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DOWNEY & CO.'S MEW WOYELS.

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12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON.

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

STORIES BY MORLEY ROBERTS.

THE DEGRADATION OF GEOFFREY ALWITH. 2/-
ADVENTURE3 OF A SHIP'S DOCTOR. 2/-
THE EARTH MOTHER. 3/6
THE CIRCASSIAN. By M. Roberts and Max

MONTESOLE. 3/6

Downey & Co., Ltd., Publishers, London.

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

MORLEY ROBERTS

DOWNEY & CO. Ltd.
12 YORK STREET, CO VENT GARDEN. LONDON

1897
[^// rights reserved}

LONDON :

PRINTED BV GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED,

ST. JOHN'S HOUSE, CL2RKENWELL, E.C.

P^ V^ 3 6"

CONTENTS.

The " Onderdonk " .

A DEAD Tramp .

The Boss of Myall Blocks

Two Men and a River .

The Arbitrator

At Waldo ....

Like a Man

The Arrow-maker .

In a Windjammer .

The Gold Mine of Kertch Bar

a lone wo'.f ...

On a taut Bowline

Wash-tub Davis

The Mark on the Shack

Tke Affair at Big Springs

The Doctor of Red Creek

FACE
I

S3
64

85
103
108

113
121
127
144

149
164
180
194
208

. '. T* '- T w.

r i

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

THE " ONDERDONK."

" It ain't to be done," said Griffiths ; " she
cayn't do it, not if she busts herself."

" Well, I reckon as Andy Onderdonk ain't
no slouch of a man," answered his partner
Pete, "and he figures it out that she can.
And them as built her figures it out so, and,
taking tlie lot together, I'll back Andy."

"Agin the Eraser?" asked old Griff
solemnly.

" Agin the Eraser," said Pete.

" Agin this yer river that's roaring below
us?"

"Agin thish yer river," said Pete, and
sitting down on a rock he dangled his long legs
over the swift, dark stream far below him.

Griffiths sat down beside him, and, pulling
out his pipe, proceeded to fill it out of a little
bag with a big bull's head on it. He was a
very long, thin man, of a melancholy malarial

1 B

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

type. For he came from Arkansas, the land
c^corns and frogs, of ague and saw-mills, and
he earned dry quinine in his wai.tcoatpoket

sZlr^;:' '''''''' '''''''''^'''''''''^'^^^^^
When his pipe was well alight, he cleared
a space of gravel with his bony hand, and
transferred himself to a more comfor'table

" Time will tell, sonny," he remarked, after

a long interval, "and I dunno as evel- any
good came of argument. But what I asks
|s,_^do tney know the river and the ways of

said Pef '"/■ V""^''' ""^^ considerable,"
sa,d Pete For the men called the big con-
tractor Andy or A. O, according to the^r

.uilV"'^^"^- 2- ^'' ^^"^^^^ °" it consider-

befooled bya nver, not even one hke this
which IS awkward, I allow." '

Griff shrugged his shoulders
PetfpT ^°"^ ^^^^ y^" bi^^bout this canon,

" Since the road started, old man."

THE "0N[)ERD0NK"

" Of course you have, and how long have I
bin here ? ''

And Pete did not answer because he knew
that Griffiths would answer it himself.

"For nigh on to twenty years," said
Griffiths, gloomily, " and I'm as rich now as
I was then. But I know this river. You've
never seen it rise, Pete, but I have. It can go
higher than we are here. And it's a blind
roaring hells o' waters then. Oh, yes, I know
as A. O. don't propose to run his boat then,
but what I'd like to know is where he'll tie
her up to wait for no more than a common
every-day sort of current. Can you name any
place ? "

But Pete shook his head.

" And any time you can't tru. . the Fraser,"
said Griff. *' Have you watched her day in
and day out ? There ain t no reckoning and
figuring as will put a man equal to a river in
a carion like this yer canon, that's narrow and
black. This river's like a man in a tieht
place. You may know a man for years when
things goes easy, and you can prophesy
straight as to what he'll do. So to speak, he's
just a river as runs in a broad place, and
ain't squeezed nor crushed nor put about.
Why, you know as well as you l-v.ow your

3 H 2

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

own knife or your own gun as he'll work so
long and then have a bit of a jamboree, and
go back to work again. But if he's a moss-
back with a heavy mortgage on him, and his
wife s a cultus lot and his boys cultus too, as
won't work, and a bad season comes and his
house is burnt up-vvhy, can you prophesy
on him then ? " •' r r /

" Um," said Pete, who was considering in
a so- ' of brown study the dreadful posftion
of th maginary farmer.

" Of course you can't," cried Griff in a
sort of melancholy triumph. "And that's
the river here, crushed up in this canon ' It
runs here at ten miles an hour and there at
fifteen, and at times all the current is below
the surface, and then there's whirly pools
Oh I tell you it's hell ; and I says as Andv
Onderdonk won't pull this off for all he's a
clever man, and, for that matter, a good sort
in his way. His derned new steamer ain't
going to run more'n one trip here, and I'm
sorry for the widows as is wives now."

And he rose up, knocked his pipe out on the

heel of his boot, and walked to his old shanty.

^ But meanwhile on a long, low island in the

river many men were working at the very

object of all Griffiths' melancholy forebodings

THE "ONDERDONK"

Carriage just there was very expensive, and
Andy Onder lonk had hit on the notion of a
steamer to run from Boston Bar to Lytton
and back, to save haulage. So he sent to
Victoria, and they brought him a small, swift
steamer in numbered pieces, with men to put
her together. She came in the train as fa, -^s
Yale, and then by wagon to just belc '
Lytton. She was guaranteed to run fifteen
knots an hour.

"And that will get her over the worst
riffles," said Andy. But the river knew better
than that, and so did the men who put the
Onderdonk together.

They discussed the matter over their
riveting, over their grub, and before falling
asleep. Even before Andy they were not
running full of hope. They sometimes
almost asked him to discount disaster.

" You can't tell that a boat will run up to
her contract time just at first, sir," said the
foreman. "And t-his boat must or — "

"If she doesn't," said Andy, "why, it can't
be helped."

" But do you know the river, sir ? " as^ed
the foreman. " It looks a chancy sort of a
place. I own I wouldn't Hke to be on her
on her trial trip. "

RTRONO MEN AND TRUI?

•• Oh, shc'il do ii," said Andy. Vor he ;vas
a b.^r, .stron^r, hopdul man, full of red blood
and the love of natural conquest. It is such
men who dominate the l)i^r uoild and elude
what caimot be struck down or fought with

And now -.vas the day when the Onderdonk
was eased sideways into the stream, on the
very edge of which she had been put together,
lliey fitted the last of the slern-wheel as she
ay in the water, being hdd with two big
hawsers Irom the island and the high oppos
ing bank. Then the two engineers got up
steam. She was easy to tire, and the furnace
worked like a charm.

The pressure ro.c over a hundred, and
crawled uj) to a hundred and fort)-. Then
tlio men's nerves got on edge, for Jic time
was commg, and Andy was on deck with
one-armed King and his brother Bill the
iNvo best pilots of the lower river-men of
ner^e and knowledge, and ready skill in
moments of danger.

"But this is all experiment, Mr. Onder-
<lonk," said King, "and it all depends on
what slie can do. And even then—"

"Oh. dry up," said Andy, rather fretfully
And Kmg winked at his hrothc-. They were
the only two calm men there.

1 1

THE "ONDERDONK"

Now, f)n tlic opposing bank stood the
whole population of f.ytton, vvlio had come
down stri-am for a n.ile to see if Andy's
exj)crinient was going to be a success or not.
The very hotel bars in tiie little town were
deserted — even the stolid Indians came to
look on. They brought their klootchmen,
and the klootchmen brought their papooses.

And on the island stood the workmen, the
engineers and fitters who had fixed the boat
up for her struggle with the river.

Perhaps the Fraser's upper waters in the
far and frozen north chuckled as they rol'ed
turbidly to the river's junction. The blue
Thompson, north and south fork, laughed,
and the big lakes were stirred as they poured
out their crystal waters through the smaller
canoi^s in tl e dry belt of alkali land. And
where the Thompson lost its name, and the
married streams rushed as one for the great
caiion, they seemed bitter and sulky and
black.

Who was this insect man to play with the
ancient and tremendous majesty of their
unpolluted waters ? Let him, if he would,
dally with the broad floods where they were
peaceful and serene, where they rested from
their labours in the loftier hills, but they bade

1 ,
f ■

} I

■f I

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

him stand aside when they dove asunder the

big black range that barred them from the

t'acihc and the great deep.
And now the stern-wheel began to move,

and, as it dashed the water into foam, the

stram slackened on the hawsers.
"Stand by to cast them off when I sina

out, roared King, as he stood by his brother"
who held the wheel. " Full speed, Jack ' " '
And the engineer opened her out. The
hawsers ceased singing and dipned into the
waters, which caught them and 'pulled The
starboard hawser was in the main stream
and, as the boat began to move swiftly in the
shelter of the island, it lay out in a long
curve, marking the sullen flood with a line of
breaking waves. But now it dragged heavilv,
and sheered the boat's bows perceptibly info
the stream.

.hlY', ^?'"/°^''^d K"^g; but, even as he
shouted, Andy seized an axe and cut the
hawser with two clean blows. The other one
was cast off, and the first voyage ofthehttH
Merdouk, Andy's darling, daring child r ^
begun. '

swiftly .nd more swiftly yet past the island,
and to those who did not understand the

THE "ONDERDONK

river it seemed as though victory was as-
sured.

" Look," cried Pete, " look ! "

"Ay, look, and look again," said Griffiths.
" Wait till she's in the Fraser, man. For by
God ! she's got to face it all. Oh, ho ! face
the big music, Andy! This ain't no easy
Mississippi ; you cayn't dodge her by crawling
close in shore. She's equal from bank to
bank in the open. Ay, look, look!" he
shouted.

And, as he called, an odd sound ran out
of the crowd, and it seemed as if a mist
obscured the sun.

For, as the steamer shot up past the island,
she met the Fraser full, and stopped almost
dead. To those on board it seemed as if she
had run on a soft bank and lay there.

" Give it her, give it her," said King to the
engineer, who had his head out in the open.

" She's got every pound, and mere," cried
the engineer.

And for one long, one incredibly long,
minute the boat hung in the stream, making
?nch by inch. But, even so, she scarcely
seemed a mere thing made by man. She
was alive and desperate, an active creature
overpowered by brutal strength. She

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

creaked and quivered, and the rivets gave
here and there, and the - -ry deck heaved and
bent hke thin ice as a daring skater speeds
over It. For the foam stood up against her
bows, and the two deck hands forward were
paralyzed.

Until this day they had not known the
river ; they had only watched it from the
banks. Now they were in the hollow of the
hand of something mightier and more awful
than the open sea, and, for all the power of
steam and the strength of proved steel, they
were like ants on a chip in a mountain torrent.
They whitened visibly, and their under lips
hung down.

Even Andy weakened.

" Can she do it ? " he cried.

And, even as King looked over him with
set jaws and the ghost of a smile on his face,
the vessel moved to starboard in spite of the
helm. Over the hiss of the waters came the
groan of the crowd, and the very voices of
separate men were distinct. He heard Pete
cry out, and he saw old Griff throw up his
arms almost with joy. For the old man was
on the side of the river.

•' She's done, she's done," said he. And
he ran down stream, knowing that in a

THE "ONDERDONK"

minute or two the steamer would yield
utterly.

And as he ran King gave way and jammed
the helm hard over to port to let her go, to
save her from the rocks on the other side to
which her nose pointed. He yelled to the
engineer, " Stop her ! "

Then she was a chip on the waters. But,
after one breathless and helpless minute,
which took them almost to the lower end of
the island from which they had started, King
called again to the engineer :

" Full speed ahead ! "

And though the men below were bidding
good-bye to the things of the upper air, they
opened her up again. As he got a little
steerage way on her. King put the helm hard
over again and stranded her in the only spot
sheltered from the stream. A cheer went up
from the running crowd. For the victory of
the river was not complete.

" I did my best," said King.

" I guess you did," said \ndy. " Tie her
up."

And he went ashore by a plank thrust out
from the bows. As his feel crunched on the
gravel he felt as though he had not known
the solid earth for strange long years, so

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

extreme in concentrated expectation of
imminent disaster had been the last few
mmutes^ He sat down on a rock and con-

but^hu^^ '""^^^'^ ^^^^"^^^ - -^ -^«

'^1 King," he called, presently,
houst'"^'" ''"''''*'''''^ ^'"^ ^'■^"^ t'le little pilot

" This isn't put through."

" How ? " said King.

"We mucked it," said Andy, whose pure
Umted States dialect was somedmes oSdly
fouled by extraneous slang. For among his

ofTh:rth^"^'''"^^"'^^^---^^"-'^^

^JWe^dKl," said King, brightly, spitting into

" Any good tryin^ again .? "
^^^1 Make her a twenty-knot boat and I'll

" Z^r) '" ^T ^' '^' f'--"^^'" ^^'d Andy.
■tSut this trip isn't through."

"How?" said King again. And his
brother Bill came on deck.

"What shall I do mit?" said Andy in
familiar shorthand. ^

^_^j'Tote her in wagons up to the lakes," said

THE "ONDERDONK"

" I'll not touch a rivet," said Andy. " And
I'll have her on the lower river. What'll you
take her there for, King .' "

Neither of the brothers spoke, but both
turned and looked down the long canon.
And what they saw with their eyes was
nothmg. In their minds they beheld the
worst of the tortured stream below the bar.
Could it be done at all ?

'• It spells out. in dollars, Mr. Onderdonk "
said King. *

•*I never reckoned it in cents," replied
Andy, as he threw a bit of drift quartz into
the river.

Thu brothers spoke together for a moment.

" It could he done with three men," said
King, presently ; " but they must be hired."

" That's so," said Andy.

"There's me and Bill here. And the
engineer."

" There ain't the engineer," said Bill.
" No } " asked Andy. " Won't he ? "
" Not if I know him. It took trouble to

get him this morning. But we'll iind a

man."

" I'll give two thousand dollaio to have her
safe at Yale," said Andy.

" We'll take three," answered Kiiia.
^3

STRONG MEN AND TRUE .

" Say two and half."
" And three to our widows if—"
** If I lose the boat ? " said Andy,
"That's so, Mr. Onderdonk. And fair
enough."

And Andy considered.

"Done," he said. "And you find the
engineer ? "

King nodded.

"But you will have her ready, with her
nose down stream, and properly fixed, Mr.
Onderdonk ? "

" Of course. How long will you be gettinc
to Yale?" **

"It's fifty miles," said King. "Or say
forty-five. The stream runs over fifteen ; we
can do fifteen. An hour and three-quarters,
say two hours, Mr. Onderdonk. We shall be
there."

" But bring the steamer,' said Andy with
a smile. "I'd come with you, but I've too
many people depending on me."

And he walked ashore fi om t..e little island
by a high plank bridge.

"I beheve he would," said King. And
Bill nodded.

Tracey's Hotel at Lytton was mighty full
that night, and, for the matter of that, some of

THE "ONDERDONK"

the men were fuller. And one of them was
the engmeer whose nerve had not been quite
equal to the strain. He lay under a side table
wjth h.s head on a stray gripsack. Pete and
Uid Griffiths were sitting hard by and were
not drunk, though Pete was not quite sober.
What did I tell you ? " asked Griff for the
twentieth time since Andy's hope had gone
on the rocks.

. ;' ^^',^°"\ --"^ '^ ^"'" ^^id Pete, a little
sulkily, I ain't a Chinaman. If I was off it
so was Andy, and he's a dern sight smarted
than most betwixt the Cascades and the
Rockies. And he had the sand to go on
her. " "

" You mean that for me ? " said Griffiths
pathetically, as he pulled at the knots in his'
^'■^gged grey beard.

"You could have had the job. Now
couldn't he ? " cried Pete, appealing to the
crowd at the bar, which included the two
Kings.

"What job?"

" Engineer on Andy's boat."

Old Griff got up.

" And what for should I take the position
when I knowed she couldn't face the river'
not longer than a man swimmin' ? " '

ill

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

'* Would you take it to go down stream in
her ? " asked one-armed King. And all the
crowd laughed. It seemed so impossible.

" Well, I don't know as I mightn't be hired
to do that," said Griff, with his head on one
side and his eyes on the floor. He looked
like a ragged and humorous but melancholy
vulture. "For there's a big difference, the
biggest sort of difference, between the two
things. Figuring on the flow of this yer
river, I, as have know'd it for years, knowed
it couldn't be done. But to go down might
be done. It's only dangerous ; but not
impossible. That's where the difference
is."

That raised a subtle metaphysical argu-
ment. For one man argued that where a
very great number of dangers existed which
" no man couldn't avoid," why, that was just
the same as impossible.

" You don't see it, don't you ? " sneered
Griffiths. " Well, and if you don't, who looked
for you to ? But there's just the difference
between jumping up to the top of a big fir
tree and jumping cff the top of the same.
You haven't no logic, no real logic. That's
always your fault, Simons. Now, I
remember — "

THE **0NDERD0NK"

" No wauwau," said Tracey. " Keep your
bearings cool."

And the crowd laughed. But King called
Griffiths over. " Would you really take the
engineer's job if Andy wanted to send her
down to Yale, now ? "

'I I would," said Griffiths, stubbornly.
^^ "Then you can have the job," said King.
"For we're going in the morning."

Griffiths looked rather as if he had been
trapped, bat he said nothing. Bill King
called for drinks.

"Step up, boys, and drink to Andy and
the boat and me and my brother and Griffiths
here. For we are going to take her to Yale
in the morning."

"You don't mean it, Mr. King?" said
Tracey.

And the crowd was silent for a moment
and then a buzz came, and then silence again
as of awe. For in their minds they saw the
httle steamer in the narrow terror of the
stream, and then they saw these living men
of that hour drifting in the big pool above
Vale. A buzz rose again, and deepened to a
subdued roar.

*' Great Scot ! it's murder of Andy to do

It.

STRONCx MEN AND TRUE

" What's he giving us, taffy ? "
" No, no ; two thousand dollars."
" Two thousand five hundred."
" And three to the widders."
King laughed.

"But there won't be none, boys. Sav
what's your drink."

Tracey intervened.
J' This is mine," he said. " I'm paying for
this. And when you come up again, Mr
Kmg— why, it's yours."

And King nodded. In the midst of the
talk he and his brother slipped into the
dmmg-room, which, if as dirty as the bar
was at any rate quieter. And there thev
wrote letters home. Then they called
Griffiths.

"Why, no," saidhe^ "I ain't got none to
write. Pete is my only partner. And if I
goes under-why, I goes. But we haven't
n.xed the price."

" Two hundred," said King.

"Three," said Griffiths. "And two hundred
down for Pete if we don't come out."

And the brothers looked at each other and
nodded.

"I'll make it right with Andy," said the
elder. " And now turn in. GrifF. At least

THE "ONDERDONK"

don't drink. You'll want your nerve in the
morning."

" I don't drink so much," said Griff. " If
I did, me and Pete would have tough times."
For Pete did drink.

He was weeping in their shack when Griff
came in. And as Griff fell asleep he heard
his partner blubber and repeat again and
again, " Poor old Griff will be drowned ; he'll
be drowned." But when he woke up,' Pete
was getting breakfast ready as though he
were preparing some dreadful sacrament.

"I haven't been a good partner to you.
Griff," said Pete : " but when you come back,
I'll knock off drinkinrr."

" Good old man," said Griff.
By ten o'clock in the morning the Onder-
donk was in position, with the bight of a
hawser holding her by the stern, and two
warps from her bows. She was not making
any v ater to speak of, for she had taken the
ground very easily.

All the population of Lytton was strung
out along the bank for five miles below the
boat. For each man took up his position
according to his notion as to where the
necessary catastrophe would happen. It
would be fine to see the last of her going

19 C 2

STRONG :.-N AND TRUE

triuniphantly through danger ; but suppose
she never got a mile ? The fear of it crowded
most near the starting place. The further

AnX^r^^ --' ^^^^^"' ^^-y -e in
A. O. himself was on the beach from

dawn directmg operations, and only at nine
did the Kmgs and Griffiths come down, pl
came with them to say good-bye

sir ''?."; T^ '" '"^'^'"^ ^^^"^ '^'^ '"oney,
sir, said the one-armed King, as he wenf

aboard after shaking hands with the conTrac

tor « But Griffiths' partner :s to have wo
hundred dollars ,f we don't get through."

Right, said Andy, looking at Pete with
some disfavour, for he did not like " h
casual workers as Pete. '< Are vou ready p '

Are you, Griffiths ? " asked' King. "

stntt m"^'^' "^""''^^ ^'' he^doutofthe
stokehold ana engine-room in one. He

nodded. " Good-bye, Pete ' "

^^^ Good-bye be dauned ! I'm coming," said

And scrambling on board, he dropped
down below. But he was really wanted. "^
^_^ Stand by to let go, Pete," said the elder

For Bill took the wheel. " If you are here

THE "ONDEPDONK"

you can do that. Let g starboard head

rope."

And Pete slacked it off a bollard, and
chucked the end overboard. The warp from
the port bow was made fast to a tree a good
bit down stream on the left bank.

" Take the axe, Pete, and cut the port head
rope when I say so. Go ahead half speed
with the engines. Griff."

And the stern-wheel thrashed the waters
into foam till the steamer strained the stern-
fast into rigid bars.

"Now, boys," said King, 'Tm going to
cut the hawser aft. And when I cut she
starts."

He took the axe in his one hand, and with
two blows severed the middled hawser. The
next moment the boat was in the current ;
the crowd sobbed with indrawn breath, and
moaned strangely. They heard it on board
hke the wail of wind in brush.

" Cut, Pete," said the pilot. And, even as
Pete's axe fell, they were running down
stream at twenty-three or four miles an hour,
and the black banks slid eastward like a
vision in a nightmare.

" Keep her in the middle, Bill, and watch
my hand."

STRONG NfEN AND TRUE

And the pilot stood on tiie bows alone, for
Pete was below helping Griff to fire. He
passed the heavy wood in utter silence. But
the two partners had shaken hands.

The news of the strange venture of these

men had run down stream even in the night

For one passed it to another, and Boston Bar

knew It and Spuzzum was awake to it, and all

dwellers in the canon knew. The trains

running to Yale knew, and those who travelled

looked ou: from the cars, expecting the

sudden advent of a disabled steamer drifting

even to Hope— below the last bad riffle.

The men building the bridge in the canon
could do no work. They took their half day
off and spok;; low as they sat on the un-
finished cantilever and called to each other
over the swift, black stream. The odd China-
men grubbing in the cracks of the rocks for
the dusty drift of scanty gold felt it, and asked
stray white men what was comino-. Po- they
thought it might be that the Upper Fra^r-r
was in :1ood. They crawled to the hialier
banks and watched. °

But the time of the watchers was long, and
men galloping down the road and climbing
Jackass Mountain, where the road climbs
found the way long ; wtiile to those on board

THE " ONDERDONK "

it was one swift and very awful moment in
which the strained mind sometimes almost
went to sleep.

" She hasn't any too good steerage way on
her, Hank," said Bill.

"Give her a bit more," cried the pilot
to his engineer without turning round.
How could he lift his set eyes from the
terrible stream over which he ran now ? They
glanced through space and came round the
great cir-le of the man -worried Boston Bar
which had held so much gold, and now, the
first half was done. But here the waters
narrowed and the stream boiled, and treacher-
ous mad eddies struck the rudder and nearly
wrenched out Bill's strong muscles from their
hold.

He sweated in streams ; he seemed dizzy ;
he prayed for keen sight, and bent his shaggy
brows for shelter from the dripping sweat.
He Avondered if he could last out the next
half-hour which would save or end them.
And what of the Hell Gate, where the straitest
pass was ?

His brother at the bows stood like a carved
man. He never spoke, nor looked from the
stream whose secrets he had tried to win.
But a thousand years on the waters below

i't

I 'H'

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

Olfc'ifft ^'r "°"""S »f ">' "ver here.

, '^V '""1 b'^'^n right and strancelv tru.,
when he compared the tortured rfvS to a
tortured man. Who couM prcphe.y ? '" '

But they passed, they passed, and vet one

Thv t?!"""""^' -« "- "- se n d

s.gh, of traps Ja,d and led up ,o, of odd calm
before passionate storm. He knew he wa

.he won, he won money, but something far
more than money to a reai man who^e am
b.t,ons were not the vile distortions of a to„"

-t"'z ,™rwoSd-r"-^"^"=--*
-dupwitht:rpr;r.iarsr

a man who has loolced in the very eyes of
fate and by good endowment has com- out
of the godl.ke struggle laid on true men since

to ,"r ">""• °^' ^'^''" 'o die so t an
o elude the task and perish at ease bj l™
•md rustn,g failure of unused faculties.

Heknewall this, and yet he did not know

'wru" n" "h """'' '^^'^ "-'^ '="°-k*I

is> uritten, and written nWm ->,i^ • ,

THE "ONDERDONK"

And now even those below knew that the
cnsH was at hand. They had heard the
cheer of men at the Bar ; they had heard it
rise and culminate and fade as they swept
past. They had peered out and seen the canon
close m, but now they felt the swell and surge
beneath as though they rode upon the top of
a bubbling curve. Thrice and yet again Pete
fell as he lifted a piece of wood ; his face was
bleedmg, and in his hands were sharp
splinters. Old Griff stood blackly with his
hand on the lever, and his ears straining for
the signal. It came at last.
" Full speed ! "

For, even though they were now almost up
with Hell Gate, the currents were so many,
and so strangely mixed, that the oa^ did not
steer as she had done. Moie than once she
only missed a submerged rock by a hair's
breadth, because she hung stubbornly against
the rudder and seemed sulky. For the boat
Itself was now a living, breathing, and fearful
thing to those she carried, who drove her as
one drives a mad horse escaping from a fire
upon the prairie.

" We're nigh c.i to Hell Gate," said Pete.
" Get 0.1 deck," said his partner.
" No."

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

" Get .n deck," said Griff.
And Pete went up and stood where he
could look down on his partner. He stared
forward, and saw King at the bows. Beyond
Mm was the close gap of the Gate. Then he
saw Knig come aft. He smiled at Pete, and
spoke to his brother.

" Dcn't look at me, Bill. If you can keep
her straight, do. I'm sorry I've not two arms,
or I d give you a spell."

He walked back again to his station. He
had left It aii he knew that just there nothing
depended on his sight. J. nd doing it might
encourage his brother, whom he could not
help otherwise. Besides, he wanted to look

^t him once more — in case

And he thought of his wife r^own at Yale
Did she know? Would they tell her? No*
of course not ; they vvcrc nut such fools as
that. Surely not. But if they did not get
through ! Ah-here i. the Gate, the jaws of
Hell.

And somehow the boat appeared to hang
and stick, and the huge rocks on each side
only crawled towards him. Were they in ?
Yes, he said, and then for the first time the
boat seemed to rise and dip and the waters
stood up over him. Next moment he found

THE "ONDERDONK"

himself flat on the deck with liis one arm
about a stanchion, and, looking up, he saw
his brother whirl the wheel round. He rose
and staggered and got to his nlace again.
Yes, they were through the Gate. And the
pace seemed to increase even yet, and the
last few minutes passed like a flash. He
motioned " port " or " starboard " with his
hand, and then he heard men shouting over-
head. He did nc t look up. and wa^ quite
unconscious of the bridge builders, whose
hazardous work was so stra -ly without
danger compared with this mad trip of un-
nuQ bered centuries.

Then, as he stood wonderiiig if these ranked
years would ever drift by, he heard Bill call
to him.

" Hank, Hank ! ''

And as he turned he did not know they
were sliding down the last rapid into the big
pool above Yale, which meant safety. Bu't
he saw Bill stagger and he got up to him in
time, and only in time, to catch the wheel in
his one hand and whirl it back. Bill fell and
struck his head and he saw the blood run on
the deck. And yet he did not mind. For
here was the pool. And a black crowd
stood on the rails and came running through

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

one of the tunnels, and he h.^arJ them cheer
madly. He even fancied he saw his wife
sitting on a rock. And then the crowd r i-
back towards home as he crossed the pool
and came round in sight of Yale.

He sighed oddly and felt unsteady, but
there was a wonderful feeling of most infinite
solaceinent about him. He was at peace
^ith the whole world And he ran the
steamer on the sloping beach below the little
town. For Pete without orders had slowed
her down. A crowd on the beach made the
boat fast and rushed on board. They tried
to shake hands with him, but he wave ' them
aside and said,—
" Look after Bill."

And when he walked ashore he sat down
and the so'Id earth whirled about him He
came to .i the arms of his wife.

"It wasn't right. Hank," she sobbed.
' Cheer up, old girl," said he. " I know it
wasn't. But I've done the canon."

And Pete and Griffiths came by in the
midst of a wild crowd. One solitary jour-
nalist who sent news to Victoria buzzed
outs.de the circle. For King's wife drove
nim away.

" A. O. will be glad," said Kincr.
28

THE "onDERDONK"

"He ought to be lynched," said his wife.

But King did not think so. That after-
noon he went on foot to the pool, and looked
up the canon with a strange expression on his
face.

'• By the Lord, but I always wanted to do
It ! " he said.

A DEAD TRAiMP.

It was one of the most accursed days of
summer on the south Rocky Mountain
Plateau, which is really a burnt and broken
plain, that George Harper entered Santa Fe
with his blankets on his back. He had
tramped from Denver to Pueblo, he had
"counted ties " along the railroad from Pueblo
to near Garland, and from Garland again had
hoofed it lo Santa Fe.

As he saw the blatant, barren cit^ in its
circling ring of barren mountains, it seemed
worse than Garland, much worse even than
half-forgotten Pueblo, where he had met a
" white man " who had given him a square
meal and grubstaked him to the tune of four
bits, or half a dollar, and a thousand times
more futile than well-built, lofty Denver, the
great city of the Plateau which had yet denied
him a living. The town was hnlf asleep in a
great and sultry heat, and the mean, brown
building looked little more than adobe, while
callous, unintelligent, and obtuse Apaches

A DEAD TRAMP

walked hither and thither or loafed under a
verandah. Some dogs lay in the dust, a
sohtary team of half-starved horses pulled in
a far-brought load of mesquite wood. But
the town itself and the white men who ran it
were somnolent.

Harper was marked for a tramp and a low
down tramp by the very possession of blankets
For the respectable American, who is out of a
job, prefers to suffer and walk, if he has to " hit
the road," with nothing more than a gripsack
and a hght overcoat. And more than the
blankets marked the man as a tramp He
was brown, and thin, and lean, and hungry
and a long succession of defeats in the bitter
conflict of an outcast's life has given him.for the
time at least, an air of subjection. He looked
rather for his fellows than for any successful
man who might give him Iielp and not a kick
on the downward road. And in the Plaza he
found many.

For though it was so bitterly hot, it was after
all only the early spring which had come in
with an unusually warm spell. And the tramps
who are for ever tramps and do no work were
now on their slow migration to the north.
They came into Santa Fe from Yuma and
from Tucson on the Southern Pacific, they

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

drifted up from Mexico, and the border by El
Paso, they came throu^a El Paso from the
Texas Pacific, and when .hey were once on
the northern railroad they hung to it as
only tramps can who are hungering to steal
a ride in a freight train to put them some
easy miles towards a far and fleeting El
Dorado.

And to this George Harper was descending
fast. But a few more months of tie counting^
but a little more of " bumming " grub, he a
few more lightly thought of thefts of a stray
chicken, and the young fellow from the East
whom a woman had made a fool of would be
even as those with whom he chummed in on
the Plaza at Santa Fc.

He slung his blankets off his shoulder and
dumped them by the most friendly-looking
of the outcasts, a man with grizzled hair°
marked by one heavy silver lock over the
forehead, and a ragged beard.

" Howdy, partner ? " said George.
And the sitting tramp nodded easily.
"Which way are you hoofin' it?"
asked.

"South," said George.
" El Paso ? "
" I reckon so."

S?'':i!F^:'A^-^'

A DEAD TRAMP

"It's a hell ofa hole," said the tramp. "I'm
or Denver. Have you done any chewin'
to-day ? "

" Haven't had a bit to eat since ye.^ferdav "
answered George gloomily.

" Then you've struck a mighty poor show
for a hand-out here. That's what you have "
said the old man with an air of bitter con-
viction. " They'd sooner sling it to the hogs
than give it a man." *

He laid a heavy emphasis on the " man "
And so he might, for even he had been a man
once till disaster brought drink, and drink
the devil, and the devil mere animality.

"I tell you what," said he Presently, as he
sucked at a pipe empty of tobacco, " if you're
v;-ry keen on chewin' I'll take you just outside
o the town. I raarked an old bum stow
a A^y some bread and bacon in a prairie-dog
hole as I came by. And I ain't nothing to
do, and fair ache with squatting on my
hunkers. Are you on?" ^ ^ my

And George nodded. They walked to-

^'-/"wh 7''"^? '^f '^"''^^"^ ^"^ °f th-' town.
: .e TaJp.' ''^^ '°"''' P"^ ^ " ^^ked

said George Harper, eyeing his man.

23 o

V. '

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

"Tha"s so," said the other; "we want
suthin' we ain't hkely to get. And on we
go. I've bin sou^h and I've bin north this
ten years, and now I'm old, and haven't no
friends but them I meets hitting the road.
We go because we must.''

And he sucked at his pipe philosophically.
"You don't happen to have a fill on
you ? " he asked presently.

But George shook his head. And they
came to the outskirts of the town.

'•It was nigh here, it was," said the
philosopher, " for I seed him do it. Ah, here
it is, if he ain't come back and sneaked it."

And lying down he extracted a dirty parcel
from the depths of an ancient hole long ar-o
deserted by the animals who excavate' it. '
And George Harper promptly ate it.
" No," said the old man when he offered
him some, " no, I'm full up to my back teeth,
or I wouldn't have give it awa}-. When I
was around the back of the deepo I found a
hell of a pile of grub this morning slung away
by some of them as works there. I struck
it rich. Why, man, there was pie in it, there
was pie."

And he worked his lean jaws in leautiful
remembrance.

\l\

A DEAD TRAMP

'* So you're goin' south, parcl. Well I
wouldn't go south myself, for there ai^'t

anything to be done ; they don't want you
But north ,s a chance. Did you hear of any
ra. road work starting up as you come by 7 ''
'No," said George as he finished his
squahd meal. ^

"But there, some," insisted the old man
up towards the Cascades." '

For this is the mark of the tramp, that he
-gomgto work. He is always going to
work, and then he dies unknown, desp^ed
unheeded, and gives some folks a very small'

JO . even if the folks are but the rals n
culvert nno which he crawl. i„ bis last

"Oh, you bet there's a railroad starting
up, he sa.d more cheerfully. " And now
young fdlow, I'm going back to the citx- " '
1 hank you for showing me the grub

P.le ^-d George, .'for I think I'll count ties
to the southward."

And the two shook hands.
" So long, partner," they said, and then
George was^ploughing over a sand dune Lr
he telegraph posts which marked the railroad
to Rmcon and El Paso.
He walked on the ties between the rails all
35 x> 2

^ ^

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

day long with a stolid, heavy persistence.
Each few minutes he passed a telegraph post
all askew, warped by the weight of wire and
the heat of tl , southern sun. And as he went
the dreary horizon receded, the rails still ran
together and melted in a hazy line which
ponitcd south with its long iron finger. Once
he moved off for the north-bound express to
pass, and twice he left the line for some
slower Ireights, but even when the passenger
went by he hardly looked up. What were
all these folks to him? He could hardly
envy them : they were of another world
another lighter world than his. And yet he
remembered the old Michigan days and his
happier life. What weakness was in him
that had taken him out of the ranks of those
who win success ? His very dreaminess would
have given the answer. His was the nature
that needs success to be successful.

And he went on through the day, and was
twenty miles to the south of Santa Fe when
he camped under a rotting stack of ties. The
next morning the woman at a section house
gave him a Httle breakfast. "There's small-
pox down the road at the next place " she
said rather kindly. " I'd not go through it if
I were you."

■-■■r^:

A DEAD TRAMP

" Thank you, ma'am," he answered '• I'll so
round." °

But he u-ent near enough to see the stricken
Mexican houses draped with yellow, and he
fancied he saw a funeral. He went to wind-
ward of the town, and as he turned aside he
wondered why he did it. What did it matter ?
For a moment he was half indined to go hack
and ask if he could do anything with the dead
and for the living. Rut he half sneered at
himself and went on.

By now George Harper was almost past
asking for work. For many many months
he had asked, and had been refused. Some
said he was not strong enough, and to those
who asked if he could do this or that he had
been compelled to answer "no." He had
none of the insistence which gets work • it
was not given him by fate to answer " bu't I
can learn." He wanted success first and an
assured way and good direction before he
could be useful.

But he still asked sometimes, and in the
next week he earned a dollar or two at a
section wh.le a man was ill. The work and
the sense of doing something cheered him •
even when he was discharged the ring of
pleasant silver made him feel a man. He

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

remembered once having a thousand dollars.
1 hat meant he might command the work of
a thousand men for a day. It was a great
fechng. Money once more would lift him
out of the dust and make him a man.

Yet by the time he had drifted on through
Rincon he was again without a cent, and his
boots were tUr gone. He was very desolate,
but more stolid than ever. It did not
matter. Who cared? What did anything
matter ? He felt like a useless foolish yellow
dog, a dog that could do nothing and was not
even vicious enough to be tied by a chicken-
coop to keep away a common cowardly
tramp.

And that day he tramped till it was late.
He might have wa'ked on til! it was dark,
save that he stayed to rest at a bridge over a
very deep gulch past Rincon. And hi noticed
that there was a fire burning under the bridge.
For a moment he imagined it to be the work
of a tramp. Then he saw it flicker and blaze
in some of the woodwork and he knew the
fire was the deed of a hot coal dropped fr(;m
the fire-box of the last locomotive which had
passed that way.

The bridge was five miles, full five miles,
from the last section house. How far the

A DEAD TRAMP

next one was ht- could not tcU, and yet he
began to feel a little excited. Suppose a train
came round the next curve. For here the
line bent sharply to the west. If it did,
tlKJUgh it could get over now, in a very few
minutes it might be too late. He wondered
what he ought to do.

And then a cold fit came on him and fur a
little while ho did not care. For again and
yet once more, who cared for him ?

But that fit did not last, and it was well for
George Harper that it did not, both on earth
and for the sake of heaven, if there be any
heaven above the earth. His imagination,
dulled for long months by starvation, by
want of money, by coatcmpt, by isolation, by
denial of brotherhood, rose and flamed like
the flames that ate up the lower bents of the
complex bridgework. In his mind he saw a
train come into the fire, he heard the crack of
the burning wood, he saw the bridge give,
he beheld the cars topple into the abyss.
And after one awful crash, repeated as each
separate car dropped on those below, he
heard the cries of men, women and children
screaming in the inexorable flame.

No, it could not be ! But how was he to
stay it, since he had not even a match ?

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

He dropped his blankets and stood for one
stupefied moment, and then leapt down into
the gulch. He tore his ragged clothes from
his back, he bled from the venomous scratches
of sharp thorns, he struck his shin against a
jagged rock. But he got down to the fire
and takmg a handful of hot embers and one
piece of flaming wood, he put them into his
hat and scrambled up the bank again.

He had but little difficulty in lighting a
fire at some distance. He tore off some
brushwood, and took up old chips that had
lam there since the ties were first put down
and placing them carefully on the hot coals'
they sprang into flame. From a dead piiion
tree he brought limbs which were white and
dry, and when the flame shot up he shrieked
with a curious and interested delight. For he
saw a pile of ties and some old bridge timbers
which had been replaced by new ones. And
now that he had a fire and the possibility of
more, he saw that this one fire might not be
enough. To be safe against any accident he
must build another near the southern curve ;
for any express coming round there at forty
miles an hour might not be able to pull up.
Hs carried an armful of wood and a flamincr
torch four hundred yards to the south.

A DEAD TRANfP

Now he felt active and alive, '.is mind awoke,
his musclcstinpled, he almost shouted with joy.
" Thank God," he said. And what he
thanked heav^ . for was his awakening. He
laughed— yes, he laughed like a boy. There
was a good flame down at the bridge, and the
little flame he had carried so far was alive and
grew like a tended flower.

" But it must be bigger," George cried. And
he ran to and fro carrying logs thn*- his flesh
woi "d have fainted at but that his spirit was
a br.ive one when the real need came.

He was black to look at and on his face the
grime was streaked with sweat. His soft
hands bled, and splinters were deep in his
palms and fingers. But in his eyes was a
strange light. Oh ! but was it not good to
do somethnig that was useful. And then
suddenly he wondered if it was. Suppose it
didn't matter .? Perhaps there would be no
more trains that night and in the morning
the section men would coine and his work
would have been wasted. Ho stood paralyzed
at the thought, and just for a moment the
blood left his face. It returned the ne.xt
moment and he lifted his hand.

Had he not heard the scream of a
locomotive 1

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

^^ " Yes ! " he cried. And ^hen he cried
'' No ! " And going down on his knees he
listened for the vibration of the rails. But
he heard none.

But tiiat was the sound of the locomotive
shrieking ? Yes, surely, and from the south.
He snatclied a big pine torch from his last
fire and ran headlong down the line, as though
lie could stop the train with his hand.
He felt so strong.

And as he came to the long stretch to the
south he saw the ^-'are of the locomotive's
head-i:^iit. He wondered how a man could
see anything through it. He forgot just
then that the engineer was behinc' it. And
he saw how swiftly it came and he wondered
if the engineer was looking. Great God ! if
he didn't look, what would happen : What
indeed ? So he ran and ran and waved his
torch. And presently the engineer spied a
little spark on ahead of him, a feeble wavering
spark, and he thought -t might be a tramp's
lire. And he cursed tram.ps as railroad men
do, for they often burn up new ties and play
old Harry with sheds and other truck, to say
nothing of their infernal gall in beating their
w- / on a man's very engine, squatting on the
pilot, or hiding in the tool-box.

A DEAD TRAMP

But presently that engincc: , uho for good
reasons was the keenest man in tlie employ
of th'j Atchison, Topcka and Saiita Fe Road,
saw that this wavering Hamt was a waving
flame ; and beyond it was a bigger light. And
then he saw a man who screamed in a higli
key and leapt aside as the train went past, and
the engineer shut her off quick and elappcd
on the brealis, W(jndering all the time if that
ni:ni liad got out of the way, and, if not, who
would collect him.

But he had been running on a big errand
al a big speed, and behind him was no more
than the president's car and the caboose.
So the locomotive shot ahead and the sparks
flew from the rails and she ran skidding . . -ht
over the last fire that Georj^e Harper . ?d
built in the middle of the track. And with
the heavy dew on the rails a- .1 with the speed
they had on her, the engineer only pulled her
up just on the hither side of the burning
bridge which was now well alight.

And as he stopped her the big man going
north was out on the platform, with a white
face, wondering what the devil was wrong,
and whether his general managerial bigness
would be taken into consideration by Fai-e, if
anything serious was going to happen.

ftl f\\

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

" Fire," said he, and he jumped to the
ground, and with the conductor and the
engineer ran to the bridge. " Can we do it ? "
he asked anxiously.

" I dcn't know, sir," said the engineer.
We must,'^ cried the manager, with a set
tace and betneen his big white teeth. " But
where are the section men who built the
fire ? '

" I saw one, and only one," said the weather-
beaten engineer, "and I ain't so durn sure
thati didnt run him over, or, at the least,
boost him fifty yards into the brush with the

Bu^ he turned to his fireman, a hard
apprentice to a hard trade.

"Run back, Sam, past the first fire and look
for him. What do vou say, sir?"
. R 7?^' certainly," said the manager.
But find him or not, we must get over,
Jackson. We must. 1 must, if I go over alone.
It s Denver or a wreck. You know it."
,, " ^{you say so, sir," replied the engineer •
but It s a big risk, and she may go through.
If Id come on to her as we were going we'd
have shook blazes of another sort out oflnr
by now. It's just a question if she'll bear a
steady sfain instead."

':^-^x^:-m..

A DEAD TRAMP

'' Try," said the manager. For if the
locomotive went through, the biggest com-
bmation in Western Rails went with it, and
his trip to Chihuahua was for nothing.

And just then Sam the fireman brought up
George Harper, packing him on his° back.
For though George had escaped by the skin
of his teeth he was still almost stunned and
stupid with the fall he got when hejumped to
clear the locomotive.

The manager, big man and boss though he
was, took hold of the tramp and the outcast

" That's right. I'll look after him. Get
her over, quick, and while there's time."

And after saying one word or so to his fire-
man, the engineer ran across the hot bridrre
as a deer a man has fired at runs across'' a'
forest opening.

" I think she'll do it," he said, as he felt the
bridge under him.

Then Sam jumped up and opened her out
a little till the driving wheels revolved slowly,
and she entered on the perilous passage of
fire. Sam jumped down and left the train
to itself.

The flames were now far beyond mere
smouldering, and some of the timbers of the
lower bents were quite destroyed. The fire

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

had hold of the very n^uts of the bridge-it
was touch and go. \Vas there or was there
not enough left to hold up the sixty-five tons
or he locomotive ? It depended on an in-
finity of condit'lons, and only an expert
bndgeman standing down below could have
given any opinion as to the result.

And as the train moved, the bridge cracked
and cracked again. And here a bent bulged
and there iL crushed.

" We should have uncoupled the cars and
letJier come by herself," groaned the engineer.
And if the boss isn't in Denver in the
morning, we shall get the Grand Bounce "

But by now the train was moving faster
among the thick reek of smoke penetrated
and interpenetrated by jets and sparks of
Jean flame that scorched the paint of the
locomotive and the cars.

"Oh, my beauty, my beauty ! " said the

engineer.

But even as he groaned over her blisters
and the destruction of her loveliness, th •

swung himself on to her, and looking back
saw what a dreadful and strange infinity of
time It took to pull the two cars off the burn-
ing and destroyed bridge.

A DEAD TRAMP

Yet the next second he shut off steam and
shouted in triumph as the angry flames
hid him from those on the south of the
bridge.

The others, helping George Harper, came
down into the thorny bitter gulch and climbed
out with difficulty ; for he was heavy and
broken, and half mad with strange excitement,
which leaving him, left him overwrought.

As they got him on board the train, the
life of the bridge was crushed and done, and it
fell in with a crash.

" Let her go," said the manager. " Make
up for lost time."

And in ten minutes the steam had its way
and took hold, and they ran sixty miles an
hour up north. They stayed at Rincon one
spared minute to shout to the men there that
the last big bridge was down, and then they
rolled out for Santa Fe with a clear lire.

So George Harper was going north again
at the rate of two days' hard tramp in one
easy and dangerous hour.

" Boy," said the manager to the nigger who

attended him, " fill up the bath with hot

water, and lay ouL a shirt and some of my

clotlics. Quick ! "

And the boy was quick . For the manager's

^mm-

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

word was bigger than any law, and there was,
much to be picked up in his immediatu service.
In the meantime Harper was sitting limply
in a big reclining chair which worked on a
pivot. Ke followed the motions cf the
manager and the boy with a disjointed
attention and the stolid amazement character-
istic of a nightmare. It was true, but it was
too ridiculous to be true. And if it was not
true, then what did all this gold and brass and
glitter mean ? He looked up and saw his
burnt blackened face in many mirrors, framed
with unmitigated barbaric luxury. Then he
felt his bleeding scorched hands, and touched
a blister in his cheek. What was he doino-

now ? where was he going ?

'* I was bound south," he muttered rather

stupidly, and the manager turned his big

jovial face to him.

" If you want to go south, my son, you

shall go when and how you like. You saved

our lives that time. Whai are you ? ''

" A tramp, I suppose," said George, a little

sullen at the peremptory tone in which the

other spoke. His very sullenness was a sio-n

of awaken insf.

" And you want to be one ? " asked the
manager quickly.

'Q: iW-S^:-

•^U

A DEAD TRAMP

" No," said George.

" Vou need not be," said the manager.
Going to a buffet he opened a bottle of
champagne and tilled a big tumbler.

Drmk," he said, a J George drank. In
Uil a niniute he distmctly remembered that
Jie nad been a man.

The manager looked at him keenly. But
"^ his rags and the grime of the fire and
smoke .t was difficult to understand this
derelict.

"Have you a clean record.^" asked tixe
•"^^"ager - You never took what wasn't your
ovvn,eh.> You Ve not a cashier ? "

;; No " said George. - 1 am only a fool."
And perhaps not that," mused the
manager. " Was it a woman ? "

George nodded.

hl^''^'7.r' ^^^'■^^^ it, not worth it,n,v
bo> cued the manager. - Never go :o the
d--d for anything but power, young r,Uow
Unly power is worth fighting for "

And then the bath was" ready. Geor^-e
stumbled into the room and dropped his ra^s
on the floor. Opening the window, he threw
them n)Lo the night and stood naked. On
h.s white flesh were long red lines where the
thorns had scratched him. He was as thin

49 B

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

as a rail, but hard as wire. He lay in the
bath and rolled over and wallowed like a
porpoise, and when he came out his wounds
were bleeding afresh. He dressed himself in
the clothes laid out for him, though he winced
as the shirt touched him. Yet when he saw
his thin blown face looking over a white
collar he coula have shouted with joy. And
yet he was most bitterly ashamed. He felt he
could face the other man better in his old
clothes. But tlien if it had not been for him
his host might have been frying by now, and
been very well done too. The thought gave
him assurance. He went back bravely, and
the manager slapped him on the back.

" I thought you were rather smarter than
you looked just now," said he. " Come,
dinner is ready. And I'm hungry. You did
big business, sonny, when you built that fire.
You bet you did."

And they sat down to everything that an
American thinks good. George thought the
meal heavenly, but then that was no wonder.
Even the manager was so pleased with his
luck and himself that he did not growl.

" I'm on a rich patch of luck,'' he saia,
" what with what I did down south, and your
being on the spot, and the bridge holding

A DEAD TRAMP

till we got over. I feel I could corral the
universe. ' ^^^^^i tne

He drank to George, to Fate, and all the

S„::r ''''''- ^^--^ °" ^^^ ^-^^- ^n

"Eat eat," he said. -You like this >
Am t ,t better than hitting the road .P Why
not have ;t always? You can, you can.''

Creorge's eyes sparkled.

" f .^^P ^^' ^nd I will," he said. '' Will
you knidly pass the wine ? "

"Are you a tramp now.v' cried his host.

No by the Lord," cried George. -Help
me. 1 helped you." ^

"You did," said the big man of the bie
western roads--" and yourself They call m!
a hard case. You shan't find me so. Vll
help you if you deserve it. "

boidi?'' a''/ ^u'"'"' ''''' »°t,'*^aid George

laughed H h' T"'^" ^^^ ^^^ -^
laughed. He ordered more champagne.

You do, you do," he said. ''Oh but
what a lovely combination would have been
smashed If that bridge had let us in aZ
While I^de high, so Shall you. Ah I T^t

And they rolled through the depot.
Did you ever eat bread and bacon out of

K 2

STrCONG MEN AND TRUE

a prairie-dog hole ? " asked George, laughing
and lighting a big cigar.

And as they quickened her up again and
flashed through to Denver the private
secretary, who was to be, told the story of a
dead tramp.

THE BOSS OF MVALL BLOCKS.

Ox thinking ,t oyer, I am inclined to believe

thaofall men I ever knew in New South
Wales-or, for the matter of that, in Australia

the M>all Blocks station. Just as all the
humorous yarns are attributed to Jacky Dow,
late of Toganmam, so all the brutalities and

say, the honours are even between him and
Tyson, who is really not so bad a sort as the
sundowning fraternity are apt to make out

But certainly Mat Gregory, or ''Savage
Ginger ' as some called him, from his red hair

and redder beard, was a bit of a beast, if he
was a good manager. And as Simpson, who
owned Myall Blocks, made at least thirty
thousand out of that station alone in a good
year, it was not without justice' that he was
esteenied a good man from the employers' and
capitahsts' point of view. But he knew sheep,

>, !■

f: 1

ti ■:

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

horses, and cattle a little better than he knew
men, and consequently he had a bad name
among those who worked for him. He could
drive a man to death just as any fool can ride
a horse to death, but he wanted the knack of
getting men to lay themselves out for his
service. There was no on who loved him
or even liked him, and priae in the station
itself was a non-existent quality. I knew
this because I worked for him myself,
and when I was boundary-riding on an out-
station on the line of fercc between us and
the next station east I found it a little anno)'-
ing to be pitied by the other boundary-rider
whenever we met.

"How's old Ginger?" he used to ask,
" and are you pickled by now ? "

But, fortunately, I saw very little ot him,
and he left before I did. It happened this
way, according to what I was told : —

Mat Gregory went up to the Northern
Blocks, and stayed .here savaging the
superintendent for about three days, and
making everyone wish he was dead. For,
of course, nothing was right. He was the
kind of boss who will go into matters with
a storekeeper and, Hnding half an ounce of
tea short, dock the responsible man. And if

THE DOSS OF MVALL BLOCKS

it was half an ounce over he would slate him
for robbing the hands. And yet he was a
daylight robber himself, and nothing short
of it.

However, at the end of three days he went
off south again, and before he had ridden ten
miles he came up with a little rough old chap,
riding a beast of a broken-down crock not
worth a pannikin of flour. His clothes had
never been good, but now they were ragged
and sun-burnt, and his very hat was full of
holes. But Mat ranged up alongside him and
said '^ Good-day " very civilly for him. He
was, maybe, pleased with the jar he had given
the North Block lot. Anyhow he slung the
traveller "Good-day," and made as if he would
pal in with him for the length of one of the
big paddocks.

" Day to you," said the traveller, who was
a strong, wiry old boy, with grizzled eyebrows
that hung over his eyes like Robinson Crusoe's
hairy umbrella.

"Are you travelling down to
Blocks ? " asked Mat.

" I am so," answered the old man
further."

" It's a fine station, this ? " said Mat.

"Not so bad," answered the traveller.

Myall

"and

STRoNc. mt:n and truf.

" Do you know how main' slitcp run on
it?"

*' Two hiiiulrt'd thousaiul and two hundred
and live, hy the hist count," said Mat, fcchng
ijuilc ^ood and proud of the job.

"\Vh;it? No more?" asked the old

man.

Ami how many more do y

t>u want ?

asked Ahil, ([uite surprised and not a htth
snake-headed. "Ain't that enough i\

rusty okl sunilowner that never owned more
of a sheep than a lump of mutton— ami
niebbe stolen at tliat ? " said Mat.

je civil

id tl

le old man.

ow mnnv

sheeii d(^ you own yourself, or are )ou a
homulary-rider ? "

And .Mat's horse gave a mighty jump, for
Mat diiu the spurs into him in his rage. And
before (linger could pull him up he was a
hundred yarll^ away. IJut he turned and
came back.

You rusty old whaler," he roared. " So

I'm to be civil to \- am
rider, indeed ! I'm the

I ? A bound

irv-

Rrisb

manager of this run.

Gregory, that's known from

ourne to

I'm Matthew (

Adelaide to Sydney, and from .Melb

uie

You nnVht be ricli by the way you chin

TiiK noss or mvai.l ni.ocKs

ahoiu yourself," .aid the oKi boy, with a
sneer. " So you're oiilv a manajrer."

"And what are you ? " asked Mat, foaming
uUh n,.^e " V<„ „,i„,,t he old Jin, Gleeson,
I sIiDuId ihmk. Only you ain't."

For Jim fJIceson was the richest man
between Wikannia ...ul the Bogan, and a
deal further than that.

" I "light be," said the traveller. " But
suppose I'm only a poor man travelling on
the road, and asking nothin- „fyou, not even
your company ? "

_ " Yes ; I'll suppose that,' .said .Mat. pretend-
rng^to be civil. " Vna perhaps you'd like a

"I don't want .-ny job."

'^'No; that's what I thought," said Mat.

\ ou re one of the sort tli. . don't want work.
Vou re lookmg f*,,- it, and praying not to find
It. But if you come baling round iMyall I'll
set the dogs on you. So mind ! "

And Mat galloped off in a furv. He found
a wire broken near the second fence from the
home station, and, riding in, he sacked the
boundary-riiler who was responsible'. And he
"'ade the Chinaman cook pray for dinner-
time to be well over.

Just about sundown the old chap witli
57

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

whom he had had the barney came riding
past. So Mat went out and shouted over to
the storekeeper —

" Don't you give that old ruffian any flour.
And, Jack" — this was to a rousabout cutting
firewood— '' yo- go up to the cook and tell
him not to give the scrapings of a frying-pan
to him."

But the old chap stopped Jack as he was
going up to the men's hut.

" Nice boss that of yours ! "

"Ain't he just .^" said Jack.

" Do you hke him ? "

•' Do we like hell ? " asked Jack angrily.
But he did what he was told all the same.
And then, to get even with Ginger, he stole
the best part of a leg of mutton and grabbed
half a hat-full of tea, and went out with it.
He dodged round the back of the stables and
came on the old boy ridirg along easy.

" I say," said Jack ; and the other pulled
up.

"What is it? "

" I shook this tucker from the cook, said
Jack. '' And three miles down the road, on
the left beyond the little box clump down the
fence, there's g^od water and a good bite of
grass."

THE BOSS OF MYALL BLOCKS

"You're a fine young fellow, you are," said
the old man. "It's a pity you are not a
manager. Would you like a. better job '^ '■

" Rather," said Jack ; " but good joos are
scarce."

" Not so scarce for good men," nodded the
traveller. " Will you be hert a fortnight ?
I'm coming back, maybe, and aighL hear of
something."

" I shall be here," said the bay ; " that is
if I don't get shot out." '

" You stay," grunted the old man. And
he ambled off.

Two d.'ys afterwards the junior partner of
Davies, Davies, and Curwir, of Melbourne,
whose nam- was Gray, went into his senior
partner's room with a long telegram.

" This is a queer start," he said.

" Wha: ? "

" A telegram from Mr. Gleeson," said Grav

"Read it." ^

And Gray read it out —

" Hunt up Simpson, of North Myall, and
see if the station is in the market. If it is,
close without delay and send the agreement
to sell, etc., up to me at once. If not for sale
offer him anything at all in reason. Don't

I «

<-:( L^'z-'.^-i'L ^^t-*'. ■ '.'

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

Stop at ten thousand pounds above the market
price. And find out if there is any agreemeni
between him and his manager.— Jamks Glee-
son, Hay."

" He must be crazy," said Gray.

"Did you ever know him do anything
which hadn't money in it?" asked Davies.
"He's got something up his sleeve. You
had better find Simpson yourself. He's sure
to be at the club."

And Gray went off. He did not come back
till four. But ue was triumphant, for he had
struck Simpson at the ripe time, and North
Myall was Jim Gleeson's. They wired the
news to Hay.

* * • • .

" You can get me a two-horse buggy to go
up to North Myall in the morning," said^a
ragged old man, sitting iii the bar of the
Colonial at Hay. " Ana let it be a good turn-
out," he chuckled amiably.

And next morning he started, while half
Hay showed up to do honour to a millionaire
who was not a bad kind of fellow anyhow.

On the fourth day, and after a long and
interminable drive through the grey plains
dotted verysparsedly vith dwarf box and boree,
lie came to the south gate of North Myall.

THE BOSS OF MYALL BLOCKS

, " Mine," he said, as he clambered back
into the seat. " Now, if I were a bloodthirsty
sort of a galoot. I would like Mr. Grecrory to
come along and find me killing one°of my
own sheep. It would do him good "

He went through a long plain of a paddock,
ten miles square, and he met a man on horse-
back at the ne.xt gate.

"Which way are you travelling.'" asked
the cheerful old man.

"South," said the man. " I've just got
the sack from MyaJl. That swine of a
Crregory ought to he killed. Now, in the
otates — "

"Do you want a job?" asked the man
111 the buggy. " For if you do, I hire you "
"Where?" ^ '

" Not far, my son," said he. " You follow."

And r.ve miles further he met Jack, the boy

who had given him a meal, coming alon^

humping his swag. The old chap pulled up"

I thought I told you to wait a week or two

before you left."

That bully of a Gregory—"
"Never mind Gregory," said his friend-
shng your blankets in behind and jump ud
and drive me. I hire you."

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

And Jack climbed in,

"He's on a large and imperial sacking
scheme, is he ? " asked Gleeson. " Well,
maybe we'll be even with him yet."

" Where is your station, sir ? " asked Jack.

" Not far, not very far," cried the old man.
" No, bless you, not very far. I own a deal.
I own a deal."

And so they came up to Myall. Almost
the first man they met was Gregory, who liad
just come in with his black horse foaming.
He saw the boundary-rider first.

" What are you doing here ? " he shouted.
" You got the sack and your cheque. Off with
you."

" You go to blazes ! " said the man. And
before Gregory caught his breath he saw
Jack, and then his eyes lighted on the face
of the ragged, sardonic old chap who had told
him to be civil. But now the old man looked
different.

"You ,'' said Gregory; but before he

could get any further Gleeson nudged Jack,
who whipped up the horses and drove them'
at a gallop right down to the house. And
Gleeson got out to find Gregory running
after him. But Gleeson was on the steps
first. ^

THE BOSS OF MYALL BLOCKS

''I own this station, Mr. Gregory," he said
I bought it last Wednesday. Vfke up'ur
accounts and get your horse. I disc'h'arge

"You're mad," shouted Ginger, who had
suddenly turned pallid. << Who are you^ "

^h" n ' ^''''^"' '^"^'^ ^^^« I am," 'said
he old man. " And for once I'm very glad
to be a millionaire. There's not nLh
P easure in ,t, but if I never get any othe
pleasure from it than this, it's worth il Put
up the horses. Jack, and come here again
to ook through Mr. Gregory's accounts I

Tn . ,/°^ '^ '"^^^ ^°- ^« -vage a
man himself, when he wanted to. Ind
turning to the boundary-rider, he said :

man. The new manager will be here to-
morrow. And the next one shall be Jack if
he's any good." "^ '

But that last sentence was to himself.

TWO MHN AND A RIVKU.

Such ;i mail as Simon Gardiner, who held
more land ihan any other sqnatler on the
Murrumbidgce, is often fairly popular. For
he was civil to all whom he fancied might
help or iiinder him, and servile in an olT-hand
kind of wav to such as could do both. His
servility said hlullly, " Now, with any other
man I should be on equal terms, but I frankly
acknowledge that it is a dilTerent matter with
you." So the men who had more sheep in
the present, or possessed greater credit as
the beautiful result of sheep in the past, were
inclined to think Gardiner a good sort, even
if his crrandfather had come out to New South
Wales in a ship with soldiers. For that is
the satiric colonial euphemism for a convict.

But, all the same, he was a beast, and as
mean as mud to those who were down, who
couldn't get up, or who were obviously of no
use to him.

vv:.p^

TWO MEN AND A RIVER
He had no traveller's h.,f «„ u-

me 1, he said to h,s storekeeper. " Let thL

cook. t.t„i,,,t and think itLed-cat''^"-
Hut was his humour

.crewedlT "m" '"' ''""'^'' >™Ses, and often
i hat was his economy

This he called generosity
.hev I'c* T" "'"i""' '°" *•■"■■ »d. when

He'^i'ituStirrh--'^^^'-^-

P-ative goodness,"";! X°™nt'°:;

magin, ho. much worse L coLt f he

dared. He said he held strong political views!

!il

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

and any form of meanness looks better than
it poses as stemming the flood of democratic
progress. To give sufficient sugar in a
pannikin of good tea was to pander to the
multitude. They wanted too much.

But then Gardiner had not enough, and
meant having a good deal more.

His great grief was that his station
boundaries did not include the land occupied
by Jimmy Morgan, who was in many ways
Simon Gardiner's absolute antithesis. They
mixed like oil and vinegar, only in this case
the vinegar was on the top. Yet nothing,
not even financial stress, could induce Morgan
to part with his place, not even an entirely
inadequate price, which Gardiner swore was
ruinously generous when he offered it.

And just then the Great Flood happened,
which solved the problem in its own way.

At Grong Grong and thereabouts — that is,
let us say, from fifty miles south of the
Murrumbidgee to fifty miles north of it — the
country is as flat as a flapjack. It is true there
are a few pieces of rising ground known to
the innocents born in the locality as hills. If
a station happens to be reasonably free of
scrub and oak belts such may be easily
discerned at a mile and a half; indeed,

I '

TWO MEN AND A RIVER

anything noticeable at a further distance
would be called a range, and be looked on as
a notable obstacle to intercourse. And yet
over all this country there must be a tilt
somewhere, for the river really does run south-
west. But not when a flood comes. Then
the slope of Irainage is manifestly inadequate
The water rises incredibly until there is a
deluge.

Wlien Morgan first took up his land it
had just been surveyed. When the black
fellows were asked how high the waters ever
rose, those simple and dirty children of
nature declared with naivete that it some
times got half-way up the riverside trees
The surveyors laughed, and told them plainly
m idiomatic English, that they lied. As an
Australian aboriginal has no fine objection to
mere good-natured abuse, the tribe merely
shook their foul heads and departed, curiously
wondering what the white fools were doing
with a long chain and painted sticks. But
ten years later came a convincing rain
sufficient to wash an unwilling black felloJ
and make it not unpleasant to stand on the
lee side of him.

*' Ther° will be a flood— a bit of a flood,"
said Simon Gardiner, chuckling. "And if

67 F 2

■'I '

W'^

STRONG ^l.i^J AND TRUE

there's any i.poL where's it's likely to run
deep, it will be at Morgan's."

He rubbed his hard and bony hands in
keen anticipation. For— " If he's flooded
out, and his old gunyah tui.ioled down about
his ears, and his wife and kids washed out,
lie'll be glad to sell," said Simon. " And I'll
buy at my own price."

But Morgan never thought about a flood.
He was just delighted with the rain. His
wife and the girls were glad too, for they
knew what a narrow shave it had been with
them in the past hot summer.

"The oaks pretty near came to an end,
didn't they, Nellie ? " said Edith, the younger
of the two, " and then we should have been
out of it, and the jumbucks would have
died."

For at the end of the summer Morgan only
kept his sheep alive by felling trees for them
to browse on.

So they gladly put up with ceaseless rain
and muck inside and out, and when the
inside of their house got mildew they bore
with it for the grass outside, and one good
year at the very least, and probably two or
three. That meant Melbourne for a long
visit, and new dresses and gay times. In

TWO MEN AND A RIVER

spite of living in the bush, they were just
getting to feel that new frocks meant a good
deal to them ; for there were many young
men about, entirely ineligible and very mterest-
ing, who found Grong Grong a short cut
whichever way their business led them.

But they did not reckon on the flood-
neither, we are told, did Noah's neighbours •
and Simon Gardiner looked on himself as a'
wiser Noah. He was quite ready to take his
neighbours in, yet he was taken unawares in
spite of his foresight.

The ancient quiet Murrumbidgee was now
running a banker and still rising. It carried
down many horses, cattle, and sheep, that it
had picked up on the way, and they drifted
huggermugger with unnumbered trifles from
a thousand miles of deep-cut banks. Logs
from some low-lying huts went to swell °e
sordid trash ; and perhaps if one could hav-e
sorted out all the corpses that went down the
red drift some human bodies might have been
found among them ; for men will get drunk
and he round careless of the River Serpent
which lifts his head in a dark night and
crawls glittering on the flat and sucks them
down. And if Gardiner could have had his
way he would have presented the River

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

:|!

Snake with Morgan's body most cheerfully,
or his wife and daughters' too, if need be.

And now the sky was for ever dark and
low and heavy ; it rained unceasingly, and
with an awe-inspiring most perpetual steadi-
ness. The few aboriginals, preserved by the
belated care of a government on which they
had been fathered, from poison and shot,
iiugged their k-'ngaroo robes and retreated
carefully to higher ground. But before they
cleared out, a Mirrool black fellow came to
Morgan.

"Mis3a Morgan." said he, standing bare-
shanked in mud, "you mucha budgeree to
poor black fellow. Bimeby allasame as creek
evlywhere. You sendee jumbucks to Arria,
and bimeby you give King Moses some
bacca.''

But Morgan gave him at once a pound of
twist, strong enough to make a dead man
cough, for the half-intelligible tip, and sent
the sheep ofT after him. They got over >
Mirrool Creek just in time, and reached
Arria's rocky hill after going through miles of
water a foot deep. They were even then
hardly beyond the jurisdiction of the river,
and soon every yellow creek yielded its
identity in the turbid universal deluge.

TWO MKN , ND A AIVER

Gardiner, h. his pLu .p-.- anticipations of
the flood's vork, had made one error at least,
and Destiny, if it was ',. , on Morgan, was
harder on him. When the flood was - foot
deep at Grong Grong it was two feet deep at
the other station, and the waters drowned ten
thousand sheep of Gardiner's the very day
they spoke clearly as to what the distant hills
meant and the rains of the hills portended.
Who could believe these things in that bare,
brown land of almost perpetual drought,
where rain was seldom that did more than
give the grasses' roots a chance to perpetuate
their difficult lineage ? Yet day by day half-
drowned men brought m the news of heavier
floods in the east and an unceasing downpour.
The night the sheep were drowned it rose
turee feet on the level. The Murray joined
hands with the Murrumbidgee, and the
Murrumbidgee acknowledged its kinship with
the roaring Lachlan, and the triple flood
nowed a hc-.vy swathe in a submerged land.

The same midnight that Morgan hitched
1 pii:... cared team to escape out of the plain,
old Gardiner desperately harnessed his, and'
they went toward the dry land that was left ;
but as : .organ drove through the glimmering
waste with his wife and children there was

.- l^

jr ■^,

STRONG MEN AND TV^/E

ringing in his ears something out of his child-
hood's days in England v/hen he sat and
Hstened to the clergyman —

" And he said, Go u[> and say unto Ahab,
Prepare thy chariot and get thee down, that
the rain stop thee not."

So ho drove furiously in his mind, but had
to let the horses go slow ; for the water was
to their knees and they trembled and were
afraid.

His wife sat beside him, and the two girls
behind them clung to each other fearfully.
Don, the best beloved of their dogs, crouched
under the seat. The other dog was at Arria.
Put Don whined pitifully. To him this
universe of pale dark water was something
ev-en more incredible than it was to the others!
They had heard of strange and awful floods,
but for him, pupped in a drought and tiained
in a thirsty land of dust, it was a nightmare
that made him tremble. Yet the por girls
encouraged him and warmed his cold pau^ in
shaking hands.

" I am afraid we shall never get through,
Mary," said Morgan in a low voice to his wTfe.'
She clutched his left ann.

"Don't despair, Jim.'

" We get deeper now," he said after a few
7J

TWO MEN AND A RIVER

minutes as they entered a dark bull-oak
forest. " But we must go deeper yet."

The water lapped about their feet, and the
horses lifted their heads ; and Don sprang up
between the girls as though the water had
bitten him, and left him no courage.

"It's deeper than I reckoned on," said
Morgan ; •' and I believe it rises every minute
We must go for the Pine scrub. It's our only
chance." ^

For where a thin patch of pine grew was the
highest land about them. But it was a mile's
drive, and the waters rose and rose.

In that strange and awful midnight, every-
thing seemed unreal and ghastly. There
were odd and pitiful cries from the sunk bush,
in the dark glimmer of the moving water
they sometimes saw a white patch that
marked a dead floating sheep ; once they
Heard the roar of a terrified bull and the low of
a swimming cow. They knew that the snakes
were swimming too, and the girls created
out of their minds innumerable serpents
ghdmg like eels for the buggy as a refuge.
A lizard that had taken shelter under the
seat made Nellie scream. Then Don barked
and gave a mournful howl which echoed dully
in the moving bush.

I :

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

And now the horses almost swam. They
snorted and stopped. Morgan urged them,
and at last, with a plunge that nearly upset
the buggy, they went in, and the water rose
a foot. Then it gradually grew shallower,
and the pines showed above the water. They
had just entered the patch of scrub when the
near-side horse neighed loudly.

" What did he do that for?" asked Nellie ;
and the answer was given by an answering
neigh from the far side of the pines, among
which were a few loftier box-trees.

•' Is there anyone else here ? " said Mrs.
Morgan, who hoped for succour where none
could be.

" It looks like it," answered Morgan ; " for,
if the other horse was loose, he would most
likely come to ours."

" Cooey ! " said his wife ; and Morgan
cooeyed. His cry was returned from near at
hand, and they heard other horses splashing
within a hundred yards.

" Who is it ? " shouted Morgan.

" Simon Gardiner," replied a quavering
voice ; and Nellie made a mouth. " Who
are you ? "

" Morgan and the whole family," answered
Morgan with a cheerfulness which surprised

TWO MEN AND A RIVER

himself; for the presence of another human
bemg inspirited him, even if it was Gardiner.
" What do you think of it ? "

"I don't know what to think," said
Gardiner ; " but if it rises much we shall all
be drowned."

He had to speak loudly to be heard, and he
found it difficult to make his voice sound as
bad-tempered as he felt, for it is not easy to
shout sulkily.

" This is the only chance," said Morgan.
* Are you by yourself 1 "

It af,>eared that Gardiner was. His men
had taken themselves off on his horses, which
he denied them permission to do, as soon as
thmgs began to look really serious, even
leavmg him to harness his own buggy. He
meant to make it warm for them when the
waters went down and they came in for their
cheques. They would get none, and if they
went to court, he could fight them while he
had a pound of wool left to raise money on.

He told the Morgans so in a high querulous
voice. But they were thinking of other
things. For the water still rose.

" Kitty," said iV .., :. i, " this is the highest
ground I know of for miles round. If it
rises more, we shall have to take to the

>
i 1

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

tree here. I'm going to get out and cut the
horses adrift and give them a chance. Any
moment they might take fright and upset us."
..ie opened his knife and sHpped quietly
into the water, which reached his chest.
What he could not loose he cut. He noticea
with apprehension that as soon as they were
free they moved off to the northwards and
were soon swimming. It was as if they knew
they could not stay there long. Yet they
would have to swim five miles at least for
much higher ground. Morgan called to
Gardiner —
" You'd better let your horses go."
And Gardiner, seeing the necessity, loosed
them, though he swore horribly at having to
get into the water. When his pair were free
they followed Morgan's, and two black hours
slowly passed.

As the night began to wane hope grew
once more in the hearts of all. It seemed
impossible that such a flood could last. They
could have prayed with Ajax to be destroyed
in the light. But when the dim dawn broke
there was no mitigation in the remorseless
downpour. And the flood still crept up inch
by inch, vv'hen every visible increc.se seemed
a new and worse disaster.

TWO MEN AND A RIVER

An hour after dawn the buggy was no
longer possible, and Morgan, crouching
against the near tree, made Nellie climl upon
his shoulders, and get to the lowest big
branch. She was followed by her sister, and
with great labour Mrs. Morgan took her place
by them. Morgan tried his best, but was
unable to raise himself. Though strong, he
was a heavy man of his years. But Ff he
could not climb the waters could.

'' Don't trouble about me," he said. " If it
rises much more I can swim to an easier tree.
I wonder how Gardiner is doino- ''

But Gardiuvjr had had a hit of better luck
than they. He was on a spot at least two
feet higher. His buggy, too, was bigger.
But when he was sitting down the water
reached his waist.

Even as he sat there in the lukewarm
turbid flood which moved sluggishly about
him, though he knew that his flat world was
under water, he still ached for the possession
of Naboth's vineyard. Not even the terror
which walks by night nor the ghosts that
moved upon the face of the flood could scare
the greediness out of him.
And, besides, he said, it was a chance— a

good chance.

Tiiough the
77

waters receded

i ■

y I

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

Morgan's house would be ruined, his flocks
destroyed. He might sell now. At 'he
thought Gardiner rose. He drank out of a
bottle and called to Morgan.

" Morgan," he said, " how goes it ? "
"It rises still," answered Morgan, who
was standing on the buggy seat with his back
against the tree on which his wretched family
sat.

" Will it ever go down ? "
Morgan did not answer and Gardiner drank
again.

" Will you sell out now, Morgan ? " he
cried.

Morgan looked across to him in surprise.
Who was this, ready to luixter in the face of
death ?

" No," he said.
But Gardiner persisted.
" Take my last offer," he cried again.
Morgan shook his head.
" This is no time to buy and sell. We may
be dead before the morninjr."

Gardiner laughed, and sat down, but rose
again choking. The water was over his lips.
He looked at the tree under which he stood.
But he was sixty years of age, and he knew
that ten feet of smooth trunk would beat him,

J^i^y^--

TWO MEN AND A RIVER
if, indeed, the flood could rise so far as to
make him try it. He stood on the seat and
cursed the warm treacherous liquid covered
with dead leaves and pine-needles. It made
no noise, and did what it had to do very
quietly. The only sound was the sound o^
the Great Rain, though every now and then
a stick loosed out of mud rose like a fish lean-

hlwl ' ^^'" ^"' ^" ^''""'^ ^^^'■^^"'^ ^^S
For Don was standing on the seat with his

fore-paws against the tree. He looked

pleadingly at the girls above him

" Couldn't we lift poor Don up nnna ? "

asked Nellie^ B,, Morgan shookTisE

to ^ ru^^ '" """'''' -^^^ ""''y ^^^^ enough

And^h n ' ?' "^^ '^^^''" ^' ^"^-ered.
And then Don had a fit ; he fell back, and

went under and kicked dreadfully. The eirls
screamed, and covered their eyes Bu
presently Don recovered and regained his old
posmon. He suffered terribi;, and several
times seemed like to die.

And so they passed the whole silent day-
he sombre, black-skied day. They could not
talk, and only once did Gardiner speak
His voice sounded very odd and thick to the'
Morgans. *^

i I

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

" Won't you sell out now ? " he cried; and
he laughed terribly. They heard him chuek-
linp wlicn the ni.t;hl fell oiict; more.

Hy midniglu tlie women liad been twenty-
four hours in the tree. They had eaten
nothing, ami had drunk the flooil-water out
of Morgan's hat. Presently Mrs. Morgan
moaned and laiiileil. But her husband could
do r.othing. lie had nothing to give her,
and he might not even take her in his arms.
Then he heart! oKl Gardiner talking to him-
self or to the Kiver and the Flood.

" Gardiner 1 " he called.

''Ha! you'll sell now, will vou ? " cried
Gardiner.

" Have you any brandy, Gardiner ? My
wife is ill."

Simon laugheil.

" More than a bottle," he cried.

" Thank God ! " cried Morgan ; and kick-
ing ofT his boots and hanging his coat on a
knot hi his tree, he swam out through the
darkness. He came at last > the buggy, and
was trying to clind'* to the seat, when Gardiner
shouted angrily to him, —

"Keep otV!" he cried; "don't you come
close ! "

And Morgan laid hold of a pine sapling.
80

TWO MEN AND A RIVER

He could see the old man's head and shoulders
out of the water.

" Will you sell out now, Morgan ? " said
Gardiner.

" No," said Morgan.

" Then go back to your perch," answered
Gardiner, supping brandy.

"I'll give you ten pounds fur it," said
Morgan.

And Gardiner jeered him till Morgan
loosed his hold of the pine and swam towards
him.

^^ "Keep off!" cried the old man thickly,
* or I'll brain you and break the bottle at the
same time ! "

So Morgan swam back again to the sapling
and heard Gardiner still pulling at the bottle
What could he do to get the brandy from a
drunken old man doomed surely by his own
folly ? How could he circumvent him ? At
last he loosed his sapling and swam towards
his own tree. But when he was half-way he
turned quietly to the right and, swimming
right round a thick piece of scrub, came up
behind Gardiner, paddling very softly. If he
could but swim in close enough to grip hold
of him before he was himself seen ! And just
as he was within four yards Gardiner turned

8i o

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

He threw the empty bottle, which was float-
ing by him, very viciously at Morgan. But
the swimmer ducked, and the missile struck
the water harmlessly.

" You would, would you ? " said Gardiner.
" I thought as much."

But Morgan was about done for.

" Give me the brandy, and I'll sell out," he
cried.

" I'll not trust you."

*' For God's sake, Gardiner," said Morgan,
"give me the brandy and come down to
Grong Grong when the flood's done, and
name your price."

" Swear on your honour,'' said Gardiner,
" and then I'll trust you."

And Morgan swore.

" And if you go back on it," said Gardiner,
*' I'll track and hunt you out of the country
if it cost me my last pound. And I'll never
let up on you till I'm dead."

So Morgan got the brandy.

" Bring back a little," said Gardiner, quite
cheerfully.

But Morgan did not answer, and swam on.
If he had had the breath to spare he would
have laughed.

When he reached the tree he found his

TWO MEN AND A RIVER

wife half conscious and moaning. He gave
the bottle to Nellie, and cursed himself that
he could not reach them.

And presently Gardiner cried in a loud
voice, " Remember, you've sold out, Morgan."

A little while after he spoke again.

" Give me the brandy, Morgan ; I'm cold,
and the water's over my heart."

But Morgan laughed and gave him no
answer. He heard the old man crying at
intervals, and the terrified girls asked him
v/hat it meant ; for in such a night to hear
that cold, deathly voice was horrible, most
horrible.

But Morgan only said the man was drunk.
Who could help him in any way ?

"The waters are to my chin, Morgan,"
he cried again ; " they are to my chin !
Help ! help ! "

They were at Morgan's lips, and had not a
log floated near him he would have had to
swim. He called to Nellie, who held out her
hand. Her father sprang from the sunken
buggy seat, and, scrambling on the log,
laid hold of his child's wrist and a branch.
He was soon sitting in the cramped tree-fork
with his wife's head upon his breast. And
Gardiner cried, —

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(716) S72-4S03

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

" They are to my lips— to my lips."

But Morgan did not answer. For the
horror ot it came over him, and he could see
the old man choke.

Once more he cried in a very lamentable
voice for help. Then he laughed a harsh,
crackling laugh, and spoke for the last
time.

" I've sold oat," was all he said.

And then the River took him, and floating
him out over the land which he had so
yearned for, rolled him in the mud, to let
him taste its very savour. He went down
the slow current which led towards Morgan's
homestead, with the bodies of dead sheep
which had once been his own. And now the
waters stayed, for they had come to their
most ancient marks, and were slowly subsid-
ing. The rain ceased upon the plain as it
had ceased before upon the hills, and the day
broke very wonderful in a golden dawn.

THE ARBITRATOR.

11 Very well, I'll do it for you," said Gurdon.
"I'd just as soon you should have it as
Parsons, for he is always kicking about
prices."

"AH right, then," said Fredericks in a
preoccupied way ; " let me see it as soon as
you have it done, or you might send in
part."

And as he turned to his desk Gurdon
nodded, showing a half-burnt cigar between
his big teeth, and went out to his club in
the purlieus of St. James's. He chuckled
joyfully as he went.

*' Landed my fish rather neatly that
time," he said, as he stayed at a corner and
struck a match on a much-scratched brick.
"I might have had more trouble in
placing it. But now I must do it. Six weeks'
hard labour, and, I suppose, one hundred
pounds. That was the implied price,"

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

He went into the club familiarly known as
the Paste and Scissors Arms ; and c tiering
a large gin-and-bitters, s... down to consider
matters and methods. But presently Rivers
came in. He was the very antithesis of
Gurdon, who bulked large and red and fiery,
and could look murderous after three drinks ;
for Rivers was thin and dark and small, and
dehberate with the choicest Oxford delibera-
tion, and by no means given to any form of
violence. It was reported that he under-
stood the Alps, and a rumour once gained
considerable credence that after a late supper
in his room he undertook to demonstrate the
glissade by toboganning in a tea-tray down
the stairs. But this maj' have been inven-
tion, for Rivers denied it consistently, and
he might well have forgotten what none of
his guests were in any state to reiaember.

" Is there anything new, Gurdon ? " asked
Rivers, as he sat down.

" Tea-trays are at a discount," said Gurdon
gravely, " but embrocations are firm."

Rivers smiled wearily.

"That is not new, Gurdon. Have you
done any work lately ? "

"I never work," said Gurdon. "Work,
as I take it, is a reasonable and regular appli-

II
11

THE ARBITRATOR

callon of one's energies to definite ends, and
I only go in for unreasonable and irregular
bursts of chaotic mental activity. Now, I
understand you work. I often hear you say
you are going to do so. Believing that you
speak the truth, I respect your industry, and
mourn my own incapacity for continued
exertion."

"You are cheerful this morning," said
Rivers, '• and keep up your pose. But what
do you do when you disappear for three
months at a time ? "

" I consider the lilies," said Gurdon gravely,
•' until I am in immediate danger of starva-
tion. Then I work for a week fifteen hours a
day and smoke fifteen cigars and some pipes,
and drink a bucket of tea and a bottle of
whisky. And I come back to town with fifty
thousand words of miscellaneous matter,
which I dispose of during the next three
months. I have no nerves left, and an a
perfect wreck, an empty bottle, a stove-in
cask, a dried-up spring, the shadow of my full
self. I am amorphous, blotched, .bleared,
gibbous, gastado^ wasted. Then I come and
look at you, and sit here and grow again. I
am nearly ready now — "

" I see the energy coming up in you," said
87

r. ,
r;

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

Rivers. «'But you are a full-sized idiot to
work like that."

Gurdon,
itters,

" Every man to his method," cried .
touching the bell. '* Have a gin-and
Rivers ? "

They drank together, and Gurdon ex-
panded . his red beard glowed.

" I'm going to do a good month's work for
Fredericks," said he.

*' Mind what you're doing," said Rivers.

*' What do you mean ? "

*' Stamp his letters."

** It's a verbal agreement,"

" Then you'll quarrel, and he'll do you."

Gurdon looked ugly.

" I'll bash his brains out if he tries. But he
won't. It is too clear ;or him to get out of it."

" Wh;,t are you doing for him ? " asked
Rivers.

"Seven long articles on Seven Popular
Asses," said Gurdon indiscreetly. **But I
ha^ liberty to serve them as if I were an
intoxicated humorist of a costermonger
knocking his donkey in the Old Kent Road.
He will edit the hbellous matter with a big
blue pencil."

"Give it them," said Rivers. "I wish I
was in a position to be one of them."

\ >

THE ARBITRATOR

" So do I," said Gurdon softly, as a gentle
prospect of n per cent, on a:" copies opened
out to him. " For I would sling journalism
—yea, and all writing— and go out into the
unsophisticated universe and be a man. i
must have another drink."

" With me," said Rivers.

He ordered it, and Gurdon continued.

"What luck a man has! I should have
made a most sweet pirate — an amiable and
intelligent filibuster. And here I am leading
forlorn hopes against the Seven Champions
of Bourgeoisdom. Good-bye. I am oflF."

He departed swiftly, and for a long month
was not seen of men.

But in five weeks a gaunt wreck swung
into the Harbour of Refuge, and went ashore
heavily in a big arm-chair.

''Bring me a gin-and-bitters," said the
wreck. "And have you seen Mr. Rivers
to-day ? "

" He's usually in to lunch, sir," replied
the waiter.

Sure enough Rivers came in at half-past
one. " The devil ! " said he, when he caught
sight of Gurdon, " so you're back. Glad to see
you ! Have you smitten the seven asses ? "

Gurdon groaned.

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

(( T»

I've done it, man, finished last night.

And to think of all the rot I've read

order to get through. . .. ...,, ,, ,, ,,.,.,„

to ten hours a day for a motith. I st-yec:
at a little inn down at Shoreham, but I don't
think I wandered further than the bar Yes
1 once went to the stables with a drunken'
visitor to inspect a horse. I've had a deuce
of a time."

^^ " So I should think," said Rivers seriously,

and doesn't it ever occur to you that it's
suicide to go on like that '^ "

Gurdou grunted.

"Whafs the odds? Now I've to badger
iM-edericks. It's a new form of hard labour."

''Let me hear how you get on," said
Rivers. " I'm curious to know if he pays
up. ' ^ ^

"He'll pay," said Gurdon. "I shall write
every other day till he does."

Bat he wrote every other day for a week,
and then every day for another week before'
a cheque came.

That night Rivers met Gurdon coming
west down the Strand like a fire-ship in a
tideway He loomed gigantic, and his ragged
red beard looked like flame ; women stared
at him and laughed half nervously when he

THE ARBITRATOR

had passed, but men got out of his way, and
nothing less than a City poHceman, used to
regulating traffic, would have stopped him.
His eyes glittered, and he was cursing in a
thick dry whisper. He saw Rivers, and
halting, laid his big paw on his shoulder and
swept him off down the street.

" What the devil's gone wrong ? " asked
Rivers calmly.

" He sent me fifty pounds," said Gurdon in
a voice that would have split a fog like a
gunshot. " Now what I want is advice, my
boy— nice cool, wise advice, with an iceberg
of due deliberation in it. Shall I catch him
and dweep the Strand with him, or shall I
wreck his office and set it on fire, or shall I
wring his neck and plead public benefit, or
what shall I do ? "

Rivers gave him a slight sheer which sent
him out of the Strand into King William
Street, and they drifted past Toole's Theatre
like a big blundering barge and little river
tug.

" You will do none of these things, Gurdon,"
he said quietly. " I should recommend your
calmly pointing out to him that he has only
sent half, and then, if he doesn't cash up, sue
him."

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

"Sue him?" roared Gurdon. "Can I
catch his sweet breath of a month ago and

on It ? If he s a mean hound, why he is, and
verbal agreements without witnesses don't
count for much. He would set up custom
and common rates, and I should get County
Court justice, and have to pay costs. No,
no ; 1 1 catch him, and knock the stuffing ou
of him. **

"He's as big and strong as you are," said
Kiyers, and you might get the worst of it
and go to jail too." '

Gurdon stopped.

"I tell you. Rivers, I could lick a church-
ful ot such, I could ; you bet I could "

And letting out suddenly, he hit a shop
shu.ter such a crack with his huge fist tha^
the street resounded,

" Don't." said Rivers. - Come up to my
rooms and we'll talk it over."

And about two o'clock in the mornino- he
put an mtoxicated but mollifted giant in'Io a
stray hansom, and sent him home

But Gurdon did no other work than write
letters to Fredericks. He kept up a continual
bombardment of them till the editor grew
sick and angry. He wanted to punch his

THE ARBITRATOR

contributor's head just as much as the con-
tributor desired to punch his. But public
opinion on one side and Rivers on the other
kept them both from an open scandal.

" What am I to do with this fellow ? " he
asked his chief clerk in despair. The clerk
might have suggested " Pay him," but did
not. He was quite accustomed to Fredericks'
getting something for nothing or much for a
little. So, at last, he thought of arbitration.
" If he sues me, he's certain not to get
a full verdict, but he'll be nasty," said
Fredericks, " and, besides, the advertisement
would be worth the money to him. If I get
Hayden, or Siblock, or Grayson to arbitrate,
they'll see how absurd the price is. They
wouldn't get more themselves than what I
sent him."

So he wrote and suggested that as the
matter in dispute was so small, arbitration
would be a good way to settle it. Gurdon
pondered over the letter, and took Rivers'
advice again.

"Take him on," said Rivers ; "you're sure
to land something."

Gurdon brought his fist down on the table.

"If I didn't belie ;^e I should get the full
amount, I wouldn't arbitrate ! '' he roared.

11^

•N

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

''He^ a swindler, a ruffian, a mean,
sneaking crawling, beastly journalistic
parasite."

''If you think that way you shouldn't
arbitrate, suggested Rivers. But Gurdon
was torrential, Wind, blundering, and would
not listen. He wrote and asked who was to
act as arbitrator.

Fredericks suggested Gravson, a very
popular man of letters, who,' having come
into considerable money, rarely did any
work. ^

" He's the very man," said Rivers when he
heard of it.

^^ " But 1 don't know him," growled Gurdon •
and he s such a general favourite, I know I
sha n t like him. And if I don't like him, and
he goes against me, I shall carry on most
shamefully."

Rivers rebuked him.

" Of all the absurd, impossible creatures I
ever saw, Gurdon," he said severely, "you
are the most absurd and impossible."

So he calmed Gurdon down, and got him
to accept Grayson as arbitrator. And that
mght Gurdon spent ten pounds of the full
fifty which he was to get, as he firmly
beheved. And Fredericks gambled away the

TH£ ARBITRATOR

best part of the fifty which he believed he
had saved. His losses made him smart, and
he lost his temper and swore in the card-room.
A man who was no friend of his threatened
to report him to the committee, and this set
Fredericks on a regular tear. He was as
much given to that kind of thing as Gurdon,
and he was to the full as reckless a fool. It
was good luck they did not meet that night,
or there wou' ' have been flaring head-lines'
for the evening papers the next day.

In the afternoon Grayson cime to see
Gurdon at his chambers, and the jouriali'st
lound him very pleasant and genial, and quite
as clever as his reputation would have led him
to suppose. He listened to Gurdon's wild
denunciations of his editor, and to his theory
of the agreement,

" I'm sorry I undertook this, Mr. Gurdon,"
said Grayson gloomily, •• it looks as if I had
to believe that either you or Fredericks must
be a liar."

Gurdon intimated cheerfully that he hadn't
the least objection to his thinking as badly as
he liked of Fredericks. But that did not
quite settle it.

"I don't see that I can take either your
account or his into consideration," said Gray-

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

son. " If I fix a price, it must be on the general
grounds of fair journalistic prices for such
signed work."

So Gurdon grunted and they shook hands,
and Grayson went to inspect the seven articles
on the Seven Asses.

He reported to Fredericks that he con-
sidered a fair price would be another twenty-
five pounds — making in all seventy-five. He
sent a note to this effect to Gurdon as well,
and washed his hands of the matter with
a resolution never to act as arbitrator
again.

He pleased neither ; indeed, both were
furious.

For this call of another twenty-five pounds
struck Fredericks in a tender spot. His
account was overdrawn, and his magazine was
moribund, or, at the least, very sadly ailing.
Worry of all kinds had driven him half crazy,
and now his overcharged nerves went off in
an explosion.

As for Gurdon, who was relying on that
fatal fifty pounds to pay his rent and his club
subscription, he fairly tore his hair and beard.
But all his wrath was now directed against
the unfortunate arbitrator.

" He evidently thought I was the liar," he
96

sir

THE ARBITRATOR

said, " for how could any nuu not .ee that my
talc was the only credible one."

He went out and started drinkin^ at a ter-
rible rate. And when he drank fast he never
became obviously intoxicated. His appear-
ance was that of a madman. It was a pity
that R,vers wasn't at hand with his nice de-
liberate manner and his carefully enunciated
common wisdom to drop a little cold water
into this bubbling, boiling pot. But Rivers
;vas at work. If he had guessed what was
happening, he would have left a chapter un-
finished and have come down to look after
this gunpowder barge once more adrift in the
fairway. However, he knew nothing, and he
could not stop or order differently the course
of coming events.

By eleven o'clock that night Fredericks, too,
Kid drunk sufficient champagne and mixed
liquors to lose what was left of his discretion
never at any time over much.

" Confound Grayson ! " he swore to himself.
" I wonder if he has told Gurdon ? Isn't there
anything which I forgot, anything I ought to
have let him know ? I'll go and see the cursed
fool! Iwishlhadneverletitgotoarbitration ' "
He stood in the hall of the dub pondering.
1 he porter came up to him.

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

" '^'Vas it you ordered a hansom, sir ? ''

Tliat decided Frederick: .

" Yes," he declared, and getting in, he drove
off to Grayson's rooms.

The night was fine and brilhant, the streets
crowded. But there was just that touch of cold
in it which catches a man who has not been
over-careful in his dinner and after-dinner
drinks. He entered the cab passably sober,
and came '^ut intoxicated. He quarrelled
with the cabman ; he returned abuse v\ith
abuse, and finally orfered to fight the man.

*' You're three stone over my weight,"' said
the driver, " and I should get hauled up and
lose my license;. You're no gentleman, that's
Avhat you ain't."

And Fredericks went up the stairs in a
towering rage. He put it all down to Grayson,
and cursed him in the common lantjuafjc
understanded of the people. He found the
arbitrator's oak unsported, and he knocked
loudly and knocked again. Then he listened,
and was answered with a snore. He turned
the handle and went in, to find the room in
utter darkness.

" Grayson, is that you ? " he said. Advanc-
ing a step, he tripped up, and in an instant was
locked in a strong embrace.

THE ARBITRATOR

" Let go," he bhouted ; and the next

moment he was loosed, and got a crack which

half stunned him. His self-restraint was gone.

He wont for his opponent, whose figure he now

saw dmily oy the gas-light outside the opened

door, and pounded for all he was worth. He

never gave Grayson so much credit for bein-

a %hter. " m murder >ou I " he muttered!

' \ ou mimortal idiot, I'll arbitrate you ! "

And grappling with him, they reeled over
the room, capsizing chairs and table, and
generally reducing the whole place to a perfect
wreck. But suddenly they fell across the
sola, and he got .-ich a blow on the side of his
head that he lost consciousnes,-.

The room was still dark when he came to
and he found himself lying on top of his
opponent, whose breathing he could scarcely
discern. He was now a bit sobered.

"By Jove ! I hope I haven't killed him "
he said ; and getting clear of the sofa he took
a match from his pocket and lighted the -as
As he turned round he saw Grayson in front
of him, looking perfectly thunderstruck. The
arbitrator was so neat and in such good trim
that Fredericks for a moment thought that it
was all a dream.

"I thought I'd killed you," said he.
99 H 2

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

Ik I

*_ii !

" What have you bet-'ii doing Lo the room ? "
said the arbitrator.

" What did you strike me for ? " said
Fredericks, plucking up a bit.

" You're mad,'' said Grayson. "What do
you mean ? "

" Fredericks shrugged his shoulders.

" I've been punching you for this last ten
minutes," he muttered.

" Confound

you

t >•

said the arbitrator
angrily ; " you have smashed a hundred
pounds worth of china and furniture. You're
drunk, sir. This comes of doing something
to oblige you. Get out of this."

And poor Fredericks, who was still stupid
with the blow which made him insensible,
obeyed like a child. Grayson saw him off,
and sported his oak. Coming back, he looked
ruefully at the mischief which had been done,
and tried to arbitrate on that. He cursed a
little, and went into his bed-room ; but he
heard a noise behind him and came back.
Gurdon was standing in the middle of the
room looking absolutely ghastly, with blood
running down his face from a cut in his head.

" What the blazes are you in my rooms
for ? " said Grayson, who began to believe he
was dreaming.

lOO

THE ARBITRATOR

"What did you strike me for and kick
me ? " said Gu.don in a confused and foolish
voice. " I was quiet enough till you did that.
I onlyjust wanted to speak to you. I thought
I had killed you."
Grayson sat down and whistled.
'' When did you come here } "
" I don't know," said Gurdon plaintively.
" How did 3^ou get in ? "
" I knocked and came in and sat down to
wait a bit for you. And then you struck
me."

Grayson laughed scornfully.
" No, I didn't ; it was Fredericks, and a
pretty mess you've made of him," said he.
" He won't be able to show up for a month.''
Gurdon wiped his face with a handkerchief
and looked happier.

"Then Vm all right," said he. " I was
afraid it was you. And I'm afraid we've hurt
your furniture. I'm very sorry, Grayson."

" Who's going to pay for this ? " said Gray-
son. " My place is wrecked."'

" You will have to settle it with me and
that beast Fredericks," suggested Gurdon
dolefully, who began to see that a cheque for
twenty-five pounds would look very small
against so much damage.

lOI

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

But Grayson smiled, and rising^, unlocked
his door in a very suggestive way.

" What ! " said he, " settle anything with
money in it between you am! Fredericks?
Not very much. Good-night, Mr. Gurdon."

102

AT WALDO.

It was growing more than a trifle cold at
Waldo, for on the other side of the mountains,
on the eastern side, the snow was thick and
heavy. Even the Siskyous were white down
to the Rogue River that ran out of their
glaciers, and when the wind blew to the sea
the miners at Sailors' Diggings blew on their
fingers and cursed hotly. It was a chilly time,
and the Oregon Saloon at Waldo was doing
a good business in bad spirits.

One Saturday night the place was full,
and Billy Grew, the bar-tender, was sliding
brandy and gin on the metal counter like a
conjuror. Every now and again he concocted
sometliing complicated.

"Here, doctor,'' said Jake Hopkins, "just
fix me up suthin' that'll make a man of me.
Put in what you like, and as much as you
like, if it's ten dollars' worth, in a jug."

And the "doctor" behind the bar sUmg
103

■?<!

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

his soul and artistic sense into the matter al
haud. He made Hopkins cough and slap his
chest, ^

"What d'ye call that?" he asked
anmirmgly.

''It's a ' Billy Greu','"said the inventor
modestly, " and the basis of it is gin."
Hopkins recommended it to the others
"Boys, a pint of it on a graveyard would
spoil ihe resurrection as a whole world show •
It would soothe the melancholy of a govern-
ment mule. Take some and be happy hke
me.' '^^•^

The crowd drank "Billy Grew " and grew
merry. They forgot their miseries and
remembered their troubles no more.

And then a mild-mannered, whiskerless,
beardless man entered the saloon. He had
a modest sober air that Hopkins didn't like •
It was a reproach, it was unsuitable to the'
atmosphere, it was wrong ; it .hould he
altered. The stranger stepped up to the bar
and stood among the noisy crowd, pondering
his^ order. Hopkins shoved up alongside him.
"Partner, if you've got any horse sense
you 11 ask for a ' Billy Grew ' right here and
now."

The stranger looked at him gently.
104

AT WALDO

*• And what's that ? " he asked.
"It's a drink, my young and innocent
fnend, a drink tliat'll bring hair out on your
upper lip and make you feel just good, that'll
make you as strong and warm as a ten-ton
hammer at work. Ain't it cold outside.'
Then you take it and be warm inside."'
The new-comer shook his head.
" Thank you very much, partner," he said
in a strongish voice, " but I reckon I'll take a
warm lemonade."

There was a moment's silence, and then a
shoMt of laughter. But Hopkins did not sec
the funny side of it.

*' A warm lemonade ! " he roared con-
temptuously. " Who the hell ever heard of a
warm lemonade ? Here, doctor, hand me the
jug. This stranger will take some straight ;
about half a pint will suit him "

" But I'd very much rather not," said the
meek man. " I'm only taking soft stuff."

" Hell ! " said Jake, and he poured out a
tumbler of gin. '' Now, you just drink this
and I'll give you a toast. ' Here at yer, dad
drat yer ; here's to you and towards you ; if
I'd never a' seen yer I'd never a' known yer.'
Drink, drink, my teetotal chicken, or suthin's
goin' to happen."

105

STKONG .\fF-.\ AND TRl'K

And he shook his left fist within an ace of
h.s man's „ose. The next moment the .nn
went tlymg, and Jake dropped as if he had
been shot. The stranger IkuI struck him
under tlie left ear.

'n a moment tliere was tlie devil's own
row. No k.n-ves or pistols eame out, hnt
three of Hopkins's partners came for the
'"an who '.ad pt.l their higgc-st ciu.mpion on
the floor.

In thirty seconds thcv were all in a pile
u-.th fake unpermost ; and the stranger turned
to Billy drew.

"if, as I was going to say when I was
nuerrupted, j-ou'd fix me up a warm lemonade
Id fed mighty obliged," he lemarked quietly'
And the bar-tender, though it almost broke
Ins heart, did the unprofessional act, puttina
a little hot water in the lemonade.

"And you won't have just a little some-
thuig in it ? " he asked.

"Thanks, but I'.! much rather not," said
tl'.e stranger.

And graduady the men on the floor picked
themselves up. They attended to Hopkins
ana presently he came to.

" What wa:5 it struck me. boys ? " he mur-
mured as they propped him against the wall.

I Ob

AT WALDO

"Only a cyclone," said Jimmy Gordon ;
" nothin' more .serious."

And the stranp;er turned.

"•♦you'd drink witii aie, boys, it's I that
woulLi be real pleased to see you step up and
name it."

They stepped up to th.; bar, and Hopkins
again stood alongside the cyclor.e.

" Do you have any objection, partner, to
my feeling of your arm, and then I'll liquor."

He was allou-ed to feel the mild man's
biceps. It was notIiin<r out of the wav, and
Jake's face fell.

" I don't quite take it in," he said, " but I'll
drink with you. And I'll have— yes, by Gosh
— I'll have a warm lemonade."

"And we'll all have a warm lemonade"
said the others, softly. '

They drank the unaccustomed liquor with
wry faces, but peace reigned once more in
the saloon, even if the wind howled outside,
.nul the prospect of earning more mone^ for
!vttL'r drinks was cold in the e.\treme.

107

LIKK A MAN.

Wk wltc sittins in Liie saloon at Glen Ellen,
Sonoma County, California, and as it was
November we were glad to get to the stove.
Most of us steamed ; for the whole valley was in
a mist with rain, and the creeks ran roaring.

" A good day for still-hunting." said Josiah,
who was deeply engaged with a chew of
tobacco.

" If there was anything to hunt," growled
an oldish man, whom none of us knew.
" There's nothin' but a few measly deer of
sorts round about this country nowadays.
Nary a Californian lion, nor a grizzly. One
has to go far for any kind of real game."

And he put such an emphasis on "real,"
that those of us who sometimes shot a deer
fairly squirmed. We knew we were in the
presence of a Nimrod.

lie was a stou«--lool:ing man, with greyish
hair and beard ; but for all his hinted dii^gust
with Central Californian huntin<T of the
present time, there was a curious twinkle in

io6

LIKE A MAN

his eyes that showed humour. And nuling
that, I chipped in, —

*'If you're an old-timer, maybe you saw
some'hing real in the way of sport, eh ? ''

He nodded.

" And if it was w^arm, and I \v urn't soaked
and dodrotted miser'ble right to the skin, I
could spin you fellers yarns about them days
as would make you open them eyes of
yourn."

" Tom," said Josial. to the bar-tender, who
was wiping the steam from the window with
the fiat of h''s hand, " bring this gentleman
something. Come, sir. what will you take ? "

The hunting gentleman accepted some old
rye. And it sank into his memory, bringing
the colours out strong, and his imagination
revived as the whisky got into him.

" You don't mind, none of you, when bears
was as thick in Sonoma County as grapes is
now. A man couldn't walk a mile without
running butt agin a black bear at the very
least ; and the squeal of a young pig at night
fetched the grizzlies out o' the hills like flies
for meat. And my favourite game then was
potting the black bears up the pines. They'd
jest climb up a two-hundred-feet tree, and
think no more of it than you and me'd of

lOQ

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

Roin' upstairs to bed. And it was the best
kind of tun to shoot bears as one would shoot
a bird. Lordy, but how you would admire to
fcce a six-hundred-pound bear rear up and over
and come down kerflunimix with a wliack
that knocked all the stuffing out of him '
And the way he clawed the air was somethincr
surprising 1'.. killed 'em flying ; for al
that time I was a daisy with any sort of a gun
I mind just chipping the paw of one, and he
got so savage that he missed his tip, and down
he come hke a case broke out of the slinos
I put three bullets into him before he touched
^hc ground. He fell three hundred feet or
"'gh. When he hit the rocks down below he
was dead."

And the old man drank.

"Tom" said I, " I think this gentleman
uill drink again ; and as it shows signs of
clearing up, I'll have one with him."

We drank solemnly, and Tom came oxer
and took a chair by the stove. The old man
rambled on.

"But that 'A-arn't moren an amusement.

M T 77''^'" ^''^"^^'•°"^- I^l^'-^s }-ou. it takes
al the fight plum out of the grittiest bear to
fall so far. But I mind one time I had a time
of it that war risky, if you like. I was

I 10

LIKE A MAN

workin' — minin'. you know — at the Silver
Star Mine, and one Sunday I clawed my gun
and went out to kill. When luck's agin a
man, he must drink or slay. There's nothin'
makes a man quiet in a had streak like whisky
or blood or a good scrap when he gets licked
—well licked, you know. So I went out with
a bloody mind, and steered right ahead into
the lonest kind of place I could hit on. I
didn't take no notice where I was goin', but I
got into the bush and lost myself— fair lost
myself. And the chaparall was as thick as the
bristles of a brush, and all locked togetlier,
and bimeby I struck right on the tracks of a
bear I knowed. You bet I knew the foot of
every big bear round about, and this one had
come nosin' round our shack time out of
mind. His paw was as big as an elephant's ;
it covered a piece of country as big as any

Chicago foot could do. It

was

long

and

broad, and the claws of him was clan-s like old
Scratch's, and they sunk into the ground as if
he was planting peas in a row, making holes
with a stick. And I was that wild agin my
week's luck that I never steadied myself to con-
sider, but I crawled after him. And the cliap-
arall got so thick, that it took a bear like him
to get through— it would have stuck a loco-

III

" "^^i

c;trong men and true

inoLivc — and in a bit 1 had to work here and
there to find an easy way. And presently I went
down on all fours, and then on my flat, pulling
my gun along. And still it grew thicker, and
just as I was makin' up my mind to stay there
hke a trapped fox,Isee jestabit of light ahead ;
and giving one tremenjus heave, I got my head
into the open. But another mch, fore or
back, I couldn't stir. No, not for all hell."

And he drank again. We waited patiently
as the rain beat against the v.'indov.-s. He
turned towards Josiah —

" No, there w?ri)'t no movin' ; and what
d'ye think I see ? "

" The bear, mebbe," said Josiah eagerly.

" Right the first time," answered the
hunter. '' And he was as big as a barn, and
when he see me he rared up on his hind legs,
and let off a kind of chest thunder that
sounded like a far-off snow-slide in the
mountains. And I — "

" Yes, } es," said Josiah ; " and what did
you do ? "

The old man reached for liis glass, emptied
it, put it dov*^n slowly, and turned suddenly
and savagely on the crowd.

" Do ! do ! What the blazes could I do ? I
just died like a man."

1 12

THE ARROW-MAKER.

Aktkr the crisis of the red battle, when the
Asts, beaten on the high thorn ridge, had
given way and run headlong in panic, their
conquerors, the Ust5, gathered in the long
bloody eastern slope and screamed their
howliiig chant of victory.

They were Tierce and hairy, lightly fur-dad,
long-armed and prognathous, small-eyed and
small-headed, but their muscles were like iron.
As their ancestors ha:' done, they stooped.'
When iheir young cubs played gibberinu- on
the moraine of the great high glacier, diey
ran at times on all fours, swift as animals, as
young wolves. But now the savage mothers
and their offspring were camped in the high
pine forest, expectant of the news-and'^of
food.

" Ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! " sounded the chant,
and, closed in a wavering circle, the warriors
beat club against club and waved their bows

*^\^L^

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

above their heads. Their arrows were spent,
their bark and skin quivers were empty,
and they sang hideously of the slain,
and of mutibtions, and the flesh of their
enemies, and the coming night's orgie,
the reward of victory. For these were
the ancestors of men, and men themselves
capable of bravery, being all brave and brutal,
capable of forethought, for they were fighters,
capable even then of much that should here-
after grow to something beautiful, capable of
all save mercy, which was not yet born of the
womb of Time.

When the monotonous and oddly inter-
valled chant was done, and the day was dying
and the sun was aflame over the specks in the
far distance that marked the running Asts,
the Usts separated and spread exulting upon
the battle-field, which was thick with dying
and dead. But the dying were not many ;
the fighting had been close and fierce and
hand to hand. In a few bloody moments
there were no dying, no, not even of the Usts
themselves. For the living even yet saw not
only the sun red, but the sky as still tinged
with blood ; there was the colour of battle in
their twinkling deep-set eyes. Even the white
snow overhead seemed bloody, so they slew

THE ARROW-MAKER

even their own And then they mutilated
the dead Asts hideously, and played fantastic
tricks that made some chuckle grossly For
they '.vere now men, not animals, and this
was a place for invention that marked them
from the simpler beasts. Some they spittrd
and some they hung head down from the
wmd-bovved trees, and some tliev rent m
nieces But first they drew out the arrows
bar these were still good. Were they not
the choice carved work of their great artist
and lame warrior The Dog, who earned his
ngnt to hve by aiding them to slay men and
the mammoth ? They were good arrows, and
they drew them out.

But when they came to their own dead
which they left uncarved and unmarked the
young warrior who first dicw out an arrow
exclaimed loudly, and they gathered about
him. It was a most beautiful arrow, not
rough hke The Dog's, but almost smooth • at
the point polished and very keen and fitted to
the shaft with a cunning hollc .-. They had
seen none like to it before.

" The maker of the Asts' arrows is greater
than The Dog," said the warriors, and they
quarrelled about possessing them. Two were
slain ere the dispute was settled.

^15 I 2

)• ,

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

When the red sun was gone, they started
heavily laden for their camp. The dew was
heavy at the verge of the pines. In the dank
and heavy thick-brushed forest it dropped
like pattering rain. Above, where barren
rocks jutted out, it congealed in silver,
shining against the clear-cut crescent moon.
But : 3 the night deepened, the moon dipped
and the mountains grew sharper, whiter and
blacker still. A stray drift of cloud chilled
over the silent peak, falling in snow ; the
rocks gleamed suddenly. The thin moon
went oat, and its light of faint silver ran up
to the highest peak. It seemed to leap
higher yet. but that was only a star risen
above it, shining in the lucid serene of
heaven.

As they went, the Usts chanted, and the
dad women heard and came to meet them to
take the dead burdens. Then they were
close to their camp and red fire in the hidden
hill hollow. They yelled as they came down
the trodden slope and called for the old Dog,
who came out limping. He was older than
any there, for forty summers had reddened
his nose and his patch of bare cheek, forty
winters had grizzled his coat and thatch of
matted hair. But he had been a great

Ii6

THE ARROW- MAKER

warrior and was strong even yet. Peforc a
running mammoth, prickly witli arrows and
spears, huge and aghast at its human enemies,
had trodden on his leg, he was the swiftost of
his tribe, the wisest and mcst cunning. He
had wrought at his new trade, fearing the
end, glad that there was much flesh in the
camp by the dead mammoth ; but he had
done well. And now they taunted him.

" Behold," said they, " the arrow-maker of
the Asts is greater than The Dog."

He took an arrow, and sitting down by the
fire, pondered savagely over it. It was
beautiful, better than his own, much better,
so much finer that he hated the Asts' arrow-
maker more than the whole tribe of Asts. It
seemed so bitter a thing. He was greatly
troubled by it and his brain grew bloody of
thought. The envy of ihe artist pricked
him.

'' 1 here bhall be no arrow-maker among
them," he said, and he gave the warrior ten
arrow-heads for that one. He sat down
again and ate wilh the others, but ate less
than they, for he was angry, and when they
were still lying in a heap snoring like pigs on
a summer morning in a fat land, the old lame
devil was afoot. He took a club, his bow and

117

»7

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

arrows and the Ast's arrow, and a lump of
burnt flesh. He travelled towards the land of
the setting sun, the way the Asts had fled ;
he marked blood once or iwice and then he
came to a dead enemy. On him he found
two fine arrows. With them he carved the
dead man's face and went limping onwards.

Hia lameness made the long path so long
that only at the second day did he come
where he reckoned his enemy among his
enemies would be. Tr.en he found they had
moved further west, and he followed their
tracks cautiously, cursing as he went.

On the third day, at nightfall, he saw a red
eye of flame stare at him through the brush.
He lay hidden till the grey dawn dimmed it,
and then crawled out through the frosted
grass to look about him. The day before his
meal was done and he was very hungry.
But by broad day he had almost circled the
camp, marking at the last a likely place for
the maker of arrows to come for flints. He
made a little grass nest in a neighbouring
thicket and waited patiently like a very
cunning wild beast. But the pains of famine
struck him through, and each time he dozed
and dreamed he saw a dead arrow-maker and
a red tongue of fire licking the flesh.

THE ARROW-MAKER

At noon when the suw was warm he saw
on-j of the Asts' children come his way.
This was ahnost as good as if the arrow-maker
had come ; in some ways, he grunted hungrily,
a good deal better. Soon after he felt
stronger, th'iugh he had no fire, and he was
ready to wait even the waning of the moon
as he lay hidden and crouching.

On the third day of his long waiting he
saw a tall young Ast come ambling towards
the little flinty hill, and The Dog's heart beat
fiercely as the slaver gathered on his thin lips.
Wa? this the arrow-maker ? It could not be
so young a man, he thought. But in a little
while his little eyes glittered and his corded
muscles ridged themselves heavily, for this
Ast was chipping flint on the hillock, working
dexterously. The Dog watched and learnt
something.

As he stayed and waited, he doubted
whether he should slay this Ast with his
own arrow or not. At last he plucked out
the sharpest and smoothest of the three, and
in a moment it was buried in the Ast's heart.
The young maker grunted and fell ov.r,
biting the gravel, breaking his sharp teeth on
a flint. Then The Dog drove an arrow of his
own make through his rival. He desired to

119

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

chant victory, but he only crawled out alert
and watchful.

When he came to the arrow-maker he was
quite dead, so The Dog only stamped on him,
and lipped his blood. Then he cut his mark
on the low forehead— three lines like an arrow
—and he drew the weapons out of his rival
artist's heart. His own had pierced liiiu
through and through.

" It was quite good enoui.di," said The Dog.

1 i

i;o

IN A WINDJAMMER.

'liii: Acapuhv, li ciippcr-built barque of i5bo
tons register, was homeward bound, and a
good bit to the nor'ard of the Horn. The
season was coming well on to spring m those
latitudes, that is to say, it was September, and
the Acapulco had come booming with squared
yards between Cape Horn and the Diego
Ramirez Islands. But no sooner was she
headed for the norlh-east than the weather
changed, and ripped out into an unexpected
north-easterly snorter, with heavy rain
accompanying it. And with the rain carac a
little sharp sleet to sting up the men and
make them growl. Yet for all that, as the
barque lay over on the port tack, sh;; meant
getting home, and swashed through it at a
good ten knots an hour, taking in heavy seas
every nov/ and again, some of which -:ame
through the scuttle of the foc'sle head and
dripped upon the salty crowd below.

121

STRONr, MEN AND TRUE

''Ain't she ju-<t a bloomin' hog," said Jack
Husband, as he prepared to change his soak-
ing toggery for the third time that day ;
*■ she don't know when she's had enough."

" There's more than tlie old Acapuko Ukc
that," grunted Jim Graves, who was for ever
^l'gg'"S h's knife into someone, though he
favoured more especially the man who had
just spoken. " When some of us gets the
pavement under our 'oofs, it'll be mighty
chancy walking. And all for rot knowing
what's enough."

" You boil your head," retorted Jack, " get
into a sack, do, and dump your ugly carcass
over the rail. You've as nuch jaw as a sheep's
head, and you ain't worth so much, no, not
by the price of it."

And just then, a.-, luck would have it, to
spoil an interesting conversation with good
promise of a row in it, the mate sang out,
" btarboard mau -brace," and the word was
passed for\\ ard to the foc'sle where the men
were taking shelter from the rain. The
watch streamed cut on deck in gleaming oil-
skins and trimmed the yards. But it was
mostly " a dry pull," for they hardly gained
an inch. And dry pulls sharpen up the men's
tempers, if they do nothing else.

122

•^

BT:'^

IN A WINDJAMMER

Just after supper, in the second dog-watch,
Graves and Husband got at it again. For the
supper had been a feed bad enough to sicken
a pariah dog, because the galley had been
swept clear in the afternoon by a he:, y sea.
Everyone was savage, but these two were the
champion grumblers of the ship. They were
antidotes to each other in a measure, and
acted as safety valves. '• Did you ever see or
taste or smell such 'ogwash of coffee ? " asked
Graves. "What kind of a ship is this,
any'ow ? "

** It's like a penitentiary, ain't it," shoved
in Hi"--' I '., seeing his chance. "But mebbe
you a like <. :oa better."

And Graves growled angrily, for he had
been jugged in San Francisco the voyage
before for assaulting the police.

" It warn't the Penitentiary ; it was the
'Ouse of Correction," he muttered.

'Ah, you see, /didn't know the difference,"
was his enemy's retort. " There's some men
as ought to stay at home and be fed pap with
a spoon. The Sailors' Home is about as
near the sea as some men ought to get."

*' It's better than Jackson's Boarding 'Ouse,
you can bet on that," said Graves.

And then the whole watch argued soberly
1^3

STRONG MEN AND TRUi:

the whole subject ot Honits vcrsm Boarding
Houses, until two bells.

But then another row began.

" What's that j-ou say about mugs in Well
Street Sailors' 'Ome ? " asked Graves, brist-
ling up.

" I said as I didn't want to drink out of
mugs like a kid," answered Jack Husband.

" They don't use no mugs there," said
Graves, "they use cups.''

And Husband sneered.

" Gah'n. I tell you it's mugs, and morc'n
that, they sleep you in boxes up an iron cage.
And a pretty kind of a doss-house. It's most
like a gaol as / knows of."

But that did not touch Graves at all. He
was far too keen about the mugs to mind the
implied in si; It.

They went oil" into the argument like two
rival bulls in one paddock, and appealing for
supporters, each got so many tliat mere
weight of opinion could not settle tlie poiitl.
Then they applied the deductive method.

'• It ain't likely as lliej-'dgive mugs to men,
now is it ? " asked Graves, deliantly. " They
give 'em to kids. Now what I want to know
is. would they give 'em to sailormen ? No, it
ain't likely. Why, men would smash 'em. I

\2X

IN A WINDJAMMER

would, you bet." But Husband met this
argument by violating his own prejudices.

" I ain't got no blooniin' objection to mugs
(7S mugs,'' said he. " It's only as I think they
believes 'em cheaper.''

'' \Vhat ? '' asked Graves, " you don't mind,
^oi: ? You're a liar, that's what you are."

" I ain't no liar, and don't you call me so,"
cried Husband.

And then Graves fell into the fallacy of
particular induction, by declaring because he
himself objected to mugs all men must.

" But," said Husband, "you might as well
say that because you don't mind going to gaol,
all men don't mind."

This roused Graves to such a pitch of fury
that nothing could soothe him but being
allowed to tell the whole entire story of the
fight which led to his temporary seclusion in
the House of Correction in San Francisco.

" And I did object to being jugged, and it
warn't me as started the bloomin' row in
Sacramento Street," said he, irrelevantly.
" And if I did object to bcin' in, why, \'our
bloomin' hargument ain't worth shucks, and
you're a liar, that's what vou arc, as I said
before.''

And he added some remarks which implied,
125

■f.:

If*

STRONG MEX AND TRUE

not wholly remotely, that Husband was some-
thing much worse than a son of a sea-cook,
and the descendant of swine. The result of
this was obvious, there was only one answer.

" Take that," said Husband, and he smote
Graves .ipon the nose. They rose up and
fought, and fell down and struggled, and
some of the crowd said, " Part 'em," and
some said, " Let 'em fight.'" And they were
allowed to struggle till both got mauled, and
nobody v.-as best man.

When peace was at la?' restored, Husband
went in for a long and rambling induction,
and showed that in most Homes cups were
known to be used. xVnd that, therefore — but
just then eight bells struck, and the bo'son
piped, " Hands shorten sail."

For it was breezing up very heavily and
even the reefed foresail was too much for the
Acapulco.

120

4,?il^^^-i «-

THE GOLD MINE OF KERTCH BAR.

Two men were sitting on a wooden seat and
staring out over the Humber. Their point
of vantage is one well known at Hull, for
there is a flagstafl' there and many seats, and
one can spy the whole river and New Holland
at the other side, and the vessels and tuirs
going up and down on the swift tide betw' •■
the Spurn and Goole.

Suddenly one of the men pointed with liis
finger at a vessel hanging in the stream.

" You see that barque. Bill ? " he said.

" Well, and what of her, Ben ? "

"Why this," said Ben solemnly— '• But
first where does she hail from ? ''

" I should say she's a Nova Scotian," said
Bill. " It's hobvious."

Ben nodded.

" She was built at Halifax, and she's come
to Hull, and it's my opinion she'll end in
Hell. And from Hull, Hell, and Halifax good
Lord deliver us ! "

icy

'f:

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

" And what for ? " asked Bill.

'* She's owned by a widow woman," said
Ben earnestly, " wot never had no luck — not
with her husband nor nothing. I knowed
her out there, and she's always in black, and
comes aboard, and it's agin the rights of
things for her to do that same, and give the
crew the hump with such a black send-oflF."

Bill snorted.

" You're as full of superstitious rot, Ben, as
a cat. You believe in Lapland witches, and
in Finns, and in Flying Dutchmen, and in
every foolishness as ever got sailormen laughed
at ashore."

"And why not — why not?" asked Ben
gloomily. " I tell you I've seed the Flying
Dutchman ; and as to Finns, in my last ship,
her as I skinned out of here, there was a Finn,
and if he was sulky the wind was foul, and if
he was pleased it was fair."

Bill, who was a cockney, cured in New
York, gave a snort, and pulled a plug of
black cavendish out of the breast-pocket or
his monkey-jacket.

" Mebbe he wanted to get there, matey,"
he said. " Now suppose you was just dyin'
for a chew, and I kind of offered you this 3-er
plug ; you'd smile, wouldn't 3-ou ? And then,

128

THE GOLD MINE OF KERTCH DAR

if I said, ♦ No, you don't ! ' and planted it
again in my pocket, you'd look mighty sick,
wouldn't you ? "

Ben turned and stared at him.

"What are you getting at, with all this
foolishness about terbacker ? What's that
to do with Finns ? "

" Why, this," said his mate. " What I'm
saying, and if you'll just dry up and listen,
you'll sec, is this. That it wouldn't be your
bloomin' smile or your sick looks as'd make
me give it or nov give it, but my giving it or
not givi'^g it as wo^'ld make you look sick or

not

Ben shook his head at this laborious logic.

"Well, and what the blazes has all this
rigmarole about a chew to do with Finns and
wind ? " he asked pityingly.

" Can't you see as how the Finn might,
just as well as any bother man, look black
with a contrary breeze, and pleased when it
was fair ? '' Bill retorted.

But Ben shook bis head again.

" It ain't no argument," he said, "for as I
told you when he turned sulky, the wind
changed. I could bring you ten men, not to
speak of a cook, as would take their oath to
it in any court of law. And I wasn't guffing,

129 K

U )

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

anyhow, about Finns or any other kind of
Dutchmen, nor of Dagos, but of a widder
woman in black coming to sec a ship out of
dock."

Bill looked rather mollified as Ben did not
insist on the Finns.

" Well, I'm with you there," he said ;
" hut then women is bad luck anyway, black
or white. I wasyarnin' with a 'bus conductor
the other day, and he says, ' What's coming
to the women I don't know. They won't
put their 'and to a thing the same as their
mothers, and some thinks they can drive a
'bus.' That's what he said, and it stands to
reason a 'bus conductor should know a lot
about women. And this one is mighty
popular, too."

Ben nodded.

" Women's all very well ashore, in their
place," he said earnestly. " But even there
what call have they to own ships ? Does it
seem natural for a woman to own ships ? No,
it doesn't, of course. Let a woman be the
wife of a captain if she likes — "

" I knowed a captain's wife what did for
him proper,'' said Bill. "He sailed before
the mast afterwards, and many's the time
I've heard him spin us acutrerabout it."

130

THE GOLD MINF OF KERTCH BAR

Ben reached out his hand and coolly
extracted the plug of tobacco from Bill's coat,
and having torn off a huge chunk with his
teeth, returned it.

" And what was the yarn ? " he asked, as
his eyes followed the barque, which had
started the talk, round the point below the
town.

" Well," said Bill, " he was skipper of a
cargo-boat wot sailed to the Baltic, and he
owned up to him and the mates getting a
good deal of stealage, one way or ar .ther.
But the chief thing he and others hung on
to for getting more than his pay, was what he
called the gold mine of Kertch Bar — "

Ben shook his head.

" That won't do," he said, " for I know
better than that. Kertch ain't in the Baltic."

" Where is it, then ? " asked B'"'' -'efiantly.

" It's in the Black Sea or thereabouts,"
answered Ben vaguely.

'' Black Sea or Baltic is all the same to
me," said Bill, "as I've never sailed in
neither, and never will, if I knows it. But
I'm telling you. He called it the Kertch Bar
Gcid Mine, and 'ow they did 'ave the owners
was just a treat. For you see it was just this
way. If I don't know Kertch, why, I may be

131 K 2

v-r

I !

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

wrong in small particulars ; but the chief
thing about it is its beastliness and its bar.
And the way that bar shifted was a fair
miracle. Trainer, that was his name, the
name of this 'ere skipper. He said that,
accordin' to what the owners thought of it,
the bar walked from this side or that, and just
plumped itself down in the fairway. And the
pore harbour people, they was worked to
death, so they said, with surveyin' 'ere and
surveyin' there and shifting buoys. But it
was no manner o' use, and out of three vessels
as came in one was sure to get stuck, and
then it was telegraphin' 'ome to say as she'd
took the ground and must be lightened. And
out comes lighters, and they works, and then
tugs, and they pulls, and presently they 'eaves
'er off and fills her up again. Sometimes a
skipper would be that unlucky as to get stuck
twice running, and the owners picks out
the vessels with the least draught. But that
was no manner o' use, for as Trainer said, and
laughed when 'e said it, the bar was that
treacherous as to rise up in the night and
shove a two-by-four scantling high and dry.
And, as >ou may guess, this 'ere Kertch Bar
got a bloomin' bad name ; and if it hadn't
been that they 'ad to go, the owners would

132

«.t

THE GOLD MINE OF KEKTCH BAR

have seen Kertch further first. And some
did, but the rest stuck there just the same.

" And Trainer told us one night how ten
skipper^- was ashore drinking, 'e with 'em, and
they got to talkin'.

" ' I dars'n't do it this trip,' says one. And
a pilot as belonged to Kertch give him a
liquor. And binieby some men as ow;:ed the
lighters came in, and then some o' the 'arbour
authorities. The drink went off like hot
cakes, and one took to daring the other.

" ' I dare if you dare,' says one.

" ' You'll blow the gaff,' says another.
' Don't kill the goose what lays the golden
heggs.'

" But after a drink or two more the careful
ones wasguffin' about the times they had been
raught by the bar.

" ' Seven times I done it,' says one. And
•^ pilot wot talked good English he said the
one as 'd done it most was the skipper of a
Swansea boat, who'd been on nineteen times.

" ' And good biz, too,' yells out another. ' I
know him. A good careful hofficer, so his
owners say, but a bit unlucky at Kertch. And
he's fair rotten with bio money for a man of
his sort.'

" And that nign. afore they'd done they
133

1.1 M^

III

■\ >

i«

STRONG ME\ ,WD TRUE

'vas ready for hanything. Next morning
there was nine vessels 'ard and fast in the
sand, and the telegraplis was working, and
nine lots of howners was cussin' thr-"- luck,
and the shippin' papers had lots to say about
the wicked kind of hanchorage ther*; was at
Kertch. And all the bloomin' time it was the
coolest kind of put-up job as you ever see.

"And that was the time as Trainer got
Jeft. And I'll tell you how it was. He had
to take the money for that time and the
time before, and he shove., it into a henvel-
ope and sends it to his wife. It was full
height) pounds ; if I don't misrcmember, it
was heighty-two pound ten ; and 'e didn't
care about keeping it by 'im, for 'e was apt
to go ashore and get blind, as is the way with
'em when no one's by. And fat and joliy and
laughin' he gets on board and goes off with
his height-knot iron box 'onie. But when
he reached Hull— yes, this yer very port— he
looks very sick. This was how it happened.

"Trainer's wife was a thin, worrying
woman, and that narvous with his carryins
on, and the wind blowin'— for all women, as
you know, thinks it blows 'ard all the world
hover at the same time— that she couldn't
stand so much rhino in the 'ouse at once.

^34

•^i*.

THE GOLD MINE OF KERTCH BAR

" She thought as burglars from all parts of
the cc mtry would smell it and come down 'er
little back street and crawl in and get it out of
her mattress. So she takes it out o' there and
sews it in her dress, and then she thinks
she'll fall down in a fit and be robbed at a
'ospital, or that a fire would break out special
and burn up the bloomin' neighbourhood.
And at last, with sitting up awake all niglit
watching her gown 'anging behind 'er locked
door, she got that scared that she i\.s and
hoffs down to the howner's office ; and, going
right up to the very 'ead boss, whom she
runs agin in the alleyway, she allows as 'ow
tie's Mrs. Trainer.

" ' And what do you want, Mrs. Trainer ? '
says 'e, perlite enough.

'• Then she let's him 'ave it, and hinforn^v
tion fair runs out of 'er. She tells him aboi..
the money as Trainer 'ad sent, and she arsked
birr tc keep it for her.

" ' Where did it come from ? ' says the
howner.

" ' From Kertch. sir — at least, I think so,
but it's in the letter.'

" She 'ands it over just r.s she picked it
cut of her gown.

" ' And 'ow much ? ' says he, laughing,

135

m .

STRONG MEN AND TKUE

thinkiniT, I guess, that a ten-pound note
wouldn't make him nervous.

'"Heighty pound hodd,' says she. And
never till harfterward did she remember ow
'e jumped.

""Heighty pound! Why, that's a lot of
money,' says he. And then, saying, ' Excuse
me just one moment,' *e goes out.

"He come back agin in five minutes,
laughm', but still serious.

'"We'll take care of it for you, Mrs.
Trainer,' says he, ' but I should 'ave thought
as 'ow )'ou'd have been used to gettin' money
from your 'usband by this.'

" That was 'is trap, and the silly woman goes
right into it like a sheep. And never knowed
it till afterw .^rds.

" Oh, yes, sir,' she says smiling, ' but not so
much as this.'

Then how much does he usually send
from Kertch . ' asks he, laughing again.

" ' Oh, never much more than fifteen or
twenty,' says she. 'And that's enough to
make a lone woman ner\ jus of losing it.'

Yes,' said 'e, showing his teeth ; ' it's
not nice bein' robbed. But we'll see no one
but the owner gets this,' says 'e. And then
she goes out, thanking 'im profuse, and tells

1^6

^.^ — ■" - t

THE GOLD MINE OF KERTCH BAR

all 'er neighbours wot a nice kind man 'e
is.

" But I guess 'e 'ad gone out and au a calk
with another bloomin' nice kind man. And
they just whack it to her proper, and th n
went on to find hout 'ow it was that Trainei
got so much rhino over his pay. For they
k'.i vv that private trade wasn't nothing out
there, and they didn't reckon Trainer had
been speckylatin' in Kertch town lots.

•'And Trainer, who was comin' 'ome,
'uggin 'imself about that lump of stealage,
never thought so much as once of what a
fool 'e 'ad been to send it to her, just sayin',
' Keep it till I gei back.' Many a time I've
'eard 'im say he could go out and bang 'is nut
on the steam -vinch or a bollard lo think that
six words more in his letter would have done
it, and 'e'd still 'ave been gettin' gold out of
Kertch. But them words was never wrote,
and when he gets into Hull River, a^ore he
docks the howner comes on board.

" ' Bad luck again this time, captain ? ' says
'e, cheerful like.

"And Trainer touches 'is 'at.

(1 1

Yes.

sir.

we was very hunfortunate
again so far ; but we got oflF without
no damage, not a strain,' says he. 'And

137

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

It's I that would be glad never to see Kertch
again.'

" Going into the cabin they sits down.

" ' And is it so very bad ? ' asks the owner,
innocent. ' And what is the reason of the
bar shiftin' so ?'

** ' Hask me another, sir,' says Trainer, ' if
you'll excuse me saying so, sir. But going
in and out of Kertch it's guess work to the
best of pilots. And what them pilots don't
know ain't worth knowin'.'

*' With that he winks to himself, and as he
told us, 'e felt that clever 'e could 'ave split
with laughin'.

" * It's a bloomin' nasty trade,' says the
owner, kind of sighin'.

" ' It is that,' says Trainer. And seeing the
man so soft and sweet, it just catches 'old of
him that 'e might get ?. rise of a couple of
pounds a month.

*' ' It is that,' says he, sighin' too, ' a bloom-
in' nasty trade, sir. And very trying is the
Black Sea at times. It's not like the
Mediterranean, where a man can live cheap
and well.'

*' ' Why no,' says 'e, careless. ' Then you
don't find it a savin' trade any more than
us ? '

138

;iu

THE GOLD MINE OF KERTCH BAR

" ' Saving ! ' says Trainer, kind of sorrow-
ful. ' It takes all a man's pay to find 'im in
clothes. I ain't saved two-pound-ten in a
year.'

"And with that the bloomin' howner, a
big, tall man. said Trainer, just rises off his
seat and stares Tniiner in the face like a
judge.

" ' Then, Mr. Trainer,' says 'e, in a voice
like a lower topsail goin' out of the bolt ropes,
' 'Ow did you make that hextra heighty
pounds as you sent to your wife } ' says he.
, ■ " And with that Trainer says the stuffin'
was clean knocked out of 'im, and he felt like
a hempty sack with nothing in it. He just
sat down.

'' ' What do you mean, sir ? ' says he.

" But the owner walked round to him.

" ' I means that money you sent 'ome from
Kertch,' says he ; ' and afore you go ashore I
means to 'ave the truth out of you.'

" He pulls Trainer's own letter out of 'is
pocket, which the v»'ife had give 'im with the
posh, and spread it out before him.

" ' Hexplain,' says he, very stern.

" And at that Trainer give right in, though
afterwards he grinds 'is teeth at not thinkin'
He could 'ave said it was a
139

of a good tale

STRONG MEN AND iRUE

legacy from a dead haunt or huncle, or 'ave
pitched somethin' to the man to shut 'im up.
But 'e couldn't think, and could only cuss "is
wife, poor woman ! 'E looks up at the
howner standing there grinning.

" ' The truth or the pulis,' said 'e.

" ' '0\v did you get it ? ' asks Trainer.
And 'e told him.

" ' But the question is 'o\v did yott get it ? '
says the owner,

" ' It was give me,' says Trainer, pluckin'
up.

" ' Who give it you ? ' says the owner.
" ' The lighterage folks at Kerch/ says 'e
kind of silly.

" ' Oho ! ' says the howner, and 'e sits down
by Trainer. ' Now, Mr. Trainer,' says 'e more
kind, ' there may be nothin" in this, and I may
be mistook ; but if you don't make a clean
breast of it all, I'll give you in charge ; for
that there's somethin' in this that I ought to
know, that I'm sure, and know I will— yes, if
I 'ave to go to Kertch and work it up my-
self.'

'"Do you mean it ? ' says Trainer foolish-
like, and with that he give way and lee it
hout.

But first,' says 'e, ' you won't prosecute?
140

^- - ini I I

THE GOLD MINE OF KERTCH BAR

Because if you're goin' to do that I'll say
nothing.'

"And the howner says, * i\o, not if you'll
tell the Bible truth.'

" ' Well,' says 'e, and 'e says when 'e began
*e could 'ardly 'elp laughin', ' in the first place
there ain't nothin' wrong with Kertch Bar.'

" ' What do you mean ? ' says the howner.

" ' I means just what I says,' answers
Trainer, stubborn, ' there ain't nothin' Avrong
with the bar. As a bar it's all right, and no
worse than other bars, and better a deal than
some. It's a good steady bar—'

" ' And don't shift ? ' asks the owner.

" Not more than in reason,' says Trainer,
' and according to a gale or the time of year
just like any bother bar.'

" ' Then why did you get on it ? ' says the
howner.

" ' It was the pilots,' says Trainer, ' and the
'arbour folks, and hus. It was a put-up job,
that's what it was. And what we paid the
tugs and the lighters and the pilots they give
us commission on it. And that's the gospel
truth, sir.'

" And the howner chap was that surprised
he reached up for a glass in the rack and took
a drink of spirrits neat.

141

■i»-^^..i

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

"Well, I'm 'anged!' says 'e, 'and for
years we've bin payin' for double lighterage
and for hextra towage and all sorts of bloom-
in' things. Who started this 'ere racket ? "

" ' It was started afore my time,' says
Trainer, rather sulky again. 'When I got
there it was in full swing. And if you give
me away as 'aving told you, my life's not worth
as much as a loose bit of brasswork in a
Danube port. That's what it ain't. For they
calls it the Kertch Bar Gold Mine, and
gammons to hold shares in it.'

" I'll not give you away,' says the howner
stern enough ; " but I reckon you don't sail
no more vessels in which I 'ave any
hintercst.'

And though Trainer felt sick at that, 'c knew
'e ought to be jugged for conspiracy, as the
bother told 'im. So it was a let-ofiFjust to get
the sack, even if jobs were tough gettin'. And
that was the bust up of that racket. I guess
Trainer took it out of 'is wife, for "e owned
that she went to live with "er mother for a
month when he got 'ome.

" But 'e got no more vessels to command,
for when it came out 'ow the Kertch Bar
business 'ad been worked, the men that was
sacked gave Trainer the worst kind of a name.

142

THE GOLD MINE OF KERTCH BAR

And gradual he came down again to sail before
the mast. That's what a woman did for
'im."

" It warn't her fault," said Ben — " not hers
at all. It was him that was to blame. What
kind of a man is it to give a woman money to
keep ? "

" Well, I can't keep none myself," owned
Bill ; " or else I wouldn't be looking for a
ship. If I could find a woman wot would keep
it and make it last longer, I'd take 'er on."

" Not you," said Ben. "A sailorman ain't
got no more business to be married till he
svv allows the anchor than a woman has to
own a ship. And as for that barque that's
just gone out, you mark me, she'll be lost."

" All along of the widder in black ? " asked
Bill.

"All along of he,'' replied Ben, stubbornly.

And they went up town.

'- !l

life

■;.

143

(■■,; '

A LONE WOLF.

Thk black wolf that belonged to Scth
Briggs, of Blue Rapid, had a howl which was
as far superior to the howl of a common un-
educated wolf, as Patti's notes are to those of
an ordinary street singer, and it was believed
by Seth's neighbours that Seth himself
derived considerable aesthetic gratification
from the fact. But Sydney Stockton had no
musical tastes beyond a concertina, and being
located within two hundred yards of Briggs's
house, the wolf worried him and his old
mother dreadfully.

" What's wrong with the wolf— that cussed
wolf of yours, Briggs .? " he asked desperately.

" Wrong ? " said Briggs, with great sur-
prise. " Why, nothing. He's the healthiest,
brightest kind of intellectual animal ever you
see."

And he expatiated on the qualities dis-
played by the cub when he first got him by

144

A LONE WOLF

shooting his dam, and showed liow he had
improved. But Siuckton, though he was as
mild as new buttermilk, sneered at it and
took no interest.

And yet Seth's wolf knew " considerable,"
and had never been above learning from
dogs. His voice was trained to the highest
pitch of perfection. When he sat well back
and opened the throttle-valve to its fullest
extent he was capable of lifting the roof off a
little place hke the Albert Hall. He could
fill a square mile block, and on a calm winter's
night, when there was not a breath of air to
shake a snow crystal from a thin twig, the
vibrant quality of his vocal chords was dis-
tinctly discernible at a distance of a mile and
a half. There was a legend that he had been
heard ten miles away when he went to the
river and howled down stream to the reflected
moon. For water carries sound wonderfully.

And his compass was just grand. He could
climb down from the mountain peak of the
upper C to the darkest abysses of the lower
G. In times of lofty excitement he even
sprang into the empyrean, and, surpassing
himself, touched the highest possible note.
He went into theoretical realms of musig far
out of mortal sight. A stray musician once

145 L

hi:

y.>

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

asserted he heard him breathe the profound
bass note of Niagara. He touched the
infinite at both ends of the scale.

And he put colour into his work. lie was
no mere machine, coldly perfect in vocaliza-
tion, but without soul. He could be like a
whole opera. He could be savage, tender,
terrible, fierce, and pathetic. To see him sit
on his black hind-quarters and yawn tremen-
dous chromaticisms would have put jo)- into
the heart of an impresario. But poor old
Mrs. Stockton would much rather have put
arsenic in his grub.

" Sydney," the old woman said one morn-
ing, " I couldn't sleep a wink last night all
along of that wolf. I wish you would speak
to Briggs again."

" I did speak, and I'm fair sick of speaking,
maw,'' said her dutiful son. " But I'll try 't

And he climbed a fence and interviewed
Briggs.

" Say, Briggs, that doggoned wolf of yours
kept my mother awake all last night. I wish
you'd clap a muzzle on him."

"I've a right to keep a wolf on my
premises if I've a mind to, and he ain't used
to bein' nmzzled," said Briggs. " But you

146

A LONE WOLr

can buy a muzzle and put it on him yourself
if you like."

But the prospect of interviewing the open
head of the wolf awed Stockton. He went
back home dolorously.

The next night was crisp and wonderful.
Under the moon the long prairie gleamed
like polished silver, and till midnight the
silence was as deep as the winter's frost. But
then the wolf slipped out of the stable win-
dow, and, slinking through the shadows of
the barn, came out on a dry manure pile ♦^o
contemplate the infinite. It sank deep into
his inmost soul. Whether he recognized in
that moment his own cosmic insignificance
and then rose suddenly on the wings of a
great intuition to see his own necessit} in the
majestic scheme of the universe, cannot now
be known. But he began a sad adagio in C
sharp minor, and into the first movement of
his new moonlight sonata he put the sufTer-
ings and aspirations of all wolf-kind. The
music wound in and out tenderly, but into
the painful dream of the past came stronger
hope, and finally growing more and more
personal and objective, he pulled out all the
stops, jammed his paws on the pedals, and
whooped a magnificent and triumphant pjcan

ii:

I. 2

STRONG MEN AND TKUli

of passion. He believed in his own
destiny.

But the poets and musicians of the world
are visionaries. They are not necessary in
the world of those who have no ideals. They
lose the present, and, seeing into the future,
are but blind.

Briggs' wolf, as he soared again above the
particular, and mingled with the universal,
was oblivious of a shadow bj' the dividing
fence. Against the sinking moon on the
lofty manure pile, the dark shape of the maker
of music was outlined with the utmost dis-
tinctness. The same moon that shone
through the great gap of his open jaws
gleamed down a rifle-barrel, and as the wolf
came to a cadence that was inclusive of all
philosophy, there was a sharp crack and
another dying fall.

" He should have kept the howl on his
premises, too,'' said Stockton, as he went
bad: home.

148

ON A TAUT BOWLINE.

•' Come, get out the spun-yarn winch," said
Tom the foretopman to his mate.

And Jack grinned as the lazy crowd
approved from their bunks and chests in the
foc'sle of the IVinchester.

" I guess it's not Sunday if Jack doesn't
reel off a cuffer. Come, you brancher and
climber, give it lip," said Tom.

For Jack Gray was for ever yarning, and
one of his long nicknames was " That reminds
me." A legend which he had never con-
tradicted told how the Captain of the Loch
Vennachar^ who was reported to v/rite stories,
had taken him on as second mate one trip,
just to hear him gas. For though he was
then in the foc'sle, he had a second greaser's
ticket and was as good aft as forward save for
a real natural gift of insubordination which
more than once landed him in the arms of a
Doliceman.

" It's a sight too hot to v/ork the winch,"
149

! ii

STRONG MEN AND TRUK

said Jack as he wiped his forehead. '•!
haven't any imagination."

"Then tell the trutli for once," said
Mcintosh, the oldest hand on hoard. *' That
last yarn of yourn about the old BattUaxe was
too much for me. I felt sea sick.''

"Dry up, you old humbug," said Jack,
laughing, "any one of yours would lay ov-r
the broadest of mine, acres on each side. But
did I ever tell you chaps about Sutherland ,f
the Commo?nvcalth, the chap they called
Three-tmgered Jack i "

And the whole crowd said, " No ! "
" Well, this is true," said Jack.
And the whole crowd said, •' Oh ! "

" You be d d," said Jack. " But all

the same it is."

'* It was four years ago, or may be five, I'd
just come back from the States where I'd
been working on a farm, thinking I'd had
enough of the sea. And I had till I'd had
too much of the farm, which is the way with
sailormen. And that reminds me I'll tell
you about that farm some dav.

" But as I was saying, I'd come home from
the States, and being the very deadest kind
of dead broke, all my folks were a bit chilly
and gave me to understand that they had al

ON A TAUT BOWLINE

last made up their minds I was no good.
And the old man he stood in front of the fire
and went on about my opportunities which
I'd wasted, in spite of his hidin^r mc when I
was a kid, and the girls seemed t .iiink I ate
too much, and they sniffed at the smell of my
tobacco. So I up and saiu .w a fine open-
ing for a bright young man in a slum down
east, and I hooked it off to Sailor-town and
tramped very lonesome all over the F t
India Dock. May be some of you chaps h;»v j
heard of it, and have cooled yo"rselves
on a big stone bollard by its gleaming waters."

" Go on," said the outraged crowd, " and
don't talk rot."

" Well, never mind the poetry," said Jack,
" you're uneducated, and don't see the beauty
of it. Of course I could have shoved in
somewhere, but '. - <■ ■(' a craft bound for
Australia or Ne .id. And I had to

wait till I tumbica ^^.oss the Commomvealtii ^
whose skipper was Sutherland. When I had
shipped they told mc that he was one of the
woi-l men sailing out of the port of London.
For he was a bully and a drunkard. However,
I didn't care. I guessed I could manage the
passage in her any rate, and I meant to skip
in Port Lyttleton.

151

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

"We saw nothing of him till we were
about letting go the tug boat, but then this
blooming amiable historic character crawled
on deck and began loosing off language that
made the lady passengers fairly flinch and
sent them below. He was a big strong
beggar, but soaked in liquor and a bit of a
wreck with it. He looked more given to
drink than when I saw him at Green's
Home. And then he was civil. However, it
was only in the beginning of his drinks that
he troubled us. For when he was really under
way he would retire to his owi? quarters and
not show up for weeks. Only the steward
saw him, and he had a blazing bad time of it.
When we were running down on easting he
never came on deck for three weeks.^the
shirking old scoundrel. And "ve had a pretty
bad spell of it too.

" There was a nice kind of a companion for
him on board ihough, a Sydi.ey woman, I
forget her name, but she drank too. And
they carried on shameful. Two old maiden
ladies named Wilson used to go into hysterics
about it, they were so scandalized. And
there was blue blaz'^-. to pay, for they abused
the captain to his fa.-e and cut the Sydney
woman, and talked at her, till one day she

I ^2

'.inn 1 »*— »—<^i

ON A TAUT BOWLINE

flew at them and upset the p;iir over a hen-
coop and then retired sobbing to lay a com-
plaint before the skipper.

" And the old man who was stretched out
on the floor of his cabin said ' Eh, eh, whr.t's
that ? ' And then he slept again and
murmured loving words to a bottle of square
fr ze. At least that's what the steward said.

" But after that he began to recover a bit,
and we knew we'd have him on dcclc. Only
we didn't guess how he'd come, and in what
shape, and if the mate had known he'd have
kept clear of him, you bet. For the chief was
an Austrian and as quiet as a sick sheep, v/ith
never a word out of him ccccpt v.dicn he
worked the ship.

" Eut this day (T remember I was kHling
time on the main topsail yard cutting off
seizings and shoving on new ones) we heard
a devil of a hr- /-d"ye-do down below, and a
woman or tw screaming. And then the
mate shot up out of che companion in such a
hurry as I've never seen. And after him
came the skipper, purMe-faced with passion
and whisky, w'th ; cutlass in his fist, running
like blazes. T!ie woman folk on the poop
yelled blue murder and the men turned white
und i.kipped out of the waj-. And the mate

153

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

fell down the ladder, screaming for help in
hi.i;h Dutch and low Dutch and Enjrlish
mixed, and as he scrambled to his feet again
the skipper almost came on top of him.

"Til give you argument,' screamed
Sutherland, ' I'll give you argument.'

" So then I guessed, what was correct, that
they had argued over t'.ie bally arithmetic of
an observation. For we heard after that
Three-fingered Jack broke the slate over the
mate's head before he got his cutlass.

"I'd never believe the old man could hi-ve
run as he did. But he wasn't more than six
inches out of striking distance as they made
up the starboanl .side to the forehatch. Then
the mate caught his foot in a ringbolt that I'd
often bashed my big toe against^ and fell tuU
length. Every one on deck let a yell out of
him then, for the skipper raised his weapon
and was just about bringing it down on the
poor helpless devil's he^id. I leant over the
yard and slung my m:irline-spike at him.
But it missed. And just then the bo'son, who
had been standing alongside the foremast,
stepped out and hit the old man square on
the ear with such force thai he fell like a sack
ol flour. He never ,..oved, and the bo'son
grabbed the cutlass and hove it overboard.

154

ON A TAUT BOWLINE

It took him some time to come ^o ; and the
Bo'son retired gracefully to the rear.

" 'What's this ? ' says Sutherland presentlv.
And then he sings out 'Steward.' And
after a bit he opened liis eyes and staggered
to his feet and went aft as quiet as you like.
And what's more he never said anything
about it. I often wondered if he knew what
had happened, for he had another week's
drinking then.

" I heard the second mate, who was an
Englishman and a good ofTicer, speak to the
mate :

" ' I'll help you lock him up and take
charge,' said he.

" But Dutchy shook his head. He was a
poor weak-minded fool without the guts of a
new-born mouse. If it hadn't been for
Graham, the second, we'd have run the
Commomvealth ourselves, made a blooming
republic of her. But Graham had grit in
him and savvy and didn't really care a damn
for the skipper. For that night in the
middle watch, whc". I left the wheel at four
bells he called me as I was going off the
poop.

" ' I want you to lend me a hand, Gray.
Go and call the Bo'son."

^11

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

" So I roused out the bo'son, and Graham
gave him charge of the dec':. Then we
went down and together we took all the arms
out of the racks in the cabin and locked them
up. Then we corralled all the liquor we
could find and locked them up too, not that
it was much good to do it, for the captain had
a private store, and we couldn't very well take
that without the consent and assistance of the
mate.

" Up to this time I'd never come into
collision with the skipper, although my
marlinspike nearly had. But of that he knew
nothing. But it came round again for my
turn for the first wheel in the middle watch,
it was blowing pretty stiflF and we were under
fore and maintopsails and reefed foresail.
The wind was well out on the port beam and
there was a heavy sea running.

" Just about two bells the second mate,
v.-hosc watch I Avas in, came up to me.

" ' I'm going to take the jib in,' said he, « so
just keep her before the wind, and mind you
don't let her come to till I tell you.'

" And down he went off the poop. I ran
her off till the wind was on the back of my
neck, when all of a sudden I got a crack there
too, which nearly knocked me silly. But as

i;6

ON A TAUT BOWLINE

I looked round wondering what the blazes it
was, I saw the skipper, who had crawled up
and sneaked round behind. And, thinking
she shouldn't be running before the wind, he
hit me without even saying 'what the how
the,' or asking ' why I had her that way ? '

" By the Lord but I was mad. I was fair
furious at being struck in such a cowardly
manner, and without counting costs I let go
the wheel and returned the blow with interest
right between his eyes, blacking them finely,
as I found out afterwards. He never
reckoned I would dare, for he didn't attempt
to ward it off nor to return it. He just said
' Oh,' and ran for the companion which was
at the forward end of the poop. I stood for
one moment kind of silly, but I felt he was
after a weapon, and if he'd tried to slaughter
the mate for an argument, what would he do
for such a jog between his eyes ? And I was
mad too and clean forgot the men on the jib-
boom. I jumped forward like a cat and got
to the companion first and clapped my back
to it. When he saw his way barred he
squared up and made at me, but just at that
moment she gave a heavy lurch and upset his
balance a little and that gave me an opening.
I landed him heavily right under the chin

157

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

and hack he went with his heels against the
bucket rack and overendcd right over the low
rail. I had disposed of him satisfactorily, and
I ran back to the wheel, thinking that for
one watch he wasn't likely to do any more
sneakmg round.

But during the few seconds that I'd been
away from the wheel, the ship had come up
in the wmd and the sails were shaking a good
<ine, and the .second mate was roarincr ?s he
came aft. I hove the helm hard up and was
only just in time to save her from broachincr
to altogether. As she tilled, the second mate
ca.aeupon the poop in a devil of a ra^e as
well he might be, asking if I wanted to"take
the masts out of her and wash the men off
the boom. I might have justified myself, but
I preferred to take his jaw until I found out
whether the old man had broken his neck or
not. Though I hadn't wanted to kill him
still, It he was dead, it might occasion a
ot of trouble if folks knew how it had
happened.

_" So I sang very small, and took all Graham
said like a lamb. And that soothed him
He went forward and finished his job But
he was a good while gone, and I heard some
talk presently on the quarter-deck.

i;8

ON A TAUT BOWLINE

When he came up on the poop he took a
few turns up and down and then walked up
to me. Standing with his back against tlie
hub of the wheel, he took a look into the
binnacle and asked :

" Did you see anything of the captain while
I was forward ? "

" Why, no, sir," said I promptly enough.

" ' He must have been up here,' said
Graham, ' for as I was coming along the
quarter-deck just now I stumbled over him.
Mr. Schmidt is with him now, but I'm hanged
if I don't believed he's croaked.'

" That gave me the jumps. Thought I, ' I
might be hanged if he is.'

" ' Or pretty near it,' went on Graham,
* for he's cut bad and knocked quite stiff. I
suppose he's been at it again and got paid for
his soak.'

" However, the beggar wasn't dead or even
near it, and in the morning he turned up on
deck quite sober and pretty quiet. And the
strangest thing of the lot is that he did this
time just what he'd done before when the
bo'son outed him with that jolt on his ear-
hole ; he kept quiet and said nothing, not a
word. But till we reached Port Lvttleton I
wasn't easy. A man that'd come behind

159

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

another and pliij; him as he did me once
niif^ht do it again. And though maybe he
really didn't remember when he was sober, ho
might remember when he got drunk again,
for in the States I was partners with a tough
who was built that way. And that's just
what really happened with Sutherland.

" Perhaps it was the scare he jot by his
trip over the break of the poop that kept him
off soaking, but he was as sober as a pint of
lime-juice for most of the time till we neared
the New Zealand coast, and he was not quite
so uncivil. And he kept quiet with the dona
from Sydney. Yet all the time I couldn't
lielp having a notion that he sur-pected it was
I downed him that night. For he took more
notice of me than I liked.

" And then of course just as we were in
soundings and he wanted all his calf's brains
he tanked up again and out it all came.

" The second mate's watch that night was
the middle watch too, and lucky for me I was
a bit behind at muster. For just as Mr.
Graham was singing out our names the
skipper rushed on deck, and they all knew he
was mad drunk. I was just coming along,
shoving my arms into my monkey jacket,
when I heard liis voice.

1 60

llll

ON A TAHT r.OWMNT.

'*' Where's the swine that knocked me olT
the poop ? ' he roared.

'•'He's sot a pistol, sir/ said one of the
crowd to the second mate on the quarter-
deck.

"And sure enouj;h he had.
" ' What's his name, Graham ? ' he yelled.
' I'll kill him as tried to kill me.'

"'Nobody touched you, sir, it was an
accident,' said the second mate, trying to
soothe him.

I" To blazes with your accident,' said the
skipper, and then he remembered me.
" ' Where's that swine tlray ? '
" And he peered over tlie rail, trying to
make me out in the dark. But I was well
behind the mainmast just in case he did clap
eyes on me and loose off his gun.

" ' Tell Gray to come here,' said Graham,
but I knew what he meant by the tone of his
voice. He didn't want any murder done.
Now the silly goat of a Schmidt would have
made mischief easy by really trying to get me
to show up. He was dancing behind the
roaring skipper like a poor devil of a dancing
bear on a hot plate with a ring in the gristle
of his nose. But when I heard Graham's
voice I slipped out and went forward and got

ill I

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

my own six-shooter ;ind shoved it in my
pocket just in case.

"And no more ihan in time, for Three-
fingered Jack came down on the quarter-deck
and began to look for me in the crowd.
Then he came for'ard, grinding his teeth and
opening out with oaths that equalled any-
thing I ever heard. For he was one of those
men who invent new curses as they go on,
and most ingenious he was. And I skinned
up the fore rigging and lay low in the top till
he got tired of looking for me and went back
to soaking again. And there wasn't any killing
after all, not a darned kill so to speak. Only
I kept quiet and never showed up till we were
in Lyttleton, when I skipped over the side
and went ashore. Glad I was to slide out of
the leaky, bug-haunted old hooker with a
whole skin. 1 didn't much mind leaving my
pay-day behind me, for I landed a job right off
in a grocery store.

'' Graham saw me in the street one day.

'* ' Did you really knock the old man out ? '
he asked.

" ' What do you think ? ' said I.

" ' Well,' said he slowly, and as if he was
considering it, ' in mv opinion j-ou chose
the wrong rail to dump such trash over.'

!!!

ON A TAUT HOWr.INF

"Ashe meant it, T told him the truth, and
then he s;i\v hou' it was 1 let her come up in
the wind.

'"But as it stood,' said he, 'you should
have taken it even if he'd kicked you. iMen's
lives depended on it.'

" And r Ruess he was right. What do you
say, chaps ? "

But the whole Ibc'sle divided and argued it
out for hours, getting quite heated on ethics.
They left the main point, however, to thrash
out a well known and highly improper
question of casuistry, very popular among
seamen, which introduces a soldier, always an
ohject of contempt in the foc'sle. And that
was not settled even at eight bells.

163

y^ ;r:j

WASH-TUB DAVIS.

Thiiv called him " English Jim the Sailor "
up at Atugnak, in Alaska, when they wore
pleased, and that " derned mad Britisher"
whtn they were angry. For he was the sort
" man who makes an enemy of a friend and
a niend of an enemy in the t\»'inkling of an
eye. He 1 id the humour of a Celt, the
devilry of a bad Indian, and the solidity of a
true Saxon, yet no one knew who was his
dearest friend ; for i*" a man went out of
Afognak for a week he would find Jim camp-
ing in the shack of his last great enemy, while
his former partner .^\-ed him sulkily from the
other side of the hi of mud they called a
street.

"Can I get a jol l'crc?"he asked when
he came ashore from the A/ary Sti//>bs, a
wretched little trading schooner belonging to
Seattle. He spoke to the 'irst man he saw
sitting on a pile of sawn boards on the wharf.

164

n t

WASH-TUB DAVIS

" Mcbbe and rut-bbc not," replied the man,
who was ratiiur a sulky sort of hog, and as
silent as they make them.

"Where?"

"At the stickmula, likely."

He used the Chinook word for sawmill.
But Jim had been knocking about the coast
for a good time, and understood him.

"Or the cannery," added the man.
"Can't you smell it?"

"You bet!" said Jim. For a salmon
cannery has a very distinct odour down wind
—so distinct, indeed, that foreign consumers
would hardly like to eat the stulT if they
smelt it, even without seeing Chinamen
walking in it before it gets concealed in a
can.

So Jim got a job at the mill. He worked
iirst with the shingle sawyer, and then at the
lath-mill, where he undertook to make laths
himself. In the process he lost his temper
and very nearly lost his thumb. He had ti
lie by i^i a f:\v days, and then went wedffin'T-
off.

" Great Scott ! " said he, " but this kind of
woHc is work." But he did not like getting
up early, and he made himself popular with
the men and unpopular with the boss by

i6;

T—

mm:

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

trying to disarrange the whistle which blew
at five o'clock in the morning to rouse the
men out. He borrowed a Winchester rifle
and bought some ammunition, and, getting
up at four, he tried to shoot away the whistle
from the top of the mill.

" ^Vhat's that shooting going on so earlj' ? "
asked the interested town. But, of course, no
one knew until one morning the whistle
wouldn't blow. In fact, they found it lying
on the roof. For Jim managed to hit it at
the end of a week. It was quite character-
istic of him that he didn't mind getting up
early to do mischief. But he was given away
by the boss seeing him with the rifie. He
called to Jim.

" Say, young fellow, what are you doing
with tiiat Winchester?" he asked.

" Oh, nothing," said Jim. " I'm just taking
it back to the man that lent it me."

*' Urn," said the boss, and Jim turned awuy.
But Mr. Reed stopped him,

" Are you a good shot, Atkins?''

" Pretty fair, Mr, Reed," replied Jim with
a grin.

" Could you hit a whistle t)n a saw-mill at
a hundred yards, for instance? "' asked Reed.

" If I tried I might, sir."

100

- >*e^- ,ig"— 7.^.,

aViiii

VVASH-TUR DAVIS

" Come up to the office and you shall get
your money," said the boss.

And when he paid him off, minus the cost
of the whistle-repairing, he suggested that Jim
might try the militar r hfc. But Jnn didn't
tell him that he had tried it, with no more
success than managing to desert without
being nailed.

He went in as partner with a SiLcum
Siwash, or half-bred Indian, named Pete,
who did no work and only kept himself in
exercise by thumping an Indian woman who
lived with him.

This displeased Jim until he found that
the Klootchman really didn't mind it. But
one night Pete managed to get a bottle of
whisky, v.hirh was strictly against the law.
Then he tried to thrash Jim and got very
badly broken up. although the squaw did
hang on to Jim's neck while he was pounding
thunder out of her prostrate man. It
sickened J'm, and having no money he made
up to the night-watchman at the mill, and
slept in the sawdust by the tires whicli were
kept banked up all night.

Then he went to work at the cannery, but
the Chinamen didn't like him, for no
Orientals have any sympathy with a practical

■■■HM

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

joker. He thrar bed one of them very badly,
and got the bounce at once. He determined
to return to San Francisco ; but when he
tried it he learnt that his unpopularity with
the big mills meant trouble for him, for they
control!<>d all but one or two of the schooners
that came into Afognak. He showed his
discharges to one tishy skipper after another,
and they shook their heads.

" Well, then, let me work my passage
down," he urged. " I'm dog-tired of this
hole."

"You've made it too hot md not hot
enough," said Wash-tub Davis, a regular old
whaler with a beird down to t!ic pit of his
stomach.

" What do you mean ? " asked Jim.

" You ask Mr. Keed," replied Davis, and
then Jim tumbled to what was up.

"I think it pretty low down to try and
keep me here, Mr. Reed," he said, "when
you won't give me any work."

" You should have thouglu of that before
you shot away my whistle," said Keed, who
had a long memory and no particular love of
a joke.

"Nevermind," said Jim, "you can't keep
me here." And he went down to the wharf

^-S^?

\V.\SH-TUr. DAVIS

aijain and pallcc' 'n with the same loafer who
had told him auoiit work at the mill.

" What do they call the skipper of this
thundering old schooner ' Wash-tub ' for ? "

" One of his men made a wash-tub, and
Davis sold it to a Siwash for a dollar," said
the man. " He's meaner than a yal'er dog."

" I'll heat him, you bet," cried Jim. " I'm
damned if I don't go down in his scliooner and
in no other ! "

And that night he met some ol the men
of the schooner who were drinking. Jim
borrowed a dollar or two -on his bowie-knife,
and set up the drinks for the crowd, tlie
mate among them.

"That skipper of yours is a daisy, ain't
he? " said Jim. " He won't give me a show
to work my passage with you."

" Did you try him ? " as' A the mate, who
was the only one in the lot who had been a
deep-water sailor.

Jim nodded.

" I'll speak to him for you," said Richards.

" I wouldn't if I w J you," Jim answered.
And he told the man rhe reason. The mate,
who was now v 'easonabl}- drunk, ictailed
it to the mc^ and they "allowed " it was a
thundering sliaine.

l6q

I in

STRONG MEN AND TRUK

"Sec licrc, tilicum," said Richards, hic-
cupping, '<yoi, can come. We'll slow you
away."

But Jim cuniiincrly made many objections.

'• You'll get liied yourself," he urged.

" What ! " roared the mate ; " me get
fired ? Not mucli, man ; I'm solid with The
owners, real soHlI. And what I say goes.
You bet ii goes. And what's more, Wash-
tub will go, and I'll have the schooner
myself"

Me drank again and almost wept. For,
indeed, the liquor sold up in Vlasica nn'ght
make a brass monkey weep.

"And you shall be mate," he sobbed. 'T
like you, that's what I do."

wSo they carried him on board and laid him
Ml his bunk and covered him up n-ith fishy
blankets. He extricated his head, and, with
tears runm'ng down his cheeks, asked for Jim.
" Here I am, old man," said Jim, who wrs
sober and shaking with laughter. Richards
graspe.l his hand afiectionately.

" You reckon I'm full, but I ain't," he
murmured. " I'll rcm.-mber."

Ne.\t morning Jim was on the wharf again,
and was leaumg against the schooner's rail
when old Wash-tub tumbled on deck.

170

-.--saSL.vr'iv'SjsaWirifi'*.

'Jmsm^m:

WASH-TUH DAVIS

"Now, then, what arc you doing here ? "
he grumbleil. " You get off. Shiig your
hook now."

"All ri-ht, Davis," said Jim coolly.

''Captain Davis, you tramp!" roared
Davis. " r;i have you know that I've a
hamlle to my name ! "

" That's good," said Jim insolently. " It's
a dirty name and a dirty skipper to touch
without a handle."

And, stepping Inick, lie looked out for a
flying belaying-piii if one was lying han-ly.
P>ut Wash-tub only gasped at the atrocious
insult, and, before he caught his breath, Jim
rvas fifty yards away. He heard a gale of
blasphemy behind him which would have
sunk a floating bethel or a missionary boat
at its moorings, but he just sauntered off
without even turning round. For he had
taken in his man and knew what would rile
him mo. t.

He saw [Richards again late that night, and.
true enough, he remembered what he had
said. But Jim looked melancholy.

" I suppose you'll cry off," he murmured
disconsolately. " I can see Wash-tub is a holy
terror. I wonder that you chaps dare stay
with him."

171

STRONG MKN AND TRUE

■■*!

'• Dare ! " said Richards, " you bet he
don't tire me. For, if he won't take tafTy, I
just get mad too. I'll stow you away. But I
didn't tliink you was the sort to be scared."
Jim huighed.

"I meant that I'd have to fill him up witli
lead," he remarked.

And, as the devil was that moment
uppermost, lie looked as if he did mean it,
which pleased Richards vastly.

" You're all there, tilicum," he said ; " now
you come down on board to-night about
eleven autl we'll stow you away. But you'll
have to keep dark, for if you show up Wash-
tub will haze you and ha/e me and make it
as hot as hell.''

Right you are," said Jim ; " but 1 won't
give you away, and if he bowls me out I'll
stand the racket myself."

The schooner cleared out ne.xt morning at
dawn, and all the time the rest were work^ing
I'cr out of the harbour Jim lay up in the
darkest berth in the forecastle, and sniggered
to himself to think that he was loafing.

" By gosh ! I'm Wash-tub's only passenger,"
he said; "But when I get down to San
Francisco I'll have a joke on him."

He lighted his pipe at the swinging lamp,
172

WASH TUR DAVIS

and went bad. to liis blankets just as tlie
men came in. There were only two to each
watch, and of these two were little j^ood-
tempercd Finns with backs as broad as a boat.
They came in laughing.

" What's up ? " asked Jim of one of the
Americans.

" Why, there's Wash-tub gassing about
how he's done you," said the man. " You
riled him, you jest did : he's bin tellin'
Richards about your saying as he wanted a
handle to his name. Those chaps up at
Afognak had got it li.xed up to make you run
a sawdu-^' narrer afore they let you out.''

" They had, had they ? " said Jim ; " well,
I've done them this time. Reed will feel sick.
I'd like to fire his old mill for him ; he's a
nigger-driver, not a man for white men at
all. He loves a Chinaman belter than a
white man any time."

And they discussed Chinese cheap labour
for half the day. When the weather was
fine there was little to do to the schooner, or
rather there was so much to do that nothing
was ever done.

"A spot of white paint would ruin her for
ever," said Richards. " We'd all get kind of
dissatisfied, and so long as she holds to-

173

--•^■^..■' — p i-^T — i

CTRONC NfE\ AXi) TRUE

gcthcr, why, she holds. And 1 guess she's
insured."

Jim found his life as a passenger not with-
out its drawbacks. For one thing he was a
very active young fellow, and staying in the
forecastle was, as he put it, " nigh on to as
bad as being in the penitentiary." Doing
nothing and grubbing made him full of hin°
self, and he was horribly keen on getting to
work. He almost begged Richards to'' let
him come up and show himself.

"He can't do anything but set me to
work," urged Jim.

But when the mate was at sea and weU
away from Bourbon whisky, he hadn't such
a great idea of the solidarity existing between
himself and the owners. And though Jim
was savage when he was sober, it was the
other way about with Richards.

*' No," he said, " not by a jugful. What
more do you want ? You're doing nothing
and you're grubbing good, and lying on the
broad of your back. And if you show up
he'll know we're in it, and he'll work blazes
out of us all. I kr.ow him. And besides, I
don't want to quit her for the rest of the
summer. Then I'm going east."

" You are, are you ? " said Jim to himself.
^74

VVASH-TUn DAVIS

For he knew all about going east. The
desire lasts till a man gets his money, and a
few drinks, and then it's the money goes
east, and not the man.

But he prayed for a good gale of wind, in
order for another hand to be needed. If
every one was in trouble, and e.xtra help
needed, old Wash-tub wouldn't so much mind
learning that he had another good man on
board. Yet all the trip the weather was
sickening good ; it didn't blow hard enough
to blow the ancient stink of fish out of her,
though now she was choked with canned goods!
And the heat was great, and the insect life
on board rampant. Jim had all he could do
to save his toe- and his nose from the cock-
roaches, and certain other demons played
havoc with his skin.

One night when they were off the coast of
California, running down before a light
northerly wind which hardly stirred a heavy
fog hiding the land, Jim could bear it no
longer. Though he often loafed ?,oout
for'ard when it was dark, he never ventured
aft. For Wash-tub was a light sleeper in
good weather. Indeed, as he was half asleep
all day on a ru;r spread by the wlieel, he
hardly needed rest at night. Yet now Jim

175

/'.'

5 !

STRONG MEN ANP TRl'E

went right aft in the beginning of the miiUlle
watch, and insisted on rcheving the Finn
wlio was at the wheel. Richards remon-
strated.

"Oh, go to thunder!" >aid jim. " TIic
old man is asleep, isn't he ? Tiien what's the
trouble ? I must do something."

And, sooner than raise an argument
Richards let him have his way. Hut he kept
the Finn handy in case the skipper did rouse
out. But the F'inn lay down and went to
sleep, and before Richards heard him oUl
Davis was on deck in his stockinged feet.
Jim slouched his hat over his eyes, and Davis
came and looked at the binnacle. Richards
came up at that moment.

" It's a steady breeze," he said stupidly.

" Well, and who said it wasn't ? " was tlic
skipper's polite reply. And turnitig round,
he went below. Richards jumped to the
Finn and roused him.

" Go to the wheel," he whispered, and
catching hold of Jim he ran him for'ard.

" You're a pretty sort ! " he said, when
they were for'ard of the mainmast.

" Let go ! " said Jim ; " he never tumbled.
What's wrong with you ? "

" What's wrong ? " asked the mate. " If
176

WASII-TL'D DAVIS

he'd seen you, he'd have disgruntled you!
Go and turn in."

And grumbling, Jim retired to the stinking
foreeastle.

Two days later they were alongside the
wharf", and Jim skipped ashore without being
seen. At Shanghai Brown's he met an oKl
mate of his and borroweil a couple of dollars
to treat Richards and the others with. Ik-
met them that night on Battery Street, and
Richards looked particularly angry.

" What's wrong, mate ? " askeil Jim.

" He give us all the bounce," said Richards
" I dunno what made him. He's a swine— a
holy swine."

But Jim made no suggestion of an appeal
to the owners. He offered to stand drink - at
the bar of the American House. He si .nl
his two dollars before he left.

Next morning he went down the water-
front to try and ship in the Moftoicai, which
he had sailed in before ; and, as luck would
have it, the mate told him to bring his bag
on board at once. He went off to raise the
stuff to get an outfit, and as he can:c away
from the Oceanic Steamship Wharf, he met
a gang of out-of-works whom he knew. He
stayed talking with them, and, as lie turned

177 N

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IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

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112.5

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114. 11.6

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Phntno mnViif '

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY 14S80

(716) 873-4S03

•o^

v-:^^-

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

away, he saw old Wash-tub Davis come
booming along like a rolling barrel. He
caught sight of Jim, stopped, stared, walked
on again, and, turning round, came back.
Jim looked at him unintelligently.

" How did you get down ? " he asked,
open-mouthed.

" Down where ? " siid Jim.

" Down here ! "

"What d'ye mean?' asked Jim, staring
him blankly in the face.

" I mean from Afognak," said Wash-tub.

" Afognak," mused Jim. " And where's
Afognak ? "

" Do you mean to say you don't know where
Afognak is ? " roared the old man angrily.

" Why the devil should I know ? " said Jim,
pretending to be angry in his turn.

" You'll be saying you don't know Kodiak
next," said Davis.

" What's Kodiak ? "

And Davis rubbed his eyes.

" Ain't your name Jim, and weren't you
at Afognak three weeks ago ? " insisted the
skipper.

Jim shrugged his shoulders.

" You haven't told me where Afognak is
yet," he remarked gently.

178

WASH-TUB DAVIS

And then Davis sighed.
^ " Well, this beats hell ! '* he murmured ;
" if I hadn't known it wasn't possible I would
have sworn you were the man."

He walked on. But when he got about
thirty yards off Jim hailed him.

"What cheer, Wash-tub!"
Davis stopped.

" You wouldn't let me work my passage,"
said Jim, " so I came down on your old
hooker as a passenger. What's the price of
tubs to-day ? "

And jumping in a horse-car which was
coming by, he left the skipper speechless.

1.^

179

X 2

-*■'■»■

THE MARK ON THE SHACK.

At Scott's Gulch things were booming, and
the pipes were on the roar as they squirted
then four and five inch streams into the gold-
bearing gravel. For the Gulch was a big
hydraulicking mine, and rrtillions of tons of
stuff, some ancient deposit, were now cut
open. Each yard of it carried twenty-five to
thirty cents'-worth of gold, and when the rains
were good, and the flume overflowing, the
men who owned it coined money. It was not
the sort of show one turns into a company,
said Scott as he stood with his back to the
front of the fire in his club at San Francisco.

" We are getting gold, gold, sir," he said.
" And if any one wants to buy, he may cube
up the contents of the Gulch and pay a
dollar for every four cubic yards. I'll take
my chance else."

He had a manager at the mine in Southern
Oregon, for Scott's Guich is in Oregon, not

1 80

THE MARK ON THE SHACK

California ; and Joe Hall, otherwise Joseph
Septimus Hal!, was a iian of trust. He was all
there, eve. y bit of him ; for he was keen, hard,
clever, and only a rare smile showed any
streak of tenderness in him. But when he
did smile, it was like a gleam of rosy dawn en
an icy peak.

He had some ten men working under him,
leaving out the two cooks, who were Chinamen
of course. One of the pipemen was a China-
man too, and Ching was peculiarly proud of his
job ; he considered he could wash down more
gravel in a day than any white man amon<^
them. Frequently when a Chinaman takes
on a skilful job, he is like a baby about it, and
has a pride in it far beyond that of one brought
up to the work, just as a well-bred man out on
the loose in the West is jealous and touchy of
his reputation for being able to hold up his
end. But this is by the way.

There was also a Mexican whose name was
almost unpronounceable. Consequently he
was known as " Kin Savvy," which is United
States for " Ouien sabe ? " (" Who knows ? "),
as frequent on Spanish lips as " manana " or
" to-morrow." But then Kin Savvy v/as not
quite so lazy as the average Mexican. He did

not like wo/k.

but he worked quid
i8i

.nd

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

'worked hard, and knew something aboul
gokl-mining. The other foreigners in the
gang at the Gulcli were three Gcrnians, every
one of them a " hard ease," if hard workers
too. A.nd when a German does rise to
" toughness " lie is tough indeed. And pretty
brutal, as the natives in many of their colonies
know too well.

The (Julch was about three miles from
Flynn's Ford, up the Illinois River, and the
flume which brought the water down for tho
hydraulicking ran about two miles further up
into the hills. When the river was well
alive with rain and rilcy with mud things
went well. Rain was all they wanted, and
this winter they had rain and no mistake
about it. The long dark valley was for ever
blind with it or full of mists. When it cleared
the far hills were sharp and closely djfmed
against perpetual dark clouds, and then in an
hour the rain swept over the coast range or
came back from the Siskyous and hid their
jagged outline for the day. For the moun-
tains of snow bred storms and soaked the
land till the grass was rank.

But rain, if it meant work, meant discom-
fort, and workers are for ever on the growl.
" We're hogs, that's what we are," said
182

THE MARK ON THE SHACK

Thorn, who was an American, the only one
of three there, " and we Hve m a hog-pen,
and the boss is boss. The only consolation is
that he"s an American, Now, down Plumas
County there's a deal too many drrned
Britishers."

And he took a chew ot tobacco.

It was then Sunday, and they worked only
half a day, and for that got time and a half—
that is, six hours counted as nirie for pay.
The Germans and the Mexican were off into
Waldo after dinner, and they left the rest of
the gang loafing and praying for Monday.

"Why is it," disconsolately asked Smith,
who was an Englishman, " that we pray for
Sunday, and when it comes we hate it .' "

But no one could answer him, for no one
knew that even work was better than sheer
idleness.

At night things livened up, for the Germans
came back very drunk, showing drunken-
ness, and Kin Savvy came with them, drunk
too. But he didn't show it, save by an
inclination to dance and a disposition to sing
Mexican love-sonjis.

They brought out cards and gambled
damply in a damp hut. They drank more,
for they had brought back two bottles of

i«3

Ii '

-x^

>-..'J'.

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

so-called Old Rye, which had been newly
composed in Portland some week or two
before. The result was the usual one ; there
was a row, and very ner.rly a tight. But just
before it got serious, Hall came in. It was
eight o'clock, and as black as a candidate's
character after :\n election campaign.

"Boys," he shouted, "get on your slickers
and out with you ! The flume is bust up
near Hackett's and we must fix it up right
now."

" Not me," .said the sulkiest of the Gcrman.s,
by name Schultz, '' I'm sick and tired, and I'm
for my bunk."

" What's that ? " cried Hall, who stood in
the middle of them with the water running
off his slicker or oil-coat, " What's that you
say, Schultz ? "

" I said I'd be damned if I'd go, and not
then," answered the German sulkily.

" You come up in the morning and bring
your account," cried Hall angrily. And
with a little difficulty he got the others to
come.

They worked till twelve o'clock, and save
for a lantern which was no more than a
miserable glimmer, and the rare gleam of a
spent moon, they were in the dark in a dark

184

THE MARK ON THE SHACK

forest. Though the water had been shut ofT
at the head of the flume it stiil came into
it in considerable quantities, and dripping
through the wreck, it soakpd them to the
skin. They bruised themselves on the rocks,
and swore and lost their tempers, and by the
time the flume was fixed up for begiiM'.ing
again at six in the morning, they were readv
to fight at the dropping of a hat.

Hall took little notice or none of their
curses while they worked. And certainly
they toiled like slaves. As long as the job
was done nothing much mattered. He really
looked on them with a certain contemptuous
pity, as a hard but good-natured driver might
on grunting steers. What matter if the tt^m
grunted in a bog if they pulled the wagon
through ?

But when they got back Schnltz was blind
drunk and came out to show himself.

" You schwein," he called his countrymen,
and they didn't mind very much. And then
he proceeded to abuse Hall, who knocked
him down out of hand. Then in the black,
muddy darkness hell was let loose, and the
other Germans took sides and with their
partner made a combined attack on Hall.

But now the other men woke up, and as
185

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

there was no love lost between them and the
Germans, they pulled Kail out of a mixed pile
and sent the Teutons flying.

And next morning Scluiltz went with two
black eyes to get his money. Pfe received it
in silence and set ofl" to Waldo. Hall went
out and addressed the other Germans.

" If you want to stay you can," said lie,
"but if you give me any lip you'll get the
bounce. Do you hear me ? "

" Ja, we hear," n.uttered the three, and they
went back to work. But they did not forgive
Hall. For Schultz stayed in Waldo, and
worked on tb^^ir minds till the boss was no
more than a u- c to them.

One day the Chinaman, Ching, came to
him. "iMissa Hall, you no wantshee die.
Suls hatee you bad. Me hear him talkee-
talkee in Waldo."

And of course Hall said " Rot ! " or some
more foul Western equivalent. The very
notion of being scared of a German tickled
him to death.

But perhaps if he had known Schultz's
record in the East he might have thought
more of it. It is always well to consider that
point when one has trouble with a man in the
West. Yet perhaps nothing might liave come

1 86

THE MARK ON THE SHACK

of it all if Joe had not done a li'tle bit of
courting in Waldo. For Scliultz had a kind
of hankering after Nelly White, the daughter
of the man who ran the Waldo House. She
waited on the table at meal- times, and being
rather pretty, she was popular. And more
tlian popular with Hall.

After getting the Grand Bounce from the
Gulch, vSchult2 had taken to wood-chopping
at Waldo, and being a real good worker he
made a fair thing of it. He usually stayed
at the Waldo House, and there, one Sunday,
he met Hall again. He watched his old boss
talking with Nelly, and when he was sick with
rage he went out and sharpened his bowie-
knife on the grindstone. But he hadn't the
courage to face the man and kill him. He
waited.

Now at the Gulch all the men ate in a
frame-house which was divided off at one end
into an office and sleeping- room for Hall. \t
meals Hall almost always sat in one place,
with his back against the frames, made there
of rather less than five-eights stuff ; and in
tht> evening he occupied another place, neaier
his own room and clear of the table.

The back of the shanty abutted on a rising
hill, and hardly any one went there. But one

187

'ti

STRONG MEN AND TRLT

Sunday afternoon, Kin Savvy came to Hall
with a queer, doubtful look on his face.
There was no one but the Chinamen
about.

"Senor, Mr. Hall, you come with me,
picase." And he led Hall round to the back
of the shack.

" What is it ? " asked Hall.

And Kin Savvy showed him a small cross in
red chalk on the boards.

" What of it ? " said Hall.

" Carajfl ! You sit there, Sefior, you sit
there," said the Mexican, looking at him in
obvious surprise. " These Germans arc bad
men."

And Hall looked up at the Mexican, who
nodded and smiled, and made a motion as
though he drew a six-shooter from his hip-
pocket and placed it against the boards.

" Nonsense ! " said Hall, and he added,
" Don't say anything to any one else."

" Ching savvies," said Kin Savvy.

And he called to Ching, who brought a
piece of rope with him. The Mexican
measured ofT the distance from the corner oT
the old shack to the red mark, and then
beckoning Hall and the Chinaman, he went
inside and measured it off there. The end of

1 88

THE MARK ON THE SHACK

the rope just came to the place where Hall
sat at night-time.

" I see Goldschmidt measure him," said
Ching.

" Ha ! " said Hall. " But not a word, Chiiig."

He put his six-shooter in his pocket that
night, but he did not sit quite in his usual
place ; nor did he stay anywhere long. And
next day he sent Ching down to Waldo with
a letter to Flynn at the ford, asking for some-
thing. He got it that night, after dark, for
Flynn brought it up himself on the quiet.

" When do you think they mean it ? "
asked Flynn, rubbing the perspiration off his
brown, ugly face.

"How can I tell?" asked Hall. "Any
time, I reckon. But we may fix them. I
won't give it away. I want to get th^m."

" That's so," and Flynn nodded. " Shall I
stay ? "

" I guess not," said Hall. " Just drop in
when you care to. If they get me you will
have to hunt for Schultz and Goldschmidt.
Conal the crowd, my son."

On the Sunday night following, most of
the men stayed round for a bit after supper,
but presently all went but Smith and the
Germans, who talked a good deal and seemed

189

iii

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

to have forgiven Hall. Goldschtnidt, a thick,
heavy fool of a man, even made a dull joke or
two, and Hall's nerves beiran to get on the
stretch. He had half a mind to knock him
on the head just at one moment ; but the
next his nerves steadied, and he determuied
to see It tlirough.

r'u^?^;" ^T^ ^''^ "" '^"^^ ^^ ^^'^'^ ^'^li^ter
Hal? said Goldschmidt. And Hall saw him
look at his watch. :t was, he knew, just on
eight o'clock.

" Yes, a game at karts," said the others.

"Are they all in it ? " asked Hall, and for
one quick moment he did not know what to do
i don't mind," he answered. - Just wait
a minute."

And he went outside quickly and shut the
door after him. He saw Thorn standing there
"I saw Schultz just now," said Thorn
" No."

"You bet it was him," said Thorn. -J
thought I'd tell you. He went that way "
He pointed towards Waldo.
^ " Stay here," said Hall in a rapid whisper.

if he comes up, call me. Don't come in
unless you hear a row. Have you a gun ? "

Thorn grew keen. He slapped his in^p-
pocket, and then Hall went in.

lOO

THE MARK ON THE SHACK

He found the others sitting down with the
cards, a dirty and greasy pack, upon the end
of the table. His usual place was vacant.

" You sit here, Goldschniidt," said he, and
he saw the German turn the colour of mutton-
fat powdered over with grey dust.

" It's your place," said Goldschmidt. But
the others never stirred. They all looked
surprised. It was evident they were not in
the plot, if plot there really was.

" Sit there," said Hall, laughing. " m sit
in your box."

" I won't," said Goldschmidt.
" You will," said Hall.
And with a sudden jump he got his hands
upon the man and twirled him round and
down upon the seat. The other two .at
thunderstruck, for they did not understand.
For a moment there was nothing said ; but
Ching ran in out of Hall's room, and 'then
the two Germans rose just as Goldschmidt
made a wrench to get away.

But the devil was in Joe Hall that moment,
and he had the man pinned as in a vice : he'
could not stir an inch. And as the others
made not a move, Joe Hall burst into a
wicked shout of laughter. He would have
been angry if any man had told him it wao

191

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

hysterical. But in a manner it was. And
for a litLle moment, that stretched out to a
strange infinity, he looked into the man's
devilish eyes, which were full of terror — most
incredible terror. Then there came a dull blow
like a signal. It was like a hand striking wood.
And at that moment Goldschmidt uttered
a horrible and deathly cry, which sent the
man who held him back into the room. The
German threw up his arms, and at the same
moment Hal' pulled his six-shooter and shot
right over his head at the boards. Not at
Goldschmidt, but z': someone outside. And
then he heard Thorn come in behind him.
Smith had never moved, for he was a slow
man, and all this was incomprehensible.

" What is it ? " asked Thorn.

" I guess he's done," said Hall.

" Have 5'ou shot him ? "

"No!" cried Hall. "Look at his
breast,"

And, indeed, just above his heart was a
shining point of steel— the sharp end of a
sharp knife protruding from a red spot.

"I shot through,'' said Hall. "Come,
Thorn ! "

And outside they found Schultz dead. For
he had been shot, and falling had been caught

192

THE MARK ON THE SHACK

in Flynn's old bear-trap that Flynn and Hall
had set behind the hut.

" By the Lord, but you are a keen one ! ''
said Thorn. " How did you know ? "

" I didn't know," whispered Hall, " but it

came like a flash. It was a close call for me."

When the> went inside Goldschmidt, too,

was dead, for after wriggling free of the knife

he was on the floor in his last kick.

And by now the other men were up, Kin
Savvy with them, and the kitchen was full.

They told them how it happened and
Thorn and Hall went down to Waldo, and
Hall said it was to tell the police. But he
went first of all to the Waldo House and
stood himself a drink, and then asked for
Nelly.

•' He has plenty . avvy," said Ching to the
Mexican.

And Kin Savvy nodded.

" And now Suls no more takee my pipe."
said Ching.

193

THE AFFAIR AT BIG SPRINGS.

Thk word *' ditBculty " has a peculiar technical
meaning in Texas, and, indeed, in all the
southern States of North America. It refers
as a general rule to a row ending in murder
or attempted murder ; there is usually a six-
shooter in it, and occasionally a knife. Some-
times in a Texas paper we read, let us say,
that Colonel Smith is reported to have had a
"difTiculty" with Judge Moriarty on the
previous day, and that the highly respected
judge is not expected to survive more than
twenty-four hours, owing to several severe
w ounds received while attempting to end the
trouble in the bar of the Occidental. But
this is usual and not over-romantic ; even if
the judge had succeeded in removing Colonel
Smith's heart with his knife, it would never
have created the e-xcitement that the affair at
Big Springs did. For in that there was a
touch of the unusual ; there was something

THE AFFAIR AT BIG SPRINGS

huge, soHKihing tempestuous, brilliant, ele-
mental. Yet alter all it was nothing more
than a duel, if rather a strange one. But iet
me tell it you briefly.

Big Sprirgs is about forty miles west of
Colorado City in the south of the Texas Pan
handle, and it is a local railroad centre, being
as IS well known, the end of a division on thJ
Te.xas and Pacific Railrc^id. This Texas-
Pacific road runs thence to Kl Paso the
border town to Mexico across the ''Rio
Grande." But Big Springs is a rather tou<di
p ace Itself, if not so tough as the Inferno
of the Border, and no one was ever surprised
It the local paper had news of unexp.xted
funerals in it. And when the strike was over
there, a good deal of bad blood not yet extr-.-
vasated in the streets threatened some obituary
notices. •'

For Alexander MacGuire, one of the engi-
neers, had not behaved squarely to his fellows
when they ran their l-.comotives into the
round-house and struck work. He had
dissented vigorously. His language was the
language of an American Irishman raised to
the second power by his birth in the West
For he came from Dallas and was good with
his tongue. He fought against the strike.

195 o 2

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

The Others said it was nothing but pure
" cussedness " and a general desire to have
someone tread on the tail of his coat. He
said that the strike was " damn foolishness."

" You men think you are the univarse,"
he shouted, " but Jay Gould owns you — "

" And you don't kick ? " sneered Jim
Grant.

"When I get a show," answered Alick
savagely, " but we ain't got no show. And
I'm busted, and, besides, I'll work anyhow."

" We reckon not," said some of the rest
And then Alick climbed down and -vent out
with the others. For there was somethintr
serious in the way they spoke.

"The truth o' this is," said Jim to his
partner Willis, "that he manages to make
more than any man is entitled to. That con-
ductor Jones that's with him runs an accom-
dation train and bleeds the tramps like
thunder. If the bosses knew, he would be
fired."

" But we all work that racket," said
Willis.

" Not to his tune," answered Jim. " I could
tell you a pile about Alick and Jones. They're
just daylight robbers."

So there wasn't much love lost between
196

THE AFFAIR AT BIG SPRINGS

Alick AIcGuire and the others when the strike
petered out and they went back to work,
fairly sickened of long idleness. It's not sweet
to sweat in the rotten verandah of a rotten
boarding-house and see one's hard-earned
dollars melt like butter at noonday. And when
the Company has law and order in the fore-
ground with numbers of blacklegs in the
background, it's about time to " squeal " and
take water. For these are western idioms, and,
being interpreted, they mean, to give in.

So Alick McGuire had his chance to say
" I told you so." He said it and repeated it
and rubbed it in, like salt into whipped backs,
until the other engineers and firemen prayed

for a wreck on the road to smash him into

unans wer ing jelly.

And the crash came. But not their way,

and though Willis and Jim Grant were both

in it, only one came out of it with any

chance of repair.

" There'll be trouble between Jim and that

swine Alick," said Willis.

" There'll be trouble between me and that

swine Grant," said Alick.

" There may be trouble between me and

McGuire," said Grant. But he didn't want

trouble, having a wife.

197

■if!

STRONG MEN AND TRTTe

And with everyone lookinpr f,,r a "diffi-
culty " and everyone expecting, 't, there was
a chance of a battle, inunler, and sndden
death. Tlie only rept^rter on the Ri^^ Sprinjrs
paper used to till up his spare time between
drinking, type-setting, and reporting with
theoretical accounts of the inevitable result.
He began usually with "We greatly regret
to learn," and usually ended with " Mr.
Blank's funeral will take place to-morrow, on
acccnint of the hot weather." Occasionally
he put in a variant : " The funerals will take
I)lace ; " but when he was pessimistic his
account ended with "Both tiie courageous
combatants are expected to recove " He
shot Grant through both lungs, he slabbed
McGuire in various places, he sometimes
hoped that a stray bullet might finish up his
editor, who spent most of his time at Mie
Depot or thereabouts. But even in his most
sanguine moments he never imagined that he
would be able to fill a whole front page with
details which would be copied verbatim into
all the Lone Star State's daily papers, and
even make a rattling good par for Chicago
and New York newsmen. For sometimes a
fact will lick Dalziel or the very maddest
imagination on the wires.

198

■

'- -'^'

^•>

THE AFFAIR AT lUC. STRINGS

II was Willis who hail ti- \k- l!ic hero ol
this tragedy, and when h.c went one nij^ht in
August into the ror.nd-house to see it his fiie-
nian had No. 72 ready lor the east -hound
passenger, he heard roujrh talk,antl dangerous
talk, even helore his eyes opened out to take
in the darkness. For Grant had just conic
oil the Kl Paso run, anil had stunihled against
Mcduire, who was getting his locomotive
ready for the west-hound passenger. And,
nnluckily, it was iiuite ready. Willis heard
the east-hound passenger come in, and then
he heard more.

"What's that yon say?" cried (Jrant.
And then Willis missed the rest, till he heard,
'♦Won't I?" And then there was a slii.:,
and yet two niore. 1 le waited a moment, and
saw a dark figu'-e run to McfJuire's locomo-
tive. And, ruiiiiing himself, he came upon
(Jrant writhing on the ground.

" He called me a son <»f a ," said (iranl

groain'ng. " And he's done me up."

And then McCiuire's engine moved out just
a? (Irant sohhed his last breath. But Willis
called to his fireman, —

" Run over to the Depot and tell them
McCniire has done up Grant, lie's ofl". And
I'm after him."

199

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

He left the dead man and went to his
engine and opened her up. She ran out
easily after McGuire's and came on to the
single hne.

But MeGuire was wondering what he
should do. Should he back up to the train
which was waiting ft,,- ],i,n ? Q,- should he
run out into the plains and drop off and
scoot out across the prairie. He knew they
hated hiin, and he iiad killed the best-liked
man ni Big Springs. He felt what that
meant. There wasn't a man in the town but
would perjure himself, if need be, to get the
right man hanged. And even if the law
failed he would have no sliow.

Just then l.c saw No. 72 coming after him,
and he knew what that neant too. For
Willis always waiu d in the round-house till
his train was ready. And now she was
hardly due. Willis, too, was the man he
feared most, for Willis had a hard record.
He was a long, lean, fierce man, who was
never respectful of life, not even of his own.
And the pursuing locomotive was within fift.-
yards of him. He heard Willis shout, and lr>
lost any nerve he had left. For Grant was
first blood will, him, aud no man gets reck-
less and hard with his fir.t man. It usually

-00

THi: AFFAIR AT HIG SPRINGS

takes a verdict of justifiable Iioinicide and an
acquittal to make anyone really dan^'erous.

He opened her out to the full, and was ell"
west.

Hut at RiiT SjirinjTs there was a devil of a
row iio'mir ()„^ ;i„d of course no one knew
what to do. The passengers on the east-
bound express were savajje at having to g(.
before thi;y found out what was wrong. For
sonje of the tenderfecL on board the train
wanted to see the corpse. They could have
lived as hemes for the rest of their lives if
they could have had a litlie hand in ii And
the west-bound folKs we.e mad as steers at
being stuck in Big Springs until news came
from the west to say what had happened.
For with two wild devils on " wild engines "
who could say what the end miglu be ?

But the reporter was in his g!o-y with a
pad and a pencil. He came down dying, and
gave four bits to the boy who had had the
horse-sense to go to him right ofl'. He wrote
columns and imagined others. He wired to
Fort Worth and to Dallas, and even farther.

Vet in the meantime the boss at the Depot
wired west to all the way stations to clear the
hue. And then he sat down :uid tried to
think what else he ought U) do. For he 'va;-

20I

!l,

•1'

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

• not a man of an original mind. He concluded
to wire to Forth Worth for instructions from
the Superintendent.

And now McGuire on his locomotive was
tearmg west at sixty miles an hour, and every
moment the speed increased. He was mad
at hrst, but in him was no true grit, and his
nerves were not so good as they should he in
a man who slays another in any country—
certainly not good enough in a country where
law, begmning to make itself felt, has an
element of Judge Lynch in its quickness and
seventy. Besides, he had no money, and to
kill out west without money is a bad business
when it returns cent, per cent.

Yet the wild intoxication of that strange
mad hour was in him, and he hooied as he fired
up ; and when he looked back and saw the
steady glow of the pursuing locomotive, he
jeered angrily. For did it not grow less and
less yet? He swore that it did. Yet he
wasn't sure — not quite sure.

And overhead was the starry heaven of
pure calm, windless and quiet, while he was
m a great created gale of wind that eddied
about him and tore at his open jacket when
he sweated at the fire or sweated with
increasing fear.

THE AFFAIR AT BIG SPRINGS

He went through the first way station and
hlcw a devilish screech on the whistle that
roused the very steers campinjr under mcsquite
upon the prairie. And he went " hoot-hoot-
hoot " upon his way, whistlinj; as the engines
do when stray stock gets on the track and
they do not want to test the douhtful merits
of the cow-catcher. But he could not scare
away terror and the terror of darkness and
alarm. No, nor the sickness of fear which
very present death brought t(i him.

At the rate he went the locomotive seemed
alive ; she sweated and panted and trembled,
devouring i»ifinite space on the thin line of
fragile rails leading to the devil. Never f(,r
a yard was she solid on tlu- track ; she sprang
and quivered ! He cursed the high joints
and low centres, he damned in trembling
rage the uneven eyes of section bosses in
lining up. Never till now did he know how
rough the T.P. ballasting was ; never before
had he recognized the chances daily taken
on the road.

But though he looked forward through the
gl .iS and saw the darkness divided by his
swift light, he still looked back. Could he
dare stop her and then let her go again ?
Could he or not ? A id even as he thought

203

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

• Of it he saw the rising light of Justice on his
track ; he began to tliink, ior all his pride in
the dreadful thing beneath him, that Willis's
No r- could lay it out cold in a desperate
and deadly race. For he knew WiMis well •
he was a devil-yes, a tough, hard devil ; as'
tough as wire, as hard as hickory. He had
the dead wood on him ; that seemed sure
Ihe coward got rampant in the murderer •
he was ice in his heart ; he panted and sucked
at the flying air. Yet now he was runnin-r
nearer seventy tlian sixty miles an hour, and
th.,' roar of the wind was deafening He
opened his discouraged mouth, but was dumb

as he shouted.

Willis now was not two miles behind him.
And WUIis knew he gained inch by inch
^ cUvhat he should do if he can.e up wilh
AIcGuire he hardly knew. Should he jam
hii ocomotive right against the other ana
climb on and overpower him.? No. for the
other was armed. He was glad at least that
McGuire s tender was part of his engine ; if
he had run out with a separate tender he
m.ght have let it go and blocked the pur-
'^uers way. He wondered that McGuire
uidn t Slop her and jump. He wondered and
tiien he swore at himself.

-04

THE AFFAIR AT HIG SPRINGS

Just suppose, he said, that McGuire had
slackened her even now, and had jumped
after settinj; her going with an open throttle.
He might have done tliat. Yes, he certainly
might liave done it. Yet he thought not
and hoped not. He never thouglit of his
own engine leaving the line, he telt so assured
of victory. He meant to kill the man who
had killed his partner. And now lu hegan
to see McGuire on ahead ; he saw him jilainly.
He knew, too, that McGuire could see his
flaring head-light. " Ah ! " he said ; " sup-
pose — yes, sup)K)se — "

And Willis laughed as he buttoned his
coat.

He stepped outside his shelter, and began
to fight his way forward through the choking
wind, which grasped him as a wave takes a
man to strangle him. It pressed him about
as though it was solid; it made Mie muscles
of his bands and arms crack. It almost tore
him off, and he knew he would be swept
away like a rag if he let go. And once his
feet did leave the insecure foothold.

But at last he got right under the head-
light, and then the compressed air held him.
He reached up like a di owning man and
extinguished the glare. He found himself

20;

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

back by his fire as though he was in a dream.
He felt hke a man flung ashore by the sea
after an hour's hard struggle.

But he blew his whistle with a long, lona
scream. And he laughed, fo, he though!
that he might ^ool AIcGuire.

At the sound of the whistle behind him
McGuire turned and saw no more the swift
and terrible eye of Justice.

"He's ditched! He's ditched t " he
screamed with sudden hope as he shot
through another way station.
And after a mile he slacked her down.
1 11 jump when I can !" he cried to him-
self, and he waited for the moment

Before it came he fired up again, and at the
right moment he jumped. But before he
left her he opened her out again. He jumped
up from the ground, feeling dazed and stupid
and bruised. ^

" Where am I ? " he asked himself, and in
iHs s upicl amazement following the shock he
wondered who he was and what he was doinc.
there. He stared round and saw his engine
disappearing in the west. And yet she nTade
a rattle ; there was even yet vibration in the
shimng rails. He turned, and, turning, stood
foolishly as another dark engine came up to

206

THE AFFAIR AT BIG SPRINGS

him. What was it, and where was it going ?
" No," he cried, and then he knew that his
time was at hand.

For Wilhs had been beforehand with him
in his mind ; he had euchred him that time,
and though No. 72 was going fast, the
avenger of blood shut off steam and jumped.
He fell on McGuire and they rolled over
heavily. McGuire screamed once and was
silent.

And when Willis came to, he found a man
with a broken neck lying underneath him.

207

THE DOCTOR OF RED CREEK.

The miners were very melancholy in the
Idaho saloon at Red Creek, and though almost
as much poison was being consumed as usual,
the conversation was most unwontedly
subdued.

A long period of absolute silence was
broken by Jim Arnold, one o? the oldest
pioneers of the settlement. " Boys, this'U
never do ! No, it won't wash. We'll have
to fetch a doctor here, and do it soon."

"Ah, a doctor," said the bar-tender pen-
sively, as he made a new experiment in the
mixing of liquors. " I've often thought of
it."

" But what's the good of a doctor no\v',''
said Milton the miner, " ain't the Siwash and
Harry both dead ? All the thundering docs
between Panama and the Forty-Ninth
Parallel can't bring them back across the
border."

Jim shook his head "npatiently.
208

THE DOCTOR OF RED CREEK

" You're a good sort, Milton, but ' > a no
head to speak of. It tires me to .^ear you
talk. You aip't no foresight, no looking
forward, no arrangin' for to-morrer. Because
tiie Siwash shot Harry and because Harry
blew four holes in the Siv/ash, it ain't no
reason others of us won't be in the same way
next week. And that's what I'm thinkin' of.
If I'm shot or jabbed I don't want to linger.
My motto is, ' Let's die or get well,' and a
doctor is a comfort to a man— a wonderful
comfort."

The whole melancholy gang agreed.

" But how to pay him, Jim ? " asked the
bar-keep.

" By results, sonny," said Jim. " He'd soon
fix up a tariff — "

" Ay, so riuch for saving a man, and so
much for easin' of him," suggested Milton.
"Butsupposin' there wasn't no work for him ?"

*' Oh, don't suppose no dodrotted foolish-
ness," cried Jim. " Is there ever a week goes
by without an accident or a difficulty in this
creek ? And there's always delirious trim-
mings for the doctor to fall back on as a steady
hold if there's no one hurt."

"That's so," said the crowa soberly,
" there's always that."

209 p

! 1

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

And silence reigned lor a space. It was
only broken by the roar of the Red Creek
coming down a banker and by the splash of
the bar-tender's experiments as he poured
mixed liquids from one glass into another.

But Jim spoke again after some ponderous
thinking.

'' It ain't no good sendin' down after a man,
for some stray apothecary's apprentice would
bo run in on us. My notion is to advertise."

" Advertise ! " ecltoed the crowd as they
smoked and considered. " Ay, let's advertise."

" Let Billy drore it up for us," said Milton.

But the bar-tender shook his head hastily.

" If things didn't pan out good, you'd say it
was me, and I'd be unpopular," he remarked.
" And for a bar-tender to be unpopular ain't
business. He might as well wear a dirty
shirt."

He turned round and eyed his own spotless
expanse of hnen in the glass with much con-
tentment.

" No," he added. " Jim Arnold has a head-
piece. Let him fix the thing up and shove it
in the Fliimeville Hurra h.^^

*' Ay, that's the -nost enterprising paper in
the locality," said the crowd. " And the
editor ain't no slouch of a man neither."

2IO

THE DOCTOR OF RED CREEK

" He ktn shoot," cried iMilton admiringly.
" And for obitu.'.ry notices afterwards — "
" Ho ain't no equal," said iMilton. " And
poetry too."

"I didn't think much of his poetry," cried
Arnold. " And if I didn't like him I'd tell him
so straight. But I don't hold with causing a
difficulty with a friend over a matter of poetry
that's mear.t well. Gimme a sheet of paper,
Billy."

He spread himse'f on the end of the bar
and was watched by the entire crowd as he
wrote out the advertisement with two inches
of a carpenter's pencil.

"Jim takes time to do it," whispered
Milton loudly. ''Now I'd have reckoned a
thing like that wouldn't have cost him so
much thinkin'."

" You never done no writin' that was to go
in print, Milton, or you wouldn't open your
mouth =o wide," said Jim, who had overheard
him.

The abashed Milton muttered an apology,
and Jim scratched out a line and began again.

*' How'U this do, boys ? " he asked pre-
sentlv.

" Spit it out," said the boys, leaning back
and preparing to admire.

211 ;' z

"■:-:f-§0

F —

STHOVG MEN AND TRUE

Jim coughed and read it.
" To Doctors.— Wanted in a mining camp
where difficulties is frequent, a well educated
doctor, bringing his own bullet extractors,
who will do what's necessary on a fixed and
reasonable tarifl". Must be sober and indus-
trious, and good at delirious trimmings in all
its branches. Employment guaranteed by the
entire camp. Apply in the first instance to
Miner, care of the editor."

A hum of applause greeted the conclusion,
and Jim looked pleased.

'' So you think it'll do ? ' he asked
modestly.

*' It's pure literature," said the bar-tender
with enthusiasm. "I never though;:: it was
in you, Jim. But I'd put are instead of ts
after difficulties."

" Why ? " asked Jim in surprise.

"Because it's usual in print," said Billy
firmly.

" And what about accidents ? " asked one of
the crowd ; " you don't seem to hint at them."

"That's true, I forgot," said Jim, and he
inserted •' accidents." " And I've put it ' are,'
to please you, Billy. Is there any other
amendment, boys ? "

" No," said the crowd.

212

THE DOCTOR OF RED CREEK

" Then I'll put it as the resolution as is
before the n«eeting, and declare it carried,"
said Jim. '^ Them as is for it can say ' Aye,'
and them thars against it, ' No.' ''

" But if any one says ' No,' there'll be
trouble," said Milton firmly. And nobody did.

The advertisement appeared in the next
issue of the Hurrah^ and a week afterwards the
editor sent a sma'.l packet of letters down to
Red Creek. Jim Arnold called a meeting at
the saloon to consider them.

" These are the replies to our advertisement,
boys," he remarked as he untied a red hand-
kerchief and poured the letters on the bar.
" Me and Billy here resolved ourselves into a
committee of tv/o, and have sorted 'em out to
save time. For some was obviously no gc -^d,
the language and the spellin' givin' the writers,
away at once. But there's two or three that
might suit. And one I'm strong on myself.
For I admire the man's style."

"Let's hear them," cr-ed the anxious
crowd. " Shut up, all, and listen."

Jim gave them two ordinary letters in a
perfunctory fashion and then threw out his
chest.

"They're good enough, boys, if we can't fix it
up any better. But I've a letter here from a

213

STRONG MliN AND TKUii

doctor v..> think (Hilly and inc) would be an
acqi .ition to the camp, and to any camp
between Cariboo and Arizona. Ain't tliat so,

" It is," said the bar-tender.
And Jim began readin.r i,, his best style :
"SrK\— III answer to your advertisement in
the Hurrah, r,,i ready to undertake the job at
reasonable pricjs. I'm very good at gunshot
and knite wounds, having had experience in
SouLn America during the Chilian war. My
special line is delirium tremens. 1 can drink
in moderation and shoot straight -nd lick
most men of my weight and years, being now
thirty and pretty active. An early answer
will oblige,

" Yours truly,

" Hknhv Sari.k."
" There," said the bar-tender, " what did I
tell you ? Ain't that the letter of a man i "

" I^'s a slashing good letter," agreed the
meetmg, " a denied good letter. IJut what's
his weight .? "

"Gentlemen, I beg your pardon," cried
Jim. "He's put it in a postscript. He
weighs 220 pounds."

That settled it.

214

Tllli UOCTOK OF KliD CUi-LLlK

" Let's have him," thty crictl with one
accord. "We tlon't want no httle whip-
stick of a chap to handle a luan hke Mihoii
wlien he's got 'em."

" Why, no," Slid Milton proudly. " 1 take
some hanilhiif; then : that's ; fact."

"lie's ilown at Spokane," resumed Jim
when quiet was restored. " So we can have*
him up in a week. I'll write to him at once."

And in eight days more the camp knocked
o(T work to welcome the doctor, who rode in
from I'^lumeville on a mule escorted by Arnold
and Milton.

" So you're an luiglishman ? " said Jim, \, ho
was a little i isappointed at the fact.

"I am," Slid Sarle, " and moderately proud
of it."

" Hum," replied Jim, " there a'n't no need
to be too proud of it in the camp. We're
mostly Americans, and some of us like getting
fun out of Britishers."

" They're welcome," said Sarle sternly,
" but if any man runs in a quarrel on me and
T hurt him, I shall charge him just t\ ice as
much to cure him as if another man had done
it."

" Good, very good ! " cried Milton. " Shake
hands, doctor. 1 like you. I'd like lo sec

215

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

any son of a gun throw it in ycur teeth
that you're not American. Why, jou are
. merican, to the hair and nails ! "
And he nodded joyfully to Jim.
" Oh, what luck ! " he cried. " I'll go on
ahead. We're right there now."

He galloped his old mule down a break-
neck path, and in twenty minutes charged
into t'-; crowd outside the saloon.

"He's coming and he's a daisy," he cried
" but he's a Britisher. And I want you, boys!
to know that he a-n't ashamed of it. And by
the eye of him I reckon he kin shoot. His
grip too IS like getting your fist where v
wedge ought to be. So don't you think that
you can play any games ofTn him."

" We don't want to play no games off on
him, said the bo; 3, " but did you see his
extractors ? "

Milton nodded and went for a drink.
While he was inside he heard a cheer raised.
Here he comes, Billy, ' he cried. "Get
up the champagne." And running out he
found Jim and Sarle the centre of the entire
camp. The doctor was going through the
ceremony of shaking hands with fifty men
every one desirous of seeing whether his grip
was as strong as iMilton had said it was. He

2l6

-. ■'^

THE DOCTOR OF RED CREEK

came out of the tryin^^ ordeal with flying
colou's, for more than one of the most daring
retired to the outskirts of the crowd to test
each finger separately for fractures.

They took him into the saloon and intro-
duced him to Billy, who had not thought it
consonant with his dignity to .ningle with the
outside crowd.

" We are glad to see you, sir," said the bar-
tender, "for this raises Red Creek in the
scale. There's no other camp has its own
doctor. We will now drink to your health."
riiey drank solemnly at the expense of the
saloon, and then Sarle spoke :

" Gentlemen, I'm glad to come among you,
though barring arcidents and difficulties I see
little prospect of making my fortune. For
you look strong and healthy. A-^d now it's
my turn to set up the drinks. Step up, boys,
:'"d select you*- own especial juice. And if
you will join, Mr. Bar-tender, I shall take it as
a favour ! "

" Hurrah ! " shouted the crowd, and then
they drank.

"I tell you he's a fair scorcher," said
Milton. " And what a head Jim has to have
picked on the very man we wanted ! "

The doctor slept in the hotel and in the
217

< »^i B > l^i I

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

daytime wandered round the various elaims.
Or perhaps he went antelope hunting. h\,r
at least thr^e H-ys he had no patients.

"But u.u - ^jt alarmed about that, doc,"
said Mil; ■ wh'.se admiration for Sarle
increased day by day ; " don't you worry your-
self, and especial don't get no notion we've
deceived you as to the prospects here. For
they're good ! "

"They've got to be," i,aid Sarle with a
grim smile ; " I should hate to have to resort
to any harsh measures if the camp isn't
according to specification. For I'm no idler.
I want work.''

" That's so," cried Milton. " You're a man,
you are, Sarle. That's what I like about you!
You're a rustler from way back ! ''
He went off to Jim's claim.
" I've a notion our doc is getting weary,
Jim," he said to his friend, " he's complaining
of having no work. And he's practising at
the back of the saloon with his pistol. Sho'Lt !
J should say so ! He'll be winging some of us
hkely. He's no real Britisher ; at any rate
he's as good as an American, though I say

Ik*

*' He don't talk of quittin'? " asked Jim.
" Not exactly," replied Milton ; " he'll score

2l8

THIi DOC 1 OR or KHD CRliliK

ofT some before lie sliifls. He was kind of
hintin' to me of false pretences in that pro-
spectus of yours which led him on to take
shares in the camp."

Jim looked worried.

" I wouldn't hev him think it for worlds,"
he said after deep reflection. " We'll h ,v to get
up a game of poker and jest loose off a few
ca'tridges to encourage him."

"But who's to be hurt?" asked Milton
anxiously.

" Why, no one, partner."

Milton smiled.

"What's the use of that?" he asked
contemptuously. " lie's no greenhorn to
have a put-up job like that played on him.
Someone has got to be hurt really. I can't
think what's come to us : the camp's just
rotten with good nature."

" And before he come up," cried Jim
gloomily, " no man could feel safe that he
wouldn't pull on some one before night. I
feel thishyer peaceful influence myself. But
I'll set up the drinks free to-night, and if
nothin' else occurs, old Simpson may get
the jimjams. He's a moderate handful
when he's that way."

" And it'll soothe Sarle a piece, anyhow,"
219

'M^-.iff'- i-

STRONG NfEN AND TRUE

said iMilton, "but what he real hankers aiter
IS to use them extractors of his."

Jim shivered and held up his hand.

" That's what's done it," he dechred, "it's
that wicked shiny lot of knives and things as
has cowed the camp. Didn't you feel cold
about tlie spine yourself when you see'd
'em ? "

I' I did," said Milton, " I own it freely."
"I've felt hampered in my mind ever

smce," cried Jim.
"That's so," said Milton, "but hes a

splendid chap, Jim, and to hear him talk is a

new eddication. So-long, we'll see you to

night !

But the drinking was no great success. It
is true that Simpson required treatment in
the night for alcoholic poisoning, but the
others showed no particular thirst. They
drank with caution, and picked their words.

"What's wrong with the boys?" asked
I3illy in astonishment.

" It's the knives, Billy," whispered Milton.

" What knives ? "

" The doc^s knives, Billy. Every man here
funks gettmg hurt for fear of them "

" Do you ? "

"I do. I own it freely." said Milton. "He's

2iO

THE DOCTOR CF RED CREEK

a splendid chap, but he mightn't be a tender
hand with them extractors. That's what
scares us."

And ♦^he first real job that Sarle got came
from the neiglibouring camp some five miles
away. A deputation rode down on mules,
and made straight for the saloon.

" Where's that doctor of yours ? " asked
the spokesman.

" Round the camp somewhere ! " answered
Billy.

" Well, we want him. Can you find him
for us ? "

" I don't think he's allowed to attend other
camps," said Billy. " I heard that was in the
contract. You'd better see Jim Arnold.
That' ; him over yonder."

" We want the loan of your doctor," said
the old miner after passing the time of day
with Jim. " There's a man at our camp bin
shot."

"Jim's face lightened up.
"B'gosh, you relieve my mind ! " he cried.
" T'll fetch him. Oh, here he is ! Doctor, do
you mind going five ..liles to 'tend a man
that's si, .)t?"

"Not I," said vSarle. "I'll fetch my
instruments."

221

■i

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

^^'hen he was out of earshot Jmi spoke to
the deputation. "According to the tariff-
here, his fee will be a hundred dollars, and
you 11 have to aive him mileage too."

" Money %m't nr object," said the head of
the pany, " for it's my brother."

" And just send us word if he's tender with
him, will you ? " asked Jim.
I' He'll have to be," said the leader sternly
'Mind you don't make no fatal error about
him, ' said Jim, - for he's the best and quickest
shot here, so I warn you. But here he comrs "
When Sarle returned that night he brou-ht
a note for Jim. It was from the brother^of
the wounded man. The doctor had to
decipher it.

"He done the job neat enough, but he
made Bob howl considerable. We've paid
him fifty on account, and he's contracted to
be paid by results."

" P-S- — Bob ain't howling any now."

Sarle laughed, but Jim squirmed a little.

" Did you hurt him, doc .' "

" Well, I should smile," said Sarle in the
vernacular. " What do you suppose ? "

On Sunday most of the men sneaked off" to
the other camp to interview the wounded
man, who was rapidly recovering.

222

^^^m^.

THE DOCTOR OF RED CREEK

" But what he said scared me," cried Milton.
" I own it freely." And nothing but a couple
of fractured limbs broke the monotony of the
camp for ten days. Sarle got sulky and
drank more cocktails than were good for him.

" It's gettin' on the poor chap's narves,"
said Jim ; " he's a big man and wants work.
He'll be breakin' out most desperate afore
long. I've seen it, eh, I've seen it. You look
out, you chaps ! "

"It's well Ae drinks something," growled
the gloomy bar-tender. '' I'm not takin' half
I was before you fetched him up. Theshyer's
a spoiled ca np. I had a letter from Geary at
Helena complainin' bitterly of the fallin' off in
what I send him."

" Did he now ? "

"He did," said Billy, "and he talked of
closing down."

This dreadful hint spread consternation
through the camp and the drinking greatly
increased. Life wouldn't be worth living
without the saloon, said the miners, and
m the evening things looked much better ;
there was a game of stud-horse poker
running, and two promising rows were only
broken up by Milton's indiscreet allusion to
"extractors." But a little after midnight

223

Jl^r

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

there was a sudden '' rough house," with
Sarle in the thick of it. Bottles and glasses
flew, several shots wer'- fired, and before Biily
could douse the lights, one man was killed,
seven wounded, and several severely hurt.
When peace was restored and Billy re-lighted
the lamps, Sarle was seen standing on a cask
in the corner of the room with his six-shooter
in his hand.

" Come down, Sarle, there's no row now,"
cried Billy.

" Not much, there isn't," said Sarle,
glaring. " I've settled it. This'U teach
the camp to fetch a man up here and
promise him work. AH I hope is that no
one's dead."

" Only a stranger," said Milton, who had a
bullet wound in his arm. " Only a stranger,
and it was him as really stai ted it."

When they got the wounded sorted out it
was found that six were shot in the arm.

" It's an extraordinary coincidence," said
Sarle with a grin as he buzzed round his
temporary hospital. He was now sober and
happy.

Jim grunted and bore being handled better
than he expected. " It ain't no coincidence,
if I'm a judge of 'em," he said significantly.

224

THE DOCTOR OF RED CREEK

" What man among us could hit six other
chaps in the same place ? "

"Sarle could, now couldn't you?" asked
Milton admiringly.
.^^It's likely," said Sarle, " if I was put to

"By havin' no work," shoved in Jim,
shaking his head. " But it does look like old

times."

" That's so," said the crowd faintly. " It's
the best row we've had for nigh on to a year."

"And everybody satisfied," said Jim
contentedly " We're not the sort to growl,
doctor, seeing as we brought you here. I
must say you're a first-class hand. Did I
howl any } "

" Not a howl," said Sarle, with a nleased
smile. *

" Then that's all right," murmured Jim.

But when Sarle went out Jim spoke from
his temporary couch.

" This'll never do, boys. He's hurt more
in thirty seconds than he'll cure in a fortnight.
And on the tariff he'll clean out the camp!"

"I reckon you'd better ask him what he'll
take to bust the contract," said Billy. <' And
somebody's got to pay for my mirrors."

"We'll make it up to you when we're

2^5 Q

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

well," said the crowd. And they got well
\ery rapidly. When he could leave them,
Sarle went off hunting and did not return for
two days.

"The camp's sendin' you a deputation
to-night," Billy told him.

" What about ? " asked the doctor.

" I don't rightly know," cried Billy. " But
they hope you'll take it kindly."

The deputation came in about seven o'clock,
and Jim of course was spokesman.

*' Did you have good sport ? " he asked
nervously.

" Only moderate," said the doctor ; " but
what's wrong ? "

Milton slouched into the saloon.

" I'm not in this, doc, so mind ; I'm for you
every time."

Jim shook his head.

*' Don't act like a galoot, Milton," he cried
irritably. " Who's agin the doctor ? Why,
none ! He's out and away the most popular
man here, and Billy himself will own to it.
But—"

*' What ? " asked Sarle.

" Well, it's this way, doc," burst out Jim,
"as I say, you're out and away the most
popular man here, but even if so we would

226

THE DOCTOR OF RED CREEK

reckon it as a favour if you'd break the con-
tract and take a bonus to quit."

"I don't say so," put in Milton.

" Oh, dry up, old man." said Jim. " Because,
doctor, to tell the truth, you've caused more
general and widespread devastation in thish-
yer camp than we ever done in the rowdiest
of times. We're proud of yor and think you
a fine man, and we've no grievance against
your way of handling those skeary-Iooking
instruments of yours, but it's common know-
ledge as you shot six of us and done it neat,
and it broke up the work most unexpected.
We lost considerable time over getting well.
Oh no, we don't mean as you was long curing
us, but it was lost time all the sauxe. So a-c
wanted to know if you'd take it crooked if we
asked you to quit. Have I put it rightly,
boys ? ■'

The crowd looked shamefaced, but agreed.

" No," said Milton, " and I don't agre°e with
breaking contracts."

Jim shook his head impatiently.

•' It's for the doctor to speak, Milton," he
cried. " Say just what you think, doctor."

Sarle seemed rather melancholy.

" I've had a good time here, boys," he said
presently, "and I'm not so keen on going

227

STRONG MEN AND TRUE

11 '

But since you put it as you do, we'll say no
more about the contract. I'll quit."

'' But we pay for results," said Jim,
" however caused."

" However caused," echoed the deputation.

" And we'll give you a bonus of two
hundred and fifty dollars," added Jim.

" It's very good of you," cried the doctor.

" Not at all," said Jim. " It's cheap at the
price. And we like you and are sorry to part.
So now we'll have a liquor all round. Set
them up, Billy. Champagne as when the
doctor came."

Milton walked over to Sarle.

" It ain't my fault, doc. You believe
that ? "

" I do," said Sarle.

" Because I like you."

Jim grunted.

" You've no call to cast a slur on the Creek
by sayin' no such thii. ■<■ Milton. I'd like to
see the man as would u .• to say he don't like
him."

" Ay, we'd all like to see that man," cried
the deputation.

" Here's to you, doctor."

Cilbtit Ji KiviuiiUiii. Mil,. St. Jiihi.'a Hmist. ClviUoiiwoll. K C.

2 '8