CHAPTER VI
"HIGH AND DRY"
The counsel to don a garb smacking less of the recent East struck me assound; for although I was not the only person here in Eastern guise,nevertheless about the majority of the populace there was an easyaggressiveness that my appearance evidently lacked.
So I must hurry ere the shops closed.
"I beg your pardon. What time do the stores close, can you tell me?" Iasked of the nearest bystander.
He surveyed me.
"Close? Hell!" he said. "They don't close for even a dog fight, pardner.Business runs twenty-five hours every day, seven days the week, in thesediggin's."
"And where will I find a haberdashery?"
"A what? Talk English. What you want?"
"I want a--an outfit; a personal outfit."
"Blanket to moccasins? Levi's, stranger. Levi'll outfit you complete andthrow in a yellow purp under the wagon."
"And where is Levi's?"
"There." And he jerked his head aside. "You could shut your eyes and spitin the doorway."
With that he rudely turned his back upon me. But sure enough, by token ofthe large sign "Levi's Mammoth Emporium: Liquors, Groceries and GeneralMerchandise," I was standing almost in front of the store itself.
I entered, into the seething aisle flanked by heaped-up counters andstacked goods that bulged the partially boarded canvas walls. At last Igained position near one of the perspiring clerks and caught his eye.
"Yes, sir. You, sir? What can I do for you, sir?" He rubbed his handsalertly, on edge with a long day.
"I wish a hat, flannel shirt, a serviceable ready-made suit, boots,possibly other matters."
"We have exactly the things for you, sir. This way."
"Going out on the advance line, sir?" he asked, while I made selections.
"That is not unlikely."
"They're doing great work. Three miles of track laid yesterday; twelve sofar this week. Averaging two and one-half miles a day and promisingbetter."
"So I understand," I alleged.
"General Jack Casement is a world beater. If he could get the iron as fastas he could use it he'd build through to California without a halt. Butlooks now as if somewhere between would have to satisfy him. You are asurveyor, I take it?"
"Yes, I am surveying on the line along with the others," I answered. Andsurveying the country I was.
"You are the gentlemen who lay out the course," he complimented. "Now, isthere something else, sir?"
"I need a good revolver, a belt and ammunition."
"We carry the reliable--the Colt's. That's the favorite holster gun in useout here. Please step across, sir."
He led.
"If you're not particular as to shine," he resumed, "we have a second-handoutfit that I can sell you cheap. Took it in as a deposit, and thegentleman never has called for it. Of course you're broken in to thecountry, but as you know a new belt and holster are apt to be viewed withsuspicion and a gentleman sometimes has to draw when he'd rather not, toprove himself. This gun has been used just enough to take the roughnessoff the trigger pull, and it employs the metallic cartridges--veryconvenient. The furniture for it is O. K. And all at half price."
I was glad to find something cheap. The boots had been fifteen dollars,the hat eight, shirt and suit in proportion, and the red silk handkerchieftwo dollars and a half. Yes, Benton was "high."
With my bulky parcel I sought the Belle Marie Cafe, ate my supper, thencehastened through the gloaming to the hotel for bath and change of costume.
I had yet time to array myself, as an experiment and a lark; and that Isillily did, hurriedly tossing my old garments upon bed and floor, inorder to invest with the new. The third bed was occupied when I came in;occupied on the outside by a plump, round-faced, dust-scalded man, withpiggish features accentuated by his small bloodshot eyes; dressed inEastern mode but stripped to the galluses, as was the custom. He lay uponhis back, his puffy hands folded across his spherical abdomen where hispantaloons met a sweaty pink-striped shirt; and he panted wheezinglythrough his nose.
"Hell of a country, ain't it!" he observed in a moment. "You a stranger,too?"
"I have been here a short time, sir."
"Thought so. Jest beginnin' to peel, like me. I been here two days. What'syour line?"
"I have a number of things in view," I evaded.
"Well, you don't have to tell 'em," he granted. "Thought you was asalesman. I'm from Saint Louie, myself. Sell groceries, and pasteboards onthe side. Cards are the stuff. I got the best line of sure-thingstock--strippers, humps, rounds, squares, briefs and marked backs--thatever were dealt west of the Missouri. Judas Priest, but this is a roarerof a burg! What _it_ ain't got I never seen--and I ain't no springgoslin', neither. I've plenty sand in my craw. You ain't been pluckedyet?"
"No, sir. I never gamble."
"Wish I didn't, but my name's Jakey and I'm a good feller. Say, I'msupposed to be wise, too, but they trimmed me two hundred dollars. Now I'mgettin' out." He groaned. "Take the train in a few minutes. Dasn't riskmyself on the street again. Sent my baggage down for fear I'd lose that.Say," he added, watching me, "looks like you was goin' out yourself. Oneof them surveyor fellers, workin' for the railroad?"
"It might be so, sir," I replied.
He half sat up.
"You'll want to throw a leg, I bet. Lemme tell you. It's a hell of a townbut it's got some fine wimmen; yes, and a few straight banks, too. You'reno crabber or piker; I can see that. You go to the North Star. Tell Frankthat Jakey sent you. They'll treat you white. You be sure and say Jakeysent you. But for Gawd's sake keep out of the Big Tent."
"The Big Tent?" I uttered. "Why so?"
"They'll sweat you there," he groaned lugubriously. "Say, friend, couldyou lend me twenty dollars? You've still got your roll. I ain't a stivver.I'm busted flat."
"I'm sorry that I can't accommodate you, sir," said I. "I have no moremoney than will see me through--and according to your story perhaps notenough."
"I've told you of the North Star. You mention Jakey sent you. You'll makemore than your twenty back, at the North Star," he urged inconsistent."If it hadn't been for that damned Big Tent----" and he flopped with adismal grunt.
By this time, all the while conscious of his devouring eyes, I had changedmy clothing and now I stood equipped cap-a-pie, with my hat clapped at anangle, and my pantaloons in my boots, and my red silk handkerchieftastefully knotted at my throat, and my six-shooter slung; and I couldscarcely deny that in my own eyes, and in his, I trusted, I was a prettyfigure of a Westerner who would win the approval, as seemed to me, of MyLady in Black or of any other lady.
His reflection upon the Big Tent, however, was the fly in my ointment.Therefore, preening and adjusting with assumed carelessness I queried, inreal concern:
"What about the Big Tent? Where is it? Isn't it respectable?"
"Respectable? Of course it's respectable. You don't ketch your Jakey in noplace that ain't. I've a family to think of. You ain't been there? Say!There's where they all meet, in that Big Tent; all the best people, too,you bet you. But I tell you, friend----"
He did not finish. An uproar sounded above the other street clamor: apistol shot, and another--a chorus of hoarse shouts and shrill frightenedcries, the scurrying rush of feet, all in the street; and in the hall ofthe hotel, and the lobby below, the rush of still more feet, booted, andthe din of excited voices.
My man on the bed popped with the agility of a jack-in-the-box for thewindow.
"A fight, a fight! Shootin' scrape!" In a single motion grabbing coat andhat he was out through the door and pelting down the hall. Overcome by thezest of the moment I pelted after, and with several others plunged asmadly upon the porch. We had left the lobby deserted.
The shots had ceased. Now a baying mob ramped through the street, withjangle "Hang him! Hang him! String him up!" Borne on by a hystericalcompany I saw, first a figure bloody-chested and inert flat in the dust,with stooping figures trying to raise him; then,
beyond, a man bareheaded,whiskered, but as white as death, hustled to and fro from clutching handsand suddenly forced in firm grips up the street, while the mob trailedafter, whooping, cursing, shrieking, flourishing guns and knives andropes. There were women as well as men in it.
All this turned me sick. From the outskirts of the throng I tramped backto my room and the bath. The hotel was quiet as if emptied; my room wasvacant--and more than vacant, for of my clothing not a vestige remained!My bag also was gone. Worse yet, prompted by an inner voice that stabbedme like an icicle I was awakened to the knowledge that every cent I hadpossessed was in those vanished garments.
For an instant I stood paralyzed, fronting the calamity. I could notbelieve. It was as if the floor had swallowed my belongings. I had beenabsent not more than five minutes. Surely this was the room. Yes, NumberSix; and the beds were familiar, their tumbled covers unaltered.
Now I held the bath-room responsible. The scoundrel in the bath had heard,had taken advantage, made a foray and hidden. Out I ran, exploring. Everyroom door was wide open, every apartment blank; but there was a splashing,from the bath--I listened at the threshold, gently tried the knob--andreceived such a cry of angry protest that it sent me to the right-about,on tiptoe. The thief was not in the bath.
My heart sank as I bolted down for the office. The clerk had reinstatedhimself behind the counter. He composedly greeted me, with calm voice andwith eyes that noted my costume.
"You can have your bath as soon as the porter gets back from the hanging,sir," he said. "That is, unless you'd prefer to hurry up by toting yourown water. The party now in will be out directly."
"Never mind the bath," I uttered, breathless, in a voice that I scarcelyrecognized, so piping and aghast it was. "I've been robbed--of money,clothes, baggage, everything!"
"Well, what at?" he queried, with a glimmer of a smile.
"What at? In my room, I tell you. I had just changed to try on thesethings; the street fight sounded; I was gone not five minutes andnevertheless the room was sacked. Absolutely sacked."
"That," he commented evenly, "is hard luck."
"Hard luck!" I hotly rejoined. "It's an outrage. But you seem remarkablycool about it, sir. What do you propose to do?"
"I?" He lifted his brows. "Nothing. They're not my valuables."
"But this is a respectable hotel, isn't it?"
"Perfectly; and no orphan asylum. We attend strictly to our business andexpect our guests to attend to theirs."
"I was told that it was safe for me to leave my things in my room."
"Not by me, sir. Read that." And he called my attention to a placard thatsaid, among other matters: "We are not responsible for property of anynature left by guests in their rooms."
"Where's the chief of police?" I demanded. "You have officers here, Ihope."
"Yes, sir. The marshal is the chief of police, and he's the whole show.The provost guard from the post helps out when necessary. But you'll findthe marshal at the mayor's office or else at the North Star gambling hall,three blocks up the street. I don't think he'll do you any good, though.He's not likely to bother with small matters, especially when he'sdealing faro bank. He has an interest in the North Star. You'll never seeyour property again. Take my word for it."
"I won't? Why not?"
"You've played the gudgeon for somebody; that's all. Easiest thing in theworld for a smart gentleman to slip into your room while you were absent,go through it, and make his getaway by the end of the hall, out over thekitchen roof. It's been done many a time."
"A traveling salesman saw me dressing. He went out before me but he mighthave doubled," I gasped. "He had one of the beds--who is he?"
"I don't know him, sir."
"A round-bellied, fat-faced man--sold groceries and playing cards."
"There is no such guest in your room, sir. You have bed Number One, bedNumber Two is assigned to Mr. Bill Brady, who doubtless will be in soon.Number Three is temporarily vacant."
"The man said he was about to catch the train east," I pursueddesperately. "A round-bellied, fat-faced man in pink striped shirt----"
"If he was to catch any train, that train has just pulled out."
"And who was in the bath, ten or fifteen minutes ago?"
"My wife, sir; and still there. She has to take her chances like everybodyelse. No, sir; you've been done. You may find your clothes, but I doubtit. You are next upon the bath list." And he became all business. "Theporter will carry up the water and notify you. You are allowed twentyminutes. That is satisfactory?"
A bath, now!
"No, certainly not," I blurted. "I have no time nor inclination for abath, at present. And," I faltered, ashamed, "I'll have to ask you torefund me the dollar and a half. I haven't a cent."
"Under the circumstances I can do that, although it is against our rules,"he replied. "Here it is, sir. We wish to accommodate."
"And will you advance me twenty dollars, say, until I shall have procuredfunds from the East?" I ventured.
A mask fell over his face. He slightly smiled.
"No, sir; I cannot. We never advance money."
"But I've got to have money, to tide me over, man," I pleaded. "Thisdollar and a half will barely pay for a meal. I can give youreferences----"
"From Colonel Sunderson, may I ask?" His voice was poised tentatively.
"No. I never saw the Colonel before. My references are Eastern. Myfather----"
"As a gentleman the Colonel is O. K.," he smoothly interrupted. "I do notquestion his integrity, nor your father's. But we never advance money. Itis against the policy of the house."
"Has my trunk come up yet?" I queried.
"Yes, sir. If you'd rather have it in your room----"
"In my room!" said I. "No! Else it might walk out the hall window, too.You have it safe?"
"Perfectly, except in case of burglary or fire. It is out of the weather.We're not responsible for theft or fire, you understand. Not in Benton."
"Good Lord!" I ejaculated, weak. "You have my trunk, you say? Very good.Will you advance me twenty dollars and keep the trunk as security? That, Ithink, is a sporting proposition."
He eyed me up and down.
"Are you a surveyor? Connected with the road?"
"No."
"What is your business, then?"
"I'm a damned fool," I confessed. "I'm a gudgeon--I'm a come-on. In fact,as I've said before, I'm out here looking for health, where it's high anddry." He smiled. "And high and dry I'm landed in short order. But thetrunk's not empty. Will you keep it and lend me twenty dollars? I presumethat trunk and contents are worth two hundred."
"I'll speak with the porter," he answered.
By the lapse of time between his departure and his return he and the gnomeevidently had hefted the trunk and viewed it at all angles. Now he cameback with quick step.
"Yes, sir; we'll advance you twenty dollars on your trunk. Here is themoney, sir." He wrote, and passed me a slip of paper also. "And yourreceipt. When you pay the twenty dollars, if within thirty days, you canhave your trunk."
"And if not?" I asked uncomfortably.
"We shall be privileged to dispose of it. We are not in the pawn business,but we have trunks piled to the ceiling in our storeroom, left bygentlemen in embarrassed circumstances like yours."
I never saw that trunk again, either. However, of this, more anon. At thatjuncture I was only too glad to get the twenty dollars, pending the timewhen I should be recouped from home; for I could see that to be stranded"high and dry" in Benton City of Wyoming Territory would be a diresituation. And I could not hope for much from home. It was a bitter doseto have to ask for further help. Three years returned from the war myfather had scarcely yet been enabled to gather the loose ends of hisformer affairs.
"Now if you will direct me to the telegraph office----?" I suggested.
"The telegraph into Benton is the Union Pacific Railroad line," heinformed; "and that is open to only Government and official business. Ifyou wish to send a p
rivate dispatch you should forward it by post toCheyenne, one hundred and seventy-five miles, where it will be put on theOverland branch line for the East by way of Denver. The rate to New Yorkis eight dollars, prepaid."
I knew that my face fell. Eight dollars would make a large hole in myslender funds--I had been foolish not to have borrowed fifty dollars onthe trunk. So I decided to write instead of telegraph; and with himwatching me I endeavored to speak lightly.
"Thank you. Now where will I find the place known as the Big Tent?"
He laughed with peculiar emphasis.
"If you had mentioned the Big Tent sooner you'd have got no twenty dollarsfrom me, sir. Not that I've anything against it, understand. It's allright, everybody goes there; perfectly legitimate. I go there myself. Andyou may redeem your trunk to-morrow and be buying champagne."
"I am to meet a friend at the Big Tent," I stiffly explained. "Furtherthan that I have no business there. I know nothing whatever about it."
"I beg your pardon, sir. No offense intended. The Big Tent is highlyregarded--a great place to spend a pleasant evening. All Benton indulges.I wish you the best of luck, sir. You are heeled, I see. No one will takeyou for a pilgrim." Despite the assertion there was a twinkle in his eye."You will find the Big Tent one block and a half down this street. Youcannot miss it."