CHAPTER III
GORDON ARRIVES
Gordon Carbhoy sat hunched up in his seat. His great shoulders, sosquare and broad, seemed to fill up far more space than he was entitledto. His cheerful face showed no signs of the impatience andirritability he was really enduring. A seraphic contentment aloneshone in his clear blue eyes. He was a picture of the youthfulconviction that life was in reality a very pleasant thing, and thatthere did not exist a single cloud upon the delicately tinted horizonof his own particular portion of it.
In spite of this outward seeming, however, he was by no means easy.Every now and again he would stand up and ease the tightness of histrousers about his knees. He felt dirty, too, dirty and untidy,notwithstanding the fact that he had washed himself, and brushed hishair, many times in the cramped compartment of the train devoted tothat purpose. Then he would fling himself into his corner again andgive his attention to the monotonously level landscape beyond thewindow and strive to forget the stale odor so peculiar to all railroadcars, especially in summer time.
These were movements and efforts he had made a hundred times sinceleaving the great terminal in New York. He had slept in his corner.He had eaten cheaply in the dining-car. He had smoked one of thedelicious cigars, from the box which the faithful Harding had secretedin his grip, in the smoker ahead. He had read every line in themagazines he had provided himself with, even to the advertisements.
The time hung heavily, drearily. The train grumbled, and shook, andjolted its ponderous way on across the vast American continent. It wasall very tedious.
Then the endless stream of thought, often fantastic, alwaysunconvincing, always leading up to those ridiculous cyphersrepresenting one hundred thousand dollars. If only they were numerals.Nice, odd numerals. He was a firm believer in the luck of odd numbers.But no. It was always "noughts." Most disgusting "noughts."
He yawned for about the thousandth time on his two days' journey, andwondered hopelessly how many more times he would yawn before he reachedthe Pacific.
Hello! The conductor was coming through again. Going to tear off moreticket, Gordon supposed. That tearing off was most interesting. Hewondered if the ticket would last out till he reached Seattle. Hesupposed so.
Seattle! The Yukon! The Yukon certainly suggested fortune, the makingof a rapid fortune. But how? One hundred thousand dollars! There itwas again.
His eyes were following the movements of the rubicund conductor. Theman looked enormously self-satisfied, and was certainly bursting withauthority and adipose tissue. He wondered if he couldn't annoy himsome way. It would be good to annoy some one. He closed his smilingeyes and feigned sleep.
The vast bulk of blue uniform and brass buttons bore down upon him. Itreached his "pew," dropped into the seat opposite, and tweaked him bythe coat sleeve.
Gordon opened his eyes with a pretended start.
"Where are we?" he demanded irritably.
"Som'eres between the devil an' the deep sea, I guess," grinned theman. "Your--ticket."
Gordon began to fumble slowly through his pockets. He knew preciselywhere his ticket was, but he searched carefully and deliberately inevery other possible place. The man waited, breathing heavily. Hedisplayed not the slightest sign of the annoyance desired. At lastGordon turned out the inside pocket of his coat. The first thing hediscovered amongst its contents was his father's private code book, andthe annoyance was in his eyes rather than in those of the conductor.His resolve to return it had been entirely forgotten.
He forthwith produced his ticket.
"The devil's behind us, I s'pose," said Gordon. "Anyway, we're toldit's the right place for him. I'll be glad when we reach the sea."
The conductor examined the ticket, while Gordon returned the code bookto his pocket.
"Ah, Seattle," the brassbound official murmured. Then he looked intothe now smiling face before him. "You ain't for Snake's Fall?"
"Guess I shouldn't have paid for a ticket to Seattle if I were," Gordonretorted with some sarcasm.
"That's so," observed the official, quite undisturbed. "I knew one guywas for Seattle. I was kind o' wondering 'bout him. Se-attle," hemurmured reflectively.
"On the coast. A seaport. Puget Sound," said Gordon objectionably.
"A low down sailor town on the side of a hill, wher' if you ain'tclimbin' up you're mostly fallin' down. Wher' it rains nigh six monthso' the year, an' parboils you the rest. Wher' every bum going to orcoming from the Yukon gets thoroughly soused and plays the foolgener'ly."
The man's retort was as pointedly objectionable as Gordon's had been,and the challenge of it stirred the latter's sense of humor.
"Guess I'm one of the bums 'going to,'" he said cheerfully. The man'sfat-surrounded eyes ceased to grin.
"Startin' fer the Yukon in--July? Never heard of it," he said, with ashake of the head. "It's as ridiculous as startin' fer hell in summertime. You'll make Alaska when she freezes up, and sit around till sheopens next spring. Say----"
"You mean I'll get hung up for--ten months?" cried Gordon aghast.
"Jest depends on your business."
"Yes, of course."
Gordon's heart sank as the man grunted up from his seat, and handed himback his mutilated ticket. He watched him pass on down the car andfinally vanish through the doorway of the parlor-car beyond. Then hiseyes came back to his surroundings. He stared at the heads of hisfellow travelers dotting the tops of the seats about him. Then hiseyes dropped to his grip on the opposite seat lying under his overcoat,and again, later, they turned reflectively towards the window. Tenmonths. Ten months, and he only had six before him in which toaccomplish his purpose. Was there ever a more perfect imbecile? Wasthere ever such a fool trick?
A smile of chagrin grew in his eyes as he remembered how he had arrivedat the Pennsylvania Depot, and had studied the list of places to whichhe could go, seeking to find in the names an inspiration for theaccomplishment of his purpose. There had been so many that his amazedhead had been set whirling. There he had stood, wondering and gawkinglike some foolish country "Rube," without one single idea beyond thefact that he must go somewhere and make one hundred thousand dollars insix months' time.
Then had come that one illuminating flash. He saw the name in greatcapital letters in an advertisement. "The Yukon." Of course. It wasthe one and only place in the world for quick fortunes, and forthwithhe had booked his passage to Seattle.
Nor was he likely to forget his immense satisfaction when he heardHarding's respectful "Yes, sir," in response to his information. Nowhe certainly was convinced that he was own brother to the finest bredjackass in the whole wide world. However, there was nothing to be donebut go on to Seattle. He had paid for his ticket, and, Providencewilling, to Seattle he would go.
But Providence had its own ideas upon the matter. Furthermore,Providence began at once to set its own machinery working in hisbehalf. It was the same Providence that looks after drunken men andimbeciles. Half an hour later it impelled him to gather up his trapsand pass forward into the smoker, accompanied by one of his own big,expensive cigars.
He pushed his way into the car through the narrow door ofcommunication. A haze of tobacco smoke blurred his view, but at oncehe became aware of a single, melancholy, benevolent eye gazing steadilyat him.
It was an amiable eye and withal shrewd. Also it was surrounded by ashaggy dark brow. This had a fellow, too, but the eye belonging to thefellow was concealed beneath what was intended to be a flesh-tintedcover, secured in place by elastic round its owner's head.
The surrounding face was rugged and weather tanned. And it finishedwith a mop of iron-gray hair at one end, and an aggressively tuftedchin beard at the other. But the thrusting whisker could not disguisethe general strength of the face.
Below this was a spread of large body clad in a store suit of somepretensions, but of ill fit, and a heavy gold watchchain and a largediamond pin in the neckwear suggested opulence. Furthe
rmore, One Eyesuggested the prime of middle life, and robust health and satisfaction.
There was only one other occupant of the car. He was two or threeseats away, across the aisle. He promptly claimed Gordon's attention.He was amusing himself by shooting "crap" on a baize-coveredtraveling-table. Both men were smoking hard, and, by the density ofthe atmosphere, and the aroma, the newcomer estimated that they, unlikehimself, were not five-cent-cigar men.
He paused at the dice thrower's seat and watched the proceedings. Theman appeared not to notice his approach at all, and continued to laboron with his pastime, carrying on a muttered address to the obdurate"bones."
"Come 'sev,'" he muttered again and again, as he flung the dice on thetable with a flick of the fingers.
But the "seven" would not come up, and at last he raised a pair of keenblack eyes to Gordon's face.
"Cussed things, them durned bones," he said briefly, and went on withhis play.
Gordon smiled.
"It's like most things. It's luck that tells."
The player grinned down at the dice and nodded agreement, while hecontinued his muttered demands. Gordon flung his traps into anotherseat, and sat himself down opposite the man. Crap dice never failed tofascinate him.
The melancholy benevolence of One Eye remained fixed upon the pair.
The seven refused to come up, and finally the player desisted.
"Sort of workin' calculations," he explained, with an amiable grin."An' they don't calc worth a cent. As you say, the hull blamed thingis chance. Sevens, or any other old things 'll just come up when theydarned please, and neither me nor any other feller can make 'emcome--playin' straight."
The man bared his gold-filled teeth in another amiable grin. AndGordon fell.
His unsuspicious mind was quite unable to appreciate the obvious cut ofthe man. The rather flashy style of his clothes. The keen, quick,black eyes. The disarming ingenuousness of his manner and speech.These things meant nothing to him. The men he knew were as ready towin or lose a few hundred dollars on the turn of a card as they were todrink a cocktail. The thought of sharp practice in gambling wassomething which never entered their heads.
He drew out a dollar bill and laid it on the table. The sight of itacross the aisle made One Eye blink. But the black-eyed strangerpromptly covered it, and picked up the dice. He shook them in the palmof his hand and spun them on the baize, clipping his fingers sharply.
"Come 'sev,'" he muttered.
The miracle of it. The seven came up and he swept in the two dollars.In a moment he had replaced them with a five-dollar bill. Gordonresponded.
"I'll take two dollars of that," he said, and staked his money.
The man spun the dice, and a five came up. Then it was Gordon's turnto talk to the dice, calling on them for a seven each time the manthrew. The play became absorbing, and One Eye, from across the aisle,craned forward. The seven came up before the five, and Gordon won, andthe dice passed.
The game proceeded, and the luck alternated. Then Gordon began to win.He won consistently for awhile, and nearly twenty dollars had passedfrom the stranger's pocket to his.
It was an interesting study in psychology. Gordon was utterly withoutsuspicion, and full of boyish enthusiasm. His blue eyes were full ofexcited interest. He followed each throw, and talked the jargon of thegame like any gambler. All his boredom with the journey was gone. Hisquest was thrust into the background. Nothing troubled him in theleast. The joy of the rolling dice was on him, and he laughed andjested as the wayward "bones" defied or acquiesced to his requirements.
The stranger was far more subtle. For a big powerful man he possessedabsurdly delicate hands. He handled the dice with an expert touch,which Gordon utterly lacked. He talked to the dice as they fell in amanner quite devoid of enthusiasm, and as though muttering a formulafrom mere habit. He grumbled at his losses, and remained silent invictory, and all the while he smoked, and smoked, and watched hisopponent with furtive eyes.
One Eye watched the game from the corner without a sign.
A stranger, on his way through the car, paused to watch the game.Presently he passed on, and then returned with another man.
After awhile Gordon's luck began to wane. His twenty dollars droppedto fifteen. Then to ten. Then to five. The stranger threw a run of"sevens." Then the dice passed. But Gordon lost them again, andpresently the five dollars he was still winning passed out of his hands.
From that moment luck deserted him entirely. The stranger threw asuccession of wins. Gordon increased his stakes to five-dollar bills.Now and again he pulled in a win, but always, it seemed, to lose twosuccessive throws immediately afterwards. There were times when itseemed impossible to wrest the dice from his opponent. Whenever heheld them himself he lost them almost immediately.
"Seventy-five dollars, that makes," he said, after one such loss."They're going your way, sure."
"It's the luck of things," replied the stranger laconically.
One Eye across the aisle smiled to himself, and abandoned his craning.
Gordon plunged. He doubled his bets with the abandon of youth andinexperience. And the stranger never failed to tempt him that way whenthey were his dice. He always laid more stake than he believed hisopponent would accept.
The hundred dollars was reached and passed in Gordon's losses. Stillthe game went on. He passed the hundred and fifty--and then Providencestepped in.
By this time a number of onlookers had gathered in the car. The placewas full of smoke. They were standing in the aisle. They were sittingon the arms of the seats of the two players. One or two were leaningover the backs of the seats.
Suddenly the speeding train jolted heavily over some rough points. Itswayed for a moment with a sort of deep-sea roll. The onlooker seatedon the arm of the stranger's seat was jerked from his balance andsprawled on the player. In his efforts to save himself he grabbed atthe table, which promptly toppled. The gambler made a lunge to saveit, and, in the confusion of the moment, a second pair of crap dice,identical with the pair Gordon was about to shoot, rolled out of hishand.
Just for an instant there was a breathless pause as Gordon pounced onthem. Then one word escaped him, and his face went deathly white as heglared furiously at the man across the table.
"Loaded!"
One Eye again craned forward. But now the patch was entirely removedfrom his second eye.
The next part of Providence's little game was played without a singleword. One great fist shot out from Gordon's direction, and its impactwith its object sounded dull and sodden. The gambler's head joltedbackwards, and he felt as though his neck had been broken. Then thebaize-covered table was projected across the car by Gordon's othergreat hand, while the spectators fled in the direction of the doorways,and pushed and scrambled their ways through.
Then ensued a wild scene. The animal was stirred to offense with asublime abandon.
One Eye remained in his corner, his eyes alight with an appreciationhardly to have been expected, contemplating humorously the tangle ofhumanity as it moved, with lightning rapidity, all over the car. Once,as the battle swayed in his direction, he even moved his traps underthe seat, lest their bulk should incommode the combatants.
For a moment, at the outset, the two men appeared to be a fair match.But the impression swiftly passed. The youth, the superb training, theskill of Gordon became like the sledge-hammer pounding of superiorgunnery in warfare. He hit when and where he pleased, and warded thewilder blows of his opponent with almost unconcern. But the narrownessof the aisle and the presence of the seats saved the gambler, and bothmen staggered and bumped about in a way that deprived Gordon of much ofthe result of his advantage.
The train began to slow up. One Eye glanced apprehensively out of thewindow. He gathered up his belongings, and picked up the litter ofmoney scattered on the floor.
Then he sat watching the fight--and his opportunity.
The men had closed. Regardless of
all, they fought with a fury andabandon as cordial as it now became unscientific. The gambler,clinging to his opponent, strove to ward off the blows which fell uponhis features like a hailstorm. Gordon, with superlative ferocity, wasbent on leaving them unrecognizable. It was a bloody onslaught, but nomore bloody than Gordon intended it to be. He was stirred now, a younglion, fighting for the only finish that would satisfy him.
One Eye's opportunity came. He made a run for the door as the trainpulled up with a jolt.
But the fight went on. The stopping of the train conveyed nothing tothe fighting men. Neither saw nor cared that one of the doors wassuddenly flung open. Neither saw the rush of men in uniform. Theinvasion of their ring by the train crew meant nothing to them.
Then something happened.