CHAPTER III
A BIG BLAZIN' LAUGH
"Fine sight that, sir."
Reynolds turned sharply at these words, and saw the old man with thelong beard and flowing hair standing at his left. Although he himselfwas almost six feet in height, he seemed small by the side of thisstranger, who was looking calmly out over the water toward thefog-bank, which had now lifted and was slowly dissolving.
"Ye don't see the likes of that often," he continued, "an' it ain'teveryone who kin read its meanin', either."
"What do you see there?" Reynolds asked, more interested in hearing theman's deliberate drawl than the meaning of the fog-bank.
"Wall, it seems to me that a fog-bank hasn't a ghost of a chance ferlife when the sun hits it good an' hard."
"That one hasn't, anyway," Reynolds replied, as he watched the cloudgradually thinning and drifting away.
"It's the same with all clouds, sir, an' it makes no difference whetherthey're hangin' over the water or over one's life. They're bound todisappear when the sun gits after 'em."
"Do you think so?"
"I sartinly do. Why, there isn't a cloud but'll gather up its skirtsan' run when a good big blazin' laugh gits after it. An' that's whatwe want in this world to-day; more cheerfulness, more of the joy oflife."
"Have you tried it?"
"Y'bet I have, an' it's allus worked like a charm. I could tell ye ofmany a squabble that's been settled by the means of a smilin' face an'a good hearty laugh. There's nuthin' like it."
"You're an optimist, I see," and Reynolds smiled for the first time inmany a day. He could not help it, for this stranger radiated astimulating influence of cheerfulness and goodwill.
"I try to be, sir, an' when I see a fog-bank hoverin' over people likethat one did out yonder a little while ago, I consider it my duty toact like the sun an' drive it away. Then, there's good feelin' allaround, 'specially among the ones who were under the cloud."
"I imagine it is that way with those men who have just been picked up.They must feel happy over the lifting of the fog at the right moment."
"That's jist what I mean. It meant much to them."
"Do you know who they are?"
"Miners, no doubt, who wish to go north. They've been prospectingmebbe, on some of the islands along the coast, an' started out to haila passin' steamer. They do it at times."
"And the steamers always pick them up?"
"Sure; they wouldn't go by without takin' 'em on board, no matter whothey are. It's the great Brotherhood of man, ye see, back of it all,an' ye'll find that spirit stronger the farther north ye go. It'sdifferent here from what it is in the big cities, an' the more yepreach of that the better."
"Preach! What do you mean?" Reynolds asked in amazement.
"You be one of them missionary chaps, ain't ye?"
Reynolds laughed. "What makes you think so?"
"Dunno, 'cept yer solemncoly face, an' the way yer dressed.Missionaries ginerally come north lookin' about as you do, to turn thesinner from the error of his way, an' to convart the heathen Injun.They're not overly pop'lar up thar."
"Why not?"
"Oh, they've too high an' mighty notions about the way men should live;that's the trouble."
"And so you think they should make themselves popular with the men, eh?In what way?"
"By bein' one of 'em, an' not bein' too hard on what they do."
"Do you think that their great Master ever said that they would bepopular, and that they were to please all men?" Reynolds defensivelyasked.
"I dunno. Guess I can't recall anything He ever said about thematter," and the old man scratched his head in perplexity.
"Didn't He tell His first disciples that they would be hated of all menfor His name's sake when He sent them forth to do His work?"
"I believe He did," was the reluctant assent. "But that was a longtime ago. Things are different now."
"Only outwardly, remember. The heart is the same in all ages; youcan't change that. If it is evil and full of vileness, it is bound tohate the good. Surely you know that."
"Then you really are one of them missionary chaps?" and the old maneyed Reynolds curiously.
"No, I am not," was the emphatic reply.
"But ye quote Scripter like a parson, though. I thought mebbe ye was."
"Is it necessary to be a parson to know something about the Bible?Isn't this a Christian land? Why shouldn't I know something about thegreatest Book in the world? My mother taught it to me when I was achild, and I learned a great deal about it when I went to Sundayschool. I did not value it so much then, but when over in France, withdeath on all sides, much of it came back to me, and I honestly confessit was a great comfort."
"An' so ye was over thar, young man? Wall, that's sartinlyinterestin'. Fer how long?"
"Nearly four years. I enlisted at the beginning of the war."
"An' come through all right?"
"Look," and Reynolds bared his left arm, showing a great scar. "I haveseveral more on my body, some worse than that."
"Ye don't tell! My, I'm glad I've met ye. Got some medals, I s'pose."
Reynolds made no reply, as he already felt ashamed of himself forhaving told this much. It was not his nature to speak about himself,especially to a stranger, and he was determined to say nothing aboutthe medals he had received for conspicuous bravery, and which hecarried in his breast pocket.
"Do you smoke?" he suddenly asked.
"Yes; an old hand at it. Good fer the nerves."
"Well, suppose we go and have a smoke now. I am just in the mood forone myself."
Together they made their way to the smoking-room, which was situatedwell aft. It was partly filled with men, smoking, chatting, andplaying cards. The air was dense with various brands of tobacco,making it impossible to see clearly across the room. No one paid anyheed to the two as they entered, sat down in one corner of the room,filled and lighted their pipes. Reynolds noted that his companionbecame suddenly silent, and seemed to be deeply interested in four menplaying cards at a small table a short distance from where they weresitting.
"Do you play?" Reynolds asked, thinking that the old man might be fondof cards.
"No," was the brief and absent-minded reply.
Reynolds said no more, but watched the four men. His attention waschiefly centered upon one who was facing him, and who was doing most ofthe talking. He was a young man, with a dark moustache and black curlyhair. He played with keen interest and in a lofty dominating manner.Reynolds did not like his appearance, and the more he studied him thestronger became his repugnance. It was not only the low brutal facethat compelled this feeling, but the coarse language that reeked fromhis lips. This so disgusted Reynolds that he was about to leave theroom, when in an instant a commotion took place among the players.They sprang to their feet, and a miniature babel ensued.
"You're cheating."
"I'm not."
"You're a liar."
These were some of the terms hurled forth in sharp rasping sentences,and it seemed as if blood must surely be shed ere the confusion ended.As the word "liar" rang out, a sudden silence followed, and at oncehands rested upon butts of revolvers concealed in four hip-pockets.But before they were drawn a peculiar noise broke the stillness, whichcaused Reynolds to start, for the sound came from the old prospector'slips.
"Me-o-o-o-ow. Me-o-o-o-ow. Bow-wow-wow. Bow-wow-wow."
So unexpected was this interruption that all in the room stared inamazement, and even the four angry men turned to see whence the soundcame. So perfect was the imitation, and so humorous the expressionupon the face of the old man, that the onlookers burst into a heartylaugh, which caused the four inflamed players to shuffle uneasily, andto look sheepishly at one another. Then their mouths expanded into agrin, and the storm was over.
The curly-haired man at once left his place and strode over to wherethe prospector was sitting.
"Frontier Samson!" he exclaimed, gripping him firmly
by the hand. "Isit really you?"
"Sure, it's me, all right, Curly. Who else did ye think it was; meghost?"
"Not when I heard that cat-call, an' the bow-wow."
"Heard 'em before, eh? Guess this isn't the first scrape I've got yeout of, is it?"
"Should say not. But where in h---- did ye drop from, Sam? I didn'tknow ye were on board."
"Oh, I'm jist on a visit from the outside. An' it's mighty lucky thatI'm here, or else I don't know what 'ud have happened. Better leavecards alone, Curly, if ye can't play without fightin'. They makepeople act like a bunch of kids."
"It was those d---- fools' fault, though, Sam."
"Thar, now, don't make excuses an' blame others, Curly. That's jistwhat kids allus do. An' cut out them unholy words. There might be aparson around."
Curly flung himself down upon a seat, and lighted a cigarette. He casta furtive glance at Reynolds, thinking that perhaps he might be the"parson."
"What have ye been doin', Curly?" the old man asked. "An' why was yedriftin' out under that fog-bank? Ye nearly got left, let me tell yethat."
"I know we did, and I thought that d----, excuse me, Sam," heapologized, as he again glanced toward Reynolds. "I mean, I thoughtthat the fog-bank would never lift. We've been doing some of theislands for several months."
"Strike anything?"
"Nothing, an' nearly starved in the bargain. If it hadn't been fer anIndian mission, we wouldn't be alive now."
"Then missionaries are of some use after all, Curly. You was allushard on 'em, if I remember right."
"Umph! They're all right when one's starving. If they'd only leavethe Gospel dope out, it wouldn't be so bad."
"Got a dose of it, eh?"
"Should say I did. Morning, noon an' night I had to go to church withthe Indians. I've had enough to last me the rest of me life. Say,weren't we glad to get away!"
"Goin' north agin? I thought ye was through, up thar?"
"So did I. But we heard of the new strike at Big Draw, an' decided totry our luck once more."
"Think ye'll hit it this time?"
"I hope so. But it isn't altogether the gold that's taking me back.There's something more attractive."
"So I imagined."
"I thought you would understand." Curly's voice was eager now."She'll not escape me this time. Gad, she's a beaut! But as wild as ahawk."
"An' so ye think ye'll corner her, eh?" There was a peculiar note inSamson's voice which Reynolds was quick to detect, but which Curlymissed.
"Just you wait an' see," the latter reminded. "That old cuss thinkshe's got a regular Gibraltar behind those hills with his lousy Indians.But I'll show him a thing or two."
"Ye've never been thar, have ye?" Samson queried.
"Never. But the bird comes out of her nest sometimes, ye know, an'then----"
"You'll be the hawk, is that it?" Samson asked as the other paused.
"Oh, I'll be around," Curly laughed. "One doesn't run across the likesof her every day, an' she's the gold I'm really after."
"Wall, all I kin say is this," the prospector replied, as he roseslowly to his feet, "that ye'd better be mighty keerful, young man.That Giberalter, as ye call it, is guarded by a lion that ain't to befooled with. He's got claws that reach from sun-up to sun-down asseveral smarter ones than you have found out to their sorrow. Leavehim alone, an' he'll bother nobody. But interfere with that lass ofhis, an' the hull north won't be big enough to hide ye. That's mywarnin', an' if yer not a fool ye'll heed it."
Reynolds had a good long sleep that afternoon. He had been muchdisturbed the night before by several men in the next room, who shoutedand sang until early morning. During the evening he went out upondeck, well forward, as he wished to be alone, and away from the men whowere drinking and gambling in other parts of the steamer. It was abeautiful evening, with scarcely a ripple disturbing the surface of thewater. The air was mild, and when the sun went down, the moon rose bigand cheery above the dense dark forest away to the right. Reynoldsthought over the conversation he had heard between Frontier Samson andthe man known as "Curly." That the latter was a scoundrel he had notthe slightest doubt. His face alone would have betrayed him even if hehad not spoken a word. He was curious concerning the reference to"Gibraltar," the "lion," and the "lass."
As he thus sat and mused, listening to the zip-zip of the vessel as itcut through the water, his mind naturally drifted off to her of thestreet crossing incident. He wondered what had become of her. Why hadshe left the railing in such a hurry, and what was the cause of thesudden pallor that had come upon her face? Had Curly anything to dowith her agitation, and was it possible that she was the girl to whomhe referred? As this idea flashed into his mind, he sat bolt uprightin his chair. It did seem reasonable when he considered it. In fact,it gave him a certain degree of pleasure as well. If his suspicionswere true, then the girl needed protection from that brute, and was itnot his duty to keep a sharp lookout, and if necessary to protect herfrom all harm?
And as he thought of this, the girl herself came upon deck, and walkedat once toward the bow close to the tall flag-staff, which pointedupwards like a quivering slender needle. Reynolds could see herplainly as she stood looking straight before her. A cloak was throwncarelessly over her shoulders, and her head was bare. What a perfectpicture of gracefulness she presented to the admiring young man as hewatched her by the light of the full-orbed moon. How he longed to goforward, speak to her, and listen to her voice. But, no, he did notdare to do that. He must adore her at a distance and wonder what shewas thinking about.
Presently an idea leaped into his mind that thrilled his entire being.He was pushing out into the Great Unknown, with all its dangers anduncertainties. But standing there before him was his guiding star, theone girl in all the world who unconsciously had inspired and stirredhim to action. Was she really to be his guiding star? Anyway, thesight of her standing before him seemed to be a favorable portent ofthe future.
For almost half an hour the girl stood silently at the bow, apparentlyunconscious that anyone was near. Reynolds remained a long time aftershe had gone. It was good to be there on such a night, with no one todisturb him, alone with a fair vision before him, and a sweet peace inhis soul.