Bunch Grass Part 27

I'll never do it agen, if I know myself._'

"Sign that, an' give it ter me," said Uncle j.a.p.

Leveson, purple with rage and humiliation, signed it.

At this psychological moment we made our presence known.

"Uncle j.a.p," said I, "don't you think that doc.u.ment ought to be witnessed."

"Jee-whillikins! Ef it ain't you. Who's that a-peekin' behind ye?"

"It's me, Jaspar," said Mrs. Panel meekly.

Uncle j.a.p unlocked the door of the vestry and let us in. Leveson sat huddled up in his chair. Uncle j.a.p prodded him with the ancient pistol which he still held in his hands.

"Can't you offer a lady a chair?" he said testily. Leveson offered his chair, upon the extreme edge of which Mrs. Panel deprecatingly seated herself. Uncle j.a.p eyed her with wrinkled interrogation.

"What in thunder brought ye to San Lorenzy?"

Mrs. Panel twisted her fingers.

"I looked in the drawer, an' I see _that_," she indicated the weapon, "was missin'."

"Did ye? Now, Lily Panel, you don't mean to tell me that you thought I was goin' ter murder this feller?"

Mrs. Panel looked at Leveson with an expression which I have seen in the eyes of foothill mothers, whose children run barefoot, when they have found a rattlesnake. Then she drawled out: "Wal, I hoped you might, but----"

"Why, Lily! You hoped I might?"

"Yes; but I feared you'd git murdered first. Oh Jaspar, I didn't know you was sech a man."

She stood up, her eyes were s.h.i.+ning, her face radiant "Fergive me, but I reckoned you--was--petered--out?"

"Petered out--_me_?"

"Yas; I'm a silly, fullish woman."

"No, you ain't. Petered out--_me_? Wal," he glanced at Leveson, "somebody _is_ petered out, but it ain't me. Did ye ever see a man scairt worse'n him? I scairt the wizard some; yas I did, but he could run: this feller can't crawl, I reckon. An' this yere Colt wan't loaded then, an' it ain't loaded--now. Look! What an appet.i.te I hev!

Who says supper? Now, mister," he addressed Leveson, "seein' as the starch is outer you, I'll give ye my arm as fur as the Paloma."

"Leave me," gurgled Leveson.

"I'm too good a Christian. In the state yer in it'd kill ye to meet somebody else ye've robbed. It's too risky."

"Go, you scoundrel! Authority was returning to his voice; the old arrogance gleamed in his eyes.

"Scoundrel--hay?" Uncle j.a.p's voice became savage. "You come along with me--quick an' quiet. This old Colt ain't loaded, but ef I hit you over the head with the b.u.t.t of it, ye'll think it is. Come!"

In silence the four of us marched up to the Paloma, and into the big hall where a dozen men were smoking. Uncle j.a.p addressed the clerk in a loud, clear voice.

"Mr. Leveson," he said, "has just concluded a leetle deal with me.

He's bought Sunny Bushes an' the lake of ile for two hundred and fifteen thousand and one hundred dollars. Here is his note. Put it in the safe for me till to-morrer."

The chatter in the big room had ceased long before Uncle j.a.p had finished. More than one man present divined that something quite out of the ordinary had taken place. Leveson moistened his lips with his tongue. His chance had come. Had he chosen to repudiate the note, had he denounced Uncle j.a.p as obtaining at the pistol point what could be obtained in no other way, the law of the land would have released him from his bond. But Uncle j.a.p had read him aright: he was a coward.

"Yes," he said. "I've bought Sunny Bushes."

"An' dirt cheap, too," said Uncle j.a.p. He spoke to the clerk in his usual mild voice: "Can you give Mis' Panel an' me accommodation?"

"Certainly, Mr. Panel. What sort of accommodation, sir?"

Uncle j.a.p looked fondly at his wife. I doubt if she had ever crossed the threshold of the Paloma before. I could see her blinking at the marble columns, at the velvet pile rugs, and the innumerable electric lights just turned on.

"What sorter accommodation?" repeated Uncle j.a.p. "Why, anything'd do fer me, but Mis' Panel is mighty particular. We'll take the bridal suit, if it ain't engaged."

"Certainly; sitting-room, bedroom, and bathroom upon the first floor,"

said the clerk, striking a bell for the hall porter.

"Come, Lily," said Uncle j.a.p.

She raised her head, as if she were about to protest; then she smiled contentedly, and followed him out of the old life into the new.

X

WILKINS AND HIS DINAH

Wilkins had a pair of eyes that had seen better days. His features were still good, and the complexion showed quality of texture: a bloom often seen upon the faces of middle-aged men who in youth have been fair. His figure was imposing. When he lounged into a room, even a bar-room, he took the stage, so to speak; you were bound to look at him. When he spoke you listened to words, wise or otherwise. When he smiled you were seized with an absurd desire to shake his hand!

He was herding sheep for Silas Upham, a man of flocks and herds, and the father of one child, Hetty. Meeting Wilkins for the first time, I wondered what Hetty thought of her sire's shepherd.

Wilkins told us that our back fence was down, and that a bunch of steers had broken through into Upham's alfalfa. We thanked him, offering whisky and tobacco. He accepted both with captivating smile and easy nod. A minute later he was sitting in our most comfortable chair, staring at our books and engravings. His eyes lingered upon the best of these with a look of recognition. He asked no questions.

Next day we rode over to his hut, and smoked some pipes. Wilkins spoke of India, Australia, France, and Italy, but he never mentioned England. Nor did we. Presently, somewhat to our surprise, Hetty Upham cantered into camp. The day happened to be unusually hot, which accounted, perhaps, for her rosy cheeks. She delivered a message to Wilkins, exchanged a few words with us, and galloped off.

"Goes faster than she came," said Ajax.

"Yes," said Wilkins. Then he added, with emphasis: "I don't blame any girl from galloping away from such a hole as this." With a derisive glance he indicated the flies swarming about his pots and pans, the ill-trimmed lamp reeking of petroleum, the rough bunk wherein he slept, the rusty stove. We contrasted these sordid surroundings with the splendours of Silas Upham's front parlour, and then we stared furtively at Wilkins.

About a week later Wilkins supped with us. Warmed by good food and drink, his reserve concerning himself somewhat melted. We learned that he had been but two weeks in Upham's service, that he had worked his pa.s.sage down the coast from Vancouver to San Francisco.

"And how do you like the Uphams?" said Ajax.

The use of the plural provoked a slight smile.