The Depot Master Part 12

Now, two hours later, as he stood in the doorway of the club, he was debating what he should do in a certain matter. That matter concerned Major Hardee and was, therefore, an extremely delicate one. At length Mr. Gott climbed the narrow stairs and entered the clubroom. It was blue with tobacco smoke.

The six or eight members present hailed him absently and went on with their games of checkers or "seven-up." He attempted a game of checkers and lost, which did not tend to make his temper any sweeter. His ill nature was so apparent that Beriah Higgins, who suffered from dyspepsia and consequent ill temper, finally commented upon it.

"What's the matter with you, Obed?" he asked tartly. "Too much of P'lena's mince pie?"

"No," grunted Mr. Gott shortly.

"What is it, then? Ain't paint sellin' well?"

"Sellin' well 'nough. I could sell a hundred ton of paint to-morrow, more'n likely, but when it come to gittin' the money for it, that would be another story. If folks would pay their bills there wouldn't be no trouble."

"Who's stuck you now?"

"I don't s'pose anybody has, but it's just as bad when they don't pay up. I've got to have money to keep a-goin' with. It don't make no diff'rence if it's as good a customer as Major Hardee; he ought to remember that we ain't all rich like him and--"

A general movement among all the club members interrupted him. The checker players left their boards and came over; the "seven-up" devotees dropped their cards and joined the circle.

"What was that you said?" asked Higgins, uneasily. "The Major owin' you money, was it?"

"Oh, course I know he's all right and a fine man and all that,"

protested Obed, feeling himself put on the defensive. "But that ain't it. What's a feller goin' to do when he needs the money and gets a letter like that?"

He drew the crumpled sheet of note paper from his pocket, and threw it on the table. Higgins picked it up and read it aloud, as follows:

SILVERLEAF HALL, June 20th.

MY DEAR MR. GOTT: I am in receipt of your courteous communication of recent date. I make it an unvarying rule to keep little ready money here in East Harniss, preferring rather to let it remain at interest in the financial inst.i.tutions of the cities. Another rule of mine, peculiar, I dare say--even eccentric, if you like--is never to pay by check. I am expecting remittances from my attorneys, however, and will then bear you in mind. Again thanking you for your courtesy, and begging you to extend to your sister my kindest regards, I remain, my dear sir,

Yours very respectfully,

CUTHBERTSON SCOTT HARDEE.

P. S.--I shall be delighted to have the pleasure of entertaining your sister and yourself at dinner at the hall on any date agreeable to you.

Kindly let me hear from you regarding this at your earliest convenience.

I must insist upon this privilege, so do not disappoint me, I beg.

The reception accorded this most gentlemanly epistle was peculiar. Mr.

Higgins laid it upon the table and put his hand into his own pocket. So did Ezra Weeks, the butcher; Caleb Small, the dry goods dealer; "Hen"

Leadbetter, the livery stable keeper; "Bash" Taylor, the milkman, and three or four others. And, wonder of wonders, each produced a sheet of note paper exactly like Obed's.

They spread them out on the table. The dates were, of course, different, and they differed in other minor particulars, but in the main they were exactly alike. And each one of them ended with an invitation to dinner.

The members of the club looked at each other in amazement. Higgins was the first to speak.

"G.o.dfrey mighty!" he exclaimed. "Say, this is funny, ain't it? It's more'n funny; it's queer! By jimmy, it's more'n that--it's serious! Look here, fellers; is there anybody in this crowd that the Major's paid for anything any time?"

They waited. No one spoke. Then, with one impulse, every face swung about and looked up to where, upon the wall, hung the life-size photograph of the Major, dignified, gracious, and gilt-framed. It had been presented to the club two months before by Cuthbertson Scott Hardee, himself.

"Ike--Ike Peters," said Higgins. "Say, Ike--has he ever paid you for havin' that took?"

Mr. Peters, who was the town photographer, reddened, hesitated, and then stammered, "Why, no, he ain't, yet."

"Humph!" grunted Higgins. No one else said anything. One or two took out pocket memorandum books and went over some figures entered therein.

Judging by their faces the results of these calculations were not pleasing. Obed was the first to break the painful silence:

"Well!" he exclaimed, sarcastically; "ain't n.o.body got nothin' to say?

If they ain't, I have. Or, at any rate, I've got somethin' to do." And he rose and started to put on his coat.

"Hi! hold on a minute, Obed, you loon!" cried Higgins. "Where are you goin'?"

"I'm goin' to put my bill in Squire Baker's hands for c'lection, and I'm goin' to do it tonight, too."

He was on his way to the door, but two or three ran to stop him.

"Don't be a fool, Obed," said Higgins. "Don't go off ha'f c.o.c.ked. Maybe we're gittin' scared about nothin'. We don't know but we'll get every cent that's owed us."

"Don't KNOW! Well, I ain't goin' to wait to find out. What makes me b'ilin' is to think how we've set still and let a man that we never saw afore last March, and don't know one blessed thing about, run up bills and RUN 'em up. How we come to be such everlastin' fools I don't see!

What did we let him have the stuff for? Why didn't we make him pay? I--"

"Now see here, Obed Gott," broke in Weeks, the butcher, "you know why just as well as we do. Why, blast it!" he added earnestly, "if he was to come into my shop to-morrow and tip that old high hat of his, and smile and say 'twas a fine mornin and 'How's the good lady to-day?' and all that, he'd get ha'f the meat there was in the place, and I wouldn't say 'Boo'! I jest couldn't, that's all."

This frank statement was received with approving nods and a chorus of muttered "That's so's."

"It looks to me this way," declared Higgins. "If the Major's all right, he's a mighty good customer for all of us. If he ain't all right, we've got to find it out, but we're in too deep to run resks of gettin' him mad 'fore we know for sure. Let's think it over for a week. Inside of that time some of us'll hint to him, polite but firm, you understand, that we've got to have something on account. A week from to-night we'll meet in the back room of my store, talk it over and decide what to do.

What do you say?"

Everybody but Obed agreed. He declared that he had lost money enough and wasn't going to be a fool any longer. The others argued with him patiently for a while and then Leadbetter, the livery stable keeper, said sharply:

"See here, Obe! You ain't the only one in this. How much does the Major owe you?"

"Pretty nigh twenty dollars."

"Humph! You're lucky. He owes me over thirty, and I guess Higgins is worse off than any of us. Ain't that so, Beriah?"

"About seventy, even money," answered the grocer, shortly. "No use, Obed, we've got to hang together. Wait a week and then see. And, fellers," he added, "don't tell a soul about this business, 'specially the women folks. There ain't a woman nor girl in this town that don't think Major Hardee's an A1, gold-plated saint, and twouldn't be safe to break the spell on a guess."

Obed reached home even more disgruntled than when he left it. He sat up until after twelve, thinking and smoking, and when he went to bed he had a brilliant idea. The next morning he wrote a letter and posted it.

CHAPTER V

A BABY AND A ROBBERY