My Brave and Gallant Gentleman Part 34

"It is indeed," I replied, "and I admire you for having saved so much.

But won't you put it into the bank, where it is absolutely safe for you? It is a positive temptation to some men, lying around here.

"The bank will give you a receipt for the money; you can draw on it when you wish and it will be earning three per cent or three hundred dollars a year for you all the time it is there."

He pondered for a while, then he dismissed the subject.

"No! Guess I'll keep it by me. No more banks for mine. I ain't so strong as I used to be and I guess three months in the coop would just about make me cash in. I ain't takin' no more chances."

Jake's method of reasoning was amusing. After all, it was no affair of mine and, now that I had unburdened myself, I felt conscience clear.

As I rose to leave, he started to talk again.

"George,--guess you'll think I'm batty,--but I'm goin' to cut out the booze."

"You are!" I exclaimed in astonishment.

"Ya! Guess maybe you think I'll make a h.e.l.l of a saint, but I ain't goin' to try to be no saint; just goin' to cut out the booze, that's all."

"What has given you this notion?" I could not help inquiring.

"Oh! maybe one thing, maybe another. Anyhow, I ain't had a lick to-night. My stomach's on fire and my head's givin' me Hail Columbia, but--I ain't had a drink to-night."

"Go easy with it, Jake," I cautioned. "You know a hard drinker like you have been can't stop all at once without hurting himself."

"I can. You just watch me," he said with determination.

"Well, then,--I think the best thing you can do in these circ.u.mstances is to take that keg in the corner there, roll it outside, pull out the stop-c.o.c.k and pour the contents on to the beach."

"No! I ain't spoilin' any booze,--George. If I can't stop it because a keg of whisky is sittin' under my nose, then I can't stop boozin'

nohow. And, if I can't stop boozin' nohow, what's the good of throwin'

away the good booze I already got, when I'd just have to order another keg and maybe have to go thirsty waitin' for it to come up."

"All right, old man," I laughed, slapping him between the shoulders, "please yourself and good luck to your attempt, anyway."

"Say!--George."

"Yes!"

"You won't say anything about this to the young lady that plays the pianner? Because, you see, I might fall down."

"I won't say a word, Jake."

"And--not to Rita, neither?" he asked plaintively, "because Rita's about the only gal cares two straws for me. She comes often when n.o.body knows about it. She brings cake and pie, and swell cooked meat sometimes. When I find anything on the table,--I know Rita's been.

I've knowed Rita since she was a baby and I've always knowed her for a good gal."

"Well, Jake;--I will keep your secret as if I had never heard it. But don't allow that drunken chum of yours, Mike, to lead you astray."

"Guess nit! Mike's got to sign the pledge same's me," he laughed in his guttural way.

I stood at the door. "And you are not going to put that money of yours in the bank, Jake?"

He spat on the ground.

"To h.e.l.l with banks," he grunted and turned inside.

CHAPTER XVI

The Devil of the Sea

It was Sunday morning, the first Sunday morning after the arrival of the American ladies at the house over the way,--for I took them to be such, and, later, my conjecture proved not a very long way out.

It had been a week of hard work, petty annoyances and unsatisfying little pleasures.

When I got up that morning, I felt jaded. As I ate my breakfast, I became more so; but, as I went out on to the veranda to look upon the beauties of Golden Crescent,--as I did every morning,--I came to myself.

This will never do, George Bremner! What you need is a swim!

I had hit it. Why had not I thought of it sooner? I undressed, and in less time than it takes to retell it, I was in the water and striking straight for Rita's Isle.

When I got there, I sunned myself on the rocks, as was my wont. I looked across towards Clarks' farm, in the hope that I might espy Rita somewhere between,--yet half hoping that I would not, for I was browsing in the changing delights and sensations of the thoughts which my solitariness engendered.

For one thing;--I had made the discovery the night before that Miss Grant's Christian name was Mary.

I had found a torn label on the beach; one, evidently, from a travelling bag. It read:

Miss Mary Grant, Pa.s.senger to Golden Crescent Bay, B. C. Canada.

ex San Francisco, per P. C. S. S. Co. to Vancouver.

That was all.

I lay on my back on the rocks, turning the name over in my mind.

Mary.... It did not sound very musical. It was a plain-Jane-and-no-nonsense kind of name.

I started in to make excuses to myself for it. Why I did so, I have no idea, but I discovered myself at it.

Mary was a Bible name. Yes!--it had that in its favour.

Famous queens had been called Mary. Yes!

The lady who owned the world-famous "little lamb" was called Mary.

And there was "Mary, Mary, quite contrary."