CHAPTER XX
Casey was out of his blankets long before daylight the next morning andsitting behind a bush on the ridge just back of the cabin, his rifleacross his knees. He hoped that his mention of three other men woulddiscourage those two from the attempt to revenge themselves, much as alone woman would tempt them. But he was not going to take any riskwhatever.
At sunrise he went back to his camp--which he had moved closer to thecabin, by the way, just barely keeping it out of sight--and cooked a hastybreakfast. When he returned the little woman was ready to show him herclaims, and she seemed to have forgotten those two who had been soignominiously hauled away and dropped like unwanted cats beside the road.She inquired again about Casey's partners, and Casey lied once more andsaid that they had gone on over the range, prospecting.
I don't know why he did not tell the little woman that he had lied to Oleand Joe and let it go at that. But he seemed to dread having her discoverthat he had lied at all, and so he kept on lying about those threeimaginary men. Perhaps he had a chivalrous instinct that she would feelsafer, more at ease, if she thought that others were somewhere near. Atany rate he did not tell her that his only partners were two burros and amule.
I don't know what the little woman's opinion of Casey was, except that inthe first enthusiasm of her gratitude to him she had called him a man anda gentleman. She drove a bargain with him, as she supposed. She would payhim so much more per day if he preferred to board himself, and havingnamed the amount, Casey waited two minutes, as if he were meditating uponthe matter, and then replied that it suited him all right.
Casey did not think much of her claims, though he did not tell her so. Inhis opinion that tunnel should have been driven into the hill at adifferent point, where the indications of mineral were much stronger andthe distance to the contact much less. A light, varying vein had beenfollowed at an incline, and Casey, working alone, was obliged to wheelevery pound of dirt up a rather steep grade to the dump outside. The rockwas hard to work in, so that it took him a full half a day to put in fourshots, and then he would be likely to find that they had "bootlegged." Thetunnel also faced the south, from where the wind nearly always blew, sothat the gas and smoke from his shots would hang in there sometimes for afull twenty-four hours, making it impossible for him to work.
The little woman seemed slightly surprised when Casey told her, at the endof the first week, to knock off three days on account of gas. She and thelittle girl came to his camp next day and brought Casey a loaf of lightbread and interrupted him in the act of shaving. The little woman lookedat the two burros and at the mule, measured the camp outfit with her keengray eyes, looked at Casey who had nicked his chin, and became thoughtful.
After that she stopped calling him Mr. Ryan and addressed him as CaseyRyan instead, with a little teasing inflection in her voice. Once Caseyhappened to mention Lund, and when he saw her look of surprise heexplained that he drove a stage out of Lund, for awhile.
"Oh! So you _are_ that Casey Ryan!" she said. "I might have known it." Shelaughed to herself, but she did not say why, and Casey was afraid to ask.He could remember so many incidents in his past that he would not want thelittle woman to know about, and he was afraid that it might be one of themat which she was laughing.
She formed the habit of coming up to the tunnel every day, with Babechattering along beside her, swinging herself on her mother's hand. Atfirst she said whimsically that she had found it best to keep an eye onher miners, as if that explained her coming. But she always had somethinggood to eat or drink. Once she brought a small bucket of hot chocolate,which Casey gulped down heroically and smacked his lips afterwards. Caseyhated chocolate, too, so I think you may take it for granted that by thenhe was a goner.
He used to smoke his pipe and watch the little woman and Babe go"high-grading" along the tunnel wall. That was what she called it andpretended that she expected to find very rich ore concealed somewhere. Itstruck him one day, quite suddenly, that the Little Woman (I may as wellbegin to use capitals, because Casey always called her that in his mind,and the capitals were growing bigger every day) the Little Woman neverseemed to notice his smoking, or to realize that it is a filthy habit andimmoral and degrading, as that other woman had done.
He began to notice other things, too; that the Little Woman helped him alot, on afternoons when help was most likely to be appreciated. Shesometimes "put down a hole" all by herself, skinning a knuckle now andthen with the lightest "single-jack" and saying _"darn!"_ quite as amatter of course.
And once, when the rock was particularly hard, she happened along andvolunteered to turn the drill while Casey used the "double-jack", which Isuppose you know is the big hammer that requires two hands to pound thedrill while another turns it slightly after each blow, so that the bittedend will chew its way into hard rock.
You aren't all of you miners, so I will explain further that to drill intorock with a double-jack and steel drill is not sport for greenhornsexactly. The drill-turner needs a lot of faith and a little nerve, becauseone blow of the double-jack may break a hand clasped just below the headof the drill. And the man with the double-jack needs a steady nerve, too,and some experience in swinging the big hammer true to the head of thedrill,--unless he enjoys cracking another man's bones.
Casey Ryan prides himself upon being able to swing a double-jack as wellas any man in the country. It is his boast that he never yet broke theskin on the hand of his drill-turner. So I shall have to let you take itfor granted that the Little Woman's presence and help was more unnervingthan a wildcat on Casey's back. For, while the first, second and thirdblows fell true on the drill, the fourth went wild. Casey owns that he wasin a cold sweat for fear he might hit her. So he did. She was squatted onher heels, steadying one elbow on her knee. The double-jack struck herhand, glanced and landed another blow on her knee; one of those terriblypainful blows that take your breath and make you see stars withoutcrippling you permanently.
Casey doesn't like to talk about it, but once he growled that he did aboutevery damn-fool thing he could with a double-jack, except brain her. TheLittle Woman gave one small scream and went over backward in a faint, andCasey was just about ready to go off and shoot himself.
He took her up in his arms and carried her down to the cabin before shecame to. And when she did come to her senses, Babe immediately madematters worse. She was whimpering beside her mother, and when she saw thatmamma had waked up, she shrilled consolingly: "It's going to be all wellin a minute. Casey Ryan kissed it des like _that!_ So now it'll get allwell!"
If the Little Woman had wanted to tell Casey what she thought of him, shecouldn't just then, for Casey was halfway to his own camp by the time sheglanced around the room, looking for him.
Common humanity drove him back, of course. He couldn't let a woman and achild starve to death just because he was a damned idiot and hadhalf-killed the woman. But if there had been another person within callingdistance, the Little Woman would probably never have seen Casey Ryanagain.
Necessity has a bland way of ignoring such things as conventions and thehuman emotions. Casey cooked supper for Babe and the Little Woman, andwashed the dishes, and wrung out cloths from hot vinegar and salt so thatthe Little Woman could bathe her knee--she had to do it left-handed, atthat--and unbuttoned Babe's clothes and helped her on with her pyjamas andlet her kneel on his lap while she said her prayers. Because, as Babepainstakingly explained, she always kneeled on a lap so ants couldn't runover her toes and tickle her and make her laugh, which would make Godthink she was a bad, naughty girl.
Can you picture Casey Ryan rocking that child to sleep? I can't--yes, Ican too, and there's something in the picture that holds back the laughyou think will come.
Before she gave her final wriggle and cheeped her last little cheep, Babehad to be carried over and held down where she could kiss mamma goodnight. Casey got rather white around the mouth, then. But he didn't say aword. Indeed, he had said mighty little since that fourth blow of thedouble-jack; just eno
ugh to get along intelligently, with what he had todo. He hadn't even told the Little Woman he was sorry.
So Babe was asleep and tucked in her bed, and Casey turned down the lightand asked perfunctorily if there was anything else he could do, and hadstarted for the door. And then--
"Casey Ryan," called the Little Woman, with the teasing note in her voice."Casey Ryan, come back here and listen to me. You are not going off likethat to swear at yourself all night. Sit down in that chair and listen tome!"
Casey sat down, swallowing hard. All the Casey Ryan nonchalance wasgone,--never had been with him, in fact, while he faced that Little Woman.Somehow she had struck him humble and dumb, from the very beginning. Iwish I knew how she did it; I'd like to try it sometime myself.
"Casey Ryan, it's hard for a woman to own herself in the wrong, especiallyto a man," she said, when he had begun to squirm and wonder what bitingwords she would say. "I've always thought that I had as good nerve as anyone. I have, usually. But that double-jack scared the life out of me afterthe first blow, and I thought I wouldn't let on. I couldn't admit I wasafraid. I was terribly ashamed. I knew you'd never miss, but I was scared,just the same. And like a darn fool I pushed the drill away from me justas you struck. It was coming down--you couldn't change it, man alive.You'd aimed true at the drill, and--the drill wasn't just there at themoment. Serves me right. But it's tough on you, old boy--having to do thecooking for three of us while I'm laid up!"
I'm sure I can't see how Casey Ryan ever got the name of being a devilwith the ladies. He certainly behaved like a yap then, if you get mymeaning. He gave the Little Woman a quick, unwinking stare, looked awayfrom her shamedly, reached for his plug of tobacco, took away his hand,swallowed twice, shuffled his feet and then grunted--I can use no otherword for it:
"Aw, I guess I c'n stand it if you can!"
He made a motion then to rise up and go to his own camp where he wouldundoubtedly think of many tender, witty things that he would like to havespoken to the Little Woman. But she was watching him. She saw him move andstopped him with a question.
"Casey Ryan, tell me the truth about that tunnel. Do you think it's evergoing to strike the ore body at all?"
Start Casey off on the subject of mining and you have him anchored andinterested for an hour, at least. The Little Woman had brains, you mustsee that.
"Well, I don't want to discourage you, ma'am," Casey said reluctantly, thetruth crowding against his teeth. "But I'd 'a' gone in under that ironcapping, if I'd been doing it. The outcropping you followed in from thesurface never has been in place, ma'am. It's what I'd call a wildstringer. It pinched out forty foot back of where we're diggin' now.That's just an iron stain we're following, and the pocket of high gradedon't mean nothin'. You went in on the strength of indications--" Hestopped there and chuckled to himself, in a way that I'd come to know asthe "indications" of a story,--which usually followed.
The Little Woman probably guessed. I suppose she was lonely, too, and thepain of her hurts made her want entertainment. "What are you laughing at,Casey Ryan?" she demanded. "If it's funny, tell _me."_
Casey blushed, though she couldn't have seen him in the dusky light of thecabin. "Aw, it ain't anything much," he protested bashfully. "I justhappened to think about a little ol' Frenchman I knowed once, over inCripple Creek, ma'am." He stopped.
"Well? Tell me about the little ol' Frenchman. It made you laugh, CaseyRyan, and it's about the first time I've seen you do that. Tell me."
"Well, it ain't nothin' very funny to tell about," Casey hedged like abashful boy; which was mighty queer for Casey Ryan, I assure you. For ifthere was anything Casey liked better than a funny story, it was some oneto listen while he told it. "You won't git the kick, mebby. It's knowin'the Frenchman makes it seem kinda funny when I think about it. He was agood little man and he kept a little hotel and was an awful good cook. Andhe wanted a gold mine worse than anybody I ever seen. He didn't know ada--nothin' at all about minin' ma'am, but every ol' soak of a prospectorcould git a meal off him by tellin' him about some wildcat bonanza orother. He'd forgit to charge 'em, he'd be so busy listenin'.
"Well, there was two ol' soaks that got around him to grubstake 'em. Theyworked it all one year. They'd git a burro load of grub and go outsomewheres and peck around till it was all et up, and then they'd comeback an' tell Frenchy some wild tale about runnin' acrost what looked likethe richest prospect in the country. They'd go on about havin' all theindications of a big body uh rich ore. He'd soak it in, an' they'd hangaround town--one had a sore foot one time, I remember, that lasted 'em amonth of good board at Frenchy's hotel before he drove 'em out agin to hismine, as he called it.
"They worked that scheme on him for a long time--and it was the only da--scheme they wasn't too lazy to work. They'd git money to buy powder an'fuse an' caps, ma'am, an' blow it on booze, y'see. An' they'd hang intown, boardin' off Frenchy, jest as long as they c'ld think of an excusefer stayin'.
"So somebody tipped Frenchy off that he was bein' worked for grub an'booze money, an' Frenchy done a lot uh thinkin'. Next time them two comein, he was mighty nice to 'em. An' when he finally got 'em pried loosean' headed out, he appeared suddenly and says he's goin along to take alook at his mine. They couldn't do nothin' but take him, uh course. Sothey led him out to an old location hole somebody else had dug, an' theyshowed him iron cappin' an' granite contact an' so on--just talkin' wild,an' every few minutes comin' in with the 'strong indications of a rich orebody.' That was their trump suit, y'see, ma'am.
"Frenchy listened, an' his eyes commenced to snap, but he never saidnothin' for awhile. Then all at once he pulled one uh these ol'-stylerevolvers an' points it at 'em, an' yells: _'Indicaziones! Indicaziones!_T'ell weez your _indicaziones!_ Now you show me zee me-_tall_!'" Caseystopped, reached for his plug and remembered that he mustn't. The LittleWoman laughed. She didn't seem to need the tapering off of the story, asmost women demand.
"And so you think I have plenty of _indicaziones_, but mighty littlechance of getting the me-_tall_," she pointed the moral. "Well, then tellme what to do."
It was in the telling, I think, that Casey for the first time forgot to beshy and became his real, Casey Ryan best. The Little Woman saw at once,when he pointed it out to her, that she ought to drift and cut under theiron capping instead of tunnelling away from it as they had been doing.
But she was not altogether engrossed in that tunnel. I think herprospecting into the soul of Casey Ryan interested her much more; andbeing a woman she followed the small outcropping of his Irish humor andopened up a distinct vein of it before the evening was over. Just toconvince you, she led him on until Casey told her all about feeding hisFord syrup instead of oil, and all about how it ran over him a few timeson the dry lake,--Casey was secretly made happy because she saw at oncehow easily that could happen, and never once doubted that he was sober!He told her about the goats in Patmos and made her laugh so hard that Babewoke and whimpered a little, and insisted that Casey take her up and rockher again in the old homemade chair with crooked juniper branches hewn forrockers.
With Babe in his arms he told her, too, about his coming out to hunt theInjun Jim mine. He must have felt pretty well acquainted, by then, becausehe regaled her with a painstaking, Caseyish description of Lucy Lily andher educated wardrobe, and--because she was a murderous kind of squaw andentitled to no particular chivalry--even repeated her manner of proposingto a white man, and her avowed reason and all. That was going pretty far,I think, for one evening, but we must keep in mind the fact that Casey andthe Little Woman had met almost a month before this, and that Casey hadmerely thrown wide open the little door to his real self.
At any rate it was after ten o'clock by Casey's Ingersoll when he tuckedBabe into her little bed, brought a jelly glass of cold water for theLittle Woman to drink in the night, and started for the door.
There he stopped for a minute, debated with his shyness and turned back.
"You mebby moved that steel at the wrong time,"
he said abruptly, "I guessyou musta, the way it happened. But I was so scared I'd hit yuh, my teethwas playin' the dance to _La Paloma_. I was in a cold sweat. I never didhit a man with a double-jack in my life, and I guess I've put down tenmiles uh holes, ma'am, if you placed 'em end to end. I always made it mybrag I never scraped a knuckle at that game. But--them little hands ofyours on the drill--I was shakin' all over for fear I might--hurt yuh. I--I never hated anything so bad in my life--I'd ruther kill a dozen men thanhurt you--"
"Man alive," the Little Woman exclaimed softly from her dusky corner,"you'd never have hurt me in the world, if I'd had the nerve to trustyou." And she added softly, "I'll trust you, from now on, Casey Ryan.Always."
I think Casey was an awful fool to walk out and never let her know that heheard that "Always."