CHAPTER XV
"You've got Stan sized up all wrong, Mr. McClintock," said Pete. "Thatboy didn't want your money. He never so much as mentioned your name tome. If he had, I would have known why Old Man Trouble was haunting him sopersistent. And he don't want anybody's money. He's got a-plenty of hisown--in prospect. And he's got what's better than money: he has learnedto do without what he hasn't got."
"You say he has proved himself a good man of his hands?" demandedMcClintock sharply.
"Yessir--Stanley is sure one double-fisted citizen," said Pete. "Here iswhat I heard spoken of him by highest authority the day before I left:'He'll make a hand!' That was the word said of Stan to me. We don't getany higher than that in Arizona. When you say of a man, 'He'll do to takealong,' you've said it all. And Stanley Mitchell will do to take along.I'm thinkin', sir, that you did him no such an ill turn when your quarrelsent him out there. He was maybe the least bit inclined to bebutter-flighty when he first landed."
It was a queer gathering. McClintock sat in his great wheeled chair,leaning against the cushions; he held a silken skull-cap in his hand,revealing a shining poll with a few silvered locks at side and back; hislittle red ferret eyes, fiery still, for all the burden of his years,looked piercingly out under shaggy brows. His attendant, withered andbrown and gaunt, stood silent behind him. Mary Selden, quiet and pale,was at the old man's left hand. Pete Johnson, with one puffed anddiscolored eye, a bruised cheek, and with skinned and bandaged knuckles,but cheerful and sunny of demeanor, sat facing McClintock. Boland andSedgwick sat a little to one side. They had tried to withdraw, on theplea of intrusion; but McClintock had overruled them and bade them stay.
"For the few high words that passed atween us, I care not aboddle--though, for the cause of them I take shame to myself," saidMcClintock, glancing down affectionately at Mary Selden. "I was the moremisled--at the contrivance of yon fleechin' scoundrel of an Oscar. 'I'moff to Arizona, to win the boy free,' says he--the leein' cur!... I willsay this thing, too, that my heart warmed to the lad at the very time ofit--that he had spunk to speak his mind. I have seen too much of thesupple stock. Sirs, it is but an ill thing to be over-rich, in whichestate mankind is seen at the worst. The fawning sort cringe underfootfor favors, and the true breed of kindly folk are all o'erapt to pass therich man by, verra scornful-like." He looked hard at Peter Johnson. "I amnaming no names," he added.
"As for my gear, it would be a queer thing if I could not do what I likewith my own. Even a gay young birkie like yoursel' should understandthat, Mr. Johnson. Besides, we talk of what is by. The lawyer has been;Van Lear has given him instructions, and the pack of you shall witness myhand to the bit paper that does Stan right, or ever you leave this room."
Pete shrugged his shoulders. "Stanley will always be feelin' that Isoftied it up to you. And he's a stiff-necked one--Stan!"
McClintock laughed with a relish.
"For all ye are sic a fine young man, Mr. Johnson, I'm doubtin' ye're nodeeplomat. And Stan will be knowin' that same. Here is what ye shall do:you shall go to him and say that you saw an old man sitting by hisleelane, handfast to the chimney neuk; and that you are thinking I willbe needin' a friendly face, and that you think ill of him for that samestiff neck of his. Ye will be having him come to seek and not to gie;folk aye like better to be forgiven than to forgive; I do, mysel'. Thatis what you shall do for me."
"And I did not come to coax money from you to develop the mine with,either," said Pete. "If the play hadn't come just this way, with the jailand all, you would have seen neither hide nor hair of me."
"I am thinkin' that you are one who has had his own way of it overmuch,"said McClintock. His little red eyes shot sparks beneath the beetlingbrows; he had long since discovered that he had the power to badger Mr.Johnson; and divined that, as a usual thing, Johnson was a man not easilyruffled. The old man enjoyed the situation mightily and made the most ofit. "When ye are come to your growth, you will be more patient of sma'crossings. Here is no case for argle-bargle. You have taken yon twa brisklads into composition with you"--he nodded toward the brisk lads--"thecompact being that they were to provide fodder for yonder mine-beastie,so far as in them lies, and, when they should grow short of siller, toseek more for you. Weel, they need seek no farther, then. I have toldthem that I will be their backer at need; I made the deal wi' them directand ye have nowt to do with it. You are ill to please, young man! Youcome here with a very singular story, and nowt to back it but a glibtongue and your smooth, innocent-like young face--and you go back hamewith a heaped gowpen of gold, and mair in the kist ahint of that. Ithink ye do very weel for yoursel'."
"Don't mind him, Mr. Johnson," said Mary Selden. "He is only teasingyou."
Old McClintock covered her hand with his own and continued: "Listen toher now! Was ne'er a lassie yet could bear to think ill of a bonny face!"He drew down his brows at Pete, who writhed visibly.
Ferdie Sedgwick rose and presented a slip of pasteboard to McClintock,with a bow.
"I have to-day heard with astonishment--ahem!--and with indignation, agreat many unseemly and disrespectful remarks concerning money, and moreparticularly concerning money that runs to millions," he said, opposinga grave and wooden countenance to the battery of eyes. "Allow me topresent you my card, Mr. McClintock, and to assure you that I harbor nosuch sentiments. I can always be reached at the address given; and I begyou to remember, sir, that I shall be most happy to serve you in theevent that--"
A rising gale of laughter drowned his further remarks, but he continuedin dumb show, with fervid gesticulations, and a mouth that moved rapidlybut produced no sound, concluding with a humble bow; and stalked back tohis chair with stately dignity, unmarred by even the semblance of asmile. Young Peter Johnson howled with the rest, his sulks forgotten;and even the withered serving-man relaxed to a smile--a portent hithertounknown.
"Come; we grow giddy," chided McClintock at last, wiping his own eyes ashe spoke. "We have done with talk of yonder ghost-bogle mine. But I musttrouble you yet with a word of my own, which is partly to justify mebefore you. This it is--that, even at the time of Stanley's flitting, Iset it down in black and white that he was to halve my gear wi' Oscar,share and share alike. I aye likit the boy weel. From this day all ischangit; Oscar shall hae neither plack nor bawbee of mine; all goes to mywife's nephew, Stanley Mitchell, as is set down in due form in the bittestament that is waiting without; bating only some few sma' bequests forold kindness. It is but loath I am to poison our mirth with the name ofthe man Oscar; the deil will hae him to be brandered; he is fast grippit,except he be cast out as an orra-piece, like the smith in the Norrowaytale. When ye are come to your own land, Mr. Johnson, ye will find thatbrockle-faced stot there afore you; and I trust ye will comb him weel.Heckle him finely, and spare not; but ere ye have done wi' him, for mysake drop a word in his lug to come nae mair to Vesper. When all's said,the man is of my wife's blood and bears her name; I would not have thatname publicly disgracit. They were a kindly folk, the Mitchells. Ithought puirly of theem for a wastrel crew when I was young. But now I amold, I doubt their way was as near right as mine. You will tell him forme, Mr. Johnson, to name one who shall put a value on his gear, and Ishall name another; and what they agree upon I shall pay over to hisdoer, and then may I never hear of him more--unless it be of ony glisk ofgood yet in him, the which I shall be most blithe to hear. And so letthat be my last word of Oscar. Cornelius, bring in the lawyer body, andlet us be ower wi' it; for I think it verra needfu' that the two ladsshould even pack their mails and take train this day for the West. You'llhave an eye on this young spark, Mr. Boland? And gie him a bit word ofcounsel from time to time, should ye see him temptit to whilly-whas andfollies? I fear me he is prone to insubordination."
"I'll watch over him, sir," laughed Boland.
"I'll keep him in order. And if Miss Selden should have a message--oranything--to send, perhaps--"
Miss Selden blushed and laughed.
"No, thank you!" she said. "I'll--I'll
send it by Mr. Johnson."
The will was brought in. McClintock affixed his signature in a firm roundhand; the others signed as witnesses.
"Man Johnson, will ye bide behind for a word?" said McClintock as thefarewells were said. When the others were gone, he made a sign to VanLear, who left the room.
"I'm asking you to have Stanley back soon--though he'll be coming for thelassie's sake, ony gate. But I am wearyin' for a sight of the lad's facethe once yet," said the old man. "And yoursel', Mr. Johnson; if you visitto York State again, I should be blithe to have a crack with you. But itmust be early days, for I'll be flittin' soon. I'll tell you this, that Iam real pleased to have met with you. Man, I'll tell ye a dead secret. Yeken the auld man ahint my chair--him that the silly folk ca' RamesesSecond in their sport? What think ye the auld body whispert to me butnow? That he likit ye weel--no less! Man, that sets ye up! Cornelius hasnot said so much for ony man these twenty year--so my jest is trueenough, for all 'twas said in fleerin'; ye bear your years well and thecredentials of them in your face. Ye'll not be minding for an old man'sdaffin'?"
"Sure not! I'm a great hand at the joke-play myself," said Pete. "Andit's good for me to do the squirmin' myself, for once."
"I thought so much. I likit ye mysel', and I'll be thinkin' of you,nights, and your wild life out beyont. I'll tell you somethin' now,and belike you'll laugh at me." He lowered his voice and spoke wistfully."Man, I have ne'er fought wi' my hands in a' my life--not since I was awean; nor yet felt the pinch of ony pressin' danger to be facit, that Imight know how jeopardy sorts wi' my stomach. I became man-grown as ahalflin' boy, or e'er you were born yet--a starvelin' boy, workin' forbare bread; and hard beset I was for't. So my thoughts turned allmoney-wise, till it became fixture and habit with me; and I took nae timefor pleasures. But when I heard of your fight yestreen, and how youbegawked him that we are to mention no more, and of your skirmishes andby-falls with these gentry of your own land, my silly auld blood leapitin my briskit. And when I was a limber lad like yourself, I do thinktruly that once I might hae likit weel to hae been lot and part ofsiclike stir and hazard, and to see the bale-fires burn.
"Bear with me a moment yet, and I'll have done. There is a hard questionI would spier of you. I thought but ill of my kind in my younger days.Now, being old, I see, with a thankful heart, how many verra fine peopleinhabit here. 'Tis a rale bonny world. And, lookin' back, I see too oftenwhere I have made harsh judgings of my fellows. There are more excusesfor ill-doings to my old eyes. Was't so with you?"
"Yes," said Pete. "We're not such a poor lot after all--not when we stopto think or when we're forced to see. In fire or flood, or sickness,we're all eager to bear a hand--for we see, then. Our purses and ourhearts are open to any great disaster. Why, take two cases--the telephonegirls and the elevator boys. Don't sound heroic much, do they? But, byGod, when the floods come, the telephone girls die at their desks, stillsendin' out warnings! And when a big fire comes, and there are lives tosave, them triflin' cigarette-smoking, sassy, no-account boys run theelevators through hell and back as long as the cables hold! Every time!"
The old man's eye kindled. "Look ye there, now! Man, and have ye noticedthat too?" he cried triumphantly. "Ye have e'en the secret of it. We'regood in emairgencies, the now; when the time comes when we get a glimmerthat all life is emairgency and tremblin' peril, that every turn may bethe wrong turn--when we can see that our petty system of suns and all isnobbut a wee darkling cockle-boat, driftin' and tossed abune the waves inthe outmost seas of an onrushing universe--hap-chance we'll no loom sograndlike in our own een; and we'll tak' hands for comfort in the dark.'Tis good theology, yon wise saying of the silly street: 'We are all inthe same boat. Don't rock the boat!'"
* * * * *
When Peter had gone, McClintock's feeble hands, on the wheel-rims, pushedhis chair to the wall and took from a locked cabinet an old and fadeddaguerreotype of a woman with smiling eyes. He looked at it long andsilently, and fell asleep there, the time-stained locket in his hands.When Van Lear returned, McClintock woke barely in time to hide thelocket under a cunning hand--and spoke harshly to that aged servitor.