at Tex's efforts torevive the stunned culprit. "Lynch him!" growled a voice. "Lynch him!"echoed over the room. "Lynch him!" shouted a dozen men, and Tex ceasedhis efforts and came on guard barely in time to stop a concerted rush.Straddling the recumbent figure, his blazing eyes shocked the crowd to astand-still. With a motion quicker than a striking rattler a gun ineither hand threatened the waverers. "Dutchy 's got a gun," he rebukedthem; "he was a-reachin' for it when he dropped."
"That's correct," agreed a backward member. "Sure. I seen him a-goin'for it," affirmed another. They gathered about Gottleib to look for theproof.
Suddenly the door was flung open and Rose LaFrance stood in the opening."What are you doing?" she questioned. "What is the matter with Fritz?Come here, Fritz."
The boy, released and subsiding into gasping sobs, staggered weaklytoward her. She drew him close and folded him in her arms. The men,silent and abashed, in moving to allow the boy to pass, had disclosed toher the figure of the prone Gottleib and she understood. "Oh-h!" shebreathed and looked slowly from one to another, her gaze resting last onTex, the fallen table hiding from her the man he was protecting. Utterloathing was in her look and the innocent Tex was stung to defiance byit, throwing back his head and returning stare for stare.
"You wolf!" she accused, in low, passionately vibrant tones. "Kill,kill, kill! You and your kind. Is it then so great a pleasure to you?Shame to you for mad beasts! And greater shame to the cur dogs who letyou do it." Her glance swept the averted faces with blasting scorn."Come, Fritz." She led the boy out and the door was closed carefullyafter her by a sheepish-looking individual whose position behind it andout of sight of those scornful eyes had been envied by every man in theroom.
"Well--I 'm--d--d!" said Tex, recovering his voice.
"'They that touch pitch will be defiled,'" observed Whitby,sententiously. Tex looked his resentment. He felt a touch on his legand glanced down. Dave had recovered consciousness. "Get off me,Comin'," he requested. "Who hit me?"
"Boomerang flung a bottle at you," informed Tex. "How you feeling?"
"All serene. Head 's dizzy," he added, swaying on his feet. He walkedto the nearest chair and sat down. "Must 'a' poured a pint o' whiskeyinto me."
"Boom passed you a quart bottle," replied Tex.
Dave glanced at the inert form of Gerken as it was carried out into thehall. "Sorry I had to do it," he said, "but I had to get him first orgo under. He oughtn't to said I cheated him."
"I say, that's a bally lie, you know." Whitby's drawling voiceelectrified the company. Those behind him hastily changed theirpositions. Dave, with a curse, reached again for his gun--it lay on thefloor against the wall, where it had fallen.
"Drop it, Dave," came Slick's grating command. "Think I got nothin' todo but clean up after you? Which yo 're too hot to stay indoors. Gooutside and cool off."
"You tell me to git out?" exclaimed Dave, incredulously.
"That's what," was Slick's dogged reply. "The Britisher wants to speakhis piece an' all interruptions is barred entirely. An' don't let Sandysee you for a month."
Dave walked over and picked up his gun. "To h--l with Sandy," hecursed. The door slammed open and he was gone.
Slick slid his weapon back onto the shelf and proceeded to admonishWhitby. "See here, Brit, don't you never call a man a liar 'less yo 'resure you can shoot first."
"But dash it all! the man is a liar, you know. The German chap said'you d--n scoundrel! Traitor to my master, eh!' There 's nothing inthat about cheating, is there?"
"Well, mebbe not," agreed Slick, "but comparisons is odorous, you don'twant to forget that. Which we 'll drink to the memory of th' deaddeparted. What 'll it be, boys?"