BARKER'S LUCK
A bird twittered! The morning sun shining through the open window wasapparently more potent than the cool mountain air, which had only causedthe sleeper to curl a little more tightly in his blankets. Barker's eyesopened instantly upon the light and the bird on the window ledge. Likeall healthy young animals he would have tried to sleep again, but withhis momentary consciousness came the recollection that it was his turnto cook the breakfast that morning, and he regretfully rolled out ofhis bunk to the floor. Without stopping to dress, he opened the door andstepped outside, secure in the knowledge that he was overlooked only bythe Sierras, and plunged his head and shoulders in the bucket of coldwater that stood by the door. Then he began to clothe himself, partly inthe cabin and partly in the open air, with a lapse between the puttingon of his trousers and coat which he employed in bringing in wood.Raking together the few embers on the adobe hearth, not without aprudent regard to the rattlesnake which had once been detected inhaunting the warm ashes, he began to prepare breakfast. By this time theother sleepers, his partners Stacy and Demorest, young men of about hisown age, were awake, alert, and lazily critical of his progress.
"I don't care about my quail on toast being underdone for breakfast,"said Stacy, with a yawn; "and you needn't serve with red wine. I'm notfeeling very peckish this morning."
"And I reckon you can knock off the fried oysters after the Spanishmackerel for ME," said Demorest gravely. "The fact is, that last bottleof Veuve Clicquot we had for supper wasn't as dry as I am this morning."
Accustomed to these regular Barmecide suggestions, Barker made no directreply. Presently, looking up from the fire, he said, "There's no moresaleratus, so you mustn't blame me if the biscuit is extra heavy. I toldyou we had none when you went to the grocery yesterday."
"And I told you we hadn't a red cent to buy any with," said Stacy, whowas also treasurer. "Put these two negatives together and you make theaffirmative--saleratus. Mix freely and bake in a hot oven."
Nevertheless, after a toilet as primitive as Barker's they sat down towhat he had prepared with the keen appetite begotten of the mountainair and the regretful fastidiousness born of the recollection of betterthings. Jerked beef, frizzled with salt pork in a frying-pan, boiledpotatoes, biscuit, and coffee composed the repast. The biscuits,however, proving remarkably heavy after the first mouthful, were usedas missiles, thrown through the open door at an empty bottle which hadpreviously served as a mark for revolver practice, and a few momentslater pipes were lit to counteract the effects of the meal and takethe taste out of their mouths. Suddenly they heard the sound of horses'hoofs, saw the quick passage of a rider in the open space before thecabin, and felt the smart impact upon the table of some small objectthrown by him. It was the regular morning delivery of the countynewspaper!
"He's getting to be a mighty sure shot," said Demorest approvingly,looking at his upset can of coffee as he picked up the paper, rolledinto a cylindrical wad as tightly as a cartridge, and began tostraighten it out. This was no easy matter, as the sheet had evidentlybeen rolled while yet damp from the press; but Demorest eventuallyopened it and ensconced himself behind it.
"Nary news?" asked Stacy.
"No. There never is any," said Demorest scornfully. "We ought to stopthe paper."
"You mean the paper man ought to. WE don't pay him," said Barker gently.
"Well, that's the same thing, smarty. No news, no pay. Hallo!" hecontinued, his eyes suddenly riveted on the paper. Then, after thefashion of ordinary humanity, he stopped short and read the interestingitem to himself. When he had finished he brought his fist and the paper,together, violently down upon the table. "Now look at this! Talk ofluck, will you? Just think of it. Here are WE--hard-working men withlots of sabe, too--grubbin' away on this hillside like niggers, gladto get enough at the end of the day to pay for our soggy biscuits andhorse-bean coffee, and just look what falls into the lap of some lazysneakin' greenhorn who never did a stoke of work in his life! Here areWE, with no foolishness, no airs nor graces, and yet men who would docredit to twice that amount of luck--and seem born to it, too--and we'reset aside for some long, lank, pen-wiping scrub who just knows enough tosit down on his office stool and hold on to a bit of paper."
"What's up now?" asked Stacy, with the carelessness begotten offamiliarity with his partner's extravagance.
"Listen," said Demorest, reading. "Another unprecedented rise has takenplace in the shares of the 'Yellow Hammer First Extension Mine' sincethe sinking of the new shaft. It was quoted yesterday at ten thousanddollars a foot. When it is remembered that scarcely two years ago theoriginal shares, issued at fifty dollars per share, had dropped to onlyfifty cents a share, it will be seen that those who were able to hold onhave got a good thing."
"What mine did you say?" asked Barker, looking up meditatively from thedishes he was already washing.
"The Yellow Hammer First Extension," returned Demorest shortly.
"I used to have some shares in that, and I think I have them still,"said Barker musingly.
"Yes," said Demorest promptly; "the paper speaks of it here. 'Weunderstand,'" he continued, reading aloud, "'that our eminent fellowcitizen, George Barker, otherwise known as "Get Left Barker" and"Chucklehead," is one of these fortunate individuals.'"
"No," said Barker, with a slight flush of innocent pleasure, "it can'tsay that. How could it know?"
Stacy laughed, but Demorest coolly continued: "You didn't hear all.Listen! 'We say WAS one of them; but having already sold his apparentlyuseless certificates to our popular druggist, Jones, for corn plasters,at a reduced rate, he is unable to realize.'"
"You may laugh, boys," said Barker, with simple seriousness; "but Ireally believe I have got 'em yet. Just wait. I'll see!" He rose andbegan to drag out a well-worn valise from under his bunk. "You see," hecontinued, "they were given to me by an old chap in return--"
"For saving his life by delaying the Stockton boat that afterward blewup," returned Demorest briefly. "We know it all! His hair was white, andhis hand trembled slightly as he laid these shares in yours, saying, andyou never forgot the words, 'Take 'em, young man--and'--"
"For lending him two thousand dollars, then," continued Barker witha simple ignoring of the interruption, as he quietly brought out thevalise.
"TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS!" repeated Stacy. "When did YOU have two thousanddollars?"
"When I first left Sacramento--three years ago," said Barker,unstrapping the valise.
"How long did you have it?" said Demorest incredulously.
"At least two days, I think," returned Barker quietly. "Then I met thatman. He was hard-up, and I lent him my pile and took those shares. Hedied afterward."
"Of course he did," said Demorest severely. "They always do. Nothingkills a man more quickly than an action of that kind." Neverthelessthe two partners regarded Barker rummaging among some loose clothesand papers with a kind of paternal toleration. "If you can't find them,bring out your government bonds," suggested Stacy. But the next moment,flushed and triumphant, Barker rose from his knees, and came toward themcarrying some papers in his hands. Demorest seized them from him, openedthem, spread them on the table, examined hurriedly the date, signatures,and transfers, glanced again quickly at the newspaper paragraph, lookedwildly at Stacy and then at Barker, and gasped:
"By the living hookey! it is SO!"
"B'gosh! he HAS got 'em!" echoed Stacy.
"Twenty shares," continued Demorest breathlessly, "at ten thousanddollars a share--even if it's only a foot--is two hundred thousanddollars! Jerusalem!"
"Tell me, fair sir," said Stacy, with sparkling eyes, "hast still leftin yonder casket any rare jewels, rubies, sarcenet, or links of finegold? Peradventure a pearl or two may have been overlooked!"
"No--that's all," returned Barker simply.
"You hear him! Rothschild says 'that's all.' Prince Esterhazy says hehasn't another red cent--only two hundred thousand dollars."
"What ought I to do, boys?" asked Barker, timid
ly glancing from one tothe other. Yet he remembered with delight all that day, and for manya year afterward, that he saw in their faces only unselfish joy andaffection at that supreme moment.
"Do?" said Demorest promptly. "Stand on your head and yell! No! stop!Come here!" He seized both Barker and Stacy by the hand, and ran outinto the open air. Here they danced violently with clasped hands arounda small buckeye, in perfect silence, and then returned to the cabin,grave but perspiring.
"Of course," said Barker, wiping his forehead, "we'll just get somemoney on these certificates and buy up that next claim which belongs toold Carter--where you know we thought we saw the indication."
"We'll do nothing of the kind," said Demorest decidedly. "WE ain't init. That money is yours, old chap--every cent of it--property acquiredbefore marriage, you know; and the only thing we'll do is to be damnedbefore we'll see you drop a dime of it into this Godforsaken hole. No!"
"But we're partners," gasped Barker.
"Not in THIS! The utmost we can do for you, opulent sir--though it illbecomes us horny-handed sons of toil to rub shoulders with Dives--isperchance to dine with you, to take a pasty and a glass of Malvoisie, atsome restaurant in Sacramento--when you've got things fixed, in honor ofyour return to affluence. But more would ill become us!"
"But what are YOU going to do?" said Barker, with a half-hysteric,half-frightened smile.
"We have not yet looked through our luggage," said Demorest withinvincible gravity, "and there's a secret recess--a double FOND--to myportmanteau, known only to a trusty page, which has not been disturbedsince I left my ancestral home in Faginia. There may be a few FirstDebentures of Erie or what not still there."
"I felt some strange, disklike protuberances in my dress suit the otherday, but belike they are but poker chips," said Stacy thoughtfully.
An uneasy feeling crept over Barker. The color which had left his freshcheek returned to it quickly, and he turned his eyes away. Yet he hadseen nothing in his companions' eyes but affection--with even a certainkind of tender commiseration that deepened his uneasiness. "I suppose,"he said desperately, after a pause, "I ought to go over to Boomville andmake some inquiries."
"At the bank, old chap; at the bank!" said Demorest emphatically. "Takemy advice and don't go ANYWHERE ELSE. Don't breathe a word of your luckto anybody. And don't, whatever you do, be tempted to sell just now; youdon't know how high that stock's going to jump yet."
"I thought," stammered Barker, "that you boys might like to go over withme."
"We can't afford to take another holiday on grub wages, and we're onlytwo to work today," said Demorest, with a slight increase of color andthe faintest tremor in his voice. "And it won't do, old chap, for us tobe seen bumming round with you on the heels of your good fortune. Foreverybody knows we're poor, and sooner or later everybody'll know youWERE rich even when you first came to us."
"Nonsense!" said Barker indignantly.
"Gospel, my boy!" said Demorest shortly.
"The frozen truth, old man!" said Stacy.
Barker took up his hat with some stiffness and moved toward the door.Here he stopped irresolutely, an irresolution that seemed to communicateitself to his partners. There was a moment's awkward silence. ThenDemorest suddenly seized him by the shoulders with a grip that washalf a caress, and walked him rapidly to the door. "And now don't standfoolin' with us, Barker boy; but just trot off like a little man, andget your grip on that fortune; and when you've got your hooks in it hangon like grim death. You'll"--he hesitated for an instant only, possiblyto find the laugh that should have accompanied his speech--"you're sureto find US here when you get back."
Hurt to the quick, but restraining his feelings, Barker clapped his haton his head and walked quickly away. The two partners stood watching himin silence until his figure was lost in the underbrush. Then they spoke.
"Like him--wasn't it?" said Demorest.
"Just him all over," said Stacy.
"Think of him having that stock stowed away all these years and nevereven bothering his dear old head about it!"
"And think of his wanting to put the whole thing into this rottenhillside with us!"
"And he'd have done it, by gosh! and never thought of it again. That'sBarker."
"Dear old man!"
"Good old chap!"
"I've been wondering if one of us oughtn't to have gone with him? He'sjust as likely to pour his money into the first lap that opens for it,"said Stacy.
"The more reason why we shouldn't prevent him, or seem to prevent him,"said Demorest almost fiercely. "There will be knaves and fools enoughwho will try and put the idea of our using him into his simple heartwithout that. No! Let him do as he likes with it--but let him behimself. I'd rather have him come back to us even after he's lost themoney--his old self and empty-handed--than try to change the stuff Godput into him and make him more like others."
The tone and manner were so different from Demorest's usual levity thatStacy was silent. After a pause he said: "Well! we shall miss him on thehillside--won't we?"
Demorest did not reply. Reaching out his hand abstractedly, he wrenchedoff a small slip from a sapling near him, and began slowly to pull theleaves off, one by one, until they were all gone. Then he switched it inthe air, struck his bootleg smartly with it, said roughly: "Come, let'sget to work!" and strode away.
Meantime Barker on his way to Boomville was no less singular in hismanner. He kept up his slightly affected attitude until he had lostsight of the cabin. But, being of a simple nature, his emotions wereless complex. If he had not seen the undoubted look of affection in theeyes of his partners he would have imagined that they were jealous ofhis good fortune. Yet why had they refused his offer to share it withhim? Why had they so strangely assumed that their partnership with himhad closed? Why had they declined to go with him? Why had thismoney--of which he had thought so little, and for which he had caredso little--changed them toward him? It had not changed HIM--HE wasthe same! He remembered how they had often talked and laughed overa prospective "strike" in mining and speculated what THEY would dotogether with the money! And now that "luck" had occurred to one ofthem, individually, the effect was only to alienate them! He could notmake it out. He was hurt, wounded--yet oddly enough he was conscious nowof a certain power within him to hurt and wound in retribution. He wasrich: he would let them see HE could do without them. He was quite freenow to think only of himself and Kitty.
For it must be recorded that with all this young gentleman's simplicityand unselfishness, with all his loyal attitude to his partners, hisFIRST thought at the moment he grasped the fact of his wealth was ofa young lady. It was Kitty Carter, the daughter of the hotelkeeper atBoomville, who owned the claim that the partners had mutually coveted.That a pretty girl's face should flash upon him with his conviction thathe was now a rich man meant perhaps no disloyalty to his partners,whom he would still have helped. But it occurred to him now, in hishalf-hurt, half-vengeful state, that they had often joked him aboutKitty, and perhaps further confidence with them was debarred. And it wasonly due to his dignity that he should now see Kitty at once.
This was easy enough, for in the naive simplicity of Boomville and theeconomic arrangements of her father, she occasionally waited upon thehotel table. Half the town was always actively in love with her; theother half HAD BEEN, and was silent, cynical, but hopeless in defeat.For Kitty was one of those singularly pretty girls occasionally metwith in Southwestern frontier civilization whose distinct and originalrefinement of face and figure were so remarkable and original as to casta doubt on the sagacity and prescience of one parent and the morality ofthe other, yet no doubt with equal injustice. But the fact remainedthat she was slight, graceful, and self-contained, and moved beside herstumpy, commonplace father, and her faded, commonplace mother in thedining-room of the Boomville Hotel like some distinguished alien. Thethree partners, by virtue, perhaps, of their college education andrefined manners, had been exceptionally noticed by Kitty. And for someoccult reason--the more
serious, perhaps, because it had no obviousor logical presumption to the world generally--Barker was particularlyfavored.
He quickened his pace, and as the flagstaff of the Boomville Hotel rosebefore him in the little hollow, he seriously debated whether he had notbetter go to the bank first, deposit his shares, and get a small advanceon them to buy a new necktie or a "boiled shirt" in which to presenthimself to Miss Kitty; but, remembering that he had partly given hisword to Demorest that he would keep his shares intact for the present,he abandoned this project, probably from the fact that his projectedconfidence with Kitty was already a violation of Demorest's injunctionsof secrecy, and his conscience was sufficiently burdened with thatbreach of faith.
But when he reached the hotel, a strange trepidation overcame him. Thedining-room was at its slack water, between the ebb of breakfast andbefore the flow of the preparation for the midday meal. He could nothave his interview with Kitty in that dreary waste of reversed chairsand bare trestlelike tables, and she was possibly engaged in herhousehold duties. But Miss Kitty had already seen him cross the road,and had lounged into the dining-room with an artfully simulated air ofcasually examining it. At the unexpected vision of his hopes, arrayed inthe sweetest and freshest of rosebud-sprigged print, his heart faltered.Then, partly with the desperation of a timid man, and partly throughthe working of a half-formed resolution, he met her bright smile witha simple inquiry for her father. Miss Kitty bit her pretty lip, smiledslightly, and preceded him with great formality to the office. Openingthe door, without raising her lashes to either her father or thevisitor, she said, with a mischievous accenting of the professionalmanner, "Mr. Barker to see you on business," and tripped sweetly away.
And this slight incident precipitated the crisis. For Barker instantlymade up his mind that he must purchase the next claim for his partnersof this man Carter, and that he would be obliged to confide to him thedetails of his good fortune, and as a proof of his sincerity and hisability to pay for it, he did so bluntly. Carter was a shrewd businessman, and the well-known simplicity of Barker was a proof of histruthfulness, to say nothing of the shares that were shown to him. Hisselling price for his claim had been two hundred dollars, but here wasa rich customer who, from a mere foolish sentiment, would be no doubtwilling to pay more. He hesitated with a bland but superior smile. "Ah,that was my price at my last offer, Mr. Barker," he said suavely; "but,you see, things are going up since then."
The keenest duplicity is apt to fail before absolute simplicity. Barker,thoroughly believing him, and already a little frightened at his ownpresumption--not for the amount of the money involved, but from thepossibility of his partners refusing his gift utterly--quickly tookadvantage of this LOCUS PENITENTIAE. "No matter, then," he saidhurriedly; "perhaps I had better consult my partners first; in fact,"he added, with a gratuitous truthfulness all his own, "I hardly knowwhether they will take it of me, so I think I'll wait."
Carter was staggered; this would clearly not do! He recovered himselfwith an insinuating smile. "You pulled me up too short, Mr. Barker;I'm a business man, but hang it all! what's that among friends? If youreckoned I GAVE MY WORD at two hundred--why, I'm there! Say no moreabout it--the claim's yours. I'll make you out a bill of sale at once."
"But," hesitated Barker, "you see I haven't got the money yet, and--"
"Money!" echoed Carter bluntly, "what's that among friends? Gimme yournote at thirty days--that's good enough for ME. An' we'll settle thewhole thing now--nothing like finishing a job while you're about it."And before the bewildered and doubtful visitor could protest, he hadfilled up a promissory note for Barker's signature and himself signed abill of sale for the property. "And I reckon, Mr. Barker, you'd liketo take your partners by surprise about this little gift of yours," headded smilingly. "Well, my messenger is starting for the Gulch in fiveminutes; he's going by your cabin, and he can just drop this bill o'sale, as a kind o' settled fact, on 'em afore they can say anything,see! There's nothing like actin' on the spot in these sort of things.And don't you hurry 'bout them either! You see, you sorter owe usa friendly call--havin' always dropped inter the hotel only as acustomer--so ye'll stop here over luncheon, and I reckon, as the oldwoman is busy, why Kitty will try to make the time pass till then byplayin' for you on her new pianner."
Delighted, yet bewildered by the unexpected invitation and opportunity,Barker mechanically signed the promissory note, and as mechanicallyaddressed the envelope of the bill of sale to Demorest, which Cartergave to the messenger. Then he followed his host across the hall to theapartment known as "Miss Kitty's parlor." He had often heard of it as asanctum impervious to the ordinary guest. Whatever functions the younggirl assumed at the hotel and among her father's boarders, it wasvaguely understood that she dropped them on crossing that sacredthreshold, and became "MISS Carter." The county judge had beenentertained there, and the wife of the bank manager. Barker's admissionthere was consequently an unprecedented honor.
He cast his eyes timidly round the room, redolent and suggestive invarious charming little ways of the young girl's presence. There wasthe cottage piano which had been brought up in sections on the backs ofmules from the foot of the mountain; there was a crayon head of Minervadone by the fair occupant at the age of twelve; there was a profileof herself done by a traveling artist; there were pretty little chinaornaments and many flowers, notably a faded but still scented woodlandshrub which Barker had presented to her two weeks ago, and over whichMiss Kitty had discreetly thrown her white handkerchief as he entered. Awave of hope passed over him at the act, but it was quickly spent as Mr.Carter's roughly playful voice introduced him:
"Ye kin give Mr. Barker a tune or two to pass time afore lunch, Kitty.You kin let him see what you're doing in that line. But you'll have tosit up now, for this young man's come inter some property, and willbe sasheying round in 'Frisco afore long with a biled shirt and astovepipe, and be givin' the go-by to Boomville. Well! you young folkswill excuse me for a while, as I reckon I'll just toddle over and getthe recorder to put that bill o' sale on record. Nothin' like squaringthings to onct, Mr. Barker."
As he slipped away, Barker felt his heart sink. Carter had not onlybluntly forestalled him with the news and taken away his excuse for aconfidential interview, but had put an ostentatious construction on hisvisit. What could she think of him now? He stood ashamed and embarrassedbefore her.
But Miss Kitty, far from noticing his embarrassment in a sudden concernregarding the "horrid" untidiness of the room, which made her cheeksquite pink in one spot and obliged her to take up and set down inexactly the same place several articles, was exceedingly delighted. Infact, she did not remember ever having been so pleased before in herlife! These things were always so unexpected! Just like the weather, forinstance. It was quite cool last night--and now it was just stifling.And so dusty! Had Mr. Barker noticed the heat coming from the Gulch? Orperhaps, being a rich man, he--with a dazzling smile--was above walkingnow. It was so kind of him to come here first and tell her father.
"I really wanted to tell only--YOU, Miss Carter," stammered Barker. "Yousee--" he hesitated. But Miss Kitty saw perfectly. He wanted to tellHER, and, seeing her, he asked for HER FATHER! Not that it made theslightest difference to her, for her father would have been sure tohave told her. It was also kind of her father to invite him to luncheon.Otherwise she might not have seen him before he left Boomville.
But this was more than Barker could stand. With the same desperatedirectness and simplicity with which he had approached her father, henow blurted out his whole heart to her. He told her how he had lovedher hopelessly from the first time that they had spoken together at thechurch picnic. Did she remember it? How he had sat and worshiped her,and nothing else, at church! How her voice in the church choir hadsounded like an angel's; how his poverty and his uncertain future hadkept him from seeing her often, lest he should be tempted to betray hishopeless passion. How as soon as he realized that he had a position,that his love for her need not make her ridiculous to the world's ey
es,he came to tell her ALL. He did not even dare to hope! But she wouldHEAR him at least, would she not?
Indeed, there was no getting away from his boyish, simple, outspokendeclaration. In vain Kitty smiled, frowned, glanced at her pink cheeksin the glass, and stopped to look out of the window. The room was filledwith his love--it was encompassing her--and, despite his shy attitude,seemed to be almost embracing her. But she managed at last to turn uponhim a face that was now as white and grave as his own was eager andglowing.
"Sit down," she said gently.
He did so obediently, but wonderingly. She then opened the piano andtook a seat upon the music stool before it, placed some loose sheetsof music in the rack, and ran her fingers lightly over the keys. Thusintrenched, she let her hands fall idly in her lap, and for the firsttime raised her eyes to his.
"Now listen to me--be good and don't interrupt! There!--not so near; youcan hear what I have to say well enough where you are. That will do."
Barker had halted with the chair he was dragging toward her and satdown.
"Now," said Miss Kitty, withdrawing her eyes and looking straight beforeher, "I believe everything you say; perhaps I oughtn't to--or at leastSAY it--but I do. There! But because I do believe you--it seems to meall wrong! For the very reasons that you give for not having spoken tome BEFORE, if you really felt as you say you did, are the same reasonswhy you should not speak to me now. You see, all this time you have letnobody but yourself know how you felt toward me. In everybody's eyesYOU and your partners have been only the three stuck-up, exclusive,college-bred men who mined a poor claim in the Gulch, and occasionallycame here to this hotel as customers. In everybody's eyes I have beenonly the rich hotel-keeper's popular daughter who sometimes waited uponyou--but nothing more. But at least we were then pretty much alike,and as good as each other. And now, as soon as you have become suddenlyrich, and, of course, the SUPERIOR, you rush down here to ask me toacknowledge it by accepting you!"
"You know I never meant that, Miss Kitty," burst out Barker vehemently,but his protest was drowned in a rapid roulade from the young lady'sfingers on the keys. He sank back in his chair.
"Of course you never MEANT it," she said with an odd laugh; "buteverybody will take it in that way, and you cannot go round to everybodyin Boomville and make the pretty declaration you have just made to me.Everybody will say I accepted you for your money; everybody will sayit was a put-up job of my father's. Everybody will say that you threwyourself away on me. And I don't know but that they would be right. Sitdown, please! or I shall play again.
"You see," she went on, without looking at him, "just now you like toremember that you fell in love with me first as a pretty waiter girl,but if I became your wife it's just what you would like to FORGET. AndI shouldn't, for I should always like to think of the time when you camehere, whenever you could afford it and sometimes when you couldn't, justto see me; and how we used to make excuses to speak with each other overthe dishes. You don't know what these things mean to a woman who"--shehesitated a moment, and then added abruptly, "but what does that matter?You would not care to be reminded of it. So," she said, rising up with agrave smile and grasping her hands tightly behind her, "it's a good dealbetter that you should begin to forget it now. Be a good boy and take myadvice. Go to San Francisco. You will meet some girl there in a wayyou will not afterward regret. You are young, and your riches, to saynothing," she added in a faltering voice that was somewhat inconsistentwith the mischievous smile that played upon her lips, "of your kindand simple heart, will secure that which the world would call unselfishaffection from one more equal to you, but would always believe was onlyBOUGHT if it came from me."
"I suppose you are right," he said simply.
She glanced quickly at him, and her eyebrows straightened. He had risen,his face white and his gray eyes widely opened. "I suppose you areright," he went on, "because you are saying to me what my partners saidto me this morning, when I offered to share my wealth with them, Godknows as honestly as I offered to share my heart with you. I supposethat you are both right; that there must be some curse of pride orselfishness upon the money that I have got; but I have not felt it yet,and the fault does not lie with me."
She gave her shoulders a slight shrug, and turned impatiently toward thewindow. When she turned back again he was gone. The room around her wasempty; this room, which a moment before had seemed to be pulsating withhis boyish passion, was now empty, and empty of HIM. She bit her lips,rose, and ran eagerly to the window. She saw his straw hat and browncurls as he crossed the road. She drew her handkerchief sharply awayfrom the withered shrub over which she had thrown it, and cast the oncetreasured remains in the hearth. Then, possibly because she had itready in her hand, she clapped the handkerchief to her eyes, and sinkingsideways upon the chair he had risen from, put her elbows on its back,and buried her face in her hands.
It is the characteristic and perhaps cruelty of a simple nature to makeno allowance for complex motives, or to even understand them! So itseemed to Barker that his simplicity had been met with equal directness.It was the possession of this wealth that had in some way hopelesslychanged his relations with the world. He did not love Kitty any theless; he did not even think she had wronged him; they, his partners andhis sweetheart, were cleverer than he; there must be some occult qualityin this wealth that he would understand when he possessed it, andperhaps it might even make him ashamed of his generosity; not in the waythey had said, but in his tempting them so audaciously to assume a wrongposition. It behoved him to take possession of it at once, and to takealso upon himself alone the knowledge, the trials, and responsibilitiesit would incur. His cheeks flushed again as he thought he had tried totempt an innocent girl with it, and he was keenly hurt that he had notseen in Kitty's eyes the tenderness that had softened his partners'refusal. He resolved to wait no longer, but sell his dreadful stock atonce. He walked directly to the bank.
The manager, a shrewd but kindly man, to whom Barker was known already,received him graciously in recognition of his well-known simple honesty,and respectfully as a representative of the equally well-known poor but"superior" partnership of the Gulch. He listened with marked attentionto Barker's hesitating but brief story, only remarking at its close:
"You mean, of course, the 'SECOND Extension' when you say 'First'?"
"No," said Barker; "I mean the 'First'--and it said First in theBoomville paper."
"Yes, yes!--I saw it--it was a printer's error. The stock of the 'First'was called in two years ago. No! You mean the 'Second,' for, of course,you've followed the quotations, and are likely to know what stock you'reholding shares of. When you go back, take a look at them, and you'll seeI am right."
"But I brought them with me," said Barker, with a slight flushing ashe felt in his pocket, "and I am quite sure they are the 'First'." Hebrought them out and laid them on the desk before the manager.
The words "First Extension" were plainly visible. The manager glancedcuriously at Barker, and his brow darkened.
"Did anybody put this up on you?" he said sternly. "Did your partnerssend you here with this stuff?"
"No! no!" said Barker eagerly. "No one! It's all MY mistake. I see itnow. I trusted to the newspaper."
"And you mean to say you never examined the stock or the quotations, norfollowed it in any way, since you had it?"
"Never!" said Barker. "Never thought about IT AT ALL till I saw thenewspaper. So it's not worth anything?" And, to the infinite surprise ofthe manager, there was a slight smile on his boyish face.
"I am afraid it is not worth the paper it's written on," said themanager gently.
The smile on Barker's face increased to a little laugh, in which hiswondering companion could not help joining. "Thank you," said Barkersuddenly, and rushed away.
"He beats everything!" said the manager, gazing after him. "Damned if hedidn't seem even PLEASED."
He WAS pleased. The burden of wealth had fallen from his shoulders; thedreadful incubus that had weighed him down a
nd parted his friends fromhim was gone! And he had not got rid of it by spending it foolishly. Ithad not ruined anybody yet; it had not altered anybody in HIS eyes.It was gone; and he was a free and happy man once more. He would godirectly back to his partners; they would laugh at him, of course, butthey could not look at him now with the same sad, commiserating eyes.Perhaps even Kitty--but here a sudden chill struck him. He had forgottenthe bill of sale! He had forgotten the dreadful promissory note given toher father in the rash presumption of his wealth! How could it ever bepaid? And more than that, it had been given in a fraud. He had no moneywhen he gave it, and no prospect of any but what he was to get fromthose worthless shares. Would anybody believe him that it was only astupid blunder of his own? Yes, his partners might believe him; but,horrible thought, he had already implicated THEM in his fraud! Even now,while he was standing there hesitatingly in the road, they were enteringupon the new claim he had NOT PAID FOR--COULD NOT PAY FOR--and in theguise of a benefactor he was dishonoring them. Yet it was Carter hemust meet first; he must confess all to him. He must go back to thehotel--that hotel where he had indignantly left her, and tell the fatherhe was a fraud. It was terrible to think of; perhaps it was part of thatmoney curse that he could not get rid of, and was now realizing; butit MUST be done. He was simple, but his very simplicity had thatunhesitating directness of conclusion which is the main factor of whatmen call "pluck."
He turned back to the hotel and entered the office. But Mr. Carter hadnot yet returned. What was to be done? He could not wait there; therewas no time to be lost; there was only one other person who knew hisexpectations, and to whom he could confide his failure--it was Kitty. Itwas to taste the dregs of his humiliation, but it must be done. He ranup the staircase and knocked timidly at the sitting-room door. There wasa momentary pause, and a weak voice said "Come in." Barker opened thedoor; saw the vision of a handkerchief thrown away, of a pair of tearfuleyes that suddenly changed to stony indifference, and a graceful butstiffening figure. But he was past all insult now.
"I would not intrude," he said simply, "but I came only to see yourfather. I have made an awful blunder--more than a blunder, I think--aFRAUD. Believing that I was rich, I purchased your father's claim for mypartners, and gave him my promissory note. I came here to give him backhis claim--for that note can NEVER be paid! I have just been to thebank; I find I have made a stupid mistake in the name of the shares uponwhich I based my belief in my wealth. The ones I own are worthless--amas poor as ever--I am even poorer, for I owe your father money I cannever pay!"
To his amazement he saw a look of pain and scorn come into her troubledeyes which he had never seen before. "This is a feeble trick," she saidbitterly; "it is unlike you--it is unworthy of you!"
"Good God! You must believe me. Listen! it was all a mistake--aprinter's error. I read in the paper that the stock for the FirstExtension mine had gone up, when it should have been the Second. Ihad some old stock of the First, which I had kept for years, and onlythought of when I read the announcement in the paper this morning. Iswear to you--"
But it was unnecessary. There was no doubting the truth of thatvoice--that manner. The scorn fled from Miss Kitty's eyes to give placeto a stare, and then suddenly changed to two bubbling blue wells oflaughter. She went to the window and laughed. She sat down to the pianoand laughed. She caught up the handkerchief, and hiding half her rosyface in it, laughed. She finally collapsed into an easy chair, and,burying her brown head in its cushions, laughed long and confidentiallyuntil she brought up suddenly against a sob. And then was still.
Barker was dreadfully alarmed. He had heard of hysterics before. He felthe ought to do something. He moved toward her timidly, and gently drewaway her handkerchief. Alas! the blue wells were running over now.He took her cold hands in his; he knelt beside her and passed his armaround her waist. He drew her head upon his shoulder. He was not surethat any of these things were effective until she suddenly liftedher eyes to his with the last ray of mirth in them vanishing in a bigteardrop, put her arms round his neck, and sobbed:
"Oh, George! You blessed innocent!"
An eloquent silence was broken by a remorseful start from Barker.
"But I must go and warn my poor partners, dearest; there yet may betime; perhaps they have not yet taken possession of your father'sclaim."
"Yes, George dear," said the young girl, with sparkling eyes; "and tellthem to do so AT ONCE!"
"What?" gasped Barker.
"At once--do you hear?--or it may be too late! Go quick."
"But your father--Oh, I see, dearest, you will tell him all yourself,and spare me."
"I shall do nothing so foolish, Georgey. Nor shall you! Don't you seethe note isn't due for a month? Stop! Have you told anybody but Paw andme?"
"Only the bank manager."
She ran out of the room and returned in a minute tying the mostenchanting of hats by a ribbon under her oval chin. "I'll run over andfix him," she said.
"Fix him?" returned Barker, aghast.
"Yes, I'll say your wicked partners have been playing a practical jokeon you, and he mustn't give you away. He'll do anything for me."
"But my partners didn't! On the contrary--"
"Don't tell me, George," said Miss Kitty severely. "THEY ought never tohave let you come here with that stuff. But come! You must go at once.You must not meet Paw; you'll blurt out everything to him; I know you!I'll tell him you could not stay to luncheon. Quick, now; go. What?Well--there!"
Whatever it represented, the exclamation was apparently so protractedthat Miss Kitty was obliged to push her lover to the front landingbefore she could disappear by the back stairs. But once in the street,Barker no longer lingered. It was a good three miles back to the Gulch;he might still reach it by the time his partners were taking theirnoonday rest, and he resolved that although the messenger had precededhim, they would not enter upon the new claim until the afternoon. ForBarker, in spite of his mistress's injunction, had no idea of takingwhat he couldn't pay for; he would keep the claim intact until somethingcould be settled. For the rest, he walked on air! Kitty loved him!The accursed wealth no longer stood between them. They were both poornow--everything was possible.
The sun was beginning to send dwarf shadows toward the east when hereached the Gulch. Here a new trepidation seized him. How would hispartners receive the news of his utter failure? HE was happy, for he hadgained Kitty through it. But they? For a moment it seemed to him that hehad purchased his happiness through their loss. He stopped, took off hishat, and ran his fingers remorsefully through his damp curls.
Another thing troubled him. He had reached the crest of the Gulch, wheretheir old working ground was spread before him like a map. They were notthere; neither were they lying under the four pines on the ridge wherethey were wont to rest at midday. He turned with some alarm to the newclaim adjoining theirs, but there was no sign of them there either. Asudden fear that they had, after parting from him, given up the claimin a fit of disgust and depression, and departed, now overcame him. Heclapped his hand on his head and ran in the direction of the cabin.
He had nearly reached it when the rough challenge of "Who's there?" fromthe bushes halted him, and Demorest suddenly swung into the trail.But the singular look of sternness and impatience which he was wearingvanished as he saw Barker, and with a loud shout of "All right, it'sonly Barker! Hooray!" he ran toward him. In an instant he was joined byStacy from the cabin, and the two men, catching hold of their returningpartner, waltzed him joyfully and breathlessly into the cabin. But thequick-eyed Demorest suddenly let go his hold and stared at Barker'sface. "Why, Barker, old boy, what's up?"
"Everything's up," gasped the breathless Barker. "It's all up aboutthese stocks. It's all a mistake; all an infernal lie of that newspaper.I never had the right kind of shares. The ones I have are worthlessrags"; and the next instant he had blurted out his whole interview withthe bank manager.
The two partners looked at each other, and then, to Barker's infiniteperplexity, the same
extraordinary convulsion that had seized Miss Kittyfell upon them. They laughed, holding on each other's shoulders; theylaughed, clinging to Barker's struggling figure; they went out andlaughed with their backs against a tree. They laughed separately and indifferent corners. And then they came up to Barker with tears in theireyes, dropped their heads on his shoulder, and murmured exhaustedly:
"You blessed ass!"
"But," said Stacy suddenly, "how did you manage to buy the claim?"
"Ah! that's the most awful thing, boys. I've NEVER PAID FOR IT," groanedBarker.
"But Carter sent us the bill of sale," persisted Demorest, "or weshouldn't have taken it."
"I gave my promissory note at thirty days," said Barker desperately,"and where's the money to come from now? But," he added wildly, as themen glanced at each other--"you said 'taken it.' Good heavens! you don'tmean to say that I'm TOO late--that you've--you've touched it?"
"I reckon that's pretty much what we HAVE been doing," drawled Demorest.
"It looks uncommonly like it," drawled Stacy.
Barker glanced blankly from the one to the other. "Shall we pass ouryoung friend in to see the show?" said Demorest to Stacy.
"Yes, if he'll be perfectly quiet and not breathe on the glasses,"returned Stacy.
They each gravely took one of Barker's hands and led him to thecorner of the cabin. There, on an old flour barrel, stood a large tinprospecting pan, in which the partners also occasionally used to kneadtheir bread. A dirty towel covered it. Demorest whisked it dexterouslyaside, and disclosed three large fragments of decomposed gold andquartz. Barker started back.
"Heft it!" said Demorest grimly.
Barker could scarcely lift the pan!
"Four thousand dollars' weight if a penny!" said Stacy, in shortstaccato sentences. "In a pocket! Brought it out the second stroke ofthe pick! We'd been awfully blue after you left. Awfully blue, too, whenthat bill of sale came, for we thought you'd been wasting your money onUS. Reckoned we oughtn't to take it, but send it straight back to you.Messenger gone! Then Demorest reckoned as it was done it couldn't beundone, and we ought to make just one 'prospect' on the claim, andstrike a single stroke for you. And there it is. And there's more on thehillside."
"But it isn't MINE! It isn't YOURS! It's Carter's. I never had the moneyto pay for it--and I haven't got it now."
"But you gave the note--and it is not due for thirty days."
A recollection flashed upon Barker. "Yes," he said with thoughtfulsimplicity, "that's what Kitty said."
"Oh, Kitty said so," said both partners, gravely.
"Yes," stammered Barker, turning away with a heightened color, "and, as Ididn't stay there to luncheon, I think I'd better be getting it ready."He picked up the coffeepot and turned to the hearth as his two partnersstepped beyond the door.
"Wasn't it exactly like him?" said Demorest.
"Him all over," said Stacy.
"And his worry over that note?" said Demorest.
"And 'what Kitty said,'" said Stacy.
"Look here! I reckon that wasn't ALL that Kitty said."
"Of course not."
"What luck!"