CHAPTER V
IN HONOR OF MISS SPENCER
Mr. Jack Moffat, president of the Bachelor Miners' Pleasure Club, hadembraced the idea of a reception for Miss Spencer with unboundedenthusiasm. Indeed, the earliest conception of such an event foundbirth within his fertile brain, and from the first he determined uponmaking it the most notable social function ever known in that portionof the Territory.
Heretofore the pastime of the Bachelors' Club had been largelybibulous, and the members thereof had exhibited small inclination toseek the ordinary methods of social relaxation as practised inGlencaid. Pink teas, or indeed teas of any conceivable color, hadnever proved sufficiently attractive to wean the members from thechaste precincts of the Occidental or the Miners' Retreat, while themysterious pleasure of "Hunt the Slipper" and "Spat in and Spat out"had likewise utterly failed to inveigle them from retirement. But Mr.Moffat's example wrought an immediate miracle, so that, long before thefateful hour arrived, every registered bachelor was laboringindustriously to make good the proud boast of their enthusiasticpresident, that this was going to be "the swellest affair ever pulledoff west of the Missouri."
The large space above the Occidental was secured for the occasion, theobstructing subdivisions knocked away, an entrance constructed with anoutside stairway leading up from a vacant lot, and the passageconnecting the saloon boarded up. Incidentally, Mr. Moffat tookoccasion to announce that if "any snoozer got drunk and came up themstairs" he would be thrown bodily out of a window. Mr. McNeil, who wasobserving the preliminary proceedings with deep interest from a pile oflumber opposite, sarcastically intimated that under such circumstancesthe attendance of club members would be necessarily limited. Mr.Moffat's reply it is manifestly impossible to quote literally. Mrs.Guffy was employed to provide the requisite refreshments in thepalatial dining-hall of the hotel, while Buck Mason, the vigilant townmarshal, popularly supposed to know intimately the face of every"rounder" in the Territory, agreed to collect the cards of invitationat the door, and bar out obnoxious visitors.
These preliminaries having been duly attended to, Mr. Moffat and hisindefatigable committee of arrangements proceeded to master the detailsof decoration and entertainment, drawing heavily upon the limitedresources of the local merchants, and even invading private homes insearch after beautifying material. Jim Lane drove his buckboard onehundred and sixty miles to Cheyenne to gather up certain neededarticles of adornment, the selection of which could not be safelyconfided to the inartistic taste of the stage-driver. Upon his rapidreturn journey loaded down with spoils, Peg Brace, a cow-puncher in the"Bar O" gang, rode recklessly alongside his speeding wheels for thegreater portion of the distance, apparently in most jovial humor, andso unusually inquisitive as to make Mr. Lane, as he later expressed it,"plum tired." The persistent rider finally deserted him, however, atthe ford over the Sinsiniwa, shouting derisively back from a safedistance that the Miners' Club was a lot of chumps, and promising thema severe "jolt" in the near future.
Indeed, it was becoming more and more apparent that a decided feelingof hostility was fast developing between the respective partisans ofMoffat and McNeil. Thus far the feud merely smouldered, findingoccasional expression in sarcastic speech, and the severance of formerfriendly relations, but it boded more serious trouble for the nearfuture. To a loyal henchman, Moffat merely condescended to remark,glancing disdainfully at a knot of hard riders disconsolately sittingtheir ponies in front of the saloon door, "We 've got them fellersroped and tied, gents, and they simply won't be ace-high with theladies of this camp after our fandango is over with. We're a holdin'the hand this game, an' it simply sweeps the board clean. That dufferMcNeil's the sickest looking duck I 've seen in a year, an' the wholeblame bunch of cow-punchers is corralled so tight there can't a steeramong 'em get a nose over the pickets."
He glanced over the waiting scene of festivities with intensesatisfaction. From bare squalor the spacious apartment had beenconverted into a scene of almost gorgeous splendor. The waxed floorwas a perfect marvel of smoothness; the numerous windows had beenheavily draped in red, white, and blue hangings; festoons of the samerich hues hung gracefully suspended from the ceiling, trembling to theleast current of air; oil lamps, upheld by almost invisible wires,dangled in profusion; while within the far corner, occupying a slightlyraised platform later to be utilized by the orchestra, was an imposingpulpit chair lent by the Presbyterian Church, resting upon a rug ofskins, and destined as the seat of honor for the fair guest of theevening. Moffat surveyed all this thoughtfully, and proceeded proudlyto the hotel to don a "boiled" shirt, and in other ways prepare himselfto do honor to his exalted office. Much to the surprise of McNeil,lounging with some cronies on the shaded porch, he nodded to himgenially, adding a hearty, "Hello there, Bill," as he passed carelesslyby.
The invited guests arrived from the sparsely settled regions roundabout, not a few riding for a hundred miles over the hard trails. Themajority came early, arrayed in whatsoever apparel their limitedwardrobes could supply, but ready for any wild frolic. The menoutnumbered the gentler sex five to one, but every femininerepresentative within a radius of about fifty miles, whoserespectability could possibly pass muster before the investigations ofa not too critical invitation committee, was present amid the throng,attired in all the finery procurable, and supremely and serenely happyin the assured consciousness that she would not lack partners wheneverthe enticing music began.
The gratified president of the Pleasure Club had occasion to expand hischest with just pride. Jauntily twirling his silky mustaches, hepushed his way through the jostling, good-natured crowd already surgingtoward the entrance of the hall, and stepped briskly forth along themoonlit road toward the Herndon home, where the fair queen of therevels awaited his promised escort. It was his hour of supremetriumph, and his head swam with the delicious intoxication ofwell-earned success, the plaudits of his admirers, and the fondanticipation of Miss Spencer's undoubted surprise and gratitude. His,therefore, was the step and bearing of a conqueror, of one whose cupwas already filled to the brim, and running over with the joy of life.
The delay incident to the completion of an elaborate toilet, togetherwith the seductive charms of a stroll through the moon-haunted nightbeneath the spell of bright eyes and whispered words, resulted in alater arrival at the scene of festivities than had been intended. Thegreat majority of the expected guests had already assembled, and werebecoming somewhat restless. No favored courtier ever escorted belovedqueen with greater pride or ceremony than that with which Mr. Moffatled his blushing charge through the throng toward her chair of state.The murmuring voices, the admiring eyes, the hush of expectancy, allcontributed to warm the cockles of his heart and to color his face withthe glow of victory. Glancing at his companion, he saw her cheeksflushed, her head held proudly poised, her countenance evidencing theenjoyment of the moment, and he felt amply rewarded for the work whichhad produced so glorious a result. A moment he bent above her chair,whispering one last word of compliment into the little ear whichreddened at his bold speech, and feasting his ardent eyes upon theflushed and animated countenance. The impatient crowd wondered at thenature of the coming ceremony, and Mr. Moffat strove to recall theopening words of his introductory address.
Suddenly his gaze settled upon one face amid the throng. A moment ofhesitation followed; then a quick whisper of excuse to the waitingdivinity in the chair, and the perturbed president pressed his waytoward the door. Buck Mason stood there on guard, carelessly leaningagainst the post, his star of office gleaming beneath the light.
"Buck," exclaimed Moffat, "how did that feller McNeil, and those othercow-punchers, get in here? You had your orders."
Mason turned his quid deliberately and spat at the open door. "You betI did, Jack," he responded cheerfully, yet with a trifle ofexasperation evident in his eyes. "And what's more, I reckon they wasobeyed. There ain't nobody got in yere ternight without they had acyard."
"Well, there has"; and Moffat
forgot his natural caution in a suddenexcess of anger. "No invitations was sent them fellers. Do you meanto say they come in through the roof?"
Mason straightened up, his face darkening, his clinched fist thrashingthe air just in front of Moffat's nose.
"I say they come in yere, right through this door! An' every mother'sson of 'em, hed a cyard. I know what I 'm a-talkin' about, youmiserable third-class idiot, an' if you give me any more of your lip I'll paste you good an' proper. Go back thar whar you belong, an' tindto your part of this fandango; I'm a runnin' mine."
Moffat hesitated, his brow black as a thunder cloud, but the crowd wasmanifestly growing restless over the delay, calling "Time!" and "Playball!" and stamping their feet. Besides, Buck was never known to beaverse to a quarrel, and Moffat's bump of caution was well developed.He went back, nursing his wrath and cursing silently. The crowdgreeted his reappearance with prolonged applause, and some of theformer consciousness of victory returned. He glanced down into thequestioning eyes of Miss Spencer, cleared his throat, then grasped herhand, and, as they stood there together, all his confidence camesurging back.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of Glencaid," he began gracefully, "as presidentof the Bachelor Miners' Pleasure Club, it affords me extremegratification to welcome you to this the most important social eventever pulled off in this Territory. It's going to be a swell affairfrom the crack of the starter's pistol to the last post, and you canbet on getting your money's worth every time. That's the sort ofhairpins we are--all wool and a yard wide. Now, ladies and gents,while it is not designed that the pleasure of this evening be marred byany special formalities, any such unnatural restrictions as disfiguresuch functions in the effete East [applause], and while I am only tooanxious to exclaim with the poet, 'On with the dance, let joy beunconfined' [great applause], yet it must be remembered that thishigh-toned outfit has been got up for a special, definite purpose, as afit welcome to one who has come among us with the high and holy objectof instructing our offspring and elevating the educational ideals ofthis community. We, of this Bachelors' Club, may possess no offspringto instruct, but we sympathize with them others who have, and desire toshow our interest in the work. We have here with us to-night one ofthe loveliest of her sex, a flower of refinement and culture pluckedfrom the Eastern hills, who, at the stern call of duty, has left herhome and friends to devote her talents to this labor of love. In herhonor we meet, in her honor this room has been decorated with thecolors of our beloved country, and to her honor we now dedicate thefleeting hours of this festal night. It is impossible for her to greetyou all personally, much as she wishes to do so, but as president ofthe Bachelor Miners' Pleasure Club, and also," with a deep bow to hisblushing and embarrassed companion, "I may venture to add, as anintimate friend of our fair guest, I now introduce to you Glencaid'snew schoolmistress--Miss Phoebe Spencer. Hip! Hip! _Hurrah_!"
Swinging his hand high above his head, the enthusiastic orator led thenoisy cheers which instantly burst forth in unrestrained volume; andbefore which Miss Spencer shrank back into her chair, trembling, yetstrangely happy. Good humor swayed that crowd, laughter rippled fromparted lips, while voices here and there began a spontaneous demand fora speech. Miss Spencer shook her flossy head helplessly, feeling toodeeply agitated to utter a word; and Moffat, now oblivious toeverything but the important part he was playing in the brilliantspectacle, stepped before her, waving the clamorous assembly intotemporary and expectant silence.
"Our charming guest," he announced, in tones vibrant with authority,"is so deeply affected by this spontaneous outpouring of your good-willas to be unable to respond in words. Let us respect her naturalembarrassment; let us now exhibit that proud Western chivalry whichwill cause her to feel perfectly at home in our midst. The orchestrawill strike up, and amid the mazy whirling of the dance we will at oncesink all formality, as becomes citizens of this free and boundlessWest, this land of gold, of sterling manhood, and womanly beauty. Toslightly change the poet's lines, written of a similar occasion:
"There was a sound of revelry by night, And proud Glencaid had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.
"So, scatter out, gents, and pick up your partners for the first whirl.This is our turn to treat, and our motto is 'Darn the expense.'"
He bent over, purposing to lead the lady of his heart forth to theearliest strains of the violins, his genial smile evidencing hissatisfaction.
"Say,--eh--just hold on--eh--a minute!"
Moffat wheeled about, a look of amazement replacing his previous jovialsmile. His eyes hardened dangerously as they encountered the face ofMcNeil. The latter was white about the lips, but primed for action,and not inclined to waste time in preliminaries.
"Look here, this ain't your time to butt in--" began Moffat, angrily,but the other waved his hand.
"Say, gents,--eh--that feller had his spiel all right--eh--ain't he?He wants to be--eh--the whole hog, but--eh,--I reckon this isa--eh--free country, ain't it? Don't I have--eh--no show?"
"Go on, Bill!"
"Of course you do."
"Make Jack Moffat shut up!"
The justly indignant president of the Bachelors' Club remainedmotionless, his mouth still open, struggling to restrain those causticand profane remarks which, in that presence, he dare not utter. Heinstinctively flung one hand back to his hip, only to remember that allguns had been left at the door. McNeil eyed him calmly, as he mighteye a chained bear, his lips parted in a genial smile.
"I--eh--ain't no great shakes of an--eh--orator," he began,apologetically, waving one hand toward his gasping rival, "likeMr.--eh--Moffat. I can't sling words round--eh--reckless, likethe--eh--gent what just had the floor, ner--eh--spout poetry, but Ireckon--eh--I kin git out--eh--'bout what I got to say. Mr. Moffathas--eh--told you what the--eh--Bachelor Miners' Club--eh--has beena-doin'. He--eh--spread it on pretty blame thick, but--eh--I reckonthey ain't--eh--all of 'em miners round this yere--eh--camp. Asthe--eh--president of the--eh--Cattlemen's Shakespearian--eh--ReadingCircle, I am asked to present to--eh--Miss Spencer a slighttoken--eh--of our esteem, and--eh--to express our pleasureat--eh--being permitted," he bowed to the choking Mr. Moffat, "eh--toparticipate in this--eh--most glorious occasion."
He stepped forward, and dropped into Miss Spencer's lap a smallplush-covered box. Her fingers pressed the spring, and, as the lidflew open, the brilliant flash of a diamond dazzled her eyes. She satstaring at it, unable for the moment to find speech. Then theassemblage burst into an unrestrained murmur of admiration, and thesound served to arouse her.
"Oh, how beautiful it all is!" she exclaimed, rapturously. "I hardlyknow what to say, or whom to thank. I never heard of anything soperfectly splendid before. It makes me cry just to remember that it isall done for me. Oh, Mr. Moffat, I want to thank, through you, thegentlemen of the Bachelors' Club for this magnificent reception. Iknow I do not deserve it, but it makes me so proud to realize theinterest you all take in my work. And, Mr. McNeil, I beg you to returnmy gratitude to the gentlemen of the--the (oh, thank you)--theCattlemen's Shakespearian Reading Circle (how very nice of you to havesuch an organization for the study of higher literature!) for thissuperb gift. I shall never forget this night, or what it has broughtme, and I simply cannot express my real feelings at all; I--I don'tknow what to say, or--or what to do."
She paused, burying her face in her hands, her body shaken with sobs.Moffat, scarcely knowing whether to swear or smile, hastily signalledfor the waiting musicians to begin. As they swung merrily into waltzmeasure he stepped forward, fully confident of his first claim for thatopening dance, and vaguely conscious that, once upon the floor withher, he might thus regain his old leadership. Miss Spencer glanced upat him through her tears.
"I--I really feel scarcely equal to the attempt," she murmurednervously, yet rising to her feet. Then a new thought seemed suddenlyto occur to her. "Oh, Mr. Moffat, I have been so highly favored, and Iam so
extremely anxious to do everything I can to show my gratitude. Iknow it is requesting so much of you to ask your relinquishment of thisfirst dance with me to-night. As president of the Bachelors' Club itis your right, of course, but don't you truly think I ought to give itto Mr. McNeil? We were together all the way from the house, you know,and we had such a delightful walk. You wouldn't truly mind yielding upyour claim for just this once, would you?"
Moffat did not reply, simply because he could not; he was struck dumb,gasping for breath, the room whirling around before him, while hestared at her with dazed, unseeing eyes. His very helplessness torespond she naturally interpreted as acquiescence.
"It is so good of you, Mr. Moffat, for I realize how you were countingupon this first dance, were n't you? But Mr. McNeil being here as theguest of your club, I think it is perfectly beautiful of you to waiveyour own rights as president, so as to acknowledge his unexpectedcontribution to the joy of our evening." She touched him playfullywith her hand, the other resting lightly upon McNeil's sleeve, herinnocent, happy face upturned to his dazed eyes. "But remember, thenext turn is to be yours, and I shall never forget this act ofchivalry."
It is doubtful if he saw her depart, for the entire room was merely anindistinct blur. He was too desperately angry even to swear. In thisemergency, Mr. Wynkoop, dimly realizing that something unpleasant hadoccurred, sought to attract the attention of his new parishioner alonghappier lines.
"How exceedingly strange it is, Mr. Moffat," he ventured, "that beingsotherwise rational, and possessing souls destined for eternity, canactually appear to extract pleasure from such senseless exercises? Ido not in the least blame Miss Spencer, for she is yet young, andprobably thoughtless about such matters, as the youthful are wont tobe, but I am, indeed, rejoiced to note that you do not dance."
Moffat wheeled upon him, his teeth grinding savagely together. "Shutup!" he snapped, fiercely, and shaking off the pastor's gentlyrestraining fingers, shouldered his passage through the crowd towardthe door.