CHAPTER V.
THE THREE VOICES.
Once free from the trammelling fascinations of Sophy and the moredangerous espionage of Madame Eclair, and with the object of his missionaccomplished, Mr. Hamlin recovered his natural spirits, and became sohilarious that Olly, who attributed this exaltation to his interviewwith Sophy, felt constrained to make some disparaging remarks about thatyoung lady, partly by way of getting even with her for her recentinterference, and partly in obedience to some well known butunexplained law of the sex. To her great surprise, however, Mr. Hamlin'sspirits were in no way damped, nor did he make any attempt to defend hisLalage. Nevertheless, he listened attentively, and when she hadconcluded he looked suddenly down upon her chip hat and thick yellowtresses, and said--
"Ever been in the Southern country, Olly?"
"No," returned the child.
"Never down about San Antonio, visiting friends or relations?"
"No," said Olly, decidedly.
Mr. Hamlin was silent for some time, giving his exclusive attention tohis horse, who was evincing a disposition to "break" into a gallop. Whenhe had brought the animal back into a trot again he continued--
"_There's_ a woman! Olly."
"Down in San Antonio?" asked Olly.
Mr. Hamlin nodded.
"Purty?" continued the child.
"It ain't the word," responded Mr. Hamlin, seriously. "Purty ain't theword."
"As purty as Sophy?" continued Olly, a little mischievously.
"Sophy be hanged!" Mr. Hamlin here quickly pulled up himself and horse,both being inclined to an exuberance startling to the youth and sex ofthe third party. "That is--I mean something in a different suitentirely."
Here he again hesitated, doubtful of his slang.
"I see," quoth Olly; "diamonds--Sophy's in spades."
The gambler (in sudden and awful admiration), "Diamonds--you've juststruck it! but what do _you_ know 'bout cards?"
Olly, _pomposam['e]nte_, "Everything! Tell our fortunes by 'em--we girls!I'm in hearts--Sophy's in spades--you're in clubs! Do you know," in athrilling whisper, "only last night I had a letter, a journey, a death,and a gentleman in clubs, dark complected--that's you."
Mr. Hamlin--a good deal more at ease through this revelation of theuniversal power of the four suits--"Speakin' of women, I suppose downthere (indicating the school) you occasionally hear of angels. What'stheir general complexion?"
Olly, dubiously, "In the pictures?"
Hamlin, "Yes;" with a leading question, "sorter dark complectedsometimes, hey?"
Olly, positively, "Never! always white."
Jack, "Always white?"
Olly, "Yes, and flabby!"
They rode along for some time silently. Presently Mr. Hamlin broke intoa song, a popular song, one verse of which Olly supplied with suchdeftness of execution and melodiousness of pipe that Mr. Hamlininstantly suggested a duet, and so over the dead and barren wastes ofthe Sacramento plains they fell to singing, often barbarously, sometimesmelodiously, but never self-consciously, wherein, I take it, theyapproximated to the birds and better class of poets, so that roughteamsters, rude packers, and weary wayfarers were often touched, as withthe birds and poets aforesaid, to admiration and tenderness; and whenthey stopped for supper at a wayside station, and Jack Hamlin displayedthat readiness of resource, audacity of manner and address, and perfectand natural obliviousness to the criticism of propriety or thelimitations of precedent, and when, moreover, the results of all thiswas a much better supper than perhaps a more reputable companion couldhave procured, she thought she had never known a more engaging personthan this Knave of Clubs.
When they were fairly on the road again, Olly began to exhibit somecuriosity regarding her brother, and asked some few questions aboutGabriel's family, which disclosed the fact that Jack's acquaintance withGabriel was comparatively recent.
"Then you never saw July at all?" asked Olly.
"July," queried Jack, reflectively; "what's she like?"
"I don't know whether she's a heart or a spade," said Olly, asthoughtfully.
Jack was silent for some moments, and then after a pause, to Olly'sintense astonishment, proceeded to sketch, in a few vigorous phrases,the external characteristics of Mrs. Conroy.
"Why, you said you never saw her!" ejaculated Olly.
"No more I did," responded the gambler, with a quick laugh; "this isonly a little bluff."
It had grown cold with the brief twilight and the coming on of night.For some time the black, unchanging outlines of the distant Coast Rangewere sharply _silhouetted_ against a pale, ashen sky, that at last fadedutterly, leaving a few stars behind as emblems of the burnt-out sunset.The red road presently lost its calm and even outline in the swiftlygathering shadows, or to Olly's fancy was stopped by shapeless masses ofrock or giant-like trunks of trees that in turn seemed to give waybefore the skilful hand and persistent will of her driver. At times achill exhalation from a roadside ditch came to Olly like the damp breathof an open grave, and the child shivered even beneath the thicktravelling shawl of Mr. Hamlin, with which she was enwrapped. WhereatJack at once produced a flask and prevailed upon Olly to drink somethingthat set her coughing, but which that astute and experienced child atonce recognised as whisky. Mr. Hamlin, to her surprise, however, did nothimself partake, a fact which she at once pointed out to him.
"At an early age, Olly," said Mr. Hamlin, with infinite gravity, "Ipromised an infirm and aged relative never to indulge in spirituousliquors, except on a physician's prescription. I carry this flasksubject to the doctor's orders. Never having ordered me to drink any, Idon't."
As it was too dark for the child to observe Mr. Hamlin's eyes, which,after the fashion of her sex, she consulted much oftener than his speechfor his real meaning, and was as often deceived, she said nothing, andMr. Hamlin relapsed into silence. At the end of five minutes he said--
"_She_ was a woman, Olly--you bet!"
Olly, with great tact and discernment, instantly referring back to Mr.Hamlin's discourse of an hour before, queried, "That girl in theSouthern country?"
"Yes," said Mr. Hamlin.
"Tell me all about her," said Olly--"all you know."
"That ain't much," mused Hamlin, with a slight sigh. "Ah, Olly, _she_could sing!"
"With the piano?" said Olly, a little superciliously.
"With the organ," said Hamlin.
Olly, whose sole idea of this instrument was of the itinerant barrelvariety, yawned slightly, and with a very perceptible lack of interestsaid that she hoped she would see her some time when she came up thatway and was "going 'round."
Mr. Hamlin did not laugh, but after a few minutes' rapid driving, beganto explain to Olly with great earnestness the character of a churchorgan.
"I used to play once, Olly, in a church. They did say that I usedsometimes to fetch that congregation, jest snatch 'em bald-headed, Olly,but it's a long time ago! There was one hymn in particular that I usedto run on consid'rable--one o' them Masses o' Mozart--one that I heard_her_ sing, Olly; it went something like this;" and Jack proceeded tolift his voice in the praise of Our Lady of Sorrows, with a sereneunconsciousness to his surroundings, and utter absorption in his themethat would have become the most enthusiastic acolyte. The springscreaked, the wheels rattled, the mare broke, plunged, and recoveredherself, the slight vehicle swayed from side to side, Olly's hat bruisedand flattened itself against his shoulder, and still Mr. Hamlin sang.When he had finished he looked down at Olly. She was asleep!
Jack was an artist and an enthusiast, but not unreasonable norunforgiving. "It's the whisky," he murmured to himself, in an apologeticrecitation to the air he had just been singing. He changed the reins tohis other hand with infinite caution and gentleness, slowly passed hisdisengaged arm round the swaying little figure, until he had drawn thechip hat and the golden tresses down upon his breast and shoulder. Inthis attitude, scarcely moving a muscle lest he should waken thesleeping child, at midnight he came upon the twinkling lights ofFi
ddletown. Here he procured a fresh horse, dispensing with an ostlerand harnessing the animal himself, with such noiseless skill andquickness that Olly, propped up in the buggy with pillows and blanketsborrowed from the Fiddletown hostelry, slept through it all, nor wakenedeven after they were again upon the road, and had begun the long ascentof the Wingdam turnpike.
It wanted but an hour of daybreak when he reached the summit, and eventhen he only slackened his pace when his wheels sank to their hubs inthe beaten dust of the stage road. The darkness of that early hour wasintensified by the gloom of the heavy pine woods through which the redroad threaded its difficult and devious way. It was very still. Hamlincould hardly hear the dead, muffled plunge of his own horse in the dustytrack before him, and yet once or twice he stopped to listen. His quickear detected the sound of voices and the jingle of Mexican spurs,apparently approaching behind him. Mr. Hamlin knew that he had notpassed any horseman and was for a moment puzzled. But then he recalledthe fact that a few hundred yards beyond, the road was intersected bythe "cut-off" to One Horse Gulch, which, after running parallel with theWingdam turnpike for half a mile, crossed it in the forest. The voiceswere on that road going the same way. Mr. Hamlin pushed on his horse tothe crossing, and hidden by the darkness and the trunks of the giantpines, pulled up to let the strangers precede him. In a few moments thevoices were abreast of him and stationary. The horsemen had apparentlyhalted.
"Here seems to be a road," said a voice quite audibly.
"All right, then," returned another, "it's the 'cut-off. We'll save anhour, sure."
A third voice here struck in potentially, "Keep the stage road. If JoeHall gets wind of what's up, he'll run his man down to Sacramento forsafe keeping. If he does he'll take this road--it's the onlyone--sabe?--we can't miss him!"
Jack Hamlin leaned forward breathlessly in his seat.
"But it's an hour longer this way," growled the second voice. "The boyswill wait," responded the previous speaker. There was a laugh, ajingling of spurs, and the invisible procession moved slowly forward inthe darkness.
Mr. Hamlin did not stir a muscle until the voices failed before him inthe distance. Then he cast a quick glance at the child; she still sleptquietly, undisturbed by the halt or those ominous voices which hadbrought so sudden a colour into her companion's cheek and so baleful alight in his dark eyes. Yet for a moment Mr. Hamlin hesitated. To goforward to Wingdam now would necessitate his following cautiously inthe rear of the Lynchers, and so prevent his giving a timely alarm. Tostrike across to One Horse Gulch by the "cut-off" would lose him thechance of meeting the Sheriff and his prisoner, had they been forewarnedand were escaping in time. But for the impediment of the unconsciouslittle figure beside him, he would have risked a dash through the partyahead of him. But that was not to be thought of now. He must follow themto Wingdam, leave the child, and trust to luck to reach One Horse Gulchbefore them. If they delayed a moment at Wingdam it could be done. Afeeling of yearning tenderness and pity succeeded the slight impatiencewith which he had a moment before regarded his encumbering charge. Heheld her in his arms, scarcely daring to breathe lest he should wakenher--hoping that she might sleep until they reached Wingdam, and thatleaving her with his faithful henchman "Pete," he might get away beforeshe was aroused to embarrassing inquiry. Mr. Hamlin had a man's dread ofscenes with even so small a specimen of the sex, and for once in hislife he felt doubtful of his own readiness, and feared lest in hisexcitement he might reveal the imminent danger of her brother. Perhapshe was never before so conscious of that danger; perhaps he was neverbefore so interested in the life of any one. He began to see things withOlly's eyes--to look upon events with reference to _her_ feelings ratherthan his own; if she had sobbed and cried this sympathetic rascal reallybelieved that he would have cried too. Such was the unconscious andsincere flattery of admiration. He was relieved, when with the firststreaks of dawn, his mare wearily clattered over the scattered riverpebbles and "tailings" that paved the outskirts of Wingdam. He was stillmore relieved when the Three Voices of the Night, now faintly visible asthree armed horsemen, drew up before the verandah of the Wingdam Hotel,dismounted, and passed into the bar-room. And he was perfectly content,when a moment later he lifted the still sleeping Olly in his arms andbore her swiftly yet cautiously to his room. To awaken the sleeping Peteon the floor above, and drag him half-dressed and bewildered into thepresence of the unconscious child, as she lay on Jack Hamlin's own bed,half buried in a heap of shawls and rugs, was only the work of anothermoment.
"Why, Mars Jack! Bress de Lord--it's a chile!" said Pete, recoiling insacred awe and astonishment.
"Hold your jaw!" said Jack, in a fierce whisper, "you'll waken her!Listen to me, you chattering idiot. Don't waken her, if you want to keepthe bones in your creaking old skeleton whole enough for the doctors tobuy. Let her sleep as long as she can. If she wakes up and asks afterme, tell her I'm gone for her brother. Do you hear? Give her anythingshe asks for--except--the truth! What are you doing, you old fool?"
Pete was carefully removing the mountain of shawls and blankets thatJack had piled upon Olly. "'Fore God, Mars Jack--you's smuddering datchile!" was his only response. Nevertheless Jack was satisfied with acertain vague tenderness in his manipulation, and said curtly, "Get me ahorse!"
"It ain't to be did, Mars Jack; de stables is all gone--cleaned! Dey's arush over to One Horse Gulch, all day!"
"There are three horses at the door," said Jack, with wickedsignificance.
"For de love of God, Mars Jack, don't ye do dat!" ejaculated Pete, inunfeigned and tremulous alarm. "Dey don't take dem kind o' jokes yerworth a cent--dey'd be doin' somefin' awful to ye, sah--shuah's yerborn!"
But Jack, with the child lying there peaceably in his own bed, and theThree Voices growing husky in the bar-room below, regained all his oldaudacity. "I haven't made up my mind," continued Jack, coolly, "which ofthe three I'll take, but you'll find out from the owner when I do! Tellhim that Mr. Jack Hamlin left his compliments and a mare and buggy forhim. You can say that if he keeps the mare from breaking and gives herher head down hill, she can do her mile inside of 2.45. Hush! not aword! Bye-bye." He turned, lifted the shawl from the fresh cheek of thesleeping Olly, kissed her, and shaking his fist at Pete, vanished.
For a few moments the negro listened breathlessly. And then there camethe sharp, quick clatter of hoofs from the rocky road below, and he sankdejectedly at the foot of the bed. "He's gone--done it! Lord save us!but it's a hangin' matter yer!" And even as he spoke Mr. Jack Hamlin,mounted on the fleet mustang that had been ridden by the PotentialVoice, with his audacious face against the red sunrise and his rightshoulder squarely advanced, was butting away the morning mists thatrolled slowly along the river road to One Horse Gulch.